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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 5 months

Text

Pretty like the sun

Next chapter

a/n not what I originally wanted to put out but today this hit my head so a little something to smooth us in. AND This is pretty like the wind series spin offs. This can be read as standalone all you need to know is that Azriel has two adoptive kids with OC - Zofie and Axel. Future stories related to them might include stories specifically decided to Azriel hence why I am taging it as Azriel story too. Don't come at me please. ✨🤍

summary: an arrival of a new sibling get a bit too overwhelming for Azriel's youngest daughter.

warning: past trauma related to wing clipping.

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Zofie's pov:

She was ecstatic. Mother knew she had told every soul that was willing to listen to her about how she was going to become a sister. An older sister. How happy she was to no longer be the youngest. To be able to pull the same proud older sibling card, the same one that Axel used when Zofie had achieved even the smallest of things. It was easy to love like that because all she had known ever since she had met you and ever since she had seen Azriel was love. She knew because that feeling was always fuzzy. Always somewhat pink with tints of purple. It grew different in the saturation of colors, but it was always so delicate.

She doted over the idea of another element unifying you all as a family. Yes, she was content when it was just you four. Always had been. Even back in the sanctuary. There was something that told her that this was the endgame. That you all were always meant to find one another. Then Granny took them in for almost a month. Zofie still remembered how confused she had been when you and Azriel hadn't shown up the next morning. "Your parents are mates; they accepted the bond and need a bit of time... till it... well... settles," Cordelia had told them over breakfast.

And Zofie had loved seeing the new shades of gold that now constantly swirled around her two parents. Even when she drowned it out, the sheen stayed. And oh, how she had adored her lavender dress at the mating ceremony. How she had loved the fact that even though this was supposed to be a day about you two, Azriel had pulled Axel and her aside and made a separate vow, as a dad, just for them. Azriel was her yellow. Had always been. She had found it strange. Alarming even at first. Because no one, not even you, possessed a color like that. But then she realized that it wasn't a sign of warning. It was a sign that, just like a flower, she had to lean towards the sun. Toward the light. Towards her yellow.

She also remembered the day you two had sat them down. To tell them about the babe. "Well", you had breathed out, sparkling eyes gazing up at Azriel, who had been smiling like a fool. Never had Zofie seen him smiling like that. "Are we finally getting that black cat?", she had asked like a real kid, eager to drag the stray home. You had chuckled, "Not yet, but I'm working on it", since truly it had been Azriel who hadn't been on board with the idea. She watched Azriel moving closer to you, clasping your shoulders lovingly. She remembered how she had gazed at Axel, meeting his confused gaze.

The her dad let out a content sigh, "You two are getting another sibling", such simple sentence and yet the room exploded in a rainbow of colors for Zofie as she let out a squeal, grabbing onto Axel's hand. "Another kid from the camps?", Axel had frowned however. Most of them had been taken down. Only tightly monitored ones were allowed to stay put. And only with weekly reports sent to Rhys and then approved by the three Illyrians and the high lady. "No", Azriel had said softly as your hands had shifted to tighten the material of your dress that now shaped a slight bump. Zofie was convinced that Axel and her looked like two dead fishes up on the shore. Mouths gapping. Eyes big. "Surprise", you whispered as a smile broke out on your face. "Fuck yeah", Axel chuckled forward, embracing you in a tight hug. "Language, boy", Azriel reminded Axel as they clasped hands both smiling so much their cheeks had to aching.

"Mom", Zofie had muttered out, eyes full of tears. "You will be a big sister", Azriel had cupped her cheek lovingly. "That's so amazing", and she was genuinely happy. So happy. "We will knit things and oh, papa, we need to carve that crib and...", she knew she was ranting but the emotions. So many emotions... Azriel had wrapped her up in his arms. Drowning out the sounds immediately, "We'll do it all. You and me. Will make it special, my little star".

But what frightened Zofie now that she had returned after fetching some stew that Cordelia had made for your post labor recovery was that something had shifted. She didn't see it at first. Too focused on not spilling the food in the bowl. Too eager to watch you eat something. To see the colors that surround you growing brighter. Because the labor had taken so much out of you. Too much even. But now... Now she was dang happy she wasn't holding anything in her arms as she brought her gaze up because it would have clattered to the floor. Zofie had barely sucked in a breath. Her whole body was seized. Her dad sat in a rocking chair, one they had both carved. The baby was cradled against his bare chest as Azriel rocked back and forth slowly, humming beneath his breath.

"Papa", her voice was barely a whisper, but it had always been enough. Azriel had always heard her. It was always enough for him to stop doing whatever he was doing, just... His eyes didn't shift upward to meet Zofie. He did hum beneath his breath in acknowledgment, but...

Zofie tightened her fist. That would have been fine. She could understand it. The baby had been born a house ago, but it was the color that had shifted... "Papa," Zofie called out once more, feeling that same overwhelming sensation building up in her chest. "Isn't she pretty, huh?", was what Azriel had said in return as he shifted the newborn in his arm, pulling the baby that fit in his palm away from his chest so he could admire her. A wave of love crashed into Zofie's shields. Such an insufferable amount of love. Love had nothing to do with her. Zofie let out a shaky breath. As the bits of yellow dusted away from Azriel's aura.

"I want to hold her too," Axel's voice sounded from behind her, making Zofie twist back to look at her brother, who had stepped into the room. She was supposed to feel as full of love as everyone else, but watching Azirel carefully lower Novie into Axel's arms made Zofie's guts twist. Novie. Why pick a name that sounded like a better version of her own name. "Support the head," Azriel said gently, teaching his son on how to properly hold the youngest addition of the family, "That's amazing, and be careful with the wings." Another wave of emotions plunged into Zofie. Wings. Mother, that girl was perfect. Perfect in ways Zofie would never be. She never particularly cared that she didn't have wings. She didn't remember what it felt like to have them. Thwy had been ripped out by her father the moment she was born. But no one wished any harm to Novie. No, she would have a loving family from her first breath. He first cry. A perfect girl for a perfect family. And she was Azriel's blood. She had bits of Azriels. Features that would no doubt always make him smile. Because he would stop and see you, see himself in her. Zofie could sense slithers of green twisting around her own aura. She was jealous. Jealous of a newborn that was an unflawed version of her. Same dark hair. Same perfect skin. Just she wasn't cracked or marked.

A warm hand reached out for her, and Zofie instantly pulled back. "Zo, babe, is everything okay?", your gentle eyes looked up at her. Zofie forced on a smile, reaching back to you because she knew if she pulled back fully, it would alarm you, and she couldn't. Couldn't bring herself to hurt you. "Granny wanted some help downstairs; I will come up shortly.", the lie came so easily that it was alarming. Your warm palm cupped her cheek. "Thank you for being here with me today," you muttered softly. Zofie bit the inside of her cheek. Fighting the tears as she nodded. She didn't even spare a glance at her father and brother as she walked out. She had stopped to linger by the door. Was hoping for someone to ask her to stay. To do anything, but all she was greeted with was gentle laughter that only clawed at her heart more.

Hurrying down the stairs, she nearly tripled over her own feet. Barely catching herself on the railing. "Careful, love," Cordelia called out, her hands holding the basket filled with bloody sheets. Zofie simply nodded. Her hand reached for the doorknob instantly. Yet her hand stilled for a heartbeat as she looked over the door frame. Looking for Azriel's shadows. Ones that always followed her around. Ones that were always just for her. But she found none. "Zofie," her grandma called after not getting a response to her warning. Zofie knew the decision had to be made right here and now. A heartbeat of thinking too long, and she would... Without allowing another thought to simmer, Zofie yanked the door open. The cold winter breeze hit her face. And then she ran. Her feet slipped through the snowed-on rocks. As she ran and ran and ran, as the ringing in her ears drummed.

Nyx's pow

He could have stayed back in the camp as his father came to fetch Axel when YN had gone into labor, but Nyx always wanted to come back home. There was always a pull. An ache that only eased enough when he was in Velaris. That disappeared when everyone was in the room. Sitting in one of the fancy armchairs, the princeling continued to scribble as his parents talked in the background. He used to be a noisy boy, trying to listen in but as of lately none of their conversations interested him.

Just like his mother, Nyx reached for the brushes as soon as he could hold one properly. After that, his sketchbook was always close by. Simply because at times the visions and ideas would get so overwhelming that he had to put them down on paper. And he was just casually doodling flowers and swirls when an urge to draw a river bank hit him. Nyx was almost sure that he could hear the water roaring. The snow crunching beneath the feet. It was messy the way his pen arched out trees and snow. But it was almost as if he couldn't scratch an itch. One that was followed by an urge to fly. It happened at times more often than not as of lately. But he never gave it much thought. Illyrians were born with the sound of wind blowing within their hearts. So the need to be up in a sky wasn't anything strange.

So Nyx was up and walking towards the stained glass door, the pen and sketchbook forgotten. His wings were already ready for takeoff. "Nyx, where are you going?", Feyre's soft voice had made him halt. "Just for a fly," he said bluntly. "It's snowing," Rhys chirped in. "That had never stopped you, dad." Nyx rolled his eyes, stepping closer to his mother. "I will be back in no time; don't worry, ma." Nyx pressed a kiss on his mother's temple before turning back.

Usually, he never had a specific place he flew to on his night cruise, but tonight, the south bank of the river was exactly where he knew he had to be. The wind was painfully sharp tonight. That icy, rain-like wind. That felt like thousands of needless digging against one's skin.

Nyx would have flown over with no care if he hadn't seen the same oak trees that he had been scratching just before he leaped out of the balcony. His breath hitched. His heart was drumming in his ear. Because a part of him... He dove down, running the last couple of meters as his feet hit the ground with an impact. "Zo," he breathed under his breath. Chest heavy, "Zofie," he said much louder. The girl turned back, holding herself up against the tree. His skin was pale blue, and her wild swept black hair frozen over at the tips. "Hey, hey," Nyx breathed out, hands up, as he approached the younger female as if trying not to spook her even more. "Nyx," Zofie's voice was raspy and frail. Too raspy. Too frail. Something primal rippled deep within the princeling's chest.

"Hey," he called out softly, his hands reaching out for her. "Fuck, look at me," Nyx softly moved to cup her face, her ink-black pupils stared right at him. Not Zofie. An ancient spirit stared up at him instead. "You're freezing..." Nyz moved his warm palms over Zofie's icy arms, trying to soothe the skin. "Zo, what..." he muttered, looking around. Trying to find anything. A threat. Danger. Attack. Wildlife. He wasn't sure, "Why are you here?" but his question was met with Zofie's icy fingers gripping his arms. "Nyx," she called out. "I'm here. I've got you. It's okay," he reassured her. "Come on," Nyx wrapped both his arms and wings around Zofie, shielding her from the cold. He let his warmth seep into her. She felt so good in his arms. His mother had always joked about how he had been enamored by Zofie from the moment they met. They laughed it off as a childish crush, but they didn't know that the feelings hadn't changed.

But then a harsh wave of reality hit Nyx, "Does Uncle know you're here?" He knew that Azriel wouldn't harm him. Not really, at least. But Zofie was his everything. Nyx had rather a hard time forming a relationship with his uncle because they had never reached common ground as far as Zofie was concerned. She sagged in his arms, and Nyx swiftly scooped her up. She was tiny compared to him. And weigh no more than a feather. "Zo, what the fuck?", he growled, feeling the worry growing with him. But she didn't answer him. Curling deeper into his embrace. Her palm rested against his chest, right over his heart. He didn't know what he was thinking, but as he pushed back from the ground, Nyx knew that they weren't going home.

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Taglist: @justdreamstars

#nyx x oc #nyx x zofie #acotar imagine #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #nyx imagine #nyx x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader

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pricklepearbloom · 7 months

Text

Late for Dinner

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, this is my first fic ever so be kind lmao, not beta read so if you find mistakes keep them to yourself

Pairing: Azriel x OC Louella (Lou)

Word count: 3.3K

The comforting smell of freshly baked cookies enveloped the air as Lou bustled through the kitchen preparing for the night ahead. A buzzing sizzled through her veins centered around her middle as she glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time that late afternoon. 5:15. She could get it all done, she reassured herself mentally going through the checklist of things she needed to prepare for tonight. Tonight, she decided, would be the night that she finally accepted the mating bond with Azriel.

She met Azriel months ago while she was on a date with a male at a small coffee shop around the corner from her home. Her date was droning on and on about himself not bothering to notice that he had yet to ask her anything about herself. She knew she would not be going out with him again as she watched the dark sweet liquid in her drink swirl around in her mug. Having rarely gone out with males she was incredibly disappointed with the outcome of the date that her friend had set her up on. After one too many failed relationships this date was the first after a very long break from males. A name cut through the white noise of the coffee shop- her name.

“Louella? Louella? Hello?” Crap. It was her date. Her eyes locked onto his as she zoned back into the present to see his face contorted with his eyebrows scrunched together and a slight frown on his small pale lips. “Have you even been listening to a word I was saying?” No. “Yes of course, sorry I must have zoned out.” Lou lightly laughed to ease some tension “It’s just been one of those days I suppose.” “Well as I was saying…” her date that she couldn’t even be bothered to remember the name of continued to drag on about whatever he had been talking about.

A soft jingle caught Lou’s attention and she glanced to see a tall dark figure enter the coffee shop. Lou briefly analyzed his figure from the shoes up not thinking much of it. Dark laced boots, black form fitting trousers with a dark shirt partially tucked in the front. What really caught her attention were the dark wings that were attached to this male with the impressive figure. Behind broad shoulders were thin, membrane like wings that blocked out all of the sunlight streaming into the café. Her eyes trailed up his figure until they hit his face and she let out a small intake of breath that caught his attention snapping his gaze over to hers.

A feeling of warmth and wholeness extended from her chest reaching out to the male. Mate. She couldn’t draw her eyes away from the male, locked in a staring battle with one of the most dangerous men in all of Prythian. The night court shadowsinger. She couldn’t tell what he was feeling, his face betraying nothing but his eyes on hers felt so intense she knew he felt it too. A hand on her arm had her eyes clipping back to her date. “Are you okay?” A low snarl could be heard from directly behind her and she froze not daring to look behind her.

“Remove your hand or I will remove it for you.” A deep voice graveled out. Her date looked shocked with wide eyes staring up at the shadowsinger. The smell of his fear and faint scent of urine hit her nose as her date shot out of his seat with his hands up practically running for the door stuttering out an apology. Louella couldn’t help but let her mouth gape open as she looked up at the shadowsinger who looked even larger than life standing above her gazing down at her. The coffee shop had gone silent as all eyes were on them. Embarrassment burned through Louella as she stood toe to toe with him.

The magnetism that connected Lou to the shadowsinger was tangible. Her entire body urging her closer to his, eager to be wrapped up in his embrace. Her mind, however, felt differently. Her eyes narrowed at the male and she saw him swallow, the only indicator of his nerves. “Don’t you at least want to know my name before you chase off my date?” She said through clenched teeth. The shadowsinger clenched his hand in a nervous tick unsure of how to proceed. The moment he had been waiting for his entire life was finally here and he was frozen. Stuck in his head as his eyes stayed glued to the most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. And she was his. His shadows swarmed around him and one errant one was circling the ankle of his mate. His mate. Who was glaring at him? By cauldron she was beautiful when she was mad. It made a grin tug up the right side of his mouth and he watched her gaze soften a fraction.

“Hi” he ground out the lump in his throat the size of his fist. Lou’s mouth twitched and she felt her entire body clench in anticipation. “Hi.” She said softer than before watching his lips slide into an unsure soft smile. She glanced away with a warm tight feeling in her chest making her jittery.

“Louella.” She stuck out her hand “you can call me Lou though if you’d like.” His eyes softened, his shadows practically singing with joy over the sound of their mate’s voice. He slid his hand into her, engulfing hers completely. She seemed so small compared to him and a small fear shot through him that he would hurt her. No. He pressed mentally; he would never dream of hurting her. “Azriel,” he replied finally. Her heart skipped a beat at the warmth emanating from his hand into hers letting it warm her from her hand to the rest of her body. He glanced down at their hands shaking up and down for much longer than necessary and he couldn’t help his grin, he couldn’t wait for the rest of his life with this beautiful creature.

After their initial introduction, Lou and Azriel took things slow as per Lou’s request. She didn't want to jump into being mated before she was ready or before they got to know each other. They spent countless hours on dates and spending time at each other’s houses. Sleeping over but never going past heavy petting. Wanting to save their first time for when they accept the mating bond. Azriel would have completed the mating bond the moment they met; Lou knew this. But he was gracious enough to not bring it up often so as to not make her feel uncomfortable. But it was always on her mind and she had recently come to the conclusion that she was ready.

She knew that the mating frenzy would take up a lot of their time, so she made sure to prepare things around the home. The dishes were washed, extra food from the market was stored and put away, all of the extra sheets were washed dried and folded nearby just in case things got messy. Lou blushed at the thought, she had been with a few males before but none of them were her mate. She wanted everything to be perfect and was feeling a bit of pressure as time ticked on and it was getting closer to the time that Azriel said he would come home for dinner. Today marked their sixth month since meeting and courting and she hadn’t been able to see her mate all day. He vanished early in the morning murmuring something about Rhys needing him to take care of a camp before he rushed off promising to be back for dinner at 6:00. Time was ticking faster and faster and Lou rushed to set all of Azriel’s favorite foods out on the table making sure everything looked perfect. Another glance at the clock told her he would be back in twenty minutes and she let out a sound of excitement before calming herself. She glanced down at herself and found trails of various powders and the clinging scent of cleaning products. Setting down her oven mitt and taking off her apron she rushed to the washroom to take the worlds’ fastest shower and put on an outfit that she had been saving for this exact occasion. A deep blue that complimented her olive skin wonderfully, wrapped around her bust snugly before flaring out into a knee-length skirt that seemed to flow like reeds in the wind when she walked.

She painted her eyes and lips lightly then strapped her kitten heels on that she knew drove Azriel crazy. Carefully walking downstairs, she looked at the clock and saw that it was nearly 6:00. Azriel should be home any minute. She sat down at the dining table and lit the last candle that she had set out to make the scene even more romantic. Her hands were buzzing with nerves and excitement, her leg bouncing up and down from all of the energy in her body. Her gaze remained trained on the door waiting for her mate to come through the door.

“He’s just running late” She reassured herself after one hour had past and she remained glued to her seat.

“Maybe Rhys held him up with something,” she said after hour two; the food long gone cold.

“Maybe he got hurt,” she worried glancing as the clock struck four hours past. But she dismissed this immediately because she knew Rhys would inform her if anything were to ever happen to him.

“He forgot.” She said softly resigned after six hours. Waves of disappointment and sadness washed over her as she still sat in her chair at the table shrouded in darkness. Tears rolling down her face unperturbed, numbness and exhaustion taken over her body. She heard a jostling of keys and a soft “shit” followed by a thud against the front door. After a few moments, the door swung open and an obviously inebriated Azriel stumbled in. Having yet to notice her, he takes off one shoe at a time nearly falling over after attempting on one foot. He shucked off his jacket and threw it toward the couch but missed by a long shot ending up on the floor next to the fireplace. Lou’s eyes kept trained on him silent as a mouse, she felt as small as one at the moment, so perhaps it was fitting.

Finally, his gaze landed on her and he grinned, his face spreading into a smile that she usually loved so much. Her face remained neutral as he strode over to her placing a kiss on the top of her head in greeting. “Hi beautiful. I missed you tonight, sorry I missed dinner. Cass wanted to celebrate our successful mission today and I must have lost track of time. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” He said much more breezily than usual, not seeing how still Lou was. Not noticing that she hadn’t returned his greeting or even moved since he entered. He kept walking toward the washroom starting to strip his leathers as he went. “You didn’t have to wait up. I’m just gonna take a shower then I’ll meet you in bed.”

Rising slowly from the chair she had been stationary in for many hours, her joints creaked and popped with the movement. She felt like a ghost. What was supposed to be the best and most important night of her life was forgotten and tossed aside for… for drinking with a male that Azriel saw on a weekly basis? Rage started to build deep in her chest, but she shoved it down not letting it surface. She practically glided to the bedroom, not feeling the coldness of the hardwood beneath her feet. She stood in the bedroom hearing the rushing of water and an out of character humming from the male that had tossed her aside this evening. She stepped out of the dress and laid it carefully on the chair in the corner before tugging on pajamas. The water turned off and Azriel stepped out with only a towel wrapped around his chiseled waist. Quickly drying off he slid on boxers before practically throwing himself onto the bed falling asleep almost instantly. Lou stood staring at the now snoring form of Azriel. She had seen him drunk before but nothing like this and he was never so dismissive of her. She started towards the bed before stopping herself, tears burning in her eyes. She couldn’t bear to sleep in the same bed as him, the crushing disappointment of the night hit her like a tsunami and she quickly made a decision grabbing an empty duffle bag filling it with clothes.

Bright light burned through Azriel’s eyes and he groaned instinctively reaching out to the other side of the bed for his mate. Scarred hand brushed over cold sheets and his eyes opened quickly scanning the room for Lou. Azriel shot straight up when his gaze landed on drawers thrown open, various clothes strewn across the room as if left in haste. The alcohol from the previous evening came up to haunt him as a roiling bubbly sensation rumbled through his stomach. He jumped out of bed and threw himself on the toilet to catch the vomit that was currently exiting from his body.

Wiping his mouth with a groan, he slumped over the toilet before his head snapped up remembering the evidence that he saw this morning. With a heave, he brought himself up to standing and rushed into the bedroom seeing clothes all over and one of his bag’s missing. Quick eyes clocked that his clothes were on the ground but most of Lou’s clothes were… missing. Fear shattered through him and he picked up his pace. “Lou?!” he called into the empty air running into the hallway. ‘She’s not here’ his shadows whispered to him which made him even more frantic. All of his insecurities coming to the forefront as he ran down the stairs taking two at a time, practically falling down. His gaze locked onto the dining room, taking in all of the dishes prepared with his favorite foods. He could practically feel his heart drop into the pits of his stomach. Dinner. He fucking forgot dinner. She made him… all of his favorite foods for dinner. The pieces were slowly falling together as Azriel crumpled to his knees, not being able to hold up his body any longer. “Find her,” he choked out to his shadows watching half of them scatter into cracks and crevices leaving him feel even more exposed and vulnerable than he was before.

Lou wasn’t able to sleep last night at all, emotions running through her like a river to an ocean. Anger, sadness, disappointment, anxiety, and guilt for leaving. She absently stirred the untouched tea that she made an hour ago as she gazed out the window that looked out to the forest that surrounded the safehouse cabin Azriel had shown her when they first started courting. He told her to come whenever she needed to get away or was in danger and she definitely needed some space to think… right? A frantic banging on the door caught her by surprise and she carefully walked over to the door peeking out to see Azriel heaving out heavy breaths looking as though he had run there.

Lou took a steady breath taking in the sight of him. Unkempt, hair every which way as if he had been constantly running his fingers through it, his shirt on backwards and two different socks. He was beautiful. “Hello.” She said evenly and Azriel could have cried at the sound of her voice. He swallowed deeply his mind racing wondering where to even begin, “I’m sorry.” He blurted out unable to restrain himself. “I’m so, so sorry Lou.” He panted trying to catch his breath. “For what?” she asked feeling a bit petty for making it lay out his wrongs. His eyes were bouncing back and forth between hers unable to keep still for even a moment. “Missing dinner. Missing the dinner. I’m sorry my love, I should have been there. It was a hard mission and I needed to blow off steam, but I should have talked to you first. I- I made a mistake please don’t leave me. I need you. I need you like I need to breathe please.”

Lou didn’t say anything as her eyes took in his distraught appearance, she merely stepped aside to let him in. Not going to miss an opportunity, Azriel quickly took the invitation and kicked off his boots as Lou shut the door behind him. She started walking to the couch, Azriel following behind her like a kicked puppy. He sat a few feet away from her, trying to respect her space. Lou resented that distance and scooted a bit closer before turning to him. “Az. I know you didn’t know that it was the dinner but… it’s been six months exactly and I put so much effort into the night and when you came home drunk I just… I felt so small and unseen and I’ve never felt like that with you. That’s why I needed some space, I’m not leaving you I just needed some perspective, I guess. I love you and I wanted last night to be special, I was just really disappointed, that’s all.” With every word Azriel’s heart broke more and more. Along with it, his resolve to fix it steeled like the warrior he was. “I will make this up to you I promise. I will never make you feel that way again. You deserve better than that and I’ll give it to you I promise. I love you and I’ll show you.” With that he took her hand and led her to the kitchen. His thumb anxiously trailed over her knuckles before he gently grabbed her waist with both hands, hoisting her up onto the counter. “Az-“ she began before he cut her off “Wait please let me just. Please let me just try to start making it up to you. I don’t care how long it takes, I’m not losing you.”

Her heart ached with longing and a bit of pain for the male, “Azriel. You won’t lose me.” “I know. And this will ensure it.” He replied as he quickly began preparing her favorite food. After a long silence with only the sounds of Azriel’s cooking filling the space, he served her food on a plate. “I know this isn’t how it’s usually done, but I love you and I want you to know that even if you never accepted the mating bond you would have me for life, beautiful.” A hand caressed her jaw gently, a calloused thumb swiping across her soft cheek. She looked at him with love a burning in her eyes and kept them locked on him as she took a bite. His breath stuttered and his restraint was waning. “Of course, I forgive you. I love you.” She swirled the pasta around her fork before lifting it up to his lips slowly, “Do you forgive me for leaving? I promise next time I’m upset I will stay and talk it out. I won’t leave again.” The sigh of relief that came from Azriel could be felt by all of the animals in the surrounding forest. He stepped in between her legs before closing his lips around the fork, keeping his eyes trained on hers the entire time. The bond felt like it was missing a puzzle piece and it was just found the final one. The urge to take her to the bedroom was insurmountable and Lou could see the need on his face. With a small smile she leaned in and muttered against his lips, “kiss me Az.” And he did.

#acotar #azriel angst #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x oc #first fic #be kind #if this flops it never happened

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atinylittlepain · 6 months

Text

Chapter Six

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

warnings: 18+ heavy angst, references to past injury related to DV

a/n: so we are in for another heavy sitting. as always, my goal is always truth, nothing gratuitous, but honest. my DMs are always open, I'd love to hear what you're thinking about this one.

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Step into the light poor Lazarus

Don't lie alone behind the window shade

Let me see the mark death made

I dream a highway back to you

I dream a highway - Gillian Welch

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Where does the thaw begin? It is always gradual. Always give and take. Taking tentative, preening steps out into the sun one day, only to be snapped back into place by a sudden snarl of cold the next. But eventually, that perpetual dull thrum of white starts to melt. The streams in the mountains swirl and slurry up with it, a froth of life that churns down into the rivers that run a faint thread along the highway. Boulders will be moved, small trees uprooted, a whole new season breeding activity. The landscape rearranged, reconfigured until eventually, settling, eventually, green.

The flock is certainly happy for it, proud and relieved bleats, their heads tossed back in the clear, cool morning air. The two newest members of the group are still getting their legs under them, a little uncertain in maneuvering around the remaining slush, quick clipped jumps and jolts to catch up with their mother. And Dove is never far behind these days. Not even Dolores in his mind any more. Dove, Dovey, Dovey-girl whenever they go down to the bar and she’s beating him or John at darts.

Punch and Judy might like her just as much as they like their mother, necking and nuzzling up against her shins like cats, contented sounds whenever she greets them in the morning. Joel tends to hang back, letting her make her rounds, inarguably the favorite of both flock and feather. A gift, bells of laughter and the bright glint of her smile, even when she catches his eyes from across the field, like maybe it could be for him too. And then he remembers that is it for him too, because she always comes back, always comes to him with her eyes squinting into the sun and her smile slanting with the scrunch of her nose.

“They’re getting bigger everyday.” He thinks to himself that he wishes she wouldn’t remind him. Time has a way of getting parceled and pinched out here. Secret time, stolen time, no one paying much attention to time. How long has it been? Counting months in his mind as they make breakfast. He figures nine by the time they sit down. So much time. Time he has been greedy with. Enough of it that she may no longer need to stay. Or may no longer want to. He winces into his mug, small, sharp hurt that he is all too familiar with. Doubt makes him sulk, makes him slump. But then she always does something like she does right now. Touching just to touch. Something curious about it, like she is still unsure if she is allowed to, like this is not something she has had before now. Careful fingers curling around his wrist from across the table, coaxing his palm up to the ceiling so she can press her hand flat against his. He can feel her pulse where the pads of his fingers rest against the soft inside of her wrist, steady, with the occasional stutter.

“Do you want to go tonight?”

“If you do, yes.” Who says what, it doesn’t matter. Call and response goes both ways for them. If you do, then I do, and if I do, then you do.

“We don’t have to stay long.” Always giving her an out. She curls her hand around his.

“You just don’t want to lose at darts again.”

“You always win.”

“Don’t be a poor sport about it, I won’t want to play with you any more.”

“Hey.” That smile is for him, no question.

…

It isn’t often that Joel gets anything in the post. There is a mailbox at the end of the dirt road leading to the house. It has a large dent in its side, and has since he bought the place, near impossible to pry open. The mailman’s frustration with it is clear in how the lid is now hanging off its hinges, some sort of envelope, thick and obvious, sticking out of it as they drive home in the afternoon.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure, I wasn’t expecting anything.” But he knows exactly what it is when he opens it, the knife he used to slice through the top of the padded envelope clattering onto the dining table when he pulls out a thick stack of documents from inside.

On top is a birth certificate. A hospital in Lincoln, Nebraska, and the first name is Dolores. And he shouldn’t, but she’s still toeing out of her shoes and hanging up her coat, so he quickly thumbs through the rest. A packet, and he recognizes what it is immediately. All those years ago, with Sarah’s mom, he got a packet that looked just like this. Divorce papers.

“Joel?” It startles him, and he knows he’s been caught, quietly setting the stack of papers down on the table, not quite able to meet her gaze.

“Those are for you.” He can’t watch, only catching a glimpse of the way her brow pulls down, a slight frown as she pads around the side of the table to get a better look.

“Oh.” She doesn’t pick them up, just drags her hand across them to fan the papers out on the table. And it’s a posture he hasn’t seen from her in a long time, the way she curls her arm back into herself, everything shutting and shuttering up tight and small. No, he can’t watch, but he can’t walk away either, shifting in his boots, his eyes landing on her only to flit away fast. She’s not moving, and he’s not sure if she’s even breathing, it’s that silent, save for the soft creak of the floorboards with his anxious shuffling.

“Do you have a pen?” It takes him a breath to realize that she’s asking him, and then he sets himself into stuttering motion. His hands feel too big, too shaky as he fumbles through the junk drawer in the kitchen, though something has changed in Dove, her shoulders straightened and smoothed out when she takes the pen he offers her. She hunches over the table, squinting through each page, a quick flurry of signatures that he knows she shouldn’t be dashing down so fast. But there’s no stopping her. Rampage and war path all in one, she huffs when she gets to the end of the packet, pinning the whole stack down with the pen and stepping back from the table like she escaped from something just in time.

“When do you want to leave for the bar?” She asks it light as air, a strange rolling back of her shoulders, her eyes settling somewhere just past him, not quite meeting him. He has to gather himself before he answers, stunned, and a little spooked, if he’s being honest.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“What does that mean?” All edge and ice, his stomach lurches quick and awful at this new thing, this very new, very frightening thing that she seems to be doing.

“Nothing, Dove, it doesn’t mean anything. But we don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to.”

“Okay.”

Dinner is tight and silent as a fist. Neither of them looking at the other. She pushes the food around her plate, though he’s not sure if any of it actually gets eaten. And he can feel his own frustration mounting, that urge to get just a little big, and a little loud, to tell her no, to put his foot down, to stop whatever this is. But he knows that whatever this is, no matter how mean she makes it look, it is a hurting thing.

So they go to the bar, and he lists at the periphery of the small crowd, making meaningless conversation with Rod about the weather while he keeps the lion’s share of his attention on Dove.

She doesn’t like to drink, not usually. Most of the time, she’ll politely sip down half a beer, promptly handing it to Joel for him to finish. But tonight, she has already lined up three tidily finished bottles on the table next to where she’s playing darts with John, and while everyone else is jovial, enthused and amused by this sudden outgoing shift in her demeanor, all Joel feels is a nervous stutter in his chest.

He watches, quietly and carefully, until he cannot stop himself from stepping in any longer. It’s quick, the way she stumbles back into a table, sending a few bottles rolling over onto the floor before John can hook a steady arm around her shoulders. It’s enough to get Joel moving.

“John, I think it’s time for us to be heading home.”

“John, I think it’s time for us to be heading home.” It’s slurred and stilted, a garish mimicry of his voice that she punctuates with a hiccup and a fragment of a laugh, still slightly swaying from her hold on John’s arm. And when Joel reaches for her, a murmured please, Dove, pain wraps itself around his heart, an awful throb of it, when she jerks her arm away from him, stumbling over her feet and in turn nearly causing John to lose his balance. She is mean like this, he realizes, meanness that he didn’t know she was capable of. A hot scoff and an I’m fine sharp from the back of her throat, steeling herself away from John and holding onto a table to steady her shake. Joel swallows around heat and sickness in his throat watching the broken sigh that curls in her shoulder blades. Not mean, after all, but hurting.

“Yeah, I’d say so. I think Dovey-girl here had a little too much fun tonight.” He knows it’s John’s weak attempt to smooth whatever tension seems to be hissing. Right, fun. Joel tries for what he can of a smile, though it’s more grimace than anything else, quietly coaxing an arm around Dove’s waist, not even sparing John a second glance as he shuffles them out of the bar and into the quick snap of cool night air.

She’s laughing, her head thrown back on her neck, lolled to the side. And it isn’t the laugh he has gotten used to. It’s a bitter thing, an ugly thing, mingling and mixing with that broken rasp of hers. A miracle that he can get her into the car. Usually so tentative with touch, her hands are everywhere, skittering up his chest, tugging in his hair, pulling at his coat, his belt, all while slurring soft iterations of his name. He feels like he’s going to throw up. And maybe it’s a little mean, the way he collects both her wrists in one broad palm and tucks them pointedly in her lap. For a moment she stills, a tremble in her lip that he thinks is threatening tears, but then she tilts her head back in another sharp giggle, distracted enough with her own unraveling that he can shut the passenger-side door and hurry around to his side of the car.

The roads are dark, the mountains the faintest purple shadow in the distance. He rolls all the windows down, hoping that the swift whip of wind might help sober her up. She’s silent in the passenger seat, but he can feel her heavy stare, her cheek dropped down to her shoulder to look at him.

“Joel.” Lilting and long, a little sing-songy call of his name, Jooooel. He doesn’t indulge it with any attention, keeps his eyes focused on the road getting eaten up by headlights in front of them. But she doesn’t abide by that for long. He tries to shake it off at first, jostling his knee like that might make her take her hand away. A quiet don’t, do not, Dove, when her palm starts to skirt higher, curling around his thigh. And it becomes too much so suddenly, so quickly.

“Godfuckingdamnit!”

In a blink, in the time it took for her hand to brush against the in-seam of his jeans, he has driven them off the road and into the soft, new grass on the side of the highway. He has gotten loud, and he has gotten big, shoulders hulking up toward his ears as his eyes flash, frenzied, over to her. And she has gotten small again, pressed back against the passenger-side door, silent and unblinking. He has scared her. But she has scared him as well.

Neither of them say a thing. He allows himself two deep breaths, and then he guides the car back onto the road.

She is still, subdued, and when he finally parks in front of the house, he realizes that she has fallen asleep, her lips parted and her head tilted back. He had hoped that she wouldn’t, but she stirs when he opens the passenger door, an indignant sound in the back of her throat as he unbuckles her seatbelt for her. He moves to take his hand away, but she catches his wrist, a weak hold that he doesn’t resist.

At first, he cannot understand what she’s saying, something mumbled and murmured, her lashes dropped down to her cheeks. She says it once, twice, and it starts to become clearer. You, me, you don’t, me, you don’t want me.

“That’s not true, Dove.” She sighs, running her thumb over his knuckles, her weepy eyes flickering up to his beneath her brow. And it’s terrible, tearing something open inside of him when she tries to lean forward, tries to pull him closer, tries again. Terrible that he has to press a hand to her shoulder to keep her from doing something that she will surely regret. Something he doesn’t know if she would even want, if not for the haze she is in. Maybe the most terrible part of it, actually.

And then that same chorus. You don’t want me, want me, want me, you don’t want me. And he could laugh, and he could cry, because all he has been doing is wanting her, and trying to stop himself from wanting her.

“Not like this.” He says it so quiet, he doesn’t know if she hears it, listing somewhere between consciousness and sleep. If she does, she shows no sign of acknowledging it, just letting out a long string of sighs as he helps her out of the car and into the house.

Her face is tucked into the side of his neck, blowing hot breath against his skin as he makes the awkward stumble up the stairs with her clinging under his arm. He manages to get her shoes off, and her coat, which once was his, but has been hers for a while now. It’s silent, save for her quiet murmurs of protest to any movement, eyes scrunched shut as he coaxes her under the covers. All she offers is one more sigh of his name, like penance or prayer, before she slips back under merciful sleep’s thumb.

Joel doesn’t get into bed with her. He can’t. He knows that he can’t, not right now. So instead, he sits down on the floor with a quiet groan, letting his back rest against the wall across from the bed, his head tipping back, like maybe there might be some sort of answer in the vertical.

There is no answer.

…

The difference between grief and mourning is noun and verb. Grief, the thing, and mourning, what you do with it. Never pretty, never perfect, never graceful, or gracious, any of it.

When Sarah was in middle school she went through a phase of being interested in the paranormal, in death, and what might come after it. Every night, Joel would come home and find her on the couch, watching the same show in which people recounted all their various and supposed hauntings. It had worried him at the time, going to his mother, even to Tommy, asking them if they thought it was strange. It would pass, the advice he received from everyone around him. Being young, it’s natural to wonder if and when the time for all of that to end will come. So when he would come home at night, he would wordlessly join her, somewhere between awake and asleep, half-listening to the television. But now, he remembers something that was said through the thick static of cable. Unfinished business, right, hauntings happen when patterns must be returned to and repeated. Phantom figments playing out all that was left unsaid, undone.

What happened last night had nothing to do with him. He is pretty certain it could have been anyone sitting in the driver’s seat alongside her. All that Dove needed was a willing participant, a captive cast member, to enact a haunting of her own, to close some gap, stitching some snapped thread in her mind. No, nothing to do with him, nothing at all.

At some point, sleep caught him, slumped to the side, a sharp pain in his neck when he wakes up, still seated on the floor. Dove isn’t in bed, a rumple of sheets where she had been laying. He’s too tired for that quick pulse of panic to fan into any real flame, but he does consider it. That maybe this is what leaving looks like.

But no, he stumbles out onto the porch, hurting with how bright it is, no. She is out there with the flock, still in her clothes from last night. He can only see her back with the way she is sitting in the field, spine curled over and into itself.

Shame settles thick and toothsome in his gut, though why he isn’t sure, anxious and awkward in how he comes to stand just in her periphery, letting presence be known, but not needed. She is crying.

“I am so sorry, Joel.” She says it plainly, voice flat and distant. And he isn’t going to say that it’s alright, because they both know that whatever that was, nothing about it was right. Purposeful, but not intended for pain. When cornered, a wounded animal will lash out against anything that moves, innocent or arbiter.

“I know you are, Dove.” When he takes a step closer to her, Avril lets out an indignant bleat from where she is watching a few paces away, part of her flock, a warning that she will do more if she does not like what she sees. Under any other circumstances, Joel would roll his eyes at the animal, ridiculous, but today it keeps him at a distance, sitting down far enough from Dove that he could not reach for her if he tried. And he would like nothing more than to reach for her, to forget what happened last night, to go back to the way things were. A stupid wish, a childish wish, one that cannot be made real.

“I don’t ever want to be like that again.”

“You aren’t like that.” And he means it. That wasn’t her, not the present her. A ghost somewhere inside of her that found its way to the surface, breaking beneath her skin.

“I understand if you want me to leave.”

“I don’t.”

“I was awful to you.” He doesn’t speak at first. Because yes, it was awful. An awful thing that makes him feel sick now even thinking of it. And awful too, that he knows he would forgive her of anything. Already forgiving this.

Punch comes wobbling up to her, taking the laces of her boots in her mouth before snuffling up her leg, nosing under Dove’s palm, intent on affection that she is so willing to give. Maybe they have let these girls get too domestic, a little too comfortable with humans, but he doesn’t care, watching a watery smile try to spread across Dove’s lips as she scratches behind the lamb’s ears.

“How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts, but I deserve it.” No, he thinks, none of this has been deserved. A strange cascade of poison. Cause and terrible effect.

When he reaches for her, Avril abides, plodding away, if not a little indignant. He takes up her hand in his, and though ligament and lines remain limp, she lets him, still not looking at him, but letting him.

“I am so sorry.”

“I know you are.”

…

He takes care of it for her. Seals the packet of paperwork back in the envelope and writes the requisite address on the front, tucks the whole thing in the backseat of the truck. And they move like careful planets, still in orbit, but trying hard not to touch, to linger.

The first thing he does after dropping her off at the diner is go to the post office, though he thinks twice of it. Reopens the envelope in the driver’s seat for the third time now and reads through the whole thing, every condition, every clause. A clean break seems to be the sum of it, nothing glaring to any of it. So he closes the envelope one more time, and posts it back to Nebraska.

It’s a wordless communication, the way she turns in the passenger seat to check for it when he picks her up in the afternoon, settling back when she sees that it is gone. Still smarting, both of them, they move carefully through their usual errands, the grocery and the library, the drugstore for a new bottle of Advil for her.

Her voice has gotten worse over the months, since what happened in November. The word that she uses for it, not what he would call it, worse. Usually the hardest to hear her in the mornings, words cracking into whispers or suddenly stuttering up a pitch. He knows it upsets her, how she will quickly close her mouth mid-thought, lips pressed in a thin line like she couldn’t stand for any more of that sound to come out. He brought up the idea of taking her to see a doctor in Denver once, and she had scoffed, the whites of her eyes showing with their roll because no insurance, and what money she has, set aside for a different problem entirely. She hadn’t let him even begin to say that he would help her cover it.

Today, it is particularly bad. Not in how it sounds, at least not to him, but in how it is clearly painful for her to speak, wincing around the few things she does say, the menial mundane things of errands, clearing her throat in between each response, a hand curled and hovering over the front of her neck, not touching, but sensing something that has seemed to change permanently.

Maybe the alcohol, he thinks, the abrasive slip of it down her throat. Or maybe the fact of loud, the loudest he had ever heard her, those clipped laughs. Maybe a combination of the two. Whatever it is, he can see her frustration mounting with it, until finally, she sits with a terse crease in her brow and her lips kept in a stoic pinch on the drive back home. Betrayed by her own voice, in more ways than one.

The only thing she does say, once the groceries are put away and Joel is preparing to help her make dinner, a rattling rasp, I’ll do it. A wave of her hands, away and behind her, and he won’t argue, worried she might cry if she has to speak any more.

Disappointed that it’s him and not her doing the evening rounds, the sheep are at best tolerant of his care, keeping a dignified distance as he fills their water troughs and checks on the lambs. The chickens are less loyal, and more stupid, he thinks to himself, but even they seem a bit jaded when he is the one that shuts the coop for the night.

The house is warm when he comes back inside, windows spilling syrup into the oncoming night. It smells good, salt and savor, something simmering on the stove. A strange contrast, the inherent life that a kitchen suggests, and the solemn way she is moving around it. Recompense, remorse, heavy things pulling at her shoulders, curling her smaller over pots and pans.

“This looks good, Dove, thank you.” She nods, passing him a full plate, warmth seeping into his palms from the bottom of it. But when they both sit down, he recognizes it immediately, so many steps back. Her hands are in her lap, and he already knows that she’s waiting for him to start. Doing that thing again, and he can do it too. Fork and knife remain untouched, he sits back in his chair, a small challenge. Maybe ten minutes pass like that, the steam from their plates long dissolved into the air, when she finally looks up at him, frustration clear in the pull of her brow.

Something that she learned. Something that was taught to her, just like all the rest of her fear. Back when she first came to stay with him, she was always apologizing, always thanking. And the cooking, and the waiting for him to start before she would even consider her plate. Like punishment, like always being aware of some score, and afraid of what might happen if she does not balance it. And he’s watching her sink back into it, all of it, right now.

“Dove, please.” She blinks at him, a slack frown pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“You should eat, Joel.” She puts every ounce of sound she can behind it, and it still comes out quiet, a quick burst of decibel on eat, like her voice tried to kick up in her chest just enough to end on a good note, though his name comes out the softest of all of it, a whisper that seems to hurt.

“So should you.”

“I will.”

“Now, please.”

“I feel terrible.” And he knows that she isn’t talking about her lingering headache, not even the pain in her throat. He knows that she has probably been exacting perfect retribution on herself in her mind, all day. She looks miserable, because she has made herself miserable with guilt that has festered into shame.

“I forgive you, I do.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“You didn’t mean it.” Her eyes flicker, so small he might have imagined it. But no, something shifts behind her grimace, and he realizes that he might be wrong, that there had been some truth to her want last night. A want that she doesn’t know how to manage, a want that she doesn’t know what to do with. A want like his.

“I don’t know how to, Joel.”

“That’s okay.”

“I don’t think I can stand it.”

“What can’t you stand?”

“For you to not–” She cuts herself off, a sharp breath that threatens tears. But he knows it’s the same thing he’s afraid of that she is speaking to. Want can be so violent, so rash, so wicked and wretched in how big and bold and blustering it can get. But really, it is a child, hoping that someone will hold its hand, hoping, for once, that someone will walk it home, see it through the night.

“It’s the same for me, Dove. I can’t stand it either.”

On her terms, the only way this will ever work, he offers a quiet come here, please, pushes out his chair from the table, and waits for her to respond, to react. And yes, it takes time, but eventually, she does.

“Warm.” Said to herself, maybe not meant to be said at all, her eyes intent on where her palm splays over his chest. He places his hand over hers, keeping it there.

There is no one around for a good few miles, but here is what the coyotes see in the yellow drip of light coming from the kitchen windows. A man, sitting in a chair pushed back from a dining table, and a woman, standing between his legs, her hand on his chest, and his hand on her hand. And they are not smiling, neither of them, and they are not speaking either. They are looking at each other. The man places his other hand on the woman’s waist, and he gives her a small nod, a making sure, making okay. The woman nods too, and she lets her other hand settle along the man’s jaw.

But people are very boring to coyotes, especially broken ones like these, so they do not stick around to see the rest, skittering off with a chorus of yips and clackering sounds, seeking their own small satisfactions.

No, the coyotes do not see when the woman carefully dips her face down, nor do they see the man tilt his chin up in answer. And the coyotes certainly do not see the small, shivering kiss that is over as soon as it starts. Two shadows turning into one, and only the smallest sliver of light between them when they separate again.

The coyotes have much more interesting matters to tend to than such human things. After all, spring has finally come to the mountains.

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

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abilouwrites · 6 months

Text

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL

Mat Barzal x fem!oc

Series Masterlist

ONE

I only like the bookstore during the night, when it’s slow and nobody’s around. The lights are flickering and the town suddenly goes quiet in contrast with the bustle of the busy mornings and heavy traffic of the day.

I only work here on the weekends for the closing shifts or the opening ones. Something to make a little more money to fall back on besides my adult corporate job. My parents are proud, more my father than my mother that I’ve begun my climb up the corporate ladder.

I don’t hate my job, far from it. Simply the long hours and bossy bosses that make me pull at my fingers and tug at my hair. Especially with my youth and admitted naivety, those at my job can be wary about me either in the break room or being hesitant to invite me out for drinks.

I’ve been told by my therapist that I rushed my childhood, skipping grades and taking collage classes while also taking highschool classes at the same time. I want to fight her on it, claim that I did have a childhood and had dreams but I know that I’m defending something I never had.

Two parents who were always fighting; hated eachother but swore to stay together because of their vows, “Hey Bella” I smile at the older lady standing at the counter as I tuck behind into the back room and set my purse onto the table and wrapping my apron around my body, “slow day?” I ask as I switch from heels to converse.

“Yeah, it’s the middle of the school season so all the kidlets are probably studying” she sighs out rubbing her tired eyes, “ok, I’m off. Be safe. Please” she reminds me as she pats my shoulder, “I’ll need you to come in a bit earlier tomorrow for the opening shift, we’re getting a new shipment of books for the month”

“Uhh, yeah yeah I can do that, so 5:30 instead of six?” I clarify, as I clock myself in on the timetable next to the register.

“Yes, thank you Emma. You’re a doll” She smiles and blows me a kiss exiting the building as the cold wind brushes against her; gently pulling at the greying blonde hair that’s always been tucked into a a little bun.

I turn on some music to keep my mind from straying as I walk around the store. Gently brushing my fingers against the creased spines and occasional leather covered book. Those nice collectors editions are always Romeo and Juliet, or Hamlet.

Personally I’ve thought Romeo and Juliet a bit childish and immature, but I’ve always been told I’m looking at it from a modern perspective. I believe that Romeo and Juliet is the way to not fall in love.

But then again, that’s coming from the girl who watched her parents try and fix an already broken marriage by having an abundance of kids and forcing themselves to stay together even though, everyone’s known they’d be better apart. Even their own kids.

I tidy up the reading corner, setting the old book. Princess and the pea back onto the shelf and searching for the one tomorrow.

My my fingers pull and push against the covers of the kids books, looking for something different. I don’t pay attention when the bell jingles and jangles while I hear a heavy step quickly become softer. I hear them physically relax as they walk the isles.

I eventually decide on a book with a unicorn and a blonde girl. Something I fondly remember of my own childhood.

I stretch up a little and let my hair down from its clip, it falls unevenly against my shoulders but I don’t mind or even care that much. This bookstore is my happy place; where I am safe and content within my own body. Here I will never care what I look like.

I view the man searching in the fiction section, something specific I can tell by his body language. If he needs help I’ll allow him to ask; yet I’m wary of going up to a man and guiding him to the book.

When he finally notices me watching him he turns around and asks, “do you know where I can find ‘The road’ it’s uh. Geez by I think by Cormac McCarthy?” He stumbles out; slowly dragging a hand across his face and brushing his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes.

His face is soft but sharp; his eyes evoke a warm bubbly feeling inside me. Eyes that make me feel comfortable being alone with him, “yes, I believe we only have a few left” I tell him, walking off to a different section of the store, “I know, our shop is set up weird” I explain.

“And why’s that?” He inquires, his pace isnt rushed or faster than mine. But relaxed and nonchalant. As if he has all the time in the world.

“The original owners, she has a special section called ‘Meine Leibe’ which I think translates to ‘My loves’ or ‘my life’ once she passed her daughter kept it the same so this little section would always be here for her. I find it endearing” I know I ramble on a bit but I’ve suddenly grown afraid of having a silence against the two of us

“It is, it’s just a little place with all her favorite books?” He keeps asking, as I turn into the cozy little corner. I thumb through the alphabetical order.

“Yeah, her favorite chair, pillows. Shannon was such a kind lady” I reminisce, “here is The Road, is there anything else I can help you with? Or will that be all for today?”

“Uhh, ha unless you have ‘The deal’ by Elle Kennedy then I’ll take that too” I think he’s being sarcastic but I can’t really tell.

“I think we do, are you a hockey fan?” I ask walking to the romance section.

“I guess you could say that, do you watch?” He asks, “do you need a hand?”

“I watch a bit, just the New Jersey Devils with my dad. Yeah it’s just above there” I point, even on my tip toes the store has ceiling high bookshelves. And because it’s night the ladders been locked up. I move to the side as he grabs the book.

“Are you from Jersey?”

“Yeah, I lived there before I came to New York for a work deal”

“I’m going to assume it’s not this job.. right?” As he makes his way to the register and I slink behind the counter

“Yeah, my uh big girl job as my mom likes to address it as” I hear the roll in my eyes as I scan the bar codes and ring him up, “will that be with cash or card?”

“Card” He pulls his wallet out of the front pocket of his jacket, “thank you”, he checks for my name eyes staring just above but also at my chest.

I poke my eyebrows up at him praying to god this man isn’t looking at my tits directly; not even with the slightest bit of discretion.

“I’m uh looking for your name to thank you— I swear I’m not looking at your uh. You know boobs” he almost whispers out the last bit before continuing, “not that they aren’t nice or anything but uh” the tips of his ears turn pink and his cheeks suddenly become flushed, “I will just pay now” he groans out softly; handing me his card and rubbing his eyes with his hands.

I ring him up and he puts his pin in, “thank you again, you never told me your name” he questions for that piece of information

“Emma”

“Thank you Emma, have a good evening” he purses his lips and grabs his books. Hands shaking as he smiles and starts to leave.

“You too, wait” I lean over the bar slightly, “you never told me your name?”

“Mat”

“Alright then, have a good evening Mat. Come back soon”

The door jingles as he leaves and I watch him through the window, I see him sigh and smack his books against his head. Though I don’t exactly hear what he says; noises muffled through the glass and the music.

“Huh. What a strange guy”

#hockey #nhl #mat barzal my beloved #mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mathew barzal #mat barzal smut #mat barzal x oc #new york #new york islanders #New York hockey #New York islanders hockey #islander hockey #mb13 #mathew barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #louiseabilenewrites

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willalove75 · 3 months

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The Estate | Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!oc Chapter 5

Summary: You have a relaxing weekend with your daughter before your first full week of work begins - and it begins with a surprise visitor and a spontaneous conversation with your new boss.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: fluff, angst if you squint, plot development

I'll add more tags as needed!

Notes: Chapter 5! In reference to the gif: if you know. You know. BECSPK gang 4 lyfeee💕 (Although my go-to is egg whites and bacon on a seedless🤤)

I want to SO apologize for not updating this fic in MONTHS! For those of you who haven't seen my Alcina's New Maid update (or my Tumblr post update) the reason for my lack of writing has been because I'm pregnant! I'm officially 20 weeks (halfway! WOO!) and have been trying to get myself back into a regular writing schedule. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the update!

Ik slow burns can be boring and I'm trying my hardest to keep it entertaining while also not rushing too much!! I have a LOT planned for this fic and I'm excited to get into the meat and potatoes of it!

Gif source

Saturday mornings are your favorite. They're usually relatively quiet, not a lot goes on and you get to spend some lazy quality time with Emma. Just as you're clipping her into her booster seat your phone dings with a text message.

Open the door, bitch

Rolling your eyes, you walk to the door and open it to find your sister, Sam, standing in front of you with a brown paper bag in her hands.

"Finally!" She says as she walks into the apartment.

"How long were you standing out there for? Thirty seconds?"

"Thirty seconds too long!" She says over her shoulder as she drops the bag onto the table and leans down to kiss Emma. "Hello my sweet little angel, how are you this morning?"

"Auntie! I'm hungry!"

"You didn't eat yet, did you?" She asks you as she opens the paper bag.

The smell of bacon immediately fills the kitchen and it makes your mouth water. The signature scent of an egg sandwich causes your stomach to growl in response.

"No, I was just about to make Emma something. Fuck that smells so good." You say under your breath. "Where are the kids?"

"Good, I got you a sandwich. And Tyler has them today. It's his weekend." Sam says.

"Ah, gotcha."

Sam hands you a sandwich from the bag and you eagerly take it from her.

"I don't think I've ever loved you more in my life."

"Ha ha" Sam sarcastically laughs. "Yeah I'm sure."

After whipping up Emma eggs of her own you sit at the table with Sam and dig into your sandwich.

"God I haven't had one of these in a minute."

"Consider this a 'congratulations on getting a job' gift." She says and you laugh in response. "How was it?"

"It was good, I keep saying this but it's really great to be back working and doing my thing. I missed it."

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. How are the people?"

"They're good, my boss is really nice, her kids for the most part are nice too. The CFO is kind of an ass, at least that's how he comes off."

"That sounds about right. Your boss' kids work there?"

"Yeah." You tell her about Bela, Cassandra and Daniela and she chuckles at Cassandra's attitude towards you.

"She sounds like a ray of sunshine." Sam says.

"You have no idea."

"Mommy! I want out!" Emma says.

"Okay baby, let's get you out."

You take Emma out of her booster seat and set her on the ground.

"Can I go play?"

"Yes baby, go ahead."

"YAY!" Emma screams as she runs into her room. You chuckle and shake your head at her.

"Well I'm glad you're liking it so far and that your boss is pretty cool. Have you told her about...?"

"No, not yet. It's too soon."

"She hasn't questioned why you've been out of work for two years?"

"Oh no, she has. But I danced around it. I'm not ready to talk about it in the office yet. It's nice not having people look at me the way they do once they find out, you know?"

"Not really, but I can understand. Is she at least understanding that you're a single mom?"

"Well, she just found that out yesterday, on accident really. Bela asked if Em was a mommy or daddy's girl."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. But I think I played it off well enough. And Bela definitely felt bad for asking because she blurted out that Alcina is a single mother too."

"Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah. Alcina shot her a look. A 'don't tell people about our personal lives' kind of look. Then before I left for the day she thanked me for being so kind to her daughters, especially the youngest one. It was really sweet."

"From what you've said she doesn't seem like the type to get sentimental with her employees like that."

"She isn't. I honestly don't know if she's ever showed anyone else in the office that side of her before. Everything is always strictly business with her, at least from what I've seen so far. But it was nice seeing that softer side of her."

"What does she look like?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm nosey and want to know!"

"I don't know, she's tall, like six feet tall and she wears heels."

"Holy shit she must be a giant."

"She is. She has short curly hair, really pretty blue-grey eyes. I've never seen eyes like hers before, they're beautiful. And she has the best figure I've ever seen, it's almost fake but you know it isn't."

"How so?"

"She has like, massive tits." You say as you imitate the size of her breasts with your hands. "And a small waist, but not like, too small? Nothing about this woman is small honestly. She has a like, perfect hour glass figure. But you can tell it's all natural. And she dresses like she walked out of the 1950s."

"Sounds like you've looked her over on more than one occasion." Sam says as she smirks at you.

"You would too if you saw her! Practically everyone does. She gives off this crazy alpha energy."

"You're single, right?"

"Oh god Sam stop. She's my boss!" You say as your cheeks turn pink.

"That hasn't stopped people before!"

"You're ridiculous. No."

"You're turning red!"

"I've been there three days! I can't have a crush on my boss! Plus, just because she's a single parent doesn't mean she isn't seeing anyone. And I doubt she's into women and she's. My. Boss."

"Whatever you say." Sam says with a smirk as she cleans up the table.

"You are a pain in my ass."

"Yet you love me anyway. So how's sassy pants downstairs?"

"Margie? She's fine, same as usual. She finally gave up driving, thank god."

"Oh fucking finally. Deb's been trying to convince her mother to stop driving for years. What made her finally give in?"

"Well, a few months ago she ran into the garage door."

"Oh Jesus."

"So she bargained. She said she would stop driving if she could start smoking again."

Sam laughs out loud and shakes her head. "She is stubborn as fuck."

"The most stubborn woman I know."

Sam hangs out with you and Emma for a few more hours before heading out. Around one in the afternoon you put Emma down for a nap and you decide to jump in the shower. After your shower you get dressed and clean the house a little. Emma only naps for an hour and a half before you go in and wake her up.

The weather is finally warming up so you decide it's the perfect day to head to the park nearby. Emma squeals with excitement when you pull up and you can barely keep up with her as she runs to the slide. There's a few other kids at the park with their parents watching close by. You keep an eye on Emma as she goes up and down the slide a few times before growing bored of it and moving to play on the jungle gym.

Kids and their parents come and go as you sit on the bench watching your daughter. Dinner time is slowly arriving so you tell Emma she can go on the slide three more times before it's time to go home. After the third time she puts up a little bit of a fight but the moment you suggest going and getting dinner from her favorite place, she's more than eager to leave.

After pulling into the parking lot you and Emma enter the 1950's-style diner. The hostess seats the two of you and when your waitress comes you place your order. Not long after the food comes out and you start on your sandwich as Emma munches on her chicken fingers. Emma squeals with excitement when you tell her that she's allowed to get an ice cream and she happily orders a vanilla sundae, you of course also order one for yourself.

As usual, Emma is wearing her ice cream by the time she's finished with it but truthfully, you couldn't care less. After getting the check and paying at the register you and Emma head home.

Once Emma is bathed and dressed in her pajamas, the two of you pick out a book, as you do every night, and you read her the story as she falls asleep.

The rest of the weekend flies by and before you know it, Monday is back again. After dropping Emma off at your in-laws house you make your way to the estate.

Walking inside you see Cassandra and one of the other bartenders prepping the bar for the day. You wave at them, Cassandra as per usual ignores you but the other bartender, Dave, waves at you with a smile and a pleasant "good morning!"

Rounding the corner towards the offices you spot Chris and Alcina talking in the hallway. Alcina is leaning up against the wall inspecting her fresh manicure, looking like she couldn't be more uninterested in whatever Chris was talking about if she tried.

When the sound of your shoes against the floor reaches her ears her eyes flick up towards you. A bright smile stretches across her lips and she pushes herself off of the wall and steps towards you.

Chris stops speaking mid-sentence and gives Alcina a look. She returns the look and says to him "I already told you you can go ahead with the project, I don't need you to continue to bore me with details that are irrelevant." before turning away.

"Good morning." You say.

"Good morning Kathleen. How was your weekend?"

"It was good, quiet but relaxing. How was yours?"

"Excellent. My weekend was busy, as usual, but pleasant."

Just as you go to speak you're interrupted by the sound of a door being slammed open in the tasting room. A second later a voice rings through the tasting room and down the hall.

"DELIVERY FOR HER HIGHNESS!"

Alcina's head snaps in the direction of the room, her eyes narrow and you hear a low growl rumble in her chest.

"If you'll excuse me." She says through gritted teeth. You notice a vein in her neck begin to pulse and she storms towards the noise.

"Oh this will be good." Chris says with a little excitement in his voice.

"What? What was that?"

"You're gonna want to see this." He says with a smile as he walks in the direction Alcina took off in. You drop your bag at your desk and head towards the direction Chris and Alcina went off to.

Alcina opens the doors to the tasting room and her vision turns red. Waltzing into the room is her brother, Karl, making his way towards the bar.

"Cassie, hook your uncle up will ya?" He says, taking a seat.

"Heisenberg." Alcina hisses.

"Ah, there she is!" He says as he puts his feet up on the bar.

Alcina smacks his feet off and glares down at him.

"Do you not have any manners?" She says as her eyes flash with rage.

"What? I'd think you'd be more appreciative that I worked so hard to finish whatever the hell it was you asked me to make."

You walk into the tasting room behind Chris and watch as Alcina stands next to a slightly disheveled man. He's wearing a stained t-shirt with baggy pants and boots. A hat, sunglasses, and a trench coat.

He goes to grab the drink that was set in front of him, ignoring the fact that Alcina is practically shaking with anger. He takes a long sip of the beer he was given and pulls out a cigar, sticking it between his chapped lips. As he goes to grab a lighter from his pocket, Alcina snatches the cigar from his mouth and breaks it in half, dumping it onto the counter in front of him.

"The fuck was that for?!"

"You cannot smoke in here!"

"You're such a fucking buzzkill." He mutters, rolling his eyes and taking another drink from the bottle. "Cassie I don't know how the fuck you put up with this shit every goddamn day."

Cassandra snickers and Alcina shoots daggers at her. Rolling her eyes at her mother, Cassandra turns around and continues putting away the glasses.

Karl finishes off his beer and lets out an obnoxiously loud burp. Alcina scrunches her face in disgust and wafts the air between them away from her.

"You are a truly vile human being." She says.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry I don't meet your standards, princess." He replies. "Hey Cass, get me another round will ya?" He says, slapping his hand down on the bar.

"Absolutely not." Alcina says. "I will not have you come in here, make a scene, drink all of our imported beers and pay not as much as a dime for them. Up! Go," she says, shooing him away from the bar. "get the table and get the hell out of my establishment!"

"Someone's in a great fuckin' mood this morning. What happened, woke up on the wrong side of your coffin?"

"Karl you are testing the very little patience I have left." She says through her teeth.

"Hah! You? Having patience? I didn't know you were a comedian."

Alcina squeezes her eyes shut and rubs at her temples as Karl gets up and starts to head towards the door. As he turns around he sees you and Chris standing near the door leading to the offices.

"Ho shit! If it ain't the fancy CFO himself!" Karl belts across the tasting room before meeting Chris halfway. "Howya doin' ya son of a bitch?" He says, shaking his hand.

"Karl my man!" Chris says. "I've been good, keepin' busy. How about yourself?"

"Hope slenderwoman hasn't been too rough on ya!" He says before laughing too loud, earning another eye roll from Alcina. "And not bad, not bad. Your boss here commissioned some kind of table from me so I'm just droppin' it off. Nice excuse to ruffle a few feathers too if you know what I mean." He says, nudging Chris in the ribs and laughing. "And who is this little lady here?" He says, looking over at you.

Not a second later you hear Alcina's heels stomping in your direction, looking up you see her eyes narrowed at the back of his head.

"I'm Katie, the new marketing and social media strategist."

"Karl Heisenberg," he says, taking your hand in his. "the pleasure is all mine." He gives you a small bow before kissing the back of your hand and letting it go.

The action took you by surprise a bit and you swore you saw steam come out of Alcina's ears as she walks up behind him. Karl lets your hand go and Alcina grabs him by the back of his jacket and begins to pull him away.

"Will you keep your filthy hands off of my staff? God only knows when the last time you washed them!" She hisses before whipping him around and pushing him towards the door. "Go!"

"What?! Is this how you treat family here?! What kind of establishment is this?!"

"One I will have you removed from if you don't get that table this instant!"

"Alright, alright! Don't get your panties in a twist. I'm going, I'm going!"

Alcina lets out a huff and brings her fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose. After gathering herself she turns back towards you and Chris and makes her way over.

"I do apologize for my little brother, he is quite feral."

"Ah come on Alci, he isn't so bad!" Chris says and Alcina shoots him a glare.

"I told you, do not call me that. And that man is insufferable at best." She turns towards you. "I do apologize for his behavior."

"Don't worry about it, really, it's okay." You say with a smile.

The doors open once more and you can hear Karl barking orders to the guys lugging the table in. Alcina physically cringes as they bang into the doorframe while trying to get it inside.

"Ay! Watch it! That table is worth more than what you get paid in a month!" Karl yells.

"If you will excuse me." Alcina says before making her way over to the men and directs them where to go.

Both you and Chris take that as your cue to leave so the two of you head back to your offices.

"Told ya you'd wanna see that." He says with a satisfied smirk.

"See what? Ms. Dimitrescu and her brother?"

"Yeah! I've never seen anyone else be able to get her riled up so easily. Just his presence is enough to make the woman lose her shit."

"I guess." You say

It aggravated you a little seeing Chris find so much enjoyment from watching Alcina get frustrated and riled up. If anything, you felt bad for the woman. Luckily you and your sister got along great but it would probably piss you off too if you had a sibling that was to blatantly rude and dismissive in your place of work. If anything it's probably as embarrassing as it is annoying.

The rest of the walk back to your office was quiet, much to your surprise Chris seemed to get the hint that you weren't in the mood to revel in Alcina's misery and didn't say anything else. When you sat down at your desk you finally able to get started on today's work.

A few minutes later you hear heels on the tiled floor and see Alcina walk past your office. She looked less than thrilled for the couple of seconds you were able to see her. The door to her office opens and a minute later you hear it close and she walks past you again. Thinking nothing of it, you dive back into answering emails.

Once your inbox was taken care of you go to check your to-do list to see what you needed to prioritize for the day. Digging through your bag you realize you must have left your notebook in the car so you grab your keys and head out the side door towards the parking lot.

As you open the door the smell of fresh air quickly changes into the smell of cigarette smoke. Looking over, you see Alcina leaning up against the brick wall with a cigarette perched between two fingers.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were out here." You say as you close the door behind you.

"No need to apologize. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just left my notebook in my car." You reply.

Alcina brings the cigarette to her perfectly painted red lips and takes a long drag before pulling it away. She turns her head away from you and exhales the smoke. Usually you found smoking to be unattractive but somehow every single thing this woman does is attractive as hell. You'd put money on the fact that she could shovel a pile of shit and still look good while doing it.

You make your way to your car and find your notebook on the floor of the passenger side. Walking back over to Alcina you notice her eyes are still on you.

"I didn't know you smoked." You say as you walk up to her and immediately wish you kept your mouth shut. Why would you say that? What a stupid thing to say.

Alcina chuckles as she takes another drag before exhaling again.

"Yes, it's truly a disgusting habit I've yet to break. I had been doing well, however, my brother certainly knows how to get under my skin."

"I get that, siblings definitely know how to rile each other up."

"He is a man-child. A petulant fool." She grumbles.

As you chuckle a van drives by and slows down. In the drivers seat you see Karl. He blares on his horn a few times as he drives by, causing both you and Alcina to jump. Your hands fly up to your ears and Alcina visibly winces at the noise.

"Nenorocitul acela." Alcina grumbles under her breath as she sticks her pinky in her ear. (That fucking moron).

She takes another drag from her cigarette and looks over at you.

"You said your daughter is starting daycare this week?"

Her question took you by surprise for a second, you definitely weren't expecting Alcina to remember that from the conversation you had last week.

"Yes! She starts tomorrow." You say with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. Truthfully, you were excited that Emma was going to spend time with other children her age and be able to socialize more, but the thought of sending her to daycare also gave you a lot of anxiety.

Alcina notices your apprehension even though you hide it well in your voice. It brought her back to when the girls were little and she sent them off to daycare for the first time. Granted, it was more of a private school than daycare, but leaving the girls behind and going to work was still anxiety-inducing for her.

"Nervous?" She asks before taking another drag of her cigarette.

Knowing Alcina was asking about you, you decide to divert your answer.

"Oh Emma is really excited. She wasn't sure at first but as soon as she saw all of the toys they had she was thrilled. She was very upset that she wasn't able to stay the day we did the tour."

"I was asking about you." She said with a smile.

"Oh."

"I remember when I dropped the girls off at daycare for the first time. I think I cried more than they did." She says with a chuckle. You notice a faraway look in her eye as she thinks back on the memory.

Alcina walked down the large, ornate hallway with Cassandra's tiny had in hers. In Cassandra's other hand, Bela clung tightly to her. When they arrived to the classroom the girls' daycare teacher greeted them at the door.

"Good morning! You two must be Cassandra and Bela." She says with a warm smile.

Bela and Cassandra clung to each other tighter, staring between Alcina and their new teacher. Alcina bends down and runs her fingers through Cassandra's dark hair.

"Girls, do you remember your teacher? Ms. Jackson?"

Bela's blue eyes scan the room as she holds onto her sister.

"Eu vreau sa merg acasa." She says quietly as tears begin to fill her eyes. (I want to go home).

"It will only be for a little while, draga. I'll be back before you know it." Alcina says, turning both girls to face her. She wipes the tears from Bela's cheeks and shushes her. "Nu plânge, e în regulă draga mea." (Don't cry, it's alright my darling).

"Vreau să merg acasă, te rog." Bela says as her voice trembles. (I want to go home, please).

"How about you give it a try? I have to go to work, but then we will go back home and we can play with your toys." Alcina says.

"No!" Bela yells, taking Alcina by surprise. "Vreau să merg acasă la mami! O vreau pe mama mea!" She cries. (I want to go home to mommy! I want my mommy!).

Alcina can feel her heart breaking in her chest. Cassandra's eyes begin to fill with tears as she watches her big sister cry. Even though she's only a year younger than Bela, she still understands that so much has changed and that they're no longer with their mother.

"O vreau pe mama mea." Cassandra whimpers before she starts to cry as well. (I want my mommy).

Wrapping her arms around the two little girls, Alcina pulls them into her and they grab onto her shirt and jacket as they cry.

"Shh, shh. Nu plânge fetele mele dragi, nu plânge. Va fi bine, doar respira, totul va fi bine." She says softly as she rubs circles across their backs as she tries to soothe them. (Don't cry my sweet girls, don't cry. It's going to be alright, just breathe, everything is going to be alright).

Their small cries chip away at Alcina's already fragile heart. She squeezes her eyes shut, refusing to shed a tear, refusing to let the girls - or anyone else for that matter - see her cry.

After taking a few deep breaths, Alcina begins to quietly hum the girls' favorite lullaby. She may still be brand new to parenting, but the one thing she figured out that works was singing to the girls in their native language. It was one of the few things that have been able to calm them when they were upset or scared. Alcina's mother would sing it to her and her sister when they were young. One night when she was at her wits end, she began singing it for Bela and Cassandra and they immediately began to calm down. It's been her go-to ever since.

The girls finally stop crying and Alcina pulls away enough to look at the two of them. As heartbreaking as it was, she couldn't help but think of how cute they looked. Bela's blue eyes and Cassandra's hazel eyes always looked brighter after they cried. Even their flushed cheeks and runny noses made them look cute. Alcina cupped each of their faces and wiped away their tears before placing a kiss in the center of each of their foreheads.

The girls looked up at her and it was almost pitiful. So much of her wanted to just take them home but she had to go to work and she had to let them go. Taking both of their small hands into each of hers, she looked both girls in the eye.

"I know it's frightening, I know you girls are scared, but I am coming back. I promise, I will be back and we will all go home together, okay?" The both nodded at her as tears began to fill their eyes once more. "No more tears my darlings, alright? No more tears." She says as she wipes away the stray tears from their cheeks. "I need both of you to be brave? Okay? Bela, I need you to look after your sister, to be protect her, alright?" Bela looks at Cassandra and back at Alcina and nods. "Cassandra, I need you to look after your sister, to be brave for her, can you do that for me?" Cassandra wipes her nose and nods at Alcina.

She strokes their hair before pulling the girls back in for a tight hug.

"Vă iubesc, vă iubesc atât de mult fetelor. Mă întorc, promit dragilor mei. Mă voi întoarce după tine. Nu te voi lăsa." Alcina whispers to them before giving them one last squeeze and letting go. (I love you, I love you girls so much. I'm coming back, I promise my darlings. I'll come back for you. I will never leave you).

Alcina stands up and straightens out her shirt and jacket. She takes the girls hands in each of hers and guides them to their teacher. Ms. Jackson smiles down at the girls and points out all of the toys scattered around the room. Cassandra eyes a baby doll and another little girl picks it up. The girl sees Cassandra and walks over to her.

"Play?" The little girl asks.

Cassandra looks up at Alcina and Alcina smiles down at her.

"Go ahead darling, go play."

Cassandra hesitantly releases Alcina's hand and looks at Bela, reaching out towards her. Bela's grip on Alcina tightens and Alcina strokes her hair.

"It's alright love, go play with them."

Bela looks up at Alcina who nods. After contemplating for a moment, Bela takes Cassandra's hand and the three little girls make their way over to the rug and begin playing with the toys.

Alcina takes the opportunity while they are distracted to thank the teacher and leave before they see her again. With her heart still breaking in her chest, Alcina makes it to her car and starts the engine.

Before she can pull away, the floodgates open. She grips the steering wheel and rests her forehead against her hands as she cries. Different emotions bubble up, but the strongest one is anger.

She's angry that the girls were put through so much at such a young age. She's angry at how unfair the last few months have been for them. Angry at the situation she herself was put in.

Alcina slams her fist against the steering wheel before pulling herself together. She takes her makeup bag from her purse and fixes her makeup before taking one last deep breath and driving away.

You can see memories flash across Alcina's eyes, memories you know nothing about. But you can see the emotions in her eyes, worry, sadness, and anger. Alcina snaps out of it and takes another drag of her cigarette and exhales.

"It's certainly not easy," she says. "the first few times are the most difficult, but eventually they were so excited the girls didn't even say goodbye when they ran through the doors." She says with a laugh.

"I'm sure we'll get there, but like you said, the first few times are gonna be rough."

"I have no doubts that the two of you will do great." She says with a smile.

With one last drag of her cigarette, Alcina puts the butt into the cigarette receptacle.

"Shall we?" She asks, nodding towards the door.

"Oh! Yeah." You say sheepishly.

Alcina opens the door and holds it for you. "After you."

"Thank you." You say with a smile before the two of you head back in.

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