#Curse these hands and their inability to draw

[sturnlsstuff]

GENTLEMAN | matt sturniolo

loser!matt x partygirl!reader

matt gets dragged to a party, when he meets the "party queen" who definitely doesn't find him terribly boring like he thought she would, which she makes sure he understands.

requested by @mattsobvimyfav . divider credits. @anitalenia

— warnings; smutty smut, sub!matt, soft!dom!reader, making out, blowjob, riding, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, whiny matt (hot alert), pet names (pretty/good boy, baby, sweetheart...) cursing, praise kink lowkey, mentions of weed, cigs and alcohol, — english isn't my first language.

women like you were out of the league for guys like matt. you were a typical popular girl, partying every week and not like normal people did. you were the queen of the dance floor. party queen, that's how people called you. everyone with eyes and a brain admired the graceful way you carried yourself around. never missing parties, always staying until the very end, usually your friends had to carry you out of the building due to the excess alcohol in your blood and inability to stand on your own feet. when you were telling a joke, everyone laughed. when you were taking shots, so did others, that's how convincing you were.

you could have any guy you wanted, but no one was perfect for your standards. you were admired by girls who wanted to be like you and guys who wanted you.

matt was one of those people. he admired you.

he didn't know you well as a person who kept away from people. he was an observer type, only talked to his closest friends, of whom he had few. maybe even a little shy, that's what people called him, but really when he felt comfortable? he could be so interesting.

he had never talked to you before, only ever heard about you or knew what he had noticed. matt wasn't the party type, usually was practically dragged out of the comfort of his room. he didn't like looking for adventures. and today? some girl that his brothers were friends with, and that matt knew by sight, had a birthday and of course chris and nick once again dragged him out of the house for the party, ignoring his complaints. so that's how he found himself in this house full of rich, drunk kids, loud music blasting in his ears, every now and then someone would trip over his legs, causing him to roll his eyes. he sat half the party on the couch in the corner of the main room, arms crossed and beer in hand. he really wanted to go home, but his brothers would kill him if he didn't last until midnight. half an hour left.

unable to bear it any longer, he finally goes outside where the music was a little muffled, giving him the feeling of getting to breathe again. maybe that was the case. being surrounded by so many people was overwhelming. he lights a cigarette, which was his little addiction but helped him relax, and leans against the wall, praying that the minutes go by faster.

he started getting more and more relaxed, finally at peace, tilting his head back and blowing out clouds of smoke until he heard giggles. his eyes immediately opening, noticing you and your two friends coming out from behind the building and walking crookedly towards him, you searching for something in your purse. he would recognize the party queen everywhere.

"... i can't find it!! i swear i had it!!" you laugh, giving up with whatever you wanted to find, your purse slips off your shoulder just by the front door of the house, right next to where matt was standing. he automatically bends down and hands it to you, drawing the attention of you and your friends to him, which makes his heart beat faster. "oh helloooo, thank you," a smile appears on your face, that brings a slight warmth to his cheeks.

"yeah, no problem," he tries to keep it cool, scratching the back of his neck nervously. you look at your friends, gasping playfully, "ohhh, maybe this gentleman will have a lighter—" your gaze goes back to his blue eyes that were now wide. "do you have a lighter??? i think i lost mine!"

"a what— oh—" he snaps out of his trance, staring too hard at you which makes him blush even more. you were so beautiful. he clears his throat, "yeah, uh, i have one..." he hands it to you, your friends giggling at his nervousness, while you thought he's being really cute. "here you go."

"you're a life saveeeerrrrr," you're about to start searching for the cigarettes but he's quick to pass his own pack to you. "oh god, you're like an angel," your grin widens as you take a cigarette from him, putting it between your lips and lighting it up.

"girlll, my song is playing! can you hurry up?" your friend complains, causing you to roll your eyes.

"just go, i'll come in a minute."

"you sure?"

"yeah, go," you repeat yourself and stand next to matt who was leaning against the wall against, his heart pounding in his chest. he could feel your perfume mixed with... weed, perhaps? you give him the lighter and cigarettes back with a simple 'thank you'.

you both stand next to each other in silence that was starting to weigh on him, but he wasn't able to speak first. you both smoke your cigarettes when you finally look at him again. dressed all in black, a beer in one hand, on which you notice tattoos. oh, he's handsome as fuck.

"so" you speak up, getting his attention. "does this gentleman have a name?"

he smiles shyly, overwhelmed by your beauty. "i'm matt."

"matt," you repeat, tasting his name on your tongue. "i like it. suits you."

the way you repeat his name makes him feel both uncomfortable and strangely excited at the same time. he rubs the back of his neck nervously again, blowing out the smoke, just as you say your name too. he gives you a glance, "i know."

"oh, do you?" a smirk appears on your lips as you take another drag. he replies hesitantly, "well, i mean... who doesn't?"

you nod confidently, "right." your eyes travel to his tattooed arm again, feeling your stomach twisting in knots at the sight. he catches it and looks down at his arm as well. "i like them. make you look hotter," you confess.

he blinks, caught of guard by your words. he wasn't really used to people, especially not girls like you, saying things like that to him. mostly because he barely was leaving his house. he feels his heart race, a warmth spreading through his chest. "thanks."

"of course," you respond casually, checking him out once again before looking away with a small smile and taking another drag of the cigarette. you were slightly high, not really that drunk yet and you knew what you were doing. his awkwardness was so cute, there was no way you'd let this man go so quickly tonight. you actually felt like you need to have him.

matt finishes his beer in one swing, putting the empty bottle aside, causing your attention to get back to him.

the more you looked at him, the more he reminded you of someone, but there was no way you talked or even seen matt before. though, you decide to ask, "wait, don't i know you already?"

he raises his eyebrow, locking eyes with you. "me? i don't think so." i would definitely want you to, he thinks.

"oh, 'cause i feel like i do. or maybe you just remind me of someone—"

"i'm a triplet. you probably know my brothers."

"ohhh, wait—" you snap your fingers, trying to remember. "yeah, chris and— and nick? oh, now i know. never seen you before though. lowkey thought they're bullshitting about being triplets."

matt smiles amused, taking one last drag and throwing the butt of the cigarette on the ground, trampling it with his shoe. "yeah, m'not really out going."

"i see," you nod, smiling back. "i'd definitely remember you."

he chuckles softly, feeling his face warm at your words again. damn, get your shit together matthew. "really, huh?"

"yeah. with this looks and that—?" you point at his tattoos. "i promise, i would remember."

you didn't feel like beating around the bush, you liked him. he was extremely handsome, his hair looked so soft you wanted to run your hand through it, his eyes made you weak in your knees and his lips begged to be kissed. not to mention the aura he had around him, he intrigued you. matt was different than the rest of those assholes you met at parties.

he looks away shyly, the smile on his face makes your heart flutter. literal butterflies — something you've never had before.

you finish the cigarette in a comfortable silence, getting slightly overwhelmed after the weed you smoked before. leaning against the wall, your shoulder brushes against his, drawing his attention back to you.

"you good?"

"mhm, it's that cigarette, give me a second."

he nods, watching as you throw the rest of it aside. "okay. jus' don't go passing out on me."

"hey, i'm not that drunk i can even stand on my hands if you want. look—" you're literally bending over in front of him, hands on the ground, and you're ready to do it, but he quickly grabs your waist, forcing you to straighten up. matt tried his hardest not to look at your ass and the way your short dress rode up. his pants suddenly start to grow tighter but he ignores it.

"you better not—"

with a giggle, you turn around to face him, the feelings of his hands sends a shiver down your spine. "i could easily do that."

"sure," he raises his eyebrow, the blush on his cheeks only growing because of the closeness. "i don't think i'd know what to do with a drunk and unconscious party queen on my hands, if you did that."

"right, okay." you bite down on your bottom plump lip, which doesn't go unnoticed by him. "but what would you do with a slighty tipsy and definitely conscious party queen on your hands, hm?"

his eyes sparkle with amusement, heart rate subtly increasing at your promixity. "well, that's a pretty open-ended question," he replies, his voice low and gentle. "depends on the party queen personality and how she's feeling."

oh, he's funny.

"and if the party queen is feeling perfectly fine and have the best personality ever?"

the air between you two suddenly feeling charged with an unexpected, but pleasant tension. matt could feel himself getting more and more worked up. he tried to be the gentleman that handed you the purse a few minutes ago, or gave you a cigarette and a lighter, but it was getting hard. especially now, when he realizes his hands are still on your waist and you don't seem to mind at all.

"oh, in that case i'd probably just try to keep up 'n hope her great personality doesn't find me too terribly boring."

"nah, i think she finds you pretty intriguing actually." you tilt your head to the side, eyes dropping to his lips before moving back up. oh, those lips.... "and if she wanted to show you just how bad?"

he swallows hard, "you mean, hypothetically... if she wanted to show me she's interested?"

"mhm, yeah. exactly what i mean," you lean in, giving him time to push you away, but he doesn't. oh, he would never. he wanted you so bad, knowing he's just one of hundreds of your simps, but it was the last thing on his mind right now. all he wanted is to feel your lips on his.

and he finally did.

closing the gap between you two, you kiss him softly, what he does too after a moment. his initial hesitation melting into reciprocation as your lips move against his. his hands, unsure at first, eventually move down to your hips, pulling you gently closer. your fingers tangling into his messy, soft hair, pushing him slightly against the wall, getting a hum in approval. matt starts relaxing against you, letting you set the pace and tone for your interaction. as you take your time, he finds himself growing more comfortable and excited. he would never think it would happen. with you out of all people.

the kiss starts getting more and more heated, you grow slightly impatient, feeling the ache between your legs starting to grow. you press your body closer to him, hand traveling up and down his chest, your tongues dancing together. once he feels how gently you bite his lip, a small whine leaves him, your mind spins and definitely not because of the amount of alcohol or weed you've consumed.

you break the kiss, both of you panting as you mutter against his lips, "come with me, yeah?" getting a weak nod in response, you're fast to make your way back into the crowded house, dragging matt behind you by his wrist.

his palms start to sweat as you take him upstairs and reach some empty room, pushing him inside. the noise of the party fading behind you two once you kick the door shut and attack his lips again.

matt is overwhelmed but in the best way possible. his senses are filled with your sweet scent, the tension growing in his pants with each second. his eagerness showing in his tentative exploration, but offset by an earnest enthusiasm. he lets out a soft sigh into the kiss, surrendering to your lead. he hits the bed and falls onto the mattress, you climbing on top of him, straddling his thighs. he gasps softly as your weight presses down on him in the most distracting and exhilarating way. his hands instinctively find their way to your hips again, gripping slightly as he tries to adjust to this new position.

breaking the kiss, you start trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, his head tilts back unconsciously, giving you better access to his skin. his whole body shivers at the delicate touches of your lips, a soft moan escaping him as you hit a particularly sensitive spot, sucking on it to intentionally mark him.

his reaction brings a smile to your face and you look up to see him in such a cute state. messy hair, cheeks reddish, his pink lips swollen from the make out as he lets out heavy breaths.

"look at you, pretty boy."

his eyelids flutter open, revealing pupils dilated with desire. matt touches the mark on his neck lightly, fingers tracing where you'd sucked. "that's..." he clears his throat, feeling his face flush even more. the way you look at him is both intimidating and incredibly hot.

"hm? you like it?"

"y-yeah, that's really... good," he admits.

you just couldn't help yourself, he was so majestic, really. the way he was clearly trying not to rush or throw himself at you, makes you want to give him all the pleasure in the world so he wouldn't be able to forget about this evening, no matter how hard he'd try.

"want more?"

his eyes darken slightly, voice hoarse with lust, "that wouldn't be really... gentleman of me, hm?"

you smile, finding him amusing. "oh, but i'm proposing this to you, not the other way around. so...?" you whisper against his lips, "how it's gonna be, baby?"

this time he captures your lips in a kiss, wanting to show you how much he wants— no, craves you, hoping this is enough of a response.

a wave of heat washes over you, hands traveling under his shirt which steals another whine from matt. you had never been so turned on before in such a short amount of time, automatically starting to move your hips and grind down against him, feeling how hard he was beneath you. pride overwhelms you at the feeling of how much he's affected by you, the want for him even bigger than before.

his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. he can feel you moving on his lap, the friction driving him crazy. your tongue explores his mouth, lips clicking against his. his hands shaky on your body from the desire he felt. "you can touch me, matt..." you pant against his plump lips, pressing your clothed, soaked core against his dick harder.

"y'feel so good..." his eyes are glassy with lust as he looks up at you. his chest is heaving, and he bites his lip, trying to compose himself when he finally allows his hands to explore your body.

"mhm, i can feel how bad you want me," you keep grinding against him, the friction causing you both to whimper. "is really cute.... and hot— you know?"

"please—" his eyes flutter shut from pleasure, your hands teasing him just above the waistband of his jeans. "what is it, baby?" you bite back a smile at his desperate expression.

"just... i need you please— can you..." his breath is coming in ragged gasps now, and he feels both embarrassed and completely exhilarated. his hips rise slightly to meet yours, a natural response to the overwhelming sensation. his body aches for more contact, more friction, more of you.

"can i what? c'mon, you gotta ask nicely if you want something." you're teasing, torturing him purposely, enjoying how adorable he gets when his shyness takes over. "look at me, matt."

blushing intensely, he opens his eyes and stammers out, "can you... i mean, would you... with your mouth?" he immediately looks mortified at his own boldness, his cheeks flaming red as he quickly adds, "sorry, i didn't mean to presume—"

"i think you did mean it though," you smile softly, licking your lips. his words and the image that just popped up in your head makes your pussy pulse. "how can i say no when you're being such a good boy for me?" you press kisses to his neck just as he whines again, your hands already working on his belt. his eyes watching as his jeans and boxers get pushed down his legs. he gasps as the cool air hits his exposed lower half, his body trembling slightly. his dick twitches as you kneel on the mattress between his legs, looking at him in awe. "just relax."

he nods quickly, trying to calm himself. his chest is rising and falling rapidly, hands fumble anxiously with the hem of his shirt unsure what to do with them. is not like he was inexperienced, he was in a relationship before, but having you, the popular party girl that everyone wanted, between his legs was definitely making him more nervous than he would usually be.

you put your hair up into a messy ponytail, his body immediately tensing up. he can feel the blood rushing to his cock, making it throb with anticipation. he tries to relax his legs, spreading them wider to give you better access. you stop just above his tip, looking up at him with a smile at the messy state he was already in, even if you didn't start yet. "gonna say a magic word?"

he swallows hard, his blush deepens, "please."

his eyes dart between your face and his hard, leaking with precum dick, hardly believing this is really happening. but it feels real, when you give him a kitty lick before starting to suck on his tip. a strangled moan escapes matt's lips, his hips involuntarily twitching upwards. the sensation is electric, his hands fist in the sheets beneath him, grasping desperately for some form of anchor. "o-oh, fuck—"

your tongue is swirling around his tip teasingly, before you take him deeper, his eyes roll back in his head, breath catching in his throat. he can feel every ridge and curve of your mouth, the wet heat almost more than he can bear. a shaky whimper escapes him, hands slide up to tangle in your hair, gripping tightly as he fights the urge to buck his hips forward.

he was so big, the choking sounds echoing in the room, saliva dripping down your chin. hollowing your cheeks, you start bobbing your head up and down, nose brushing against his pelvis. "s-shit.... feels so good— mmmm, fu—ckkk--" his entire body shudders, he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, completely captivated by the sight. the sounds alone are enough to make him dizzy with desire. his breathing becomes more ragged, mingling with the wet sounds of your mouth. "oh god..." he whimpers. you're breathing through your nose, focusing on his tip again, your hand working on the rest of him. the sensation combined with your mouth is incredible, almost too much to process. matt bites his lip hard, suppressing a loud moan, but it still escapes as more of a choked groan. "fuck, please—"

he was completely out of it, a big whining mess, his hips uncontrollably lifting upwards, his tip hitting the back of your throat. his toes curl as he feels the mounting pressure, his entire body tingling with exquisite tension while you suck on his dick like on a lollipop, being all messy with it, gagging every now and then. panting heavily, he tugs gently at your hair, "w-wait, m'gonna.... m'so close, wait—" you hum in approval, wanting to taste him on your tongue. it sends vibrations through him, another whimper escaping him. you speed up your movements, matt automatically starts thrusting up into your mouth as his orgasm approaches, "f-fuck, sorry, i.... i can't— shittt, gonna cum— can i... oh—"

he's lost at this point, his head threw back, a loud, unrestrained moan ripping from his throat as you resume your actions. his hips lift off the bed, pressing himself deeper into your mouth, getting another moan from you. the sight was hypnotizing, his flushed features, the way he tried to muffle his moans by chewing on his bottom lip. you were dripping, clenching around nothing just from watching him.

with a choked cry, his entire body convulses as he finds his release, pulse after pulse of ecstasy flooding through him. his fingers fist so tightly in your hair that he's vaguely aware it might hurt, but he can't seem to loosen his grip. you whimper around him, tasting him on your tongue and swallowing everything. your tongue swirl around his sensitive tip one more time before pulling out with a wet pop. his vision blurs, heart pounding in his chest. he lets go off your hair, your eyes meeting his, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. damn.

his face flushed with heat as he smiles, "holy fuck."

"holy fuck indeed," you lick your lips, the sight so intimate and erotic for him that he feels his spent dick twitch in response. "that was, like, amazing—" he mutters, still struggling to find his voice.

you chuckle, moving so now you were on top of him again, hands on each side of his head. "what a shame that we met so late," you say, running your hand through his hair, a shiver going down his spine.

"i was supposed to leave at midnight," he admits. your eyebrow raises, "oh really?" he nods, "yeah, not a fan of parties."

"well... i'm glad you didn't have the chance to leave then."

"me too." he pulls you into another desperate kiss, tasting himself on your tongue, getting a hum in surprise. he was clearly eager for more. your fast to roll your dress up around your waist, grabbing his hand and directing it between your legs. when he feels how soaked your panties were, he can't help but whimper again. "feel it, baby?" you break the kiss, looking at him, his eyes darken with lust. "that's allll because of you."

his gaze travels over your body, taking in the curves he's only ever imagined. he swallows hard, his voice hoarse with need. "please, i need you..."

"you're so cute when you beg," you smile biting down on your plump lip. removing your underwear, you position yourself just above his tip, letting him feel the wet warmth, teasing him mercilessly. matt whines softly, his body tensing with the need to thrust into you and finally feel you. "what was that, hm? tell me what you want, matt."

"need you... to ride me— please—"

"need me, hm? and how bad?"

he whines again, louder this time, his hips bucking slightly in an attempt to get him inside you. "so bad," he pants, his voice barely recognizable in his desperation. "please, please, please..." he chants, his voice cracking with need.

"gooood boy," you praise, his words getting you even wetter. wrapping your hand around his cock, you give him a few strokes before slowly sinking down on him. "begging so pretty— f-fuck...." the sudden feeling of your warm, tight pussy enveloping his aching dick is almost too much for matt to handle. he throws his head back, a loud, wordless whimper tearing from his throat as he's sheathed inside you, a moan leaving your lips as well at his reaction. "shit, you're so big—" you stay still to adjust, lifting your dress higher to be more comfortable. you feel his dick twitching inside you after your words. amused written all over your face when you look at him, "you like it, hm? who would've know you're so naughty...."

matt's hands tremble as they grip your hips, trying desperately to hold back the urge to grind into you. his breath comes in short, sharp bursts as he savors the exquisite tightness gripping him.

"feels good?" you slowly start moving, he nods his head weakly, words caught in his throat as he tries to speak around the lump formed by his swallowed moan. "mmm, holy shit, matt—" his cock is buried so deeply inside you that it makes you see stars for a moment. you crave more of him, so you start speeding up the pace.

"so... good..." he manages to rasp out, his eyes rolling back briefly before snapping forward to lock onto yours again. "you're...too much..."

"yeah? want me to stop?" you mock him a little bit, knowing that's the last thing he wants.

he shakes his head frantically, a sheepish grin spreading across his flushed face. "no, no...don't stop. i meant...fuck, you're just so tight— fuckkk, feels incredible." he bucks his hips slightly, emphasizing his enthusiasm, his nails dig into your hips, his body tensing as he tries to pull you down further onto him.

"you're doing perfect for me, baby—" you moan out, putting one hand on his chest as you start moving your hips harder, your attention drawn to his tattoos. the sight of his arm causes you to painfully clench around him, your pussy gripping him like a vice. he hisses at the feeling, it drives him wild. "shit, just like that—"

you both aren't able to hold back your moans, letting them spill out one after another. each thrust pushes you both into ecstasy, your hand on his chest the only thing anchoring him to reality. matt's hands slide up your sides, then down to your thighs, marveling the soft skin beneath his fingers.

matt notices the way your eyes are locked onto his tattoos and it makes his dick throb even harder inside you. "god, matt— mmhpp, oh my...." you lean forward, needing some balance as your legs start growing tired, your hands on each side of his head. he reaches up to your waist, guiding your movements as he lifts his hips to meet each thrust. "f-fuck— you're so beautiful..."

your eyebrows knitted together in pleasure, eyes rolling back as you feel your orgasm approaching. he can feel it as well, which pushes him over the edge too. "gonna cum for me, pretty boy?" you choke out, looking down at him through half-open eyes.

"mhmm, fuck—" he pants, his own face contorted with pleasure. he sees the concentration on your face, the beads of sweat forming on your collarbone. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you down onto him even harder. "s-so close... shiiit—"

"me too," you whine into his ear. "fuck..." his grip tightens on your waist as his release builds. his movements become more urgent, more desperate. "tell me... mm— tell me how you want it, sweetheart—" he knows he won't last much longer, not with how perfectly you're stretching around him.

"inside me—"

"y-yeah?" his voice breaking as he feels you clench around him again. "you want me to fill you up?"

"mhmmm—" you moan just as he whimpers again, what pushes you into a state of bliss, euphoria consumes you as your orgasm crashes down over you, your hips stuttering.

once he feels you creaming around him, and the pretty — mesmerizing moans, oh he's too far gone. matt's control snaps, he buries himself as deep as possible inside you, his hips jerking as he unleashes a torrent of cum deep within your spasming pussy. one last moan leaves him, his vision blurring as his release seems to go on forever. "fuckkkk—"

after you both ride out your orgasms, your hips come to a stop, his hands splaying out against your lower back as he pulls you flush against him. matt can feel his release slowly leaking out of you and dripping down his thighs. your breath against his neck tickles his skin.

"oh my god," he breathes out, making you chuckle and you lift up your head, seeing his flushed face. so cute. "made me see fuckin' stars, holy shit."

you laugh again, getting off to lay down beside him, head on matt's shoulder, his heart skips a beat at that. "you're funny," you say.

he wraps his hand around your waist again, not really ready to let go yet. "m'serious."

"okay, mr serious," you roll your eyes. "doesn't mean you aren't funny. and still a gentleman."

"getting into your pants before first date isn't really gentleman of me," he smiles shyly as you look up at him.

"i got into your pants," you correct him. "you gonna get into mine after that first date."

"there's gonna be one?"

"oh, definitely."

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[callsigns-haze]

Silence

Pairing: Xaden Riorson x reader

According to everyone your rule was stupid. You refused to talk to them in the morning before certain hours, but in your eyes during the whole revolution you were sleep deprived. They thought this would pass but even years later your son catches onto your habit.

Warning: This story contains fluff, cursing, drinking, throwing up, pregnancy, birth and suggestive topics.

The first rays of morning light trickled through the curtains, casting soft patterns on the walls as the sun began to rise over Tyrrendor. Outside, the world was quiet, as it always was in the early hours of the day. But inside your shared chambers, the calm was anything but.

Xaden sat at the edge of the bed, his fingers idly running through his dark hair as he stared at you. You were curled up under the blankets, your form partially obscured, only your wild hair visible as you grumbled into your pillow. The peace of the morning should’ve been a welcome thing after the chaos of the rebellion, the victory, and now the finality of peace settling in the kingdom.

And yet, nothing about the mornings with you was ever quite what he expected.

He cleared his throat, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips. “Good morning, love,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb you too much, but still, trying to reach you. He was used to mornings filled with laughter, soft talks, and quiet moments, but with everything that had happened, you’d changed. Or rather, you were adjusting. And so was he.

You groaned, twisting your head just enough to peek at him with one eye, the other firmly buried in the pillow. The sunlight danced across your face, catching in your messy hair and drawing an amused smirk from Xaden, but before he could even speak again, you made a shushing motion with your hand, your finger pressing to your lips dramatically.

He blinked, thrown off for a moment. “Uh—what?”

You didn’t answer, only waved your hand as if to shoo him away. “Shh.”

Xaden's brows furrowed slightly. “You know, I thought you’d be… well, a little more awake at this hour. We have to get up soon.”

The sheets rustled as you threw one arm out, causing the blanket to fall to the floor. “Nine o'clock,” you muttered, your voice muffled by the pillow. “No one talks to me before 9 am. Rule number one.”

Xaden let out a quiet chuckle, but he was genuinely perplexed. "Rule number one? Since when?"

You didn't bother responding, just shoved your face further into the pillow, making a noise of frustration. He could tell you weren’t angry, just desperately in need of rest. It made sense—after all the sleepless nights during the revolution, the constant tension, and everything that had come with it, your body needed time to adjust to peace. But, Xaden had never expected this—a quiet, sleepy rebellion against the world’s usual routine.

“You’re kidding, right?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head. “I’m your husband, and you’re shushing me?”

You peeked one eye at him again, the other eye still pressed into the pillow, giving him a look that was somehow both sassy and tired. “You’re lucky I’m even acknowledging your existence before nine,” you said in a grumbling, barely coherent voice. “You, and the rest of the squad—” You paused to yawn, your hand stretching out above you like a cat, “—you all deprived me of sleep during the revolution. Now I’m catching up.”

Xaden didn’t know whether to laugh or protest. “You’re blaming us for your inability to sleep?”

You shot him another sleepy, half-hearted glare. “It’s not my fault you all decided to throw constant war meetings at ungodly hours.”

He couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing, shaking his head at the sight of you. He knew how you were—how chaotic and unpredictable you could be. But he hadn’t expected this new rule to be the result of everything. Still, his heart softened at the sight of you like this—your messy hair, the pillow creases still etched into your skin, the way your voice held the hint of exhaustion. You were his wife, the marked child of legend, his lifelong friend, and now, the queen beside him. You had always been everything he wanted in a partner.

And he’d always known life with you would be far from normal.

Xaden leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bed. “Alright, fine,” he said with mock defeat. “I’ll be quiet, but only because I love you.” He paused, giving you a playful grin. “But I’ll remind you that you promised me mornings where we would—”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish. As if it was second nature, your hand shot up and you made a shushing motion again, a very distinct finger pressed to your lips. The movement was so dramatic it almost made him forget he was supposed to be upset about not getting a proper conversation.

“Shush,” you repeated, your tone thick with sleep. “No words. Just… peace… for now. Please.”

Xaden chuckled again, not able to resist. “How about coffee? I’ll get you some.”

You squinted at him, eyeing him suspiciously. “Is it made by the kitchen staff or by you?”

“Kitchen staff,” he replied quickly. “I’m not risking it.”

You hummed in satisfaction and finally—finally—slipped out from under the blanket. You rolled over onto your back, stretching your arms overhead. “You’re lucky I’m even letting you speak now. You’re off the hook… until 9 am. You better hope I’m still in a good mood when it hits.”

Xaden raised an eyebrow at that, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re a force of nature, you know that?”

You flashed a grin, and then, with a dramatic sigh, dropped your head back onto the pillow. “Just let me be a peaceful force of nature for a few more hours.”

He couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you be.”

Xaden watched you for a long moment, the morning light filtering through the curtains casting a soft glow over your still-sleepy features. He’d seen you in battle, seen you drenched in blood and fire, seen you command dragons with nothing but your willpower and sharp mind. But this version of you—the one buried beneath a mountain of blankets, fighting off the early hours with pure stubbornness—was equally dangerous.

Because he couldn’t resist you like this.

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he pushed off the bed and made his way toward the door. He knew better than to push his luck. If he so much as tried to engage in conversation again, you’d just shush him until you fell back asleep, and if there was one thing Xaden Riorson didn’t do, it was argue with a woman who had the patience of a wyvern.

Instead, he decided to get your coffee, if only as a peace offering.

The moment he stepped into the hall, his shadows curled around his wrists, brushing against his skin as if reminding him they were still there, still watching. He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair as he made his way toward the kitchens, nodding briefly at a few passing guards who straightened immediately at his presence. It was still a strange thing, being King of Tyrrendor. He hadn’t wanted the title, hadn’t asked for it. But with the rebellion over and leadership needed, he’d taken it, just as he always had with every impossible responsibility thrown his way.

And then there was you.

His queen—his wife—his chaos.

If he had been born to rule, then you had been born to keep him on his toes.

By the time he reached the kitchens, the morning staff was already busy preparing breakfast for the fortress. The scent of fresh bread and roasted meats filled the air, but Xaden ignored it, his focus on the pot of coffee steaming by the counter.

“Morning, Your Majesty,” one of the older kitchen attendants greeted, bowing slightly before grabbing a mug. “Coffee?”

Xaden inclined his head. “For my wife.”

The woman hummed in understanding, a knowing smile on her face as she poured the dark liquid into a mug. “Ah, yes. The queen’s new decree.”

He sighed. “She told you about the no speaking before nine rule?”

The attendant chuckled. “Told us? She made us write it down.”

Xaden closed his eyes briefly, a slow, exasperated smirk pulling at his lips. Of course, you had.

By the time he returned to your chambers, the sun had risen higher, the golden light painting the walls in soft warmth. You were still curled up in bed, though now you were on your side, one arm tucked under your pillow, the other stretched lazily across where he had been lying earlier.

Xaden leaned against the doorframe for a second, just watching you. He wasn’t sure if you were awake or still half-asleep, but the way your fingers flexed slightly, as if reaching for him, made something in his chest tighten.

He made his way over to your side of the bed, setting the coffee on the bedside table before kneeling beside the mattress. He reached out, brushing his fingers over your forehead, pushing stray strands of hair away from your face.

Your lips parted slightly, and for a second, he thought you were going to say something. But then—

Your eyes fluttered open just enough to meet his gaze, and in an instant, your hand shot up between you, pressing a finger to his lips.

“Shh.”

Xaden blinked. Then scowled. “I brought you coffee.”

You let out a sleepy hum of approval, but your finger didn’t move from his lips. “Doesn’t mean you can talk yet.”

Xaden groaned, dragging a hand down his face before standing to grab the coffee. “You are insufferable,” he muttered as he held the mug out to you.

You grinned as you sat up, finally removing your hand from his mouth to take the cup. “And yet, you married me.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, settling beside you on the edge of the bed. “Clearly, a lapse in judgment.”

You took a long sip of coffee, sighing dramatically at the taste. Then, with a slow, smug smile, you turned to him and whispered, “Love you, too.”

Xaden shook his head, draping an arm across the back of the bedframe. “This rule of yours—”

“Hmm?”

“The no talking before nine rule.”

You took another sip, feigning innocence. “What about it?”

His eyes darkened slightly as he tilted his head at you. “I will find a way to get around it.”

You smirked, leaning into his side. “Good luck, Your Majesty.”

Xaden narrowed his eyes, the challenge clear between you. And as much as he hated to admit it, he knew one thing for certain:

He had won battles. He had fought wars.

But this?

This was a fight he was never going to win.

Three Months Later – The Dining Room

The dining hall of the Tyrrendor palace was buzzing with early morning energy, the long, polished wooden table lined with plates of fresh fruit, buttered toast, eggs, and meats. The air was thick with the rich scent of brewed coffee, mingling with the sharper notes of spiced tea and the occasional waft of warm honey from the pastries stacked near the centre. Sunlight streamed in through the towering arched windows, casting golden beams across the stone walls and illuminating the banners that hung from the ceiling—symbols of a rebellion-turned-kingdom.

The palace had settled into its newfound peace, and with it, so had its people.

But, as always, the morning meal was missing one key figure.

And today, the others had noticed.

Xaden was seated at the head of the table, a steaming mug of black coffee in one hand, the other drumming against the wood as he listened to the usual morning chatter—Sawyer and Ridoc were bickering over who had actually won their sparring match yesterday, Rhiannon was reading over a report Mira had handed her, and Cat and Maren were deep in conversation about something that involved a lot of eye-rolling.

Then, finally—

"Okay, seriously," Garrick set his fork down, levelling a look at Xaden. "Where the hell is your wife?"

That was all it took.

As if everyone had been waiting for someone else to bring it up, all eyes suddenly snapped to Xaden, their previous conversations instantly abandoned.

"Yeah," Imogen agreed, raising an eyebrow. "She hasn't been at breakfast for months."

"I thought maybe she was just sleeping in," Sloane added, tilting her head. "But at this point, is she even alive?"

"Or maybe she's just avoiding us?" Drake mused, his golden-brown skin practically glowing in the sunlight, an easy smirk tugging at his lips. "Should we be offended?"

"She wouldn't miss breakfast just to avoid us," Violet interjected, shaking her head. "She loves food too much."

"Maybe Xaden did something to piss her off," Ridoc suggested, elbowing Sawyer with a grin. "Like leaving his boots in the middle of the damn room—"

"I don’t leave my boots in the middle of the room," Xaden cut in flatly.

"Anymore," Bodhi murmured under his breath, earning a chuckle from Mira.

Xaden sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He'd known this conversation was coming. He’d felt it looming for weeks.

And yet—

He still wasn’t sure how to explain the sheer stupidity of what had been going on in his own damn marriage for the past three months.

So, instead of easing them into it, he just—said it.

“She has a rule.”

A beat of silence. Then:

"A rule?" Aaric repeated, frowning. "What the hell does that mean?"

Xaden took a slow sip of his coffee, as if somehow, the caffeine would fortify him for what was about to come. “She refuses to acknowledge anyone before nine in the morning.”

Another pause.

Then—

"What."

Ridoc nearly choked on his eggs. “Wait—wait. You’re telling me she has refused to speak to anyone for three entire months before nine a.m.?”

“Yes.” Xaden took another sip. “Including me.”

Imogen let out a sharp bark of laughter, while Mira, sitting beside her, just sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. "Gods, that is so on brand for her."

Cat tilted her head, considering. "That explains why every time I pass your rooms in the morning, I hear absolutely nothing."

“Oh, there’s plenty of noise,” Xaden muttered, shaking his head. “It’s just her shushing me the entire time.”

"You’re kidding," Sawyer said, eyes wide with amusement.

“I wish I was.”

Violet was just staring at Xaden now, her fork frozen mid-air. “That’s why she’s been skipping breakfast?”

"Apparently," he deadpanned.

Maren burst out laughing. “That is absurd.”

“Tell me about it,” Xaden muttered. “The first time she did it, I thought she was joking.”

Garrick arched an eyebrow. “And now?”

Xaden huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. "Now I fear for my life if I say anything before nine."

That sent everyone into a fit of laughter, even Sloane, who had been trying to remain unimpressed.

“So, let me get this straight,” Ridoc said, wiping at his eyes. “Your wife, your literal queen, the most chaotic person in this entire damn kingdom—has implemented a law—"

"—not a law," Xaden corrected. "A rule."

"—has implemented a rule," Ridoc continued, grinning, "banning verbal interaction before nine in the morning—"

"—because she claims we all deprived her of sleep during the war," Mira finished, shaking her head.

“Correct.”

Sawyer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “And you’ve just been letting this happen?”

Xaden gave him a flat look. "Do you want to go up against her before she’s had caffeine?"

Sawyer considered. Then nodded slowly. "Good point."

“I just—” Rhiannon gestured vaguely. “You’ve been married to her this entire time. You can’t talk to her in the morning either?”

“Oh no, I try,” Xaden said, exhaling heavily. “And every time, she just shushes me.”

"Every time?" Aaric asked, sceptical.

"Every. Time."

There was a moment of silence before Drake, voice entirely too amused, said, “That is hysterical.”

“I know.” Xaden groaned, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “She wrote it down. Told the staff. Enforced it."

Bodhi looked like he was trying so hard not to laugh. “You’re whipped.”

Xaden shot him a glare. “I’d like to see you win against her.”

Bodhi immediately shut up.

“So what you’re saying,” Violet mused, sitting back in her chair, “is that we all have to wait until nine before we can see her?”

"Unless you want to be shushed into submission," Xaden muttered, taking another slow sip of coffee.

There was another beat of silence before Ridoc—because of course it was Ridoc—grinned. Xaden tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before running a hand through his hair. “She’s decided—and I quote—that breakfast is an optional social event that does not require her attendance if she is still in bed.”

Silence.

Then—

“You’re joking,” Ridoc said, blinking.

Xaden shook his head. “Nope.”

“She’s just… not coming?” Imogen asked, half-laughing, half-incredulous.

“Oh, she would come,” Xaden said, picking up his coffee again. “But apparently, I was the one that encouraged bad habits by bringing her coffee to bed every morning, and now, she refuses to leave until she’s had at least one cup.” He exhaled sharply. “So, if I don’t bring it to her, she stays in bed.”

A beat of silence followed his words.

And then—laughter.

It started with Ridoc, then Sawyer, then Imogen, until the whole damn table was either chuckling or grinning at Xaden’s predicament.

Mira, shaking her head, smiled. “That is impressively stubborn.”

“More like impressively brilliant,” Maren corrected, smirking.

Brennan let out a low whistle. “So, let me get this straight—you spoiled her by bringing her coffee, and now she won’t leave the bed until you continue to do so?”

Xaden gave his friend a withering look. “Apparently.”

Violet snorted. “You really should’ve seen that coming.”

“I didn’t think it would become a rule,” Xaden muttered, shaking his head. “I thought I was being nice.”

“That was your first mistake,” Rhiannon teased, smirking.

Xaden groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I swear, the next time she comes down here, I’m going to—”

But he didn’t get to finish that sentence.

Because at that moment, the dining hall doors creaked open, and there you were.

Hair slightly tousled from sleep, wrapped in one of Xaden’s oversized tunics, a steaming coffee mug in hand. You were still barefoot, walking like someone who had only just dragged themselves out of bed.

And the second you saw everyone staring at you?

You blinked. Then frowned.

Then, slowly, lifted the coffee mug to your lips and took a sip.

The room was silent.

Then Ridoc—because of course it was Ridoc—burst out laughing.

“WELL, WELL, WELL,” he drawled dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “Look who decided to grace us with her presence!”

You narrowed your eyes at him before turning your glare to Xaden. “You told them, didn’t you?” Xaden, utterly unapologetic, simply leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“Oh, absolutely.”

You groaned, rubbing your free hand over your face. “I hate you.”

Xaden smirked. “Love you, too.”

And as the table erupted into laughter once more, you took another long sip of coffee, rolled your eyes, and muttered,

“I should’ve stayed in bed.”

Xaden leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with barely concealed amusement as you stood there, barefoot, clutching your coffee mug like it was the only thing tethering you to life.

Then he checked the clock mounted on the wall behind you.

And laughed.

A deep, knowing, utterly infuriating laugh that had everyone at the table looking between the two of you in pure amusement. “Nine o’clock on the dot,” he said, shaking his head, grinning like a damn idiot. “You really weren’t kidding about that rule, huh?”

You scowled, lifting your coffee mug in warning. “I will throw this at you.”

That only made him laugh harder.

And that was when Ridoc, still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, leaned over to Sawyer and whispered, “She probably sat outside the door with a timer.”

You snapped your gaze to him. “I heard that.”

Ridoc grinned. “Oh, I know.”

Xaden, still smirking, grabbed his own coffee and took a slow sip, his dark eyes glinting with amusement as he met your glare. “So, now that it’s officially past nine, are we finally allowed to have a full conversation with Her Highness?”

You exhaled heavily, dramatically rolling your shoulders like the weight of an invisible burden had just been lifted.

Then you took another sip of coffee, sighed, and—without even looking at him—muttered,

“…I suppose.”

And that was it.

That was all it took for the entire table to lose it.

Ridoc nearly choked on his coffee, slamming a fist against his chest as he wheezed out, “I suppose—oh gods, she’s actually serious.” Sawyer grinned, shaking his head. “Three months and you still won’t let it go.” Imogen smirked, eyes flicking toward Xaden. “And yet, you still bring her coffee every morning.”

Xaden, utterly unbothered, took another slow sip from his mug before shrugging. “I’m not an idiot.”

That sent Ridoc into another fit of laughter. “No, but you are whipped.” Xaden didn’t even flinch. Just leaned forward, elbows braced against the table, and smirked. “And you’re single.” Ridoc, still laughing, immediately scowled. “Low blow, Riorson.”

You, despite still being half-asleep, beamed at that. “I taught him that.”

“Of course, you did,” Aaric muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

Violet, clearly enjoying the spectacle, just shook her head, silver hair catching in the morning light. “I don’t know how he puts up with you.”

You turned, leveling her with a deadpan look. “You married Aaric.” Aaric scoffed, pressing a hand over his heart. “That’s offensive.” Violet, however, merely smirked. “Yeah, but I didn’t make a ‘no talking before nine’ rule.”

Brennan, still lounging in his chair, lifted a brow at you. “Yeah, about that—are we ever going to get an explanation?”

You, utterly unrepentant, took another slow sip of coffee before setting your mug down on the table with a click.

Then, you exhaled, stretched your arms over your head, and leaned forward slightly, voice low and deadly serious as you said,

“You deprived me of sleep during the revolution. All of you.” Your gaze swept over the entire table, accusations clear in your eyes. “I am catching up.”

Silence.

Then—

Sawyer burst out laughing. “You’re holding a grudge?”

You raised a brow. “Absolutely.”

Brennan, shaking his head, turned to Xaden. “And you’re okay with this?”

Xaden, still smirking, just shrugged. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Ridoc groaned. “Gods, you really are whipped.”

Xaden simply leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, and smirked.

“Yeah.” His dark eyes flicked to you, amusement dancing across his features.

“And I don’t mind one bit.”

The laughter slowly died down as you exhaled sharply, setting your coffee mug down with a click. Then, pushing your chair back slightly, you leaned forward, levelling the entire table with a pointed look.

“You all think this is funny,” you started, voice calm—too calm. “Like I’m just being dramatic.”

Ridoc, still grinning, shrugged. “You are a little dramatic.”

You shot him a glare before continuing, “You do realize that during the revolution, you all made me a Major, right?”

The table went silent.

Xaden, to his credit, didn’t look surprised—he’d been there when it happened. But the rest of them?

Yeah, some of them definitely hadn’t considered that before.

“I was in charge of a whole damn division,” you continued, voice sharp now. “Which meant that every time something went wrong, every time one of you needed something, every time an order needed to be given, I was the one making the calls.” You exhaled, rubbing a hand over your face. “Which meant I was in bed at eleven—if I was lucky—because I was dealing with all of you. And then? I was back up at four in the morning because I was the one handling logistics with the rest of the continent.”

Sawyer winced. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you muttered.

Rhiannon frowned. “I mean, I knew you were handling a lot, but I didn’t realize…” You let out a humourless laugh, shaking your head. “That’s not even the worst of it.” You flicked your gaze toward Xaden, who was watching you intently, his jaw tight. “Then came the cure for the Venin.”

Imogen frowned. “Right. We were all looking for—”

“No,” you cut in. “You were fighting. I was trying to locate things. I was the one chasing every lead, digging through archives, listening for rumours. And that meant I was getting woken up at any hour of the night whenever something came up that might help.”

Ridoc, who had finally stopped grinning, just stared at you. “Shit.”

You let out a slow breath, leaning back in your chair. “So yeah. Maybe I am being dramatic. But you know what? I earned it.”

Silence.

Then—

Xaden, still watching you carefully, leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“You’re tired,” he said simply.

You met his gaze, the exhaustion creeping into your voice now.

“I’m so tired.”

Violet, who had been quiet this whole time, finally spoke.

“You should’ve said something sooner.”

You gave her a look. “When? During the war? When everything was still falling apart?”

Violet frowned. “You still should’ve—”

“No.” Xaden’s voice cut in, sharp and unwavering.

You blinked, turning to look at him.

He was serious now, his dark eyes locked onto yours, something unreadable in his expression.

“She did what she had to do,” he said simply. “And now? She’s doing what she needs to do.”

He held your gaze for a long moment, something heavy passing between you.

Then he leaned back in his chair, smirk creeping back onto his face.

“And if that means enforcing some stupid rule about not talking to her before nine?” He shrugged. “Then we all just have to deal with it.”

The table was silent.

Then—

Ridoc groaned.

You snorted, shaking your head as you took another sip of coffee. “At least one of you is finally catching up.” Xaden just smirked, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t see the problem.”

Sawyer scoffed. “That’s because you’re the one benefiting from it.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

Rhiannon exhaled, rubbing her temples. “Okay, so let me get this straight—because we put you in charge during the war, and then you had to run around finding the cure, and then deal with logistics, and then deal with us, and then handle the entire continent—”

“—while also dating him,” Ridoc added, pointing at Xaden.

Rhiannon nodded. “—while dating him, now you’ve decided that you get to make arbitrary rules about how and when we’re allowed to talk to you?”

You grinned. “See? You do get it.”

She groaned, dropping her head onto the table. Imogen, who had been listening carefully, finally spoke. “Honestly?” She shrugged. “Sounds fair to me.” You pointed at her. “See? Thank you.”

Maren frowned. “So how long is this rule going to last?”

You blinked. “What?”

Maren gestured vaguely. “Like, are you going to keep this up for another three months? A year? Forever?”

You didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes.”

The table erupted. Ridoc threw his head back with a groan, Sawyer muttered something about revolutionary nightmares, and Cat just shook her head with an amused smirk. Xaden? He just kept looking at you, his smirk deepening.

And then, before anyone else could get a word in—

Mira, who had been watching the chaos unfold with far too much amusement, leaned forward slightly, tilting her head. “Alright, I have to ask,” she said. “What happens if someone does try to talk to you before nine?”

The table stilled.

Then, slowly, all eyes turned to you.

You took another sip of coffee.

Set your mug down.

Tilted your head slightly.

And smiled.

“That,” you said, voice light and just a little too sweet, “is something you don’t want to find out.”

Silence.

And then—

Xaden laughed.

Long and deep and genuinely amused, shaking his head as he looked at you like you were the most ridiculous thing in the world.

The others?

Yeah, they definitely believed you.

It was far too early for this.

You stood outside the council chamber doors, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, seething. The ornate wooden doors loomed in front of you, the deep red banners of Tyrrendor hanging beside them, flickering slightly from the draft in the hallway.

Inside, you could already hear the low murmur of voices—serious, composed, and utterly unaware of the wrath they had just summoned. Beside you, Xaden stood with his hands behind his back, expression far too neutral. But you knew him—knew the slight twitch of his mouth, the amusement flickering behind those dark eyes.

The traitor.

“They requested you,” he reminded, tone maddeningly calm. “They requested me before nine,” you snapped. Xaden exhaled, shaking his head. “You do realize they’re a council, right?”

You turned to glare at him. “And do they realize that I made a rule?”

Xaden grinned. “I don’t think they care.”

Your scowl deepened. “Well, they’re about to.”

And with that, you shoved open the heavy doors and strode inside, not even bothering to look at the gathered officials as you stormed toward the table.

The conversation cut off immediately.

Ten council members, all dressed in the deep reds and blacks of Tyrrendor, turned to look at you—some confused, some mildly annoyed, none of them aware that they were about to regret everything.

You slammed your hands down on the polished table.

The sound echoed loudly through the chamber.

One of the councillors, an older man with greying hair, frowned at you. “General, we—”

“Do you know what time it is?” you demanded.

Silence.

A few exchanged wary glances.

“…It’s a council meeting,” another councillor offered, confused.

You inhaled sharply, barely restraining yourself. “It is before nine.”

More silence.

Then—

“…And?”

Your eye twitched.

Xaden, still standing near the door, had zero intention of helping you. If anything, you could feel his smug amusement. You turned back to the council. “I have one rule,” you said, voice low and deadly. “And this—” you gestured broadly at them, at the entire room, “—this is violating it.”

One of the younger councilors, a woman with sharp features, raised a brow. “You can’t seriously be—”

“I am serious,” you cut in, eyes flashing.

She hesitated.

The older councillor exhaled heavily. “This is important—”

“So was my sleep during the war,” you snapped. “Did I get any of that? No.” You levelled them with a glare. “But this? This is not life or death. This is a council meeting that could have been scheduled an hour later.”

Silence.

Then—

One of the more cautious members cleared their throat.

“…Would you like us to reschedule?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes.”

Another awkward beat of silence.

Then the older councillor sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine. The meeting will reconvene at nine.”

You beamed. “See? Now we’re learning.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and marched right back out of the chamber, passing Xaden without so much as a glance.

But as soon as the doors slammed shut behind you, you heard it—

Xaden’s quiet, infuriatingly amused voice as he muttered,

“Gods help us all.”

You were still fuming as you stormed down the hallway, your boots clicking against the stone floors in sharp, purposeful strides. Xaden, of course, was strolling beside you, hands in his pockets, not helping at all.

“You know,” he mused, voice laced with amusement, “you could have just sat through the meeting like a normal person.”

You whipped around so fast he had to stop short to avoid running into you.

“Normal?” you repeated, eyes blazing. “You think I went through years of war, got forced into a leadership position, spent months barely surviving, and then finally clawed my way into some semblance of peace just to sit through a meeting before nine in the morning like a normal person?”

Xaden just blinked at you, his lips twitching. “Well, when you put it that way—”

You threw your hands up. “Exactly!”

He sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I fear for Tyrrendor.”

You scowled. “Tyrrendor is fine.”

“You’re literally refusing to lead before nine.”

“Exactly.”

Xaden snorted, finally breaking into a full grin.

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Nothing. Just—” He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before trailing his fingers down your jaw. “You’re ridiculous.”

You huffed. “And you love it.”

His grin turned wicked. “That’s the problem.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back around and marching toward your chambers.

But just as you reached the door, Xaden’s shadows coiled around your waist, tugging you back against his chest.

You gasped, hands automatically gripping his forearms as his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“You know,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, “you storming into that meeting like that?” His fingers dragged down your sides, slow and deliberate. “Kind of hot.”

Your breath hitched.

Damn him.

Damn his shadows.

Damn his stupid, unfair ability to make you melt in seconds.

You swallowed hard, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze.

“Then maybe,” you murmured, “you should take me back to bed.”

His eyes darkened.

And before you could so much as blink, he was picking you up, shadows wrapping around you both as he carried you straight back inside.

Seven Months Later

It was six in the godsdamned morning, and you were miserable.

The sky was still a deep shade of navy, the sun barely beginning to touch the horizon, casting long shadows through the narrow corridors of the ancient archive. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and dust, the quiet shuffle of boots against stone the only sound accompanying your group as you all trudged forward, each burdened with heavy books pulled from the archive’s deepest vaults.

You carried yours easily, arms wrapped around the worn leather covers, but your patience? That was hanging by a thread.

And everyone knew it.

No one dared speak to you. Not yet.

Well—no one except Drake.

“You look like you’re ready to murder someone,” he mused, glancing at you as he adjusted the stack of books in his grip. You huffed, keeping your gaze forward as the two of you walked ahead of the group. “If this mission wasn’t essential, I’d still be in bed.”

Drake chuckled. “Not exactly a morning person, huh?”

You shot him a sharp look. “I have a rule.”

His lips twitched. “Right. No full conversations before nine. I’ve heard the horror stories.” Behind you, someone snorted—probably Ridoc—but you ignored it, focusing instead on Drake as he continued, “So, what makes me special?”

You shrugged, stepping over a broken piece of stone in the hallway. “You don’t test me.”

Drake smirked. “Good to know.”

The sound of shuffling boots behind you grew louder as the rest of the squad followed, everyone weighed down by their own stacks of books.

“I don’t get it,” Sawyer muttered somewhere behind you. “She’s literally speaking to him.”

“She likes him better than us,” Ridoc stage-whispered.

Xaden sighed heavily. “It’s six in the morning. Leave it.”

“I’m just saying,” Ridoc continued, voice full of obnoxious curiosity, “she’s actually stringing full sentences together. And meanwhile, if I even look at her—”

“Ridoc.” Xaden’s voice was sharp, carrying warning.

You smirked but didn’t look back.

Drake nudged you slightly with his shoulder, lowering his voice. “You do realize this only makes them more dramatic about it, right?”

You sighed. “Let them suffer.”

Drake chuckled again, shaking his head as the two of you kept walking.

The corridor stretched endlessly ahead, the dim torchlight flickering against the old stone walls. The weight of the books in your arms wasn’t unbearable, but the company behind you? That was another story.

You could feel the squad’s frustration, the burning curiosity radiating off them like a second sun. None of them understood why Drake was exempt from your before-nine-AM silence policy, and they were losing their minds over it.

Ridoc, naturally, was the most offended.

“I’m just saying,” he whispered—not quietly enough, “Drake doesn’t even talk that much. How did he become the chosen one?”

“Because he doesn’t run his mouth before dawn,” Imogen muttered.

“Neither do I!” Ridoc protested.

“You literally are right now,” Cat pointed out.

A huff of annoyance came from Xaden’s direction, but he still hadn’t intervened—probably because he was as curious as the rest of them.

You ignored them all, keeping pace beside Drake. He, at least, had the decency not to comment on the growing tension behind you. Instead, he shifted his books slightly, glancing sideways at you.

“So, what’s the deal with this archive, anyway?”

You exhaled slowly, more than happy to focus on something other than the squad’s ongoing mutiny. “It holds some of the oldest texts on continent history. Half of them were locked away by Navarre, the other half buried in misinformation.”

Drake nodded. “And we’re searching for…?”

“Anything useful.”

Behind you, there was an exaggerated gasp.

“She’s explaining things to him,” Ridoc whisper-yelled.

“Oh my gods, let it go,” Sloane muttered.

“I won’t let it go! We used to be special!”

“You were never special,” Mira shot back.

A quiet snort escaped before you could stop it.

Drake’s lips twitched, but he didn’t comment.

Xaden, however, finally reached the end of his patience. “Enough.”

Silence fell instantly.

You could practically hear Ridoc’s pout.

Xaden sighed, and then his voice cut through the heavy air. “It’s six in the morning. She will not entertain your bullshit until nine. Deal with it.”

A weighted pause.

Then, softly—

“…But Drake—”

“Ridoc.”

Another silence.

Then, a defeated sigh.

“Fine.”

You smirked, satisfied, as you and Drake reached the next doorway leading deeper into the archives.

Some battles just weren’t worth fighting.

But this one?

This one, you won.

Two Years Later – Morning Ruined

The sound of retching echoed in the bathroom, followed by a groan as you slumped against the cool porcelain of the sink. Your stomach hated you. Your entire existence felt like it was betraying you.

Morning sickness was vile.

A groggy shuffle of footsteps entered the room behind you, followed by the deep rumble of amusement.

“Oh, this is rich.”

You glared up at Xaden through the strands of hair stuck to your face. “Don’t.”

He smirked, leaning against the doorframe—infuriatingly shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His hair was a mess, sticking up from sleep, but his eyes? Oh, they were full of mischief.

“I’m just saying,” he drawled, crossing his arms, “the baby is really committed to ruining your whole morning silence rule.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back against the sink. “I hate you.”

He grinned. “No, you hate this.” He gestured vaguely at your current situation. “I just think it’s poetic justice.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Justice for what?”

Xaden hummed, tilting his head as if considering. “For all the times you’ve shushed me before nine. For all the years I’ve had to deal with your silent tyranny. Now, the universe—” he pointed at your stomach, “—has decided to humble you.”

You huffed, closing your eyes. “I hope this baby gets my attitude.”

Xaden scoffed. “You already have a mini version of you in there. I’d like to at least stand a chance in this household.”

Another wave of nausea hit, and you lurched forward, barely making it over the toilet before emptying what little remained in your stomach.

Xaden sighed, finally pushing off the doorframe. “Alright, alright. I’ve had my fun.”

You felt him kneel beside you, his warm hand sweeping your hair back from your face, fingers soothing against your scalp. Another hand rested on your lower back, rubbing slow, comforting circles.

“You’re still an ass,” you muttered weakly.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Yeah, but I’m your ass.”

You grumbled something incoherent, but as he helped you up, supporting your weight easily, you let yourself lean into him, exhaustion creeping in.

The baby was ruining your morning silence.

But if Xaden kept this up, you might just forgive them both. Xaden guided you out of the bathroom, keeping his arm firmly wrapped around your waist as you grumbled about your suffering. He was still smirking, of course. Thoroughly enjoying this.

The moment you hit the edge of the bed, you flopped down onto it, burying your face into the pillows. “I hate this.”

Xaden chuckled, sitting beside you. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.” You rolled onto your back, glaring up at him. “I don’t get it. I was fine yesterday.”

He raised a brow. “You threw up twice yesterday.”

You scowled. “That’s not the point.”

Xaden hummed, clearly not taking you seriously. “Well, maybe you should tell the baby that.”

You groaned, draping an arm over your face. “I would if they weren’t actively ruining my life.”

He leaned down, pressing a palm against your stomach. “Hear that, little one? You’re ruining your mother’s life.”

You peeked out from under your arm to glare at him. “You love this.”

He grinned. “A little, yeah.”

You huffed but didn’t stop him when he trailed his fingers along your stomach, his touch gentle. Even through your misery, there was something warm about the moment—something real.

Then, of course, he had to ruin it.

“You know,” he mused, stretching out beside you, “you’ll never get your silence back, right?”

You turned your head toward him slowly. “Excuse me?”

Xaden smirked, clearly enjoying this far too much. “Once the baby’s here? Silence is over. You’re going to have a very vocal alarm clock at all hours.”

You groaned, shoving a pillow over your face. “Why are you like this?”

He laughed, tugging the pillow away so he could look at you. “I’m just preparing you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You get to wake up with them, then.”

His smirk wavered slightly. “We’ll see about that.” You rolled over, pressing your face into his chest. “You’re absolutely waking up with them.” Xaden sighed but wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “Yeah, yeah.”

Silence settled over the room.

For a moment, you thought maybe—just maybe—you’d get a little peace.

Then, Xaden pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “So, how long until you admit I was right?”

You smacked his chest.

The nausea struck hard.

One second, you were curled against Xaden’s chest, soaking in the rare moment of stillness. The next, your stomach flipped—a violent, churning sensation that had you gasping and clutching his arm.

Xaden stiffened immediately. “Shit—”

You barely had time to turn your head before your entire body rebelled. A horrible gag wrenched through you, your throat burning as you dry-heaved, your stomach twisting with the effort.

Xaden was already moving. One arm tightening around your back, the other reaching blindly toward the nightstand, where a metal basin sat just in case. He dragged it into your lap, his grip firm but careful as you hunched over it, heaving.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmured, voice low and soothing. “Just breathe through it.”

You would’ve snapped at him if you weren’t so busy dying.

Tears burned your eyes as another wave of nausea ripped through you, but nothing came up. Just more gagging, more misery, more betrayal from the parasite growing inside you.

Xaden pressed his cheek against the top of your head, rubbing slow circles against your back. His touch was warm, grounding. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

You slumped forward, chest heaving, utterly wrecked.

“I hate this,” you rasped.

“I know.” His lips pressed against your temple. “You’re doing so good.”

You groaned weakly, gripping his wrist. “I want to punch you.”

His chuckle was entirely too smug. “You can—once you’re done not dying.”

Another groan. Another shuddering breath. Your body finally relented, the nausea retreating just enough for you to collapse back against him, exhausted.

Xaden sighed, shifting you gently so he could tuck you against his chest. His fingers brushed against your clammy skin, soothing as he whispered, “You’re okay.”

You let your eyes flutter shut, letting him hold you.

After a long moment, he exhaled.

“…So does this mean you’re lifting the morning silence rule?”

You whimpered.

Six Months Later – A New Kind of Morning

The early morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You lay propped up in bed, pillows supporting your back, as you gazed down at the tiny, sleeping figure nestled against your chest. Your three-day-old son, Liam, named in honour of Liam Mairi, his delicate features relaxed in peaceful slumber.

Xaden sat beside you, his dark eyes fixed on the baby with a mixture of awe and tenderness. His hand rested gently on your arm, grounding you in this new, shared reality.

As you traced a fingertip along Liam's soft cheek, you felt a profound sense of contentment wash over you. The months of morning sickness, the upheaval of your cherished routines—all of it faded into insignificance compared to the weight of your son in your arms.

With a soft chuckle, you murmured, "I don't mind him disturbing my peace."

Xaden's gaze met yours, a slow smile spreading across his face. "No," he agreed, his voice low and filled with emotion. "Neither do I."

The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the gentle breaths of the sleeping infant. In this moment, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the three of you cocooned in the quiet intimacy of new parenthood.

You leaned your head against Xaden's shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. Together, you watched over your son, the embodiment of your love and the beginning of a new chapter—one where morning silences were a thing of the past, but the promise of shared moments like this made every disturbance worthwhile.

Liam stirred against your chest, his tiny face scrunching up as he let out a soft, sleepy whimper. You instinctively tightened your arms around him, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. His dark curls—so much like Xaden’s—tickled your lips.

Xaden watched the two of you with quiet intensity. He’d been doing that a lot—just staring, like he still couldn’t believe Liam was real.

You smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. “You know he’s not going to disappear, right?”

Xaden huffed a soft laugh, dragging a hand down his face. “I know.” A pause. “I just—”

His jaw tightened, and his eyes flickered to Liam, still curled against your chest. His expression softened.

“I never thought I’d have this,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart clenched.

Reaching for his hand, you laced your fingers through his and gave a small squeeze. “Well, you do.” You nudged your nose against Liam’s downy-soft hair. “And he’s perfect.”

Xaden exhaled, his thumb brushing absently over the back of your hand. “Yeah.” His lips quirked. “He is.”

Liam let out another soft noise, shifting slightly. His tiny fingers flexed against your skin before settling again.

You hummed, swaying slightly even though you were still lying down. “I don’t even mind him waking me up.”

Xaden snorted. “Bold statement. Let’s see if you still feel that way in a few weeks.”

You shot him a look. “Are you implying that I don’t have patience?”

He grinned. “I’m implying that you’ve threatened people for waking you up early.”

You gasped in mock offense. “That was before I had a baby.”

Xaden chuckled, leaning down until his face was level with yours. His voice dipped lower. “So, if I wake you up before nine now, you won’t kill me?”

You squinted at him. “...That depends.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”

Liam stirred again, this time with a tiny, contented sigh.

And just like that, everything else faded.

Xaden sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “We’re never getting silence again, are we?”

You smiled, tucking Liam even closer. “Not a chance.”

Three Years Later – The Next Generation of Chaos

The smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen as you stood at the far counter, waiting for the pot to finish brewing. It was early—too early for anyone in your household to be this lively—but here you were, surrounded by a squad that didn’t seem to understand the concept of quiet mornings.

Liam, perched comfortably on the kitchen counter, kicked his little feet against the cabinets. His dark curls were a mess, his cheeks still flushed with sleep, but his sharp eyes were wide and alert, just like his father’s.

Xaden stood beside him, sipping his coffee, while Garrick and Violet leaned against the island. Ridoc, who never knew how to shut up, had taken it upon himself to be Liam’s personal entertainment for the morning.

“Alright, little shadowling,” Ridoc grinned, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. “I have excellent jokes. Want to hear one?”

Liam didn’t even hesitate. He lifted one tiny hand, pressed a single finger to his lips, and went, “Shhh.”

The room froze.

Violet choked on her coffee, Garrick went rigid, and Xaden—who had been mid-sip—just stared at his son in stunned silence.

Ridoc blinked. “Uh—”

Liam, completely unfazed, turned his head slowly to face Ridoc. His little brows furrowed in something almost like disapproval.

“Too early,” he declared.

Silence.

Then—

Violet wheezed, setting her coffee down before she dropped it, while Garrick made an unholy noise of laughter. Xaden sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, but you didn’t miss the way his lips twitched at the edges. Ridoc, looking personally offended, gestured wildly at the toddler. “Are you kidding me? He’s you!” He whirled on you. “You corrupted him!”

You smirked, taking a slow sip of your coffee before raising a brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Xaden finally broke, shaking his head as he ruffled Liam’s curls. “Can’t even be mad.”

Liam, clearly sensing that he’d won, turned back to his father and held out his arms expectantly. Xaden picked him up with ease, resting him against his hip while pressing a kiss to the side of his little head.

Ridoc crossed his arms. “You’re both terrible.”

Violet wiped tears from her eyes, still laughing. “This is perfect.”

Garrick clapped a hand on Ridoc’s shoulder. “Better get used to it, man.”

Ridoc groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “This kid is three. What’s he gonna be like at eighteen?”

Xaden met your gaze across the kitchen, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.

You grinned.

“An absolute menace.”

Liam, still nestled comfortably on Xaden’s hip, let out a very deliberate sigh. Then—slowly, carefully—he lifted one tiny hand again, pressed his little finger to his lips, and gave a sharp, pointed…

"Shhh."

The entire kitchen went dead silent.

Ridoc, who had just opened his mouth to protest, snapped it shut. Violet pressed a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. Garrick looked personally offended. And Xaden? Xaden just stood there, stone-faced, watching as his own three-year-old son silenced a roomful of trained warriors.

You, of course, were thrilled.

Hands on your hips, you grinned at your son. “Oh, that was beautiful.” Liam, still with his tiny finger pressed to his lips, nodded sagely. Ridoc threw his hands in the air. “Oh, come on! He can’t just—”

"Shhh."

Liam doubled down.

Eyes narrowed, expression severe.

Ridoc froze mid-rant. His mouth snapped shut so fast you swore you heard his teeth click together. You lost it, biting back laughter as Violet wheezed into her coffee. Garrick muttered, “I think we just got commanded.”

Xaden exhaled deeply, rubbing at his temples. Then, as if just accepting defeat, he looked down at Liam. “You do know you’re not in charge of the room, right?”

Liam turned his little head. Blink blink.

Then—

"Shhh."

Silence.

Complete. Utter. Silence.

Violet collapsed against the counter, shaking. Ridoc looked like he was about to combust. Garrick covered his face.

You, still completely delighted, crossed your arms. “I don’t know, babe. Seems like he’s very in charge.”

Xaden groaned, looking up at the ceiling as if begging for patience.

Liam, completely unaware that he’d just won the war, settled back against his father’s shoulder with a self-satisfied little hum.

And in that moment—watching every single person in this kitchen forced into silence by a three-year-old—you realized something.

Your son?

Was an absolute menace.

And you couldn’t be prouder. The room stayed eerily quiet for a full five seconds. Five. Whole. Seconds.

It was glorious.

You sipped your coffee, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Ridoc looking like he was going to explode. Violet was still wheezing, trying—and failing—to keep a straight face, while Garrick just stared at Liam like he was a newly discovered breed of predator.

And Xaden? Xaden was doing that thing where he rubbed a hand over his jaw, like he was trying very hard not to let amusement slip through the cracks of his carefully controlled expression.

Liam, nestled comfortably against his father’s shoulder, nodded to himself. As if pleased that order had finally been restored.

Then, as if summoned by the pure chaos that had unfolded, more footsteps echoed from the hall.

Imogen was the first to walk in, hair tied in a loose braid, her sharp gaze immediately flicking over all of you. She slowed mid-step, brows furrowing. “…Why is it so quiet?”

Bodhi followed right after her, hands stuffed in his pockets. “That’s what I wanna know.”

Then, just as Ridoc opened his mouth to finally tell them what had happened—

Liam, with the calm authority of someone twice his size, lifted his hand and pressed that tiny little finger to his lips.

"Shhh."

Ridoc made a sound so strangled it was almost inhuman.

Imogen froze.

Bodhi blinked. Looked at Ridoc. Then looked at Liam. Then back to Ridoc.

And grinned. “Oh, this is good.” Ridoc whipped around to face him. “This is not good! I’m being silenced by a three-year-old!”Liam turned his head.

"Shhh."

Ridoc collapsed against the island, dragging his hands down his face. “I hate this kid.” Violet was dying at this point, bent over with laughter as Xaden simply sighed and adjusted Liam on his hip.

Imogen, to her credit, looked impressed. “I mean, that’s kinda terrifying.” Bodhi crossed his arms, still smirking. “Oh, absolutely. A menace in the making.”

“Don’t encourage him!” Ridoc threw his hands in the air. “Do you realize what you’ve done?” He pointed directly at you. “You created this. You.”

You raised an eyebrow, still entirely unbothered. “And?” Ridoc made a strangled noise. “And now I have to live with it!” Liam, clearly thrilled by all the attention, rested his chin on Xaden’s shoulder and grinned, looking far too proud of himself.

And then—just to really rub salt in the wound—he turned to you, little hand outstretched.

You immediately high-fived him. “That’s my boy.”

Ridoc groaned so dramatically it echoed through the whole kitchen.

And Xaden, looking between his equally chaotic wife and son, simply shook his head.

“My life,” he muttered, “is never going to be normal.”

Xaden had been through war. He had been through a revolution. He had battled Venin, trained reckless cadets, and had been crowned a king. And yet—somehow—the greatest challenge of his life…

Was this.

His three-year-old son was running the entire room. With one word.

"Shhh."

Liam had effectively silenced Ridoc, baffled Imogen, made Bodhi laugh, and had Violet on the verge of tears from how hard she was laughing. Meanwhile, you—his wife, the only person he had ever willingly let disrupt his life—were thriving.

You stood there, arms crossed, smirking in that infuriating way that told him you were far too pleased with the chaos you had created.

Xaden sighed, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “So this is my life now.”

Violet, still grinning, wiped at her eyes. “You did marry her.”

“And had a child with her,” Imogen added, looking at Liam with something close to admiration.

Bodhi chuckled, elbowing Xaden. “Bet you thought ruling Tyrrendor was gonna be your hardest job.”

Ridoc, still sulking, muttered, “Should’ve thought harder.”

Xaden just stared at all of them, then down at Liam—who was currently leaning his head against his father’s shoulder, entirely unbothered by the chaos he had caused.

And that was when it hit him.

This wasn’t just some random habit Liam had picked up.

No.

This was you.

Liam had inherited your morning rule.

Your absolute refusal to engage in any conversation before you deemed it acceptable.

You had passed it down.

Xaden exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for half a second.

Then he turned his head and looked directly at you.

“…This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

Your smirk widened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Xaden groaned, resting his forehead against Liam’s tiny one. “I am so outnumbered.”

Liam, not understanding but clearly agreeing, hummed and patted his father’s cheek in what was probably meant to be a reassuring gesture. But when he turned his head again and caught Ridoc trying to open his mouth—

"Shhh."

Ridoc gave up entirely, throwing his head back and groaning to the ceiling.

And Xaden?

Xaden just accepted it.

His son was a menace. His wife was worse.

And his life was never going to be peaceful again.

Xaden had barely recovered from the realization that his wife and son had conspired—whether intentionally or not—to bring him to his knees with sheer silent tyranny when you spoke up again.

Casually. Too casually.

“So… do you think the second one is gonna be like this too?”

Silence.

Not because of Liam this time.

But because every single person in the room just stopped moving.

Xaden felt it immediately—the way everyone around him tensed, the sharp inhale from Violet, the way Ridoc’s jaw dropped. He could physically hear the way Bodhi snapped his neck to look at you.

Xaden’s grip on Liam instinctively tightened.

“…What?”

You, utterly unbothered as always, sipped your coffee. “You heard me.”

Ridoc, voice pitched an octave higher than normal, choked. “Second?” Violet gasped. “You’re pregnant?”

Xaden’s brain short-circuited. Because, no, you had not told him that. His wife—the mother of his already tiny tyrant—had just casually dropped this monumental piece of information in the middle of their morning routine.

Imogen wheeled around to face you, her sharp eyes wide. “You’re serious?” Bodhi looked offended. “And you didn’t tell us?” Sawyer laughed outright, running a hand through his hair. “I love her. I love how she just says things like it’s not a big deal.”

Rhiannon gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth before immediately smacking your arm. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You just grinned, far too pleased with yourself. “I just did.”

Xaden finally snapped himself out of it, his grip on Liam tightening as he turned to stare at you.

His wife.

His chaotic, insufferable, too-clever-for-her-own-good wife.

The mother of his children.

Children.

Plural.

“Oh,” he muttered, voice flat. “So that’s how I find out.”

You sipped your coffee again, completely unapologetic.

Ridoc, still looking betrayed, crossed his arms. “Unreal. Unreal.”

Bodhi snorted, clapping Xaden on the back. “Well, congrats, Dad.”

Xaden just exhaled deeply, looking down at the little menace still sitting in his arms. Liam, ever the stoic observer, blinked up at his father, clearly unconcerned with the absolute chaos unfolding around him.

Then, as if just now registering what had been said, Liam reached one tiny hand out—

And patted Xaden’s stomach.

As if confirming that there was, in fact, another one on the way.

Xaden groaned, running a hand down his face. “I am so outnumbered.”

And then—just to really cement how doomed he was—Liam turned to you.

“Mommy.”

His voice was sweet. Curious.

But then he lifted one tiny hand.

And pressed his finger to his lips.

"Shhh."

The room erupted.

A/N: SO like my finals are in 8 weeks so I wont be posting much BUT I am taking blurb requests for our fourth wing men Credit to @empyreanevents for the divider

[imaginedreamwrite]

I am such a sucker for pregnancy tropes, could you please write something with a friends with benefits discovering their pregnant? With anyone you chose

That’s stupid plastic stick that sits on your bathroom counter, curses you. The plastic screen with the little lines that mock you, makes you want to hurl yourself into the sun. There is nothing that can make you feel less pathetic than knowing that your friends with benefits relationship had made you feel as vulnerable as it did.

Just beyond the bathroom and down the hall is the man you’ve been sleeping with. The arrogant playboy with a long list of women he’s slept with, including you. But you’re the latest, and you’re his friend. You’d been his friend for a long time, watching him as he slept with random women.

It was fun, all just fun and games, friends who occasionally shared a bed. Johnny was noncommittal, and you had been as careful as you could be while using protection. There should have been no accidents, even when you had taken the placebo pills during your week off.

Johnny always packed, he never missed using rubbers. He was careful, he was always careful.

But now—

“Got the call, bon. Gotta leave ya behind. Dinnae forget to lock the door.” Johnny knocked on the bathroom door while you were inside, trying to deal with that stupid plastic stick.

“Johnny we should talk-” you tucked the pregnancy test into your sleeve, drawing in a shaky breath as your free hand reached for the doorknob.

“I’know I’m a prat for leaving, after I just go’ back.” The door opens and he stands on the other side with a charming grin. “Sex’s good b’tween us, eh?”

It’s all friends with benefits and no commitment, like he is with everyone. He likes sex, he enjoys sex but he doesn’t do relationships. He doesn’t date, he doesn’t want a girlfriend.

“Look bon, you’re a real good woman, better friend.” Johnny rests a hand on your shoulder, his fingers squeezing lightly as you stare at him with building contempt growing in your chest. Why won’t he just listen to you? “Call you when I’m’back, we’ll do something.”

He hands you his key to take, to lock up after him, and then he’s gone. He’s leaving you behind as he grabs his rucksack and slings it over his shoulder. You follow him mindlessly to the door, watching him as he grabs his things and prepares to leave, prepares to leave you standing there alone.

“Johnny I really need to talk to you-”

“It’s gotta wait, bonbon.” He slips on his boots, denying the opportunity to talk here and now, and then he opens the door and holds it open with his foot. “Team’s waiting, and i gotta be the hero.”

He grins and winks at you, his eyes sweeping over you once more before he steps out of his apartment. As the door closes you know exactly what will happen—you’ll gather your things and leave his place.

You’ll lock the doors and leave Johnny’s place behind, left regretting your inability to speak to him. To tell him the truth. And once again you’ll be drawn into his stupid and charming net, this web that traps you so easily.

You should hate Johnny for it, but realistically you know you can’t. You’ll forgive him, you’ll fall into his bed again. You’ll sleep with him and then you’ll watch him sleep around with other women, each one breaking your heart more than the last.

Only this time, you wonder what would happen if you just left. If you left and didn’t return to his place or take his calls.

[moonyswritinq]

black swan — killian jones x male reader

❝ BLACK SWAN ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ Killian Jones was no stranger to using his charms in order to woo beautiful women, Emma Swan being no exception. You couldn’t stand the sight of him flirting shamelessly with your sister, purely for brotherly reasons, so you decide to tell him off. What you didn’t know, was that his eye had been drawn to you the moment he saw you.

PAIRING ➢ killian jones x brother!Swan male reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ season 2 & 3 spoilers, sort of one-sided rivals to lovers, tension, kissing, making out, harsh language, guys flirting, insults as flirting, threats

WORD COUNT ➢ 2.4 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ I wrote this because I read another similar fic and, no hate to that author, but I wanted to write it better and so that it would be more to my satisfaction. Also, I am well aware of all the requests I still have yet to do, but I fell into a OUAT hole and now I’m here.

MASTERLIST, TAGLIST

Killian Jones finding a woman attractive was nothing special. He’s had his fair share of dalliances over the years. Ever since what happened to Milah, Killian was in no hurry to find the so-called “true love” and settle down. His never-ending adventures at sea kept him plenty occupied—and so did his hunt for his Crocodile.

It was no surprise then that the woman named Emma Swan would draw his eye. She was just his type: bold, determined, and a natural leader. His interactions with her in the Enchanted Forest left him intrigued, and his curiosity of her only grew when they returned to Storybrooke and defeated Cora together. He expected his infatuation with Emma to grow the more time he spent with her, but what he was not expecting, was you to catch his eye instead.

The son of Prince Charming and Snow White, brought to a world without magic together with Emma as babies, put into a foster home. Despite all your bad luck as children, your inability in finding a place to call home, at least you managed to stay together. And as Henry brought her back to Storybrooke to break the curse, you followed with. You weren’t a Saviour like her, not by a long shot. But you did have your own skills and abilities, something that came with being a devilishly cunning detective. However much she hated to admit it, Emma would oftentimes turn to you for help in hunting down a bounty. A difficult bounty for her meant an afternoon of idle searching for you.

You never turned down an opportunity to tease her about it and she never hesitated to roll her eyes at you. Nonetheless, you felt incredible protective of her. You may just have been a few minutes older than her, but that didn’t stop you from putting on the big brother act—something she didn’t always appreciate.

Which is why, when you saw a certain pirate unashamedly flirting with her, those brotherly instincts kicked in immediately. You knew Hook was helping your family in getting Henry back from Neverland, providing passage on his ship, the Jolly Roger, and offering his being a guide on the island. But those facts did not give him the right to flirt with your sister.

You had already been at odds with the man when, at your arrival to the island, the ship was attacked by  a school of mermaids. Hook had stumbled in your direction and taken hold of the most stable thing closest to him—which happened to be you. His hand had gripped your waist, his hook coming to your chest as he fell against you. The closeness of his breath stirred something within you, something not entirely uncomfortable. Of course, it was not his fault that the ship veered to the side and that you had been closest to him when he stumbled, but that didn’t stop you from pushing him away from you the moment the ship steadied.

“My apologies,” he said, quite out of breath. His blue eyes were remarkably clear in the moonlight. “I usually offer a drink before getting so close to someone.”

Your glare was your only answer.

“I don’t believe we have been properly introduced.” He extended his hand for you to shake. You looked at it uncertainly.

“I’m Emma’s brother,” you said simply.

His eyebrow raised. “So you must be the infamous town sheriff y/n Swan. I s’pose good looks do run in the family.”

You began to scoff, but then your brain was able to fully comprehend his words. “I never told you my name.”

Hook glanced away, his confident smirk faltering. He cleared his throat. “I may have, er, asked someone for it.”

You shifted your head to meet his eye. “Someone?”

He let out a sigh. “I wanted to know who the handsome man that was traveling with us is, so yeah, I asked around. Really, you should be flattered.”

You scoffed at the grin that flashed across his face and turned on your heel. Like you’d said—shameless flirt.

Later, while searching Neal’s hideout, you watched him flash that same grin when talking to Emma. He stepped much closer, leaning towards her. You couldn’t stomach watching it. And you told yourself it was because she deserved better than a good-for-nothing scoundrel like him. No other reason.

So you watched from afar, leaned against the cave walls, as Hook winked at your sister. Emma glared at him, unimpressed. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about her falling for his charms. She was much too clever for that. You saw her walk away from him, away from the hand that he had reached forward to her and you smiled with grim satisfaction. But before you could step forwards, out of the shadows, David had approached Hook.

“Let me give you a bit of advice, Hook,” he said. “She’s never gonna like you.”

Hooks eyebrows shot into the air. “Is that so?”

“How could she?” David’s voice was laced with venom. “You’re nothing but a pirate.”

He seemed to want to reply, but nothing came out, and David walked away. Hook’s gaze followed him, his hand running down his face.

“He’s right, y’know,” you said, stepping forward.

A low growl slipped from his throat, Hook turning to face you. He looked almost crestfallen. “Can I not get enough of your bloody family?”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “And here I was thinking you’d be glad to see me.”

Hook let out a dry chuckle. “Oh, I am very glad, love.”

“There’s that charm of yours,” you remarked humourlessly.

He smiled cheekily. “Doesn’t seem to be working on your sister, though.”

“Yeah,” you hummed. Step after step brought you closer to the pirate. You watched him closely, noting the way his eyes jumped over your figure. “Speaking of, we need to have a chat.”

He nodded absentmindedly, raising his finger to rub against his lips. The movement drew your eye to them. You knew he had noticed your gaze before you managed to tear it away when his lips curled into a smirk. You rolled your eyes. Goddamned pirate.

“If you’re going to stare at me like that, I’m going to get some mixed signals, love.” His voice was as smug and sweet as honey, only managing in irritating you more.

You were not known to be calm and level-headed. Anyone who was close to you knew to keep away when your anger threatened to burst, like an erupting volcano. Emma had once stolen one of your favourite pencils as a child and you had gotten back at her by spilling ink all over her favourite stuffed animal. But Hook did not know you well enough. He smiled sweetly.

Two steps forward and you were stood right in front of him, pressing against his chest. Rum and leather and sea salt filled your nose. The smell of him was overpowering and intoxicating all at once. You pressed one arm against his throat, pushing him back against the cave wall, the other bracing yourself against it. He grunted at the impact, groaning in displeasure, before meeting your gaze steadily.

“And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

The words growled out of your throat, through your gritted teeth. “Stay away from Emma, got it?”

“You may have gotten the good looks of your family. Not the manners, though,” he said lazily.

You cocked your head. “No, that is more my parents’ style.”

“You do have more of a bite than them,” he said. Then he tilted his head, as if in thought. “Huh, well, aren’t you a dark Swan, love? Or do you prefer Black Swan?”

Your brows knit together but you chose to ignore his words. Instead, you said, “I do agree with David that Emma will never fall for you, so you might as well give up now.”

Hook’s eyebrow raised. “If you’re so sure she won’t fall for me, why even bother threatening me? Surely, my flirting must be harmless.”

Your brows knitted together in suspicion. His eyes were annoyingly blue, piercing straight into yours. “Just leave her alone, Hook.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

“My flirting with her.” He leant forward a bit, throat straining against your arm. “Swan, are you jealous?”

You opened your mouth to protest. You? Jealous? Ridiculous. Then you noticed that his lips had curled into a cheeky smirk. “No,” you bit out.

Hook blinked, raising an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Heard you were quite the detective out in the Land of No Magic.”

Your head cocked to the side. “Yeah, so?”

He simply hummed, head falling back against the stone walls. His eyes traveled across your figure before jumping up to meet your gaze through his lidded eyes, something unintelligible in those swirls of blue. You ignored the warmth that pooled in your stomach at the sight of him like that.

“I will leave her alone,” he said calmly. “You have my word.”

You tried to detect the mischievous thoughts that were surely lying behind his eyes, but came up empty. You had no idea if he was telling the truth or not, but you let him go and stepped back in one swift moment. He cleared his throat, rubbing one hand across his collarbone.

“Fine,” you said, glancing away from his steely gaze. You weren’t sure what to do with yourself then, and you cleared your throat uncomfortably.

“Shall we?” Hook asked, gesturing to where the others had gone.

“Yeah,” you said simply, walking past him briskly.

You didn’t know what had suddenly overcome you or why you were now so uncomfortable in Hook’s presence. For the rest of that day, every time you glanced in his direction to make sure he was heeding your words of staying away from Emma—to which he did—you felt as if your nerves were standing on end. And on occasion, when he happened to be glancing your way as well and your eyes met, you felt shivers travel down your body, forcing you to break his eye contact. You thought you could see a smirk playing across his lips in those moments, but you chose to ignore him.

That same evening, you had found out David and Hook been ambushed by the Lost Boys. Apparently, Captain Hook had risked his life saving David from a poisonous arrow with Nightshade on it. You almost wanted to laugh at the idea of Hook doing something so heroic, but at the sight of David’s serious face you merely took a swig of the offered flask, like the others. You caught his eye right before he turned and stepped away from the others. You followed him behind a tree.

“I heard what you did for David,” you said. He stopped and turned to face you. “Thank you, Killian.”

His smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “I wouldn’t leave your father to perish on this island.”

You nodded, glancing away for a moment before meeting his eye. “I must ask, did you do it to get in my sister’s good graces?”

“I thought you weren’t jealous.” His eyebrow raised.

“Answer the question,” you bit out.

His smile dropped as he met your gaze. “No, I didn’t do it for her. I did it for you. And because it was the right thing to do.”

You couldn’t help the scoff that escaped you. “So now you’re all righteous, huh?”

Hook cocked his head. “I’ve always been chivalrous,” he said. “And, well, it doesn’t take a genius to know that getting your father killed would not help my courting you.”

You chose to ignore those last few words, your smile holding no warmth. “You’re right. You are no genius,” you said.

 “This doesn’t sound like a thank you,” Hook remarked, raising his eyebrows.

You let out a sigh, looking down at the ground beneath your feet. “I’m sorry.”

He scratched the nape of his neck. “Perhaps you could show me some gratitude to make it up to me.”

His gaze was dark underneath his eyelashes, his lips curling into a smirk. You thought you knew what he was implying. You wouldn’t let him get off that easily, though.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, the corners of your mouth lifting. “That was what the ’thank you’ was for.”

“Mmm,” Hook hummed. He took a step closer, so close now you could count his eyelashes. “Is that all your father’s life is worth to you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, you couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps,” he whispered, face leaning much closer to you. You could feel his breath against your skin. “It’s you who couldn’t handle it.”

Your eyes jumped between his, then to his lips. Those damned lips, curled into that damned smile. Oh Gods, why did you have to be attractive to a pirate. Without leaving any time for you to think your actions through, you took ahold of his jacket and pulled his face towards yours.

Hook let out a surprised gasp, which you swallowed into the kiss. He dragged himself closer, hand clinging to your waist. You felt his chest press hard against you as his lips moved against yours. It was harsh, quick, and angry—just like your feelings for him.

The warmth in your stomach deepened as you pressed yourself impossibly closer to him. One hand made its way into his dark hair, pulling lightly against it. He let out a deep moan at the movement, his eyes shooting open and lips pulling away for a moment.

You smiled at the sight of him, red-lipped, cheeks flushed and eyes full of desire. “Too harsh for you, captain?”

He groaned at your words, capturing your lips once more. His hook was pressing your waist against his as his hand grabbed your neck, bringing you into him. He was truly and well intoxicating.

Hook pulled away again, breath coming out in short bursts. “So I’m not good enough for your sister, but I’m good enough for you.”

You cocked your head and shrugged. “I’m not as good as she is.”

He smiled into the kiss when you pulled him closer again. His teeth captured your bottom lip lightly, but the feeling made a smile of your own erupt across your face.

“I don’t know,” Hook said. “I think you’re pretty good.”

“Killian.”

“My name has never sounded sweeter.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, smile still playing across your lips.

“With pleasure,” he murmured while pulling you close again.

Tag list: @a-gay-dumbass @eunxhan @loverclear @shobolanya @edit-me-prettyplease @bookholichany @scriblezz

[milswrites]

Unspoken Love

~ Eris Vanserra X Fem!Reader

Summary: All the ways in which Eris shows you he loves you.

Warnings: Fluffy goodness. Nudity (non-sexual). Period cramps.

Notes: This is for everyone who just longs to see Eris happy and in love (and more specifically for @searchingforbucky because I never would have written this if it wasn’t for you)

A Hopeless Prince

Eris had a silver tongue.

Centuries of speaking in court allowing him to become a master at crafting words. The Autumn Prince blessed with the gift of bending truths and delivering commands as though they were the sweetest poetry.

And yet, despite his eloquence in speech, Eris had one problem.

A cursed inability to voice his feelings.

It was a skill the red-haired prince had never required, a mask of cool indifference being the best item a male could wear in court. Emotions were a weakness that Eris couldn't allow himself to have on display, not in Autumn.

Until he met you. Then suddenly and all at once Eris found himself a victim to his own heart's desire.

A single look, that was all that was needed for Eris Vanserra to fall in love. One look and the male was certain he had found his equal.

Yet despite the instantaneous nature of his feelings for you, Eris found his tongue locked in your presence. The three words which he so longed to tell you caged within the confines of his mouth.

Eris loved you.

An all consuming love in which the heat of his desire burned brighter than any inferno he could muster with his own palms. And yet he still couldn't find the words to tell you this. But despite his inability to voice his emotions, Eris fought against his insecurities to make sure he let you know the depths of his feelings in other ways.

He made sure to tell you with the soothing tea he made for you each morning. With the gentle kiss he always laid upon your cheek as you stirred from your slumber. He made sure you knew with his sweet compliments and admiring eyes as he soaked in your radiant beauty for as long as you would allow.

Eris loved you.

He only hoped that one day he would be able to tell you this himself.

A Comforting Presence

Time was a scarce luxury for you and Eris.

Between his courtly duties and your equally busy schedule, quality time together was a rare sight.

Whenever you managed to find a moment of peace, free from your responsibilities and ready to devote all of your attention to the Autumn Prince, Eris always had the rotten luck of being called away to another task.

Which is why you often found yourself in this position; tucked away in a hidden area of the library, curled up with a good book whilst you waited for Eris to finish his daily obligations. The books you read acting as a blissful escape from the usually restless bustle of the Autumn Court.

It was all to easy for you to hide from reality between the inked pages. To allow your mind to freely wander amongst the stories while the time slowly passed until you could see Eris again. Working your way through Autumn's large expanse of literature as each day came and went.

So it was no wonder how in your dream-like trance you didn't notice the watchful figure admiring you from afar. It took three attempts of Eris softly clearing his throat before he was able to capture your attention and draw your gaze from the book in your hands. Tensing, your alarmed eyes swiftly flew towards the source of the sound, your muscles relaxing upon seeing the familiar face of your lover.

You took the time to admire Eris where he stood, shameless eyes raking over his well-defined figure before coming to a stop at the stack of documents which were clutched tightly in his hands.

"Another meeting?" you quietly ask with a sad smile, assuming that Eris had only dropped by for a short respite and a quick hello before he needed to return to his obligations.

Eris approached you, placing a delicate kiss onto your temple before moving to sit down in the armchair beside you. "Actually," he started, the low rumble of his voice cutting through the silence of the library, "I thought I might finish off my work here, if that is alright with you of course?"

You didn't fail to miss the light dusting of redness which blossomed on Eris's cheeks, nor the embarrassed edge to his tone as he spoke. Worried that the male would allow his insecurities to take control, you stretched out your hand to entwine it with his own, locking together your fingers as your thumb moved to rub soothing circles into his skin.

"I'd love nothing more" you answered honestly, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

The two of you sat in a peaceful silence, Eris beginning to work through his papers and you picking up your story from where you left off. Yet despite your different activities your hands remained placed in each other's, Eris placing the occasional kiss onto the back of your own whenever he sat back to ponder over what he was writing.

The two of you didn't speak; you didn't need to. Not when the comfort of each other's company was enough. It could have been hours until words were exchanged between you once more, the silence broken by a gasp escaping from your lips as you reached an exciting part of your story. Intrigued, Eris looked over to where you were sat.

"What is it?" he asked, straining his neck to peer over and try and catch a glimpse of your book. Interested eyes flashing over to your own wide ones.

"Nothing, sorry! Something big just happened, I'll try to stay quiet" you promised, afraid that if you were to disturb Eris from his work he would leave to finish it elsewhere.

Eris slowly nodded in acknowledgement, turning back to his papers to continue his writings, and yet it was impossible to stop his amber eyes from travelling back to your face. Brows knitting together as he took in the bright glint in your eye and the curling of your lips as you read.

Needing to satisfy his curiosity, Eris asked you once more, "What is it? What are you smiling at?"

"Shouldn't you be working?" you teased, noting the nosy way in which the Autumn Prince was trying to snoop at the page you were reading.

"Work can wait" he huffed, snatching the book from your hands, "I'm more interested in what's going on in that pretty little mind of yours."

And as you sat in Eris's lap, happily chatting away as his work laid unfinished and forgotten, the male promised himself he would always make time for you. Because no job, nor meeting, would ever be more important than getting to see you smile.

A Helping Hand

A groan of frustration tore from your lips as you entered your shared chambers. Distressed eyes meeting the teasing stare of your amused lover who was sprawled across the bed, no doubt having been waiting for your arrival.

A soft chuckle leaving Eris's lips at the sight of your disheveled form, "Difficult day, Little Fox?"

Having finally reached the sanctuary of your room, the weight of the days trials finally settled as your eyes began to uncomfortably sting with tears. Noticing your crumbling composure, Eris swiftly made his way over from the bed to where you were stood, gentle hands coming to rest against your cheeks as his searching eyes scanned over your frame.

Your appearance clearly worrying him as the male immediately pulled you into a crushing embrace.

Face now pressed into the exposed skin of Eris's chest where the top of his shirt was splayed open, you allowed yourself to deeply inhale the familiar scent of your partner. The smell of him alone enough to bring you the comfort you needed. The Autumn Prince held your tears at bay, both by the gentle caress of his hands against your body and the soothing murmurings of solace he offered you.

It was only when your breathing steadied, and the irregular pounding of your heart had subsided, did Eris then allow himself to pull away. "Do you want to talk about it?" Eris asked tentatively, lifting a tender hand to brush a stray piece of hair behind your ear, "Or would you just like me to take care of you?"

Your heart lovingly ached at the male's compassion, his words the same ones you recite to him each time he comes back to your chambers forlorn and dejected after a difficult day.

"Will you take care of me?" you asked your prince, a single tear falling down your cheek. Not at the expense of your terrible day, but at the overwhelming surge of empathy swimming in your lover's eyes.

"Always" Eris replied, kissing away your lonely tear.

The Autumn Prince needn't be told what to do; silently leading you to the bed with a promise of returning.

You waited patiently for the male as he prepared your bath, the male filling the tub with an assortment of luxurious oils and healing salts. It was only when Eris was satisfied with the temperature of the steaming water, did he then return to carry you into the bathroom.

Eris's hands worked to aid you in unlacing the corset of your dress before he gathered the silk of the slip underneath to help remove it from your exhausted frame. Once free from the confines of your clothing, Eris supportively held your hand as he carefully assisted you in getting into the bath. Allowing you to adjust to the temperate waters before moving behind you to wash your hair.

Eris had the hands of a prince, smooth and unscarred, free from the marks of labor. Yet despite the polished nature of his nimble fingers, they worked wonders whilst running through your dampened hair and massaging your aching scalp. Each gentle rub as he worked the pine scented soap into your hair being enough to draw sounds of contented pleasure from your lips.

Your love was an expert at knowing what you needed, and as he worked to was the pollutant worried of the day gone by from your skin, Eris filled your ears with light-hearted stories of his own day.

It wasn't long before the sweet sound of laughter filled the room, memories of your sour day long forgotten as you merrily conversed with your partner.

The only thing that mattered in this moment of time was him.

And as your eyes caught Eris periodically sinking his hands into the lukewarm water to rise its temperature to an adequate level, you knew there was no one else in the world you would rather have take care of you. No man that you would rather love.

A Treasured Gift

Life with Eris meant you needn't want for anything.

He made sure to spoil you with more dresses than you would ever need and your collection of jewels had grown so large they now spilled from the box you kept them in.

But your favourite gift you had received from Eris wasn't the diamond encrusted tiara he had given you for your birthday, nor the prize mare he had surprised you with on the anniversary of your relationship.

No, the best gift Eris had ever given you was his mind, scrawled between the pages of a book. . .

Your lover's nerves were almost tangible as he approached, hands hidden behind his back as he slowly stalked in your direction. Low whispers of self-encouragement upon his lips as he set his determined eyes on you.

It was unusual, to see the usually confident male blanching in your presence, all colour drawn from his usually lifeful cheeks. Eris’s foot tapping restlessly against the floor when he finally came to a stop before you.

You made to greet your prince with a kiss, but Eris's shaky words interrupted your action. "I have something for you" he said, offering you an anxious smile as your brows raised in surprise, thoughts racing as you desperately tried to remember whether this day held any important significance that you had forgotten.

Noting your panicked expression Eris immediately blurted, "It's nothing big! Just something small I've been working on for you."

Eris was slow to draw his hands from behind his back, nervous eyes meeting your curious ones as you took in what he was holding.

"A book?" you asked, taking it from his slightly trembling hand in order to cast your inspecting gaze of the cover. Tales of the heart. Your favourite story.

A book you have read over a dozen times before. So why would Eris gift you a copy of a book you already owned? Sure your copy was tattered and well loved, but did it really require a replacement?

Ever the perceptive male, Eris inhaled deeply before explaining the reasoning of his gift, "I know I'm not the best at voicing how I feel. . . So I thought you could read it instead."

His expectant eyes urged you to open the book, so you did just that.

Peeling back the cover, you were greeted with Eris's familiar penmanship, the black ink which marked the page curling into words which made your heart swell:

You are my everything, nothing more and nothing less.

With watery eyes you eagerly flicked through the book, breath catching in your throat as you observed the ink covered pages. Eris had underlined all his favourite passages, each one accompanied by scribbles of his comments and opinions, the margins overflowing with carefully worded text.

Here in your hands you held a window into Eris's soul. His emotions laid bare across each page, exposing his mind and sharing his thoughts.

This little book, which fit snugly into the palm of your hand, was an offering. An invitation to get to know the male better, to understand Eris in his entirety.

Finding yourself lost for words you did the only thing you could do, pulling the Autumn Prince into a heated kiss of appreciation. Arms flying around his neck in an attempt to draw him in closer, doing your best to pour every ounce of love and praise into each gentle caress of your lips against his.

Anticipation growing in your chest at the prospect of delving into the book later on in the day, eagerly awaiting your exploration of Eris Vanserra’s mind.

A Heated Touch

You were in agony.

Bound to your bed, wallowing in your own misery as you clutched onto your abdomen with the hope of quelling the rising tide of pain.

It was that time of the year, your aching body signaling the unwelcome arrival of your cycle.

Eris had been reluctant to leave you this morning, worried about your ability to take care of yourself. Despite wanting nothing more than to spend the day wrapped in the loving arms of your partner, you half-heartedly pushed him from your bed, knowing the male had an abundance of dull meetings to attend today.

Yet now as you laid under your covers, curled into a ball as you miserably absorbed each aching stab of pain, you wished that you had never sent Eris away. Your suffering only increasing as the hours passed by.

You would search for your lover if you could, call him from his meetings and draw him back to your bed, but with a head like cotton and a body like lead you had no choice but to lay with your torturous discomfort in solitude.

Though thankfully, Eris had other plans. Unsatisfied with leaving his partner to suffer alone during her cycle, he had spent the morning postponing his meetings and delegating his work elsewhere. Anxiously wishing away the time until he was able to return to his chambers and take care of you.

Wasting no time once the rearrangement of his tasks had been completed, hurrying to the kitchen to make you a healing cup of medicinal tea before making his way to your shared room.

Opening the door to find you exactly where he had left you, huddled under the covers and eyes tightly closed as you tried to wait out wave after wave of pulsating pain.

Heart clenching at the sight of you in agony, Eris uttered curses to the gods for bestowing you with a pain that he could not fix. Sympathy flooding into his eyes as he came to sit by your side, raising a comforting hand to brush against your cheek and pull you from your fitful slumber.

"My poor Little Fox" he empathetically cooed, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose as you stirred from your sleep. Eyes blinking open, a weak smile graced your lips as the welcoming sight of your lover greeted you.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, brows furrowing at the wince which crossed your face as you turned your body to face him better.

"Will you hold me?" you pouted lamely, tears threatening to fall now your partner was here to comfort you.

"Of course" Eris answered, needing no further instruction as he moved to climb into the bed behind you, arms reaching out across the sheets to pull you towards him until your back pressed against his chest. A pained whimper drawing from your lips as he did so, Eris cursing himself for bringing you more anguish.

"May I try something?" Eris asked, seeking your permission for what he was about to do. Nausea building in your throat, you feebly nodded. What was the worse that could happen when you already felt like death itself?

Careful not to disturb you too much, Eris snaked his hands around your middle, moving them down towards your aching abdomen before allowing his hands to gradually heat to a bearable temperature.

A deep breath of satisfaction escaped from your lips at his heated touch. The ghost of Eris's flames working to quell your pain and soothe your aching.

"You are never leaving my side again" you giggled in relief, bringing your hands to rest against his own in the hope of absorbing each remnant of heat which Eris provided you with.

"That is something we can agree on" Eris purred, drawing you into his embrace further still, warm lips brushing against your neck as he continued, "There is nowhere else I would rather be."

And as Eris watched you fall into a blissful slumber, contented smiles resting upon each of your faces, the Autumn Prince could have sworn that the three words he so longed to tell you were patiently waiting on the tip of his tongue.

A Lover's Vow

It had taken you weeks to read through Eris's gift. Having opted to take the time to appreciate each little comment your partner had scribbled onto the pages.

Each word you read opening your eyes to a new side of the Autumn Prince, showing you glimmers of a male that felt and felt deeply. Every new thing you learnt about your lover working to crack the mask which he so often wore.

Now reaching the end of your story you didn't want it to end. You wanted - no needed- to learn everything you could about the male, feeling as though this gift had only scratched the surface when it came to introducing you to the mystery that was Eris Vanserra.

You had laughed, you had cried, and now turning to finish the final page you only longed to experience it all again.

Your curiosity would never be satisfied, not when it came to Eris.

Why is why you were pleasantly surprised, that when the final words had been read, a sealed letter which had been hidden between the pages dropped into your lap. The crimson ink which adorned the envelope staring right back at you as your wide eyes took in the message that was addressed to you.

Your happy ending, Little Fox.

You weren't sure why your heart had stopped at the sight of the letter, nor were you able to explain why your hands trembled nervously as you tore open the paper. Shaking as you removed the note which had been neatly tucked inside.

Pearlescent tears began to fall down your blushing cheeks as you read Eris's words, failing to even finish the letter before you had jumped on your feet and began to run.

You were unsure of where you were heading, but the one thing you were certain of was that Eris would be at the end of it. The letter now crumpled within your tight grip as you ran, afraid to let it go and lose the words which you had been so desperate to hear.

So you didn't stop, allowing your feet to carry you towards Eris, towards your answers. Only slowing down to catch your breath when you saw your partner outside, leading his horse back to the stables through the torrential rain.

Uncaring of the fact your clothes were not appropriate for the miserable weather, you closed the distance between you and the male. Mud splashing at your calves as you rushed towards him.

Eris didn't fail to miss your sodden figure running towards him, eyes blowing wide in alarm at your sudden appearance. Worried for your sanity, he immediately dropped the reins from his hands as he ran to meet you halfway.

"What are you doing?" he exclaimed, concerned eyes taking in the sorry state of your wild appearance, the male moving to grip your arm and move you towards shelter but not before you had forcefully ripped your arm from his hold.

"Is it true?" you asked, your silver tears mixing with the cooling rain which was beating against your flushed face.

"Is what true?" Eris cried, brows knitted together in confusion until his gaze dropped to the letter clutched tightly in your hand and then suddenly it all made sense.

"Yes. . ." he weakly replied after a moment, his surprise at your unexpected appearance having stolen his words.

"You love me?" you pressed further, taking a step closer to your anxious partner, lifting your fist which held the now sodden letter, "What you wrote, do you mean it?"

Eris scoffed at the ridiculous nature of your question, "Mean it? Of course I mean it, I wouldn't write it if I didn't."

"Say it" you ordered, "Please. I need to hear you say it."

The old Eris would have walked away, ignored your demands and fought against his tempestuous emotions. He would have never been able to express how he felt, unable to allow the words to escape from his lips.

Yet with one look at you, saturated hair clinging to your cheeks as you looked towards the male in desperation, Eris could feel his mask slipping. The stone veil falling from his face before it dropped to the ground and shattered.

And for the first time in your life you were staring at the true face of Eris Vanserra.

Tears streaming down his face as he allowed the wave of his once hidden emotions to crash over him.

"I love you" he confessed, burning stare meeting your own, "gods I love you."

A delighted laugh broke from the males lips as the weight of his confession lifted from his chest, hands flying to your smiling cheeks as the truth of his affections continued to flow, "Mind, body, soul, I'm yours. All of me. Mask or no mask, I have always belonged to you. I love you so much, and I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you this sooner."

"But I knew, Eris" you cried along with your partner, the heated touch of his warming palms enough to burn your tears away as they came, "Even though you never said it aloud I always knew, because you showed it to me in every way that counts. You have never failed to make me feel anything but loved."

"And do you?" he asked through heavy breaths, "Do you feel the same for me as I do for you?"

"Eris Vanserra" you beamed up at the male before you, eyes glistening as you absorbed the rawness of his heartfelt expression, " I have loved you since before I ever even knew you, and I always will. My heart belongs to you Eris, until my dying breath."

Unable to stop the sob which tore from his lips, Eris allowed himself to cry, arms coming to wrap around your middle in a crushing embrace as he sought to stabilize his trembling frame.

"I think I'm going to need a new letter" you mumbled into his chest, the ruined piece of paper having fallen to the rain-soaked ground in the midst of your embrace.

"I'll write you a thousand more if that's what you want" Eris promised, lips coming to softly press against you head as his tears subsided, "But I think I'd rather tell you how I feel from now on."

"I'd like that" you replied staring up at the male you loved so dearly, "I'd like that very much."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: Ahhh I love this fic so much! Thank you @sarawritestories for holding my hand and walking me through this 😂

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

if gods exist, they made you perfect

cw. fem!reader, childhood friend au, ace novel spoilers (1st novel), pre-relationship, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, light mentions of child abuse (garp), brief loss in ace's ability to control his powers, reader receives a minor burn

pairing. portgas d. ace x black!fem!reader

synopsis. not everyone is going to reach for ace's hand but you always will.

notes. a very indulgent idea that has been living rent free in my head since i've had it and now it is your problem. cover comes from frederic edwin church's twilight in the wilderness (1860). blazing red skies and ace simply go hand in hand.

"The Five Elders are gonna have the biggest bitch fit to ever fit," with how Ace blinks up at you in surprise, he must have been really lost in his thoughts. You broaden your smile as you plop down right next to him. "I don't think anyone's ever turned down a Warlord position before. Can't wait to see how your bounty goes up this time."

Ace snorts lightly at your words, lips stretching into half a grin, "yeah, they are not going to like that."

"It definitely doesn't help you kicked that vice admiral's ass, either," you recall the events of your final moments in Sabaody. A definitive mixed bag of.

It was a beautiful country, that much is easy to say. Still it came with more than you were prepared to witness. It's only luck there hadn't happened to be any visiting Celestial Dragons coinciding with your temporary residency. Somehow you have the feeling that things would have surely been messier if their had been.

The stint with Vice Admiral Draw will be messy enough on its own.

"Garp's gonna be so mad when he finds out," Ace shudders at even your mention of his grandfather and you snicker. "What if he comes to Fishman Island for one of his grand lectures?"

"Don't even joke like that," the back of his orange hat thumps against the side of the Spadille with his groan of horror. "I can feel his Fists of Love right now."

You feel the phantom pain yourself. If you're both lucky, the semi-retired marine is busy visiting Luffy on Dawn Island. Maybe it's not that lucky though. It isn't the first time the thought the man is even harsher on Luffy now that Ace has gone ahead and sworn his life to piracy surfaces. It's a thought you push away as quickly as you have it.

Luffy's a strong kid, he's fine.

He has a spirit that is unbreakable.

"That Draw guy deserved to get his ass beat anyway." There is no disagreement to be had with your statement, Ace murmuring something similar. He's a million miles away from where you are, however, miraculously sat on a ship sailing beneath the waves. "Isuka'll be fine," you say suddenly, cursing your inability to ease into the topic gently. "She's strong and she was on our ass since immediately after we got to the Grand Line. She'll be back to chasing us soon enough."

Hopefully.

It isn't something you can say with resolute faith.

The ensign's sense of reality itself had been shattered in its entirety. Being betrayed by the one you believed to be your savior is nothing easy to overcome. You choose to believe a woman as impassioned as the naval officer will. You won't pretend to know where she'll head next.

Perhaps she'll embark on a path that leads her back to the marines. Or maybe she'll become a bounty hunter.

Wherever her journey takes her, you can only hope it is a path with no regrets.

"It would have been weird having a bounty hunter on the ship, anyway," you clumsily attempt to soothe your friend. There is irony in how Ace became your better in terms of comforting those around you when he had been the most argumentative and unfriendly between you. "That sounds like something Luffy would do."

At the sound of Luffy's name, Ace's lips do quirk into something more real. "Yeah, that kid would invite just about anyone on his crew, bounty hunters included."

You chuckle trying to visualize what the young boy's recruitment process will be. Somehow, you doubt his prospective crewmates will have much say in the matter. "Knowing Luffy, they'll probably want to join anyway though. He's convincing like that."

"Yeah," Ace only falls deeper into his thoughts. The silence that follows is even more glum than the depths. Damn it, you curse yourself.

You've never been like Makino, you recall the kind-hearted woman from your youth. She's always been gentle, dove-like in her approach when it came to matters of the heart. Knew exactly the words someone needed to hear and knew exactly how to say it in a way that didn't feel intrusive to the recipient.

That has certainly never been you. If anything, you're more akin to Dadan and her rough expressions of affection.

You hold back a sigh, closing your eyes.

"Alright, I guess this is how we're doing this," you open your eyes at last. Shuffling, you face your friend who makes a sound of surprise at your movement. You aren't a delicate person nor are you someone with the ability to handle matters of the heart with the delicacy it deserves. It's best to handle it clumsily, the only way you know how. "Ace, the stuff with Isuka; that wasn't your fault. And it isn't on you that she didn't want to come with us."

Isuka liked Ace.

It's impossible not to like him.

Even when he was a brat with more anger at the world than he knew what to do with, you liked him. Thought he was the coolest person you'd ever met in your short 10 years of living and wanted him to like you back. You like him even now.

Everyone in the crew joined because they liked Ace the moment they met him. He's darling in how effortless he makes it.

Even a marine as firm in her beliefs as Isuka couldn't let prejudice cloud her judgement when it came to Portgas D. Ace. Begrudging as it may have been, there has always been a mutual admiration for each other in spite of the opposing occupations.

You're like the sun. Equal parts the harsh rays of summer and the gentle beams of early spring. He's whichever the moment calls for. A warmth everyone wants to experience if they're lucky enough to come across it. The gravitational pull of the universe that keeps the planets in the sun's orbit. You're amazing!

"I don't know what the hell that girl needs," rough as the sentence is, your voice is soft. "But whatever it is, she wasn't going to find it with us. That's why she didn't come."

Ace opens his mouth but you don't give him the chance to argue or sweep your concerns away.

"I'm not gonna sit here and lie to your face and say that this won't happen again," it's an ugly truth. One Ace became aware of long before you met him. Regardless, as much as you hate it, you know it'd be unfair to lie to him. "Because it probably will. There's always going to be people who, no matter how hard you reach for them, they aren't going to reach back. And you can't do jack about it.

Hell, sometimes you can't even do jill. But," Ace's brow furrows in time with your words and your heart wrenches. "But," you start once more, the back of your fingers brushing against his wrist. "for every person that won't, there's going to be someone that does." You cup one of Ace's hands in both of yours with all the care one would give glass.

When did these hands get so much bigger than your own?

Still, you lips curl upwards in your nostalgia, the warmth that radiates from him remains the same. You squeeze gently, almost afraid that if you touch him too hard, he'll break.

"And I know for a fact there are a lot of people who are always going to want to hold your hands. Even if the shit does turn into fire," you chuckle at your quick addendum and despite himself, Ace does too. You've always loved hearing him laugh, it's even better when you're the cause. "The crew. Dadan. Magra. Dogra. Luffy," you squeeze again, your thumb carressing the back of his hand. "Me. We love these hands, they're yours."

There's a spark of something in Ace's eyes you can't quite place and it's unexpectedly hard to look him in the eye for some reason. "Heh," you laugh breathlessly. Without meaning to, your grip tightens around his hand. It's warm.

Really warm.

Shit, it's actually getting kinda hot ain't it?

You see the flicker of orange and your and Ace's expressions are well-matched in panic as you realize the source. Sure enough, your hands were engulfed flames.

"Shit-" Ace swears but despite instinct dictating you back away from the flames, you find yourself holding on to staunchly.

"Shit-" you fight against Ace's attempt to pull away from you as the flames die down. "[First]! Let go!"

"No way, what did I just say?!" Oh god this hurts like hell! "I don't care if it's fire, I'm not letting go!"

You hiss through your teeth, reeling yourself in with a breath but the flames are extinguished as quickly as they erupted. "Wasn't exactly expecting to prove my point so fast but," there's another attempt on Ace's part to pull away from you again but you only hold his hand tighter. You can ignore the sting of your hands but you can't ignore the way Ace's eyebrows knit together. You can't ignore how he looks like he wants to cry either. "See," you laugh breathlessly. "I love these hands, there's no way I'm never gonna hold them.

Dark eyes, wide, look between you and your face and you squeeze his hand again. The sting of your palms is prevalent but this pain is fine. Pain is merely proof that you are alive in this moment; and in this moment there is nowhere else you want to be.

There's nothing more that needs to be said between you, you believe. Facing him, you lean against the wood as you hold Ace's hand firmly between your own. With the hand he has available, Ace slides his hat down to hide whatever expression he's making.

You close your eyes with a sigh and pretend you don't hear the sound of hiccuping. You don't feel the way his hand trembles either.

You squeeze Ace's hand and he squeezes back.

Your hands sting something sweet.

[hwajin]

— look at me, look at me. you're looking?

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ✦ :: — lee minho | 4k follower event

genre: smut

pairing: minho x gn!reader

req

send me a request!

"Yeah, keep your eyes on- on me babe, look- look at me."

Struggling to find his voice yet he attempted to keep his composure. Minho would never admit to have lost control long ago, over his body, over his mind, over the entirety of the affair he had initiated.

"Touch yourself while watching me jerk off."

Words had cut deep into the air, had emptied your lungs off any oxygen. They had come so casually, so without remorse and you grew shy, embarrassed in Minho's place, him seemingly missing any sense of shame.

His hand, now visible, now not hidden within the confines of his jean but on full display for you, wandered up and down his length, slow and torturous strokes you knew had him breaking sweat, had him seeing stars. Knew he needed more than what he was giving himself and knew you could provide it, though you stayed in your place, back against the headrest of the bed, legs spread sinfully wide before him — if you'd been embarrassed before you sure weren't now, despite the situation surely called for it. And yet, watching your boyfriend's breath hitch in his throat, watching him pull up the hem of his shirt, reveiling tensed up v-line and spasming torse, watching him throw his head back into his neck, against the rest of the chair, delicate veins painting his skin in purple and blue. You wished to paint that neck in yet brighter colours, wished to claw your teeth into silken skin, breaking the barrier, bruising the body.

Your head lulled sideways, own thoughts overwhelming and your eyes rolled back, fingers on your heat quickening in pace, chasing a high, or chasing more, or chasing the touch of another, of him, altogether. Long forgotten about his order, eyes neither on his own nor on his body now, sheer inability to keep them anything but closed stroke through you like buzzing lighting. You were close, dangerously so, chasing and chasing after something you knew only he could give you. Only he could truly provide you.

You sensed shuffling from across you, heard nearing steps and a muffled curse beneath breath, felt hands on your body, finally, eventually, like sweet release in itself, like salvation only he could grant. Your eyes opened momentarily, catching his in surprise, surprising further at the darkness laced within them — he wasn't angry yet determined, grip on you a solid one, all ten cups of his fingers digging into your skin, leaving dents and marks and possible bruises to awe at the next day. Erection prodding against slit, against filthy wetness, eliciting sounds you shyed away from — maybe you did find yourself embarrassed after all, with the newfound touch of his on your skin, with the newfound realisation of your utter neediness, of your desperation, pathetic, almost. Skin blushing, cheeks red and Minho's hand found a place on them, holding your face steady, puckering your lips slightly in the process.

"Told you to look at me, d- didn't I."

Tip prodding at your entrance before he pushed into you, slowly though unexpectadely deep that you nothing but arched into his body and whimpered out in longing, in oversensitivity, in pleasure overwhelming. Receiving a chuckle in response, thrusts of his hips against yours, faster now, more urgent — he was as impatient as you, as egged up, as eager, as edged; he needed release nearly as much as yourself, any plans he'd planted beforehand thrown over board, instincts taking over instead. He wasn't normally one to lose himself, so only drawing a reaction more needing, more wanting out of you — he did lose control now, due to you, because of you and your body, and you clawed onto him, hands on his shoulders, eyes on his ones, his grip never allowing you to convert gaze.

And your faces were contorted. Brows scrunched and eyes frantic, lips laced in sweat and bitten red, bitten bloody. And it didn't take much longer for you, clenching around him in butterfly flaps, voice pitching higher, pleas foaming off your mouth — you had nearly reached what you'd chased, and you could only hope Minho to bring you all the way towards the finish line.

"That's it baby, look at me while you come around me— fuck. Look at me."

Complying though it was a harder task than given — your eyes dared to lose themselves if you didn't focus enough, and you nearly closed them when your high hit you like a loaded truck, weight on your shoulders and pressure in your stomach releasing, body contracting against his own, eyes hooded and milky, thoroughly fucked out as you kept your gaze on him, obediently.

And if he hadn’t lost control already he had now, surely, watching you, watching your eyes lace in pleasure, in satisfaction greater than anything you’d ever known before him, his own thrusts grew static, lowest grunts rolling over and past his lips, and you felt him fill you moments later, hot release within your stomach, within the depths of you, daring to spill out, to stain thigh and sheets and mattress. Panting the both of you, hand yet on your jaw, gazes yet connected – not planning to separate any time soon.

@felixinameadowandthesuniswarm @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @lix-ables @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut

[softlypaintedseafoam]

if gods exist, they made you perfect

synopsis. not everyone is going to reach for ace's hand, but you always will.

pairing. portgas d. ace x f!reader

word count. 1.9k | masterlist

content warning. written with black reader in mind (but reader is ethnically ambiguous. anyone can read) written pre-relationship, childhood friends, ace novel spoilers (1st novel), mutual pining, hurt/comfort, light mentions of garp's stellar parenting skills, brief loss in ace’s ability to control his powers (reader receives a minor burn), written with this reader in mind

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

it's finally my spring break; i am FREE to work on my current wips! midterms are over and i turned in this essay i had due yesterday. i'm locking in TmT to finish fish song. but since i feel bad about the gap in between fics, i'm giving you guys an old fic of mine i'm fond of as filler although i did edit it! but, expect fish song to drop this week i'm excited to share it

“The Five Elders are gonna have the biggest bitch fit to ever fit,” with how Ace blinks up at you in surprise, he must have been really lost in his thoughts.

Where he sits on the Spadille is a far cry from the center of the ship, tucked away privately from all eyes. A stark contrast to where one would typically find him surrounded by all that compose the ranks of the crew. The sight makes your heart ache dully. You broaden your smile like a skilled actress in spite of that ache, cheerily plopping down right next to him. “I don’t think anyone’s ever turned down a Warlord position before. Can’t wait to see how your bounty goes up this time.”

Ace snorts lightly at your words, lips stretching into half of a grin, “yeah, they are not going to like that.”

“It definitely doesn’t help you kicked that vice admiral’s ass, either,” you recall the events of your final moments in Sabaody. A definitive mixed bag of high emotions and tension mixed in with the fun the archipelago provided.

It was a beautiful country, that much is easy to say.

Still it came with more than you were prepared to witness. It’s only luck there hadn’t happened to be any visiting Celestial Dragons coinciding with your temporary residency. Somehow you have the feeling that things would have surely been messier if their had been.

The stint with Vice Admiral Draw will be messy enough on its own.

“Garp’s gonna be so mad when he finds out,” Ace shudders at even your mention of his grandfather and you snicker. “What if he comes to find us on Fishman Island for one of his grand lectures?”

“Don’t even joke like that,” the back of his orange hat thumps against the side of the Spadille with his groan of horror. “I can feel his Fists of Love right now.”

You feel the phantom pain yourself.

If you’re both lucky, the semi-retired marine is busy visiting Luffy on Dawn Island and he won't hear of the incident until long after you've fled the scene. Maybe it’s not that lucky though. It isn’t the first time the thought the man is even harsher on Luffy now that Ace has gone ahead and sworn his life to piracy surfaces. It’s a thought you push away as quickly as you have it. Luffy is a strong kid, he’s fine.

He has a spirit that is unbreakable.

“That Draw guy deserved to get his ass beat anyway.” There is no disagreement to be had with your statement, Ace murmuring something similar. He’s a million miles away from where you are, however, miraculously sat on a ship sailing beneath the waves. You think of fiery hair and passionate amber eyes.

You remember how those same eyes were wide with horror from the revelation Draw gave her.

The tears in her eyes as she was left behind, refusing to board the Spadille in spite of the hand stretched out to catch her.

“Isuka’ll be fine,” you say suddenly, cursing your inability to ease into the topic gently. Ace doesn't give much of a reaction at your clumsy transition. “She’s strong and she was on our ass almost immediately after we got to the Grand Line. She’ll be back to chasing us soon enough.”

Hopefully.

It isn’t something you can say with resolute faith.

The ensign’s sense of reality itself had been shattered in its entirety. Being betrayed by the one you believed to be your savior is nothing easy to overcome. Still you choose to believe a woman as impassioned as the naval officer will. You won’t pretend to know where she’ll head next, however.

Perhaps she’ll embark on a path that leads her back to the marines. Or maybe she’ll become a bounty hunter. Maybe she’ll find a new place to call home and settle down there. But we’ll see her again, some day. I really hope we do.

Wherever her journey takes her, you can only hope it is a path with no regrets.

“It would have been weird having a bounty hunter on the ship, anyway,” you continue in your attempt to soothe your friend. Your best friend. There is irony in how Ace became your better in terms of comforting those around you when he had been the most argumentative and unfriendly between you. It's a night and day change in personality. “That sounds like something Luffy would do.”

At the mention of his little brother's name, Ace’s lips quirk into something more real. “Yeah, that kid would invite just about anyone on his crew, bounty hunters included.”

You chuckle trying to visualize what the young boy’s recruitment process will be. Somehow, you doubt his prospective crewmates will have much say in the matter. “Knowing Luffy, they’ll probably want to join anyway though. He’s convincing like that.”

“Yeah,” Ace only falls deeper into his thoughts. The silence that follows is even more glum than the depths. Damn it, you curse yourself.

You’ve never been like Makino, you recall the kind-hearted woman from your youth. She has always been gentle; dove-like in her approach when it came to matters of the heart. Knew exactly the words someone needed to hear and knew exactly how to say it in a way that didn’t feel intrusive to the recipient.

That has certainly never been you. If anything, you’re more akin to Dadan and her rough expressions of affection.

You hold back a sigh, closing your eyes.

“Alright, I guess this is how we’re doing this,” you open your eyes, resolute in what you plan to do next. Shuffling, you face your friend who makes a sound of surprise at your movement. You aren’t a delicate person nor are you someone with the ability to handle matters of the heart with the delicacy it deserves. It’s best to handle it clumsily, the only way you know how. “Ace, the stuff with Isukaー that wasn’t your fault. And it isn’t on you that she didn’t want to come with us.”

Isuka liked Ace.

It’s impossible not to like him.

Even when he was a brat with more anger at the world than he knew what to do with, you liked him. Had thought he was the coolest person you’d ever met in your short 10 years of living and wanted him to like you back. You like him even now.

Everyone in the crew joined because they liked Ace the moment they met him. He’s darling in how effortless he makes it.

Even a marine as firm in her beliefs as Isuka couldn’t let prejudice cloud her judgement when it came to Portgas D. Ace. Begrudging as it may have been on the Nailer's end, there has always been a mutual admiration for each other in spite of the opposing occupations.

You’re like the sun, Ace! Equal parts the harsh rays of summer and the gentle beams of early spring. He’s whichever the moment calls for. A warmth everyone wants to experience if they’re lucky enough to come across it. The gravitational pull of the universe that keeps the planets in the sun’s orbit. You’re amazing!

“I don’t know what the hell that girl needs,” rough as the sentence is, your voice is soft. “But whatever it is, she wasn’t going to find it with us. That’s why she didn’t come.”

Ace opens his mouth but you don’t give him the chance to argue or sweep your concerns away.

“I’m not gonna sit here and lie to your face and say that this won’t happen again,” it’s an ugly truth. One Ace became aware of long before you met him. Regardless, as much as you hate it, you know it would be unfair to lie to him. “Because it probably will. There’s always going to be people who, no matter how hard you reach for them, they aren’t going to reach back. And you can’t do jack about it. Hell, sometimes you can’t even do jill. But,”

Ace’s brow furrows in time with your words and your heart wrenches. “But,” you start once more, the back of your fingers brushing against his wrist. “for every person that won’t, there’s going to be someone that does.” You cup one of Ace’s hands in both of yours with all the care one would give glass.

When did these hands get so much bigger than your own?

Still, you lips curl upwards in your nostalgia, the warmth that radiates from him remains the same. You squeeze gently, almost afraid that if your touch is too hard, he’ll break.

“And I know for a fact there are a lot of people who are always going to want to hold your hands. Even if the shit does turn into fire,” you chuckle at your quick addendum and despite himself, Ace does too. You’ve always loved hearing him laugh, it’s even better when you’re the cause. “The crew. Dadan. Magra. Dogra. Luffy,” you squeeze again, your thumb caressing the back of his hand. “Me. We love these hands, they’re yours.”

There’s a spark of something in Ace’s eyes you can’t quite place, his cheeks are a rosy hue even in the dark of the ocean and it’s unexpectedly hard to look him in the eye for some reason. You laugh breathlessly, sheepish. Without meaning to, your grip tightens around his hand. It’s warm.

Really warm.

Shit, it’s actually getting kinda hot ain’t it?

You see the flicker of orange and your and Ace’s expressions are well-matched in panic as you realize the source. Sure enough, your hands were engulfed flames.

“Shit-” Ace swears but despite instinct dictating you back away from the flames, you find yourself holding on to staunchly. He swears again as you fight against Ace’s attempt to pull away from you as the flames die down. He calls your name frantically, “let go!”

“No way, what did I just say?!” Oh god this hurts like hell! “I don’t care if it’s fire, I’m not letting go!”

You hiss through your teeth, reeling yourself in with a breath but the flames are extinguished as quickly as they erupted. “Wasn’t exactly expecting to prove my point so fast but,” there’s another attempt on Ace’s part to pull away from you again but you only hold his hand tighter. You can ignore the sting of your hands but you can’t ignore the way Ace’s eyebrows knit together. You can’t ignore how he looks like he wants to cry either. “See,” you laugh breathlessly. “I love these hands, there’s no way I’m never gonna hold them.

Dark eyes, wide, look between you and your face and you squeeze his hand again. The sting of your palms is prevalent but this pain is fine. Pain is merely proof that you are alive in this moment; and in this moment there is nowhere else you want to be.

There’s nothing more that needs to be said between you, you believe. Facing him, you lean against the wood as you hold Ace’s hand firmly between your own. With the hand he has available, Ace slides his hat down to hide whatever expression he’s making.

You close your eyes with a sigh and pretend you don’t hear the sound of hiccupping. You don’t feel the way his hand trembles either.

You squeeze Ace’s hand and he squeezes back.

Your hands sting something sweet.

[cheollipop]

HIII :D

Can you write a little drabble about dom Yunho and fem reader ignoring eachother after an argument and so y/n comes up with a plan to tease Yunho while he’s busy ignoring her and playing video games and then he ends up getting worked up and it then leads to rough sex 🙈 (sorry if this is too much lol)

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

hi anonnie!! this... thisssssss egsjbks omg gamer bf!yunho AND mad!yunho?? yummy YUMMY- ahem, this was very fun to write, and i may have gone a bit overboard with it oopsie. also, been in a playful mood lately, so you get bratty!reader~ happy reading ^^

pairing: jeong yunho x fem!reader

w.c.: 1.6k

tags: smut, oral (m), make-up sex, lots of cum talk bc... teehee, yunho's kinda mad but turns soft, reader's a little brat ><

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

Eyes trained on the screen before him, spattered splotches of red masking his point of view as his player failed to block the incoming stream of bullets, his fingers stuttering over his keyboard as loud yelling blasted into Yunho’s ears, his friends’ voices contained within the worn-down cushions of his headset. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance, partly because of the insults being thrown his way as he struggled to aim his sniper, but mainly at his inability to recall how the argument he’d had with you a couple hours ago had even started. He wracked his brain for an answer, but all he came up with was the menacing smile stretching your lips when you walked into the room hours after he’d stormed off, opting to bully eleven-year-olds online with his friends, camping at their spawn point and watching them grow frustrated with his unfair tactics.

The situation flipped, though, once your smile disappeared underneath his desk, your body hidden under the polished wood, and Yunho nearly cursed at the missed view of your delicate hands undoing the strings of his sweatpants. He wasn’t mad at you, he could never be, even more so when you had your fingers wrapped around his cock, tongue drawing circles around his head and collected the occasional spurts of precum as he grew harder in your grasp. He shuffled in his seat, containing a groan before it could leave his lips when you took his length down your throat, your lips meeting the digits wrapped around his girth before pulling off for air. Yunho wasn’t sure how many games he’d lost so far, only that his friends were growing frustrated with his silence, but he didn’t dare speak, knowing his voice would give away the nature of the situation he was in.

Brushing off the blonde locks obscuring his vision, he attempted to return to his position at the enemy’s base, only for you to flatten your tongue along the underside of his cock while sliding him back into your mouth, waiting until the tip prodded at your uvula before swallowing around it. To his luck, the startled grunt drawn out of him aligned with his teams’ nth loss, and his friends returned to their endless berating.

You pulled off him again, resting your head high enough on his thigh to stare up at his flushed face over the edge of his desk—eyes glazed over and unfocused as they gazed back at you, his lips bitten raw and a pretty rose tinting his neck and the sliver of his chest peeking at you over his collar. Your hand remained on him to smear your saliva down his length, squeezing at his base and back up to twirl around his cockhead, all while watching his composure slowly breaking down and his impatience seep into his features. With hesitation, you moved your eyes off him and to the pretty, bright pink painting his angry tip while it leaked translucent liquid that mingled with your spit, leaning forward to lick a stripe over the throbbing vein decorating his shaft.

You heard deft fingers pressing over the keycaps followed by the loud clang of his headset hitting the wooden desk, his thighs retracting as he rolled his chair back, and his hands squeezed around your biceps to hold you up. Forcefully pulling you to your feet with him, the snarky remark died on your tongue as he pushed back onto the bed, a sudden exhale blowing out of your lungs when you landed under him.

“Had your fun?” the deep baritone sent a shiver down your spine. Looking up at him, you took in the sweat pilling on his forehead, and you unsuccessfully attempted to wiggle out of the grasp he had around your wrists.

You bent your knee enough to dig into his hanging cock, the corners of your mouth twisting upwards when he jerked back. “Seems like you did too.”

You saw his eyebrow twitch again before a firm hand grabbed at your jaw, his other hand working your bottoms down your legs, two fingers pushing between your walls before you could even think of a retort. But you simply giggled, amused by how worked up you’d managed to get Yunho. You pecked the palm covering your lips, breathing out airy moans as he repeatedly pressed his fingers into your g-spot. He scissored his fingers, watching hot arousal dripping out of your cunt to seep into his duvet, cursing under his breath while using it to lube himself up.

“Can’t believe you,” he mumbled after releasing your jaw, leaning down to press himself flush with your chest, hands on your hips while he sunk into you, a melody of grunts and moans bouncing off the walls as he ground into your pussy, making sure you took every last inch of him. “Fuuuck, so fucking tight for me, aren’t you? Even when you’re being a brat,” he pressed his lips to the smile stretching yours.

Your smile wavered, playfulness fading away as you held his face to gaze into his hooded eyes, “are you still mad?”

Your whisper halted his insistent grinding, sparing you from the delicious glide of his cockhead over your walls to press a kiss to your forehead, “I could never be mad at you, sweetheart. I’m sorry it seemed that way,” the hands holding your hips wrapped around you, one cradling the back of your head and the other on your lower spine, holding you so close you could hear his racing heartbeat.

You knew this didn’t solve the problem, and that you’d have to sit down and talk about it again soon, but Yunho’s hold—so warm and tender—set a veil of tranquillity over your moving bodies and erased any significance tied to your previous argument.

But Yunho was still desperate, brimming lust mingling with his desire to make love to you, his hold gentle and yet his hips were merciless. He slammed his cock into your cunt, breathy ah's blowing over the side of you neck while he drew out orgasm after orgasm from you, his length pulsating within your heat as pleasure seared through your bodies. Your thighs trembled around him, and your hips ached when he flipped you over, grabbing your ass to pull you back onto his cock while his other hand pushed your head down into the mattress, taking what he needed from you and revelling in the sweet moans he got in return.

Overstimulation mingled with pleasure, and you tuned out your surroundings save for the choked grunts Yunho blew against the shell of your ear, the flesh of your ass growing raw with his repetitive thrusts, the back of his thighs slapping roughly against your skin.

“gonna come,” he panted, “gonna fill you up all the way, yeah baby?”

You rambled incoherently into the sheets, the hand holding your head down tangling into your hair until dull pain shot through your scalp. Moaning a succession of “yes” and “please,” Yunho held you in place while he emptied thick ropes of his cum between your fluttering walls, doing just as he said he would: filling you up all the way, until the heat spread into your womb.

Yunho brushed the hair off your face to watch your pupils disappear, rutting his softening cock into you to push you further over the edge, aiding you down from your high with skilled rolls of his hips and kisses peppered over your skin, groaning at the tight squeeze of your cunt around him. When overstimulation jerked your body away from his grasp, you reached back with heavy limbs to push at his hips, sighing once his thick length slid out of you, and you missed the string of cum connecting his cockhead to your leaking hole. But Yunho eyed it until it broke, sliding his hands up your spine and flattening his body over yours, his weight held up by the elbows digging into the mattress by your head.

Pressing kisses to every patch of skin he could reach, yunho brushed away your tears with the plush of his lips, kissing over your shut eyelids while breathing in your uneven exhales. His pretty angel, he couldn’t believe how beautiful you were, especially after you’d milked him dry, always so beautiful when you were stuffed full of his cum. Covered in sweat, shirt sticking to your trembling figure, your cunt oozing the translucent liquid while it clenched uselessly around the chill air.

You craned your neck to look at the man hovering over you, clothed chest brushing over your back with every breath he drew in. He looked just as ruined—a pretty flush painting his cheeks, eyes soft and brimming with adoration as they mooned over your expression. You wondered what face you were making, and why it seemed make him so starstruck.

“We good?” You breathed out into the air between you, a hopeful glimmer in your eyes.

Yunho focused on the spit drying over your lips, the line of drool going down to your chin reflecting the light from his monitor. His cock twitched in interest where it lay snug between his lower belly and your ass, and he rolled his hips experimentally, your sweet arousal around the hardening length gliding smoothly over your skin.

He hummed, meeting your hopefulness with an innocent smile, though the hint of slyness hidden within the gesture did not go unnoticed. Rolling his hips once more, he enveloped your body completely, resting some of his body weight over you while he whispered in your ear, a dribble of his cum seeping out of you as you squeezed around nothing.

“I think I might need a little more convincing.”

[aerynwrites]

Thank you for writing these, they are fantastic! Could you do one where Tav is doubting her abilities and is overwhelmed with the responsibility of fighting the netherbrain? Halsin would be there to stand with her and remind her of her strength, bravery, and growth. And kiss her too, because of course.

Not Alone

Halsin x Reader

A/N: thank you for the request friend! I hope this is what you wanted - I had fun writing this Bc wouldn’t we ALL be overwhelmed with that??

Word count: 1k

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, feeling overwhelmed, emotional hurt comfort, kissing, fluff.

It seemed to come out of nowhere.

The desperate squeeze of your chest. The burning tears behind your eyes. Shaking hands, narrowed vision, the inability to breath or think straight.

The sadness and grief and anxiety and…fear.

It all comes crashing down one unsuspecting evening, as the moon hovers high in the sky, trying and failing to comfort you with her pale light as you rush from your tent.

Worry about waking your companions doesn’t even cross your mind as you stumble from camp and into the surrounding wilderness, tears blinding you.

Gods, it’s too much.

The tadpoles, your friends' personal quests, the absolute, the guardian in your dreams…they all haunt you. Drain you constantly through the day and even now - where sleep used to be a respite - even your dreams are no longer your own.

A stray rock catches the toe of your shoe and suddenly you're acutely aware of the world around you once more. The rushing of air past you as you crash to the ground and the pain in your knees as you land. The dirt and grass beneath your fingers as you dig desperately into the earth. The wetness on your cheeks, and finally the broken sob that bursts from your lips.

You want to scream, and you just about let it out when something falls against your shoulder. However, the only sound that comes out is a strangled gasp as you turn to find the intruder.

Halsin, your druid companion turned lover - crouches before you, concern drawing his brows together and thinning his lips.

“Are you alright?” He asks, voice gentle amidst the roaring turmoil of your mind. “I saw you rush from camp as I was returning and you seemed…troubled.”

Shaking your head you turn away from him, shame bubbling up in your chest. That forever cracking facade of a leader, pushing forward once more.

“I’m fine.”

You try to sound firm, but the words come out broken and choked around the lump lodged in your throat.

Halsin says nothing for a moment, instead moving to sit beside you in silence, staring out into the wilderness ahead.

You try to control your emotions, try to pull yourself together, but the tears just won’t. Stop.

“Even the strongest of leaders feel the weight of what they take on.” Halsin finally says. “No one can carry it alone forever.”

“I never asked to be a leader,” you respond, voice as empty as you feel.

More tears come forward ushering out all the thoughts you’ve been holding in your mind. The things you’ve been hiding, trying to keep everyone happy.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whisper, finally looking over to the druid from where you sit on your knees. “I just wanted to find a cure for these things in our heads and every solution has been a dead end o-or an avenue to something worse!” The words spill from your lips in shaky breaths.

“And on top of all that I have to stand by and watch as my companions, my friends struggle too. Astarion and his past with Cazador, never feeling free - yearning for escape. Gale and Shadowheart trapped by a goddess. Karlach being told she is literally damned to hell. And then you -“ you gesture vaguely to the man next to you. “Bearing the weight of the shadow curse and Thaniels well being…”

Slowly, with each word it seems the tears start to stop. Or dry up. You’re not sure which. But as you continue to speak it’s as if a tiny miniscule weight is lifted. You finally turn to face Halsin, who just gazes at you patiently, concern evident in his eyes.

“I don’t say this to make it seem like I don’t want to bear these things. They are my friends and you-“ you reach out to take his hand in yours, appreciating the comforting squeeze he gives you. “I love you. I want to help you and everyone back at camp but it’s just-“

“Too much to bear alone.”

Halsin completes your thoughts exactly, and before you can speak he’s gathering you up in his arms. You melt into his embrace, surrounded by the warmth and safety you’ve come to crave from the man holding you.

“I don’t know how you did it for so long.” You admit, arms moving to wrap around him. “And for centuries no less. How did you bear it? The responsibility.”

Halsin holds you tighter. “Admittedly, at first I did not bear it well,” he tells you. “I felt much like you do now, overwhelmed by others burdens and the decisions that were mine to make everyday. Constantly worried if the path I was leading the grove down was the right one.”

Gently, Halsin separates from you, just enough that he can see your face.

“So…what did you do? How did you keep it all from tearing you apart?”

Halsin smiles then, a tiny pained thing - as if seeing you go through what he has, hurts him as well.

A calloused hand comes to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing away residual sticky tears.

“I learned to share my burdens with those around me. With my family, my friends. And they were happy to assist me, just as I know those surrounding you will lend you their aid as well.”

You open your mouth to speak but Halsin cuts you off with a quick press of his lips against yours, retreating to press another one to each cheek.

“These are not your burdens to hold alone, my love,” he assures you, eyes searching your own. “You are strong and brave, but let us help you. Lean on me as I have you.”

His words bring on a whole new wave of tears, but instead of sadness all you feel is overwhelming relief and comfort. Halsins arms tighten around you as you press into him, head resting against his chest.

“Thank you,” you whisper, not having the words to express your gratitude.

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, Halsin rubs a soothing hand up your back.

“Anything for you, my heart.” Reaching up, he runs gentle fingers through your hair. “Would you like to return to camp?”

Taking a deep breath, you shake your head, relishing in the peace and quiet nature provides in this moment. The night is cool, and the gentle breeze rustles the grass and trees as the moon above gazes down on you both.

“I’d like to stay here for a little longer if that’s alright.”

“We can stay as long as you’d like,” he smiles.

And with that promise, you feel the last tendrils of dread slip from your mind.

You’re not alone. And that’s what matters most.

[enemiestolovershoe]

Fighting the Truth

Chris Sturniolo x enemy!reader

Summary: Chris and Y/N have fought for years, but after another heated argument, their feelings change, leading to unexpected love and a complicated new beginning.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: fighting, cursing, drinking, making out, let me know if I missed something

Disclaimer: While the characters in this story are inspired by real people, the events and interactions are purely fictional and not reflective of reality.

You’d known the Sturniolo triplets quite literally since the day you were born. Your moms had met in the hospital, sharing the same room as they brought you and the boys into the world. From that moment on, your lives had been intertwined, your families becoming an unshakable unit.

Growing up, you, Matt, and Nick were inseparable. As soon as you could walk, you were a team: climbing trees, building pillow forts, and getting into all kinds of trouble together. But with Chris, it was different. It had always been different.

Your first argument with him happened when you were barely old enough to form complete sentences. He’d stolen the red crayon from your hand mid-drawing, insisting that he “needed it more,” and from then on, it was like a switch had flipped. If there was something to fight over, you and Chris would find it. Toys, art supplies, video games—nothing was off-limits.

As you grew older, the arguments evolved. What started as petty squabbles turned into full-blown shouting matches. Snarky remarks became cutting insults, and any room you two occupied was guaranteed to become a battleground. Now, at 21, it felt like the fighting had reached a breaking point.

You hated it.

You hated the way Chris could get under your skin with just one look. You hated how you couldn’t stop yourself from snapping back at him, no matter how hard you tried. Most of all, you hated how your constant arguing was starting to strain your friendship with Matt and Nick. The thought of losing them because of your inability to get along with their brother kept you up at night.

You wouldn’t dare tell anyone, but the stress of it all had you crying yourself to sleep more nights than not.

And now, here you were, sitting in an airport at 5 a.m., dreading the hours-long flight to Boston for your dad’s birthday grill party. It was supposed to be a happy occasion—a family celebration. Instead, you were bracing yourself for yetanother long weekend of biting your tongue and avoiding unnecessary fights.

The airport was unusually quiet for 5 a.m., the soft hum of vending machines and the occasional overhead announcement the only sounds breaking the stillness. You sat cross-legged in an uncomfortable plastic chair, scrolling through your phone while Matt and Nick argued over snacks a few seats down. Chris was leaning against a column, staring blankly out the window at the planes on the tarmac.

It wasn’t like him to be this quiet, but you chalked it up to the early hour. No one was particularly chipper at this time of day.

“Okay, so… do I go with the peanut butter crackers or the pretzels?” Nick turned to you, holding up both options. “Help me out here.”

You barely looked up. “The pretzels. Peanut butter crackers are just sad at 5 a.m.”

“Thank you!” Nick grinned, shoving the crackers into Matt’s hand. “You’re officially outvoted, Matt.”

Matt rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smirking. “You’re both tasteless. Peanut butter crackers are elite.”

“Elite in what, choking hazards?” you shot back, earning a laugh from Nick and a mock offended gasp from Matt.

Chris hadn’t said a word, which felt… odd. Normally, he’d have jumped in with some snarky comment by now, and the two of you would be trading barbs before the conversation even had a chance to breathe. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but his expression was unreadable, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“Alright, we’re boarding in twenty minutes,” Matt announced, checking his watch. “Everyone got everything? Chargers? Neck pillows? Emotional stability?”

“I left that at home,” you said dryly, tucking your phone into your bag.

“Shocker,” Chris muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

There he was.

You shot him a glare, but before you could respond, Nick clapped his hands together. “Okay, truce! No fighting until we land in Boston. That’s the rule.”

“Since when?” you and Chris said in unison, both turning to Nick with identical looks of disbelief.

“Since now,” Nick said firmly. “Matt, back me up here.”

Matt shrugged. “I mean, it’d be nice if we could make it through one trip without you two trying to kill each other.”

“Fine,” you said through gritted teeth, glaring at Chris. “I’m perfectly capable of keeping the peace.”

“Same,” Chris said, matching your tone.

The four of you made your way to the gate as the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal. Chris ended up directly behind you in line, and you could feel his presence like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

When you finally found your row on the plane, you froze.

“No. No, no, no,” Chris groaned, stopping just behind you.

“What?” you asked, turning to face him.

“My seat.” He pointed to the one beside yours, his face twisted in a mix of disbelief and frustration. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What’s the problem?” Matt asked from across the aisle, already settling into his seat.

Chris gestured dramatically between you and himself. “I’m stuck next to her for a six-hour flight. Six. Hours.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” you snapped, shoving your bag into the overhead compartment. “Sit down and stop complaining. It’s not like either of us has a choice.”

Chris muttered something under his breath but slid into the seat next to you, his movements stiff and exaggerated as if to emphasize just how put out he was.

Nick leaned over from his seat behind you, grinning. “You two gonna hold hands and sing kumbaya now, or should we prep for turbulence in more ways than one?”

“Shut up, Nick,” you and Chris said at the same time, glaring at him.

“See? You’re already bonding,” Nick said with a laugh, retreating back into his seat.

You sighed heavily, pulling out your AirPods Max and slipping them over your ears. Maybe, just maybe, you could get through this flight without losing your mind.

The flight was tense but manageable. A few arguments broke out between you and Chris, mostly about trivial things like him invading your space or you hogging the armrest.

“Can you stop elbowing me every two seconds?” you hissed, shooting him an annoyed look as he shifted in his seat.

“Maybe if you didn’t claim the entire armrest like it’s your personal property,” Chris shot back.

“It’s called sharing, ever heard of it?”

“Not with you.”

“Children,” Matt interrupted from across the aisle, leaning over. “The flight is almost over. Can we not do this right now?”

You both huffed but fell silent, turning your attention elsewhere.

When the plane finally landed, you exhaled in relief. The four of you grabbed your bags, picked up the rental car, and began the drive to your childhood homes. The plan was to stop at your house first since the party had already begun, and the Sturniolo parents were eager to see you.

In the car, the mood was mostly light. Matt and Nick were recounting funny stories from past flights, trying to keep the energy up. But you couldn’t shake the heaviness in your chest. The constant fighting with Chris was wearing you down more than you wanted to admit. You leaned your head against the window, your eyes unfocused as the scenery blurred past.

Nick, ever perceptive, noticed your quietness and nudged you gently. “Hey, you good? What’s up?”

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak. The lump in your throat was already forming.

Unfortunately, Chris caught the interaction. “What now? Lost your voice?” he quipped, his tone laced with irritation.

That was the breaking point.

“Chris, just shut the fuck up once in your life. Please.” Your voice cracked as frustration bubbled over, and the car fell silent.

Matt cleared his throat awkwardly. “Okay, so… uh, let’s put on some music, yeah?” He fiddled with the radio, trying to diffuse the tension.

You stayed silent for the rest of the drive, staring out the window as tears pricked your eyes.

When you arrived at your parents’ house, the party was already in full swing. The smell of grilled food filled the air, and the sound of laughter drifted from the backyard. You plastered on a smile as you greeted your parents, giving your dad a quick hug and wishing him a happy birthday. But the tightness in your chest hadn’t gone away, and the moment you were inside, you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Locking the door behind you, you let the tears fall freely. The combination of exhaustion, frustration, and Chris’s constant jabs was too much to handle. You slid down to the floor, your knees pulled to your chest as you tried to muffle your sobs.

A soft knock at the door startled you. “It’s me, Y/N,” Nick’s voice came through, calm and gentle. “Let me in, please. I know something’s bothering you.”

You hesitated for a moment before sighing deeply and unlocking the door.

Nick opened it slowly, his face falling when he saw you curled up on the floor, tears streaming down your face. “Oh, dear, what’s wrong?” He crouched down and pulled you into a tight hug.

The dam broke.

“I don’t know why Chris hates me so fucking much,” you cried, your voice shaking. “I can’t do this fighting anymore, Nick. I’m so scared I’m going to lose you and Matt, too, if this shit keeps up.”

Nick pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders. “Y/N, listen to me. You’re not going to lose us, okay? Matt and I—we’re not going anywhere. And as for Chris…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I know he can be a pain in the ass, but he doesn’t hate you. He really doesn’t.”

“Sure feels like it,” you muttered, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater.

Nick gave you a small smile. “You and Chris have been at each other’s throats since we were kids. But there’s more to it than just hating each other. I think you know that, too.”

You shook your head, not wanting to unpack whatever Nick was implying. “I just want it to stop, Nick. I can’t keep doing this.”

“I know.” He pulled you into another hug. “We’ll figure it out, okay? But for now, let’s get you cleaned up and back outside. Your parents missed you, and I’m pretty sure Matt’s already raided the dessert table.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Okay.”

Nick helped you to your feet and handed you a tissue from the counter. “Freshen up, and I’ll meet you out there.”

Once you’d composed yourself, you headed back to the backyard with Nick by your side. The party was in full swing, with neighbors and family chatting around the grill and kids running through the garden.

Chris’s eyes landed on you almost immediately. He noticed your red-rimmed eyes, the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, and the faint tension in your shoulders. For a brief moment, his expression softened, but he didn’t say anything.

The rest of the evening passed in a haze. You had a few glasses of wine to calm your nerves, letting the alcohol take the edge off your emotions. Meanwhile, the triplets stuck to White Claws, Nick and Matt laughing as they attempted to shotgun them.

Chris, however, seemed quieter than usual, his gaze flickering to you now and then as if trying to figure out what was really going on.

The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting a golden glow across the backyard. You were sprawled out on a deck chair, sipping your who-knows-how-many-th glass of wine. The sunset was stunning, painting the sky in hues of orange, pink, and purple, but your focus was starting to blur from the alcohol coursing through your system.

Grill parties like this always had a way of loosening you up, and tonight was no different. The mix of family, nostalgia, and endless wine was a comforting escape from the tension that seemed to follow you and Chris wherever you went.

Nearby, Nick and Matt were sitting at the outdoor table with your parents, sharing stories and laughing loudly. Their contagious giggles drifted through the warm evening air, adding to the lighthearted atmosphere. Chris was off to the side, perched on the armrest of a chair with a half-empty White Claw in hand. He wasn’t completely sober anymore, either; you could tell by the slight sway in his movements and the lazy smirk that seemed permanently etched on his face.

Despite the cheerful scene, everyone had noticed you weren’t quite yourself tonight. Your usual energy was dulled, your laughter softer, and your smiles fleeting. But no one pushed you to explain—they seemed to sense that tonight wasn’t the time.

You tipped back the last sip of your wine, the familiar warmth spreading through your chest. Deciding you needed a refill, you swung your legs off the deck chair and tried to stand. Big mistake.

The world tilted beneath you, and before you could steady yourself, you stumbled forward and fell unceremoniously onto the grass.

A burst of laughter erupted from you as you lay there, and it only grew louder when Chris, of all people, joined in.

“Did you see that?” you managed to wheeze between giggles, pointing at absolutely nothing. “Hahaha, I just—” You dissolved into another fit of laughter.

Chris was laughing, too, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “Yeah, you fell over like a wet bag,” he slurred, his words a little too drawn out.

Nick and Matt exchanged wide-eyed glances, clearly bracing for the inevitable argument that usually followed any interaction between you and Chris. But to their surprise—and relief—it didn’t happen.

Instead, you laughed even harder, clutching your stomach. “A wet bag! That’s so—hahaha—accurate!”

Chris chuckled, taking another sip of his drink. “Glad my pain is your entertainment.”

Your mom, who had been watching from the table, raised an eyebrow. “Sweetie, are you okay?” she called, her voice tinged with amusement.

“Mom!” you yelled back, still giggling uncontrollably. “Where’s the wine?”

“In the kitchen, honey, but don’t you think you’ve had enough?” she asked, her concern evident.

You waved her off, stumbling to your feet. “Nah, I want one more, then I’m heading to bed!” You walked over to her, planting a kiss on her cheek before making your way toward the house.

As you crossed the threshold into the kitchen, you tripped over the door’s metal threshold but managed to catch yourself at the last second. “Whoops!” you giggled to yourself, continuing your unsteady journey to the counter where the wine bottles were neatly lined up.

Back outside, Nick frowned as he watched you disappear into the house. “I’m gonna go check on her,” he said, starting to rise from his seat.

Chris stopped him, placing a hand on his arm. “No, let me.”

Nick and Matt both turned to him with raised eyebrows, their expressions a mix of confusion and suspicion.

“You?” Nick asked, his tone dripping with doubt.

“Yes, me.” Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She’s already pissed at me. If you go in there and she thinks you’re babysitting her, she’ll probably be even more upset.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “Okay, but if you hurt her or upset her even more, I will literally break your face, Christopher.”

“Nicolas!” MaryLou’s voice cut through the tension, scandalized by her son’s words.

“What, Mom?” Nick said defensively, gesturing toward Chris. “They’ve been fighting for twenty years. Twenty. I’m not about to let him go in there and make things worse.”

“Oh, dear god,” your mom muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Same,” MaryLou agreed, shaking her head as if exhausted by the ongoing saga between you and Chris.

Chris rolled his eyes but didn’t respond to Nick’s threat. Instead, he set his White Claw down on the table and stood, his movements unsteady as he made his way toward the house.

You made your way to the counter where the wine bottles stood neatly arranged. Deciding to skip the usual half-glass rule, you poured your glass completely full, concentrating hard to avoid spilling. The red liquid swirled dangerously close to the rim as you steadied the bottle and placed it back on the counter.

“Perfect,” you muttered, lifting the glass to your lips for a sip. You barely had time to savor it when a voice startled you from behind.

“Hey, can we talk?” Chris’s voice broke the silence.

You jumped, spilling half the glass of wine down the front of your white top. The cold liquid seeped into the fabric, staining it a deep red as it clung to your skin.

“Are you fucking serious right now, Chris?” you snapped, your tone sharp and filled with frustration.

Chris held his hands up in surrender, his expression genuine. “Oh shit, I didn’t mean to scare you! Please don’t be mad. That wasn’t my intention.”

You groaned, setting the now-wine-slick glass on the counter before tugging your shirt over your head. “Why are you even here?” you demanded, moving to the sink to run the stained shirt under water.

Standing there in just your bra and skirt, you didn’t think twice about it. The Sturniolos had seen you in bikinis countless times over the years. This wasn’t any different, right? But Chris, on the other hand, suddenly looked... different. His eyes widened slightly before darting to the side, as if trying to respect your space.

“Uh, I—uh—wanted to talk?” he stammered, clearly nervous now.

“About what?” you asked, your words slurring slightly from the wine, but your tone carried the same sharp edge as before.

Chris shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. “Can you please just talk to me normally? This is serious.”

You turned to face him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Seriously?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Chris, I’ve been trying to have a normal conversation with you for the last ten years, but you always find some way to insult me or start a fight. Every. Single. Time.”

Your voice rose with each word as you grew angrier, slapping the damp shirt onto the counter. Chris opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

“I am so done with this shit,” you continued, your voice trembling slightly as the frustration bubbled over. “I don’t even know what your problem is with me, but I’m sick of it. I don’t want to lose Nick and Matt because you decided, for whatever reason, that you can’t stand me.”

Chris flinched at your words, his jaw tightening, but he stayed quiet.

“Grow a pair of balls and grow up already,” you snapped, your voice shaking now from a mix of anger and suppressed emotions. “I am done here.”

Your last words echoed in the kitchen, hanging heavy in the tense silence that followed. Your outburst was loud enough that you were certain everyone outside had heard it. Even the faint sound of Nick’s laughter had gone quiet.

Chris’s face was unreadable as he took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Fucking shut the fuck up already,” he muttered under his breath.

Before you could even process his words, Chris leaned in, closing the distance between you. His lips crashed against yours in a deep, heated kiss, silencing any retort you might have had.

You pulled back almost instantly, your wide eyes meeting Chris’s. “What the fuck are you doing, Chris?”

Chris’s chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, his gaze intense and unwavering. “The one thing I’ve been too scared to do—and too scared to admit—for the last couple of years.”

Before you could even formulate a response, Chris leaned in again, his lips capturing yours with renewed urgency. This time, you didn’t pull away. You kissed him back, your anger and confusion melting into the background as the warmth of the moment overtook you.

The sound of laughter drifted in from outside, faint through the kitchen walls. It grounded you for a second, reminding you that your family and friends were just outside. But you shoved the thought aside, too lost in the way Chris’s hands held your face like you were something fragile and precious.

Your tongues clashed in a heated rhythm, each of you unwilling to back down, a continuation of your endless battles—but this time, it was something else entirely. Chris’s hand slid down to yours, his fingers intertwining with yours firmly as he stepped back.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice low and breathless.

You didn’t even question it. Nodding slightly, you let him lead you upstairs to your old bedroom. Chris pushed the door open with his free hand before pulling you inside and shutting it behind you.

The second the door clicked shut, Chris was on you again, his hands on your waist as he backed you against the wall. The cool surface of the wall sent a shiver down your spine, but it was nothing compared to the fire in Chris’s kiss.

It felt like hours had passed as you made out, the intensity of it all-consuming you both.

As his fingers brushed the edge of your bra, Chris broke the kiss, his lips hovering inches from yours. His voice was unsteady when he spoke, his breath mingling with yours.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Chris asked, his tone laced with frustration and longing.

You blinked up at him, your thoughts still hazy from the kiss. “I don’t—Chris, what are we even doing? This doesn’t make sense—”

“Doesn’t make sense?” Chris interrupted, his forehead resting against yours. “The only thing that hasn’t made sense is me pretending like I don’t want you. I’ve spent years acting like an idiot, fighting with you just to get your attention. And yeah, I was scared—scared you’d never feel the same.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you processed his words. “So all this time... you’ve been picking fights with me because you—because you liked me?”

“Liked you?” Chris laughed softly, the sound almost self-deprecating. “No, Y/N. I didn’t just like you. I’ve been in love with you for years. I just didn’t know how to handle it.”

You stared at him, speechless, your mind racing to catch up with what he’d just admitted.

“Say something,” Chris murmured, his vulnerability showing through the cracks in his voice.

“I—” Your voice faltered as you searched for the right words. “I don’t know what to say, Chris. I never thought—I mean, I just assumed you hated me.”

Chris’s lips curled into a small, almost sad smile. “Hate you? God, no. I hated that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I hated that every time you smiled or laughed, it made me want you even more.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your chest tightening as the weight of his confession settled over you. “Chris, I—”

Whatever you were about to say was interrupted by the sound of the door flying open.

You and Chris jumped apart like teenagers caught by a parent, both of you turning to see Matt and Nick standing in the doorway, their eyes wide with shock.

“Okay,” Matt said slowly, breaking the silence. “I did not see that one coming.”

Nick, however, didn’t look as surprised. He crossed his arms over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “I did,” he admitted.

“What?” Chris asked, his cheeks flushing.

Nick shrugged. “I mean, after twenty years of you two bickering like an old married couple, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Honestly, I’m just glad you didn’t kill each other after that shouting match in the kitchen.”

“Wait, what are you two doing up here, anyway?” you asked, your voice still slightly slurred from the wine.

Nick raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Damn, girl, are you still drunk?”

“Yeah, I’m still drunk,” you admitted, your tone sharp but flustered. “Now answer my question, please.”

Nick leaned casually against the doorframe, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. “Matt and I want to play Mario Kartdownstairs in the living room. Your old Wii is still hooked up,” he explained, his tone light and teasing.

You blinked, your brain struggling to process his words through the haze of wine and adrenaline. “The Wii? That thing still works?”

“Apparently,” Matt chimed in, stepping into view. “We were going through some of the old stuff in the cabinets, and Nick found it. Figured it’d be fun to see if we’ve still got it.”

Nick’s grin widened. “I’m gonna crush all of you, just saying.”

You rolled your eyes, still pressed against the wall as you tried to gather yourself. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Give us five minutes—I need a shirt.” Your voice came out flustered and a little slurred, the weight of the situation catching up to you.

“Good idea,” Nick said with a chuckle, his gaze bouncing between you and Chris. “Wouldn’t want to scare anyone with all that... passion you’ve got going on here.”

Your face burned, and you were about to snap back when Matt clapped his hands together. “Alright, alright, let’s give them a minute. But don’t take too long, or we’re starting without you.”

The two of them turned and disappeared back down the hall, their footsteps fading as they headed toward the stairs.

The moment they were out of earshot, you let out a long breath, your back sliding against the wall until you were sitting on the floor. “Oh my God,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands.

Chris crouched down in front of you, his expression soft but uncertain. “Hey,” he said quietly, reaching out to touch your arm. “Are you okay?”

You peeked at him through your fingers, your emotions a jumble of embarrassment, frustration, and something else you couldn’t quite name. “I don’t know, Chris,” you admitted, your voice muffled. “This is just... a lot.”

Chris nodded, sitting back on his heels. “Yeah. It is. But... I meant everything I said earlier. I know I was an ass—hell, I’ve been an ass for years—but I wasn’t lying about how I feel.”

You dropped your hands, looking up at him with tired eyes. “And you think this”—you gestured between the two of you—“is going to magically fix everything? Chris, we’ve been at each other’s throats since we were kids. I don’t even know how to wrap my head around this.”

“I don’t either,” Chris admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “But I know I want to try. I don’t want to keep fighting with you, Y/N. I’m tired of pretending I don’t care when I do.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you were too stunned to respond. Finally, you sighed, shaking your head. “Chris... I don’t know.”

Chris reached out, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I’ll take ‘I don’t know’ over ‘I hate you’ any day,” he said with a small, hopeful smile.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound soft and a little shaky. “Okay,” you said finally. “Let’s just... see where this goes. No promises.”

Chris nodded, his smile growing. “Fair enough.”

Standing up, he extended a hand to help you to your feet. You hesitated, then took it, letting him pull you up. “Now, let’s get you a shirt before Matt and Nick start a full-blown tournament without us.”

You snorted. “Fine. But I’m still drunk, so if I lose, I’m blaming the wine.”

Chris smirked. “Deal.”

Together, the two of you rummaged through your old dresser until you found a shirt. Pulling it on quickly, you tried to ignore the way Chris’s eyes lingered on you for just a moment too long.

“Ready?” he asked, his tone casual but his expression warm.

“Yeah,” you said, brushing past him and heading toward the door. “Let’s go show those idiots who’s boss.”

As you both made your way downstairs, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of nervousness and excitement. Things weren’t perfect, but for the first time in years, it felt like you and Chris were on the same page.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Taglist: @courta13 @sophand4n4

[trulybetty]

may | 002 x adventure

pairing: jack x ofc!mari word count: 670 warnings: none estimated reading time: 3 minutes ao3: linked

↳ prompts masterlist.

Mari had been halfway through shrugging on her coat when her pager buzzed and the hospital’s tannoy kicked in. The old speakers warped the voice, but the dated and busted technology vibrating on her desk told her enough when she looked down. She sighed and muttered something sharp under her breath about controlled substances and people’s inabilities to reconcile.

Of course, it was the ED. Of course, there was a discrepancy in the Pyxis.

She eyed the oversized tote on her desk, stuffed with both textbooks and her spare set of scrubs she needed to take home and decided to lug it with her. Hopefully, it would be a quick fix and she’d be on her way out and home to the bottle of wine she planned on consuming in its entirety that evening.

Her sneakers squeaked on the linoleum as she headed down the long corridor connecting the administrative wing to the main hospital block, taking a sharp turn left towards the ED. She hefted her tote higher on her shoulder, ignoring its weight as the double doors to the ED hissed open. Robby, she figured. Had to be. She checked her watch. Jack wouldn’t have clocked in yet—his shift didn’t start for another twenty minutes, and he was punctual to a fault.

Except, when she stepped through the doors, ignoring the too-familiar sting of antiseptic and past the chaos of trauma bay two, it wasn’t Robby waiting at the charge desk.

It was Jack.

She cursed under her breath.

Of course, it was Jack.

He was leaning his hip against the counter, hands tucked into the pockets of his cargo pants—the ones she told him made him look like action Ken when he’d annoyed her the week before.

“You’re early,” she said flatly, not stopping as she moved past him.

He followed anyway, naturally.

“Wanted to make sure pharmacy didn’t duck it,” he replied, tone neutral, like this was all protocol and not remotely personal. Like he wouldn’t have had to bypass two other pharmacists below her on call just to drag her down here himself.

“You paged me?”

Jack shrugged, “You’re the head, thought you would want eyes on this yourself.”

“Bullshit.”

“Come on, Goldie. A bit of adventure from your ivory tower too much for you?”

Mari stopped. Pivoted. Turned on her heel so abruptly that Jack had to draw up short, his chest nearly brushing hers.

“Don’t call me that,” she said. It was quiet, but the sharpness still cut.

Something flickered behind his eyes—remorse maybe, or an equally sharp retort that he held on his tongue. It was hard to tell with Jack. He wore both guilt and anger at times like an old jacket; weathered, familiar, never shrugged off.

“You going to help with this reconciliation, Mari, or just stand there looking mad?”

“I am mad,” she replied, stepping away from him, brushing past his shoulder with more force than necessary. “The only thing you’re helping here is your own goddamn ego.”

He didn’t answer.

But when they reached the meds room, he held the door open for her. Just long enough to let her pass. Just long enough for his eyes to skim the familiar curve of her spine beneath her coat.

“Mari,” he started, just as the door clicked shut behind them.

She turned, clipboard already in hand, to start the review.

“You paged me for this Jack.”

“I paged you because I wanted to see you.”

A beat. Then another.

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes settling on the tungsten ring on his left hand as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Congratulations,” she said, dry as a bone, “You’ve seen me.”

Then she popped open the Pyxis drawer and got to work.

Jack didn’t say another word.

But he didn’t leave either.

And of course—he stood just a little bit too close the entire time, like he was still tethered to her atmosphere and the ring he wore still meant something.

[thatcatsalem]

Sorcerer!Sukuna and his inability to accept that love is not worthless.

Disclaimer: All JJK characters belong to Gege. But Yuri is mine.

Context: You are a cunning sorceress who can manipulate spiders and create webs.

Warnings: sexual scenes, strong language, spiders.

This art work doesn’t belong to me, but if the author would like to be recognized or you know who draw this, please let me know.

Sorcerer!Sukuna was seeing curses since he was a child; parents were worried he was having delusions and he had seeing psychiatrist since he was able to talk. Managed to kill his first weak curse at the age of 6 by slashing it repeatedly. As a teenager he roamed the streets, killing all the curses he could see.

Sorcerer!Sukuna was found by Yaga, and was immediately enrolled into the school. Sorcerer!Sukuna was cagey about his life but wanted his younger half-brother away from Jujutsu.

Sorcerer!Sukuna earned semi-grade one title within a year, when he turned sixteen. Progressed onto Grade One at the age of eighteen.

Sorcerer!Sukuna gotten the tattoos on his face and body as runic protection from mind manipulation of curses. They work.

Sorcerer!Sukuna has destroyed everyone in Kyoto Exchange Event within three hours.

Sorcerer!Sukuna is Ino’s senpai.

Sorcerer!Sukuna is known for his brash and rude behavior, permanent scowl on his face and attitude problems. He will not bow unless he respects someone.

As Yuji joined Jujutsu world at fifteen, sorcerer!Sukuna treats him as rough as you would expect. He is even meaner to Megumi, who he picks on. He finds Nobara annoying and Maki weak, but does not have anything against Inumaki. He always tries to get him to talk.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who could never keep a partner and thinks any notion of love is worthless, eats his words when you come in. Dark and mysterious, with indifferent face and blunt speech that would make Nanami run a mile to catch up.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who immediately wants to make you a conquest but accidentally becomes the conquest himself. Not only are you as cutrhroat as him, you are also known for your unnerving grey morals. And as soon as you decided that Sukuna is worthy of being on the same pedestal as you, you have deemed him suitable enough to be a partner.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who doesn’t understand at first he is being seduced into comfortability, used to coquettish behavior instead. But he is receiving coffee cups with black little spiders drawings that are holding your number, he gets to eat half of your cinnamon roll in the morning briefings, and allows you to pat his cheek as a greeting. Within a month he craves more intimacy than he ever knew he wanted.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who finds the sex mind blowing when he fucks you.

You moan, eyes rolling back, spine curling involuntarily – overwhelmed by his girth, the tight fit, the friction. He rubbed your thighs, a soothing, reassuring sensation. And then another pull and push, pull and push, like the rolling tide of the ocean. Planting your feet firmly on the bed on either side of him, you began to roll your hips, meeting his languid thrusts, even as he continued to hold your waist in both hands, bringing you up and down on his shaft.

"You feel fucking good," he said, an almost strangled noise that was rough and grated with pleasure. “So fucking good."

"Really? Aren’t you lucky,” you said teasingly. His look shifted immediately and you almost laughed at the outrage in his expression, but then he snapped his hips hard and you can feel the tip of him deep within kissing your cervix. You moaned and a dark smirk curled his lips as he leaned forward and planted his fists on either side of your head.

"Did you feel that, you wicked cunt?”

You open her mouth to retort, but he did it again, another sharp, deep thrust that silenced your tongue, leaving nothing but moaning coming from the your lips. He stared defiantly into your eyes as he snapped his hips over and over and over again, as if it strengthened his case, expression daring you to critique him again, even if mockingly.

“Know your place, foolish girl,” he mused.

Sorcerer!Sukuna who is so whipped by good sex, decent food and affection that he immediately attempts to sabotage new relationship. You don’t let him.

“Fucking hell,” he whistles, “you would think this is a date.”

As soon as he said that, he regretted it. You did not falter but a look of gloom trespassed onto your face, quickly hidden behind phlegmatic facade. Sukuna bit his tongue, unsure on what to do. He looked at you, begging for you to diffuse the situation, but you were not in a kind mood today.

“Would that be so bad?” You ask with annoyance in your voice, and turn towards the table, grabbing a bottle of wine. You open it with a knife, bottle popping loudly and cork swiftly caught by one of your bigger spiders that was sat on one of the walls, “Or are you just afraid?...”

“I am not afraid.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Sorcerer!Sukuna who refuses to accept he is in a relationship, but you have other fucking plans.

Sorcerer!Sukuna is seeing red as soon as he notices that you are not paying attention to him.

[matcha707]

If you ask me, yes it is possible that salt can turn to black by adding activated charcoal to it. In this case, Silent Salt Cookie's armor was once white.

Can salt kills white lilies?

Yes, salt can kill white lilies (or any type of lily) as salt disrupts the plant's ability to absorb water by drawing it out of the roots, essentially dehydrating the plant and causing damage to its tissues, leading to wilting and eventual death if exposed to high concentrations of salt.

So, in theory. Silent Salt Cookie will crumble white lily slowly in silence, while not shatter the soul jam. So, Silent Salt Cookie is representing ' Silent ' while White Lily Cookie is representing ' freedom '. So this is gonna be Silence vs Freedom, so why White Lily Cookie representing freedom?

White Lily Cookie's soul jam symbolizes freedom due to her unbound curiosity, rejection of limitations, and transformation into Dark Enchantress Cookie. Her pursuit of knowledge and truth allows her to break free from ignorance and preconceived notions. She seeks to transcend the status quo and create a new order where cookies are not bound by their predetermined roles. Even after her transformation, her soul jam remains a symbol of hope and the potential for redemption, guiding one back to the light. This soul jam represents the freedom to think, explore, and define one's destiny.

Then what about Silent Salt Cookie? Why Silent?

Silent Salt Cookie is a character in Cookie Run Kingdom, representing silence and solidarity. He was once an Ancient Hero, representing the virtue of silence, but fell from grace and became one of the five Beasts. His inability to speak is a core part of his identity, possibly due to a curse or armor influence. His silence plays a significant role in the game's lore, and his story is shrouded in mystery. His silence and solidarity make him a unique and intriguing figure in the universe.

Silent vs. Freedom

How come it's Silent vs Freedom? According to White Lily Cookie in the game, she said ' The truth will set us free '. It's just a theory, we don't know for sure, so here's my take:

The tension between silence and freedom in the pursuit of truth is a complex philosophical dilemma. Silence can be used to suppress information, stifle open discussion, and create a climate of conformity. Freedom, on the other hand, is essential for truth, allowing individuals to express themselves without fear of censorship or punishment. Freedom of speech, inquiry, and thought are crucial for uncovering and disseminating truth. However, silence can also coexist as strategic tools, respecting diverse voices, and mindful communication. In the context of Cookie Run Kingdom, White Lily Cookie's journey demonstrates the importance of freedom in seeking truth, while Silent Salt Cookie's silence represents the potential for truth to be obscured or manipulated. The relationship between silence and freedom in the pursuit of truth requires a delicate balance between open expression and the recognition that silence can also play a role in uncovering and protecting the truth.

[milswrites]

Stubborn Little Fox

~ Eris Vanserra X Reader

Summary: Eris struggles to look after his stubborn mate when you are sick.

Warnings: Poorly reader but it’s pretty much fluff. Maybe some suggestiveness.

Notes: Just a silly little fic to tide you over until I finish the angst I’m writing. Dedicated to @sarawritestories who wrote me this exact scenario in an attempt to get me to stop writing and go to bed 😌

Your bed was empty.

Again. 

The wrinkled covers pulled back to reveal the bare sheets of where you had once laid, where Eris was supposed find you soundly sleeping upon entering the room.

The Autumn Prince cursed lowly under his breath, knuckles turning white with frustration as he tightly gripped onto the tray of food he had prepared for you.

It was easier to control his hounds - Eris thought as he carefully placed the tray down on the edge of the bed, lest he toss its contents onto the floor in his anger.

Eris was used to completing impossible jobs, and yet nothing has been more difficult than trying to wrangle his sick mate and convince you to sleep away your illness. Your inability to sit still making caring for you harder than Eris had initially anticipated.

He needn’t try too hard to find you, a swift wander down the hall and to his office was all Eris needed to walk before he opened the door to find your sickly form hunched over his desk with a pen in hand. Scribbling away at whatever documents had been left for you once you had recovered.

It was impossible to stop the exasperated sigh which fell from his lips as he took in the paleness of your face and the worrying sheen of sweat which had coated it.

“And why, pray tell me, aren’t you in bed where you’re supposed to be Little Fox?” Eris snarled, all comfort forgotten as he once more found himself trying to coax you back towards your bed.

With shaking hands you reluctantly place your pen down, guilty eyes meeting the burning stare of your mates unforgiving glare. “I’ve got work to finish!” You defend, gesturing to the stack of paperwork which had only grown during your absence from your job.

At your excuse, the red-haired male inhaled deeply, a disbelieving hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. And it wasn’t until Eris exhaled his frustrations that he allowed himself to reply as softly as he could, “work can wait until you’re feeling better.”

“It can’t,” you reason, a disappointed sigh drawing from your sickly lips, “I’m far enough behind as it is. Another day without work and I’ll never be able to catch up. Besides, I’m fine. I feel much better now.”

Whilst Eris prided himself on holding back the roll of his eyes which threatened to occur, he failed to stop the raise of his brow as you proceeded to burst into a fit of coughs after your weak-willed reassurances.

“All better?” He mused, a small smirk finding its home on his lips as he watched you pitifully try to compose yourself. Innocent eyes meeting his own as your incessant coughing eventually came to a halt.

“I have to say Little Fox, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you like going against my orders” Eris chided, slowly walking towards you as he spoke. Each step forward drawing you deeper into his hypnotic trance. “Would I be correct in assuming you keep leaving your bed because you want me to scold you?” He asks teasingly, bringing his face down to meet yours, until his playful eyes were level with your own.

“I can’t say I’d hate it if you had to take care of me” you replied honestly, unable to help the way your gaze drifted towards your mates slightly parted lips.

“Is that not what I’ve been doing all this time?” Eris feigns hurt which fails to read through his wicked smile, “Taking care of my mate?”

“I can think of a few more ways I’d like to be taken care of” you answer, hoping to be seductive but ultimately failing as another round of coughs wrack your chest.

“Later” Eris chuckled, his strong arms coming to lift you from where you were sat, “for now you need sleep.”

You furrow your brows in protest, opening your mouth to argue with your mate before he beat you to it. Eris’s soothing voice acting to calm you, “Don’t worry, I’m going to have to cuddle you just to make sure you don’t run off anywhere else.”

Eris’s warm lips came to meet your aching forehead, his kiss already working to dissipate the uncomfortable pulsating of your sore temples. Your mates healing touch enough to already have you drifting off in his comforting embrace.

“My stubborn Little Fox,” he uttered as he began to move back towards the bedroom which you shared, cradling you close to his body in hope that the heat which he emitted would soothe your aching joints, “you better feel well again soon, I’ll be waiting to deliver your punishment for disobeying me.”

You hum happily in response, nuzzling your face into his warm chest to hide your smirk of anticipation, “I’m looking forward to it, My Prince.”

It was only once you woke, when your fever had broken and the ache in your muscles had quelled, that you noticed that Eris was no longer holding you. That it was his turn to escape the comfortable confines of your sheets which had now grown cold in his absence.

Stepping out from the warmth of your covers, you walked barefoot across the cold wooden floors. Seeking the ever-lasting warmth of your mate. You followed the call, moving through the hall until you found yourself outside his office, the strong scent of crackling wood and chestnuts enough to tell you the male was waiting inside.

Cracking open the door you peered inside, noting the way Eris was slumped over the freshly inked papers you had saved to work on when your health had improved.

Your mate - your selfless, loving mate - had completed them all. No doubt seeking to ease your worries and provide you with the extra hours of rest you would no doubt need once you had woken.

Quietly pulling the door to, you move to the kitchen to prepare your love a warming tea. Because as much as Eris longed to take care of those he loved so dearly, sometimes what he needed was for someone to take care of him in return.

[silverhallow]

A little prompt idea; Benedict is minding his own business, thinking about Sophie. Meanwhile, one of Gregory’s pranks go wrong and Sophie ends up being the victim of this failed prank. Benedict hears Sophie cry out and clumsily runs over to her aid.

Benedict Bridgerton sat in the drawing room, his sketchbook resting idly in his lap. The page was still blank, the charcoal untouched, though he had been seated there for nearly half an hour. His mind, as usual these days, had wandered far from art and into the warm territory of thoughts about his wife.

He smiled faintly, eyes drifting toward the window as he imagined Sophie’s laugh, the soft crinkle of her nose, the way her eyes shone when she was holding back a smile, the delightful dimple that appeared only when she was truly delighted. She had been teasing him that morning over breakfast, some nonsense about his inability to eat toast without leaving crumbs everywhere. He hadn’t minded. He would gladly be the butt of any joke if it meant hearing her laughter.

He was so lost in thought, he didn’t hear the initial clatter in the hallway. But the sharp, startled cry that followed snapped him upright in an instant.

“Oh—! Oh Bloody Hell!”

The voice was unmistakable. Sophie. Hearing her curse… something she never did unless they were in bed together, caused Benedict to surge to his feet, sending his sketchbook flying. He turned too quickly and nearly upended the side table beside him, catching it at the last moment before sprinting toward the hall.

He barely registered the scattered trail of white powder dusting the floor before he came upon the scene: Sophie, sitting amidst an explosion of linens, laundry, and what appeared to be flour, actual flour, slowly falling from a basket rigged above the doorway.

She blinked up at him, her dark hair streaked with white, her gown a crumpled mess beneath the weight of bed sheets and underthings. For a moment, she looked utterly dazed, like a painting of chaos and dignity unwilling to be undone.

Benedict dropped to his knees beside her, hands fumbling to clear the mess.

“My God, Sophie! Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, coughing slightly as she waved some flour away from her face. “I…I’m fine. Just… surprised. And a bit dusty.”

He tried to help her up but slipped slightly on a rogue stocking, catching himself against the wall. “What in the devil happened?”

From down the corridor came a muffled voice, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone running away… and swearing.

Gregory.

Sophie sat up straighter, her expression shifting from confusion to indignation. “That little… he rigged the laundry! I think it was meant for Hyacinth. Or maybe Eloise.”

Benedict groaned. “He’s getting bolder.”

“He’s getting worse,” Sophie muttered, brushing at her skirts to little effect. “Do I look like a cake?”

“You look like a very cross angel dusted with sugar,” he said with a grin, finally taking her hand and pulling her to her feet.

Sophie sighed, exasperated, but the corners of her lips twitched. “If I ever find the blueprint for this prank, I’ll make him eat it.”

“Not before I do,” Benedict said firmly. “But first, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He wrapped an arm around her, still chuckling as he steered her toward their room where he’d call for a maid and a bath, leaving behind a trail of floury footprints and Gregory panicked yells echoing faintly behind them.