#I’ve heard that some butterflies drink blood

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 07

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Richmond, Virginia, March 20, 2015

“Thank you so much for being here once again!” Gratitude seemed to pour from her voice and adorn her smile. Everyone at Pearl’s bar cheered whenever you stepped on stage and sighed in disappointment when you announced the last song.

It felt almost too surreal.

Gradually, a certain confidence began to settle, and the small stage of that bar—bathed in cozy, colorful lights, walls adorned with posters of '90s bands, and a warm audience—felt more and more like home. Maybe it was a bit arrogant to think you were born for this, but what if you were?

“Did I tell you how good you are today?” His voice reached you just as your hand slid over the zipper after storing the guitar away. You didn’t even need to turn around to recognize the presence that filled the space.

He’d been here. Every single day. For a month.

With the uncanny ability to make the blood vessels in your face dilate, painting your skin crimson, and sending chills up your arms just by hearing the timbre of his voice. Turning around and meeting his brown eyes, sparkling like a precious gem every time they met yours, sent your body into an involuntary reaction.

There was absolutely no way you could stop yourself from smiling when he was by your side, even if the swarm of butterflies nesting in your stomach caused a slight discomfort.

“You say that every time, Noah…” you muttered so softly you thought he hadn’t heard.

“That’s because I’m your biggest fan.”

After flashing a wavering smile and shaking your head to mask the flustered feeling creeping in, you went back to rolling up the sound cables. After every performance, it was your duty to tidy up the place and clean the empty bar before heading home.

Pearl had offered you a spot in the small house she shared with her son in the back of the bar. There weren’t separate bedrooms or many rooms to keep you from bumping into one another, but to you, it was perfect—a place to sleep, eat, and shower.

“Uh…” Noah seemed to rehearse his words, hands buried in his pockets and shoulders hunched as he followed you around the stage. “It’s not that late, and I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me?”

Your body froze in place for a few seconds, cables coiled around your fingers.

“I mean…” he rushed to correct himself. “Don’t get me wrong, please. It’s just an invitation to grab a drink or some food. I promise I’ll get you home before your parents notice you’re gone, or I can talk to them if you’d like, and…”

“I’ll go.”

Finally, he fell silent, his rapid string of words nearly robbing him of breath. Noah slumped his shoulders, and it was hard to tell whether he was surprised you’d agreed or just catching his breath after pulling an Eminem stunt.

“Cool!” was all he managed to say, still looking dazed.

“I just need to finish organizing the sound equipment and cleaning up the bar. If you don’t mind waiting.”

“No. No. No! Of course, I don’t mind waiting.” Noah assured, already glancing at the rest of the disorganized bar. “Actually, I’ve got a better idea.”

It didn’t take long for the place to become a true mess, thanks to Noah’s enthusiasm and the old jukebox in the corner with the help of a coin. Chairs atop tables, soapy water covering the floor, while you both wielded brooms, belting out a metal version of Love Story by Taylor Swift that you’d created. Noah handled the growls, and you performed the melodic verses, sliding across the slippery floor.

For the second time, it struck you how your voices complemented each other, even if it was just a silly game while cleaning a bar that reeked of stale drinks and cigarettes. He seemed to enjoy himself so much that, while pushing water across the floor, you couldn’t help but steal glances at his perfectly aligned smile—a masterpiece framed in laughter.

With unsteady steps dodging the puddles of soap, your body suddenly lost balance. Noah’s quick reflexes allowed him to drop his broom and catch you just in time before you hit the ground.

If there was music still playing, you couldn’t tell what it was anymore. A faint ringing buzzed in your ears as your eyes locked with his.

There wasn’t a single scientific explanation as to why his eyes gleamed so brightly in your presence, and even after seeing him every day for a month at the back of the audience, it still felt like the first time.

“Easy there, little storm!” His voice was soft, carrying a breath of mint as strands of his hair fell across his face. “A hospital date isn’t exactly on my agenda.”

Slowly, Noah helped you back to your feet, his laughter mingling with yours as you both steadied yourselves. Returning to your brooms, you remembered what you were supposed to be doing.

Pearl’s bar was finally back in order—chairs down, floor spotless, stage organized, dishes washed. The strong scent of disinfectant made Noah sneeze, drawing a laugh from you when you saw his reddened nose from the allergy. He kindly helped you gather your belongings, but as you were about to leave, heavy rain poured outside, making him groan in disappointment.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” he grumbled, gazing at the downpour with a less-than-pleased expression. Somehow, he looked adorable, pouting like that.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the rain?” you teased, shrugging off your jacket and tossing it to the floor by the door along with your bag and phone.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Noah asked, furrowing his brows in a mix of concern, trailing after your mischievous smile as you walked backward into the rain. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to get soaked for no reason. We could wait it out or reschedule, and…”

“Boy, you’re so…”

“Boring?” he offered.

“Methodical,” you corrected, raising a finger in the air for emphasis. “You’re afraid of making mistakes, turning it into a constant competition with yourself to make everything perfect. But I have a question for you: When was the last time you felt free?”

The words seemed to strike him, and for a moment, you hesitated, fearing you’d overstepped, noticing how he froze in place. Life had always been a sea of opportunities to you, no matter what they were. You’d always felt alone, even in a crowd, and nothing had stopped you from living.

Nothing had cared enough to cage you, and that made you free.

The trance broke. Noah shook his head, banishing his inner doubts. A smile formed on his lips as he shed his jacket, tossing his phone alongside your things, and sprinted into the rain, squinting against the droplets.

You instinctively began running down the long, empty road, your laughter tangling with his, filling the air. Noah made it a race; taller than you, his long strides were worth two of yours.

Rain clung to your skin, hair plastered to your face, strands obscuring your vision as you desperately glanced over your shoulder, afraid of being caught. With a playful grin, he bit his lip, struggling to see through the downpour.

His laughter was the best song you’d ever heard, and your heart longed to play it on repeat until it soothed the storm raging inside.

When your legs gave out, surrendering, Noah caught you in a surprise move, hoisting you over his shoulder. Your laughter spilled freely, your stomach aching from the joy. Spinning together in the rain, the cold seemed insignificant as adrenaline warmed your bodies.

A dance without music moved you both as Noah clasped your hand, twirling you, your toes barely touching the ground. Every time you lifted your face to the sky, feeling the raindrops and cool breeze, your lips and his curved upward simultaneously.

Attempting another spin, Noah’s foot slipped, sending you both tumbling to the ground. He softened your fall with his arm, and once again, your eyes locked, separated only by the strange-tasting water falling from the sky and dripping from your chins.

Every detail of his face was perfectly sculpted, a maze where you could easily lose yourself—his deep, hopeful, and fiercely brown eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that, boy,” you whispered, almost breathless, as he propped himself up on one arm. “I’m still going to break your heart.”

“I dare you, little storm,” Noah said, his gaze fixed on you as though spellbound, his free hand brushing away a stray lock from your face to study it closely before claiming your lips in one swift motion.

Every ounce of turmoil that had knotted your insides over the past weeks washed away with the rain, as if a new sensation took over your body. Your arms looped around his neck, fingers threading through the damp hair at his nape. There was no other choice for him but to stay. You wanted him to stay.

Noah’s long fingers pressed into your back, gathering the soaked fabric of your shirt, pulling your bodies together with deliberate slowness. He cupped your face, deepening the kiss with an urgency that mirrored the moment he’d first crossed your path.

Noses brushing gently, you both smiled softly, his lips returning to yours. Tilting his head skyward, eyes closed as he murmured something unintelligible. Noah laughed softly, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead and the curve of his nose.

"Please, little storm, tell me I'll see you tomorrow," he whispered, almost like a plea, as his lips brushed against your skin, refusing to open his eyes.

"Absolutely, yes," your voice confirmed as you slowly lifted his face, your fingers tangling in the damp strands of his hair.

A second meeting in a dark basement isn’t exactly what you imagined.

Noah had come down with a terrible cold after last night’s adventure, and in an attempt to stop you from risking his life again, he suggested you come watch his band rehearse. His friends and bandmates were introduced as Folio, Jolly, and Ruffilo. The guys welcomed you with enthusiasm, and for a moment, you felt like you’d known them for years, so naturally did they make you feel part of their group.

“What’s with that face?” Ruffilo asked as soon as the first song ended, slinging his instrument off his shoulder. “Don’t tell me it’s that bad.”

“You have the privilege of seeing us play a private show, and that’s the face you make? Noah, your friend here is kind of rude!” The guy behind the drums joked in an easygoing tone, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

Sitting cross-legged on the couch, you nibbled on your lip while munching on a bag of chips. It wasn’t like you were a music expert, though you’d been breathing it in like air for as long as you could remember, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

“I think it was badass!” As soon as you spoke, everyone slumped their shoulders in relief.

“I take back everything I said about her.”

“But something’s missing…” you added, standing up from the couch and brushing your fingers together.

“I take back everything I just said about her.” The guy on the drums simply couldn’t stay quiet.

“Folio, let the girl speak!” Jolly interrupted, and Folio quickly mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key. “What exactly do you think is missing? I’ve had that same feeling and would love to know I’m not going crazy.”

You began pacing back and forth, your steps deliberate, your fingers curling inside your jeans pockets. Jolly’s question made you reflect on the current metal scene. All their references seemed focused on hardcore, where every song followed a single rhythm.

“How about taking advantage of the fact that the band doesn’t have a set direction yet and trying something different? Like metalcore—it allows for a mix of guttural and melodic vocals, low tunings, and fast riffs. It keeps the sound fresh and avoids the songs blending into each other when the tracks change.” You finished your thought, and the guys exchanged looks as though a divine light had suddenly shone upon them. “Did I say something dumb?”

“Actually, you said something interesting…” Jolly seemed lost in thought for a few seconds, tapping his fingers on a wooden surface.

“Noah said you sing rock and punk at the bar where you work,” the guy holding an energy drink offered you some, but you politely declined. “Why not try doing the melodic vocals on one of our songs? I promise it’s just a test, and we’ll leave you alone afterward. But seriously, look at our desperate faces!”

Ruffilo made a dramatic pout, clasping his hands together like a kid begging for a new pet. Your body tensed at the idea of meddling where you didn’t belong, and you regretted even opening your mouth. Your gaze met Noah’s, who simply winked and nodded, his lips silently mouthing, “You’re good” over and over.

Suddenly, his hand appeared next to yours, holding a microphone. As much as you wanted to refuse, the words stuck in your throat as Noah took your hand and placed the mic in it.

There was no turning back.

“THAT WAS FUCKING AWESOME!” Folio yelled as he struck the final cymbal.

“You were absolutely right! We needed to combine guttural and melodic vocals!” Jolly, almost talking to himself, continued tapping his fingers on a wooden surface. He gave what looked like the shadow of a smile, and that seemed like a good sign.

“So it seems my plan worked…”

Noah surprised you by wrapping his arms around you from behind, planting a kiss on your temple and lingering as he inhaled the scent of your hair.

“Plan?” You turned abruptly to face him.

“I brought you here because ever since I first saw you at the bar and we sang together, I knew I wanted you to sing with me in my band—now our band—and I won’t take no for an answer!” he declared, pinching the tip of your nose. “You’re good. You’re really good!”

Your shocked gaze flicked from him to the other band members, who looked just as excited as he was.

“Welcome to Bad Omens, little storm.”

After saying goodbye to the boys, Noah promised to drive you home. While he finished grabbing his things from the garage, you decided to step outside for some air and take the opportunity to smoke a cigarette.

Becoming the vocalist of a band at this point in your life wasn’t exactly on your bingo card for the year, and you had no idea how you’d balance it with your job at the bar, especially since saving money was still your top priority. But everything had felt so simple down there. There was no trace of her voice in your head telling you that your voice was as cursed as the abomination you were. There was absolutely nothing capable of stealing the feeling that coursed through you every time your voice and Noah’s harmonized.

It was impossible to predict where this would lead in the future, but for the first time, you felt happy. You belonged to something where you could be yourself without it costing you your freedom.

You were finally you.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the screech of tires on asphalt. Startled, you turned to see a car speeding toward you from the other side of the road, threatening to mount the sidewalk where you stood. In an impulsive move, you threw yourself to the side, landing hard on the rough, gravel-strewn ground, a gasp of pain escaping your lips.

When you looked at the car—one you knew all too well—your entire body tensed, frozen on the ground. For a moment, you forgot about the scrape on your arm as your eyes locked on the driver.

“Found you, little girl,” Seth announced, grinning beneath his scruffy beard.

“Hey, what’s going on out here?” Noah’s voice, muffled by his hurried footsteps, cut through the tension. As he approached, Seth rolled up the window and shifted into reverse, speeding away down the wrong side of the road.

When Noah got closer, his brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation. He quickly crouched down, and you threw yourself into his arms. Without saying a single word, you clung to him so tightly that your fingers dug deep into his skin, your legs trembling uncontrollably.

“Shhh,” he whispered, wrapping his arms even tighter around you to hold you securely. “I’m not going anywhere.”

But everything seemed to hit your mind all at once. In seconds, you weren’t in Noah’s arms anymore—you were somewhere else, a filthy place as vile as your skin felt and as repulsive as the stench surrounding you. Your arms and legs turned immobile, locking up like a cramp, as the sensation of him closing in grew stronger and stronger. You wanted to scream, but nothing came out. He had severed your vocal cords because he enjoyed watching you cry.

Seth had stolen everything from you. And no matter where you tried to rebuild yourself, their shadow would always be there.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @anarchydomainglory ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @foliosgirl

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Cruel Summer

no rules in breakable heaven

Pairing: Jaime Tartt x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ - smut(f receiving oral, other implied nonsense, cursing

Word Count: 5.5k

Author’s Note: clearly I’ve gotten caught up in the babygirl wave, my lovely wife @andr0medafallen helped me immensely and I love her. Also I’m just a slutty little virgin so I can’t be held accountable for any inaccuracies

Conversations are swirling around you, music is blasting from a building down the street, you’re keenly aware of the blood pumping in your veins, and you need a goddamn break.

You loved spending time with Keeley, you really did, but it’s hot and muggy outside, and this is the fifth party you’d been to in the past week. Tonight, at least, is with the Richmond boys, and not some friend of a friend of Keeley’s where all you do is stand in the corner and drink by yourself. Keeley, ever the social butterfly, is off chatting with Rebecca and Leslie, giving you the opportunity to focus on not losing your mind.

It’s strange, to feel so simultaneously alive and asleep, and you could swear you can feel the air buzzing in your ears. You simultaneously want to go to bed and to stay awake for the rest of the night, it’s like your mind can’t figure out what it needs.

And then Jamie’s walking over to you and the world comes back into focus.

The two of you aren’t very close, connected mostly through your separate friendships with Keeley, but from what you’ve heard from her and from the internet, he seems to be turning over a new leaf. Though, there was a part of you that enjoyed his bad boy attitude, even when he was a bit of a dick.

Maybe you just had a thing for men who were emotionally unavailable.

“Want me to walk you home?” Jamie says after a few seconds of standing next to each other in silence, shocking you out of your silent appraisal of your surroundings.

“Huh?” Clearly, your brain-mouth connection is taking a while to get up to speed.

“You seem kinda out of it, I know you came with Keeley, figured I should ask if you wanted to leave.”

The kindness of his offer is a little shocking in the way it’s so purely sweet, and again, your brain seems a little slow on the draw.

“I’m alright, I can call a car in a bit,” you tell him, not wanting to drag him away from a fun night just because he saw you acting all mopey and uncomfortable.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind getting outta here,” and then it’s clear to you that his offer is simply an excuse for him to leave the party, and while your heart drops a little you can’t say you blame him.

“What the hell,” you respond anyway, finishing your drink before you turn to follow Jamie out of the party, stopping by Keeley to let her know you’re headed home.

The walk back to your place is mostly silent, the air hanging heavy and thick as you try to figure Jamie out. It’s clear that he’s changed from the first time you’d met him, back when he was only Keeley’s douchebag of a boyfriend, shortly before his stint on reality TV. Now, though, he seems different in some way that you can’t quite puzzle out.

“Wanna come up?” You offer, your heart and your brain in a heated argument over how awful and irresponsible of a decision that is.

“Nah, I’m alright,” he sticks his hands in his pockets and you try not to let your heart sink onto the ground with this cool-guy routine of his.

Still, you thank him for taking you home and head up to your apartment, flicking off your shoes and berating yourself for acting the way you did. Even though you’re an adult, and wanting to sleep with someone doesn’t make you a bad person, there’s a layer of guilt that hangs over your simple question, over your desires.

Maybe it’s because he’s Keeley’s ex, and even though she’s moved on and found her perfect match, girl code says you shouldn’t even look at him. Maybe it’s because as far as you know, he’s an awful person who would treat you like nothing. Or maybe it’s because he’s actually worked on himself and you’re going to self-sabotage anything good that could even possibly happen.

The guilt you taste at the back of your mouth doesn’t change the fact that you want him, though, so you throw a longing glance out your window and are surprised to see Jamie still standing on the street below. As quick as you can in your old building, you unlatch the window and push it open, sticking your head out.

“Change your mind?” You ask, a grin spreading on your face when Jamie jumps at the sound of your voice.

“That ok?” He throws back, looking a little bashful and so unfairly adorable that he makes you a little dizzy. You just nod in response, and he seems to get the message because he disappears from view and a few seconds later, there’s a knock at your door.

Briefly, you wonder if he ran up the stairs.

There’s a part of your brain that keeps screaming about how this is a bad idea, that come morning you’re going to regret this, but you do your best to ignore it as you close the door behind Jamie and press your lips to his. His hands find your waist, settling there with a firm grasp, and you hope you never need oxygen again.

It’s addicting, the way he touches you, the way he kisses you, and you do your best to ignore the alarm bells ringing in your mind that you’re never going to be able to move on from this and instead just enjoy yourself. Moving on autopilot, you find yourself at your bedroom door, and feeling lightheaded you pull away from Jamie and rest your forehead on his.

“Can I?” He breathes against your mouth, fingers grasping the bottom hem of your shirt. You nod enthusiastically, your nose brushing against his. Once your shirt is flung somewhere into the depths of your room, Jamie’s hands settle on your bare ribs.

Pushing every worry you have to the back of your brain, you follow Jamie’s lead and, with his help, pull his shirt over his head as he walks you back towards your bed. Obviously, you’d known he was fit, but seeing him so close, so open to your touch is a whole other feeling. You want to trace his entire body, his scars and bruises and tattoos, first with your hands and then with your mouth.

“This is just a one time thing, yeah?” Jamie asks as your hands settle onto his jaw, trying to bring him in for another kiss.

“Yeah, of course,” you respond, being the cool girl you know you’re meant to be even as you fantasize about hearing the stories behind his tattoos and spending mornings together.

It’s practically impossible for you to keep your hands off of him, every layer removed giving you more of his skin to explore. Jamie, though, seems just as greedy as you are, kissing and touching his way across your body. You feel alive, electric in ways you’ve never felt before. It’s as if every moment you spend with Jamie, he takes up more and more space in your brain, until he’s all you can think about.

Jamie, as he bites that sensitive spot underneath your jaw bone with a grin.

Jamie, as he trails kisses down the center of your body, from your sternum to your belly button.

Jamie, as he moves lower and lower, his hands resting on your inner thighs.

Jamie, he’s all you think about until you can’t think of anything, your mind shut off and your body rewired as you feel like you’re exploding from the inside out.

And then everything comes rushing back in, all the sounds and scents and feelings of your apartment, all the thoughts you’d tried to keep away. You still haven’t said anything, focusing on breathing and not floating away.

“You need water or something?” Jamie asks from his spot on the pillow next to you, watching as your breath continues to heave in and out of your chest.

“This is my place, shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You retort once it feels as if your heart won’t escape your chest.

“There aren’t any rules about who gets water.” You watch as a smirk grows across his face, “Besides, you look like you need it more than me.”

Trying not to give in to his teasing, you hide your face in your hands and groan, “Maybe that means you should have been trying harder.” He shrugs, conceding before he slips off your bed and begins the hunt around for his clothes. You wish you could ask him to stay, even just for a few minutes longer, but instead you shrug on a large t-shirt and walk him to the door.

“See you around,” you offer as you lean in the doorway, Jamie making his way to the stairs.

“Yeah, sure, see ya.” And then you're left all alone again, your brain running wild within your skull, so you make your way back to your bed in the hopes that you can fall asleep and pretend you aren’t regretting all of your life decisions.

The next few times you see Jamie, the two of you talk sparingly, sticking mainly to waves across the room or slightly uncomfortable smiles. And it’s a shame, because you’ve found that you actually enjoy talking to Jamie, but now you’re not so certain you can handle yourself around him.

Even though you know Jamie’s not looking for a relationship, it’s hard not to think about what you’d be like together, if you’d even work out, because in your mind, what’s the point of trying if you know you’re going to fail? Why would you enter into a relationship with someone if you know it couldn’t possibly last?

“Hey,” a voice says from behind, shocking you out of your introspection. You jump, ready to scold whoever snuck up on you when you hear Jamie’s laughter, happy and loose.

“Jesus, Jamie, you scared me to death,” you tell him as his laughter dies down, eyes scanning for anyone watching your interactions. You know that no one cares, that people have casual relationships all the time, but you can’t help but feel like you’d be judged for doing the same.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks, and you can tell from his voice, from his eyes, from the way he’s holding himself, what he’s really asking you.

“I thought that was a one time thing?” You hide your smile by taking a sip of your drink and delighting in the way Jamie’s cheeks redden.

“What I meant was, it’s just a no-strings-attached thing.”

“I’m flattered,” you tell him, already turning to leave and planning your text to Keeley that you hadn’t felt well and called an Uber to leave early.

Instead of an Uber, though, you find yourself pressed up against Jamie’s car, his hands holding your waist and his tongue down your throat. As much as you loved the attention, you pulled away, placing a gentle hand on his cheek when he tried to follow.

“Someone could see,” you whisper against him, trying to keep an ear out for anyone else leaving the small party at Colin’s house. This seems to bring Jamie back to his senses, though, because he unlocks his car and slips inside, but only after he kisses you one last time.

The drive to his place is short, leaving the two of you sitting in his driveway, no sounds but the noises filtering in through the cracked windows. There’s something about this, about him, that just feels like summer, like late sleepless nights and days spent in bed.

Even though neither of you have spoken about it, you can tell that whatever relationship you have with Jamie ends with the summer. You know this is for the best, knowing that once training and games pick up again he’ll barely have time for friends, let alone any other kind of relationship, but you hate the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. It feels like there’s an expiration date, some dark cloud looming over your sunny day, and it’s making it hard to enjoy the time you do have with Jamie.

You’d never say any of this to him, though, because you’re not even sure if you’re really friends, if this relationship you have is anything beyond physical. It’s not as though you sit around pining after Jamie Tartt all day, but you can’t help but feel left out whenever you see him with his actual friends, as if you’re missing something important about him. The two of you have a surface level connection, and you’re fine with that, you really are, it’s just hard not to get caught up in your own head.

Jamie, though, is doing his best to get rid of seemingly every thought you have, leaning over the center console to kiss you again. It’s cramped and a little awkward and you don’t have any room to move around, but you can’t stop. Eventually, the two of you break apart for long enough to stumble into Jamie’s house and then you’re being pushed backwards to his bedroom.

The realization hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever been to Jamie’s house, and you can’t help but look around his bedroom, taking in all of his choices in decorations and knick-knacks.

“That’s a pretty color,” you say absentmindedly, starting off into his room.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Jamie asks, pulling back from where he’d been sucking a mark onto your chest.

You can’t help but laugh, loud and unrestrained, as you run your fingers through the strands of hair hanging in Jamie’s eyes, giving them a gentle tug. Looking down after you catch your breath, you notice Jamie smiling at you and suddenly you feel too exposed, too open and you want to turn and run and never see him again but instead you use your light grip on his hair to pull him up for a kiss.

There’s a strange feeling deep in your stomach, one that you plan to ignore for as long as you can because it’s distracting you from Jamie. At first, you’d just thought it was the want filling your body, the urge to pull him impossibly close and feel him impossibly deep, but the feeling’s still there hours later as you lie boneless and sleepy.

Jamie’s off getting you some water, even though you never asked for any, and when he returns you’re dozing on his pillow, resisting the urge to snuggle under his sheets.

“You can just stay here tonight, if you want,” Jamie offers, sitting on the other side of the bed and staring off into space before quietly adding, “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Your bed is pretty comfortable,” you reply, thankful that you don’t have to get up and go searching for your clothes.

Instead, Jamie hands you the glass of water and a t-shirt, one that you gratefully slip on before getting under the covers. You fall asleep almost immediately, exhaustion spread throughout your entire body and mind, so you never know that Jamie lies awake almost the whole night, staring at the ceiling and trying not to wake you up or think about how perfect you look while asleep next to him.

When you do wake up, it’s with the sun streaming through the windows and Jamie’s arm slung over your waist. The two of you are impossibly close, both sharing the same pillow despite the size of his bed. It pains you to notice that he’s incredibly adorable when he’s sleeping. Part of you wants to kiss him all over and wake him, but the other just wants to let him sleep forever, watching as he breathes.

Luckily, you don’t need to make that choice, as Jamie’s eyes flutter open and you can see when he realizes just how close the two of you are and he tries to play it smooth but he scoots back to the side he fell asleep on.

“Did you sleep alright?” He asks, and you’re more focused on the scratchy way his voice sounds than the actual question. You just nod, hoping that was the right answer and delighting when he smiles, all soft and sweet and just for you.

You need to leave, get out while you still can before you end up spending the whole day with Jamie, because you know if you stay for a second longer you’re never going to want to leave him. Most of your time together was spent sleeping, but it's already almost impossibly hard to leave him. While you still have your resolve, you slip out of his insanely comfortable bed and go hunting for your clothes. It kills you a little inside when Jamie doesn’t stop you.

“Want me to drive you?” He asks, sitting up and moving to get out of bed and you need to stop yourself from staring at his toned chest, at the shorts low on his hips.

“No, I can just walk, it’s a nice day,” you lie, having no idea what the weather was like but hoping that summer wouldn’t let you down. Jamie nods, settles back into bed, and you could swear your heart physically aches because none of this should be happening.

You shouldn’t even be here in the first place, but here you are not wanting to leave. You shouldn’t be staring at him, with his mussed hair and his tattoos on full display. You shouldn’t have any feelings for him besides physical attraction and the basic feelings of friendship, but you’re starting to worry about that feeling in your belly that just grows and grows every second you spend with Jamie.

“See you around,” you tell him, leaving as quickly as you can before you convince yourself to stay any longer. You wander around London, all turned around and trying to find your flat without thinking of Jamie, while Jamie sits at home and tries not to think of you.

The rest of your day is spent doing meaningless activities, chores and work you’d been putting off for weeks. You wash your sheets and clean your fridge and respond to emails, trying your hardest to keep your mind off Jamie. It’s impossible, and the second you find yourself distracted, your mind wanders right back to him. What you really need is to leave your house, find someplace with blasting music and bodies pressed impossibly close, somewhere that you’ll have no space to think of anything, let alone Jamie.

Lucky for you, Keeley stays busy, always having one event or another she needs to go to and she always lets you tag along. Tonight your mission is to stop thinking of Jamie, even if that doesn’t mean going home with someone else. Just for a few hours, you don’t need him consuming your every thought.

Unfortunately for you, Jamie is always welcome with Keeley and has the same exact plan as you.

The air inside the bar is stifling, as if there’s no air conditioning and no windows, just the thick summer heat. You notice Jamie almost immediately, though it would be impossible not to with his highlights and his beaming smile, like your own personal sun. As much as you try to fight it, you can’t help but wonder if he noticed you at all, if he thinks of you at all when you’re not together.

You’re two drinks deep and you can’t help but think about Jamie, about what he thinks of you. Are you really just someone to fuck, someone who’s attractive enough for him to sleep with you whenever he feels the urge?

You’re three drinks deep and you can’t help but wonder if you could ever be anything more to him, if he’d ever want that. It’s common knowledge that Jamie’s still a little hooked on Keeley, and who could blame him, but are you really just a distraction?

You’re four drinks deep and you can’t stop crying, the tears flowing like rivers as Keeley and Rebecca try their best to comfort you, to calm you down. Eventually, Rebecca calls you a car and Keeley waits with you, ready to leave and make sure you get home safely.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I promise,” you say through your sobs as you sit in the backseat on your way to your apartment, Keeley rubbing up and down your arms in a soothing manner.

“This isn’t about Jamie, is it?” She asks in that kind, understanding voice of hers and it only makes you cry harder.

“I think I love him and it fucking sucks.” Keeley’s hand moves to smooth over your hair as you lean against her, all the fight draining out of your body.

“Babe, just tell him.” You can’t help but shoot her a glare, one that she brushes off with a laugh, “What’s the worst that could happen? He won’t sleep with you anymore?”

Your mouth drops open, shocked to your core that Keeley knew about what the two of you had been doing and your heart breaks a little more because you feel like you’ve just betrayed one of your best friends. Keeley, though, gives you a supportive little squeeze, one that tells you that she isn’t mad at all.

That was one of your favorite things about Keeley, how supportive she is of all of the people she loves, no matter the situation. She’s wise beyond her years and is the kind of person who will go out and get whatever she wants through her own hard work and determination. Keeley is absolutely someone you need on your side, and it hits you just how thankful you are for her and all she does for you.

Here you are, sobbing over a boy, and Keeley does nothing but support you and try to help you calm down. She doesn’t look at you like you’re over-dramatic or crazy and instead is doing her best to fix whatever was making you feel this way.

“Clearly, this whole situation-ship is hurting you, and if he doesn’t want the same things as you, maybe it’s time to let it end,” she finishes with another loving squeeze, just as the car pulls up outside of your building.

The two of you slide out of the car, Keeley offering you her hand as she helps you up to your apartment and you’re left reeling by what she’s said. You didn’t even know you wanted something more until it hit you like a ton of bricks tonight, Jamie consuming your thoughts in all the wrong ways. You know Keeley’s right, that whatever you have going on is only going to hurt you in the long run, so you resolve to tell him everything the next time you see him.

Keeley’s wise words from the car and the glass of water she gave you before she left after confirming no less than ten times that you were okay have you sobering up rather quickly. You’re left feeling embarrassed and exhausted to the bone, wanting nothing more than to lay down in your bed and stay there for the next hundred years, but suddenly there’s a knock at your door and Jamie’s standing outside.

“Keeley let me in, hope that’s ok,” he tells you, seeming slightly uncomfortable and you briefly wonder if it’s because of your puffy eyes and slightly disheveled appearance, embarrassment coursing hot through your blood. “Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Jamie always keeps you on your toes, and though you know this isn’t a big deal, it warms your heart all the same. Jamie Tartt, drama queen footballer and prick reality star, is at your front door to see if you’re ok because you left a bar crying. You’d promised yourself that the next time you saw Jamie, you’d sit him down and talk about your feelings, vowing that you wouldn’t hide them anymore.

But here Jamie is, being all sweet and concerned, and that plan goes out the window. There’s just something about him that makes all the sense leave your body, so instead of having a conversation about your feelings you pull him down by his shoulders and kiss him.

It’s messy and desperate, and even though you’ve sobered up since leaving the bar, your head is spinning and your thoughts are starting to become consumed with Jamie. There’s a weight behind it this time, one that you’re sure the both of you are aware of, because Jamie’s hands are gripping your waist with a bruising force and you barely even pull away from him to breathe.

Both of you know something is going to change.

As you make your way to your bedroom, clothing is thrown down the hallway, a sock here and a shoe there, until you almost trip trying to remove your pants. Luckily for you, though, after what seemed like a miles long walk, you finally reached your bedroom door.

Jamie pushes you gently inside, breaking the kiss but staying close enough to breathe the same air, and he keeps pushing you back until the back of your knees hit the bed and you fall onto it with a sound of surprise. Jamie just smiles, but it’s soft in a way that makes your insides melt and not the cocky smile he has whenever he scores a goal.

You scramble to sit up, to take your shirt off, but your brain shuts off when you see Jamie get on his knees in front of you. More gently than you ever could have imagined, he tugs on the hem of your pants, bringing them down your hips until you need to push off of the bed to get them down the rest of the way. He continues to pull until they slip free of your feet, and by the time he’s standing again you’re throwing yourself upward to kiss him.

There’s just something about him that makes you want to be near him all the time, like a moth to the flame. It doesn’t feel self destructive though, and that’s what scares you. It scares you that you might be hurting yourself without knowing but it scares you more that this might not hurt you at all.

It’s always a little shocking to you just how gentle Jamie is, the soft way he cradles your jaw when he kisses you and the way he runs his hands up and down your back when he can tell everything is starting to get overwhelming. Of course, he can be plenty rough and you have the bite marks on your thighs and the hickeys on your chest to prove it, but it seems like it’s in his nature to be soft with you.

“You sure you wanna do this?” He asks, fingers playing gentling with the hem of your shirt.

“100%,” you reply, and give him a quick kiss to reaffirm your statement. Now, he wastes no time in pulling off your shirt and starting to remove his own clothes. It makes you pause, standing there by the foot of your bed in the process of removing your bra, because suddenly he’s shirtless and it never gets any less surprising despite the many times you’ve been in this situation.

It’s not like your being subtle in your ogling, and Jamie just smirks when he sees you staring. He pushes you back onto the bed, softer this time, and you scoot yourself backwards until your head is resting on the pillows. Jamie joins you, pushing your legs open wider so there's room for him to lay in between them.

Then, you’re almost certain you’ve died and gone to heaven because he’s slipping his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugging them over your hips and down your thighs. You’re absolutely no help, lying there pliant for him to maneuver however he sees fit because you’re fully convinced your brain has stopped working.

It’s a little startling, how well Jamie knows your body. He always knows the right pressure and movement and location to make you see stars, make your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drop open. You’d think that he’d be all bark and no bite, but it’s so clear to you now that he has the skills to back up his attitude.

You have the bite marks to prove it.

Your fingers are itching for something to grab onto, something more substantial than grasping at your bedsheets, so you gently twist Jamie’s hair around your fingers, just enough to ground you, to keep you anchored to your body when you feel like you’re seconds from floating away.

It feels too good, too overwhelming, you’re unable to control any of the sounds that come out of your mouth. Jamie’s hands are gripping, digging into the flesh of your thighs and it stings where his fingernails dig in but it’s so perfect you can’t help the way you whine.

The connection between your brain and your mouth must be severed because you keep babbling away about how good, how perfect everything feels. You’re not thinking at all, only able to focus on the feelings building deep in your belly until Jamie licks at your clit with the perfect amount of pressure and you just fucking lose it. Your mouth drops open and you’re completely unaware of the sounds that come pouring out of your mouth until, “I fucking love you.”

It’s like you’ve been doused in a bucket of ice water and Jamie’s pulling away and you’re fucking terrified and the pleasure that’s been building inside your body is completely replaced with dread. After you feel Jamie pulling back, you turn your gaze from the ceiling down to between your legs where Jamie still lies.

He just grins, looking like sin himself with your slick making his mouth all shiny and glossy. And then he gets right back to work, nipping at your inner thigh before doubling down his attention, working twice as hard and you don’t even remember what you’ve said because you’re thrown headfirst back into the intensity of Jamie’s full skill and attention.

It’s only seconds later when you’re almost certain that you’ve died, feeling like an exploding star as your back arches off the bed and you dig your fingers harder into Jamie’s hair and your mouth falls open again. When you regain your sense of existence, your body feels tingly all over as if the remnants of your orgasm are still coursing through your veins.

Breathing hard, you look down to see Jamie resting his head on one of your thighs, just waiting for you to come down from your high. He places a kiss over one of the marks he made on your inner thigh before he crawls up the bed to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

He disappears after that, and you’re a little worried that he’s left you like this before he comes back a few minutes later, with a glass of water and a plate of snacks. The thought of him trifling through your cupboard makes your heart stutter a little and you’re so overwhelmed with feelings that you can only manage to give him a small smile in thanks.

The two of you sit quietly side by side on your bed, eating the snacks Jamie had brought. He checks in on you again and again, making sure you’re totally comfortable. And then, he clears his throat and shifts around, looking uncomfortable and you can feel your heart rising into your throat, dread gripping at your stomach.

“Are we gonna talk about what you said?” He asks, tracing shapes on the bare skin of your knee as he talks and looks anywhere but your face.

“I think I meant it,” you tell him, feeling as if your whole world is crashing down around you. There are other important things in your life, work and friends and family, but there’s something about Jamie that even after the limited time you’ve had together, the thought of losing him makes you sick to your stomach.

“Good, that’s good to know.” He goes quiet for a moment but his fingers never still in their drawing, “I think so too.”

“Good,” you tell him with a smile, one that he returns and it makes you want to cry because he’s so gorgeous and wonderful and you won’t be losing him after all, there’s a hope for you, a future, and that’s all you need.

You know nothing is certain and there are plenty of things that could go wrong, but you try to bask in the afterglow of what’s been confessed the same way you’d lay in the sunshine. You feel warm and happy and you’re determined to hang onto those feelings, to enjoy the time you spend with Jamie instead of worrying that everything will come crashing down.

There’s just something about him, something that makes your worrying come to a pause whenever you’re with him. He brings you an unexpected sort of peace, one that you vow to enjoy now that you’re not worrying when it will disappear, when he’ll disappear. For once, that feeling in your chest isn’t one of anxiety but one that you’re convinced is love.

You love Jamie Tartt, and that thought isn’t as scary as it once was.

Tags: @andr0medafallen @pazvizslasprincess @scaramou @parcelofbread @lightninginab0ttle @curlypeter @maggiecc @percysaidnever

[raayllum]

Hi!

I’ve heard you mention a cannibalism motif in The Dragon Prince a few times on your blog, and I was wondering how it comes into play earlier in the show. For example the scene with Claudia in 1x02 with the peanut butter breath, but also just arc 1 in general.

Thank you in advance if you get to this!

Yes! So the cannibalism motif was something I'd noticed primarily in response to dark magic post-S2 (largely due to Aaravos having a bug in his mouth, dark magic curing famine / using the Magma Titan's heart, Viren drinking the cup, "hungry for both knowledge and power, both things I can provide). After S3 thanks to some of the language used (harvesting Zubeia, consuming Zym, Viren's dark magic spell reversed being "I swallow your heart/mind/power") and imagery (little big pal hiding in Viren like a Trojan Horse, crawling back up the throat, etc) felt very apt.

There were also things in S1 (although admittedly the peanut butter thing didn't ping, great catch by @its-leethee!) like Viren offering Runaan fruit as a bribe, Viren consuming the butterflies to modify his appearance, the slug creature draining another animal for blood, stories of elves drinking blood, etc. It seemed very clear that dark magic as inherently transactional and about consumption (literal or metaphoric) and that dark magic's most extreme but inevitable endgame would be the literal consumption of another elf/human.

I also thought that cannibalism as an understanding of dark magic captured a lot of how dark magic works within TDP's universe that other allegories (hunting, fossil fuels) either underestimate or miss out on, respectively. For example, dark magic can be necessary (people need to eat, literally) yet also horrific (eating other people in times of starvation to keep yourself alive is a terrible ordeal to go through even if it mandates your survival) and traumatic, not only to the victims (if they weren't already dead) but also yourself (playing into how dark magic also harms the user's body/soul/general wellbeing).

Kim'Dael made me think maybe they'd take the concept further, since the Bloodmoon Huntress graphic novel said the quiet "dark magic can be used for eating other people" out loud and S5 was pretty brutal in its depiction of her, but seeing Aaravos outright say "I swallowed her" when I'd speculated about him eating people in the past (post-s2, as noted) was WILD cause I thought it'd stay a motif. One of the first of many times I caught something in TDP and chalked it up to being metaphoric, and then the show made it happen and be more Literal than I thought it'd be

If you're interested in it in full you can check out my tag for it. The best meta for it is probably this one (post-S3 though) since I also read a secondary resource on how cannibalism is used in stories and that fit with how dark magic seemed to slot into the series particularly in terms of aspects of sacrifice, violation, and transformation

[eternal-dragon-of-time]

I got really into the potential of a Drakath Arcadia route. So um. I wrote it lol, here's what I think his dialogue would've looked like if he had beat out Sepulchure in the polls.

Drakath: Chaos Incarnate

Surprised to see me? You shouldn’t be. You’ve had my attention since the beginning, so who else would be worthy to be here? Ha! You don’t have to look too excited about it, knowing I took a spot from someone else you might’ve liked more is just encouraging me. I was hoping to have another battle to decide your favor, but this competition seems easy enough as well. You know how strong I am, and who better to solve your problems than someone who caused them? Don’t expect this from me ever again, but today you’ll have my full power supporting you.

Motivation: 

Initially that invitation was just good for a laugh before being tossed, but then I heard about some of the other people that were entering. Be glad it's me and not one of the nobodies I had to fight off from trying to get your affections. Besides, this is an opportunity to have you all to myself again. What do I mean by that?

Tournament:

Why are you bothering to ask? I won it easily, even the resurrected corpse was barely a work out. The hardest part was the sheer number of opponents, you had a lot of champions for your hand. I’ve never fought someone over love before. I don’t get what the fuss is about when compared to battles over the fate of Lore. I’d rate our own clash far above this.

Competitors:

Gravelyn is staring daggers into me, and Safiria looks like she is weighing the risk of drinking my chaorrupted blood. Neither of them worry me. Gravelyn spends the majority of her time fussing over an Empire I pushed to the brink of collapse, and the Vampire Queen is a bit player in a world that left her behind. More importantly, neither of them know you as well as I do.

Quest Accept: Under Umbra Wings

Finally, I was getting tired watching you waste time with the others. You and I will be taking the rightmost route up. No need to bother with the ladder, unlike the others I have wings strong enough to carry the both of us. Don’t act so shocked, I can play nice if it means winning over the others. You can even go play with the butterflies before we get started, you looked like you enjoyed it.

–

Quest Complete:

You don’t have to squirm so much. It’s not like I’m going to drop you, even with these leeches trying to crash the party. You’d know if I was going to let you fall anyways. Probably. Speaking of the overgrown mosquitos, do they look strange to you? Something is off about the way they fly, and they come apart like dolls if you press them too hard. Don’t look at me like that, try it yourself.

Quest Accept: Battle Muse

More of these fake foes, it’s like cutting through wax. I’m not a stranger to my enemies falling apart before me, but it's usually not so literal. These ones look like that usurper’s knights too. I wonder, is that intended as a taunt or a gift for me? Hm? You want to fight them for yourself? Sure, I don’t mind. It’ll be like old times, I always did like sitting back and watching you fight.

–

Quest Complete:

Sorry to cut this break short but I need to get you out of the water. Stop trying to wriggle free and look down at the pool beneath us, you can see where the pond is dyed purple from where I lingered. Guess that answers my question. I’ll be flying us over this for now. Why are you looking at me like that? As nice as it would be to have you out of my hair, I’m not going to let you go out in such a pathetic way. Besides, I still need to win this.

Quest Accept: Denial in Read

Why would there be reading material during this challenge? There was a book like this on the other climbs as well? …Nothing that has you that excited can be good, you keep your eyes to yourself. Great, more of these things are coming after us. I’ll take care of them this time, it’ll be fun to see how many more of them I can break then you. Feel free to admire my work if you want, or find something else to occupy your time if you don’t want to see me smash your record. Maybe inspect the tree trunk, or the armor pieces. Not the book.

–

Quest Complete:

You read it didn’t you, that smug look on your face is telling. Well? Aren’t you going to tell me what was in it? You’re insufferable. Whatever, I’ve cleared out the room so we can continue upwards. Hm? You pulled these gems off the armor pieces for me while you were waiting? Is this some stupid Hero’s Heart Day thing? No, you can’t take those back, I'm keeping them.

Quest Accept: A Better Toy

Have you noticed the ground get more twisted the higher we go? It almost looks like… No. It doesn’t make any sense. I would know if Chaos magic was at play here, and I don’t feel anything, no connection to it at all. We’ll find the truth of this higher up and- How did we get here!? This can’t be real, it's just some pathetic attempt to get under my skin. Well it won’t work, you’re already here to do that. I’m fine. I don’t need her. Stay behind me, I’ll gladly rend this place apart.

–

Quest Complete:

I gave up everything, my flesh, my self, my strength. All for her to use me up and abandon me. Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder if there was something wrong with me, that if I was just stronger she would’ve let me come with her. Pathetic, isn’t it? You know, I’ve never had to wonder if I’d ever see you again. You just kept coming back again and again.

Pre-Boss Dialogue:

Stop it, I can stand on my own. I don’t need you, or her, or this thing trying to worm its way into my head. I am strong, I am worthy, I am fine alone.

End Questline Dialogue:

The reality that monster invented could never have happened, but that didn’t stop me from dreaming. It’s easier to believe that there was something I could do then face the truth. That I’m not perfect, and I was never going to be enough. Augh. I didn’t expect that to hurt so much to say. You look ridiculous being concerned over someone who’s killed you, but I can’t stop you. That's just the kind of person you are. The person I can trust you to be. I’ll remember this Hero, fondly even.

[princeblue]

I’ve been having a writers block and I scrolled some prompts and created this thingie you’re about to see, it’s less than 1k words so I’m posting it here but I didn’t edit this so just!! Take it as you will. I literally just slapped it together to get any creativity out of my system. Also listened to a lot of country making this so now I’m just thinking about cowboy genya.

—

“From the day you were born, I knew I’d hurt you eventually.” His brother whispers one day. When the air is warm but not sticky, when the breeze is cool but not biting.

The curl of the fire had made the air taste like ash, a taste so intimately familiar to Genya that his tongue went slack in his mouth, but refused to move his body away from the flames and burning logs.

Because Sanemi had sat close enough for their shoulders to touch, the most he’s touched Genya since he woke up in the Butterfly Estate, split from his head to his toes and wondering if he was in heaven or if he was in hell.

The boy bites harshly on his tongue, the words from his older brother as sharp as a blade. And the blood mingles with ash and it’s like he’s in uniform again.

“I swore I would never do it, though.” Sanemi continues, avoiding his brother's eyes, but it’s not like he really had to try to.

Genya wasn’t looking at him either.

“Swore I’d never be him.”

Him. In a way it was always traced back to him, maybe if he had been a better man, he wouldn’t have fallen to drinking and drugs, to gambling to poverty to rape. Maybe if he had been a kinder father, his boys wouldn’t have grown up so angry. Maybe if he had used his terrifying strength for his family, their family would still be alive.

Him, that they didn’t even have to mention by name to know who he is.

Warm, fed, happy, comfortable.

Married to nice girls and boys.

And yet Genya cannot imagine that, he cannot imagine his family bigger than the corpses he buried in the ground. He cannot imagine being bestowed peace without bloodshed and death.

Immortal rivers, Shinazugawa stood for.

“What a load of shit,” Genya thought with a humorless chuckle. The silence so heavy he wonders for a brief moment if he heard his mother’s chastising voice in the flames, telling him to not think such naughty words.

“But I still did, not as bad. I could never- do what he did to mom to others, but I hurt you. I hurt you so fucking bad Genya.”

And Genya closes his eyes, pretending that the smoke is what’s making his eyes water.

It isn’t, but Genya was always more imaginative than people gave him credit for.

Because his brother did hurt him, horrendously, horrifically, and Genya forgave him each time.

There is no resentment burrowed in his chest to keep warm.

He just aches.

“It doesn’t matter.” Genya croaks, eyelids parting and watching the way his brothers face crumples. How he looks like he would rather do nothing than throw himself into the fire before them.

Fire was supposed to be cleansing, according to the legends.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” He repeats, his voice no more firmer than moments before. “I’m tired of living in the past, I’m tired of walking on eggshells around you, I’m tired of existing in a limbo.”

Genya looks, really, looks at Sanemi. Sees the way fear cradles in the violet eyes, and wonders how his brother lived every day being so scared, he sees the expectation of rejection, the expectation of hate.

The acceptance of loneliness.

He cannot fathom how after all of this time, after everything Genya did to be with his brother again. Sacrificing his body, his life. Sanemi believed himself too dangerous and unworthy to be loved by him.

He still kept chasing after him when he tried to blind him, and Genya still would have felt alongside the walls to get to his brother.

“Either love me or don’t,” Sanemi crumples even more at the words, at the prospect of Genya believing Sanemi doesn’t love him.

Knowing the extent of his love is longer than the cycle of life.

And yet understanding why Genya would think that, and hating himself so viciously for it.

Each pinnacle of change from Sanemi’s bloody life was always a little boy with a snaggle tooth and the sun in his smile and hair kissed by the moon's endless black night.

A celestial gift and yet Genya thought himself lower than dirt.

The plea is wobbly, Genya no longer blames the wetness of his eyes on the smoke.

“Just don’t leave me alone again.”

How painful it is to be childish, to crave nothing more than to be small again and to fit into his brother's lap and feel safe enough to sleep without worrying about Kyogo, or the next time they’ll eat.

Genya isn’t small anymore, but Sanemi still wordlessly reaches out for his brother and drags him close to try.

He doesn’t fit on his brother's lap anymore, hanging awkwardly off and on the furniture while their legs become a tangled wire of limbs while Sanemi’s hands cradle Genya’s head to his chest.

“I won’t,” he promises, again and again. Each “I won’t.” Punctuated by the gentle kisses to the crown of Genya’s head.

The boy closes his eyes, letting himself melt against Sanemi’s body.

And lets himself believe.

[deviant-sent-by-cyberlife]

Blooming feelings

AO3 / Commissions / Links /

Summary: Connor starts to question his program and himself, seeing life in a new, different way. Maybe emotions aren’t unnecessary nuances, bothering numbers you need to lock away, but blooming flowers, worth living for.

content: pov Connor, anxiety, emotional hurt/comfort, fear of being replaced/left behind, overthinking

a/n: it was 100% self-indulgent, I’ve had really stressful weeks in the last 3 weeks and other additional dreadful ones will come. In a last attempt to help myself getting thru it all I’ve been bottling and locking up emotions, trying to bury them so I can focus on the task that needs to be done. What a genius move I know

It’s my first fic in this fandom hope you guys will like it ~

You are not supposed to and can’t feel ,

You are a machine Connor,

Not a living thing,

Software instability ^

RK800 heard Amanda’s harsh voice in his head,

A voice calculated, cold and emotionless,

“Connor?

What got to ya?

Told ya not to lick that blood.”

Warm, brown eyes opened to see,

Him and Hank still standing in the lift,

“Did your battery die or what?”

“Sorry Lieutenant, no,

I was sending the report.”

The two of them were leaving a scene,

Where they saw,

The 3rd deviant case in the week.

Connor’s been… experiencing a mild unease,

That he couldn’t place,

Nor he could find,

Any malfunctions in his program.

He ran tests after tests,

But to no avail,

There was no problem in his system anywhere,

Even now,

As he was staring at Hank,

He had the urge to lie to him instead.

I wasn’t sending any report,

Not even writing,

Just heard Her voice and …

Had the impression of concern,

Even something that humans call dread,

But why I had the impulse to hide,

Keep it a secret,

And lock it inside?

But Amanda’s tone rang again,

Voicing his concerns in his head,

But you know that don’t you Connor?

It would mean you are a deviant,

And failed your mission.

Therefore who would need you anyway?

An android,

Which was created to hunt,

Became the hunted rabbit in the dark,

Even Hank,

That drunk police,

Would turn away,

And laugh in your face.

You always accomplish your missions, eh?

Software instability ^

“Jesus Connor stop staring at me!”

The grunt of the grumpy man,

Pulled Connor out of his head,

The door of the lift just opened with a ping,

Letting a little bit of fresh air in,

“Sorry Lieutenant,

I was running some checks in my software—“

“Ugh, forget it.

I need a fucking drink.”

Days went by and that unease didn’t cease,

If anything it increased,

He was waiting in Hank’s car,

While the man stopped at his favourite burger place.

More and more deviant cases happend,

And he was a silent witness to it all,

With every new case,

A new weight appeared in his synthetic cage.

He started to … see these deviants in a new light,

Somehow sympathy crept into his heart,

Sympathy?

But I.. yes,

I’m sure that is the feeling,

What humans call sympathy—

Feeling .

To feel something —

“Alright, now we gotta go back to that shithole.”

He jumped as Hank climbed into the car,

Didn’t realise how long he’s been thinking,

While Hank’s “interesting” music choice screamed inside,

He took an other trip into his mind,

‘ Eyes are the window to the soul’,

He heard once a long time ago,

‘I’m an android. I don’t have soul’,

How easily I answered,

Whiteout a blink and a second thought,

At that time,

That possibility wasn’t unlocked before my eyes,

Feelings,

Amusing little butterflies,

Whose fills up chests,

And helps to bloom,

The pretty flowers of souls.

But now..

“Do I have a soul?”

“What?

What the fuck ya talking about,

Where did that come from? “

Unintentional whisper left the men made lips,

Spreading panic through artificial skin.

He froze,

His system showing error codes,

He just stared ahead,

Onto the dark rode,

Not daring to move.

I.. I failed my mission

Software instability ^

Now Hank knows,

He must realise that I’m …

I’m a deviant now.

He will report,

And sent me back,

Where they destroy and replace Me with Something else.

“.. Fuck knows,

I’ve been seeing all these cases for weeks now,

Seeing at first hand what these deviants do,

Learning their motives and stuffs….

They don’t look that different from me,

Or the other folks I know and see.”

From under a shocked silence,

Connor just stared,

Not registering what Hank just said,

“You know,

At first I saw you as a tin can,

Like an additional machine to a computer,

But then, khm,

All I’m sayin’ is,

That you are more .”

“… you mean, Lieutenant..?”

“Oh Jesus Connor, ughhh.

Maybe you do,

Maybe you don’t,

All I know is that,

We are quite similar at this point.”

“So.. you aren’t replacing me?

“What the fuck would I do that?

We are partners, aren’t we?”

He felt something in the air,

Something inevitable and comfortable.

But with comfort,

Came uncertainty, overstimulation and burden,

However there was something.. freeing there,

The looming weight of being replaced,

Had lifted and gave place,

To a chaos so colourful yet deep,

He felt his fans heating.

It f-feels … scary.

But strangely lifting too.

So this is what ‘waking up’ entail,

Liberating on one side,

And anxiety filled on the other.

They are not the never ending attacks of mosquitoes,

But the kiss of bees,

Worth living for.

Feelings filled his chest,

But for the first time in his life,

He didn’t try,

To shoo them away and stay in the dark.

Software instability ^

B̩͎͍̾ͅr̴̨̦͕̝ẹ̿͋̒̕ā̤̓̍͘ḳ̯͍̑ͦ F̘͍͖ͫ͘r̴̨̦͕̝ẹ̿͋̒̕ẹ̿͋̒̕

An impenetrable wall broke,

Slowly collapsing,

And leaving painful cuts,

Then,

When the last piece fell,

Darkness befell.

There was no Amanda nor update checks,

Only silence and Himself.

However in the dark,

He saw a blue flower blooming hard,

As he stepped closer and tried to touch,

It omitted pollen,

And embraced him in warmth.

As he looked down,

He realised,

There are many little blossoms under his shoes,

Waiting to bloom.

“Ya comin?”

Hank’s waxy voice slipped through the haze,

Comforting him once again.

We are partners in this case,

And friends in some way,

He really is waiting for me to step forward,

And spend days in union.

“Yes, Lieutenant,

I’m coming.”

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

I’m a sucker for symbolism and metaphors :’D

Ps. English is not my first language, but I tried to somehow get the feeling of Hank’s accent in writing.

My writing requests are open ~

[sunniskyies]

𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧? || 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You have loved Luke Castellan your whole life, but you two never seem to be going anywhere. So you start dating somebody else… 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: show!Luke Castellan x Apollo!fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Underage drinking mentioned, jealous!Luke 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Song lyrics, fluff, making-out 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k 𝐀/𝐍: Had to write about a musical Apollo kid, and the lyrics of ‘4am’ by Cherry Ghost are just too precious !! Go have a listen !! Also, a lot of this will be inaccurate because I’ve only read a couple of PJO books (:

“It'll get you on the last bus home 'Get you at the discount bend It'll get you on the old dancefloor 'Get you when the party ends”

Everyone is born with a gift. It doesn't have to be magical, although that does seem to be quite common at Camp as well.

No, what you mean is that some people are just really good at downhill skiing. There are those who can solve complex equations in their head. Others can whip up a new recipe with ease on their first attempt.

For you, your music had a way of seeping into the soul of anyone who heard it. That's your gift.

"Oh 4am, is the time when you were mine Frozen in deepest sleep, for only I to keep Now there ain't a hiding place on earth Where loneliness ain't been first"

Today, you've decided on a lyre as your musical accomplice. You sit on a patch of grassy earth, sandwiched between two rows of strawberries. You're just making up random words, plucking absent-mindedly.

But when you sing, the sound tends to carry. People far off seem to stop in their tracks for a moment. Faces around you can't help but turn. The clouds float away for a while to bathe you in sunlight.

"It'll get you hanging out your clothes ‘Get you when you wash your hair It'll get you as you're making plans Catch you trying to climb the stairs"

Next to you, your friend Marshall—a son of Demeter—tends to a patch of blight-stricken plants. You can't see the way his eyes watch you, enamoured. Without you noticing, the boy fills a basket for you with all the sweetest strawberries he finds.

In the distance, a boy with ebony curls effortlessly strikes at a practice dummy. His strokes are calculated and fluid, resembling a painter wielding a brush on a canvas rather than a sword.

When your voice drifts through the air, it pierces through him. With gooseflesh skin, Luke sheathes his sword and turns to look around for you. His seeking gaze locks onto you, a golden spot in amongst the strawberry fields. Your eyes are shut, your skin drinking in the sunlight. Luke's heart flutters and he feels a pull towards you, like a moth drawn to a flame.

As he approaches, a flash of disgruntlement ripples through him at the way Marshall is staring. Marshall also notices Luke and straightens up as he approaches, eyes wary. But Luke shrugs it off. Some boy from '4 means nothing to him.

"Hey, Sunbeam," Luke grins.

You open your eyes, startled by his sudden presence. Your fingers freeze on the strings of your lyre as you take him in—slightly sweaty from training, black hair falling into his eyes, a smirk adorning his lips. A gentle shiver rolls through you.

"Hey," you reply, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Enjoy the show?"

Luke plunks down. He sprawls out leisurely on the grass beside you, propped up by an elbow. "Wasn't too shabby," he smirks, popping a strawberry from Marshall's gift basket in his mouth.

Marshall scowls, watching the exchange with a prickle of unease. You don't notice, of course, too busy trying not to stare at Luke.

Luke's been your best friend since you both arrived at Camp Half-blood five years ago. He's always been there for you, through thick and thin. But that's why you hide your feelings towards him. The way your heart races when he's near, the butterflies that flutter in your stomach whenever he smiles at you—those feelings are dangerous. They hold the power to ruin your friendship.

As the gorgeous boy lounges in the grass, you find yourself studying the scar that runs from his temple to his cheek. Your fingers itch to trace its path, but you resist. You wonder if other girls have already traced it before you.

Despite your reservations, you often find yourself wondering if he smiles at you differently than them. If he does seek you out like you imagine he does. If he craves your touch like you do his.

Luke himself wishes you weren't so oblivious to his affection. He lets his eyes linger just a little too long, hoping that maybe one day you'd get the hint.

Of course Luke sees you staring. "We ought to do some training, Sunbeam," he remarks, prying the instrument from your hands.

"Gotta prepare for capture the flag tomorrow." He shoots a petulant glance at the Demeter boy, a silent jab that reminds him that you are on Hermes' team.

Luke hauls you up, leading you off towards the Arena. You protest but follow him regardless, as you too are excited about the game tomorrow. After all, you are known as the best archer at camp; your skill with a bow and arrow rivals that of Artemis' Hunters themselves.

Slightly behind you Luke snatches up the basket of fruit. "Thanks, '4," he dismisses, eyes distractedly trained on you.

Marshall glowers. "They weren't for you, Castellan," he retorts bitterly under his breath.

Luke pauses, pulling his gaze away from your retreating figure. "Hm?"

Marshall's scowl deepens, but he knows better than to argue with the Counselor. Instead, he turns his attention back to his plants, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy that Luke managed to steal you away.

You and Luke are slinking through the undergrowth. Ahead, two Aphrodite girls guard the large red flag. Terrible strategy, you think smugly. The Hermes boy grins at you, and you draw back your arrow.

Luke steps out, sword brandished, ready to knock past the girls to grab the flag while you wait behind a tree. But instead of fighting back, one of the girls just smiles coquettishly.

"Luke!" She coos, stepping over and clasping his bicep, taking him by surprise. "Me and Allegra were just talking about you."

The girl is gorgeous. All intoxicating green eyes and flowing bronze hair, her voice like silk. Luke's eyes widen, his cheeks flushing slightly. You watch, hidden behind the tree, and your heart sinks.

"Shouldn't you be guarding that flag?" Luke questions, one brow raised. He's probably used to this, you think bitterly. Luke Castellan, Head Councilor, brave and responsible and breathtaking with a sword, could have any girl he wanted.

Not some random Apollo girl.

The other girl, Allegra, steps closer to him. "We were wondering if you'd be interested in joining us for a little post-game celebration," she purrs, running a finger down his other arm.

You feel a surge of jealousy rising within you. This isn't supposed to happen. Luke is supposed to be focused on the game.

"Y/N," a voice hisses behind you. You whip around, arrow is immediately pointed at the boy's heart. You relax when you see it's just Marshall. You don't drop your weapon, though. He's still on the opposite team after all.

"No, stop, I'm not trying to fight you," he whispers, pushing down the arrow's point with a cautious finger. You raise your brows.

"Don't you care about winning?" You ask skeptically. Marshall smiles, stepping closer. He's so close now, and your breath catches. His hand cups your chin.

"No, not right now. I just need to ask you something." He breathes.

Back over by the flag, Luke glances subtly over in your direction, as if seeking some kind of guidance or approval. But instead, Luke is met with the sight of that blasted Demeter friend of yours kissing you against the tree he left you behind.

Luke's stomach plummets. His mind races, grappling with a storm of emotions—disappointment, jealousy, and anguish. He had always thought that just maybe, one day, you would reciprocate the affection he holds for you.

But it’s not going to happen now, that’s evident. He feels a hollow pit growing in his stomach, as if all the food he’s ever eaten has been taken away. Hunger like he’d never experienced before.

He wants to walk over there and tear that boy from your lips, throw him to the ground and lead you away. But he can’t, instead, he can only watch as you choose another.

"Excuse me," Luke growls, extracting himself from the Aphrodite girl's grasp. The two girls look disappointed to lose the handsome boy, but shrug and ignore him as he takes the flag and storms off to the Zephyros Creek to finish the game.

Back in the embrace, you feel yourself kissing Marshall back. His hands trail down your arms as he deepens the kiss.

"Will you go out with me, Sunbeam?" Marshall says, breaking away. Your gut tightens at the nickname, something so sweet sounding from Luke's lips sounds harsh from Marshall's.

You swallow. Why shouldn't you date Marshall? He's kind and caring and everything you want in a boyfriend. And Luke...

Luke isn't interested, you snap at yourself. Why should you deny yourself a relationship because of a childish crush?

So you find yourself nodding, pressing another kiss to Marshall's lips.

Luke watches with narrowed eyes as Marshall snakes an arm around your waist at the Demeter table. It's forbidden to sit at another cabin's table, but you had snuck over to sit with him. Something you only used to do for Luke.

"Dude, just go talk to her," one of Luke's half-brothers says impatiently. Luke turns back to face the table, shooting a glare at the boy.

That doesn't stop the boy. "Honestly, Castellan, you've been ignoring her for weeks. How is she going to know you're an option if you don’t communicate?"

"I'm fine," Luke grunts. "I'm happy for her." Despite his words, an unconvincing degree of bitterness laces his tone.

The unclaimed camper Luke had been showing around that day frowned from his seat beside him. "Are you? You seem to be staring an awful lot."

Luke's glare is directed at him now. "You don't know what you're talking about, kid."

The blond boy stares. "Don't I? You obviously like her."

Luke frowns, unwilling to talk about his nonexistent love life to a 12-year-old. Ultimately, he shrugs and turns back to his dinner. "It doesn't matter. She has a boyfriend."

"Yeah? So?"

"She's happy, I'm not going to be the one who ruins that for her." I care too much to do that, Luke thinks to himself.

"Happy?" Percy asks, cocking an eyebrow. "Is she? Is she really?"

Luke glances over again, your body pulled into Marshall's side. He must've just told a joke because everyone's laughing. So are you, that sweet look on your face that Luke craves to see above all else.

The familiar flutter that usually accompanies the sight of you now morphs into a sickening twist of jealousy. It takes all Luke has to not punch the boy simply for smiling at you.

But Percy may be right. If he looks closer, you don't seem to be leaning into him, instead shifting restlessly under Marshall's grip. 

Hope flares in his chest, and he quickly quashes it with a stab of guilt. Who is he to relish in your discontent? He has no stake over you, you are free to be with who you want! As your best friend, he really should be prioritizing your happiness. Not a pathetic rivalry.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Luke repeats with a grumble.

"Gods, Y/N, I don't know how much longer I can watch this," Annabeth groans, tilting her head up to look at you. "It's actually painful."

The two of you are sitting underneath a wide-brimmed tree, you perched on a raised root clutching your cello, she's lying on the grass at your feet.

You pull your bow away from the strings from where they were previously composing a mournful tune on your instrument-of-the-day. "What?" You pout. Annabeth rolls her eyes.

"All the sad songs and the pining."

Your eyes stretch wide. "Pining? Annabeth Chase, what are you talking about?"

Annabeth rolls her eyes, sitting up and turning to face you. "Oh, come on. It's obvious. Every time Luke is around you stare at him like a puppy at the pound, begging for attention!"

You flush red.

"Not that you didn't do that before," Annabeth continues. "But it's worse now. Do you even like that boyfriend of yours?"

"Yes!" You protest, but the pause of hesitation before it ruins the effect. Annabeth's lips curve into a smile.

"Look. The boys from Hermes'—no, not Luke—asked me to ask you to sing at the bonfire tonight," she says, standing up and tying her braids back into a low ponytail. "I'm going training. I'll see you later."

"You're probably just going to stalk that boy you like!" You shout after the girl defensively as she saunters off.

"Break up with your boyfriend!" Is all she calls back.

You sigh, leaning back into the tree. Above you, a family of songbirds belt out a tune. You listen to their notes and begin to hum a tune that harmonizes perfectly with their song. The birds pick up on this, and begin tweeting little riffs and chirping with delight when you replicate it. You've always had an affinity for music and tone, always knowing what a song needs or doesn't need.

And right now, your song doesn't need a gardener. It needs a black-haired son of Hermes.

Luke sips from his cup as an Ares girl hangs off his arm, feeding him marshmallows off her skewer. He's trying desperately not to meet your gaze through the campfire, but it's so difficult when he feels your e/c eyes trained on him.

"Angel! Sing us a song!" A Hermes boy calls over to you, voice slurred. Luke wonders if he's put something in his drink.

"Yeah! Sing us a song!" Someone else cheers.

The campers around the campfire are chanting now, begging you to play them something. Luke can't help himself, eyes flickering over to you.

Lucky for him, you're too preoccupied with laughing nervously, reaching behind you to fish out the guitar you brought along. "Okay, okay! Hush or you won't hear me!"

The tipsy campers fall silent, watching as you start strumming. Luke feels his breath still, eyes hungrily drinking you in now that there's no chance of your gaze meeting his. You tend to close your eyes when playing music.

"Oh 4am, is the time when you were mine Frozen in deepest sleep, watching the morning creep"

The spot beside you absent of Marshall doesn't escape Luke's notice. But he honestly couldn't care less about the boy at this moment. He’s too busy imagining you’re singing this song for him, not your boyfriend.

"Now there ain't a hiding place on earth Where loneliness ain't been first"

Your voice carries over the crackling fire, filling the night air. Luke can't help but feel bad for your brothers and sisters when your father has blessed you with such an incomparable gift.

"Hard times, hole in my heart Who stole the sun and left me alone again?"

For Luke, everything else fades away—the whoops of the campers, the warmth of the fire— all that remains is you. The parts of your face the firelight licks, the curve of your lips when you sing, the way your arms cradle the instrument.

"Give me a guiding light, Stretch of sky and the hand on my shoulder.”

“Man, she’s good.” Luke hears the Hermes boy from before say to his mate. “Good thing she’s single now. Might ask ‘er out!” The boy laughs drunkenly.

Single? Luke freezes, mind racing. She broke up with Marshall? Hope, long extinguished, flickers back to life in his chest. He studies you through the flames, wondering now who this song is for. 

“Singin' hard times, hole in my heart Who stole the sun and left me alone again?"

You probably could've kept going, but you open your eyes and have the breath beaten out of you by the intent gaze you are met with.

The campers around the fire erupt into applause, yet all that you can focus on is the way Luke is looking at you, his melted chocolate eyes filled with a mixture of longing and... desire.

You know that's what it is because that's all you've felt for the last 5 years when you're with him. Alongside this revelation, you're frightened by the familiarity in his eyes.

Has he always looked at you like that?

A nervous flush paints your cheeks as you finally tear your gaze away from him. "Um, thank you," you managed to mumble to your friends, setting your guitar aside with trembling hands.

You've been planning what to say to him all evening, but your mind goes blank when you see Luke on his feet, making his way towards you.

The butterflies in your stomach threaten to fly up your throat as he gently takes your wrist, pulling you to your feet and leading you off to the lake without a word.

'Ooohs' and 'ahhhs' follow you, but you're struggling to think clearly enough to care. Your mind is swimming, the way Luke holds your arm, that determined look he has in his eyes making your stomach do flips.

He lets you go when you reach the treeline in front of the lake, the sound of waves lapping at the shoreline bridging the endless silence between you.

“Y/N,” Luke begins, reaching you for your hands. Tears spring into your eyes, and you shake your head, pulling your hands away.

“Don’t call me that,” you sniff. “You never call me that.”

Luke’s serious expression melts into a sad smile, reaching up to cup your face instead. “Sunbeam.”

You don’t pull away now, instead leaning into his palms and staring up at him. Luke's jaw works as he skims his thumbs over your face, brow furrowed. “Is it true?” He asks after a while.

“What?” You breathe, scared to disrupt the moment.

“About Marshall,” he asks, eyes searching yours. “That it’s over?”

You don’t know what possesses you, but you bring your hands up to rest on his chest.

“Yes,” you whisper. Beneath your palms, you feel Luke’s heart skip a beat. “It’s over.”

“We can’t let this happen again.” he hums, his thumbs now resting achingly close to your lips. “I thought— I thought that hiding this would preserve our friendship, but it only forced me away from you.”

Your hands subtly run up to his neck. “This?” you murmur.

Luke nods. "This," he confirms, thumbs now teasing your lips open ever so slightly, as if waiting for your say-so.

In response, your fingers curl around his collar, pulling him down to meet your lips. For the first few seconds, it’s sweet and slow. But when one of Luke’s hands wraps around your waist and pulls you in flush with him, a gentle shudder goes through you. Confident now, Luke’s mouth becomes fervent and half-starved. 

His hands tug you in the right way to make you melt, and his palms guide your face into him at the right times. He kisses you deliberately, knowing exactly what to do. All doubt of his desires is erased from your mind— he’s been imagining this for years.

“Strategic even off the battlefield, Castellan,” you pant in the brief moment your lips are apart before the boy pulls you back up to him again. You feel him smile at your words, and he pushes you back gently until your back presses up against a tree. Your hands curl into his hair tightly when his lips leave yours and begin trailing kisses down your face before settling under your jaw, teeth grazing skin. You feel a noise escape your lips.

Luke smirks up at you. “Singing even off the stage, L/N.”

You flush red, but Luke doesn’t allow you to be embarrassed for long, pressing his lips back on yours. He grabs fistfuls of your hair as you kiss him, leaning hard into eachother.

Eventually, you both pull away, both of your eyes dilated and sparkling.

“I’m in love with you,” Luke confesses, cautious eyes staring down at you. “Definitely.”

“Me too,” you say, arms tight around his neck. “I always have.”

He frowns, fingers never stationary; tracing every feature and dot on your face. “Always? Are you serious?”

You smirk. “Yeah, idiot. I just didn’t want to lose you if you didn’t feel the same.”

Luke winces, shutting his eyes and resting his forehead against yours. “Fuck’s sake,” he groans. You giggle.

“We’re both idiots, then?” You snort. Luke grimaces.

“Yes, Sunbeam. Idiots. Two massive idiots.”

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work