#Major League: Back to the Minors

[waltongoggos]

These are for science

[sunlit-mess]

coping

[hballegro]

I TOLD YA NOT TO POKE ME YA LOUDMOUTH MORON

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

One Piece Fighting Game AU

this au is inpired by the song Heart Attack by Chuu

hope you enjoy the designs i created most of them in a 2 hr long manic episode of just nonstop designing.

Master Post For this AU

some lore ive cooked up for it and design explainations:

preface: sorry this is so much writing and im not going to grammar check it cuz aint no body got time for that.

The world of this au is like pokemon with different gyms you can fight through and beat, there's a big league of pro fighters, and there are schools for teaching you to be a better fighter.

The school our main cast goes to is called the Doki-Doki Battle Academy and it's principle is currently Crocodile. It's previous principle was Nefertari Cobra, but maybe something nefarious happened to give crocodile the spot who knowwsssss~

Doki-Doki Battle Academy (DDBA) hosts many tournaments in their school stadium throughout the school year. The tournies act as tests for the students who are taking that field of study. There are other fields the school offers though, such as weapon crafting, medical staffing, and managing. Though, if the students in those fields with so learn fighting on the side that is also accepted.

In the Pro Fighting world, there are typically pro-league teams such as the Red Hairs and The Beasts. These teams have different levels to it such as Little Leagues (for younger fighters), Minor leagues (for adults on a regional level), and Major leagues (for profighting at a national level). You can also go solo though, much like Mihawk does.

The power system in this AU is pretty simple, different color of auras do different things, but the complexities happen when you start using the different auras in tandem. I might explain it more in depth in a different post, but i dont really know what to explain about it. mostly because i dont know everything about it, myself, yet lol

-----design talk now yippeeee-----

Luffy: i tried to make him very simple protagonist vibes, play into the genre a bit. i incorporated hearts into his design in his hat, his shirt, his arm bands, and his pants poofies. His hat was given him as a sign of love, his shirt is from his school and he loves his school, his arm bands are on his arms and he uses his arms to show his love by fighting or by hugging, and his pants arent scuffed or anything so the heart puffs on his knees protects them from getting damaged (his love protects him)

Sabo: Tried to give him a more mysterious vibe with that peacoat and hat that shadows his face. I incorporated hearts into his design in his eyepatch, his vest buttons, and his boots. His heart eyepatch covers up that nasty scar, so he's distracting himself from his past pain by focusing on his love, the buttons on his vest/hearts on his boots are more or less hidden most of the time so he tends to hide his love but when he lets his guard down (when the boot is rolled down) you can see his love plainly.

Ace: Now, i dont know if Ace will die in this au or not, but in canon, he expresses his love through his torso area, i.e. tattoo on his arm and back and also that Certain Moment, so thats where i put a big ol' heart on him. His pants are also ripped in a shape of a heart but its kinda hard to see, but its meant to symbolize how the damage he takes is his love.

Nami: All the orange in her design is in heart shapes or the shapes of tangerines, thats where her love is. I also made nami's staff a curtain rod. She uses the rod to produce wind when she summons water and then manipulates it to heat it up or cool it down. i tried to add little details like that and the bandages on her torso to show that although she's outwardly clean, she's still scrappy. Nami is in the managerial pathway at the DDBA.

Zoro: I didnt make him quite as bright or vibrant as the others, i kinda just tried to make him Just A Guy. Except for his Swords. His Swords are special, so theyre bright and saturated. I roughed him up, a bit, not too much. i made his varsity jacket be ripped open so it looks like the heart on the front was broken because zoro is very broken hearted.

Sanji: I made him look like a wannabe princely character. Very cheesy, gaudy charm. I made the hearts of his design (on his boots) look like they're sewn up. So at some point his heart was broken, but he's healing them by stitching them up with love.

Robin: The hearts in her design are hard to make out because she is hiding her love. The pink of her lacey undershirt is where the heart is and its being protected by a dark over layer. The many belts in her design, however, are meant to look like shatters in that protective layer. This is meant to represent how even though she's strongly protecting herself, that strength is still weak without any outside help. Robin uses her multiplication abilities to simply multiply the shape of her arms like how she does in canon.

Chopper: His hearts are on his viles and his hat, love was given to him when he was given that hat, and he shows his love by making his healing potions. On another note though, chopper is a Transtormationalist, which is basically the zoan fruits of this world. His model is the Reindeer and his body has naturally started morphing into that form, too. Chopper is in the medical program at the DDBA

Usopp: Usopp's hearts on his pants patches signifies the new loves he’s accepted into his once lonely life. He fights with his sling shot and his ammo is seeds he's found savaging through forests or just growing himself. the white and grey auras he commands lessen the air resistance of his projectiles and makes them go a lot faster, and once they hit their target, he makes the plant grow super quickly, like how it does in canon post-ts.

Franky: Franky's hearts are everywhere and they're bright. he doesn't hide his love and he's built love for himself to wear on his person. Franky is one of the weapon masters at the school and he's a SUUUUPER cool teacher.

Brook: the hearts in his design are his Afro and his bag. I think i read somewhere that brook has kept his Afro so that Laboon can recognize him when he sees him again and that is just so loving to me so his Afro is in the shape of a heart. His bag is also in the shape of a heart, but the bag is being weighed down by whatever he's carrying inside of it, signifying the burden of the love he carries.

Jinbei: Jinbei is a Transtormationalist, Model: Whale Shark. the heart in his design is the tattoo on his chest for his old team. He's the driver of Luffy's bus and if you do enough dialogue options with him instead of skipping the bus cut-scenes, you get the option to battle Jinbei. If you do, he takes off his jacket revealing the pro-league he used to be in and then he decimates you. it is impossible to win the battle.

Koala: the colors i used for her are peachy colors, signifying what a peach she is :)))) her goggles and the buttons on her suspenders are the hearts on her design, signifying how her love is looking out for others and how love keeps herself up.

Vivi: Her hair is a big ol heart but its upsidedow, signifying how the love she feels often makes her look at things incorrectly. Also the rips in her tights are hearts, much like ace's are. the damage she takes is how she shows her love.

Crocodile: his hook is a heart, he loves fighting. i like the idea that when a student needs a text book and and asks him for one, he gives it to them by spearing a hole through one he has in his coat and handing it to the student who has to just live with a textbook with a big-ass hole through it.

Perona: the hearts in her design are on her sleeves and on her hat. The joke about the sleeves is that she wears her heart on her sleeves. but the hat, its meant to look like more or less a cage for the heart, her love is what traps her.

Mihawk: his hearts are on his weapons, he fucking loves fighting.

Shanks: The hearts in his design are only on his torso area, the locket around his neck and the deep unbuttoned shirt makes it look like there's a heart in the negative space, and the heart patch on his jacket, the loss of his arm and the lack of something there is symbolic for the love he has given.

imma be real, i didnt put that much thought in the heart positionings for yamato buggy or law. I kinda was swept up in Hot Man, Pathetic Man, and Hot Pathetic Man.

Uta: she's based off of Cupid, so she doesn't have any hearts really in her design but her whole persona is based off of a symbol of love and how it can turn malicious.

also in general, the shines on people's hair are meant to look like a heart-rate monitor's peaks and troughs. And the shading i did just by drawing all the shading then desaturating that area

WOWEE that's a lot of designing wtf was i on when i did all this.

if you got to the end, thank you so very much for reading! i hope you enjoyed my ramblings :)

again, there is more to come with this AU so Stay Tuned, Folks!!!!!!!!!!

[probablyasocialecologist]

Despite Sparta’s reputation for superior fighting, Spartan armies were as likely to lose battles as to win them, especially against peer opponents such as other Greek city-states. Sparta defeated Athens in the Peloponnesian War—but only by accepting Persian money to do it, reopening the door to Persian influence in the Aegean, which Greek victories at Plataea and Salamis nearly a century early had closed. Famous Spartan victories at Plataea and Mantinea were matched by consequential defeats at Pylos, Arginusae, and ultimately Leuctra. That last defeat at Leuctra, delivered by Thebes a mere 33 years after Sparta’s triumph over Athens, broke the back of Spartan power permanently, reducing Sparta to the status of a second-class power from which it never recovered. Sparta was one of the largest Greek city-states in the classical period, yet it struggled to achieve meaningful political objectives; the result of Spartan arms abroad was mostly failure. Sparta was particularly poor at logistics; while Athens could maintain armies across the Eastern Mediterranean, Sparta repeatedly struggled to keep an army in the field even within Greece. Indeed, Sparta spent the entirety of the initial phase of the Peloponnesian War, the Archidamian War (431-421 B.C.), failing to solve the basic logistical problem of operating long term in Attica, less than 150 miles overland from Sparta and just a few days on foot from the nearest friendly major port and market, Corinth. The Spartans were at best tactically and strategically uncreative. Tactically, Sparta employed the phalanx, a close-order shield and spear formation. But while elements of the hoplite phalanx are often presented in popular culture as uniquely Spartan, the formation and its equipment were common among the Greeks from at least the early fifth century, if not earlier. And beyond the phalanx, the Spartans were not innovators, slow to experiment with new tactics, combined arms, and naval operations. Instead, Spartan leaders consistently tried to solve their military problems with pitched hoplite battles. Spartan efforts to compel friendship by hoplite battle were particularly unsuccessful, as with the failed Spartan efforts to compel Corinth to rejoin the Spartan-led Peloponnesian League by force during the Corinthian War. Sparta’s military mediocrity seems inexplicable given the city-state’s popular reputation as a highly militarized society, but modern scholarship has shown that this, too, is mostly a mirage. The agoge, Sparta’s rearing system for citizen boys, frequently represented in popular culture as akin to an intense military bootcamp, in fact included no arms training or military drills and was primarily designed to instill obedience and conformity rather than skill at arms or tactics. In order to instill that obedience, the older boys were encouraged to police the younger boys with violence, with the result that even in adulthood Spartan citizens were liable to settle disputes with their fists, a tendency that predictably made them poor diplomats. But while Sparta’s military performance was merely mediocre, no better or worse than its Greek neighbors, Spartan politics makes it an exceptionally bad example for citizens or soldiers in a modern free society. Modern scholars continue to debate the degree to which ancient Sparta exercised a unique tyranny of the state over the lives of individual Spartan citizens. However, the Spartan citizenry represented only a tiny minority of people in Sparta, likely never more than 15 percent, including women of citizen status (who could not vote or hold office). Instead, the vast majority of people in Sparta, between 65 and 85 percent, were enslaved helots. (The remainder of the population was confined to Sparta’s bewildering array of noncitizen underclasses.) The figure is staggering, far higher than any other ancient Mediterranean state or, for instance, the antebellum American South, rightly termed a slave society with a third of its people enslaved.

[lordprettyflackotara]

paradise || sam golbach

SMUT. minors dni fr. 18+ this one is ummm. i’d say it’s for the humiliation & harder kink leaning girls only !! i have so many fics in the work i promise imma feed all of the different fandoms that follow me🙏🏼 enjoy mwah !

How did one woman change Sam’s life so drastically?

How did you change his life so drastically?

Sam couldn’t escape you. He thought of you every day, the image of you burned into his mind. You were like a parasite, one that had buried itself into the depths of his brain.

It didn’t matter what he did or where he went. He tried everything to forget you. Or at the very least to think of you less. Sam felt like he was slipping, losing control of his own thoughts. He traveled wherever, trying to distract himself.

It didn’t matter where he went, he felt like he wasn’t in control of his own desires.

Logically, Sam knew anything he felt for you was wrong. Any filthy fantasy, craving, or romantic thought, was a sin. After all, you were Colby’s little sister.

Colby was only a couple of years older than you, the age gap one that originally steered Sam away from you. Growing up with Colby, you were always around. You did your own thing, preoccupied in building a simple life for yourself. You opted to be out of the spotlight, politely declining any invitation to be apart of their content.

But then, you disappeared for a few years. Sam hadn’t seen you since high school. You went away to an out of state University, while Sam and Colby both moved across the country to pursue being content creators. If Sam was being honest with himself, despite his current obsession, he had forgotten about you for a while.

After all, he was in the major league now. He had girlfriends come and go, hookups, anything and everything he could ever need. Sam firmly believed, at the time at least, he was in paradise. He was on a high, one that he thought he couldn’t be knocked down from. So when one of Colby’s cousins was getting married, he didn’t think twice about the invitation, nor being his plus one.They did everything together, both boys pretty much members of each other’s families. Everything should’ve went the way Sam expected it to, but it didn’t.

Those predicted thoughts and plans were all shattered the moment he saw you. You were borderline unrecognizable. Sam couldn’t figure it out, staring at you as you walked down the aisle as one of the bridesmaids. Your face had matured, a decent amount of your soft skin revealed in the dress you were wearing. Your back was almost completely exposed, the sight making Sam shift awkwardly in his chair like a thirteen year old boy.

He could feel the blood rushing to his cock, his face turning the faintest shade of pink. Was he really getting hard? Over seeing some skin? Sam mentally rolled his eyes at himself. He had seen much crazier things. Yet, the simplicity of your back was enough to send him in a frenzy. As you gazed over at the audience, your eyes met his, a small smile creeping up your lips. Sam delivered a discreet wave, your smile growing bigger at the sight. Your eyes then flickered back to the bride, your attention returning to the wedding.

Somehow, someway, for some reason, that made Sam jealous. Sam was not a jealous person. Or he didn’t consider himself to be. The after party was more Sam’s speed, the loud music and alcohol provided something he was used to. Sam didn’t drink often, deciding to stay sober for the most part. (After one too many drunken hookups, he learned his lesson.) He monitored Colby the best he could, the brunette talking up a girl Sam didn’t recognize.

Awkwardly Sam sat at one of the round tables, his phone dead and eyes glazed over from boredom.

“Sam?”

Your voice was like heroin.

Sam’s head perked up, his eyes flickering to yours. You sat down beside him, skipping the small talk and immediately trying to catch up. As you told him about your University adventures Sam couldn’t help but stare at you. Your elegant makeup complimented you perfectly, your pink lips moving a mile a minute. He hung onto every word, every time you laughed at one of his jokes.

The party was beginning to die down, older family members going their separate ways. You nervously bit your bottom lip, asking Sam a question he could’ve only dreamed of:

“Hey, do you wanna get out of here?”

Sam felt euphoric when you pulled him into the back seat of your car. When you placed your lips against his, when your small hands began to fiddle with his belt.

He remembered the sweet sound of your moans. The way you whimpered for him, begging for him to not stop. How tight your cunt squeezed him, the way your lips pressed against his with such passion. As if you had been yearning for him all of those years you were away. The way you looked into his eyes as you came around his cock was all Sam could ever think about.

Attempting to return to his normal life was pure agony. Having to look Colby in the eye the next day was a nightmare, his little sister’s mouth wrapped around his cock the night before. Attempting to continue making content was even harder, Sam’s mind wrapped around the memory of you. He tried to ignore it, but his fans knew something was up. The comments of concern grew overwhelming, the blonde deciding to take a break from social media all together.

Colby recommended that he try to take a well deserved vacation to try to get himself together. Colby didn’t think much of his behavior, figuring he was just in a slump. Sometimes making too much content was draining. He figured he just needed a long break.

Sam tried. Genuinely, he tried to move on. He visited Florida, the waves of the beach not enough to drown out the memory of your moans. He tried New York next, the tourist actions not indulging enough to get him to forget you. Every time he attempted to focus his mind would begin remembering, the sight of you falling apart on his fingers.

It was never enough.

He sat in his hotel room, contemplating booking another flight. Maybe to Mexico. Maybe that would fix it. He flipped apps to instagram, a picture of you showing up on his timeline. Of course. What were the odds? You were posing with a friend, standing in front of a picture of your University.

He bit his bottom lip, knowing his desire to come see you was absurd. It was reckless, completely and utterly insane. If you didn’t react well, his friendship with Colby could be entirely ruined. But what if you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you?

Fuck it.

Sam stood at the door of your dorm, becoming increasingly nervous. He could feel his heart beginning to pound, his mouth running dry. Admittedly he felt guilty about finding your personal information like this. Then having the audacity to show up at your front door unannounced. He almost thought about walking away, but then he heard your laugh. The mesmerizing sound of your sweet laughter.

Sam cleared his throat, before knocking on your door. It was quiet for a moment, the sound of locks being unlocked filling his ears. Timidly you pulled the door open, surprised to see anyone at your doorstep. Your eyes widened at the sight of Sam, shocked he was standing in front of you.

“Sam?”

Sam could feel his heart pounding louder, adrenaline running through his veins. He brushed past you, entering the apartment. You awkwardly closed the door, more confused than anything. “I know this is inappropriate but I can’t stop thinking about you,” Sam confessed. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. “I don’t know why, but ever since that night at the wedding I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. It’s been driving me crazy,” He continued, rambling on.

You tilted your head to the side as you watched him pace back and forth like a madman. “I have tried everything in my power to move on. But I can’t. Your pussy is like fucking heroin, okay? And I can’t stop thinking about you and that night,” Sam babbled. His tongue was moving a mile a minute, showing no signs of slowing down.

“Do you know how many times i’ve jerked off to the thought of you? Just the mere thought? You’re so addicting that I-”

An awkward cough came from behind him, your roommate gawking at the blonde in front of her. She looked back and forth from you to him, as if she was trying to process what was happening. “This is Sam?” She asked, dumbfounded. Sam felt his face turn red as his eyes flickered back and forth from you to her. Your face was nearly as dark as his.

“Uh huh.”

“The Sam that fucked you at the wedding?”

“Uh huh.”

“The same guy who made you cum like five times-”

“Emma!”

Emma raised her hands in defeat, sliding off of her chair. “I’m going to let you guys uh, figure this out,” She said. You watched as she walked over to the stairs, nodding profusely and giving you two thumbs up. You refrained from face palming, turning your attention back to Sam.

Sam was tongue tied, to say the very least. He was filled with embarrassment, his red face telling you everything you needed to know. You approached Sam slowly, placing both hands on his shoulders. “Did you mean that?” You asked softly. Sam worked up the courage to meet your eyes, looking down at you. Your hands on his shoulders was enough to make butterflies fly around in his stomach.

“Mean what?”

“Everything you just said.”

Sam was dumbfounded by your question. Had he not been clear enough?

“If you asked me to get on my knees and beg you to fuck me id do it without a second thought.”

You bit your bottom lip, eyeing Sam’s body.

“And Colby?”

He raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side.

“What about him?”

You sighed, taking a step closer to him.

“Does he have any idea about this? About us?”

The blonde took a moment to rack his brain, searching for any clues he might’ve accidentally left. Obviously he hadn’t said a word to Colby, refraining from bringing you up at all. If he happened to bring you up, Sam would change the topic immediately. “No he doesn’t,” He answered honestly. You pressed your body against his, the room seemingly growing to a hundred degrees. “He’s going to find out eventually you know, are you going to be able to handle that?” You asked.

Handle being skinned alive by Colby? Piece of cake. An absolute walk in the park. Sam would do it in a heartbeat, all for you. “Yeah,” Sam agreed. His eyes darted down to your lips, the urge to kiss you overwhelming him.

“I think you should stay for a while.”

Sam couldn’t help himself, the blonde leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. They were as soft and plump as he remembered, your arms wrapping around his neck. As delicate as the kiss was, Sam remembered a very important part of why he was addicted to you. You liked it fucking rough.

Sam’s hands slithered down to your waist, pulling you closer to him as if you were going to disappear. “Jump for me,” He whispered, his lips refusing to stray from yours. You did as he asked, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your back roughly hit your living room wall, knocking over a couple of photo frames off of a shelf. You gasped as you heard them clatter to the floor, Sam’s lips trailing down your face to the side of your neck.

“Sam be careful, I do have a roommate you know,” You whimpered, his lips preoccupied with littering your neck with hickies. His hips grinded against yours, your core beginning to throb with desire. “She’ll be fine, you can tell her about the five more orgasms I give you,” Sam purred, licking the side of your neck. His lips trailed up to your ear, nibbling at it gently. You groaned his name, tugging at his blonde hair.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” Sam confessed, his hips bucking against yours. You giggled, meeting his gaze. “You better fuck me like you mean it then,” You replied. Sam smirked at your response. He carried you over to the couch, tugging at the hem of your shirt. He needed to see you, to feel you. You both stripped each other, desperate to see the other one exposed. Sam tried to ignore his raging boner as he admired you.

“Fuck, you’re ethereal,” Sam praised. He lowered himself down to your stomach, teasingly pressing kisses down to your cunt. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders. Purposefully he fanned his hot breath over your folds, your cunt dripping in arousal. “So wet, this all for me?” Sam asked. You attempted to push him into your cunt, his head not moving.

“Sammy, no teasing, please,” You whined. Sam wasn’t one to deny you of that, lowering himself into your cunt. His tongue lapped at your slick like a starved man, rotating licking to sucking at your clit. Roughly he brought two fingers to your entrance, relishing in the feeling of your walls struggling to take his fingers. Your juices coated his chin, his eyes meeting yours. “How are you going to take my cock if you’re struggling to take my fingers?” Sam asked teasingly. You moaned in response, his fingers curling and hitting your g spot.

You threw your head back, squeezing your thighs around Sam’s head. A sharp slap landed on your inner thigh, a gasp escaping your lips. “Look at me, fucking look at me as you become a stupid slut for me,” Sam ordered. You had no room to argue, your body a slave to the pleasure. Sam matched your energy, providing you with the rough dominant rough sex you craved. You forced yourself to maintain eye contact with him, your sinful moans bouncing off of the living room walls.

“Thats right, moan just like that. Let Emma and all of your neighbors know who this cunt belongs to,” Sam growled. His fingers were merciless, a third finger sliding into you. Your hands flew down to his hair, tugging at the roots as a knot began forming into your stomach. Your eyes were threatening to flutter shut, every ounce of energy you had dedicated to maintaining eye contact.

“Awe are you close already?” Sam smirked, your orgasm growing closer and closer. He spread open your folds, admiring your cunt. “Fuck, i’m going to fuck you so stupid,” He grumbled, reattaching his mouth to your clit. His strong hands forced your legs open, your thighs trembling as you came. Sam’s lips were relentless, sucking and swirling around your clit as you came on his face. As you rode out your high you threw your head back, your heart racing.

Sam couldn’t hide his ego as he emerged from between your legs. “On your knees, slut. Now,” He barked. You scrambled to meet his command, your knees hitting the wooden floor. “Open your mouth for me,” He snarled. The moment you did so his cum soaked fingers were shoved in your mouth, all three of them. You did the best you could to suck them clean, the taste of your own juices coating your tongue. You swirled your tongue around his fingers, teasing him.

“Thats a good girl,” Sam purred in satisfaction. He removed his fingers from your mouth, eagerly replacing them with his cock. Your mouth was heaven, Sam watching in amazement as you began taking him further without a second thought. He hadn’t even needed to tell you to. “You’re so fucking perfect,” Sam muttered, grabbing your hair. He ensured to make it into a nice ponytail, before forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat.

The sound of you gagging was pure ecstasy. Sam admired as saliva dripped down the sides of your mouth. Down to your chin. Then pooling onto the wooden floor in front of your knees. The blonde couldn’t think straight as his hips moved on their own, lost in his own personal euphoria as he face fucked you. You did your best to maintain eye contact with him, tears flooding your waterline. “You’re such a whore, fuck,” Sam groaned.

He briefly yanked you off of his cock, watching you gasp for gulps of air. Saliva dripped down his cock, tears officially spilling from your waterline. Sam’s cock twitched at the sight, your mouth reattaching itself to him. Mesmerized, Sam watched as you sucked his cock, your tongue swirling and wrapping around his tip. Sam whimpered as his own high came quickly, the blonde yanking you off of him. Your name was a mantra as he came, jerking his cock in front of you.

You flattened your tongue across your bottom lip, his ropes of cum painting your face. You swallowed what seed landed on your tongue, the rest of his cum staining his face. Sam guided you over to the couch. You stood eagerly, awaiting his instructions. “Cmere, come ride my thigh,” He said plainly. You planted yourself on his thigh, a whimper escaping your lips as your clit brushed against his bare skin. You went to wipe off your face, the blonde grabbing your wrist.

“No. Ride my thigh with my cum on your face. Show me that’s how much of a whore you are,” Sam ordered. You grabbed onto Sam’s thigh for support, steadying yourself before slowly rolling your hips downwards. You couldn’t hide your whimpers, your clit overstimulated. Sam watched in awe, your hips slowly grinding against him. “Go faster,” Sam commanded. He didn’t want to be easy on you, he wanted to see you squirm.

Your thighs shook as you attempted to follow his command, your cheeks turning a shade of bright red as the humiliation set in. You weren’t going fast enough for Sam, his large hands grabbing your waist. His fingers dug into your skin harshly, guiding you to ride his thigh faster. “Sam- Feels so good, I- fuck,” You slurred. Your hips struggled to keep up with Sam’s movements, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt your second orgasm coming.

Sam could feel himself growing hard again at the sight of you, blood rushing to his shaft as you pathetically did everything in your power to cum. “Cum for me, now,” Sam ordered. Unholy mantras of Sam’s name slipped from your lips, your thighs trembling as you came on his thigh. You felt dazed, your body trembling as Sam’s strong hands held you in place.

He lovingly brought his hand to your cheek, ignoring the cum that was gathering on his thumb. “You think you can handle me?” He asked gently. You mumbled an agreement, lifting your head to meet his eyes. You grabbed his wrist, redirecting his thumb into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it, swallowing his cum. “Filthy filthy girl,” Sam muttered, guiding you into the next position.

You found yourself on the couch on all fours, ass in the air as Sam admired you. Your arch was divine, one he had seen before and had been yearning for all of this time. Teasingly he rubbed his tip up and down your slick, lubricating his cock for you. His eyes gleamed with pride as you squirmed at the slightest feeling of his tip brushing against your clit. One thing that Sam remembered, on top of everything else, was that you didn’t like to wait.

Aligning himself with your entrance, he quickly pushed himself inside. Sam would be fine with taking things slow, allowing your body to adjust to his cock. But you preferred to be slammed into, enjoying the pain that ever so slowly faded into pleasure. Sam let out a shaky groan as he bottomed out, euphoria clouding his senses.

Sam had traveled all over the world trying to forget about you, trying to seek paradise. One that would bring him to the state of blissful peace. But as his cock brushed against your g spot, the sweet sound of your whimpers flooding his ears, he came to a realization. Sam’s personal paradise was being buried into your cunt. Nothing else on the planet compared to the way you squeezed him, begged for him, kissed him, moaned for him. His paradise, overall, was you.

The blonde began moving his hips, your groans growing louder. Your walls clenched around him as Sam picked up the pace, he began panting curses with mixes of your name. “You feel so fucking tight, shit,” Sam groaned. He leaned over further, grabbing a handful of your hair as his cock abused your cervix. “You’re mine. My personal cock slut, understand?” He growled. He pushed your face into the couch, his cum staining the fabric below you.

“Y-yes sir,” You babbled, your body on cloud nine. Your thighs began to shake with every thrust, your body overstimulated and complete putty in Sam’s hands. Sam’s fast paced thrust were becoming greedy, the desire for him to reach his own high clouding his judgment. “Look at you, staining your couch with my cum all because I told you to. Such a pathetic whore for me,” Sam rambled, his hands digging into the sides of your waist.

You could feel your final orgasm approaching, your waterline flooded with tears as they dripped down your cheeks. “Sammy, gonna cum, please, don’t stop,” You pleaded. You tilted your head back, looking up at Sam as he pounded into you. His hand left your hair, slithering down to your throat. He squeezed the sides, restricting your airway. “Go on then, cum on my cock,” Sam muttered, thrust away from orgasming himself.

Your walls spasmed around his cock, your eyes fluttering shut as Sam fucked you through your orgasm. You were seeing stars, your final orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks. Sam pulled out quickly, his ropes of cum painting your ass and lower back.

He felt euphoric, the paradise he had been seeking right in front of him, covered in his cum. Your body was spent, your heart pounding in your chest as you came down from your high. Sam scrambled to find something to clean you up with, deciding his shirt would have to suffice. He wiped his seed off of your ass, gently helping you roll over onto your back.

A faint smile creeped across your lips, your mascara smudged and running down your cheeks. “The cumming on my face thing was hot, we should do that again,” You admitted, allowing Sam to clean your face. He chuckled at your confession, admiring your fresh face.

“I figured you’d like it.”

With all of the energy you had left you lifted your head, bringing your lips to his. This kiss was different, the desperation gone. Replaced with a certain sweetness and passion Sam hadn’t felt in a long time. His hands cupped your face, deepening the kiss. The sound of his ringtone, halted him from continuing. He mumbled an apology, digging his phone out of his discarded jeans.

“Oh shit it’s Colby, hang on.” Sam informed you. He resumed his place beside you on the floor, your soft lips leaving pecks of kisses on his shoulder.

“Hey brother, what’s up?”

“You want to explain to me why you’re at my little sister’s dorm?”

Shit.

[lovelybucky1]

2.Chapter Meeting

wc- 2.1k // main masterlist // go greek masterlist // 18+ minors dni

When you arrived for the chapter meeting, Steve gave you a tour of the house. You got a brief one from Joaquin during your interview, but this one was much more thorough. The living and dining rooms were pretty average and the kitchen was lacking anything of substance but filled to the brim with alcohol, mixers, and snacks. The basement has three ratty couches, a TV with a video game console, and a beer pong table with the names of the champions of each year written on it.

Upstairs is where the bedrooms are. Each room was pointed out to you, but the only one you got to see inside of was Steve and Bucky’s. You learn that they’ve been best friends since elementary school and have always been inseparable. As you get to know Steve, you don’t blame Bucky for always wanting him around. Their place is unexpectedly nice; clean and only a bit disorganized, but that’s mostly on Bucky’s side. There are textbooks piled on both of their desks and Steve has sketches and paintings all over his side, both hung on the wall and littered around. Their room doesn’t smell like sweaty athletes, but a warm, masculine scent that you want to wrap yourself up in. 

He lets you sit on his bed and look through his books, cheerfully answers your questions about his art, and watches as you admire his trophies and medals. He left the bedroom door open out of respect for you, and so the other guys didn’t wonder what you were up to in there. The downside is the open door acts as an open invitation to guests.

“Hey, Steve-” You turn around to see the man you recognize as Sam, the vice president, standing in the doorway. “Sorry, man, didn’t know you had a guest.”

Before Sam can back out of the room, Steve introduces you. You haven’t had the chance to meet all the guys yet, but that’s the goal of today’s chapter meeting. Sam, clearly an extrovert, jumps right into a conversation, asking you all kinds of questions about your major, your clubs, and your friends. Sam is charming, funny, and outwardly flirts with you. If it was anyone else, you might feel uncomfortable, but Sam is as respectful as he is bold.

You forgot Steve was still in the room until he made his presence clear. “We should get downstairs. The meeting starts in five,” he says. 

You don’t sense any inkling of jealousy between Steve and Sam which is both surprising and refreshing. The three of you leave the room with you between them. If you stepped too close to the left, you’d brush hands with Steve, but if you stepped too close to the right, you’d bump into Sam’s thick arms. You’re stuck walking a perfectly straight line down the center of the hallway to keep an appropriate distance from both of them.

When you get downstairs, you find the others already waiting for you. The living room has been converted into a meeting space; extra chairs have been brought in, the coffee table has been cleared of cans, plates, and other garbage, and all of the brothers are present. 

To your surprise, there are some familiar faces in the room. Wade Wilson from your film analysis class wears the letters proudly on his chest as he sits curled up against the arm of the couch. Joaquin and Bucky are there, of course, sitting in chairs closer to the TV. There are two empty chairs near them and a free space in the middle of the couch. 

Sam takes his seat between Bucky and Joaquin and you awkwardly sit on the couch as Steve takes his place at the front of the room. Wade is on your left, and to your right is a large, very grumpy-looking man who seems like he’s sitting as far away from Wade as possible. 

There’s another guy in the armchair with a high and tight haircut, a crooked nose, and a deep furrow between his eyebrows. The last brother standing near the front looks familiar; you recognize his dark sunglasses from your first-semester stats class. He’s attractive, and you remember thinking that he was way out of your league when you saw him for the first time.

“Thanks for coming everyone,” Steve starts. “Before we get to the typical meeting stuff, I have a very special announcement. I would like to introduce our new sweetheart,” he says, beaming at you. All heads in the room turn toward you. You sheepishly smile and give a small wave to the men. “She’s going to act as our social chair, run our social media, and generally take care of all the things that us guys aren’t so good at.”

Everyone chuckles quietly, all nodding in agreement. You’re not a big fan of the slightly misogynistic message that women are better at planning parties and making things look pretty, but looking around, none of these guys seem like the poster-making, cookie-baking type.

“Do you want to come up and introduce yourself?” Steve asks.

You take a deep breath and stand up from the couch, smoothing out your shirt. It’s a little intimidating to be standing in front of all of these very attractive men. You wonder why you’ve never seen guys like this anywhere else on campus, but you figure they’ve all been hiding out at the SAE house.

“Hi, everyone,” you smile. “I’m a sophomore and I’m an English major. I’m in a bunch of clubs on campus and I really loved getting involved, which is why I was interested in this position. I live here on campus and I spend most of my time at the library or on the green,” at that, some of the guys share a look. “I don’t really party much, but Joaquin promised me he would show me the ropes.” Joaquin grins, looking extremely proud to be the one to be your party mentor. “I’m really excited to get to know all of you and make this semester great for SAE.”

You look over to Sam who gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up. You can’t help the small giggle that escapes your lips as you move to sit back down. Steve takes his place again at the front of the room.

“The four of us,” Steve gestures to Bucky, Joaquin, and Sam, “put together a little welcome basket to officially mark you as a member.”

Joaquin stands up and brings a basket, stuffed full of clothing, candy, and other goodies. You stare at it, wide-eyed as it sits in your lap, completely overwhelmed. You were not at all expecting them to be so thoughtful. Everyone has been very nice to you so far, but you’re not naive. You know to some extent, they think of you as a piece of eye candy to have around in the house, but this shows that maybe you could be more. Maybe you could be their friend.

You pull out a purple sweatshirt with the letters embroidered in yellow fabric across the chest. It looks to be your size, which surprises you because you didn’t think they made frat sweatshirts in women’s sizes.

“How did you get this so quickly?” you ask Steve.

“Wade made them,” he says.

You look to your left and give Wade a surprised and confused look. “What? God forbid a guy dabbles in the fiber arts,” he says, raising his hands.

You laugh and look through the rest of the shirts. They’re surprisingly cute and you have to give Wade credit for having an eye for fashion. At the bottom of the basket, beneath the candy and the letter necklace, is a card. The envelope is a pale yellow and has your name written in script across the front. You recognize the handwriting as Steve’s from the sketches in his room and your heart skips a beat at the thought of him writing you a letter.

“Open it,” Joaquin urges. 

Smiling, you untuck the paper flap of the envelope and pull out the card. The front doesn’t have any words, but there is a bouquet of flowers painted in watercolor. Inside, Steve’s handwriting fills the left side of the page.

Sweetheart,

We’re so excited for you to join our brotherhood and to get to know you. You’re part of the family now and you have eight guys to back you up no matter what. We’re going to rely on you for a lot of things around here, but we want you to know you can lean on us too. 

The right side of the page has the signatures of all the guys. Even from what the little you know about them, you can tell their handwriting is reflective of their personalities. Bucky’s has a cheeky xo next to it, while Wade’s is made up of thick lines and heavy strokes. 

You smile and look around at everyone. “Thanks, guys. This is all… really great.”

Your eyes meet Bucky’s and he shoots you a quick wink that has no right making you feel as flustered as it does. 

The meeting progresses, moving on to general housekeeping stuff that you’re not very familiar with. It doesn’t take too much longer until Steve is wrapping up the meeting and encouraging everyone to mingle and get to know you.

Wade immediately captures your attention, talking to you about the latest movie the Film Club watched. He was just getting around to praising the cinematography when the guy with the sunglasses came up next to you, touching your arm gently.

You excuse yourself and introduce yourself to the man, who you learn is named Matt.

“I think you were in my-”

“Stats class,” he finishes. You’re surprised he remembered you, all things considered, but he explains before you have the opportunity to ask. “I recognized your perfume.” If it was anyone else, that statement would have struck you as odd, maybe a little invasive, but Matt’s sweet smile and the feeling on his hand on your arm gives you a different feeling. “It smells nice,” he adds, not wanting you to get the wrong idea. “It’s very pretty. I’ve just never smelled anything like it before.”

He talks to you about being the student body vice president and his involvement with the Model UN. He clearly is passionate about the law and wants to help people, and you admire that about him. It’s not often you find college guys with real drive.

Matt is funny and sweet, and his hold on your arm, however gentle, distracts you. There’s a break in the conversation and you notice that everyone else is still hanging around in the living room, waiting to talk to you. You have no idea how much time you spent talking to Matt, but he seems to realize he was talking up your time and steps away with a smile and a squeeze of your arm.

Before you could find an unfamiliar face to talk to, Bucky walks up to you with a cocky smirk.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says.

“I thought I was supposed to be meeting new people? We’ve already met,” you say, feeling unusually bold. Maybe all of this attention is going to your head.

“Met, sure, but we didn’t get to know each other. Steve’s a real selfish bastard when it comes to pretty girls,” he says. 

Bucky calling you pretty surprises you. You knew he must think so if he was flirting with you, but saying it outright is different. But he might just be a flirt and none of this really means anything.

“Then why don’t you tell me about yourself, Bucky?” you ask.

You learn that Bucky is an engineering major, specializing in prosthetics. He talks about math and science and while most of the more complicated things go over your head, you still find it impressive. You’ve always had more of a knack for writing but you’ve gotten by in the more technical classes. 

Bucky has a little sister who is starting her freshman year at Stark University. She lives in the building next door to you and you tell him that if she ever needs any help, she can always reach out. It’s clear that he is very close with his sister, and he appreciates the offer. 

Throughout the conversation, Bucky calls you various pet names. Sweetheart, baby, honey, doll. It should bother you, it would bother you if they didn’t sound so sweet coming from his lips. And he’s standing so close to you but you don’t have it in you to create some distance. Even if you did, you wouldn’t be surprised if he followed you.

You still have more people to meet, but based on the look in Bucky’s eyes, he isn’t going to let you talk to anyone else anytime soon. He loves to be the center of attention, it seems. 

[httpsserene]

relationship reveal — 𝐥𝐬. 𝟏𝟖 lance stroll x fem!black!reader requested! smau. vacation romance. profanity. a couple of suggestive lines. one line of dark humor (toaster bath). fluff and angst. sibling dynamics (bullying). hard launch (but sad). heartbreak. this might count as breaking up.

synopsis: if you love her, you have to let her go. who the hell came up with that?

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. i think my tags are overdramatic but, i’m not trying to getting jumped in my inbox for miss tagging anything. also, i know lance isn’t a fan favorite, but i’m in love with this smau, and i will not be accepting any judgement xxx

⌕ prev | join taglist | reqs & feedback | upcoming chapters | table of contents | next ↻

instagram • ynplays • december 14th • cozy in a cabin ⚑

liked by valkyrae, yourbestie, segagenesisthedawg, and 43,879 others

ynplays: falling love with canada🇨🇦🍁🏒⛸️🌨️

tagged yourbestie, segagenesisthedawg, nhl

view comments

ynplays: sega cries after he walks us back to our room at night and leaves 😫

➥ user1: she’s just a liddol girl 🥹

➥ user2: the puppy has spoken u have to keep him i don’t make the rules 🤷🏿‍♀️

➥ user3: so...you have no choice but to run away with him into the sunset.

yoursister: booooo we get it you've been brainwashed by a canadian man 🙄🙄🙄

➥ ynplays: when was the last time you smiled today

➥ yoursister: it's difficult when ALL you do is yap about your crush on this hockey-core man 🤢

➥ ynplays: he gives himbo hockey player IM TELLNG YOU !!!

➥ user4: so he's canadian 😶

user5: his name starts with an L, he's approx 6'0, is brunette with brown eyes, and he's canadian with hockey player vibes👐🏻

➥ user6: i could walk two (2) steps outside of my house in ottawa and i'd run into a man who fits this description 😭😭

➥ user7: he sounds like every other bitch???

➥ user8: let's go through every minor and major hockey league roster again

➥ yourfriend1: "again?" who TF has time for that

user9: tagging THE nhl is crazy 💀

➥ user8: i'm telling you he's a hockey player

➥ user10: idk man he doesn't look like a hockey build in either of these photos🤔

igstory • yoursister uploaded!

[caption1; me and sis] [caption2; fuck. i guess they're kinda cute together 😒]

yourfriend2: did you see them doing snow angels together 🥺🥺☹️ yourfriend2: that had me smiling ngl...they're adorable yoursister: yeah, i'm just happy there's no red flags she's ignoring, he seems like a genuine dude

user11: do you improve of this lance? 6'0, brown eyes, brunette, canadian hockey player 🙂 yoursister: uhh i fear for his life,,are u gonna put a hit on him or smth yoursister: also he is not a hockey player lol user11: oh🫣 yoursister: i'm pretty sure he's like a car engineer or smth? i think i heard him say that

twitter • december 16th

instagram • ynplays • december 16th • sanctuary ⚑

liked by nhl, yoursister, yourbestie, yourmom, and 42,313 others

ynplays: i don't want to leave.

view comments

nhl: not me crying 😩 - admin

➥ user12: huh

➥ user13: nhl admin relatable

yourbestie: aw babe. enjoy your last five days here :)

➥ ynplays: i only have five days left 😟

➥ yourfriend1: oh girlie...it'll be alright

➥ yourfriend2: i always hate this part of the vacation

yoursister: please ask lance if he's willing to take you off my hands. permanently preferably.

➥ ynplays: are you familiar with the term sympathy?

➥ yoursister: oh you're sad for real

➥ yoursister: 😕 therapy session in the hot tub now ladies

➥ user14: this is depressing me

user15: hey, you can just elope? i don't think you've added that to your toolbox yet

➥ ynplays: too sad to even consider it rn

➥ ynplays: nvm he invited me to his cabin later 👅✌🏽

➥ user15: use protection 🙂‍↔️

user16: i feel like this should have a sensitive content warning

➥ user17: my day is ruined

➥ user18: and my disappointment is immeasurable

➥ user19: THERES 104 DAYS OF SUMMER VACATION🗣️🔊

➥ user20: read the room man @/user19

twitter • ynplays • december 21st

instagram • lancestroll • december 24th

liked by estebanocon, chloestroll, astonmartinf1, and 2,109,764 others

lancestroll: winter break has never felt so short. i missed you the second you stepped away from me. happy holidays, baby.

tagged ynplays

view comments

estebanocon: it’ll get better eventually mate ❤️‍🩹 believe it or not

➥ lancestroll: finding it hard to believe rn

chloestroll: come have some hot cocoa with me

➥ lancestroll: yn liked hot cocoa

➥ scottyjames31: oh mate…

➥ user21: okay, i'm concerned for my health. there's some sort of clear liquid leaking from my eyes

➥ user22: FUCK man this is sad 😕

astonmartinf1: chin up lance - admin

➥ alpinef1team: feeling for you mate - admin

➥ mercedesamgf1: sad it ended up like this for you lance - admin

➥ user23: the f1 teams are assembling like the avengers in infinity war for this

➥ user24: an unforgettable day in f1 history

yourmom: fix this. liked by lancestroll

➥ user25: w mama 🤩

➥ user26: tell him ma'am ‼️‼️

yourbestie: thank you for being good to her when you had her

➥ lancestroll: don't thank me for that.

➥ user27: cooking up my toaster bath actually

user30: well this is not the hard launch i wanted to confirm our theory.

➥ user31: brb about to create them in the sims and make them get married and have 6 children, sega, two cats and let them get old together

➥ user: realest cure for heartbreak

user28: no way they decided not being together at all is worse than being long distance

➥ yoursister: that's what i sad but nobody listens to me

➥ user28: why'd they do it???

➥ yoursister: my sister can be incredibly stupid about returned feelings. and for some reason she chose now to "protect her heart"

➥ user29: she deserves her happy ending and needs to allow herself to have it 😭😭😭

twitter • ynplays • december 25th

imessage • lance -> yn

© httpsserene - do not reupload. photos in header image are from pinterest. divider by @cafekitsune.

[vibelladonna]

𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓈𝓀𝓈 + 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈! : 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓋𝒾𝓋𝒾

heyyy dearest readers! A quick update (and perhaps a bit of a lecture) as I prepare to make some major changes to how things will run on this Tumblr page in the coming weeks. 

I appreciate your time and attention, so let’s get right into it.

First and foremost, I want to say I’ve officially been accepted into an Ivy League medical program—yes, the real-deal, white-coat, sleepless-nights sort of adventure—and I’ll be attending it throughout the entirety of the summer. I know, shocking, right?

I’ll be flying out soon to stay in the dorms, where I’ll be surrounded by brilliant minds and (hopefully) equally brilliant tea. It's a huge opportunity and one I’ve worked incredibly hard for.

Now, before you panic: I’m still planning to stick (mostly) to the content schedule I promised. I’ll be aiming to upload at least one fanfic a week. That said, life will be busy, and as much as I love you all, my career and studies will always take precedence. I hope you understand.

Another note—and one I imagine some of you will have feelings about: I’ll be focusing more on Creepypasta and other versions novels content rather than JUST The Kid at the Back, (TKATB) for a while. There’s a specific reason for this, which I’ll explain below. But just know this isn’t the end for TKATB content, just a slight seasonal shift in priorities.

Now that we’ve gotten all of that out of the way, let’s get to the fun part: the questions!

✑ I've been seeing a lot of really rude messages being sent to writers and artists here, so don't take anything you see to heart!!! They don't mean shit, you're just another person to harass to them. Idk if you've received anything like it but I've seen 3 posts abt it today,,, be careful vi!!!

Hey, thank you so much for reaching out and checking in—seriously, I appreciate it more than you know. I apologize for not responding sooner, but I want to reassure you that I’m fine. Truly.

I’ve been online since 2014, and trust me when I say I’ve seen—and experienced—a lot. So no, hate comments don’t really get under my skin. It’s just the internet, and unfortunately, people say cruel things all the time when they feel like they’re shouting into a void.

I treat writing as a hobby and a tool to strengthen my skills for medical research purposes—this is something I enjoy doing, not something that defines my worth.

And honestly, I rarely receive hate. When it does happen, it’s typically related to my gender-neutral fanfics. I do write with a feminine tone because I am a woman, and sometimes that doesn’t sit well with certain readers. That’s okay—everyone has preferences—but I refuse to be pushed out of a fandom I enjoy just because I don’t write the way someone else wants me to.

That said, I do want to mention that I’ll be slowing down on The Kid At The Back fandom content for a bit. Life is demanding, and I also want space to work on personal fanfics and dive back into the Creepypasta fandom. 

I’ve honestly grown tired of the energy in this certain fandom spaces—especially when I been contributing well amount of fanfic for TKATB and with the overwhelming number of minors in adult content spaces...

If you’re someone reading my fics as a minor: I understand. I was once your age doing the same thing, though I approached it with a level of maturity and discretion that seems rare nowadays.

To be clear—if someone takes issue with the way I write, how I express myself, or what I choose to post, that’s fine. They’re free to scroll past or block me. It’s that simple. If something online upsets you to that extent, maybe you’re not in the right headspace for this kind of content. 

That’s not me being harsh—it’s just honesty.

Again, thank you for being kind and looking out for people here. That kind of support does mean something. Just know: I’m good. Focused. 

And very much not going anywhere. 

✑ I love your writing, but could you maybe stop saying in the description that you write for gn reader and then just adding "woman" in the story? (Im talking specifically about the vampire fanfic, but I think I saw it a few times on your account) I mean it really made me upset because I struggle with gender dysphoria, so I usually only read gn stuff.

Hi there, thank you for reaching out and taking the time to share your thoughts with me. I want to start this off by acknowledging how difficult it can be to bring something up like this, especially when it’s tied to something as personal as gender identity and dysphoria.

I don’t take that lightly, and I want to be transparent in my response.

Now, let me say this sincerely—I'm sorry that my writing upset you. That was never the intention, and I understand how jarring it can feel to expect gender-neutral content and encounter something that contradicts that expectation, especially when you're looking for comfort or safe escapism. 

I also often go back and re-read the vampire fic (and a few other works), simply adding more detail, correcting grammar, or just for my enjoyment, and I see how that could be frustrating.

So again, I apologize for that experience, and I will work on being more cautious in how I label and tag my works. I’ll double-check stories more thoroughly rather than giving them a surface glance. 

That said, I need to be honest about something, too—and I hope this comes across with the balance of respect and clarity that it’s meant to have.

The way I write is, first and foremost, therapeutic for me. This blog started as a creative outlet, and it continues to be a space where I share writing not just for others, but to explore, improve, and sharpen my writing—especially in preparation for my future in medical research and academic writing.

Tumblr is one of the few places where I get to express that freely, and I want to be transparent that writing—especially character-centric or smut-heavy pieces—is deeply fun for me to write.

When I write gender-neutral smut—rarely for a reason, it’s an immense challenge. Not because I don’t care, but because of how I structure my stories. I focus a lot on sensory detail, reasonable psychological emotions, and physicality.

I write vividly and anatomically, and that makes it hard to keep everything neutral while still maintaining realism and immersion. For some writers, vague language works. For me, it weakens the vision and voice of my storytelling. So when I include subtle feminine cues in a “gn” piece, it’s not out of disregard—it’s just how my imagination naturally forms the scene.

This is also why I’ve always been hesitant about writing gender-neutral smut. I had a gut feeling that misunderstandings like this would happen, and I do try to avoid them—but I’m human. I’m still learning how to balance creative expression with broader sensitivity, and that balance isn’t always perfect.

Again, I’ve gone back and corrected the vampire fic to lean closer to gender neutrality, but I also want to kindly ask: please don’t put the responsibility of your dysphoria or other deeply personal matters on me. 

I say this with care. I’m not equipped—nor comfortable—handling certain topics like gender identity or eating disorders in my fics because I do understand how serious and complex they are. 

That’s why I usually avoid writing directly about those subjects. I’m just one person doing what I can to share stories in a space I created for myself. And while I welcome thoughtful feedback, I can’t carry the emotional weight of someone else’s journey—especially not strangers online. 

That’s a boundary I have to keep for my own well-being.

Lastly, I want to BE VERY CLEAR ONCE MORE: I will continue writing in a way that feels authentic to me. That may include pieces labeled gender-neutral that still have a feminine tone. That may include imperfect attempts to reach a wider audience while still honoring my own voice. It’s okay if my blog isn’t for everyone. I respect that. If something I write is upsetting, the tools exist to block, mute, or simply scroll past it. 

That’s the beauty of being online—we curate our spaces.

Again, thank you for your honesty and for giving me the chance to address this properly. I truly wish you all the comfort, growth, and safe content you need on your journey. Take care.

✑ just a small quick question, if you have a writer's block, what is a good way of getting rid of it? I've been trying to work on this fanfic for two days and only wrote a few paragraphs, and then i couldn't think of anything else to write, and it’s far from being finished! Please and thank you for your time.

Okay, some advice to give.

Ahhh, writer’s block. The age-old enemy of creatives everywhere. First off, I totally understand what you're going through—staring at a document, feeling stuck after just a few paragraphs, wondering if you're ever going to find the spark again. It’s frustrating and draining, especially when the desire to write is there, but the words just don’t want to show up.

Here’s what’s helped me, personally:

I write how I write. That may sound simple, but it took me a while to find my rhythm and voice. I didn’t always have it—especially when I first started writing on Tumblr.

In fact, I don’t even think I had a voice at the beginning. I was just typing thoughts and feelings, hoping it clicked. It took time, practice, burnout, and regrouping to get where I am now.

Sometimes my inspiration comes randomly—like I think too damn much.

TikTok clips, a scene from a book or another writer’s piece, even just something I feel strongly about in the moment. Networking skills I’ve learned (yes, even from being online and in person) helped me pick up patterns and emotional beats that resonate. 

And yes… I do use a bit of AI at times—not to write for me, but to clear the fog when my brain’s too loud or frozen. Like bouncing ideas off something neutral just to get moving again.

That being said, none of it works unless I make myself sit and write. And here’s the hard part: forcing that can lead to burnout. It did for me. When I first got traction here, people started asking—begging, even—for more work. Which I was grateful for, but it added pressure I wasn’t prepared for. I started writing not because I wanted to, but because I felt I had to. 

And that’s when I started to lose the joy in it.

My personal advice? Don’t prioritize fanfic—or writing in general—over your personal life or your peace. That kind of pressure can quietly build into burnout that leaves you avoiding not just writing, but reading, imagining, and creating altogether. 

And that’s the saddest part, because writing is you. It's a part of you trying to express itself, and it needs room to breathe, not expectations to suffocate under.

Take breaks. Find joy. Get inspired. And when you write again, let it be for you first.

You’ve got this!

[saltcxrcle]

motel chats  ── . ✶ ruby

summary: you find ruby in your motel room and she wants have a "chat"

pairings: bi! ruby 2.0 x bi! reader, ruby x gn afab! reader, mentions of samruby and slight unrequited sam x reader warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, set in szn 4 sometime after ep 4.10, no use of 'y/n', reader is described to be taller than ruby, cursing, smut, hate sex, oral (reader receiving), fingering (ruby receiving), implied switch! ruby and reader, name-calling (whore, slut), face sitting, some degradation, a prequel to my 'you did what?' fic but can be read as a standalone, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own word count: 3.5K a/n: first ruby fic/smut!! never thought id be writing a ruby fic but alas im too gay for her not to write one for her bc well look at her LOL also my first time writing wlw (f/f) smut so give me a little bit of grace <3 also there are like no ruby fics out there so i barely had any frame of references outside of mari's fics T-T alas i hope you ruby lovers/freaks enjoy this one ruby masterlist

AT THIS POINT, you don't know if it's too late to change what you're doing with your life. You swiftly swung the iron crowbar at the spirit that was charging at you in its grave that you had just dug up. You were so close to getting rid of this ghost, but of course, it couldn’t be easy for you. 

You had found a simple salt and burn just a couple hours away from Bobby’s. You had asked if the boys wanted to come with you, but they had denied since the brothers were trying to figure out how to stop Lilith from breaking more seals. Which, you had to admit, was out of your league when it came to the world of the supernatural. You tried helping them out as best as you could, but sometimes you felt like you were in their way when it came to helping them put a stop to the end of the world. 

You never thought that your life would be this level of crazy, but since reconnecting with the Winchesters, it’s pretty much turned your life upside down (even more so than you thought possible).

The ghost quickly disappeared when the iron made contact with its translucent form. You tried to use your lighter, but it wouldn’t light for a moment, and you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand as you heard a whoosh come from behind you. You swung your crowbar again, and the ghost evaporated. 

���Just fucking light already.” You grunted out, frustrated as your thumb was flicking against the flint of the lighter. Once, then twice, you tried lighting it before the flame flickered to life. You quickly threw the lighter into the open coffin, igniting the salted and gasoline-soaked corpse. You clambered out of the open grave and saw the remnants of the ghost ‘dying’ for good as the body was set aflame. 

You let out a sigh, your body sagging in relief and tiredness as you lay back onto the cool grass of the cemetery you were in. 

“Next time, I’m forcing one of them to come with me.” You muttered into the silent night. Despite having solo hunted for the majority of the time, you have to say that having another pair of hands (or two, for this matter) was oh so very helpful when it came to having to dig up a dead body and getting rid of the spirit. You let out another sigh before sitting up, a small groan leaving your lips. 

Fuck me. You thought as you got up from the ground and grabbed your shovel, preparing to shovel the dirt back into the hole you just dug up. 

You stalked towards your motel room, the parking lot empty, save for your car and a couple of other ones scattered throughout the lot, but paid no mind to them as exhaustion riddled your brain. You had one goal in mind, and that was to get to your room, shower, and then collapse in bed, hoping you could sleep for at least six hours. 

You threw the duffle that was haphazardly slung on your shoulder on the foot of one of the two queen beds you had in the room. You sifted through it to grab some comfortable clothes and your toiletry bag before you made your way to the bathroom. You stayed underneath the stream of water until it ran cold, scrubbing off all of the dirt and grime that was on your body from the hunt. You quickly went through your nighttime routine, eager to fall into bed and let sleep take you away from the land of the living temporarily. 

But when you exited the bathroom, irritation started to brew in your chest when you saw a familiar brunette laying on the vacant bed. 

Ruby’s head turned when she heard the bathroom door open, and you came out of it. She smirked when she saw how your mood shifted from tired to annoyed when you laid eyes on her. 

“Wow, don’t you look great.” Ruby snarked as she sat up on the bed, and her eyes looked you up and down. 

You couldn’t recognize the look in her eye as her gaze roamed your figure, only in a tank top and some boy shorts style underwear. You wore this getup when you had the rare opportunity to be on a solo hunt or have a room to yourself. 

But you decidedly ignored how she was looking at you and scowled. “What the hell are you doing in my room?” You were tired and didn’t want to deal with her bullshit at the moment. 

“We,” Ignoring your words, she stood up from the bed and gestured between the two of you, “Need to have a little chat.” Ruby’s hips swayed slightly as she began to walk towards you. 

You scoffed. “No, we don’t.” You crossed your arms as you leaned against the doorway of the bathroom, and your eyes never left Ruby’s brown ones as she strode towards you. 

Ruby had a sly smirk on her face. “You really don’t like me do you?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry did I not make that abundantly clear the last time we had a ‘chat’?” You cocked your head to the side. “Because if it wasn’t I can refresh your memory.” Sarcasm and irritation bled through your words as the demon in front of you kept you from sleeping. 

This wasn’t the first time Ruby had cornered you alone. The two of you had a bit of “girl talk” (Ruby’s words, not yours) the night after you and Dean found out what Sam was doing late at night after you had noticed that he would sneak out at night shortly after getting Dean back from Hell. That conversation was filled with thinly-veiled insults, alongside Ruby being able to rile you up until she decided she was done having fun and disappeared when you turned your back on her. 

Ruby had rolled her eyes at your words but was standing in front of you now, only a few feet away. You had a couple of inches on the demon, having to tilt your head down to meet her eyes as Ruby stared up at you, amusement gleaming in her eyes at your foul mood. But the look you couldn’t recognize was back in her gaze. 

A scowl etched your face, trying to mask how Ruby’s proximity had lit something within you, but you stamped it down, letting annoyance coat your features. 

“Look, this won’t take long if you stop being a smartass for a second and you listen to me,” Ruby said as she crossed her arms—the action pushing up her breasts, making her cleavage slightly more prominent in the low-cut shirt she was wearing. 

Your eyes flicked down to Ruby’s chest for a second before meeting her eyes—yours narrowing as you stared her down. 

“What do you want?” You asked through gritted teeth, deciding that if you wanted her gone faster, you would need to be cooperative (even though deep down you didn’t want to).  

The corner of her lips twitched. “I need your help.” 

“Nope.” 

“You haven’t even-” 

You shook your head. “Not in a million years am I going to help you with anything. Go ask Sam. I’m sure he’d be willing to help you since you got him wrapped around your finger.” You spat out his name bitterly, knowing that Sam was under her spell and would be at her beck and call if it wasn’t for you or Dean trying to convince him that Ruby was bad news. 

Ruby dared to smirk at you, obviously loving the way she could rile you up. “If I knew any better, I’d think you’re jealous.” 

A sharp laugh left your lips. “Jealous? And what am I supposed to be jealous about exactly?” 

“I’m not blind,” Ruby cooed your name out, your jaw clenched at the sound of it falling from her lips. “I see the way you look at him when you think no one’s looking.” 

“Right,” you drawled out, “Pray tell Ruby, the all knowing demon, how do I look at my friend Sam?” You snarked at the demon standing in front of you. 

You were going to be honest with yourself; you had no idea how you looked at Sam anymore. The two of you were close growing up. When you reconnected with him and Dean, but after being AWOL for four months and finding him shacking up with Ruby, any inkling of feelings that you had for Sam that may have been more than platonic had been extinguished. But you’d be damned if you were going to admit that to the demon he was sleeping with. 

Ruby chuckled before taking a step closer to you. “Oh please, you’re not very discreet with your small glances or longing looks when his back is turned. I have eyes, you’re just lucky everyone is too wrapped up in themselves to even notice.” 

“Or just wrapped up in someone else.” You couldn’t help but mutter under your breath, hoping it was low enough that Ruby couldn’t hear. 

“So, you are jealous.” Ruby had that sly grin on her face, and all you wanted to do was wipe it off her face. 

You rolled your eyes before scoffing. “The only thing I’m jealous of is everyone else who is sleeping right now.” You kicked off the door frame and walked past Ruby, shoulder-checking her as you made your way to the bed with your bag on it. 

Ruby chuckled. “I’m sure you can stay up for a couple of more minutes. Besides, you aren’t that slick when trying to change the subject.” 

“Have you ever considered not bothering me?” 

“Not when I need your help.” 

You threw your head back with a groan escaping your lips. “For the last time, I’m not helping you with your schemes.” 

“Who said I was scheming?” You took a glance at Ruby, who had her head cocked to the side. 

“You’re a demon, you’re always scheming or lying.” You pointed out as you unzipped your bag, doing anything but looking at Ruby. 

“Do you think that lowly of me?” 

“Yes.” 

Ruby scoffed. “I’m sorry, who was the one who was tortured by Alastair because they knew the location of the rogue angel. Oh, right it was me.” 

Your head snapped to stare at her incredulously.“You helping us once doesn’t warrant my trust for a single second.” 

“And what about all of the times that I tipped off Sam. Come on, you have to admit that I do help you guys in some way.”

Anger filled your chest as you turned from the bed and quickly rushed at Ruby, grabbing her shoulder and pinning her against the wall—quickly placing your forearm against her windpipe, putting slight pressure against it, but not enough to cut off her air supply. 

“I’m only going to say this once so you better listen closely.” You said in a low voice, glaring at the demon in front of you. 

“I’m not going to be a pawn in this fucked up game of yours. You may have your claws deep into Sam and feeding him the delusion that you’re helping us, but I know that you have something up your sleeve. I don’t know your endgame, but you better believe I’ll kill you before you even get to reach it.” Your upper lip was threatening to twitch up in a snarl as you glowered down at Ruby. 

But all she did was smirk, making the anger boil in your blood. “Didn’t expect you to have some bite to you. Maybe you are just more than a pretty face.” 

“Has anyone told you to shut the fuck up?” You glared at her harder as you applied more pressure on her throat. 

Ruby let out a breathy laugh. “Sam does and most of the time, he has a pretty creative way of doing it.” 

You couldn’t help but flick your gaze down to her plush lips before meeting her brown eyes that were filled with mirth.

“Spare me the details.” You tried not to think about what she was suggesting about her and Sam, but you couldn’t help the spark of arousal that zipped down your spine. 

“Are you sure? Because I thought you would love to hear about how he forces me to my knees and makes me choke around his thick cock.” Ruby had a salacious smile pulled on her lips. 

“Shut up.” You growled out as you unconsciously leaned closer to her. 

“Make me.” She purred. “Or are you-” You quickly shut her up by smashing your lips against hers. 

Her lips were soft against yours as the two of you kissed each other fervently and hard. This wasn’t an innocent kiss between two people who liked each other; it was a filthy one meant to show who was in charge and you were winning. You felt her hands fly to your hips, pulling you closer to her body. You moved the arm that was against her neck to grab the nape of her neck as your other hand trailed down to the hem of her shirt.

You nipped at her bottom lip before delving into her mouth, tasting mint and the faintest hint of tequila. Your tongues fought for dominance, but you shoved her harder against the wall with your body, making a small moan escape her lips as you kissed her. Your lips left hers with a string of saliva connecting the two of you before you trailed your lips down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. The hand on her neck joined the other at the hem of her shirt—only detaching from her neck to pull the piece of clothing over her head. 

Your hands landed on her bare waist, the temperature of her skin being cooler than you expected it to be, but you paid no mind to it as you started to kiss and nip at her chest, leaving hickies scattered throughout her golden colored skin. Ruby’s hands were pulling at the hem of your tank top. You let her pull it up and off of you, throwing it to the ground before pulling you into another kiss—your bare breasts brushing against her bra-covered chest, making a low moan leave your lips at the feeling of your nipples brushing against the lacey material of it. 

Your hands moved up and around to her back to unclasp her bra. Once the straps fell down her arms and onto the ground in between the two of you, you grabbed her hips, pulled her away from the wall, and pushed her down roughly on the bed. You quickly got on top of her, slotting yourself in between her open legs, and kissed her roughly again as one of your hands quickly flicked open the button on the jeans she was wearing. You knew that Ruby could easily overpower you in this position, but she was letting you manhandle her like she couldn’t use her abnormal demon strength to turn the tables. 

You shoved your hands down her jeans and underwear, and a low whine escaped her lips when your fingers rubbed over her wet slit. 

“Shit, you’re so wet.” You breathed against her lips, having pulled away from her now swollen lips. “Who knew a demon like you got off on arguing, but then again I should have expected it.” 

Ruby’s face scrunched up, and right before she could throw back a witty retort, a groan left her lips instead at the feeling of your fingers rubbing circles on her clit. You went back to sloppily kissing at her neck, leaving trails of saliva as your lips moved down her chest and took one of her nipples in your mouth and sucked at the hardened nub. Your free hand kneaded the unoccupied breast—pinching and tweaking her nipple. 

Expletives and moans left Ruby’s lips as you sucked at her tits and rubbed at her clit. You stopped rubbing at her clit to shove two fingers into her slick cunt, moaning against her chest as you felt little resistance as your fingers entered her. You bit her nipple, tugging on it with your teeth before letting go of it. 

You moved up from her chest, leaving teasing kisses along her skin as you reached her ear. “Look at you moaning like a whore.” You nibbled at her earlobe and chuckled at her, feeling her clench around your digits at the name. 

“Oh, you liked that.” You teased her as you tried to locate the spongy spot inside of Ruby—your fingers speeding up as you did. “You like being talked down to like a slut?” 

A high-pitched whine left Ruby at your words, clenching again around your fingers as her hips reached to meet each thrust of your fingers. But you stopped your ministrations abruptly, leaving your fingers inside of her warm pussy as you pulled away from her ear, along with most of your body from her to use your free hand to grip the long hairs at the nape of her neck. 

“Tell me.” You tug at her hair, another moan escaping her lips as you do, making you smirk at how strung Ruby is for you. 

“Fuck.” She groaned out. “Yeah I do. Now are you gonna keep going or do I have to finish myself off?” Ruby managed to snap at you, her cheeks flushed and chest heaving from the noises she was making.

You couldn’t help but smile evilly at the plan that formed in your head at Ruby’s retort. “No, I’ll finish you off. But I have to get my fill first.” 

You promptly withdrew your fingers from her heated cunt and swiftly took off your soaked underwear. You grabbed both of Ruby’s wrists and climbed up her body, pinning her wrists with one hand as your naked cunt hovered Ruby’s mouth. 

You looked down at her to find her staring hungrily at your slick core. “Make me cum first and I’ll think about finishing you off.” Is what you said to her before lowering yourself down on her face, letting a soft sigh of pleasure leave your lips when you felt her tongue lave over your heated cunt. 

“Shit.” You moaned. “I can see why Sam uses your mouth like this, it’s the only thing that it’s good for when you’re not spewing your bullshit.” You managed to say as pleasure filled your veins and your hips rutted against Ruby’s mouth. 

Her tongue moved up and down your slit, tasting you for all you were worth before sucking your clit into her mouth, suckling on it before adding more suction to it. A louder moan escaped your lips as you ground your cunt harder down on her mouth. 

Ruby wouldn’t ever admit it, but it felt good to be used by you like this. If this meant she’d get one step closer to you helping her, then so be it. But she knew she wasn’t going to be able to hide the arousal that pooled in her underwear at the fact you used her like your personal toy. You weren’t shy about how hard you grinded down on her face. She moved from your clit to thrust her tongue in you—her nose bumping against your swollen clit sent you faster down to tipping over the edge. 

“Fuck, you’re doing so good f’me Ruby, eating me out like a good little whore.” You gripped her wrists a little tighter, using your free hand to grip the top of her hair, and pulled at hair there—Ruby groaning at the sting of pain into you, sending vibrations through you. 

The motel room was filled with your moaning and groaning as you rode Ruby’s face to oblivion, and you didn’t care how loud you were. Ruby could easily have ripped herself out of your grip, but something in her wanted to submit to you, so she did, letting you use her however you pleased. 

Ruby had moved her talented tongue from your cunt and drew your clit into her mouth, and sucked hard on it. It threw you off the edge and into your orgasm. You came hard on her face, your pussy clenching around nothing as pleasure racked your body. She kept sucking on your clit as you came all over her face, wetting her chin and mouth with your slick until you shakily removed yourself from her face and collapsed next to her. Your grip on her wrists fell as you tried to calm yourself from the intensity of your orgasm. 

You could hear the rustling of the sheets right next to you but kept your eyes closed as you caught your breath. 

Before you could peel your eyes open, you felt cold hands grip your wrists and pin them to the bed. You opened your eyes to find a now naked Ruby hovering over you with a devilish smile on her face, but she didn’t bother cleaning your arousal from her face as she leaned down so her face was close to yours. 

“My turn.” Ruby’s lips brushed against yours as she spoke. 

From there you knew you were in for a long night.   

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[mimir-anoshe]

I love that ARCANE is using the MAJOR ARCANA for symbolism.

Chefs kiss.

These are Sevika's tarot cards from season 1.

The Magician (upright) overlapping Death (upright).

Foreshadowing? Oh hell yeah. But its only now after S2 Episode 6 do I understand what they might actually be foreshadowing. People may have talked about this before, so I apologise if this is similar to anyone else's meta. These are all my own thoughts, I usually just watch arcane and don't dabble into the meta but this season has me feral and I just rewatched season 1.

SPOILERS for Arcane S1/S2 below.

I just want to prologue this post with a note about how I've noticed even from season 1 there are thematic parallels and linear symbolism being afforded between Jinx and Viktor. Others in the community have too I'm sure. Its strange. I thought it was interesting in S1 but didn't deep dive into it, but S2 has driven headfirst into it and its making me go "oh... oh ok." Even Viktor in S1 noted Jinx's genius, and in another timeline perhaps Powder would've been a student of Viktors had fate not set them on parallel paths. Two children of Zaun, both mechanical/scientific geniuses. One physically disabled whilst the other mentally disabled. One who "escaped" and was given a chance, rising to the top only to create something that would be used for harm. Fighting that fate at every step. Whilst the other trapped at the bottom of the barrel, forced to use her gifts to become a weapon herself. Such GOOD story writing.

So now let's think about the art of the cards, because in tarot, even the symbolism of the specific art is important. Its why an artists interpretation of a major/minor can be so crucial to a reading.

Here's a figure map I made earlier.

Lets begin with Death.

Thirteenth of the Major Arcana, a "significant transformation and the end of a phase in life." There is death and rebirth symbolism all over arcane, but let's take a closer look at the symbolism mirroring the art.

Figure 7&8 - The one who has "died" a skeleton/skull laid down and being "imbued" with something as something else is taken away.

See that the imbuing focuses on the "chest" area.

It's quick, but it flashes briefly when Viktor is being imbued with the Hexcore. He canonically dies "the skull" and is reborn with the Hexcore on an "altar"/table.

Same with Jinx. Canonically "dies" and is reborn laying on an "altar"/table using shimmer. Purple being used as the visual thread between shimmer and the arcane of the hex; a colour imagery representation of "magical" alchemical/arcane power turning them into something beyond human.

Singed and Jayce. Two hands of death, giving and taking life as if they were a God. One using shimmer, the other Hextech thats imbued with shimmer. Messing with the balance of life and death.

With Viktor, the energy is transferred straight into his chest, just like on the card.

So now we've established the parallels to the death tarot, lets look at The Magician.

The First of the Major Arcana, "the connection between the physical and spiritual worlds, and the ability to manifest one's desires."

Viktor is the Magician. No doubt. He connects the physical and spiritual world of the arcane, he brings people back from the brink of death, as he was. He manifests his desires through the use of the hex, the arcane. And the dude just looks like a mecha wizard.

Though if you want it to be even more obvious.

Figure 3 - The Third Arm/Third Hand.

The image below is "The Machine Herald" Hero from League of Legends. This is the hero Viktor is based upon.

He canonically has three arms, same as the Magician in the card. The Magician is Viktor, Viktor is the Magician. The Magician is the Machine Herald.

The Magician overtakes/overlaps death. But Viktor by episode 6 still doesn't quite resemble the machine herald from the games. There's no third arm... Yet. So the Magician in the card isn't Viktor from episodes 1-6, this is the machine herald who comes after the one killed in episode 6. Another Rebirth is set to happen for Viktor.

Figures 1 &2 - White mask. Red/pinkish eyes.

Hmmm... Red/pinkish eyes are associated with shimmer. And a white mask, of the machine herald? The mask of a messiah. That the hextech Viktor will most likely also be imbued with shimmer like Jinx, to become the true "machine herald." Messiahs of the hex, monsters of the shimmer.

Its also worth noting that both Jinx and Viktor are framed as messianic figures of Zaun in this season. One the fighter who will rally together the undercity and free Zaun from its oppression. The other a healer and a saint like figure who will free the Zaunites of their suffering and lead them into a better future.

Jinx wanting peace - represented by Isha - and Viktor's dream of peace and healing for Zaun - represented by a lot of things including healing Vander - are metaphorically and literally killed in episode 6. Funnily enough, one symbol of peace killing the other (Isha and Vander - Child and Father). After all, peace and violence are two sides of the same coin, as are Viktor and Jinx. Or should I say, two sides of the same cog...

Figure 4&6 - The Cog shaped Hole in the Magicians chest/The Cog Coin and Jinx's cog.

"I understand now. The message hidden within the pattern. The reason for our failures in the commune. The doctor was right. Its inescapable. Humanity. Our very essence. Our emotions... Rage. Compassion. Hate. Two sides of the same coin. Inextricably bound."

In episode 6, whilst Viktor is explaining to Vi about what it will take to heal Vander, Jinx is sceptical. She doesn't even believe in herself as a messiah, so this "hero"? This "saviour" coming along to solve their problems? To fix things? When all she can do is break everything around her, jinx her own family, destroy? She's scoffing at Viktor sure, but she's also scoffing at herself. Mirroring. People treat her like they treat him, so to believe in him as a saviour means she would have to look into the water of that well and face her own reflection. And Viktor sees right through it, the pretence, and he sees her potential.

Knowledge is a paradox. Jinx wants to stick with what she knows, to destroy instead of to build, to "Watch it all burn." Or ignore the plight of Zaun, so she can live peacefully with Isha. Jinx - Powder - is choosing to remain ignorant to what's right in front of her. Right up until the moment Isha dies.

In the scene earlier in the episode, Jinx accidently destroys a bit of the well, releasing a cog that falls into water. Cogs have been symbolic of Viktor healing people throughout this season, using cogs to "Build."

Powder was thrown into water just like that cog by Silco, and reborn as Jinx. But its not Silco that picks up this cog. Its Viktor. He holds the potential of his creation in his hand, and in paradox, holds Jinx's destruction. Viktor holds Jinx's potential. He's literally holding the two sides of Jinx/Powder in his hand, her - their - fate. Just like Jinx, Viktor has the equal capacity to destroy, and if he is reborn as a weapon later on, perhaps that cog represents Jinx being reborn too. As a creator. A builder.

He holds onto Jinx's cog all the way through the rest of the episode, balancing that potential, that fate, of creation and destruction in his hand. Right up until the moment he dies, and the coin/the cog falls, sealing their fate. His death causing the deaths of Isha and Vander too.

So we've established that the story is viewing cogs/coins in a similar light. We've also established the show is linking Viktor and Jinx through the symbology of the cog.

This is reiterated in the symbolism surrounding the Tarot cards. Around the cards are coins that take the shape of cogs, the currency of Zaun. Fate - coin flips - and cogs, gods and machines. Deus Ex Machina, that is what Viktor is to become, and Jinx creates destruction using machines. She's an inventor, just like Viktor and Jayce. A creator and a destroyer. A god of the machine.

So how does Figure 6 - the coin cogs - relate to Figure 4? The hole in the Magician's chest.

On the Tarot Card, the Magician has a circle in the middle of his chest. A hole. Just like the hole Jayce puts through Viktors chest at the end of Episode 6. The one that kills him.

But if you look closely at the image above, it might be a stretch, but to me, the striations on the inner ring look very similar to those of a cog. The hole is what kills Viktor. Cogs have been given visual symbolism for healing, and are also associated with Jinx's potential for creation. Its a stretch, but it could potentially be foreshadowing Jinx using her abilities to heal Viktor; to build instead of destroy. We've already seen Jinx do it once with Sevika, by "building" her a new arm.

I also find it interesting that we're shown Jinx using her talents to build someone a new arm, and Viktor - the machine herald - still has yet to acquire his third arm. Perhaps he doesn't make it. Perhaps Jinx does?

Maybe, just maybe, Jinx - Powder - is the one to fix Viktor, and flip the cog of fate once again.

Now in Episode 6 we already get foreshadowing that it'll be singe - not Jinx - who saves Viktor by imbuing him with the ultimate shimmer from Warwick/Vander - stabilising him. He says it in the episode, but Viktor refuses to sacrifice Vander in the name of creating the ultimate weapon of destruction.

"It would destroy him."

Viktor's potential for destruction goes hand in hand with Jinx's.

Its even foreshadowed in both the cards. The red/pink eyes of the machine herald foreshadowing shimmer. And the shadow being imbued into the chest of the dead skeleton (Viktor) looks an awful lot like Warwick; the beast that traps Vander.

So why am I talking about Jinx saving Viktor if I'm so certain its Singe? Well I'm certain Singe will bring Viktor back to life, to be used as a weapon. That seems like the most likely outcome.

But like Viktor was saying about Vander "He's not a specimen, he's a man." Viktor was doing everything in his power to save Vander's humanity. So yes Singe will bring the machine herald back most likely - even if I think it'd be thematically cool for it to be Jinx - but I think Jinx will save Viktor. Save the man, the humanity. Be the big fat hero.

Jinx was a girl imbued with Shimmer, and despite having monstrous abilities and doing monstrous things, her humanity has still survived.

I could be wrong, I most likely am, but the the thing that's getting to me is this...

Figure 5 - The Broken Infinity.

At the centre of Viktor's chest, in the middle of Jayce's death blow and Jinx's cog of creation & destruction, is a symbol.

Now a diagonal infinity symbol is associated with the Firelights. Ekko. The boy who shattered time.

Broken Infinity? Shattered time? Seems to go hand in hand.

Though Ekko's symbol is a whole infinity, more akin to a Z than an ongoing X.

There are plenty of theories Ekko will play a role in Viktor's fate and the fate of everyone by rewinding time somehow. And the multiple shots of the coin rolling support that to an extend. Rewind time, change fate, change the flip of the cog. And I agree, I think Ekko is going to have a role to play. But there's also another character who fits with this symbol, who uses shimmer to move faster than humanly possible and defy fate time and time again. Who is the fulcrum of fate in the eyes of the story, the catalyst of everything. And only one character who has solely been associated with a broken infinity symbol before.

Jinx. That's Jinx's symbol. Her champion tag.

Jinx's symbol, right at the centre of Viktors chest. And this line to Jinx from Viktor...

"You have much to offer this commune, Powder. Your talents could be used to build instead of destroy."

And the line from Singe, about Viktor's fate being tied to the commune. Viktor IS the commune, he's the centre of it all. The one who can make the dream of Zaun - Vander's dream - a reality. And that line foreshadowed Jinx using her talents to help the commune. To help Viktor.

Hell, she was technically the reason he "died" in the first place. She fired the rocket that nearly killed him. Wouldn't it be poetic story telling if she was the one who saved him in the end?

I can't wait for Saturday.

I believe whatever happens, Viktor and Jinx's fates are inextricably bound.

[aeralux]

"Dumb & Poetic" - Lucerys Velaryon

(part one/part two)

Modern!Lucerys x Reader

Summary: A clash of egos. A rich boy and a scholarship girl. Sounds like a match made in hell. So, obviously, your professor pairs you up for the semester's most important project. A week alone on the sea with the entitled Lucerys... How ever would you survive?

Modern!AU; Enemies to Lovers; Collage!AU

Warnings: enemies to lovers!au; kind of a slow burn; rich boy Lucerys; explicit fantasies of each other; foul language; slight Addam x Reader

Words: in this part 18k

Notes: No description of the reader (just that she has hair). No smut in this part (yet), otherwise, it would have been way toooo long. Just dirty thoughts in this one... English is not my first language. If you do not agree with any of the warnings, do NOT read.

Blackwater Bay Maritime University stood proudly before you, its large pale building glowing under the sun. The salty sea scent and the rich smell of varnished wood greeted you as you stepped onto the busy campus. You could see sleek boats bouncing gently in the water, their polished surfaces glistening in the sunlight, while students in high-end-looking outfits strolled by. It made you feel out of place. Sure, you weren't broke, but you felt out of your league among these trust-fund kids with their private yachts and endless resources. You were here thanks to a scholarship, one wrong grade, and you are out.

Determined not to let your sharp tongue land you in hot water, you needed to win over your professors and classmates. Unfortunately, none of your friends transferred to this prestigious marine university, not caring much about sea life and biology. But you had fought tooth and nail for your spot here, pursuing a major in oceanography and a minor in Business—and you had earned it. You were determined to prove you had just as much right to be here as those silver spoon types.

With those thoughts swirling in your head, you knew you had to find your housing on campus. You followed a few random university students until you finally located your residence hall and room number. 

Should I knock? No, wait—this is also my room too. I'll just go. 

Pushing the door open, you stepped inside. "Hey," you said cautiously, peeking in as you entered your new home for the year. "I'm your roommate," you said with a friendly smile. The girl inside caught your attention instantly. She was pretty, with white, curly hair that framed her face. Her smooth, dark complexion and the cute gap between her front teeth gave her a model-like appeal.

Her face lit up at your arrival. "Hi! So nice to meet you!" She exclaimed, jumping up from her seat as if she couldn't contain her excitement. You barely had time to brace yourself before she flew across the room to give you a warm hug. "Sorry! I'm a hugger," she said, her smile making you feel more at ease amid the unfamiliar surroundings.

"No problem," you chuckled, setting down your bags with a soft thud on the ground. The corners of your mouth lifted as you looked at her, feeling a playful warmth in the air. "I don't mind being hugged by pretty girls," you joked lightly, letting a teasing grin play on your lips. You felt an easy-going vibe from her, making you smile even more, knowing you got lucky with your roommate. The sunlight hung low, casting a golden glow around you, adding to the atmosphere. This might turn out to be a genuinely good year.

She laughed, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "My name is Baela Targaryen, I’m from Dragonstone," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. You leaned in, intrigued by her presence; something was captivating about her, something that drew you in.

"Yeah, I’m not from Blackwater either," you replied, your mind drifting back to stories of your life before university.

Suddenly, you realised something, brows lifting slightly. "Wait. You’re a Targaryen?" You asked with an amused smile on your lips. "You mean to tell me that my roommate is the heiress of Fire & Flight Enterprises?" Your eyes widened in disbelief. It was no secret that the Targaryens were among the wealthiest in the realm, but it was hard to accept that with the girl before you, who seemed so down-to-earth.

"Yeah..." she replied, her tone shifting to something softer, almost bashful. "Don’t make this into a big deal, though. I just wanted a break from my family and all their expectations. My last name makes it pretty hard to find genuine friends..." Her voice trailed off as a bittersweet expression crossed her face, leaving you feeling empathy for her.

"Hey, don’t even worry about that," you quickly reassured her, wanting her to know you weren’t just another person drawn to her status. "I’m really not that kind of person, I swear. I’m just curious—why not get a single room instead? You might risk getting a roommate who snores or talks in her sleep," you added with a light-hearted chuckle, trying to lift her spirits. "Not that I do any of those things... at least not often," you said with a playful grin as you began to unpack your things.

As you glanced over, you noticed her side of the room was already neatly organised. There was a certain charm in how she had set everything up, and somehow, it made you feel more at home as you settled in.

"So uh... what do you major in, Baela?" you asked her as you carefully unpacked your clothes, folding the shirts and stacking them neatly in the drawer. Thankfully, you didn’t bring too many items, making the task manageable.

"Oh, I’m going to major in International Strategy and Security, with a minor in Business," she replied, her eyes glued to her phone as she casually scrolled through updates.

"Really? I chose Business as my minor too! My major is Oceanography," you chuckled, exchanging smiles that felt warm in the newness of your surroundings. "Did any friends come with you here, or are you alone like me?"

"Well, my cousin is here too—Lucerys. He’s in another residence building... and actually in the same major as you," Baela said, her eyebrow slightly raised in surprise. "Funny how small the world really is, huh?"

"Well, if your cousin is anything like you, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine," you replied, finishing up your unpacking and arranging your beauty products on the small bathroom counter. Each item found its place, from toothpaste to moisturizer, creating a cosy little corner.

Baela fell silent momentarily, her brow furrowing as she contemplated your comment. "Yeah, he’s okay," she finally said, her voice rising slightly. She looked away, wide-eyed, as if pondering a hidden truth. "Just needs some time to get used to. You'll definitely recognise him though, he cannot be missed," she added with a hint of caution. You could sense the underlying tension; perhaps Lucerys had a bit of a reputation, even among family. After all, he could sometimes get on Baela’s nerves, and they had known each other since they were practically babies.

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. Was he supposed to be some jerk or something?

"I guess we will see tomorrow then," you said, a playful grin spreading across your face. With a light-hearted plop, you jumped onto your bed, bouncing slightly on the mattress after arranging your most essential items. Baela laughed at your silly antics, the sound brightening the small room, and walked over to sit beside you.

"We could check out some bars on Friday. How does that sound?" she suggested, her hopeful smile lighting up her face.

You nodded, feeling the excitement of new friendships and experiences in the foreign city. "Sure, that sounds like fun. Let’s just get through the first week," you said, rolling over to face her, the potential of the days ahead promisingexcitement.

You had braced yourself for an overwhelming first day of classes, but you weren’t prepared for the kind of guy who could set your nerves on fire with just a glance. The lecture hall buzzed with energy as you stepped inside, searching for an empty seat among rows of well-dressed students. Conversations filled the air, their posh accents swirling in a haze of privilege and entitlement.

That’s when you saw him.

He lounged at the front of the room, one arm casually draped over the back of his chair, exuding an easy confidence that seemed second nature to someone who’d never had to earn their privilege. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, igniting his tousled brown hair and highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline—a living testament to wealth and status.

You didn’t need an introduction to know who he was. Lucerys Velaryon—the heir of the Velaryon Shipping Empire, and, coincidentally, Baela’s cousin. The aura of superiority that surrounded him was nearly palpable, as students flocked to him like moths to a flame, captivated yet hesitant to sit beside him.

Annoyance simmered beneath your skin, but practicality won out. You chose the closest available seat—directly next to him. He glanced your way, his eyes skimming over you as if you were nothing more than a fleeting shadow, before returning his attention to the laptop sprawled in front of him, his things scattered all over the empty desk. Part of you was relieved; the less interaction with him, the better.

“Excuse me,” you said, sharpness creeping into your tone as you stared straight ahead. His fleeting glance turned into mild surprise as his eyebrows arched. “Is this seat taken, or are you too important to share a desk?”

To your astonishment, a grin spread across his face, a playful spark igniting in his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't realize my sheer presence was enough to make you feel unwelcome. Please, have a seat." His mock grandeur made you roll your eyes, the sarcasm dripping from his words.

With a frustrated sigh, you flopped down in the seat, pulling out your laptop. "Thanks for the permission," you muttered under your breath, trying to ignore the flicker of interest that sparked when you caught the gleam in his eye.

Leaning in slightly, he lowered his voice, almost conspiratorially. “So, what’s your deal?” His gaze bore into yours, mischief and curiosity swirling like a storm. Most girls here would be fawning over him, desperate to catch his attention. But you? You seemed blissfully unaware of the allure he held, and that intrigued him more than he cared to admit.

“My deal?” You replied, tilting your head, a bemused smile tugging at your lips as your fingers deftly powered on your computer. He was undeniably handsome, but the cockiness radiating from him was irritating. Your eyes met his, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. “What makes you think I have a ‘deal’?” you shot back, arching one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Maybe I’m just here to learn. Have you thought about that?”

As you leaned back in your chair, your hair brushing against your shoulders, you crossed your arms defiantly. The tension crackled like electricity, an undeniable friction forming between you two. At that moment, you both recognised something deeper at play—an automatic rivalry, two egos colliding.

Lucerys scoffed, rolling his eyes at your response. "Oh please. I suggest you tone it down with the attitude. Anyone could see you're out of place here." He glanced down at his laptop, clearly trying to ignore you now.

But you weren't about to let him off that easily. You leaned in closer, your voice low and challenging. "And what exactly is my 'attitude' supposed to be? Because from where I'm sitting, it seems like you're the one with the problem."

Your words hit their mark, and Lucerys' jaw clenched. He slammed his laptop shut, whirling to face you fully. "You know what? I don't need this crap from a scholarship 'beggar'. Find a new seat, princess."

But you just sneered, not backing down an inch. "Or what? Will you report me to the dean? Please, try it. I'd like to see you explain to your daddy how you can't handle sitting next to a girl who won't fall at your feet."

Lucerys' face reddened with anger, his hands balling into fists on the desk. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off his body. "You have no idea who you're messing with," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

But you just laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea. The spoiled rich boy who thinks the world revolves around him. How original."

The professor walked in then, and Lucerys quickly turned back to face the front, his jaw clenched tight. You couldn't help but smirk, pleased with how easily you had gotten under his skin.

"You're all talk and no action, Lucerys. Just another rich boy playing at being a man. Just cause you act like one doesn't make you a man."

Lucerys' eyes flashed with anger as he whipped his head back towards you, his voice low and venomous. "Careful, or I'll show you just how much of a man I can be." He leaned in, his face mere inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. "You wouldn't know real power if it bit you on that smartass mouth of yours."

You held his gaze, refusing to back down, your heart pounding in your chest. "Is that a threat?" you asked, your voice steady. "Because if it is, I'm not impressed."

The professor cleared their throat loudly, and Lucerys reluctantly turned back around, muttering under his breath. But you could still feel the heat of his glare boring into you.

As the lecture droned on, you found yourself stealing glances at him. Despite his bravado, there was something vulnerable about him, a hint of insecurity beneath the superiority.

Lucerys struggled to focus on the lecture, his mind reeling from the fiery exchange with the infuriating girl beside him. Who did you think you were, talking to him like that? But even he couldn't deny the spark of interest that took over him.

His eyes flicked to your profile, taking in the delicate curve of your neck, and the fullness of your lips. He imagined what it would be like to silence you with a kiss, to feel those lips on his...

No. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the intrusive thoughts. He couldn't afford to get distracted, not by you. You were nothing but an ordinary girl, a nobody. He had to remember that.

But as the lecture ended and you both gathered your things, he found his eyes lingering, unable to tear away from your retreating form.

"Until next time, princess," he called out, a challenging smirk on his lips. You paused, glancing back at him with a raised eyebrow.

"We'll see about that," you muttered as you headed out of the lecture hall.

The rest of the day crawled by, and you found yourself counting down the minutes until you could escape back to the safety of your dorm. When you finally burst through the door, Baela was sprawled out on the plush carpet, her long curls fanned out around her like a halo.

"Hey you!" she called out, her face lighting up at the sight of you. "How was your first day? I bet you made all sorts of friends with that winning personality of yours."

You flopped down beside her with a groan, burying your face in your arms. "Ugh, you wouldn't believe the day I've had. Remember the dude you told me about, Lucerys? Turns out he's a total dickhead. Like, the worst kind of rich, entitled prick you can imagine."

Baela sat up, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. "Wait, Lucerys? As in, my cousin Lucerys?"

You nodded miserably, shaking your head. "One and the same. He's in my most important class of the semester, and let me tell you, he did not take kindly to being seated next to little old me. Threatened to get me kicked out and everything."

Baela's mouth fell open in shock. "What? That's insane! I'm so sorry. Lucerys can be a real jerk sometimes, but I never thought he'd stoop that low. I'll have a word with him, I promise."

You waved her off, sitting up and leaning back on your hands. "Don't bother. I can handle myself. I just needed to vent a little. But enough about that loser. Tell me about your day! I bet it was way more interesting than mine."

Baela sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Yeah, it was pretty uneventful. Mostly just a bunch of stuffy lectures and boring group work. I can't believe we're supposed to be here for four years."

She leaned back on her elbows, her curls tumbling over her shoulders. "But I met this cute guy during my business lecture. He sat next to me and we chatted for a bit, but that's about it."

A mischievous grin spread across her face. "Speaking of cute boys, you didn't mention meeting any in your classes. Don't tell me you were too busy fending off Lucerys' charms to notice anyone else."

She nudged you playfully with her foot, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Come on, spill. I know there has to be at least one guy who caught your eye today. And if not, well, we'll have to go on a mission to find you one!"

You couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm, despite the stress. Baela seemed to somehow know how to brighten your mood, even when things seemed bleak.

"Alright, alright, you win," you conceded, holding up your hands in mock surrender. "There was this one guy in my Marine Biology lecture who seemed pretty cool. Tall, dark hair, really intense eyes. But I didn't get a chance to talk to him much. He seemed to be too immersed in the lecture, you know?"

Baela perked up at that, her eyes sparkling with interest. "Ooh, a mysterious man of few words. I like him already! You'll have to make your move soon."

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, but a small smile tugged at your lips. Maybe this university thing wouldn't be so bad, not with a friend like Baela by your side.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening gossiping and laughing, the tension melting away in the warmth of your friendship.

The air of peace was interrupted by your phone ringing with an email notification. "Hold that thought, babe," you said with a chuckle, reaching for your phone.

But as soon as you read the message, your heart sank. It was from your Marine Ecology professor, assigning you partners for a massive group project worth 70% of your grade. And who was your partner? You guessed it - Lucerys fucking Velaryon.

"No. No, no, no," you groaned, burying your face in a nearby pillow. This couldn't be happening. The universe was clearly out to get you.

Baela looked at you with a mixture of concern and amusement. "What's wrong?"

You shoved the phone into her hands, too defeated to even read the email out loud. She scanned it quickly, then burst out laughing.

"This is NOT funny," you whined, snatching the phone back.

Baela's laughter tapered off as she took in your miserable expression. "I'm sorry. That really sucks. But hey, maybe it won't be so bad. You two could surprise yourselves and actually work well together."

You shot her a withering look. "Yeah, right. More like we'll probably end up killing each other before the semester's over."

You flopped back onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

Lucerys leaned back in his chair, scrolling through his phone with a bored expression. The day had been dull, filled with uninteresting lectures and tedious work. He couldn't wait to get back to his room and forget about all this academic nonsense.

But then, he saw the email from his Marine Ecology professor. A group project, worth a significant chunk of his grade. He rolled his eyes, preparing to delete it without reading. But then he saw his partner's name.

You. That infuriating, insufferable girl from his major. The one who had dared to challenge him, to question his authority. How dare you be paired with him, as if you were his equal?

A slow smirk spread across his face as he contemplated all the ways he could make your life miserable. He could ignore you completely, forcing you to handle all the work by yourself. Alternatively, he could undermine you at every turn, sabotaging your project to watch you fail.

But then, a different thought struck him. What if he played nice? What if he acted like the perfect partner—charming and attentive, always ready to lend a helping hand? He could lull you into a false sense of security, making you believe he had changed. Then, when you least expected it, he could strike.

He could ruin you, not just academically. But also fuck with your head at the same time.

You turned up to the dreaded class, your heart pounding. The stuffy scent of the classroom mixed with the faint aroma of coffee drifting in from the corridor. You sank into your seat next to your 'partner', the one person you hoped to avoid for the entire semester. 

The tension crackled in the air like static, each of you acutely aware of the silence between you—a silent standoff, similar to gladiators readying for battle in an arena.

Lucerys Velaryon sat with casual arrogance, leaning back in his chair like he owned the room. His dark hair fell perfectly as if the wind itself wouldn’t dare ruffle it, and his sharp jawline only served to emphasize that infuriating smirk he always wore. He was everything you despised: cocky, self-assured, and irritatingly handsome in a way that made you want to both punch him and… well, something else you refused to entertain.

It was apparent that neither of you was content with being partners for the entire semester. Yet here you were, forced into this arrangement that had your stomach churning.

The first part of the project was mercifully straightforward—strictly planning—which meant you could work at a distance, avoiding the hostility that flared whenever you were too close. You could pour over charts and maps, tapping out your ideas on the laptop while he could occupy himself with his own proposals.

But the real dread loomed in the shadows—the end of the project. Spending several nights on a boat. Alone. Just the two of you.

Your heart raced at the thought. The project required you both to venture out into the open waters, taking shifts to monitor navigation and keep the vessel on course. Being confined to a small space, away from others, with him made your palms sweat.

The thought of sharing space with him, and the way your different personalities might clash, made you feel like you were losing your grip on reality. But part of you was definitely curious. You wondered if your heated exchanges could turn into something else.

Whatever happened you were determined to hold your ground, to endure it no matter what. After all, failing was not an option; not for you.

Lucerys couldn't help but smirk as he watched you fidget nervously beside him. The sight of you so flustered was almost enough to make him forget his anger from earlier. Almost. Your discomfort was like a drug to him, an aphrodisiac that only fueled his desire to rile you up even more.

His gaze flicked to you, his smirk deepening as if he could sense your annoyance. “Lucky me,” he drawled, his voice low and smooth, with a hint of sarcasm that made your skin prickle. “Looks like we’re stuck together for this project. Should be fun.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes. “I’m only with you because I have to be.”

Lucerys let out a low, mocking laugh, the sound curling between you like smoke. “Oh, I can tell. That scowl you’ve been wearing since day one is so inviting.” He leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the desk as his gaze swept over you. “Tell me, princess, how do you plan on surviving a week stuck on a boat with me? Going to throw yourself overboard to escape?”

Your jaw clenched, anger bubbling in your chest as you turned back to your laptop with a loud clack of keys. “I’m not worried about surviving, Lucerys. I’m more concerned about how you’ll handle being away from your precious daddy and all his money for so long.”

"Ah, the daddy card,” he said, tilting his head with an amused expression. “How original. Remind me again—what’s wrong with having money?”

You huffed, refusing to look at him as your fingers flew over the keyboard. “Nothing, if you’ve actually earned it. But I wouldn’t expect you to understand that.”

Lucerys chuckled, the sound infuriatingly warm, as if you’d just told him a joke. “Careful, you’re starting to sound jealous.”

Lucerys leaned back in his chair, his eyes flickering over to you. He could feel the tension radiating off of you in waves, and it only served to fuel his amusement. He knew you were just as unhappy about this arrangement as he was, but he couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement.

You turned to glare at him, your temper flaring. “Jealous? Of you?” You leaned closer, your voice dripping with venom. “Trust me, Velaryon, there’s nothing about you I envy. If anything, I pity you.”

“Oh, do tell,” he said, his smirk unwavering. “What part of my charmed existence do you find so tragic?”

You paused, letting your words sink in before delivering the blow. “The part where you think that dumbass smirk of yours is going to get you through life. Not everyone happens to be impressed by it.”

For a split second, his smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing as if you’d hit a nerve. But just as quickly, he recovered, leaning back in his chair with a shrug. “Good thing I’m not trying to impress you, then.”

Your lips curled into a tight smile, your voice calm but laced with steel. “Perfect. Then stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. Maybe we’ll actually get this project done without killing each other.”

He watched as you busied yourself with the laptop, your fingers flying over the keys as you poured over the project details. He couldn't help but admire the way your brows furrowed in concentration, the way your tongue peeked out slightly as you focused on the task at hand.

The words hung between you like a gauntlet thrown to the ground. Lucerys held your gaze for a moment longer, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he leaned back in his chair, waving a dismissive hand. “Fine by me, princess. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when things get… complicated.”

As the class went on, Lucerys found his mind wandering to the prospect of being stuck on a boat with you. The thought of being confined in such a small space, with no escape, sent a shiver down his spine. He knew that his patience would be tested, that his temper would likely flare on more than one occasion.

But there was a part of him that looked forward to it. He imagined the way your eyes would flash with anger, the way your cheeks would flush a pretty pink as you argued with him. He envisioned the heated exchanges, the way your voices would rise until you were both shouting, your chests heaving with exertion.

And then, in the midst of it all, he pictured a different sort of exchange. A moment where the tension between you would shift from anger to something else entirely. A moment where your eyes would meet, and the air would crackle with a different sort of energy.

Neither spoke as the lecture began, but the tension between you remained, a simmering heat that neither of you knew how to extinguish.

And deep down, a small, traitorous part of you wondered if you even wanted to.

You gathered your things and quickly exited the classroom as the lecture ended, eager to put some distance between you. Not that you had much luck, with the universe seemingly conspiring to throw him in your path at every turn.

You sighed as you entered the math classroom, spotting Lucerys already two rows back like a dark cloud looming over your day. But your spirits lifted when you saw who would be sitting next to you - Addam. Tall, dark and handsome, with a kind smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

As the lecture began, you found yourself stealing glances at him, admiring the way his dreads fell over his forehead as he bent over his notebook. You wondered absently what it would feel like to run your fingers through them, to lean your head on his firm chest...

Suddenly, you heard a soft whisper and turned to see Addam looking at you, a shy smile on his lips. "Psst, you got a ruler?" he asked, his voice low and slightly rough. You felt a shiver run through you at the sound of it.

"Yeah, here you go," you stammered, rummaging through your pencil case and pulling out the ruler. As you handed it to him, your fingers brushed, and you swore you could feel the spark of electricity at the contact. He smiled at you, and you couldn't help but smile back, a blush rising to your cheeks.

Addam grinned at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Thanks," he whispered, his fingers lingering on yours just a second longer than necessary. "I'm Addam, by the way."

He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting over your features before meeting your eyes once more. "I have to admit, I've been hoping for an excuse to talk to you. Looks like fate just handed me one."

Lucerys sat two rows back, his brown eyes fixed on you. He watched as you flirted with the boy next to you, his jaw clenching with barely restrained jealousy. How dare you act so familiar with another man, when you had been so cold to him?

He shifted in his seat, his gaze never leaving you. He couldn't help but notice the way your cheeks flushed, the way your eyes sparkled with mirth as you interacted with your new 'friend'. It only fuelled his anger.

As the lecture droned on, Lucerys found himself growing more and more agitated. He couldn't focus on the equations scrawled across the chalkboard, his mind consumed with thoughts of you and Addam. The way your fingers had brushed, the way you had smiled at each other.

He scoffed, turning his attention back to the front of the class. He didn't care who you sat next to, didn't care who you flirted with. You were nothing to him, a mere nuisance to be dealt with.

But a small, dark part of him knew that he would never be able to forget you, no matter how hard he tried. You had gotten under his skin in a way that no one else ever had, and he knew he would never be able to truly move on.

You couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Part of you didn't want to look, already knowing the source of such intensity. But curiosity got the better of you.

Turning slowly, you locked eyes with Lucerys. His gaze was piercing, almost accusatory, sending a shiver down your spine. You glared back, your brows furrowing in annoyance. Of course, it was him, Throwing daggers at you with his looks, his jaw clenched tight.

Great, just what you needed. The one person who seemed determined to make your life miserable, now glaring at you across the classroom. As if being forced to be his partner for that damn project wasn't bad enough, now he had to interrupt your attempts to actually enjoy yourself?

You turned back to Addam, trying to focus on his kind smile and the soft rumble of his voice. But the damage was done. Lucerys' glare had already left an imprint on your mind, a dark cloud hovering over your thoughts.

You sighed internally, knowing that no matter where you went or who you talked to, Lucerys would always find a way to get under your skin. His mere presence was enough to set you on edge, to make you question every little thing you did.

You were your own person, and you would act like it, no matter how much it annoyed the arrogant bastard scowling at you from across the room.

Lucerys couldn't believe his eyes as he watched you turn to face him, your brows furrowed in annoyance. The sight of your scowl only served to fuel his anger further, his hands clenching into fists on the desk in front of him.

How dare you act so carefree and happy when you were supposed to be partners? How dare you flirt with another man when you should have been focusing on your project? He felt a surge of jealousy and rage as he watched you turn back to Addam, your smile bright and uninhibited.

As the lecture ended, Lucerys quickly gathered his things, slamming his textbook shut with a loud bang. He couldn't wait to get you alone, to have it out with you in private.

Lucerys stormed out of the classroom, not even bothering to hold the door open for you. Let you struggle with it. He didn't care. He was too focused on his anger, too consumed by the need to confront you.

He waited for you outside, his arms crossed over his chest, his foot tapping impatiently against the ground. When you finally emerged, he stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

“What the hell was that about?” Lucerys demanded, his voice low but laced with a sharp edge that could cut through steel. He stepped into your path, blocking your escape as the afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the dock. “You said we’d focus on the project, but then I catch you batting your eyelashes at Addam like you’ve got nothing better to do? That’s low, even for you.”

You froze mid-step, turning slowly to face him, the incredulous look on your face enough to stop him in his tracks. “Wait. Hold on.” You held up a hand as if to physically halt his nonsense. “You can’t be serious right now. This was Math class, Lucerys, not Marine Ecology. I wasn’t exactly about to break out our project notes in the middle of calculating derivatives.”

You rolled your eyes with enough force to see your past life. “And you waited through a full 90-minute class to give me this half-baked lecture? Cute. How very dedicated of you.”

As you brushed past him, you couldn’t resist throwing one last dagger over your shoulder. “Oh, and about Addam? Get over yourself. I’m allowed to talk to whoever I want. I don’t need your permission, Velaryon. Shocking, I know.”

His jaw tightened, and you didn’t need to turn around to feel the heat of his glare boring into the back of your head. You heard his quickened steps as he caught up to you, his hand snagging the strap of your bag and tugging just hard enough to spin you back around.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he growled, his eyes blazing as he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking to something suffocatingly intimate. “Watch your tone.”

“My tone?” you shot back, wrenching your bag free from his grip with a sharp tug. “You’re the one throwing a tantrum because I dared to exist within three feet of another human being. Here’s a tip: maybe focus on being a decent partner for once instead of some overgrown hall monitor.”

His lips curled into a frustrated sneer. “A decent partner? Maybe I’d focus on that if you weren’t busy flirting around campus with every pretty face that crosses your path.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Oh, poor Lucerys,” you said, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Did my casual conversation with Addam hurt your fragile little ego? For the record, I wasn’t flirting. But even if I was, it’s none of your business.”

Lucerys opened his mouth to retort, but you weren’t finished. Leaning in just slightly, you stared him down with an infuriatingly smug smile. “Here’s a reality check for you, Velaryon: I can juggle my social life and this damn project just fine. Multitasking. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Or does your silver-spoon upbringing not teach you that skill?”

His eyes narrowed, his jaw ticking as he stared at you, his anger palpable—but a different kind of heat lingered beneath it. “You think you’re so clever,” he said, his voice dropping into a dangerously soft tone. “So self-assured. But you’re walking on thin ice.”

“Thin ice?” you repeated with a scoff, stepping even closer. “Funny. I didn’t realize ice was part of this project. Must’ve missed that memo.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The tension crackled like static electricity, your eyes locked in a battle neither of you wanted to lose. 

Then, in a voice that sent a shiver down your spine, Lucerys said, “You talk a big game, don’t you? Always ready with a comeback. But I wonder...” His eyes flickered briefly to your lips, just long enough for you to notice. “Are you as tough as you act? Or is it just a front?”

Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down, narrowing your eyes at him. “Try me, Velaryon,” you said, your voice low and steady. “You’ll find out exactly how tough I am.”

The corner of his mouth twitched—whether it was irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell. “Fine,” he said, taking a step back, though his intense gaze stayed fixed on you. “Have it your way. But don’t come crying to me when you realise this project isn’t as simple as you think. I won’t go easy on you. Not because you’re a...” He hesitated, his eyes briefly flicking downward before returning to yours. “A grown woman,” he finished, the sarcasm dripping like venom.

Your lips twitched, fighting the urge to smile. “Oh, I’d never expect you to go easy, Velaryon,” you said, your voice as sweet as honey but sharp enough to cut. “Frankly, I’m counting on you to keep up.”

You turned on your heel, leaving him standing there, his jaw set and fists clenched at his sides. But as you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze lingering on you, and for a brief, maddening moment, you wondered if you’d struck a nerve—or if he’d struck one in you.

Sighing, you flopped down on the couch, scrolling through the mess of notes and printouts scattered across the desk. The stupid project outline was more challenging to get a handle on than you thought it would be. For over a week now, you had been struggling with the navigation plan and practical math part of the assignment. You swear, Lucerys was probably doing the bare minimum, just to make things difficult for you. The jerk.

You glanced at the time on your phone and realized Baela was still MIA, probably out with her twin, Rhaena, for the night. You couldn't blame her, but it left you with no one to bounce ideas off.

Rising from the couch, you hit play on your phone and cranked up some Nu Metal playlist, the aggressive rhythms and screaming vocals filling the small dorm room.

Trying to approach the assignments with pure anger and hatred. Maybe that would do the trick.

Without a care in the world, Lucerys made his way to his cousin Baela's dorm. She still had his Apple headphones, which she had borrowed a while back and conveniently forgotten to return.

Lucerys hesitated for a moment behind the door, hearing loud music blaring inside. Had Baela changed her taste in music, or was her roommate some kind of crazy rocker chick? He wondered to himself before slowly opening the door, not even bothering to knock.

Lucerys stepped into the dorm room, immediately drawn to the loud, aggressive music pounding through the speakers. He spotted you standing in the middle of the room, your movements sharp and agitated as you paced back and forth.

His brows furrowed as he surveyed the chaotic scene before him. Papers were scattered across every surface, and empty cans of energy drinks were strewn across the coffee table. You looked as if you were ready to tear your hair out in frustration.

"Well, well, well," Lucerys drawled, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. "What do we have here? Looks like someone is having a tough time focusing on our little project."

He allowed his gaze to wander over you, noting how your clothes clung to your curves and the flush of anger colouring your cheeks. Part of him felt a twisted sense of satisfaction at seeing you so worked up.

Oh my god, not him again?! Your heart sank, caught completely off guard by his presence. You couldn’t believe it—you just couldn’t catch a break! Your frustration boiled over as you spun around, ready to confront Lucerys.

"You've got to be shitting me," you exclaimed, your voice rising in pitch as you threw your hands up in exasperation. "Is nowhere safe from you? I swear, you're like the fucking plague!"

You stormed across the room, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached him, his posture relaxed as he leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe. With all your might, you attempted to slam the door shut right before him.

But Lucerys moved quicker than you expected, catching the door before it could slam shut. He stepped into the dorm room, his brown eyes flashing with amusement and annoyance as he took in your exasperated expression.

"Careful now," he chided, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You don't want to damage university property." He kicked the door shut behind him, the loud music still blaring.

"And I'm not the plague, I'm just... persistent," Lucerys retorted, his voice rising over the aggressive beat. "Besides, I couldn't help but hear all this noise from the hallway. What are you trying to do, alert the whole dorm that you'restruggling with this project?"

Sighing loudly, you rub your temples, trying to ward off the headache that's been building from staring at these project notes for hours. You glance over at Lucerys, annoyance flashing in your eyes.

"This just happens to be my taste in music, jackass," you mutter, storming over to Baela's side of the room. You bend down to fish out the headphones from under her messy bed, your short shorts riding up to expose more of your thighs and the curve of your round ass. But you are too preoccupied to even notice, let alone care.

Lucerys let his eyes linger on your exposed thighs and ass for a moment before snapping back to your face as you turned around. He couldn't help but feel a rush of blood going south at the way your short shorts clung to your every move, the way your toned muscles flexed as you bent over.

"I know you're probably here for these headphones. Baela mentioned something about someone stopping by. So, stop trying to torment me, and we can move on with our lives... for now." You retort and straighten up, tossing the headphones at Lucerys. "There, are you happy now?" You ask sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest.

Lucerys caught the headphones with a smirk. "Yes, I am," he replied, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he held up the headphones. "But you seem to be forgetting one thing..." He stepped closer to you, backing you up against Baela's desk. "You're not moving on until we finish this project."

You scoffed, leaning back against Baela's desk and eyeing Lucerys with annoyance and grudging respect. "Oh please, don't pretend like you're here to help. We both know that's the last thing on your mind," You retaliated, raising a brow. You let your gaze rake over his tall, lean frame, lingering just a moment too long on his lips.

"Is this really your idea of helping me? I have to say, your methods could use a lot of improvement," I quipped, a smirk playing at the corners of your mouth. You crossed your arms under your soft breasts, causing them to lift and draw his attention.

Lucerys felt his heart rate quicken as he noticed your gaze lingering on his lips. He took another step closer, standing inches from you, his tall frame looming over your smaller one.

"Maybe you just need a different perspective," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Sometimes, all it takes is just two heads together." He stepped closer, one hand coming up to grip the edge of Baela's desk, caging you in.

“And if you’re curious, yes, this is my way of offering help,” Lucerys continued, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the tempting neckline of your outfit. "Someone has to ensure you stay focused and on track with things."

His voice took on a playful tone as he added, “Do you always choose such... distracting attire when you’re trying to work? I must admit, it’s quite captivating.”

He leaned in further, the faintest hint of his breath brushing against your lips, making the air between you crackle with tension. “But for today, I’m willing to overlook it—just this once. How about you slip into something a bit more... modest?” His smirk was teasing, inviting. “Then we can finally concentrate on getting this project finished.”

You leaned back against Baela's desk, your heart pounding as Lucerys invaded your personal space. You could feel the heat radiating off his tall, lean body, his piercing gaze sending shivers down your spine.

"Oh please, you're not fooling anyone with this 'helping' act," I smirked, letting my eyes brazenly roam over his chiselled jawline and full lips. "But if you insist on sticking around, the least you could do is make yourself useful."

You crossed your arms, deliberately drawing his attention down again, the flimsy fabric of your top straining. You watched his eyes flick down to your cleavage, a thrill rushing you at catching him staring.

Lucerys' eyes darkened as they flicked up to meet your teasing gaze. He felt a rush of conflicting emotions surge through him - annoyance, frustration and a deep, carnal desire that he couldn't suppress.

"Unless you'd rather I give you a private show first?" You mocked him, your voice dripping with false innocence. "I could always change into something... more comfortable. For both of us."

Lucerys smirked at your mocking words, a glimmer of mischief sparkling in his eyes. "A private show, huh?" He shook his head slowly, chuckling softly. "As tempting as that offer is, I have a feeling we wouldn't be getting much work done if I agreed."

You continued without missing a beat. "But you've made it clear that you don't think much of me," you added, your voice barely a whisper. "It seems I’m just the 'scholarship girl.'"

"Is that what you think this is?" he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine as he leaned closer. His chin was a breath away from yours, eyes locked onto yours with challenge.

With deliberate slowness, he brushed a stray lock of hair from your cheek, his fingers grazing your skin with a warmth that ignited a flicker of desire within you. 

"You're wrong," he said, his voice thick with tension. "This isn't about your background or your scholarship status. This is about..." 

He paused for a moment, allowing the tension between you to grow. Then he leaned in and murmured heatedly against the shell of your ear, "And trust me, sweetheart, I have come to think very highly of you."

You eyed Lucerys sceptically as you called his bluff. "Oh really? From where I'm standing, it feels more like you're just here to torment me... and maybe cop a feel," you retorted, a sneer on your lips. You uncrossed your arms and planted your hands on your hips, inadvertently giving him an even better view of your front.

"But if you genuinely want to help, prove it. Sit down and actually assist me with this damn project already," you demanded. You turned and bent over to gather the scattered papers on Baela's desk, your butt thrusting out accidentally towards him as you did. The short shorts ride up even higher, exposing more of the smooth, soft skin of your thighs.

You could feel Lucerys' gaze burning into your backside as you worked, and a shiver ran down your spine at the intensity of his stare. Part of you revelled in the attention, while another part wondered how far he planned to take this little game. Only time would tell if he was actually here to help or to make your life more difficult in his own infuriating way.

Lucerys felt his heart race as you bent over in front of him, the sight of your perfect ass in those sinfully short shorts making his pants feel tighter by the second. He had to clench his fists and take a deep breath to keep from reaching out and grabbing a handful of your tempting curves right then and there.

But he held himself back, knowing that giving in to his base instincts would only lead to disaster. Instead, he forced himself to focus on your challenge, a smirk on his lips.

"Alright, I'll play along," he murmured, moving to the edge of Baela's desk. He leaned back, his long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed. "But don't think for a second that this means I'm not still going to give you a hard time," he added with a smirk. "It's just too much fun to see you get all riled up."

You felt your cheeks flush and your pulse quicken as you caught yourself staring at Lucerys while he was talking, admiring the strong line of his jaw and how his hair fell rakishly into his piercing eyes as he focused on the project notes.

Why was he having this effect on you all of a sudden? You hated it.

"Let's start by going through what we have so far," Lucerys said, his voice tinged with a hint of huskiness that he couldn't shake. "It looks like you've got most of the research done, but the analysis is a bit... lacking." He paused, glancing up at you with a smirk. "I guess that's where I come in. I may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but I know my way around numbers."

"Uh yeah, sure, I'm gonna go make some coffee," you mumbled, turning away and moving towards the small kitchen corner. You needed a damn minute to yourself before you completely lost your mind and threw yourself at him.

Don't think about how tall and handsome he looks, lounging on Baela's desk like that, you told yourself firmly, rummaging around the cabinets for the coffee grounds. Focus on the caffeine, not the way his eyes crinkle when he smirks at you.

"My, uh, you want some coffee too?" You asked, trying to keep your tone casual and friendly, even as your hands shook slightly pouring the water into the Moka pot.

Just a minute alone, and then you can pull yourself together and get this project done.

He's just a guy. There are plenty out there, no need to fall for the first one with big brown eyes.

Lucerys watched as you made your way to the kitchen, admiring the sway of your hips and the way your shorts hugged your ass like a second skin. He couldn't help but smirk to himself, feeling a thrill of satisfaction at the way you seemed to be flustered by his presence.

"Sure, I'd love some coffee," he replied, his voice casual and friendly even as his eyes followed your every move. "You're not the only one who needs a pick-me-up to focus on this boring project." 

As you poured the water into the Moka pot, Lucerys couldn't resist the urge to torment you further. He stood up and wandered over to the counter, leaning against it and invading your personal space again.

"Careful now," he murmured his warm breath tickling your neck. "If you spill that, I might have to take off my shirt to help clean it up." He chuckled mockingly.

His sleazy remark made you snort. "Oh please, like you'd ruin your Ralph Lauren polo, pretty boy."

Lucerys's smirk deepened at your quick comeback. "Oh, you never know," he said, his voice low and teasing. "I might just surprise you in more ways than one." He winked playfully, his brown eyes glinting with mischief, making your heart race a little faster.

As the coffee finished brewing, Lucerys reached around you to grab two mugs from the cabinet. His chest brushed against your back as he did, his scent invading your senses - a mix of expensive cologne and the faint, lingering aroma of his hair products.

You had to bite back a sigh that threatened to slip out as Lucerys invaded your personal space, his chest brushing against your back and sending a jolt of electricity through you. You could feel the heat emanating from his body.

Truth be told, it had been far too long since you had been intimate with anyone, and now even Lucerys' mere presence was enough to make you feel like a cat in heat. You could feel a familiar ache beginning to throb between your thighs, and you had to clench them together to try to alleviate the sudden discomfort.

Lucerys felt a rush of excitement as you pressed yourself against him, your soft curves moulding perfectly to his harder planes. He could feel the heat radiating from your body, and it made his own core temperature rise sharply.

As you both stepped back, Lucerys found himself face to face with your flushed cheeks and wild eyes. And he felt a surge of masculine pride at knowing that he was the cause of such agitation in you.

"So, um, about that coffee," you said, your voice husky as you tried to regain your composure. "I don't have any cream or sugar, so it's gonna be pretty strong."

Lucerys smirked, knowing full well that the only thing making your cheeks flush and your voice tremble was his proximity and the undeniable chemistry crackling between you. "No worries about that," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with a hint of hunger as he leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours.

He watched as you poured the dark, rich coffee into the mugs, the aroma filling the small kitchen. Lucerys couldn't help but let his gaze wander over your body, taking in the way the fabric of your top did little to hide anything, the way your shorts clung to every curve.

You raised your brows defiantly as you looked at him, his cheeks flushed with frustration and a touch of embarrassment at being caught ogling you like a horny teenage boy. "Can you stop staring at my tits and ass? Thanks." You snapped, your voice dripping with sarcasm and annoyance.

Lucerys felt his face flush redder at your blunt words, a mix of embarrassment and lust swirling in his gut as he tore his gaze away from your tempting curves. "Sorry," he muttered, though the smirk tugging at his lips suggested he wasn't truly sorry. "I can't help it. You're just so..."

This endless game of push and pull had to stop; it was becoming absurd. This happens when two hormonal young adults are left together in a room late at night.

"I thought we were going to focus on the project," you said, trying to steer the conversation back on track as you handed him one of the mugs. "Or do you have no intention of actually getting anything done?"

Lucerys took the mug from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours and lingering longer than necessary. He could feel the warmth of your skin, the softness of your touch. It sent a jolt through him, reminding him of the electricity that seemed to constantly crackle between you two.

"I have every intention of getting this project done," he murmured, his voice low and smooth. "But you make it so hard to concentrate when walking around looking like that." He gestured vaguely at your body with the mug, his eyes roaming over your curves once more.

“Are you admitting that you find me distracting?” you said with raised brows. “I thought I was just another pest in your life, someone whose presence annoys you. And yet here you are, flirting with me as if nothing is wrong. What is your deal? Do you think I’m some easy target?” You grew angrier with each word, his mind games making your head spin.

Your cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment and annoyance as you stared him down. "Is fucking with my head some sort of fetish of yours?" You demanded, jabbing a finger at his chest.

Lucerys caught your wrist before you could jab him again. "No, you're not an easy target," Lucerys said, his voice suddenly serious and intense. "Far from it, in fact. You're the most infuriating, frustrating, and maddening woman I've ever met."

At that moment, Lucerys felt the weight of his predicament pressing down on him like a storm cloud. He realized he was in deep waters, far beyond what he could handle. The pact he had made with himself—to make you suffer—was slipping from his grasp. 

Every attempt to ignore you or provoke you only intensified the emotions he tried to suppress. Your fleeting glances and unexpected smiles stoked a fire he wished to extinguish, indicating the conflict within him. With each tense encounter, Lucerys found himself questioning his motives and the depth of his feelings for you, trapped in a tumultuous sea of regret and longing.

He stepped closer, backing you up against the counter, his body now flush against yours as he looked down at you with darkened eyes. "This isn't a game to me," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Trust me, the last thing I want to do is fuck with your head. Believe it or not, I actually want to help you with this damn project."

At that moment, Lucerys knew that his obsession with you was no longer a game or a way to prove dominance. It had become an addiction, a desperate need that consumed his every thought. He craved your presence, your touch, your laughter - anything that would allow him to be close to you.

"Then help me," you demanded with a measured calmness, your voice barely above a whisper, but sharp enough to slice through the air between you. You held his gaze, refusing to look away.

As you stared into his eyes, a fierce fire ignited within you, mingling with the heat radiating from the slightest brush of his fingers against yours. It was maddening—the way he could infuriate you and yet draw you in at the same time.

The tension crackled, hanging heavy in the air around you. You wanted to hate him, to push him away, but there was an undeniable allure in your conflicting emotions, a magnetic pull that kept you rooted to the spot.

Lucerys's heart pounded as he gazed into your fierce, defiant eyes. The fire within them ignited a matching flame within him, consuming any lingering doubts about his true feelings. He knew he should back away, and put an end to this dangerous game before it was too late. 

But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Instead, he leaned in closer, his lips a mere breath away from yours. "I will," he promised, his voice low and intense, "I'll help you with everything you need." His gaze flickered down to your mouth, lingering there for a long, charged moment before drifting back up to meet your eyes.

As he leaned in, Lucerys caught a hint of your scent—a blend of the coffee you brewed and a touch of perfume. It was intoxicating, and he felt an overwhelming urge to bury his face in the crook of your neck, wanting to breathe you in until your essence was imprinted on his very soul.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, cheeks flushed and breathless. Lucerys' hold kept you rooted on the spot, rendering you speechless and breathless. You could feel your chest heaving.

You found yourself leaning closer, inexplicably drawn to him like a magnet. Your body ached to close the distance, to feel his lips against yours, his arms around you...but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. The tension crackled.

Seconds before your lips met, Baela's cheerful voice rang out, shattering the charged moment. You staggered back, tearing your wrist from Lucerys' grasp. The sudden movement sent a mug flying on the counter, shards of ceramic and dark coffee splattering across the floor.

You gasped, pressing a hand to your racing heart. The sudden sounds felt like a shock after the scorching heat radiating from Lucerys' body. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the haze of lust from your mind.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," you stammered, bending down to start cleaning up the mess. Your hands shook as you grabbed paper towels, dabbing at the spreading puddle of coffee. "I'm just... it's been a long day. I didn't mean to be so clumsy." 

You couldn't bring yourself to look at Lucerys, scared you might tear up from the embarrassment you felt. The tension still hung heavy between us, the unspoken desire almost palpable.

Lucerys stepped back sharply as if burned by your sudden movement. The sound of shattering ceramic jolted him out of the lustful haze that had consumed him moments before. He blinked rapidly, trying to regain his bearings as he watched you bend down to clean up the mess, your ass sticking up in the air, and felt his cock twitch traitorously in his pants.

For a moment, Lucerys felt a pang of guilt for allowing things to go so far. He hadn't meant to overwhelm you like that, to push you to the point of breaking. But the sight of you bending over, your body trembling and flushed, only served to reignite the desire that coursed through his veins.

But as he watched you bend over, trying to salvage the shattered mug and spilt coffee, Lucerys felt a pang of concern. He couldn't leave you flustered and embarrassed like this, not with how his body thrummed with unleashed tension.

Lucerys picked up a roll of paper towels, kneeling down to help you mop up the spill. "It's okay," he said softly, crouching beside you. He gently placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. "I'll help you clean this up. There's no need to be upset."

To his surprise, you flinched slightly at his touch, as if his fingers were made of fire and could burn you. Lucerys felt a twinge of regret for allowing things to go so far, for pushing you to the point of breaking. But as he looked down at your form, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to your sudden dismissal than just a spilt mug.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Lucerys, terrified that you might completely lose the little composure you had left. Your heart raced, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you crouched on the floor, fiercely gripping the damp paper towels.

“No,” you snapped, your voice harsher than you intended. “Just send your analytics to my email, and I'll create a shared file. We can discuss this more in class…” You trailed off, unable to meet his gaze.

You could feel Lucerys’s presence looming over you and practically sense the questions and confusion radiating from him. Your hair fell forward, shielding you from view as you focused intently on cleaning up the mess you had made.

You couldn’t let yourself get lost; you couldn’t allow yourself to be pulled back under by the tidal wave of lust and longing that threatened to drown you.

So you simply nodded curtly, your voice tight as you dismissed him. “Just go,” you said, still unable to look him in the eye. “Please.”

Lucerys felt hurt by your dismissive tone and obvious dismissal in your voice. He could sense the tension radiating from you, the embarrassment and confusion that hung heavy between you.

"Alright," he said softly, standing up slowly. "I'll send you the analytics. We can discuss it more in class, like you said." He wanted to reach out, to grab your chin and tilt your face up so that you had no choice but to meet his gaze. He wanted to demand an explanation for your sudden cold shoulder, to understand what had just happened between you.

But he didn't. Instead, he turned to leave, pausing at the door to glance back at your still bent-over form. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry," he said, his voice low and rough with barely suppressed emotion. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Just focus on the project. I'll see you tomorrow."

As he walked away, Lucerys couldn't help but glance back at you one last time, his eyes filled with longing and regret. He didn't know what the future held, but he knew one thing for sure - he wouldn't stop until he had you, no matter the cost.

“Bye, Baela,” Lucerys said dismissively, his tone cold as he brushed past her. He didn’t spare her a glance, focusing on the door ahead as he exited the room, leaving an air of unresolved tension behind him. The silence that followed felt heavy, a stark contrast to the words he had left unspoken.

Baela stood by the doorway, stunned, with her lips parted in confusion. "Wh-what just happened?" She rushed over to help you with the spilt coffee, grabbing more paper towels and crouching down next to you.

You couldn't meet her gaze, tears streaming down your burning cheeks. You felt utterly humiliated and confused.

"I...I don't know what happened," you choked out, your voice shaking. "One minute we were arguing, and the next..." you trailed off, unable to put into words the intense, charged moment that had passed between you.

Baela's brows furrowed with worry as she gently pulled you into a hug, being careful not to cut herself on the broken ceramic scattered around us. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured, rubbing your back soothingly. "Did he say something to upset you? Or do something? You can tell me. You know you can always trust me."

You buried your face in Baela's shoulder, your tears soaking into the fabric of her shirt as you tried to regain your composure. The truth was, you didn't know what had happened.

Lucerys stalked out of the room, his mind reeling with confusion and frustration. He couldn't understand why you had suddenly pulled away, why you had rejected him so harshly after the charged moment you had shared.

As he walked down the hallway, he tried to push away the memory of your flushed cheeks and heaving chest, your body against his. But it was no use - the image was seared into his brain, taunting him with what could have been.

He knew he should focus on the project as he had promised. But all he could think about was you and the way your lips had been a hair's breadth away from his before Baela had interrupted.

By the time he reached his dorm room, Lucerys was in a foul mood. He slammed the door behind him and collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him.

He couldn't stop thinking about the way your body had felt pressed against his, the way your breath had mingled with his own. He could still feel the heat of your skin, the softness of your curves. It was driving him crazy.

But most of all, he couldn't understand why you had suddenly pulled away, rejecting him so harshly after the charged moment you had shared. It made no sense to him, and it left him feeling confused and hurt.

Lucerys tossed and turned in his bed, unable to find a comfortable position. He kept seeing your face in his mind's eye. The memories made his cock throb and strain against the confines of his boxers.

Damn it, why did you have to be so fucking irresistible? He cursed under his breath, punching his pillow in frustration. He had promised himself that he would help you with the project, but all Lucerys could think about was how badly he wanted to bend you over the desk and fuck you until you screamed his name.

He imagined pinning your wrists above your head as he drove into you from behind, grunting with each powerful thrust of his hips. He envisioned the way your tits would bounce as he pounded you, your pussy clenching tight around his thick, aching cock.

Lucerys groaned aloud, palming himself through his sweatpants. Fuck, he needed to get a grip. He couldn't keep lusting after you like this, couldn't keep letting his dick dictate his actions. He had to focus on the project and get through the first year of university, not imagine all the filthy things he wanted to do to your sexy little body.

You arrived at class much earlier than Lucerys, the nervous anticipation gnawing at you, an incessant feeling that threatened to unravel your composure. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart, while your fingers hovered nervously over the keyboard, clammy with anxiety. Lucerys had sent over the analytics just as he had promised, but the brevity of your exchange left a lingering silence between you two. Ever since that day last week, you hadn’t seen him at school, and perhaps it was for the best—distance had its advantages.

As the theoretical part of the project drew to a close, you could take relief in your performance: an impressive 84% on the research. However, the practical segment loomed ominously over you like a rain cloud threatening to burst. A week alone with Lucerys, confined in a boat of all places—your skin prickled at the thought. You despised small, enclosed spaces; they made you feel trapped and vulnerable. And yet, even more unsettling was the reality of spending so much time with Lucerys. You repeated the mantra in your mind: you hated confined spaces, you hated moisture, and most importantly, you hated Lucerys. But deep down, you weren’t sure if your feelings were that simple.

Lucerys strolled into the classroom, his eyes immediately drawn to your tense form hunched over your laptop. He could see the way your shoulders were hunched, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed away. It made his heart ache in a way he couldn't quite understand.

As he approached your desk, he hesitated, unsure of how to greet you after the charged encounter you had shared. He settled for a gruff "Morning," before taking his seat beside you.

"Morning," you replied, your eyes fixed on the glowing screen in front of you, deliberately avoiding his gaze. The soft hum of the computer filled the air as you immersed yourself in the task at hand, the distant clatter of keyboards and muted conversations fading into the background.

Throughout the lesson, Lucerys found it impossible to concentrate on the lecture, his mind constantly wandering to the tension that still hung heavy between you. He could feel the weight of it, the unspoken words and lingering glances that passed between you both.

As the class drew close, their professor reminded them of the impending practical assessment - a week-long trip aboard a research vessel where they would put their theoretical knowledge to the test. Lucerys felt a thrill of anticipation at the thought of being trapped in close quarters with you for so long but also a flicker of trepidation.

He turned to face you, his brows furrowed with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice low so that only you could hear. You seem...nervous." He wanted to reach out, to take your hand in his and give it a comforting squeeze, but he held back, remembering your harsh dismissal of him last week.

Instead, he watched you, his eyes searching your face for any clue as to what you might be thinking. He could sense the fear and uncertainty emanating from you, and it made him want to pull you into his arms and promise that he would protect you from whatever demons haunted you.

But he didn't. He just sat there, waiting for your response, his heart pounding as he tried to steel himself for the challenges ahead - both in the assessment and his own battle to resist his growing feelings for you.

You jumped slightly at Lucerys' voice, your heart leaping into your throat.

"Oh," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, I'm...I'm fine." You lied, not wanting to admit the truth.

Your hands trembled slightly as you snapped your laptop shut, a blush creeping across your cheeks. You could feel Lucerys' gaze on you, intense and searching, and it made your stomach flutter nervously.

You avoided his eyes, focusing instead on shoving your things haphazardly into your bag. "I'm just...nervous about the practical assessment," you admitted, biting your lower lip. "Being stuck on a boat for a week..." you trailed off, mind reeling at the thought of being trapped in such close quarters with Lucerys. "I don't like open water that much..."

You knew you should say more, and acknowledge the tension that still crackled between you after your encounter last week. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it, couldn't bring yourself to put into words the confusing tangle of emotions that Lucerys always seemed to evoke in you.

He nodded, his expression softening with understanding. "I get it," he murmured, his voice low and gentle. "Being stuck on a boat for that long... it's not exactly my idea of a good time either."

He hesitated for a moment before speaking again, his tone carefully neutral. "But we'll get through it together," he assured you, his gaze finally meeting yours. "I promise, I won't let anything happen to you."

"So..." he said, breaking the tension slightly as he gestured towards your bag. "Need a hand with that?"

He stood up and reached out to help you gather your things, his fingers brushing against yours as he took your bag from your trembling hands. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through him, and he had to resist the urge to lace his fingers with yours.

Damn it, why did you have to be so enticing? He cursed under his breath, trying to will away the growing ache in his pants.

You glanced up at Lucerys, your heart fluttering nervously in your chest. "Thanks," you murmured softly, a faint blush colouring your cheeks as you avoided his intense gaze.

"But wait," you began, biting your lower lip anxiously as you rambled on, "where exactly are we supposed to find a boat from for this assessment? I know the school has some, but they always look so... unreliable. And I heard there's already a long waiting list with other groups signed up."

"I don't want to be stuck on some rickety old boat for a week," you confessed, your eyes wide with apprehension as you looked to Lucerys for a solution.

Your heart raced in your chest as you waited for his response, the warmth of his proximity making your skin prickle with a confusing mix of nerves and anticipation. You couldn't help but notice the way his arm brushed against yours as you walked out of the classroom, sending a jolt of electricity through you that made your toes curl in your boots.

Please, you silently prayed, hoping he had a plan.

Lucerys smiled reassuringly at your anxious question, his eyes softening with understanding. "Don't worry," he said calmly, "I've already taken care of it."

He paused momentarily, considering how to break the news to you. Finally, he spoke up, his voice low and slightly tentative.

"My grandfather owns too many private yachts for one man," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "And he's agreed to let us use one for the assessment. It's not exactly a 'rickety old boat'," he added with a cheeky smile.

Lucerys could see the relief washing over your face, and he felt a swell of pride knowing that he had been able to set your mind at ease. He knew how much this assessment meant to both of you and was determined to do whatever it took to help you succeed.

Your eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of excitement sparking in your eyes. "Really?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "That's...wow, that's great. Thank you, Lucerys."

Lucerys just shrugged nonchalantly, playing it cool even as his heart raced at your grateful smile and the way your eyes sparkled with excitement. "Don't mention it," he murmured, trying to downplay his role in ensuring your assessment went smoothly.

As you walked out of the classroom together, Lucerys couldn't help but let his gaze linger on your form, admiring the sway of your hips and the way your hair bounced with each step. He knew he should keep his eyes on the path ahead, but he found himself drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

Damn, but you were gorgeous. And not just on the outside - though fuck, the way your ass swayed in those jeans was enough to make a grown man weep. No, it was your spirit that truly captivated him. Your intelligence, your passion, your fire...it was everything he could ever want in a partner.

You glanced up at Lucerys, your heart fluttering nervously in your chest as you clutched your bag tightly. You knew all too well about his family's immense wealth and power, their name synonymous with the Velaryon Shipping Empire. It was almost impossible to fathom that someone like him, with roots tracing back to one of the most influential and richest families in the realm, would even give you the time of day.

"So, your grandfather... Corlys Velaryon, right?" You asked awkwardly, your voice barely above a whisper as you avoided his intense gaze, your cheeks flushing slightly at the mention of his wealthy grandfather.

Lucerys felt a flicker of amusement at your question, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He knew all too well the reputation that his family had, the way that people often treated him with a mix of awe and trepidation simply because of their name.

Lucerys chuckled softly, his purple eyes twinkling with mirth as he glanced down at you. "Ah, so you've heard of him," he teased, his voice low and playful. "I suppose it's hard to miss."

"He's agreed to let us use one of his yachts for the assessment," Lucerys said, changing the subject slightly. "It's a pretty big one, with all the latest amenities. You don't have to worry about being stuck on some rickety old boat."

Lucerys could see the surprise and disbelief in your eyes, the way your grip tightened on your bag as you processed this information. He knew it was a lot to take in, the realization that someone like him, with all his wealth and power, would go out of his way to help someone like you.

You glanced up at Lucerys, your heart fluttering nervously. You could hardly believe what you were hearing - a private yacht, owned by none other than the famous Corlys Velaryon himself! It was like something out of a movie.

"I've never been on a private yacht before," you admitted shyly, feeling your cheeks flush at the thought of being on such a luxurious yacht. "I can't believe you have access to something like that..."

As you walked side by side, you accidentally brushed your hip against his, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You felt a warmth pooling low in your belly, a longing for him.

Being this close to Lucerys had that effect on you - your body seemed to respond to his presence in ways you couldn't control.

You tried to focus on your conversation, but it was hard to concentrate with Lucerys' arm brushing against you with every step. You could smell the clean, masculine scent of his cologne, and could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

It was distracting, to say the least. The idea of being confined with Lucerys for a week, just the two of you...

You knew you shouldn't, but all you could think about was Lucerys... and the way his long fingers would feel around your neck.

Lucerys felt the brush of your hip against his, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to pull you flush against him, to feel the soft curves of your body melding with his harder planes. He could feel the heat of your skin even through your clothes, and it made his blood run hot in his veins.

He could see the longing in your eyes, the way your gaze kept flicking down to his lips before darting away again. He knew that you felt the same pull towards him that he felt towards you, the same undeniable attraction that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted to take you right then and there, to bend you over and fuck you until you screamed his name. He wanted to feel your tight little cunt clenching around his cock as he drove into you again and again, wanting to fill you up with his hot, thick cum until it was dripping down your thighs.

But Lucerys knew he had to rein himself in, had to focus on the task at hand.

So he simply smiled, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. "It's not as impressive as it sounds," he said, trying to downplay the extravagance of it all. "My grandfather has so many yachts, he's probably forgotten half of them."

He paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully. "But I'm glad you're excited about it," he added, his voice lowering slightly. "I have a feeling this trip is going to be... memorable for more reasons than just the assessment."

Lucerys knew he was treading on dangerous ground here, but he couldn't help himself, not when being near you felt like this - like a live wire crackling with electricity, ready to ignite at any moment.

He desired you, plain and simple. Wanted to feel your naked body writhing beneath his as he fucked you senseless, wanted to hear his name falling from your lips as you came undone around his cock.

The weeks drifted by in a surprisingly mundane fashion, each day blurring into the next. You and Luke were acutely aware of the tension simmering between you, an unspoken energy that crackled in the air. Yet, for reasons unknown, neither of you dared to confront it; perhaps it was a silent agreement that some things were better left unresolved.

Baela, however, remained ever-watchful, her gaze sharp and prying. She pulled each of you aside, her curiosity palpable as she probed about your feelings for one another. It seemed her inner matchmaker was desperate for a confession, but you both skillfully sidestepped her efforts, exchanging vague reassurances that only fueled her frustration.

“He’s fine. We get along now, kinda,” you answered her pestering, the words feeling futile even as they left his lips.

“Yeah, she’s okay. I don’t know… we just mostly talk about the assessment and other homework,” Luke said, trying to downplay the complexity of your relationship.

Baela's exasperation was almost comical; you could practically see her wanting to tear her hair out in frustration. But instead of succumbing to that impulse, she turned her matchmaking energy toward a different target. Through a chance conversation in one of their shared lectures, she got you a date between you and Addam.

And so, here you found yourself, seated at a lovely restaurant, the soft glow of candlelight flickering in the dim ambience. Across from you sat Addam, effortlessly charismatic with a smile that could rival the sun. His striking features seemed almost ethereal as if he had stepped out of a fashion magazine. The rich, velvety Dornish wine cradled in your glass offered a welcome distraction, its warmth swirling in your stomach, soothing your nerves as you awaited the arrival of your food.

As you stole glances at Addam, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to feel drawn to him. The rustle of conversation around you faded into a gentle hum, while thoughts of Luke lurked just beneath the surface, complicating what was meant to be a straightforward evening. Could a simple date with someone charming ease the tension you had with Luke, or would it make the feelings in your heart more complicated?

As the evening wore on, Addam regaled you with fascinating stories of his travels and adventures, his love for life infectious. He had a way of making you feel like the only person in the room, his full attention focused solely on you. It was a pleasant change of pace from the charged silences and loaded glances that had become the norm with Luke.

Yet, even as you laughed and flirted with Addam, you couldn't shake the persistent thought of Lucerys from your mind. His smile, his scent, the way his hand had felt brushing against yours a hundred times a day... it all lingered, a ghostly presence intruding upon your date.

Addam seemed to sense your distraction, his smile softening slightly as he reached across the table to gently cover your hand with his own. "Is everything alright?" he asked softly, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. "You seem a bit preoccupied tonight."

His gaze was warm and concerned, inviting you to unburden yourself to him. Yet even as you looked into his striking eyes, you felt guilty, knowing that your thoughts were consumed by someone else.

You startled slightly as Addam's fingers brushed against yours, his touch a grounding force that pulled you back from the tangled web of thoughts swirling in your head. You flashed him a small smile, giving his hand a gentle squeeze in return. "I'm sorry, I'm fine," you reassured him, hoping he couldn't hear the slight tremor in your voice. "Just a bit stressed about the impending exams, I'm afraid I have a tendency to get rather anxious..." you trailed off with a nervous little chuckle, taking a sip of the rich red wine.

You gazed into Addam's striking eyes, feeling almost hypnotized by their intensity. You silently thanked Baela for orchestrating this date, for giving you a welcome distraction from the constant pull you felt towards a certain someone else.

Shaking off the intrusive thoughts, you smiled at Addam and asked, "I'd love to know more about you, beyond your sailing adventures. What do you enjoy doing for fun, when you're not out on the open sea?" You leaned forward slightly, genuinely interested in his response and desperate to lose yourself in his charming presence. The candlelight flickered, casting a warm glow on his handsome features, and you found yourself wanting nothing more than to get lost in conversation with him, to forget about everything and everyone else.

Addam's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm at your question, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "Well, when I'm not out exploring the world, I have a few hobbies that keep me busy," he said, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his own wine. "I'm quite fond of playing the lute, though I'm not nearly as skilled as my brother. He's a true maestro with the instrument."

He paused for a moment, considering his following words carefully. "I also enjoy reading, particularly stories of ancient history and mythology. Something is fascinating about the way our ancestors perceived the world, the gods and monsters they created to make sense of the unknown."

Addam's gaze softened as he looked at you, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "But I must admit, I find the most enjoyment in the company of others. A lively debate over a good meal, a walk through the gardens in the evening, a cosy night in with a book and a warm fire... I believe the best moments in life are the ones shared with the people we care about."

As he spoke, Addam reached out to take your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "And I must say, I'm quite enjoying this moment," he murmured, his voice lowering slightly as he held your gaze. "You have a way of making even the most ordinary evening feel... extraordinary."

You felt a flutter in your chest at Addam's words, a warmth blossoming within you that had nothing to do with the rich wine swirling in your glass.

Almost as if compelled by an unseen force, you found yourself leaning closer to Addam, drawn in by the magnetic allure of his personality. "I feel the same way," you confessed softly, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand in a gentle caress. "It's rare to connect with someone like this, to feel so at ease in their company..."

But even as you lost yourself in Addam's captivating gaze, a small part of your mind drifted to Luke. Did he know you were out on this date tonight? Would he feel jealous if he saw you now, seen you through the softly glowing candlelight of the restaurant?

The thought sent an unexpected thrill through you that you quickly tried to push down. You had to focus on the present moment, on the charming company of the man before you. Luke, with his constant brooding and his unspoken words, would have to take a backseat tonight.

Addam's heart raced as you leaned closer, your soft confession sending a surge of excitement through his veins. He felt the gentle brush of your thumb against his hand, a feather-light touch that ignited a flame within him. The candlelight flickered in your eyes, casting a warm glow on your beautiful face, and Addam felt a sudden urge to reach out and caress your cheek, to feel the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips.

He had always been drawn to your beauty and admired the way your eyes sparkled with intelligence and wit. But it was your kindness, your gentle heart, that truly captivated him.

As the evening wore on, Addam found himself growing more and more enchanted by your company. Your laughter was music to his ears, your thoughts and opinions fascinating him in a way that few others had. He hung onto your every word, devouring each story like a man starved.

But even as he lost himself in the bliss of your presence, a small part of Addam couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else on your mind. He had seen the way your gaze sometimes drifted, a faraway look in your eyes as if you were miles away, lost in thought. Addam had a suspicion about what, or rather who might be occupying your mind so thoroughly.

The thought of Lucerys Velaryon sent a flicker of something dark and unpleasant through Addam's chest. He had never been one to shy away from competition, but the idea of losing you to that brooding, enigmatic fool was a bitter pill to swallow.

As the enchanting evening drew to a close, you found yourself standing outside your campus residence, the cool night air a pleasant contrast to the cosy warmth of the restaurant. Addam, ever the gentleman, had insisted on walking you home, a charming smile playing on his lips as he gazed down at you with those mesmerizing eyes.

You couldn't help but return his smile, your own eyes crinkling at the corners from the sheer enjoyment of our date. "Thank you, I had a lovely time, really," you murmured, meaning every word. It truly had been a wonderful evening.

Yet, even as you stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was amiss. It was like a small voice at the back of your mind, whispering a secret you couldn't quite comprehend. You tried to push it down, to focus on the present moment and the handsome man before you, but it persisted, an itch you couldn't scratch.

Still, you didn't want Addam to know that a part of your thoughts were elsewhere. He had been such a perfect gentleman, a charming and attentive date, and you didn't want to diminish the wonderful time you had shared. So you simply smiled up at him.

Addam's smile softened, a tender look entering his eyes as he gazed down at you. "It was my pleasure entirely," he murmured, his voice low and warm in the cool night air. "Seeing you smile like that, hearing your laughter... it's a sound I could get used to."

He reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, lightly tracing the curve of your cheek, the delicate line of your jaw. Addam's heart raced as he leaned in closer, his gaze dropping to your lips. He wondered if they would be as soft and sweet as they looked, wondered how you would taste...

But then he paused, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He sensed that you were distracted, your thoughts preoccupied. The realisation that it might have something to do with Lucerys Velaryon sent envy through him, but Addam was determined to be patient. He wouldn't rush this and wouldn't risk scaring you away.

Instead, he stepped back slightly, a rueful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I hope we can do this again sometime," he said softly, his voice tinged with a hint of hopeful anticipation. "Perhaps dinner, or a walk through the gardens... whatever you like."

Addam's thumb brushed lightly over your lower lip, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down your spine. "Goodnight, my lady," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper in the darkness. "Sweet dreams."

You could hardly contain your excitement as you practically floated into your shared room, your heart racing from the incredible evening you had just spent with Addam. You kicked off your heels with a contented sigh, a giddy grin spreading across your face as you turned to face Baela.

"Baela, oh my goodness, you won't believe how amazing tonight was!" You exclaimed, your words tumbling out in an enthusiastic rush. "Addam was the perfect gentleman, opening doors, paying for everything, even walking me all the way home. And let me tell you, that man is seriously gorgeous. Like, next level, ridiculously handsome. I swear I saw a few girls practically swooning as we walked by!" You giggled, still in awe of his devastating good looks.

You plopped down on the bed, your cheeks flushed and your eyes sparkling with joy. "I mean, I know you set this up, but seriously, thank you so much. I can't remember the last time I had such a wonderful time on a date. Addam is charming, funny, and so easy to talk to."

You couldn't wipe the grin off your face as you rambled on about Addam, your heart fluttering at the mere mention of his name. You knew you were gushing, but you couldn't help it. Tonight had been magical, and you were already looking forward to seeing him again.

Little did you know, Baela had been on a FaceTime call with Lucerys the entire time, and he had heard every single word...

Lucerys sat on the edge of his bed, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone screen. He had been chatting with Baela for the better part of an hour, catching up and lamenting the monotony of their shared lectures. But as he listened to his cousin, a sudden burst of feminine excitement caught his attention. His brows furrowed slightly as he realized that you were the one speaking, your voice high-pitched and breathy with barely contained glee.

"...let me tell you, that man is seriously gorgeous. Like, next level, ridiculously handsome...". Lucerys felt his gut clench at the mention of Addam, a surge of something dark and ugly rising up in his throat. He listened intently as you recounted every detail of their date, from the charming restaurant to the gentlemanly gestures to the sparkling conversation. With each word, Lucerys felt his blood run hotter, his jaw clenching tighter until it ached.

Lucerys had always known that Addam was a threat, a rival for your affections. But hearing you sing his praises so readily, so eagerly, made Lucerys question his own sanity. Had he been blind to the depth of your feelings for the other man? Was there even a chance for him anymore?

He didn't realize he was in love with you until that moment. Didn't realize that he had fallen somewhere between the charged silences and loaded glances, the constant pull he felt towards you. But as he listened to you gush about another man, he knew with a sudden, sickening certainty that he loved you.

As if sensing his presence, Baela turned to face the camera, her eyes widening as she saw the dark look on Lucerys' face. "Oh, sorry Luke," she said, a slightly cheeky expression crossing her face. "I didn't realize you were still on the call."

Lucerys forced a smile, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. "I heard every word," he said simply, his voice carefully controlled.

He watched as Baela tried to contain her own grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she listened to you gush about Addam and saw Lucerys' reaction to it. She knew exactly what she was doing, the little matchmaker, and it was clear that her plan was working perfectly.

"I'm so glad you had a good time," Baela said, her voice dripping with false sincerity. "Addam is a great guy." She paused for a moment, letting the words sink in before adding, "Though I must say, I'm surprised you're so eager to talk about him. I thought you and Lucerys had something special going on..."

That was the last thing he heard before the screen went blank, and Baela disappeared. Did she really just hang up on him? Lucerys felt the urge to throw his phone against the wall, but he reminded himself that he wasn’t 16 anymore, and this was a campus dorm.

You stared at Baela in shock, your eyes widening as you processed her words. "What? Me and Lucerys?" You asked, your voice pitching higher with disbelief. "For the most part, I thought your cousin hated me. We've only recently begun to tolerate each other."

You shook your head, grabbing a makeup wipe to begin taking off your evening look. "No, don't be ridiculous. Besides, you're the one who set me up with Addam. Why bring up Lucerys now?" You questioned, tossing the used wipe into the trash.

As you scrubbed at the dark smudges under your eyes, you couldn't help but think about how different Lucerys had been acting lately. There was still tension between you, sure, but it had shifted somehow. The constant scowls and snide remarks had faded into charged silences and lingering glances. You had caught him staring at you more than once, his eyes dark and intense in a way that made your heart race.

Baela's eyes narrowed as she studied your reflection in the mirror, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Hate is a strong word," she pointed out, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. "I wouldn't say Lucerys hates you. Quite the opposite, in fact."

She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest as she considered her following words carefully. "Lucerys has always been... intense. Especially when it comes to the people he cares about." Baela paused, letting the implication of her words sink in. "He's not great with expressing himself, but he's a lot more sensitive than he lets on."

Baela's gaze turned speculative as she watched you, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "Tell me, have you noticed anything different about Lucerys lately? Like, how he's always sneaking glances at you when he thinks you're not looking? Or how he gets all tense and broody whenever Addam is around?" She arched an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Face it, the man is smitten. And he's been smitten for a while now."

You rolled your eyes, a sceptical smirk playing on your lips. "Oh please," you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "That man is always broody. It's like, his defining characteristic." You exited the bathroom, with Baela hot on your heels.

"It just isn't going to happen, Baela," you said firmly, your eyes flashing with determination as you began to rummage through your dresser for a cosy pair of pyjamas. "He doesn't like me, and quite frankly, I don't like him either. We're even." You shrugged, pulling out a soft cotton nightgown and holding it up for inspection.

Baela watched with amusement as you dug through your dresser, a sceptical look on her face. She couldn't believe how stubborn you were being about the whole Lucerys situation. Didn't you see the way he looked at you? The way his eyes followed you around the room like a lovesick puppy?

But Baela knew better than to push the issue further tonight. She could see the determined set of your jaw, the flash of stubbornness in your eyes. You were a hard nut to crack, and it would take more than a little teasing to get you to see sense.

Instead, Baela leaned back against the wall, a playful grin spreading across her face. "Alright, alright, I can take a hint," she said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "I won't say anything more about your little love triangle tonight."

She paused, then leaned forward with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "But don't think you can hide from me forever. I've seen the way Lucerys looks at you."

Baela chuckled softly as she watched you change into your nightgown, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Goodnight," she said softly, a hint of laughter still colouring her voice. "Sweet dreams... and try not to think too hard about my cousin's brooding good looks while you're at it."

You scoffed loudly, rolling your eyes at Baela's persistent teasing. "Oh, stuff it, Baela," you muttered, feelings of annoyance and unwanted arousal warring within you. Her words echoed in your mind, planting seeds of doubt and desire that you tried desperately to ignore.

As you slipped under the soft covers, you couldn't help but picture Lucerys' chiselled face, his tall, lean body, the way his long fingers would feel skimming over your skin... you sighed, trying to dislodge the forbidden fantasies taking root in your thoughts.

Your heart raced, and your breathing grew heavy as you imagined scenarios that made your core throb with need. But the sound of Baela shifting in the bed beside me brought you back to reality, and you knew you had to push those dangerous thoughts aside.

You pulled the covers up to your chin, trying to focus on anything other than the persistent ache between your thighs. But it was no use—Lucerys' face haunted your mind, and you knew you were in serious trouble. Eventually, something would have to give.

Lucerys stared at the dark screen of his phone, Baela's parting words echoing in his mind. He couldn't believe she had hung up on him, leaving him with nothing but the echo of your voice raving about Addam's many charms. The thought of you falling for someone else, of losing you to another man, filled Lucerys with jealousy he had never known before.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to leave red crescent marks on his skin. The thought of you with Addam, laughing and smiling and gushing about his every word, made Lucerys feel physically ill.

But more than that, Lucerys felt a bitter, twisting resentment.

Lucerys couldn't shake the sickening feeling in his gut as he pictured you in Addam's arms, your lips pressed against his in a passionate kiss. The thought of another man's hands roaming your curves, caressing the soft skin that Lucerys had been desperate to touch himself, made him want to put his fist through the wall.

He knew he shouldn't care all that much about Addam and you dating. But the selfish, possessive part of him couldn't bear the idea of losing you to anyone else. You belonged to him, even if you didn't know it yet. He had known it from the moment he first saw you in class.

Lucerys had always been a man who took what he wanted, and he wanted you more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. He wanted to make you scream his name in passion, to feel your nails digging into his back as he brought you to the peak of ecstasy again and again. He wanted to mark your body as his own, to make sure that everyone who saw you knew that you belonged to him and him alone.

But more than anything, Lucerys wanted to make you fall in love with him. He wanted you to look at him with those stunning eyes filled with adoration and desire, wanted to hear you whisper words of love and devotion as he made slow, passionate love to you.

He was determined to make you his, no matter what it took. Even if it meant playing dirty.

Lucerys' phone lit up suddenly with a text from you.

"Pick me up from my campus at 9am, it shows clear weather for Saturday"

"We should be good to go this week???"

"Let me know!"

Lucerys felt a smug smirk curl at the corners of his lips. This moment was a golden opportunity, perhaps the best he would ever have. It was his chance to prove just how much he outshone Addam. He revelled in his advantages: he was not only wealthier, but he had also graduated at the top of his class, a feat that set him apart from the rest. To cement his superiority, his grandfather owned a shipping empire, a titan of industry. The very thought filled him with a sense of entitlement and pride, as he envisioned himself as the clear victor in this unspoken competition.

With fast fingers, Lucerys typed back a reply.

"9am. Consider it done. I'll have the ship ready. The Sea Dragon, she's a fast one and beautiful."

"And don't worry about the weather - I've sailed through storms far worse than any limits your boy could imagine."

As he hit send, a wicked grin spread across his face. Lucerys couldn't wait to see the look of awe and wonder on your face as he welcomed you aboard the Sea Dragon, the magnificent ship a symbol of his family's power and prestige. He would have to make sure everything was exactly as you needed it to be - from the cabin he would be sharing with you to the breathtaking views you would behold as the ship sailed across the Narrow Sea.

[residenthughes]

coming home - connor dewar

pairing: connor dewar x fem! reader

word count: 11k

tags/warning: friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst?, mentions of alcohol/drinking, minor swearing

summary: your entire life has entailed having connor by your side, no matter where the universe carves your paths. back home for the summer leading up to your final year of university, there's much to ponder - even your own feelings about your best friend.

notes: this is genuinely a labour of love, the longest fic i've written in a long time 😭 i wanted this to be short and sweet, but it's long and sweet and i don't know how to feel about that lmao. but (!!!) i am really proud/happy about how this has come together and i hope you all enjoy this fic just as much as i loved writing it 😇 this is mostly proofread, but it is 5 in the morning, so I'll return to this soon! (apologizes for any errors towards the end!) more dewey content shall be coming soon, hehe! much love! <333

(also! this is very much in celebration of dewey's first goal as a leaf, teehee! 😁💗⭐️)

Summer’s always your favourite time of the year. Tan lines, midnight drives, fireworks, the beach. So much sweetness is in the breezy summer air and you simply can’t get enough. You wouldn’t admit it, but your favourite part of the season is when one of your closest friends, Connor, comes up from his gruelling hockey season and returns to the slow and laid-back lifestyle of your small town. Having grown up next door neighbours the majority of your lives, you quickly became two peas in a pod, always together with laughter following closeby.

Your friendship is something you’ve always treasured, held in some reclusive and special part of your heart that only houses your fated connection. No matter how mundane your time together may be - Connor strumming his acoustic guitar and you reading as the citrus sunset dips into the horizon - it's all so memorable to you and nothing, as you’ve come to experience, can ever replace his place in your life. However, life is a constant cycle of change and that first dose came when you two were fourteen, too awkward for your own good and growing out of your bodies. Connor was selected to play in a high-level hockey league hours away from your hometown and as your fingertips buried themselves into his tear-soaked t-shirt, you swore nothing could compare to this pain. The absolute tear of your beating heart out of your raw chest that ached with every gasp. You were a mess, undeterred by your futile attempt to appear as nonchalant at your silly age, but the second Connor stood on your porch, luggage in hand and the sadest tinge in his sage eyes, you fell apart.

Despite the sheer anguish you experienced that crisp autumn day, you adjusted. Stayed in contact with your best friend and continued to build up your life in his absence. Completed all your teenage rites of passage - took some extracurriculars, went to prom (you wanted to ask Connor, but ultimately decided against it), graduated high school and started attending university in Calgary - nine hours away from home. So many things changed and some still stayed the same. Connor was still as hockey obsessed and through his diligent efforts, he’s achieved his dreams of playing in the NHL night after night. You were there for draft day and there for his first game, university be damned. As was Connor, in the stands during your high school graduation and any time you needed him, whether that was him sitting on the phone with you until four in the morning or meeting up with you halfway across two countries because he felt like it. There was always something so spectacular about you two, your stories detailed by destiny and hung amongst the stars. A divine creation that despite the odds, of paths that have taken you two elsewhere, always merged because that is simply how it’s meant to be.

And, so it is, your last summer before your final year and here you are, fingertips tapping against the wooden bar as your leg jerks in anticipation of a figure that will come through your hometown bar, Punch & Judy’s doors any minute now.

Your best friend, Charlotte, manages to interweave your antsy fingers in between hers, a nurturing smile across her smooth face. “He’ll get here, don’t worry.”

Your eyebrows quirk, your legs stopping all motion. “Who said anything about worrying?”

She rolls her eyes, unamused. “You know what I mean,”

Then, she goes on to untangle your fingers, leaning her crossed arms against the bar occupied by the usual mellow group of regulars, including your own bunch of friends. “Besides, you know him. Knowing you’re here, he’s tryna get here quicker than a New York minute.”

A funny feeling flips in the pits of your stomach, an immediate flush coating the apples of your cheeks as you clumsily grab at your cider bottle. Connor always poked fun at your inability to enjoy a cold one, resorting to fruity flavours of cider. “He’s a law-abiding citizen, he’ll wait for the greenlight even if it kills him.”

“If you say so,” Charlotte casts you a glance out of the corner of her eye, smugness tugging at the corners of her lips as she takes another swig of her beer. The bell signifying the main door opening sounds in the background. “Oh, look. Speak of the devil and he shall appear! Hey there, stranger!”

Suddenly, your attention is elsewhere, eyes pinned to the tall silhouette that struts through the doorway of the LED ridden bar, kind eyes and a kinder smile with his tousled hickory hair and hushed voice finding its way to your eardrums again after so long. It’s like coming home again, watching from afar as close friends fall into endless hugs, your reunion saved for last as you beam a closed mouthed smile, reproduced by your best friend who opens his arms for a hug that solely belongs to you. You fall into him instinctively, inhaling his soft woody scent as you bury yourself in his embrace, the pendulum of your life coming to a pause as your universe centres.

“Get a room, you two!” Connor’s brother, Quinn taunts from over your shoulder, eliciting an exaggerated sigh from you as you’re reluctantly reminded of the lame chirps he seems to be full of whenever you and Connor are together.

You ignore him, savouring the moment for what its momentarily worth before Connor’s pulling away, arms loosely wrapped around the circumference of your waist as he peers down at you with those same green eyes you’ve known your entire life.

“Hi.” you breathe, short and sweet.

He simpers, something coy in the lines of his smile as he replies back, “hi.”

It’s a simple greeting, but there’s so much more in those few syllables - the endless gravity of your shared experiences and fondest memories making their way back to each other. Your eyes linger for a minute longer, taking in each other’s presence that’s long been missed due to your busy schedules leading up to your summer break. You part ways and despite how fulfilled you are to have him here and see him after some time, there’s a small knack that nags at you - hollow and wanting as you venture to a booth nearby, squishing up in between Charlotte and another one of your guy friends, Owen Power, who like Connor has been busting his ass in the NHL and friends with you all for longer than you can remember. You all chatter amongst yourselves with Connor’s brother sitting across from you, a discussion brewing as Connor returns shortly after getting a drink at the bar, sliding beside his brother with a beer in hand.

“Come on, Connie. Help me out here, these guys have lost the plot.” His brother argues, an eye roll your response.

Connor looks between your group, a knit in his eyebrows. “What’s the deal?”

“They’re tryna say, get this - that dolphins are more dangerous than damn orcas. Can you believe that?” Quinn attests, expression pinched as he ruffles the curls of his bleached hair sticking out his snapback.

“Hey! We’re well within reason to be arguing with you. You on the other hand? I don’t think so.” Charlotte proclaims, an accusatory finger directed towards Quinn.

“Yeah, not gonna lie, Quinn. You’re severely underestimating how evil dolphins are,” concludes Owen, his hand raised as he pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his sunkissed nose.

Quinn guffaws, jaw slack as his eyes flicker between everyone’s faces in quick succession, clearly in disbelief. “Are you hearing this right now?”

“Look, Q - we’ve been over this,” you start, hands extending as if to make sense of your proposed point. “You’ve been fed dolphin propaganda. We’ve literally shown you so many resources about their heinous crimes. Take it or leave it.”

Quinn groans, elbowing his older brother who wordlessly listens to the ongoing conversation. “Bro! A little help would be nice.”

A brief pause follows his younger brother’s melodrama, Connor weighing out the arguments of a conversation he hadn’t been here for, his eyes flickering over towards yours fleetingly. An unexplained shiver runs down your spine, the action camouflaged poorly as you appear to distract yourself from the sensation, fingernails scratching against the lines of your neck as you look up at the ceiling.

“Hello?!” hollers Quinn.

You swear he loves to hear himself talk.

“They’re right,” Connor concludes, eyes set on you as he speaks before he takes a swig of his beer, focusing back onto his brother. “Personally, I think you’ve been taking one too many trips to Sea World.”

“The promised land of dolphin propaganda.” mentions Charlotte.

“This is ridiculous!” Quinn exclaims, sending a heavy elbow into his older brother’s arm, all of which barely gains any sort of response from him. “What happened to honour amongst bros, huh? They don’t have that in Minnesota or what?”

Connor scoffs lightly, his smile reading amused as his head turns towards his brother. “That doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything you say.”

Quinn mumbles something under his breath, clearly displeased. “I forget you’re my harshest critic.”

Their double act entices the crowd, your circle of friends laughing amongst yourselves as Quinn folds his shoulders with his usual theatrics. No one buys into it, much less Connor who drapes his arm loosely around his brother’s squared shoulders, leaning in with a tickled pink smile that reflects within your own expression.

“You’re just mad I won’t kiss your ass.”

That earns him a shove off Quinn’s shoulders, sending him into a fit of laughter. Everyone chortles along, basking in the merriment of the moment before you’re delving into other non-controversial topics, indulging everyone in the bits and pieces of your lives they’ve missed and just like that, you're four drinks in and so sentimental it hurts. Owen suggests a walk around the town centre, a tradition you cannot help but all agree to as you all shimmy out of your respective booth, bidding Judy at the bar farewell as you file out of the establishment.

The cobalt sky dazzles with stars you’ve forgotten shine so bright here, the midday heat nowhere in sight as a cool breeze pushes you forwards. You linger behind Quinn as he impulsively hops onto Owen’s back, who stumbles at the sudden weight whilst Charlotte laughs at the unfolding scene. Nostalgia warms your heart at the sight, eyes half-closed and posture relaxing as the warm summer night holds you close and kisses your worries goodbye.

An arm drapes over your shoulders, your slow strides matching up with Connor’s as he looks to you, smile small and earnest as he playfully challenges, “Since when did you know about dolphin propaganda?”

You gasp, humour shaping your lips. “Well, you’ve been in my ear most of my life yapping about it, so…”

“Hey, I’m just saying - was I wrong?” the smirk on his face attests to his unwavering confidence and as you catch a whiff of his woody cologne, you roll your eyes in defeat, smile still on your lips.

“Considering you wore a shark tooth to school, I didn’t think so.”

You have to bite back the wide smile that fights to spread across your face, a few snickers here and there escaping before the loose ring around your shoulders closes in, Connor smushing your face inwards against the strength of his bicep. You can’t help but laugh throughout, swatting away his pesky grip that lasts no longer than a few seconds before all you hear is the echoes of your winded chuckles. In an effort to stabilise yourself from the momentary loss of oxygen, your hand seeks Connor’s, holding onto his larger and warmer as your feet hit the pavement in unison.

“Feels good to be back, doesn’t it?”

You let your head fall to Connor’s shoulder, arm wrapping around his lower back as your steps sync with such ease. A lightness in your limbs and how perceptive you can be to the sounds of downtown - car horns, hushed chatter and the like - let you know there’s nowhere you’d rather be right now than here. Back at home, with your best friends and your partner in crime who you answer in the form of a hum.

-

Your first few days back in the Pas are slow and uneventful, most of your time spent decompressing from the taxing semester and unpacking your items, all of which you didn’t know just how much you possessed. In an effort to make the most of the sunshine and get out the house for reasons other than your part time job at the local diner, you sign up for community gardening activities and ask the groupchat if anyone wants to come along. Everyone appears to have plans, except for Connor, who in the early hours of the next morning, picks you up from your childhood home and drives into town where for the next few hours, you’re knee deep in dirt under the blaring sun as you plant various kinds of greenery to spotlight the natural beauty of your rustic town.

What is certain, when early afternoon pours in, painting the sky in shades of honey and tangerine, you’re exhausted beyond belief. You have no idea how Connor makes the drive home, yet he does and when you two collapse into the hammock in your family’s backyard, your lips are slack and echoing more yawns than you can contain.

“That was great and all, but that’s knocked me out,” Connor groans, limp body shuffling in the confinements of the cotton hammock hanging off one of the trees in your backyard. The same tree which holds the treehouse you and Connor partially lived in throughout your youth. “That was more tiring than hockey practice.”

You’re tired and easily distracted, your head perched up in a way that puts the treehouse in your direct eye-line. “Remember when we’d watch movies in that treehouse?”

A brief pause follows, occupied by the tranquil chirps and running water from the nearby bird bath. “Yeah, I’d always wanna watch Jaws but you wanted to watch Disney movies.”

You give him a laugh, shuffling yourself in order to get comfortable in the small space. Why did you two think this would work like it did ten years ago? The thought occurs to you, but you brush it off to save yourself additional mental load, making the adjustments to cater to some form of comfortability in the tiny space. Even if that means sacrificing your shared personal space as your body overlaps onto Connor’s strong and firm one.

“Says the guy who knows the all the songs in Lemonande Mouth,” you counter, “And, Let it Shine.”

Without missing a beat, in his sleepy voice, Connor replies with, “kissy kissy, Roxanne, did you miss me?”

Groaning despite the snickers slipping past your lips, you bury your head into Connor’s chest, refusing to hear the rest of his ramblings. “My girl is hotter than your girl, you know it! You know it.”

To get your point across, you unbury your head, wide eyes peering up at your best friend who’s so amused by this all, hair messy and smile stretching from ear to ear. A bright sight. “Can you not?”

“You’re just hating 'cause I sing better than you.” He follows that by sticking his tongue out at you, so mature for his age that you grant him the response of a heavy sigh and an averted gaze, settling back into the peace and serenity of your backyard.

However, the silence doesn’t last long before you’re speaking again.

“Your hair’s getting long,” you observe, fingertips dancing along Connor’s nape as you absently fiddle with the long strands of his hair, silky between your fingers. “You should let me cut it.”

“Name a time and place, and I’ll be there,” he mumbles sleepily against the crown of your head, soothing you further towards a serene sleep. “Unless you fuck it up. Then, I won’t forgive you.”

You give him the satisfaction of a laugh tucked away in your chest, the ghost of a smile dissipating as the aches of a hard work’s start to plunge their teeth into your flesh and bones, body like cement as you sink further into the comfort of the hammock, into the comfort of your calm summer afternoon.

“One of my friends from my team’s supposed to be coming up for a night or two,” Connor croaks, voice hoarse and the gentle breeze of the summer’s day pecking your skin in an act of love. “Think…you’ll all get along with him quite well.”

His point is punctuated by a tired yawn that proves to be contagious as you mirror the action moments after, eyes unbearably heavy as time moves slow like molasses, body further sinking against Connor’s. You don’t even stop yourself from falling asleep, only blinking away the exhausted sting in your eyes to answer your best friend.

“Can’t wait,” you mumble, adjusting your body against Connor as your limbs slot together like puzzle pieces, matched at every curve as slumber envelopes you two in a kind embrace. “It’ll be good - the visit…and the rest of summer.”

Your words trail in a drowsy daze, tone doused in sleepiness as your eyes can no longer keep themselves open, glimpses of hickory branches and pear leaves wishing you peace and serenity as you finally fall asleep.

-

Your shift at the local diner passes without as much traffic as expected, local patrons ordering their usual with a few tourists dropping by to try the culinary experience of your average but nostalgic diner food. Due to how quiet the establishment is - Mabel, your boss and long-time owner of the diner - lets you off early and with a hug, you scurry back to your family house to get ready for the night's events. After dozing off with Connor in the hammock out back, your mother softly awoke to you with a holler she’s used since the dawn of time.

“Up and at ‘em, kids. Dinner’s ready!” in the distance of your dreams, you hear your mother yell.

With drowsy film still coating your eyes, you and Connor manage to dislodge your limbs from one another, sleepy smiles and croaky chuckles exchanged as you amble inside your house and Connor stays for a filling homemade meal that everyone at the dining table fawns over. Connor hangs back as you venture into the kitchen to wash up, a tradition you two have forged, him washing the dishes and you drying them. Not much dialogue takes place between the two of you and there is no need. For all the instances where you believed the need for conversation, you appreciate this silence so much more - how there’s no urge to talk for the sake of talking and how much comfort there is with simply just being with Connor. After you’ve done the washing up and Connor’s hugged your mother goodbye, fist bumping your father hilariously enough, he’s climbing into his car and wishing you well.

“You sure you don’t need me to pick you up from Mabel’s?” coaxes Connor, the wiggle of his eyebrows offsetting the echoes of titters that leave your lips.

“I’m good, thanks. Need to shower and get ready, anyways,” a gentle gust of wind blows, fallen leaves scraping against the cement of your driveway. “We all know how long that takes.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” Connor simpers, says like it’s the easiest thing in the world and like it doesn’t demand for the city of butterflies within you to soar beyond their ability.

You flash a strained smile, giving the top of Connor’s car a pat as your posture straightens and you step away from the vehicle. “Goodbye, Connor.”

“See you soon.” and just like that, he’s gone with the wind, taking a little piece of you with him.

It’s when you’re strolling your way back inside the house, halfway up the stairs to your bedroom that your mom gives you a gentle call, beckoning you back down the stairs to find her in the dimly lit living room, mahogany reading glasses hanging low on the bridge of her nose whilst the quiet snores of your father and his baseball game fill in the background noise.

She folds her newspaper, crinkles running up your spine as she addresses you. “So good to have Connie over, makes me miss him more when he’s away.”

Connor is like a son to her, the better part of your childhood glued at the hip whilst your parents cooed and awed at your loyalty to one another. He helps around the house with no complaint nor expectation of compensation, buys her favourite flowers every Mother’s day with an additional heartfelt gift come her birthday. He listens, he jokes and he cares. What more could she ask for?

“Can’t imagine how much more you miss him whilst you’re away.” she comments, throwing her denim clad leg over the other, directing all her attention to you, swaying between two feet with your hands behind your back, sceptical.

“Well, we try to meet up when we can, so it’s not too bad,” your hand goes to scratch the back of your neck, chin jutted as your head leans to the side. “…Is that why you called me down?”

Awkwardness rarely rears its head in your household built upon openness and unconditional love, which is why the unspoken truth your mother struggles to vocalise raises a red flag, your skin prickling as you fiddle with your hands behind your back.

She’s looking at you now, a maternal love in her eyes as she speaks up. “Maybe, I can’t really put my finger on it, really. I did, however, want to say that I hope you guys keep each other in your lives, however that may pan out in the future. There’s a special happiness in your eyes I want you two to be selfish with.”

It’s a small thing, she says. A snowflake amongst the pile of snow in the realms of your mind, but as you lay in bed later on that late afternoon, staring at the gold stars Connor helped hang up in your room, your mind wanders places it never conceptualised. Inserts Connor in places in your life where he hadn’t been previously - opposite you illuminated by a candle-lit dinner, dancing in a kitchen as you prepare breakfast and kiss each other in between, above your bare body as he holds you in the palm of his hand like you are the most precious thing the universe has gifted him. It’s a point in time that despite busying yourself with dipping your toes back into your hobbies - heck, even walking your next door neighbour’s golden retriever to clear your head - it never quite leaves you, awakening something deep and dormant in you that never goes away.

Snapping out of your syrupy daze, you adorn yourself in your finest line dance clothing, slipping on your gingerbread cowboy boots before you’re tying bows in the pigtails of your hair. Your mother yells down the stairs for you and you leave in a flash, kissing her goodbye as she drops you off at Punch and Judy’s, your jewellery clinking together as you walk through the main entrance.

Much like your first night back, the bar is illuminated in dim light and sharp LED lights of varying colours. Cowboy hats dominate the sea of customers, the building crowd of the bar dressed in shades of denim and tired leather cowboy boots. Knowing the others have already arrived, saving a spot at a nearby booth, you decide to make your way to the bar first, ordering your signature berries-flavoured cider, to which Punch (co-owner) makes quick work of, the cold beverage in your hands before you can blink.

“Beer not to your liking, sugar?” A smoky, mellow voice grabs your attention.

You spare a glance at the source of the gravel voice, eyes long lingering as they capture the image of a face that stirs a flip in the pits of your stomach. The man stood beside you braces his muscular arms against the hickory brown of the wooden bar, his sleepy chocolate eyes trained on yours as he takes a swig of his tequila flavoured Desperado beer. Locks of umber messily cascade along his face, unless tucked away in his vintage black cowboy hat that ties together the rugged cowboy look he presents with the sweet addition of his light stubble. To make things worse, he’s stupidly fit, his black t-shirt clinging to the curves of his muscles like second skin. If it were up to you, you’d-

“Like what you see?”

The smug comment snaps you out of your hazy olge, a pout forming upon your lips with an accompanying knit in your eyebrows. You make a point to angrily grab at your pint glass, ingesting a big gulp of the sugary alcohol whilst the rugged cowboy laughs to himself.

Even his laugh is attractive. Sick bastard.

“Coming from a man drinking a Desperado? Funny,” you have to laugh at whatever lame attempt of making conversation this man is pulling, Punch masking his misplaced laughter behind a cough as he polishes a pint glass. “How flirtatious you are.”

You admit, your latter remark is more bark than bite, a quick chirp that refuses to feed his ego yet grab his interest all at the same time. The ruse proves to work in your favour as the sexy cowboy gives another one of his huffed laughs, his body turned towards yours.

“Give me a chance, sugar. Just tryna start the night off right,” he counters, so brazenly confident in himself that you don’t know whether to laugh or shy away from his prying eyes. “Tequila beer and beautiful company - sounds about perfect to me.”

You react in a juxtaposition, eyes rolling and cheeks flushing as you divert your line of sight away from the handsome man flirting with you at your hometown bar. Perhaps, he’s some city folk travelling through the town, fancying himself a good time at Punch & Judy’s weekly hoedown Fridays, a little bit of flirting on the side to inflate his ego and keep his blood pumping. Whatever reason explains his presence, you are not one to complain. Your love life isn't very entertaining to put it mildly, so you're willing yourself not to get swept up in his caramel eyes.

Against the wishes of your quickening heart, you decide to give Mr. Handsome Traveller the time of day, body shifting as you face each other finally. “You don’t quit, don’t you?”

He cocks an eyebrow your way, something sneaky and sugary in the lines of his smile. A brief pause follows his actions, the soft rustic sounds of old town country murmuring from the jukebox nearby filling up in the space between your figures. It’s when he’s about to make yet another cocky comment that your conversation is put on pause.

Connor’s voice calls your name, head turning to find your best friend standing in between you and the Punch & Judy’s cowboy of the night, eyes wide and expectant as they shift back and forth in the middle of your standing figures.

“Dew, forget about Desperados tonight. The lady in bows will have your head otherwise.” Handsome Traveller nods his chin towards you, humour dancing in his smile as he snickers into his half-full glass.

Then, it dawns on you. Dew? One of the handful of nicknames Connor’s adopted over the course of his livelihood. So, they’re acquaintances? Or closer? Your eyes frantically search for social clues to point you in the right direction.

“The lady in bows is my best friend,” Connor explains, a bite to his words as his eyes glare a knowing look at Sexy Cowboy. He then goes on to face you, gaze softening almost immediately as his head tilts in his friends (?) direction. “This is Brandon, or Dewey One.”

Oh. Makes sense, you rationalise. This is Brandon, Connor’s close friend and teammate on his current team out in Minnesota, the one who gets into fights he can’t win on the ice whilst Connor trails nearby picking up his fallen gear. The one he told you a couple of days ago that was coming up to visit. And, of course you were flirting with him.

Of. Course.

“Dewey One?” you ask, minorly deflecting from your embarrassment and still genuinely curious.

Connor inhales, as if to speak but Brandon beats him to it.

“Brandon’s just fine,” he interjects, expression unassuming as Connor’s eyes put his visiting friend underneath a microscope. “Nice to meet you, darling.”

Normally, you’d wrinkle your nose at the sometimes sleazy pet name Brandon casually calls you, except this time round you find it more amusing than cringe-worthy, which is how you find yourself grinning as you two exchange a handshake that testifies to how strong Brandon is. You clear your throat to stop the circus unfolding within you.

“Come on,” Connor gestures over to you to follow suit. “Can’t keep ‘em waiting.”

You call out an agreement over your shoulder as you go to grab your drink, the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention as a close whisper brushes past your ears.

“I ain’t no quitter, sugar.”

-

The next couple of hours are spent packed into a crimson leather booth that peels at the ends, going from topic to topic over many a pints. Brandon fits so easily into your group, his infectious energy illuminating as he takes up space without regard, his confidence more enticing than suffocating. Everyone seems to be in good spirits as the alcohol keeps flowing and as you sit back, careful eyes watching your friends engage in conversation, you wish for this to be your forever for as long as you'd like for it to be.

A nudge against your shoulder turns your head, greeted by Connor’s sage eyes. “You ready for Judy’s Line Dance?”

His rhetorical question draws a laugh from you. “You say that like I don’t do this every time I come back.”

“Yeah, but if you were ready then, you would’ve brought your cowboy hat,” comments Connor, his veiny hands grasping gently at the ends of your braided pigtails accented with a bow. “What? Wanted to show off your pretty bows?”

He thumbs the ends of your hair, engrossed in the strands and its feel and for some reason, the casual intimacy of the moment inflates something in your chest, a balloon about to burst as you forcibly breathe in and out, clearing your throat afterwards. “They're my favourite accessories.”

Connor huffs, corners of his lips lifting gingerly as he continues his motions with his hands whilst your body remains rigid with the exception of your racing heart and crimsoning cheeks.

Your mother has definitely planted a seed you cannot unroot.

“Yeah, you’re almost always wearing them in your BeReal. posts. They’re real cute.”

For a fact you know so well, Connor’s confession comes as a pleasant surprise, one that shallows your breaths and quickens your pulse. It makes you reflect back on before, when all was platonic and the comment wouldn’t have made you bat an eyelash. Now, your skin tingles and you’re struggling to find the words to encapsulate your affection past your dry mouth. So, like many others in your position, you settle for a safe reply.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” you roll your eyes, brushing off his grasp because you might combat otherwise, projecting your attention ahead of you to come face-to-face with Brandon, who despite the engaging conversation he shares with Owen, his eyes skirt over to you.

You look away, even more flustered than before.

It’s just your luck when you hear Judy’s tap incessantly against an old microphone that you have something else to hold your focus, eyes brimming with glee as she announces the dances for the night and their updated partner songs. Last time you were here, they were still playing their beloved country hits and you danced along thanks to the amounts of alcohol you consumed, but their new playlist of pop hits within the past decade or so, you’re more motivated than ever to tear apart the dance floor.

“If you ain’t shy to do a little two step, please make your way to the dancefloor please.” Judy grins into her mic, tipping her cowboy hat as patrons make their way over to the illuminated space.

Connor makes way for you to exit the booth, your boots hitting the ground as you iron out any kinks in your outfit. Amidst your actions, you catch other movements out of the corner of your eyes, to which you find Connor playing with the ends of your bow this time round. There’s always been something so sweet and tender about him - in the way clouds are amongst a blue sky, in the way laughter spills over so easily in the presence of a found family and in how harmonies make you feel as if you're floating. But, it’s never been like this before, this intense and vivd. In a way that rids you of all thought and scares you beyond your deepest fears all at once. You’re still finding your footing in this new territory, a plain that speaks to the existence of your feelings but has no road nor destination. It’s a simple plain you seek to find some end to, picking up clues along the way that predetermine what the future holds. At the beginning, the animosity scared you pale and grey. Now, the end is what grasps your fear in a fierce chokehold. To pry yourself from the jaws of unhinged anxiety, you allow yourself to relax, to seep into the present and take it for what it's worth because the end is unknown and you’re not there yet. Not by any measure of time, you hope.

“Kick butt out there, rockstar.” His big smile deepens the soft lines of his face, a pure display of pride in his features as he gives you a pat on the back and gives way for you to shine.

It’s small, insignificant in the grand scale of things, but your smile deepens too and you nearly float to the dancefloor, adrenaline rushing through your body as the DJ prepares the upcoming music.

As you settle in line, you feel a light pressure lay upon the crown of your head, eyes darting to find Charlotte in the line next to you, giving you a wink before she faces forwards, thumbs slotted through the loops of her flare jeans. Her straw cowboy hat no longer, you reach up to find said object upon your head and with a chuckle behind your hand, your thumbs hang on your belt loops and let the music guide you.

It’s only when you’ve done your first turn that you realise that Brandon has also decided to join the line dance, huffs of amusement sounding from you as he glides and slides with a confidence dusted with his normal dash of comedy.

When Judy announces it's time for the partner dance, it’s your cue to catch your breath as you plan to evacuate the dancefloor. As mentioned earlier by Charlotte, the pretty sandy brown haired man who’d bought her a drink earlier in the night circles his arms around her waist as she gives him a smitten grin. You beam at the endearing sight, about to make your way towards your booth but are stopped in your tracks as a calloused hand clasps around your wrist.

Brandon’s expression is more sheepish than you’ve ever seen, his eyes distracted as they wander away from you. You raise an eyebrow.

“Who says the night has to end here, sugar?” His voice trembles partially, its edge lost in the coyness lining his smile as he finally looks at you with a dazzle of hope in his eyes.

A momentary pause delays your response, the moment used to turn the cogs in your head and sneak a glance back at your booth, where Connor was last you saw him, eyes trained on you as he simply watches the interaction. Under the weight of his gaze, a creeping sense of embarrassment climbs up your back, scolding the skin. You’re about to give your reply when the music starts up and Brandon speaks again.

“Put this desperado out of his misery and allow me this one dance?”

It’s so cheesy, maybe even idiotic - the words he proposes to you but he’s trying and that’s what appeals to you most, warms your heart and sways your response as you send him a nod that has Brandon cheesing ear to ear, his hand leading the way as you two fall in line.

You haven’t had much experience line dancing with a partner, the closest experience to this being a night you barely remember, happily back sliding with a fifty year old local in your college town bar who wanted to feel young again. Regardless of the fact, there’s no time to mull it over as the music already starts and your fingers are interlocking, matching up with the rest of the duos as you dance, cowboy boots stomping as you make a scene.

In all the commotion of heavy stops and ongoing thumps of Rihanna’s ‘S&M’, Brandon manages to catch your attention, mirroring your movements to a tee.

“You and Connor don’t do this much, do you?” he queries.

“You kidding me? Connie has two left feet, I’d be left for dead if it wasn’t for Charlotte.” You yell over the blaring upbeat country music, arms extended as Brandon glides you further away from his figure.

“Good thing I’m here tonight.” jesters Brandon, and you laugh along because you’re tipsy and having a lot more fun than you imagined.

Despite your familiarity with the dance routine you two execute to a tee, you’re caught off guard when Brandon brings you inwards, bracing you against his hard chest before his arm circles around the circumference of your lower back, holding you steady as he dips your body slightly. Your foot is kicked out, your (Charlotte’s) straw hat’s fallen to the scuffed dancefloor and you’ve just had the wind knocked straight out of you, eyes feverishly searching for answers as the bar falls to a hush.

You’re looking in each other’s eyes now, chest heaving and high off the adrenaline pumping through your veins from all that dancing. All time ceases to exist and it’s just two of you, sharing laboured breaths and looking for any cues for how this will end. It appears as if you’re in your own head at this point, combing through a thousand possibilities all at once to respond however you see fit. Thankfully for you, Brandon breaks the silence.

“One night and one night only.”

The sentence sends shivers down your spine and you’re pretty sure Brandon feels you quiver in his arms as he gives a brief chuckle, hauling you up onto your two feet and bringing you back to reality. You don’t really find their footing after that.

The rest of your time at Punch & Judy’s passes by in a flash, more pints being consumed over your group’s loud chatter as the night stretches on. Charlotte and her blue eyed companion indulge in another dance before he’s whisking her back to the bar and paying for everyone’s next set of drinks - bless his heart. He introduces himself as Jack, a new face in town and as he and the boys exchange pleasantries, the wild eyed non-verbal dialogue you engage in pieces together Charlotte’s sentiment and if it isn’t enough, when Jack makes his departure, she gives him a kiss on the cheek and bides him a coy farewell, a promise to meet in the next coming days on her tongue. One thing is certain, when Jack makes his exit from the bar, the door shutting behind him, you’re yelling and shaking each other’s shoulders in glee, stupidly happy and sharing that with one another.

Your table has their last drinks and before you know it, you’re being squeezed into the back of Owen’s pickup truck, sandwiched between Charlotte and Connor whilst Owen and Brandon sit up front. Over the murmured sounds of slow alternative music, you get bits and pieces of their conversation, the two excitedly talking about their shared love for Legos and the most they’ve splurged on one set. You shake your head with a laugh, going to share your merriment with Charlotte, only to find her soundly asleep, a light snore bypassing her punch pink lips.

“How you holdin’ up, champ?” Connor’s low voice draws you in, a slight head turn in his direction. “Don’t think I’ve seen you dance like that since we were ten and begging our parents to have a sleepover.”

The image is so vivid in your brain, two wide eyed kids that held hands as they begged and pleaded to have a sleepover, only for their polite request to be refused. Taking matters into your own hands, you dragged your parents’ big hands into the living room, where in front of them and an oblivious Connor, turned on MTV and danced to some popular song of the time. Lucky for you, it worked. Unluckily, Connor would hold that over your head forever onwards.

You’re cringing into your hand, face mangled in discomfort as you wish away the reality of you doing that away. “One of us had to convince them. Plus, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I can’t argue with that,” Connor laughs behind a fist before his hand falls to his side, a moment of quiet between you two. “You and Brandon seem to be hitting it off.”

A single eyebrow raises to express your confusion, perplexed frown prominent not because of his statement which is completely true, but because there’s an edge to his voice - something unfamiliar and cold in the way he says his words - a tone you’ve yet to hear, even after all these years. Uncertain how to proceed, you choose to be cautious about the matter, selecting your words carefully.

“He’s nice,” you state, because Brandon is but something in you twists uncomfortably, feels the recognizable pangs of embarrassment as you’re subjected to uttering this out loud. Or rather, in front of Connor. A betrayal of some sorts. “You were right about him fitting right in with us.”

There’s a strange shift in the air in the backseat of the car, the once peaceful quiet now becoming increasingly heavy and awkward as your words hang in the air like knives. Connor absorbs your words, stare averted as he watches his fingers fiddle with the lock of the door on the windowsill. You run your palms against the material of your denim shorts because you don’t know what to do with them otherwise.

It’s only when you’ve scratched the back of your neck, eyes stiffly roaming the interior of the car that Connor replies. “Yeah..I guess I just didn’t know how well.”

You’re about to ask him what he means by that, going to press him but Owen’s suddenly shut off the truck, his blinding interior lights turning on and him killing the ignition, alerting you of your arrival. Connor climbs out before your vision reverts back to normal, so you put the matter on pause and softly wake up Charlotte who sheepishly wipes away dried drool at the corner of her lips and climbs out the pick-up with you. You’re about to shut the door behind you, though someone beats you to it.

“I got it.” Brandon’s husky voice sounds from behind you, the slam of the door following.

You send an appreciative smile his way, perhaps a bit of timidity mixed in there too, turning to include Charlotte in any possible conversation to come, only to find her halfway up the porch stairs of Connor’s house.

How is it always the two of you left alone?

“Let’s head in, it’s chilly out here.” suggests Brandon, you falling in line with his request as the beginnings of goosebump dot your arms, the roughness of your skin hitting an all time high as Brandon’s large hand falls to the small of your back, guiding you up the stairs into the cosy and quaint house.

Hums of conversation lead from the back porch of Connor’s house, the presence of your friends known as you wordlessly navigate your way through the halls of Connor’s house, hallways and framed pictures you’ve committed to memory. When you’ve made your way to the kitchen, you find Owen nursing a cool bottled water, hair tousled and cheeks dusted in pink.

“There you two are,” announces Owen, fingers threading through the waves of his brown hair. “Everyone’s out back - apparently, Quinn’s out back too.”

You waste no time beelining for the backyard, the sudden weight of your reality dawning on you the second you stepped through Connor’s doorway, a cold shower of water easing you out of the mirage you’ve impulsively floated in. Once you’re outside, the cool air sinking into your skin, you spying the usual suspects - Quinn, Charlotte and Connor gathered together around a fire Quinn boasts about making. His glee is short lived.

“That boy scouts training finally coming in handy, huh?” Charlotte banters, a suppressed smirk sneaking amongst her features as she takes a seat in one of the camping chairs surrounding the fire.

“You laugh now but when you need someone to tie an impossible knot and survive off the land, don’t come running to me.” responds Quinn, taking a swig of his beer as Charlotte holds her hands up in surrender, laughing regardless.

You’re about to turn on your heels to head back inside, retrieving a beverage of your own, but a familiar call of your name is stopping you in your tracks.

“I’ve got your cider here,” alerts Connor, expression indifferent as he approaches you to hand off a can of your favourite berry cider and a bottle of water. “Blankets are on the chairs too.”

It’s embarrassing how much you want to melt into this man’s arms right now. Nonetheless, for reasons you know all too well, you express your gratitude in a toothy grin that he mirrors with a closed mouth, pulling you down into the camping chair beside his.

Soon enough, Brandon and Owen are sitting round the fire too and your night ends like this, light-hearted discussions under the stars as the heat from the open flame soothes your heavy eyelids closed. Whilst you’re mildly awake, you don’t miss the glances you and Bradon trade over the sandstone fire, loaded questions in his eyes. Had this been any other occasion, any other person not linked to Connor, any other reality where your current feelings didn’t exist for Connor, then there would be no questions asked, blossoms of wine doting both your necks come tomorrow morning. Alias, these were not the conditions and simply lounged in your camping chair, hoping Brandon didn’t look your way every time Connor’s hand would play with the bows in your hair.

-

Arm hanging out of his shiny porcelain white pick-up truck, Brandon squints as the rays from the blistering sun reflect into his eyes. Having said their goodbyes earlier, Connor and Brandon dab each other up with good-natured smiles before Brandon throws his focus over to you, standing with a bit more awkwardness than you’d like.

“Take care, Lady in bows,” Brandon says, a well-mannered nod sent your way with a closed mouth smile. “Don’t give Dewey a hard time. He’ll come round.”

For a split second, you’re eyeing him as if his face contains all the answers, but when he gives you that knowing look, the same one Charlotte and your mother give you any time Connor’s name is mentioned - you know. Know all too well and blush as a result, head snapping behind you to see if Connor’s within earshot. Thankfully, he’s in the middle of chatting with his brother, hands in his pocket as Quinn points off into the distance. You circle back to Brandon, the apples of his cheeks clear as day as he snickers like he’s been told a secret.

It’s as if this best kept secret brings you infinitely closer, your walls falling as you begin to bare the depth of your sentiment surrounding Connor. There’s no more beating around the bush, so you lower your head as you kick at the rocks at your feet. “You think so?”

You hate how small your voice comes out, meek and questioning everything known to man. It’s unfamiliar and not to mention, uncomfortable in every aspect of the word. Alias, Brandon sees you - catches the vulnerability you’ve shared with him and embraces you with a kindness that ushers a relieved sigh from you as he responds back.

“I’d bet my NASA Space Shuttle lego set on it.” Brandon banters, smirk soft and small.

So, he’s serious. Very serious, it seems because you know how treasured the item is to him. You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thanks, Brandon,” you breath, coyness coating your cheeks as your hands fall behind your back, your fingers tangling. “Don’t go fighting no alligators.”

“We can only hope,” Brandon gives his side-door a smack, rounding up everyone’s attention. “I’m hitting the road, fellas. Enjoy the fair for me, yeah?”

A chorus of agreements go off from behind you before Brandon gives one more salute, speeding off into the canary yellow sun. The small crowd outside Connor’s house disperses and regroups again later on that day, refreshed and ready to attend the local fair held every summer and the highlight of the year.

The fair lives up to its expectations, grand and joyful with a variety of rides ranging from teacups to a catapult-like ride that swings back and forth and then upside down. You’re distracted by all the colours, the sights and sounds that you’re so oblivious to what goes on right before you, until your vision is shrouded in black and your face is submerged in fluff.

Retracting, you blink your eyes to adjust to the change in lighting, lips parting as you stare at the massive latte-coloured teddy bear that Connor presents to you, the rest of your friends nearby taking their turns at the darts board way ahead of them.

He must see you struggle to find the words, his grin infectious as he jests, “I think I’ve finally out-conned the concessionaires.”

You must look like an idiot, or a deer in the headlights as Charlotte jokes, disbelief strikingly apparent on your face as you reach for the souvenirs, the fluffy animal so cosy in your arms and melting your heart into a big puddle of goo. “Thank you, Con.”

“Don’t mention it.” a smile plays tenderly on his lips, the sheer kindness he captures in his sage eyes enough to make your pulse race and head spin.

After the thoughtful gesture, your high spirits cannot be tamed as you indulge in every little thing your heart desires - laughing a little harder, smiling a little wider and stuffing your cheeks full of hearty food that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Charlotte basks in your glee, speaking of a glow you radiate as she snaps photos of your stuffed cheeks, a knowing smirk on her lips as she hands you your teddy bear once your food is finished. You don’t reply, exchanging words through your glances as you make your way towards the second bit of rides the boys want to try.

“Wait, isn’t that…?”

As Quinn’s voice trails off into the distance, you find yourself turning in the exact direction where he directs your view, eyes landing on a pair of figures - one being Connor and the other being, Amelia, Connor’s ex-girlfriend from high school and most notably, his last girlfriend. Her waves of blond hair glisten in the sunshine, something like a Renaissance painting. Her smile bright and wide as she greets Connor with an enthusiastic hug, a hug you feel lasts longer than necessary.

They then go on to immerse themselves in conversation, and for the life of you, you can’t look away - pry your jealous eyes away nor dry swallow this bitter pill because she’s still so into him. Hands familiar and all over him, leaning in when she gets the chance and beaming like she’s won the lottery. In all fairness, her life’s been such a tale - excelling academically, incredibly driven in all sports and other extracurricular activities that garnered her attention. And such a kind spirit too, always there to help no questions asked that it made you physically sick that you could foster any ill feelings towards her, because she’s such a light and maybe Connor would see that too. As he did when they were together.

You’re too busy losing yourself in a sea of self pity that you don’t notice Charlotte's attempts to snag your attention nor other things at first, your illegitimate fears getting the best of you but as your posture stoops, your eyes floating everywhere around the busy fair that it pauses on Connor’s figure. Once immersed in conversation, he appears distracted, indifferent somehow as his attention wanders, wanders over to you as his line of sight floats over to you from time to time as the conversation stretches on. At first, you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, feeding into delusions that’ll soothe your pity party, but at some point, he holds your gaze, giving Amelia a pat on the back before he’s jogging over to where your friendship group is, not even uttering a word as he slots himself between you and Owen.

“What was that about?” Quinn just has to ask.

“Oh, Amelia just wanted to catch up,” he sounds distracted, his mind elsewhere but you don’t dare to indulge, your sight directed elsewhere as you grip onto the plush teddy bear as if it were a lifeline. “She says hi, by the way.”

You don’t do much listening after that, tuning out all the colours and sounds of the fair as you ride the highs and lows of what your life has become.

-

A sense of urgency plagues you from that day forth, a hurriedness in your actions as your anxieties get the better of you, going from lounging around in day old pyjamas covered in crumbs and mystery stains to getting a head start on your master’s personal statement and running every errand you’ve been procrastinating. Your parents swear you’ve become a different person - venturing outside the house before noon to visit the bank to change your address or go get your car serviced. Perhaps seeing Connor with Amelia was the jump start you needed to stop relishing in instant gratification, distracting yourself from facing any sort of music that pertained to the future and all its question marks. You still hang out with the others, more so Charlotte as you spend a few afternoons at the lake with one another, feet dangling into the water as she updates you on her adventures with Jack.

It’s the first time someone’s pursued her with such sincerity and charm that she’s hesitant about his authenticity. And yet from the sounds of it, Jack doesn’t mind one bit and shows his patience as they get to know each other, the smitten man taking your best friend on dates that further solidify their connection. You couldn’t be any happier for your best friend, this kind of treatment a long time coming, all of which you express just to see her blush and dive into the cold lake water to avoid further talks. You chase after her, teasing her mercilessly as the thoughts still linger at the back of your mind - your own sentiment with regards to Connor and what has come from the change of heart.

Emotional anguish and so much fear you’re not sure what to do with yourself. It takes a week of mulling things over, his missing presence due to off-season hockey training for you to make up your mind, peeling into his driveway and hiding your apprehension behind a strained smile as he greets you at the door. You preoccupy every bit of silence with running chatter, because you don���t want to hear yourself think, a multitude of topics discussed over vodka pasta you make together before you’re finding your way into his bedroom, the early evening sky greeting you as he flicks on his buttermilk bedside lamp.

He brings out his guitar, the same one you gifted Connor two years ago at the height of his newly-found hobby and plucks the strings, creating a melody you compel yourself to relax into, somehow ending up sandwiched in between him and the guitar as he directs your fingers to play one of your favourite songs, just because.

Apparently, your shaky hands don’t make for good playing material.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, you cold or something?” notes Connor, his looming presence over your body sending you into overdrive, your skin feverish and mind imploding from overwork.

“This is different.” you annouce, because it is. Unlike times before, it didn’t mean as much to be alone in his bedroom with him, getting glimpses into the life he’s lived and who he is as a person through all his possessions. You could handle the casual intimacy - the soft spoken whispers, the unprovoked kindness, the skin to skin contact that didn’t send your heart into a series of flutters. Now, all you can do is bat an eyelash, many at that, and this you must make known. For the selfish reasons you can think of.

“What d’ya mean?” he mumbles, clearly distracted and known the wiser to his breath fanning over your neck, goosebumps rising against your skin as your body grows rigid against his.

So acutely aware of your proximity, of the bursting feelings that thud at the confinement of your chest, your thoughts scatter like glass. “This, Connor. Being like this…with you.”

That strikes a chord with Connor, his motions ceasing altogether as his hands drop from the guitar and you’re forced to face the music. Sink your teeth into this undeniable truth that’s followed you all these years and you’ve been too blind to see. Confront the holy truth that maybe there was more divine work intertwined in your story with Connor, that maybe the universe wrote you two as one heart as opposed to two. That, as the summer days ticked by, the sun seeping into your skin, your love grew for Connor like molasse - slow and thick and palpable that once you were aware of its existence, that’s all that consumed you. Coated in his syrupy love, an endless desire.

You’re facing your best friend in spite of the hellish screams in your mind to play this off as some random mood swing, a joke even, because laughter follows you two everywhere, right? But, you know. Know better than anybody else that Connor knows you, like the back of his hand. Sees right through any charade you may jester him with, so any attempts to divert the conversation are as pointless as anything. Your confession starts and ends here.

A flicker of concern mixes in the dark of his eyes, hands clasped together with a crease in between his eyebrows. “I don’t follow.”

A full body sigh draws out of you, shoulders sagging and back curving, your hands casting aside the acoustic guitar with caution. You’re back to staring at each other, in the silence of the night, caged in between four walls that burn your eyes white as you once again grapple with your innumerable feelings and the finality of it all - this longing.

“Don’t you think,” you croak, question in your eyes as you look up at Connor, stifling any rise in emotion within you. “-this summer has been different?”

His sage eyes cast away, pink lips settling into a pout as he racks his brain for whatever answer you may be looking for. “No? Maybe? I don’t know.”

He adds on, looking back at you as he leans closer without fault. “Is this because it’s your last summer before you graduate?”

Connor’s got a point. When you’re trying to kid yourself into not having romantic feelings for your childhood best friend, your mind wanders to places where it has more control. Plans for after college, what modules you’ll be taking, what societies you want to join, what last things you’d like to cross off your list before you’re forced into full fledged adulthood. It’s a thought that lingers ever so presently at the back of your mind, like background music stuck on loop, but ultimately, Connor has missed his mark and you tell him so.

“Partially, but,” you wet your lips, struggling to find the words again as the burn against your cheeks proves to be insufferable. “This is what’s been on my mind more than anything else.”

Your point is accentuated by your single finger gesturing between the two of you, a poor attempt at best to foster some sort of confession of your romantic feelings. Because it's so scary, lending these thoughts your voice because they become much more real, spoken aloud for his ears to hear and his heart to see. For his heart to feel and what then? What awaits you once your confession reaches his ears? The unknown is scary, chilling to the bone and you wish to shroud yourself from it as long as there’s daylight.

There’s a beat before you hear Connor’s voice again. “What about us?”

Hearing him vocalise those three words makes the moment so real, so vividly intense that it sends chills down your spine and slows your laboured breath, the thump of your heart all you can hear aside from the ticking clock against Connor’s bedside table. It ticks and ticks, signifying the curtain call to your summer long charade.

“Connor, I..” It’s as if the magnitude of your feelings have manifested into some beast, with razor-like fangs and sharp claws that slash at the confinements of your chest, the words of love dying on the tip of your tongue as the moments hangs over your head like a gauntlet. You’ve never been so scared before, driven nearly to tears as your desperate hands grip at the material of your hoodie to ground yourself in some sort of way whilst you try to push yourself. To see this through until the very end and leave the destination unknown.

“We’ve been friends our entire lives. I don’t know anything beyond being with you and I never wanted to, and I feel like that means so much more than it did years ago,” his eyes are on you, undivided attention served on a silver platter that you turn away from, for its sincerity and shine. “Maybe, I did know deep down inside what I know now all those years ago. Like when I cried and begged for you not to leave the Pas. Or when you held my hand any chance you got when we were kids, or anytime you smiled at me really that let me know I always liked you. Maybe, even love you - I don’t know. But, what I do know is that I just couldn’t leave for Calgary without letting you know. Even if that means…”

You don’t have the heart to utter your next words, a dagger to the heart at even the possibility of losing your best friend and partner in crime. Perhaps, it isn’t worth saying - this whole grand love confession because this is a risk you’re not ready to face. However, despite your thundering heart against your bruised chest and however many times you’re second guessing yourself here, the weight lifted from your words is undeniable. An unspoken truth that had been set free, that needed to be set free - whatever the fallout may be.

A snicker snaps you out of your deep seated fears, your scattered daze settling on the view before you, one you had least expected. Connor, eyes cast away from yours as he huffs into his hands, a laugh you’re undecided where it derives from.

“…Are you laughing at me right now?” You feel awful for even asking such a ridiculous question. At the same time, you’ve just been as vulnerable as you’ve ever been in your entire life - some hesitancy is to be expected.

At your question, Connor’s huffs of delight cease and stares at you at alarm, realising his mistake. “God, no. Fuck, I’m so sorry, I just-”

“You used to rub dirt on me, and now you're proclaiming your love for me,” an airy laugh puffs out of his moving chest, a mixture of disbelief and amusement painted amongst his chiselled features. “It’s a bit of an adjustment.”

He seems…happy? Relieved? You’re not really sure, but what you at least find peace in is that there’s no sunken look about him, no expression worn that conveys disappointment and hurt because that’s all you’d have to see to know where his heart lies.

“Good or bad?” you ask.

His eyes bounce back to yours, those same olive eyes you’ve spent years looking into, glimmer with a sparkle that you’ve yet to see and robs you of rational thinking as your heartbeat picks up the pace.

“Good,” he whispers, like it’s a secret for just the two of you - one that is small and fragile, but so special and cherished that it makes your heart squeeze. “Because, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. Not by a long shot.”

You swear you could cry, burst like a dam and drown in your tears that overflow with such joy and relief because this is it for you. So right and settled, being where you’ve always meant to be - so loved and treasured by the one person who knows you better than yourself, someone who’s seen you at your most awkward and at your worst, and loves you because he has. Because he’s seen it all and wants to spend the remainder of his life doing so, a conscious choice he makes everyday because he loves you and you love him.

You’re unsure how you’ve ended up like this, limbs curled up in your lover’s lap as he cups your cheeks, rough thumb caressing the skin as his love shines through his gaze that blows his iris’ out of view. He looks so beautiful like this, unabashed and vulnerable, secure in love and what destiny holds for you. He looks at you as if you colour his skies and spin his world round and just like that, you lose yourself in him. Thread your fingers through his strands of umber brown and kiss him like you mean it. Kiss him long and hard, and with everything you have because it’s long overdue, so needed that you melt into him, lips overlapping as you taste destiny on his tongue.

The story of you and him, a tale as old as time.

[fairy-writes]

Hello ^-^ Congrats got 1.6k you deserve it!

Can i please request prompt 8 with Soshiro from kaiju no 8

BREATHE WITH ME

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Prompt: “You know, they say crying has all these health benefits.”

Fandom(s): Kaiju No. 8 

Pairing(s): Hoshina Soshiro x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Established Relationships, Panic Attacks, Mentions of Blood, Hemophobia (an irrational fear of blood), Sweetheart as a Nickname

Notes: We’re ignoring the fact that I wrote something similar with Morbius a while back.

Also, fun fact, I have a Hoshina phone charm on my phone!

TRIGGER WARNING FOR PANIC ATTACKS

__________________________________________________________________________

You should’ve known you weren’t cut out for kaiju extermination. In fact, you probably knew already. You just didn’t want to admit it. 

It was evident even in the beginning. To say you were squeamish around blood would be an understatement. Even the sight of a slightly pink paper cut would send you spiraling into a mess of vomiting and tears and snot and panic. 

But through it all, Soshiro was by your side. 

You weren’t sure why he put up with you. He was… Amazing? Phenomenal? Completely out of your league? To say it simply, it was no wonder he was a vice-captain and you simply… weren’t. 

The sirens awoke you in the middle of the night, sending you bolting out of bed and into your suit in record time. The cadets were bleary-eyed and fresh-faced, still learning the ropes, and it was your job as a senior officer to show them. 

But they didn’t know about your… Issue? Phobia? Minor hiccup? 

Who were you kidding? This was way more than a minor hiccup. But you could deal with it later. Right now, you have a kaiju to exterminate. 

Things went south really quickly on what should have been a routine mission. 

Well… Not at first. In fact, you were celebrating to yourself the fact that you hadn’t seen any blood yet other than kaiju ichor, but that hardly counted. It was strange, you could deal with the purplish ick that all kaiju had running through their veins. But the regular red stuff you had in yours? That was a huge no-no. Everyone in the platoon knew this and kept their bleeding injuries faaar away from you. 

Everyone except for the cadets, that is. 

The sound of someone calling your last name caught your attention. You were in the locker rooms, back to the door, cleaning your weapon with a clean cloth. Unlike Soshiro, you used guns. You were no good with knives or swords. Not as bad as Captain Ashiro, but still, your cooking skills were subpar, and your fiancé handled all the cooking in your home. 

“Yes?” You ask and turn, not hearing a harsh “stop!” until it was too late. 

Almost immediately, your eyes zeroed in and locked on the problem. A gash, nothing too major, but it might still scar. Blood seeped through the hastily applied bandages around Furuhashi Iharu's left arm. 

But that was enough to trigger the panic. 

Murky. 

Red. 

Pain. 

Choking. 

Everything was a swirl of colors, like a messed-up sort of carnival. You vaguely heard someone panting and crying on the edge of your hearing. But you could barely hear anything over the sound of your own thundering heartbeat. 

“—et the vice-captain!” 

What? 

What was happening? 

The overwhelming, cloying scent of iron was thick in your nostrils. It sucked the life out of you and made your knees and hands shake. Suddenly, something was cold against your back, and you realized you must’ve fallen against the lockers. There was a hand against your shoulder, and you flinched violently, jerking away. Your head cracked against the corner of the locker room bench, and you saw stars. 

The hands didn’t stop. They kept trying to pull you up, pull you away, pull you toward the blood. 

Distantly, you heard someone scream. It took you a few seconds to realize that it was you screaming. It was you panting and crying. It was all you. 

A gentle hand. 

A soothing voice. 

“—eetheart, you gotta breathe. Breathe with me.” 

Soshiro. 

It was like slipping into a cool bath after being outside in sweltering hot weather, like coming inside to a crackling fire after being out in a blizzard. You let out a little gasp, and suddenly, it was like your vision cleared. The violet blob turned into your fiancé's face, and you could feel his calloused fingers gently cupping your face. 

He was here. 

He was real. 

The blood was gone. 

A grin cracked the corners of his mouth when he saw your gaze refocus on him. 

“There we go. Good job, sweetheart. Welcome back.” He said, and although his voice was a whisper, you still flinched. His grin faltered lightly, but he pressed on. 

“Can I help you up?” He whispered, even quieter now, and you nodded hesitantly. 

“That would be nice.” You whimpered. Worry was evident in his eyes as he got to his feet and helped you up slowly. 

“You took a pretty nasty hit t’ the noggin. Let’s get you to the infirmary.” He said, and you froze. Was Furuhashi still out there? He had been in the doorway when… Everything happened. 

Soshiro caught on immediately, and he hummed lightly, 

“He’s gone. He was the one who got me.” He said, and you nodded again. 

“Okay.” You said softly and could still feel your heart racing in your chest. Soshiro kept a hand at your back and another at your elbow as he maneuvered you toward the infirmary. 

The infirmary was empty save for the doctor. He had obviously dismissed everyone who could be dismissed by the time you arrived. 

You were checked quickly, and other than a slight bump on the back of your head, you were given a clean bill of health. There wasn’t a concussion, so you were told to go home and rest. Soshiro drove you both home. His hand was on your thigh the entire time, his other hand on the steering wheel. You leaned your head on the cold passenger side window.

The ride home was silent. 

“Why do you put up with me?” You asked as he unlocked the door to your shared apartment. He paused while fiddling with the door. 

“Because I love you.” He said simply, and your teeth ground together. 

“But why?” You demanded, and he sighed, turning to look at you. 

“Because you make me better. I love you, all of you.” He said earnestly, and you felt tears in your already puffy eyes. 

“I love you too, Soshiro.” You whisper, and your heart flutters at the sight of his grin. 

“I know.” He says cheekily, and you thump him on the arm. 

He doesn’t even flinch. 

As tears fall down your face, you can’t help but laugh. 

“You know, they say crying has all these health benefits.” You blubber, and his smile just gets warm, wrinkling the corners of his eyes as he leans in to give you a watery kiss. 

[cj-schlatt]

Take Me Out - Part One

Pairing: MLB player!Schlatt x gn!sideline reporter!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Schlatt is the new first baseman for the New York Mets, and you’re the team’s new sideline reporter.

Content: Fluff!

A/N: I went with the Mets over the Yankees because a.) I’m a Red Sox fan, and b.) the Yankees are strict and only allow mustaches (long live the chops). Enjoy! :)

You feel like a kid on the first day of school. You’ve got that nervous, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of feeling, but in a good way.

It’s your first official day as the sideline reporter for the New York Mets, and you couldn’t be more excited. All those long nights of studying, all your hard work to obtain your communications degree, have finally paid off.

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as you enter Clover Park for the first time. You’re in beautiful Port St. Lucie, Florida, and Spring Training is just getting underway. The smell of freshly-cut grass hangs in the air as you watch the players running drills on the field.

It’s here, as you speak to a member of the production team near the dugout, that you catch your first glimpse of him.

His laugh is what you hear first. Instinctively, you turn towards the sound, and that’s when you see him. He’s standing near first base, facing away from you, showing off the number 99 that covers his broad back.

Schlatt, everyone calls him, despite the surname stitched across the back of his jersey. His reputation precedes him. Everyone has heard the scouting reports, seen the viral videos passed around social media. In the minor leagues, he’s been known for his antics, taunting runners on the opposing team when they reach him at first base. It’s his first year being called up to the majors, and he’s one of the big stories for the team, the player to watch.

You’ve done your homework. You know all about Schlatt and his rather colorful personality. He’s certainly one of the more animated players in the sport, always fired up after a solid hit or a particularly impressive defensive play. He’s cocky, and, honestly, he has every right to be. He’s the Mets’ number one prospect, an above-average first baseman and strong power hitter. You know he’s going to be a handful in interviews, but you’re up for the challenge.

You can’t tell from this angle, but you know that if Schlatt were to turn around, you’d see the infamous mutton chops. Second to his spectacular playing ability, his unusual facial hair has been one of his defining characteristics since he was first drafted. Love it or hate it, it gets the fans talking, keeping that oh-so important spotlight on him.

You’re pulled out of your musings by a shout of, “Look out!” followed by a baseball whizzing past your head, narrowly avoiding you. You look to the field to see a few players standing around sheepishly.

“You okay?” To your surprise, it’s Schlatt who turns to ask you.

You give him a thumbs up. “All good,” you call out to him.

With a satisfied nod, he turns back to face the field.

It’s going to be an interesting season, you think.

You’re packed into the press room like sardines, shoulder-to-shoulder with fellow reporters. You all crowd around the podium where Schlatt sits, an array of microphones and cell phones in front of his face to catch his every word.

The press conference begins, and you’re called upon to ask the first question.

You open your mouth to speak.

Before you can get a word out, an older, male reporter begins talking over you. “What do you think—”

“Hey,” Schlatt cuts the reporter off sharply. “Let ‘em speak.” He gestures to you.

You feel your cheeks heat as seemingly every pair of eyes in the room turns towards you. You take a breath, then, as calmly as you can, ask your question: “What’s your takeaway from day one of Spring Training?”

Schlatt hums thoughtfully before answering, “That we look good out there, but we still have a lot of work to do before we’re ready for Opening Day.” He leans back a little in his chair and adjusts his cap. “That all?”

“One more thing: got any advice for a rookie reporter, as a rookie yourself?”

He grins wide. “Just enjoy it. We’re in the big leagues, baby!” he whoops, and the crowd erupts in laughter and scattered applause.

Before moving onto the next reporter, you swear Schlatt shoots a wink in your direction.

Spring Training flies by. Before you know it, you’re on a plane to New York for Opening Day. The sun is shining bright on Citi Field, helping to warm the chilly air.

You’re trying your best to soak it all in. This is what you’ve dreamed of for so long, and you want to enjoy every moment of it.

What an exciting Opening Day it turns out to be. The Mets and Phillies have gone back and forth, earning runs and keeping the score close throughout the game.

It’s now the bottom of the ninth, and the teams are tied three-to-three. There are two outs, no one on base, and Schlatt is up at bat. The count is full—three balls, two strikes. It all comes down to the next pitch.

You watch with bated breath as the Phillies pitcher throws a blazing fastball towards the plate. Schlatt swings the bat, and—CRACK! Just from the sound, you know it’s gone, and Schlatt does, too. He stands in the batter’s box for a few moments, watching the ball sail into the stands, before beginning his victory trot around the bases.

The crowd is going absolutely crazy. Lights are flashing all around, and music is blaring through the stadium speakers. The Mets dugout empties to meet Schlatt at home plate, where they convene in a huge group, shouting and high-fiving one another.

As the celebration on the field dwindles and players are headed off the field, you’re able to get Schlatt’s attention for a post-game interview. You can hear Gary, the announcer, in your ear, setting it up for the viewers at home.

“Schlatt!” you have to practically yell over the crowd. “That was amazing! What’s going through your mind right now?”

He’s breathing heavily, standing with his hands on his hips and leaning in to hear you better.

You think he starts to talk, but you’re suddenly doused in ice-cold liquid. You gasp and instinctively try to back away, but it’s too late. You realize, belatedly, that another Mets player has dumped the Gatorade cooler in celebration, but seems to have missed his mark.

“What the fuck, man?!” Schlatt shouts at his teammate, instinctively putting an arm around your shoulder, as if to shield you from another onslaught.

You shiver, not completely sure if it’s from the unexpected contact or the fact that you’re soaking wet in New York in early April. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

The station must have cut back to the booth by now. At the very least, the audio will have been muted momentarily when Schlatt swore. Still, you’re pretty sure that, even though the camera is there, it’s not broadcasting you in all your drowned rat glory.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” Schlatt mutters to himself before focusing his attention on you. “Are you alright? Lemme get you a towel.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you try to tell him, but he’s already jogging towards the dugout and returning moments later with a clean towel, ironically emblazoned with the Gatorade logo.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the towel and attempting, maybe in vain, to dry yourself off. You’re at least able to get the worst of it so there is no longer Gatorade running into your eyes, which is an improvement.

Schlatt crosses his arms and shakes his head. “I’m sorry about him.”

To be honest, you’re surprised he’s still here, still talking to you. You figured he’d want to get out of here as quickly as possible, but here he stands, looking genuinely concerned.

“It’s alright,” you try to brush it off.

“No, it’s not,” he insists. “I’ll talk to him, make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

You smile appreciatively. “Thank you,” you say again.

He smiles back at you softly. It’s so unlike him, you think—or, at least, so unlike the version of himself that he presents on the field and in interviews. It’s like you’re getting a peek at the real Schlatt, the man behind the persona.

You’re whisked off the field soon after. The production team assures you that you don’t have to stick around for the post-game press conferences, insisting that you go home and get cleaned up, for which you’re very grateful.

One very uncomfortable (but thankfully short) walk later, you’re back at your apartment. You quickly peel off your ruined outfit and hop in the shower, eager to wash off the day (and the Gatorade).

Soon, you’re curled up on the couch, cozy in your pajamas. It’s then that you feel your phone buzz, pulling it out of your pocket to reveal a wall of notifications. Confused, you unlock your phone, trying to make sense of the influx of Twitter mentions.

You nearly drop your phone when you open Twitter.

There, on your screen, is a video of you, microphone in hand as you begin interviewing Schlatt, before the Gatorade shower interrupts you both. The video doesn’t end there, though. You watch in disbelief as Schlatt puts his arm around you and continues talking to you, unaware that the camera is still rolling. Sure, there are a few moments where the audio is muted to cover up Schlatt’s f-bombs, but it appears that SNY aired your entire interaction with Schlatt.

You scroll down, eyebrows raising as you read through the replies. There are screenshots of Schlatt with his arm around you, followed by incomprehensible strings of letters and an impressive amount of emojis. You don’t really know what to make of it, and you try to put it out of your mind as you get up to make yourself dinner.

An hour or so later, you get a text from an unknown number:

can we talk?

A second message comes through moments later:

it’s schlatt

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think! :)

[incorrect-green-lantern-quotes]

Y'know what would be cool?

If every member of the Justice League in a cinematic universe (animated or live-action) had a different instrument that was the primary in their theme song. Ideally something that makes sense for their characters or genre. So like Batman's theme could be really heavy on string instruments like violins, while Flash's theme might be defined by drums that change tempo to match his speed throughout the movie.

I don't really have a solid idea for what the other JL members' instruments would be. Maybe brass instruments like trumpets for Superman and woodwinds for Wonder Woman? Especially for Green Lantern, since that could depend on which one we're talking about. While it would make sense to just make one theme that plays for any member of the Corps, for Hal specifically I'm thinking electric guitar- I'll get back to why later

Anyway, a really neat idea would be if each individual member's theme song sounded almost incomplete or unbalanced by having one instrument dominate. Until the full Justice League comes together and then the various different instruments come together into a complete harmony. Hell, maybe the JL theme song is actually the different members' themes layered together (I have zero experience in music composition so idk if this is realistic), to really emphasize that they're meant to be a team

Going back to Hal's theme being electric guitar, imagine if the movies decided to go down the Emerald Twilight route. It'll probably never happen, but imagine.

In the crater where Coast City used to be, Hal mourns. In his grief, he uses his power to recreate the whole city and everyone in it, his theme song playing but with an acoustic guitar instead of electric and at a much slower pace. It cuts off abruptly when the Guardians reprimand him for using his power for personal desire and order him back to Oa. Hal takes off, his theme song once again played on the electric guitar. But this time, it's played on a minor key (assuming the normal version is on a major key), sounding discordant and wrong as Hal Jordan takes down his fellow Green Lanterns and is fully consumed by Parallax.

The minor key version essentially becomes Hal's theme as long as he's Parallax (and maybe the slowed acoustic one is his Spectre version). His original theme song isn't heard again until Rebirth comes around and Hal is freed from the parasite and resurrected.