#OPEN TO ALL … ☾ ` * { open starter }

[diresang]

            ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ 𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙧 ✦․⁺ 

husk is smiling as angel came down the hotel stairs, setting his bottle down on the counter as he approached the bar. his tail is flicking excitedly, like he's been there waiting for him the entire time.

            ❝ hey, legs. got somethin' for ya'. ❞ husk spoke, and a cocktail shaker is summoned into his hand━ into it vodka, peach schnapps and grapefruit juice. poured into a pink-tinted martini glass, garnished with a toothpick skewer of maraschino cherries.

            ❝ pozione d'amore. ❞ husk presented it with a prideful grin, and while he waited for angel to take a sip of the drink, he pulled a pink gift bag from under the bar to set down in front of him as well.

            ❝ couldn't do much, but happy birthday, angel. ❞

[glcrygcre]

BOREDOM HAD CLOUDED THE DIRECTOR'S MIND . as far as richie understood it , it did not seem as if it would leave him alone soon . it was not as if he could follow his true passion in the city of london - it would be sure to get him locked up . keeping in mind the fact that the cops in this town were idiots who had probably never witnessed true greatness ? He also knew that he had to be patient . he had to wait - time and time and time again , for the perfect opportunity to come once more . Would it come in the form of sam carpenter ? or someone else ? the truth was that he did not know it . regardless , a part of him was thrilled to find out . when the person who had sat in front of him at the restaurant had spoken , richie found himself freezing in shock , pizza slice halfway towards his mouth . " - WHAT ? man , c ' mon . that can't be right . you tellin' me you never heard of the stab movies before ? the fuck ? what - you livin ' under a rock or somethin ' ? "

―   open starter | @walstarterblog !

[spydcddya]

❛ this is new. ❜ he's confused, with so little of an expression it's hard to tell what he's thinking. a blank slate desk recently adorned with a single wrapped gift ; small enough to fit in the palm of his hand - a secret admirer ? a confession ? or meant for someone else &. he was the wrong person to receive it. valentine's day was not a holiday loid much participated in, but the only thing to do was carefully pick it up &. observe it - ( there's no name on it. )

[cursedvessels]

◦•●❤♡ 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓵𝓾𝓷𝓪 ♡❤●•◦

[antiquatedmagic]

she hadn't meant to fall asleep in professor binn's class, she usually tried to be as attentive of a student as she could possibly be. she was already behind arriving as a fifth year, there was no need to make it worse. but this time it was different, it had been a long night fighting against poachers, avoiding ashwinders and helping whoever it was that needed her ( why was it that there were so many people that had needed her that night?!) and she hadn't gotten a blink of sleep. luck would have it that the little sleep which had been had during the history of magic class was interrupted by nightmares. nightmares which haunted her --- nightmares that repeated over and over in her head. the blood and gore that had been shed when she was only a child, when she was only a fifth year had startled her awake, tears streaming down her face as she looked around (she hadn't even realized she had been crying). "i--i..." she mumbles realizing she was caught. "i just--nightmare."

[ouchiis]

· · ·  ❛  PLEASE  excuse  me  if  i  come  off  as  rude  ,   but  .  .  .  if  i  may  inquire  ,  WHAT  ARE  YOU  ?  ❜ · · ·  OUYE's  pallid  fingertip  swiped  against  the  rim  of  his  glass  before  shooting  the  person  sat  nonchalantly  next  to  him  a  gaze.   he  rested  his  elbow  on  top  of  the  bar  ,   resting  his  cheek  inside  his  soft  palm.   OUYE  was  never  the  social  type;  and  yet  ,   catching  glimpse  of  an  otherwise  orphic  stranger  managed  to  push  his  boundaries  as  curiosity  got  the  better  of  him.   he  took  a  contemplative  sip  from  his  glass  as  he  calculated  the  best  way  to  continue. · · ·  ❛  .  .  .  I'M  RELATIVELY  familiar  with  entities  such  as  yourself.   i've  visited  hell's  hearth  before  ,   yet  she  didn't  quite  seem  to  want  to  keep  me  there.  their  eyes  always  hold  such  vast  sorrow―   i've  caught  glimpse  of  the  same  look  behind  your  eyes  ,  as  well.  ❜

[oldmaqic]

" ---- & the craziest part is , i'd SHUT UP right now if i got a kiss on my lips. a supple SMOOCH , if you will ! "

open

[xfrozendreams]

☾    « I was once a woman of great importance, but now I am just a story. I'm okay with that. »

[miidnighters]

@outself | s t a r t e r

He’s in unfamiliar territory, walking slowly so as to not put a foot wrong as his hand trails the brick fence lining the sidewalk. Being unfortunately mid-afternoon, the searing daylight means he can’t see yet, and though he’d been here once before with Elara as a guide (and had assured her he definitely could find his way) he was now, definitely, unfortunately lost.

It’s occupied with these thoughts (and a tinge of regret) that collision happens. Bumping into somebody, Flynn puts out a hand to steady himself, or them maybe, thankful at least that he wasn’t going very fast.

“I’m so sorry. My fault, completely away with the fairies. You okay?”

[hauntinglyyinfinite]

OOC TAG DROP

[deepestnightcolor]

☾ ʜᴏɴᴇʏꜱᴜᴄᴋʟᴇ ☽

ᴀ/ɴ: So...I have been wanting to become better at writing oral, and I have decided to mess around with some bachelors and how they would do it; here is the one I wrote Sam. If you are interested in any other bachelor, feel free to let me know, I have starters for most of them already, LOL- Anyway, thank you for your time and enjoy!~

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 751 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: nothing much. afab!Reader receiving oral, teasing, greedy Sam, slobber, hinting at over-stimulation. Short but sweet.

The blond had already pinned you to the bed before you had even been able to finish asking if he would ever consider eating you out.

Impatience had gotten the best of him almost immediately, full bodyweight resting on the soft blanket, as he kept your legs open with quivering hands. He had been waiting for this for ages, but hadn't wanted to push you into anything you didn't want. But now, he finally had you where he wanted you. Lying on the bed with your pants somewhere in the room, legs spread for him and his face between your thighs.

A groan escaped your boyfriend as soon as the prospect of eating you out was just in reach. Greedily, he pressed his pierced, drooling tongue against your clit.

He hadn't quite thought about taking your panties off yet, but he just couldn't focus his thoughts on such a task. He needed to get to you now, and that didn't allow time to remove the thin fabric.

Blue eyes staring up at you, the tip of Sam's tongue poked at your clit, rubbing the fabric against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The gasp he coaxed out from you due to such simple actions made his head spin; the pulsing he felt through the cloth going straight to his already hardening cock. Fuck, Sam just absolutely loved your sweet little pussy; loved how it would swell up for him when his fat tip fucked into you, his hand smacking and prodding at your clit while his balls slapped your skin raw. He loved how it sucked him in when he teased you with just the tip, he loved how it squelched with wetness when you were at his whim. And now he would get to fucking taste you. Another moan escaped him, sucking you through your now wet panties. The whimper he dragged from you was unholy, and he fucking drank it right up, devouring it and basking in it.

"Sam," you groaned, the blond paid you no mind. He was busy wettening your panties with his greedy mean tongue, poking and teasing you, lapping at you, but just not quite there despite him slobbering all over you. It had you absolutely desperate, desperate enough to reach down and at least pull your panties to the side.

The moment Sam's tongue came into contact with your bare, wet cunt, he was sure he could bust a not solely from eating you out. His brain simply shut off, and nothing else but you, your pretty and delicious pussy, and him existed. A tear dripped down his cheek as he nuzzled his face as far into you as humanely possible, his eyes rolling back into his head as he huffed in your scent. Three desperate, long, pathetic inhales to hammer your scent into his brain.

"Sam, please," you whined, your hips bucking up to get to feel the pierced muscle again - and who was Sam to deny you?

He definitely wouldn't.

Groaning, he began to lick and lap at you, tongue trying to get as much as possible onto its taste buds while his lips worked to suckle out even more of you. His abuse on your clit started up again, piercing grinding against the sensitive area, soliciting whines and moans from you that only made the pit Sam had fallen in deeper. He wanted to die here. Suffocate while tasting and smelling nothing but you.

He didn't even notice that his nails were digging into your skin so hard that you would bruise tomorrow, eagerness to milk you for your very last drop far too overwhelming. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked lightly, eyes flickering up to you. Your brows were scrunched together, and your lips were parted as you tried to let the string of moans escape that seemingly cut off your airflow, but failing miserably.

He let your clit slip from between his lips, just to suck it in again, one hand flying to pin down your bucking hips.

He wasn't done with you, and he didn't care if you could hold still. He would make you.

"Sam-"

No answer from the blond as his tongue tried to find every spot, mouth busy making out with your cunt like a man starving. It had your head reeling, your heart pounding. But even as your orgasm rocked through you, there was no stopping Sam.

He was going to suck you dry until there was no more honey to taste.

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Chapter One - Meretricious

Summary: Newly married and yet you already feel the loss of a spouse. The fight night as Queen was not how you expected it to be.

Notes: ~5.4k words. I feel like I write a lot of angst but does that mean I'm good at it? Probably not. Not edited

Warnings: implied cheating, subtle mentions of panic attacks, dubcon with no follow through

Tag list is open, just let me know!

☾ ✴ ๋࣭ ⭑․⋆⋮. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆⋮⋆․ ․⋆⋮. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆⋮⋆․ ․⋆⋮. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆⋮⋆․

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prologue ⇆ Next

Meretricious (adj.) - attractive on the surface but having, in reality, no value or substance

‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

By the time the ceremony was over and you were sitting at the lover’s table at the head of the banquet hall did you snap out of your phase. More specifically the food snapped you out of your phase. You have no idea how the cooks knew to serve you your favorite dish but they managed to get their hands on that information. 

The steaming food is served fresh and hot and placed delicately in front of you. Your stomach lurches as it realizes it hasn't eaten anything today. Your finger twitches as it reaches for the fork but stops short when you see that King Morpheus hadn’t moved to begin eating. You use all of your willpower to stop yourself, instead fiddling with the one of the many ribbons that decorated your body. 

Unknown to you, Morpheus sees your dilemma and even if he didn’t particularly find himself hungry, he moves to take a bite. He notices the way you perk up at the action and begins to eat yourself, thoroughly enjoying the meal. He stops himself when he realizes that he was smiling at your actions.

From your seat, you see your mom’s eyes boring into you with a slight frown. Your mother nods her head in the direction of the king, eyes slightly bugging out of her eyes as her lips turn downward. She nods again when you tilt your head in confusion at her odd messaging. 

“Talk,” She mouths at you before huffing and returning to conversation at her table. Her hand rests easily on your father’s back when she looks back at you one more time with another obvious nod. 

You clear your throat in preparation.

“So,” You start. 

“My lady,” He begins as well. 

The both of you stop talking as the other interrupts. After a pregnant pause, King Morpheus clears his throat and urges you to continue. 

“Please, I insist,” He comments with an open palm, gesturing towards you. 

As if by magic, all typical conversation starters seem to fizzle out of your head, even in muscle memory of the countless hours with your governess could not have saved you in this moment. What do you even say to the King? 

“How do you find the evening, Your Majesty?” You ask and immediately wish to hide under the many layers of your lavish dress at the question. You take a quiet deep breath to reset yourself at how increasingly awkward you had made the night. If not for him, then certainly for yourself. 

You did not forget the way he dropped your hands as soon as the vows stopped, nor the way that he all but ignored you the most that he could. Only talking to you now as you are forced into proximity with him. 

“Morpheus will be fine between us as we are married,” He comments slowly and takes a sip of his wine. 

“Very well… Morpheus,” You test the name on your tongue. It felt barren without his title attached to it, but it was just something you would have to get used to. 

“I find the evening well,” He replies without waiting a beat and takes another bite of his food. 

The tension was thick in the air, something that you couldn’t even cut with a sharp knife. The guests were talking amongst themselves, the food and wine good, but there was a clear and defined wedge between you and Morpheus. You’re determined to remove it as quickly as possible, Gods know you would prefer an amicable relationship even if forced into it. Yet, all words die from your mouth. The conversation has run dry before it even barely started. You only reply with a hum in acknowledgement before returning to your own dish as well. 

The silence is short lived as Three approaches the lover’s table. They walked in unison and in a line, their faces passive as they came closer. Morpheus was quick to notice them as well, and stood as they came closer. Uncertainty washes over you at his action and you decide best to follow suit. 

You stand, hand placed delicately over your lower stomach, but your foot crosses over your heel to ground yourself a bit. 

“Morpheus!” The youngest greets with a smile. 

“Ladies,” He returns the greeting. His eyes don’t leave theirs but he bows nonetheless. 

You’re quick to follow and give a curtsy as deep as the table could let you. You are way over your head. Never in your seemingly smaller life have you witnessed someone, some three, who warranted a bow from the king. 

The middle aged woman comes close to you when you stand up again, reaching over the short table to cup at your cheeks. 

“Oh, you are a peach, you are!” She gushes with a toothy smile. Small wrinkles crease along her eyes and mouth as she does. Her hands are soft but calloused all the same. “You are a perfect match for our dear Moprheus, I can feel it.” She whispers, mostly to herself. 

If Morpheus heard it, it certainly ignored it. Instead he redirects the conversation skillfully. The eldest ignores it, finding herself in front of you again and cups your cheeks just like the one before. Her hands are smooth and boney as they hold onto your face. Her face is less kind, gazing at you down her nose as she scrutinizes you. Her eyes seemingly cross over your mortal vessel into your very soul. She sees its timid nature, yet a hardened fire that just needed some hardship to see. 

“We come bringing gifts for the joyous occasion!” The youngest interrupts her older self, who walks back in line with the other two. 

“How kind of the Lady Fates.” Comes Morpheus’ perfect answer, he bows again and you follow. 

The youngest walks up first, and places an ornate wooden box onto the table. It’s framed in gold and silver with swirling designs and flowers. Her delicate fingers open the box and face it towards the two of you. Within, surrounded by red silk were two carved figurines that didn’t vaguely represent anyone you’ve ever met. They were stocky in shape, but detailed through a masterful paint job and varnish. 

“From the Maiden, I give Your Majesties a friend in a dire situation,” She announces and then closes the box with a soft click. She walks back in line as the next one walks forward. 

She doesn’t say anything, instead she only holds out both of her hands. After an awkward pregnant pause, she sighs and moves her fingers, indicating to hold her hand. You place your left hand in hers to which she smiles with a small nod of her hand towards you. Morpheus places his right hand on hers after yours but she drops it quickly with a scowl and a tick from her tongue. 

“The other hand, child,” She sighs again.

Morpheus switches his arm quickly and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from giggling in front of him. His body faces closer to you as to easier place his hand on the Mother. The smell of his cologne invades your senses, filling in your mind with the smell of sand and something sweet you couldn’t place your finger on. 

“From the Mother, I give Your Majesties an unyielding connection,” She proclaims and holds your hands harder. 

Your mind swirls with thoughts. What does she mean by an unyielding connection? You look at Morpheus from under your eyelashes only to see that he’s already looking at you. If you were going to be completely honest, you did not want to consummate the marriage tonight. You would be lying, again, if you were to say you weren’t physically attracted to him, but the issue lies with one thing: you don’t know him.

Morpheus seethes quietly at the Mother’s gift. He didn’t choose to love you and yet here he was, about to be forever connected to you even more. He hates how innocent you look at him through your eyelashes, how he can see each detail of your eyes, and the softness of your lips. He hates how he can’t stop himself from traveling his eyes lower to swipe across your protruding collarbones or how your bosom rises and falls with your breath, only more obvious due to your corset. 

The two of you stare down each other, both with reasons unknown to the other as the Mother finishes her wish. Both of you not noticing the way the wedding bands glow in gold with new engravings swirling into the metal. When the Mother steps away, both of you pull your hands away at the same time, and go back to standing side to side instead of facing each other, content with ignoring each other. 

“One more gift, then back to awkward silence,” You think to yourself. Though you don’t prefer it, you much prefer to make good conversation, but anything is better than this. 

As the Mother returns in line, the last, the eldest comes forth on legs that have walked centuries before you were born. She, like her sister-self before her, holds out her hands, palms facing upwards as a string of light crawls out of the center of her palm. With her other hand, she plucks it with a sharp tug and holds the glowing string between her fingers. 

“From the Crone, I give Your Majesties a string of hope,” She explains. She fingers tug again and separate the strings.

When they let go, they are autonomous and float on their own, binding themselves around your right wrist. A hiss escapes you as an acute hot flash encircles your skin where the string comes in contact with. When the glowing resides, a woven bracelet of red and a single entanglement of black rests easy on your skin. The string has no beginning nor end and wears snuggly on your wrist. It is rigid, despite looking as if made from soft cotton, and you’re sure that even if you cut off your wrist, it would not yield. You peak over at Morpheus again, taking note of his matching set of woven black and a single entanglement of red. It is the same as yours, down to the material, design, and pattern but only reverse in color. 

“Thank you, my fair Ladies,” You express with a small smile, placing your hands back into position in front of you. Your stomach growled again, though very faint, and wished to go back to eating. However, the Lady Fates have yet to leave from their position. Morpheus was standing as still as ever, but from your position, you could tell even he was starting to get antsy from how his middle twitched against his pant leg. 

“Of course, my dear!” The Maiden spoke. 

“Each of our gifts will come to fruition in due time.” The Mother continues. 

“Now, we ask you to share a dance for our enjoyment.” The Crone finishes. 

“A dance, what a wonderful idea!” The Maiden agrees quickly. She grabs her sisterselves and stand off to the side. 

Your heart jumps in your chest with happy flutters and tapping feet but you soothe it quickly. Judging by Morpheus’ character, it would more likely be true that he doesn’t enjoy something like dancing. That isn’t to say he can’t dance, a man of his standing surely would know how. 

“We do not-” Your words die in  your mouth as he bows to you with an extended hand. 

“Shall we take to the floor, my lady?” He invites. 

His eyes don’t meet yours and you’re skeptical but with the Lady Fates staring intensely at the two of you, you feel obliged to take his hand even if you didn’t want to force him to do something he didn’t want to do. 

Hand in hand, he leads you to the center of the empty dance floor, the marble floor recently polished for the special occasion. The falls into a hush as the two of you bow to each other one more time before coming together in an embrace. His cologne embraces you again and this time you’re able to pick out the smell of licorice past the smell of earth and sand. A bitter sweetness. 

The music swells in a classic waltz and Morpheus leads you easily. Your feet dance as it always had, feeling the pressure on the balls of your feet as the two of you glide across the floor. But, there was something lacking in the dance between you and your new husband. The dance was stiff, even if he did lead effectively. There was nothing between the two of you, no passion, no soul.

It wouldn’t be a lie if you said you wished there was something more between the two of you. You’re no stranger to arranged marriages, your mother and father being a prime example of such and even they eventually grew to love one another, in their own ways. The way his hand grasped yours gently and how perfectly he took control over the dance were qualities that you liked and perhaps, in time, you would find more things to love about him. For now, these small things could be enough. 

“Who were those Ladies that we spoke to earlier?” You ask, hoping to fill in the awkward silence. The conversation is hush and barely audible above the draw of string across the instrument. If nothing, the audience will think the two of you were sharing a lover’s conversation. 

“The Lady Fates, sisters,” Morpheus explains curtly and his fingers grip yours tighter unconsciously. “Do not make them cross, they are wiser beyond their years and believe me when I say that they are older than they look.”

“Even the youngest?” You ask, the warning barely scraping over your head. 

“Yes.” 

Another swell of the music from the orchestra and from the corner of your mind you see your mother and father taking to the dance floor as well, but the observation is easily lost as Morpheus spins you around, abruptly. He grabs you again as you come back to him, gently repositioning his hand on your waist and yours on his shoulder as the dance continues. The spin was completely impromptu, you know only because of how often you’ve practiced this dance. You couldn’t help the first real smile of the night from appearing on your face as you felt the wind between your faces and how the fabric of your dress swept across your ankles. 

“Do you like to dance?” He breaks to silence this time. 

“Yes,” You practically beam into him, the single spin able to loosen you. “It is one of my favorite activities. And what of you, my lord?” 

“I am indifferent to it,” He answers lightly as he spins you again. 

“I see.” You say back, your voice dipped lightly in disappointment. “Did you only dance because the Lady Fates asked you to?” You ask, even though you’re sure to know the answer. 

“Yes.” Morpheus takes a moment to answer, his mind seemingly elsewhere as his eyes look over your head. 

More and more couples join the two of you as the waltz continues but as the dance continues, the more distracted Morpheus seems to be, on one occasion stepping on your toes, marking the white shoes in a partial black footprint. 

“My apologies, I am… distracted,” He says, but his eyes are still looking over your head. 

You turn your head around to try and figure out what exactly he was occupying his occasion but with the several new bodies that accompanied the two of you on the dance floor, it was hard to make out what specifics he was looking at. 

The dance ends soon after with a final bow to the other. He excuses himself and leaves you on the dance floor, alone, breath unsteady from the dance or something else you’re not entirely sure. You hold your breath for a few seconds, willing yourself to breathe easier. A new dance started and you’re quick to make yourself sparse as couples start swirling around you. Your vision blurs the color of multiple ballgowns as you’re desperate to find some fresh air, and hopefully also somewhere away from prying eyes. 

You find salvation at the corner of an open balcony, only accompanied by potted flowers. The chatter of the party is all but background noise now, separated by paned doors and the light from the ballroom gave you enough to know where you were stepping. The cooler breeze for the night was refreshing against your flushed skin as you leaned against the stone railing. You breathe in deep and smell the distant sea, calming yourself down further. 

There were other couples on the wrap around balcony and they, much to your relief, left you alone. Rather they were more entranced by their own conversations to notice your slowly growing dismay. A strong gust of wind makes you take a few steps back to lean against the corner wall, resting your head against the rough stone and away from the incoming gale. 

“Calliope, please,” A familiar voice brings you out of your thoughts. It doesn’t take long for you to figure it to be Morpheus. 

“No, Morpheus. You need to listen to me.” Comes a voice you don’t recognize, a feminine voice. 

Your thoughts race yet again, is this why Morpheus was so distracted during the dance? Is it also the reason why he abandoned you on that dance floor? 

“Please,” He begs again. Begs. “You must know I didn’t choose her. I don’t love her, I love you, please.” He gasps desperately, his voice on the edge of a whisper. 

A long silence follows as the other woman simply sighs. The silence was too long, it felt more like a rope wrapping itself around your neck, taking away your breath and your ability to think clearly. How ironic it is that you come out here to seek some fresh air, yet instead you find yourself stumbling back into the ballroom on the brink of tears. 

Once again, everyone else was enjoying their time to pay too much attention to you. Slowly, you creep back into your seat at the lover’s table as you alternate between trying to calm your breath and forgetting to breathe in general. The corset around your ribs could not feel anymore tighter. 

The food at the table has long since gone cold, your appetite leaving with it. Your eyes haven’t left the door you came from, the night air wisping through the thin curtains. With shaking hands you reach for the red wine and take several large drinks from it. The sweet taste goes smoothly down your throat, but it’s bitter aftertaste feels like acid and vomit on your tongue. 

Slowly, the guests meander out the large doors of the venue. Still, you sit alone as you watch them go, their high spirits still intact as they continue their conversations outside. A flash of black is followed by soft pink and gold from the paned doors you have been so adamantly staring at. One, you noticed immediately by the way his cold mercury eyes find yours easily. Your fingers roll the thin neck of the wine glass slowly as he comes ever closer to his seat. 

The owner of soft pink and gold walks the other direction and joins the crowd of awaiting guests outside. You catch a glimpse of her brown hair and brown eyes as she looks at you over her shoulder. Her eyes seem to soften when they realize that you were already looking at her, but otherwise she does nothing. A footman dressed in the kingdom’s midnight blue and silver color hands her a small basket of shimmering stardust before she fully disappears with similar guests. 

When Morpheus arrives at the table, most of the guests are now waiting outside. He doesn’t sit, instead stands by his chair and goes to grab at his wine as well. Unlike you, he takes his time sipping it. A frown sits heavy on his face as he ponders. It doesn’t last long. 

“Let us depart,” He says as he places the wine down on the clothed table. It wasn't an invitation nor a question, simply a statement that he expects to be followed. It takes a moment for you to recognize what he was asking of you.

You only nod as it catches up with you. You drink the final bits of your wine, knowing it won’t be enough to make you forget the events of tonight. But you hope anyway.

Morpheus extends an arm and you grab on with hesitancy. It was just the two of you now, walking across the venue in the aftermath of what was supposed to be a romantic dream. The candles still glowed and draped everything in a soft glow, plates and glasses were empty with crumbs left in its place, messy napkins and a few stolen centerpieces. Everything to state that the wedding was a success.

You should feel proud, excited, anything positive in this moment! You should be brimming over the top with happiness, it is your wedding day, after all. Instead, all that is left is the nauseating feeling of betrayal that you didn’t feel like you had the right to experience. 

When the doors open and you step out into the night air, cheer erupts and the sound of glittering stardust falls from the hands of friends, family, and the court. The particles stick to every surface of your body, making your hair, skin, and clothes shimmer with every movement. Fireworks soon join in on the celebration and the cheers grow louder. Easily impressed, a smile breaks out on your face once again that evening as you watch the flashing of colorful lights above you. If you cannot find happiness, then you shall borrow it from the people around you until you can. Tonight, you shall bask in the moonlight of the abundant joy around you, the sound of applause and fireworks too loud for you to remember why you were so melancholy in the first place. 

Even with the uneasy conversation Morpheus shared earlier with Calliope, his breath was taken away as he looked at you entering the carriage. You looked like the very night sky, like a star or angel fallen from heaven itself. You looked like the Goddess Venus reborn. When you smile at him from the seat above, even he can’t deny your beauty. 

But. 

He stops himself again. Right, this isn’t him thinking that you’re beautiful and perfect. It’s because the Gods created you for him specifically. He didn’t get a choice in choosing you. He doesn’t love you. His sentiments drop quickly and he joins you in the carriage quietly. He watches carefully as you lean out of the carriage window as your mother comes up to you. She whispers something into your ear, your smile faltering slightly as you sit back down. 

The rest of the carriage ride was stewed in yet another awkward silence. The booming sound of fireworks slowly faded as the two of you rode further from the wedding venue. Now only the sound of horse hooves accompanied you in the confining box. You peek again at Morpheus, but he seemed content with looking out the window. The moonlight that sneaks in through the window curtain helps highlight his high cheekbones and sharp jawline. He looked as eternal as he presented himself. It drives a further wedge between the two of you, his status seemingly too far for you to reach. 

The ride to the palace was shorter than you expected and the carriage soon came to a halt. Morpheus leaves first then helps you down with a steady hand. Your attention is completely immersed in the grandeur of the palace. Large, lifelike statues decorate every wall, surrounded by balconies of ivory and stone. Its dome-like structure covered in glass and bronze made your jaw slack in shock. You’ve seen the castle from a distance all the time from your own estate, but seeing it as you walk up the staircase was a different experience altogether. 

A dragon perches right before the door moves and glares at you with a small roar making you jump in your skin. Morpheus places a small hand on the small of your back, ushering you into the castle without much of a blink of his eyes. 

“Don’t mind her, she simply likes to mess with the people that come through,” He comments. 

You don’t bother with a response as you continue to look at the dragon. Walking further up the stairs, the doors open on their own and you’re greeted with grand chandeliers and a large red carpet that runs all the way down the hall before splitting into two separate wings. Arches accompany the high ceilings and walls and made for easy and pleasurable viewing. But the viewing was cut short as almost immediately maids in matching uniforms curtsied in front of you. 

You didn’t get a word out before they started ushering you away into the east wing. Similarly, Morpheus was rushed into the west wing, though he didn’t seem to make much of a fuss either. It was eerily quiet, not even footsteps were heard over the plush carpet. It doesn’t take long for you to arrive at what you presumed to be your room. The idea only solidified with the grand review of a large bedroom, and your previously packed items already put away. 

“Your Majesty, I am your Lady’s Maid. Please, we are already running behind.” A woman of your age says with a curtsy.

Her outfit fit the similar midnight blue and silver of the royal court, but certainly held more detail in the fabrics. She also held herself with a higher esteem than that of the other lesser maids that escorted you here. You’re ushered to a vanity as women flutter around you once again. They don’t falter even when you try to show your displeasement as they stripped you of your wedding gown and under garments. 

You Lady’s Maid watches from a distance, delegating tasks to her subordinates as they prep you for the night. They have you step into a simple silk dress. It’s thin and doesn’t leave anything to the imagination. When you go to open your mouth again at the choice, your Lady’s Maid simply raises her hand with a shake of her head. The words quickly die in your throat. Lastly, your hair is pulled from it’s formal updo and left as it naturally is, a few stray pieces of stardust falling to the ground as they do so. 

“No, keep the stardust on her skin. It matches her complexion well.” The Lady’s Maid says before another could wipe it away with a wet cloth. Like that, you were ready to be presented to the king once more. The rest of the maids leave the room quickly, all commotion taken with them. 

Your Lady’s Maid is the last to leave, giving you one last look over before heading out. Before she does, you stop with a simple question. “What is your name?”

“Agnes, Your Grace,” She answers truthfully. 

“Thank you, Agnes.”

She nods, gives a final curtsy, and leaves. 

You stay in the silent room for a few more minutes, enjoying the moment to yourself. When you were ready, you peek your head out the door and relief floods over you as no one was in sight. With another look to the other side of the hallway, you leave the comforts of your room. Down the grand stairs once again and up the stairs to the west wing.

You were right to assume that the west wing mimicked the east and found a door similar in decoration to your room. No one was around this hallway either, so it wouldn’t hurt if you found yourself in the wrong room anyways. Well, except maybe your own pride. 

You knock twice, and with shaky hands open the door. There was barely any light coming from the room, and before you committed to it, you peaked in with your head. It certainly looked like Morpheus’s chamber, the only issue is that the person who owned it was not in there. With one last look outside, you walk into the darkness of the room. 

Timidly, you stand by the door, ready to leave at a moment’s notice. A door opens from within the room, and Morpheus emerges from a connected suite. He pauses for a moment when he sees you standing there, but regains formality soon after. Without words, he takes his jacket off, tossing it to the side on a nearby chair that sat in front of a fireplace. 

A blush creeps up your cheeks as he walks closer to you still, and the blush continues to grow down your neck as his hands caress over your face. His touch was gentle but it didn’t stop the way your heart jumped around erratically in your chest. Your mother’s words echo in your mind as he turns away and sits down on his bed. 

“Make him happy,” It said. 

With a deep breath to squash the last of your nerves, you sit next to him. Your uneasiness is still within you, enough to keep you from looking at him outright. 

“Lay down,” He says with a sigh and you do. 

The pillows are softer than the ones you had on your old bed, but the actions that you are about to perform seem to make it futile. As if the pillow was holding your hand gently as he crawls over your shaking body. 

When he comes face to face with you, your eyes look into his eyes for a moment, but the coldness you find in there chases you away. You turn your face. 

Gods, please let this be over quickly. You prayed silently in your head. 

A cold hand cups your cheek and you flinch from the touch. Your fingers dig into the satin sheets below so that you could ground yourself in something else. Your heart is beating loud enough you could feel the pulses in your head and the ravaging drumming in your ears. 

“Make him happy,” You hear your mothers words in your head again and a lone tear escapes you. 

Morpheus notices, the moonlight highlighting the liquid as it slides down your cheek and he pulls away. He would have consummated this marriage as it was his duty. But seeing you now, trembling like a scared animal beneath him, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

“Do you wish to be touched?” He asks. He pulls his hands away and sits back up, unstraddling your legs as he returns to where he was before the two of you laid down. 

Your eyes snap open at his question. It was simply something you didn’t expect him to ask. Slowly, you too sit up and see him looking at you with near teary eyes. You stay quiet as you battle yourself for answering his question. Your mother’s presence is strong, even when she miles away. 

“Answer truthfully,” He says again and he faces you head on as he says so. A finger of his twitches on his leg as he rests them there, but he restrains from touching you. 

In the company of moonlight and the bare witness of the King, you do as you’re told and answer him truthfully. 

“No,” You whisper plainly. You’re playing with the edges of your nightgown, rolling the fabric in on itself as you speak. 

Morpheus’ eyes soften at your answer. Content even as you found the will to speak to him without the fear of being reprimanded by your King. It is just as he always wanted since you first spoke with him during the reception. 

“Very well, then we shall not consummate tonight.” He stands and your eyes follow him as he walks away from the bed. 

“Is it not our responsibility to do so?” You ask timidly. You feel the pain of something lodged in your throat as more tears threaten to spill. You were already a disappointment and the day wasn’t even over yet. 

“I will not take you, or anyone, against their will. I am no monster.”

His outright truth snaps your head towards his, only his outline visible in the low-light atmosphere of his room. 

“And,” He continues. “I will not take you until you are ready to do so. Have a good night, my lady.” A curt bow of his head and he leaves the same way you entered.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prologue ⇆ Next

Sorry I've been gone for so long you guys! Final season is upon us and I feel that gap where there is no inspiration to write anything also taking over me... Oh well, it's not the end of the world :)

In the meantime, I'm going to be rearranging my main masterlist so it's easier to navigate

Thank you, as always, for your amazing support!

Until the next time my loves

♡ Yours, Layla

[gtgbabie0]

- James Potter x reader

{After losing a Quidditch match James is upset, but luckily you’re there to comfort him}

Hope you enjoy lovelies!! 💕

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James knew from the moment he woke up late that today was going to be awful, and he was only proven right time and time again.

The weather was horrible for starters, the rain was just relentless as it continued to pelt down and despite the growing storm the match still wasn’t called off, the same match that James’ team was losing horribly in.

Disappointed felt like a complete understatement, he was distraught, and by the time he got home all those built-up emotions had taken the form of tears and they built up in his tired eyes. He wanted nothing more than for the ground beneath him to swallow him completely.

As soon as you heard the door open you dropped everything you were doing and rushed to the hallway, “James! How was the-“ You immediately stopped yourself as you took in the sight of his teary face, the way his shoulders dropped with exhaustion.

Your chest tightens at the sorrowful sight, you notice the way his eyebrows are pulled together as he unties his shoelaces before kicking them off, “Terrible” he sighs, his hand running through his rain-damp hair.

You walk closer to him the back of your hand wiping away the stray tears that fall down his cheek, and it doesn’t take much before his head falls onto your shoulder, your hand smoothes against his back, and he lets out a shaky sigh against your skin.

“I’m gonna go shower, lovely,” he says, trying his best to keep his tone strong but his attempts are pointless as his voice quivers with sadness.

You nod softly as he leans to press a gentle kiss to your cheek, “Okay, if you need anything just ask” You smile as he makes his way upstairs.

You busied yourself with housework and other small things as you tried to rack your brain for any ideas of how to make his day just a little better. You hated seeing him so defeated and you wanted nothing more than to hear his laugh.

You were just about to start dusting the bookshelf when he calls your name, and you were quick to make your way upstairs to him.

James is sitting on the edge of the bed, with freshly washed hair and clean clothes, but his face is still as teary, “Could you help me, please?” He asks, handing you the face cream and you gladly take the offer sitting down in front of him on the bed.

“Of course I can baby” you smile, pressing a kiss to his hairline.

He wanted to be close to you, wanted to feel your soft hands against his face as you soothe all his worries and stress away, he wanted the warmth of your love to blanket him.

James watches as you collect some of the product on your fingers before gently rubbing it into his skin, and he sighs at the feeling, his eyes closing with the newfound peace. Your thumbs gently graze against his cheeks and you can’t help but pull him closer into you, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to the tip of his nose.

He chuckles at the feeling of your soft lips as the pepper kisses all over his face, and the sweet sound of his breathy laughter only prompts you to continue your journey down to his jaw.

His hands settle on your hip as he pulls you, guiding, you to sit on his lap as he leans against the bed frame.

You rest your forehead against his, his damp curls pressing against your skin, “Thank you” he whispers, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hip.

“What for?” You giggle, brushing your nose against his ever so slightly.

“For being perfect” he simply responds, his hands traversing underneath your shirt, soothing at the sides of your waist.

The butterflies that invade your stomach are all too prominent and his sweet words make you feel all floaty.

“We lost, the match I mean, pretty bad” he sighs, his head resting against your shoulder as you play with the ends of his hair that sit against the nap of his neck.

You turn your head slightly to press a kiss to the side of his head, “I’m sorry sweetheart” you whisper, wincing at the feeble words, yes, of course, you were sorry he lost, but there was nothing you could outright do to make it better, and the words ‘I’m sorry’ are the only words that felt right.

But what you can do is make him happy, “Why don’t we watch that thing you’ve been talking about?” You suggest, smiling at the way he visibly lights up, how his eyes seem to flicker with excitement.

He honestly didn’t even expect you to have been listening to his rambling let alone even remember it. It was a documentary about aquatic life that he thought looked pretty interesting, one of those things you mention in the moment and never really get around to doing it.

“Yeah I would like that- could we order something to eat?” He asks, his hands soothing against your thighs.

You nod, “Of course, we can” You smile as he presses kisses against your neck his nose nuzzling against your skin, and before you could even move he cups your jaw.

“I mean it, you’re perfect,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips, his heart fluttering, and you both spend the entire night entangled with each other, surrounded by nothing but love.

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[spydcddya]

↳ ⸂ OPEN STARTER ⸃ !

❛ hm ... ❜ a subtle hum to caress the air alongside the faintest aroma of cinnamon-sweet chewing gum, as twilight quietly indulges ; out of the way of others. crossed arms taut against the chest. although it wasn't his favorite holiday, valentine's day surely meant ( something ) to someone. it's the bare minimum of respect paid by changing the taste in rubber candy just for today's worth.

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: gekko x male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: gekko hopes its a simple crush, one that'll pass, but he hasn't had one since the first light, so his expectations for how this will go are skewed. slightly.

ʀᴇ𝐐: no ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4761

reader knows spanish but doesn't look like he does

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: swearing

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: guess whos back baby

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"You might want to keep your little friends in check." Reyna remarks. She leads a steady pace as she guides Gekko through the halls of what will be his new home away from home, yet the new recruit still has to fight to keep up. "There are quite a few rule-enforcers here."

His eyes wander everywhere, from the mundane tiled floors through which he could see his own reflection to the interesting sign declaring the firing range. He rushes forward to catch up with Reyna, "What do you mean?"

Instead of answering, she only nods her head towards one of his buddies. Wingman. "Hey! Dude, put that down!" Then there were "Mosh, Dizzy that is not how you play baseball! And not where you should, either." and finally "Thrash! You little monster, get back here!"

"That is what I mean." Reyna smirks, and Gekko could do nothing but laugh nervously.

"I promise they won't go wandering off, at least not without me."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

At first, he didn't know why Reyna would be so apprehensive; then, when his friends snuck out of his room without permission and caused havoc in the living quarters that led to Brimstone scolding him with a passive-aggressiveness he's never quite witnessed before, he understood. But it wasn't so bad—he kept them under control afterwards, and even then, there was only so much they could do in terms of destruction. He hadn't thought about what else they could do, at least not until he met you.

"Dizzy?"

Where was she? She couldn't have gone far. Well, she could fly, but she did it slowly. How could she have gotten past him so easily?

She's done it before, actually, usually in the mornings, but it was the afternoon now. She usually made her own way back to him too, but it had been to long and Gekko was starting to worry.

"Dizzy!" Gekko opens a door and calls obnoxiously, for he wasn't expecting what he saw before him.

He saw you, and her; and you were sleeping, the both of you. Dizzy slept often when there wasn't much action, and he guesses that you do too, although his loud call disturbs you from your sleep.

You stretch your limbs above your head and roll over to face him, unfortunately knocking Dizzy off the couch.

"Shit, sorry for waking you."

He swoops down to pick Dizzy off her back but you do it before he can. The little critter snuggles into your chest and Gekko swear she can feel the gesture himself as his chest warms.

"Mm, 's all good." You reply, words slurred like you're too lazy or tired to put in the effort to speak.

"You sleep a lot." Why did he say that?

"Do I?" You yawn, "Sometimes the couch is more comfortable than my bed could ever be."

"Maybe it's the feeling that it's different." Gekko suggests. He wonders if he should sit, but where would he? You take up the length of the couch and anywhere would be intrusive. He didn't want to be intrusive but... he also wanted to sit with you. He settles for an arm rest.

"You mean, like novelty?"

"What?"

You snicker, and he feels a warmth spread up to his cheeks, whether shame or something else, he doesn't know. "Nevermind."

Maybe he shouldn't have stuck around in the first place. Gekko sweeps Dizzy from your embrace, missing the disappointment on your face in his haste, and moves to make his quick escape with a swift excuse, "I think that was Reyna calling my name. Right? Yeah, I think so. I'll, uh, see you later."

He's out the door before he can even hear your own goodbye.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Reyna, I need you to make up an excuse for me."

The conversation starter certainly gets Reyna interested. "Harbor needed you?"

"No, I mean, an excuse for why you would call me." At that, she raises an eyebrow. She also glances at Dizzy, who remains in Gekko's arms and not in his bag.

But first came making up an excuse, she cared for him, after all. "Gun training." It's only then that he notices the gun in her hands. Reyna raises a smirk and turns back to the targets, "Why?"

"Well, I..." Gekko grabs a rifle from the rack and decides to shoot along with her, maybe to keep his mind off things. "I don't know, really."

Reyna doesn't prod. Instead, she fixes his stance and continues to shoot.

He tries to focus, to recall everything Reyna's told him before on shooting. He's good at it, maybe not better than Reyna but certainly better than Neon; she relied more on her finger guns, after all, but today he was worse. Thoughts ran rampant through his mind without limit, and it felt like they would spill out from his ears.

He shoots and he misses and he shoots again and he misses again.

"¿Que paso, cariño?" (What happened, dear?)

"No sé." (I don't know.)

He takes a deep breath and steadies his gun on the target's head. You sleep a lot. Why did he say that, instead of anything else?

He shoots and he misses.

"Steady your gun, steel yourself–"

"I know." Gekko interrupts her, "You've said it a million times." He's too frustrated, lost in his mind that he doesn't watch his tone.

"Well, you're not following it today." Reyna's voice is like a dagger. It cuts his thoughts and brings him back to reality.

"Sorry."

She shakes her head, "You're off your game. Do you know why?"

"I'm acting before thinking."

"But now you're thinking too much."

Gekko can only offer a shrug. He only had one possible explanation, and that was it. Reyna sighs, "¿Supongo que es algo sobre tus sentimientos?" How could she tell? Gekko's face becomes the answer, and Reyna can read him easy. "A crush." (I'm guessing it's something about your feelings?)

Gekko's had his fair share of crushes. He knows the telltale signs, he knows the heat on his skin, the sweat, the feeling he can't quite name, how his mouth can't catch up with his thoughts and his face won't seem to cooperate.

He's just not so sure he has one on you. What did he see in you? You were pretty, you were smart, you've saved his ass more than once in missions, you were handsome—could he go on? Yes, yes he could. Okay, he saw it.

Reyna breaks him out of his thoughts, "This is not something I can help you with."

"Why not?" She only raises an eyebrow in return and Gekko remembers who he's talking to. "Yeah, okay."

Normally she would fire back with sass but now she just laughs, "Sage would be better help."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Gekko didn't seek out Sage's help. He didn't need it. This was just a simple crush. It would pass, just like most others. He was just crushing on you because of the–how did you put it?–novelty of it all. You were a new person in his life, a person much cooler than him. He was just adjusting to getting new friends so suddenly.

Now Thrash was gone. For a creature so loud, she made no sound when she snuck out of his bag and or his room.

"Thrash?" She could only have so much energy. Either he'd find her or her globule.

But then—a sound.

"You can't be sneaky anymore," He calls out as he walks, slower now in order to not startle her immediately, "I can hear you~"

As he rounds the corner, he spots her trying to hide behind a plant pot. He could see the top of her head behind the leaves. He walks even slower, makes his footsteps even quieter, and shuts his mouth. He would catch her soon, but only if he was careful. If he wasn't...

...she would run. "No, Thrash, don't go!"

And suddenly there was a chase. Thrash rounded sharp corners swiftly and Gekko followed behind much more sloppily. He held onto the wall's edge to swing himself around it and gain momentum, but she just kept going faster. "You have nowhere to go!"

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Watching the agents in the simulated training room was always good entertainment. Especially since the team took out the fierce nanobomb collab bot together, as now the agents wanted to try facing them on their own again. Doing it together proved it was defeatable; doing it alone would prove they were skilled.

On your end, you would rather save yourself the trouble... and also bet with Yoru along the way, which, really, was a scam.

"Why do I keep betting for the agents if we both know the bot will win?"

Yoru shrugs, "That's a problem for you and your wallet."

You scoff, "You little sl–"

Suddenly, a huge creature falls into your arms. You recognize her immediately as Thrash by the slimy feeling of her underside. You also recognize that she's knocked your mug out of your hands. What a detain! The problem is that mug was not yours, and instead, it was Commander Brim's huge dad mug. Oh, you were in so much trouble.

You brace yourself for the shattering of the porcelain but it never comes. Instead, you find Gekko again. He stands quickly with the mug in his hands and flashes you an apologetic smile.

Begging for attention, Thrash turns over on her back, placing her rough back against your hands instead and chirps as if to plead, and you know just what for. You scratch, scratch, scratch behind her ear, below her chin, and on her slimy stomach. She seems so pleased that she disappears into a globule right in your hands and takes her sticky residue with her.

"I'm so sorry." Gekko takes her immediately and places her in his bag.

"It's okay."

His eyes drag down and he gasps dramatically, "Oh no! I got a huge stain on you!"

You only laugh and reply "It's okay." again. "Although, I do wonder why your little critters are seeking me out."

"I don't know neither..." Gekko admits himself. He scratches the back of his neck, pondering for a second, and you can't help but find it cute.

Your attention is ripped away by the blue edgy man behind you, "It looks like you pissed yourself."

"Oh shut up." You roll your eyes.

Gekko takes the opportunity to leave, but as soon as he steps out the door, as soon as he can't see you anymore, his thoughts decide to be rational, or irrational, as they are only about you. He was down bad.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The main meeting was over. Gekko was set to join the next mission in Norway, and you were to stay in HQ. Maybe he was a little disappointed that you weren't coming with, but at least you wouldn't be in any danger. He was glad about that, if anything.

Groups divided to talk, really, about anything. That was one of the main things Gekko was surprised about. Everyone talked so freely. The atmosphere felt like one of his big family reunions.

But he wasn't talking to anyone. He was only looking.

You really were so cool. Everyone here was cool but he always seemed to be especially entranced with you. He could stare at you like a painting on the wall, except that was the problem. He could never approach you on his own.

His buddies, however, seemed to have no problem with it. "Dizzy, wait!" He whisper-shouts.

Dizzy ignores him and curls into a ball and rolls your way, a new technique Gekko'd never seen before from her, knocking at your feet until you pick her up. You continue your conversation like it's nothing and mindlessly pet at the critter in your arms. Gekko can do nothing but watch.

He was jealous of his own buddies for being able to approach you so easily, but it was also heartwarming to see you regard them so fondly.

Reyna leans on the wall next to Gekko, letting her heels announce her presence. "Te ves estupido." (You look stupid.)

Gekko's eyebrows scrunch up, "What the fuck, Reyna?"

She only laughs, "Es la verdad." (It's true.)

He scoffs and turns back away from her, and it's only natural his eyes fall on you. "Is it Dizzy you're looking at, or him?"

"Him?"

Reyna continues to read him like an open book. It's the way it says it–him, so softly, like speaking is the first thing on his mind and like staring at you is his only priority–that answers her question.

"For your sake, let's say both."

"Reyna?" Gekko perks up, all shy and timid.

It was interesting to her. "Hm..?"

"Do you know why they stick around him so much?"

Reyna knew what he was talking about, who "they" was and especially who "he" was. It was endearing how he trusted her with these things. But she had already told him before. She wasn't good help with these sorts of things. "You're the critter handler."

"Right..."

"But," She still had a hypothesis, "las mascotas hacen lo que sus dueños les muestran." She sends a wink somewhere ahead and Gekko takes a look, only to find you offering the two of them a smile. He almost melts. Thank God you don't know Spanish. (Pets do what their owners show them.)

"Reyna...¡para de echarle leña al fuego!" He whines. (Stop adding fuel to the fire!)

"Aww," Reyna coos, almost like she's going to pull his cheeks, "no huyas de las oportunidades, cariño." (Don't run from opportunities, dear.)

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Pets do what their owners show them. What did that mean? Dizzy liked to sleep, he supposes so does he. Sometimes Wingman tries to sneak a drink from his boba. The whole bunch of them have a lot of energy, and he knows others see that in him. But why would she bring that up now? I do wonder why they always seek me out... Oh no. They liked you too, which really did confirm he had a crush.

"Ay, diosito, cómo te he provocado..?" Gekko groans, sinking his head further into his pillow. A knock to his door. Thinking it's just Neon, or maybe even Phoenix, he shouts "Come in!" from the bed.

However, instead of an electrically charged or pyrokinetic agent, it's you. "Hi, Gekko."

"Oh!" He straightens up on the bed.

Either his surprise woke them or they sensed your presence; whatever the case, his little buddies wake from their slumber in his discarded globule bag. They pounce on you harmlessly. Thrash climbs up to your shoulder, Dizzy flies atop your head and Wingman hugs your legs. Mosh obediently stays a globule on the table, but he threatens to roll off the edge. You catch him before he can create a pit.

"Hey guys. How are ya?" You push Wingman onto just one of your legs so you can wobble towards his bed, which is of course still quite the task, but you finish it all the same.

You plop yourself down next to him on the bed and, he doesn't notice it but, he scoots closer. "Reyna wanted me to check up on you. Said she was worried."

"..why?" He had a feeling he knew why, but he asks anyway.

"It's almost eleven."

Gekko glances at the alarm clock on his table. "Oh."

"I'll admit," You begin with a small laugh to mask your evident anxiousness, "I was quite worried too."

"I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize all the time, you know." Your growing smile lights one up on his face as well. "Well, let's see, do you have a fever? Did you not get enough sleep last night?"

"No, I–"

Despite him denying it, you press a hand to his cheek, then his forehead. "My, you're burning up."

He pushes your hand away, "It's not what you think."

"Really?" But you bring it back up to monitor the heat on his cheeks.

"I assure you, I'm fine." He nods, taking your hand in his so that you don't continue to raise the temperature on his cheeks in a way you don't even notice. He's never seen you so worried before. Usually, you were so laid back and chill. This was a new side of you he didn't expect, and a part of him felt warmed by the thought that you cared for him so dearly.

"Do I need to tell Brim to take you out of the upcoming mission?" You stress, fighting his hold that keeps you away.

"Really! I'm all good!" He squeezes your hand to reassure you. "You don't have to worry about me."

You huff but nod, "Okay, fine. But if you are bedridden tomorrow, don't say I didn't try."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

He's glad, for once, that one of his buddies doesn't lead him to you. Instead, he finds his way to you on his own, whether for good or for worse. It was just a crush that he wanted to end. But he was prolonging it when he was with you, alone; although, he couldn't just avoid you. He really did want to be around you. It's a dilemma.

"What are you doing here?" It was mid-afternoon. Lunch was over two hours ago and he was sure he saw you there, and not only because his gaze always drifted towards you like a magnet.

"Oh, hey Gekko." Your voice is cheerful as you greet him. "It was meant to be a surprise, but I'm baking cookies... or cupcakes. Can't decide."

"For who?" He curiously asks.

"Celebration for after the mission, so everyone, but I guess... you."

His face quickly lights up with surprise, "Oh." Then a grin makes itself present on his lips. He's trying to hide it, but he can't and you spot it.

You chuckle, and a little shame climbs up his cheeks and surely paints them pink. "You're welcome to help, if you're not actually sick. "

"I told you, I'm not," He shakes his head with a laugh, "and I'd like that."

"What do you like?" You move to maneuver the cabinets much more familiar to you, grabbing flour from the top ones and eggs from the fridge and milk and all. "Between cupcakes and cookies, I mean."

In his growing anxiousness, Wingman sneaks out of his bag. His eyes remain on you, watching your every move. He could definitely mess this up if he wasn't careful. "Cupcakes. More toppings that way."

"You're right."

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Wingman hopping and trying to grab the flour off the counter. "Hey, Wingman..." He warns sternly, "no te atrevas." (don't you dare.)

You push the flour out of the little man's reach and play along, "You mess things up, I'll mess you up!"

Gekko follows your lead. He hasn't really baked anything before, except for the cake boxes at the grocery store. He was... out of his field of expertise. Wingman, too, tries to help, and he has half the mind to put him back in the globule pack but you seemed to be enjoying his presence. It could be worse. Wingman was his only buddy that had actual appendages.

Everything you called for, he reached for. Cinnamon? Vanilla extract? Whatever it was, he looked for it, even if he didn't always know where it was; unless Wingman beats him to it.

Sometimes neither of them could find it, though, which meant you had to go for it yourself. The space between the counters was limiting, hardly enough comfortable space for one person. Maneuvering around each other should've been hard, but you had a simple solution.

You take his hips in your warm hold and pull him gently to the side, then walk past him. It only takes a few seconds. Usually he wouldn't allow himself to be so malleable, nor would he let this pass; but you were you. It got him quite confused but also so enamored. Your touch absolutely brought tingles up his side. It was driving him crazy.

"Three trays." You announce as you close the oven. "Good enough, yeah?"

"..yeah." His eyes trace your figure as you stand up proudly, hands on your hips. You were beautiful. Your smile shined brightly, your eyes crinkled with the same joy, and he couldn't keep his eyes away.

"Gekko?"

You were just lovely.

"Mateo?"

At the use of his actual name, Gekko shakes his trance off. "Yeah?" His voice breaks and he fights the urge to shrink in on himself. He clears his throat, "What did you say?"

"They'll be ready in about twenty minutes, so we've got time for a break."

He nods his head slowly, "Okay. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know, I–oh no." Your face drops suddenly.

He follows your petrified gaze down, down at himself. "What? Oh." His waist was absolutely covered in flour the shape of your handprints that stood out stark white against his lilac tee.

"I am so sorry, Mateo." You place a hand over your mouth, "I–"

He pulls it down before you can cover your lips with inedible flour, "It's okay. Just like that stain on your pants a few days ago, right?"

You laugh, comforted by how quickly he got to consoling you. "Yeah, alright." But you lift your hand to show him one last thing, his fingers stained in flour from holding yours. "Oopsie."

Gekko bursts out laughing, and you laugh along with him.

Wingman hops up and down–for a little guy he jumps real high–to catch your attention. Much to Gekko's dismay, you give it to him.

"Who's such a good little helper? You are, Wingman, right? You are~"

He doesn't know whether to be jealous or happy.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Mateo, hey!"

He loves the way his names roll off your tongue. It feels sweet, like the cupcakes you'd made together, even if he'd promised to hold off and eat them after the mission. You said so perfectly, too, without even the slight hint of an English accent. He loves the smile you send his way too and how cute you look waving at him for attention; but you hadn't gotten his attention, after all. He wasn't listening, too focused on your face.

"Mateo?" You call again.

He clears his throat, right, yeah, you were saying something, "What's up?"

"Good luck." You nod encouragingly. "Not that you'll need it."

"Well, I still appreciate it." He offers a grin, "Thank you. I'll make sure to come back in one piece," He doesn't know where the sudden courage comes from, but he winks and says, "just for you, of course."

You shake your head with a laugh, "You better."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

It was the most beautiful, no, one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen in his life.

The mission went successfully, so there was some extra time for perusing an actually inhabited and not evacuated part of Norway. He had no idea this would be here, this tulip field. Huge rows of different colored flowers shined under the golden hour of the setting sun. The ship was coming soon and he'd have to leave soon, and normally he wouldn't even want to leave, but now he only wished you were here to see this with him.

He snaps a pic and turns around, but not before a thought occurs to him. There were so many... thousands of them. Surely a single pink tulip wouldn't be missed?

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Dios, te amo... te amo tanto." The cupcakes taste so good! They made him want to kiss you right now, so badly, but he knew he couldn't, even with his mind half-drunk off sweetness. (God, I love you. I love you so much.)

You raise a brow and Gekko is so glad you don't know Spanish because it almost looked like you knew what he said. "What does that mean?"

But he's still petrified, "Don't worry about it..."

"It means the cupcakes are great, sort of." Reyna places a hand on Gekko's shoulder as she settles down next to him, a cupcake in her other hand. It's decorated with dark chocolate, which is certainly fitting. "Cuidate, Mateo."

"Right..." Gekko shakes her off.

"How was the mission?" You ask.

"Oh, it went great," He perks up in his seat, "everyone did so well. Harbor's water powers were cool as always and Skye didn't flash anybody! Wingman even got to plant the spike."

"Mateo did a significantly good job." Reyna states, patting his head in an attempt to ruffle his hair up, "He deserves some praise... but he also made some funny mistakes."

"Really? What'd he do?"

Gekko can only sit there and listen to Reyna make fun of him endearingly while you listened to her every word. He chimes in with his own jokes about the situation as a way to lighten his own shame.

"Nuh-uh, Reyna, you know I–"

"Almost tumbled down the steps?" She smirks, "You could've squashed Mosh into a pit."

He groans and hides his face with his hands. His mistakes were bound to run out soon enough, right? No more of listening to this anymore. Except they aren't over yet when Gekko perks back up.

You wrap a comforting arm around Gekko's shoulders and it causes him to stiffen up. You, on the other hand, seem so nonchalant; but he can tell with the way you glance at him that you're nervous too, maybe over him. It's reassuring.

It also means the jokes come piling in, now that he's comfortable.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The tulip in his hand is red, a deep pigmented red. If he'd have thought about it–or maybe he didn't even know about the language of flowers–he would've googled its meaning. Red tulips are a sign of confession and love, much like roses, but, to him, roses would've been way too romantic. It was just a little crush, after all.

Your friendship was blossoming. He was finally becoming more comfortable around you. What if it went wrong? What if this would mess everything up?

"Mateo?"

It was just a little crush. It could still pass; but Reyna had told him not to let opportunities go to waste, and she always had objective suggestions for him.

He turns to you with a jump, placing the tulip on the hallway table behind him and hiding it with his body. "Hey."

But he didn't have it in him.

"Something wrong?"

"No." He shakes his head, "Everything's fine."

Gekko's buddies had a deep love for you, and, unlike Gekko, they didn't have shame. Wingman pops out of his pack without even alerting him. He made sure to be sneaky and quiet, but Gekko's attention was entirely on you, so he didn't have much to worry about.

Wingman snatches the tulip from the table with a little hop, and the "plop" sound of his feet making contact with the ground again alerts Gekko, but by the time he looks down he's already at your feet.

"Bloop." Wingman holds the flower high.

"Hey, little guy, this for me?" You bring him up with one arm, taking the tulip with the other. "Don't think you got this all on your own. This yours, Mateo?"

"Yeah." He admits.

"Thank you." He watches you attentively, waiting to see a big, drastic reaction. "A red tulip..."

"Listen, I–" He clears his throat, preparing himself only briefly in his mind. "Te quiero, tanto y no tengo ni la primera idea como decirtelo, pero sí puedo decir que tu eres increible y tan, tan bonito. Soy tan estupido que te lo estoy diciendo en español y tu no sabes lo que estoy diciendo y sera muy dificil decirtelo otra vez en ingles. Mierda." The words fall out his mouth like tumbling dominos. (I like you, so much, and I have no idea how to tell you, but I can tell you that you are incredible and so so beautiful. I am so stupid that I'm telling you this in Spanish and you don't know what I'm saying and it'll be so hard to tell you in English. Shit.)

"Increible, ha?" You snicker, shaking your head, "Quiero que sepas que te encuentro muy bonito tambien." (Incredible, huh? I want you to know that I find you very beautiful too.)

What? "Tu sabes español?!" (You know Spanish?!)

"Sí, amor." (Yes, love.)

"Dios santisimo..." Gekko could melt into a puddle right then and there. He covers his face with his hand and breathes out a sigh, but it's one of relief. (God...)

"Ah, y," You begin, placing Wingman down and cupping his cheek, in the process moving his hand away from his beautiful face. "te quiero tambien." (Oh, and, I like you too.)

Maybe he rushes, but he can't hold back with the warmth your hand brings to his face. He kisses you, and even if it was rushing, you kiss him back. It's nothing and everything like he's imagined at the same time and he can't have enough.

Thank you, Wingman.

[antiquatedmagic]

she’s woken up more than a few nights in a row drenched in sweat and shaking with fear as memories of her last few months repeat themselves over and over in her dreams. this particular night she has decided to escape from her chambers, moving through the halls of the great school that she had found herself calling home. unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like she’s alone, she hears footsteps approaching and braces herself, trying to blend in with her surrounding as much as possible, although she fears she’s already been caught.