#and before then i had just read season of storms and i was like ‘what is all this latin how pretentious is he’

[readychilledwine]

Free Will

Eris Arranged Marriage – Drabble

Summary - Eris knew his father would purchase him a bride sooner rather than later.

Warnings - Arranged Marriage, alcohol use.

A/N - From one Vandaddy to the next.. May do more with this. May let it die. Too early to tell.

🔥Eris Masterlist🔥Master Masterlist🔥

You were beautiful, Eris would give his father that. Glowing skin enhanced from the moonlight kissing you. He had found you sitting in a window, looking outside like a bird now trapped in a glorified cage. You had disappeared from the festivities taking place, and he was tasked with finding you.

“How miserable,” he walked closer, noticing the half empty bottle of wine beside you. “Drinking alone in the dark, wife? You should have invited me. Mother knows I hate a boring celebration."

Your eyes met his, your cheeks flushed and eyes slightly glassy, “Did not realize my oh so powerful new husband would take pleasure in dark corners and," you paused to lift the bottle, squinting to read it. “Pomegranate wine.”

Eris only chuckled and took the bottle, drinking straight from it. “My favorite, actually.” He leaned against the window ypu sat in. He followed your eyes, noticing you were looking over the garden. “They say pomegranate is the origin of sin and the seasons.”

“The tales of the Dark Mother and Forest God. I know it well,” you held your hand out. Your new husband took another drink before handing it back to you, bottle now passing between you. “Legend says the Dark Mother had found him so beautiful she lured him to her with a snake of many colored scales. Once she had him in his poison garden, she gave him a choice.”

“Eat the pomegranate and stay with her,” Eris finished. “Or watch as she slowly killed the lands he loved. But by eating the seeds..” He smirked for you to finish.

“He upset the Mother. So she cursed the lands of the North with the seasons and turned his home into a barren land of ice and snow, his sister's into one haunted by rot and neverending harvest, his brothers into one trapped in the beginning of the rebirthing cycle and storms, and his parents in dead heat and drought.”

Eris looked you up and down. "They say the female of the species is always more deadly than the male." Eris sighed, “But his choice also unleashed freewill among the fae.”

"But it cost us the ability to connect with our true forms and shift. That power is now heavily reserved," Your voice seemed empty. As if the thought of that piece of you that was missing was more than just an animal but a symbol of freedom.

He studied you again, you leaned in to look into his eyes, “I do wonder what kind of animal would have been behind your skin, my wife. Are you a snake leading me to a trap? Are you a bird with clipped wings, desperate to fly away? Or are you a lioness, stalking and waiting for her chance to kill?”

Your lips twitched up. “You'll find I associate heavily with the symbol of our court, husband,” you looked him up and down, the tension between you two growing within every second. He could see it. He would see something cunning and intelligent hiding behind those drunk eyes.

A fox fits you well, and now, you were invading an enemy den.

Eris gave a smile that made chills run down your spine, “I think we will get along, y/n.” He took another swig of the wine finishing the bottle before picking you up and forcing you to hold his hand. “Our party awaits, my little wife. And more pomegranate wine.”He lead to you the ballroom, loud music and dancing in full swing as the fae celebrated the marriage of their heir apparent.

Eris poured two glasses, handing one to you, “To free will, my fox.”

The words were an offering, an understanding.

Your glass touched his, arms linking to drink as ceremony required. “To free will, husband.”

[first-edition]

Apologize

Daryl Dixon x fem!reader smut

sum- Daryl yells at you making a big deal of you going outside the walls by yourself after just getting you back after everything and insults you, but he didn’t mean it and wants to prove it to you. cw- set in early season 5 in Alexandria, SMUT 18+ THEMES AND LANGUAGE MINORS DNI, read at your own discretion, pin v, unprotected, biting, marking, confession, fluff angst, oral (f) reciving, clit play.

“Hey..” you turn around seeing Daryl leaning against the frame of your door. 

“hi..” you say. 

Earlier that day Daryl was real to you. You have gone out for a run and brought back three horses that had escaped. But that's not what bothered him, not you being cheered on, or praised…that you went alone without telling everyone and when you came back it was more than a relief for daryl. Almost losing you before then. 

“YOU DONT THINK BECUASE YOUR FUCK’N STUPID! DADDIES LITTLE GIRL GREW UP WITH EVERYTHING SHE COULD EVER WANT!” He yells at you to push him back from you he hobbles back. 

“I DID THIS! FOR YOU! FOR CAROL! EVERYONE! I CAN TAKE CARE OF MYSELF!” you yell back. He shoots an arrow at you, it zips past your head and sticks into the post of the house. You stop. Staring at him. 

“It ain't walkers i'm worried about! It's other people!” he huffs. 

“Maybe it's just you!” you spit back instead of pulling the arrow out your break it in half and throw the half to him before storming off back to your house. It's a bit awkward leaving him there in front of everyone but that's the price you pay. Later that day Carol went up to Daryl asking him why he yelled at you. 

“She's stupid.” he says to her as he throws on a new shirt

“No she's not.” Carol says sitting on the bedside. 

“She's very smart. She saved us before everything she saved you..” she trails off he sighs leaning against the dresser. 

“Yeah..” he looks down. 

“She got us those horses by herself..they are big horses. Alexandria is safe daryl..she's safe." Carol says. 

“Yeah not safe enough if I couldn't stop what happened to her..the governor, the prison..the hospital.” he says. 

“That wasn't your fault.” she says. 

Dayrl signs shaking his head no. knowing it wasn't but still blames himself. 

“I-i couldn't save beth..barley her.” he says carol stands to him walking up to him tilting her head to the side. 

“You like her..i know that you like her alot..” carol leads. 

“But you only feel like shit for something out of your control when you love them..” she ends up looking at daryl. He avoids her eye contact. 

“I didn't mean those things I said to her,” he replies. Carol nods to him. 

“I know.. But I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. You're gonna lose her if you don't.” she says. Before she can reach out and place a hand on her shoulder he rubs his bow and vest and walks out of the room then the house down the street about two houses over to you. He stops at the porch knowing he more than welcome in as carol also stays in the home with you. 

He sucks it up and walks up the porch and onto the home he walks up the stairs knowing you're most likely in your room. The door is closed but a small knock from his knuckles hitting the wood is all he needs as permission to open the door. 

“It's open.” your voice says expecting carol so your sweet demeanor sounds through. Dayrl opens the door, seeing you sitting by the window. He sighs leaning against the frame. You spot him, your demeanor changing as you look at him. He sets his cross bow down on the side. 

“Hey..” he speaks. 

“Hi..” you answer back. 

It's quiet for a few seconds before Daryl speaks.

“Sorry..for what i said to ya… callin you stupid, and all you aint stupid.” he says his eyes flicking away from you. You look away from him. He picks up his bow and walks into the room closing the door and letting the bow re-rest on the wall. 

“When i couldn't find you this morning…just..reminded me of everythin’ else you know…losing the prison, beth. And then i thought of back when the governor took you glenn and maggie, i-...” his voice breaks as he cuts himself off looking down his fingers twitching in anxiety. 

“I just..i can't do that you know..i lost merle i can't be losing you too.” he says you look up to him. 

“I named the horse after you..” you say he frowns in confusion. 

“What I used to call you, squirrel.” you say he chuckles nodding. You get up from your spot walking up to him. 

“I love you..y/n...i cant be losing something like that.” he says 

“Merle would always tell me not to get attached to things but i could never really help-” you cut him off wrapping your arms around him  pressing your lips to him. You've always known Daryl crushed on you, the way he does things for you, purposely looking for things you'd like. And you liked him too.

His arms wrap around you kissing you back deeply. You don't break it until you need to speak back to him. But you don't get to speak before his lips are firmly back on yours. You pull off his vest and his hands move under your shirt. The rough skin against your bare torso sends a shiver up your body.

He pulls you until his arms lifting you with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist holding onto him as he pulls off your shirt before laying you back onto the bed. He pulls off his shirt. You sit up connecting your lips again. Bringing him down to you. His weight against you is more arousing than anything. The way his hands feel up the sides of you wanting more contact. His kisses move down to your neck as he nips and sucks. 

Making sure to keep you marked, even going as far as pulling back to make sure there's marks. Something for people to ask about, something he can watch you blush about when carol comes home and asks. Something for people to know who you are. 

“Fuck.” he grunts out as the buldge in his pants tightens the fabric. Your hands reaches down to him palming him through his jeans. You gasp when he pulls your hand away from him pinning both above your head as he continues to devour your skin.

“D-daryl” you gasp out as he finishes the bruises on your cleavage. He looks down to you blushing, waiting, needing. He lets go of your hands and immediately your touch is back on him, the weight of any hurt falling off his shoulders as you pull him back into you. 

You peck his lips before going for his belt, undoing it. 

“Nah..nah.” he says you look up at him confused. 

“Let me take care of you huh. After everything..just..” he trails off as you look up into his eyes, your hands resting on either side of his face comforting. You look at him seeing his eyes are welling with tears. 

“Hey..” you say softley. He doesn't answer you, just presses his lips back to yours laying you back down against the plushness of the bed. He kisses down your stomach pulling your jeans from you. The pink undies you and carol found on a spare run one day cause his cock to twitch in his pants. 

He lets his hands and fingers run along your thighs and waist feeling you under him. He kisses your thighs and legs. He worships you all over before removing your panties and diving into you. More feral than a walker he holds your thighs against his head as his tongue drives into you lickign you up. Your hand finds his hair and you grip into it. A guttural moan escapes Daryl's throat sending the vibration through your core causing you to squirm from him. 

“Ah..f-fuck..dayrl!” you gasp out as your release comes closer and closer to you. His grip on your thighs doesn't let up as he pulls you closer to his face burying himself into you.

You entangle yourself into his hair as you reach your peak, lapping up what left of your shaky state daryl sits up his lips shining with your arousal. You pant as you watch him shift taking off his belt and lowering his pants his cock springs free. The gasping is cut short when he continues to kiss up your body, his touch running along your skin. 

You sign out his name wrapping your arms around him. 

“Say it again.” he mumbles. You giggle as he adjusts himself rubbing his tip up and down your slit. 

“D-daryl.” you huff out. 

“Fuck..again.” he speaks deeply as he rubs against you. 

“Dayrl.” you moan out as he begins to enter you. Your nails dig into his shoulder as he puts into you. 

He moans in your neck as your legs wrap around him. His hand presses against your thigh keeping it up around his hip. 

“Fuck..i love you…i love you so fucking much.” he huffs out. 

“Yes. ah dayrl..fuck..i love you..ah god.” you moan gripping onto him as he ruts into you. He roughly thrusts up into you making you loudly moan out and bite down against him he grunts out continuing the pace making you both louder. You just hope Carol isn't downstairs. How embarrassing. 

You grip onto him like your life depends on his as he continues for you both. You pant against him as that familiar feeling builds up. He pulls back from you staying connected, he pulls your legs up and onto his shoulders fucking you deeper. He moans and grunts and all the sound he makes causes your pussy to clench around him in your release. He brings his hand down to your core wanting more from you somehow and begins to rub your clit, easily finding it and playing you like an instrument, the music, your voice as you call out for him. Only a few more thrusts have him sending himself over the edge. He drops your legs kindly, but fast and pulls out of you he puts into his fist cumming against your tits and stomach painting you. 

He takes a moment to recover before telling you to stay. He walks to the side where a towel rests from your earlier shower and cleans you off. Not what you’d expect. He cleans you carefully and with love. Not just one swipe and done. Kissing your skin as he does. 

“Here.” He says , helping you up, you stand before him only for your knees to give you. He catches you as you go limp. You both chuckle. 

“M Sorry” he chuckles as you press your lips against his in a kiss before speaking again. 

“It's okay.” you smile brightly. He moves the covers to the side before picking you up and setting you back into the bed. He turns to put his clothes back on. 

“no..no.” you say, taking a hold of his arm. 

“Stay.. please.” you say. He nods without hesitation and gets into the bed neck to you he pulls you close to him as you rest against him his heat radiating to you the warmth spreading through your body as you snuggle into him. Almost immediately you are fast asleep out. But Daryl watches you the slow rise and fall of your chest, your sleepy face perfectly rested. Soon finding sleep himself after a few hours of watching you. 

—---

Morning comes and you wake up alone but a shirt is over your body in courtesy. You sigh and get up pushing your hair back. You look around the room remembering the chaos of last night. You pull the covers off you and get up now, able to stand however a slight shake to your legs makes you smile. You notice the towel is also gone but not his bow. It still rests on the side wall. You frown. You walk out of your room and down the hall down the stairs. 

You smell cooking as you walk into the kitchen seeing Carol setting up breakfast. 

“Morning honey.” She smiles at you. 

“Hi..” you say awkwardly as she give you ‘the smile’ 

“Dayrl come by last night?” she asks glazing at your shirt. You look down seeing Daryl's black sweater that he was wearing last night. 

“Um..y-yeah. He apologized.” you reply she nods, setting down a plate of food. 

“I know.” She smiles at you and blush creeps up against your cheeks. 

“You didn't hear, did you…” you say, pulling at the sleeve. 

“No. but I sent him over.” She says you feel a hand on your lower back and lips on your cheek. 

“Hey.” Daryl speaks as he comes into your view. He wears what he normally does and he has his bow. His hair is damp so he must have been in the shower when you woke up. 

“H-hi.” you say bashfully. 

“Stay safe, yeah?” Carol says to him knowing he's late for the morning run.

“Yeah.” he says to her before turning to you leaning into you. 

“I love you.” he says with his blue eyes looking at you. The embarrassment leaves as you smile up to him and nod. 

“I love you.” you speak back he pecks your lips before heading out the door. 

“Maybe he should move in here.” she says. You scoff, shaking your head. 

“I think Glenn and Abraham will miss him..don't you.” you say jokingly. Carol laughs and sets down her plate. 

“Come on..tell me about it.” she giggles and takes a seat you sit across from her and of course her being your best friend begins to tell her everything. 

Later that day you found out Rick and Glenn were joking about Daryl having the bite mark bruise and scratches on his back until you dropped off more weapon supplies and they saw your bruises. 

“So..” Rick asks Daryl once you leave. 

“What..” he huffs reloading a mag. 

“You two have fun?” Glenn chuckles. Dayrl shakes his head. 

“Nah man i don't kiss and tell.” he says.

“Such a gentleman.” Rick jokes 

[hanzajesthanza]

i was looking up tips for formatting bilingual books (for example, a copy of idk the iliad with ancient greek on one side, english translation on the other), but i didn’t know the word describing this kind of format 🤔

so i was stringing together keywords like “book with two languages” and one of the results was a reddit post with someone trying to find a book that alternates between multiple languages, i.e., there are no translations, it’s it’s one text, but half of the story is in english, then the other half, or interwoven throughout, is in french or whatever

and it took strength to not suggest the hussite trilogy 🥴

[swampjawn]

Why The Dungeon Meshi Adaptation Worked So Well

The final episode of Dungeon Meshi season 1, (ep. 24) is like if you took all the best parts of the series so far, all the elements that make it what it is, arranged them all into a luscious charcuterie board, and scraped the whole thing into your mouth in one go like the hungry little bastard ye are.

Series director Yoshihiro Miyajima has shown his dedication to the story and ability to stay true to the source material while enhancing the most important elements and making adjustments when needed to better fit the medium, and that's on full display here with the final two anime original scenes that hint toward the future of the plot and take what would have been a good but not amazing ending for the season and turn it into a great one.

As well as Nobutoshi Ogura's storyboards, whose symmetry and point-of-view and reflection shots always add a touch of foreboding and personality to what's already there in the manga.

Or the addition of color to the scene in the tram where the deep green benches and warm orange glow of electric lighting gives it the comforting atmosphere of respite from the hectic action that came before it -- or a calm before the storm (?)...

But most obvious to me in particular was they carved out a spot for many of the eccentric key animators who have defined the visual style of the show (and who I've pointed out specifically in past episodes of my breakdown series) to go nuts and do what they do best.

Ichigo Kanno's bombastic action with stylized character designs and insanely detailed wrinkles and shadows:

Atsushi Yoneda's clean line work and uncomfortable realism:

Haruki's character acting and subtlety:

Despite the slight awkwardness of having to finish off the changeling plot in the first half, this really is a culmination of everything that's come before and a great end to the season.

There's a whole lot more where this came from, and I get a lot more into the details of the animation in this video where I broke down the entire episode in detail, so if that's something you're interested in, check it out!

Thank you for reading, and double-dog-thank you if you've been here through this whole series -- I had just started trying to figure out how to use tumblr when I started making these breakdown posts and the response has been amazing both on here and on youtube, so thanks!

[greengoblinswifey]

Moth to a Flame- Nicholas Chavez x Actress!Reader

summary— you find yourself entangled with your co-star, Nicholas Chavez, despite being in a committed relationship. The chemistry between you ignites on and off set and the lines blur, leading to a heated affair.

warnings— fingering, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampie, oral, cheating(reader does), praise kink, degrading kink, not proofread i fear.

a/n: this is long asf but you’ll love it, read while listening to Moth to a Flame by The. Weeknd <3

On set, the tension was palpable. The cameras were rolling for season two of the show where Nicholas and you, as the main characters, were set to film an intense love scene. The script called for his character to finally confess his desire for you, despite your on-screen character’s relationship with someone else. Ironically, it wasn’t just the characters who were tangled up in complicated feelings. In real life, you and Nicholas had crossed the same line, and it made filming the scene that much more real.

Your boyfriend, Cody, who had always been a bit uneasy about you acting alongside Nicholas, was on set that day, watching the scene unfold. The moment Nicholas delivered his line with intense conviction- “I want you, fuck your boyfriend,” It was almost like a direct hit to Cody in real life. His fists clenched, and you could feel the heat of his glare even from where you stood.

The scene continued, Nicholas's hands on your waist, pulling you close as you kissed for the first time this season. The chemistry between you both was undeniable on and off and that only seemed to infuriate your boyfriend further. Before the director could call “cut,” Cody stormed forward, clearly upset.

“Cut!” the director yelled, trying to defuse the situation. You hurried over to him, placing a hand on his chest to calm him down.

“Listen, babe, take a breather, okay? We have to do this scene. It’s just acting,” you whispered, trying to soothe his frustration. You could feel Nicholas' eyes on you from across the set, jaw clenched in irritation. He hated seeing Cody upset, especially when it came to you which was very common.

“I don’t like it,” Cody muttered, his voice low. “The way he looks at you, the way you two are-”

“Go take a walk through the city, clear your head," you interrupted softly, trying to stay professional even though the tension was real. “It’s part of the job, okay? We’re gonna take a break.”

He hesitated, his eyes darting between you and Nicholas. But eventually, after a few tense moments, he gave in and turned to leave, though not without a frustrated huff. The moment he was out of earshot, you sighed, running a hand through your braids.

Nicholas approached you, his eyes dark with a mix of desire and irritation. “You okay?” he asked, though his gaze flickered toward where Cody had disappeared.

You nodded, but inside, the emotions were swirling. You were cheating on your boyfriend in the show, but the real betrayal lingered in the air, just beneath the surface.

In the next scene, the tension was still hanging in the air, and the director decided it was best to take a break. “Alright, we’re gonna pause here,” he announced. “Everyone take ten, grab some snacks, get some air. We’ll continue filming once we’re all settled again.”

You nodded, eager for a moment to escape the tension between your boyfriend and Nicholas on set. Heading back to your trailer, you sank onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling while sipping on coffee. Your mind raced, replaying the scene that had just unfolded. You had been thinking about leaving Cody for a while now, but his overbearing presence made it hard. You feared what he might do if you walked away. And then, of course, there was the media, always watching.

As you lay there, lost in thought, a knock sounded at your door. You assumed it was Cody, needing to cool off after his earlier outburst. Without even looking, you called out, “Cody, just take a walk. You need to cool off.”

The door opened, but instead of Cody’s familiar presence, it was Nicholas who stepped in. You sat up on the bed, surprised. “Oh, Hey,” you muttered, sitting up straighter as he walked towards you.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice low and concerned. He studied your face closely, his eyes filled with genuine care. You tried to give a nonchalant smile, nodding.

“I’m fine,” you lied, though it was obvious you weren’t. Nicholas’ gaze flickered from your brown eyes down to your lips, then back up again. He stepped closer, the space between you shrinking until there was barely any distance at all.

You both were inching toward each other, your breath mingling as the attraction that had been building between you two, both on and off screen, reached its breaking point for the hundredth time. Before you could think, his lips were on yours. The kiss was slow and tender at first, but then his hands moved up to cup your breasts, sending sparks through you.

You pulled away, breathless, your heart pounding. “What if Cody comes back? What if he sees us?” you whispered, half in fear, half in excitement.

Nicholas, with a wicked grin, leaned in closer, his voice a deep rasp. “Let him see. Let him see me make you feel good, in a way he never can.”

The room felt hot, the air thick with desire. Nicholas stood up and crossed the room to lock the door. The click of the lock made your pulse race. Then, without hesitation, he took off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest and defined abs. He looked absolutely irresistible, his body chiseled and perfect.

You couldn’t stop staring, practically drooling at how unbelievably hot he was. And as he stood there, looking down at you with smoldering eyes, you realized just how powerless you were to resist him any longer.

The tension in the trailer was thick, the heat between you and Nicholas undeniable. You wanted more of him, but the looming threat of Cody returning, or the director calling everyone back to set, weighed on your mind. Despite that, your body ached for his touch, and you couldn’t resist as he sat beside you, his lips crashing back onto yours.

The kiss deepened, your moans of his name slipping past your lips as he whispered against your skin, “I love when you moan my name.” His eyes darkened with desire as he added, “I hope that whenever Cody fucks you, you’re thinking of me.”

Your breath hitched as his mouth trailed lower, his hands already tugging at the low-cut top you wore. His lips found your breasts, his mouth warm as he sucked on your skin, sending waves of pleasure through you. “Nicholas,” you moaned, trying to stop him before he left any visible marks. “No hickeys, please-”

But he didn’t listen. He left two dark hickeys on your breasts, smirking as he pulled away to admire his work. “I hope when he takes off your clothes, he sees these,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “He’ll know you belong to someone else. To me.”

You shivered as his hands trailed down to your skirt, slipping underneath to find your lacy panties. His fingers rubbed you through the thin fabric, and you were already soaked. A soft moan escaped your lips as your hips lifted into his touch, begging for more.

“Does this turn you on?” Nicholas asked, slipping a finger past your panties and into your heat, teasing you. “Cheating on that little boy?” He held your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him as he asked again. “Do I turn you on?”

You nodded frantically, biting your lip before whispering, “Yes Daddy, you do.”

He grinned, sliding another finger inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit in slow, agonizing circles. You gasped, arching your back off the bed as the pleasure built inside you. “Such a good girl,” he murmured against your lips, kissing you deeply to muffle your moans. His lips moved to your neck, placing soft kisses there as he praised you. “You’re taking my fingers so well, you’re so wet, soaking my hand.”

Your breath came in ragged pants, your body trembling as the pleasure became overwhelming. He pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean with a smirk. Then he leaned down and kissed you again, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

He didn’t stop there. His fingers returned to your heat, sliding in and out as his mouth found your breasts again, sucking and teasing your sensitive skin. His thumb rubbed tight circles on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

It wasn’t long before your body gave in. You came hard around his fingers, your moans muffled by his lips as he kissed you through it. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered, his voice filled with pride. “Such a good girl for Daddy, coming on my fingers like that. That’s my girl.”

He kept fingering you gently, easing you down from your high, until you were breathless and shaking beneath him.

Without a word, you slid down the bed, pulling at Nicholas’s pants with urgency. His eyes had been locked on you, heavy with lust, and when you finally freed his hard cock, you were mesmerized by how perfect it looked, thick, long and pretty with a pink tip. You wasted no time, taking him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him as a deep moan escaped his lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back as you worked your tongue along his shaft. “You’re such a good girl, feels so good.”

You started teasing him, your mouth moving slowly, hands caressing his balls, but the teasing hadn’t lasted long. Nicholas grabbed your braids, gently tugging your head forward. “Suck my cock,” he demanded, his voice low and rough. “No teasing.”

You obeyed, taking him deeper, your mouth moving faster as you pleased him just the way he liked. His hands guided your movements, and his moans filled the air, telling you how perfect you were, how no one could ever make him feel like this. “You’re too good for him,” he said through gritted teeth, his breath ragged. “You belong to me, no matter who you’re with.”

The words sent a shiver through you, and you moaned around him, sending vibrations along his length. He gasped, tightening his grip on your hair. “Does he know you call me when he sleeps? Does he know where your heart lies?”

You couldn’t respond, your mouth full of him, but the moans you let out told him everything. You took him deeper, gagging slightly as he hit the back of your throat, and he cursed under his breath, his abs tightening.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his voice strained. “I’m gonna cum in your mouth.”

You nodded eagerly, quickening your pace, and your hands massaged his balls as you took him as deep as you could. It only took a few more strokes before his hips jerked, and with a groan, he spilled into your mouth. His head fell back, and he moaned, “Such a good girl, my good girl. You did so good for me. You sucked my cock so well.”

You swallowed everything, licking him clean before pulling away, looking up at him as he watched you with hooded eyes.

Nicholas pulled you up from the bed, guiding you into his arms as your lips met in a soft kiss. His touch was gentle now, and as you nestled against his chest, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. His hand found its way to your hair, stroking it soothingly while you relaxed in his embrace.

“I don’t want to do this forever,” you murmured softly, your voice tinged with the weight of your emotions. The tension of sneaking around and the complications with Cody weighed heavily on your mind.

Nicholas held you tighter, understanding the unspoken struggle. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispered, kissing your forehead.

Before either of you could say more, there was a sharp knock on the trailer door. “Filming’s starting again in five!” the director called from outside.

You sighed, pulling yourself from the warmth of Nicholas’s embrace. “I guess it’s time,” you said with a small, reluctant smile.

You quickly washed your mouth in the small sink, your mind already shifting back to the scene you had to film. Nicholas lingered for a moment, waiting for you to finish before stepping to the side to give you space. He couldn’t come out with you immediately, it would look suspicious, so he stayed behind, allowing you to exit first.

When you stepped back on set, Cody was already there, his eyes burning as he watched you. He hadn’t said anything yet, but you could feel the tension radiating from him, as though he suspected something. Nicholas emerged a minute later, casually strolling back to his mark, though you could see the edge in his expression as his gaze briefly flickered over to your boyfriend.

It was time to get back into character, but the lines between fiction and reality were blurring more than ever. Cody’s stare bore into you as if daring you to give something away, while Nicholas stood close, his jaw clenched, waiting for the scene to unfold.

The director called out, “Action!” and the scene picked up exactly where they left off. Nicholas, fully in character, glared at you with fiery intensity as he delivered his line, “I want you. Fuck your boyfriend.”

Before you could respond, he grabbed you, pulling you into a kiss that was far more heated than the script required. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your waist and chest, his presence dominating the moment. The kiss deepened, and as he moved you onto the bed, it felt as though the lines between acting and reality blurred. He seemed to glance over toward Cody, who was watching from behind the camera, but it was hard to tell if it was intentional or not.

“Cut!” the director shouted, stepping forward with a smile. “That was flawless, great job you two.”

Nicholas's lips were still hovering over yours, your breaths mingling as you both panted from the intensity of the scene. His hands stayed on your body just a little longer than necessary, and Cody’s eyes burned with suspicion from across the set. It was as though he could feel something was off, but he said nothing.

Later, the day’s filming wrapped, and everyone was heading back to the hotel. You, Nicholas, and Cody were all staying in the same hotel, which only added to the tension. In your shared room with your boyfriend, his agitation was evident. He was pacing, his expression dark and frustrated.

“What was that today?” he demanded, his tone sharp. “The way you two were all over each other. It didn’t look like acting.”

You sighed, trying to remain calm. “It was nothing, Cody. We were just doing the scene, it’s literally just acting. I don’t know what you’re talking about”

He wasn’t convinced. His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to you, scrutinizing every word that left your lips. “You sure about that?” he asked. “Because it didn’t look like nothing from where I was standing.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, you stepped away from him, shaking your head. “I’m not doing this,” you said, your voice steady. “I’m not about to argue with you over my job. You chose to be there.”

Cody’s face softened as he realized he was pushing too hard. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to approach you again. “I just, I don’t know. I didn’t mean to make it a thing.”

But you were done with the conversation. “I don’t want to hear it, Cody.” The words were final, your back turned to him as you tried to distance yourself from the situation. Frustrated, his voice snapped at you, but then he stopped himself, muttering another apology. He moved closer, pressing his lips to your neck in a gesture meant to calm the tension. But as his lips touched your skin, you found yourself closing your eyes, not thinking of him, but of Nicholas, the way his hands had held you, the way his lips had lingered on your neck during filming and outside of it.

Cody’s hands slid down, trying to pull at your clothes, his fingers tugging at the hem of your top, but you stopped him before he could pull it off. The memory of the hickeys Nicholas had left on your chest flashed in your mind.

“I- I don’t want to have sex tonight,” you said abruptly, pulling away from his touch.

His frustration was immediate. He huffed and stormed toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. You could hear the water running. He couldn’t understand why things had suddenly shifted, why the desire had waned on your end. But deep down, you knew.

You knew you’d much rather Nicholas be the one to kiss your neck, pull down your top and take you right then and there. You were aching for him, dripping with arousal. You were determined to get a piece of him later that night when your boyfriend was asleep or hopefully out getting drunk.

As the night wore on, you waited for Cody to finish in the bathroom. You laid in bed, pretending to sleep, watching him through half-lidded eyes as he finally crawled in beside you, exhausted and oblivious. Once you were sure he was deeply asleep, you carefully slid out of bed. To test, you flicked your finger against his forehead, smiling slightly when he didn’t stir.

Moving quietly, you slipped into the bathroom and began your nightly routine, washing your face and applying your skincare and makeup. The rush of anticipation built with every step. You picked up the red lingerie, skimpy and barely there, hugging you in all the right places, and slid it on, admiring how it clung to your body in the mirror. Then, you wrapped yourself in a trench coat, keeping the surprise hidden.

With one last glance at your boyfriend, who remained fast asleep, you grabbed your phone and texted Nicholas. “Is your door open?”

His reply came quickly. “It’s open, princess.”

Your heart raced as you made your way down the hall, the soft click of your heels barely audible. Reaching Nicholas’ room, you opened the door slightly, peeking in before stepping inside. Nicholas was standing there, eyes darkening with hunger the moment he saw you in the trench coat. He crossed the room, meeting you at the door, gaze fixed on you.

Without saying a word, you undid the knot of your trench coat and let it fall to the floor. The red lingerie you wore underneath left nothing to the imagination. His breath caught as he took in the sight of you. “You look so sexy for Daddy,” he murmured, voice thick with desire.

Before you could respond, Nicholas pressed you against the door, his lips trailing down your neck as his hands found your breasts. You moaned softly, hands tangling in his hair, feeling the intensity of his need. He squeezed your breasts, murmuring, “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy," you breathed, arching into him, “I’m all yours.”

His smirk deepened, his lips claiming yours as he pulled you even closer, his hands exploring every inch of you.

He lifted you effortlessly, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him, grinding against the hardness pressing into you. His hands gripped your thighs as he carried you to the bed, laying you down gently before pulling his shirt over his head. You watched, breathless, as he slid his boxers off, his thick cock already hard and leaking, the tip glistening with precum.

Hovering over you, he began rubbing himself along your soaked entrance, teasing, dragging his length up and down your slick folds. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice husky as his eyes took in the sight of you beneath him.

“Just fuck me, Daddy,” you begged, voice desperate and needy.

Nicholas smiled, a dark gleam in his eyes as he reached for the straps of your lingerie and slowly pulled it off, baring your body to him completely. He kissed down your body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake until his mouth found your pussy. His tongue flicked against your clit, and you moaned loudly, gripping the sheets as pleasure rolled through you. He devoured you, lapping at your wetness, the sensations building and building until you were on the edge, so close to coming.

But just as you were about to let go, he pulled away, leaving you panting and needy. “I want you to come around me,” he said, his voice filled with desire. He reached for a condom from the nightstand.

“No condom this time,” you interrupted, breathless but firm. “I want to feel all of you. I want you to cum inside me.”

Nicholas’ eyes flashed with something primal, his lips curling into a smirk. He tossed the condom aside and positioned himself between your legs, rubbing his cock against your entrance, teasing you again. “You sure?” he asked, voice low and commanding.

“I’m ready,” you whispered, nodding, “I want it all.”

With a groan of satisfaction, he pressed his thick cock inside you, filling you inch by inch. You gasped as he stretched you, the feeling of him raw inside you sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. Nicholas began to thrust, slow and deep at first, driving you both wild.

As the heat between you intensified, you felt an electric thrill run through your body, urging you to crave more of him. “Daddy,” you breathed, your voice a sultry whisper, “I want more.”

With that invitation, he increased the pace, thrusting harder and deeper. The headboard creaked under the pressure, the whole floor probably heard, your nails dug into his back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You were lost in the rhythm, your breath quickening, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

You wrapped your legs around him tightly for a moment, pulling him closer before releasing them, spreading wider to accommodate him. The shift allowed him to plunge deeper, each stroke igniting a raw, primal desire within you. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, and you met his movements with your own, pushing back against him as he filled you completely.

“Just like that daddy,” you urged, your voice thick with passion.

He picked up the pace, his thrusts hard and relentless, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he pulled back slightly, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His voice was a low as he murmured against your mouth, “You’re all mine. You belong to Daddy now, you always have.”

A shiver of excitement raced through you, and he continued, “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m all yours, Daddy,” you said, the words flowing from your lips as if they were the only truth that mattered.

“Whose pussy is this?” he asked, his tone commanding, eyes locked onto yours.

“Yours, Daddy. It’s all yours,” you replied, the thrill of submission making your heart race.

“Good girl,” he said, a satisfied smirk across his lips. “That’s my good girl.”

With renewed intensity, he rolled his hips beautifully against yours, the connection between you both electric. “I want you to cum all over my dick, raw, for the first time,” he urged, his voice thick with desire.

The feeling of him pushing deeper ignited a fire within you, building to a peak you couldn't hold back. With a gasp, your body responded to his words, pleasure washing over you in waves as you squirted, soaking him completely.

Nicholas groaned in response, his grip on you tightening as he felt the warmth of your release.

“That’s so hot baby, that turned you on huh,” he said, now chasing his own orgasm as your body lay shaking underneath him.

“Y-yes daddy,” you sobbed and he grinned, his pretty white teeth glistening.

“You soaked me baby, squirting on me like that, being a cheating slut turns you on?” His pace never let up but this time, he reached between your bodies and began rubbing your clit sending a pleasure you almost couldn’t take rushing through your writhing body.

A scream left your lips as you creamed and squirted again all over his cock, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fucking hell baby,” he moaned and you felt his hot cum spurt inside of you. He continued thrusting gently, the pace almost loving as he allowed your grip to milk him of every drop.

Now a panting mess, he fell beside you and turned to face you. Your leg was draped across his heaving body and you stared at his beautiful disbelieved figure as he opened his mouth to speak.

“You’re going to be the death of me baby.”

[cosmopretty]

Jealous Girls

Synopsis: You can’t help but be jealous of how much time your girlfriends Paige and Azzi were spending together without you

warnings: smut, nsfw

Ever since basketball season started both of your girlfriends have been spending so much time together practicing and you’ve been feeling left out. You know it’s for basketball and they’re just trying to get better but it still bothers you.

So recently you’ve been avoiding the two of them since your feelings were hurt. And you knew you should have just talked to them but you were way too petty to confess that you were jealous.

Now it’s been two days since you have talked to either of them, and it drove them crazy. The three of you all lived in an apartment together so you’ve just been staying at your friend’s dorm. Both of them have been texting your phone but you just kept leaving them on seen. Today was their first day off since the season started and the fact that you weren’t with them right now pissed them off.

“You where the fuck is our girl?” Paige groans throwing her phone across the couch. Her and Azzi came home this morning after a workout to surprise you, they had flowers and chocolates but you weren’t there. Both of them had texted your phone multiple times and have gotten no answer back.

Azzi gets up and grabs Paige’s keys and opens the door “Let’s go grab her and bring her back here, come on” she waves her hand and walks out the door with Paige behind her.

They drive down to the dorms where your friend stayed and parked the car. Hopping out of the car they immediately spot you sitting on the bench your knees in your chest while you speak to a blonde girl next to you. They didn’t know who the hell that was, and it was not your friend.

Storming over to you Paige stops infront of you, towering over you as she crosses her arms “So who’s this?” she asks you. Azzi stands behind her staring at you waiting for your response. They knew you would never cheat on them, but you haven’t talked to them in days and now they see you with someone random girl, who looks a little to similar to Paige. It made them assume something was going on.

“This is my friend’s cousin she’s having boyfriend problems so I’m helping her” You tell them crossing your arms while you stare up at Paige, challenging her. The girl next to you stands up and pats your shoulder “I think I should go, good luck with that and thank you” she says before walking away not giving you a chance to respond to her.

Azzi’s eyes soften when she looks at you, she could tell something was wrong she could read you like a book.

Paige sucks her teeth “So you can’t talk to us for days but can talk to some random bitch” she scoffs while Azzi grabs her arm, giving her a look.

Sitting on the bench you shrug and look away from the two, staring at the flowers on the grass to your left. Paige grabs your jaw, turning your head and making you look at her “Get your ass up and get in the car I’m not playing with you lil girl” she says through her teeth before abruptly letting go and walking away.

You walk to the car quietly not saying a word to with of them while Azzi can’t take her eyes off of you. She couldn’t understand why you were acting like this, you wouldn’t even look at them when you all sat in the car. No one said a word as Azzi drove you all back home, you sat in the back your arms crossed as you stared out the window, Paige watching you.

Once you all got back into the apartment you tried to go to the bedroom, but Paige dragged you to the couch. She sat you down and stood infront of you with Azzi by her side, both of them staring down at you.

“What’s wrong with you? What happened baby?” Azzi asks in a sweet voice bending down infront of you. Her hand comes to hold your knee and instead of leaning into her touch like always you flinch away bring your knees to your chest.

Finally making eye contact with Azzi, you blink away tears “You guys are what’s wrong, it’s not fair” you mumble pouting.

Both Paige and Azzi look at one another confused before Paige comes and sits down next to you “I dont get it, tell us what’s wrong” she says concerned, staring at the side of your face.

“You guys always together all the time and then there me. It’s not fair why am I always left out” You grumble crossing your arms across your chest.

Paige looks at you dumbfounded “The only time me and Azzi are together without you is for basketball” she tells you as if you were a child and not junior in college.

You ignore her and roll your eyes Azzi grabs your chin and makes you look at her “Don’t roll your eyes you sound like a brat right now. You’re mad because we were spending too much time playing basketball then with you. Even though you know how important this season is” she scoffs standing up and towering over you once again.

Scrunching your eyebrows “No- I’m not- well” you stutter and Paige laughs at you grabbing your arm and pulling you up. She drags you to the bedroom with Azzi following behind “Babygirl just wants attention, since you want attention baby we’ll give you attention” she smirks.

The blonde lets go of your arm and pushes you down on the bed and starts stripping you of your clothes. Once you’re bare infront of her and Azzi, she leans down kissing down your body till she gets to your core.

She blows on your folds and your body jerks up so Azzi climbs next to you holding you down “Poor baby just needed some attention huh” she teases you holding your waist down against the bed.

Paige’s big hands hold your thighs apart as she dips her head down into you. Her tongue licks a stripe through your folds and you moan your back arching. She smirks and starts sucking your clit, her teeth pushing against you.

A feeling a euphoria washes over you when she pleases you. So Azzi bends down and starts kissing your chest, her mouth comes down to suck on one of your nipples. Your hands come to her head trying to pry her off of you. So she grabs both your hands with one of hers and holds them above your head. She pulls away from your boob with a pop “Nuh uh baby bad girls don’t get to touch you’ll just take what we give you” she says sweetly her big eyes staring at yours distracting you from Paige.

Before you can realize Paige has let go of one of your thighs she shoves two of her long fingers into you.

“Fuck- fuck Paige” You whine moaning your back arching from the stretch her fingers were causing you.

She starts pumping her finger in and out of you, her fingers pushing through your gummy walls. No matter how many times she stretches you out, you’re still so tight for her.

Azzi stared down at you in awe, she thought you were the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Her other hand comes to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your soft skin “Your so beautiful, pretty thing” she whispers leaning down and kissing your lips.

Being stuck under the two of them, you could barely talk or move. They did whatever they wanted to you, you were at their mercy.

Your stomach tightens at her words and Paige’s fingers pushing inside you. You were about to cum and Paige could tell by the way your thighs were starting to close around her head. She starts sucking on your clit harder and curling her fingers inside you.

Azzi dominants the kiss sliding her tongue in your mouth pushing it down your throat. Her hand moves from your cheek to your neck squeezing slightly as you gasp. Pulling away from the kiss you moan your head falling back “Mm gonna cum, please- please” you beg your walls squeezing around Paige’s fingers. You felt like something was about to snap inside of you, the pleasure becoming too much for you.

Her fingers push deeper into you, harder than before hitting that sweet spot inside you. Paige’s pulls away from your clit and rubs your clit with her thumb “Aw pretty baby wants to cum” she teases “Come on then baby cum for us” she tells you as her fingers speed up inside if you.

Your hips jerk up as you gush all over her fingers soaking her and the sheets. Paige smiles to herself slowing down her pace “Damn baby” she says staring down at you. Azzi turns around and sees the mess you made and she shakes her head “Poor girl really needed this huh” she teases you turning back around to face you as you cover your face embarrassed.

Laughing a bit Azzi lets go of your neck and moves her hand to pet your head “You fucking squirted baby that’s so hot” Paige says coming up and kissing you roughly, pulling her fingers out of you.

That night ended up with the three of you in sheets, showing each other how much you really missed one another.

[kamaluhkhan]

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer. 

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.” 

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous. 

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?” 

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in. 

“what? n-no!” 

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you. 

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

 so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp. 

it just didn't seem fair. 

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods. 

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest. 

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest. 

every  demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they  didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself. 

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?” 

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching. 

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.” 

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.” 

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze. 

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too. 

“she deserved more.” 

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there. 

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do. 

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise. 

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.” 

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm. 

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.  

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day. 

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.” 

luke bristled at your nickname for him. 

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go. 

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.  

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in. 

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly. 

 the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again. 

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down. 

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse. 

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled. 

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” 

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.  

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning. 

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone? 

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one. 

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward." 

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you. 

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp. 

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.  

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready. 

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him. 

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through. 

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him. 

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood. 

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased. 

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess. 

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson. 

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?” 

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken. 

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.” 

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer. 

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.  

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too. 

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time. 

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more. 

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips. 

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die. 

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy. 

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away. 

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze. 

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse. 

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse. 

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.” 

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality. 

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie. 

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat. 

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him. 

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for. 

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did. 

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it. 

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair. 

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates. 

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes. 

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.” 

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes. 

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that. 

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you. 

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?” 

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush. 

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….” 

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right. 

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for. 

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached. 

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?” 

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?” 

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.” 

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said. 

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow. 

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air. 

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch. 

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp. 

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him. 

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment. 

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door. 

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire. 

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.  

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god. 

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy. 

everything was falling into place. 

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.  

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you. 

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles. 

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist. 

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him. 

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey. 

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy. 

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?” 

 “they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true. 

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him. 

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it. 

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down. 

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet. 

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog. 

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more. 

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously. 

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated. 

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind. 

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well. 

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.” 

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe! 

would you hate him, if you knew? 

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage. 

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?” 

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns. 

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.” 

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment. 

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips. 

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe. 

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his. 

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath. 

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time. 

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted. 

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor. 

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock. 

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.” 

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being. 

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.” 

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.  

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone.  we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor. 

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape. 

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice. 

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head. 

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life. 

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Too Easy

Request: Anonymous asked: "okay i have a tyler owens request!! him and reader are both tornado wranglers and they’ve always had a somewhat flirty relationship, but at one point they’re out chasing and the motel they stay at that night doesn’t have enough rooms for all of them so Tyler and the reader decide to share and reader has a nightmare? or just some kind of angst or hurt/comfort with a happy ending? love ur work!"

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: PTSD, trauma, tornado mention

A/N: I changed it from flirty to an enemies to lovers-type relationship, just because i've been craving to write that type of banter. as always, comments & replies are super appreciated!!! thanks for reading :)

As soon as you saw the familiar red Dodge truck parked outside the motel you groaned. 

“Is this guy everywhere, all the time?” Halle, one of your crew members, mumbled from the driver’s seat. She pulled your SUV into the only empty spot in the parking lot. 

She was referencing Tyler– another local storm chaser and absolute pain in your ass. His Ram truck was like a symbol all around Oklahoma. Everyone in the midwest knew his name– and what he did. You, on the other hand, knew him as a self-absorbed jerk that constantly put his and his team’s lives in danger for a few hundred thousand views on YouTube. He was cocky and obnoxious and arrogant. And you couldn’t stand him. 

Unfortunately for you though, Tyler Owens and his entire team went where the storms went. Which meant that you were stuck dealing with him– especially during tornado season. 

“Let’s just get a room, maybe we missed him,” you mumbled before turning to the backseat. “Anna, could you pass me my bag?” 

“Sure thing,” she replied, grunting as she handed your duffel over. 

“How about two rooms tonight?” you suggested. “I feel like I haven’t actually slept since we were in Austin.”

“God, I’ve been waiting for you to suggest that,” Halle mumbled. The bags around her eyes suggested she was just as eager for a good night’s sleep as you were. 

Together, the three of you dragged yourselves towards the motel lobby, exhausted and desperate for both a shower and a bed. 

“Why don’t you guys wait with all the gear? I’ll go in and book the rooms,” you offered. 

“Two of them,” Halle said with a relieved smile. 

“Two rooms coming up,” you promised. 

They nodded in agreement and settled in on the curb while you wandered inside. The bell above the door rang loudly as you stepped inside. As soon as you did, you realized that, to your absolute dismay, a familiar someone had already beat you to the front desk. You’d recognize those stupid, broad shoulders any day, even if you were sleep deprived.  

“Evenin’ m’lady,” Tyler’s little sidekick said teasingly. He tipped his baseball cap towards you.   

“Hey Boone,” you greeted back curtly.   

“What’d ya think of that beaut earlier, huh? Not too often we get two storm cells like that.”

“Yeah it was somethin’,” you replied absentmindedly. Honestly, you didn’t dislike Boone. He was friendly– maybe a little overzealous for your liking, but overall a nice guy. It was a shame he was always around Tyler– otherwise you might not always be so annoyed with him, too.  

“There she is,” Tyler beamed. He approached you and Boone while he tucked a few room keys in his wallet. “Were you fillin’ Boone in on why you picked the wrong storm to chase today? Because that’s a story I want to hear–” 

Your gaze fell to the floor, chest tightening the same way it did in the field earlier. “The winds changed last minute– I didn’t catch it,” you muttered, although you shouldn’t even have to explain yourself to this hillbilly. 

“Ah, I see. Man, you’re off your game, sweetheart. Usually it’s me missin’ those signs. What do you got cloudin’ up that pretty little mind of yours?” 

Anger began seeping into the corners of your mind. “Why do you even care?” you asked icily. “Thought you’d be happy to have that storm all to yourself.”

“Oh, I was sweetheart,” Tyler winked. “But I don’t mind sharin’ with you.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed past him towards the front desk. A younger girl with short, red hair offered you a smile. “How can I help you?”

“I need two rooms please,” you requested, it took about all the energy you had left to smile back. 

The girl sucked in a breath of air. “Oh, I’m so sorry– this gentleman here just rented three rooms. All we have left is one.”

“One?” you asked in disbelief, mouth falling open. 

She nodded. “There’s two beds, though, if that helps.”

“Shit,” you grumbled. Your team was exhausted– and you knew that you couldn’t just take back your promise for them to have their own beds. 

“I’m sorry–” the girl repeated, but you shook your head. 

“No, it’s okay. Not your fault,” you said quickly, trying to remember your manners.. 

“Somethin’ wrong over there sweetheart?” Tyler asked teasingly.  

“Yeah, you took all but one of the rooms. Now my team doesn’t have enough.”

“C’mon, I’ve seen you guys cram into one room before.”

“Yeah, but they’re exhausted. We haven’t had our own beds in weeks and I promised them…” your voice trailed off. Why the hell were you even explaining any of this to him? “You know what? Just forget it–” you turned back towards the receptionist. “I’ll take the one room, please.”

After passing your card over and paying, you turned and pushed back past Tyler and Boone. But before you could reach the door, Tyler’s voice stopped you in your tracks. 

“What are you just gonna go back on your promise? That’s really gonna disappoint your team–”

“I’ll sleep in the damn truck,” you snapped, zero patience for any of his sarcasm or feeble attempts at a joke. “Happy?”

“Hey–” he said, voice softening instantly. “I was just kiddin’ around.”

“Really funny,” you said, sarcasm dripping off your tongue, now more than usual, Tyler was getting on your nerves. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and disappoint my team.”

Without waiting for whatever retort Tyler could come up with next, you finally pushed your way through the door without looking back. 

You found Halle and Anna in the same place you left them– still sitting on the curb, slouched over and exhausted-looking.  

“Hey guys, bad news–” you began, guilt already spreading through your stomach. But before you could, the bell to the lobby door rang out, causing you to groan.  

You took a deep, steadying breath to calm your nerves, just in time for Tyler to speak. “Now I have an idea– how about we share? I got three rooms for my team, but that’s six beds… we only need five.”

You spun around so fast, you were surprised you didn’t get whiplash. “Look Tyler, as much as you know I love your antics, can we not do this right now? Please?”

“Who said anythin’ about antics?” he pressed. “I’m bein’ serious here. Your two can have their beds and you can take one of ours.”

“No way,” you spat quickly. “I’m sleeping in the car.”

By now, Halle and Anna had seemingly picked up on the situation. They stood up and crossed their arms disapprovingly in unison. 

“You can’t sleep in the car, that’s ridiculous,” Anna said. 

“Yeah, why don’t you and Anna take the room and I’ll share with Tyler’s crew,” Halle offered. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I promised you guys a good night’s sleep tonight– I’m not letting you crash with them.”

“Well we’re not letting you sleep in the car,” Halle argued back. “It’s like… eighty-five degrees out here.” 

You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, trying to think. But the truth was, you really were just so, so tired. You wanted everything about today– the storm cells you got wrong from earlier, the endless hours of driving, and lack of sleep, over with. And if bunking with someone from Tyler’s crew was the only way to make that happen, well then, so be it, you finally decided. Better you than Halle or Anna. 

“See– even your team isn’t as scared of us as you are,” Tyler chuckled. 

“Fine,” you snapped, shaking your head in disbelief. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Who am I sharing with?”

Maybe you’d get lucky and get to room with Dani or Lilly–

“That would be me,” Tyler chirped, eyes glistening under the streetlamp. 

Well fuck me, you thought. 

…

You curled up in the double bed closest to the wall. By the time you got up to the room, Tyler had already claimed the one closest to the door.

You heard the water snap off in the bathroom, followed by the sound of Tyler peeling back the shower curtain. That was your cue to feign sleep, if only to avoid any further conversation with him for the night. You rolled over and pulled the blankets up to your chin. 

After a few minutes, he emerged from the bathroom– the noise from the fan growing louder and a sudden whiff of his shampoo washing over you. You’d never admit it– but the way he smelled was actually one of the few things you liked about Tyler. 

“I know you’re not sleepin’,” he said as he began rummaging through his bag. 

“How the hell would you know that?” you groaned. 

You heard him chuckle softly. “Because you wouldn’t have answered if you were.”

This fucking cowboy. 

“Well I’d like to be sleeping,” you said, still not rolling over to face him. 

“And here I was hopin’ we’d use our little sleepover to get to know each other a little better.”

“You can lay off the act,” you said suddenly, all of your anger and exhaustion just melting into a pool of unfiltered irritation. 

There was a brief pause before Tyler replied, “What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s no audience in here– no team members watching, no YouTube subscribers viewing us. You don’t have to pretend to be all sweet and charming.”

“I wasn’t aware I was pretending–”

“Oh cut the shit, Tyler. You love to drive me crazy me– just admit it. And it's probably my fault for letting you get to me so easily. But I mean, c'mon, was it your plan all along to just get me to share a room with you so you could keep me up all night getting to know me better?”

He let out a huff of air that sounded frustrated, as opposed to his usual amusement. “You’re something else, Y/N, you know that?”

You were caught off guard by Tyler’s use of your actual name. He always resorted to nicknames– either sweetheart or the town he knew you were from. In fact, in the few years you’d known him, the only time he’d ever repeated your name was the first time you told it to him. 

You sat up in bed and finally turned to face him– trying to gauge his demeanor. 

“I offer you a room– I didn’t have to do that, you know? And believe it or not, I didn’t offer it to you just to make your life miserable. I did it because I didn’t like the idea of you sleepin’ in your car alone–” he shook his head. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Goodnight.”

Before you could even think of a reply, Tyler was peeling back the covers of his own bed and crawling in. He laid on his left side, back facing you.

You stayed in place for a moment, too stunned to move or speak or do much of anything.

Eventually, you laid back down, trying your best to deny the pool of guilt spreading through your stomach.

… 

With one arm you held on to your sister's hand as hard as you could– feeling the muscles in your shoulder strain and pop as you did. 

“Hold on!” you shouted, pleading with her not to let go. 

With your other hand, you were clinging to the handle on the storm shelter door. Somehow it had managed to pop open after the two of you had escaped inside. 

She looked down at you, her body suspended in the air– nothing but sheer, unfiltered terror reflecting in her round-rimmed glasses. 

“C’mon!” you screamed. 

“Please–” she gasped. “Please don’t let me go!”

“I got you!” you screamed, but you could feel that your grip on her clammy hand wasn’t as tight as it needed to be. “No–” you yelled. 

“Don’t let me go–” she repeated, nails digging into your skin desperately. 

But you didn’t even have time to adjust your grip before she was slipping away– in the end, the winds won. 

In the blink of an eye, her body was being sucked away from you– further and further into the dark storm clouds barreling your way. 

“No!” you screamed, reaching for the spot her body was moments before. “No!” 

But then you felt your own grip slipping on the door handle and you knew you needed both hands to hold on if you wanted to survive. So, using all your strength– you dragged yourself to the bottom of the storm shelter. You found the safest corner– next to some old piping to curl up. 

The whole time the storm raged on above you– you couldn’t stop screaming. So, you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your forehead against your knees, making yourself as small as possible. And then, with everything you had left, you wound your arms around the piping and held on like your life depended on it… because it did. 

…

Your name sounded so distant when you heard someone calling it– like it was miles away. Then, vaguely, it came more into focus as it was called again. 

The third time, it was right next to you– and it was familiar… but you didn’t dare to look up. What if the storm was still raging outside? What if it took you next? 

Hands gripped your shoulders– causing you to jolt awake. 

Your eyes shot open as you pulled yourself from your nightmare. Tyler was sitting on the edge of your bed, his mouth hung open, like he was out of breath. 

“Tyler?” you croaked, attempting to sit up from the mattress. 

“You’re okay,” he said instantly. “You’re okay– you’re safe.”

Once you had managed to sit up, you studied Tyler’s face for a moment, trying desperately to gauge if any of this was real. Despite the darkness around you, you could still make out every feature– every crease, every freckle, every single piece of stubble that made up his shaved beard. And as much as you’d admired Tyler’s face in the last few years, even you knew that you couldn’t have been that detailed in your imagination.   

You wanted to ask what the hell he was doing there– how he had gotten in her room, when all of a sudden, the same memories that had plagued you in your dream resurfaced in your mind.

The sight of the EF4 tornado that destroyed every inch of your childhood home. The image of your sister’s terrified face– right before she was ripped from your grasp. The sound of her scream, dissipating with the raging winds. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” Tyler soothed. 

You turned to face him– Tyler was here because he’d let you share his room… because he was way kinder than you ever gave him credit for. And now he was here– witnessing you completely falling apart.

Tyler’s lips began moving– he was talking. But despite the vague comfort from his tone of voice, you couldn’t really make out what he was saying. It was like the winds were still raging around you– muffling everything. 

You felt like your heart might just beat out of your chest– maybe that was the tornado working to rip it from your skin. 

“Hey–” a voice… no, not a voice. Tyler’s voice, said. “You gotta breathe.”

What was he talking about? You were breathing– of course you were breathing. Unless... unless the tornado ripped out your lungs instead of your heart. And now that you thought about it, no, actually, you weren’t breathing. You tried to inhale in, but the air wouldn’t come. You gasped, chest tightening while you began to tremble. 

Your lungs weren’t in your chest– your lungs flew away– just like your sister.

Firm, rough hands cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look forward. You were met by Tyler’s green eyes, currently blown open and wide with worry. 

“Breathe, baby,” he instructed. “With me– look.”

Baby, you thought. That was a new one. You didn’t hate it nearly as much as you hated sweetheart. 

You watched desperately as Tyler inhaled and exhaled exaggeratedly, like he was hoping you’d follow along.  

You tried. Really, you did.

Your wide, desperate eyes met his. But instead of following along, all you could do was imagine what your sister’s body had looked like after being struck by debris and tossed halfway across town–

“With me,” Tyler repeated firmly, his thumb stroking across the surface of your cheek gently. You leaned into his touch, craving comfort. 

Tyler continued producing loud and deliberate, slow and calming breaths. After a few seconds, you latched onto the sound, mimicking it, and following along the best that you could. 

Your shoulders relaxed slightly when you realized that you could actually breathe– which meant that EF5 hadn’t actually ripped them out of your chest. 

Tyler’s brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “There you go,” he whispered.

“Did I wake you up?” you asked quietly, feeling even guiltier than you had for snapping at him all night. 

He hesitated– like he was actually debating on lying to you or not. 

“Was I screaming?” 

“I mean, a little bit–”

You nodded before letting your gaze fall to your lap, where you began picking harshly at an old hangnail, a feeble attempt to distract yourself. 

“Do you–” Tyler began. “Do you have those nightmares often?”

Now it was your turn to contemplate lying. But then you remembered what an absolute jerk you’d been to Tyler all night, and figured you at least owed him the truth. 

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s partially why I wanted to sleep in the truck.”

Tyler smiled softly. “And here I was thinking it was because you hated me so much.”

“I’m sorry–” you began, voice shaking slightly. “I know I can be a jerk.”

One of Tyler’s eyebrows shot up like he was surprised. 

“What?” you asked. 

“No it’s just… that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you apologize.”

“What can I say?” you mumbled, trying to make light of things. “You seem to always see the worst versions of myself.” 

Tyler’s gaze softened, like he knew you were talking about more than your lack of apologies. After a moment he sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Glancing up, you hesitated. Your heart had just stopped pounding in your chest, but the thought of talking about what had happened in your home just a few short years ago made it speed up again.  

“You don’t have to–” Tyler said quickly. 

“No– it’s just…” your voice faltered. “I just haven’t really talked about it.” 

Tyler was patient. He stayed still on the edge of your bed and waited for you to be ready. After you sorted through some of the thoughts in your head you whispered, “You know I’ve been chasing in Oklahoma since I was a teenager?”

Tyler’s face lit up in surprise. 

“It’s true. I took a few years off… and when I came back, I was upset to see Oklahoma had a new storm chaser. One that everyone seemed to like more than me,” you admitted. You weren’t sure why this was all flowing out so freely, but even you had to admit that it felt nice to be honest. “That’s why I’ve been so mean to you, I think. It felt like you were encroaching on my turf. And then you showed up with your fancy truck– and all your gear, and I suppose I just felt a little jealous.” 

Tyler nodded in understanding. “Why’d you take a few years off?”

Your voice caught in your throat. Only when you hung your head did you feel confident enough to answer. “Remember that EF5 that hit Logan County a few years back?”

Tyler nodded. 

“My family’s farm was in Logan County. My parents were away– on a weekend trip to Colorado to see family. But I’d convinced my sister to stay home with me, because I didn’t want to go,” the words that were your mouth suddenly didn’t feel like yours. And the trembling hands in your lap didn’t feel like yours either. 

“The storm turned last minute. We barely had any warning. But I grabbed my sister– and we ran to the storm shelter. We made it, too– but then the door ripped open. When she went to shut it…” your voice trailed off. “Well you can use your imagination for the rest.”

You finally gathered up enough courage to glance up at Tyler. His eyes were fixated on you– sadness and sympathy plastered all over his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said genuinely. 

“Yeah, well…” you said weakly. “The worst part is– I think I remember locking the storm shelter door– but I wonder every single day of my life if I accidentally forgot. Which… I mean, convincing her to stay home already makes it partially my fault. But I can write that one off– and remind myself I didn’t know what was going to happen. But forgetting to lock the storm shelter?” you sighed. “That would be a harder one to forgive myself for.”

Tyler scooted closer towards you on the bed. He raised his hand– he was reaching out to comfort you. But then he pulled back, like he thought better. You were surprised by how disappointed that made you. 

“It’s not your fault–” Tyler assured you. 

It was the same thing your parents had said your whole life– so why couldn’t you believe it? 

“I guess it doesn't really matter whose fault it was,” you said. “She’s gone and I’m not. I took a few years off from chasing because I just couldn’t… I couldn’t get myself in the right headspace for it. Every time I saw a cell forming, I’d panic– and I’d want to run from it, not chase it. Things are better now… but every once and a while, I still run. Like today,” you admitted. “I knew the winds changed. I knew the one to the east was gonna die out. That’s why I chose it.” 

Tyler sighed. “And then I gave you shit for it,” he said, remorse in his tone. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you admitted. “And I’m really grateful you let me crash in your room. I think if I’d been screamin’ like that in my car, it would’ve caused quite the scene.”

Tyler’s lips tugged into a gentle smile. “I told you I didn’t mind sharing when it came to you. Plus, I learned more about you during our little sleepover than I have in the last few years chasin’ next to you.” 

“Yeah, well…” you mumbled. “Don’t get used to it.”

Tyler smirked. “Does that mean you’re going to go back to hating me tomorrow, when we’re no longer roommates? Or have I finally cracked through that tough ole shell of yours?”

“You keep offerin’ me motel rooms for free and I’ll be an open book,” you laughed. 

Tyler nodded, like he was storing that offer for later. 

“Hey, I don’t know about you,” he said, suddenly clapping his thighs before standing up. “But all that screaming got me wide awake. You hungry? I’m buying.”

He held out his hand– waiting for you to take it. 

“Are you offering me a room and dinner in one night?” you teased. 

“And all you had to do was reveal your deepest, darkest secrets and traumas to me,” Tyler smirked. 

“Tyler Owens, you’re too easy,” you said, gladly taking his outstretched hand.

[triptuckers]

feels like home - tyler owens x reader

Request: nope Pairing: tyler owens x reader Summary: after years, tyler is back in his home town. so much has changed, yet everything is the same Warnings: some swearing, mentions of a slight panic attack, there's a tornado (surprise!), some angst, thats it I think?? Word count: 2.5K A/N: I know nothing about tornadoes. I do know if glen powell asked me to go storm chasing with him I wouldn't hesitate. also running on literally 7% left of my battery but fuck it we roll!! enjoy!

It’s spring. Tyler’s favorite season. During this time of year, it’s peak tornado season. It’s when he’s in his element, doing what he loves.

He’s driving across the U.S. with his loyal crew, chasing the tornadoes wherever they go. And always, inevitably, he ends up in his hometown. It’s a small town, right in the middle of tornado alley. 

Over the years, the people had started building their homes with stronger foundations that could withstand tornadoes better. Every year, there was still a lot of damage, but less than before. Most families had lived there for generations, and didn’t have any plans to move. 

When Tyler pulls up to the local bar, his crew is energized and happy. They’d just finished chasing a rather intense tornado, and everyone is still high on adrenaline. They’re going out for drinks before going to bed, as tomorrow’s weather forecast showed good chances of another tornado.

Little did Tyler know, someone he knows very well has also picked tonight to go out for drinks.

You’re sitting at your usual table with a friend, blowing off some steam after a long day. You like the bar. Everyone knows each other, the bartenders know your drink order and always have it ready for you before you can even order it.

It’s one of the things you missed the most while you were away; the kindness of the small town. You know everyone here, and you always help each other out. Especially during tornado season.

When Tyler steps in the crowded bar, he instantly spots a few familiar faces. Old neighbors, childhood friends, friends of his parents. Then his eyes land on you. His breath hitches in his throat as he watches you laugh at something your friend says. He had no idea you were back.

You look up when you see a group of people approaching you from afar. That’s when you see him. Exactly how you remember him, only a little older and with a belt buckle that says “tornado wrangler”. But you’d known him long before he called himself that.

You and Tyler had dated all throughout college, when you were both studying meteorology. Everyone knew you and while most couples broke up during college, you and Tyler stayed together.

But then Tyler started chasing tornadoes and you moved to a bigger city to enroll in an advanced PhD program. You agreed to part ways. It just felt too difficult to still be in a relationship when the two of you were always away.

But you never stopped loving him. You still watch all of his videos. And you don’t know it, but he reads all of your research articles.

He’s walking up to you now, and you forget you’re in a crowded bar with a friend. You don’t pay attention to the people he brought with him.

You smile warmly at him. ‘Hey, Ty.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that, lady.’ says one of Tyler’s friends. ‘He hates when people call him Ty.’ 

He looks at Tyler, expecting him to say something snarky or mean to you, but he’s got a soft smile on his face.

‘Hey y/n.’ he says. ‘Still around, huh?’

‘Still around. I moved back after graduation. Even though people in a small town can be a handful sometimes, with everyone knowing everything about everyone, it’s still home.’

‘Yeah, it is.’ says Tyler.

Suddenly a few women approach Tyler, stealing him away from your conversation. Apparently, word got out the tornado wrangler is in town, and everyone wants to talk to him.

Tyler waves at you before taking off.

You’re looking at him as he walks away, and your friend nudges you.

‘I thought you guys broke up?’

‘We did. He went to go storm chasing, and I wanted to study more. It just wasn’t practical to stay together.’

‘But you still love him.’

You turn to look at your friend. ‘I never said I stopped loving him.’

‘So… kind of like right person, wrong time?’

‘Yeah, I guess.’

‘What are you waiting for then? He’s here now, go talk to him!’

‘Nah, he’s too busy with his crew. It was nice to see him though.’

You spend the rest of your evening chatting with your friend. You try to focus on the conversation and to not let your mind wander off to Tyler. He really looked good. And his crew looked like they are fun to hang out with. 

When it’s getting late, you walk over to the bar to pay for your drinks. You say goodbye to your friend and head out to the parking lot. 

You see Tyler and his crew standing around his red pick-up truck. They’re laughing and sharing a drink. Tyler spots you and waves at you from where he’s sitting on the hood of his car. You wave back as you get in your own truck. 

‘Tell me, who is she?’ says Boone, pulling Tyler from his throughs as he watches you drive off.

Before Tyler can answer, Lilly starts listing off possible answers. ‘Secret fiancée? High school sweetheart? Admirer? Girl you went on three dates with and then left?’ she counts on her fingers.

‘No, none of that.’ says Tyler.

‘Definitely looks like a high school sweetheart. She’s your age, from around here. I bet you two grew up together.’

Tyler sighs. They’re not gonna let this go. And since they’re all going storm chasing tomorrow, they’re probably going to annoy him about it until he answers them.

‘We did grow up together. She was not my high school sweetheart, more like my college sweetheart. We broke up when I became a chaser.’

‘Let me guess, she always called you Ty?’ says Boone.

Tyler smiles at the memory. ‘She did.’

‘Ohhh my boy is whipped!’ says Boone, giving Tyler a playful shove. 

‘Oh, fuck off, Boone. That’s all in the past. She probably has someone waiting for her at home.’

But you didn’t.

You hadn’t really dated anyone after your breakup with Tyler.

Sure, you’d been on a few dates people had set you up with. But somehow, it never felt right. It never felt like it did while you were with Tyler. Loving Tyler was just so easy. Like you were always meant to find each other.

When he walked in that bar earlier tonight, he looked different. Older, sure. But also very handsome. You could tell he loved being a chaser. You wish you could’ve talked more with him, just the two of you.

The next morning when you wake up, it’s much earlier than you would have liked. You didn’t have any plans today and wanted to sleep in. As you lay in bed, you hear the rain slam against the window. You’re used to it, and it usually doesn’t wake you up. 

But as the rain starts to get heavier, you hear the wind is picking up as well. You knew there was a tornado warning for this morning, but it wasn’t for your town. The tornado was supposed to move away from you. 

That’s when you hear the siren. It’s almost part of your routine, it’s so familiar. You’re quick to get out bed, grabbing your phone. As you race downstairs to get to your shelter, you pull up the weather map. Which shows the tornado going straight for the main street of town. Fuck.

You hastily pull on your boots and open the backdoor to your garden, which is where your shelter is. You run toward it, the wind whipping in your face and the rain soaking your clothes in seconds. 

It takes a lot of strength to open the shelter doors with the wind threatening to slam them closed again. Finally, you make it inside after nearly falling down the stairs. You close the doors and bolt them. 

Now all that’s left for you to do is wait until the tornado is gone. You switch on the tiny light and pull out a blanket. There’s not much here except for some canned food. If Tyler saw this, you just know he’d immediately go to the store to get more supplies “just in case”. 

Thinking of him, you pull out your phone. You’re thinking about calling him, when you notice you have no service. The tornado must have already done a lot of damage. 

Meanwhile, Tyler is in the of the storm, near the tornado. They’re ready to get some great shots, but something changes. 

The tornado was supposed to head east and then die out, but it’s too slow. Tyler squints his eyes, looking at it. It’s almost as if it’s getting closer again. 

He realizes what’s happening at the same time Boone yells ‘It’s turning around!’

And he’s right. The tornado is heading west again. And Tyler knows what’s there. His hometown. Your hometown.

‘Oh, fuck.’ he says. He prays that you’re safe. He knows you’re smart, you’re probably inside the shelter by now. But he still worries.

They wait out the tornado before driving back to the town, prepared to help in any way they can. Debris is scattered throughout the streets. People walk around, helping each other or trying to salvage what’s left of their possessions in the rubble of the houses. 

Ever since they got back, Tyler has been trying to call you. You’re not picking up. He’s desperately telling himself you know the protocols. Hell, you’ve lived in tornado alley your entire life. You’re probably taking inventory of the damage on your property right now. 

Meanwhile, you’ve been listening to the storm outside. It’s all quiet now, you don’t hear any rain or wind, or sirens. You climb up the stairs and push open the doors. Except they don’t open. You check all the hinges, which are all still secure in place. Then why won’t the doors open?

You walk back down the stairs as you slowly start to panic. There’s probably debris blocking the doors. You have no cell service. Everyone is busy with their own houses. How long would it take for someone to find you?

You’re trying desperately to stay calm. People will find you eventually, right? But soon the tears are streaming down your face. You’d been in this shelter before, but it’s terrifying when you can’t open the door and all you have is a dim light, some canned food, a blanket and a phone without service.

Tyler’s crew is helping the people in town. But he gets increasingly more worried when you won’t pick up a single of his phone calls. 

Lilly notices his worried glances at his phone while she’s handing out food to people. ‘Tyler.’ 

He looks up at her. Lilly jerks her head to his truck. ‘Go see if she’s alright. You know where she lives, right?’

Tyler nods. 

‘Go. We’ve got it here.’ says Lilly.

He takes a quick look around. Lilly is right, his crew can handle it here. He just really needs to know if you’re okay. 

There’s too much debris on the road, so Tyler ditches his truck and walks the rest of the way. He could walk this route with his eyes closed. The longer he walks, the more destruction he sees and the more the uneasy feeling in his chest grows.

What if you were somewhere buried in the rubble of your house and he never got a chance to ask you if you wanted to try again? To see if you still had that spark you had when you were younger? He knew you wouldn’t let him go that easily. It had hurt you both when you broke up. And seeing you again, it reminded him of all the time you had spent together during college.

When he finally gets to your house, he sees it’s mostly still intact. The walls are still standing, but the roof needs fixing. Most of your windows are broken and a tree had fallen on your truck.

Tyler rushes to the front door, which is hanging off its hinges. He quickly enters your house.

‘y/n? y/n! Where are you?’

When you don’t respond, he tries calling you again. 

‘Come on, pick up, pick up.’ he mutters. Still no answer. Damn it.

Where would you go during a tornado? He’s forcing his mind to stop spinning out of control so he can think logically. Then he remembers you have a shelter in your backyard. How could he forget? He even helped you stock it in case something like this happened.

He runs through your messy living room, pieces of broken glass crunching underneath his boots. When he gets outside, he sees your shed – or what’s left of it – on top of the doors to your shelter.

‘y/n!’ he yells again, running toward the shelter.

You faintly hear a voice yelling your name. You briefly think you’re actually going insane at that point. Your panicked mind is making this up because it knows Tyler gives you a feeling of safety. Tyler isn’t here, he’s most likely outside still chasing the damn tornado. There’s no way he’d be here.

‘y/n are you in there? Give me a shout if you can hear me!’

But that’s unmistakably his voice. You hear sounds outside near the door.

‘Ty?’ you say quietly. 

‘Come on! Are you in there?’

‘Ty!’ you say, louder this time.

Outside, Tyler lets out a big sigh of relief as he continues to draw away the debris from the doors of your shelter.

Finally, he can see the handle of one of the doors and yanks it open. 

You squint your eyes at the sudden sunlight. Your eyes are quick to adjust, and they land on Tyler.

Standing there, breathing heavily, looking at you and holding out his hand for you to take.

‘Ty..’ you say softly. Fresh tears start to run down your cheeks as you take his hand and allow him to pull you out of the shelter. 

He pulls you against his chest, one hand coming around your back and the other on the back of your head, holding you against him.

You allow yourself to get lost in the familiar feeling. Tyler still wears the same cologne, and you still fit perfectly in his arms. God, you missed him.

‘I was so scared.’ you mumble. 

‘I know, sweetheart, I know.’ says Tyler.

He pulls back slightly so he can look you in the eye. ‘Are you hurt?’ he asks.

You shake your head. ‘I got to the shelter as soon as I heard the sirens, like you taught me.’

Tyler smiles at you. ‘You did good.’

‘I brought my phone but there was no service and then I couldn’t open the door and I-‘

‘y/n.’ says Tyler, cutting you off. ‘You’re alright. I got you out.’

‘Thank you.’ you say, burying your head in his chest once more.

The two of you stand there for a while. You both need this right now.

‘Ty?’ you say.

He hums in response. 

‘Please don’t leave again.’

He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

‘I’m never leaving you again, sweetheart.’

A/N:If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost, steal or translate my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love,Marit

[kashverse]

love your writing style kash!! thank you for the beautiful fica that are so soft and heartwarming to read 😞🫰

could i request for a scenario where mamakuna is sick (like a flu/fever) and how babykuna and dadkuna work together to help her feel betterrrrr 😇 -v

the flu had been going around, and you knew it was only a matter of time before it got you. but knowing it was one thing—experiencing it was another. it hit you like a truck. fever, chills, congestion—the works. so when you called sukuna at his office, your voice hoarse and pitiful, he dropped everything, canceled an entire board meeting (screw the shareholders), and stormed out. by the time he gets home, he's expecting pure chaos. maybe the maids scrambling, maybe you barely conscious—something. instead, he walks into your shared bedroom and stops dead in his tracks.

there, at the edge of the bed, is babykuna, her tiny legs swinging, her face set in deep concentration as she places all her plushies around you in a perfect protective circle. labubu is at your pillow. sonny angel squad is stationed near your hands. he even spots one of his socks stuffed into the arrangement like some sort of talisman.

"…what are you doing?" sukuna asks, raising a brow. babykuna, without looking up, adjusts a bunny plush near your shoulder. “making mama better.” sukuna sighs, making his way to the bed, crouching beside you.

"baby, i have an entire medical team on speed dial. your mama doesn’t need—"

"papa, hush," she interrupts, waving a hand at him dismissively. “you don’t get it. they give comfort. the magic of the plushies is real.” sukuna opens his mouth, then closes it. you, meanwhile, weakly lift your hand. “it’s okay, love. i believe in the plushie magic too.” babykuna nods sagely, satisfied.

but sukuna is still sukuna, so even though he knows the maids could easily take care of you both, he wants to do it. so he sighs, rolls up his sleeves, and trudges to the kitchen. if you’re sick, then fine, he’ll do this properly. twenty minutes later, he returns with a bowl of steaming hot chicken soup, the way you like it. perfectly seasoned, just the right amount of garlic, and not a vegetable in sight (because he knows you’d push them aside). but before he can even set it down—

"mama should eat bread and jam," babykuna suddenly announces, pointing a spoon at you. sukuna’s eye twitches.

"she needs soup."

"she needs bread and jam."

"she needs something warm."

"bread is warm if you toast it."*

sukuna rubs his temples. "she doesn’t need bread and jam, brat—"

"what about appy juice?" babykuna interjects, swinging her legs, completely unfazed. "appy juice is good."

"baby, soup is literally proven to—"

"orange juice?"

"oh my god."

you, snuggled in your fortress of plushies, weakly smile, watching the two most important people in your life bicker over what’s best for you. sukuna sighs in defeat, scooping a spoonful of soup. "open up, baby," he murmurs, bringing it to your lips. before you can take a sip, babykuna gasps. 

“wait! the plushies have to approve first!”

sukuna, face blank, stares at his child. 

"…you’re kidding."

but babykuna is dead serious. she picks up labubu, holds it over the soup, then dramatically nods. “labubu says okay.” sukuna exhales slowly.

"great. tell labubu to shut up next time."

babykuna gasps in pure, unfiltered betrayal. “you take that back.” 

you, sick as you are, wheeze at the scene, your fever momentarily forgotten.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

heyy, I just saw the first episode of season two and I’m completely destroyed. I need to read something with Jacaerys in which reader gives him a hug after what happened 🫶🏻

Request: Helloooo! I saw you were open to requests sooo with this episode- how about instead of Baela being the one to take Jace to Rheanyra, its reader who had been waiting for him since he landed? Jace x reader relationship is up to you!

I have written this a few weeks ago, but let's do a small blurb. Seeing Jace break was just so sad. Grab your tissues 🤧

Warnings: mention of character death, grief

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

On the journey back to Dragonstone, Jacaerys swallowed back his tears. Vermax could feel that his rider was in pain, but he stayed focused on flying home. 

Although you couldn’t predict when they would arrive, you knew Jacaerys would fly home immediately upon receiving the letter. 

You greeted him outside when he landed, but Jacaerys refused to meet your eyes, focussing on princely duties because he could not bear to face his role as brother and son in that moment. He spoke like a prince, asking to be taken to the Queen so he could give her his report. 

Without speaking a word, you walked him to Rhaenyra’s chambers. The guards opened the door for you, nodding their heads at the prince. As you stepped inside, Rhaenyra turned at the sound of your footsteps on the stone floor. 

You bowed to the Queen, casting a last glance on Jacaerys before you left the room. ‘’You know where to find me,’’ you whispered to him, your voice barely audible. 

He didn’t respond. 

While he spoke to his mother about the Vale and the North, Jacaerys was trying to remain professional and keep his composure. He needed to stay strong for her. His voice was steady until he mentioned the North. The name of Cregan Stark brought back the images of the northman delivering the news of Lucerys’s death, causing Jacaerys to choke up on his words.

Rhaenyra held her eldest and they cried together. 

When he thought the tears were over, Jacaerys left his mother’s chambers. Servants were politely nodding their head at him on his way to his own chambers, a veil of sympathy on their faces. But Jacaerys paid them no attention as his emotions were threatening to spill again. 

As promised, you were sitting on his — your — chambers when he stepped in, waiting for him. You stood when hearing the door, and he broke down completely, his body shaking with sobs as he collapsed into your arms. 

You held Jacaerys tightly as he sobbed uncontrollably, his grief pouring out with each shuddering breath. 

You always knew him as the strong son of Princess Rhaenyra who held his head high and never let anything affect him. The strength he usually exuded was gone, replaced by the vulnerability of a boy who had lost his brother. It was gut-wrenching to see him cry, his hands clutching at your dress to anchor himself through the storm of his emotions.

‘’He died because of me,’’ he whispered between sobs, his voice raw with pain. ‘’It was my idea to go on dragonback instead of sending ravens.’’ 

Guilt laced his voice, and you pulled his head back, seeing his eyes red and swollen. You knew no words would stop his guilt. He would have to live with his for the rest of his life. But you could try to show him he was not entirely at fault. It was Vhagar at the commands of Aemond targaryen who killed Lucerys. Not him.

‘’Mayhaps it was your idea, but you couldn’t have known Aemond would be at Storm’s End asking for support from Borros Baratheon. He is the one responsible for this barbarous act,’’ you said, holding his gaze.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale@mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron  @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit

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[alsofoundinpeas]

Only Ever You

Summary: Y/N knows her husband can be a bit oblivious when it comes to women flirting with him, but when a local officer oversteps during their latest case, she reaches her breaking point. She’s exhausted from feeling like she’s always second to every other woman. Now, it's up to Spencer to prove that no one will ever come before her.

Requested fic!! : I was hoping you could write an angsty-angry-smutty fic surrounding Spencer exasperatingly telling Reader: “Cat Adams could offer herself up wide open on a bed. In fact she has! JJ could leave Will for me. Maeve could fucking walk back in here right now. And I would still choose you!”

At some point in their love-making Reader tells Spencer “you always choose women who take and take and take from you. Giving nothing of themselves back but you deserve everything. I want to give you my everything”. They essentially worship each other endlessly. In so many ways.

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+!! MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. This was written with Season 14 Reid in mind btw :) Intense argument between Reader and Spencer (Reader is hurt and is kind of harsh). Very brief mentions of past infidelity (done by Reader's ex-partners). Jealous reader!! Crying during arguing (very brief by both parties). Oral (both m and f receiving), fingering (f!receiving), overstimulation (both m and f receiving), unprotected PinV sex (be safe irl!!), multiple orgasms (both m and f receiving), creampie (I wince every time I type that LMAO), slight exhibitionism (a call is made during sex), praise. Angst turned happy ending!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: First and foremost, thank you so very much to the anon who requested this!! I truly hope you enjoy it and that I wrote what you were hoping for :') <3 To everyone reading, welcome to my first fic of the new year!! I hope you guys enjoy it :) As always, please let me know what you guys think! If you like it, please consider dropping a like, reblogging it, or even sharing it with your friends :') I love you all!! <3 K

Something Y/N loathed about herself was her tendency to get overly jealous whenever other women (or even some men) were around Spencer. It wasn’t a matter of trusting him—she trusted Spencer with her life. But no amount of trust could erase the scars left by the betrayal of past partners who had cheated on her.

Y/N tried to hold back her annoyance whenever JJ hung around Spencer for what she considered far too long to be just friendly. She bit her tongue whenever a witness or suspect flirted with him. She had even managed to keep her cool one night when they went out for drinks with the team (a rare occasion) and Y/N returned from the bathroom to find the bartender borderline eye-fucking Spencer, even going so far as to reach for his arm.

Spencer’s obliviousness to women's advances toward him often made her blood boil, and as she had watched him that night, a knot of frustration tightened in her stomach. Her anger simmered, rising bitterly in her throat as she made her way toward them. Y/N knew the bartender had seen his wedding band—it was something Spencer wore like a badge of honor, always proudly visible.

Thankfully, Spencer pulled his arm away before she had to intervene, ranting about how the drink was meant for her, his wife before paying and storming back to their booth, clearly irked. In that moment, Y/N’s anger evaporated, replaced by a rush of relief as she was reminded of Spencer's unwavering love for her, a love he would always prove, with or without her presence. Rather than confronting the bartender, she turned and returned to the booth, curling up against Spencer with a contented smile, enjoying the rest of the night in his arms.

Tonight, Y/N struggled to remember that reminder as she cast a fierce glare at the back of Spencer's head from across the room.

The team had been dispatched to a small town in Oregon to investigate a particularly disturbing case where the unsub was leaving his victims strung up in the state forest along popular hiking trails, their stomachs or backs marked with cryptic quotes. Over the week, Spencer had struck up an unexpected connection with Officer Henley, a local who shared his deep knowledge of Edgar Allan Poe—particularly The Raven, from which the unsub was drawing his quotes. As the case dragged on, Y/N couldn’t ignore the growing tension, especially as Officer Henley—or Sarah, who kept insisting Spencer call her by her first name—made her interest in him all too apparent, while both women silently made their distaste for each other clear.

Tonight was testing Y/N’s patience and professionalism like never before. Spencer and Sarah had been assigned to decode the latest quote found on a victim, while Y/N focused on the geographical profile. Normally, she preferred the analysis over fieldwork, but tonight she would have rather been out in the damp forest searching for overlooked clues with the rest of the team than endure Sarah's loud, incessant laughter at some meaningless joke her husband had made.

Spencer, naturally, was just glad someone appreciated his sense of humor and remained blissfully unaware of Sarah’s clear attempts to flirt with him. To be honest, he found her a bit clingy and annoying, but he attributed it to her enthusiasm as a new officer—she had only joined the precinct a few months ago—and the excitement of working on a case far more intense than the usual petty theft or minor civil dispute her town had.

After another round of high-pitched laughter, Y/N reached her breaking point. With an exasperated sigh, she slammed the box of pins onto the table and stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. So consumed by frustration, she didn't even realize one of the pins had punctured the thin plastic until she reached for the doorknob, a muffled curse slipping from her lips as she noticed blood trickling down her finger.

The loud noise startled both Sarah and Spencer, causing them to turn quickly as Y/N stormed out of the room. Spencer’s brow furrowed with concern, and without a second thought, he excused himself, brushing past Sarah’s confused calls. It didn't take long for him to find Y/N in the breakroom, huddled in the corner, carefully applying a band-aid to her finger.

"Honey? Are you okay?" Spencer asked worriedly, making his way toward her.

Y/N looked up, unable to help the disgruntled look on her face as she huffed. “I’m fine. It was just a small poke, really. I don’t know why it bled so much,” she murmured, looking away to take a sip of the coffee she’d poured for herself.

The clock above the break room door ticked on, its hands marking a quarter past nine. Y/N's frustration simmered, a mix of exhaustion from the sleepless nights and irritation at Spencer’s obliviousness to Sarah’s clear interest in him. For someone with such sharp profiling skills, it baffled her that Spencer couldn't seem to read the obvious signs when it came to women.

Where he failed to read other women and their intentions, he had no such trouble with Y/N. He could read her effortlessly, which is why he immediately knew she was lying.

Spencer took a seat beside her, his gaze fixed on her face intently. He sat quietly for a moment before speaking up.

“What’s bothering you, sweetheart? Talk to me. Please?”

Spencer knew Y/N tended to bottle things up instead of letting them out, reluctant to share her feelings for fear of burdening him. He detested anyone in her life who had contributed to that insecurity. In his eyes, she would never be a bother for simply expressing how she felt.

Before Y/N could respond, her phone rang, and she silently welcomed the interruption. She wasn’t sure she could explain to Spencer why she was so upset—especially over something as irrational as him making another woman laugh. She knew, logically, that he would never (knowingly) encourage any flirting, yet the feeling still nagged at her. He was her husband. She loved him more than anything, and the idea of another woman encroaching on what they had stung more than she cared to admit.

Y/N held a finger up before answering the call with a brisk “Agent Y/L/N speaking.”

“Yikes, that was cold. You okay?”

When Tara’s voice came through the phone, Y/N immediately felt a twinge of guilt for how she’d answered, but it quickly faded as her shoulders eased and she exhaled softly.

“I’ll explain later. What’s up?”

“We’re not making any progress here, and since it’s so late, Emily thinks we should head to the Inn and get some rest. You definitely sound like you could use it,” Tara said with a soft chuckle.

She wasn’t wrong. The case, combined with Sarah’s behavior, had Y/N feeling stretched thin and irritable. The sleep deprivation certainly wasn’t helping. A small grin tugged at her lips before she replied.

“You know me too well, ma’am. You get some rest too. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Y/N hung up the phone and met Spencer’s inquisitive gaze. “That was Tara. Emily gave the go-ahead to wrap up and head to the Inn,” she explained, offering him a small, tired smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Spencer nodded, his gaze lingering on her with quiet concern as they stood. He said nothing as they walked back to the conference room to pack up for the night, choosing not to press her about whatever was troubling her. He made a mental note to bring it up later, at a better time. They still had an unsub to catch, and adding more stress to an already challenging case wouldn’t help either of them.

After five more long, excruciating days of watching Sarah blatantly flirt with her husband and ignoring the team's questioning glances, Y/N finally got the break she all but begged the universe for.

By some miracle, they had finally tracked down the unsub. A slip-up at his latest crime scene had not only left his DNA behind, but he was also in the system for previous crimes and still lived at the same address. The evidence they found in his home during the arrest was more than damning, so Emily decided the local police captain could take it from there, handling the interrogation and everything else.

The flight back to Quantico was tense, and Y/N chose to sit with Tara instead of Spencer. His defense of Sarah—especially after Y/N confronted her for grabbing his phone and putting her number in it "as a friend"—had been the breaking point. Now, she was actively ignoring him, despite his repeated pleas at the Inn while they packed for her to just tell him what was wrong so he could fix it. She knew it was petty. She knew she should be mature and talk to him about it. But she was hurt. All she wanted was for her husband to recognize when other women were making moves on him before it crossed a line—like with the bartender who thought it was okay to touch him.

The drive home was unbearable. Spencer’s hands were clenched around the wheel, his knuckles pale from the pressure, while Y/N faced the window, staring out into the darkness, her body turned away from him. The silence between them was deafening, with neither of them saying a word the entire ride.

That silence ended the instant Y/N slammed the door behind them after they’d brought in their go-bags.

“Y/N, seriously, what the fuck is your problem?” Spencer snapped, his frustration bubbling over. He had tried being patient, asking her again and again to just tell him what was wrong, but now he was done. After the long, grueling case they'd gotten back from, all he wanted was to hold his wife, not fight with her.

“What the fuck is my problem?!” Y/N scoffed incredulously. “What the fuck is your problem Spencer?”

Y/N stormed toward their bedroom, flinging her bag into the corner to deal with later. Spinning on her heels, she brushed past Spencer—who had been trailing her—and made her way to the kitchen. Spencer sighed, setting his bag next to their closet and placing his phone on his nightstand before turning to follow after her.

“Or better yet, why don’t you ask Sarah what my problem is?” she shot at him, her words laced with bitterness. “After all, she was kind enough to give you her number, and you two seem to get along so well!” Y/N stopped abruptly, turning to face him, her expression fierce.

Spencer scoffed, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head as he crossed his arms. "Seriously? You’re this upset because a woman was being friendly with me?"

Y/N laughed sharply, the mix of anger and hurt making her delirious. She nodded slowly, lifting her gaze to his, her tongue pressing into her cheek as her eyes narrowed. With a deliberate step forward, she closed the distance between them. “As brilliant as you are, that might just be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say in all the years I’ve known you,” she hissed, her glare fiery as she looked up at him.

Spencer's throat tightened as his pulse quickened, staring at her in disbelief. He had never seen his wife so furious, and a sinking feeling of dread settled deep in his stomach. His lips parted, but before he could speak, she turned on her heel, moving around the counter to put space between them.

“I’m at a loss, Spencer,” Y/N sighed, her head dropping as her fingers drummed against the countertop. “If you honestly think her behavior was just friendly, I don’t even know what to say to you.” She looked up at him, her voice shaking with frustration as she got louder and louder. “And on top of all that, you defended her over me—your wife! Do you know how embarrassing that was? I would never, in a million years, defend another man over you!”

With the case no longer consuming his thoughts, Spencer took a moment to truly reflect on Sarah’s behavior. What he had once brushed off as clingy and overenthusiastic now seemed undeniably inappropriate. He had been so focused on the case that he hadn’t given it the attention it deserved.

Y/N was right, and he knew now that he’d been wrong to defend another woman over her. He had convinced himself that Y/N was overreacting when Sarah put her number in his phone, but now he understood. Y/N was his wife, and the guilt of making her feel hurt and humiliated weighed heavily on him.

“Y/N—“ Spencer hesitated, sighing before he continued. “Sweetheart, I never meant to make you feel like I was putting someone else before you. You know that, right?” Spencer’s voice was soft, his guilt clear in every word.

Y/N’s lip quivered as she stared at him, shaking her head before releasing a strained breath.

“No, Spencer. I don’t know that. Because, no matter what, I always end up on the back burner when it comes to other women in your life. Sometimes, it honestly feels like you’re deliberately oblivious to it—like you don’t care enough to notice or do something about it. Like you’ll always choose another woman over me."

Her words hit Spencer harder than he expected, stirring up a well of emotion he hadn’t realized was there. Anger bubbled up inside him, but it wasn’t aimed at her—not for a second. It was anger directed at himself, for making Y/N feel like she would ever come second to anyone.

Spencer realized now why he had been so oblivious to the other women’s attention. It was because he was so in love with her, so completely devoted, that he couldn’t even entertain the idea of anyone else wanting him. He didn’t care about them in the slightest—how could he when he had the most incredible, most beautiful woman alive as his wife?

“Is that… is that truly how I’ve made you feel?” Spencer whispers, a devastated look on his face as he took a trembling step toward her. “Like I’d choose any other woman over you, sweetheart?”

Y/N nodded, swallowing down the lump in her throat as a tear slipped down her cheek at the admission.

Spencer slowly made his way around the counter, giving her time to back away if she didn’t want him near her right now. Once he reached her, he gently guided her face up to look at his before swiping the tear from her cheek.

“My darling girl,” he murmured, his voice unwavering as he cradled her face. “Cat Adams could offer herself up to me wide open on a bed a thousand times—it wouldn’t matter. JJ could walk away from Will tonight, tomorrow, whenever, and it wouldn’t change a thing. Even if Maeve herself walked through that door right now…” Spencer paused, his expression softening. “I’d still choose you. Always you. Only you. In this life, and in every life. Without a second of hesitation. Without an ounce of doubt.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words, her eyes studying his face for any indication that he was lying. But all she saw was raw honesty and regret, his eyes brimming with tears. Her eyes closed as another tear slipped down her cheek, and slowly, she leaned into his touch, her shoulders finally giving way with a quiet surrender.

"You really mean that?" Y/N asked, her insecurity still overpowering the evidence before her.

Spencer pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as he gently cradled the back of her head with one hand and drew her waist against him with the other. “Of course I mean it, my sweet girl,” he murmured, pressing his face into her hair, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m so, truly sorry for not showing you that sooner. But I swear, from now on, I will. No one—no one—could ever mean more to me than you.”

Y/N kept her arms around him, her face pressed against his chest as she let his words sink in. After a beat, she pulled back with a soft exhale, wiping her eyes before meeting his gaze. “I’m still angry with you,” she said, poking a finger into his chest before trailing her hand up to gently tug at his tie. “But that definitely helped your case,” she added, a playful spark lighting her eyes as she slowly untied his knot. “I might even let you sleep in our bed tonight.”

A low chuckle rumbled in Spencer’s chest as he raised an eyebrow, his hands settling on her waist while she worked at his tie. “Any chance I can turn that ‘might’ into a ‘will’?” he murmured, his voice laced with teasing. “Because I can think of a few ways to plead my case.”

As he spoke, his hands slid underneath her blouse to rub maddening circles into her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. Y/N tilted her head, humming thoughtfully as she let his loose tie slip from her fingers, falling to the floor. It had been almost two weeks since the last time she and Spencer had done anything remotely sexual, and the idea of make-up sex was more than appealing.

“We’ll see,” Y/N whispered, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she pressed her hand against his chest and rose onto her toes to kiss him.

Spencer melted into the kiss, turning to press her gently against the counter. A low groan escaped his lips before he deepened the kiss, trailing a hand down her side to hike her leg up around his waist while the other settled against the side of her neck. His thumb stroked her jawline as he pressed further into her touch.

"I love how hard you get from just a few kisses," Y/N muttered against his lips. "Maybe you really are sorry after all."

"My angel girl," Spencer cooed between kisses, trailing his lips down her neck to her exposed collarbone. "I'll prove to you—" A soft gasp fell from Y'N's lips as he sucked a mark into her skin. "—just how sorry I am…” Her head tipped back as he began to kneel before her, placing both hands on her waist as he peppered kisses down her clothed body. “And worship you in the way you’ve deserved—“ Her gaze met his as he lifted her foot, resting it on his thigh before undoing the strap of her high heel. “—for so, so long.”

Y/N’s hands gripped the counter as she watched him through hooded eyes, a breath of relief releasing into the air as he slipped her shoe off, letting it hit the ground beside them with a quiet thump. He kept her foot on his thigh, placing a kiss on her knee through her slacks as he began to massage her tense calf muscles under the fabric. Once he was satisfied with the appreciative groans falling from her lips, he did the same with the other side, removing her high heel and massaging her leg.

Spencer sat her foot back down on the ground before reaching for the button of her slacks, popping it open. Her breath hitched as he leaned forward, tugging her zipper down with his teeth. The moment her zipper was completely down, he reached up, startling her from her haze as he yanked the fabric down her legs.

“Spence!” Y/N said, her laugh tinged with amusement as he merely shrugged, a mischievous spark in his eyes and a smirk tugging at his lips.

He helped her step out of the fabric, keeping his hands on her hips to steady her while she kicked her pants to the side. His lips eagerly pressed to her newly exposed skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the waistband of her panties. “You’re not the only one that’s still angry here,” Spencer mumbled against her skin, tracing his fingers up her thighs to drag her soaked panties down her legs.

“Wait… what are you angry about?” Y/N's face contorted, caught between confusion and irritation.

“I’m angry—“ A wet kiss pressed against her hip bone. “At myself—“ Another wet kiss pressed to her outer thigh. “For making you feel—“ Her face relaxed as he eased her left thigh over his shoulder. “Like I’d ever—“ A series of soft kisses to her inner thigh made her tense with anticipation. “Put anyone else above you, sweetheart.”

In one swift movement, his tongue dragged up her arousal, a guttural groan rumbling against her slick skin as he began to devour her. Y/N’s hands shot out to thread through his hair with a sharp gasp, her mouth dropping open as moans started to spill from her lips. His hands found her ass, gripping her tightly and digging his fingertips into the soft flesh there as he all but suffocated himself in her folds.

"Oh my—" Y/N rasped, cutting herself off with a whine as he let out a needy moan in response.

Her grip on his hair tightened, pulling him impossibly closer as she began to rock her hips against his face. Her eyes squeezed shut, bursts of color flickering behind her eyelids as Spencer worked his mouth against her. His movements alternated between fucking his tongue into her and suckling her clit greedily, the combination hurtling her toward her orgasm.

Spencer was painfully hard, his erection tenting his slacks as he reveled in the taste of her. One of his favorite things to do after a stressful case (which, frankly, was most of them) was bury his face between her thighs. Her taste was truly addictive, and he'd find himself craving it the longer he went without having her. It was as though the more he could make her legs shake around his head and the harder he could make her cum, the faster the stress evaporated from his body. And now he was working extra hard to make her feel good, eager to redeem himself for his behavior.

A tremulous moan ripped through the air as Y/N hunched over, whimpering his name mindlessly as her first orgasm of the night tore through her. Spencer groaned into her as her nails dug into his scalp, the slight sting sending a pang of longing coursing through him as he ached to feel those nails dragging down his back. His movements slowed, easing her through the aftermath of her climax as she panted above him. Once she was whining and shoving his head away, he gently lowered her leg to the ground, standing with a soft chuckle as she swayed slightly.

“Easy, sweetheart. Come on, hold on to me,” Spencer murmured, his hand soothingly rubbing her back as she clung to him.

Y/N let out a breathless laugh, burying her face in his chest as she trembled in his embrace. "God, you're too good at that," she sighed, placing a kiss on his collarbone before pulling back to look up at him. "Take me to our room so I can return the favor?"

The grin on her face was infectious, and Spencer found himself smiling as he nodded. "Yes ma'am," he murmured teasingly.

They stripped their remaining clothes in between giggly kisses, littering the hallway with the fabric before they finally made it into their room. Y/N looped her arms around Spencer's neck, backing him against the closed door as she leaned up to kiss him hungrily. Spencer's hands roamed her body, whimpering into her mouth as her hand trailed down his body to wrap around his cock.

"Honey, you really don't have to—"

Spencer hissed against her lips, his sentence interrupted as she began to pump her hand slowly. "I'm supposed to be making it up to you—"

Y/N shushed him, nipping his lower lip gently before breaking their kiss completely. His cock twitched in her hand from the way she was looking up at him so reverently, and he swallowed hard as he stopped his protesting.

"You always chose women who took and took from you, offering nothing in return. But you deserve everything, my sweet boy. I want to give you all that I am, just like you give me all that you are. Let me make you feel good too, Spence."

There was no room for argument as her words hung in the air, causing his heart to tighten. She was right. He’d always been drawn to selfish partners, always putting their needs before his own. Or, in Cat Adam's case, completely insane women hellbent on draining him of his sanity. That was what made Y/N so surprising to him from the start. Even when they were just colleagues with unspoken crushes, long before they were a couple, she was the one woman who always made a point to put him first.

When he nodded, she grinned in satisfaction, placing one last lingering kiss on his lips before sinking to her knees. Spencer felt like his brain malfunctioned anytime he was lucky enough to see her like this—kiss swollen lips glistening as she wet her lips, or her pupils dilated so much he could barely make out the color in her beautiful irises as she stared up at him. No matter how many times he saw her like this, he would never stop being captivated by how stunning she was.

His head fell back against the door with a solid thunk as his brows pinched together at the feeling of her lips wrapping around the swollen head of his arousal, a sharp exhale leaving his nose as he tried to steady himself. She'd barely touched him and yet he could already feel his stomach tightening simply from the anticipation of what he knew was coming next. A throaty moan filled the air as she swirled her tongue around him before taking his length deeper, gagging slightly as he hit the back of her throat.

"Fuck!" Spencer whined, forcing himself to look down at her instead of squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. "Love it when you take me so deep, sweetheart. Just like that—"

Y/N smirked smugly around her mouthful, beginning to bob her head up and down his aching cock. One of her favorite things about Spencer was how, despite everyone seeing him as soft-spoken and mild-mannered because he rarely cursed in front of others, he had an absolutely filthy mouth when they did anything even remotely sexual. It felt like her own dirty little secret, and she couldn't help but revel in it.

It didn't take long for his hips to begin bucking gently into her mouth, his hands cradling the back of her head as his chest heaved. Helpless moans slipped from his lips between murmured praises, his hooded eyes locked on her so as not to miss a single second of the show she was putting on for him.

"So fucking pretty with my cock between your lips. My pretty girl. God, I'm the luckiest man to ever exist to have you as my wife—" Spencer crooned between labored breaths, his teeth digging harshly into his lower lip as a guttural groan cut off his rambling. "I'm close— I-I'm— fuck!"

Spencer cried out as Y/N swallowed around his cock, her nose pressing into the soft curls at the base of him as saliva dripped down her chin and onto her chest. The feeling of her moaning around him sent him over the edge, a string of whorish moans and whimpers falling from his open mouth as he painted the back of her throat with his essence. His knees almost buckled as she kept sucking through his orgasm, a pitiful whine leaving him as she finally released him with a slick 'pop'.

Despite feeling like he'd quite literally had his soul sucked from his body, Spencer still held his hand out to help her up from the ground. He pulled her into him as she stood, pressing sweet kisses to the top of her head as he caught his breath. Y/N peppered kisses along his warm skin, more than pleased with herself.

"Get on the bed," Spencer mumbled hoarsely into her hair, landing a gentle smack to her ass.

Y/N eagerly obliged, crawling into the middle of their bed and situating herself amongst their pillows. Her gaze fell on him as he slowly made his way over, her breath hitching at the ravenous look in his eyes.

Spencer had always been a generous lover, making sure she came at least twice before their lovemaking ended. Throughout their relationship, he tended to lean more on the submissive side, happily allowing Y/N to guide their intimate moments any way she saw fit. But after prison, it was like something had snapped in him.

Now, he wasn’t afraid to get rough with her (within her limits, of course). Where he’d once been hesitant to grip too hard or move too fast, he’d now easily leave fingerprint-shaped bruises and pound into her until tears leaked from her eyes from how good it felt. There were still days when he’d let Y/N take the reigns, days when the world was so heavy that all he wanted to do was shut his brain off and let her use him to get herself off, but those days were rare.

Y/N welcomed the change with open arms, excited to let Spencer tap into and explore his more dominant side. Truthfully, she was surprised by how much she enjoyed letting go of control. Her job forced her to be tougher than she liked—always having to stand her ground with local officers or unsubs who underestimated her simply because she was a woman. With Spencer, it felt freeing to leave that hard-edged persona behind, letting him dote on her and take control of her pleasure.

Spencer stopped at the foot of their bed, a wicked look on his face as he observed her. Y/N felt her cheeks warm under the scrutiny of his gaze, shifting restlessly as she waited to see what he was going to do. He kneeled onto the mattress, shuffling forward until he hovered above her.

Instead of speaking, he ducked down and left a lingering kiss on her forehead before lying on his side beside her. Y/N shifted to face him, but he stopped her, keeping her in place on her back. "Like this, sweetheart," he whispered, pressing his lips against her temple. He propped up, guiding his right arm underneath her so he could cradle her head while nipping her earlobe gently.

Spencer trailed a hand down her body, chuckling as she squirmed in his hold. He gripped her thigh firmly, bringing her leg up to rest on his waist to allow him better access to her dripping folds. Spencer began kissing down her neck, relishing in the soft sighs Y/N let out as he angled his hips to nudge the head of his hardening cock against her pussy.

"Need you so bad, Spence—" Y/N whimpered as his hand left her thigh to rub teasing circles against her clit. "Please!"

Spencer hummed, dipping his head down to take her nipple into his mouth as he picked up the pace of his fingers. When she whined louder, he dipped a finger down to tease her entrance and swirled his tongue around her pert bud in retaliation.

"Shh, pretty girl. I'll take care of you," Spencer cooed as he pulled away from her breast. "I always do," he murmured, pressing his finger into her while meeting her lips in a tender kiss.

One of Spencer's favorite things about this position was how accessible it made her. He loved having her spread open for him, unable to do much of anything besides take the pleasure he delivered. He also loved how deep it allowed him to get, able to bring her to the brink over and over because of the constant stimulation to her g-spot.

Moans continued to spill from Y/N's lips as he added a second finger, her hips rolling into his touch frantically. Calling their kiss a kiss seemed too generous—it was more a messy, half-hearted press of lips together. She reached up, tugging at his curls hard as her climax rapidly approached. She was so close—

Spencer swiftly removed his fingers, breaking their kiss to stuff the digits into her mouth before she could complain. He thrust his hips forward, pushing into her in one smooth movement. Y/N let out a muffled cry around his fingers, her eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of him filling her.

"God— shit, baby," Spencer groaned loudly, stilling his hips once he bottomed out to let her adjust. "Always so fucking wet and so fucking tight."

She clenched hard around him, still dangerously close to cumming. Spencer pressed his forehead to her temple as he began to move, thrusting into her in slow, hard thrusts. His right hand stroked her hair while his left slipped from her lips to grip her thigh again, keeping her spread open for him as his pace began to increase.

"So good for me, sweetheart. So perfect," Spencer panted, driving into her in sharp, wild thrusts now. He could tell she was close, and he wanted to feel her falling apart around his cock more than anything.

"Feels so good, Spence," Y/N whined, panting as the pleasure began to coil tightly in her stomach. "Always fuck me so good—"

A choked moan ripped its way from her throat as she came around him, the feeling of her clenching around him causing Spencer's hips to falter as he cursed under his breath. Y/N writhed beneath him, whimpering as he kept his grip tight on her thigh to keep her from clamping her legs shut.

"You can take another one, can't you pretty girl?" Spencer murmured, moving to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone as he slowed his hips to help ease her through the overstimulation. "I know you can," he cooed encouragingly. "My precious girl. You always take me so well."

Y/N nodded frantically, the sting of overstimulation beginning to fade back into dizzying pleasure as he fucked into her gently. Spencer pressed a kiss to her shoulder, praising her softly before an idea came to mind. He wanted her to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that no other woman could ever take her place or come before her, right?

What better way to do that than by calling the woman who sparked this argument and showing her exactly what she couldn’t have and who she could never be?

Spencer slowed his thrusts to a halt, chuckling breathlessly as Y/N whined in protest. "On your stomach for me, sweetheart," he coaxed her gently, slipping out of her so she could flip over.

Once she was settled on her front, Spencer slipped a pillow beneath her hips and kissed the back of her head before bending to whisper into her ear.

"How would you feel if I called Sarah right now to show her exactly how much my gorgeous wife means to me—and how insignificant her 'friendship' is in comparison?"

Y/N grinned smugly, shoving her face into the pillow tucked under her head as her face warmed. Was it petty? Absolutely. Had she ever been more turned on than when she heard those words leave her husband's lips? She doubted it. It felt almost primal, staking her claim in such a way. But Sarah more than deserved it for how she'd acted... so fuck it.

"Do it."

Spencer smirked at her muffled words, reaching for his phone and setting it beside them. He lined back up at her entrance, pushing into her with a groan as her warmth enveloped him once more. Once he set a steady rhythm, with Y/N so lost in her pleasure she'd almost forgotten about their plan entirely, he hit dial on Sarah's contact.

Sarah groggily sat up, reaching for her phone as it rang. A sly smirk tugged at her lips when she saw who was calling, and she answered with a hint of excitement. "Well, hey there, handsome. Does your wife know you’re calling me at this hour?" she purred, her grin widening as she waited for him to speak. She knew he was into her—

Sarah’s brows furrowed as she was met with rustling on the other end of the line followed by a very clear moan. Her smile dropped, her mouth gaping open in shock as she listened.

“Fuck, Y/N—“ Spencer’s muffled grunt came through the speakers before he continued, the bed squeaking with each rough thrust. “I love you so fucking much. My beautiful wife. God, sweetheart—"

Sarah dropped the phone, appalled by what was happening on the other end and embarrassed by how confidently she'd answered the phone. One thing was clear—he definitely wasn't into her. Her face burned as she realized she hadn't actually ended the call, the sound of muffled moans streaming through the phone as she hunted for it in the covers. Once it was back in her hands, Sarah ended the call abruptly, blinking hard as she stared down at the screen while she tried to process what had just happened. Spencer had to have butt-dialed her... right?

Spencer chuckled darkly as he realized Sarah had ended the call, reaching up to shove the phone further up the bed and out of the way before he began pounding even harder into Y/N. She was close again, clenching deliciously around him and hurtling him towards his own orgasm just as quickly. He clasped their hands together, shoving them into the mattress as he buried his head in the crook of her neck with a guttural groan.

"I'm cumming— fuck, Spence, fuck!" Y/N cried out, thrashing underneath him as she came so hard her vision blacked at the edges.

Spencer followed suit, burying himself inside of her with a choked groan as he came. His head rested on her shoulder, his hips rocking gently through the aftershocks of their orgasms until they were both whimpering from the sensitivity. He pressed one last, lingering kiss to her flushed skin before rolling off of her and onto the bed with a deep exhale.

Spencer pulled Y/N into him, stroking a hand down her back as she trembled. "Such a good girl, sweetheart. Always do so good for me. My beautiful girl. I love you so much," he whispered reverently, holding her while she came down from her high.

"I love you, Spence. With everything that I am," Y/N whispered back, lifting herself up enough to kiss him tenderly.

It took a few minutes before either of them could get up to get cleaned up, with Spencer guiding her to the bathroom with a hand wrapped around her waist to steady her. Their shower was spent murmuring apologies and praises to each other, the both of them expressing just how much they loved each other between soapy passes of the loofah and tired giggles as they washed away the remnants of the night. And as he wrapped her into a towel, Spencer couldn't help the grin that broke across his face at her quiet words.

"You can absolutely sleep in the bed tonight—just as long as you change the sheets first."

Continued A/N's: I still have a few requests to fill after this and then I'll be posting some original ideas before I open requests back up! Thank you guys so much for the requests, they've been so much fun to write and I hope you guys are enjoying them as much as I am! :') <3

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[vibelladonna]

𝒸𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓈'𝓈 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝜗𝜚 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒!

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

This Christmas special was inspired by Valentine's Special [2nd Love Interest] by @fantasia-kitt (the creator!)

For this Christmas, I decided to write this fanfic while running errands with family for the holidays, so please bear with me if there are any mistakes. 

I was thinking about writing something for New Year’s Eve, like a party fic, but I feel like this Christmas special is enough for now while I take a short break and catch up on some upcoming projects (three of them with deep plotlines!).  Also, this ties in with Tkatb’s 1st anniversary, which was yesterday, the 23rd! I’m super proud of how far this little game has come.

And yes, I saw the update on the plans and progress. It looks like I might start working on some of my other favorite fandoms since the game will be on hold until the major update! I’ll still be keeping an eye on the progress as a Soulmate on Patreon, and you can always ask for a fanfic if you’d like! I’ll be responding to the messages in my ask box soon!

Anyway, happy reading! Wishing you all a wonderful holiday season!

The crisp, cool December air wrapped around you like a familiar embrace, the kind that reminded you of winter's quiet power. You stepped out of the lecture hall, your final class a fading echo behind you. 

The world, for a moment, felt as if it had been held in stasis: college was finally behind you, and relief surged through your veins like a slow, satisfying exhale.

You almost burst out laughing at the thought. Thank God that's fucking over. It totally drained you, and ate away at your insides until you felt there was nothing left but pure exhaustion. But then, as it all started to sink in, this weird emptiness crept up, like that quiet moment right before a storm hit.

The goodbyes, those last waves, and parting words were still stuck in your chest, kinda just out of reach, weighing on you like you were still tied to something that wasn’t done.  

Then your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked down at the screen and spotted Brittney’s name.

— Brittney: REMINDER! Gift exchange on Christmas Eve, my place at 7! Don’t be late, or you’ll owe me extra cookies.

You scoffed and let out a soft chuckle. Brittney had this incredible thing for making demands with a level of authority that was, somehow, oddly charming. As much as you rolled your eyes at her, you couldn’t deny that her quirks always brought a smile to your face. Still, as your gaze flicked back to the message, a groan bubbled up in your chest. You scrolled back through her earlier messages to confirm what you already knew. 

"Great," you muttered under your breath. Brittney had really gone all out this year, assigning everyone a specific person to shop for, and, of course, you ended up with Crowe. 

You exhaled, frustration bubbling up. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him—he was one of your closest friends—but trying to find a gift for someone who had everything felt like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. You could almost hear his voice in your head, teasing, cutting through whatever you picked out: “Really? This is what you think of me?” Of course, he’d never say anything like that—but what if he didn’t like it? What if he hated whatever you got him? The thought twisted uncomfortably in your chest.

You shook your head and continued walking toward the bus stop, the weight of the decision hanging over you. Simple wouldn’t cut it, but anything too over the top would make him throw a sarcastic comment at it. You had to find something that hit that sweet spot—the kind of gift that felt thoughtful without making him retreat into one of his jokes.

As if your thoughts weren’t already tangled enough, your phone buzzed again. You hesitated, almost instinctively glancing down. 

— Hyugo: Hey, what are you doing Christmas Eve? Sol and I are planning to check out the lights walk at the park. You should come!

A smile tugged at your lips. Typical Hyugo—direct, unfiltered, full of energy. His message was as breezy as his personality. And then there was Sol’s name, and that grin only deepened. The two of them together were a comedy show on legs—Sol’s quiet balance countering Hyugo’s endless whirlwind of ideas and antics. 

You stood still, fingers hovering over the screen. Christmas Eve. 

Oh no… For a moment, the thought of walking through the park with them, bathed in twinkling lights, was tempting. It would be the perfect kind of distraction, a night filled with laughter, just as you’d imagine. You pictured Hyugo pulling you and Sol into whatever wild antics he’d planned, Sol trying (and failing) to keep everything in check with his usual, resigned eye rolls.

But then, as your thumb hovered over the screen, your thoughts drifted back to Crowe. 

Last week, in the group chat, Crowe had mentioned something cryptic about "making big plans" for the holiday. He’d shrugged it off when Brittney pressed for details, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he had something in mind that involved the whole group. You felt the weight of his words in your mind. Would it be weird to bail on him now? 

You sighed, tucking your phone into your pocket as the bus stop loomed closer. 

"Why is it never simple with these friend groups?" you muttered under your breath.

Now, you had two conflicting decisions on your hands: find the perfect gift for Crowe, and decide whether you were spending Christmas Eve with him and his friends or tagging along with Hyugo and Sol on their sparkling adventure.

Your mind raced with the uncertainty, and the thought of making the "right" choice felt more elusive than ever.

The mall was buzzing with the kind of chaotic energy only the holiday season could bring—families weaving in and out of stores, the sound of Christmas music drifting from every corner, and glittering displays of tinsel and fairy lights winking at you from every window.

You hadn’t stepped foot in a mall in ages—mostly sticking to the convenience of online shopping and the hunts of thrift stores—but here you were, begrudgingly dragging Brittney along in your quest for the perfect gift for Crowe. 

“I still don’t get why you’re this stressed about it,” Brittney said, effortlessly balancing a caramel macchiato in one hand while gesturing with the other as she walked beside you. “It’s Jericho. He’ll probably be smiling no matter what you give him. Honestly, wrap up a rock, and he’ll love it anyway.”

You let out a long, drawn-out groan, clutching your coat tighter as you passed yet another store that screamed not Crowe enough. “That’s exactly why it’s stressful! If I give him something random, he’ll think I didn’t put any thought into it. And if it’s too thoughtful—well, you know how he gets.”

Brittney raised an eyebrow, her heels clicking against the tile floor like the beat of a very judgmental drum. “You’re overthinking it, as usual. But fine, we’ll find him something perfect.” She paused dramatically, then grinned like the cat who’d just caught the canary. “Right after we fix this.”

She motioned toward you like you were a mannequin in need of serious intervention. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked, narrowing your eyes, already dreading whatever plan she was about to hatch.

“Oh, come on,” she said, practically yanking your arm as she steered you toward a clothing store. “You cannot show up to my place tomorrow night wearing your same old flare jeans-and-sweater combo in dull colors. It’s festive! It’s Christmas! You need to bring your A-game.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a small get-together,” you protested, resisting her tug.

“It is. Small but fabulous. Which is why I, as your friend, am going to make sure you don’t look like you just rolled out of bed.” She pulled a sequined dress from a nearby rack with the kind of flourish reserved for Broadway stars. “What do we think? Too much?”

You stared at the dress in horror. It was so sparkly it could probably be seen from space. You shot her a flat look. “If I wear that, Crowe will definitely never let me live it down.”

“Fine, fine,” Brittney said, laughing and tossing the dress back on the rack with the grace of a fashionista throwing a tantrum. “But you’ve got to admit, you’d turn heads.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as she tossed another, more reasonable outfit your way.

After what felt like an eternity—and after Brittney vetoed every “boring” outfit you tried to pick—finally, you emerged from the dressing room with a pretty outfit, you both agreed with. 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Brittney said, clapping her hands in approval. “Chic, confident, and just a little bit mysterious. You’re welcome.”

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, tilting your head. “I guess it’s not bad.”

“Not bad?” she repeated, feigning offense. “Please, you look amazing. Crowe is going to have his jaw on the floor.”

You shot her a look, trying to hide the heat creeping up your neck. “Why are you bringing him into this?”

Brittney smirked knowingly. “Oh, please. Like you don’t know.” 

You rolled your eyes, but her grin was infectious, and you couldn’t suppress the smallest of smiles.

After leaving the clothing store—with Brittney carrying your new outfit like it was her triumph—you wandered into a cozy little shop filled with knick-knacks and handcrafted items. It had that eclectic, artsy vibe that immediately made you think of Crowe.  

Brittney was busy examining a shelf of scented candles when she asked casually, “So, do you ever think about dating?” You froze, nearly dropping the ceramic figurine you were holding. “Excuse me? Where did that come from?”  

“I mean, it’s the holidays,” she said, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Romance is in the air. And you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with a certain pair of guys.”  

Your stomach flipped. “Brittney...”  

“Come on,” she pressed, leaning against the shelf with a teasing grin. “It’s Jericho, isn’t it? Or wait—maybe that dude with the green streaks in his hair?” She paused, thinking, “What’s his name again…?” She asked. You rolled your eyes, “Sol.” 

“Right, the quiet one that likes to draw…” She mentioned, “So? The prince or the artist?”  

You hesitated, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Sol, with his warm, easy-going nature, always made you feel like you could be yourself. But Crowe... Crowe had a way of drawing you in, his sharp wit and creativity sparking something you couldn’t quite name.  

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Brittney’s expression softened, her teasing giving way to genuine curiosity. “Hey, no pressure. I just think... whoever you pick, they’re lucky to have you.”  

As you walked through the mall, still thinking about her words, you stumbled upon something that made you stop in your tracks.  

It was a gorgeous, handcrafted music box, intricately carved with a winter scene. You’d seen it before on display, months ago, and fallen in love with it. But the price tag had always kept it just out of reach. You’d told yourself it wasn’t practical—your money had to go toward rent, groceries, and textbooks, not something so frivolous.  

Yet here it was, glimmering in the soft light as if waiting for you.  

“What’s that?” Brittney asked, peeking over your shoulder.  

You swallowed hard. “It’s... something I’ve wanted for a while. But it’s too expensive.”  

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at you, then back at the music box. “Maybe it’s time to treat yourself for once. It’s Christmas, after all.”  

You shook your head, stepping away reluctantly. “I can’t. I need to stick to my budget.”  

Brittney frowned but didn’t push. Instead, she linked her arm with yours and said, “All right, let’s go. We’ve still got to find gifts.”  

By the time you left the mall, you were exhausted but triumphant. You’d found the perfect gifts—Brittney had, of course, insisted on adding a bow to each package.  

With the gifts secured, you headed home, your thoughts kept drifting back to the music box—and to the question, you couldn’t quite answer. Crowe or Sol?  

Standing in front of your mirror, you smoothed the soft fabric of the outfit Brittney had picked out for you—a cozy yet stylish off-shoulder sweater black sweater dress paired with maroon tights, and a matching bow that sits on your nightstand.

It fit perfectly, hitting all the curves, and you had to admit, Brittney had an annoyingly good eye. When she handed you the bag earlier, she had waved away your protests with a grin.  

“Think of it as a gift,” she’d said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I had no clue what to get you anyway, so this counts. You’re welcome.”  

You laughed at the memory as you reached for the maroon bow. It was a small, thoughtful gesture from her, but it carried more weight than she probably realized. Brittney always had a way of showing her care through actions, even if she hid it behind sarcasm.  

Your gaze shifted to your phone on the dresser, the screen still lit up with Hyugo’s text. You tapped your nails on the dresser, reading the message again and again. The idea of strolling under the glowing canopy of Christmas lights was tempting. Hyugo’s steady, dependable presence had always been a source of comfort, and Sol...  

Your chest tightened slightly at the thought of Sol. He wasn’t the loudest or the most expressive, but he had a quiet way of showing he cared. Whether it was walking on the side of the road closest to traffic or remembering your favorite snacks when you studied late, Sol went out of his way to protect you in the subtlest ways.  

But then there was Crowe.  

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, sighing softly as you adjusted the collar of your sweater dress. Crowe was the opposite of Sol in many ways—charismatic, quick-witted, and always so present. He had a way of being there when you needed him most, whether it was cracking a joke to pull you out of a bad mood or reminding you to take care of yourself when you pushed too hard. Crowe didn’t just care about you; he saw you.  

Your brush stilled in your hand as your thoughts tangled. Sol, with his quiet strength and unspoken devotion, versus Crowe, whose vibrant energy and unwavering support had become a constant in your life. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt torn like this, but tonight, with everything hanging in the air, the question loomed larger than ever.  

You placed the brush down and reached for your phone. Your thumb hovered over the screen, Hyugo’s text still unanswered.  

The truth was, both options held their kind of magic. You could picture yourself with Sol and Hyugo, laughing as Sol attempted to grab a runaway balloon from a vendor at the Christmas lights. But you could also imagine spending the night with Crowe and the rest of the group, his familiar presence anchoring you as the chaos of the party swirled around you, perhaps playing games and catching up. 

Would Crowe be disappointed if you didn’t go?  

You bit your lip, closing your eyes for a moment as you let out a long breath. There wasn’t a perfect answer, and no amount of overthinking would make the choice any easier. Finally, you set the phone down with a soft thud and looked back at your reflection.  

“Just go with your gut,” you murmured to yourself.  

As you adjusted your clothes in the minor one last time, you headed to your living room. You put on your leather boots, then grabbed your coat, and you made your way toward the door. No matter what decision you made tonight, you knew one thing for certain: the holidays weren’t about the lights, the gifts, or even the plans—they were about the people who mattered most to you.  

And whether that person was Crowe or Sol... maybe the night would help you figure that out.  

If you picked Crowe!

You stood in front of your front door, staring at your phone screen as your thumb hovered over the keyboard. Hyugo’s invitation sat open on your messaging app, the words staring back at you like a challenge.  

Spending Christmas Eve with him and Sol sounded wonderful. The idea of walking under glowing lights, sharing laughter and stories, and basking in the quiet warmth of their presence was so tempting. You could already picture Sol’s quiet, steady energy and Hyugo’s easygoing humor, balancing each other out like always.  

But then there was Brittney’s party. She had been planning it for weeks, texting in all caps about the details and how “NO ONE was allowed to skip out unless they wanted to face my WRATH.” And Crowe… well, Crowe had been unusually involved in the group chat about the exchange. You could sense his subtle excitement, even though he’d never admit it outright.  

Your heartfelt caught between two equally important choices. One evening with Hyugo and Sol would mean stepping away from the rest of your friends, missing out on the little traditions that had brought you all closer. And yet, declining Hyugo’s invitation felt like a lost chance to make a special memory with him and Sol.  

Biting your lip, you finally typed out a reply, your fingers moving hesitantly:  

— You: I’d love to, but my friends already planned something. Maybe next time?  

You stared at the message for another moment before pressing send, a pang of guilt twisting in your chest.  

It wasn’t long before your phone buzzed with Hyugo’s response:  

— Hyugo: Got it. Have fun!  

You smiled softly at the screen, some of the tension in your chest easing. Hyugo was always so understanding—steady and reliable, no matter the situation. But before you could set your phone down, it buzzed again.  

The name flashing on the screen made your stomach flip.  

Sol.  

You hesitated for a beat before answering. “Hey,” you said, keeping your tone light despite the sudden tightness in your throat.  

“Hey,” he replied, his voice calm but noticeably quieter than usual. “I just wanted to check... So, you’re not coming tonight?”  

Your chest tightened further at the faint thread of disappointment in his tone. “I’m really sorry, Sol,” you said, sighing softly. “I already have plans with others friends. I don’t want to bail on them.”  

There was a pause, long enough for your heart to sink. When Sol spoke again, his words were careful, and understanding, but there was no hiding the sadness that laced his tone. “It’s okay. I get it. Maybe we can hang out another time.”  

The lump in your throat grew heavier. “We definitely will,” you promised quickly, wishing you could say something to lighten the weight you could feel in his words.  

In the background, you heard Hyugo’s voice. “Is that them? Gimme the phone.”  

There was a rustling sound before Hyugo’s familiar warmth came through the line. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” he said with an easy chuckle. “We’ll survive without you. But next time, no excuses, okay?”  

The lightheartedness in his tone made your shoulders relax slightly. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, relieved by his usual charm. “Thanks, Hyugo. Have fun tonight, okay?”  

“You too!” he teased before adding, “And try not to let your friends drag you into too much chaos. See you soon.”  

The line clicked, leaving you standing in the quiet entryway of your apartment. You lowered the phone slowly, staring at it for a moment longer as an ache settled in your chest. Sol’s voice lingered in your mind, soft and careful, and you couldn’t help but wish things could have been different.  

But tonight, you reminded yourself, was about being with the others, about keeping the traditions you’d built with them alive. With a deep breath, you slipped your phone into your pocket and grabbed your coat, stepping into the night air with a mixture of anticipation and bittersweet longing swirling in your heart.  

The evening of the party arrived, and as you approached Brittney’s house, the warmth and energy of the gathering spilled out onto the deck porch. Golden light glowed from the windows, the cheerful hum of music and laughter drifting into the chilly December air. You paused for a moment at the door, pulling your coat tighter around yourself as you gathered your thoughts.  

With a steadying breath, you knocked. A moment later, the door swung open, and there was Brittney, her face lighting up with her signature, effervescent grin.  

“Finally! I thought you’d never get here,” she said, already reaching to help you with your coat.  

“Sorry, I was—”  

“Fashionably late,” she interrupted, her eyes scanning your outfit. A satisfied hum escaped her lips as she appraised you. “Now this is what I’m talking about. You’re stunning.”  

You laughed softly, slipping out of your coat to reveal the gorgeous outfit Brittney had insisted on picking for you—a soft black off the shoulder dressed, paired with maroon tights with an matching bow that made you feel both elegant and confident. She handed you a pair of house shoes, the ones you knew she kept around for occasions like this.  

“I feel like I’m overdressed,” you said lightly, but Brittney shook her head, waving a dismissive hand.  

“Overdressed? Please. It’s Christmas. You’re perfect.”  

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the cheerful din behind her.  

“Hey, you made it.”  

Your gaze shifted, and there stood Crowe. For a moment, you simply stared, taking him in. He wore an azure button-up shirt, paired with a black vest that complemented his rich brown skin, the deep hue drawing out the warm tones of his deep blue eyes. A sapphire brooch glinted at the center of a meticulously tied black bow around his collar, and his long hair was pulled into a low ponytail, tied back with a matching azure ribbon.  

In his hands, he held a small bouquet of blue irises.  

Your breath caught, and as he stepped closer, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over his outfit . “Wow,” you murmured. “You look... princely.”  

Crowe raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk faltering as a flicker of warmth crossed his expression. “And you look...” He paused, his gaze lingering on you before softening. “Really beautiful.”  

“Only tonight?” you teased, raising an eyebrow and tilting your head.  

His eyes widened, and he stumbled over his words, flustered in a way you didn’t see often. “No, I mean—you look beautiful every day, but tonight you just—” He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck as a sheepish laugh escaped him.  

You both burst into laughter, the tension easing in an instant. Brittney rolled her eyes dramatically, patting Crowe’s shoulder as she passed. “Well, my work here is done,” she said, her tone dripping with mock exasperation. “Don’t mess this up, princeling.”  

As Brittney disappeared back to the living room, leaving you and Crowe in the hallway. He turned his attention back to you, holding out the bouquet. “These are for you,” he said simply.  

You took the flowers carefully, the soft petals brushing your fingertips. Your eyes widened slightly as you studied the blooms. “Blue irises,” you said, your voice thoughtful. “They’re beautiful.”  

He tilted his head, his smirk returning. “I thought you’d like them. They’re supposed to mean hope and trust—or something like that.”  

“And wisdom,” you added, looking up at him with a smile. “The iris has been associated with wisdom and truth because of the Greek goddess Iris, who was a messenger for Zeus and Hera. And nobility, too—it’s been connected to royalty throughout history.”  

Crowe’s brow lifted, clearly impressed. “Well, aren’t you just a walking encyclopedia?”  

You grinned. “Maybe. But you picked well. Thank you.”  

The warmth in his gaze deepened, and for a moment, it felt like the noise of the party faded away.  

“You’re welcome,” he said softly.  

Soon the room was buzzing with anticipation as the gift exchange began. Brittney, playing hostess to perfection, had everyone seated in a loose circle, with the mountain of brightly wrapped presents taking center stage. You were perched on the edge of a couch, trying to calm the slight flutter in your chest as the turn order worked its way closer to Crowe.  

When his name was finally called, he shot to his feet with his usual flair, bowing dramatically as the room cheered. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, waving his hand like a performer accepting applause. “But this isn’t about me—it’s about you all witnessing the unveiling of my superior gift-giving skills.”  

Brittney rolled her eyes. “Just get on with it, princeling.”  

Crowe smirked at her before his gaze flicked to you. A mischievous glint lit his deep blue eyes as he strode toward you, a carefully curated basket in his hands. He stopped in front of you, his grin softening into something a little more sincere.  

“This one’s for you,” he said, holding the basket out with a slight flourish.  

You blinked, surprised as you took the basket from him. “For me?”  

He tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “Well, yeah. You’re hard to shop for, so don’t judge me too harshly, okay?”  

You set the basket on your lap and began pulling back the tissue paper, and your eyes widened as you took in the contents. Inside were all your favorite things—snacks you couldn’t resist, small trinkets in your favorite color, and even a notebook that perfectly matched your aesthetic.  

“Crowe...” you murmured, already feeling a warmth spreading in your chest. But as you moved the tissue paper aside further, your gaze landed on something at the center that made your breath hitch—a beautifully crafted music box.  

“You...” You looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Crowe shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of nervousness. “I wasn’t sure what to get you,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re always saying you have everything you need, and every time I offer to get you something, you turn me down like I’m trying to buy your soul or something.”  

A ripple of laughter spread through the room, and you couldn’t help but smile. “So, I figured I’d just... cover all my bases. You know, a little bit of everything. And, uh... I remembered how much you like little tunes and stuff, so...” He motioned awkwardly to the music box, looking anywhere but directly at you.  

Your chest tightened as a wave of emotion swept over you. The thoughtfulness behind the gift—the way he’d paid attention to all the little details about you—left you speechless. Without thinking, you stood up, leaned toward him, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.  

“Thank you, Crowe,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.  

For a moment, Crowe froze, his eyes wide as the room erupted into a chorus of whistles and teasing laughter. His hand flew to his cheek, and the tips of his ears turned a faint shade of red.  

“Well, well, well,” Brittney said loudly, holding up her phone and snapping a picture. “Looks like Crowe’s the real winner tonight.”  

Crowe groaned, glaring playfully at her. “Don’t you have a party to host or something?”  

Brittney smirked. “This is hosting. Carry on, lovebirds.”  

The teasing didn’t stop there. Someone shouted, “How about a speech, Crowe?!” and someone else chimed in with, “Yeah, tell us how it feels to win Christmas!”  

Crowe sighed dramatically, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed how much he appreciated the attention. “It feels like... a conspiracy,” he quipped, shooting you a quick, fond glance.  

As the laughter died down and the gift exchange continued, you found yourself clutching the basket tightly. You caught Crowe looking at you a few times, and each time, he offered a soft, almost shy smile.  

As the night wore on, the room buzzed with laughter and excitement. You sat quietly, watching the group banter back and forth, their camaraderie filling the space with a warmth that rivaled the glow of the twinkling fairy lights strung across the walls. Brittney flitted from group to group, her laughter ringing out as she teased someone about their gift-wrapping skills. Crowe’s voice cut through the chatter every so often, his witty remarks earning groans and snickers alike.  

You smiled at their antics, but the warmth in your chest was tinged with a bittersweet ache. The ease with which they all interacted—the history they shared—sometimes made you feel like an outsider, no matter how much they cared for you. You still felt new. You blinked quickly, willing away the sting in your eyes, but the knot in your throat tightened, looking down at your hands.

A quiet voice broke through your thoughts.  

“Hey.”  

You looked up to find Crowe standing beside you, his brow furrowed, concern softening his usually playful expression. He crouched slightly to meet your gaze, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.  

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low so only you could hear.  

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile as you wiped at your eyes. “Yeah,” you said, though your voice wavered. “I just need some fresh air.”  

He didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he held out a hand, helping you up. “Come on,” he said softly, guiding you toward the door.  

Outside, the crisp night air greeted you, sharp and refreshing against your skin. The muffled sounds of music and laughter from inside felt distant now, replaced by the soft rustling of trees and the faint twinkle of stars overhead.  

You leaned against the railing of the porch, closing your eyes for a moment as you took a deep breath. When you opened them again, Crowe was watching you, his expression unreadable.  

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. Crowe noticed immediately, his brow knitting in concern. Without hesitation, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue handkerchief.  

He stepped closer, his movements gentle as he raised the handkerchief to your cheek, wiping the tear away. His touch was warm and deliberate, his fingertips barely grazing your skin.  

The tenderness of the gesture caught you off guard, and when he realized how close he was, his hand faltered. “Sorry, I—”  

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as a small, shaky breath escaped you. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.  

His hand lingered for a moment longer before he pulled back, his lips curving into a small, lopsided smile. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly.  

The two of you stood there in comfortable silence for a while, the cool night air brushing against your faces. Eventually, Crowe leaned against the railing beside you, his arm brushing yours as he tilted his head back to look at the sky.  

“Do you know much about constellations?” he asked, his tone lighter now.  

You glanced at him, grateful for the change in mood. “A little. Why?”  

He pointed upward, his hand tracing the shape of a cluster of stars. “That one right there—that’s Cassiopeia. The queen who bragged about how beautiful she was and got herself in trouble with the gods.”  

You laughed softly. “Sounds like someone I know.”  

Crowe gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’ll have you know, I am humble to a fault.”  

“Sure, princeling,” you teased, nudging him gently with your shoulder.  

He grinned, his gaze drifting back to the stars. “Anyway, you’re more like Andromeda. You know, the princess who was chained to a rock but ended up becoming a constellation. Quiet strength, endless beauty... and the kind of person you can’t help but notice.”  

Your breath hitched slightly at his words, and when you turned to look at him, his eyes were already on you, warm and sincere.  

“I...” You hesitated, your emotions threatening to spill over again. But instead of speaking, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a small box.  

“I almost forgot,” you said, your voice steadying. “This is for you.”  

Crowe blinked, surprised, as he took the box from your hands. When he opened it, his expression softened even further. Inside were two matching necklaces, one in gold and one in silver, with interlocking stars at the center.  

“They fit together,” you explained, taking the gold one and clipping it around his neck. “Yours is gold and mine’s silver. I thought...” You hesitated again, suddenly shy. “I thought it’d be a nice reminder.”  

Crowe’s fingers brushed the charm, his gaze flicking between the necklace and you. “It’s perfect,” he said, his voice low. “Thank you.”  

The two of you stood close, the distance between you barely enough to breathe, yet it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. Your hands brushed as you admired the matching necklaces, an unspoken connection flickering between the two of you. Crowe’s lips parted, as if he was about to say something, but then he suddenly laughed, his eyes catching something in the distance.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, your head tilting curiously, the soft flicker of the holiday lights casting a warm glow on your face.

He pointed upward, his eyes mischievous. “You didn’t notice?”

Following his gaze, your eyes landed on a sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above you, its green leaves almost glowing under the lights. The realization hit you, and heat surged to your cheeks, a soft flush spreading across your skin. You looked back at him, your heart suddenly racing, and found him raising his hands in mock surrender, his lips curling into that knowing smile of his.

“You don’t have to,” he said, his tone playful but edged with something deeper, like he was daring you to take the plunge. “It’s just a tradition, you know—.”

But you didn’t let him finish.

Without a second thought, you stepped closer, closing the gap between you until you were mere inches apart. Your fingers gently cupped his cheek, and as his breath hitched, you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was electric. Crowe froze for the briefest of seconds, as if surprised by your sudden boldness, but then he melted into it, his hands settling onto your waist, his touch firm yet careful. The world around you seemed to vanish, the only thing that existed was the sensation of his lips against yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. It was soft, tender, but there was an intensity to it—like a fire that had been smoldering, just waiting for the right moment to ignite.

His lips moved against yours, slow at first, savoring the closeness. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through the way his chest pressed gently against yours. You pulled him in closer, your hands tangling in the fabric of his jacket, as though afraid that if you let go, the moment would slip away. His body was pressed against yours now, his chest flush against yours, his strong arms securing you in place, as if to make sure you didn’t fall.

When you finally pulled back, the air between you seemed charged, crackling with unspoken words. His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, deeply in love and warm with something that made your heart race. He smiled, a slow, genuine curve of his lips, his voice low and tender when he finally spoke.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” he whispered, his words almost lost in the space between your lips. His hand remained at the small of your back, holding you close, his fingers warm against your skin.

Before you could even process the weight of his words, a loud voice broke through the fragile moment.

“Got it!” Brittney crowed from the window, waving her phone triumphantly as if she had just captured a moment of great importance.

You groaned, your face immediately hiding in your hands, embarrassed, but Crowe just laughed, the sound warm and carefree, his arm effortlessly wrapping around your shoulders.

“Let them watch,” he said with a grin, pulling you closer, his breath tickling your ear. “I don’t care.”

And for the first time that night, as his arm pulled you tighter against him, you didn’t care either.

If you picked Sol!

You stood motionless, phone resting in your hand, as you stared at the glowing screen.  

— You: I’d love to come. When should I meet you?  

Hyugo’s response came almost immediately.  

— Hyugo: 6:30 at the park entrance. Can’t wait!  

A small smile tugged at your lips, the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You knew tonight would be special; Hyugo and Sol had a way of making even the simplest outings unforgettable. But as your gaze drifted to Crowe’s name in your contacts, the smile faded.  

Crowe.

He deserved to know you wouldn’t be there. You owed him that much.  

Your thumb hovered over the call button, hesitating as a pang of guilt settled in your chest. This wasn’t an easy decision, but you couldn’t be everywhere at once. Taking a steadying breath, you pressed the button and lifted the phone to your ear.  

The line rang twice before Crowe answered, his familiar voice as warm and teasing as ever. “Hey, what’s up? Please don’t tell me you’re chickening out on me for tonight.”  

A soft laugh escaped you, but the guilt in your tone was unmistakable. “Not exactly chickening out, but... I can’t make it. I have other plans.”  

The silence that followed stretched long enough to make your chest tighten. You checked the screen to make sure the call hadn’t dropped, but then Crowe’s voice returned, quieter now.  

“Oh. I see. Well, that’s okay. I mean, we’ll miss you, but it’s not Christmas without options, right?”  

His attempt at lightness only deepened the ache in your heart. You could hear the subtle disappointment beneath his words, even if he was trying to hide it.  

“I’m sorry, Crowe,” you said softly. “I really hope you have a great time. Merry Christmas.”  

He chuckled lightly, though the usual energy in his laugh wasn’t there. “Yeah, you too. Take care, okay?”  

When the call ended, you stared at the blank screen for a moment, the weight of your choice pressing on you. Crowe’s voice lingered in your mind, and for a fleeting second, you almost reconsidered. But tonight was about something different—something you couldn’t quite name yet.  

Later that evening, you arrived at the park entrance, the crisp night air nipping at your cheeks as the scent of pine and roasted chestnuts filled the air. Strings of twinkling lights turned the trees into glowing sculptures, and the cheerful hum of holiday music mingled with the sound of children laughing and families chatting.  

Your breath puffed in the cold air as you scanned the crowd. It didn’t take long to spot Hyugo leaning against a lamppost, his tall frame relaxed and his hands tucked casually into his coat pockets. He gave you a small wave, but it wasn’t Hyugo who drew your attention.  

A few steps away stood Sol.  

He was dressed impeccably, his white button-up shirt and green suit jacket tailored perfectly to his lean frame. The deep green of the jacket brought out the striking shade of his eyes, and his neatly styled ponytail only emphasized the sharp lines of his face. His bangs framed his expression, highlighting the glint of the piercings lining his ears.  

But it was the bouquet in his hands that truly caught your attention. A cluster of green roses, delicate and vibrant against the cold winter backdrop.  

Your heart skipped a beat as you walked toward him, your eyes widening. “Green roses,” you said softly, taking the bouquet from his hands with care. “They’re about life and growth. Hope, too.”  

Sol blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise before his expression softened. A faint blush crept up his neck as he scratched the back of his head. “Yeah... I thought you’d like them.”  

You couldn’t help yourself. Without thinking, you leaned forward and hugged him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.  

Sol froze, his body going stiff as his blush deepened to an almost crimson hue. He stammered incoherently for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck as if to ground himself.  

“Well, this is already adorable,” Hyugo said, his calm voice laced with amusement as he walked up. “Thanks for officially making me the third wheel tonight.”  

You laughed, clutching the roses to your chest as you turned to Hyugo. “Don’t be so dramatic. Here, I have something for you.”  

Reaching into the small gift bag in your hand, you pulled out a silver katana necklace. Hyugo’s brows lifted as he took it, his fingers brushing the delicate chain.  

“Wow,” he said, holding it up to catch the light. “This is... really nice. Thanks!”  

“Only the best for you,” you teased, grinning as he slipped it on. The chain glinted under the lights, and he adjusted it with a satisfied nod.  

“Looks good on me, doesn’t it?” he said, striking a mock-serious pose.  

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “It does. But let’s not let it go to your head, okay?”  

As the three of you began walking into the park, the weight of the earlier phone call began to ease. The twinkling lights, the crisp air, and the warmth of your friends’ presence all blended into a moment you wouldn’t forget.  

The world around you transformed into a glowing wonderland of twinkling lights. Strings of bulbs wound through the trees like cascading stars, and lanterns in festive shapes lined the paths. The air was filled with the sounds of cheerful laughter, holiday music, and the occasional jingling bell from a passing sleigh ride.  

Hyugo walked ahead, his easy stride and relaxed demeanor making him seem like he belonged in this magical setting. Occasionally, he pointed out displays, his commentary a mix of genuine appreciation and sarcastic humor.  

“See that?” he said, gesturing to a particularly gaudy reindeer display. “That’s exactly what my family’s yard looks like. Overachieving neighbors are a real thing.”  

You laughed, falling into step with Sol, who had remained quieter than usual. He walked beside you, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets now that the bouquet was safely cradled in your arms. His reddish-orange eyes flitted between the lights and you, his expression thoughtful.  

“You okay back there, Sol?” Hyugo called over his shoulder, smirking. “You’re way too quiet. I’m starting to think the roses did all the talking for you.”  

Sol’s cheeks flushed again, but he managed a small smile. “I’m fine. Just... enjoying the view.” Hyugo snorted. “Yeah, sure you are.”  

You glanced up at Sol, catching the way his gaze lingered on you before darting away. Your heart skipped slightly, and you decided to give him a reprieve from Hyugo’s teasing. “The lights are beautiful,” you said softly, gesturing toward the canopy of stars above the path.  

Sol nodded, his voice equally quiet. “Yeah, they are.”  

The three of you continued along the winding path, pausing occasionally to take in the more elaborate displays—a massive tree covered in golden lights, an archway adorned with glittering ornaments, and a whimsical snowman family that had children running circles around it.  

Hyugo excused himself after spotting a nearby food stall. “I’m getting hot cocoa. Anyone want some?”  

You shook your head, and Sol muttered a soft, “No, thanks.”  

“Suit yourselves. I’ll be back in a bit,” Hyugo said with a casual wave, leaving you and Sol alone under the shimmering lights.  

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged with something unspoken. Sol glanced at you, his hands fidgeting slightly in his pockets.  

“You look really nice tonight,” he said suddenly, his voice shy but earnest.  

You turned to him, surprised. “Thank you. You do, too.”  

He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he wasn’t sure how far to let it go. “I mean it,” he added, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. “You always look nice, but tonight... I don’t know. You’re so pretty.”  

Your breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. “Thank you,” you said again, your voice softer this time.  

The lights overhead cast a soft glow on both of you, the world feeling smaller and quieter. Your thoughts began to wander, and a faint ache tugged at your chest.  

You’d spent so many Christmases surrounded by family, their familiar warmth and chaos filling every corner of your childhood home. This year was different. You’d made a life for yourself in the city and built relationships and traditions with your friends, but the distance from your family suddenly felt heavier than ever.  

Sol noticed the shift in your expression immediately. His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly, stepping closer. “Hey,” he said gently. “You okay?”  

You blinked quickly, realizing tears had started to well in your eyes. “Yeah,” you said, wiping at them with a quick smile. “I’m fine. Just... thinking about home.”  

His concern deepened, and for a moment, he hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should say anything. Finally, he reached out, resting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay to miss them,” he said softly. “You don’t have to hide it.”  

The warmth in his voice unraveled something inside you, and you nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you, Sol,” you murmured.  

A small smile returned to his face, and he pulled his hand back, letting the moment settle. After a few moments, you reached into your bag, a spark of excitement cutting through the heaviness in your chest. “Actually, I have something for you,” you said, pulling out a small box.  

Sol blinked in surprise, watching as you handed it to him. “What’s this?”  

“Open it,” you said with a grin.  

He carefully lifted the lid to reveal a miniature horse keychain, painted green and black to match his colors. Sol’s eyes widened, and a small, genuine smile spread across his face.  

“For me?” he asked, his voice almost disbelieving.  

You nodded. “And this one’s for me,” you added, pulling out a matching keychain—a small cat painted in your favorite colors. “Now we’ve got matching keychains. To think of each other, you know.”  

Sol stared at the tiny horse in his hands, his fingers brushing the smooth surface. “I love it,” he said finally, his voice quiet but full of emotion. “Thank you.”  

Before you could respond, Sol reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a neatly wrapped box. “I, uh... have something for you too,” he said, handing it over.  

You unwrapped it carefully, and your breath caught as the lid lifted to reveal the music box you’d been dreaming about for months.  

Tears sprang to your eyes again, but this time they were filled with pure joy. You couldn’t quite believe what you were seeing. “Sol… how did you…?”

He stood there, his hands twitching nervously at his sides, the usual confidence he carried nowhere to be found. He took a tentative step closer, and the vulnerability in his eyes made your heart ache. “I remembered you talking about it once,” he said, his voice faltering, tinged with uncertainty. “I just thought you should have it.”

His words, the meaning behind them, hit you all at once. He was so thoughtful, so careful. But it was his panicked expression that really caught you off guard. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure whether to comfort you or retreat, his reddish orange eyes wide with worry, silently questioning if he had done too much. “I—was this too much? I just thought you’d—”

You couldn’t bear to see him like that, unsure and vulnerable, so you stepped forward, closing the distance between you. Slowly, you rose up onto your toes, your hands wrapping around his broad shoulders, grounding yourself in his presence.

Before he could finish his thought, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, letting your emotions guide you. His breath hitched, and for a long moment, everything seemed to pause. The twinkling lights that decorated the trees, the distant laughter of other parkgoers, even the crisp winter air—all of it faded away, leaving only the heat of his skin and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat that somehow synced with yours.

Sol froze at first, his lips still under yours, as if his mind hadn’t caught up with what was happening. But slowly, you felt him relax into the kiss. His hands, unsure at first, settled lightly on your arms, and then, as if he was grounding himself in the moment, they tightened just slightly, pulling you in closer.

His touch was little rough, but you could feel the depth of his feelings in the way his fingers brushed against your skin—like he was afraid to let go, as if the moment might slip away if he did.

When you finally pulled back, the air around you felt charged, alive with the emotion you both had been holding back. Sol stood there, his wide eyes locked on you, his cheeks flushed so deeply that even the tips of his ears had turned a deep shade of red. His chest rose and fell quickly, like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

“I… uh…” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper, as if words had momentarily escaped him.

A soft laugh escaped you, breaking the intensity of the moment. You wiped away the lingering tears from your cheeks, trying to steady yourself. “Thank you, Sol,” you said, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions swirling in your chest. “For everything. For the music box, for being here… for being you.”

Sol’s lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to respond, but instead, all he managed was a shy, lopsided smile. The kind that made your heart flutter, as if his very soul was laid bare in that simple gesture.

You smiled back, your cheeks still flushed with warmth despite the winter chill, and there was something about the way his gaze lingered on you that made everything feel right, in a way you never expected.

“And for the record,” you added softly, your tone more serious now, “I care about you. So much.”

Sol’s smile deepened, and his eyes seemed to glow with a mixture of disbelief and quiet happiness. His voice, when it came, was so soft, so full of emotion, it felt like a secret meant just for you. “I’m just glad you’re here,” he murmured, his hand gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch warm and tender. “You’re the best muse I’ll ever have.”

His words hung in the air between you, and it felt like time itself had slowed down, each second stretching into eternity as you stood there, lost in the quiet connection you shared. The world, the winter, the chaos of everything else—it all melted away in that one moment, leaving only the feeling of his hands, his heart, and the soft glow of your shared affection.

Before either of you could say more, Hyugo’s suddenly voice cut through the tender moment, laced with amusement.  

“Well, I feel like I should leave you two lovebirds alone, but... I also don’t want to walk home alone, so…”  

The interruption made you laugh, the sound light and genuine as the heaviness in your chest fully lifted. Sol’s blush only deepened, and he looked down, scratching the back of his neck in his usual awkward fashion.  

Your hand found his instinctively, your fingers lacing together as you turned to face Hyugo. “You’re hopeless,” you called teasingly.  

“Yeah, yeah,” Hyugo said with a mock sigh. “Glad you’ve finally figured that out.”  

As the three of you continued along the path, Sol’s grip on your hand remained firm, his thumb brushing lightly against yours as though to reassure himself this wasn’t a dream. The lights above reflected in his eyes, making them shine like rubies against the backdrop of the winter evening.  

After a few moments of quiet, Sol glanced at you, his gaze steady but laced with a familiar shyness. “Thanks for being here,” he said, his voice low but full of meaning.  

You looked up at him, warmth blooming in your chest. “Of course. Where else would I be?”  

He hesitated for just a second, and then, with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, he added, “…And I’m glad I didn’t have to shed any blood to win you over.”  

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him in mock disbelief before bursting into laughter. “What a charmer,” you said, shaking your head.  

Sol chuckled softly, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly. “What can I say? …I aim to impress you alone.”  

The teasing gave way to a comfortable silence as the two of you continued walking, your hands still intertwined. The world around you felt warmer, and brighter, like the holiday lights above had found a way to settle into your chest and glow from the inside out.  

For the first time that night, you felt completely at peace, the bittersweet ache of the season replaced by something sweeter: the quiet, steadfast warmth of someone who cared for you deeply.  

You two reached Hyugo, who was waiting by another set of light displays, waving his hand over to call you and Sol to have a closer look.

You couldn’t help but think that this chilly winter night had turned into something magical.  

The soft hum of your phone was the only sound in the stillness of your room, the faint light casting long shadows across the walls as you lay there, scrolling through the pictures from the night of Christmas Eve. Each image flickered before your eyes like a fragment of time—memories that felt both distant and vivid, frozen in the glow of your screen.

The liveliness of Crowe and his friends, the way their energy seemed to fill the room and make the night brighter. Or the warmth of the park, the laughter of Hyugo and Sol, their voices mingling with the cold December air. 

You felt an unexpected peace settle deep in your chest, a quiet kind of comfort.

College may have been over, for now, but something else had started to take root—connections that would stretch far beyond the walls of classrooms and lectures. Friendships that felt solid, steady, like something that might stand the test of time.

Just as you set the phone aside, your eyes began to flutter shut, your body sinking into the softness of the bed, drifting completely off to sleep.

Afterward, the soft sound at the window—a quiet rustle of fabric, the faintest click of the latch being undone. Then, a shadow moved across the room, sleek and fluid, dressed entirely in black. The figure moved with practiced ease, slipping silently through your window as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Sol.

His silhouette was barely visible against the darkness, but you could feel the presence of his mischievous grin even before he stepped into the soft pool of light in your room. He was quick, and efficient as if he had done this a hundred times before, and yet there was something undeniably thoughtful in the way he moved—careful not to disturb anything, as if he didn’t want to interrupt the calm of the night.

He stood there for a moment, just watching your sleeping figure, his eyes heart-shaped, glinting with quiet amusement. You could feel something warm in his gaze. Then, he crossed the room, slow enough not to startle you, and crouched down at the edge of your bed. His black clothing blended into the shadows, the outline of his lean figure and the small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You were deep in sleep, the world around you a blur of comforting darkness. And yet, in that dreamlike space, you could feel his presence, like a whisper threading through the silence. 

"You made it through the year," his voice murmured, a soft, velvety tone that carried a weight of something unspoken—something meaningful. His words were like a gentle caress, and though you could barely register them in your dream state, they stirred something inside you, something warm, something that made you feel understood. 

A movement—delicate, almost reverent—pulled you from the haze of sleep. His hand, steady and sure, reached out to you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch was feather-light, as though he was afraid to disturb the fragile peace of the moment. You could feel the warmth of his fingertips lingering on your skin, a soft, lingering touch that made you feel protected, and cared for, even in your slumber.

"Wishing you the best in the new year," he whispered, his voice barely audible but thick with intent. 

You didn’t stir, caught in the embrace of sleep, but somehow, his words echoed through your mind like a distant lullaby. His hand dropped, and then there was a shift, the movement of him leaning forward, his presence closer now, filling the space between you. 

His lips brushed against your lip, the kiss so gentle it felt like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. It was brief, fleeting, but tender—an unspoken promise, woven into the light touch, something that lingered on your skin even after he pulled away. His warmth stayed with you for a heartbeat, then another, the feeling of him still hanging in the air like a quiet echo.

For a moment, everything was still. His expression remained unreadable, as it often did, but there was something else there—something deeper, more sincere than you were used to seeing. He didn’t need to say more; his presence was enough. 

"Happy New Year~” he said, his voice soft but carrying a quiet smile, one that tugged at the corners of his lips as though he knew something you didn’t. And then, as swiftly as he had come, he was gone—leaving behind only the lingering warmth of his touch and the faintest trace of his words, woven into the fabric of your dreams. Still, a smile tugged at your lips as you thought about the promise of the new year—of fresh starts and endless possibilities.

Whatever moments the future held, you knew they'd be all the more meaningful depending on who you chose to share them with.

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

[nyxs2]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 2/?)

Do you know what the main problem with addiction is? It's that it always demands more. And unfortunately for you, Silco was an addicted man.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 5,2K

Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk, orgasm edging, overstimulation, you work in the brothel, Silco POV (when to start smut), Silco being the little control freak that he is. Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1

Okay, I didn't expect the previous chapter to be so successful, so thank you to everyone who read it. Just a few warnings: Silco's actions can be quite controversial (you'll understand at the end), he's an antagonistic character and we have to recognize that he's not a saint. If you came here expecting something like "love at first sight", I'm sorry to tell you that there's going to be a long road to that. Remember, there's a fine line between love and obsession.

The month had flown by too quickly, and you barely noticed Silco's absence from the brothel. Since that night, he seemed to have vanished, and the days resumed their usual rhythm. With the generous bonus he had left, you managed to cut back on your workload, bringing a sliver of relief to your otherwise exhausting routine. Today was one of those calmer days. Your last session hadn't been physical; your regular client, Kate, a young woman with stunning green eyes, just wanted to talk.

You spent the time discussing her recent achievements. She had been clean from shimmer for three months and, with visible excitement, shared her plans to become a designer. She had even landed an internship at a boutique in Piltover. Despite being a paying client, your relationship with her felt closer to a friendship. You genuinely cared about her progress and rooted for her, even though you knew the harsh world of Piltover could extinguish the dreams of Zaunites as easily as a gust of wind snuffing out a candle.

The brothel had this misunderstood duality. It wasn't just a place of pleasure and debauchery, as many thought, but also a refuge for the lonely, even if those moments were as rare as fresh air in Zaun.

After the session, you sat at the vanity in the dressing room, touching up your makeup. It was a moment of pause, preparing to finally leave for the night. That's when hurried, hesitant footsteps reached your ears. Through the mirror, you saw Babette enter, her yordle face pale as if she'd seen a ghost.

"What's wrong, Babette?" you asked, frowning.

"He's back," she said in a hurried whisper, and you froze. There was no need to specify who. His name hung like a curse that no one dared to utter. "And he asked for you... in the same room."

A sigh escaped your lips as you nodded, trying to mask the storm brewing inside you. Your body moved automatically, brushing past a Babette who looked almost regretful on your behalf.

The conflicting sensations within you were hard to define—a mix of nerves and something akin to excitement. Part of you was eager to see him again, while another feared what this meeting might bring. It was a wave that swung between the warmth of reunion and the chill of apprehension. It was impossible to predict Silco's intentions with you.

Yet, despite the uncertainty, a part of you relished the idea of facing him again.

The curtains parted just as they had during your first meeting, and you stepped into the room with hesitant steps—but firm enough to mask the storm raging within you. There he was, Silco, seated on the sofa like he owned the world—or at least your little corner of chaos. This time, a cigar rested between his fingers, its smoke spiraling lazily toward the ceiling. A bottle of amber liquor and two glasses were set before him on the table.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you regarded him, trying to keep your expression impassive. "Miss me?" The provocation slipped out in an almost sweet tone, but the mockery woven into the edges of your words was there for anyone sharp enough to catch. And, of course, he did.

His eyes lifted to meet yours, and the smile that formed on his lips was... unsettling. A slow, predatory smile that made your entire body tense, unsure whether to prepare for a fight or flight. But running from Silco was never really an option, was it?

"Miss you?" he repeated, his voice low, almost a dangerous purr, as he brought the cigar to his lips and took a long drag. The smoke escaped in a deliberate exhale as he leaned back even further into the sofa. "I've been rather busy, dove. Running a city isn't exactly a part-time job."

His voice carried an intensity that seemed to cut through your skin and lodge itself directly in your nerves. His eyes were a weapon all their own, assessing you with clinical precision as though he could decode every emotion you tried to hide. Frustration? Undoubtedly. Curiosity? Perhaps. And something else... something you refused to name but which made your stomach churn and your breath quicken.

"Ah, of course... I forgot you rule Zaun. I thought it was just a hobby of yours." The words left your mouth dripping with sarcasm, a smirk tugging at your lips. You knew exactly how to provoke him, even if it meant walking a tightrope with Silco.

But he laughed. Not a short or biting laugh, but a rich, full chuckle that echoed through the cramped walls of the room. His reaction was almost disconcerting, as if he were genuinely amused by your defiance.

"I prefer to think of it as a calling. Someone has to keep these streets in line, after all," Silco retorted, bringing the cigar back to his lips and taking a deep drag. "Drink with me." He gestured casually toward the empty glass beside his with a flick of his hand, as if this were the most normal thing in the world—as if he hadn't disappeared for an entire month and was now acting as though nothing had happened.

You blinked once, twice, frowning at his offer. Surprised was an understatement. Even so, your feet carried you to the sofa, where you sat down beside Silco. Your gaze drifted to the glass placed in front of you, but you made no move to pick it up.

"Drink something from you? I thought I'd made it clear I'm not naive." Your voice was sharp, cutting, and you made no effort to hide what you thought. The accusation lingered in the air, but Silco seemed unfazed. On the contrary, the smile on his lips deepened, as though your suspicion was yet another point in his favor.

"Relax, dove." He set the cigar in the ashtray and leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on yours. "I may be many things, but I'm not the type to drug my... companions. I prefer them fully aware of what's happening."

Before you could respond, you felt his hand rest on your thigh, his fingers drawing lazy circles over the fabric of your skirt. The touch was too light to be casual but confident enough to show he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Besides," he continued, leaning in a little closer, "I don't need tricks. You came to me willingly last time, remember? And I'm certain you'll do the same again."

You held your breath for a moment—not out of fear but from the tension building in the air. It had been mere minutes, and already you were spiraling into this dangerous, sexual dance. When he reached for the bottle and poured two glasses, the sound of the amber liquid filling the glass seemed to fill the charged space between you. He slid one of the glasses in your direction, his fingers brushing against yours briefly, and that fleeting touch was like a surge of heat, reigniting memories you'd rather not dwell on now.

The cold glass against your fingers was solid, tangible, but the same couldn't be said for Silco's intentions. Swirling the liquid in the glass, you watched its viscosity under the light, searching for any sign of hidden betrayal. You brought the glass to your nose, inhaling deeply. Nothing unusual. No suspicious scent. Just the strong, familiar aroma of an expensive drink.

"Now, don't be rude. It's a rare vintage, and I insist," he said, his voice dropping a few tones, more of a command than an invitation. "Or are you afraid you can't handle me after a drink?"

He raised his own glass to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours, taking a long sip and savoring the warmth the liquor seemed to bring. He was testing you, and you knew it.

"Oh... I can handle more than you think." You let the double meaning linger in the air, noting how quickly Silco caught on from the faint curl at the corner of his mouth. Then, your gaze shifted back to the drink in your hands.

A sigh escaped internally. Damn it. Against all your instincts, you decided to trust him—at least this once. Bringing the glass to your lips, you took a small sip.

The flavor was unexpected, complex. First, a gentle warmth spread across your tongue and slid down your throat, followed by a hint of sweetness that balanced the burn. You licked your lips, savoring the woody notes mingling with a subtle touch of caramel. It was... different. Something you'd never tasted before.

You almost let out a surprised sigh but managed to hold it back. However, you knew your expression had betrayed you. Worse still, you were certain Silco had noticed. His sharp gaze seemed to miss nothing, and he'd been watching you the entire time. Quickly recovering, you masked your face with indifference, though the effort felt pointless. Pretending nothing affected you had always been one of your sharpest weapons for surviving life in Zaun, but it seemed to fail irritatingly often when it came to him.

"So, tell me..." Silco resumed the conversation, his tone adopting a casual air, as if you were merely chatting. "What have you been up to while I've been away? I hope you haven't been entertaining any other clients in my absence."

"Well," you began, leaning back on the sofa, mimicking his casual tone while swirling the glass in your fingers, watching the liquid sway with the motion. "As far as I know, we're not exclusive."

You let your words hang in the air for a moment before taking another sip of your drink. This time, you kept your eyes fixed on the glass, pretending Silco's presence was just a shadow at the edge of your awareness. "So yes, I've been with other clients."

When you finally lifted your gaze, you met his eyes. They glimmered with something between amusement and danger, and the smile you offered Silco was anything but innocent. You knew you were playing with fire by provoking him so openly without any idea how he might react, but as the damned gambler you were, you could never resist a risky game—even if it meant losing your winning hand.

"Why?" you asked, your voice dripping with audacity as you calmly placed your now-empty glass on the table. "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous? No, I wouldn't say that." He paused, taking a slow, deliberate sip from his drink. "More like... protective. You see, dove, once I set my sights on something, I have a hard time sharing."

He set his glass down on the table with a faint but deliberate thud of glass against wood. You had pressed his buttons, that much was clear, but he didn't seem annoyed by your bratty attitude.

Silco settled back into the sofa, mirroring your posture, but with an air of authority that seemed to dominate the room. He leaned back slightly, his legs spreading just enough to make a point, the motion causing his coat to fall open. The glimpse of what looked like a holster at his hip seemed accidental—perhaps he didn't even remember carrying it. It was as natural to him as breathing.

He turned to you, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your face so your eyes would meet his. "But I'm a reasonable man," he continued, his tone soft, almost comforting, yet carrying an intensity that made your skin prickle. "I understand the nature of our... arrangement. You're a courtesan, and I'm merely a client. Nothing more, nothing less."

His thumb brushed against your lower lip, the touch as light as a feather, teasing. "Which is why I think it's time we renegotiate the terms, don't you?" His voice dropped a few tones lower. "I'm willing to pay for your exclusive services."

You couldn't deny the tension rippling through your body as Silco leaned in further, narrowing the space between you until his presence felt like the only thing that existed in your world. His touch on your chin was firm but not rough, a silent reminder of the absolute control he maintained over himself—and, in some ways, over you.

You allowed him to guide your face upward, a silent concession that you were willing to play along—at least within the rules that suited you.

His eyes were both an invitation and a threat, a contrast that should have been intimidating. But, to your surprise, you felt something else entirely.

It wasn't fear.

It was pride.

There was an unexpected, almost visceral pride within you, knowing that he wanted you—and made no effort to hide it. It was both unsettling and... perversely satisfying.

When Silco moved again toward you, the motion caused his coat to fall open further, fully revealing the holster strapped to his hip. The metallic gleam of the pistol's barrel caught the dim light, and your eyes lingered on it for a moment. The sight evoked a disconcerting mix of emotions: fear and excitement, battling for dominance within you.

You knew the gun wasn't there merely for protection. It was a silent statement, a symbol of power—and also of control. Silco didn't make empty threats, and the presence of that weapon made it abundantly clear. So classic, so predictable, you thought, though you couldn't deny there was something undeniably alluring about the image: danger so blatant yet so meticulously restrained.

That contrast was almost suffocating. The implicit threat of the weapon combined with the soft, almost intimate tone of his voice stirred something deep within you. It was a brutal reminder of the risks of being this close to him, but also irrefutable proof of the kind of power he wielded—not just physical but psychological.

This is not good, you told yourself, suppressing a shiver that could have been apprehension—or excitement. You knew how dangerous it would be to let Silco see you as his. The words you had spoken the last time you met applied to him perfectly, and to your misfortune, Silco was possessive by nature, his ambition only amplifying that trait.

But it was too late to turn back. You had already captured his attention once, and here he was again, returning to your arms like an addict seeking his next fix. And it was clear he wouldn't stop until he had you entirely.

"This negotiation..." you began, your voice lower, tinged with something that could have been scorn or desire, even you couldn't tell. "Isn't open."

The silence that followed was heavy, every word hanging in the air like a scale about to tip. There was refusal in your voice, but despite your efforts, there was also a trace of something else... something that could easily be mistaken for lust. And his gaze caught every nuance of it.

Slowly, your eyes drifted from his to his lips, but not before letting him see the small detour they took back to the pistol. As though you were weighing your options, calculating the risks, even though you knew all of them ended with him.

It was like walking a tightrope over an abyss, and both ends led directly to Silco. Two different fates, equally perilous.

"But," you continued, and your voice was almost a whisper now, deliberately laden with heat. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but the words had already taken shape. "You can try to convince me." It was a dangerous strategy, and Silco was toxic in every sense. But just like an addict depended on their drug, perhaps you could turn that dependence into an advantage for yourself.

Silco's eyes darkened, a fierce hunger burning within them as your defiant words left your lips. A low growl reverberated in his chest, heavy with intensity. He noticed the way your gaze roamed over him, like a flame consuming everything in its path. He also noticed—with dangerous satisfaction—the subtle quickening of your pulse, visible in the delicate line of your neck.

You were playing with fire, and Silco was more than willing to let you burn.

Before you could react, he moved with the swiftness of a serpent, pinning you against the couch. In one fluid motion, he seized control, trapping you beneath the weight of his body. His hands captured your wrists with firm precision, raising them above your head as he positioned himself between your thighs.

His hips pressed against yours, a slow and deliberate motion laden with intent. Your body acted before your mind could comprehend, arching to meet the contact.

"Oh, dove..." he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word caressing your skin like silk. His lips hovered near your throat, and you felt the warmth of his breath against the exposed skin. "I intend to convince you, and I think you'll find I'm quite... persuasive."

His lips found the curve of your neck, skimming over your skin with a dangerous blend of gentleness and possessiveness. When his teeth grazed your flesh, they didn't break the surface, but the implicit promise in every touch made your heart race. You knew he could, and you also knew you wouldn't fight him.

The control he exerted over you was intoxicating, but it wasn't just physical. There was something about the way he read you, how every sigh, every tremor of your body seemed to fuel him.

When his fingers released your wrists, you didn't move your hands from where he had placed them, as if the freedom he had given you was an illusion. Instead, you closed your eyes, feeling his hands glide down your body, his fingers tracing an almost lazy path that ignited every nerve in your skin.

His fingers reached the curve of your waist, pausing just long enough to apply a slight squeeze—a possessive touch that sent a shiver down your spine. He followed the contour of your hips, his movements as subtle as they were provocative. Then, with a deliberate motion, he tugged the hem of your skirt upward, revealing your skin inch by inch, as if each bit was a gift to be uncovered. The air grew heavier, each second stretching into eternity.

"You have no idea what you make me feel," he murmured, his voice a mix of confession and temptation, perhaps more to himself than to you. "The things I want to do to you..."

His breathing grew uneven, heavier, and before you realized it, your thighs tightened around his hips, as if to hold him there, in that exact place where the world seemed to have stopped.

"Then do them," you murmured, your voice hoarse, barely a whisper. This moment was his. And somehow, it didn't feel wrong, even though part of you knew you might regret it later.

But right now, in this instant, regret was the furthest thing from your mind.

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━━

"Careful what you wish for, dove..."

Silco's eyes darkened with lust as he watched her writhe beneath him, her body arching into his touch as if she were starving for it. He could feel the heat of her core pressing against his cock, even through the layers of clothing that separated them, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to rip them off and bury himself inside her right then and there. To feel that warm feeling that had been trapped in his mind for that damn month of being away from her. But he held himself back, it wasn't about him this time, as he would have other opportunities. He wanted to savor every moment of her surrender, to engrave the memory of it in his mind for years to come.

Slowly, teasingly, he trailed his lips down the column of her neck, his tongue darting out to taste her skin before sucking on her pulse point, leaving a mark. Relishing the way she gasped and writhed beneath him, her hands finally moved to tangle in his hair.

He leaned back, standing erect with his gaze fixed on that which he now coveted. He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her legs, exposing her to his hungry gaze. This was something he had wanted to do since their first meeting.

Silco settled between her thighs, his breath ghosting over her slick folds. He looked up at her through his lashes, his eyes glittering with dark promise. "Look at you, dove. So wet for me already... Such a needy little thing." he murmured before dipping his head and pressing a kiss to her clit.

He started slowly, his tongue lapping at her slit, savoring the taste of her arousal. He traced the seam of her lips, teasing her entrance before flicking his tongue over her clit, again and again, until she was writhing beneath him, her hands fisting in his hair.

He slid a finger inside her, then two, pumping them in and out of her tight heat, at first slowly. He curled them just so, searching for that special spot that would make her see stars. Silco felt her inner walls contract and vibrate around his fingers. He could tell she was getting close to her peak. Leaning down, he sealed his lips around her throbbing clit and sucked hard, flicking the sensitive nub quickly with the tip of his tongue.

At the same time, he pumped his fingers faster, rubbing mercilessly against that specific spot. Her thighs trembled and tensed on either side of his head as he took her right to the edge... then pulled back a little, wanting to prolong her torment a little longer before finally pushing her over the edge of blissful oblivion. He heard her whimper his name, her voice sounding tearful and frustrated. Then her little fingers tried to pull his face back into place between her thighs: "Easy, dove." He let his fingertip slide over her clit, circular motions that drove her to the edge, but weren't enough to give her what she wanted. "Silco..." her voice escaped in a hoarse moan, filled with a mixture of need and desperation. Sounding like a melody for Silco. "Say 'please' and I might let you cum." Silco's voice left no room for reply and this only made her even more frustrated. Her back arched and she tried again to pull Silco towards her. Her attempts failed. Silco then sped up the movement of her finger, noticing how easy it was to bring her to the edge again... and just as easy to slow down.

The second denied orgasm drew a reaction from her. "Please! Fuck.. I beg you... please!

He smirked as she begged so sweetly, the word "please" falling from her lips like a prayer. Oh, how he adored when she got like this - pride and poise cast aside in favor of raw, aching need. Silco was more than happy to oblige her, diving back in with renewed fervor. He savored the taste, groaning low in his throat as he feasted on her like a starving man, his fingers pumped steadily, curling just to brush that spot inside her. He felt her thighs clamp down around his head, heard her screaming his name as she came undone, her release flooding his mouth.

But Silco didn't stop. He kept going, riding her through her orgasm and straight into another, his tongue lashing at her sensitive flesh, his fingers pumping in and out of her clenching heat. He could feel her fighting it, her body tensing, trying to pull away from the too-much sensation, but he held her in place, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from her.

He felt her come again, harder this time, her body convulsing beneath him, her hands fisting in his hair so tightly it bordered on pain. He swallowed every drop of her release, groaning at the taste of her, the feel of her coming apart for him.

Only when she went limp beneath him, her body spent and trembling, did Silco finally relent. He pulled back, licking his lips as he admired his handiwork - His sweet dove sprawled on the couch, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat. She looked utterly debauched, and fuck if it wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen. A sight that had to be for his eyes only.

"Perfect." He whispered to the void as you seemed to be passed out. Nothing could take away his sense of pride in having reduced you to a limp body lying on the couch, although a part—the one deep inside him—was irritated by the mere idea that someone else could do the same to you. "We can't let that happen, don't you think?"

A rhetorical question to which he already had an answer.

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━━ 

You blacked out for a second. You'd like to say you lasted longer after the first, but that would be a blatant lie. With Silco consuming you completely—in presence, touch, scent, and the rough sound of his voice—it was impossible to resist. He pushed you to the edge once more, and when you finally fell, the orgasm that crashed over you was even more devastating than the first.

You collapsed onto your side, utterly boneless, as though every bone in your body had dissolved. The exhaustion was so overwhelming that the line between consciousness and unconsciousness blurred with each passing moment. Every muscle in your body screamed in surrender, yet you still found enough energy to let out a soft whimper as you adjusted your legs, trying to ease the discomfort.

Your body was in a state of hyperawareness. You could feel every little detail: the slow but persistent throbbing between your legs, the sensitive, swollen ache of your clit, both painful and pleasurable as the pressure of your thighs shifted.

The heavy silence of the room was broken only by the sound of your ragged, uneven breathing. Each breath felt like an effort, but you began to relax, letting your muscles go slack against the couch. And then you felt it.

His gaze.

Even with your eyes closed, you knew Silco was watching. It was impossible to ignore. Those eyes had the power to strip you bare, as though he could see beyond flesh, directly into what you tried to hide—vulnerability, desire, surrender.

Opening your eyes slowly, you blinked a few times, dislodging the tears that clung stubbornly to your lashes. Your lips curled into a trembling, tired but genuine smile as your gaze found his face. Silco didn't look away. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—dangerous and tender all at once—that made you shift uncomfortably, even in your exhaustion.

"That was the first time..." you began, your voice breathless, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. "By Janna... twice in a row... How is that even possible?"

The words came out in an almost incredulous tone, with a hint of exhausted laughter. You didn't know how he did it, but it seemed Silco knew exactly what to do with your body. Where to touch, what to say, which buttons to press... absolutely everything.

"Give me a minute," you continued, your voice strained with fatigue. "I don't think I can do anything else right now. My body has officially shut down, and it's your fault."

Despite the exhaustion, there was a note of humor in your voice, something you knew he'd pick up on. But it was the truth. Every fiber of your being felt like it had been pushed to its limit, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you had no urge to fight it.

Silco leaned over you, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face with a surprisingly gentle, almost reverent gesture. The touch was a stark contrast to the roughness of his calloused fingers. "Don't worry about me, dove," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, like a whispered melody in the darkness. "I'm more than satisfied with how the night turned out."

He then pressed a light kiss to the corner of your mouth. The fleeting touch was almost contradictory, an unspoken promise hidden behind the faint, teasing smile that played on his lips. "Now, catch your breath. Compose yourself."

He moved away with his usual natural elegance. As he adjusted his clothes, straightening his suit with meticulous care, smoothing out his trousers; taking more careful care of this part for obvious reasons, and running his fingers through his slightly disheveled hair, you watched him silently. He seemed lost in his own world as he tidied himself.

Silco then turned his attention back to you, extending a steady hand to help you sit properly on the couch. With surprising care, he adjusted your skirt, a gesture that felt almost chivalrous coming from the same man who had undone it in the first place. But what truly caught your attention was the way he picked up the garment he had removed from you earlier—your underwear—and slipped it into his trouser pocket without even attempting to hide the act.

You opened your mouth, perhaps to protest, but before you could utter a word, he had already shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The weight of the expensive fabric pressed against your skin, warm from his body heat, carrying his unmistakable scent: lingering tobacco, worn leather, and a metallic note that reminded you of burnt gunpowder or rust. It wasn't necessary—you knew that—but he seemed to relish the idea of covering you, marking the moment with a gesture that was as possessive as it was protective.

"In any case," he said, his voice taking on a teasing tone as his hand rested firmly on your shoulder, the touch deliberate, "You can return the favor next time."

"So that's your excuse to come back to this brothel?" you replied, your tone laced with sarcasm as one eyebrow arched slightly. A sly smile curved your lips as you looked at him. "How predictable, Silco..."

"Oh, I assure you, dove," he murmured, his voice laden with a dangerous softness that made every word sound like a promise. "It's not the only reason I'll return. But, I must admit... it's a rather tempting incentive."

Yet, as he spoke those words, something shifted inside him. A dark and familiar shadow rose, staking its claim on his mind. Suddenly, Silco pulled back. His face, previously brimming with desire and mischief, turned into a mask of indifference.

"I need to go," he said abruptly, the tone of someone ending a conversation with no room for argument. "There's something I need to take care of."

And with that, without another word, he was gone.

Leaving you behind, confused, and his jacket.

[...]

The days following Silco's visit were a series of unsettling events. The changes came slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, but you had a knack for picking up on nuances. You were a survivor, and survival meant knowing when something was wrong before it became a bigger problem.

First, there were the furtive glances. Your colleagues at the brothel seemed to watch you with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. There were hushed whispers and abruptly interrupted conversations whenever you walked by. That wasn't new—gossip was as common as the smell of cheap perfume in that place. But this felt different now. Heavier. As if they knew something you didn't.

Then came the anonymous donation. A substantial amount of money, accompanied by a short and direct note, unsigned. Just three words: "For your comfort."

You found yourself staring at the note longer than you should have, the paper trembling slightly in your hands. The tone of the words seemed polite, even kind, but in context... there was no comfort in them. Only confirmation that someone was meddling in your life.

Finally—and perhaps most disturbingly—was the sudden drop in the number of clients. At first, you thought it was a coincidence, something seasonal. The brothel's clientele had its ups and downs, after all. But as the days went by, the reality became unmistakably clear.

The few men who still requested your company exhibited strange behaviors. Gone were the hungry gazes, the invasive touches. They were stiff, as if walking on eggshells, and most seemed incapable of relaxing in your presence. They didn't want closeness, avoided more intimate advances. Instead, they merely asked for your company, remained in an awkward silence while sitting far from you, and left far more money than necessary.

It was disconcerting. The break from routine, the absence of the predictable... it was almost worse than dealing with the unwanted touches you'd learned to ignore.

And then came the confirmation you didn't want. It arrived through a conversation you weren't invited to but overheard from the other side of a door: the men who had been appearing and specifically requesting you, were none other than subordinates of a certain chemical baron.

Silco. Part 3

[makeupbychio]

THE suit // logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

Summary: Now that you are officially part of the x-men team you need a suit. After the help from Hank and Charles to make the suit you kept the final result as a secret to Logan until he saw you in your first mission in THE suit. More than one time you needed more than one suit, not just because Logan will rip off a lot of them, but for other reasons. 

Warnings: Jealous Logan and being a little bit of a brat, Hank and Charles cameo, insecurity towards your body and powers, use of your powers (ecokinesis), Logan being the best protective and comforting boyfriend, mentions of smut, suggestive language, mentions of pregnancy.

Words: 1.9k 

A/N: So thanks for the anon for the request!! Once again, a reminder that english is not my first language. I put angst, fluff and mentions of smut so I hope you like this. Also, reminder that this is a safe place for all body sizes so that's why I don’t mention specifics measurements for the suit. ALSO, you can read this with my previous Logan fic TRAINING SEASON, this is them days after you are officially an x-men. Enjoy, love y’all!! <3. 

italics = past. 

— — —

“Hold on, wait. Hank is going to do your suit?” Logan stopped the conversation. You two at the cafeteria grabbing a late night snack. You took the pause to give a bite to your apple. 

“What about it? The Professor told me Hank did all of them” you answered him without any worry in your mind and didn't  understand why he had that frowning look on his face.

”I think Storm should be in charge since your powers are related to nature too”. Logan suggested, trying not to be an asshole. You understand where this was going when he sighed. 

“But Lo, the Professor designed the suits, Hank is just going to sew it and for that he needs to take the correct measurements” you refreshed Logan’s mind, like if it wasn’t obvious that a suit was not going to sew it itself. 

So after that Logan just stopped insisting about it. He trusted Hank of course but something was itching his brain. If he knew you already had an appointment with Hank last week to take the first measurement and the Professor explaining to you how he designed it for you and your powers. 

“So, Y/N. If you didn’t know, Hank came up with the idea to make the suits bulletproof and for your powers we needed to incorporate more resistance to heat changes in case your whole body is on fire or ice. So we needed to play with all of the opposite and different scenarios of the element you were going to manipulate or become, please try it on”. Charles explained to you the work behind your suit. You just nodded, but the Professor can read your mind and know your excitement when you ran to change your clothes and came back with the suit on.

“So you can basically turn into stone one moment and then disappear like air, so we create something that can resist that range of changes, and also of course something to be comfortable for you”. Hank added, proud of the technology he put in the suit while you looked at yourself in the mirror. “You can try it and test what I’m talking about”. 

So you did it, always careful not to hurt them. They were so happy with the final results and you couldn’t thank them enough and can’t wait any longer to wear it. 

“See you next week, Y/N”. The Professor reminded you about the final meeting to correct some details. 

So after that late snack, you both went to bed and before your appointment with Hank, Logan just stopped by his office and greeted him with a casual smile. 

“Logan, how can I help you? Y/N is not here” Hank thought he was there to be with you once you tried on your suit. 

“Don’t worry, she’s still in bed sleeping in our room” Logan gave a cocky smile and highlighted the ‘our’. “Actually I’m here to help YOU. In case you needed help with her suit, just to let you know that I made you a list of her measurements” Logan handed him a piece of paper with the different sizes of the clothes you have. He really thought that was going to work. “You’re welcome, so you don’t have to take the measurements yourself” He smiles proud of himself. 

Hank laughed and didn’t want to ruin Logan’s intention. He just thanked him, if Logan knew the suit was ready in the lab for you to try it and make the last changes. 

“Oh! I almost forgot” Logan turned to Hank before leaving his office. “She’s the smartest person I know, don’t get offended so I’m pretty sure she’s going to give you some ideas for the suit” he made a pause imagining you giving instructions to Hank. “And her favorite color is purple” Logan finally leaves the room without letting Hank answer. Heading himself to the dining room proud of his work. 

Hours later, you went directly to the lab where Hank and the Professor told you to meet. “Okay Y/N so tell us how you feel it, if you want to change something” Hank looked at you looking in the mirror. 

It was really comfortable even when it was really tight to your body. You felt so much confidence, you saw the x mark on it, that wasn’t on the suit the last meeting you had. Also it made justice to your figure and your beautiful curves. 

“Thanks again, it fits perfectly. But Hank I just wanted to ask you if it’s possible if you could add something to the suit…” Hank is paying attention to you. “If there could be like- I don’t know- something for you guys to know which element I’m manipulating or about to, so you don’t get yourself hurt out there during a mission” you asked him nervously because they are the experts.

”Mmmhh, it’s a really good idea but the enemy can use that information too against us to advance an attack” Hank really liked the idea but they had a surprise for you. 

“So dear, we also wanted for you to try this suit too” the Professor went to reach the suit he was talking about. Hiding it inside a box that was wrapped like a gift. 

“Guys, what is this?” you were in total awe when you opened the box. They know how easily you get emotional. Tears are already forming in your eyes. 

“We wanted for you to have your own suit, something that will be just for YOU…” Hank started explaining. “All of us have something that characterizes ourselves and our powers, so someone told us your favorite color is purple and it contrasts perfectly the green that represents your powers…” Hanks kept talking because you went speechless. “I know it sounds cliché to add green for your ecokinesis, if you don’t like it we can change it” he suggested.

You just ran to hug them because it was perfect. “So for your ideas you gave us, we design this…” the Professor handed you another box, but this time smaller. You opened it so fast. “We created these gloves for the changes of elements. So you can use it in the field or on a daily basis” you tried on them immediately and it blew your mind the technology it has, how it’s connected to you to change the colors related to the element, it sparkles so that makes them AMAZING.

“The gloves are more for the missions, because with the suit you hold your powers in case you are not conscious. Also the gloves help you to give your attack a precise target. We’ll learn more about both items while training” Hank explained. 

So when you first wore the x-men suit, you were so nervous about the mission, about everything so you changed clothes in your room. Thinking if this was a good idea. Literally everyone was waiting for you to step into the plane. 

“I’m going” Storm was about to go and search for you when you stepped into the ship. “There you are! K’ let’s go” Storm yelled at Scott to go.

Logan almost fainted, his claws making an appearance without previous warning. He quickly put them back, he was so excited he couldn’t resist to stay close to you. His flirting helped you to stop your nerves. “Sugar, you look amazing…” he gave you a kiss on your check, sitting next to you on the ship. He came closer to your face, whispering “I hope they made like a hundred suits because as soon as we're back in the mansion I’m going to rip it off. God, I can’t wait” You tried to hide the redness of your face, you warned him to behave. 

“Logan, I’m pretty sure the Professor can read your mind, I don’t want to be kicked out of the missions. Or give us separated missions. Do you want me to be paired with Scott instead?” you asked him with a teasing smile. 

“I’m sorry, love. But did you see yourself in the mirror before coming?” Logan really insisted but not too much. “Don’t worry, you’re going to kick asses today and I’ll protect you till the end of times” 

Like I said before, Logan after that would take any opportunity to join you for fittings. Especially if something is different. Logan would be there next to you when you are not comfortable with your body. If you are not comfortable with your powers every time you discover something new about them. After years, he will always be there for you, sitting in front of you looking at you with awe and comforting you even when you’re were not feeling it. 

The only time you skipped a mission was when your suit was not crossing your figure. You tried on your x-men suit and your own suit they made you and it was not stretching enough. The team was on a rush so they let you stay at the mansion. 

Logan asked you when they were back about what happened and you just told him you were feeling under the weather. The Professor already knew the real reason. You distracted Logan enough for you to go to Hank's office. 

“Hi, Hank. Can I ask you something?” you stepped into the room worried. Hank welcomed you worried about your absence in the last mission. “I had a problem with the suit, actually both suits. Is it possible for the fabric to be even more stretchable?” you asked him. 

Next day, after telling Logan the truth about you expecting and how suddenly a big bump you had appeared. That time he almost fainted too. So both of you were in the lab, the Professor and Hank giving you the congratulations when Hank was taking notes of your new measurements for your suits.

“Be careful there, big boy” Logan growled at Hank when he put the measuring tape around your belly. Logan was so protective over you and now your baby. You laughed at him telling not to worry, Logan looking at you with charming eyes while you rub your belly looking at yourself in the mirror. So this was really happening, starting a family.

Hank explained to you your new suits, which were going to be more comfortable for you considering the bump was going to grow even more. But the only thing Logan could think about is to protect you even more out there in the field. 

“Lo, look at me. I can do this” you hold his face when back in the room he told you to reject some missions that were too dangerous just to be cautious. He was scared that if you got injured really bad in your state. He was not going to stop you from going to the missions, because he knows you are one of the strongest and with a single snap you can beat your enemy but he can’t help himself from worrying. “And if I’m not feeling good or at my best to fight I’ll stay here”. you kissed him to calm him down. 

“I know, mama. You are the baddest out there. They could never beat you even if they tried” Logan kissed you back and kneeled to kiss your belly. “I wonder which powers our baby is going to inherit”. Next time Logan went to Hank’s office was to ask for a tiny x-men suit to surprise you. Hank couldn’t say no to Logan because he found a really cute gesture from him even when he had a lot of work left to do. 

[stargirl-russo]

Sailor Song (Alessia Russo x Reader)

Summary: Joining Arsenal WFC was supposed to be the best thing for your footballing career, you were the best female footballer in the world after all. You didn't expect the unexpected longing of a certain blonde that came with it.

(Hi! I've never written fan fics before but I was inspired by some I read and thought why not?! i hope you like it, i honestly might delete later or return it to drafts if I can? or even a pt 2??? idk lmk if you want more! enjoy. do I need to add warnings>....suggestive? angst? )

Recalling the exact moment when it happened was difficult to comprehend, maybe because you tried to completely erase the moment from your memory. You felt embarrassed, ashamed, and even a little disgraced with yourself. Why did you have to like another girl, a straight girl, who definitely didn't feel the same?!

Joining Arsenal this season was exactly what both parties wanted - you needed a change in scenery, and they wanted - no needed - a more clinical finisher like yourself. Everyone at the team was especially welcoming, considering your intimidating resume of accolades at such a young age - taking the women's football world by storm. You got on with everyone on the team, especially the Aussies, Kyra, Steph and Caitlin - being Australian yourself. But one particular teammate stood out to you the most, for more reasons than one.

You'd never forget the first day you finally saw and met the Alessia Russo in person, after admiring her from afar for about a year. She was absolutely beautiful, incredibly captivating and alluring. Words couldn't explain how you felt when you saw her at training, or heard her laugh or when she would smile - which was always. The way your heart hammered against your chest, it felt like you couldn't breathe, the butterflies in your stomach erupted like crazy. These feelings, they just felt...right. She made you feel so giddy and happy.

Although the thrill of this girl crush was very exciting, a part of you couldn't help but feel extremely ashamed. You were not supposed to like a teammate, let alone girls. You couldn't help but admire her gorgeous blue eyes, her long lashes, her soft voice, and her long blonde hair as you smiled shyly and shook her perfectly manicured hand, introducing yourself. Her southern british accent made you weak in the knees. "I can't wait to share the pitch with you this season."

You were absolutely certain that no one knew about this infatuation, crush or admiration, or how down bad you were - whatever you wanted to call it - with Alessia Russo. It was just so easy to get along with her, your calm natured and laid-back personalities working well together. Both sharing certain things in common, attending the same college in the US for football at different years, your love for fashion, travelling, and similar music tastes. She was just so sweet, genuine, caring, and just a ray of sunshine - you couldn't get enough. The chemistry you both had was clearly evident on the pitch also, as your styles of play complemented each other perfectly; turning arsenal's season around with each match.

It scared you how you strongly you felt about her, as she probably had no idea about the effect she had on you, and above all, probably didn't feel the same. And now you were going to continue to play alongside her and work with her nearly every day this season. You'd eagerly wait to see your cheerful teammate and greet her happily weekly at training. It was a blessing and a curse, but it was something that kept you going.

Hiding your sexuality was something you had no trouble dealing with initially as you just constantly immersed yourself with the football: whether it was with routine season interviews, the sponsorship photoshoots, the constant training or the glamorous award shows - it kept you busy, a distraction which led to you further cementing your place as the best young women's footballer in the world. It's not anything anyone really expected of you anyway, to like girls. Besides, you never spoke about personal matters to the media, so no one really assumed anything at first. Which was a plus.

You'd constantly make excuses to avoid going out with friends away from football, who wanted to enjoy a night on the town, bragging about the boys they'd make out with at clubs, or the crushes they had on them. Not that you could relate though, but a part of you wished you could feel that sense of normalcy. To fit in, to relate. No one had no idea what you were going through or how you felt. It got harder to find excuses to deny random set ups with guys. Your feelings for Alessia were actually driving you to insanity, you were most likely going through an identity crisis - but you were still in denial.

However, the longer you concealed your true feelings and the harder you tried to deny it, you found it harder each and every day hiding how you felt about the certain blonde. It became more difficult to suppress your feelings, you wanted to talk to someone, - anyone - but you were afraid with how they would react if they found out. Besides you weren't going to embarrass yourself if she didn't even feel the same, what would be the point of coming out anyway right?!

But maybe you should've controlled yourself. You should have ignored her, distanced yourself even. It was fine though, you were just acknowledging that fact she was really gorgeous, and you weren't crushing on her - or so you told yourself. But the not-so-subtle glances at her during the training sessions said otherwise.

The glancing became constant, admiring her whenever she'd move with or without the ball or take a drink of water during break. You just couldn't help but admire her longingly. Thinking of believable excuses when being called out by the outspoken Katie McCabe became more difficult to articulate. You were certain Alessia was oblivious to this, and she was - for the time being.

It was supposed to be a post game interview focusing on the team's accomplishments this current season, given the difficulties the team faced at the beginning of the year. You expected to answer questions about your valuable contributions to the match and the squad, not some irrelevant, personal, stupid, phased, feelings that had nothing to do with football.

The lights were brighter than usual in the media room, you were riding a high after your incredible individual and team's performance. You couldn't stop smiling. Sitting in the media room alongside your captain Kim Little, you felt proud and finally content with yourself. You felt as if you were finally contributing to a team, a team that was winning. A distraction for the time being.

That is, until the question was asked.

You will never forget the way your stomach dropped at the question, the silence in the media room, the smirk on the reporters' face. He knew he struck a nerve as the colour drained from your face, you were no longer smiling. You're not sure why the question was asked or what value it had to the match you had just played, or above all - why this reporter was permitted into the the media room anyway asking such inconceivable questions.

You shook your head awaking from the absolute shock and audacity of the reporter. There is no way this is really happening right now. You were media trained - you got this. Totally.

'Could you please repeat the question?' You asked politely into the mic, besides the fact that your was voice now quiet and shaky as you squirmed in your seat, refusing to look at the reporter. He noticed your uneasy reaction, and pressed on, knowing there is more to what your letting on.

"Can you address the rumours within the women's football community that you currently have romantic feelings for your teammate, Alessia Russo?"

"What?! That's ridiculous. Next question."

Maybe you responded to that too quickly, way too quickly for it not to be suspicious as you dismissed him. To your knowledge, and last time you checked, you hadn't come out, you hadn't revealed how you felt about her to anyone - especially not Alessia, and you were certain someone as beautiful as her was taken - surely.....right?

Your throat was going to constrict, no doubt, your breathing becoming heavier and faster, your ears turning a bright red and your leg begins to bounce. Your eyes dart around the room. "How is this football related?" your captain Kim interjects, sensing your uncomfortable state as you fidget on the spot and find it hard to remain composed. She herself looks confused.

Both your heart and mind race. Who told them? How do they know? Where did they even think of something like that? They can't know. Does Alessia know?

You were widely aware that this post-game press conference was currently live. This didn't make the situation better. "Is there really nothing going on? You seem pretty flustered. Besides, you didn't deny it did you?" He smirked, a chorus of chuckles emerging from around the room.

"Stop instigating." The words pour out of your mouth defensively before you can stop them, let alone even comprehend what is going on. You can hear your heart beat in your ears.

"I'm not instigating anything, just trying to get the truth out of you. Why don't you start being honest? Show the world who you really are."

Your body shakes with frustration and panic, you can't do this anymore. You rush out of the media room, holding back tears of frustration. This is absolutely ridiculous you think to yourself, barging open the door of the locker-room, ignoring the looks from your teammates.

Silence fills the room, you look up at the locker room’s television, seeing Kim still in the media room - the broadcast was indeed live. Shit. Alessia, along with everyone else in the room definitely saw it. Shit. You freeze up.

Steph, your Aussie teammate turns to you "Hey, are you okay?" You refuse to say anything - afraid your voice might crack, further revealing your vulnerability. You refuse to make eye contact with anyone, especially Alessia. Steph senses the inner turmoil you’re enduring, and gestures everyone out of the locker-room.

You sit there with your head in your hands, as tears threaten to fall. You didn't reveal much in the post-match interview, so everything is fine right? But maybe thats the problem. You didn't deny anything technically - further exposing and embarrassing yourself and probably Alessia. You fail to notice she's still in the locker-room.

You look up slowly, locking eyes. Her ocean blue eyes bore into yours, a glimpse of concern and curiosity. "Can we talk?" She questions softly. Shit

"No thank you, I'd rather not." You say stubbornly, packing your wash bag quickly as she sits down next to you. You had to get out, you had to get away from her.

Alessia is surprised by your nonchalant response. "Lets just talk about this, please?" She says softly in a pleading voice, her eyes looking up, trying to lock with yours.

"I'm sorry." You say quietly, packing your bag and making your way towards the exit of the locker-room as fast as you can. You actually couldn't fathom that this was happening. Is this some sick joke?!

Alessia is concerned and saddened by your dismissive tone, she can tell that this whole situation has negatively affected you and is eating away at you. "Don't be sorry." She says softly, standing up. "It can be hard times, but I just want to understand whats going on. You clearly feel something. Something about me."

You stop in your tracks and turn around to face her, she makes her way towards you her eyes never leaving yours. Your heart aches, and she can see the adoration and the longing that you have for her in your eyes, behind internal conflict and self-hate.

"You're not a bad person. You know that I won't look at you differently." She whispers, pleading with you, trying to lock eyes with yours. "Please don't shut me out. I care about you, so much."

Alessia doesn't wait for a response. She steps closer to you now, closer the distance slowly. Your panting heavily, still refusing to look at her in the eyes, petrified you'd get lost in her ocean eyes. Terrified your eyes will reveal more than your words did in the press conference only moments ago. She can't feel the same. She doesn't.

She gently grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers with her ones. You feel as if you're going to have a heart attack, her touch sending bolts of electricity through your body. She can sense you're avoiding eye contact still.

"Hey, look at me" she whispers, staring at your now very flustered face, looking at you intently. Her eyes filled with concern, worry and something else, something you can't quite make out, something you've never seen from her before.

You still avoid her gaze, until she cups your cheek. You lock eyes with hers and you feel like you could die.

"just, look at me" she whispers once more, gently stroking your cheek bone with the pad of her thumb "thats it, just look at me."

Before you can stop yourself, the words fall out of your mouth in a whisper "i am. how can I not?" You let out a shaky breath at that, noticing her lips curl into a small smile, her eyes following your gaze down to her own lips.

"i know, I know you do, I see you" she whispers in response, moving closer to your face now, both your breaths mingling. Your heart continues to pound, her thumb gently traces your jawline, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

Its as if time has stopped. Your heart is pounding so hard against your ribcage you might have a heart attack. But her presence, the way shes looking at you, her voice, her touch—it makes sense in ways you never expected.

And then, just as you think you can’t handle the intensity any longer, she leans in. Were you about to kiss the girl you've been in love with for so long now.....