#and i have two modes which are 'lets make it the best!' and 'no it would suck in new terrible ways actually'

[acaciapines]

I just had a thought: do you think that in a world where daemons are out & about as an everyday fact of life, societies would veer more towards largely pedestrian, just because a lot of settled daemons might not be able to fit into vehicles?

okay so i've been thinking about this nonstop since you sent it lol and i am. going to go on a very long answer. so um apologizes in advance??? i'm sure i'll answer the question somewhere. the short answer is do whatever you want forever, and likely in a real-world scenario it would be a sort of case-by-case basis on the local cultural values and historical patterns of settling.

my gut answer is "no," actually, for a few different reasons. i have a few different ways of writing worlds with daemons based on what i want to say with the story, but most of them are sort of based on interrogating the text of his dark materials because it presents a very interesting and incredibly unsatisfying picture of daemons, at least to me. and so because of that, i think a core concept is like, okay, what DO people settle as??

because, like, that's what this question is based on--this idea of, what do people settle as? i think probably early human societies would veer pedestrian, but i also think early human societies wouldnt actually settle young, or maybe even at all. bc of how hard survival is back then, the ability to change form is like, a premium. its sort of a privilege for a daemon to settle as a sparrow, and not, like, need to be a wolf sometimes to defend the town's sheep, or a horse to haul up the materials for building. i think actual animals would still be used for these tasks, but like, if you can turn into a horse, sometimes its easier to just do it yourself, rather than having to build trust with an animal, you know?

but blah blah blah, things keep developing. people want to go further, and keep pushing further. so, we are still going to get ships, because sea travel is still really hard even if half of you can turn into an orca whale. and i think as societies develop so too do like, humans put meanings onto the animals around them, and now settling SAYS something about a person, and i feel like you can come up with all sort of stigmas. like, if you settle as a working animal (think horses, oxen, etc) you're seen as inherently lower class than someone who settles as a lion. and now its a bit easier to keep the predators away, so people dont need to hold out on settling for so long, and now theres MEANING behind settling. and this means you can do it wrong.

so, like, what i'm getting as here is i think most people would end up settling pretty small anyways. like, big dog-sized being the larger end of things. if you look at hdm there's already a mammal bias, if you look at daemonfic as a whole there's a canine and feline bias, and i think this would hold true in a real world situations, too. settled form is (as i write it) influenced very much by what a kid is exposed to growing up--as time goes on the idea is you settle younger, and younger, and you settle as the RIGHT sort of animal, the sorts that are good and noble and say something good. you dont settle as, like, a sea cucumber. and an elephant, well--thats so BIG! you really like to take up space, dont you? how...interesting.

and so as things industrialize i think trains, cars, planes all still come to be. i think the expectation is you settle smaller to make up for it. lowkey i think something like the americans with disabilities act is passed for people with larger daemons, but i think the same sort of stuff happens--like, yeah, this school is accessible for people with bison-daemons! you have to call ahead so somebody can set up the fright elevator for you, and you can't go out in the main halls, and like, maybe it follows the law technically, but. like. its not great.

um. basically i think a world with daemons (if we base it off of HDM, which i do more often than not these days) has a lot of biases and discrimination regarding settled form that would lead to places not really being any better than they are today. because the assumption is you settle small. and if you dont settle small, well thats a you problem, isnt it? its not for the "normal" people to fix.

BUT ALL THAT SAID i think a society that is more pedestrian is also perfectly plausible. i think its just down to what sort of story you want to tell. and right now the most recent daemon au i wrote is my owl house daemon au, wherein the way i built out the human world was entirely based on my issues with hdm, and the entire central conflict on the story is around the idea of settling, so...this.

uh, i hope that answers things! feel free to send in followups lol i have Many Thoughts About Daemons.

[dreamauri]

Can you do one where Charles doesn’t know that reader speaks French, until he finds out when she orders at a restaurant or is talking on the phone?

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗦𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 charles leclerc x girlfriend! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . Withholding information is always fun—especially when it’s an entire language and your fiancé has no idea. Watching Charles short-circuit as you casually order pizza in perfect French might just be the best entertainment you’ve had all week.

( main master list | more of charles leclerc ) ( requests )

Charles had his arms wrapped around you, chin resting on your shoulder as you both scrolled through the pizza menu on your phone. The couch was warm, his body heat making you feel cozy, but the Great Pizza Debate had been going on for the last ten minutes.

“Just get the zucchini pizza,” Charles murmured, tracing random patterns on your arm.

You made a face. “Ew, no. I’m getting pepperoni.”

Charles groaned, dramatically flopping back against the couch. “Why do you hate vegetables?”

“Why do you like zucchini on pizza?” you countered. “That should be illegal.”

“It’s good!”

“It tastes like sadness.”

The bickering lasted another two minutes before a solution presented itself: just get separate pizzas. Which, in hindsight, should have been obvious from the start.

“Fine, fine. I’ll order,” you said, grabbing your phone.

Charles got up, stretching lazily before making his way to the kitchen. He was halfway to getting himself a glass of water when he heard something that made him freeze.

You were speaking French.

Fluently.

Over the phone.

“Bonsoir ! Oui, je voudrais commander deux pizzas, s'il vous plaît. Une au pepperoni et une aux courgettes . . . Oui, pour emporter.” [Good evening! Yes, I’d like to order two pizzas, please. One pepperoni and one zucchini… Yes, for pickup]

Charles almost dropped his glass.

His eyes widened. He had never, never heard you speak French before. He thought you didn’t know the language, that you never bothered to learn. And yet here you were, casually placing a pizza order like you’d been fluent all your life.

He stood there, completely still, trying to process.

“D’accord, on sera là dans vingt minutes. Merci beaucoup !” [Alright, we’ll be there in twenty minutes. Thank you very much]

You turned toward him after hanging up. “We have to go pick it up.”

Charles just nodded, still stuck in loading... mode.

At the restaurant, it happened again.

You walked up to the counter, effortlessly switching to French as you spoke to the employee about your order.

“Bonsoir ! J’ai passé une commande au téléphone, une pizza au pepperoni et une aux courgettes ?” [Good evening! I placed an order over the phone, one pepperoni pizza and one zucchini]

The employee nodded, checking the system. “Ah oui, c’est prêt. Un instant.” [Ah yes, it’s ready. One moment]

Charles just stood beside you, hands in his pockets, staring at you with a completely blank expression.

It was like watching an NPC glitch in real-time.

The employee returned with the pizzas. “Voilà ! Bonne soirée à vous.” [Here you go! Have a great evening]

“Merci, bonne soirée !” [Thank you, have a great evening] you replied with a smile before turning to Charles. “Okay, let’s go.”

He didn’t move.

You raised an eyebrow. “Charles?”

Still nothing. His brain was clearly buffering.

You waved a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Leclerc?”

Charles blinked rapidly, snapping out of it. “Huh? Oh. Right.” He followed you back to the car, but the gears in his head were still turning.

Back at home, you placed the pizzas on the dining table, humming to yourself. Charles, however, was still staring at you like you’d grown a second head.

Finally, he blurted, “You speak French?”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “I’m pretty sure I just did, Charlie.”

Charles shook his head, looking genuinely bewildered. “Since when?”

“Since always?” you laughed. “I just never spoke it around you.”

He pointed at you accusingly. “You’ve been lying to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not lying, just . . . withholding information.”

Charles groaned dramatically, flopping onto the chair. “Mon amour, do you know how much easier my life would have been if I knew you spoke French?”

You smirked. “Oh, I know.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You enjoyed watching me struggle, didn’t you?”

You plopped down next to him, grabbing a slice of your pizza. “Oh, absolutely.”

Charles huffed, shaking his head, but he was smiling now. “I can’t believe this.”

You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before taking a bite. “Well, believe it, mon amour.”

voice notes 🔊 . . . ( i had fun writting this, thank you for requesting anon! )

[suguboos]

CANDY SHOP

horny and inexperienced, choso stumbles across a sex shop nearby. little did he know his purchase of a toy would include more than stellar customer service.

FEATURING: choso kamo x fem! sex store worker

CONTENTS: 18+ content, MDNI. non canon compliant/au, smut, use of a toy, sorta kinda public, orgasm denial, submissive choso, use of mistress

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i love pathetic men (ᵔᴥᵔ)

“welcome to arousal zone.”

you stood behind the counter with a playboy magazine in hand, chewing cherry flavored gum while haphazardly flipping through a couple of the pages. anything that helped pass the slow shift faster.

working at a sex store on the outskirts of tokyo hadn’t been exactly what you’d wrote down on your five year plan—but it paid the bills. once you removed the occasional frat boy that stumbled in buying an anal plug as a gag, the job wasn’t too bad.

you looked over to see the pale man stepping foot into the store—immediately looking out of his element. he gawked at the selection available at the front like a zoo exhibit, staring at anything and everything that he could take in before making his way further into the shop.

choso roamed the halls of the store like a lost puppy—staring at all the different toys outlining the shelves. cock rings. fluffy handcuffs. pocket puss- choso nearly cracked his neck with how fast he did a double take, eagerly placing the box in his hands. he began reading through it, sticking it under his arm when he finished.

along with a waterproof vibrator. until he realized.. he had no idea how any of this shit worked.

“excuse me,” he walked up to the counter with the two items in tow, meeting your bored expression when you looked up from the magazine.

“do you have any tips for any toys… or how they work?” he rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish expression on his face at the question. you raised a brow, leaning across the counter. not missing the way his gaze went down to your chest.

“well it usually depends on what you’re into, but i can give you a hands-on demonstration if you’d like.”

which is how you found yourself locked in the cramped fitting room, rubbing your palm across the stranger’s hardening cock. “lemme see the toys you picked out,” you snagged the boxes up before eyeing each piece, deciding to unbox the vibrator.

“so this one has four modes—each one more intense than the last,” you explained, your fingers tracing the outline of his cock. you looked up from the manual to see him gulp, a devilish smile appearing on your lips. “don’t worry, i’ll take care of you.”

you flipped the switch on, the wand vibrating in your hand, “though i gotta say, you’re desperate. letting me do this and i don’t even know your name.” his cock visibly twitched the moment you pressed the tip against the tent in his pants.

“d’ya want to know my name?” the man asked through shaky breaths, his chest starting to heave. he unzipped his pants, lowering them down to his thighs before speaking up again, his cock leaking onto the patch of hair going up his stomach.

before you had the chance to respond, he quickly spoke up, “choso, my name’s choso.”

“choso,” you tested the name on your tongue, a moan leaving his lips when you did. you slowly started to move the vibrator against his hard cock, watching the man grow even more and more sensitive.

“more,” he looked over at you with big, pleading eyes that almost made you want to agree.

“try that again,” you clicked your tongue, pulling the vibrator away completely. you dragged your manicured nail down his happy trail, pulling away before you reached the trimmed patch of hair at the base.

choso racked his brain as he tried to figure out what you wanted to hear, deciding to go with the next best option, “give me more, please. i’ll do whatever you want me to do, accept whatever. just give me more.”

“that’s it, there you go,” you placed the vibrator against his shaft yet again, moving to the second level of intensity. your hands moved down to his sac, holding them in your palm before starting to gently move them in your hold.

“ngh-fuck!” choso was reduced to a puddled mess, gripping onto the ends of the dressing room bench. you switched over to the last level without much of a warning, feeling his thighs quiver underneath you.

he tried—he really did. try to think of anything else other than the impending orgasm. thought about the wretched smell wafting off his brother’s back. thought about the questionable things he’d encountered during his late night wanks. but to no avail.

it was shameful how quickly just a couple of your words and the vibrator had him this close.

"lemme cum," choso whined, his cock twitching with every buzz of the vibrator that jolted against his shaft. drop after drop of precum fell onto your hand as he approached his climax, his balls growing heavy.

"i don't know, you were being a little impatient there, baby. we talked about this," you cooed, cruelly pulling the vibrator away just right before he had the chance to cum. a loud whine left his lips, bucking his hips to try to get any friction. to try to get anything.

“p-please mistress. make me c-cum,” choso’s voice cracked, quickly correcting his mistake. you pressed the vibrator two times, lowering the intensity before pressing it against his sensitive cock. rubbing his own pre with the wand like lube.

“see what happens when you ask nicely,” you mused, leaning in and pressing an open-mouthed kiss on the side of his neck that had him shivering. gently suctioning the skin between your lips, leaving him with a purple-red reminder of your time together. “but fine, i promised to take care of you after all.”

choso came within seconds of you increasing the vibration against him again, a pathetic and desperate moan leaving his lips, “right there, mistress. right there, please please don’t stop.” rope after rope of cum landed over his pants and thighs, a couple droplets managing to land on your fingers.

his eyes were locked on the way you stuck your pointer in between your lips, watching intently as you swirled your tongue around it to collect every drop. it had him wondering what you’d do to his cock if given enough time. “leave a couple seconds after,” you broke his fantasy, getting up from your spot and setting the vibrator down.

discreetly leaving the dressing room like it was all a dirty secret. and as the post nut clarity started to hit—hard (almost nearly as hard as him after that sinful imagery), he started to feel like a dirty secret.

choso took a couple seconds to gather his breath, pulling his pants up and stuffing the vibrator back in its box before making his way over to the register.

"come again soon," he didn’t miss your innuendo, scrambling to pick up his bag as soon as the receipt printed. he left the store with his cheeks slightly flushed and his zipper down, a couple white stains marking the black material of his jeans.

about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.

you turned to look at the next customer in line, a balding middle aged man with a gold ring sparkling on his finger, “can i help you?”

"can i get the same service that he got?"

[cybertron-after-dark]

Average transformers g1 episode:

Megatron is attempting to black out the entire sky across a hundred mile radius and funnel all the sunlight into one, concentrated solar death ray to target a heavy duty solar panel he's having soundwave and the cassetticons build in order to convert it to energon. Then he plans to hit the autobot base with the death ray just for funsies. Starscream plans to push Megatron directly into the death ray, also just for funsies.

Optimus sends Wheeljack and Spike to deal with it, along with two bots you're pretty sure have not been in this show before this point, but you're kind of past asking how many of these fuckers were on the ark offscreen when it crashed. One of them has the worst fake Canadian accent you have ever heard, and the other's name sounds inexplicably dirty.

Starscream tries to get Megatron to stand in the spot he told Skywarp and Ramjet to direct the death ray, but is interrupted when Rumble asks why Starscream stuck him with extra work (a task Megatron assigned specifically to Starscream). This vexes Megatron. The autobots show up and try to figure out what the point of the blacked out sky is while Starscream attempts to talk his way out of it. Then the death ray goes off two feet away from Megatron, which only pisses him off further.

The Canadian bot yells "AH BINARY-BEAVERS!!" because the death ray caught him off guard and completely gives away the bots' position. Soundwave immediately fires on them. Gratuitous robot violence ensues. Spike is generally useless and tries chucking rocks at Rumble. Megatron is too busy trying to almost-murder Starscream to bother with the autobots and just lets Soundwave handle it.

Probably-an-innuendo-name-bot is luckily a flier and takes the chance to see what's blocking the sun now that their cover's blown anyway. He gets up there and the seekers are sticking tinfoil on the clouds to make the tops reflective. The writers are really just hoping you don't think too hard about it.

Skywarp starts firing on dirty-name and calls him a nerd. Dirty-name takes evasive action. Skywarp runs out of ammo and starts just chucking tin foil at him. Dirty-name calls him dumb and says his processor is made of spare toaster parts. Then he crash lands and canada-bot asks if dirty-name's wings are spare toaster parts as well. Wheeljack yells that they'll all be spare toaster parts if they don't focus on the decepticons. The death ray goes off again and barely misses the autobots. Wheeljack corrects himself to Melted spare toaster parts.

Dirty-name gives Wheeljack the rundown on the tinfoil clouds so he can figure out a way to get rid of them while Canada-bot fights Soundwave and the cassettes in the background. Spike is kind of helping too sort of almost. Those rocks hes chucking sure are damaging. Ravage gets straight up drop kicked. It cuts back to Wheeljack whipping up a good old fashioned Device™️.

Starscream flies up past the tinfoil barrier while Megatron shoots at him. All the holes he's shooting in the blackout barrier are just making more, slightly shittier death rays and the main one is losing concentration. One of them hits Megatron right in the optic and he keels over with an over the top screech. Starscream descends, breaking another hole in the tinfoil to see a golden opportunity.

"MEGATRON HAS BEEN BLINDED!!! I, STARSCREAM AM NOW YOUR LEADER!!!"

Wheeljack finishes his Device™️: A grenade that makes tinfoil entirely invisible, thus rendering the whole weapon unusable. The writers are hungover, please do not think about it too hard. Pretty please. Dirty-name doesn't know if he can throw it into one of the holes in the barrier on his own since he can't fly in robot mode and he cant throw in altmode. Spike offers to get on his back and throw it in for him if he can get close enough. And he's just SO good at throwing things. The other two agree he's their best shot, they're so happy spike is around, couldn't do it without him.

Starscream is hovering in the air as he gives his Decepticon Leader Acceptance Speech he's prepared for this very occasion, golden light streaming in from the him-shaped hole in the barrier. Dirty-name and spike zip past him and spike makes the best goddamn throw of his life. Before starscream can properly question the Fucking Audacity of these autobots interrupting him while he's trying to have a moment, the invisible explosion goes off that the animators are just happy they don't have to put that much effort into drawing. Starscream gets knocked out of the air and crashes directly onto Megatron. This vexes Megatron.

Sky's normal again. Don't worry that there's still tinfoil there, don't even fuckin worry about it dude. Spike and Dirty-name touch back down. Round of applause for spike for throwing super good. Wheeljack comments that he's just happy it blew up the way it was supposed to. Cue uncomfortably long laughing. Megatron manages to roll starscream off him and calls for a retreat.

Back at the decepticon base, Megatron has an eyepatch and is skulking. Starscream yaps about how it makes him look like a proper tyrant, brooding and battle scarred, and, dare he say, darkly handsome? This vexes Megatron.

[imagines-r-s]

☆somewhere only we know☆

dr. jack abbot x reader

author's note: i will say, i have so much love for this fic. def one of my favorites that i've written, so i hope you all enjoy!! (also i might write the smut to this eventually, i don't know yet though friends)

wc: 7.9k

warnings: mutual pining, crazy tension, no one doing anything about their feelings, a bit of angst?, stubborn old man

(gif not mine)

You’re not sure how the nickname came to be, but at this point everyone was saying the same thing about Jack Abbot: he had become your bodyguard. Every time that there was any sign of harm near you, low and behold, he was no more than two steps behind you to back you up. Even if you weren’t in harm, he immediately jumped into protective mode. 

The first time that it happened was at the beginning of night shift. You always got there at least 10 minutes early, just so that way you were able to stop at the cafeteria and get your usual tea, while having long enough for it to be cooled down by the time that you dropped it at the nurses station - because for whatever reason, they made their drinks piping hot. 

Today though, you were running late. Not late to the extent that it interfered with the beginning of your shift, but late enough that your tea was still piping hot by the time you made it to the Emergency Department. Even if it was placebo, you needed at least some of your tea before your shift, but you weren’t able to do that, so you were practically dragging yourself around the Emergency Room. 

”What’s wrong with you?” Abbot asked, noticing the dragging of your feet as you paraded around the nurses station for a moment. 

“My tea was hot,” you grumbled, suddenly irritated at anything and everything, which only earned a confused look in response. 

“Is it… not supposed to be?” he said, carefully examining the contents of the thermal cup that sat in front of you. 

“I mean, it’s supposed to be hot, but the cafe makes it too hot sometimes and I usually get here with enough time for it to cool off and I-“ you paused, watching as he grabbed your small pink thermal and walked over to the lounge. “Abbot, I didn’t mean throw out what I already had.”

”I’m not, kid. I’m just getting you an ice cube or two so you can calm the fuck down. I don’t want one of my best residents dragging the whole shift.”

You simply looked at him for a moment, “you think I’m one of your best residents?” A smile slowly growing on your face. 

”Don’t let it get to your head, I just don’t want you burning your tongue.”

☆

Here and there more mundane things happened, but it still showed the care and consideration that he had for you. 

The next significant time that it happened was when a multi-patient trauma came and it was all hands on deck; all hands on deck including a particular surgeon that Abbot just could not get along with. 

”What are we looking at?” she asked, storming in as if she had been seeing this patient the entire time that you and Abbot had been working on her. It was a teenage girl that was struck by the car on the passenger side of the vehicle. 

”We got this one, Walsh. Pretty sure I heard someone needed a surgeon in trauma 3,” Jack said, not wanting to deal with Walsh at this very moment. He also had the perfect opportunity to teach you something new, but he knew Walsh would immediately interfere. 

”You can’t just put your trust in any resident, especially one you show favoritism to, Abbot. It’s not wise and could kill a patient,” she said, calmly. Even though her words didn’t bother you, you still hesitated for a moment when you were handed the scalpel. 

”As I said before, Walsh, this doesn’t look like trauma 3. Go harass whatever patients are in there,” he spoke, turning towards you,”I wouldn’t let you do this one if I didn’t know that you could do it, kid. Now we don’t have time for whatever she has to say right now.”

You looked up to grab the scalpel from him, “thank you.” You earned a simple hum in response. 

You didn’t notice the way that his actions immediately caught the attention of everyone in the room, not just Walsh. Perlah made note to talk to Princess about it later. 

☆

Although you usually worked night shifts, you got called in to help just a bit earlier today - only by a few hours. Only unfortunate thing was whenever you got called in, you needed to get there as soon as you could, so that meant no tea today. 

Jack also got called in, but he was close enough to the hospital that a quick stop to the cafe wasn’t going to throw off his day - he knew you were likely 10-15 minutes out still, so he made sure that he grabbed the tea on his way in. 

Hustling in, you made sure to set your things in your locker before making it back to the nurse’s station. It wasn’t rare for you to see Dana, but it was rare for you to see her for more than 15 minutes at work.

”Dana, hi,” you immediately rounded the station to give her a hug, “I feel like I only see you in small doses anymore.”

”It’s good to see you, too, hun. No tea?”

”You know me too well, but no. I was running late in general, plus I hate being late whenever I get called in, so I didn’t-“ your words stopped in your throat as you saw a small black thermal pop into view. 

“Here, kid,” and before you could even say thank you, he caught up to talk to Robby - who didn’t miss the interaction either. 

“Oh, well. Nevermind, then?” you said, a confused look on your face, which only made Dana laugh more. “He did say I was one of his favorites, but I didn’t know that that entailed getting me my tea?”

”You’re definitely something to him,” she spoke, in true Dana fashion. “Maybe more than a favorite.”

”No, he just said I was one of his favorite residents, it wouldn’t be anything more than that,” you said, taking a sip of your tea, only to be met with silence, “Right?”

”That’s a question for him, hun. Let me know how asking goes.”

You knew you weren’t going to ask - this was just one of those mundane things that he did for you. 

“You know, I don’t get any of my residents their ‘morning’ drink,” Robby said, as he walked beside Jack. 

“Okay, well news flash, it’s actually 4:30 in the afternoon, so no morning drink here, brother,” he spoke, keeping his voice even. In all honesty, he didn’t know why he had gotten you tea. It wasn’t like he even got himself a coffee or anything, he just knew that you would need the pick-me-up before today’s shift and felt inclined to do so - for whatever reason. 

“Still doesn’t give any reason for you getting her tea,” Robby said, a slight smirk on his face, simply brought on by his friend deflecting. 

“I don’t really need to give you reasoning. I just need my favorite resident to be on point.”

”Oh, so she’s moved on from ‘one of your favorites’. I see.”

Jack could only roll his eyes in response. Of course that’s what Robby picked up on. 

☆

Loss wasn’t foreign to you. Especially in this profession - but today it hit harder. You were no stranger to the idea and concept that you can’t always save people, but for whatever reason, today was a day where you couldn’t deal with the loss. 

You had an older patient, she came in stable for a simple procedure, but something went wrong. You had walked away under the impression that she was stable, and she was, but when you were checking on another patient, you heard the nurses call and code. This had you sprinting through the ER and giving compressions for 40 minutes. 

She should have been fine. She quite literally was here for one of the easiest procedure you could perform in the ER, yet it wasn’t enough. You stayed in her room a bit too long before Jack found you. 

“You know, it’s not your fault,” you had found a point on the tiles that was more interesting than anything else. 

“Yeah, so why does it feel like it?” You hadn’t meant to be short with him, but you just couldn’t deal with it right now. You didn’t need comfort or patience, you needed someone to yell, scream, anything other than sympathy. It was somehow more draining than if someone just yelled at you. 

“Kid,” he said, stepping closer to you. He reached a hand out to your shoulder, but you nudged him off and left the room. He could only watch you walk away. He had never gotten that kind of reaction from you - part of him wanted to leave you be, but the other part was ready to chase you down to offer some kind of comfort. 

You just weren’t in the mood for it today. You were no stranger to self soothing, growing up in a place where it was every man (or woman) for themselves, so Jack trying to offer something threw you off. It wasn’t that you didn’t want the comfort, it was that you simply couldn’t accept it. 

Another reason that he wasn’t shocked to see you up on the roof, not on the side of the railing that he usually stood on though - which gave him some peace of mind. So he simply stood beside you, a peaceful silence taking over the both of you. 

He didn’t say anything, only moving his hand over just enough to where your pinkies were touching each other. 

☆

“Hi, I’m Dr. y/l/n, what brings you in today?” you asked, pulling the curtain closed, only to see one of your ex flings in the bed in front of you. It hadn’t ended badly, just ended because the mixed work schedules made a difference. ”Oh, hey, Lucas.”

”Hey, y/n/n,” the familiar nickname left his mouth as though nothing had really ever ended between you two. 

“What brings you in?” 

“Well, note that I wasn’t skateboarding at night, but I did skateboard earlier and the issue just got worse. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to check that my favorite doctor was working tonight to help me out though,” he said, which only earned a laugh from you - loud enough that someone else in the ER heard. 

Jack’s ears perked up at the sound of your laugh, “which patient is she with right now?”

Ellis simply laughed in response, “don’t ask questions you don’t want to know, Abbot.”

”What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She could only smirk in response, only because she knew exactly who you were with right now because she had seen the name when checking boards, “she’s with Lucas, if I recall correctly.”

”Who the fuck is Lucas?” he said, a look of disgust crossing his face. He thought for a moment, as he process Ellis had spoken like he should know who she was talking about. “Wait, as in that Lucas?”

She couldn’t help to hide the smirk on her face, “maybe.” The smirk turning into a laugh as she watched him shoot up from the nurse’s station to go check on a patient that likely has a simple sprain. Before he knew it, he was moving the curtain back to see you and Lucas talking. 

“No, but it’s not like anything crazy, just a small get together. We also wouldn’t have to exclusively stay with Marcus and them, I didn’t plan on it at least,” he spoke, glancing up to see the older Doctor behind you. 

“I mean, I can see what I can do. No promises though, remember, I’m a very busy woman,” you spoke, checking the bandages on his ankle. Feeling a presence behind you, you moved to check behind you, only to see Jack there. ”Oh, hey?”

”Hi,” he said, tone short and voice laced with something you couldn’t recognize. He simply kept his eyes on the patient in front of you. 

“This is Dr. Abbot, by the way. Usually, he’s at least a tad bit more personable, but he’s not really trained to deal with some people, so give him grace,” you said, earning a laugh from Lucas. 

“I gotcha. Hey, man. Are you one of her teachers or?”

”Something like that.”

Sensing whatever tension was there, you quickly tried to dissolve the tension. “I’m going to go check back on some results though and I’ll be right back. Dr. Abbot?” you asked, nodding your head outside of the curtain,”care to explain what the fuck that was?”

”I don’t know what you mean,” he said, looking anywhere but your face. You took a moment to examine the expression on his face before you smiled. ”What is it?”

”Did Ellis tell you who Lucas was?”

”No, but he’s been mentioned before in passing,” he spoke, tone still short. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, “You’re jealous?” He couldn’t say anything in response - he wasn’t a liar. “Oh my god, you are. I was just saying that. Wait. I have so many follow up questions.”

”And I have no follow up answers for you, y/l/n.”

☆

“Okay, wait, so you mean to tell me, that he did all that and didn’t say anything else after you said you had questions,” your friend asked. 

“I can respect top tier avoidance, but doing that without actually clarifying did not help me one bit,” you had today and tomorrow off and your friend hit you with a ‘going out, you wanna come?’ text - so who were you to say no. 

“Hmm, you know what I sense, a planned drunk text,” she said, taking another sip of her margarita. You guys had made a stop at the bar before you would go to the club, mainly to rehash, but also make sure you had enough food in your system. 

“I don’t know, that’s a little much for knowing nothing for sure,” you said, but you had already been contemplating it. 

“Okay, so then, let’s get fucked up, so you can forget about your indecisive-hot-older-doctor crush,” she said, calling the waiter over to you, so you could get your checks. 

The two of you elected to meet some more friends out at the club, mainly for the safety of having a bigger group. As the night went on, the drinks kept coming and the music kept playing, but it was a much needed break after the tension filled days and thoughts of the doctor in your head. 

By the time that your friends were considering leaving, you knew that you were done for. The thoughts of Jack that were in your head weren’t going away - in fact, your drunk, delusional brain was starting to convince you that the idea of calling him was the best idea ever. 

“Should I call him, guys?” you said, your words somehow rushed and slowed simultaneously. “I kinda want to call him.” You were immediately met with mixed reactions, but your brain chose to ignore those disagreeing. 

Before anyone could even process, your phone was open to his contact and you were pressing the call button. It might not have been your smartest decision, but here you were. The phone rang once, twice, but on the third ring he picked up.

”y/n?” his voice sounded concerned - of course it did, you never just randomly called him.

”Hi, Jack,” you said, a smile grazing your face, even though he couldn’t see it. “I just wanted to, um, to talk to you.”

”Where are you?” 

“I’m out with friends.”

”Friends? Or Lucas?”

You giggled at that, “wouldn’t you like to know, pretty boy.”

A deep chuckle rang out from his side of the phone, “you think I’m pretty?”

”I think a lot about you, a lot. But, I’m not, don’t think I’m complaining about it.”

He simply sighed, “you have a safe way home?”

”Yes sir,” you said, he wouldn’t admit that it did something to him. 

“A sober driver?”

”An uber,” you said, getting into the car with your friends. The laughing in the background alerting him that you were on your way. 

“Let me know whenever you get where you’re going safely. Okay, sweetheart?”

”You called me sweetheart.”

”I know. Goodnight, y/n.”

”Goodnight, Jack,” and it wasn’t too late after that that he received a slightly misspelled text that you were home safe. 

Luckily, you were someone that didn’t get hangovers, but that didn’t make the pain of acknowledging the outgoing call to ‘Jack Abbot’ or the mistyped message saying you made it home any easier. You silently cursed yourself as you spent the day to yourself, knowing that you would have to see him tomorrow. 

Going into your shift, you prepared yourself for anything, you weren’t prepared for the small black thermal to be filled with your favorite tea, with a note signed off from ‘pretty boy’ on there. You could only shake your head knowing exactly who the note and tea was from, along with the knowledge that he probably signed it off that way because of you. 

“Pretty boy? That’s an interesting sign off,” Dana spoke from behind you. 

“Yeah, it’s something,” you spoke, folding the note and putting it in your pocket, you simply sipped on your tea. It wasn’t until you saw both Jack and Robby walk out, a smirk on both of their faces. “If you have something to say, just get it out now.”

The two of them could only cackle in response before Jack finally spoke up, “look, I just didn’t take you as the type to drunk call, y/n. That’s all… or call me pretty boy for that matter.”

You could only drink your tea and walk away in response. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I’ll make them leave you alone,” you heard Dana say from behind you. 

Before you could process it, Jack had fallen into rhythm with you. “Where are you going, sweetheart?” 

“Nowhere in particular, pretty boy.”

”Look, I know I made fun of it, but I can’t say I hate it,” he speaks, honestly. 

“I didn’t hate you calling me sweetheart either.”

☆

 You tried to avoid her, you really did, but unfortunately Gloria was the type to always find a way to you. “Dr. y/l/n, I’m glad I could catch you before your shift actually started.”

You simply smiled, sipping on your tea, “crazy stuff, Gloria. How are you?”

”I’m good, I wanted to bring something up with you,” you remained silent, letting her continue. Looking behind her to see Jack already looking at you, “I was making sure that you knew, due to excellent patient satisfaction ratings on your part, you’ve been invited to our annual gala.”

”The one that is primarily only attendings?” you were surprised that it was being brought up to you. 

“Yes, some of the board members were extremely impressed by a lot of things on your record - patient satisfaction ratings being one of the bigger ones - but they like to see that you genuinely care about things that happen in this hospital and they were wanting to see some new faces.”

You laughed at the last part of the sentence, knowing that implied they were tired of seeing Jack and Robby being the main ones there every year. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

”You always have a choice, Doctor, but there is a wrong answer here,” she said, handing you the paper invitation. 

“Gee, thanks.” Now you had to find a dress. 

The next day, you texted Dana asking if she would be free at some point to go dress shopping with you soon before the gala, to which she was ecstatic to go with. So, the next day there was crossover in your days off - which was way too close to the gala for your liking - you went dress shopping. 

“Look, honey, all I’m going to say is that old man you’re into is going to lose it,” she said, laughing to herself once you stepped out of the dressing room. The dress was simple, but enough. A simple, long black dress with a white bow in the back to contrast. 

“Dana.”

”You know I’m right, you look good, kid.”

☆

Jack didn’t want to be here. He knew Robby didn’t want to be here either, but here they both were. Him with his whiskey, Robby choosing against drinking. “I still hate these things, I’m just waiting for Dana to get here, so she can talk shit with us like she usually does,” Robby said, speaking up first.

”Yeah, I don’t think these things will ever get anymore interesting, especially when all these donors care about are the surface level issues, never what actually matters,” Jack spoke, his eyes scanning the group of people that were here. “I just need Dana to get here to at least make sure I’m not falling asleep during all this.” 

“You know this is y/n’s first gala,” Robby said, gauging Jack’s reaction. 

A confused look came over his face, “wait, she was invited?”

”Yeah, your favorite resident isn’t just your favorite. Her patient satisfaction scores were above everyone. I know she didn’t learn that part from you.”

“Shut up, you already know that she’s one of the best that we have. She’s going to go far with whatever she decides to do,” he said, turning back towards the bar to set his now empty glass up. “I can’t wait to see where she goes in life.”

”You being a part of it? Or?” Robby wasn’t a stranger to asking Jack about you anymore. He knew his friend well enough to know that he was only hesitant of where things would go, in fear that things would end badly. Jack didn’t want to risk losing you to any extent. 

“If she wants me to be, I will be there.”

”If who wants you there, you’ll what?” he turned at the sound of your voice. His jaw dropped at how gorgeous you looked. Dana stepped into the circle after she finished talking to one of the donors. 

“She looks nice, don’t you think, Jack?” Dana asked, but she could clearly see that you had, in fact, left him speechless.

“Yeah,” he paused to gather his thoughts, “you look gorgeous, y/n.”

”Thank you, Jack. You don’t look too bad yourself,” you said, as if you weren’t absolutely losing it over the way he looked in a tux. “I really feel out of place here, I think I only talked to one other resident so far - and that was out of the five people we had to talk to to get over here.”

”You deserve to be here, sweetheart. Don’t worry,” he left it at that, watching as Dana and Robby left to go check in with Gloria. He came closer to you, unsure of what to do. He considered reaching for your hand, but as he go closer and the smell of your perfume hit him, all he could do was ball his fist before flexing his hand. ”I can’t even think straight around you during a work day, you have no idea how hard it is for me to keep my thoughts together right now.”

A smile grew on your face that he had seen countless times before, but this time was different. You weren’t any different, but the smile on your face meant something different. 

Before he could say anything else, he was interrupted by Gloria swooping in, “Dr. Abbot, Dr. y/l/n, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Palmer. He was the one that saw some of your records and made sure that you were invited today,” she said, leaving the three of you alone. 

“Dr. y/l/n, I was extremely impressed when I saw and heard certain things about you. Patients love you, other doctors are incredibly impressed by you, you have a lot of potential,” he said, a cocky grin on his face that screamed ‘I have money and I hope that it shows’.

”Thank you Mr. Palmer, that means a lot,” you could feel Jack’s eyes on you. 

“Yeah, of course. You look stunning tonight, I would never miss the opportunity to ask someone so beautiful to dance,” he said, moving his hand for you to take. “Can I have this dance?”

You paused, not missing the glare that was sent in Mr. Palmer’s direction. You wanted so badly to object, but you knew this wasn’t the place that you could. “You may.”

Jack was heated. No. Correction, Jack was fuming. He could tell based off the way that he was looking at you, he wasn’t actually impressed, it was a base level statement. Unfortunately given context of time and place, he couldn’t do anything but watch from a distance. 

Robby and Dana had watched the whole interaction, moving closer to talk to Jack, but not before placing bets on how long he would last before cutting in. “You okay?” Dana asked, softly. 

“Just peachy,” his eyes didn’t leave you. He watched as the two of you started dancing, keeping watch of where he decided to set his hands - moreso how badly he wanted to be murdered. 

“You know, I told her whenever she bought the dress that it would catch your attention. Goals were achieved tonight,” Dana joked, hoping to add light to the situation, but he was still laser focused on you. 

“Yeah, it definitely caught my attention.”

You smiled to keep face, but truth was Mr. Palmer, who ironically was in fact named Chadwick, was a cocky son of a bitch that did not seem to have respect for you or any doctor for that matter. Conversing with him was nauseating, to say the least, but you knew that you had to keep up appearances - especially being a specially invited person. 

You were letting him go on and on about his recent golf experiences, when he suddenly changed the subject to you and how you looked in the dress - you knew immediately where he was going to go with this. You knew you were right when he talked about wanting to get out of here eventually and he tried to move his hand lower on your waist. 

“No, sir. I don’t think so,” you said, attempting to pull away, but he pulled you tighter. “You’re not getting what you want, even if you try pulling me tighter.”

”Oh, I would hate for something big to mess up that star reputation of yours, wouldn’t you?” he spoke, you had seen this move too many times. A very unfortunate abuse of powers, you were stuck.

“I know how good my reputation is, you can’t tarnish that, you prick.”

”Oh, but one word to Gloria and I can easily get you taken out of a program. I’d be cautious.”

“Yeah,” a familiar voice spoke from behind you, “I would be cautious, too. Get your hands off of her.” 

You didn’t know, but Robby and Dana had also moved in closer. You felt yourself let out a breath of relief. You stepped back and were on your way back to the bar when he had the audacity to say something else, “damn, I didn’t realize you got this far by fucking your ‘mentor’.”

The wire snapped. Anything that was holding Jack Abbot back from letting the man in front of him have it disappeared and before he knew it, the man was on the ground from a mean right hook. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

You stood there in awe. So much had happened in a short timespan, you didn’t even have the chance to recollect your thoughts. Robby had simply pulled Jack back just enough for him to process what was happening, “Jack, not here.”

Jack simply looked back and grabbed you, both of you immediately leaving. ack didn’t know what to say, the only thing keeping him in line right now was the click of your heels behind him. 

“Jack, wait up.” It wasn’t until you two had stepped outside that you had said it, but the only thing that let him know that was the cooler air hitting his face. 

“I’m not apologizing for defending you, sweetheart. I don’t care, he had no right to say what he did to you. I should have done way worse,” he kept going. Ranting on and on about the man that had disrespected you.

”Jack.”

“And him using, well attempting to, use the money thing against you made it even more of a dick move.” He kept ranting. 

“Jack, look at me,” you said, stepping closer to him. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” and before he knew it, your lips were on his. 

☆

Robby was going to hurt Jack. Not that he did anything specific, but after the events at the gala, he went MIA. He didn’t completely disappear, but he made an adamant point to avoid you and anyone he could at work. He was simply in a clock in, clock out mode. 

You tried your best not to care, you really did - it just took a lot to go from bits of nothing to the events of the gala back to square one. You missed seeing his black thermal next to your pink one or his little notes. Or him, for that matter. 

It was a total switch up from the emotional roller coaster that you had been on for the past eight months. How could he just go from this to normal? How could he just go from this to nothing with you?

It seemed too easy for him. Maybe it had been. 

Dana had made the suggestion that maybe you switch to days for a little bit, that way you weren’t constantly pressed on the issue that was Jack Abbot. She was also on the verge of attacking the man verbally - maybe physically - for what he was doing to you. 

Robby knew. Robby knew exactly what had happened, but he also knew his closest friend well enough that he couldn’t press on the issue in fear of making it worse. Jack was scared. You had eased him out from behind certain walls, but the certainty of a kiss made him want to build them back up. 

Jack knew, too. He knew that he was hurting you, but he couldn’t stop himself. He had his walls built up for a reason: to protect himself and you - but unfortunately, he was just harming you in the process. You switching from night shift for a few days per week is what made him immediately regret the decisions he had made after the gala.��

He showed up an extra 40 minutes early when you worked the day shift, just so that he could see you for longer than what he had been. He found peace in the night and darkness, but you were the one that was bringing him light for the time being. 

“I expected to find you up here,” he heard Robby say, eventually sensing him right behind him. 

“I know. I knew someone would know I was up here.”

”She knows too, she’s who sent me up here to make sure you didn’t jump,” Robby said, making Jack turn to face him. “You should talk to her. She’s holding it together, but she’s not doing good, man. I’m not going to say it’s your fault-“

”But you want to though.”

”Yeah. You might be her mentor, but at least she didn’t pick up on your small lack of emotional intelligence.” 

“I fear it’s too late for her to forgive me. I don’t want it to be, I-“

”You love her?”

”Yeah, I do.”

”So, you have to fix this, Jack,” and before he could respond, Robby left him on his own.  

☆

It started off gradually. You went back to working just night shifts, tired of letting him get to you. You were cordial, you did your job, and at the end of the day you immediately went home. 

The way that you and Jack worked together didn’t change, he still rightfully encouraged you to be the best doctor that you could be - he would blame himself if this directly hindered your career. 

“Sweet cheeks, why so glum?” you heard Myrna’s voice ring out from behind you. 

“I’m okay, Myrna. Also, sweet cheeks?” you questioned, sending a confused look her way. 

“You’re sweet and-“

”You know, I’m okay without you elaborating.”

”Suit yourself. You seem upset, who hurt ya? I can hurt them like I hurt my husband,” she said, making you glad she was still in cuffs. 

You smiled at the older woman, “I appreciate you, Myrna, but I promise I’m okay.” You removed yourself as far from her as you could, but when you heard the doors open, you made direct eye contact with him. You didn’t miss the two thermal cups in his hand. 

It was a silent exchange, he didn’t say anything else; opting to simply set down the mug and send a nod your way before he went to talk to Robby for handoffs.

“Have you two talked any since the gala?” Dana asked, pulling you away from your thoughts. Simply shaking your head, she let out a sigh. “I don’t like to see either of you hurting like this, especially you. He’s just too stubborn for his own good.”

“I know,” you said, sadly. “I just don’t feel like it’s my place to try and fix things as he’s the one that MIA, I just miss us - not that it was anything for sure, but it still felt like enough.”

“He’ll get it eventually,” Dana said, putting her jacked on and grabbing her bag, “I just hope sooner than later. Alright, hun, I’m heading out. Holler if you need anything.”

With that, it was you and the rest of night shift - and Robby, who couldn’t leave on time to save his own life. You fell into rhythm with Chen and Ellis as they walked during handoffs.

”Haven’t seen you with your bodyguard recently,” Chen said, his tone even. 

“My bodyguard?”

Ellis made a face and Chen could only laugh at you, “Abbot.”

“He’s not my bodyguard,” you grumbled, choosing to ignore the two of them. 

“That’s not what I heard, especially with him punching some guy out for you at that gala. A non-bodyguard wouldn’t do that,” Ellis said, a pointed look on her face. 

“Whatever.”

☆

Dana had decided to have a small, sweet get together for her birthday; she was able to leave her daughters with a babysitter and just wanted to spend some time with the people she cared about most. This led to you being sat near Heather, Robby, Frank, Cassie, Samira, and Jack, at a table in one of Dana’s favorite bars. 

You elected to ignore the ongoing sense of Jack’s eyes on you as you talked to Samira and Cassie. Cassie was ranting about her ex making a stop in the hospital for something as stupid as the skateboarding accident, but her voice kept fading into the background as you looked to see Jack’s eyes already on you. 

“Can you guys just make up already? The tension is actually insane,” Samira whisper-shouted to you. 

“Please, we’re begging,” Cassie added, “it even makes my heart beat witnessing all of this. It’s tiring. Just kiss, make up, maybe do more, we sure as hell won’t stop you.”

You laughed, “don’t you guys have jobs? My life and relationships should not be the primary focus of your day. Now, I don’t know about you guys, but I need a drink - will one of you guys come with?” 

Samira was already getting up when Cassie spoke up, “I’ll come with you, but I won’t get anything.” She told the table where you guys were going before she caught up to you. “Wait, y/n/n, isn’t that, uh, what was his name? That fling you had last summer?”

”Who? Lucas?” you asked, looking up to see him on the other side of the bar, you sent a small smile his way that he immediately reciprocated. He moved away from some of the friends that you recognized and headed your way. ”Hey, Lucas. How are you?”

”I’m good,” he nodded towards the two other girls around you as you introduced them. “You ladies getting anything to drink? They can be on me. y/n, you want your usual? Or are you drinking drinking tonight?”

You didn’t miss the smirk that was on his face, “I’ll have my usual, but I wouldn’t be opposed to a round of shots for us, too. Don’t think you’re going to get lucky though just for buying us drinks, Lucas.”

”Can I not just buy a pretty girl drinks without any ulterior motives?” he spoke, smoothly before turning to the bartender. “Four shots, a strawberry mojito, and - would you ladies want anything else?”

”I’ll have a tequila sunrise,” Samira mentioned. 

“I’m not drinking, but thank you,” Cassie added. Lucas nodded before getting the order finished. 

“I’m going to go back to the table, are you cool here with Samira?” Cassie asked, looking to you for a response. 

“I’m good, thank you though. You think I should drink the extra shot?”

”As long as you can handle it, y/n/n,” she said with a laugh. Turning back to the table, she let out a cackle at the sight in front of her: Dana and Robby watching Abbot, trying to hide the smiles on their faces as Jack looked like he was about to lose his shit - if he hadn’t already lost it. 

Once Samira got her drink and took the shot with you guys, she turned back to the table to already see most eyes on you and Lucas. “Oh, I’m not saying I can see steam rising from Jack’s head, but the man could very easily have steam coming from his ears.”

”He can’t get mad if he’s not going to say anything about how he feels,” you spoke honestly. Lucas turned and immediately recognized the doctor that had been looming the last time he had to go to the ER. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a look like that from a man that wasn’t in love,” Lucas said, taking a sip of his beer. 

“What?” 

He shrugged, “He wouldn’t look at me like he wants to kill me, if he wasn’t in love with you.”

“Random man does make a fair point,” Samira said, “can I please have your permission to stir the pot some? Just to see what the old man does?”

Lucas laughed at that, “just don’t get me murdered if you do, I have a lot to live for.”

”I don’t know what you have planned, but do what you have to do at this point,” you said, mentally preparing for what could happen. 

When Samira sat down, she immediately turned and told Cassie what was going on - she didn’t exactly have a master plan, but she did know it wouldn’t be difficult to get him to his breaking point. 

“Why’d you leave her up there, Samira?” he said, blinking slowly before taking a sip of his water. 

“She seemed okay up there, plus I’m not one to interfere on romantic matters,” Samira said, earning a laugh from Cassie and Dana. Robby could tell based off of Samira’s face that nothing was actually going on, she was just saying stuff at this point. Jack simply rolled his eyes before going back to his y/n watching. 

“I remember them being a thing,” Heather added to the mix, “they were cute, it didn’t work out just because of schedules though. Honestly, if his job changed any, I don’t think they should avoid trying again.”

Jack’s face remained still, but everyone at the table was on the same page: push his buttons just enough for him to do something. His attention was brought back to the bar at the sound of your laugh, which was usually one of his favorite sounds, but not when it was because of another man. ”He can’t be that funny.”

Everyone at the table could barely contain their laughter anymore, continuing to say things in hopes that it would finally make him get up and talk to you - but for whatever reason, nothing was working. Maybe it was just simple self control?

Jack kept his eye on the table, the noise of the bar drowning out as he waited for you to return to the table. He didn’t see you come back, but the smell of your perfume had has head snapping up, “you have fun, sweetheart?”

You smirked, the nickname usually kept between the two of you. “Yes, I did. Thank you for asking.” You continued talking to everyone at the table, but didn’t miss the feeling of eyes dancing between you and him. 

“Jesus Christ,” Robby muttered, shaking his head and you thought you could see Dana’s eye twitch. 

“Bitch,” Samira said, eyes wide, “I swear to god, if you do not leave tonight with him, I will hurt both of you.”

”Same,” the collective said.  

More time passed, but nothing happened. Jack didn’t really say anything else to you and you assumed that he had given up on whatever there was with the two of you. Before you knew it, another hour had passed and the table that was full before was down to just you, Robby, and Jack - everyone else going home together so they made it back safely. 

Robby looked at both of you before he started, “You guys need to figure your shit out. If you need me here to talk it out, cool - note, I won’t stay past anything other than conversation though.”Jack didn’t say anything. You didn’t know if that made you feel better or worse. “Okay, so this is the part where the conversation happens, if you were unaware.”

He stayed silent again, this time you weren’t having it though. “I appreciate the attempt, Robby, but I think everyone has tried hard enough.” You tried your best to keep your voice even, turning to grab your purse and move your chair, you were ready to make the walk home or get an uber home. 

“y/n, wait,” Jack’s voice finally said, “I- Can I drive you home?”

You looked from Robby to Jack, “I was just going to get an uber. It’s all good though.”

”y/n. Please,” at that your eyes turned to him. He was pleading with you, saying a million things at once. A million things that he had intended to say, but you saw it - you knew him well enough to see it. 

“Okay.” 

“Well, kiddos, if that’s all settled, I’m headed out. Let me know when you guys make it back safe though. I’ll see you guys at shift change,” and with that it was just you and Jack. 

”Are you ready to head out or?” you asked, breaking the silence that had taken a moment to settle between the two of you. 

“I’m okay staying for a second,” another beat of silence, “you look beautiful tonight, by the way. I just didn’t want to add fuel to the fire that our friends were waiting on, only reason I didn’t say anything sooner.”

”Yeah, there’s a lot of things you could have said sooner.” Was the comment a bit mean? Maybe. Warranted? Yes.

He sighed, “I know. Trust me, I know.”

”Okay, so if you knew, why? Why did you drag this on, push me away, all of that? I would much rather you just said that you didn’t want something with me than drag me along.”

”Sweetheart,” he said, reaching his hand across the table to yours, “trust me, I want you. So bad that I fear it could kill me. I just- I pushed you away because I was scared and for that I’m so sorry. In no way did I want you to feel unwanted.”

”Scared? Of what?” you weren’t even mad at him anymore, you just wanted answers. 

“Scared that, if I admit how I feel about you that I would lose you.”

You stayed silent a moment, tilting your head in confusion, “you thought you would lose me? So you pushed me away?”

”It sounds stupid like that, but I’ve lost so much in my life already. You mean so much to me and I didn’t want to risk losing that. I love you, y/n, and me admitting that made it real. And when it’s real, I have something to lose,” his eyes met yours again, “I can’t lose you.” 

You didn’t know how to respond. He had just admitted that he was in love with you and all you could do was look at him for a moment - his hand on yours was the only thing grounding you. ”I love you, too, Jack. I just didn’t deserve you pushing me away. You mean too much to me for that.”

”I know, and I’m so sorry that I put you through that,” a small smile appeared on his face, “I’lll make it up to you, I promise. Let me get you home.” 

You didn’t know if you should, but all disagreements flew out the window when you saw the way he was looking at you. “Okay.”

☆

As the sun eased into the room the day after, you felt yourself pulled back towards the body behind you. You felt at ease, at peace. A night of repeated ‘I love you’s and ‘I’m sorry’s to make up for lost time. A morning routine that the two of you developed in a few hours, him making breakfast for the two of you and you being the comforting presence he needed in that moment. 

The two of you made up for lost time before you had to prepare for work. Stopping at your apartment so that you could grab your scrubs and work bag, he looked at the pictures you had around of friends, family, and the memories that you had made - his mind immediately going to the new ones the two of you could make. 

Opening your cabinet to grab one of your thermal mugs, he saw the multiple pink thermals that stayed there, “I didn’t realize you had a problem.”

“I have at least one for every day of the week and then some for if I don’t feel like washing them, it’s a system that works” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. He let out a light chuckle at your ‘system’, but he couldn’t ignore the way that seeing two of his black thermal mugs in there made him happy. 

“I see I’ve made guest appearances here that I didn’t even know about,” he said, placing his hands on your waist from behind. “Are we stopping for tea before work?”

”Of course, pretty boy. Your favorite resident can’t be dragging,” you said, heading out. 

The two of you made your way through the cafe and into the Emergency Department, not missing the way that Dana’s face lit up at the two of you entering together. 

“I see the two of you finally made up,” Dana said, a smirk on her face, “and based on the way your skin is glowing, maybe more than just a make up.”

“Thank God, you guys needed to do something,” Robby said, nearing the nurses station. “I was genuinely so close to actually losing it, you have no idea.” 

------

taglist: @dayswithoutcoffee @dragonsondragons @literazine

hope you guys enjoyed!! feedback is always welcome

xoxo

ash

[i2sunric]

𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 (hyung line) — PART 2

WARNINGS: gang bang (fivesome), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), cream pie, blowjob, handjob, p in v, anal sex, deepthroat, rough sex (but not really), cum swallowing, manhandling, pet names (baby, doll, angel, slut), lmk if more → PART 1

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @seunghancore @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries

a/n: i wanted to make a part 2 but i don’t really like how it came out. please LIKE & REBLOG and lemme know your thoughts <3

After the last time, you grew closer to Heeseung’s band mates, occasionally pleasuring them, but only if your boyfriend was in sight. After all, you didn’t want to cheat.

However, Heeseung had to lie if he said seeing you stuffed full of his best friends’ cocks wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever seen, he could get off just by the sight.

Which was why he decided to bring you with him during the new tour.

All four men were full of adrenaline after the concerts, never ready to sleep right away.

They’d come back in the hotel and go straight to yours and Heeseung’s shared room.

You were ready, laying on the bed wearing the white and pinkish lingerie set you knew made Heeseung go beast mode.

Heeseung smirked, dropping his back and walking toward you “All ready for us, mh?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded, your gaze going from your boyfriend to his three best friends, all watching you with primal desire.

Jake’s hand went to touch your breasts, folding them in his fingers, making you let out a small moan.

“So pretty.” Sunghoon commented “Get on all fours, doll.”

And who were you to disobey? You quickly sat up and then turned around, so you could get on all fours on the fluffy sheets.

Soon, they all had their pants and boxers long forgotten on the floor as you licked their tips.

Sunghoon and Jake stood in front of you while Heeseung decided to have the honour to fuck you first.

You teased Sunghoon’s cock with your tongue, swirling it around the mushroom tip while you pumped Jake’s hard-on with your hand.

Jay stood by your side, watching the scene unfold right in front of his eyes as he palmed his cock, not wanting to pleasure himself too much and spoil the fun.

“Look at you.” Heeseung said, pushing himself into you without a single warning, making you gasp and take all of Sunghoon’s cock down your throat “Such a good slut for us.”

You clenched around Heeseung, the intrusion of his big dick making your nose scrunch as you tried to blow Sunghoon. The sound of your moans sent vibrations through all of his body, making his hips unconsciously buck.

Jake fucked your fist, his hips moving at a messy speed, just like he was always eager to release rather than enjoying the moment.

“Come on Y/N.” He said “Suck me off too.” And without needing a second request, you shifted your mouth from Sunghoon’s tip to Jake’s, swirling a mixture of your spit and the other’s precum on his dick.

“Fuck.” Heeseung groaned from behind you “Your pussy is so tight angel, squeezing my cock so well.”

You hummed, making Jake’s head fall back “I swear you’re like the goddess of sex.”

Jay walked closer to the bed until he kneeled on the mattress, one hand slapping your ass while the other went to play with your clit, stimulating you even more.

Jake gripped the back of your head and shoved his cock deep inside your throat, you could feel it twitch and drops of salty pre-cum drip down it.

You rolled your eyes back and concentrated on not to let the gagging reflex get the best of you as tears ruined your mascara.

“You look so fucking good.” Sunghoon growled, caressing your shoulder as he fucked your fist, seeing how you weren’t able to give him a handjob with two cocks filling your holes “All ruined.”

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” Jake panted “I’m gonna cum, I don’t wanna—“

Before he could even finish his sentence you had hollowed your cheeks and reached one hand to squeeze his balls, making him groan out and empty his load in your throat.

“Shit, baby.” He huffed “I didn’t want to cum so soon.”

You pulled away and licked any drop of cum that escaped your lips, smirking “You always do.”

When you were about to take Sunghoon’s cock in your mouth, Jay said “Nah ah.” And Heeseung pulled out of you.

You let out a complaining noise and Jay manhandled you, lying on the mattress with his back resting on the headboard.

He gently guided you down on his shaft, your hands resting on his shoulders.

A figure hovered behind you, the familiar scent of musk and sweat filling your nostrils.

Heeseung’s breath fanned over your ear “How tight is this hole, mh?” He asked, pressing himself against your ass.

You shuddered, leaning against one of his shoulders as Jay slowly moved your body up and down, making you bounce on him.

“Can I?” He asked, pressing soft kisses down your jaw. You closed your eyes and nodded, your mind already cloudy with lust and desire.

“Good girl.” He murmured, Sunghoon’s icy hand came to spread your asscheeks as Heeseung slowly slid his tip inside your asshole.

You let out a whimper, your eyes squeezing shut as your pussy did the same around Jay.

“Breathe, Y/N.” Heeseung whispered, kissing and sucking on your neck to distract you.

You nodded and tried to take deep breaths as Heeseung pushed all of himself inside your asshole, the stretch was painful yet so sweet combined to Jay’s steady thrusts.

You moaned out loud, rolling your eyes back as they moved together, filling you up to the brim.

“You like it?” Sunghoon asked “You like it, having your holes filled, don’t you, doll?”

You nodded “Like it.” You breathed out “S’full.”

“Yeah?” Sunghoon stood on the mattress “How about how?” He asked, shoving his dick inside your mouth.

You moaned around him, sending waves of vibration on his twitching length.

“S-shit.” Heeseung hissed “So good.”

Jake watched the scene from the edge of the bed, his cock hard again as he jerked himself.

Jay gripped your hips and lifted you slightly, his hips jerking up at a fast pace, his tip hitting your cervix.

“I’m so close, angel.” Heeseung panted, his hips thrusting so harshly, making your body move as you sucked Sunghoon off.

“Good fucking slut.” Jay groaned, cock twitching inside of you, so close to the edge with the way your pussy was clenching around him, knowing you were close to your euphoria as well.

You pulled away Sunghoon’s cock and jerked him off with your hand “Fuck!” You moaned out loud “So good.”

“Shit, Shit.” Sunghoon removed himself from your hand as he shot his load all over your chest, pulling you into a heated make out session that you reciprocated with difficulty.

Truthfully, you were just panting in his mouth while his tongue swirled all around yours, still feeling the aftertaste of Jake’s seed.

Heeseung’s hips also stuttered, cumming deep inside your ass at the same time Jay hit your sweet stop, making your body shudder in release.

Jay fried to hold it back but he wasn’t quick enough to pull out, emptying his load inside of your warm cunt.

You three rode out of your orgasms and then you laid on Jay’s chest, spent.

“What the fuck, man? I told you not to come inside of her.” Heeseung groaned, brows furrowed in anger.

Jay’s breath was still uneven, drops of sweat falling down his forehead “I’m sorry. I didn’t pull out in time.”

“Well, pull out now!” He snapped, making you raise your hand in protest.

You gave him a wary look and slowly lifted yourself off Jay, his cum dripping out of your pussy onto his softened cock.

You moaned and turned around, flopping down on the mattress “I think that was pretty hot.”

“But I’m your boyfriend.” Heeseung frowned. You stared up at him with half-lidded eyes “Yes, you are.”

“So? Aren’t you mad he literally just—“ You shushed hum by nudging his knee with your foot “I’m not mad. I’m on the pill and surely won’t get pregnant by one of your friend’s cream pie.” You chuckled weakly.

Heeseung sighed “Alright,” He gulped “Sorry, Jay.”

“No worries.” Jay shrugged “I get it.”

Heeseung’s gaze fell onto your pussy, the way Jay’s cum mixed with your own wetness had made a mess on the sheets.

And lord if it wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever witnessed— his cock slowly hardened again, twitching in front of him.

You raised a brow at him, “Actually.” He cleared his throat “Why don’t we all take turns and cum inside of you, angel?”

[moongirlrhea]

carry me slowly, my sunlight (all these colors fade for you only)

this is part two to the azriel and his best friend drabble which you can read here

azriel x reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: mentions of bad family dynamics and childhood trauma. angst + comfort

i have no idea how to conduct a summary but this is a star fall fic! as mentioned in the drabble earlier

enjoy and, as always, make sure to give me feedback and let me know if you want a continuation of this!

a/n: sooo this is coming out so much later than i intended for it to but school is killing me currently, so sorry for the wait! also the title is a lyric from hozier’s sunlight :)

Three hours before Rhysand’s starfall party was scheduled to begin, she was sitting in the vanity in her room, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She was glad to be here, she really was. And she hadn’t done anything bad, she was well aware. But still she couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in her gut. The guilt. Azriel had spent the last few days trying to make that feeling go away - but it stuck like dirt and grime on her skin.

Maybe it was the upcoming anniversary that made her go into survival mode at the mere thought of her blood relatives.

Or maybe it was the letters they kept sending.

Either way, nothing seemed to be able to make the bad memories go away. She tried to solve it all like an equation - look at the situation from start to finish, list out all the reasons why she was not some villain in her family’s story - but acting like she was guilty only cemented her feelings more.

Tonight is supposed to be good, she reminded herself. Don’t ruin this. Starfall was the most important holiday of the year, for her family - in the new definition, the one that didn’t make her want to puke her guts out - for Azriel, for her best friend, and for herself. Or so it used to be. Before Amarantha, before the war, before everything got so complicated. Don’t ruin this. Then why did the holiday make her want to lock herself inside her closet and sit in the dark until the end of time? They finally got peace in Prythian, after everything. Don’t ruin this.

She sighed and started combing through her hair. Maybe the presence of her family, the real one, would make it easier tonight. That was what starfall was for anyway, right? Holding the people who loved you, knew you, and vice versa, close. Shaking her head, she decided she would focus on her friends tonight and everything would be alright.

The hair was haphazardly brushed through as, alas, unwanted thoughts still kept recurring like waves crashing over her mind. Clean golden-brown curls cascaded down her back and shoulders and her newly made dress was laid out on her bed. She tried to win that fight with her mind, but a reprieve arrived soon in the form of a brown-eyed female in a blood colored gown.

“Please tell me you didn’t do your makeup yet, you promised I could help!” Mor was almost shouting as she came tumbling into her room. She looked her up and down and exhaled.

“Oh, good. You’re not even dressed”

“Don’t we still have like three hours?”

“Well, that isn’t very much time, really. Show me that dress you made” the words were thrown over her shoulder as Mor was looking through the makeup drawers, evaluating products and pulling some out, some away.

“Here it is”

“Oh! You really outdid yourself this year, babe,” Mor’s chocolate eyes and smile were shining as she looked the dress up and down, having turned away from the vanity. “Put it on and let’s get started on your makeup”

By the time she was laced up and out of her bathroom, Morrigan had laid out just about every single one of her makeup and hair products on the desk of her vanity. Soon her cheeks and lips were rosy, eyelashes long and darkened with kohl, and her friend was standing behind her brushing out her hair.

“Please don’t tell me you’re making me do the same hairstyle you wear everyday�� the joke was light in the evening air, and she let out a soft laugh, meeting her friend’s eyes in the mirror

“I did actually think we could try something different”

“I’m all ears”

“Maybe just regular waves? I think a whole intricate hairstyle will be too much with the dress?” Morrigan hummed at that, parting her hair down the middle. Then after a beat of silence

“Tonight will be fun, right?” the blonde’s eyebrow quirked up.

“Why wouldn’t it be? It’s starfall” another beat of silence, she sent her friend a tight smile and looked down

“Yeah…”

“Is everything alright? Anxious to see a certain spymaster, maybe?” her head snapped up, green eyes wide

“What?”

“Oh, come on,” Mor laughed and met her reflection in the mirror, mischief dancing in her eyes “Everyone sees the eyes you two make at each other. And this has been going on for decades! Free me from the torment, please” her cheeks were getting redder by the second

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” she mumbled, averting her eyes

“Hey, head straight forward, now.” Mor’s fingers moved her head back in place “It’s cute how shy you get about this”

“Mother’s sake, stop now, please” she watched in a new found horror as her friend threw her head back laughing, musing

“Fine, fine. But seriously, have you never thought about this?”

Fuck’s sake. Of course she had. How could she have not? But he was her best friend. So, so good to her that sometimes she felt like her entire heart might burst. Like something in her ribs will pull so hard, she will snap and just stop breathing altogether. Because he changed her whole perspective on life, on the world.

That night he found her aimlessly wandering through the night court’s forest after travelling for days on end on a ship between the continent and Prythian. Tired and malnourished, both physically and emotionally, she quickly got lost after leaving the port.

Things could have ended badly, especially considering her lack of plan and any survival skills whatsoever - where was she supposed to get any after growing up dressed in tight dresses, locked inside a pretty manor? Raised to be a wife and mother under the cold, scrutinizing eyes of her parents and the town.

But then Azriel found her, in so many ways.

She took his hand, and still to this day felt as though she never let go of it - and hoped she never would.

“Gods, fine if you’re just gonna space out on me like that, I’ll drop it” Mor’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts

“Sorry?” but Mor was snorting, looking at her with something in her eyes that she couldn’t quite place. And then she was shaking her head.

“Hair is all done. Do you like it?” she met her own eyes in the reflection, and she really did look pretty tonight.

The curls of her hair were framing her face, the rest falling down her shoulders and back. Her eyes trailed down and followed the curve of her neck down to where a dainty golden chain with a small pendant was resting a little north of the swell of her breasts.

She stood from her seat to make sure everything was sitting right on her, and sighed, about to voice the thoughts she was torturing herself with before Mor’s appearance.

But then her friend sat on the bed, hands smoothing through the pink duvet cover and resting behind her to support her back. She snapped her fingers before grinning, and out of thin air appeared a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“I thought we could start the party a little early.”

And maybe she was right earlier - tonight would be a fun night with her friends, and she didn’t have to think about anything bad.

Rhysand’s party was well started by the time the two females made it to the main hall. The sea of bodies seemed never ending, the amount of people the high lord and lady invited was astounding - as always. But quickly she noticed two tips of Illyrian wings peaking out above the crowd, near the corner of the room. She looked around to find Morrigan already gone, and started to push through the crowd.

Azriel was leaning against the wall, two drinks already in hand. Cloaked in shadow, dressed in all black and already smiling softly once their eyes met, Azriel seemed to have already known she was coming.

She stood a few paces in front of him, anxiously smoothing down her hair and softly panting from the trudge through the room, already overwhelmed by the heat of the overcrowded hall. But before she could say anything, Azriel was handing her her drink and putting an arm around her shoulder in order to lead her out of the hall and into one of the balconies.

Velaris was always breathtaking at night, but especially this one. Even before the stars started to fall, the holiday made the sky look enchanting, somehow. The pair leaned against the railing, and her eyes were immediately glued to the city.

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is” she turned her head in his direction, only to find him already looking at her.

His expression was so, so soft. Soft smiles and golden eyes full of stars staring straight into hers, a wing curled around her and shadows dancing in the air. She felt such warmth in her heart, almost as if it were some external feeling, that even the cold of the winter mountain air would not chill her skin. Her best friend brought his drink to his lips to take a sip, her eyes following the movement.

“Hi” she interrupted the bit of silence that ensued

“Hi” amusement or adoration swam in Azriel’s eyes. No, why would it be adoration? Amusement. For sure. Yes.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-yes, I’m alright. Why would I not be?” her eyes had widened at his question, and for a moment, the thought of telling Azriel everything appeared in her mind- Don’t ruin this.

Why would she go on about all of this now and make him comfort her on Azriel’s favorite holiday of the year, of all nights? As if he hadn’t been wasting half his time lately trying to ease her mind about this already. And even though she knew Azriel would never outright judge her and be annoyed with her, there was some deep-buried shame within her that was scared of that sort of ridicule. She brushed it off as not wanting to worry him-

“Angel?”

“Yes? Sorry, Az, I spaced” Get it together

Her best friend just sighed, his eyes so, so soft and leaned down to brush a strand of her hair behind her pointed ear.

“You’re a great person.” he said, then kissed her forehead “And everyone is glad to have you here”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Az” the scoff she let out at the beginning of the sentence was softened by the look in the shadowsinger’s hazel eyes. As if he knew something she didn’t.

“There you two are! Are you enjoying the night?” Rhysand’s booming voice came from the entrance to the balcony. He neared them, drink in hand and Feyre on his arm, smiling lightly at them.

“It is one of your starfall parties, Rhys. Of course we are.” she teased and Feyre laughed a little, long silver gown gleaming in the moonlight.

“Have you two only just arrived? I saw Mor and Cass are already a few drinks in” the High Lady said, and her ears perked up at that.

“That’s my call, then” she mused starting to walk away from the group “I’ll go find them”

Rhysand’s laughter followed her, and she looked over her shoulder to see the amusement shining in his purple eyes. Azriel was suddenly in her line of sight, a shadow flying down the silk of his black shirt and over to twine itself around her wrist.

“Be careful”

“Sure, grandpa” she teased, walking away “Come take a shot with me later”

This is good, she thought, passing between a sea of bodies. She’d have a few drinks and those vicious thoughts would be well warded away.

Truth be told, at this point the anxiety clinging to her mind made her forget what exactly she was even stressing about in the first place. But if she were to stop and unpack all that - she visibly cringed - well, that was a rabbit hole she was not interested in visiting.

Besides, Mor and Cass appeared before her eyes, pouring drinks at the self-serve bar and she raised her hand to wave to them.

“Make one for me, too, Cass!”

A few hours and drinks later she was standing with a group of fae, the thoughts of her old family now reduced to a buzz somewhere in the back of her mind. Starfall was still a few hours away and Cassian was telling some story that she couldn’t really focus on. The volume at which he spoke almost made the room vibrate, his hands were high in gesticulation and his half tied up hair swooshing around his shoulders. She felt her lips turn up into a smile at the inner circle’s laughter.

“I swear to the Mother-” someone was saying something, commenting on the tale Cassian was spinning but all of the voices in the room seemed to dull to a distant ringing. In her hands appeared a folded piece of paper. She knew who it was from before she opened the letter.

Dearest daughter,

It is with utmost urgency that we write this letter to you. You have been the cause of enough embarrassment for our family, and even though your mother and I have prayed that you would soon come to your senses and put an end to the petulance you have been subjecting us to for the last decades, we have finally realized you would not. You can no longer excuse yourself with Prythian’s political situation - the lady that you were supposed to grow into never should interest herself in such matters in the first place. You have caused myself and your poor mother enough embarrassment and worry.

With your behaviour you have forced me to take matters into my own hands as it is now clear that you have no regard for the family that you left, and the consequences we would face for your own act of childish defiance. I have arranged a marriage for you. It is not a proposal, nor a suggestion. The male your mother and I have chosen is of fine breeding and heritage, but you shall find out his name once you come to meet him personally.

You are expected at the estate in two months time, considering the lengthy travel. However, for fear of a repeating of your previous behaviour, we have decided it is wise to inform you now - I will come and collect you personally if you do not obey, daughter. Allow me say this once and for all: so far you have proven to be very little but a disappointment, even though you used to have so much potential. Do you understand the pain that you continue to cause all of us by attempting to escape the role we poured all of our time, devotion and money into?

I hope this message leads to the disillusionment of the modern ways that you have learned at the night court - you are a female and you have an established place in our society. Your games will lead to very little but a loss of your virtue and any prospects a young, promising lady like yourself has within our kingdom

The letter kept going, but all she could imagine was the worn edges of the paper sharpening and cutting into her skin like blades. She felt as though the simmering hot guilt would burn through her gut.

A disappointment. A runaway. A marriage?

If they thought that would be enough to send her rushing back, they were sorely mistaken.

But then why could she feel her palms sweating and her vision tunneling until it was just that rotten letter she could see? Disappointment. Burden.

She had a duty, something she was born and raised to fulfill, and she disregarded it just like that. She had dreams and aspirations and she was more than a breeding mare, she knew that, but suddenly a vision of a life married to a male whose name she learned minutes before walking the altar and being nothing more but the body birthing his heirs flashed before her eyes.

Suddenly all the carefully learned phrases she used to comfort herself dissipated from her memory.

Disappointment.

Who was she to defy the carefully structured society that picked a role for her? The room was spinning and she could hear her breaths coming in short rasps.

Someone was calling her name.

“Sweetheart?” no one was laughing anymore, and Azriel was standing before her, hands stretched out as though not to frighten away a doe “Are you alright?”

She snapped her head up, wide eyes taking in the group of fae she considered her closest family.

How they were all standing there, stars almost reflecting in their eyes and concern shining in them. They stared at her, and she could feel their night being ruined already.

Frozen to the spot, was what she was, lips downturned and breathing so, so shallow. Then someone outstretched a hand to touch her and she was taking off running down the hallway to her chambers, confused and concerned questions following her.

She ignored the fae staring at her in shock. She would’ve heard a scoff or two, if it weren’t for the ringing in her ears. If it weren’t for a certain Illyrian following after her, glaring down those few fae.

She did not remember running through the hallways of the House of Wind. Nor could she remember getting into her bedroom.

All she felt was shame as she now sat on the floor against her bed, knees drawn up high to her chest, hiding her head between them. She faintly registered the urgent knocking on her door as salt streams rushed down her face. She hiccuped and finally heard herself let out a sob.

You’ve ruined it now. Foolish girl.

Maybe if she had never dared to dream in the first place, she wouldn’t be here now. She wouldn’t have disappointed her parents. She wouldn’t have burdened Az with all this baggage. How can he even treat her seriously after all this? He had undergone years of imprisonment, torture and war and here she was breaking down because she thought she had a chance at a life braver than the one chosen for her.

What was she going to do?

She heard herself let out more sobs and struggled to catch her breath, her nails starting to dig into her palms. She can’t come back there - gods she was so miserable there. But what if her father actually came here? By her kingdom’s law Rhysand would be obligated to hand her back to her father since she was unmarried. She could picture it all and she couldn’t- she couldn’t breathe.

“Angel? Let me in sweetheart, please. Let me fix it.”

Azriel was still knocking on her door, and without any fight left in her, she rose up to her knees and unlocked the door for him. The next second he was sitting before her, tear stained face in his scarred palms as he wiped them away with his thumbs. More came to follow.

“What happened? What was that?” there was genuine terror in his eyes, as if he couldn’t stand to see her like this. She collapsed into a new-found heap of sobs at that and he let her fall into his chest.

“Sweetheart, please-” he said with a thick voice, gathering her into his lap.

His arms came around her, one stroking comfortingly along her back, one cradling her head to the juncture between his shoulder and neck.

“Okay, shh, there you are. Shh, you’re alright, I promise, alright? I’m right here” he rushed out the words, pulling at strings to comfort her.

He knew about the guilt, the feelings she was hiding away, too scared to show even her best friend. He knew, before she did, that it would come crashing out of her in the end.

What he didn’t know was what was in that damned letter that made her this inconsolable.

When he saw how her face fell as she read over those words - he physically had to stop himself from tearing the thing apart and tucking her away in his arms, letting her forget all things bad. Had to stop himself from flying to that wretched kingdom at that moment and burning it to the ground. All he could do now was bring her closer and start rocking her while she sobbed it out.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she was able to properly breathe again. With time and her best friend's gentle words her sobs turned into hiccups and finally stopped altogether. She exhaled against him and raised a hand to rub at her eyes.

“Gentle” Azriel had captured her wrist in his hand, letting a shadow wipe away at the remnants of her tears. She looked up to meet his eyes.

“There she is” she let out a wet laugh

“Ruined your shirt.” she whispered as she tried to wipe away at the tears and makeup she left there

“It’s okay” he said, still looking at her so, so softly “Wanna talk about it, hm?” she felt her eyes stinging

“I’m really sorry for being such a mess, Az, I really am,” she told him, wide, wet eyes staring up at him “Gods, I ruined Starfall didn’t I? I promised myself I-”

“Stop it. Right now,” her breath hitched “You did not ruin anything, angel”

She looked down at her lap, starting to play with her fingers

“Hey. Look at me” when she didn’t, she took her face into his hands and tilted it up, their eyes meeting “Everything is alright. Starfall hasn’t even begun yet. You didn’t ruin anything”

“It hasn’t?”

“No, it hasn’t” she nodded, relieved

“Okay, then” he wanted to tell her how she wouldn’t have ruined anything for him regardless. She couldn’t if she wanted. But he had a feeling she wouldn’t believe him - and that wasn’t what his best friend needed now.

After a bit of silence she tilted her head to the tear stained letter discarded on the floor next to them. He raised his eyebrows in question, and she nodded in agreement. Azriel’s jaw was already set tight before his shadows handed the letter to him.

She alternated between staring at him as his eyes followed the text and looking down into her lap, where Az’s shadows played with the rim of her dress, curling around her in soothing motions. When she glanced up again, he was already looking at her, something unrecognizable in the hazel of his eyes.

“This is bullshit. You know that, right?” there was urgency in his voice “This isn’t happening”

“But- but what if he comes here? He will come here, Az”

“I don’t care”

“Az-”

“You’re not going anywhere with them, end of story. They can get through me first”

“By law Rhysand will have to hand me over, Az. I’m unmarried and he is my father” he let out a scoff.

Azriel’s shadows seemed to get more and more agitated with every reasoning she gave, starting to rise up and curl all around her - as if they alone were going to act as a shield protecting her.

“You’re no doll for anyone to be handing over. We’re in Night, our law applies here, no one can take you”

“Oh,” he exhaled and brushed her hair down and behind her ears. Gods, she must look like a mess after all this “Really?”

“Yes” he didn’t tell her how even if all the laws in the world were against them, he wouldn’t let anyone take her away from him. Ever.

“I still- I feel so guilty, you know? I mean okay, I’m- I’m here and everything is fine while they’re there making amends because I ran. But I couldn’t live that life, Az, I really couldn’t” she moved off his lap to sit next to him against her bed

“I know. You don’t have to live any life other than the one you want. You decide”

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts,” he looked down at her, with such seriousness in his eyes it startled her “I know the guilt you feel because you think you did something bad but it’s them who act like victims after terrorizing you your whole life. It is not alright how they treated you,” there were tears gathering at her waterline “You did not deserve to be treated that way, angel. I don’t think you realize how brave of a person you are. How many rooms you light up. You’re capable of great things and I know you do, but you should not feel sorry for leaving and doing something for yourself when you’ve quite literally spent your entire life living up to their whims. And then they have the nerve to call you a- disappointment” Azriel tripped over the word, and she could practically hear his teeth grinding with how hard his jaw was set “Which you’re not, do you hear me?” He looked down at her and made sure she met his eye “You could never disappoint me, ever. Do you understand?”

“Y-yeah” she nodded, wide eyed

“Good. That’s good” she allowed herself to rest her head against his shoulder

“Thank you, Az” but before he could respond, the sky lit up right in front of their eyes, through the open balcony gates. Her breath hitched and mouth opened in wonder.

“Az! Look at that”

“Yeah, starfall, sweetheart” his eyes were soft as he took in the smile that finally graced her face. Something was pulling hard in the shadowsinger’s chest but all he could do was try to memorize her expression. Engrave it permanently in his mind.

“It’s beautiful”

“It is”

They watched the souls swim through the skies for some time in comfortable silence. The stars were falling in a kaleidoscope of colors and maybe she really hadn’t ruined the night. And maybe it was in her blood to worry and feel guilty for at least a few more decades. And surely Azriel would be there to stand with her through it.

“Angel?” He looked down at her, about to say something, but the words died on his tongue when he noticed her slumped against him, asleep on his shoulder. He smiled to himself.

It was three words Azriel whispered to his best friend as he carried and tucked her in bed, stars falling in the distance. Three words that she did not hear, yet.

[alfheimr]

My Favorite Cheap Art Trick: Gradient Maps and Blending Modes

i get questions on occasion regarding my coloring process, so i thought i would do a bit of a write up on my "secret technique." i don't think it really is that much of a secret, but i hope it can be helpful to someone. to that end:

this is one of my favorite tags ive ever gotten on my art. i think of it often. the pieces in question are all monochrome - sort of.

the left version is the final version, the right version is technically the original. in the final version, to me, the blues are pretty stark, while the greens and magentas are less so. there is some color theory thing going on here that i dont have a good cerebral understanding of and i wont pretend otherwise. i think i watched a youtube video on it once but it went in one ear and out the other. i just pick whatever colors look nicest based on whatever vibe im going for.

this one is more subtle, i think. can you tell the difference? there's nothing wrong with 100% greyscale art, but i like the depth that adding just a hint of color can bring.

i'll note that the examples i'll be using in this post all began as purely greyscale, but this is a process i use for just about every piece of art i make, including the full color ones. i'll use the recent mithrun art i made to demonstrate. additionally, i use clip studio paint, but the general concept should be transferable to other art programs.

for fun let's just start with Making The Picture. i've been thinking of making this writeup for a while and had it in mind while drawing this piece. beyond that, i didn't really have much of a plan for this outside of "mithrun looks down and hair goes woosh." i also really like all of the vertical lines in the canary uniform so i wanted to include those too but like. gone a little hog wild. that is the extent of my "concept." i do not remember why i had the thought of integrating a shattered mirror type of theme. i think i wanted to distract a bit from the awkward pose and cover it up some LOL but anyway. this lack of planning or thought will come into play later.

note 1: the textured marker brush i specifically use is the "bordered light marker" from daub. it is one of my favorite brushes in the history of forever and the daub mega brush pack is one of the best purchases ive ever made. highly recommend!!!

note 2: "what do you mean by exclusion and difference?" they are layer blending modes and not important to the overall lesson of this post but for transparency i wanted to say how i got these "effects." anyway!

with the background figured out, this is the point at which i generally merge all of my layers, duplicate said merged layer, and Then i begin experimenting with gradient maps. what are gradient maps?

the basic gist is that gradient maps replace the colors of an image based on their value.

so, with this particular gradient map, black will be replaced with that orangey red tone, white will be replaced with the seafoamy green tone, etc. this particular gradient map i'm using as an example is very bright and saturated, but the colors can be literally anything.

these two sets are the ones i use most. they can be downloaded for free here and here if you have csp. there are many gradient map sets out there. and you can make your own!

you can apply a gradient map directly onto a specific layer in csp by going to edit>tonal correction>gradient map. to apply one indirectly, you can use a correction layer through layer>new correction layer>gradient map. honestly, correction layers are probably the better way to go, because you can adjust your gradient map whenever you want after creating the layer, whereas if you directly apply a gradient map to a layer thats like. it. it's done. if you want to make changes to the applied gradient map, you have to undo it and then reapply it. i don't use correction layers because i am old and stuck in my ways, but it's good to know what your options are.

this is what a correction layer looks like. it sits on top and applies the gradient map to the layers underneath it, so you can also change the layers beneath however and whenever you want. you can adjust the gradient map by double clicking the layer. there are also correction layers for tone curves, brightness/contrast, etc. many such useful things in this program.

let's see how mithrun looks when we apply that first gradient map we looked at.

gadzooks. apologies for eyestrain. we have turned mithrun into a neon hellscape, which might work for some pieces, but not this one. we can fix that by changing the layer blending mode, aka this laundry list of words:

some of them are self explanatory, like darken and lighten, while some of them i genuinely don't understand how they are meant to work and couldn't explain them to you, even if i do use them. i'm sure someone out there has written out an explanation for each and every one of them, but i've learned primarily by clicking on them to see what they do.

for the topic of this post, the blending mode of interest is soft light. so let's take hotline miamithrun and change the layer blending mode to soft light.

here it is at 100% opacity. this is the point at which i'd like to explain why i like using textured brushes so much - it makes it very easy to get subtle color variation when i use this Secret Technique. look at the striation in the upper right background! so tasty. however, to me, these colors are still a bit "much." so let's lower the opacity.

i think thats a lot nicer to look at, personally, but i dont really like these colors together. how about we try some other ones?

i like both of these a lot more. the palettes give the piece different vibes, at which point i have to ask myself: What Are The Vibes, Actually? well, to be honest i didn't really have a great answer because again, i didn't plan this out very much at all. however. i knew in my heart that there was too much color contrast going on and it was detracting from the two other contrasts in here: the light and dark values and the sharp and soft shapes. i wanted mithrun's head to be the main focal point. for a different illustration, colors like this might work great, but this is not that hypothetical illustration, so let's bring the opacity down again.

yippee!! that's getting closer to what my heart wants. for fun, let's see what this looks like if we change the blending mode to color.

i do like how these look but in the end they do not align with my heart. oh well. fun to experiment with though! good to keep in mind for a different piece, maybe! i often change blending modes just to see what happens, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. i very much cannot stress enough that much of my artistic process is clicking buttons i only sort of understand. for fun.

i ended up choosing the gradient map on the right because i liked that it was close to the actual canary uniform colors (sorta). it's at an even lower opacity though because there was Still too much color for my dear heart.

the actual process for this looks like me setting my merged layer to soft light at around 20% opacity and then clicking every single gradient map in my collection and seeing which one Works. sometimes i will do this multiple times and have multiple soft light and/or color layers combined.

typically at this point i merge everything again and do minor contrast adjustments using tone curves, which is another tool i find very fun to play around with. then for this piece in particular i did some finishing touches and decided that the white border was distracting so i cropped it. and then it's done!!! yay!!!!!

this process is a very simple and "fast" way to add more depth and visual interest to a piece without being overbearing. well, it's fast if you aren't indecisive like me, or if you are better at planning.

let's do another comparison. personally i feel that the hint of color on the left version makes mithrun look just a bit more unwell (this is a positive thing) and it makes the contrast on his arm a lot more pleasing to look at. someone who understands color theory better than i do might have more to say on the specifics, but that's honestly all i got.

just dont look at my layers too hard. ok?

[clockwayswrites]

Danny in Metropolis part 4

oh look, gave in, masterpost

by HH discord vote, wrote on this while waiting for my nerve test today (good news, nerves good. bad news, hands bad because ?????. other news, OW) which was nice because this is very soft and I was very nervous about it all. Apparently I had another chunk not posted here too so have a decent bit!

-

“Yeah, well, you just met—saw? You just saw my parents. They’re just sort of like that. Everything always becomes dramatic,” Danny said, some of his humor fading as he talked about his family.

“I’ll remember not to come over for dinner,” Conner said with a purposefully light tone.

Danny snorted. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t subject you to that horror. Easier to just eat out anyways.”

“And yet you don’t eat lunch,” Conner pointed out.

Danny ducked his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, school lunches aren’t exactly appetizing.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Conner agreed after a beat. Him and Dad might still have some issues that they were working through, but Clark made sure that Conner always had a lunch to take to school, no matter how busy he was with a story. The only times there wasn’t a lunch is when Clark was off world for three or more days.

Conner wondered if Dad would mind making an extra one.

“Anything you hate?” Conner asked curiously.

Danny gave a little shrug. His fingers twisted restlessly against Conner’s. “That’s a complicated question.”

“I’m okay with complicated answers.”

“Turkey and chicken, but only if it’s the whole bird. Hot dogs. I guess all meat can be iffy a lot, depends on the day. Tofu. Um, plain broths and Jello at this point. Anything fake cherry favored. Lime Gatorade,” Danny listed off in a rush.

Conner blinked. “Okay.” He’d do his best to remember that.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Like, I think that’s actually not that hard to work around. And you can remind me if I forget anything, but, like, I’ll try not to,” Conner said. He gave Danny’s hand a reassuring little squeeze.

Danny stared down at their clasped hands like it was the most confusing thing.

Conner tried not to worry too much about it. Danny could be odd like that.

The shop was actually a pretty nice one. Maybe it was a little too hipster, but it was a coffee shop. The music could be worse and the spray painted art on the wall was actually pretty cool. There was no one waiting, so Conner pulled them up to the front where they could easily read the menu to make their choices.

He nudged Danny gently with his elbow. “They have some vegetarian stuff, if it’s one of those days.”

“The beetroot sandwich is damn good,” the heavily tattooed barista who was waiting on them said.

“Yeah?” Danny said, looking over that on the board. “I’ll do that, I guess, and a large iced coffee.”

“Whole milk, skim, or oat milk?”

“Oh, um, whole is fine,” Danny said.

“Same drink for me, but I’ll do the avocado BLT,” Conner decided. He went to pull out his phone to pay, but Danny beat him to it, holding out a credit card.

“My treat, since we couldn’t work at my place,” Danny said quickly.

Conner huffed. “Fine. But next study session is my treat then.”

“You two can go ahead and have a seat, I’ll bring your stuff over soon,” the barista said with a smile as they handed back Danny’s card.

Conner followed Danny’s lead over to a comfortable looking pair of armchairs around a low table. They were forced to finally let go of each other’s hands to sit, and Conner tried not to pout. Now that he knew Danny would let him, Conner figured he could find another excuse to hold Danny’s hand if he worked at it.

Danny pulled out his sleek, new laptop and set it open on the table. The assignment was already open on the screen, glaring in the large, red text that Mrs. Simmons liked to use for all of her assignment headers. It was especially bold on the black background of the dark mode that Danny seemed to keep everything in.

Under every poet’s name, Danny had typed a sentence or two about them. It was far from academic writing (some of it was actually hilariously blunt), but it actually had some really useful information.

“Damn, Danny, you call this only a little?” Conner asked as he scanned over the notes.

Danny fidgeted in his seat. “I mean. Just like I said, I'm not good at English work and I don't want to be why you get a bad grade.”

“Hey,” Conner leaned over and bumped their shoulders together, “it's just a grade.”

“Yeah, try saying that in my house with two doctorate already and a third on the way with my sister,” Danny muttered.

“Well, good thing we aren't in your house then,” Conner joked. When Danny rolled his eyes, Conner reached out and tapped Danny’s hand, getting the other to look at him. “It’s just a grade, Danny, but I'll do my best to make sure that it's a good one, okay?”

Danny’s smile was a little wobbly, but at least it was there. “Thanks.”

“Course. Tell me what you've done so far.”

His smile turned shier, but Danny started to explain that he’d wiki searched the poets and also scanned whatever there most famous poem was. He didn’t really know how to talk about the poems, but tried to write a word or two about them. As they went through the list, it was clear that Danny already had some he didn’t like, by the way his nose wrinkled as he talked about them, scrunching up his freckles. He also had some good points about some poets that they shouldn’t do as two white guys. Conner didn’t know if he actually really counted as a white guy, not with Clark, but he figured since socially Clark was seen and raise as one, it fit as much as anything.

(Not like Conner could talk about the whole half alien clone thing anyways.)

[prokopetz]

In recent posts I've complained that a lot of tabletop RPGs which toss around the term "fiction first" don't actually understand what it means, and I've been asked to expand on that complaint. So:

In my experience, there are two ways that game texts which want to position themselves as "fiction first" trip themselves up, one obvious and one subtle.

The first and more obvious pitfall is treating "fiction first" as an abstract ideology. They're using "fiction first" as a synonym for "story over rules" in a way that calls back to the role-playing-versus-roll-playing discourse of the early 2000s. The trouble is, now as then, nobody can usefully explain what "story over rules" actually entails. At best, they land on a definition of "fiction first" that talks about the GM's right to ignore the rules to better serve the story, which is no kind of definition at all – it's just putting a funny hat on the Rule Zero fallacy and trying to pass it off as some sort of totalising ideology of play.

A more useful way of defining "fiction first" play is to think of it not in terms of whether you engage with the rules at all, but in terms of when they're invoked: specifically, as a question of order of operations.

Suppose, for example, that you're playing Dungeons & Dragons, and you pick up the dice and say "I attack the dragon". Some critics would claim that no actual narrative has been established – that this is simply a bare invocation of game mechanics – but in fact we can infer a great deal: your character is going to approach the dragon, navigating any inclement terrain which lies between them, and attempt to kill the dragon using the weapon they're holding in their hand. The rules are so tightly bound to a particular set of narrative circumstances that simply invoking those rules lets us work backwards to determine what the context and stakes must be for that invocation of the rules to be sensical; this, broadly speaking, is what "rules first" looks like.

Conversely, let's say that your game of Dungeons & Dragons has confronted you with a pit blocking your path, and you want to make an Athletics check to cross it. At this point the GM is probably going to stop you and say, hold up, tell us what that looks like. Are you trying to jump across it? Are you trying to climb down one wall of the pit and up the other? Are you trying to tie a rope to the halfling and toss them to the other side? In other words, before you can pick up the dice, you need to have a little sidebar with the GM to hash out what the narrative context is, and to negotiate what can be achieved and what's at stake if you mess it up; this, broadly, is what "fiction first" looks like.

At this point I know some people are thinking "wait, hold on – both of those examples were from Dungeons & Dragons; are you saying that Dungeons & Dragons is both a rules-first game and a fiction-first game?" And yeah, I am. That's the second, more subtle place where game texts that talk about "fiction first" go astray: they talk about it as though being "fiction first" or "rules first" is something which is inherent to game systems as a whole.

This is not in fact true: being "fiction first" or "rules first" is something which describes particular invocations of the rules. In practice, only very simple games spend all of their time in one mode or the other; most will switch back and forth at need. Generally, most "traditional" RPGs (i.e., the direct descendants of Dungeons & Dragons and its various imitators) tend to operate in rules-first mode in combat and fiction-first mode out of it, though this is a simplification – when and how such mode-switching occurs can be quite complex.

Like any other design pattern, "fiction first" mechanics are a tool that's well suited for some jobs, and ill suited for others. Sometimes your rules are fine-grained enough that having an explicit negotiation and stakes-setting phase would just be adding extra steps. Sometimes you're using the outputs of the rules a narrative prompt, and having to pin the context down ahead of time would defeat the purpose. Fortunately, you don't have to commit yourself to one approach or the other; as long as your text is clear about how you're assuming a given set of rules toys will be used, you can switch modes as need dictates. However, you're not going to be capable of that kind of transparency if you're thinking in terms of "this a Fiction First™ game".

(Incidentally, this is why it can be hard to talk about "fiction first" with OSR fans if you're being dogmatic about fiction-first framing being an immutable feature of particular games. Since traditional RPGs tend to observe the above-described rules-first-in-combat, fiction-first-out-of-combat division, and OSR games tend to treat actually getting into a fight as a strategic failure state, a lot of OSR games spend most of their time in fiction-first mode. If you go up to an OSR fan and insist that D&D-style games can never be fiction-first, then attempt to define "fiction first" for them and proceed to describe how they usually play, they'll quite justifiably conclude that you have your head up your ass!)

[sweetheartbitesb4ck]

part one ||  part two ||  part three || part four || this is part five

You were Simon Riley's first proper girlfriend. Obviously there was that girl from year 2 at school who he 'married' in the playground, as well as numerous failed attempts at dating, but you? You were different. The thought of committing to you made him nervous, but in a fuck, I'm head over heels way. The thought of not committing to you, on the other hand, made him feel sick with the idea of you not being around.

You'd made it official about a week or two ago, and had been taking it slowly since then. Nor you or Simon wanted to rush into anything, but after a few dates it started to seem so... real.

The most recent date is what really made up your mind about the soldier (who had already pretty much written out your wedding vows). It had made you realise quite how strong your feelings were. It was a romantic night... Ghost had spend hours sifting through his phone for restaurants in the area; it had to be faultless... the lighting couldn't be too bright, it had to be great food, he wasn't going to let it be a busy place, et cetera...

Once he had found the flawless place he booked a table for two, and on the actual day he got dressed hours before he needed too, picking out his best clothes. He was wearing black jeans and a slightly unbuttoned shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, because in all honestly he was a little hot from nerves. He wanted the night to be perfect.

You were also nervous... the afternoon was spent on facetime with your friends, debating over what jewellery went with what dress and whether to wear makeup and if so what eyeshadow and which lip gloss and... it was all a blur, really. By the time you were ready both your dressing table and bedroom floor looked like bombs had gone off; clothes were everywhere and there was a mess of makeup wipes from when you'd aggressively scrubbed off your full face again and again to re-apply with pin-point intricacy.

Finally 7 pm had drawn around. You'd arranged to meet outside of the restaurant, so you walked over from your place. Simon had arrived 20 minutes early so he stood outside awkwardly, rocking on the balls of his feet and nodding uncomfortably at people passing by who gave the skull mask a weird look. He knew it made him look a bit odd... he wasn't used to wearing smart clothes and the scars and tattoos on his arms as well as the balaclava were a stark juxtaposition to the slightly fancier setting.

As he saw you walking over, he straightened himself up, brushing invisible dust from his attire and lifting his hand in a mechanical looking wave. You giggled slightly, looking down and grinning. "Hello," You say, voice warm.

"You..." Simon starts, eyes round beneath the mask. "You look absolutely stunning," He mumbles, voice gravelly as hooked his arm around your back before you and him start to walk towards the restaurant. He held the door open for you before nodding at a member of staff in the entrance. "I... er I got... I mean, have, a reservation for two," He stutters, fumbling around with the rolled up sleeves as he tries to pull them down.

"What name is that under?" The waitress asks, smiling politely. You try to hold back your smirk, yet again staring at the floor.

"That's under Gho- no- fuck-" He falters, expression embarrassed. Just the sight of you alone had sent him into flustered and in love mode. "It's under Riley," You chime in, taking Simon's hand and squeezing it gently. Once sat down at a table with menus, you burst into laughter, clapping your hand over your mouth as you attempt to compose yourself. "It's great to see you again," You beam, eyes glistening as you see Ghost's eyes crinkle in the corners with happiness. It only took a little smile from you to make everything feel lighter for the man who had once been so emotionless.

At the end of the meal, Simon refused to let you even just consider paying the bill. As soon as the the card reader was presented he swooped in with his card, smiling smugly under the mask at your protests. You fold your arms and pout with mock anger, but soon your were grinning again as he held out your jacket for you and slipped his arm around your waist as the two of you walked out.

You make your way into the night, streetlamps gently lighting the paved street. Simon nods forwards and you cross the road as he begins to speak. "We should go on a little walk, eh?" He tilts his head at you, smiling under the mask.

"That sounds nice," You said, taking his hand as you start to walk. Ghost knew just where he would take you, so he guided you to a small, pretty bridge going over a gentle river.

"This is so pretty," You murmur, stopping in the middle of the bridge and leaning on the railing. "Mhm," Simon replies, his eyes set firmly on you and only you... the way the moonlight washed over your face in that way. He wraps an arm around your waist again, pulling you in as your hands shift to gently rest on his chest. "Mhm," He repeats, moving his spare hand to tug at the balaclava. He grunts, flushing red under the fabric from a mixture of anticipation and embarrassment "Can you just..." He pulls at the mask again and you huff with laughter.

"Sure..." You whisper, tugging the fabric to his nosebridge.

"All the way off," He mumbles, suddenly feeling that feeling.

Your eyes widen slightly and you nod, gently pulling the whole mask off. You lean backwards for a moment, running your eyes over his flushed face. Every scar was like a location on a map, dotted around his face and sloped jawline. You feel your breath hitch slightly as you take him in, your eyes round with adoration and cheeks becoming hot.

Simon tilts your chin up as you stretch onto tiptoes (what with the large height difference) and he pulls you in closer, smirking slightly at your fixed gaze on his face. "Creepin' me out..." He chuckles, just standing there for a minute, not wanting to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. "Simon hurry up," You giggle, finally breaking the silence and blinking.

"Hurry up and what?" He furrows his brows, a look of genuine confusion flashing over his face. "Oh..." At that point, his cheeks might as well have been scarlet. "Shit." Ghost whispers to himself before taking a deep breath and leaning in to kiss you, his arms wrapping around your frame as his slightly chapped lips brushed against your soft lips. He quickly pulls backwards, expression concerned. "That's what you meant, yeah?"

You just giggle, tiptoeing again to loosely place your arms on his shoulders and around his neck, the mask still bunched up in your palms. "Of course it was, silly," You murmur, stretching to kiss him again.

Simon's heart rate was racing and his eyes fluttered shut, kind of just accepting his amazing fate. Even though he could feel his palms growing clammy, he slid a hand to cup the back of your head, his fingers raking into your hair.

Your first kiss. And oh, what a kiss it was... calm yet passionate, lips connecting in a way that ensured nor you or Simon wanted to pull away. You'd kissed other people in the past, sure, but nothing was like this. You could have sworn you felt your whole body buzz because in all honesty this was new; nothing like those mediocre kisses that it was safe to say you had left in the past.

This? This was love.

Simon pulls away, catching his breath as he strokes your hair with his thumb. "That was..." He stammers, looking away slightly.

He was not used to being this vulnerable, especially without the balaclava on. He felt exposed, but in a weird safe way. It was new, as were a lot of these feelings, all caused by you, but he was strangely welcoming to every single on of them.

"Yeah it was..." You respond, a smile pinching at the corners of your mouth and eyes.

"That was perfect," He manages, looking back at you, his ocean blue eyes that were once so haunted softening. Ever since he first set eyes on you, through the window, you had this exact effect on him. The one that made his whole body feel light and made him feel so at home, because, in all honesty, you were... you are his home.

hope you enjoyed pt 5!! I'm so sorry for the lateness... I've been SO busy ;w;

anyways, if you have any suggestions or rq's for a possible pt 6 or for anything else, make sure to comment or leave me an ask!

[prettygirl-gabi]

Full-Court Love

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader x Azzi Fudd

POV: First-person

Fandom: UConn’s Women’s Basketball

Word Count: 1,500+

Summary: they make time they always do

Valentine’s Day as a college athlete is a tricky thing.

Between practices, classes, and upcoming games, there’s barely any time to breathe, let alone plan something romantic. And this year? It was even worse.

We had the biggest game of the season against South Carolina on the 16th, which meant Coach had us locked into an intense practice schedule. No distractions. No excuses.

But when you’re dating both Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd?

You make time. They make time.

The first sign that Paige and Azzi were up to something came when I walked into the locker room after practice and found a red envelope sitting on top of my bag.

I glanced around, but everyone else was either showering or changing, too focused on their own post-practice routines to notice.

Curious, I picked it up and opened it.

Inside was a simple note, written in Azzi’s neat handwriting:

“Meet us in the film room. Don’t be late. ❤️”

I raised an eyebrow, then shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips.

Whatever they had planned, I already knew it was going to be good.

By the time I got to the film room, I could hear Paige’s laughter through the door.

I pushed it open to find her and Azzi standing in front of the projector screen, which was now displaying a homemade PowerPoint slide that read:

“WHY YOU SHOULD BE OUR VALENTINE”

I blinked. “You made a PowerPoint?”

Paige grinned. “You know I love a good presentation.”

Azzi nodded, holding up a remote. “We have five slides prepared.”

I crossed my arms, biting back a laugh. “This is so unserious.”

Paige smirked. “Just sit down and watch, babe.”

I sighed dramatically but took a seat. “Fine. Impress me.”

Azzi clicked to the next slide, which had a picture of me in my UConn jersey mid-game, looking absolutely locked in. Underneath it, the text read:

“Reason #1: You’re the best player on the team (don’t tell Coach we said that).”

I snorted. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

Paige grinned. “Next slide, Z.”

The next one showed a candid photo of the three of us from last semester, curled up together on the couch, half-asleep during a movie night.

“Reason #2: You make every moment better.”

I felt my heart squeeze a little.

Azzi glanced at me, a small smile on her face. “It’s true. Even when we’re exhausted, just being with you makes everything feel easier.”

Paige nudged her. “Damn, getting sentimental already?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Paige.”

I grinned, shaking my head. “Y’all are actually kinda cute.”

Paige winked. “Just wait.”

The next slide had a picture of me standing between them after a game, arms around their shoulders, all three of us grinning.

“Reason #3: We love you, duh.”

I exhaled softly, warmth spreading through my chest.

Paige leaned against the desk. “We know the timing sucks this year with the South Carolina game coming up, but we didn’t want today to just feel like any other day.”

Azzi nodded. “So, will you be our Valentine?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile on my face. “Like I’d ever say no to you two.”

Paige grinned. “Good answer.”

Azzi smirked. “We also have dinner plans.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Coach explicitly said no distractions—”

Paige waved a hand. “Coach didn’t say we couldn’t eat dinner.”

Azzi nodded. “And we already cleared it with the team. A bunch of them are doing their own little date nights before we go full lock-in mode tomorrow.”

I sighed, standing up. “Y’all really thought of everything, huh?”

Paige smirked. “Always.”

Azzi grabbed my hand. “Come on. It’s a surprise.”

They took me to a small, cozy Italian restaurant about fifteen minutes off campus, one of those places you’d never notice unless you were looking for it.

The second we walked in, I realized Paige and Azzi had really planned ahead—the restaurant had a private table set up in the back, complete with dim lighting and a tiny vase of roses in the center.

I turned to them, impressed. “Okay, I was expecting something chill, but y’all actually went all out.”

Paige grinned, pulling out a chair for me. “Only the best for our girl.”

Azzi sat down across from me, smiling softly. “We figured we wouldn’t get much alone time after today, so we wanted to make this one count.”

I glanced between them, warmth pooling in my chest. “I love you two, you know that?”

Paige smirked. “We do now.”

Azzi reached across the table, lacing her fingers with mine. “Love you too.”

Paige nodded, grabbing my other hand. “Love you more.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re not doing the ‘who loves who more’ thing at this table.”

Azzi smirked. “That sounds like something someone losing would say.”

Paige cackled. “OHH, she got you.”

I groaned. “Y’all are literally the worst.”

Paige winked. “And you love it.”

Unfortunately for me, she wasn’t wrong.

After dinner, we walked back to the car, hands intertwined as the cold February air nipped at our skin.

Paige nudged me playfully. “So, did we do okay?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Okay? Y’all actually managed to surprise me. That’s a first.”

Azzi grinned. “That was the goal.”

I looked between them, my heart feeling way too full. “Best Valentine’s Day ever.”

Paige smirked. “Just wait until next year.”

Azzi nodded. “We’re only getting started.”

And knowing them?

I believed it.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[paxtito]

pretty girl

pairings: wednesday x fem!reader

word count: 3685

warnings: smut 18+. just lesbian sex innit (w receiving)— (all characters are 18+)

summary: wednesday put together a little surprise date night, but, enid being enid, couldn’t keep it a secret

a/n: based on this request: ‘I love your writing and was wondering if you could make another smut fic with Wednesday? Maybe something sorta soft, honestly anything would do. Thanks!’ hope this is what you were looking for and thank you!! spent the day resting which gave me plenty of time to do this because my lil’ anger issues of a dog bit my cheek after wanting my birthday cake 😒

MASTERLIST

The morning air is crisp as you walk across campus with Enid, her usual vibrant energy making up for your grogginess. You clutch your coffee tightly, half-listening as she chatters about the latest gossip in the werewolf pack.

“And then Ajax tried to—are you even listening to me?” she asks, bumping her shoulder into yours playfully.

“Barely,” you admit with a small smile, taking another sip of your coffee. “It’s too early for full Enid mode.”

“Rude,” she pouts dramatically before grinning. “But fine, I’ll get to the point. I’m sleeping over at Yoko’s tonight!”

“Wait, what?” you ask, blinking at her. “Why?”

Enid’s steps falter, and she looks away for a moment, biting her lip. “Oh, uh, no reason!”

You narrow your eyes at her, immediately suspicious. “Enid…”

“It’s nothing!” she insists, waving her hands defensively. “Totally normal, just, uh, bestie stuff. You know, girl talk, vampire-werewolf bonding, that kind of thing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “Fine! But you can���t tell Wednesday I told you, okay? She’d literally kill me. Like, for real this time.”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Wednesday. “What does she have to do with this?”

Enid hesitates, looking torn. “Ugh, okay, fine,” she blurts out, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “She’s planning something for you tonight. Like, a date night or something. She told me to clear out so you two could have the dorm to yourselves.”

A warm, unexpected blush creeps up your neck. “Wait… Wednesday planned something? For me?”

Enid nods, her grin widening. “Yup! And let me tell you, she’s been stressing about it all week. She even glared at me less than usual yesterday, so you know it’s serious.”

You can’t help but smile, your heart fluttering at the thought of Wednesday going out of her way to plan something for you. “That’s… actually really sweet.”

“Right? But don’t tell her I told you, okay?” Enid warns, gripping your arm. “She swore me to secrecy and gave me this whole creepy ‘I’ll bury you alive’ speech. Classic Wednesday.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Good. Because I value my life,” Enid says with mock seriousness before breaking into a smile. “But seriously, I’m happy for you guys. She’s got a soft spot for you, you know.”

Your smile grows as you think about Wednesday, her deadpan expression softening ever so slightly when she’s around you, the way her hand lingers in yours when no one’s looking. “Yeah,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to Enid. “I know.”

As the two of you reach the doors to your next class, you can’t help but feel a little giddy. Whatever Wednesday has planned, you know it’ll be something only she could come up with—quiet, dark, and maybe a little macabre. And you can’t wait to see what she’s put together.

—

The afternoon sun filters through the classroom windows, casting a warm glow across your desk. Your fingers absentmindedly tap against the surface as you try to focus on the teacher's droning voice, but your thoughts keep drifting to Wednesday and the surprise she has planned for you.

Despite your best efforts to keep a straight face, a small, giddy smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You sneak a glance at Wednesday from the corner of your eye, trying to gauge her reaction.

To your surprise, she's already staring at you, her dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. Your gaze meets hers, and you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up under her intense scrutiny.

"You," she says flatly, her voice cutting through the monotony of the lecture. "Are you feeling alright? You seem... distracted."

You swallow hard, your mind racing for an excuse. "I'm fine," you manage, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. "Just thinking about the assignment."

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Her gaze bores into you, as if she's trying to read your thoughts.

You squirm in your seat, suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope. You can practically hear Enid's voice in your head, warning you not to blow her cover.

But it's too late. Wednesday's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of panic crossing her face before she schools her features back into a neutral expression.

"Ah," she says slowly, leaning back in her chair. "Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

You bite your lip, wondering if you should press further. But before you can open your mouth, the bell rings, signaling the end of class.

Wednesday stands abruptly, gathering her books without another word. She brushes past you, her shoulder bumping against yours in a way that feels almost like a dismissal.

You watch her go, your heart sinking. You've blown it, haven't you? Ruined whatever surprise she had planned.

You scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over your chair in your haste. Your backpack slips off the desk, scattering your belongings across the floor.

"Wednesday, wait!" you call out, your voice echoing in the now-empty classroom.

You chase after her, weaving through the throng of students in the hallway. Your heart pounds in your chest as you catch up to her, reaching out to grasp her arm.

Wednesday whirls around, her dark eyes flashing with irritation. "What?" she snaps, her voice sharp.

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "I... I'm sorry," you manage, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. "I didn't mean to ruin your surprise. I just... I couldn't help myself."

For a moment, Wednesday just stares at you, her expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, her shoulders slump slightly, and she lets out a sigh.

"You're impossible," she mutters, but there's no real heat behind her words.

You blink, taken aback by her sudden shift in demeanor. "I... I know," you say softly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. "But I meant what I said. I'm sorry."

Wednesday is silent for a moment, and then she nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Fine," she says, her tone grudging. "But don't think this means you're off the hook. You owe me one."

You grin, relief washing over you. "I can live with that," you say, your voice light and teasing. "So... are you going to tell me what you have planned, or do I have to guess?"

Wednesday rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in her gaze. "Guess," she says simply, before turning and walking away, leaving you to follow in her wake.

—

You stand outside Wednesday's dorm room, your hand hovering over the doorknob. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

Despite your earlier promise to keep quiet, you can't shake the nagging feeling that you've ruined whatever surprise she had planned. You glance down at your uniform, suddenly self-conscious about your appearance.

"Get it together," you mutter to yourself, giving your skirt a quick smoothing. "She's not going to bite."

With a final nod of determination, you raise your hand and knock on the door. The sound echoes through the empty hallway, making you wince.

Silence greets you for a moment, and you wonder if Wednesday is ignoring you. But then, the door swings open, revealing Wednesday standing in the doorway.

She's changed out of her school uniform, now wearing a simple black dress that falls to her knees. Her hair is loose, tumbling down her back in dark waves.

For a moment, you're struck dumb, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of her. She looks... pretty. Soft. Nothing like her usual sharp edges and icy demeanor.

Wednesday arches an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a smirk. "Cat got your tongue?" she asks, her voice dry.

You shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat up. "No," you manage, clearing your throat. "I just... I didn't expect you to look so..."

You trail off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence without sounding like a complete fool. Wednesday's smirk widens, and she steps aside, gesturing for you to enter.

"Come in," she says simply, before closing the door behind you with a soft click.

You step into Wednesday's dorm room, your eyes widening as you take in the scene before you. The furniture has been pushed to the sides, creating a large open space in the center of the room. Soft, ambient lighting casts a warm glow over everything, making the room feel intimate and cozy.

In the middle of it all stands Wednesday, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable. She's holding out her hand to you, a silent invitation.

"What's all this?" you ask, your voice coming out a little breathless.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "I'm going to teach you how to dance," she says simply, her tone matter-of-fact.

You blink, taken aback by her words. "Dance?" you repeat, feeling a little foolish. "Like... ballroom dancing?"

Wednesday nods, her dark eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. "Yes," she confirms, her voice dry. "Like my parents do. It's a family tradition."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the thought of Wednesday's parents, of the life she leads outside of Nevermore. It's a side of her you've never seen before, and the idea of being a part of it, even in a small way, makes your stomach flutter.

"I... I'd like that," you manage, stepping forward to take her hand.

Wednesday's fingers are cool against yours, her grip firm and steady. She pulls you closer, her body mere inches from yours.

"Good," she says simply, before beginning to guide you through the steps.

You stumble a little at first. But Wednesday is patient, her instructions clear and concise. Slowly, you begin to find your rhythm, moving in tandem with her.

As you dance, you can't help but notice the way Wednesday's eyes never leave yours. There's an intensity there, a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You're doing well," she murmurs, her voice soft. "Just follow my lead."

You move gracefully in Wednesday's arms, your body reacting instinctively to her guidance. The fabric of your black trousers brushes against her dress as you spin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

Wednesday's gaze is intense, her dark eyes boring into yours with an unspoken question. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your heart races at her proximity.

"You're a natural," she murmurs, her voice low and intimate. "I knew you'd be good at this."

You duck your head, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "It's easy when I have a good partner," you manage, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "Is that so?" she asks, her tone teasing.

You nod, your gaze flickering down to her lips for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again. "Definitely," you confirm, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wednesday hums, her fingers tightening around yours. "Good," she says simply, before pulling you closer, your bodies now just inches apart.

You can feel the heat radiating off her skin, the scent of her perfume filling your nostrils. Your breath hitches, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Now," Wednesday says, her voice low and husky. "Let's try something a little more... challenging."

She steps back, her hand leaving yours. You feel a momentary pang of loss, your fingers aching to touch her again.

But then Wednesday begins to move, her body swaying to a beat only she can hear. She extends her hand, a silent invitation for you to join her.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest. But then, with a deep breath, you step forward, ready to follow wherever she leads.

You take Wednesday's hand, her fingers cool and strong in your grasp. She pulls you close, your bodies pressing together as she guides you into a new dance.

This one is more sensual, the steps slower and more deliberate. Wednesday's gaze never leaves yours, her dark eyes smoldering with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You move together, your bodies swaying in perfect sync. The world around you fades away, until there is nothing but the two of you, lost in the rhythm of the dance.

Wednesday's hand slides up your arm, her fingers trailing over your skin. You shiver at the contact, your nerve endings igniting with each touch.

"You're doing well," she murmurs, her lips barely brushing against your ear. "Keep going."

You nod, your body responding to her commands without hesitation. You've never felt so in tune with another person, so utterly in sync.

As the dance comes to an end, Wednesday pulls you into a final, tight embrace. You can feel the heat of her body against yours, the softness of her breasts pressing into your chest.

For a moment, you're frozen, your heart pounding in your ears. You know you should pull away, put some distance between you. But you can't bring yourself to move, not when Wednesday feels so perfect in your arms.

Slowly, tentatively, you raise your hand, your fingers brushing against the silky strands of her hair. Wednesday's eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"Y/N," she breathes, your name a prayer on her tongue. "I..."

Your heart races as Wednesday's breathy voice caresses your name. In this moment, suspended in time, the world seems to fall away, leaving only the two of you, hearts beating as one.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, you lean in closer, your forehead resting against hers. Your hands slide up to cup her face, thumbs gently stroking her high cheekbones.

Wednesday's eyes flutter open, dark and filled with a vulnerability you've never seen before. Her hands come up to rest on your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

"I..." she starts, her voice barely a whisper. "I want..."

But she trails off, unable to finish the thought. Instead, she closes the remaining distance between you, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that steals your breath away.

You melt into the kiss, your body molding against hers like it was made to fit. Wednesday's lips are soft and warm, moving against yours with a desperate hunger.

Your hands slide into her hair, tangling in the silky strands as you deepen the kiss. Wednesday makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, a sound of pure need.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the taste and feel of her. The rest of the world fades away, leaving only this moment, this connection.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Wednesday rests her forehead against yours, her hands still gripping your waist tightly.

"That was..." she starts, her voice rough with emotion.

"Perfect," you finish for her, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Wednesday hums in agreement, nuzzling her nose against yours. "I've wanted to do that for a while now," she admits, her tone shy.

You chuckle softly, your fingers carding through her hair. "I'm glad you did," you murmur, bringing your lips to hers once more.

As you kiss, you know that this is just the beginning. The start of something new, something beautiful and terrifying and utterly intoxicating.

Wednesday's hands slide down to your hips, her fingers gripping your waistband tightly. With a sudden tug, she pulls you flush against her, your body pressing into hers.

You gasp at the contact, your hands flying up to grip her shoulders for balance. Wednesday takes advantage of your momentary distraction, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

With a soft push, she sends you tumbling onto the mattress, her body following yours. You land with a bounce, your breath knocked from your lungs as Wednesday settles on top of you, her weight pinning you in place.

"Wednesday," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you..."

But your question is cut off as Wednesday captures your lips in another searing kiss. Her tongue delves into your mouth, exploring every inch of you with a desperate hunger.

You moan into the kiss, your hands sliding down to grip her hips, urging her closer. Wednesday grinds against you, the heat of her core seeping through the thin layers of fabric separating you.

Wednesday breaks the kiss, her dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that steals your breath. She sits up, straddling your hips, her hands resting on your chest.

"I want you," she whispers, her voice low and husky. "But we don't have to..."

You reach up, cupping her face in your hands. "I want this," you assure her, your thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "I want you."

Wednesday nods, her gaze never leaving yours. Slowly, she leans down, pressing her lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

Your hands slide down her back, settling on her hips. You guide her movements, encouraging her to grind against you. The friction is delicious, the heat building between your legs.

Wednesday gasps into your mouth, her hips moving faster, more urgently. You can feel her growing wetter, her arousal soaking through your clothes.

You break the kiss, panting heavily. "Let me," you plead, your voice rough with desire.

Wednesday nods, shifting off of you. You sit up, your fingers trembling slightly as you reach for the hem of her dress. With a swift movement, you pull it over her head, tossing it aside.

She sits before you, clad only in a black lace bra and matching panties. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of her, her pale skin flawless in the dim light.

You lean forward, pressing reverent kisses along her collarbone, down the swell of her breasts. Wednesday shivers, her fingers tangling in your hair.

You take a moment to drink in the sight of her, your gaze roaming over her body appreciatively. Wednesday flushes under your attention, her thighs pressing together shyly.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper, your voice filled with awe.

Wednesday shakes her head, her dark hair falling in waves around her face. "I'm not..." she starts, but you silence her with a kiss.

Switching positions, you lay Wednesday down on the bed, your body covering hers. You capture her lips in a searing kiss, your tongue delving into her mouth, exploring every inch of her.

Wednesday moans softly into the kiss, her hips arching up to meet yours. Your hands slide down her sides, cupping her breasts through the thin lace of her bra.

You break the kiss, your lips trailing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone. Wednesday gasps, her fingers digging into your back, urging you on.

Your hand slides down her stomach, teasing the edge of her panties. Wednesday's breath hitches, her thighs parting slightly in invitation.

You dip your fingers beneath the fabric, finding her slick and ready for you. Wednesday whimpers, her hips bucking into your touch.

Your fingers glide through Wednesday's slick folds, finding her sensitive bud. She gasps, her hips jerking at the sudden contact.

"Y/N," she breathes, your name a prayer on her lips.

You circle her clit with teasing strokes, reveling in the way her body responds to your touch. Wednesday's thighs tremble, her hands fisting in the sheets beneath her.

Slowly, you slide a finger inside her, groaning at the way her walls clench around you. Wednesday is so hot, so tight, so perfect.

You add a second finger, pumping them in and out of her slick heat. Wednesday's head thrashes on the pillow, her mouth falling open in a silent cry of pleasure.

Your thumb finds her clit again, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub. Wednesday's hips buck wildly, her body chasing the release you're so eager to give her.

"Please," she whimpers, her voice barely audible. "I need..."

But she doesn't finish the thought, her body arching off the bed as you curl your fingers just right. You can feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around your digits.

With a final twist of your wrist, Wednesday comes undone, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. You hold her through it, whispering words of praise and encouragement.

As she comes down from her high, you press soft kisses to her sweat-dampened skin, murmuring your love and devotion. Wednesday clings to you, her body still trembling with aftershocks.

In this moment, the rest of the world fades away. There is only the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of love and passion.

—

You wake to the sound of the door opening, your eyes fluttering open to find Wednesday still asleep beside you. For a moment, you simply lie there, taking in the sight of her.

Her dark hair is fanned out across the pillow, her face relaxed in sleep. Your gaze travels down her body, tracing the curves and dips you explored so thoroughly the night before.

The door swings open fully, revealing a surprised Enid standing in the doorway. Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene before her - you and Wednesday, tangled together in the afterglow.

"Oh," she breathes, her cheeks flushing pink. "I... I didn't know you two were..."

You sit up quickly, pulling the covers up to your chin. Wednesday stirs, her eyes blinking open in confusion.

"Enid?" she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

Enid clears her throat, averting her gaze. "Sorry," she says, backing out of the room. "I'll just... I'll leave you two alone."

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving you and Wednesday in a tense silence. You glance at her, unsure of what to say.

But Wednesday just sighs, turning to face you. "Well," she says, her tone dry. "That's one way to start the day."

[starkeymeow]

❛ we make each other alive . .

does it matter if it hurts? ❜

I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME.

PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTENT chapter two, best read in dark mode, rafe cameron x reader au, rest of the night narration, rafe and reader slowly getting along.

main masterlist | tag list | previous next

cassaline dabs her lips with a napkin the color of crushed rose petals, sitting with a straight back and the posture of someone who’s never known discomfort.

“i know it’s all overwhelming, darlings,” she coos, pouring herself a bit more wine. “but if the tribute parade was any sign, you’ve both taken to the capitol beautifully. i mean, truly, the presence . . . you’ve got people talking. my inbox is glowing.”

you glance at her from across the table, chewing slowly. “good,” you say, voice even.

rafe doesn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth ticks up. not a smile. not really. just something close.

enobaria sets her fork down with careful precision, then lifts her glass. “she’s not exaggerating,” she says, her voice lower. “we heard from two different sponsors tonight. both asking when your training sessions start. they want to come watch.”

that catches your attention. you raise a brow. “already?”

“mhm.” she sips once, then adds, “and one of them’s on the gamemaker board. just so you know.”

rafe glances at you briefly, then shifts in his chair, letting one arm rest lazily across the table. “so we’ve got fans,” he mutters.

“you’ve got interest,” brutus says gruffly, standing up from his seat. he leaves half a steak on his plate and barely touched the glass of whatever cassaline poured for him. his arms are crossed, “but you need allies.”

you sit straighter at that. rafe’s already watching him, brow twitching.

“you’ll meet with district one tomorrow during training,” brutus continues. “maybe four, too. we’re working on the timing. you’ll make the call if you want the alliance.”

cassaline gives a soft nod, her earrings sparkling with the motion. “nothing is final, of course. but we’ve spoken to both teams. they’re open. interested.”

“they always are,” enobaria says smoothly. “no one wants to start a bloodbath between the careers on day one.”

you know what brutus means, though. alliances are useful, if they’re balanced. but three districts joining together? that’s six tributes, a quarter of the arena’s bloodthirstiest kids, all in one pack. and if it goes that way this year, it’ll be hard to break.

rafe seems to be thinking the same thing. “big group,” he mutters. “harder to manage. harder to trust.”

“harder to kill,” brutus adds, one eyebrow raised. “unless you’re ready to start with a war.”

you breathe in once through your nose and look at enobaria, who meets your eyes like she’s sizing you up all over again. “what would you do?”

she shrugs one shoulder, “i’d meet them, feel them out. see which ones have tempers, which ones like to follow. then i’d keep the ones who do what they’re told, and gut the ones who don’t.”

cassaline gasps, almost delighted. “enobaria! manners!”

enobaria smirks. “i used my fork.”

you don’t laugh, but you do look down at your empty plate and think about how different tomorrow will be. training. watching. reading every step, every hand, every flinch from the other tributes. you and rafe may have caught attention tonight, but now comes the real work: deciding who to trust before you're forced to kill them.

brutus gets up and steps away without another word, already done with his part—the advice and the meal. you hear the heavy thud of the door closing behind him, leaving only the soft clink of cutlery and cassaline’s gentle humming as she sets down her goblet.

“sleep well tonight,” she tells you both, smiling brightly. “you’ve made a lovely impression. tomorrow’s about making it last.”

you push your chair back slowly, rising from the table. you catch rafe doing the same across from you, both of you moving like something’s already shifted.

you glance at enobaria. she just nods once. you nod back. and then, looking at cassaline, you speak, “wake me up if someone dies.”

you walk out before anyone can reply.

the bedroom was way too big for one person. that’s your first thought when you finally get to be alone in it. there’s no cassaline talking your ear off, no brutus brooding in a corner, no rafe’s unreadable expressions across the table. just this room and you.

you’re not sure if his looks the same. rafe’s, that is. it’s across the hall, same size probably, but you didn’t peek when you had the chance. didn’t want to look too interested. you’re curious, though. you always are.

the floor in your room is marble, smooth and cold beneath your bare feet, a color you can’t quite name. there’s a vanity near the far wall, lined with bottles and brushes and jars of products you don’t recognize, probably don’t need, but the capitol put them there anyway. just in case.

the bed sits like a throne in the middle of the room, covered in too many pillows, too many layers. it’s clean, quiet, still.

the bathroom is attached, tucked away behind a set of sliding frosted glass doors that seal silently. it’s just as ridiculous as the bedroom. the kind of space you’ve only ever seen on capitol tv.

the showers have more buttons than a control panel. there are shelves full of body creams, hair masks, oils, facial rollers, scented salts. toothbrushes that buzz when you hold them, rows of toothpaste in different flavors. moisturizers labeled by time of day, skin type, weather conditions. you barely touch any of it.

you just rinse off the sweat from the day, scrub your face, change into the soft nightwear folded neatly on your bed. it’s nothing like home, but it’ll do.

when you’re done, you dive straight into the mattress like you’ve been waiting for it all day. it swallows you instantly.

you lie there for a while, staring at the wall of a window across from you. the capitol glows beyond it with impossibly tall buildings. it’s dizzying, a little nauseating. you’ve seen it on a screen before, back home. but this is different. real. loud. blinding. it doesn’t look like it ever sleeps.

you won’t, either, not with that glow crawling across the floor of your room.

you push off the bed with a groan, walking over to see if there’s a curtain or anything you can tug shut. but there’s nothing. it’s just smooth wall, smooth glass. no handles. no switches. you pause, then glance behind you, remembering the remote you saw earlier on your nightstand.

you pick it up and look at the buttons. a few have symbols, like mountain peaks, a sun, maybe a wave, but most of them are blank. figures. you try one, and for a moment, nothing happens.

and then the wall shifts.

it’s not like a regular projection. it’s too immersive. no glare, no distortion. just a seamless image stretching across the full height and width of the glass, and suddenly, your room is filled with the soft orange and dusty gold light of a wide, open canyon.

the wind doesn’t blow through the walls, but you swear you can feel it. it looks like somewhere people lived before cities were even a thought.

you lower the remote and sit back on the bed again, cross-legged this time. the colors soak into the walls. into your skin. it’s not quite comforting, but it’s distracting enough. that’s all you need.

your hand finds the small bowl of iced cookies on the nightstand. they look sugary, almost fake, like they were made of pastel chalk. you take one anyway, bite into it. it crunches, then melts, like snow under sunlight.

you heard that apparently, capitol treats don’t go bad. they can sit out for weeks and still taste fresh.

great for you. great for the ghosts who’ll live in this room after you.

you lean back slightly on your palms, chewing quietly, watching the canyon stretch on forever. just breathing. just listening to the silence, for now.

but now it’s been hours since you first laid down.

you’ve changed the wall at least four times. from canyon to forest to snow-covered field to soft ocean waves, each one more soothing than the last, but none of them work. you can’t sleep.

you’re curled under the covers now, still wide awake, staring at the window wall. it should be peaceful. quiet. you picked it because it reminded you of something still. something far. but your eyes won’t close for long. every time they do, something pulls them open again.

it’s too hot. too cold. too bright. too dark. the blanket doesn’t sit right on your shoulders. the air shifts strangely in the room. even your skin feels off, and you’re too aware of the sound of your own breathing. and every time you try to fix it, you reach for the remote to adjust the lights, toggle the air temp, you wake yourself up all over again.

you’re frustrated. angry in the quietest, smallest way.

tomorrow is training. the start of it. you don’t even know what time they’ll wake you, just that someone will. cassaline had told you and rafe you wouldn’t need an alarm. “an avox will be there at some point,” she’d said lightly, “if not one of us.”

and wasn’t that funny? not funny-ha-ha, but funny like a punchline delivered too early. the capitol cuts their tongues out, calls it justice, and then expects them to silently rouse tributes from their beds.

you’d seen them earlier. avoxes. a few stood near the corners of the main living space, close enough to act quickly, far enough to not draw attention, watching, waiting for the mentors or stylists or prep team to be done so they could sweep through and clean what’s left.

it wasn’t creepy exactly, but you hadn’t approached them. hadn’t really looked them in the eye. you weren’t supposed to talk to them anyway. weren’t supposed to acknowledge too much of anything.

your head falls into your hands, fingers dragging through your hair. you sigh.

“you have training tomorrow, go to sleep.” it echoes in your mind, soft and strict and familiar. probably your mom’s voice. or your dad’s. either one.

you almost laugh, because for a second, you really do wish one of them were here. just to scold you. just to be loud enough to snap you out of this feeling. maybe then you’d sleep.

but they’re not. they’ll never be in this building.

and so, after a moment, you rip the blanket off your body and swing your legs off the bed, planting your feet on the freezing floor. your teeth almost clack together at the cold. you groan under your breath, stepping to the dresser and tugging open a drawer, pulling on the first pair of socks you find. then, quietly, carefully, you push open the bedroom door and slip into the hallway.

it’s dim out here. not pitch-black, but close. the kind of darkness that has no intention of being inviting. your arms wrap around yourself on instinct. it’s colder than your room. empty, too. no footsteps. no soft laughter. just silence and carpet.

you walk slowly, tiptoeing across the hall, and into the living area.

everyone’s gone. probably asleep.

you glance at the dining room as you pass it. it’s spotless, like the chaos from earlier never happened. no wine stains, no crumbs, no twisted napkins left behind. you remember cassaline spilling onto herself, brushing it off with a soft laugh, enobaria amused. it’s as if it never happened. the table gleams like it’s brand new.

you move on, walking deeper into the living room, where the massive couch takes up more space than any normal family could need. a fireplace sleeps beneath a blank screen, both waiting for someone to wake them.

maybe, if you were normal, if this were a regular night in a regular place, you’d sit here and watch something. let yourself fall asleep to the soft flicker of warmth and white noise.

but then you notice it.

the balcony doors are slightly open. just enough for a thin, pale glow to slip through the curtains.

your brows furrow. it’s late. too late for anyone to be out there. close the door, that’s why it’s so cold out here.

you step closer, slow and quiet, fingers brushing the curtain aside, and through the narrow crack in the door, you see him.

rafe.

you stand there, staring at him through the crack in the door, and it’s just—why the fuck is he out here?

he’s just standing there, leaning against the railing, elbows propped on the edge, hands laced together. he doesn’t move. doesn’t notice you. he just stares out over the capitol. the city looks different at this time at night. not quieter. just lonelier. maybe you were wrong before.

you hover behind the door for a second, the cold draft brushing your face. he’s out there, just like you’re in here, sleepless, restless, waiting for something that won’t come.

you eventually push the balcony door open and step outside, the wind enveloping you immediately. as soon as you go to close it behind you, the thing lets out the loudest, most god-awful creaking sound you’ve ever heard.

it seals with a heavy clunk and you freeze, wide-eyed like you just got caught sneaking out.

rafe’s already spun around, shoulders tense, like he’s ready to lunge at whoever decided to sneak up behind him. but when he sees it’s you, his posture shifts. he’s less defensive, more irritated. he looks at you like you’re ridiculous for that. like really?

“that’s why i didn’t close it,” he says, turning his back on you again. his forearms settle on the railing, crossed casually like this is his personal hideout. this is night one, buddy.

you shoot him a flat look as you walk over, glancing behind you once at the door like it betrayed you. “how was i supposed to know that?”

he doesn’t even look at you. just shrugs. “and how did i know the door would sound like that?”

you blink. “yeah, actually.”

rafe exhales through his nose, amused in that dry way only he knows how to pull off. “my dad’s a high-ranking peacekeeper back home,” he says finally. “brought me here one time when i was a kid. to the capitol.”

you look at him, a little confused. “here here?”

“yeah.” he shifts slightly, letting his forearms relax. “i met some of the tributes that year. he showed me around the tribute center like it was a museum. made a whole point to bring me to the floor for district two.” his jaw flexes. “like he knew i’d end up here someday. or hoped.”

you watch him for a second, your hands coming up to rest against the top of the railing beside him.

“that, and the couches in the living room fold out into beds,” he adds, offhand. “just in case someone can’t sleep in their actual room.”

your eyebrows twitch up just a little, impressed despite yourself.

“huh,” you murmur, gaze slipping away from him and onto the city below.

but you stand there, quiet, next to rafe.

you eventually steal a glance at him again. he hasn’t said anything in a bit. his face is cut from stone, but his eyes look distant. like he’s not even here. at least not on the balcony, not in the capitol. maybe not even in his own body. you wonder where his head goes when he goes quiet like that. probably somewhere ugly.

you shift a little, toe nudging the cool floor. “so . . . was that your dad’s thing? training you early?”

he doesn’t move. not even a twitch. for a second you think he won’t answer at all, but then his thumb brushes absently along the railing. “his thing was control.”

you nod, slowly. your eyes flick back to the city.

“and your parents?” he asks, softer now, almost cautious.

you let out a breath. it fogs slightly in front of you, the night colder than you realized. “they’re not like that. they’re just . . .” you think about it, really think. “they’re quiet. good people. never wanted this for me.”

rafe finally turns his head just enough to look at you. “but you volunteered.”

you nod once. “i did.”

he waits. doesn’t push, but waits.

you chew on your lip for a second, then say, “there was this kid in our district. younger. maybe thirteen? untrained, like it was obvious her parents took care of everything for her and never needed her to train at the academy like we did. but she would’ve been dead by the first hour.” you pause. “figured if anyone was gonna die, might as well be me. someone who at least knows what they’re walking into.”

the silence that follows is thicker than before. it settles into your skin, makes your shoulders feel heavier.

“you?” you ask, voice lower now. “you’ve probably been raised for this since birth, right?”

rafe lets out a short breath. maybe it’s a laugh. maybe it’s not, “pretty much.” your brows knit, your grip on the railing tightening slightly. “i used to think getting reaped would be the worst thing that could happen to me,” he says, voice steadier now. “but being trained for something your whole life . . . only to be scared of it anyway?” he turns his head a little toward you. “that’s worse.”

you watch him. not saying anything. not really sure what to say.

there’s a pause before you mumble, “well i haven’t slept either.”

he shifts, slightly. “figured.”

you glance at him. “yeah?”

“i heard you pacing earlier. you walk loud.”

a huff of a laugh leaves you before you can stop it. then you lean a little more into the railing, your hair falling into your face. “think they’ll wake us with some kind of trumpet in the morning? or like, cannons to get us ready for the real thing?”

“nah,” he says. “probably just an avox, like cassaline said. just starin’ at you until you open your eyes.”

you laugh again, quieter now. “creepy, but possible.”

you fall into silence after that. the wind pulls through the balcony and you shiver slightly, shifting your arms closer to your body. you notice rafe glance at you, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.

your voice drops to a whisper. “i hate this place.”

he’s quiet again. and for a second, you wonder if you said too much. but then—“me too.”

you look at him, and he’s looking right back. his eyes aren’t cold like they were earlier in the day. they’re tired. like yours.

you both look away at the same time, gazes falling back to the skyline. it’s a strange thing, sharing this moment. a quiet sort of closeness, made from exhaustion and fear and the knowledge that in a few days, one or both of you might be dead.

“so . . . you cold?” he asks, not looking at you.

“a little.”

he shrugs off the light jacket he’s wearing and holds it out. doesn’t say anything. just waits for you to take it.

you hesitate for a second, then reach for it slowly. “thanks.”

“don’t make it a thing,” he says, but his voice is softer than before.

you smile. barely. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

you slip the jacket on, sleeves a little long on you, and return to your place beside him.

you don’t say anything else for a while. you just stand there together, watching the city, letting the quiet stretch between you again. but it’s different now. less heavy. less lonely.

maybe, just maybe, the night will pass a little easier now.

@nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @ariiwritess @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @rafestar @drewstarkeyzwhore @drewsephrry @annaconscience @writtenbyhollywood @yourtypicalteenagegirl @daisydark @v4mpscrms @issahruiz @ilovefictionallmenn @derpjungkook @vanessa-rafesgirl @sunny1616 @alphabetically-deranged @nrmlgirl @supercxnt @xoxosblogsblog @rafegetinmybed @siyahmoonlight @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @d-daxx @tsumudoll @ogcrashout @jjasmiineee @loverliner @ailimedae

[ryllen]

why do you like treyjade so much? what is the thing about that relationship that draws you to it, and what is it that draws them to each other?

honestly this is why i keep thinking that i am not the best person a person can get their supply of treyjade from i don't have enough braincell to deliver them justice, bcs both of them are intellectual individuals in disguise that needs deeper clever writing INSTEAD U GOT THEM IN WHATEVER MESS I WROTE THEM IN FHSDH, that's why it's hard to understand how lovely their dynamic can be.

To start, these are their similarities. They have same vice duties. Jade loves growing things at botanical garden, Trey is in science club which also spends time at botanical garden. Trey bake, Jade brew tea. Trey cook, Jade eat. Simple enough.

And when they are together...

I love that Jade is completely off work/butler mode when with Trey. He is just a very spoiled someone who is very tired and just wants to be comforted with Trey. And of course Trey can be comforted the same way. This is easily one thing that brings connection between them.

Here's what my favorite couple is usually about. I can easily see them as adults that gets into meaningful long lasting relationship. Thanks to the japanese fandom, they are usually drawn in domestic relationship. Just living in the same house, spending their comfortable life together as an adult couple.

Jade can sense there are more under Trey's normality mask. If u consume more smart writing from other artists, Jade is /that/ curious about Trey that he tries to make Trey mad to see how it is if he loses his composure.

But Trey being actually smart, he can actually repel or counter Jade's taunting attempt with underlying smarter move. Which makes it even more interesting to Jade to keep on trying.

And another certain artist has Jade actually convincing Trey, that he doesn't have to stay normal, because he knows what Trey truly wants is abnormality. Trey just stays normal, because after getting Riddle in trouble & stirring trouble with Riddle's mom, it kinda traumatized him in a way. so in this other case, Jade just knows Trey is as messed up as Jade can be if Trey just let himself free, and he wants to unleash him & be (evil) partner hand in hand.

♡♡♡ Well, it's a secret. But Trey is actually bolder than you think. He is not easily repulsed or disgusted as you think. He would even break a 'law' or two to do things with Jade, like ... doing it in the school ground. (Riddle would be so mad, don't tell him) Which make them actually able cater on each other desires & quirks.

THIS PART MAKES JADE SO MOE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love that IT MAKES JADE ACTS SMALL THAN TREY WHO IS ACTUALLY SMALLER THAN HIM WHICH SUPPOSEDLY DOESN'T MAKE SENSE BUT HE DID IT!!!!!!! H E IS A B A B Y !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DAINTY TALLER JADE AND WELL BUILT SHORTER TREY????? SIGN ME UPPP!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS A BALANCE I CANNOT RESIST!!!!!

FSHDSHS CAN'T U SEE HOW MOE ITT IS FOR JADE TO BE THE TALLER ONE, WHEN TREY IS THE HEAD IN THE RELATIONSHIP????????

THE WAY TREY CAN STILL 'TOP' THE RELATIONSHIP DESPITE THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE!!!!!!! THE WAY HE HAS NO FEARR OF THE TALLERR JADEEE AND JUST HOLD HIS NECK FROM BEHIND AND KISSES HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SCREEAMSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This might be similar to the previous questions ago, but to me, they are more of themselves when they are together. They break from their usual duty masks. Trey is not just caring others out of responsibility. He actually have great fun feeding Jade and seeing him eats.

And Jade is not just following behind like a serving servant. He actually wants to be a baby girl, get on to Trey's lap, be patted, and bury his head over Trey's shoulder. AND U SHOULD LET HIM!! FSHDSHD

Jade not able to fly? CUTE! Jade always hungry? CUTE! Jade passionate about something? CUTE!! Jade love mushroom SENSELESS?? CUTE!! JADE PRETENDS HE IS DAINTY BUT HE CAN EASILY FIGHT A GROUP OF HOOLIGANS HIMSELF????? CUTTTEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

(EH ? ? TREY . T R E Y . P L EA S E C OM E B A C K T O Y O U R S EN S E . ;;;;)

Jade is so beautiful, how can he resist ? Despite being so dangerous, Jade is so ? C u t e ? ? how can he resist ? ? Does mermaid just naturally chant enhancement on human? O H , how can he reisist ? ? ? ? A R E H I S G L A S S E S J U S T F A U L T Y ? ? ? ? ? ? Oh Trey. Keep on guessing.

Mountain hiking? Camping? Cooking? Planting things? Alright, let's go. Outdoor wear Trey's lines said, "People get to research whatever they want in the Science Club which means I get to hear about all sorts of fascinating stuff" "Rook lectured me on proper hiking technique before we left. His tips have been pretty helpful" He actually listens, man. It seems like he is deliberately packing himself with LOADS of information so he can handle any possible situation. But he listens & actually digests the information Jade rambles to him. And that's the important thing.

O H ! The never ending fun ! ! Trey is a tough nut to crack. His defence meter skyrocketed up to the space. He is like an enrichment toy for Jade. But does Jade know that Trey is accumulating plan to also get back on Jade? Maybe not as evil. Maybe not as mean. But a win, is a win! U're gonna for sure make that pouty face, Jade.

You said what you said, Trey! No takesies, backsies! Have u seen Trey in Octavinelle uniform tho??? HE LOOKS LIKE, he's AT HOME! And for sure, Jade is muffling his voice at the corner right now. ♡♡♡

Their relationship can be sweet and direct, calculated but sweet; or attached but detached at the same time. Some artists took their individuality in more serious manner. Despite how it seems, their relationship doesn't go like actual cliche. They are not foolishly in love. They have first and foremost, sound logic of what they want. I remember this image has jade holding trey's hands while walking to the direction of the sea while the waves crashes on him, saying "sorry i can't go with you". It may seem cold. But in a way it's refreshing. It is a good material for pain for us who watches them. And they are not fake. They do not pretend that love is everything above all. They do not pretend they are actually a good person. They are what they are. And I love them for that. pixiv : (1) (2) (3) (4)

You understand what i mean?

Despite of lacking true ability to deliver how the true treyjade love is like, these are the things that make me fall in love with them. (I may feel like i missed talking about some points after posting this, i'm sure. Because i really love them in many different ways)

Since u come this far, u shall be rewarded. These are drawings from one of my top treyjade artist, toccamia, that has their account locked that you can't exactly re-live the moment I went through to get to this point. If these heavenly pictures still cannot convince you how beautiful their relationship can be . . . G o d k n o w s I ' v e t r i e d .

That's the end your journey of this post. Thank you very much for reading the rambling of lil' me.

[after-witch]

A Barter [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Title: A Barter [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Synopsis: Feitan wants one thing. You want something else. 

Word count: 2200ish

Notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, noncon

God, you’d kill for some books. Not even some. Just one. A single book to pass the time, to retreat into, and above all, to keep you from being so fucking bored.

You’d asked Feitan for some about two weeks ago. Laid out your case as carefully as anything, even written down a list of genres you like, or specific books if he wouldn’t mind, but you ended by affirming that you’d be happy to read anything that he felt like picking up.

He didn’t bother answering. He only stared at you until you left, feeling ashamed, stupid–and more bored than ever. 

It’s amazing, really, how your brain eventually stops firing off all cylinders, stops being stuck in flight-or-fight-mode, after a while. Even a kidnapping can become ordinary. All it takes is a year or so–you don’t exactly have a calendar to keep track–of being kept in a few rotating dingy hideouts by a torturer with a penchant for basements to make you able to think of things other than is-he-going-to-kill-me-or-not.

Things like: what will Feitan do, if you ask him for a book again?  Scoff? Make you beg? Or, perhaps the most likely, simply ignore you once again? He does his fair share of that, for all that he refuses to let you go.

Well.

There’s nothing to do but find out. Even that is a relief from boredom, trying something new: repeatedly asking your captor for some remnant of normality.

So, with a squirming stomach and an awful blend of worry-relief slick in your gut, you push off your mattress on the floor, hop up–

And run right smack into Feitan, who has chosen this exact moment to make his own surprise appearance into the room that has become your own. It startles you both and it’s only his own honed reflexes, you think, that keep him from copying your own startled trip as you almost stumble backwards right onto the dingy hardwood floor.

You catch yourself, without dignity; and it is without dignity that you manage the only verbal response you can, a shaky, uncertain: 

“Um.”

Feitan stares at you. And then he huffs, which might be as close to an “um” as you might ever get from him. 

But what little standoff there is between you folds easily. You back down first. Of course you do. Quite literally, you walk backwards, until you feel the firmness of your mattress behind your legs, and you sit down.

It’s best to sit, when Feitan wants something. You never know what it might be, after all.

“Did you…” You pull your knees up, prepared to be told to head into the basement at worst, or to make him something to eat, at best. “Did you need something?”

It’s his lack of response that clues you into something being strange first. Then it’s the fact that, as you dart your gaze towards his face, you can see a faint something about him–on his cheeks, maybe? They look a little flushed.

Maybe he’s sick. The thought of tending to a sick Feitan is not something you’d considered before. You’re not keen on considering it now, but what choice do you have?

“Are you sick?” 

“What?”

The word is bitten out but it lacks the usual harshness in his tone. Instead he sounds–taken aback, maybe. Embarrassed, even, and that’s a bit more stomach-churning than annoyance. What would he have to feel embarrassed about? 

“Sorry,” you reply, automatically, wanting to avoid being sent down to the basement again. “I just thought… because of your cheeks?”

His fingers do not fly to his cheeks. Instead, he slowly, deliberately, raises his hand to his cheek and brushes his knuckles over his skin. 

It makes him hum–thoughtful. Quiet. 

Completely unnerving. 

And when he turns around and shuts your bedroom door, your thoughts begin to feel rootless. It’s a strange gesture. What would he shut the door for, anyway? No one else would see you. Even if he had someone chained up in the basement, they weren’t likely to get away.

The thoughts get swallowed down when he stands in front of you, arms crossed.

“I need something.” He pauses. “From you.”

You can’t bear to meet his gaze, so you stare down at your feet, picking at the frayed lace on your socks. “From… me?”

“From me?” He repeats, a mocking lilt just detectable in his tone. 

Heat rises in your chest, and you stamp it down just as quickly. The days where you used to argue–and plead–and argue some more are gone. Mostly, anyway. 

“What,” you swallow, “could you need from me?”

He hesitates. You think for a moment that he’ll simply leave, forgetting the matter entirely. Then he pulls at his cowl, revealing his face–mouth set in a frown–before he begins to pull at his coat. He shrugs it off like a robe and it drops to the floor without ceremony. Underneath, he’s wearing a slim tank top and trousers. Both are suspiciously stained, despite the dark fabric.

Still, he just stares at you, until you can’t take the silence any longer.

“Um,” you say, an echo from earlier. 

This time, when he huffs, it’s less of an “um” and more of an implicit marker of your own stupidity. 

“You wanting books?”

Oh. 

That’s what this is about? The books. The books you wanted–needed, really, to get you through this newfound life. If you can call it that.

So you nod, slowly. Already not liking where it’s going, even though you’ve yet to find the destination.

Feitan’s lips quirk into something like a frown before he speaks. An uncertain little thing. 

“Take off your clothes, then.”

Ah.

It’s–a trade.

A book for–well. That. 

It’s not that you didn’t think it was coming, eventually. Perhaps you’ve always known that he’s going to have sex with you, one way or another. The only decision you have is in the little details. Will he pin your wrists down and take you screaming? Or will you submit and wind up on the bed of whatever free will you still possess?

You know which one ends with more pain, more tears. You know which one ends with tears, yes–but something you want, too. A book. Or two. Something to tide you over. 

So–so you swallow and look up at him as firmly as you can and nod. It’s going to happen, so it might as well happen on your terms. Or what you can pretend are your terms, at least.

“Fine.”

He almost seems surprised, but he bites it back quickly as you hastily begin to shrug your clothing off. A flimsy tank top and thin leggings that were beginning to rip at the seams, but you didn’t feel like asking for a sewing kit or a new pair. 

He stares down at your naked form and it’s only when you awkwardly pat the spot next to you on the mattress that he moves, almost jerking his body as he jerkily crawls down onto the bare mattress. It creaks underneath him, and you instinctively shift backwards, leaning your back against the pillow.

Let it just be over with then. Let him do what he wants–and you get your books, and that awful tension that’s been hovering since he took you can unravel. 

Only he doesn’t simply crawl over you and begin fucking hard, satiating whatever lust that’s been built up inside him. Instead, he scoots himself until he’s laying above you, yes, but leaning down and… what? Looking at you. Expecting something. He leans down, his face closer, and it hits you.

He wants to kiss.

He doesn’t want just sex then, you think. He wants… more? He wants–wants… you? Yes–maybe? He wants you, in some way that he doesn’t have you yet. Even though he has you, literally, where he wants you; makes you do whatever he wants, controls what you eat and what you wear and when you sleep. When you shower, when you speak, often enough.

And now he wants whatever kissing him will give. It’s a shitty world, when you can’t keep anything for yourself. You could refuse. Could press your lips tight and turn away, make it harder on him. 

Harder on yourself, too. 

You swallow, and he follows the motion in your throat as he finally leans in closer, his chapped lips brushing against your own. Equally chapped, to be fair; lip balm wasn’t exactly a top priority for either of you.

“Open your mouth,” he says, and it’s almost softly. Almost like it’s not a command and is instead a request. 

Well. If you’re going to do it, you might as well get something more. 

“I want–I want a trilogy,” you murmur. 

He stares at you, uncomprehending–until he gets it. You’re bartering. He snorts against your skin, but doesn’t disagree as he captures your parted mouth, shoving his tongue inside with little fanfare. 

If he got what he wanted from the kiss, you don’t know, because by the time he’s practically breathing down your throat, you feel his hands part your naked thighs. And when he pulls away and positions himself to see what he’s revealed, his expression turns into something you’ve only seen him sport in the basement during particularly fulfilling torture sessions.

Satisfaction.

It’s almost flattering–fuck, something has to be, your naked back against the mattress as Feitan finally pulls his trousers down and positions himself at your entrance without any fanfare. Or preparation. Not that you were expecting it. Maybe, to him, the kiss should have been enough.

The ceiling has a stain on it–that’s what you’re thinking, as he thrusts inside you. It hurts, there’s a startling sort of burning and pressure, and you don’t have any time to be eased into things as he lets out a long sigh and begins to fuck you.

Your body shifts against the mattress with each thrust, and you think–is this going to be it?--before you feel a startling, uneven jolt of pleasure between your legs. When you glance down, you can see Feitan’s hand between your legs; it’s his thumb, you think, rubbing your clit almost haphazardly.

It’s enough to dull the sting, at least. Enough to make you gasp in something other than discomfort. 

Maybe that gasp is why he leans down again, why his free hand grabs one of your wrists and pins it above your head. It’s to keep you still, you realize a moment later, as he begins to bite and lap against your neck. You’ll have hickeys, after.

It adds another layer of pleasure, something warmer, something that sends tingles down your stomach despite the discomfort of the situation. 

“Feitan–”

“Hush,” he says, and you do, and you’re almost grateful for his words. It’s easier not to say his name, to bite down your gasps and sounds. Especially when saying his name merely made him rut harder against you, faster. It’s almost too much, the friction between your body and the mattress, your heart rate speeding up, the feeling of his thrust between your legs. It’s almost dizzying, making it harder to keep your thoughts straight. 

Harder and faster, all because you said his name. Because it made him hornier–or because he wants to leave? The question lingers, caught between thrusts and the feeling of his mouth against his skin.

His thumb rubs harsher against your clit until you’re suddenly spasming, cumming as he’s still fucking you. He takes his hands away too quickly and it’s not an entirely satisfying orgasm but you’re in no position (literally) to complain about it. Instead you try to ride some lingering warmth between your legs as he reaches his own peak, abandoning your bruising shoulder and bruising your lips, instead, a kiss that’s part teeth and tongue.

He thrusts forward and goes still and makes an almost keening sound into your mouth as he finishes, and you feel the warmth spreading inside you. It’s not pleasant, but the feeling when he pulls out and some of it dribbles out is far less so.

Next time, you think, you’ll tell him to keep touching you when you come. So it feels better. Hell, next time, you’ll barter for something more than a book, too. 

You expect him to stay against you, maybe even kiss you again, in the afterglow. Instead, he simply stands up without fanfare and begins to redress himself. Pulls his pants back up–you hope to whatever god there is that he washes his clothes soon–and begins to pull on his top and coat.

“What genre?”

You don’t register the question at first. You’re too fucked out, too guilty, lost, confused, hazy, to understand the question. 

Maybe he sees all that, because before he throws his cowl back up, you see his smirk.

“For your books.”

Oh. Right.

“Fantasy,” you answer, without needing to think. 

Above you, that ceiling is still stained, and now your mattress has new stains. It was the first time Feitan fucked you, but it won’t be the last, and what sort of Pandora’s box did you open today, anyway? 

So yes, a fantasy trilogy is what you ask for, naked and bruising on your bed. 

You’ll need something you can escape into every chance you get.