#but instead the most awkward coming outs i can provide

[sabraeal]

Oh god, how could I forget? *slams hands on table* OBI AND SHIRAYUKI COME OUT TO EACH OTHER, WFB EDITION

[Read on AO3]

There's a surreality that clings to the corners of her night, a certain strangeness that fuzzes the edges like one of Kiki's filters. If Shirayuki's truthful with herself-- which she tries to be-- the whole weekend has been like this, like her body has been wrapped in bubble-wrap, a buffer between her and Tanbarun to keep it from hurting her again. And then for one moment, cheap beer had sloshed against her finger and she thought, I can handle this, it won't beat me, I won't flinch thinking of home forever.

Hard to believe that was only a few hours ago, when now the only thing keeping her upright is the door at her back. That once again, Raj has muted her world. Not on purpose, not like last time; oh no, it's his honesty that wounds, and she can't hate him for it, but she can't forgive either, and he--

Ah, well, maybe Obi has a point. Some things, he's said, his sharp smile strained from holding it so wide, belong right where they're buried.

Her legs don't tremble as she stands, but the ground's so unsteady beneath her feet it makes no difference. Her world pitches with every step across the vintage hardwood, a struggle to stay upright until her world tips at it edges, landing her flat on the mattress. A nice one, firmer and more supportive than the one back in her dorm, even if she had spent thirty dollars layering enough toppers on it to make as nice as a hotel. It would be easy to slip into sleep now, to let this day be drowned out by dreams with a better narrative structure than real life.

But she can't. Not when her mind is racing still, running through Raj's confession like a hamster on a wheel, churning it over and over until she's unmoored. Her body may physically remain in this room, but she no longer sees the crown molding around the ceiling or french doors to the balcony-- instead she witnesses a night three months behind her, every detail blown to life-size.

Hey, Red. His eyes were glazed, she remembers that. From drinking, she'd thought; just a brother three sheets to the wind, press-ganged into one last delivery that kept him from the keg. Raj said he wanted you to have this.

The man doesn't even blink at his lie, just holds out the cup the way anyone would; two lives destroyed with as much ease as hands touch. Doesn't bother to stay either, the way a real villain would, ready to gloat over his dastardly plans. No, evil occurs without even a flinch, unremarkable in its ordinariness. That she believed it all is a simple mistake, one that anyone could have fallen for--

But Obi hadn't. He took one look at that man and called him a shark, laughed at how no one had seen it when blood chummed in his wake. And if he could, then why, why hadn't she?

If she'd only known, then it wouldn't have been Raj in Kino's exposé, and it wouldn't have been Shenezard lawyers that sat across the table from her, explaining to her in terrifying detail the penalties for slander and libel. No, they would be sitting beside her, coaching her through her testimony, making sure that she knew just where to twist the knife. Anything to make sure the campus-- and their investors-- knew that they were washing their hands of this criminal, the frat severing ties with the brother whose actions threatened their charter. It wouldn't have been easy, but she could have stayed, and she--

She never would have met Zen. Or Kiki, or Mitsuhide. Not even Obi, unless there was a dean as dedicated to meddling with Shenezards as much as Wisterias. Shirayuki would still be in her grief single, struggling to get out of bed as her single friend rode her trauma to a post-graduate position.

Her thoughts race, one what-if chasing another, a glut of almosts poised to flood her with second guesses, castigating her for not thinking so clearly, so perfectly in the moment--

It’s-- it’s too much.

This is hardly the first time she’s flirted with a panic attack, but to have one here, pressed in by the walls of the house where it all happened--

Shirayuki gets up. Fresh air. That’s what she needs. A change of scenery. A possibility of escape. Sure, she’s on the second floor, but that’s never stopped her before. Her legs won’t tremble, but her hands do as they reach out for her cardigan, the wool snagging on her nails before she manages to wrangle it around her shoulders.

The night is bracing when she steps into it, not windy, but cold, the air carrying more winter than she expects. They’d left snow behind in Clarines, but Tanbarun’s only been brisk, cushioned by the Sound to the south. Sea effect, that’s what it’s called.

“So.” She jumps, and oh, there’s Obi right there, lounging on his own balcony, blanket framing his grin. “Did catharsis live up to the hype or whatever?”

“Oh.” Had it really only been this morning when she stood in the library, preaching to him about narrative closure? When she’d called this whole thing the return of the hero? “I don’t think-- I mean, I wasn’t--”

“Hold up, Doc.” His blanket slumps to his shoulders, hands flying up between them. “You don’t need to tell me shit. Just...you’re feeling better, right?”

“I...” am about to have a panic attack, she nearly says, but even as she lines up the words to be dismissed-- he doesn’t need to be worrying about her, not over something like this-- she finds they’re not longer true. “...I am. Or at least I will be. Just...need a few minutes I think.”

He shrugs. “Take ‘em. I’m not going anywhere.”

For once, she believes it. “I’m sorry. I should have told you about...all this. What happened here before--”

“Hey, hey.” The blanket unfurls as he stands, caught only by a quick clasp of his hand. “This whole thing was your secret to keep. You didn’t owe me anything.”

“But you walked into all this blind.” She sighs, breath misting into the night. “If I’d told you...”

“I’d be here anyway. Would I like to have known?” He scrapes out a laugh, jostling her elbow on the rail. “Yeah, sure. But it wouldn’t have changed anything? Nah.”

“R-really?” She blinks, the cold stinging her eyes. “But why...?”

“Because you asked, didn’t you?” There’s a sharpness to his smile, but that edge is pointed inward, pressing just hard enough draw blood. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Doc, but people don’t tend to expect a lot from me. No one but...”

You. He doesn’t say it, but it rings in the air between them, warming it more than any breeze.

“If you want to let me in on the backstory next time, I won’t stop you though.” His eyes glitter gold in the moonlight, like lights in a distant window. “Beats wondering why you jumped every time you heard a door slam in this place.”

“O-oh!” It hadn’t even crossed her mind that anyone would notice, let alone-- “S-sorry. To make you worry. What did you think--?”

“Doc, I’m gonna be real.” His chin slants down, eyes fixing on her from their corners. “I tried real hard not to think anything at all.”

Shirayuki blinks. “Even though...?”

His shoulders don’t so much shrug as fence him in, pickets right up by his ears. “I’ve seen some stuff. I just had to hope that none of it happened to you.”

He can’t want her to pry, but Obi talks about himself so little, and his past even less; she can’t help but murmur, “Stuff?”

His breath plumes over the rail, spinning and spiraling, each second of his sigh eddying into the next. “Let’s just put it this way: if it’s been me in your shoes tonight, I would have had to think a lot harder before I did the right thing. Would have gotten there eventually, but...”

This time he does shrug, too innocent for his implication. “Kino may not exactly be nice, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to be--”

“No one deserves that.” There’s not much Obi’s serious about, but he is for this, no hint of humor clinging to his mouth or hiding behind his eyes. “Preaching to the choir. But some people need a taste of their own medicine, and I’m not above letting them take a sip.”

“Obi.”

“So to speak, of course.” One hand lazily lifts from the rail, matching the hook of his smirk. “I’m not as good a person as you, Doc.”

“I don’t know about that,” she huffs, folding her cardigan tighter over her chest. “You just don’t know her like I do. When we were in high school...”

We were friends. That’s what she wants to say, at least, but it sits sour on her tongue, aging as well as milk. They’d been on the same team, sure, but when it’d come to those sleepovers, all the seniors gossiping behind their hands--

Obi’s smile softens. “Taking off some real vintage rose-colored glasses?”

“Ah, no.” She shakes her head. “More like...seeing past an old crush.”

“Oh.” It’s strange to be so close to a smile like his as it collapses, like watching one of Oma’s souffles deflate from Opa taking them out too soon . “Huh. I...hm.”

It takes a moment for her head to catch up with her mouth, to realize what she’s said, and-- “Ah, I mean...you knew that right? That I...?”

“Haah, well--” he scrubs sheepishly at his scruff, the bristle of his hair sticking up every which way-- “Kino did day something like that, but I wasn’t sure if I...er...should take that with a grain of salt...”

“She knew?” Her voice splits to shrill before she can catch its frantic fray. “I mean, I just-- that doesn’t matter. I thought you would already know, since Kiki...?”

“Yes.” His nod is almost formally stiff, the kind waiters have at the restaurants Zen takes them to. “I did. But thinking Princess is hot is just good taste. I wasn’t sure if you-- if that was a thing, or if you were--?”

“It is.” She can’t see herself, but she feels her cheeks burning, impulse plowing her forward as her courage starts to wear thin. “I am. I mean, I like both. Guys and girls. Always have.”

“Oh.” Stream streams from his lips, his fingers clutches just as pale around the rail. “You just came right out and said it, huh? That’s...good. Ah, I mean...it’s cool?”

His shoulder make a stiff horizon above his back, spine so straight it makes her own ache.

“Is that going to be okay?” It’s strange how soft she speaks, how tentative the tiptoes around her real question. “It’s not going to change anything for you?”

His head snaps up, eyes wild as they meet hers. “What? No-- what? Of course not. It’s just-- fuck, I’m really making a mess out this, huh?-- I’m not just to talking about it. This.”

Obi makes some gesture between them, a waggle of fingers that’s both confident and a call for help, and she-- she blinks. “I wasn’t trying to hide it, if that’s what you were thinking. I just...it never seemed special or anything until other people found out in high school, so I don’t really think about saying anything. If it makes you uncomfortable--”

“No, it’s not--” he gasps, frustrated more flushed than she’s ever seen him-- “I-- Me too.”

Shirayuki stares. “You like girls?”

“No!” His eyes widen. “No, wait, yeah. Obviously. Girls are hot. It’s just-- guys are good too. I mean, hot. For me. Personally.” His fingers pinch at his shoulder. “Ugh, this sounded better in my head.”

“Oh.” Her mouth pulls wide, so much it aches, but in the best way. “You mean you’re bisexual?”

“No! Wait.” His knuckles blanch bone-white where they grip the railing between them. “I mean yes. Bisexual, yeah.”

“Yes?”

“Can you just--” he puts his back to her, waving weakly over his shoulder-- “give me a minute?”

“I...” Shirayuki’s not quite sure what’s going on, but it’s-- it’s good. She knows that much. The sort of good that makes her feel as big as Mitsuhide, like she could wrap them around the world twice over and give it a squeeze. “Yes. Sure?”

“It’s just...” The tension slumps out of his shoulders, leaving a quivering mound of Obi leaning against the balustrade. “I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud. No where anyone could hear, at least.” He huffs, mist disappearing before it can waft above his shoulders. “It’s weird.”

“But you said it.” She should give him his privacy, let him be unperceived, and yet-- yet she just grins at his back. There’s a warmth in her chest, one her smile can’t control, only hold at bay. “And you said it to me.”

“Don’t read into that!” he yelps, clambering to face her. “It’s not like I meant to-- that you-- ugh, it just never seemed...”

“Welcome?” she offers, threading her hands between his on the rail.

He sighs, too close for steam. “Relevant. But here we are, I guess.”

“Yeah.” She can’t suppress her giggle. “Here we are. Two bi--”

“Cut it out,” he groans, but he can’t hide his laugh beneath it, no matter how much he tries. “It’s fine, I guess. At least now I know I never really had a chance with you.”

She blinks up at him. “What?”

“Well you know...” His grin is far too sly for comfort. “Since you have a thing for blonds.”

“Huh?” Her jaw drops, distorting the sound. “I-- I don’t! I’ve never had any physical preferences whatsoever.”

“Oh, so you don’t know about it.” His grin spreads wider, like a cookie that should have spent more time in the fridge before she let it run wild at 350. “Princess? Chief? This Kino chick? You’re telling me they don’t all have one thing in common?”

It’s with a terrible certainty that she remembers: Pavo’s blond too. A detail she’ll take to her grave now. “Looks don’t matter to me.”

“That’s not what the data says, Doc.” Obi lets loose a whistle that puts every hair up on end. “Bossman better keep you away from the Big Cheese, huh? Who knows what you’ll do.”

She snatches her hands back from the rail. “Keep my hands to myself, clearly.”

“Sure, sure.” He leans back, hips settling against his own balustrade, near where she hunches on hers. The stars are bright above them, the way they only get when it’s cold, like little chips of diamond in velvet. “Bet you’re wishing he was here, huh?”

“Izana?”

“Nah, nah. Funny that’s where your head went though.” His shoulder nudges hers, and she allows herself a glower, as a treat. “I meant Zen. Boyfriends are probably better for this whole trauma thing, instead of...whatever I’m suppose to be.”

She leans back, watching him. “That wasn’t what I was thinking.”

“That’s because you’re too nice,” he tells her, grin not sitting quite right on his lips. “I bet he misses you, you know? We’ve only been here a few days, but it feels like forever. I think I might even miss him snapping at me.”

Shirayuki blinks, the last puzzle piece slipping into place. Guys are good too, for me, Obi had said, just moments ago, and now here he is, conjuring Zen between them. It’s sweet, really. “He’s probably missing us just as much.”

Obi rolls his head across his shoulders to hand-deliver his glare. “Doc, this is where you’re supposed to say you miss him.”

“Oh?” She wasn’t aware there was a script for sharing crushes. “Am I? I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, while you gaze all wistfully up at the stars.” He juts a hand in their direction. “It’s a whole thing with star-crossed lovers.”

Her brow furrows. “We’re not lovers. And if we were, I certainly wouldn’t want to be star-crossed.”

“Well, you’re close enough on both counts. Anyway.” He levers himself up from the rail. “I should get to bed. You too, Doc. All good little scientists need their eight hours.”

“It’s seven to eight, depending on the length of your sleep cycle.” She looks back to meet his amused expression. “But, er, thanks. I will. Goodnight, Obi.”

He hesitates, one hand wrapped around the jamb. “Night, Doc.”

And just like that, he’s gone; just her and a hundred thousand flaming light glinting over her head. Shirayuki takes in a deep breath, letting the chill prickle at her lungs.

“We can do this,” she murmurs, fingers cold when she curls them into her palms. “I mean, what else could go wrong?”

[solxamber]

This is Love - Riddle Rosehearts x reader

3 times he notices your acts of love and realizes it doesn't have to be grand and overdramatic like the movies, it could just be like this– sweet and considerate.

crossposted from my ao3!

You’re not speaking to him. He knows why, of course—Riddle's temper had gotten the better of him again. Another argument, another set of rules he enforced too strictly, and this time you’d had enough. He had heard the bite in your words, the frustration lacing every syllable when you told him to “loosen up.”

And yet, despite the tension still simmering in the room, Riddle can’t relax. His back is stiff as he stares at the ceiling, hands clenched under the covers. He doesn't want to admit it, but the silence bothers him. It gnaws at him, the guilt festering. He can feel your presence beside him, but the distance between you feels like a canyon.

How could he have let things escalate like this?

He hears you sigh—sharp, frustrated—and then there's a shift in the blankets. For a second, he’s certain you’ll turn away from him, shutting him out entirely. It’s what he deserves, after all. But instead, something surprising happens.

Your arm. Wrapping around his waist. Gently, deliberately, like it always does before he falls asleep.

Riddle stiffens at first, completely taken aback. His mind races, wondering if this is a trick or just muscle memory. He doesn’t dare breathe. His heart is in his throat. You pull him closer and press a kiss to his hair.

Why are you…? After everything, you still…?

He feels the warmth of your touch seep into his skin, and slowly, so slowly, his rigid posture begins to relax. His breath comes out shakily, and though his pride won’t let him say it out loud, he’s grateful. It’s your way of telling him you’re still angry, but you love him. You always do.

And with that, sleep finally finds him, nestled in the comfort of your embrace.

The cold is biting today, and Riddle feels it in his bones. He’s leaving class with you, rubbing his arms discreetly as he walks. His uniform is meant to be formal and pristine, not warm, and his stubbornness refuses to let him complain. Still, he knows you’ve noticed.

Of course you’ve noticed.

“Riddle,” your voice breaks the quiet as you hurry to catch up with him. He doesn’t even look at you, still feeling the lingering embarrassment from earlier in class.

“Are you cold?”

“I’m fine,” he insists, his words clipped and precise. But the truth is, he’s shivering. His hands are numb. He’s starting to lose feeling in his fingers, and you can see it all over his face, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

In a swift motion, before he can protest, you slip off your jacket and drape it over his shoulders. Riddle freezes—literally and figuratively.

“W-what are you—”

“Take my jacket,” you say casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “I can’t have the Housewarden of Heartslabyul freezing to death.”

The words hit him harder than he expects. His cheeks flame bright red, matching the tips of his ears, and he’s torn between protesting and basking in the warmth your jacket provides. It smells like you, like comfort, and he’s mortified by how much he likes it.

“...Thank you,” he mutters, barely audible, but the soft smile on your face tells him you heard him loud and clear. He tugs the jacket tighter around himself, both embarrassed and… a little touched. Maybe more than a little.

It’s late. Too late. Riddle’s been up for hours, drowning in paperwork and assignments, his brain on the verge of collapse. He’s so exhausted that even the numbers on the page are starting to blur together. Just a few more pages. He can finish this. He can—

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. One moment, he’s sitting at his desk, half-writing, half-dreaming, and the next, he wakes up with his face smushed against his textbook. His eyes flutter open groggily, his neck aching from the awkward angle.

Great. This will set him back for the entire day.

He blinks, trying to shake off the fog of sleep, and looks down at the stack of papers on his desk. The assignments are… finished? Every single one of them.

Riddle frowns. There’s no way he did all this. Is there?

“When did I finish this?” he mutters to himself, flipping through the pages. The handwriting is… definitely not his.

“You didn’t,” you say from the bed, voice casual as you scroll through your phone.

Riddle stares at you, wide-eyed and confused. “What?”

“You were practically dead on your feet, Riddle. I finished it for you.”

He’s too shocked to respond at first. His heart races, a mix of disbelief and something else—something soft, unfamiliar. He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to process the way his chest feels tight, but in a good way.

“You… shouldn’t have done that,” he says weakly, though the words don’t carry any real conviction. He’s already skimming through the assignments, seeing how you’d matched his usual style of work almost perfectly.

You just shrug, grinning lazily. “Yeah, well. I wanted to.”

And there it is again—that warmth. The same feeling he got when you held him during the argument, or when you handed him your jacket. It’s starting to become more familiar, more difficult to ignore. His heart does a funny little flip in his chest as he stares at the completed work, then back at you.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice so quiet he almost hopes you didn’t hear it.

But, of course, you did. You always do.

Riddle's never been great at expressing feelings that aren't tied to logic or rules. Love is messy and complicated, the kind of thing that doesn't fit neatly into the boxes he's carefully organized his life around. But there are moments—like when you wrap your arms around him after a fight, or when you lend him your jacket, or when you finish his assignments without a second thought—that make him wonder if maybe love isn’t supposed to fit into a box at all.

Maybe it’s supposed to be messy.

As he lies next to you in bed that night, your breathing steady and peaceful beside him, he finds himself unable to sleep. He keeps thinking about everything you do for him, the way you make his rigid, rule-bound world feel just a little more flexible.

“I love you,” he whispers into the quiet of the room, his voice barely audible.

You stir beside him, half-asleep, your arm lazily draping over his waist. “Love you too,” you murmur back, voice soft and groggy.

Riddle feels a weight lift off his chest, something warm and sweet settling in its place. He closes his eyes, smiling into the darkness, and for once, he falls asleep with no worries at all. Maybe this is love.

Masterlist

[desideriumwriter]

Hi,

So I thought about this idea where George comforts Y/N (his girlfriend) when she is on her period🥹

Thanks in advance!

Have a nice day!

Love, Annelies

lmao im writing this on my period, this is such a sweet concept! also i’ve always wondered how periods work in the wizarding world? are there pain numbing potions? does ibuprofen exist??? anyways, tysm for the request hope you enjoy! <3

wc: 855

navi | g.w. masterlist

Right now, dinner in the Great Hall is usually where you’d be, laughing and chatting with friends. However, today you were curled up in your bed, grimacing and holding onto your lower abdomen in pain.

What was just a dull ache an hour ago had now become excruciating cramps.

As soon as you got back from your last class, you changed into pajamas and sunk into your bed. The pain was gnawing at your insides. You shut your eyes and wished for the aching to magically be over.

The door creaked open, you sighed, not wanting any company, and when you turned your head towards the door. A mop of ginger hair peeked in.

“George? What’re you doing in here?” You lifted your head, looking at him with a confused expression.

“I was wondering the same thing, I was looking all over for you in the Great Hall.”

“You can't be in here, you know.” You muttered, you were already confused on how he was able to sneak out of the Great Hall and into the girls bedroom anyways.

“Says who?”

“When have I ever listened to those?” He scoffed playfully, you just smirked and shook your head, too exhausted to carry on a conversation.

“Why aren’t you at dinner anyways?” He said as he sat down next to you.

“I just don’t feel well.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. George’s brows knit in concern.

“You’re sick?” He asked, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“No, not really, just cramps.” You sighed, pulling his hand away and holding it instead.

George’s mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ shape, he took a second before he stuck his hand into his pockets.

“Well, um, I guess the chocolate I may or may not have taken from the table will come in handy, right?” He pulled a few wrapped up sweets from his pocket, handing one out to you.

“Chocolate helps with…you know?” It brought a small smile to your face seeing how awkward yet polite George was when talking about this.

“Periods.” You looked at him amused as you took a chocolate from his hand, unwrapping it and popping it into your mouth. “You can say the word, it’s not a curse.” Having it absolutely feels like it though.

Before George could say anything, another small stabbing pain shot through your abdomen, causing you to grimace and let out a small groan.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head weakly. George frowned, in moments like these, all he wanted to do was help.

“Maybe you could just lay with me?” You suggested, nodding to the space behind you. George happily did as you asked.

If he couldn’t take away your pain, the least he could do was provide some type of comfort.

He shifted and snuggled up behind you, gently wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling your back to his chest. You let out another small groan at the movement, earning a small apology from George.

“Merlin, I wish there was a spell to get rid of this.” Your voice felt strained.

“Have you tried seeing Madam Pomfrey? Maybe she’s got a potion for this.” He said, placing his hands over yours.

“The most she can do is give me a hot wet rag.” You pouted.

“How long do the cramps last? An hour?”

“Usually almost a full day.” You said flatly, George lifted his head up to look at you.

“Are you serious?” He looked genuinely shocked, a bit horrified.

“Sometimes two if it’s bad.” You raised your brows and smiled, finding his wide eyes and knit together brows humorous.

“I’ll never complain again.” He said, you let out a weak chuckle as he placed a kiss onto your temple.

“You’re sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”

“You could create a sweet that gets rid of cramps.” You half-joked. George let out a small hum, laying his head back down.

“Well, that’d take a few test runs, and Fred and I don’t have…” He trailed off.

“Ovaries?” You finished the sentence for him, less explicit than what he was thinking.

“Yeah. Plus, I doubt any girls around here would be up for doing trial runs.” He tsked. “Maybe I could make a supply kit? A cramp crusade kit.” You began to chuckle.

“That’s what you’d call it? A cramp crusade kit?” You said through your laughter.

“Yeah! Not bad, isn't it?” He nodded from behind you, you could hear the smile in his voice.

“You’re ridiculous.” You shook your head in amusement. George being there didn’t actually take away any of the physical pain, but he did distract you from it.

After your laughter subsided, you grabbed his warm hands and placed them over the tender spots, you let out a small sigh of relief. The warmth was quite pleasant. Your back now felt less tense when you felt his chest rise and fall against it.

“Thanks George,” You breathed out as you closed your eyes. “for being here with me.” Your thumb brushed over his hand.

��Anything for you.” He grinned, pressing a kiss to hair.

tell me what you thought!

[after-witch]

Seeker [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Seeker [Yandere Mahito x reader]

Synopsis: Mahito wants to play a game. Just a lil thing I had to write after Mahito's line about wanting to hunt down humans in the woods from the most recent JJK ep.

Word count: 2000ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of malnourishment, reader isn't having a good ol' time, mahito is his own warning

If you were prone to long bouts of deep thought in your current state of existence, you might ask yourself: How did it come to this? How did you go from an ordinary life of going to work, coming home, running errands, going to bed, going to work, coming home, running errands, going to bed, going to work--

To this? 

To being held captive by some unknowable cursed creature with a patchwork face and a penchant for wild, impulsive violence?

To being pinched and held and kissed at his whims, to being kept inside a crude cage at night with a nest of blankets as your only comfort? 

He had offered to let you sleep with him inside the hammock the first time you quietly asked if you could have a mattress, perhaps three weeks into your captivity, although your sense of time was no longer cohesive. But you thought about it (pressed so close to him, vulnerable, awkward, fumbling--) and shook your head, so he shrugged, grinning, and shut the door on your cage instead.)

You had only brought up the issue once more, pointing out that people slept on beds or mattresses, and if he was going to keep you then could you at least get something more comfortable than a few blankets on top of a metal cage bottom? 

And he’d simply tilted his head and said, in a tone that might be called innocent if the phrase wouldn’t have immediately evaporated in his vicinity--

“Huh?” He looked genuinely perplexed, and you remember the twisting feeling it created in your stomach to see such a human-like expression on  him. “But humans keep their pets in kennels, don’t they?” He had gestured towards the water bottle and bag of expired Family Size chips he’d thrown in your cage a few days prior, brows furrowed, voice petulant. “I even keep your food inside so you can eat when I’m gone! Most of them don’t do that!”  

You shut up, then, and you certainly didn’t ask him to elaborate on his referral to you as his pet.

You don’t ask for elaboration on much nowadays, because you’ve decided it’s often better not to know. It’s better not to know how he chooses the victims that he transforms into monsters. It’s better not to know how conscious they are, when their mouths form pleas and screams. It’s better not to know if you’ll ever end up like them, writhing and deformed. 

Except now, you are being hurled into a completely new situation that has every nerve in your body frayed and burning, and that need to know what the hell is happening grows stronger with every step.

He’s taken you out. Out of the drain and into the light--the brightness and softness of the outside world hurts as much as it provides a twisting sort of relief, competing furiously with the fear growing in your belly. 

And, more specifically, he’s dragged you into the forest. Off the marked paths, pulling you here and there like a ragdoll while you trip and stumble to keep up with him, all the while he intermingles assurances of how fun this will be (“You’ll love it, I promise~!”) with giggles that make your stomach lurch.

Until finally he stops, in the middle of the woods. It’s both familiar and unfamiliar; the droning chirps of insects looking for mates, the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. Gnats buzz by your face but you’re too frightened to swat them away with your free hand, as Mahito has yet to release his grip on your wrist. He has yet to even turn around, instead looking around him--up and about, grinning, almost closing his eyes as if he’s forgotten that you’re there at all. 

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You have to know.

“Mahito?” Your voice cracks, dry from what little water you had today and the trek into the forest.

His eyes widen--like he’s just recalled your existence--and slowly, he turns his head towards you, a wide grin on his face.

“Ye-ee-es?” 

You grit your teeth. You try not to sound frustrated or heaven--not that you think it exists, anymore--forbid, look frustrated, because that usually doesn’t end well. 

“I was just…” You swallow, thick, and smile a little. “Wondering why we’re out here. Not--not that I’m complaining. It’s… really nice.”

He giggles. Which can be good or bad, and you’re not sure which of those two his current mood falls under yet.

And then he yanks your wrist, and pulls you close to him. You stumble against his chest, but he catches you, and keeps you still.

“We’re going to play a game.”

Oh. It was a bad giggle. At least for you.

“A… game?” You shouldn’t ask, you don’t want to know. But this isn’t the type of thing Mahito will let you close your eyes about, is it? 

There’s an awful giddiness in his voice as he continues.

“Yes! I read about it in a book. Oh!” He grins. “And I’ve seen kids playing it at playgrounds. It’s called tag.” He pauses, and then continues, as if explaining something remarkably patiently to a child. “One person is the seeker, and they seek the other person until they find them and tag them! And then that person is the seeker.”

He’s going to chase you. He’s going to chase you. He’s going to--

You wonder if the feeling of your nerves trying to leave your body through your feet can show on your soul. Probably, because Mahito reaches up and squishes your lips together with his fingers.

“Don’t worry! I’ll be the seeker first, so you don’t have to worry about not catching me.” He stretches his neck to one side and smiles, giving a satisfied sigh. “I’m so generous, right?” 

“Mahito,” you say, and you say his name again because he likes it when you do, “Mahito, I’m… not good at games like this. Wouldn’t you rather just have a picnic today? Or we could…” You look around, fumbling for something that doesn’t involve you running through the woods being chased by a monster.

He pouts. Honest-to-goodness pouts, puffing up his cheek, looking hurt and frustrated. 

And then he whirls you around and presses himself up against your back, and the silly pout has drained from his body and his voice as he whispers low in your ear, dark and tinged with something distinctly inhuman. 

“I’ll give you 60 seconds. That’s enough time, isn’t it, for a human like you?” You can feel goosebumps dotting the back of your neck, and you jolt when one of his fingers traces them on your skin. “Let’s see… how about we play for 5 minutes? And if I catch you, I get to play a different game with you! One you haven’t been letting me play…” 

Fear constricts your throat. You don’t ask what this ‘different’ game is because the thought of knowing might just make you vomit.

You already feel like you might, bile and fear sticky in your stomach. This is happening. It’s going to happen. You can’t stop it. 

He blows a puff of air in your ear, and the dark thread of tension has dissolved as he gives you a playful shove. You can hear the grin back in his voice. 

He claps once, twice, three times. 

“And… ready… set… go!” 

You propel yourself forward on shaky legs and malnourished muscles. How long has it been since you’ve run anywhere? Much less in the woods, wearing worn out shoes, with a curse who could do worse than kill you with a single touch just yards behind you. 

“Oh!” You hear his voice from behind you, distinct but growing fainter. “I’ll start counting, okay?”

You don’t answer--you couldn’t even if you wanted to, chest heaving and breath panting from exertion already--but keep putting your feet to the ground, desperate to put as much distance between you and Mahito in 60 seconds as you can.

“One… two…”

Should you run in a straight line for much longer? 

“Three… four…”

Maybe you should turn another way, and make it harder for him to reach you.

“Five… six…”

You might even be able to find somewhere to hide, right? The woods could have tree hollows or caves or something, anything, that could give you some cover. You could wait out the 5 minutes in hiding, rather than trying to run.

“Seven… eight… nine…”

Your brain makes your decision for you, and you veer off to the left, keeping your legs pumping as fast as you can. His voice is getting fainter with every second counted, which must mean you’re making the right choice.

“Ten.”

Your body jerks itself back just as Mahito appears in front of you, hands on his hips, a sly grin on his face.

“Found you!”

Your legs stumble back, a weak attempt to turn and run, but he grabs your wrists and keeps you from getting anywhere. It’s not fair. It’s not--

You shake your head and feel the anger coming despite your fear and heaving chest and his firm grip on your wrists. 

“You… you said you’d give me sixty seconds! That was only ten!”

Mahito shakes his own head, soft hair falling over his shoulders. “Mm… I said I’d give you sixty seconds, and I am! You’ve got mmm…” He considers, tilting his head. “40 seconds left or so.” 

What is he talking about? You furrow your eyebrows. “But you… you said you’d give me a 60 second head start.”

He blinks at you, and you hate how he can look so innocent, despite everything. You hate even more that you’re never entirely sure when he’s being genuinely naive or pretending. “Nuh-uh. I didn’t say I wouldn’t run in those 60 seconds, too, just that you had 60 seconds. You really ought to pay attention when someone’s explaining the rules of a game!” 

He grins foolishly at you and all you can do is tug at your wrists, hoping he’ll either make a mistake and let go or get bored of holding you and let you try to run for it again. But he does neither, simply keeping a firm grip on you while you pull and pull, feet digging into the ground. 

Useless. Stupid. Weak.

The tears come, then. Ugly and hot, making your face squish and your lips curl even as you continue to uselessly pull against his grip. You were never going to get away and he knew it and you knew it, too, but did he have to make it so cruel? 

“Th-th…this isn’t fair,” you choke out, your tears thickening your voice. 

Mahito does release one wrist, then, but only so he can wipe at your tears roughly with his thumb and lick it afterwards. 

“D-D-Don’t be a spoilsport,” he coos. Then he sighs, happy and content, like a cat who has gotten all the cream and more. “60 seconds is up, and I’ve still got you so… I win!”

He pulls on your wrist then, bringing you close to his chest. 

“That means you have to play what I want to play now, okay?”

You look into his mismatched eyes and you’re terrified of what you find. 

He leans forward and rubs his nose against your cheek, humming happily.

“You’ll like this one, I think.” You can feel his smile against your cheek, the upward tug of his muscles. “Although I can’t make any promises!” 

You don’t ask what game he wants to play now. 

Sometimes, it’s better not to know. 

[the-fo0l]

Micheal Scofield dating hcs

notes: it's criminal crazy kooky insane how little content there is for this show

warnings: gn reader, s1 lore, super soft fluff!!!! also idc if u think its out of charater let me be delulu

he's so babygirl

a very devoted boyfriend (im pretty sure i say that in all my hcs but its true!!)

just so soft and polite and gentle with you aaaaa

doesn't notice just how hard he's fallen for you until he has to be apart from you a long while

such a gentleman, his intentions towards you are always respectful

before you we're offical he had quite the crush on you

sometimes you could notice that cool, calm, witty demeanor of his becoming more bashful and jittery around you

daydreamed a lot about you and your potential future together. what it'd be like to live with you, to start the day by your side, how you'd show affection, how you'd express diffrent emotions, what you'd talk about, your niche interests and quirks— etc

slightly creepy but he did do a bit of research on you to make sure he hit it off with you as best as he could

always says good night and good morning, over text if not in person

just imagine waking up, still cuddling, but with a little distance so he can properly take in your sleepy morning face

him just gazing at you so lovingly, his gentle smile growing a little bigger seeing you open your eyes, then moving one hand from your waist to caress your cheek and murmur "good morning" with his sultry morning voice

GOOD LORDDD

he developed a new-found love for his job when you two started dating cause thanks to it he can properly provide for you

and provide he does

doesn't think you should have to work a day in your life (unless you wanted to)

he'd hate for you to stay at a job you're miserable at

super proud of you for all your accomplishments

when you have to seperate while walking to avoid something in the street, be immediately reaches back to interwine your fingers again

expresses all love languages in some way but 'acts of service' is his main one

amazing at gift giving and romantic gestures

just when you think he can't possibly out-do last year's anniversary/birthday gift he suprises you with something super elaborate and meaningful

absent-mindedly makes origami flowers for you at work. you'll also find them all over your apartment, some hidden, some in plain sight

at some point he started writing messages on them. some with the most loving praise you've ever heard and some w cheesy pickup lines

p.s. he grins ear to ear when he finds out you've got a special box for them all instead of throwing them away

when you're both still a little tired in the morning, or when either of you comes home after a long day, he peppers delicate kisses all over your face, ending with a deeper kiss to your lips

your touch just makes all the headaches of his day-to-day melt away

also takes both your hands and kisses your knuckles while looking at you with all the love and admiration in the world god lord

okay enough with the kissing!

always opens doors for you

compliments you often, and always uses words like stunning or beautiful instead of "hot

loves making you flustered with praise

he's an amazing listener, and he looooves listening to you talk

also, he's quite intense with the eye-contact

he thinks you're the most gorgeos person in the world what can i say

it might seem like he's not paying attention sometimes cause of how lost-in-your-eyes he seems but i assure you he remembers every little thing you say

nods along and hums a little to let you know he's listening

"i remember you said you liked this, so i got it for you" typa guy

you're happy = he's happy

will often sometimes call you to talk about nothing really important, more just for the sake of hearing your voice

and if you're not much of a talker that's fine too, the silent moments you share are never awkward

he's canonically super observant, so if you changed anything about your apperance or if you were in a bad mood he'd notice right away, even if you tried to hide it

great at comfort too, that silky-smooth voice of his knows exactly what to say

he's a very handsome guy (i mean cmon just look at him) so he tends to get hit-on quite a bit

he'd always brushed it off before but ever since he set his sights on you he's been very adamant on very clearly and quickly rejecting others' attempts

when he was making plans to break linc out of prison, a huge amount of his focus went to making sure you were kept safe during the whole process

having you be there from him after news broke and after linc got the death sentence already meant so much to him

so when he trusted you the broad strokes of his plan, and you supported him??? ohmygod this man fell in love with you all over again

yes, he was worried, but he had to tell you, spending days obsessing over prison schematics and getting full body tattoos is rather hard to hide from the love of your life after all

granted, he could have broken up with you and tried to rekindle after he'd escaped, but be fr he could never bring himself to dump you

you never know what may go wrong, and his love for you wasn't exactly a secret, so he took every precaution he could (as in like if someone wanted to harm you cause of your association with him)

he was still super anxious to let go of you

gave you the most passionate and desperate kiss before he went to prison

gets really really homesick for you

calls you whenever he can

would sometimes get teary-eyed from how hard he misses you before falling asleep in his bunk

would lose his mind if something didn't go according to his carefully constructed plan and put you at risk, cause there's not much he can do to control what happens outside foxriver. if t-bag ever found out about you he'd. freak. out.

he's willing to go to great lengths for the people he cares about (it's like the whole plot of the show), so you'd better not play w his beloved

on the rare occasions he has down-time in prison his thoughts always go to you and what you might be up to

he's surrounded by murderers daily and has the gall to be worried about you

sucre would pester him about his love-life a lot. insisting that he recognized yearning in michael's distant expression and saying that no single man could've helped him woo maricruz with that letter (michael writes love letters for you too)

sucre does eventually pull it out of michael and becomes just the biggest supporter of your relationship

this was kinda messy huh

[illyrian-dreamer]

Congratulations on 500 darling!!!!!!!! Can I please request 30 with azriel? Thank youuuuuuu 🤍🤍🤍🤍

Confessions at Starfall

Azriel x Reader one shot

Summary: It's the night of Starfall, and you're hopelessly in love with the Shadowsinger. When Azriel keeps flirting with Elain, you're pushed to your final limits.

HELLO AND WELCOME TO DAY 1 OF 5 FOR 500!

Thank you @cityofidek for requesting 30 - Unrequited love/pushing loved one away.

Warnings: None.

Words: 3,048

--------

It was the night of Starfall, and you were utterly miserable. 

Sitting at the dining table with your family, the rest of the inner circle exchanged jokes and light-hearted conversations as plates of steaming roasts, vegetables and pies were passed around. While it was usually your favourite holiday – the night ahead promising dancing and celebration, you were feeling far from festive. 

It had everything to do with the male you loved, who sat across from you now, dotting over Elain Archeron. His eyes rarely left her, and you would know, because yours rarely left him. You noted the way he sat, his body tilted slightly in her direction, his wings folded back to make provide her more space to move. To the untrained eye, it wouldn't look like much – but for Azriel this spoke volumes. 

That was the kind of detail you had learned to read over the past year. It had been twelve excruciating months since you had realised your own feelings for the Shadowsinger. Gone was the comfortable friendship you two shared – instead it was quickly replaced with blushing, timidness and uncontrollable awkwardness, all thanks to you. And while you once held out hope that Azriel might notice, or even return your feelings, overtime your friendship had drifted – pushing him further into the arms of the middle Archeron sister. 

Elain made you seethe with jealousy. It wasn’t her fault, she was nice really, all be it a bit simple. But she had a way about her, like a doe-eyed fawn their first steps. It made you uncontrollably angry the way people would line up to help her, especially the males. Not to mention her undeniable beauty. You knew she and Azriel made a very handsome couple. 

So you sat here tonight, marking every bit of attention the Spymaster gave Elain, longing for him to look at you the way he did her. Jealousy didn't even begin to cover it. 

“Y/N?”

You blinked, not realising Azriel was speaking to you even though you had stared off straight in his direction. You coughed, straightening in you seat. “Sorry, pardon?” Your heart beat at the thought he might have started a conversation with you. 

“Can you pass the potatoes?”

Your heart dropped, and you tried to hide the disappointment on your face. Of course he wasn't interested in talking to you, he hadn't in weeks. Without replying, you passed over the dish, reaching straight for the white potatoes instead of the orange kind. Azriel didn't like how sweet they were, and you knew that. It was the kind of detail you remembered about someone when you’re hopelessly in love.

“Ooh, can I please have the sweet potatoes?” Elain chirped. “They’re my favourite.” Of course the sweetest female in all of Prythian liked yams the most. You had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. You passed the dish over silently, and watched Azriel load up his plate with those too. It took everything you had to stop the scowl that twitched at your eyes. 

You pushed your fork and knife to the centre of your plate, suddenly having lost your appetite. 

————

The luminescent glow of the stars shooting above had been going for over an hour, and the party was in full swing. You breathed in, letting the magnificent sight lighten your heart the way they did the night sky. 

Gathered on a large marble terrace of Rhys and Feyre’s river home, almost a hundred guests had come in fine gowns and suits to celebrate the event. 

Wearing a dress of midnight blue that sparkled with night, you laughed lightheartedly as Cassian and Nesta joked with you, champagne in hand. The musicians at the base of the terrace reclaimed their seats, raising their instruments and beginning a new set of elegant melody. 

“I hope you don’t mind Y/N, but I must show off my mates dancing,” he winked at you before offering his hand to Nesta. She smiled, placing a delicate hand atop of his, nodding to you before being lead to the dance floor. 

Couples now twirled and stepped in unison, the sight almost as magical as the sky above. You felt a large presence slide beside you, and your heart fluttered as shadows caught the corner of your eye. 

“Are you enjoying your night?” Azriel had finally come to spend some time with you. 

“Of course,” you lied, smiling softly as you gulped the rest of your champaign, earning a slight raise of Azriel’s brow. “And yourself?”

Azriel nodded. “It’s as beautiful as always.”

“Yes, it is.” You couldn't help but stare straight into his hazel eyes, your heart lurching as your words hung with double meaning. Ask me to dance, you begged in your head. We dance every year on Starfall, c’mon, just ask me. If Azriel was paying any attention, he would have read your pleading gaze. But he wasn’t, of course, because his eyes fell beyond you, at the pretty Archeron who wore a gown of delicate blush. 

You looked down, suddenly overwhelmed with insecurity as you smoothed the ripples in your dress. Of course he didn't like you – you looked like a witch of death compared to the femininity that blossomed from Elain. 

“You look quite beautiful tonight.”

Your heart leaped. Your anger from earlier quickly vanished as you breathed in to thank Azriel, already blushing. But as you looked up, your heart immediately sank as you realised Azriel wasn't complimenting you at all, but rather Elain, who had made her way over. 

It felt much like being punched in the gut.

Your mouth was dry as you silently watched Azriel offer her an arm, her petite hand slipping through as he guided her to the dance floor. 

That felt much like being kicked in the gut while you were down.

You couldn't help the steady flow of tears that now stained your cheeks, or the broken crumple that formed on your face. Unable to withstand any more blows, you fled the party.

————

Slumped against the frame of a large window, your body shook with cries so hard they fell silent. You didn't care if it was the most special night of the year, you had never felt more abandoned, underserving and unloved. 

You were crying too hard to hear the footsteps that trudged up to the lookout room you were hiding in, and you didn't hear the faint knock at the door. It wasn't until Cassian placed a gentle hand on your shoulder that you noticed his presence, his face soft with concern as he crouched next to you. 

You blinked back at him, your vision completely blurred by your tears. You were broken and there was no hiding it. 

“I love him, Cas,” you sobbed, your voice break halfway through as a cry shook through your body again. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Cassian said softly, his voice full of understanding as he immediately embraced you. You flung yourself to him, wrapping your arms around his solid waist as he rocked and stroked your hair. You weren't surprised that Cassian knew, anyone could have noticed months of hopeless pining and one-sided puppy love.

You continued to cry, your voice muffle by the embrace. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing Y/N! There’s not a thing wrong with you.”

“Then why doesn't he love me?”

“Because he’s a damn fool.”

You sniffed against his chest, trying to regain yourself. “But he loves her.”

Cassian sighed, the strokes on your hair pausing for just a moment. “I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Of course he does. She’s perfect.” Jealousy was not a good colour on you, but you were unsuccessful at hiding the bite in your words. 

Cassian drew back, levelling his eyes to yours. “I know it hurts right now doll, but I promise, any male that doesn't see you for the beautiful, intelligent and fiery bombshell you are, is an outright imbecile. Even if it is my own brother.”

You chuckled at that, shaking your head as you gently wiped the makeup your were sure had stained under your eyes. “Thank you Cass,” you whispered, reaching for his hands tightly. He stood now, leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead. 

“Will you come back to the party with me?”

You forced a fake smile, but shook your head. “I happiest up here. Thank you though Cass, I mean it.”

Cassian nodded, throwing a tight smile of sympathy before ducking out of the room. 

You paced to the other side of the viewing room to the window facing the terrace below where celebrations continued. Dresses of all colours fanned against the marble of the terrace, the music flowing up to the height of the room. And the stars, Gods they were beautiful. 

You saw Cassian rejoin Nesta, his arms snaking around her waist as they admired the view. Next to them were your High Lord and Lady, and beside them, a dress of pale blush. Your heart stung with envy at the site of Elain, and you narrowed your eyes as you scanned the crowd for Azriel. 

“Y/N?”

You jumped, whirling on the spot to find Azriel sheepishly standing in the doorway. 

You cleared your throat, quickly wiping under your eyes again. He had hurt you, broken you without even knowing it. You straightened your spine – the least you could do was have your pride. 

“Are you ok? Cassian said you left the party.”

You nodded tightly, not trusting yourself to speak. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” The words flew out of your mouth too quickly. 

Azriel frowned, stepping through the door towards you. You stiffened, drawing one step back. “Go back to the party Azriel,” you said tightly.

“Have you been crying?”

You scowled. How dare he note that detail when he was the one who caused it. “Don’t pretend to care,” you spat. Gone was the ache in your heart from moments ago. Seeing Azriel here now, it was quickly replaced with fiery hurt.

“What?” Azriels brow was now contort with confusion as he reached for you. You stepped back again, your arms folding over your chest.

“Why are you angry with me?”

“How can you ask that?”

“Is it because we’ve been distant lately?” So he did have some clue after all. You didn't answer, instead breaking from the intensity of his stare, your eyes focusing outside as glowing spirits that shot past the other side of the window.

“Listen, I know I haven't been around much, or maybe it’s that we haven't spent time together lately. But things have been difficult between us for a while now Y/N. I can't help but feel you’re pushing me away.”

A scoff escaped you before you could stop it. “I’m pushing you away?!”

“Yes!” He exclaimed, his hands outstretched. “For months now. You don't open up to me like you used to, every time I look at you, you look away, and you never suggest spending anytime together.”

You blinked at him, biting your lip as you tried to process what he had said. You hadn’t realised that in an attempt to burry your feelings for Azriel, you had actually pushed him away. 

“Tell me, what have I done?” Azriel’s voice was pleading as he stepped closer.

“You haven't done anything,” your voice was barely a whisper, and you were unable to meet his eyes. You had stepped away so he could explore his feelings for Elain, that was your truth. But when was the last time he made an effort for you? “But you can't pretend like you’ve been trying either, Azriel.”

He sighed then, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re right, I’m sorry ok? I’ll make more of an effort from here on.”

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes again as you blinked quickly, casting your gaze sideways yet again. You couldn't tell him – it would ruin everything.

For once, Azriel caught on to how upset you were. “You’re still angry with me?”

“Gods, Az! I wish I was angry!”

The male blinked at you before frustration overtook. “Well perhaps you could stop talking in riddles, and actually tell me what’s wrong!” he gritted.

You let out a quick breath, shaking your hands as you blinked upwards, trying your best to stop the tears that welled. “I can’t,” you whispered. It would kill you to say it, and it would kill everything you two had. 

Azriel’s gaze softened when he saw how tortured you were. Uncrossing his arms, he walked over, cupping the side of your face. “You can tell me anything, Y/N. Just tell me, what’s going on?”

His hazel eyes scanned your face, begging you to open up. But there was so much at stake here, and even if you confessed, you knew his heart lay with Elain. 

You shook your head, moving out of his hold. “If you can’t see it for yourself Azriel, I don't know what to tell you.”

Azriel frowned. “You’re speaking in riddles again.” 

You threw your hands up in defeat. “Perhaps I am,” you sighed, suddenly drained of any energy you had left. “Listen, I’m exhausted. Please Az, just enjoy the rest of your night, ok?”

“I’ll walk you to your room.”

“No,” you said too quickly. Guilt struck you at the twinge of hurt on Azriel’s face. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” Your voice was tight, and you quickly turned your heel, leaving Azriel still and silent as he watched you leave.

These feelings – these stupid, foolish, unrequited feelings. They hurt you and everyone involved, and you hated yourself for it. It was obvious Azriel didn’t return your affection, so why did you have to drag him down and cause a scene? You needed to do better, needed to push your love for him down, burry it in the depths of your heart so it would no longer get in his way. 

————

You were in your room for barely an hour before there was a forceful knock on your door. You jumped, pulling down the length of your silk night slip as you spoke out loud. “Who is it?”

You door flew open then, Azriel’s large frame filling the entrance as he stepped inside, his expression wild, with another emotion you couldn't quite place. His wings were outstretched, and you could tell he had winnowed here hurriedly as his chest heaved with quick breaths.

Shocked, your eyes darted over him in panic. “Azriel, what –?”

Azriel stalked towards you, closing the distance as he towered over you.

“You love me?”

You gawked, your eyes moving back and forth as you tried to connect the dots. “Who–?”

“You love me?”

Cassian. You gritted your teeth and your fists clenched. How could he share something so private? 

“No! I mean, yes, I mean, I have feelings for–”

“You, love, me…” he repeated, slower this time. It was no longer a question.

Your body burned in shame – you needed air. Pushing the double doors to your private balcony open, you grasped the railing as you tried to breath deep. Azriel was right on your tail.

“Az, I’m sorry. I’ll get over you. I promise. These feelings, they’re— they’re only temporary, I swear. I—I’ll get over you–”

Azriel bought a single scarred finger to your lips, hushing you instantly. You swallowed, panic in your eyes as they darted between his hazel ones, trying to read his reaction. As per usual, Azriel’s face was unreadable, the only movement was the gold that swirled within them. 

“How long have you loved me?” he asked, his voice cold as ice. You felt as if you were tied to a chair, under his interrogation. 

“Twelve months,” you whispered against his finger, your cheeks stinging in shame. 

Azriel raised his brows. “So for a whole year, you have loved me, without so much as a thought to share that information?”

Your frowned in confusion. “I had no plans on telling you, Azriel. I didn't want to get in your way. You and Elain–”

“What of Elain and I?”

You levelled a look at him now. “C’mon Az, its clear you have affections for her.”

“You have no idea how I feel.” There was a bite to his words, something you weren't used to from the Shadowsinger. “I am a friend to Elain, because her transition as fae has been difficult. I enjoy her company, that’s true. But I am there to support her as my High Lady’s sister, and a member of our family. If I am someone she can trust, someone she can open up to, I will be there to support her.”

You sighed. “I understand that Az, but–”

The finger returned to your lips, cutting you off. “That does not mean –” Azriel drawled, his voice low, almost dangerous. “– that I have affections for her.” He was dancing with your emotions, using them against you to teach you a lesson.

You blinked back at him, your heart fluttering with realisation before denial quickly took over. “You love her,” you whispered, more to yourself, refusing to believe the dynamics you had built in your head were an embellishment of your own idiocy. 

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“I do not.” Azriel’s voice was a growl now.

He moved in closer, and your heart began to thunder. The finger against your lip fell to cup your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. Azriel’s eyes swirled with dominance, his expression almost predatory as shadows danced between you. He leaned in close, his fresh scent filling your nose as his lips were now mere inches from your own. 

“I have affections for someone else,” he said huskily. “One might even say I love her, for many years now.”

It took all that you had not to gawk. Instead, you kept your eyes on his. “Don’t mock,” you replied, your voice a half gasp as you tried to control your breathing. 

Azriel’s mouth pulled into a smirk. “I’m not mocking.”

You flicked your gaze to his lips, then back up to his eyes, your expression bewildered and completely uncool. 

“Azriel–” was all you got out before he closed his lips over yours, his arms snaking around your waist as he dipped you back, kissing you as the stars continued to fall around you.

--------

AN: I just want to say another HUGE thank you to anyone who's been following along with my fics, you mean the world to me <3 I hope you liked this story, I would love to hear any feedback you have. Please take care, and comment if you'd like to join any of my tag lists ✨:)

Tag list:@kennedy-brooke @cosmic-whispers @jazmin2211 @psychobookaholic @fieldofdaisiies

[finalvortex]

Completely overanalysing Shadow Generations: Dark Beginnings Episode 1

The opening is a deliberate parallel to the scene leading into Maria's death (images taken here from Shadow '05, although this scene is also in SA2). If you're paying attention you can immediately tell it's a fakeout, though: there's no alarm blaring, the lighting is blue rather than red, and Maria is pulling Shadow along instead of the other way around.

It's the aurora borealis. You can only see them from certain latitudes down there, but up here, we can see the whole...

Maria's a nerd.

Shadow is immediately prepared to catch Maria when she collapses.

The low gravity here only keeps your condition in remission. You should know better than to exert yourself.

This is new information I think? I don't think this makes scientific sense but I guess it provides a justification for why Maria is up here aboard the ARK beyond 'that's where the research is being done'. Only, the ARK was a space colony, there were other civilians aboard it as well, like the future GUN commander.

I can't wait for the day when we can finally return. I was created here. I don't know if there's a place for me on Earth.

I just wanted to highlight this exchange as significant to Shadow's overall character arc across his history, being one where he has carved out a place for himself on earth.

Love the way Maria comforts shadow here.

You and grandfather are doing your best. I'm just as happy to spend time with you here, while you both research-

I think this is just awkward wording, but surely Shadow isn't doing any researching?

My boyyyy

Hull breach in the experimental weapons wing! Multiple subjects are free of containment!

Multiple subjects? Given the events of Lost Impact, things are just escaping from here all the time, huh.

Here's the entries on this incident from Gerald's journal in Sonic Battle:

The higher ups are threatening to shut down this research facility. I had no choice but to hand them the Gizoid to buy more time for my research. I tried to be careful and commanded it to never absorb any dangerous technologies. However, I have heard that other researchers have been making the Gizoid absorb weapons. Apparently, the way to cause the Gizoid to form a new "Link" is to show it power that surpasses that of its former master. While this poses immense danger, I cannot risk losing Maria.

My worst fears have come true. The Gizoid has absorbed enough weaponry and technology that it has started to go out of control. The resulting rampage resulted in the destruction of most of the "Ark." ... I have deciphered the rest of the stone tablet. It says, "When the Gizoid had learned all that it could, it became a god of wrath, and all was destroyed." The researchers somehow managed to subdue the Gizoid and sealed it away.

That robot was heading towards Grandfather's lab! Shadow, you have to save him!

Why was Emerl - uh, well, I guess Project Gizoid at this point - headed directly for Gerald? If he was overloaded with power, like at the end of Sonic Battle, he should just be destroying things indiscriminately, right? So... was this a deliberate ploy by GUN to get rid of Gerald?

Maria grabbing Shadow's hand breaks the illusion briefly and triggers a trauma-induced flashback (forward?) to the GUN soldier shooting her. Compare with the actual scene from Shadow '05:

Again, why is Emerl specifically targeting Gerald here?

Not much to say about the fight scene aside from the fact that it's really well animated, and it happens with no background music to emphasize the weight of the blows being thrown. It's also really cool how Emerl copies Shadow's spin attack - you don't need to know how the Gizoid functions for that to be a cool visual, but it's a nice nod if you do.

Ok this is really confusing me. Is there any mention of GUN having a space fleet anywhere? Where did these things come from? They don't even share the same aesthetic as other GUN vehicles, they look more like the Egg Fleet.

Nice look at Shadow's Air Shoes from below the glass floor.

Next Shadow lands into Gerald's cell on Prison Island, which raises the question: why is this in Shadow's memories? Is this just his memory of the recording from SA2? Or was Shadow not put on ice until after Gerald's execution? We know it wasn't immediately after the ARK was destroyed, since he was around long enough for Gerald to alter his memories.

There is a bit of static distortion here, with an analog effect that implies it might just be the video.

On the other hand, we actually get these very brief flashes of Gerald's execution here, which we don't see in SA2 itself.

The professor gets farther and farther away from Shadow. He can no longer reach him.

Shadow then falls into a red sky, with bits of debris floating all around him, reflecting the final battle against Devil Doom in Shadow '05.

Interestingly, this scene is mixing imagery from both Gerald and Maria's deaths. The image of the GUN soldiers is the firing line that killed Gerald, and the sound of the lightning turns into automatic gunfire, as opposed to the single pistol shot that killed Maria.

Finally, Shadow falls into the giant face and outstretched hands of Black Doom.

Waking up from his nightmare in a panic, Shadow uses that damn fourth chaos emerald* to Chaos Spear this unfortunate tree.

*Okay, the fourth chaos emerald was the white one.

The moon looks so good.

Shadow stands in a field surrounded by lilies, a flower which can be used to symbolise purity as well as death, and is a flower commonly used at funerals. In particular, they are often placed on the graves of children.

That was no mere nightmare. And it all began in view of the ARK. Could he have survived? No, that can't be. I need answers.

Shadow seems to think the sight of the ARK is what triggered this nightmare. I think the only 'he' that makes sense here is Black Doom, since Gerald and Emerl are both pretty definitively dead.

Based on the trailer, I think from here Shadow is going to collect Team Dark to raid an Eggman base so they can obtain a rocket to get up to the ARK.

The song that plays over the credits is a remix of Throw it All Away. I have no idea why it shows footage of the biolizard fight, beyond "this is the Sonic Adventure 2 focused episode".

[tinydefector]

Swerve: traditionally, humans gift chocolates and stuffed animals, as a display of hunting prowess and ability to provide, on the fourteenth of February. This is because a deity named saint valentine is said to bless conjux pairs on this day.

-bumpinSUV

Traditions

Swerve x Human reader

Word count; 1k

Warnings: none

Heeeyyyyy Bumpin got some food for you~. Enjoy some clueless and hopeless romantic Swerve becuase I said so.

_______

Swerve stared down at the clunky plastic earth animals and chocolates clutched in his servos, completely befuddled. It had sounded like such a good plan when he came across it! But now, facing his human, uncertainty crept in. He offered an awkward chuckle. "Uh, happy February fourteenth! I know on Earth it's tradition for you guys to, uh, exchange dead animal carcasses and sweets as a romantic gesture. Something about showing you can provide, I think?" 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Swerve hoped he hadn't misunderstood. Or offended them! Primus, why was organic culture so weird? "So, uh, I thought maybe you'd like these gifts. Even though mice probably aren't a big hunting prize for humans." He cringed internally. At how embarrassed he was. "S-so, what do you think? Did I get the tradition right? Or should I just forget the whole—"

They give Swerve a slight look as they cut him off. "Swerve, why would you need to hunt?, plus it's July if my callander is right " They ask while looking at the stuff Swerve had set up, it looked as if he was trying to organise a date for them, it was a rather cute little set up more so than past people they had ever dated before, Their words fall silent as they take in the scene. 

Wincing internally, Swerve fidgeted under their searching gaze. Frag, this was even worse than he'd feared. "Well, ya know, I did some reading that Earth Valentines is about showing you can provide for a mate. And I know I ain't got much to offer organics, but I wanted to try!" He held out the gifts in his massive metal hands, practically trembling. 

"I know it ain't exactly a feast or nothin'. But I saw these toys and thought, maybe they'd pass for some small game? And the chocolate's real! Well, not made of real chocolate, more like synthechoc. But it's what I could get you!" 

Slumping with a sigh, Swerve knew he must look utterly foolish. But they deserved his honesty. "Look, I just wanna show ya I care, okay? Even if I'm lousy at Earth courting."

"My courting..." they go quiet for a moment before starting to giggle which turns into laughter. "Swerve Honey, Valentine's day, is in February. It's a day to spend with loved ones and enjoy each other's company, sometimes trade gifts to special people, which most are fake flowers and sweets" they continue to giggle softly. "What did you think was handsome?" They ask with a smile.

"O-oh." Swerve felt his plating heat as their laughter sank in, truly mortified. He should've just stuck to energon pouring and storytelling, left the Earth traditions well alone! "I, uh, may have misunderstood some cultural exchange files," he admitted bashfully. "Thought it was about proving yourself as a good provider! You know, strong and capable." 

He scuffed his pede sheepishly. "Maybe shoulda just asked you straight out, huh? Instead of all this." Swerve gestured ruefully at the mess of toys and candy. They smile and grab his servos. 

A warm glow flooded his Spark at their smile, though. Maybe he hadn't fragged it up totally. "So, uh, does that mean...you'd still consider spending time with me? We could watch a flick, share some high grade—" He cycled a vent, fans whirring. "I just wanna make you happy, anyhow I can. Without any mouse-hunting required."

They laugh lightly as they move towards him. "Swerve, please it's OK, calm down" they call out while waiting for him to sit down so they can at least touch his faceplate. "Yes you probably should have come to me to ask about it, but now I'm more interested in who told you about Valentine's day." they hum while pressing a kiss to his nasal ridge. 

Swerve's vents stuttered as their lips brushed his plating in a gentle kiss. "W-well, you know how it is - a mech hears stuff in the bar sometimes," he replied shyly, fans whirring as they caressed his face. "I think maybe Rung was telling Rodimus about Earth traditions, and overheard Whirl say something about hunting prowess being important for it." 

He groaned, covering his optics. "Frag, I should've known better than to trust second-hand cultural osmosis from that glitchheads, i justed wanted to do something special for you." Lowering his hand, Swerve gazed down at them hopefully. "Sorry about the mess, forgive my clumsy courting attempt? There's still a whole stash of synthechoc with your designation on it." 

He's still sheepish as they laugh at him, their hand trying to keep it in and not embarrass Swerve more. " Maybe you could, um, give me some proper pointers? About Earth holidays and such? I'd really like to get it right next time." They give him another soft kiss which he melts into.

 "Think we might have to talk about human holidays, and Swerve I don't expect you to have to follow human stuff. You know that right?" They ask softly tracing his face.

Swerve leaned happily into their gentle touch, systems buzzing with joy. "I know, I know. Don't gotta do human things if they don't make sense," he conceded affectionately. 

"It's just..." He vented softly, captured by their smile. "I wanna understand where you come from, y'know? Be able to celebrate the special days that are important to you. Share in your culture."

His fans hitched as their fingers traced the seams of his faceplates. How did they always make him feel so calm yet alive all at once? "So maybe lessons would help this fool bot out, huh?" Swerve ventured shyly. He nuzzled into their hand with a lovesick sigh. "I just want to be able to spend time with you doin things that are important, that's really all I want, sweetspark. To be wherever you are."

 "Alright, how about we set up your hab and watch some vids.?" They inquire with a sly smile on their face.

Swerve perked up, any trace of embarrassment melting away in his eagerness. His engine gave a happy rev, hope blooming in his spark. Clapping his servos together, he bounced on his pedes like an excited sparkling. "Oh frag yes, I'll fire up the holoprojector right away!" 

In an instant he had them swept into his arms, cradling them gently against his chassis as he strode off toward his berth. The gifts were forgotten in his joyful haste. "You're gon' teach me everything, sweetspark! Holidays, customs, what all those weird organic dishes are!" He nuzzled their cheek fondly as he walked.

________

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[sugarbcnes]

✿ ༉‧₊ — 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. ellie williams

very random things i associate with ellie/think ellie would love in a non-apocalyptic world (hc’s). [ contains: femme reader mentioned, nsfw, sfw, mentions of drugs. ]

MUSEUMS AND AQUARIUM DATES — nerd alert! we all know ellie loves space and dinosaurs and things like that. her heart feels so full when you’re gripping her hand tightly as you both take your time strolling to each exhibition and display. she’s too engrossed in the small info boards to notice your eyes glimmering and softening as you take in the smile she fails to hide as she gets excited. even at 19 years old, as you spend your one year anniversary at the history museum, she still wows in awe as you walk into the room that contains the massive brachiosaurus skeleton.

JAW KISSES — ellie’s great at hiding how she feels most of the time. apart from when you kiss her jaw. the moment she feels your lips press to the soft skin that clings to the sharp bone of her jaw, she melts. her hands sneak around your waist as you nestle into her neck and pepper kisses all over her jaw, burning deep crimson on her freckled cheeks. “mm baby” she’ll mumble if you nip the skin lightly, causing her to let out the sweetest, soft little breaths.

HOUSE PLANTS — they’re an absolute nightmare for her to take care of at first but after a while, she grows emotionally attached to them. she specifically loves monsteras and ferns, even going as far to name them. she has a small smile on her lips as she reaches the part of her morning routine where she provides them with their extra delicate care. you can’t help but giggle from the kitchen as you hear her mumble “good morning fernado, you’re extra bright this morning” to her favorite fern.

RECORD STORES — she loves bobbing her head to the music and weirdly enough, the smell. it’s nostalgic somehow.

STICKERS AND CUSTOMIZATION DOODLES — pretty self explanatory. ellie loves to cover her shit in random stickers and doodles. her laptop, her water bottle, her sketchbook, her guitar. she has the same design as her tattoo painted on her guitar (it took her forever to do and she did it instead of completing an overdue assignment).

SHOWER SEX — it started with the soft, butterfly kisses you’d splurge across ellie’s freckled shoulder blades before you grabbed the soap to scrub her back. eventually she began to press you against the wall, kissing you deeply as the warm water hits you, hands exploring your bare, wet body. (100% is obsessed with soapy boobies too)

POST SWIM NAPS — summer on the farm means sweltering heat. nearly everyday you and ellie trek across the fields and spend all day swimming in the creek by the woods. sun kissed and hot, the both of you collapse in bed in nothing but a tshirt and your underwear, cuddled and falling into a slumber until later that evening when it’s cooler.

GRAPHIC TEES — it’s a strange obsession and she’ll hardly know what’s on the shirt but she accumulates a massive collection.

ESSENTIAL OILS — she thought they were tacky and useless at first until she got a diffuser as a birthday gift and was knocked straight into such a peaceful slumber by her soothing lavender oil.

FOLLOWING YOU INTO FITTING ROOMS — again, self-explanatory. we all know she’s awkward and very much the loser-lesbian girlfriend. so the first time you take her shopping with you, she moves to sit on the provided seats outside the fitting rooms. she’s just as confused as you are as you stand with the door half open and your collection of clothes in your arm. you tilt your head “are you not coming in?”. she fumbles to get up and rushes in. at first she was awkward, head down at the very second you’d take your tshirt off and mentally cursing herself as she peaks at you in the mirror from the corner of her eye. now, your full-fledged girlfriend, she’s got her hands grabbing at every sliver of bare skin she can see before you annoyedly swat her hands away.

LATE NIGHT SESH — it’s usually when she’s feeling anxious, escaping to the roof to smoke a little and talk to the stars. most of the time she goes alone but sometimes you go with her. you usually sit in comfortable silence, pressed against eachother as she smokes and you try your best to keep your eyes awake at 3am because even though she assures “go back to bed, sweetheart. i’ll be okay,” you don’t want her to be alone.

part 2? abby version?

[wishluc]

I. Miss. Solomon.

When you smile at Solomon, it feels like he's the only one you're looking at.

It isn't true, of course, because Mammon's got an arm around your shoulder, crowing about winning a bet of some kind, and Satan immediately gets your attention with yet another picture on his phone, but it gets too easy to pretend because you continue to sneak looks back at him and share a small, secretive smile with him, and what else would that mean?

The closeness of the demons does little to bother him. He's reassured by the knowledge that when the brothers finally retire for the day and you're allowed to leave, Solomon is the one who comes to walk you back. You believe that it's because he knows you're not the mysterious demon everyone makes you out to be, and that he's there to make sure you get home safe and provide company, but the possessive arm he has around you and the sharp, pointed gaze that linger on whichever of the brothers are at the door to see you off tells an entirely different story. None of them would dare tell you about their suspicions, however, not when it's abundantly clear that you hold him in higher regards to the rest.

Sometimes your smile catches him by surprise. His movements falter, spilling the tea he was pouring out for you the first time he catches you looking up at him with that fond expression, and though you later fuss over him and the hot liquid spilt over his hand, the moment is burned into his memory. It becomes a regular sight, too, as the two of you share a warm cup in Cocytus Hall after a hectic day of you working as an attendant. You smile at him, a lovely turn of your mouth, while recalling the adventures of the day, and Solomon holds the tranquil picture close to his heart.

Admittedly, the domesticity of it all is getting to him. (And to you, if your words are anything to go by). There's something enticing about knowing you'd be there to do the mundane tasks with him; cleaning, grocery shopping, and even cooking, despite how panicked you get sometimes. He starts letting you know when he's going shopping so the two of you can go together, and it quickly becomes a regular, anticipated event. Whether you were shopping for cutleries or groceries or a new pair of matching mugs after Mammon accidentally broke his, you always found a way to make it enjoyable. He thinks that he finds comfort in the normalcy of it all; you quickly stopping him from buying ingredients that are "too adventurous" or the cauldron that you claimed there was no space for. He finds that he likes doing all these activities with you, and most of all likes having you as a constant part of his daily life. He likes waking up to see you starting on breakfast already, insisting that he's been working too hard and that you'd cook instead, he likes the weight of your head on his shoulder during movie nights and he likes the knowing grin you shoot him when you hand him coffee in his mug.

These days, he anticipates seeing you smile at him. You turn to look at him, amused when you boldly tell Mammon that Solomon's your boyfriend (and he beams at you, proud and ecstatic at the blatant lie), and you offer him one of your sly grins when you're planning a way to annoy Lucifer again. The small one when you confess to him that you almost don't want to leave anymore, too, is dear to him. Your awkward, lopsided smiles when caught up in a situation you aren't too pleased about, too, are charming to witness, but the way you run over to him immediately after and push yourself into his side is even more delightful.

But his favorite one yet is the warm smiles that you share with him, when dinner turns out better than you'd hoped or when you successfully cast a spell. It's a heartwarming sight, all bright and unabashed affection, and breathtaking when the light falls on your face just right. None of the others can ever coax out a similar expression, because he's the one you rely on in this timeline, and he's the one that comforts you after a difficult day and promises to protect you if anything were to happen. He's the one you hold on to and call your boyfriend, and he's the one ushering you down the streets of Devildom.

Those, he knows, are special. And only for him.

all works © wishluc. do not copy, steal or repost my works on other platforms. (including translations)

[ms--lobotomy]

“How much prep time do you think I’ll need to take on a bear?”

I only have this kind of requests/questions, I’m sorry

-🪿

Hi Anon! Don't be sorry, I love these requests. Mailbox open specifically for you btw

LION EL'JONSON- You need to repeat the question because he just stares at you. "Three." "Three what?" Refuses to elaborate. ???- So busy prepping that they died. FULGRIM- "How much prep time?" he asks. You can tell that he's trying to avoid the question, so you ask it again. "I would rather engage one of my brothers in a duel." Bastard. PERTURABO- "Let me prep instead," he says, mainly because he really wants to build some complex machinery to catch the bear. You refuse, but he helps with the prepping anyways. Gives you no answer on how much time it would take. JAGHATAI KHAN- "A better question would be how much time the bear needs to take on yourself." Knows how often you get up to this bullshit, and knows how you aren't fucking around. LEMAN RUSS- Surprisingly honest in his response, if not completely wrong. Goes into detail on how you could take on a bear, but assumes you are as stupidly powerful as a Primarch. ROGAL DORN- "You are not going to fight a bear." There is an awkward silence between you two before you reveal that you were planning to do it whether he liked it or not. He sighs and overestimates the time you'd need. KONRAD CURZE- Giving the most deranged grin you've ever seen, he says "None." There is blood in his teeth. SANGUINIUS- He puts a gentle hand on your head. "You do not need to prep. I can take care of it for you." You have to explain to him that no, you want this, you crave bear violence. FERRUS MANUS- "It depends on how well you prep," he shrugs. Offers to help build you weaponry for your bear escapades. You are now in posession of a sword as tall as you are. ???- Turned into a bear. Run! ANGRON- "Absolutely none," he grins. Ready to take on a bear at a moment's notice, and if you're close to him, you probably are as well. Glorious melee combat is glorious melee combat, bear or not. ROBOUTE GUILLIMAN- Sighs. "This again?" Thinks for a minute before giving you an honest answer. Offers to provide paperwork to prove that you can take on a bear. MORTARION- Stares at you for a minute before you realize that he's thinking. "I wouldn't do it if I were you, but I know there's no stopping you." Tells you that you need more time than you actually do. MAGNUS THE RED- "What planet do you plan on fighting the bear on?" he asked. "Do you have any methods for doing so?" Needs to know more, more about what you plan on doing before answering. HORUS LUPERCAL- Quirks an eyebrow at you. "You really won't leave these poor animals alone?" he chides lightheartedly. Gives a throwaway answer again. LORGAR- Lectures you on how important bears are to the planet's ecosystem and why it is a bad idea to take on an apex predator in the first place. You ignore him. VULKAN- "You're not taking it on without any help." Forges you some armor that's surprisingly light. Doesn't want you to get hurt in this debacle. CORVUS CORAX- "I don't know, maybe an hour?" When it comes time for you to take on the bear, though, Corvus comes out of the void and scares the bear away. Asshole. ALPHARIUS- "Huh?" May have already begun prepping to fight the bear. May be planning to sic a bear on you. Run.

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 7

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 13.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Reader being self-conscious as usual. Some conversation about blood/vampire eating habits. But mostly this is just unabashed fluff and flirting. Summary: Allison helps you get ready for your first date with Max, and as scared as you are, you are equally excited for the night ahead. Notes: For our chapter banner this week: the White Horse Tavern! A real and very lovely place in Newport, RI. May or may not actually be owned by vampires, though...I'll have to get back to y'all on that...

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

It’s cute, utterly charming really, the way that you are currently freaking out in your bedroom. Max isn’t trying to eavesdrop, but you are being so loud that he can’t help but listen. Especially at first, when he wanted to make sure that you weren’t hurt. After the initial scream, he realizes you were panicking about the date he had formally asked you on. Deciding that visiting the dance studios deserved a little bit of flair. He had asked you if he could take you to dinner beforehand. You’re his soulmate, you deserve effort. Something that you’ve obviously received precious little from by the previous asshole in your life. For once, Max wants to make sure that you completely forget about that douchebag. Never jealous of anyone’s previous lovers, he wants to make you realize that you were just having a bad dream for the past ten plus years. Now you are awake, now you can enjoy yourself.

"Alli, you can't be serious?" Nearly clutching the dress that she brought over for you to borrow in two shaky hands, you look over the skimpy black number with trepidation. This is your fault. You know that. You're the one who went to the cheese shop at the end of her shift this afternoon to get some advice. She had sent you home to pull out your most comfortable pair of dancing shoes and swore to provide the perfect dress if you just promised to trust her. And you do trust her. She has never given you any reason not to. But this dress is short.

“Come on, it’s perfect!” She’s grinning from ear to ear, ecstatic for you and your date. It makes perfect sense now why Max had been hovering around you as a bat. You’re his soulmate. It’s so romantic, she wants to cry. “You’ll look amazing and Max will be panting to get under it!”

“It’s just the first date,” You remind her, nervous at even the mention of any kind of intimacy. Not because you don’t want Max — but maybe instead because you do and you haven’t felt that in so many years.

“The first date with your soulmate.” She reminds you with a smirk. “He’s supposed to be your perfect match, so it’s okay to put out on the first date.” She teases.

“He’s also my housemate, so if I do and that’s all he wanted from me it’s going to be awkward as hell.” It’s not that you think that of Max. It’s that the voice of doubt in your head is still loud and clear over everything else. “I’m just... I’m nervous.”

“Do you honestly think he would have joined a coven of witches at a Mabon celebration if all he wanted was the good-good?” She asks, arching a brow curiously.

“Well…no.” You snort, shaking your head at Allison. “And if you ever call it that again I won’t tell you if it actually happens.”

Laughing, Allison waggles her brows. The term was meant to disarm you and it worked. “Fine.” She huffs. “But I want details. Vampires are supposed to be incredible lovers.”

“You could always find out for yourself.” Aware of what Max had mentioned about their superior hearing, and unsure if Eddie is at home at the moment, you lower your voice measurably. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Eddie lately.”

"What?" Her lip immediately goes between her teeth and she blushes furiously. "We are just — you know — uh, collaborating for the masquerade."

“Mmhmm.” Drawing out the sound incredulously, you grin again and eye the dress in her hands. “Tell me everything and I will try the dress on. Just to see.”

"He's nice." She hands you the dress in exchange for information. "I like talking to him. He's — well, he's just so...human."

“He is very nice.” The short dress has a beautiful, flowy skirt that will be great for dancing and you disappear into your dressing room with it with trepidation. “And he likes you! It’s even obvious to me and my observation skills suck.”

"Please...." She rolls her eyes, even if you can't see her. "I think he's just being nice because he wants to join the coven."

“If that was the case, he’d be making nice with everyone, not meeting you in town to take you out for coffee.” Having found out that that was where Eddie was on the night that you and Max had been left to eat dinner together, you found that there was no possible way to be upset about it. Things with Max are…they’re moving forward in a way that makes you nervous and giddy. And whatever is growing between Eddie and Allison is obviously mutual.

She huffs and bites her lip again. "We have a lot in common and I enjoy talking with him. Even though he's been in college forever, he's still enthusiastic about learning. He's even talking about coming out to the farm."

“That sounds like fun!” Finding the zipper on Allison’s strappy black dress takes a second, but you’re able to exchange the one you’ve been wearing all day today for the one she brought for you to borrow. The deep v-neckline and cutouts in the back are more skin than you’ve shown in years but you know instinctively that it’s the kind of thing Max will love. Fashionable and daring. The kind of girl he deserves even if it’s not the kind of girl you feel like. “Okay…um…I’m coming out.”

Allison gasps as you emerge from your dressing room, nodding immediately. "It's perfect, you can't convince me otherwise. Look at yourself!" She squeals as she guides you towards a mirror.

"Kind of weird that we're the exact same size..." Even standing directly in front of the mirror you can't bring yourself to look up. To look at yourself in any kind of positive way whatsoever. It's like it's been beaten out of you as if you were a stray dog. "It fits well."

"I'd be lucky if I still fit in it." She huffs. "Too much cheese. But you, you've got such a perfect figure to pull this off."

"No such thing as 'too much cheese'," you gripe, shuffling slightly in front of the full—length mirror. You're just staring at your shoes and fighting with yourself to figure out if you're brave enough to look up. "Do you...think he'll like it?" If he does, it doesn't matter what you think anyway. Max's opinion is the only one that matters.

"I think he will love it." She assures you, reaching up and touching your shoulders. "It will restart his non-beating heart."

"Apparently only one thing can actually do that." Digging into your armoire for a sweater, you come out with one that is midnight blue and black with little gold stars stitched all over it. It's still cold out, after all, and this will help you to feel a little less exposed.

"What is that?" She's always been interested in the dynamics of vampirism but she's too polite to ask Eddie to answer her questions.

"Apparently..." Clearing your throat slightly and pulling your sweater tight around your shoulders, you glance up and meet Allison's eyes in the mirror. "A kiss from their soulmate."

"Ohhhh now that's the most romantic thing that I've ever heard." She moans, softening visibility and looking amost wistful at the thought. "Come on, Dolly, that's just so romantic."

"I told Max that it sounded like something out of a romance novel." Which is a sentiment that you stand by very firmly. "Who knows how true it is. But it's sweet to imagine."

"Maybe you will find out tonight." She offers with a sincere smile, not wanting to tease you. "I really think he likes you, Dolly. All that time as a bat, visiting you? Being near you. He was drawn to you."

"I still can't believe that was him." She knows all about those nighttime visits of course. You hadn't thought it was a big deal to tell her about the little bat that visited you, but now you see that it was all so much more important than you realized. And she had known the entire time, but never made you feel silly for not guessing. How could you?

"It's sweet." She hums, smiling again. "I want to see him again like a bat. It was so cute to see him on your shoulder, cuddling into your neck."

“He said he didn’t mind transforming again sometimes if I wanted him to.” Suddenly you feel like you should be busy again, and you move to your jewelry box out of nerves. “He knows that I found it…comfortable. But we might get a pet for the house.”

"Okay, so Max would change into a bat to comfort you, and you still wonder if he likes you?" After spending time with you, she's learned of your ex and she understands your trepidation. "I don't think you should."

“I just…” You sigh, feeling your shoulders start to curl, and you take two long breaths in and out to prevent it. “I hope I’m more than a novelty to him, that’s all. His life is so long. It’s forever and I’m not saying he has to propose or anything crazy. I just…I would like to think a person should feel important to their soulmate. I haven’t been important to anybody since my parents died.”

"You know how long Cookie lived." Allison reminds you. "You could do the same. She—" She pauses for a moment. "Her decision to no longer prolong her life was a very serious one. But until she stopped taking her soulmate's blood, she looked no older than forty."

“Why did she stop?” That has never truly made sense to you. If someone was happy with their eternal life, why on earth would they give it up?

She sighs softly. "It— a very power spell was cast. Meant to last through time until death." She explains quietly. "It was the only way to break it and it was important enough to her to break it."

“What sort of a witch would cast something that depends on life or death?” The idea strikes you as positively cruel, but of course you can’t know what the spell was or the circumstances.

"One that knew that her soulmate could provide her with immortality." Allison explains. "It was...done in anger. Hopefully regretted, but nothing I could find could break it. Cookie spent years trying to break it."

“That’s awful.” As angry as you had ever been in your life at certain people or certain circumstances, you can’t ever imagine that type of anger. Not to mention you’ve never done much spell work beyond lighting a candle or floating an object across a room. And you’re woefully out of practice at even those.

"It was...complicated." Allison hums, "from what I've heard. I never got to meet the person." She knows more of the story, Cookie confided in her in an effort to find a way to break the spell, but she wouldn't betray the woman's confidence, even in death. Especially when it was his place to explain.

“I hope that everything worked out the way she wanted it to, then. Even if she isn’t here to see it.” Concentrating on your jewelry box is the best you can do and not get upset for no reason — but something about the whole situation just makes you overwhelmingly sad.

Allison bites her lip but just makes a non-committal sound. “So where is Max taking you for dinner?” Wanting to change the subject, but also genuinely curious as to your first date details.

“He said there was a vampire-owned restaurant on the island that was really nice.” When you had insisted that dinner wasn’t necessary because he didn’t need to eat food, he had come back with the alternative of a restaurant that also discreetly served blood to discerning patrons. That had been enough to make you agree. “It’s…a tavern? The White Horse Tavern?”

She’s impressed. Whistling lowly, she nods. “It’s only the oldest tavern in the country.” She tells you with a grin. “Super swanky, so it sounds like Max is wanting to do things right. Dinner, dancing….” She sighs. “Sounds incredibly romantic for a first date.”

“He really…he doesn’t have to make a big deal out of it.” And you had told Max that, but he had only shaken his head and told you the restaurant would be perfect. “It’s very romantic, but I guess I’m just…a little worried I won’t live up to it. And I would hate to disappoint him.”

“Why would you disappoint him?” She asks. “He knows you. This isn’t a blind date.”

The irony of that observation makes you laugh dryly, and you turn to look at her instead of searching for earrings. "It was supposed to be," you tell her honestly. "We were supposed to go on a blind date. In college."

“Really?” Her eyes widen. “What happened? Why didn’t you go? You mean you could have known Max this entire time?”

“He had an emergency that night. He couldn’t come.” There is such an ache in your heart realizing that — if things had been different — he could have graduated as a human and you could have been together for ten years already. “Everything could have been so different.”

“Do you—” she pauses for a moment. “Do you resent him for that? Because of being with your ex?”

“No.” Surprisingly enough, that answer is easy. It isn’t Max’s fault that Derek was in that bar that night. He had his life turned upside down in a completely different way. “I just wonder what the second chance will be like.”

“While Max can be cocky, he’s also more mature than he would have been ten years ago.” Allison tells you. “So I think it will be very good for both of you.”

"I hope so." That hope is a long buried feeling for you, and while you feel silly for admitting it...Allison has never been anything but welcoming, friendly, and supportive with you. She's the friend you had dearly missed having for all these years. "I'm different than I used to be, too. I just hope we're not too different."

“Eddie told me that Max, uh, he had a second chance.” Allison admits. “That he lost all his scars? So if you had changed too much, wouldn’t your birthmark never reappear?”

Startled by the solid logic of that thought, you almost reel backward, standing up a little straighter in surprise. "I guess...I never thought of it like that."

She smiles, happy that she could reassure you in some small way. “Then remember that the universe chose you as his soulmate, twice.”

"What about your soulmate?" She's never talked about it before but you feel like this is the time to ask if there is ever going to be one.

“I don’t think I have one.” She admits quietly. “I’ve never had scars, birthmarks or anything.” She shrugs. “Some people don’t.”

"Maybe your soulmate just didn't want to mark you up because they already know you're perfect just as you are." Of course, Allison is right. Some people just don't have soulmates. But that kind of loneliness is not something you would ever wish on anyone as kind as she is.

“Who knows?” She’s very doubtful of that, but it’s sweet that you would want to comfort her. “It just means that I get to enjoy everyone else finding their soulmates.”

“And you can make your own decision for your life. Whatever that decision turns out to be.” There is a matching set of jewelry in your box — a necklace and earrings that all bear golden crescent moon pendants with a little blue stone hanging like a star inside it — and you pick those out to wear tonight. “My parents weren’t soulmates, you know. They just loved each other. Fiercely and with everything they had. Just because someone isn’t your soulmate doesn’t mean they’re not going to be good for you.”

“They weren’t?” She asks curiously, tilting her head in shock.

“No.” The earrings slide into place easily and the matching necklace is a comfort, making you feel a little less exposed in the outfit you’re wearing. Makeup is the last touch. “They met at my mother’s work. She was a librarian and Dad was doing research for his doctoral thesis. She dropped a book that she was trying to get off a high shelf and he picked it up for her. That was that. They were inseparable for the rest of their lives.”

“That’s so sweet. They were both witches too?” She remembers you talking about being raised a witch, but didn’t want to assume.

“My dad was a Bishop on his mother’s side.” It was always a point of pride for him, to be descended from one of the Salem witches, and so it is for you as well. “Mom didn’t know her family, but she was a witch by her own devices, I guess.”

“Was she adopted?” She wonders, asking delicately.

“She never really talked about it.” Which had always struck you as strange, and then was downright inconvenient later in life. “She used to call Dad’s parents her adoptive family and stuff like that. We weren’t close to them, though. I guess they didn’t like that he moved away from Massachusetts, but they liked Mom well enough. They were everything I had and then…they were gone.”

“That’s so horrible. I’m so sorry. I know that it’s hard to lose a parent.” She murmurs softly. “Even worse to lose both at the same time.”

“That’s…kind of why this has been so nice,” you admit, turning to look at Allison again. “I know I didn’t know Cookie. And that we were only loosely related. But it’s kind of like getting my family back. Or as close to it as I’ll ever come, anyway.”

Allison reaches out and takes your hand. "I hope that you know that we will happily be your family. Found family is the ones that you love the most."

The sincerity of the moment cracks something tight in your chest, and before you know it you’re pulling Allison in and hugging her tightly, just willing yourself not to shed tears into her oversized sweater. “Thank you.” Two shattered words, but they are the best you can do at first. Until you manage a deep breath and huff out a half—laugh before pulling away again. “You’ve been so kind to me right from the start. All of you have. And I can’t possibly say how grateful I am. It’s…well, it’s been years since I’ve had a close friend and you’re just…you’re the sweetest woman in the whole world.”

"I felt that you had the kindest energy." She admits, "just that you were...lost. But now it seems that you have found yourself. You are finding yourself, who you are meant to be."

“Whoever that ends up being,” you squeeze her shoulder gently. “I owe her, at least in part, to you.”

"No." She shakes her head, smiling at you as if you were the most precious thing. "You have done this all on your own. You just let are letting her shine through."

“You’re the sweetest person in the whole world.” And she’s yet one more unexpected part of this whole wonderful situation, which you find yourself grateful for all over again. “You should go see if Eddie is home, honey. No sense in letting him sit at home alone while Max and I are out, right?”

She bites her lip again, a habit of hers when you mention Eddie. "I think I will." She decides with a small grin. "Wish me luck."

“Good luck.” Although you don’t think she’s going to need it. Not when it comes to Eddie.

"Do you want me to help you finish getting ready?" She offers, tilting her head playfully.

“It’s just my makeup left, and I can manage that.” The vintage purse you’ll be taking is already packed, and a moment alone to remind your reflection that this is a good thing, not something to be afraid of would probably be good. “Go and have your own fun night, honey. I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”

She turns to walk slowly to the door. Turning at the entryway and watching you as you admire or maybe critique your looks in the mirror. "You look amazing and I know tonight will be perfect." She predicts with a wink. "Let me know if you are still up for brunch tomorrow or if you need some recovery time."

“There will be nothing to recover from.” Still, you shoo her toward the door playfully and smile when she worries her bottom lip between her teeth again but makes her way straight across the second floor hall, through the shortcut to Eddie’s room.

******

Max checks his suit, feeling slightly guilty that you are so worked up. Maybe he should have eased you into this. Maybe something more low key was what you are interested in. The flowers he had bought are already sitting in a vase, at Mrs. Taylor’s insistence, and he wonders if he should even give them to you.

Sitting down at your vanity, the clock says five minutes until you promised Max you would be ready and you line up your makeup and brushes with practiced precision. Nothing can or will go wrong tonight, you have told yourself over and over all day long. It is far too important. But the moment you look up at your mirror, your eyes connect with the carnival photo booth snapshot of you and your mother from when you were twelve years old, and you breathe a soft sigh. “You’d like him,” you promise your mother out loud. “He’s sweet. And doesn’t like it when I get in my own way. Which is…it’s a relief.”

Max decides that he will bring you the flowers. Every woman deserves romance, especially from her soulmate. He gives you another minute before he’s knocking on the door, not wanting to rush you, there’s plenty of time built into the night.

The knock is a nice gesture, given that you both know what tonight is and he knows you’re inside. Still, you exhale slowly and open your bedroom door exactly the same as if it had been the front door of your house that he was picking you up at. The suit he picked out is immaculate, with a crisp, clean shirt and no tie to make it a little less formal. And you had meant to compliment him when you opened the door. You really had. But all the comes out is a soft “Wow…” instead.

He chuckles, charmed by your honest reaction. “Is that for me or the flowers?” He asks, holding them up for you to see properly.

“Can it be both?” You ask, embarrassed to admit that you hadn’t even noticed the flowers until he held them up.

“I’ll take that.” He flashes you a grin before he slowly peruses your dress with appraisal.

“If you don’t like it, I can change.” The offer is immediate, unable to read his expression and figure out whether or not he approves of your borrowed dress.

"Don't you dare." He insists, frowning at the mere idea of you changing. "You look...stunning. I don't know if I should change. Make myself more presentable."

“More presentable?” Huffing at him even as you step aside to let him into your room for a moment, you just shake your head. “That suit would make Frank Sinatra jealous. You couldn’t possibly look more presentable.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, have you looked in the mirror tonight?” He asks as he sets the flowers down and turns to you to take your hands and holds them wide to get a better look. “You are breathtaking and that’s saying something, coming from a vampire.”

“Allison let me borrow it,” you admit, feeling your cheeks heat almost uncontrollably at the compliment. “She, um…she helped me get ready. Now she’s going to spend some time with Eddie while we’re out.” It makes you feel less guilty to know neither of them will be lonely. The idea that your happiness comes last has been pervasive for a long time, but you’re trying to be cognizant of it. To shake it.

“Well, she needs to help you spend some of that money buying flirty, fun dresses like this to wear.” He hums. “Because I can see having regular dinner and dancing dates with you.”

“I’ll have to tell her you approve. And the flowers are beautiful, by the way.” The burst of red, orange, and yellow that now sits on your nightstand is brilliant, and you pick up your purse from beside it. “Are you ready to go?”

“Whenever you are, Queenie.” His hand hovers for a split second before resting on your lower back. Guiding you towards the door of your rooms. The door that he had left open to make sure you were comfortable. Just because he lives here doesn’t mean he will impose.

Shutting the door behind you and heading for the stairs, you can hear the soft sound of laughter from Eddie's room. It sounds like they're going to have a wonderful night ahead of them and you note with interest that even though you don't feel any warmth from Max's hand on our back there is still a solid presence there beside you. "How was work today?" Instead of dwelling, you turn all of your attention to Max, wanting to hear anything and everything he has to tell you about his workday.

“It was pretty good, I have a new line on another business deal. Hopefully it will pan out. What did you do besides worry about tonight?” He asks curiously.

He does have a point. You went panicking to Allison, after all. But you smile at the question anyway. "Mrs. Taylor and I nailed down the menu for the masquerade this morning."

“Oh really?” His brow shoots up and he grins. “And what will we be feasting on during the masquerade?”

"The menus that she had mocked up were seven, ten, and twelve courses." As much as you had respected the dedication to the Gilded Age theme, it had seemed a little too much to you and eventually you and your vampiric housekeeper had whittled the ideas down to the best of four courses. "It will be potato leek soup, a fish course with asparagus and hollandaise, chicken...something or other...I think she said it's called Lyonnaise? With mashed potatoes as the main course, and then champagne and strawberry cake for dessert that she said was Cookie's favourite. It felt like a nice way to pay tribute to her." Of course there was discussion of vegetarian options being needed, but when tickets are bought people will have the chance to indicate that they don't eat meat and then that bridge will be crossed when necessary.

“And I am assuming that there is an assortment of finger foods that will be served between dances?” He asks, amused by the dedication.

"According to Mrs. Taylor, it should be several different kinds of drinks and a few sweets to choose from on a buffet table in the dining room." The immense amount of work had shocked you when Mrs. Taylor had laid the whole thing out, but she assured you that she and Renee had everything in hand with just a little extra help from Mr. Taylor and Mr. Finchley. "Then, of course, there's the breakfast for whoever is still left at sunrise."

“This is going to be an amazing night for Newport.” He predicts. “Like nothing they’ve seen for years. I bet they will be clamoring for it to become an annual event.”

"Hopefully it's not too much on Mrs. Taylor and Renee. They're both very excited but it sounds like a whole lot of work to me." At the bottom of the stairs, Max opens the door for you and ushers you through with a smile. "If it becomes something annual I'm going to insist on having extra help for her next year. I know they're both...superhuman, but they shouldn't have to overdo it."

“You know they don’t even break a sweat, right?” He asks as he moves his hand from your back to offer his arm to escort you down the steps.

"They can still only do one thing at a time. Four people cooking for that many guests is a tall order for anyone." He acts like it's the most natural thing in the world to escort you down the front steps and out the front door like a perfect gentleman. Meanwhile you are all but swooning at his side over just the simple act of having an arm offered to you.

“That woman loves to care for people.” He reminds you with a chuckle. “I would say she lives for it, but we both know that’s not true.”

"She exists for it?" You offer with a soft chuckle.

“That’s the way to put it.” Max chuckles and opens the front door to show that his car has been brought forward. Waiting for you.

So far all you've done is walk to his car together but already you feel like a princess. Maybe the bar is set a little too low, or maybe he's doing all the right things — you really can't tell. What you do know, as Max closes the passenger side door and rounds the hood of his car in less than the blink of an eye to get in beside you, is that this is definitely how you always dreamed of dates starting out.

Max buckles his seatbelt and looks over at you with a slight smile. “Are you ready, Queenie?” He asks softly. “If you want to go home at any time, you let me know.”

He's being so gentle with you that it's heartbreaking and heartwarming all at once. The idea that you need to be handled with such a soft touch is a little embarrassing, but the fact that he is being so caring without any kind of request or even indication on your part is just...well, it's just about the sweetest thing you've ever heard in your life. "I'm okay," you promise him, reaching out to put your hand softly over his on the gear shift. "I know you heard me being anxious earlier, but I've been looking forward to this since you asked." And more than that, you've been looking forward to a first date with your soulmate for your entire life.

“Good.” Max hums, turning his hand so you can slide your fingers through his if you want. “I want you to enjoy yourself. There’s no expectations for tonight. No pressure. I just want you to have a night that we should have had ten years ago.”

"Ten years ago it would have been chicken wings and a jukebox in a bar." Which isn't a bad thing, but it isn't what you dreamed of. What you've dreamed of is much closer to this: your fingers fitting neatly through his as he pulls away from the house on your way to a beautiful dinner and a night of dancing. "Let's call tonight the...grown up version."

“The grown up version.” Max hums as he pulls out onto the street. “Well, it’s a good thing then. I wouldn’t have known how to dance then.” He reminds you. “Now I can waltz with you properly.”

“To be honest I never assumed my soulmate would be a dancer.” It’s a perk, obviously. And one that you hold very dear after so many years without dance in your life. But never something you considered mandatory. “It’s like the icing on a cake I already know I like.”

“I think that it’s complementary.” He agrees. “It’s something that we can do together. And neither one of us has to pretend to like it.”

“What else do you like to do?” Other than his work, and having a few things in common like reading and dancing, it occurs to you that you don’t know much about him.

Max smirks. “I like to play poker.” He admits. “There’s this monthly game I’m in. High stakes, pretty much a two day event.”

“High risk, high reward.” Just like his sales deals, you note. He’s mentioned some of them being for upwards of a few million dollars. “I can’t say I’ve ever been great at cards but I do like to play sometimes.”

“Maybe we can play sometime?” He offers. “There’s some lower stakes games, just for fun.”

“I used to play poker for M&Ms with my Dad,” you admit, smiling at the memory. “Any game can be lower stakes if you let it.”

He chuckles, knowing that is true and refrains from offering to play strip poker. “What else did you do with your dad?”

“He liked to paint.” It’s been a long time since you’ve talked about your parents to anyone, but since coming to Newport your family and your past has seemed more relevant than ever. Almost like they had gone on a terribly long vacation instead of being violently ripped from you the summer before you started college. “He would take me to art museums and was the only Dad in my Mommy and Me Painting Class when I was little. We’d play card games and board games and plan all the trips around the world that we would take when I got older.” The last memory makes you shrug, eyes cast down at the floor of Max’s sports car. “We never got to take any of the trips we planned, but it was a fun way to pass a rainy day. It made me think for a while that I could be a travel agent when I grew up.”

“I’m sorry that you didn’t get to travel.” Max tells you quietly, wishing he had some memories like that with his parents. Maybe it would have made it easier when he was alone. But he doubts it. “You should travel.” He tells you. “Go all the places you planned with him. A remembrance trip once a year maybe.”

“I’m not very good at being alone.” Maybe it’s why you stayed with Derek so long. Maybe it isn’t. You can’t be too sure either way, but you know that being lonely is one of your least favourite feelings in the world. “But maybe I’ll try. If…there isn’t someone to come with me, I mean.”

“You don’t have to be alone, Queenie.” Max promises. “There’s your coven, I’m sure any one of them would love to go on a trip with you. Eddie loves to travel and of course, I will go wherever you wanted anytime.”

"You say 'of course' like it's the easiest thing in the world." Your fingers curl around his palm instinctively, afraid to let go of him now that you're allowed to be close in any small way. "But it...it means everything."

“You are my soulmate.” He stresses quietly. “Even if platonic soulmates was all you wanted, I would want to spend time with you.”

"It's not." He's pulled up to a stoplight on Bellevue, and even though your voice is quiet, it's sure. You're just not quite strong enough to look up at him while you say it. "It's...not at all what I want. I just need you to be patient with me. While I...I don't know...figure out how to not be so scared anymore."

“I have eternity.” He reminds you with a grin, wishing he could banish the sadness and fear in your eyes. “And you can have that too.”

"That's a very big offering considering it's only our first date." Trying for a little bit of humor — to lift your own spirits as well as his — you squeeze his hand again when the light turns and he pulls through the intersection. "Let's see how we feel about living in the same house and dancing together and maybe we'll talk about eternity after that. Sound good?"

He squeezes your hand gently. “That sounds like a good idea. Sometimes I get ahead of myself.” He winks before he looks back at the road.

******

It takes a whole six minutes to get from the front gate of Chateau-sur-Mer to the White Horse Tavern, according to the clock on the dashboard of Max's Lexus, and when he pulls into the parking lot the place seems to be completely full to the brim. There's no loud music or bright lights like you might have expected at some place called a tavern, but instead there are people in very smart clothes streaming in and out of the building alternately — and once you're inside there are white tablecloths and lovely candles on every table.

“Now you see why I thought of this place.” He murmurs in your ear, his hand on your back again. Not possessive, but protective. Guiding you up to the host stand. “Reservation for Phillips, table for two.” He responds slightly smug when asked for his name. He is smug about having you here, proud that this date is happening. Eager to learn more about his pretty soulmate.

"Right this way." The hostess smiles politely and leads the way, bringing the two of you to a table in the corner surrounded by other chattering couples on dates enjoying the warm glow of romantic candlelight.

As soon as you are seated, the sommelier comes over. “Good evening.” He smiles charmingly. “May I interest you in our vast selection of reds?” He asks, aware that this reservation includes a vampire who would be wanting a glass of their blood infused wine. Without even looking at you, Max shakes his head. “No thank you.” He hums. “My soulmate and I do not drink.” Even if you had said you are okay with it, Max is aware that anything resembling alcohol could stress you and that’s the last thing he wants tonight.

"Max." His hand is on the table and you put yours on top of it, giving it a squeeze like you did in the car. "It's okay. I promise." What he needs to sustain him and what you need are two vastly different things, and you are not going to be the reason that he skips having blood with this meal and ends up...weak or sick or whatever happens to vampires when they don't get enough blood.

He shakes his head seriously. “I was an asshole at the beginning about it.” He admits. “I didn’t know and there are are options here, just like Mrs. Taylor’s menus for us.”

“…very sweet of you.” Only the end of the sentence is really audible, mostly because you’re so dumbfounded by the idea that he is putting you before and above himself. In your whole life, maybe only your parents have ever done that for you.

The sommelier just gives a confused smile and nods, drifting away from the table. “I didn’t embarrass you, did I?” Max asks, frowning at the shock on your face. He had hoped you would appreciate his gesture, and he wasn’t doing it to show off, he genuinely wanted you to feel comfortable tonight with him.

“Not at all.” The slightly misty look on your face is from how touched you are at the gesture. “I just…you know I’m not used to anyone doing things for me. Emotionally, I mean. Or any other way. I still feel like apologizing every time Mrs. Taylor makes a meal or Renee makes clean clothes magically appear in my room. But you…” With a soft sigh and shake of your head, you offer him a smile. One where you actually manage to look him in the eyes. “I always thought I would be the one taking care of my soulmate with whatever he needed. But you’re the one taking care of me.”

He wants to chuckle, but he can’t. Now when your eyes practically hypnotize him. He’s never felt a pull like that and he shakes his head slowly. “We take care of each other.” He reminds you, “head scratches?”

“Are you asking or reminding?” Either way, the smile on your face gets broader and you can feel that growing familiar feeling of warmth in your cheeks.

“Reminding you.” He grins back at you and winks. “It’s probably the most relaxed I’ve ever gotten as a vampire.”

“Then we’ll have to make it a regular thing.” You can promise him that. The seemingly little promises mean so much when they all stack up together.

“That would be nice, but only if you enjoy it as well.” He knows that you might just agree to keep him happy and that’s the last thing he wants.

"Do I enjoy sitting with my soulmate's head in my lap, seeing him terribly relaxed while I read a book or we watch tv together?" This time when you laugh it's just one huffed chuckle, and it's in near disbelief. "Honestly? It might be the closest to bliss I've been in years."

He smiles at that, squeezing your hand again. “Good.” He hums, nodding towards your menu. “Take a look and see what you want to eat, Queenie, we have dancing later on.”

You don't even have to ask to know that he'll be ordering steak tonight, and as rare as possible. The habit makes perfect sense to you now and you'll never say another word about it. The menu is high-end gourmet and apparently all locally sourced from the list of farms on the bottom of the menu, and for a moment you feel tremendously out of place again until you glance up to find Max smiling at you. And that one little act, that seemingly coincidental timing and easy gesture, has another layer of anxiety and fear slipping away from your heart as easily as water drips down a window. "I've discovered I like duck," you confide after a few minutes of looking over the options. "I had never had it before, but Mrs. Taylor is a miracle worker. Do you think theirs will be as good as hers?"

“Doubtful.” He snorts, shaking his head. “Not unless Mrs. Taylor is moonlighting as the chef here.” He jokes. “She has been to practically every chef’s school in the world in her lifetime.”

“She should be teaching at them. Or opening one of her own.” You know, though, that she would never be as happy teaching as she is taking care of people. It’s a lovely thought, though.

“Never happen.” He promises. “Mrs. Taylor is vowed, willingly—” he adds because he knows you might think otherwise. “— to serve your family line for eternity.”

“She’ll be free to do whatever she wants soon enough, then,” you remind him gently. “We’re not exactly going to be populating that house with little half-vamps.”

“Except you can have an absurdly long life, even as a human.” He points out, sure you haven’t even thought about it.

“I—” Technically, he’s correct. You could have as long a life as Cookie did or even longer. But you can’t even fathom that he would want to spend months or years with you, let along decades or centuries. “That is…something we’ll talk about together. You and I.”

“Okay.” He won’t push, it’s just the first date, after all. Instead of continuing on the same vein, he looks around the tavern. “So, who do you think is a vampire?” He asks playfully.

“Hmmm.” A game is definitely something you can get behind, and you look around the crowded dining room full of well dressed patrons with the air of someone who knows exactly what they’re looking for instead of just being the clueless little human that you are. “I’m going to say…” your eyes fall on an impeccably well-dressed man in an elaborate suit and his pale dinner companion in her lace dress. “Those two. Aaand…the table of four over by the fireplace. I think the girl is introducing her new beau to her sires.”

Max lifts a brow, impressed by the fact that you have clock that correctly. “Good eyes.” He chuckles. “The two are, she’s a baby vamp, too.”

“It turns out that once I realized I was surrounded by vamps, it got easier to see the differences.” There is also a particular, peculiar way that they hold themselves — that all vampires seem to hold themselves. As if they have innumerable secrets. And the older they are, the more secrets they accumulate. Which, you suppose, must be true after a point.

“Really?” That makes him sit up slightly. “What differences?”

“I don’t know if I can describe it properly.” For a moment you pause, when the waiter arrives to bring you both water and ask if you’d like an appetizer. Max orders the specialty charcuterie board and you have to imagine that there are raw things involved for him as well as the regular cheeses and spreads for humans. “It’s like…your shoulders are always a little straighter. Your gaze is more direct. And there’s something…I dunno…elegant? Maybe? In the way you all move. Like it takes so much less effort or you’ve maximized the economy of all of those movements somehow. I can’t describe it properly.”

He smirks slightly and leans in. “We are elegant?” He asks, intrigued by the fact that you are not scared. Perhaps even enjoying that he is a vampire.

“Of course you are elegant, but I didn’t notice until after that you all sort of…have a certain grace.” Shrugging self-consciously, you do notice that he doesn’t let your hand slip away from his on the table. “It probably sounds funny,” you murmur in defeat.

“It doesn’t. It’s actually— I think it might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” He confesses. “People always say ‘you’re hot’ or ‘I want you’ but no one ever tells me I’m elegant.”

“You are hot.” The admission comes with screaming hot cheeks and eyes trained back down at the table, but it’s true. “I thought so the first time I saw you…”

There’s a hint of heat in his smirk, not nearly as play—boyish as it might have once been. “Glad you thought I was hot.” He hums proudly. “Sexual attraction is key to a healthy romantic relationship.”

“And you’ll always look that way.” It’s not a fun thought to have, but you’ve had it twice already. He will always be young and handsome, and you will inevitably get old — even if you choose long life it will still happen eventually.

He snorts. “We age just not as fast as humans do.” He admits.

“So slowly that it’s imperceptible?” It’s a guess, but you nod your head in understanding. “I’ll get everything down eventually, I promise. This is all still…just days’ old information to me.”

“I don’t expect you to be an expert, sweetheart.” Max tuts. “Hell, I’m still learning about vampires.” He flashes you a grin. “And I’ve been one a lot longer than days.”

"What do you like about it?" You ask, looking at your connected hands before you look back up at him. "There must be something you like about the change."

“Smell is better, hearing is better.” Max shrugs slightly. “I’m a better version of myself.” He snort slightly. “The no need for sleep helped when getting my MBA.”

“It certainly gives you more time to get things done.” Thinking on it for even a second though, you laugh a little. “If I had had that in college I think I would’ve done twice as many competitions and probably added a second major, just because I could.”

He chuckles and winks at you, “That’s my girl.” He hums fondly, not even thinking about it until it comes out of his mouth, but you are his girl.

Finding it fond instead of possessive — as the comment would have been from the last person who might have bothered to call you such a thing — hearing it from Max actually makes you proud. Maybe neither of you is perfect, but you seem to fit together in all the right ways. Maybe that's all that soulmates are, ultimately. Just two people — or in this case a witch and a vampire — who fit together just right.

The meal is ordered and it’s a delightful surprise that there’s no lull in the conversation. Beyond ballroom dancing, at your core, your values match up. At least, Max’s values now, after the incident with Evan. Shockingly enough, he tells you about it.

"I can't believe that's even possible." The ordeal with his former friend, roommate, and coworker aside, the way Max describes what was basically his return from complete obliteration is just wild. "It sounds like...like magic...if I'm honest. Your sire managed to bring you back from...nothing." From his description, he was less than a undead body at that point. Something terrifying to imagine and terrible to contemplate. The idea that your soulmate could have been completely lost to you isn't exactly knew considering you thought it was dead, but knowing the truth makes it feel even more terrible. "If I ever meet your sire, I'm going to have to thank him."

“I have no doubt you will.” Max wonders when the old man will reveal himself to you. What his end game is. He always had one, that’s certain. “I am starting to figure out why I was brought back.”

"You think he had an ulterior motive?" You would think it would be enough just to be able to save his family, but you don't really know how loyal vampiric families are to each other.

“Absolutely.” His answer is instantaneous. Resolute. While he doesn’t know the details of why he was brought back, he had been for one reason.

"You're very certain of that." Which does, you admit, surprise you. "I take it he's not a sharing kind of guy? He didn't clue you in on why?"

“My sire is…an enigma.” Max admits, almost fondly. He has often been envious of the elder vampire’s flair and mystique. “He is legendary among vampires and I’m not so certain he doesn’t divulge information because it is his nature or as a way to play into his reputation.”

"Maybe it's both?" The two of you are still sitting at the table with intertwined hands even after your demolished appetizer has been cleared away. It's so unexpectedly sweet that it makes you feel a little bit...gooey. Like you might melt right into your plush upholstered seat. "Maybe the reputation came because he has a little flair for the dramatic, and now he just likes to play into it and keep it going? You said he's quite old now, right? Maybe it amuses him."

“Yes. That is probably a lot of it.” He agrees. “You will like him I think.”

"Are you saying I have a flair for the dramatic?" Raising one eyebrow and shooting him a grin, you can't help but smile along with him. You did, once, have a wicked dramatic side. Inherited from your mother and dearly cherished. It was an endless source of amusement.

“You ballroom dance and you love reality tv shows.” He snorts playfully. “Of course you have a flair for the dramatic. I can’t wait to see you show out at the masquerade.”

"If you think I'm bad with Dancing with the Stars, wait until you see me on a 90 Day Fiancé binge." That really only happens when you hit your cycle, but it's still a sight to see — you tucked up in your bed under three blankets with a bowl of popcorn and a box of tissues crying about love is just...a side of you that you normally keep hidden. But somehow you have a feeling that Max would understand.

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite couple?” Max asks curiously. “I like Angela and Mike, but sometimes she’s toooo much, you know what I mean?” He spends a lot of nights binge watching things, since it’s not like he sleeps and unfortunately, not many human businessmen work after midnight.

The way you just stare at him is nearly comical, like your brain hasn’t quite caught up with you yet, and when it finally goes you realize your mouth has been open and you snap it shut like the little boy from Mary Poppins. “I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised,” you huff, laughing softly at your own reaction. “We should have things in comments. Soulmates and all that…”

“Babe, I’m also a little dramatic shit.” He confesses with a chuckle. “I mean, who really changes into a bat to spend time with someone because your over-the-top douchbaggery has made them uncomfortable, but you’re intrigued by them?” He asks, making it seem like he is the total asshole he believes he is.

“That’s…pretty true.” And it draws another laugh from you just imagining the thought process he went through to even think of doing it in the first place. “I have to admit, though. It made me feel like the missing goth Disney Princess and I kind of loved that.”

“I’m happy to make that secret fantasy come true.” He grins, nearly beaming proudly at the idea of sparking some inner desire. “And as a bat, I can actually sleep?”

“Compacting a big vampire into a tiny bat body must take a lot of effort.” Or, at least, you imagine it does. It’s more or less breaking the known laws of physics, after all.

“It does.” Max admits with a slight shrug. He will minimize the idea of the energy it expels because he doesn’t want you to ever feel bad for wanting the bat to cuddle.

“Well, you only need to worry about all that energy when you want to, now,” you insist, being respectfully nonspecific because you can see the waiter approaching your table with your dinners. “You never need to be anything besides yourself with me.”

“I appreciate that.” He wonders if you are so accepting and accommodating because of the past relationship or if it was just you. “I hope you’re hungry, this place is supposed to have amazing food.”

It would be cheesy or clingy or just too much to tell him that you’re actually disappointed the food is here because you have to stop holding his hand. You sit back though, politely thanking the waiter and letting your mouth water over how good everything looks and smells when your plates are set down. “Thank you for this,” you murmur when the waiter has gone again, looking tentatively back toward Max’s face. “We didn’t have to do anything at all and knowing you’re my soulmate would have already made the time we spend together special. But this is…it’s really beautiful. And I’ll never forget it.”

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part of the night.” He promises with a small wink. “Before I’m through with you, your body will be sore and you’ll be breathless.” It sounds dirty, but he’s talking about dancing.

“Max.” Your cheeks burn at the innuendo but you can’t even pretend to dislike the feeling. For the first time in…maybe years, you’re free to let yourself enjoy life. And that’s all thanks to him. Let night really might be the first time you’ve considered masturbating in longer than you would like to admit. And that is thanks to Max, too.

“What?” He tuts playfully, fully aware that your heartbeat has sped up. “Dancing should make you sore and breathless if you’re doing it right.”

“Sure.” But the thought is there, and the playful, bubbly, flirtatious woman that you used to be a long time ago floats the surface unchecked. “Dancing definitely does that,” you agree, tucking a smirk into the corner of your mouth.

“So many dances.” He likes that you are flirting back. Your eyes are practically sparkling with mischief and it’s miles apart from the scared mouse he had met when you arrived. “Tango, waltz, horizontal hustle, foxtrot.” He ticks them off on his fingers like he’s doing down a list.

The mention of horizontal hustle warms you through with a flush of embarrassment and — admittedly — arousal and you pick up your fork very properly without the smirk ever leaving your face. “The girls I danced with always called it ‘getting a new tango partner’ when they started seeing someone new. Slightly more discreet of them, considering our teachers were mostly prim middle-aged ladies.”

He hums, amused by the phrase and he runs his tongue over his teeth, toying with his incisor. “It’s allllll in the hips.”

It shouldn’t be sexy, the way you know for a fact that his teeth are certified weapons and he is just casually running his tongue over them…it makes you wonder just what his tongue might feel like running over other things. “Hips,” you hum, watching him lick his lips subtly. You can’t tell if he did it on purpose or not but it’s distracting as all hell. “I’ll remember that.”

“You do that, Queenie.” He winks at you and scoops up his fork to steal a bite of your food from your plate. He’s not going to eat it. God no, it’s too cooked for his liking, but he turns the fork around and offers you the bite. “Tell me how it tastes.” Despite not liking human food now, he misses the tastes of things.

He can absolutely hear your pulse, there’s no way he can’t when it’s pounding in your ears like a hammer. But putting your lips around his fork is perilously close to put your lips around something else of his and you close your eyes against just how tantalizing that thought is when you’re seemingly getting your sex drive back all at once.

He bites his lip when you moan, taking the bite of food. Sure that you are completely unaware of how erotic it sounds. Knowing that you aren’t trying to entice him, but just like that natural curiosity to know more about you, that attraction is something he’s helpless against. All he can do is control his reaction.

“I know you’re not big on this kind of food anymore, but that’s fantastic.” You tell him, letting the flavour linger on your tastebuds happily. Truly good food is such a luxury that you have a hard time imagining giving it up, but that’s just you.

“I used to love all kinds of food.” Max admits with a guilty grin. “Favorite thing was trying new restaurants. New foods.”

“I hate that that isn’t fun for you anymore.” To lose one of life’s simple pleasures is a shame, even if the tradeoff has many more benefits.

“It’s okay.” Max hums slightly. “I can taste what the human donor has eaten through their blood.” He admits with a grin. “Although it’s a little muted since the blood is chilled and reheated.”

“So…if it was warm from the source…it would be better?” Trying to understand the logistics of his vampirism is going to be key for you, and that means even the parts that don’t seem very savory to talk about.

“Yeah.” He shrugs slightly. “I don’t look for donors anymore.” He explains. “If someone were to offer? I might would have taken them up on it before the other night, but I wouldn’t now.”

“Is it…” As the two of you start to eat in earnest, it almost feels like the conversation should have trended this way. You are, after all, talking about his survival. “Is it a very…meaningful connection? Is that why?”

“It’s….” He pauses for a moment. “Intimate. Almost sensual to the point of turning sexual.” He looks at you intently, his eyes drilling into yours and he hopes that doesn’t offend you. “There’s nothing more intimate than taking a part of someone into your own body, right?”

“I suppose I never thought of it like that before.” Before a few days ago you had honestly never given it much thought at all, but knowing what you know now? You spend almost all of your thoughts on the subject.

“It doesn’t hurt much.” He promises, thinking you might be worried about donors. “Just a sharp pinch and then it feels good. But I won’t be drinking from anyone, I think that’s not fair when you have a soulmate.”

“It’s really that intimate?” From what he’s said, it suddenly makes much more sense to you why people would succumb to the feeling quickly, and you nod when he looks at you meaningfully. “If it’s something I’m ever going to consider, I want to know about it,” you explain. “That’s all.”

“I would never ask.” He doesn’t want you to feel like he expecting you to become his meal plan. “I hope you know that.”

******

Dinner passes with slightly lighter conversation, where you learn that you both like fall and winter better than spring and summer, and that Max used to love cookies more than anything other dessert.

The dance studio that you go to is run by a very sweet woman called Miss Valerie — who apparently named the studio for herself — and is full of all sorts of different people when you and Max are ushered into the main studio for free dancing. A laptop in the corner is playing a personalized playlist and there is a card table with drinks and snacks in a different corner which looked like some people had added to upon their arrivals. It was a night of chit chat — as soon as people heard about the masquerade they instantly wanted to know every detail — but it was fun, too. Max stayed by your side, talking up the masquerade and excusing you from conversation to dance a little more when he sensed you getting nervous.

Dancing with Max might be even better now that you know he’s your soul mate. His gentleness and steady presence leading you through every dance is mixed with so much care that you could just about cry, but there is a mounting otherness in every touch that can only be compared to the first time you allowed yourself to explore any kind of sexuality. Like you’re waking up, and instead of curiosity being what drives your own fingers in the night, it will be the memory of hearing Max’s voice in your ear or feeling his touch on your skin. He had even lifted you a few times in certain dances and it was the most literal sweeping off your feet you could ever possibly contemplate. By the time he pulls into the driveway it’s so late that you’ve lost track of the hour completely but you know you’re going to keep holding his hand until the very last second.

“I think I’ve kept Cinderella out past midnight.” Max teases as he cuts the engine. “But lucky me, you haven’t turned into a pumpkin yet.”

“No.” There’s a note of bashfulness in the way you shake your head, even though you feel bolder tonight than you have in years. “I wouldn’t dare. How could I dance with you again if I was a pumpkin?”

He grins, his teeth flashing white in the darkness of the car. “That would be such a shame, Queenie.”

“It really would be.” Dancing with Max had been like floating on water, and your face burns with pleasure and embarrassment remembering even half an hour ago.

“Would you like to keep dancing?” He asks, bringing your hand to his lips. Anyone else, it would be an innuendo for something else, but with you, he’s asking if you want him to take you to the ballroom. He had loved every second of you being in his arms and of dancing was the only way, he would dance all night.

“Am I a sissy if I admit I’m tired?” Still, your fingers tingle under the press of his lips, and knowing what you now do about his exceptional hearing means you’re sure he heard you hold your breath. “I haven’t danced that much in years and my feet aren’t as calloused as they used to be. But—” The thought is there. The intent. But you can’t quite bring yourself to form the words right away. It’s like you don’t trust yourself. Which, to be fair, you don’t.

“Not a sissy,” he huffs slightly at your ease of insulting yourself. “Human.” He reminds you that he might have the ability to stay up indefinitely, but you do not. “But?”

“I was…” It feels silly to admit it, but you would be horribly sad if the night ended here. Having him close feels like a missing piece of yourself has slid into place. “Going to ask if you wanted to come upstairs,” you admit quietly. “But that’s silly. You live here. Hell…your room is right next to mine.”

Max tilts his head, tsking slightly. “Queenie, you never need to feel silly talking to me. You meant come to your room, didn’t you?” He asks quietly, squeezing your hand gently.

“I don’t want tonight to be over yet.” His hand around yours is cool and comforting, but there’s an electricity in it that is so old that it must have been called something far different before it was called a spark.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Max smiles at the shyness in your tone, the mere embarrassment. “How about this? Why don’t I make you a cup of my famous hot chocolate while you change into something causal, and I’ll meet you upstairs?” He asks, lifting a brow.

His knack for the exact right gesture is something you’re learning isn’t accidental. The effort he is putting into spending time with you is very intentional, and makes you feel like the single most special person in the entire world. “I’ll find a book that is less than a hundred years old, just in case. How about that?”

“Whatever you want to read, sweetheart.” He promises, happy that he had phrased it correctly. He doesn’t want you thinking he assumes you’re going to sleep with him. “But first, I need to walk you to the door.” In the blink of an eye, he’s out of the car and around to your side, opening it up for you to climb out.

“I’ll never get used to that.” You’ve seen him do it now five or six times and it takes your breath away without fail. This time, though, the thing taking your breath might also be the soft smile on his face as you put your hand in his and let him lift you effortlessly out of the car.

“It’s handy.” He admits with a chuckle, closing the door behind you and turning to walk up the front steps. “I’ll be able to change into some sweats after making your hot chocolate too.”

“Does this count as post-gaming our own date?” Leaving his car behind to walk up to the house, your hand stays in his and you lean slightly into his side just on instinct. He feels so safe and you can’t possibly put into words how grateful you are for that.

“More like a casual continuation. The wind down, if you will.” He enjoys your warmth, humming softly at the feeling. You have seemed more comfortable around him as the night has gone on and Max deserve brownie points for ignoring the whiffs of arousal he’s detected.

"I like that." You also like the way he almost sounds like he's purring when he hums, but maybe that's your imagination. Remembering the little sounds he would make in bat form. "I like the idea of being able to share all the versions of ourselves."

Max opens the door to the house, hearing a sound from Eddie’s room that makes him smirk. “If you can’t share everything with your soulmate, who can you share them with?”

"What is it?" His question was rhetorical, you know that, but he looks amused and his eyes darted away from you for a second before coming back.

“Allison is still here.” He tells you, putting his finger to his lips like it’s a secret.

"And she claimed Eddie wasn't as interested as she is." You shake your head at that as if the two of you were some wise old mentors finding out your protégés had finally taken your advice. "I guess tonight was a good date night for everyone in the house, then."

Max winks at you as he closes the door behind the two of you. “Like to think ours was better.” He teases. “Now, go take those shoes off, Queenie and I’ll make your hot chocolate. If you’re lucky, I might even be talked into a foot rub for your dance sore feet.”

"I would never make you do that." More than half your life in ballet, ballroom, and jazz classes means that your feet are...not exactly going to end up in shoe ads any time soon. But it's sweet of him to offer, and you squeeze his hand before you let it go. "I'm going to go up and change. You can just come on in when you're ready."

“I’ll knock, just to make sure you aren’t still changing.” He promises with a wink before he zips off to the kitchen.

You deftly avoid Eddie's room as you go upstairs, going the long way to your room all the way across the house before you hang your sweater and release yourself from your shoes — much to the relief of your aching feet. Despite the small pain, though, you wouldn't change anything about tonight. Your dress is exchanged for a favourite t-shirt, worn thin from constant use and sporting the logo of a theme park that you went to with a bunch of friends in college when you all decided that you just needed to get away for the weekend. It hangs long on your torso, skimming past the edge of your yoga pants, and you wipe off your makeup before getting into bed with a copy of a murder mystery by Alyssa Maxwell that was most definitely published in the twenty-first century.

Max hears you settle down and is at your door in an instant. He had made the hot chocolate quickly and of course changed before you had finished your nightly routine, waiting until you were done. Two light taps on the door is the knock he gives, waiting for you to answer before he turns the knob.

"Come in." The door is just feet from your bed, and when he cracks it open he's dressed in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants with a steaming mug in his hands. "Hey." As soft as it is on your lips, it's mostly out of surprise. Max is always immaculately dressed, and the revelation that he even owns a t-shirt is a pretty big deal. Not to mention the way his broad shoulders stretch the faric, or the way his gray sweatpants (bearing a small embossed collegiate logo near the pocket) hang onto his trim hips, which is wickedly distracting.

“Hey you.” He slips inside and closes the door with a grin. “You look comfy as can be in that bed.” He teases. “Is there room for me?”

"It's a big bed." Knowing that he won't pressure you gives you an immense feeling of relief, and the boldness to actually invite him in like this. You haven't even kissed yet. There is no way you would go all the way to sex tonight. But this closeness? You're craving it. "I'm pretty sure I can fit you in here. Might have to cuddle, though."

“I’ve been told I’m pretty good at cuddling.” He hands you the mug of hot chocolate and barely resists the urge to jump into the bed.

“I’m going to be spoiled forever if you keep making me this cocoa,” you warn him, ready to take the first sip despite the steam still pouring off the mug from underneath the perfect swirl of whipped cream. “That coffeeshop should be crying over losing you, if this is what you were doing as a barista.”

“I learned that girls love a perfect hot chocolate, but also, I loved one.” He laughs as he settles down beside you. “I’ll make you one every night if you want. I actually kind of miss making coffees and things like that. It was fun and easy.”

"I would have been in that shop every single day," you admit. The first sip of cocoa is just cool enough to take, and it rolls through you like a warm hug in the very best way. "For..." Bubbling just beneath the surface, a smile spreads across your lips that you just can't contain. "For more than just the cocoa."

“I knew it.” He crows, leaning in with a triumphant look on his face. He puts his lips just a bare millimeter away from your ear. “A whipped cream junky.”

Your breath catches like it always does when he gets so close to you, and your eyes flick up to his as you all but hide your face behind the mug in your hands. "Right..." you nod slightly in agreement, but when the smile returns to your lips it morphs into shaking your head 'no' and your tone dips to teasing. "Whipped cream. That's it."

“Indulgent, creamy….” He’s teasing you, maybe himself a little as well, but he loves the way your heart skitters slightly. It reminds him of a bird being startled, except this is a joyful thing. “Satisfying. What’s not to love?”

"You're incorrigible," you observe with a pleased grin, knowing full well that you have done nothing but encourage him tonight. It's the best night — let alone best date — you've had in ages. And that's so much of why you're not ready for it to end. This is the side of Max that you always want to have with you.

“Confident.” He corrects you with a grin of his own. “Cocky, maybe even a little conceited.”

"Filling in the gaps where I have no self-confidence of my own." In many ways you really are a balancing point to each other. He lifts you up and you ground him. It keeps you interested to see what he'll do next and you can only hope that it gives him a place to feel relaxed with you. Like he can let down his guard with you. "I think...if you want to...we should go back to that studio again next week." They had invited you both eagerly, and Miss Valerie herself had loudly mentioned having a spot on their competition team for another couple if they ever found anyone who was interested. If you were ever going to pin a number onto your dress again, you would want it to be with him. His over-confidence seems to be rubbing off on you, at least a little, and giving you another nudge toward boldness. "I really loved dancing with you tonight."

“It would be unfair really,” Max hums. “To deprive them of our presence. Our talent from the dance floor.” Part of it is an adopted act of confidence, but there is something magical about dancing with you. It’s easier than any other partner he’s ever had. “So I don’t think we should. Deprive them. Give the couples something to aspire to.”

The giggle that he pulls out of you is probably the closest to effervescent that you've ever managed. There is something about the way you feel when his attention is on you that is undeniable. When Max's focus is on you, the rest of the world falls away. "I wouldn't be surprised if it's more jealousy than aspiration," you tell him honestly, taking another sip of your drink. "I'll have the most handsome partner in the room."

He can’t help but preen slightly. “It helps when your partner is the most gorgeous creature you’ve ever laid eyes on.” He murmurs sincerely. Since meeting you, getting to know you, you’ve gone from pretty to stunning in his eyes.

"That's sweet of you." As much as you want to believe that he's telling you what he believes to be the truth, it's so hard to wrap your head around. There has been far too much of your life spent being told all the things that were wrong with you that it feels impossible to believe that someone like Max could find you beautiful. But gods...you want to.

He groans quietly, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead to your shoulder. He should pull away, but your warmth is too intoxicating. “Queenie, I have a confession to make.” He whispers.

Here it is. Steeling yourself for the inevitable rejection you know that you deserve, you put your mug on the table beside your bed without unsettling his forehead. You'll make yourself the smallest presence possible in his life. You'll stop the formal dinners and just let him forget you even live in the same house if he doesn't decide to move out altogether. And you'll sure as fuck wait until he's gone to cry the tears that are already pressing at the back of your eyes. "What is it?" You don't want to ask the question, but you have to. The way your heart is already sinking tells you right away how much this is going to hurt.

He hates that your tone has changed, your body has shifted slightly. He wonders if he should have even opened his mouth, but he wanted to be honest with you. Pulling back slightly, he looks at you with a sense of anger at himself for being so unable to control himself. “I want to kiss you.”

"What?" Pushed out on a single breath, it feels like all the air has been knocked out of you all at once and your eyes blow wide when you look up at him.

“I told myself I wouldn’t push you, and I’m not.” He promises quickly. “I would never push you for anything you aren’t ready for, but I can’t help but think about it and if you want me to leave or move to the chair so I don’t make you uncomfortable, I will.”

"Please don't." Immediately reaching for him, your hand lands on his arm and your fingers squeeze, keeping him close even when you feel like your heart is going to pound out of your chest and you might forget how to breathe. "Don't like don't move away from me. Not don't like don't kiss me. I—" You might vibrate straight out of the bed in disbelief. "I really want to kiss you, too."

“You do?” Despite flirting, Max hadn’t considered that you might actually want to kiss him.

"I was getting ready for you to tell me that you wanted to end this before it started." Which feels terrible to admit, but you want to be honest with him. "Honestly, I...sort of figured you would have been able to...to smell how much I want to kiss you?"

Biting his lip, he considers lying to you, but he nods. “Just because you’re body is telling me yes, doesn’t mean your mind is.” He murmurs quietly, laying a hand on your arm and rubbing it gently. “I was a fucking horndog in the past, but I know boundaries.”

"I don't know how much else I'm ready for." Your hand covers his on your arm long enough to feel the difference between your burning skin and his cooler body, before your hand moves tentatively up his arm. Being allowed to touch him while you're dancing is so very different from touching him in your bed. "But I know I'm ready for this."

Max slides an arm under your body to pull you closer, shifting slightly so both of you are laying on your sides facing each other. “Queenie,” he leans in and nudges his nose against yours, eyes watching you closely. “May I kiss you?”

"Yes. Please." As far as enthusiastic consent goes, you really can't be more explicit and you don't want to just jump the gun and kiss him without answering. Lying in his arms in your bed is the last place you expected this to happen, but now that you're here it's like a dream.

He licks his lips, wetting them as his eyes flicker down to yours. Somewhere between your first sip and now, your cocoa has been pushed onto the nightstand and he can hold you without fear of spilling something hot all over you. “Good.” He murmurs, leaning in to take in your scent, mouthwatering and thick like ambrosia, before he lowers his mouth to yours.

______

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My Masterlist!

[hxltic]

i have this idea of gymnast! reader and bokuto that I can't get put of my headddd, like her going to his practice and him going to readers as well 😫 cute

Omgomg this is so cute!! I used to be a gymnast😼

The power couple. Y’all do everything together.

Before he went pro, you both attended the same college. He was captain for the last two years he was there, well known throughout campus, but mainly for reasons other than his volleyball talent. Innocent reasons, of course.

But I mean can you blame them? Look at him.

Big bright eyes, expressive and sweet. Huge too. On top of practically towering over everyone he meets, his vivacious nature makes you comfortable and him a likable person overall. It’s not surprising seeing all of the girls that would attach themselves to him.

He’d politely decline, and looking over his show-stopping smile, it provides enough comfort after being rejected to ask if they can recruit themselves as friends instead. He can’t say no to friends, especially after already saying it once, so he internally sighs and nods his head. It was awkward the first few times but he’s come to learn they never actually call. And if they text, it’s just basic conversation that he feels they don’t actually care to know about him.

You met at a meeting for the athletes held by the school, basically congratulating the hard work and achievements of the individual teams and important players. He went up in ranks for his hitting accuracy, dependability, and being an accomplished six rotation player. An overall asset to his team. He shakes the hand of his coach and an older man, taking his certificate, and standing up on the stage for the picture.

After entering the transfer portal, you were elated when one of the top scoring colleges for Women’s Collegiate Gymnastics gave you an offer. Of course you took the chance. With the sport being more of an individual achievement, even though the scoring is all added up in the end, you consistently dropped incredible numbers for the team. You like vault the best, but your teammates are in love with your floor routine and music.

So you go up next. Your hair moving behind you as you step up to your own coach and shake her hand, then receive the frame, ordered to stand right next to Bokuto.

His weight might be shifting, and his eyes may be flickering back and forth from you to the clapping audience of your peers, but he can’t help it. You’re the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

You’re only a few centimeters shorter, your skin glistens, and your pretty eyes are hid from him when your side profile leaves curly hair fallen over your ears. He forces himself to look forward for the last group picture of the ceremony, making a mental note to look up the name he’s heard called by the announcer more than once.

And he does just that. It was a little creepy at first but that was how you met. Now, you both go to the gym in your free time. He powers you through your sets, promising different motivators (new shoes) and food, while you try your best to do the same to him. Most of the time is spent giggling, but hey. Y’all work out with your respective teams on the days you’re supposed to, so does it really matter?

You mainly watch his games because some of your practices are on the same day. Watching these men swing with all their might knowing people on the other side are intended to receive the hit is insane to you. Watching who he explained is the libero throw himself around or get behind balls that seem to be barreling toward his face. You would literally shit yourself.

Meanwhile, when Bokuto comes to watch you, he admires the technical training and physicality that goes into running full speed at an inanimate object and tossing yourself around. How you manage not only to balance, but make it look pretty, and stay pretty doing it. He claims he gets sweaty and gross.

Sometimes after a workout, he’ll walk into your practice and finds a seat somewhere. He hears fast steps, vault boards going off, mats caving from being landed on—it’s all music to his ears now. He’s unironically close with your coach (as he is all the others, and the dietician), mainly because he’s around for you. You try not to get distracted by his slumped figure eyeing you from afar. It gets hard when you do full out routines at the end and you stick it.

He doesn’t truly understand the scoring and how meticulous it is, just that a fall is bad and you have to try your best not to wobble. Which is exactly why even if it wasn’t your best routine, it looked all the perfect to him, and he celebrates when you land your dismount.

There’s nothing more he loves than watching you get ready before meets. Braiding your own hair or letting your teammate do it, putting glitter of the school colors in spots on your face to match the leotard, doing the makeup, and putting the colorful bows in the bun— it’s all a process to him. You look gorgeous after, even when you’ve tucked yourself away in the school tracksuit that hides those thick legs he knows you has.

That’s what he loves most. God, your legs. Your whole physique really. Long, strong legs and thighs that could crush him. Arms that he has to remind you are sexy when you’re looking at yourself in a dress.

Bokuto is strong, he knows that. He’s been athletic and probably has never been out of shape a day in his life. To be with someone that matches his lifestyle and is amazing at her sport? He considers himself blessed. There’s nobody that understands him like you do.

©️hxltic

[stizzysupremacy]

okay. Okay so. This is ridiculous but. The idea won’t get out of my brain ever since I started rewatching an old sitcom:

Izzy Hands as The Nanny

no no hear me out.

Izzy works in his bf Ed’s tailor shop (vs a bridal shop cuz even in an au I can’t stretch to see Izzy doing anything bridal for a living) until Ed wants to give Jack Rackham Izzy’s job and oh also he wants to start dating Jack too. So Izzy is out of a job and a relationship that’s been in the pre-engagement state for years. Izzy gets a part time job selling fine chef’s knives door-to-door (instead of makeup. Because it’s a good excuse to slip Steak Knife into the story and also because my bestie used to sell knives and I love him)

Izzy happens to show up at the Bonnet mansion household around the time they were expecting their newest nanny to come for an interview. Izzy thinks he is being invited in to give his sales pitch. In classic sitcom misunderstanding it takes a while for Stede to realize that Short Dark and Handsome here is not actually a manny with a resting rage face.

But by then Izzy has had a chance to interact with Stede’s kids and his household staff. Stede has fondness for anyone who is kind to his kids and has a secret awe for anyone who seems to get along with less awkwardness than he himself does. Izzy just talks to the kids like they are adults because he doesn’t know how else to deal with tiny people except to treat them like big people. Alma appreciates it.

The rest of the household (Buttons as the butler? Lucius as a PA? Roach as chef, Jim as driver, etc you get the idea) are surprisingly on board with hiring the guy who came to the door with a briefcase full of knives to provide daily childcare. He’s got no experience or qualifications but Izzy clearly does not take shit from anyone and won’t get scared off in under two months like the last nanny.

and look, the pay is really good. Even if Mr Bonnet is supremely annoying, he pays well and the kids seem fine, old enough to entertain themselves most of the time and not be very interested in interacting with some greying old man. He can get them to school and home from school, and deal with the occasional snotty cold or scraped knee for such a huge salary, with room and board on top! plus staying in the rich part of town cuts down on the chances of running into Ed and/or Jack.

So Izzy moves into the mansion and chases the Bonnet children around for a living. (Izzy quickly learns that the kids are still young enough to love playing pirates, something Stede started with them but has been too busy to do. Izzy, wearing an eye patch and brandishing a plastic sword, taunts Stede into joining their play by challenging him to duel (yes Stede smacks his ass with his sword))

obvious stede would never get full custody lol so there’s plenty of time when the kids are with their mother and Stede’s only company in the big empty house is Izzy Hands 😮😀

[lizaluvsthis]

PART 2 HYPERFIXATION FOR SMG4: Mario looks at SMG4's browser history

Okay last one...(f-cking photos has a limit)

Previous hyperfixation (read first)

So it is true that SMG3 does torture SMG4's life by ruining his day(come back from the episode you used to be cool where smg3 said "usual")

Since the word "usual" is used from SMG3's statement after we learned from that episode where he "considered killing" him. Directly to smg4.

SPOILER...

Seems like SMG3 DOES love to put out a good show where he still makes smg4 suffer the most mildest things with apparent reasons of constant teasing for the man and Three just enjoys it.

(If SMG4 did things to ruin his life so badly, by smg4 doing so in purpose, then so should SMG3 WILL and would ruin his day back.)

Worst thing SMG3 would think of, is forgiving SMG4. Because why in hell would he do that after everything?

Not only... SMG3 hides behind his secret, and mentioning WOTFI 2021 where SMG3 said something along the lines with "try and make him cry" is and definitely puts on that SMG3 still concealed himself from his inner shell as his emotional break down to cover up the sensitive emotion he has.

And that it'd be so out of character and sudden to forgive smg4 just like that, he'd be in the usual doings of "Hell no f-cking way I'd do that just now, why would I forgive this assh-le for ruining my life?"

Because thats an emotional baggage for SMG3 to cope on, he livestreams himself on twitch to play random ass games for his stress relief because of him. SMG4 has been stuck with him for like- a decade now and this is sh-t ass ruining him

if you all shouldve noticed just now, smg4 hasnt apologized EVERYTHING to SMG3 yet. Because he wasn't sure how "emotions" and "actions" could play out from his character after he did those "assumable" things to break SMG3's dreams.

Thats simple. He's a very difficult man to comprehend with his own self thoughts, he's overwhelmed at himself to where it breaks him. If SMG3 is socially awkward to talking or making new friends, then so SMG4 is the one whos difficult to solve the problem with his causes (like saying sorry wasnt very easy for him to put out)

Cause all smg4 did was focus on his meme contents from doing what he loves, he broke three for being famous, and his cafe, with also his dreams on starting his own production, not to ALSO mention his damage to SMG3.

If smg3 would even still forgave him for doing all of that om purpose without even realizing. But to smg3, he didn't want to say he'll forgive SMG4 instead. He still recovers from each and everything from that.

Because he'd seen how fragile SMG4 is at this part. SMG4 could only rely with making his contents to get money off from youtube, to THEN paying the expenses for whatever waterbills, electricbills, his loans from the property he's paying for, foods from groceries.

Literally EVERYTHING.... he's been trying to provide and same this goes on with SMG3 where he started his coffee shop, the one who works two jobs as a twitch streamer and a cafe owner. (The reason why SMG3 gets money from thats how he could afford everything just by double timing his job)

Since smg4 doesnt know sh-t with jobs, SMG3 is up ahead him, smart enough to think. While SMG4's knowledge is a bit too unstable without any of his college experience since he didn't like school then he hates studying.

Studying helps you learn countless of things even tho its a hard challenge to try, you still need to learn either way to know bits of facts. SMG4 dropped out and didn't graduate from college, but did SMG3 continued college?

That remains unknown, but we do know for a fact he is twice as smarter than SMG4 and Mario. (God what a fabulous b-tch.)

The reason why college is important is that you can set a course of what you'd want to get a job you'd be capable of loving from. And knowing that SMG3 pays atleast too many stuff by marketing and selling or trading or who knows what from the internet to make him get that much of advantage to get enough money.

SMG3 improvised his skills to survive

And so if SMG4 could do the same he'd probably have the same braincells as his boyfriend/j

- (whoops I just realized that I moved the topic to college but eh-)

Anyway following on with our focused topic.

If SMG4 couldnt admit that he'd say sorry to SMG3, then there would be a constant loop of the friends not understanding each other.

I still have a feeling that SMG3 could almost understand, like he could see through what SMG4 has been feeling. But he couldnt show that emotion to four- it'd look WEIRD. for him. Better yet is that- SMG4 would most likely be the optimisstic one to show symapthy, but still- SMG3 is an empathetic man for SMG4.

Just so is SMG4 when he cant understand how his actions can cause consequences like smg3 for example, SMG3 didn't even do much damage to SMG4 after everything. Because what SMG3 thinks is that he- deserved it. Everything to him from what he had done to smg4- willl be always pointed at him as he only sees himself as the bad guy.

Like oh man- how assumable can smg4 be when smg3 gets something that he finally wishes to have for? Attention. And he's been the one saying "thats what we do for each other right?" When SMG4 did it his way while SMG3 has finally moved on. Like SMG4... I see you as the person who've been causing a lot by i mean ALOT. Of problems.

Four suffers because of this cause he never understands how relationships or just by general actions work, because he never had someone close to him to guide his way for understanding.

They both were literally born from a USB and then came down there to explore their new selves.

Not even once SMG4 thought about- "why did I do that to him? I should say sorry... If only I didnt destroy his cafe nor even his productions"

Its because FOUR WAS SO AFRAID. In repeat. Lets repeat this again.

Three cant forgive SMG4 because he's been having alot of thoughts from his head that would lead to the death of him.

And SMG4 cant apologize cause he's unaware of what would happen if he did. He would overthink about this... and better yet- Three's motions are unrecognizable so Four would keep on missing his chances if he'd want to say it. He wondered that if he told sorry to smg3, he'd be the one to blamed more and three would be more pissed. Because they both wanted to forget the past.

But the past is already apart of them, a memory they both went through together...

So... well- theres my fixating- :)))))

@b-r-i-n-g-x .

[lissa612]

That party scene was painfully awkward.

(Not anything to do with the BT-ness of it all…They were adorable. And then they were an audience to Eddie being blown off by his kid and his mother being oblivious to his pain)

I get where Christopher is coming from tho. It was established in the scene that they’ve done calls before and that the “uh huh” was the most reaction that he’s gotten. In three months. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result - Is Eddie doing anything else to help Christopher believe that whatever it was in him that caused him to take actions that broke his son’s heart is being worked on? I know it was just episode one but an offhand mention of therapy would make me feel more sympathetic towards Eddie.

From what we’ve seen, Eddie is just waiting for Christopher to get over it. He’s making a point to keep communication open so his kid knows he’s there (which is good), but what about doing something to reassure Chris that something like this will never happen again? Or at the very least that he’s making an effort to minimize the chances?

And I’m not talking about bringing a doppelgänger of his dead wife into his child’s home. That’s the nuke but there was an underlying issue there already. Chris has already expressed that he has trauma from women leaving his life…I know reading his mom’s letter got him to display her picture again and to maybe not play fast and loose with teenage girls’ hearts, but after all that, he gets close to another of his dad’s girlfriends only for her to be gone by his dad’s actions. When he expressed his belief that relationships with girls didn’t matter because they just leave anyway, his experience with women leaving was his mother (leaving and later dying) and Ana leaving when his dad ended the relationship. He now has another reinforcement of that belief.

Let’s not sugarcoat it because we love adorable little Christopher - This could be a hint of some latent misogyny about fickleness in women…The kid plays a lot of online games and that environment is known for radicalizing young men, especially those who are vulnerable. Or it could be that he feels there’s something in HIM that prevents the women in his life from wanting to stay (because kids often have major main character syndrome). Or maybe he does see that his father has issues with relationships and assumes he will go on to perpetuate the same behavior that was modeled to him.

Is Eddie addressing this? Is CHRISTOPHER getting the chance to address this down in El Paso or are they just pretending everything is sunshine and roses down there? Because this isn’t just a “time to cool off” situation…Yeah, that will help cooler heads prevail, but there are things to figure out and discuss - Plans on how to move forward in a way that works for them both that need to be made.

And again, this is only episode one so maybe there is just information we haven’t been given yet. Maybe this is happening. I hope it is and not just because I’m a big proponent of “Everyone can benefit from some therapy” but because I genuinely think a truly neutral party (or parties) with professional experience in grief, family dynamics, and conflict resolution will do everyone more good than just waiting for things to get better on their own.

I want to see a really good storyline come from this conflict. I think there is a lot to work with - The potential is there for major growth for Eddie as a character and for solidifying the bond between father and son as PEOPLE instead of a biological imperative. We saw Eddie and his father confront their issues head on (with Eddie bringing in some understanding that a father has to be more than a provider and that he himself fell into that trap with his marriage) and come out at least a little better for it. And Christopher and Eddie are already starting from a better position.