#did not think i could love him more but i somehow do

[befallenstars-archive]

Oh, my...I did not read the 15k words part. However, we are here.

Before I yap— Eris, have I ever told you that there's something about the way you write that catches my interest? Can't really put it into words just yet. Maybe if I read more I'll eventually formulate that feeling into words~

Alright, spoilers under the cut! And LOTS of yapping~

Blade

Going for the single bed trope I see...this'll be interesting (¬ ͜ ͡¬)

Okay, but I do find it funny that the reason he wanted to share the bed was for the reader and him to get better rest. Only for the two of them to NOT get a wink of sleep. Reader toss

Love to see a reader that doesn't back down and even takes on a challenge. And oop— would you look at that. Nobody's really getting any sleep now. Hopefully, the bed frame's sturdy enough! And that the walls are thick enough for the sake of the neighbors.

"Knowing you did that to him-that you could make this cold, calculating man lose control-sent an electric thrill through you." Mnhmmm...I'm sure it did.

I think the maintenance of professional distance flew out of the window the moment he said they should share the same bed— to which was literally made for a single person alone. Also when the reader agreed.

Please, just fuck already—

Did I get slightly absorbed in reading that I forgot to make comments? Yes. Sorry. I actually came back to drop a comment about the headboard bc I'm praying for that thing to survive the night.

Also...whoooo *fans self* there's a reason I was a bit occupied with reading than commenting. That bit was VERY distracting.

Ah, a touch of sadomasochism. Love to see it.

Personally, I've always been weak when it comes to the magic phrase "pretty girl". Always will be actually.

Hey!!! The bed frame survived. At least they'll be able to sleep comfortably now.

And the softness of the ending. From passionate and almost feral but gently holding each other and savoring the moment <333

Sunday

THE TENSION.

Ohhh, the underlying yearning and fear of speaking out because of the status. Wanting to just close that small gap and yet it feels like such a wide wedge between two people who simply want to love one another.

I am unwell.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his forehead against yours. You don't.

What if I flatline—

Yes. Go, reader! Tell him! That man's holding back too much when he already has such a gorgeous being in his arms who clearly wants him. Stop trying to play hard to get, Sunday.

Did I get distracted? AGAIN? Yes. Yes, I did.

Came back to comment when he said that he'd be gentle. Oh, his constant reassurances, and the way he does his best to memorize and savour the intimate moment with the reader. I am sighing out dreamily and swooning into a fluffy couch. He's even focusing on the reader's pleasure and comfort!!

...all these praises have me looking the side blushing and fanning myself—

THE CONFESSION. I'M TEARING UP AS WE SPEAK. THE WAY HE'S BEGGING??? I'M ON THE FLOOR.

I actually wanted to pick a dialogue to put here and fawn over but all of them are actually too good. I can't pick one. All of them are just— URGH

"His arms wrap around you, holding you close. It's a protective gesture, as if he's afraid you might slip away if he lets go."

Lemme see if I can find that one specific meme that describes how I feel rn...

AHA! FOUND IT!

Did you know? I'm actually an absolute sucker for the lines that go "You're home". Very much so. That was the final nail to the coffin.

Agrenti

Oop— fanboy behavior, huh?

Ngl, I'm fairly new to HSR so I don't really know this character. But he seems like such a sweet guy. Deserves tons of kisses.

"He didn't know whether to laugh or combust." Pretty understandable if someone as lovely and amazing as the reader offers to be your first kiss.

...giving me a wolf hidden in sheep's clothing vibes rn. Interesting. Nvm, he's still a sweetheart <3

He reminds me of a bunny somehow. Like I just wanna pet him and reassure him that he's fine. Very adorable too hehe

Reader has this man completely in the palm of their hand, I fear. Dude is absolutely SMITTEN.

He's so sweet huhu

The ending!! So soft and lovely. Just two people just enjoying the connection they have.

Aventurine

I will never tire of the way you write the reader, Eris! The sassy and confident attitude? Oh, please! I might just started simping for her instead of the men at this point—

"I’m pretty sure the only thing you’ve carried is that overinflated ego of yours.” IM WHEEZING AS WE SPEAK.

“What can I say? You’re entertaining, like a fancy slot machine with nice hair.” *cue incoherent fox wheezing noises* NO BC I AM IN LOVE WITH THESE REMARKS.

I just know the dealer's just there looking up to the ceiling and praying to whatever aeon there is to let the reader and this man just get a room before he has to call for both security and clean-up service.

Was the gap between feedbacks a bit...lengthy? Yes. But in my defense it's only 'cuz a certain writer over here really knows her way with words on how to make the tension so thick and palpable that I'm too busy drowning in it to make any comments.

"Let me take care of you." I dunno if you'll be able to tell which part I am on rn but I promise you that I am absolutely blushing and burying my face against my pillows.

"He moans in response" I am currently dying from a nosebleed.

Unsurprisingly, I'm weak towards the specific petname "love"...

I absolutely adore the softness of it all afterwards. My heart's melting huhu

Dr. Ratio

*breathes in*

THE INTIMACY—

Good gods, I am over here just reading the first scenes and I can already feel the tension seeping into my bones. I'm just here with a hand over my mouth, and completely invested in the way this all unfolds.

This one feels so...intimate somehow. I can't really explain it and I am absolutely loving it. I think it's in the way that most of the time the reader is more fiery and sassy while here? It feels like there's a bit more depth to it. Such a good read and I'm literally still at the first part.

"Let's move somewhere private." Yeah, I agree since I recall Aventurine saying they'll be back in a bit. Hell, I'm not even gonna be surprised if they were in the shadows making bets about how this all goes, and didn't want to disturb the moment.

"His words were sincere, giving you an out if you needed it. But the way his eyes roamed over your face, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours, betrayed his own longing." + "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

I AM WEAK IN THE KNEES FOR THIS.

"He stepped back slightly, giving you a moment to take in the sight of him..." Hands on my hips rn. I also had to take a moment to go 'Really?' with an exasperated expression on my face.

Devotion. First word that came to mind. I adore that so so very much.

I am feeling this fic was definitely the favorite child.

Wait. Just finished the fic. Lemme gather my thoughts. That— I...uhm..how...wow. Who knew a smut at 8AM could render me speechless in a good way, eh?

I just KNOW this fic was definitely the favorite child. Though the ending was a lot more bittersweet than I expected huhu

Jing Yuan

Ah, last but not the least. Unsure how to feel abt this one since I found him unnerving when I first met him in-game.

"Stop thinking so much." Goddamn, I wish it were a switch I could just turn off—

WELL, THAT THREW ME OFF-GUARD.

Was I once again sucked into the tension that I completely forgot to make comments? Yes. I'm sorry. It's not my fault. Eris writes them too well.

By this point, I truly have a love and hate relationship with this man. Do I still find him unnerving? Yes. But he also extremely attractive that it's unfair when matched with the honeyed-tongue of his.

Struggling rn/lh

...having even more mixed feelings abt Jing Yuan bc of this fic—

But alas! Setting that aside...

Eris, I am positively in love with your writing <3

༉‧₊˚. Turning Page ˚.₊༉

Ft. Sunday ノ Blade ノ Aventurine ノ Dr Ratio ノ Jing Yuan ノ Argenti

sum: unintended one night stands with hsr men wc: 15.7k (roughly 2k - 3k per part)

contains: fempovノpnv (unprotected), creampie, (protected in argenti's), oral (receiving and giving), fingering, handjob, college au in argenti's, royal au in sunday's, both had been drinking in ratio's, legal age gap in jing yuan's, loss of virginity (reader's in sunday's part & argenti's in his part)

a/n: argenti's just so sweet <333

༉ - 2k

The safe house was cramped and freezing, with bare walls that felt as though they'd been forgotten by time. The mission was far from over, and so was the night. Blade had insisted on sharing the only bed, his reasoning being that it made more sense for both of you to rest.

You didn’t argue, at least not openly—but as the minutes dragged on, frustration slowly began to creep in.

But beneath it all, there was an undercurrent, a taut thread of tension that whispered of something unspoken—a frustration you weren’t ready to confront.

The bed was far too small for two people. You could feel his presence constantly, his shoulder brushing against yours with every move you made. It was impossible to ignore the heat radiating from his body, or the quiet tension hanging in the air. The silence between you felt suffocating, far too thick.

You shifted again, desperate to find a comfortable spot, but it was futile. His warmth pressed into your side, too close for comfort. No matter which way you turned, there was only more of him—his body right there, almost too much. You tried to pull away, but the space was so tight you were only met with the sharp edges of the bed, forcing you back into him.

“Stop moving,” Blade muttered, his voice low and laced with irritation. But there was something else, a tension that hinted at a deeper frustration.

“This bed barely fits one person, let alone two,” you shot back, your tone tighter than you intended.

He didn’t miss a beat, “You’re welcome to take the floor.”

It wasn’t a real suggestion, the teasing smirk in his voice was undeniable. You huffed, exasperated, letting out a frustrated sigh as the bed creaked under the smallest of movements. It was maddening—this small space, the constant proximity, his body so close that your nerves hummed with awareness. It wasn’t just frustration anymore. Your heart was racing, and not for reasons you wanted to admit.

Neither of you spoke for what felt like an eternity. The only sounds were your breathing and the ruffling of the duvet. Then Blade's voice sliced through that quiet like a knife. "You're too tense," he said, softer than before but with an edge. "Relax.”

You nearly laughed. Relax? In a bed this small, pressed up against him, with everything swirling between you? It was impossible. Instead, you shifted again, purposefully leaning just a little more into him, testing his patience.

He stiffened, just slightly. "Stop."

It wasn't an order, per se- more of a warning beneath the restraint of desire. The space between you was alive, humming with an unspoken something. Perhaps it was that frustrated buzz of being too close, or perhaps it was simply fatigue from the mission.

"I don't think either of us is getting any sleep tonight," you murmured.

Blade's response was a low grumble, his voice rougher than before. "You're right." Then, ever so slightly, he moved closer, closing the gap until you could feel the heat of his body right against yours again. That subtle shift was enough for your breath to catch in your throat, and the space between you began pulsating with something far more dangerous than mere proximity.

He shifted; his eyes razor-sharp as he spoke, his voice low, almost too calm. "If you're going to keep fidgeting, just say what it is you want.”

You shifted again, your body moving against his in a slow, deliberate motion. The air between you wasn’t just charged—it was thick with unspoken desires and the undeniable pull of him. His heat radiated against your back, his presence a magnetic force that sent a shiver cascading down your spine.

"I don’t know what I want," you murmured, your voice a betrayal. The words faltered under the weight of their lie, and you knew he heard it too. You did know and so did he.

Blade's eyes narrowed, his gaze nearly predatory. "Don't play games," he warned, his voice low.

You could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against your ass, insistent and unmistakable. It sent an electric jolt right to your core, making your breath hitch. Knowing you did that to him-that you could make this cold, calculating man lose control-sent an electric thrill through you.

You bit your lip, fighting a moan as Blade's erection pressed even harder against your ass. The intense heat coming off his body seeped into your skin. You knew you should pull away, maintain the professional distance between, but temptation just proved too strong.

You arched your back, pushing against him. A low groan rumbled from his lips and you could feel his control slipping, his resolve crumbling under the weight of his need.

"Don't tease," he growled, low and rough with desire. His fingers gripped your skin, firm and possessive, leaving faint crescents in their wake. A warning, a promise. You should stop this—walk away before the fire consumes you both. But you didn’t. Instead, your body moved of its own accord, your back arching again, pressing your ass against him with deliberate insistence.

The low, guttural sound that escaped his lips was almost feral, reverberating through you and igniting something wild. Blade’s hand slid up your thigh, his fingertips grazing the edge of your shorts. You knew you should probably stop this but as his fingers hovered, promising more, the pull of temptation was too strong and you couldn’t push him away. You didn’t want to.

"Blade." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His fingers curled around your thigh, jerking you closer. "Don't say my name like that," he growled, his voice low and rough with wanting. "Not unless you mean it."

You reached back deliberately, slowly, your hand finding his wrist. But instead of pushing him away, you pulled his hand higher, guiding his fingers to the damp heat between your legs. A low groan escaped his lips as he felt how wet you were, how much you wanted this.

Blade's fingers circled your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan. His touch was electric, making your body shake with need.

His fingers slid lower, teasing your entrance, and making you ache for more. You arched your back, pressing your ass harder against his bulge. The friction was maddening; the heat between your bodies was almost unbearable.

"Please," you whispered. The word slipped out before you could catch it. "Blade, please."

The low growl was his immediate response, and his fingers slipped inside you. "Fuck," he growled, sounding rough with desire. "You're so wet."

You gasped as Blade's fingers plunged deep inside you, your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more. His other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he thrust his fingers in and out, setting a brutal pace that had you seeing stars.

"That’s it-" he purred, his voice low and rough, sending shivers skittering down your spine. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, the words a seductive growl. "Take what you need."

The thought of his cock filling you, made your head spin. Your hand moved instinctively, fingers fumbling in a desperate attempt to free his cock. Blade's breath caught as your fingers reached around to his cock, stroking him through the fabric of his pants. You turned in his arms, facing him now, his eyes were dark with lust as you straddled him. "I want you," you breathed.

His hands gripped your hips,  "Are you sure?" he growled, his voice rough with restraint.

You nodded, your lips skimming his.

His resolve shattered. You reached between your bodies, your hand slipping inside his pants to free him. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy in your hand, the tip slick with precum. You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slowly, teasing him, delighting in the low, guttural sound that rumbled through his chest. Blade’s control cracked further as his hips jerked into your hand.

"I'm sure," you breathed, positioning yourself above him. "I want you to fuck me, Blade. I need it."

With that, you sank down onto him, taking his cock deep inside you in one smooth motion. A low moan tore from your throat at the sensation of being stretched and filled so completely. Blade's hands tightened on your hips, his fingers leaving bruises in their wake.

"Fuck," he growled, his head falling back against the pillow. "You feel so good."

You started to move, rising up and sinking back down, finding a rhythm that had sparks of pleasure shooting through your body with each thrust. Blade matched your movements, his hips snapping up to meet yours, driving himself deeper inside you.

The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin on skin, the bed creaking beneath you while you rode him.

"Harder," you demanded, your nails raking down his chest. "Fuck me harder."

Blade's response was to flip you onto your back, never once slipping out of you. He loomed over you, his eyes wild and hungry, his hips pistoning into you with a force that had the headboard slamming against the wall.

Your legs coiled around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, urging him to claim you fully. A moan tore from your lips, unbridled and desperate. "Yes," you gasped, your fingers clutching the sheets as his cock stretched and filled you, the sensation both overwhelming and addicting. "Don’t stop—just like that."

He silenced you with a bruising kiss, his mouth crashing against yours with a fervour that bordered on feral. His tongue danced against yours, matching the rhythm of his hips, exploring and claiming. You met him with equal hunger, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, the taste of copper blooming as you bit down. The sharp pain only seemed to drive him wilder.

Blade’s rhythm faltered for a moment, becoming chaotic, each thrust harder, deeper, as if he was losing control. His breath was ragged against your mouth, his groan reverberating low in his chest. "Fuck," he growled, the word guttural, strained, trembling with need. "I’m so close."

Your nails raked down his sweat-slicked back, leaving fiery trails along his skin. "Me too," you managed between breathless gasps, your body arching into him, seeking the climax coiling tight within you. "Don’t stop. Please don’t stop."

His movements turned punishing, each drive a collision of raw power and desperation, his body demanding your surrender. The pressure inside you built to a fever pitch, a tether about to snap. Blade’s voice cut through the haze, low and commanding, "Come for me, pretty girl."

Those words, spoken with such command, were enough to send you over the edge. Your body convulsed, your inner walls clamping down around Blade's cock as your orgasm crashed over you in waves of intense, overwhelming pleasure.

"Yes -God yes!" you cried out, your head thrown back.

Blade followed, his hips slamming into you one final time as his release overtook him. His guttural groan was almost primal, his cock throbbing inside you as he poured himself into you, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm as some of his cum dripped out, running down your thighs.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was of your mingled breaths. Your bodies shone with sweat, were entwined. His weight pressed you into the mattress, exhaustion in his muscles.

Blade’s lips brushed against your temple, softer now, a contrast to the raw passion that had consumed you both moments before. And as your heartbeats slowed, his presence became the only thing you knew—a warmth, a gravity, pulling you under.

Blade rolled onto his back beside you, his arm pulling you close. You snuggled into his side, your head resting on his chest.

"That was..." you started, but words failed you.

Blade chuckled softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "It was."

༉ - 2.8k

The corridors are quieter than usual tonight, save for the faint echo of your footsteps and the sound of Sir Sunday’s armour as he walks beside you. You have done this many times before: this midnight escort from the ballroom to your chambers, accompanied by your knight. But there was something about tonight that felt different and maybe that’s because the event was hosted to find you a suitor.

The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of your gown against the polished floor. His presence always feels heavier, and there's an edge to the air between you, something unsaid pressing against the confines of propriety.

"They were all good choices," Sunday says at last, in a low and even tone.

Your brow furrows. "Were they?"

He doesn't look at you as he replies. "I'd expect so. The court wouldn't invite anyone unworthy.".

You look over at him, catching the faint tension in his jaw. There's something restrained in the way he speaks tonight, something tightly wound beneath the surface. "And yet, I didn't choose any of them.".

He exhales sharply, the sound barely audible over his steps. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”

You slow your pace just enough that he has to adjust his stride to match. “Would you like to know them?”

His gaze flickers toward you briefly, a flash of gold under the dim light. “I doubt they’re for me to know, Your Highness.”

You stop to face him. The soft light casts shadows across his features, sharp and unreadable as always, but there’s something in his stance—a slight hesitation, the way his hand hovers just above the hilt of his sword—that betrays him.

"Maybe they are," you say, softer now, your voice barely enough to draw his attention fully.

For a moment, the distance between you feels insurmountable, though it's only a step or two. He doesn't speak, doesn't move, but his eyes search yours, as if trying to piece together what you're not saying aloud.

"I dismissed them all because none of them felt…" You pause, to think over the words. "....Right."

Sunday's grip tightens on the hilt of his sword. "You'll have to choose eventually," he says, deliberately keeping his voice neutral. "The court won't let you wait forever.".

"And what if I don't want to?"

The question hangs in the air, daring him to respond. You watch the flicker of something in his expression—surprise, perhaps, or maybe something deeper, something he’s worked too hard to keep buried.

“You’re the princess,” he says, but the words are softer this time, almost hesitant.

"And you're my knight," you reply, closing the distance.

He doesn't back up, but you notice the way his shoulders tense. "Exactly. And that is all I can be.".

Your breath catches at how his voice drops on the last word. There's no anger in it, no bitterness—only a quiet resignation.

"You think so, huh?" you whisper, not much louder than a whisper.

He turns away, tongue against his cheek. "I do."

You lift a hand before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing against the cold steel of his chest plate. The contrast between the armour and the warmth of the man beneath it sends a shiver through you. He freezes at the contact, his gaze snapping back to yours.

"Sunday…". His name is too familiar on your lips, but you can't stop.

"Don't." His voice is rough, but his hand rises, fingers curling loosely around your wrist. He doesn't pull you away, though; he doesn't move at all. "If you say anything else, I won't be able to forget it."

"Maybe I don't want you to."

The words have barely left your lips when he takes a step closer, erasing the distance between you. His eyes still remain so intense that they're pinning you in place, but there's a flicker of uncertainty there, too.

"This isn't a decision you can take lightly," he says in a low, hoarse voice.

"I already have."

He watches you, a silence building between you, gaining more and more weight with each passing second. Then, as if something inside him finally snaps, he lets go of your wrist only to frame your face with both hands.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his forehead against yours.

You don't.

His breath catches as you lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When you open them again, "I won't ask again," he whispers, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly that you are sure he can hear it. But you don't step back. You don't tell him to stop. You simply tilt your chin up, just a fraction, an invitation he doesn't need twice.

His lips brush against yours, tender at first, then pressing. It's the sort of kiss that seems like one great confession, revelation, and promise all at once. His hands move to the small of your back, drawing you closer, and you can't help but melt into him, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his tunic.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathing hard. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and there’s a hunger in his gaze that makes your stomach flip.

"We can't…" he begins, but the words are half-hearted, not very convincing.

"We can," you correct, your voice steadier than you feel.

He looks at you for a long moment, something fierce and tender warring in his expression. Then, with a low groan, he surges forward again, capturing your lips with his own. This kiss is harder, more urgent, and you can feel the way his body trembles against yours.

“Your chambers” he mumbles against your mouth. “Now.”

Without any warning, he sweeps you into his arms, cuddling you against his chest as he heads down the hall. Your heart races with the sudden motion, but you do nothing to protest it-merely wrapping your arms around his neck for balance.

The castle is quiet at this time of night, most people having gone to bed. You feel as though you have the whole world to yourselves as Sunday carries you swiftly through the halls, his footsteps echoing in the stillness.

He doesn’t wait around when you reach your chambers: he kicks the door shut behind you and pins you against it with his body, hands roaming over your curves, mapping out your form through the layers of your gown.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he growls, his lips trailing hot kisses along your jawline. “Wanted you.”

You arch into him, your head falling back as you let him in closer. "Then take me," you whisper, fingers curling in his hair.

He makes a low sound in his throat, something between a groan and a growl. His fingers find the fastenings of your dress and begin to undo them one by one, till the fabric pools at your feet. You stand before him clad in nothing other than your chemise, the thin material doing little to mask the signs of your body's reaction to his touch.

His gaze rakes over you, hungry and appreciative. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist.

He lifts you easily and sets you down on the bed. The sheets are cold against your bare skin as he lays you down, his body following yours, looking down at you with an intensity that takes the breath from your lungs.

"You sure about this?" he asks low, his voice rough with emotion.

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life," you whisper.

That seems to be the only confirmation he needs. He bends down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that sends a tide of heat through your body, his tongue plunging into your mouth to taste you thoroughly. You moan against his lips, your hands roving over his hard back.

His lips trail down your neck, tracing a path of fire in their wake. He pauses to suckle at your pulse point, and you can feel the way your heart races beneath his tongue. His hands slip under your chemise, and his calloused fingers skim the sensitive skin of your stomach.

"Sunday-" you gasp, arching into his touch.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “Just relax.”

You do your best to listen, focusing on the feel of his hands on your skin. He explores you at leisure, learning every dip and curve, every spot that makes you sigh or whimper. By the time he carefully removes your panties, you're trembling with need.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with wanting. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he says, his fingers teasing at your entrance.

"Don't-please-."

He pauses, his fingers stilling above your pussy. His eyes meet yours, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. "Are you-" he starts, his voice soft.

You nod, knowing exactly what he’s going to ask, "I've never…”

His expression softens further, if that’s even possible. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises. “We’ll take this slow.”

As you nod, he drops between your legs and his breath ghosts over your folds. He starts off slow, his tongue tracing delicate patterns and teasing you with light touches until, gradually, the pressure builds up, licking and sucking on your clit until you're gasping and writhing beneath him.

His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he works you with his mouth. He is patient, very attentive, judging by your reactions and modulating his technique accordingly. When you're trembling near the edge, he slips a finger inside you, then two, stretching you slowly.

"That's it," he mutters, his voice muffled against your skin.

He groans against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers through you. "You taste so fucking good," he mumbles, his words just a little slurred. "Can't get enough."

As he continues to lap at your clit, his free hand slides down his own body, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. You can hear the slick sound of skin on skin as he begins to stroke himself.

"Fuck," he gasps, his hips bucking into his hand. "Want to be inside you so badly."

He redoubles his efforts, his tongue delving deep, his fingers pumping faster. The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, and you can feel your orgasm building, your inner walls starting to flutter around his fingers.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "Come for me, baby. I want to taste you."

With a few more well-placed licks, you're there, crying out as pleasure crashes over you in waves. He laps at your release, his own hand moving frantically over his cock, his groans muffled from where he’s buried himself against your folds.

He easily settles himself between your thighs, his cock at your entrance. His eyes were filled with a mixture of lust and tenderness as he looked down at you.

"You ready?" he asks, his voice low and rough.

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Yes," you whisper. "I'm ready."

With a low groan, he starts to push inside, slow and careful with his movements. There's only a slight sting as he pushes in deeper, his eyes widening in concern.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face. "No, I'm okay. Please, don't stop."

He searches your eyes for a moment, then nods, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

You can feel every inch of him as he stretches you, filling you in a way you never have been filled before; it's agonisingly slow, but he refuses to be selfish and make this about his own pleasure.

"Fuck," he gasps, his forehead resting against yours. "You feel incredible."

He gives you a moment to adjust, his hips pressed flush against yours. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and shallow at first. Each drag of his cock against your sensitive walls sends sparks of pleasure through you, and you can't help but moan.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "Let me hear you."

He increases his pace gradually, his hands gripping your hips for leverage. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your gasps and cries.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans. His tongue delves into your mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his hips.

"You're taking me so well," he praises, his breath hot against your ear. "Such a good girl."

His hips roll in a steady rhythm, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through you. One hand slides up your side, cupping your breast and thumbing your nipple. The dual sensations make you gasp into his mouth.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours. "So perfect."

He shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. You cry out as he hits a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you.

"There," he groans, doing it again. "Is that good?"

You can only nod, your nails digging into his back as he drives you higher and higher. The pleasure builds with each stroke, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

He groans, his hips snapping forward as he buries himself deep inside you. "Fuck, angel," he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. "I love you. I've loved you for so long."

The confession bursts from his lips in something like prayer, and his eyes shine with its vehemence. It is as though a dam has burst inside him and all his pent-up feelings are pouring out in this moment.

"I know you're s'posed to pick one from the court," he goes on, his pistoning never flagging. "But don't. Please. Don't give yourself to anybody else."

His hands clamp down on your hips, fingers digging in soft. "Choose me," he begs, his voice cracking. "Be mine. Only mine."

You can almost feel the desperation in his words, the raw need. It's readily apparent how the thought of you with another man is tearing him apart.

"I'll do anything," he whispers, his forehead against yours. "Anything to keep you. Just say you'll be mine."

His words are like a warm bath washing over you, filling your heart full of something that has nothing to do with physical pleasure. In this moment, you know without a single doubt that you want to be his and his alone. 

"I'm yours," you breathe, legs wrapping around his waist. "Now and always." He surges forward, capturing your lips in a reverent, passionate kiss. He picks up speed, his hips moving faster, harder, as though he's trying to pour every ounce of love he has into you.

"I love you," he gasps against your mouth. "I love you so much."

His thrusts grow more erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Fuck," he groans. "I'm close. So close."

You could feel him throbbing inside of you, his cock pulsing with each stroke. Your pleasure was mounting to a crescendo as well, your inner walls fluttering around him.

"Come with me," he pleads, voice ragged. "I want to feel you come undone." His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, and that's all it takes. You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking with the force of it. 

He follows a moment later, his hips stuttering as he spills himself deep inside you. He falls on top of you, his weight pinning you to the mattress. His cock still is buried deep inside, pulsating with aftershocks of his orgasm.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "That was... incredible," he murmurs, his voice muffled.

His arms wrap around you, holding you close. It's a protective gesture, as if he's afraid you might slip away if he lets go.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his lips brushing your pulse point. "Don't leave me."

You curl into him, relishing the feeling of his body against yours. "I'm not going anywhere," you promise. "I'm right here."

He sighs contentedly, his grip on you loosening slightly. "Good," he murmurs. "Because I don't think I could bear it if you married any of them."

You smile, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his back. In this moment, everything feels right. The world outside might be chaos, but here, in his arms, you're safe. You're home.

༉ - 3.1k

Argenti sat on the floor of your dorm room, trying his best not to feel completely out of place. He’d been here a few times already—enough to recognise the familiar scent of citrus from the candles you always kept burning. But even so, it still felt a little surreal. You, the girl everyone at the university seemed to know and admire, had somehow invited him into your space.

He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. One night, a random chat at a party turned into shared laughs, then another conversation, until the two of you were talking long after your friends had left. Since then, you’d found reasons to hang out, even though it seemed to baffle everyone around you. You, the social butterfly, and him, the reserved guy who somehow ended up regularly meeting up with you outside of classes.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” you suddenly said, breaking the comfortable silence as you lounged on your bed.

“What’s weird?” Argenti asked, glancing up from the guitar pick he’d been absentmindedly fiddling with.

“Us.” You made a vague gesture between the two of you, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I mean, we’re just very different”

Argenti blinked, unsure of what you meant. Was it a good different? Or a bad one? “I—I guess,” he stammered, his voice unsure. “But it works, doesn’t it?”

You tilted your head, studying him with an expression he couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, it does,” you finally said, your smile softening. “You’re sweet, Argenti.”

“Thanks?” he mumbled, his face warming up. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but the compliment made him feel a little lighter.

You laughed at his blush suddenly wondering if there was a reason he became so flustered over small things. Sitting up, you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

Argenti froze, his face going red in an instant. “Uh… why?”

You shrugged, clearly amused by his reaction. “Because you’ve got that look. You know, like you’ve thought about it a lot but never actually done it.”

“I don’t… have a look,” he muttered, but even his awkward attempt to brush it off didn’t work. “But no. I haven’t.”

Your eyes widened, and then you laughed—a genuine, playful laugh that felt more teasing than mean. “Wait, seriously? Not even like a dare or something?”

He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you. “No,” he mumbled, feeling heat crawl up his neck. “I just… never really had the chance.”

You didn’t let up. “You’re telling me you’ve gone your whole life without even one kiss?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” he blurted out, immediately regretting it. He winced, wishing he could take the words back.

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, the teasing gleam in your eyes shifting into something more playful. “Are you saying you want to change that?”

“I—I didn’t mean—” Argenti stammered, his face burning. But then your hand brushed lightly against his arm, and he looked up to find you studying him, a mysterious glint in your eyes.

“You want me to teach you?” you asked, your voice quiet now, though still carrying that playful edge.

His heart skipped a beat. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

“Relax, Argenti,” you said, leaning in just a little closer. “I’m not doing this out of pity. Trust me, you’re a good looking guy, pretty face.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or combust, but before he could say anything, you were already moving in, your gaze locked on his as you tilted your head. “Okay,” you murmured, voice soft. “Here’s how this works. Don’t overthink it. Just… follow my lead, alright?”

He nodded, his thoughts jumbled as he fought to find his bearings. Then your lips brushed against his—gentle, almost tentative, testing the waters. It was quick, almost too quick, and when you pulled away, you studied him with an amused expression, clearly pleased by the way he’d reacted.

Argenti’s mind spun for a moment, still reeling from the sudden soft pressure of your lips. But as your eyes met his again, something inside him clicked. The hesitation, the awkwardness—it all seemed so distant now. This was real, and there was no way he was going to let it slip away.

Without thinking, his hand rose to cup your cheek, gently pulling you toward him. His heart raced as the space between you vanished, and in a smooth motion, he leaned in again, this time with a newfound confidence.

The kiss came quickly, without hesitation, and it was unrestrained, still soft, but with a sense of urgency he hadn’t expected. He kissed you with intention now, the sweetness and eagerness spilling out in the way his lips moved against yours. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, pulling you just a little closer as if he wanted to lose himself in the moment. He’d never felt anything like this before.

The kiss wasn’t perfect. He stumbled a little, his lips not quite finding the rhythm, a few moments of clumsy movement as he tried to keep up. But in that imperfection, there was something pure. There was something real about it. Each time his lips brushed against yours, a little out of sync, you were patient, guiding him back.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a seasoned kisser. He made up for it with sweetness—lingering just a little longer than necessary, his hand never leaving your cheek, as if it was the only thing that mattered in the world. Each time he leaned back in, he was driven by a need to prove that he could do this, that he wanted to be here with you.

When he finally pulled back, his breath coming in shallow gasps, he couldn’t help but glance up at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as if he’d just run a marathon. His lips were swollen, and a nervous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “I probably messed that up.”

But when your gaze met his, there was no judgement, only amusement—and something softer, something deeper in your eyes.

“No,” you said gently, tracing your fingers along his jaw. “You didn’t mess it up. It was… sweet. Really sweet.”

Argenti’s heart did a flip at the praise, and the knot in his stomach began to loosen. “I just—wanted to do it right,” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t want to mess it up with you.”

You smiled, that familiar teasing gleam still in your eyes, but now with something warmer behind it. “Well, you didn’t. And if it helps, I think you’ve got a lot of potential. It’s just… practice.” You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling mischievously. “And maybe a little bit of confidence. But don’t worry, I’m happy to teach you.”

The words sent a thrill through him. “I think I could learn from you,” he said, his voice a little breathless, his smile genuine. He was starting to feel more at ease, less unsure of himself. “I don’t mind practising.”

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing across his cheek, sending another wave of warmth through him. “Good,” you said, your voice light but sincere. “Because I’m not letting you off that easily.”

He leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, eliminating any distance between your bodies.

He could feel the warmth of your skin through your clothes, could smell the faint scent of your perfume. It was dizzying, overwhelming in the best way. He lost himself in the sensation, in the taste of your lips, the softness of your mouth.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard. Argenti's eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire. "I want..." he started, then faltered, unsure how to put the ache inside him into words.

"What do you want, Argenti?" you asked, your voice a husky whisper. Your hands slid down his chest, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.

"I want to touch you," he breathed, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. "I want to see you" He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I want you."

He watched as your eyes searched his face, saw the moment understanding dawned. A slow, seductive smile spread across your lips, and your fingers tightened on his shirt. "Then show me what you want." you whispered, your voice low and sultry.

Argenti's breath caught, his body responding instantly to your words. Emboldened, he reached for you, his hands finding the hem of your shirt. Slowly, he lifted it, revealing inch after inch of smooth, warm skin. He drank in the sight of you, committing every curve and dip to memory.

When the shirt fell away, he leaned in, pressing his lips to the hollow of your throat. You tilted your head back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses along your collarbone. His hands roamed your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra.

He could feel your heart racing beneath his touch, could hear the hitch in your breath as his fingers found the clasp of your bra. With a deft movement, he unhooked it, letting the garment fall away. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, naked from the waist up, your breasts full and perfect.

Unable to resist, he cupped one in his palm, marvelling at the feel of it, the softness. He thumbed your nipple, watching it pebble under his touch. Your breath hitched, and you arched into him, wordlessly encouraging him.

He took the hardened nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as he lavished attention on your breasts, alternating between gentle sucking and teasing nips.

Your skin was hot beneath his hands, your body pliant and responsive. He could feel the heat building between your legs, could sense your arousal growing with each passing moment. It spurred him on, fuelled his own desire.

“Let me-” you whispered, wanting to help him out, noticing his obvious bulge.

Argenti's breath hitched as your hands moved to his belt, your fingers deftly working to undo the buckle. He watched, transfixed, as you slowly unzipped his jeans, your knuckles brushing against his straining erection.

He swallowed hard, his hips twitching involuntarily at the contact. "I want to make you feel good too," he managed to say, his voice rough with need.

You smiled, a wicked gleam in your eyes. "Patience," you purred, pushing his jeans and boxers down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip. Argenti groaned, his head falling back as pleasure coursed through him. "Fuck," he gasped, his hips bucking into your touch.

You increased your pace, your grip firm but gentle. Your other hand cupped his balls, rolling them in your palm. "It’s pretty" you murmured, your breath hot against his ear.

Argenti's heart raced as your hand worked him over, pleasure sparking through his veins with each stroke. His cock throbbed in your grip, the sensation almost too intense to bear.

"Your hand—it feels incredible," he panted, his voice strained with need.

You smiled, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him. Your thumb swiped over the sensitive head, smearing the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there. You lowered your head, your tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up his shaft. Argenti's breath caught, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

You took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. Your tongue swirled around him as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each descent. The wet heat of your mouth was exquisite, driving Argenti wild with pleasure. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he fought the urge to thrust into you.

You hummed around him, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

Argenti's grip on your hair tightened as you took him deeper, your throat constricting around his throbbing cock. The sensation was indescribable, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Pleasure built at the base of his spine, coiling tighter and tighter with each pass of your tongue.

He could feel his orgasm approaching, the tightening of his muscles. But he didn't want this to end, not yet. He wanted to savour every moment, every sensation.

He quickly pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. You looked up at him, your lips swollen, your eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

"I need to be inside you," he rasped, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you around me when I come."

You chuckle at his neediness as you lean across your bed, grabbing a condom from your drawer.

Argenti's eyes widened as you retrieved a condom from your drawer, a mix of anticipation and nerves fluttering in his stomach. He watched as you tore open the packet and then rolled the condom onto his cock, your fingers brushing against his sensitive skin, making him shudder.

Once the condom was in place, you turned around, giving Argenti a tantalising view of your ass as you bent over slightly. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs, revealing your pussy to him.

Argenti's mouth went dry at the sight, his cock twitching with renewed interest. He stepped forward, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he pressed himself against you. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin.

Argenti's hands trembled slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his condom-sheathed cock nudging against your slick folds. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, beckoning him to plunge inside.

"I've never done this before," he admitted softly, his voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and excitement. "I want to do it right. I want to make you feel good."

You glanced back at him over your shoulder, a reassuring smile on your lips. "Just go slow," you murmured, reaching back to guide him forward. "And don't worry about doing it perfectly. Just focus on how it feels."

Argenti nodded, taking a deep breath as he began to push forward. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever experienced - the tight heat of your pussy enveloping him, drawing him deeper. He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he savoured the feeling. Inch by inch, he sank into you, until he was buried to the hilt.

Argenti bit down on his lip, fighting the urge to come right then and there. The sensation of being inside you was overwhelming, your tight heat gripping him like a vice. He could feel every flutter of your walls around his cock, every pulse of your arousal.

"Shit-” he gasped, his hips twitching involuntarily.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. He wanted this to last, wanted to make it good for you.

Slowly, carefully, he began to move, pulling out until just the tip remained inside before sliding back in. He set a steady rhythm, rocking into you with deep, measured strokes. Your moans filled the room, spurring him on. He could feel your body responding to his, your hips pushing back to meet his thrusts.

"Is this good?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Your reassuring moans and the way your body moved against his told Argenti all he needed to know. He continued to thrust, gradually increasing his pace as he grew more confident.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your breathy gasps and his low groans. Sweat beaded on his brow as he lost himself in the sensation, in the feel of your body beneath his. He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in his core. But he held back, determined to make sure you reached your peak first.

His hand slid around your hip, finding your clit. He rubbed in slow circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Argenti's fingers worked your clit in time with his thrusts, the dual stimulation driving you closer to the edge. He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around him as your pleasure mounted.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice low and rough. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

Your moans grew louder, more urgent, and Argenti knew you were close. He redoubled his efforts, thrusting harder, faster, his fingers circling your clit with increasing pressure.

Suddenly, your back arched, your head thrown back in ecstasy as your orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy clenched around him, rippling along his cock, and Argenti groaned, the sensation pushing him over the brink.

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he came hard. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, his vision whiting out as he rode out the intensity of his release.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both lost in the aftermath of your shared climax. Finally, Argenti slipped out of you, disposing of the condom before collapsing beside you on the bed. He turned his head to look at you, a lazy smile on his lips.

Argenti's heart swelled at the gentle press of your lips against his forehead. The simple, tender gesture spoke volumes, conveying a depth of care and affection that he'd never experienced before.

He reached up, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulled you down for a soft, lingering kiss. It was different from the heated passion of before, this kiss. It was sweet, almost chaste, a physical manifestation of the connection growing between you.

When you pulled away, he gazed into your eyes, his own shining with a mix of contentment and wonder.

“You’re a natural.” you joke with a soft laugh as you wrap your arms around him.

Argenti chuckled, the sound deep and rich as he rested his head against your chest. "I think I'm a quick learner."

༉ - 2.5k

The casino floor was alive with energy, especially  at your table. You and Aventurine had been on a streak for so long it was starting to turn heads. Chips piled up in neat stacks in front of you both, the gleam of gold and the scent of success making the night feel almost unreal.

“Another win,” Aventurine announced casually as the dealer slid another stack his way. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, the picture of effortless cool. “But let’s be real here. This run? It’s all because of me. Clearly, I’m your lucky charm.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms as you gave him an incredulous look. “You’re my lucky charm? I think you’ve got that backwards. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

He chuckled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Oh, is that how it is? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like I’ve been carrying this team all night.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Carrying? Please. I’m pretty sure the only thing you’ve carried is that overinflated ego of yours.”

Aventurine laughed, a low, warm sound that sent a pleasant thrill up your spine. He tilted his head, his gaze locking with yours in a way that made your pulse quicken. “You talk a big game for someone who wouldn’t be winning without me. Admit it—you’re having fun because I’m here.”

You leaned in closer, matching his energy. “Oh, absolutely,” you said, voice dripping with mock sincerity. “It’s so much fun watching you pretend you’re the reason we’re winning when we both know who’s really the lucky one here.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, the playful challenge in them unmistakable. “Careful, or I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”

You grinned, tapping a finger on the table. “What can I say? You’re entertaining, like a fancy slot machine with nice hair.”

Aventurine barked a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “A slot machine? That’s the best you’ve got?” He leaned even closer, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve got some nerve.”

“And you love it,” you said with a wink, surprising even yourself with the boldness of your words.

Aventurine’s grin widened, his eyes glinting as he tilted his head slightly. “You know what? You might be right. Guess I’ve got a weakness for confident types.”

The air between you shifted, the playful banter taking on a sharper edge. You refused to back down, instead, you leaned in, your faces just inches apart now.

“Careful, Aventurine,” you said, your voice soft but laced with teasing. “If you keep flirting like that, I might start thinking you’re not just here for the gambling.”

His gaze flicked to your lips for just a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes, his smirk now decidedly more dangerous. “Maybe I’m not.”

The tension between you and Aventurine was electric, the noise of the casino fading into a distant hum. His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with mischief and something more daring. Slowly, deliberately, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, metallic keycard.

He twirled it between his fingers like it was a chip, the move impossibly smooth. “You’re good at reading between the lines,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “Think you can figure out what this means?”

Your gaze flicked to the keycard, then back to his face, your heart pounding as your brain scrambled for a witty retort. “Oh, I don’t know,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like you’re trying to skip ahead in the game. Aren’t you supposed to take me out to dinner first?”

Aventurine chuckled, the sound rumbling and warm. He slid the card across the table, stopping it just in front of your hand.

You picked up the card slowly, holding it between your fingers as if weighing your options. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said smoothly, leaning back with a confidence that was infuriatingly attractive. “Unless you count spending more time with me. But if that’s too much of a gamble, I’d understand.”

He collected his chips as he stood up, leaving the table, “Don’t keep me waiting too long. Wouldn’t want that luck to run out, now would we?”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you stood, slipping the card into your pocket. “Not a chance.”

—

You locate the room number on the keycard and slide it into the lock. The door swings open to reveal a spacious suite, all sleek lines and modern decor, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city lights below.

Aventurine is leaning against the wall by the window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He turns as you enter, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

"I wasn't sure if you'd actually show," he says, his voice a low purr. "But I'm glad you did."

You close the door behind you, turning to face him fully. "And miss an opportunity like this? Not a chance."

He pushes off the wall, closing the distance between you with a few easy strides. "Opportunity for what, exactly?" he asks, his gaze roaming over your features with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

You meet his eyes boldly, refusing to be intimidated. "For whatever you have planned," you say, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart.

Aventurine's lips curve into a smirk, his hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw with a feather-light touch. "Careful what you wish for," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your skin. "You might just get it."

Your pulse races at his touch, desire and anticipation coiling tightly in your belly. "Promises, promises," you breathe, tilting your head into his palm.

His answering chuckle is dark and full of promise. "Oh, I always keep my promises," he says, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

And then his lips are on yours, hot and demanding, and you're lost in the taste and feel of him, the world falling away until there's nothing but the two of you, caught up in a dance.

You melt into the kiss, your hands coming up to tangle in Aventurine's hair, pulling him closer as you press your body against his. He responds eagerly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours.

He tastes of whiskey and sin, and you can't get enough. Your fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest beneath your palms. He groans into your mouth, his hips pressing forward to grind against you, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.

"Bedroom," he rasps against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

You nod, breathless and wanting, allowing him to lead you towards the bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind you, then spins you around, pinning you against it with his body. His hands are everywhere, slipping under your clothes to stroke heated skin, his mouth trailing fire along your neck.

"You're so fucking sexy," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "I've wanted this since the moment I saw you."

Your breath hitches as Aventurine's hands roam your body, his touch setting your skin ablaze with desire. You arch into him, craving more, needing to feel every inch of him against you.

He groans, low and primal, his hips grinding harder against yours. His hands slip under your shirt, pushing it up and off, leaving you bare from the waist up. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes dark with lust.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts. He leans down, his mouth hot against your skin as he kisses a trail down your sternum, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipple.

You gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. "Please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for, only knowing that you need more, need him.

He chuckles, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Patience, love," he purrs, his hands sliding down to pop the button of your jeans. "We've got all night."

And then he's on his knees in front of you. He looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes hooded and full of promise.

"Let me taste you," he murmurs, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your jeans.

You nod mutely, your heart pounding in your chest as Aventurine slowly slides your jeans down your legs, his hands caressing your skin as he goes. He tosses them aside carelessly, leaving you in nothing but your panties, which are already damp with arousal.

He leans forward, his breath hot against your panties. "You're so wet for me already," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the damp spot. "I've barely touched you, and you're dripping."

You squirm under his touch, desperate for more. "Please," you whimper, your hands fisting in his hair. "I need..."

"Shh," he soothes, placing a kiss over your clothed pussy, licking a stripe along your covered slit. "I know what you need. Just relax and let me take care of you."

And then he's pulling your panties aside, his fingers stroking through your slick folds. You gasp, your hips bucking into his touch. He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin.

"So responsive," he praises, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. "I can't wait to taste you."

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds, lapping at your essence. You cry out, your head falling back against the door as waves of pleasure crash over you.

He works you skilfully, his tongue alternating between broad strokes and targeted flicks against your clit. His fingers join in, pumping in and out of you, curling to hit that spot inside that makes you see stars.

Your legs tremble as Aventurine's skilled mouth works you over, his tongue delving deep, lapping at your essence. The pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your core, threatening to snap at any moment.

"Aventurine," you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair, pressing his face harder against your aching pussy. "I'm... I'm going to-"

He moans in response, the vibrations sending you hurtling over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, your vision whiting out as ecstasy consumes you. You grind against his face, riding out the waves of pleasure, his name a broken cry on your lips.

He doesn't stop, prolonging your climax, his fingers and tongue working in tandem to wring every last drop of pleasure from your body. Finally, you collapse back against the door, boneless and sated, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Aventurine rises, his face glistening with your arousal. He licks his lips, his eyes dark with hunger. "So sweet," he purrs, his voice rough. "I could do that forever.”

You can only moan in response, your body still thrumming with aftershocks. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He takes your hand, leading you to the bed, pushing you down onto the plush mattress. He crawls over you, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the sheets.

"I need to be inside you," he growls, his hips grinding against yours, letting you feel the hard length of him through his pants. "I need to feel you wrapped around me, squeezing me.”

You reach down, fumbling with the button of his pants, desperate to free his cock. He helps you, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to spring free, his erection bobbing against your stomach.

"Please," you whimper, wrapping your hand around him, stroking the velvety soft skin. "I need you, too. I need to feel you stretch me, fill me."

He groans, his hips thrusting into your hand. "Fuck, you're killing me," he pants, reaching down to position himself at your entrance.

With a single, powerful thrust, Aventurine pushes his cock all the way inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as your body struggles to adjust to his size. He stills, giving you a moment to acclimate, his forehead resting against yours.

"Breathe," he murmurs, his hips flexing slightly, sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Just breathe, love. I've got you."

You take a shuddering breath, your inner walls fluttering around him. Slowly, you begin to move, rocking your hips against his, urging him deeper. He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to thrust, setting a slow, deep rhythm.

"You feel incredible," he pants, his lips brushing against your ear. "I could stay buried inside you forever and die happy."

You clench around him, relishing the feel of him stretching you, filling you. "More," you demand, your nails digging into his back.

He laughs breathlessly, complying with your request, his hips snapping against yours with increased force. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

Aventurine's thrusts grow more erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp pants as he nears his peak. His hands grip your hips bruisingly, holding you in place as he pounds into you, the force of his thrusts pushing you up the bed.

"Come with me," he demands, his voice a guttural growl. "I want to feel you come undone around my cock."

Your body tenses, your inner walls fluttering around him as your orgasm approaches. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he finds his release.

The feel of him coming inside you is enough to push you over the edge. You cry out, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows you, his hips jerking as he spills his cum deep within you.

You collapse back against the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Aventurine follows suit, laying down beside you. He leans over peppering your face with soft kisses, his hands stroking your hair, your back, your sides. "You’re beautiful" he murmurs, his voice soft with satisfaction.

You smile, turning your head to capture his lips in a tender kiss. "You're not so bad yourself," you tease, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his sweat-slicked skin.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours. "I aim to please," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "And I'm not done with you yet, love. Not by a long shot."

You shiver at the promise in his words, your body already stirring with renewed desire. "Is that so?" you ask, arching an eyebrow. "And what exactly did you have in mind?" 

His grin is wicked, his eyes gleaming in the low light. "Oh, I think you'll find out soon enough.”

༉ - 2.8k

Topaz’s flat was warm and inviting, the perfect spot to unwind for a casual evening. Soft amber light spilled across the room, casting a cosy glow  that made the space feel like home. Somewhere in the background, faint music played  that blended perfectly with the gentle clinking of glasses and low chatter.

“We’ll be right back,” Aventurine called out, with Topaz trailing close behind as they disappeared toward the kitchen.

You had settled comfortably into the corner of the sofa, a glass of wine in hand and Veritas lounging beside you. Tonight, he seemed different—relaxed in a way you rarely saw. His shirt was unbuttoned, his tie discarded, and his usually immaculate hair slightly mussed, as though he’d finally let the weight of the day slip away.

The air between you buzzed with the kind of easy familiarity that only came with years of friendship, though tonight there was something else–.

“Another top-up?” Veritas asked, his voice smoother and slower than usual as he reached for the wine bottle on the low table. Without waiting for an answer, he topped off your glass and then poured more into his own.

“You’re a terrible influence,” you teased, though you made no move to stop him. “If I wake up with a headache tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”

He smirked, swirling his wine with an air of mock innocence. “I’d argue it’s your fault for being such agreeable company.”

The words lingered, their meaning sharper than his usual dry humour. You glanced down at your glass, suddenly unsure what to say. Was it the wine, or was there something more in his tone tonight?

“Quiet now, are we?” he teased, leaning in just slightly. “You’re usually quicker with a retort.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “Just giving you a moment to bask in your supposed wit.”

His chuckle was low and warm, the kind of sound that settled somewhere deep in your chest. His knee grazed yours, a light touch that didn’t feel accidental. When you shifted slightly, his arm brushed against yours and lingered, just enough to make you wonder if he’d noticed it too.

“I’ve always admired that about you,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Admired what?” you asked, your pulse quickening.

“You have this way of making even the most tedious conversations feel alive.” His eyes softened, and for a moment, he wasn’t the sharp, collected man you knew so well. “Though I don’t think this moment qualifies as tedious, does it?”

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No. It doesn’t.”

Neither of you moved for a moment. His hand found yours, his fingers warm and steady, and though the gesture caught you off guard, you didn’t pull away. His thumb traced slow circles over your skin, sending a rush of heat up your arm.

“Veritas—” you began, but your voice faltered.

“Too much?” he asked gently, his brows drawing together, as if he was ready to let go at the slightest hint of hesitation.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Not too much.”

His shoulders relaxed, and the faintest trace of a smile appeared on his lips. He shifted closer, his arm sliding along the back of the sofa until his fingers brushed your shoulder. The scent of his cologne—something crisp with a faint warmth beneath it—lingered in the space between you, making your head swim.

The world beyond the sofa seemed to fade. His presence filled the room, his thumb still tracing light, deliberate circles on your hand. When his fingers grazed your neck, their touch feather-light, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you.

“You’ve gone quiet again,” he murmured, his tone both teasing and earnest. “Should I be worried?”

You turned to face him, and suddenly his face was so close to yours. His gaze locked onto yours, and your breath hitched. It felt impossible to look away.

“Not worried,” you managed softly. “Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous,” he quipped, though his voice held less humour now. His hand shifted, brushing along the curve of your jaw. His touch was barely there, yet it lit up every nerve. “Care to share?”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t know what to say, but because the words carried weight. “I was thinking,” you said slowly, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart, “that you don’t seem as restrained as usual tonight.”

A flicker of something—surprise, maybe—passed across his face before he smirked. But it wasn’t his usual teasing smirk; it was softer, quieter, like he didn’t want to scare the moment away. “Restraint,” he murmured, “has its time and place. And this… doesn’t feel like one of them.”

The charged silence between you was almost unbearable. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you plenty of time to stop him, but you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was gentle and tentative, like he was testing the waters. It was fleeting, yet it left your heart racing. His hand slipped to your jaw, steady and warm as he kissed you again, this time with more certainty.

You melted into him, your hands coming to rest against his chest. His heartbeat was fast beneath your palms, and when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“We should…” His voice was rough now, laced with restraint. “Move somewhere more private.”

Your heart jumped at the suggestion, and you nodded, your voice barely audible. “Yeah.”

He stood smoothly, his hand slipping into yours as he cast a quick glance toward the kitchen. When he was sure your friends were still out of sight, he guided you down the hallway. His touch was firm, grounding, but there was a tenderness in the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles.

At the end of the hall, he paused outside a closed door. His free hand found the handle, turning it slowly. The hinge creaked softly as he pushed the door open, revealing the spare bedroom. He guided you inside, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The room was small but cosy, with a large window that let in a silver glow.

Veritas turned to face you, his expression a blend of uncertainty and desire. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "We can stop if you want to."

His words were sincere, giving you an out if you needed it. But the way his eyes roamed over your face, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours, betrayed his own longing.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "I'm sure," you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your palm, and you marvelled at the softness of his stubble against your fingers.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. When he opened them again, they were dark with want.

He captured your mouth in a searing kiss. It was nothing like the tentative brush of lips from earlier. This time, there was no holding back. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat of his body through your clothes, the firmness of his muscles.

You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. He tasted of wine and something uniquely him - a flavour you knew you'd crave forever. His tongue teased your lower lip before delving into your mouth, exploring and claiming with a passion that left you breathless.

Slowly, he walked you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he looked down at you. "Tell me you want this," he breathed, his hands settling on your hips. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

The words were a plea, a confession. In this moment, the usually composed and controlled Veritas Ratio was laid bare before you, vulnerable and wanting. Your heart swelled with affection and desire.

"I want this," you whispered, your hands sliding up his chest to link behind his neck. "I need you. Please, Veritas..."

His name on your lips seemed to break the last of his restraint. With a groan, he kissed you again, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.

It wasn’t long before Veritas' fingers deftly worked at the zipper on his trousers, his movements quick yet precise, revealing the bulge straining against his underwear. With a deft tug, he freed his cock, the hard length springing forth, already flushed and throbbing with need.

He stepped back slightly, giving you a moment to take in the sight of him. Moonlight spilled across his body, highlighting the contours of his muscles, the defined lines of his abs. His cock was long, with a prominent vein on the underside.

You wasted no time, sinking to your knees before him. The plush carpet cushioned your knees, but you barely noticed. His cock jutted out, hard and proud, the tip glistening with pre-cum in the moonlight.

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for him, fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft. He was hot and heavy in your grasp, the skin velvety soft over the rigid flesh beneath. You stroked him slowly, savouring the weight of him, the way he twitched and throbbed against your palm.

Veritas groaned, his head falling back as he savoured your touch. "God," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "Feels so good-”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, stoking the fire building in your core. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. The taste of him exploded across your tongue, salty and musky, uniquely him.

Emboldened, you took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. He was big, filling your mouth completely, but you revelled in it. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head.

"Fuck," Veritas gasped, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Just like that, baby. Take me deeper."

You obeyed, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward, taking him inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you held him there, your nose pressed against his pelvis, breathing in his scent.

Veritas’ grip on your hair tightened, his hips rocking forward slightly. "God, sweetheart," he moaned, his voice strained. "You're incredible."

The praise washed over you, spurring you on. You bobbed your head, setting a steady rhythm as you worked him with your mouth. Your hands slid down to cup his balls, rolling them gently in your palm.

Veritas' hand cupped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you further down his shaft. "That's it, baby," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take all of me."

You complied eagerly, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward until your nose nestled against his pelvis. The scent of him filled your senses, musky and intoxicating. You held him there, savouring the weight of him on your tongue, the way he throbbed against your palate.

"God, beautiful-" Veritas gasped, his hips rocking forward slightly. "You're so good at this. So fucking perfect."

His words sent a thrill through you, stoking the heat building in your core. You pulled back slowly, letting him slide from your mouth with a lewd pop. Strings of saliva connected your lips to his cock, glistening in the moonlight.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative. "I want to see you get off while you suck my cock."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you didn't hesitate. Your hand slid beneath your skirt. You were already soaked, your panties clinging to your skin.

You circled your clit with your fingertip, gasping at the jolt of pleasure that shot through you. Ratio watched with hooded eyes, his cock twitching in your grip.

"That's it, baby," he urged, his hand guiding your head as you took him back into your mouth. "Make yourself feel good. I want to hear you moan around my cock."

You obeyed, increasing the pressure of your fingers as you sucked him deeper. Your other hand came up to fondle his balls, rolling them gently in your palm. The combined sensations were overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second.

Veritas’ breath came in short, sharp gasps as you worked him with your mouth and hands. His cock throbbed against your tongue, the veins along the shaft pulsing with need. You could tell he was getting close, his hips rocking faster, his grip on your hair tightening.

Suddenly, he pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. "As much as I love your mouth," he panted, his eyes dark with lust, "I need to be inside you."

You nodded eagerly, your heart racing at the thought. He helped you to your feet, his hands roaming over your curves appreciatively. With a swift motion, he pushed your skirt up around your waist and tugged your panties down your thighs.

Veritas gently pushed you back onto the bed, his eyes roaming over your body with undisguised hunger. "Always been so pretty" he murmured, his hands skimming up your thighs to your hips.

He settled between your legs, the heat of his body seeping into your skin. You could feel his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come. Slowly, he pushed forward, stretching you open around him.

You gasped at the sensation, your back arching off the bed. He was so big, filling you completely. He gave you a moment to adjust before starting to move, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder.

His words sent shivers down your spine, stoking the fire building in your core. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He obliged, his thrusts growing harder, faster.

The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful stroke. Veritas' hands gripped your hips, his fingers leaving bruises on your skin. But you didn't mind the pain, not when pleasure was coursing through your veins like liquid fire.

Despite the intense sensations coursing through your body, you bit your lip, muffling your moans and gasps. The thought of Aventurine and Topaz hearing you in the other room was enough to keep you silent, even as Veritas’ thrusts grew harder, deeper.

He seemed to sense your restraint, his eyes locking with yours in the darkness. "Don't hold back," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I want to hear you.”

You shook your head, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You couldn't risk it, couldn't bear the thought of your friends walking in and catching you in such a compromising position.

Veritas frowned slightly, but he didn't push the issue. Instead, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, swallowing your silent cries of pleasure.

His hips never stopped moving, each thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your body. You could feel your climax building, getting closer to the edge. He seemed to sense it too, his pace quickening, his breath coming in harsh pants against your ear.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Let go. I've got you."

His words were your undoing. With a muffled cry, you came undone, your body convulsing beneath him as you gushed around his cock. Veritas quickly pulled out, his cum shooting out and splattering on your folds.

You lay there in the aftermath, your chest heaving, your limbs trembling. He  collapsed on top of you, his weight a welcome comfort.

Slowly he rolled off you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He pulled you close, your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his heart racing, matching the pounding of your own.

He kissed your shoulder softly. "We should probably get cleaned up and head back out there," he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. "Before Aventurine and Topaz come looking for us."

You nodded, leaning in to kiss him one last time before reluctantly pulling away from his warmth.

༉ - 2.5k

The training grounds hummed with the steady rhythm of swords meeting swords, the sharp ring of steel echoing in the air. You were lost in the rhythm, your every move precise as you worked through the drills Jing Yuan had set for you.

The weight of the training session was starting to catch up with you—your muscles burning, sweat trickling down your back—but you refused to stop. His gaze was always on you, but today, there was something about it that made your heart race a little.

Jing Yuan was a study in effortless grace, each movement fluid and controlled as he parried your strikes. His hair shimmered in the sunlight. His composure was unmatched—he never seemed to break a sweat, even when you were struggling to keep up. And yet, his every motion felt like a reminder that you still had so much to learn.

“You’re improving,” he said suddenly, his voice a smooth, unwavering contrast to the intensity of the training. He dodged your strike so easily it was as if he already knew it was coming. “But you’re still too tense. Stop thinking so much- Let your instincts take over.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words. You couldn’t quite explain it, but his praise always felt so... personal. It was like he wasn’t just teaching you how to fight; he was seeing something deeper. And you hated how giddy that made you feel.

The practice continued, but with each passing moment, it became harder to focus. Every glance he gave you seemed to leave you a little more flustered, his every compliment a spark that made your heart flutter. You tried to shake it off, to stay in the moment, but your movements became a little less fluid.

“That’s better,” he said again, his eyes narrowing as he watched you catch your breath. “You have the power. You just need to learn to channel it.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your skin. It wasn’t that you weren’t good at sword fighting, but when Jing Yuan spoke to you like that, it felt different. His words were a quiet evaluation, but they made your heart feel exposed, as though he was seeing right through you.

Minutes blended together in a haze of quick movements and hurting muscles. The sweat on your forehead trickled, and you could feel the strain in your arms and legs, but you pushed yourself harder, determined not to disappoint him. Finally, when the session was over, you dropped your sword, your breathing heavy.

"That's enough for today," Jing Yuan said, his voice quiet yet imperative as he stepped toward you. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the fatigue in your eyes, the way you were trying to steady your breathing. "You have worked hard.

You managed a small smile, though the weight of the session left you feeling drained. "I'm fine," you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. You weren't sure if you were convincing anyone, least of all him.

He studied you a moment longer, his sharp eyes picking up the subtle signs: the way you were holding your breath, the way your hands trembled ever so slightly. With a soft sigh, he leaned in closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. The touch was light, but it sent a ripple of warmth through you, and you couldn't quite keep the flutter from your chest.

"Let me check you over-" he said, his voice dropping an octave soft yet purposeful. "make sure you're not hurt."

The words should’ve been routine, should’ve been just another part of the training, but the closeness between you, the way his gaze lingered a little longer than usual, made everything feel different. His touch was so careful as he ran his hands over your arms, your shoulders, your ribs—light and methodical, almost as if he were memorising every detail of you. Each brush of his fingers sent sparks through your skin, and you had to force yourself to breathe normally.

“Does this hurt?” His fingers pressed against a sore spot near your ribs where you'd taken a hit earlier.

You gasped softly, the breath catching in your throat, before shaking your head. "It's a little sore.

His eyes softened, a glint of concern in them as he regarded you, yet there was something else, too-something more than mere mentorship. The air between you grew thick with unspoken tension, not exactly teacher and student, but something else entirely. His presence overwhelmed you; the way he watched you-also so intense-made it even harder to think clearly.

Before you could catch yourself, your fingers grazed his chest-just the lightest touch, but it felt like an electric jolt went through you. The space between you contracted, and the pull you'd been fighting became too much. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were leaning in, your lips brushing against his in a fleeting, impulsive kiss.

The world seemed to stop for that second, and then Jing Yuan froze. His body stiffened, and for a second you thought you'd made a terrible mistake. But when he pulled back, his expression wasn't anger or confusion-it was soft, searching. His gaze lingered on your face, as if he were trying to understand the emotions swirling there.

You stepped backward in haste, heat flooding your face as you muttered, "I- I didn't mean-"

But before you could get the words out, his hand was cupping your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. His thumb stroked your skin with soft gentleness-a motion that made your heart thud. "Don't apologise," he said, his voice soft, low-assuring. "You don't have to be sorry."

The air between you seemed to thicken with the weight of the moment. Jing Yuan leaned in just slightly, giving you space to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t. You stood there, your heart racing in your chest, the tension building with each breath you took.

“I think…” he began, his voice a little quieter, “you’re not the only one who’s been holding back.”

Your breath caught in your throat. That was all he needed to say, and in that moment, the world around you seemed to fall away. The spark between you wasn’t one-sided. And maybe this was the beginning of something neither of you had expected.

Slowly, hesitantly, you reached up to cover his hand with your own, pressing it more firmly against your cheek. "Then what’s stopping us?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jing Yuan's eyes darkened at your words, a flash of hunger in their depths. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.

You nodded, your eyes locked on his, unable to look away. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

With those words, Jing Yuan closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate, desperate kiss. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you.

You melted into him, your arms winding around his neck as you kissed him back with equal fervour. The world spun around you, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of his lips on yours, the scent of his skin, the sound of his ragged breathing.

You felt yourself being pulled into Jing Yuan's embrace, your bodies pressing together as the kiss deepened. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your head spin, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passion that left you breathless. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as you lost yourself in the sensation of his touch, his taste, his very essence.

Time seemed to stand still, the rest of the world fading away until there was nothing but the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms. Jing Yuan's hands roamed over your back, your sides, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. You arched into him, craving more of his touch.

Jing Yuan broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was a flicker of concern there too. "We should move somewhere more private," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "There are too many prying eyes here."

You nodded, your heart still racing as you glanced around the training grounds. He was right. Anyone could stumble upon you like this, could see the way you were clinging to each other, the way your lips were swollen from his kisses. The thought sent a thrill through you, even as it filled you with a sense of urgency.

Jing Yuan took your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours as he led you away from the training grounds. You followed him willingly, your steps quick and eager, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of his touch. He led you through the winding paths of the gardens, past flowering bushes and babbling fountains, until you reached a secluded grove hidden behind a curtain of willow branches.

As soon as you were out of sight, Jing Yuan pulled you into his arms once more, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your hands fisting in his hair as you kissed him back. His hands roamed over your body, slipping beneath your clothes to caress the heated skin beneath.

Your hands fumbled with the fastenings of Jing Yuan's robes, your fingers shaking with a mix of anticipation and nerves. He helped you, his own hands working to remove your clothing with a practised ease that belied his gentle touch. Soon, the fabric fell away, leaving you both bare in the dappled sunlight filtering through the willow branches.

Jing Yuan's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze appreciative as he drank in the sight of you. "You're beautiful," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. His hands skimmed over your curves, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Your fingers trailed over the hard planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his abdomen, marvelling at the feel of his skin beneath your palms.

Jing Yuan groaned at your touch, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You could feel his cock, hot and insistent against your stomach, and it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. Your own body responded in kind, aching and throbbing with a need that was almost painful in its intensity.

His lips found your neck, his teeth nibbling, and tongue leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your pulse point. You tilted your head back, giving him better access, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you lost yourself in the sensation. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you harder against him, the friction delicious and maddening all at once.

"Jing Yuan," you gasped, your voice breathy and needy. "Please..."

His response was to lift you up, wrapping your legs around him as he carried you. Jing Yuan pressed you against the cool stone wall of the garden, his body pinning you in place as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. Your legs tightened around his waist, drawing him closer, craving more of his touch.

He held you up with one arm as the other delved lower, his fingers finding your pussy. You were already wet, your body ready for him, and he groaned at the feeling. "So ready for me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "So perfect."

His fingers circled your clit, teasing and stroking, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You rocked your hips against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. Jing Yuan obliged, his fingers sliding lower to dip inside you, stretching you, preparing you for what was to come.

You could feel him, hard and heavy, pressing against your entrance. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, your body trembling with need. "Please," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you."

Jing Yuan's eyes met yours, "I've got you," he promised, his voice low and husky. And with that, he pushed forward

Jing Yuan’s cock pushed inside you slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your face for any sign of discomfort. You could feel every inch of him as he stretched you, filled you, your body adjusting to his size. It was a delicious burn, a sweet ache that only made you want more.

"Dove," he breathed, the pet name a reverent whisper on his lips. His hips pressed forward, burying himself deeper inside you, and you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped. "So tight," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips for support. "So perfect."

You clung to him, meeting his thrusts. The pleasure was immense, overwhelming, and you could feel yourself already teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Jing Yuan's thrusts grew harder, faster, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he lost himself in the feel of you.

His thrusts grew more urgent, more demanding, as he lost himself in the heat of the moment. His hips slammed against yours, driving into you with a force that had you seeing stars. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

Jing Yuan's lips found yours again, swallowing your moans as he drove into you harder, deeper. His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, circular motions. The added stimulation was too much, and you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of pure, blinding ecstasy.

"Atta girl," Jing Yuan growled, his voice strained with his own impending release.

Your walls clenched around him, milking his length as you rode out the aftershocks of your climax. Jing Yuan followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he found his own release. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he emptied himself inside you, ropes of cum spilling inside you.

As the final waves of your shared ecstasy subsided, Jing Yuan held you close, his body still intimately connected with yours. He peppered your face with soft, tender kisses, his hands gently stroking your hair and caressing your back. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the heated passion that had just consumed you both.

"Think that was a good training session" he joked, his voice low and content.

You couldn't help but laugh, a breathless, giddy sound that bubbled up from your chest. "I think that was the best training session I've ever had," you replied, your words laced with a mix of humour and sincerity.

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

© lovesculprit → do not copy or translate any of my works

[ddlydevotion]

Dating Luigi Mangione ࣪ ۪ ֢ 🦢‌ࣳ ! !

currently listening to: salvatore by lana del rey

a/n: I’ve been seeing many fics of Luigi where people portray him as rude/aggressive so I wanted to try something a lil different.

His facial expressions are always on point in every video we’ve seen of him, so I have a feeling he’d be a very active listener. You could be in the middle of telling him how your day went and a small smile would spread across his lips at the sound of your melodic voice. His eyebrows twitching with concern once you start to mention anything negative occurring. this is basically his face when he’s listening to you:

He would most definitely be the type to make playlists in your name while he’s thinking of you. He’s so in love with you to the point where he can no longer listen to his favorite music without thinking of you and the beautiful moments the two of you have shared. He also has a habit of sending you songs that he thinks you’ll like/remind him of you.

He loves being able to live life to the fullest and loves doing it with you even more. He takes photos of the two of you wandering around whatever city you’ve traveled to with a little $30 digi cam. He has a Polaroid of the two of you placed in his wallet.

Luigi doesn’t need a gift to be expensive in order to fully cherish it. You could give him a handwritten letter and he’d protect it with his life because you gave it to him. He can’t afford to lose any evidence of the love the two of you share for one another. He loves gifting you items that reminded him of you, things you mentioned enjoying, surprising you to go do something you’ve mentioned wanting to participate in. You don’t even have to mention any of these things more than once because he’ll remember.

His back pain can get incredibly severe and there comes days where he can’t seem to focus on even the most simplest of things. Having you there while he attends physical therapy, participates in yoga/gets helpful treatments somehow makes the pain a bit more manageable. Knowing that he can go to you when he needs something is enough to ease his anxieties in situations regarding his chronic pain.

As I’ve mentioned before, Luigi loves trying new things and exposing himself to unfamiliar cultures/locations. This fact goes hand in hand with his openness to trying new food with you. Oh, he’s never tried ____ before? Well, might as well try it now with you!

You make his travels so much more lively and notable.

Three words: skin to skin.

The loving warmth of your welcoming hands and fingers tracing shapes onto his muscular back makes him feel as if he’s on cloud nine. He loves being able to wake up to the sun peeking through the blinds and feeling your bare skin embracing him.

He has a HUGE family and mostly all of them have heard the lovely stories he has stored up about you. During the first Christmas you ever spent with his family, they made sure they had your favorite foods out on display. How did they know they were your favorites? Well, you have your boyfriend and his ramblings to thank for that. Despite not having spent much time with you, his family still found the time to provide you with your very own gifts. You’ve felt nothing but welcomed by their presence as they treated you like an old friend upon your first meeting.

You don’t really have to want for anything when you’re with Lu. You mention wanting to go see that movie that just came out? He already has a tab open on his phone to purchase tickets. He sees you eyeing something at the store but hesitate buying because ‘it’s too much’ ? Well, he’s putting it in the cart anyway.

Definitely calls you cute little variations of your name. His favorite terms of endearment to use for you are probably: baby, cutie, babe, princess, etc. was gonna put sweetheart but I’m not too sure

[tragedy-machine]

Happy New Year, guys!

today's payneland idea is Crystal telling Edwin "you don't have to worry about making Charles uncomfortable now (after the confession), have you noticed how clingy he is with you? He'd let you do just about anything"

And Edwin, ever the scientist, wants to test that theory a bit, so for the first experiment he stands just that �� much closer to Charles and patiently waits if his friend says anything, but all he gets is the usual heart eyes and a "what's up, mate?", so Edwin thinks "huh" and decides to continue the tests Then, although it feels daring, almost too much, Edwin starts initiating more touches between them, like pats on the arm and such and, peculiarly, Charles takes it well, very well even, because somehow the grin he gives Edwin is even wider than usual

When their usual reading time arrives, instead of putting Charles' feet in his lap, Edwin suggests Charles lays his head there today and Charles freezes for a second, almost making Edwin worry he went too far, but then Charles all but launches himself onto the couch with a bright smile

(Edwin also weaves his fingers through Charles' hair during the second iteration of this idea of course, can't introduce too many variables in one experiment after all)

Then, instead of just saying "well done, Charles", his eyes hold Charles' and he adds "you really know how to handle X" and Charles can't break away from the eye contact even if he tried, he's absolutely enchanted and arrested by the warmth exploding inside him at the soft intensity of the moment and praise

Next experiment is touching Charles' face, Edwin waits for the right occasion and it comes when Charles makes a tiny mistake during a case, he couldn't have helped it really, but he still beats himself up over it, and Edwin knows now that Charles responds really well to touch, so he cups Charles' upset face in his palm and tells him that it wasn't his fault, that he did the best he could, and Edwin watches in real time as Charles' already wet-looking eyes become even more liquid, as he puts more of his head's weight into Edwin's hand, and Edwin adores the squishy and open way he looks now, so trusting and vulnerable in Edwin's hands

Edwin looks at all his notes, double and triple checks the results and almost can't believe it, because they all point to somehow Charles becoming happier, instead of uncomfortable, since he's started it, but that's odd isn't it?

Maybe being so lovey-dovey with Charles has altered Edwin's brain or something, because the next time they hug (they do more of that lately), without even thinking about it, Edwin's lips plant a small kiss to Charles' temple and he panics, because that's crossing a line, isn't it? He's never planned on kissing Charles, that's too far! But before he can spiral, Charles sighs happily, sinking into their embrace more heavily and says "Ever since you- um, I just. I really like this. You know. Us. I feel proper loved, thanks to you, mate. And I hope I make you feel that way too."

(Charles had to stop himself from saying "ever since you started loving on me", because it felt a bit much lol)

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter ten ♡

Summary: You open the door to Joel, preparing yourself to hear what he has to say. WC: 9.9k A/N: Helloooooo! Wishing you all happy holidays! I hope your holiday season was wonderful, and that you enjoy reading this part. Be patient <3 I def enjoyed writing it lol Don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications! love u all

“I... I know you probably don't wanna see me,” he said, his voice low, almost strained, his eyes dark and heavy with something blue, looking at you with controlled desperation. “But I... I... can we talk? Please?”

Your eyes blinked rapidly, lashes brushing against your skin in quick, involuntary flutters. Joel caught the movement immediately. Of course he did. He noticed everything about you, even now, even after everything. It was obvious he had startled you, but whether that made him feel vindicated or more like an intruder, he couldn’t tell.

The week had been hell. He had been hell. Work was relentless, a grind of demands and decisions that seemed designed to erode what little patience he had left. Coming home wasn’t much better—Sarah’s teenage tolerance for him was wearing thin, and he knew it. Her exasperated sighs, her eyerolls, the way she barely looked up when he walked in the door.

The last time you’d spoken, your voice had been steady, measured, almost clinical, which somehow made it worse. “I think you should go,” you’d said, calm and certain, slicing through the rising heat of his anger like a blade. “I just... I just need some time.”

Anger had only been the surface. Underneath, he was wrecked. Broken in a way that felt unfamiliar, even compared to the times he thought he’d been hurt before. While you spoke, his mind had fixated on Travis—his stupid smirking face, the condescending edge to his voice. It was all Joel could see, all he could hear, drowning out everything else.

He’d slammed the door of his house that day and told himself he was done. He wasn’t going to call, wasn’t going to show up, wasn’t going to see you again. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He told himself he was done. Done with you, done with all of it.

You won’t see her again. You don’t want to see her again. The resolve felt like armor at first, solid and impenetrable. But later, as he sat in the dark of his room, it hollowed out, echoing back every memory of you he couldn’t seem to let go of.

And now here he was, standing in front of you, stripped of any armor he thought he had. He told himself he looked calm, his posture straight, his face neutral. But his hands betrayed him, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, his fingers curling and uncurling like they didn’t know what else to do.

“Joel,” you said finally, and it wasn’t anger in your voice. He heard that right away, though what it was instead, he couldn’t quite name. “Need somethin'?”

The coldness of your tone startled him more than he wanted to admit. Not anger. Indifference. He recognized it only because it was unfamiliar coming from you.

“Yeah,” he said, too quickly, the word tumbling out before he had time to second-guess it. “Yes. I... I need to talk to you. Please, can we talk?”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

Your question was measured, but it wasn’t an invitation. He felt his lips twitch into an awkward half-smile, the kind you used to find endearing in its clumsiness. Now it only seemed to widen the space between you. You both knew the answer; you were just making him say it.

“About everything,” he said, stepping closer without thinking. The movement was automatic, but the way you took a step back wasn’t. It hit him like a sudden ache, sharp and lingering. “My birthday. What happened after. Travis. Everything I said to you, everything I did.”

“I don’t wanna fight, Joel.”

“Neither do I,” he said quickly, his voice soft. “I ain't here to fight. I swear. Please, just... give me a minute. If you don’t wanna hear me after this, I’ll—” He hesitated, his throat tight. “I’ll respect that.”

Your head tilted slightly, a small, almost imperceptible motion. “You’ll leave me alone?”

The words landed hard. He felt it, like a stone dropping into his chest.

“If that’s what you want,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, his gaze locked on yours. “If that’s what you really want, then yeah. I’ll leave you alone.”

You shifted to the side, a subtle movement that opened a narrow space between your body and the doorframe. Joel hesitated for just a moment before stepping through, his eyes flicking to your face as his arm brushed lightly against yours. The contact was fleeting, accidental, but it sent a strange charge through him that he couldn’t quite ignore.

As he walked past, he inhaled deeply, letting the scent of your home wash over him. It was grounding, like stepping into a memory he hadn’t realized he was carrying. The air was thick with the comforting notes he associated with you—freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint, clean sweetness of the textile spray you spritzed religiously on the couch cushions. Beneath that lingered the softer, subtler scents: the warm floral of your fabric softener, the trace of your favorite perfume still clinging to your skin, and something else he couldn’t quite name but had always recognized as distinctly you.

It was the same scent that used to cling to his shirt after one of your hugs, when his nose would inevitably dip into the curve of your neck without thinking. The thought of it now hit him like a whisper of nostalgia, equal parts tender and bittersweet.

Joel’s gaze swept the living room as he entered, and he paused, taking in the familiar organized chaos. Two mugs, each half-full, sat abandoned on the coffee table. Next to them lay the crinkled remnants of half-finished snacks. Soft blankets were strewn across the couch, their folds still marked with the shapes of bodies that had recently lounged there. Two candles flickered on the mantel, filling the air with the warm, tropical scent of coconut and vanilla. On the floor, two pairs of slippers rested haphazardly, as if their owners had kicked them off mid-laughter.

The first pair was purple, dotted with little blue hearts—Cassie’s, he assumed. The other pair he recognized instantly. The white pom-pom slippers, soft and well-loved, and he could still picture the Christmas he’d given them to you. You’d hurt your foot a week earlier, and he’d insisted you needed something sturdy to wear around the house. At the time, you’d rolled your eyes at the practicality of the gift but had smiled when you slipped them on anyway. After that, he gave you his other gift: the complete box set of Nightmare on Elm Street. 

Now, seeing them here, Joel felt a tightness in his chest, a painful warmth that spread through him as he took in the scene. This mess, this lived-in disarray, was evidence of you. Evidence of life. And he missed it.

For weeks now, his own home had been the opposite—too quiet, too clean. No lingering smells of scented candles, no forgotten mugs on the table. Sarah had been retreating to her room more and more, and the spaces she used to fill with her presence now felt hollow. The house smelled of little more than coffee, and the silence stretched long and thin, oppressive in its stillness.

“Have a seat,” you said, your voice cutting through his thoughts. “Want some coffee? Cassie made a pot before she left.”

Joel didn’t want a tidy house. He didn’t want a quiet living room. He didn’t want the emptiness that had taken root in his home.

He wanted noise. He wanted laughter echoing through the halls, the kind that erupted out of nowhere and carried long after the joke had ended. He wanted his living room cluttered with the evidence of conversations and evenings spent together. He wanted his house to smell like candles, fresh bread from the oven—burnt edges and all—and your perfume lingering in the air. He wanted the warmth of Sarah and Tommy and you, all of you there together, filling the house with life again.

“Sure,” he replied, watching as you moved past him toward the kitchen. His eyes followed the curve of your shoulder, the way the light caught in your hair, until you disappeared through the door.

He sat down on the couch, his hands resting on his thighs as his gaze landed on the coffee table. A book lay there, its spine tilted just enough for him to read the title: Jane Eyre. His fingers reached for it instinctively, brushing over the cover as memories flickered to life. Two years ago, you had insisted he watch the movie with you. He’d been indifferent at first, grumbling about how slow it was, but by the end, he’d found himself blinking furiously, swiping at the tears that kept slipping past his guard. You and Sarah hadn’t let him live it down, teasing him gently once the lights came back on.

A quiet laugh nearly escaped him at the memory, but it faded as you reappeared, two mugs balanced carefully in your hands. You set them down on the table and took the seat across from him.

Joel reached for his mug immediately, grateful for something to do with his hands. He lifted it to his lips, the warmth spreading through his palms as he took a sip. The coffee was strong and slightly sweet, the taste familiar and comforting. But as he lowered the cup, he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting back to you, watching as you settled in place.

You sat next to him, the cushion between you a quiet, unspoken boundary neither of you seemed willing to cross. Your arms rested on your lap, fingers absently tracing patterns on your knee, while your eyes fixed on him—watching, waiting. He wasn’t looking at you, not yet. His gaze was locked on the mug in his hands, the coffee inside long forgotten, as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to this conversation.

The silence stretched, uncomfortable and taut, until finally, he broke it.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout what to say to you,” he began, his voice steady but low. He didn’t look up, still focused on the mug. “How to say it, what order to put it in so I wouldn’t just… trip over myself and make it worse.”

You said nothing, your eyes trailing across his profile, noting the tension in his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows.

“And even after all that thinkin', there doesn’t seem to be an ideal way to do this,” he continued, his fingers tightening around the ceramic. “But I think… I think the first thing I gotta say is that I’m sorry.” He paused, swallowed, then lifted his eyes to yours. They were heavy with something raw. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze, refusing to give him an inch.

“What’s everything?”

You already knew. Of course, you knew. But you needed him to say it, needed to hear the words from his mouth.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “For not being enough. For not living up to what you needed. For being a coward.” His voice cracked slightly, but he pressed on. “I’ve been afraid—terrified, actually—and I hate myself for it.”

Your tone was sharper than you intended. “Afraid of what?”

“Of making a mistake. Of ruining things.” His gaze dropped back to his hands, his lower lip trembling in a way that made something inside you twist painfully.

“You already ruined things, Joel. You already blew it.”

At that, he looked up, his face pale, his expression something close to stricken.

“I know,” he admitted, the words barely above a whisper. “I know I did. But… I was hurt.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You were hurt?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice rising just a touch, a hint of frustration there. “Last time we talked, at my place, we said things… things that stuck in my head and twisted ‘round ‘til I couldn’t think straight. And then Travis—he blindsided me. He said things I wasn’t ready to hear, and before I knew it, I was just… angry. Angry and too stubborn to think if any of it even made sense.”

“You could have asked me about it,” you said, leaning forward slightly, your voice tight with restrained anger. “It would have been that simple. All you had to do was ask.”

Joel shook his head, running a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable.

“You say it like it’s easy. Like it’s that black and white. But it wasn’t. I couldn’t think straight. My head was full of these awful, painful thoughts, and I didn’t know if I could face the answer. I didn’t know if I wanted to face it. What if you told me it was true?”

“What if I told you it was true?” you repeated, incredulous, your voice sharp enough to make him flinch. “Joel, it’s me. Not some stranger off the street. It’s me. Why is it so fucking hard for you to talk to me?”

“'Cause it’s you!” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he finally set the mug down, turning fully toward you. “You’re not just anyone, don’t you get that? You’ve never been just anyone. You’re you, and that’s why it scared me so much. That’s why it’s always scared me.”

You stared at him, your hand brushing against your neck as you tried to process his words.

“What does that even mean?” you asked, your voice quiet but loaded with frustration. “I’m me, but you treat me like I’m a stranger. You accuse me of things I would never do. How does that make sense?”

“It doesn't make sense, I know,” he said, his voice soft now, filled with remorse. “I know, and I’m sorry. I should have—”

You cut him off, leaning closer, your tone sharp and unforgiving.

“I talked to Travis, Joel. He told me everything. He told me what he said to you—that he implied we’d slept together that night.” Your voice faltered for a moment, but you steadied it. “And it was a lie. He lied to you. And you didn’t even stop to think. You didn’t come to me. You just believed him.”

“I know,” he said again, his voice a little stronger this time, though his eyes dropped to the floor. “I know it was a lie. I know that now.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “How?”

He met your eyes, and for the first time that evening, there was something solid in his expression, something that felt like conviction.

“Travis confessed to me. Earlier today.”

You blinked, stunned, the words hitting you like a physical blow.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you talking about?”

“He came to my house this morning.” He paused, glancing at his hands like they might steady him. “When I saw him, I wanted to beat him to a pulp. I thought about it—what it’d feel like, what it’d fix. But he looked… pathetic. Like a wet dog. And I don’t know why, but I listened to him.” He exhaled sharply, his fingers curling into a fist on his thigh. “He confessed everything. Said it was all a lie. That he was angry that night, that he wanted to hurt me, hurt you, us. And that he was sorry.”

That morning, before Joel had even finished his first cup of coffee, the doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting anyone, least of all Travis, who stood on the porch looking like he’d rehearsed this moment a dozen times but still wasn’t ready. There was a tension to his posture—hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders squared but uneven, like he couldn’t decide between defiance and regret.

Joel opened the door without a word, his eyes narrowing slightly, the kind of look that made most people hesitate. But Travis didn’t flinch. He cleared his throat, glanced briefly over Joel’s shoulder as though confirming they were alone, and began. His confession was brief but clear.

Joel stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his silence heavy and deliberate. Anger started to build in him, slow and deliberate, like water simmering in a pot. If he’d been alone, he might’ve said something sharp or done something rash—just enough to make Travis rethink ever stepping foot here again. But Sarah was at the dining table, half-hidden behind a glass of orange juice, listening to every word. It was too early in the day for things to escalate, and besides, Joel knew better.

“I don’t know you, Joel,” he said, voice low but firm. He kept his gaze on Joel, unblinking, but his body angled slightly away, as if ready to retreat if things got ugly. “And I don’t claim to know the whole story between you two. Don’t know all the details, don’t pretend to.” He exhaled sharply, a trace of frustration slipping through. “But I know enough to say this—she doesn’t deserve what you’ve done to her. Not a damn bit of it.”

Joel’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening, but he stayed silent, his arms crossed in front of him like a barrier.

Travis shifted again, this time squaring his shoulders, his voice growing firmer.

“Whether you deserve her or not... that ain’t my call to make.” He shook his head, almost as if he pitied Joel. “But, just be enough. Stop lookin’ for ways to screw it up. Fix it. Make it right.”

The last words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving. Travis glanced back at Joel one final time before stepping off the porch, his body already half-turned away, as if to signal the conversation was over.

Joel’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He stayed there, rooted to the spot, as Travis turned and walked away without looking back. When the door finally closed, Joel exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair before heading back to the kitchen.

Sarah was seated at the table, her cereal soggy in its bowl, her chin propped up on one hand as she watched him. Her expression was impossible to read at first—calm, maybe even detached—but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes, the kind that always made Joel brace himself.

He dropped into the chair across from her, rubbing a hand across his face.

“So,” she began, her voice light but measured, “are you gonna tell me what that was about, or should I start guessing? Because I can go wild with it if you want.”

Joel looked at her, his mouth twitching into the beginnings of a smile despite himself. “You don’t need to guess anything, Sarah. Eat your breakfast.”

She raised an eyebrow, letting the silence hang for a beat. Then she switched tactics.

"You have the afternoon off today, don't you?”

"Yeah."

“Can I spend the afternoon with Irina?” she asked then, her tone casual, like the question had been waiting for its moment to pounce. 

Joel eyed her suspiciously, leaning back in his chair. “Why do I get the feeling this is part of a larger plan?”

“Because it is,” Sarah said brightly, sitting up straighter. “But also because you’re smart, and I’m obviously your favorite child, so you’re always on high alert.”

Joel snorted. “You’re my only child.”

“Exactly,” she said, pointing at him with her spoon. “See how much you have to lose if you say no?”

“Fine,” Joel said, shaking his head. “But be home for dinner.”

“Can I stay over?” she asked immediately, her tone hopeful but strategic, like she was carefully laying pieces on a chessboard.

“Sarah—”

“Tomorrow’s saturday,” she interrupted, grinning now. “And besides, you could use some alone time. Don’t you think? You know, kick back, put your feet up, maybe even watch a movie. Something fun, preferably. You’ve been way too broody lately—it’s not good for your skin.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “My skin is fine, thank you very much.”

“I’m just saying,” she said, widening her eyes for emphasis. “Take a self-care moment. Relax. Settle your affairs. And let’s be honest—at some point, you’re gonna have to get used to me bein’ gone. In a few years, I’ll be outta the house anyway. Might as well start now.”

Joel chuckled low in his chest, shaking his head. “You’re thirteen, sweetheart. You’re not leavin’ anytime soon.”

“Thirteen and a half,” she corrected. “Which means I’m practically halfway to twenty. Time flies, man. Better get used to it.”

He shook his head, a smile breaking through despite his best efforts.

Joel shook his head, letting out a quiet chuckle.  “ Come back for dinner,” he said firmly. “And finish your breakfast, smartass. We’re running late.”

Relief fluttered through you, but it didn’t stay long enough to root itself. Instead, anger rose, sharp and unyielding, burning through your chest like fire.  

“So that’s why you’re here,” you said, your voice cutting through the air between you. “Because Travis decided to clear his conscience? What if he hadn’t? What then, Joel? Would you have hated me for the rest of your life without even asking me about it?”  

“No,” he said quickly, his posture straightening as if bracing for impact. “Of course not. I wanted to come and talk to you before—”  

“How can I be sure of that?” you interrupted, leaning forward slightly, your voice cold and unwavering.  

His face shifted, his desperation barely masked. His eyes moved over your features, searching for something—an opening, a shred of forgiveness, anything to grasp onto. It was the look of someone teetering on the edge of losing what mattered most. And seeing him like that, so vulnerable and raw, sent a sharp pang through your chest.  

But you didn’t move. You didn’t let him off that easily.  

Joel sighed heavily, the sound thick with frustration and resignation. He looked back down at his hands, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of the conversation was pressing him into the couch. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. You watched him wrestle with his thoughts, his jaw tightening and loosening, his fingers twitching slightly.  

Finally, he opened his mouth, but no words came. He shut it again, his brow furrowing, his expression pained. He looked like he was trying to pull something out of himself that refused to surface. Then, with a deep breath, he ran a hand over his forehead, his fingers brushing through his hair before he finally lifted his gaze to meet yours again.  

His cheeks were flushed, the color spreading to his neck, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter but startlingly clear.  

“You could do the worst atrocities in the world to me, and I’d still come crawling back to you,” he said, his words landing heavily in the space between you.  

You blinked, stunned, your anger momentarily eclipsed by his confession.  

“I’d take it all,” he continued, his voice steady despite the emotion rippling just beneath the surface. “Every insult, every blow. At first, I’d probably bark back—like some angry dog—but it wouldn’t matter. I’d still come back to you. Over and over again. Until you decided I wasn’t worth the effort anymore. And even then…” His voice faltered slightly, his eyes darkening as he leaned closer to you. “Even then, I’d wait. I’d wait for you like some stupid, loyal, domesticated animal.”  

His hand fell lightly onto your knee, the weight of it grounding and electric all at once. His face was closer now, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin.  

You stared at him, speechless, his words circling in your mind, unfamiliar and disarming. You had never heard him talk like this before, never heard him articulate his feelings with such painful honesty.  

Confusion flickered across your face, your brows knitting together as you tried to process what he’d said. But before you could respond, Joel pulled his hand back, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he was reluctant to let go.  

He sat back, his hand running along his jawline, his thumb brushing against his stubble in an attempt to soothe himself. His eyes shifted away from you, staring somewhere into the distance as he collected himself.  

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant, but still carrying the weight of everything he hadn’t said yet. His eyes stayed fixed on some invisible point in front of him, his expression thoughtful and distant.  

“I’m a lucky man,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching in a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Though for a long time, I thought life had it out for me.”  

The confession lingered in the room for a moment before he continued, his voice lower now, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to you.  

“When I was a teenager, I had all these goals, y'know? Dreams that seemed so big and endless back then. And then every single one of 'em became impossible the moment Amelia told me she was pregnant.” He laughed softly, though it wasn’t a happy sound. It carried the weight of years gone by, of opportunities lost. “It took me a while to make peace with that. To accept that everything I thought my life would be was just… gone. My responsibilities changed overnight, and I wasn’t ready. Not even close.”  

You stayed quiet, your gaze fixed on him as he spoke, unwilling to break the flow of his words.  

“It was hard,” he admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture of discomfort. “Harder than I could’ve imagined. But then Sarah was born.” His voice softened when he said her name, a reverence in the way he spoke of her. “And everything changed. Suddenly, none of it mattered anymore—not the dreams I lost, not the plans I’d made. Because I had her. She was all I needed to be happy, even when everything else felt like it was falling apart.”  

There was a pause, a stillness that filled the space as he collected his thoughts. His hands, resting on his knees, clasped together tightly, his knuckles turning white.  

“And then Amelia left,” he said, his voice dropping lower, his jaw tightening as though the memory itself was still too sharp. “When she walked away, I thought I wouldn’t survive it. I wanted to die. The only thing that kept me going was Sarah. She was my strength, my reason to keep breathing. And Tommy,” he added with a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “even if he gave me more headaches than I could count.”  

His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Those years were… suffocating. I was drowning, trying to stay afloat for Sarah’s sake. I worked every hour I could, even when it wasn’t enough. And I tried so damn hard to keep her from noticing. She was just a baby, too little to understand, but I noticed. I noticed every empty space, every moment we didn’t have what we should’ve.”  

Joel paused, his fingers fiddling with an invisible thread on his jeans, his voice turning steadier as he continued.  

“Everything I did was for her,” he said, his tone resolute. “Everything I still do is for her. I didn’t care if I wore the same worn-out shoes for years, as long as she had everything she needed. I didn’t care about working overtime, as long as she had a good christmas, with all the things she’d ever dreamed of.”  

A soft smile crept onto his face, faint but genuine. “And then things got better. I started making more money. I was able to move us into a nicer place, give her her own room with everything she wanted—books, toys, a million stuffed animals. Seeing her happy was all I needed. Nothing else mattered. My own dreams, my own goals—they didn’t even exist anymore. I didn’t have room for them. All I cared about was her.”  

He exhaled shakily, his hands now clenched together, his shoulders slightly hunched as if carrying a weight he hadn’t quite managed to set down.  

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. His words settled into you, heavy and aching. Your throat tightened, and your vision blurred with unshed tears. You knew Joel was a good father—better than most. But hearing him lay it bare like this, recounting the sacrifices he made and the pain he endured, broke something inside you.  

He looked down, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“I had no desires of my own,” he admitted, his words halting, “until I met you.”  

Your breath hitched at his confession, your gaze dropping to your hands, folded tightly in your lap.  

Joel shifted in his seat, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours. He was waiting, searching your face for a reaction. When you finally looked up, your vision blurred, a single tear slipping down your cheek.  

“And then you moved in next to me,” he said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “And I became the luckiest man in the world. Because that night, on your birthday, I saw it. I felt it, clear as day, in your eyes.” His voice wavered slightly. “Did you feel it too?”  

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”  

Joel’s gaze flickered between yours, searching, probing for even the faintest shadow of doubt. But he found none. Your answer had left no room for uncertainty, and the truth of it settled visibly in his chest. For a moment, his eyes dropped to his hands, fidgeting restlessly in his lap. The reprieve was brief; his gaze snapped back to yours almost immediately, as if afraid to lose the fragile connection.  

“You took me completely by surprise,” he began, his voice low and unsteady. “I had this quiet, organized life. Everything was in its place, everything predictable. And then you came along, and suddenly I was thinking about futures I’d never allowed myself to imagine before. Futures where my purpose wasn’t just being a dad, where there was… more.”

His lips pressed together, and he glanced past your shoulder, unable to hold your gaze for long under the weight of his admission. “I tried to act on it. I wanted to. I told myself I’d tell you how I felt, ask you out properly, but I was terrified. You were such an easy part of our lives, mine and Sarah’s, that the idea of risking that, of losing you…” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as though frustrated with himself. “I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t.”  

His eyes returned to you, a mixture of resignation and determination clouding their depths. “So I swallowed it all. All these years, I’ve done everything I could to be the friend you deserved. To not let my feelings interfere. But if I’m being honest…” He paused, his jaw tightening as though bracing for impact. “I’d take anything from you. I’d come back to you every fucking time, no matter what. Because the thought of living without you—” He stopped abruptly, his voice catching in his throat.  

Joel exhaled sharply, attempting to recover, and then a faint, self-deprecating humor colored his expression.

“I know how pathetic I sound right now,” he said, his voice lighter but no less sincere. “I don’t care.”  

“Yeah, Joel, that’s pretty damn pathetic,” you replied, your lips curving into a soft, fleeting smile. There wasn’t much humor in it, but it was enough to ease some of the tension between you.  

Joel chuckled faintly, shaking his head as though chastising himself. He glanced down at the floor, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“I know,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I’ve been feeling pretty pathetic lately.”  

“Me too,” you admitted quietly, your voice tinged with an exhaustion that mirrored his.  

Silence stretched between you, not awkward but weighted. Joel’s hands stilled, resting loosely against his knees, though you could tell he was still grappling with everything he’d laid bare. You studied him in that moment—every slight movement, every shift in his expression—trying to parse the tangle of thoughts in your own mind.  

For Joel, the quiet was a reminder of how vulnerable he’d been. He could feel a knot tightening in his stomach, a lump rising in his throat that he fought to suppress. The fear of baring himself so fully gnawed at him, but it didn’t terrify him as much as losing you did.  

“I don’t regret that night,” he said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, though his eyes remained fixed on the floor. “But I hate how it happened. I hate that our first night together came out of a fight. A fight where I was…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Terrible to you. That’s not how it should have been.”  

“Oh, God. Stop that,” you cut in sharply, your tone carrying the faintest edge of irritation. You leaned forward, placing your hand firmly on his knee. “I’m tired of hearing you say the same thing over and over. Things are the way they are. Nothing more.”  

His head snapped toward you, his brows knitting together in confusion and disbelief. His lips parted, as if he wanted to argue, but no words came immediately.  

“I get it, okay?” he said eventually, his voice quieter but no less intense. “But I fucking blew it. Look where we are now. Years of keeping my feelings bottled up—for what?”  

You shook your head and pulled your hand away from his knee, covering your face as frustration bubbled to the surface. Your eyes burned with unshed tears, your cheeks felt hot, and bitterness churned in your chest.

“Why are you so uncomfortable with the idea of being more than my friend?” you asked, your voice trembling, broken and laced with helplessness. “If we had never argued, we never would have slept together, and then what? You would have spent your whole life being just that—my friend?”

Joel’s face contorted, a mix of anguish and confusion. “It’s not that, I... I...” He faltered, his words tumbling over themselves as his gaze flickered between his hands and your face, desperate to find the right thing to say. “Relationships are complicated, you know that. No matter how hard you try, sometimes things just... break. Feelings get messy, people hurt each other, and then it’s over. And after that? You’re left with the wreckage, picking up the pieces, trying to put them back together, and... starting over. And I want to be wi—”

“I’m not Amelia!”

Your voice cut through the room like a whip, sharp and unrelenting. Joel froze. His body went still, his eyes wide as he watched you rise from your seat, your palms pressing against your face to catch the tears that spilled freely now. A sob broke through your chest, raw and guttural, shaking your whole body.

Joel stood abruptly, closing the space between you with long, purposeful strides. He reached out, his large hands settling gently on your shoulders, trying to ground you, to pull you closer to him. But you resisted, your body tense and unyielding beneath his touch.

You dragged your hands down from your face, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and an expression so pained that Joel felt an ache bloom in his chest. He swallowed hard, his throat tight, as he took in the sight of you.

“Why do you have to make everything harder?” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of desperation. Your words fell between you, sharp and piercing. “I know what happened to you was horrible, Joel. I know. I can’t imagine how alone you must have felt. It hurts—God, it hurts—to think of you going through that. I wish I could go back in time and change it, spare you all that suffering, but I can’t.”

Your voice broke again, and you shook your head, gripping his arms tightly as if trying to anchor yourself. “I can’t change it, and neither can you.”

“I know, baby,” Joel said softly, his voice almost breaking. “I don’t—”

“No!” you interrupted, your hands squeezing his arms harder. “You know nothing! You don’t listen to me. You’re scared—this, us, it terrifies you because it makes you feel weak and vulnerable, and you hate that. I know you do, because I know you. I know you like the back of my hand, just like I know myself."

Your voice rose, thick with emotion, trembling but unwavering. “You’ve spent years building everything you have, brick by brick, because you know how fragile it all is. You know how quickly it can fall apart. And yes, it’s true—that’s life. That’s how it works.”

Joel tried to interrupt, but you pressed on, your words pouring out like a dam had broken. “But I’m not Amelia, Joel. I’m not going to leave when things get hard. I’m not going to disappear. Just look at me—look at me right now. This has been hell since your birthday, absolute hell, and yet I’m still here. I’m standing in front of you, listening to you, when maybe—probably—you don’t even fucking deserve it.”

Joel’s breath hitched, and his hands slipped from your shoulders to your elbows, holding onto you as if afraid you might disappear. His eyes glistened, his lips slightly parted as he took in your words. For a moment, the room was silent except for the uneven sounds of your breathing.

“I know,” Joel said abruptly, his words choking out in a way that made his chest tighten, like he was barely able to get them out at all. “I’ve been a coward all this time, but—”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me the same thing again,” you cut him off, shaking your head in frustration, taking a small step back, your space suddenly feeling more necessary than ever. “Yeah, real—”

“Can you stop interrupting me and just listen?” he snapped, his voice sharp, the calm restraint in it fraying just a little as he stepped closer, his hands landing gently on your shoulders, grounding himself in the movement.

He stared down at your feet, his gaze lingering there, not meeting your eyes, the words heavy in the space between you. In that moment, he felt desperate, like the situation was slipping through his fingers again, but somehow, there was a strange sense of vulnerability in his posture, like he was standing on the edge of a cliff with nowhere to go but forward.

His hands fell away from your shoulders, but he didn’t move, his eyes finally lifting to meet yours, his gaze unwavering and intense. It felt like there were a thousand unsaid things in the air, and still, he said nothing for a long beat, his mouth opening, then closing again as if he couldn’t quite gather the words.

“Everything you said is true,” he started, his voice quieter now, but carrying a weight in it that felt both final and irreversible. “And everything I told you is true. And I don’t care, not anymore. I’m done with it.” He moved his hand across the space between you, as though trying to sweep away the past, drawing an invisible line through the tension that had hung over both of you for too long.

You let out a slow breath, the question hanging in the air before you could voice it. “And what does that even mean?”

“It means that I want you, that I love you,” Joel started, his voice breaking slightly on the words, the confession so raw it felt like it was tearing him open from the inside. “That I need you. That I can’t… I can't help but resent a life without you.” He took a shuddering breath, his eyes burning, not quite able to meet yours. “I always thought I was fine on my own. I’ve been alone most of my life, you know that. I never needed anyone. I never thought I was missing anything, never felt incomplete. I felt perfectly fine alone.” He swallowed hard, his throat tight. His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, were now trembling, fingers curling and uncurling as if trying to hold onto something, anything, to keep himself from shattering.  

“And then I met you,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid to say the words aloud. “And I realized how empty I’d been. How much I’d been missing. How full I felt when I was with you.” He paused, his face contorting as if the weight of his own words was too much to carry. “And then I screwed up. I messed it all up.” His hands balled into fists at his sides. “And no, I’m not that cold. I’m not some heartless bastard. I need you. I need you more than I’ve ever needed anything. And I can’t—” He stopped, his breath catching in his throat, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven gasps as he struggled to control the emotion threatening to overwhelm him.  

His eyes closed for a moment, as though he could hide from the truth for just a second longer, but when they opened again, they were full of something that felt like desperation. “I can’t live another day knowing you’re just next door, and you’re uncomfortable because of what I did. Because of what I let happen. Because of how I failed you.” His voice cracked on the last word, and it was like a knife to your chest, hearing the hurt in him, seeing how much it was tearing him apart to even say it.  

“I know I probably don't deserve you,” he whispered, each word like a burden he couldn’t bear. “I know that. And if you decide not to choose me, I’ll understand. I’ll walk away. I’ll stay away. I promise you, I won’t bother you again. But if you… if you just let me, one last time...” He faltered, his voice breaking as he looked at you, his eyes dark with pain and regret. “If you let me prove to you, show you, how much I love you... the way you deserve to be loved, if you let me do it for the first time...” He shook his head, his voice catching again, barely a whisper now. “I promise I’ll never disappoint you again. I swear it.”  

There was nothing left in his voice now but the ragged edges of a man who had bled himself dry in front of you.

“Joel—” you started, but before you could finish, he cut you off, his voice calm but firm, like a man who had already said too much but was determined to say it all.

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not finished.” His voice held an edge of something deeper now, like he had reached the point of no return. “You have to understand what I’m telling you. When I told you about Amelia, when I told you how much of a coward I’ve been, when I told you about how you changed my life, when I told you I was afraid—what I meant is, that’s why it cost me so much to do all this. But now? Now, it’s all insignificant. All of it. Compared to this. Compared to you.”

Your breath caught as his words settled in the space between you, and you could feel your eyes widen, your body stiffening with an ache you couldn’t place. You watched him, his expression flickering—his eyebrows tense, his lips parted with an unreadable intensity, his eyes dark and glistening, glossed with the unmistakable trace of tears. Your stomach twisted at the sight of them, the tears there but barely contained, and you realized how long it had been since you had seen him like this. Vulnerable. So impossibly vulnerable.

He leaned in slightly, his hands rising to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing the damp skin of your cheeks, as if he could steady you both with his touch.

“I love you,” he said, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “I always have. From the moment I saw you, I loved everything about you. Everything. The way you are. The sound of your voice. The way your face lights up when you smile. The way you move, the way you think, the way you feel. I want it all, I want it all with you. Please.”

The words hit you like a slow wave, gentle but relentless, and before you could stop them, the tears you had been fighting to keep in check broke free. They streamed down your face, hot and heavy, staining your flushed cheeks. Joel’s hands were gentle as they wiped them away, his touch tender, almost reverent as his calloused fingers traced the outline of your skin. He stared at you, as if trying to read the language of your eyes, but there was something in them he couldn’t name. It wasn’t sadness. It wasn’t anger. It was something similar to doubt. Uncertainty, maybe. Something that he couldn’t fix with a touch or a word, but something that still held him captive.

“I would kneel in front of you,” he said, his voice soft but laden with a kind of desperate affection, “and beg all night if you asked me to, sunshine.”

His words had the air of a joke, but the way his lips curled into a smile—slow and warm—made something inside you tighten. Something inside you broke just a little, and you smiled in return, the gesture pulling at the corners of your mouth. The smile felt unfamiliar, like it had been so long since you had smiled for him. Really smiled, without hesitation. And when you did, the effect on him was immediate, like a light suddenly flicking on in a room that had been dark for far too long.

Joel’s breath caught at the sight of it. He looked at you as though he had been waiting for that exact moment, for that exact smile, for weeks. The smile he had missed more than he could admit.

With a quiet, almost embarrassed chuckle, he pulled his hands from your face, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You stared at him, confused, as he slowly began to lower himself onto one knee, the movement slow, deliberate, as though he was going to ask something, something monumental and beg. But before he could finish the motion, you instinctively reached for him, hands gripping his sides, pulling him back up with a soft laugh.

“Joel, please,” you laughed, the sound light and disbelieving, as if you couldn’t quite believe what was happening. But in your chest, you felt a soft pressure—the weight of everything he had just said, everything he had just given to you. 

Standing before you, Joel didn’t give you a second to pull away, his hands moving with certainty, cupping your face with a tenderness that seemed almost fragile, as if he was afraid of breaking something. His fingers gently traced the contours of your skin, his gaze unwavering, like he was memorizing every detail of your face. 

“I fucking love you,” he whispered, his voice rough, the words heavy with an urgency that seemed to echo in the stillness between you. Before you could react, his lips were on yours—soft, tentative at first, like he was testing the waters, and then more sure, more insistent, as he kissed you again, and then again, and again, and again. Each kiss was brief, a fleeting press of his soft lips against yours, but each one held a weight, a quiet desperation that was impossible to ignore.

Your hands rested on his chest, the steady beat of his heart under your palms grounding you in that moment, pulling you closer into the warmth of his embrace. You could feel the tension in him, the way his body seemed to pulse with need, and you knew—without a doubt—that he was hanging on to every second, waiting for you to say something. 

"I love you," you whispered, the words slipping out involuntarily, caught somewhere between a confession and a plea. Your lips were mere inches from his as you spoke, your breath mingling with his in the small space between your mouths. As he kissed the corner of your lips, you felt the tremble in his kiss, the way his entire body seemed to respond to the simplicity of those three words. 

Joel’s lips curved into a smile against yours, and he pulled back, just enough to watch your face. His eyes searched yours, like he was trying to memorize something invisible, something that only the two of you could understand.

“I love you too, Joel,” you said again, your voice low but steady, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing grounding you. “And I’m sorry. Truly. If I hurt you—if anything I did made you feel that way—it was never intentional. I need you to know that. Nothing that happened with Travis was ever about trying to hurt you. I’d never do that.” You paused, your fingers tightening slightly. “But I get it. I shouldn’t have let it get so messy, not after what happened between us.”

Joel tilted his head, his gaze softening even further.

“We handled this a little badly, didn’t we?” he said, his voice edged with a hint of humor, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark and bright at the same time, his pupils blown wide like he was looking straight at the moon.

You nodded, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “I think that’s putting it lightly.”

His smile turned rueful, almost sheepish. “I’m sorry—for all of it. I mean it. Please, forgive me.”

Your hands slid upward, fingers tracing the line of his collar, then moving to the soft skin behind his ears, the place where his hair curled just slightly above his nape.

“I forgive you,” you murmured. “It’s okay. I understand. And I love you.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his—just the barest touch—before pulling back again, almost abruptly. Joel didn’t move, his eyes flicking between yours like he was searching for something more in your expression. Your fingers played with the hair at the back of his neck, anchoring you both.

“But if you ever do something like that again,” you said, your voice soft but firm, “if you ever run away from me again, Joel Miller, I swear to fucking God—”

He shook his head quickly, cutting you off. “I won’t. I promise.”

You studied him for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly, measuring the weight of his words. Then, as if deciding you’d had enough distance, you closed the space between you in one swift motion, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth back to yours.

This time, there was no hesitation. No shyness. No lingering doubt. Just heat and certainty, the kind that made the room feel smaller, the air heavier. Joel’s arms circled your waist, pulling you flush against him until there wasn’t a millimeter of space left.

When you finally broke the kiss, his lips left yours with a soft, audible sound, one that seemed to echo in the stillness of the room. You hovered for a second before kissing him again, this time opening your mouth, your tongue grazing his bottom lip. He groaned softly, a sound that vibrated from his chest to your mouth, and you smiled against him.

Somewhere in the distance, a shrill sound broke through the haze. His phone. It rang once, then twice, before falling silent again. Joel didn’t so much as flinch.

You pulled back, slightly breathless, your hands cradling the sides of his face. His lips were pink, puffy, his cheeks still flushed. His hair was mussed from your fingers, and his eyes—those impossibly dark eyes—looked at you like you were something sacred.

That man was yours.

“Cassie will be back any second,” you whispered, your fingers brushing through the locks that had fallen over his forehead.

Joel hummed, leaning in to press his lips against your neck, his mustache tickling your skin in a way that made you laugh involuntarily.

“I doubt it,” he murmured, his breath warm against you. “But we could go to my place if you wanna keep talkin'. Sarah won’t be back till dinner.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his teeth grazed your neck, gentle but deliberate, sending a ripple of warmth through you that stole whatever you were about to say.

“Talk,” you managed, half a laugh, half a protest, as his lips pressed against the spot again, and the world outside the two of you felt very far away. 

“I wanna take my time with you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he kissed a slow, soft trail up to your jaw. “I wanna do things right, without arguments or interruptions.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the weight of his intention, and for a moment, it felt like everything outside of this room was suspended. Time wasn’t rushing forward anymore—it was just the two of you, existing in this space, in this perfect, quiet moment.

But just as the last word left his lips, the ringing of his phone sliced through the air, sharp and unwelcome. Joel froze for a beat, the smile on his face faltering slightly. He pulled away, reluctantly, the distance between you growing just enough for him to glance at the phone screen.

“Convenient,” he muttered, his voice holding a note of dry humor, but the amusement quickly faded as he saw the caller ID. His brow furrowed, and he answered with a steadying breath, bringing the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

You watched him, the way his posture stiffened, his focus sharpening as he listened. His brows furrowed deeply, his eyes narrowing. Your hand, which had been resting on his chest, stilled as you saw the shift in his expression, the tightening of his jaw.

He stepped back slightly, as if distancing himself from the moment, his hand gripping the phone tighter as his voice lowered, more urgent now. “Which hospital?” he asked, his words clipped. “Okay, okay, I’m on my way. Tell her I’m on my way—tell her not to be scared...”

You took a step forward, instinctively, your voice trembling as you whispered, “Joel...”

His eyes flicked to you, a flicker of panic crossing his features, but he quickly masked it. He stood straighter, listening intently, his body still but tense. “I... uh,” he hesitated, his gaze meeting yours, the weight of the moment sinking in. “I’ll be right there.”

The words hung in the air, and just as quickly as the connection was made, it was severed. He snapped the phone shut, his breath shaky as he shoved it into his pocket. His face had gone pale, the usual warmth drained from his expression.

“Irina’s mother is at the hospital with Sarah,” he said, his voice thick with worry. He ran a hand through his hair, the movement absent, almost frantic, as he turned toward the door, his steps hurried. You followed him, your heart now thumping in your chest, your mind spinning with the new reality of the situation.

“What happened?” The question left your mouth, but it felt cold, distant, as if the words hadn’t quite reached you. Your heart raced, the quiet stillness in your chest now replaced by a frantic pulse. “Is she okay?”

“She fell out of the treehouse,” he said, his voice breaking for a moment as he spoke, a touch of guilt in his words. “I... I...” He trailed off, unsure of what to say, his words tangled in the chaos of his thoughts.

Without another word, you grabbed your coat from the rack by the door, your fingers shaking as you pulled it on. Without thinking, you moved toward him, your hand pressing gently but firmly against his lower back, urging him forward.

“Come on,” you said, the urgency in your voice pulling him out of his fog. “I’ll drive.”

[mythicmanuscripts]

..reader changing their signature clothing/accessory/whatever color to blue after marrying Aemond

Oh my god anon you are an absolute genius, I love this so much.

Nothing NSFW in this, just soft fluffy Aemond. Enjoy lads!

---------------------------

Firstly, I've always found it interesting how Aemond has a sapphire in his eye and not an emerald? Even if the sapphire was a random choice, he absolutely could have gotten an emerald to replace it once it became clear that the war would end up being blacks v greens.

Yet for some reason he never did. He says he wishes to serve his house yet he does not wear the color of his house? He didnt just not choose a colour, he actively chose a color other than the color of his house and would have had plenty of opportunities to swop it but always chose not to.

I've always thought that the choice of sapphire was a way of him distancing himself from his family, of showing how he isnt quite like them, isnt quite a green in the same way they are.

It's this that makes me think you choosing to wear blue would be so meaningful for him. When you first agree to the match and the wedding planning gets underway, you wear green. Of course you do, you're joining that family, you have to be seen as loyal to them. In particular you have to make sure you're seen as loyal to Allicent, that you're wear their green, their symbols, showing your integration into their house.

After the wedding, you slowly become closer with Aemond and begin to learn about him. You start to hear stories of how it was growing up for him, how he lost the eye, how he hates being the second son. He has so much more to him than you first expected.

You don't pressure Aemond to take off the eyepatch. You want him to be comfortable with you and that means you can't break his trust, ever.

But once he does take it off and you see the sapphire, you know immediately what you must do. You're able to make that choice now because you're part of the family. You no longer need to be on your best behaviour to ensure the match isnt called off. You're married to Aemond now. You don't need Allicent's approval to secure your place here anymore.

So you start to look for blue clothing items, in particular you look for that deep sapphire blue. You get necklaces and bracelets with sapphires, you get new dresses that are deep blue, coats and scarves too. Aemond doesn't notice the new clothes arriving, until one day you join him for lunch and you're wearing all blue.

He stares for a moment, awestruck, and then just says you look beautiful and things go back to normal. He thought this was just a new outfit you had gotten somehow, which is perfectly fine with him you can buy whatever you want. But then a few days later you're dressing for an event you must attend with him and again he sees you put on blue? This time he even sees you put on a necklace with a sapphire inside.

He forces himself to look away and refuses to even look at you for the entire event. You think you've done something horribly wrong, especially when he seats himself at the very end of the row of seats and you are forced to sit two rows down from him all on you own.

He leaves before you do, and so you when you watch back to your chambers alone you're surprised to see he is already there. You ask him what was wrong, and he just takes off his eyepatch and pulls you into a hug, crying softly into your shoulder because you've chosen him. You and him have your own side in this war, and that is the side that will prevail.

[lucygraysboy]

“will it sound racist if i say they probably eat rice when they grow tired of noodles? or sushi? do they like pizza or steak or does that gross them out like some of their meals gross us out?” he wonders aloud, not one to judge but growing more and more curious. “one of my classmates,” blair, but he won’t say the name and cause tension between them, “really likes japanese cuisine. i could never get past things like unagi, which is basically grilled eel. makes my skin crawl.” but he’s still fascinated by all the different cultures, and finds it amusing how they somehow seem to coexist right here in this very city. “that’s very un-new-yorkers-like, you know?” he points out with a chuckle, kissing the top of lucy gray’s head just because it’s very sweet and thoughtful of her. most people don’t stand up and offer their seats to elderly people. new yorkers believe in the i was here first so i get to sit as long as i want to rule. “you make it fun and interestin’, baby. i feel like we could go to albuquerque and have the time of our lives as long as we were together.” hearing her basically say that he’s not the worst tour guide in the world has him beaming, his chest expanding. it’s not that he wants her to fall in love with the city and stay here forever, that’s not how he envisions his distant future, but he wants her to have a good time while she’s here. a fairytale, that’s what he’s promised her and he’s determined to deliver. “the shell shock eventually wears off, i swear. though, even now, i still have these moments when i look at something and think to myself, did that just happen for real? like, just the other day i saw a lady maniacally laughing while sitting on top of a trash can with her pants off, using the trash can as a toilet. mind you, that happened on the corner of 5th and broadway.”

“that is true… what do you eat on everyday once you grow tired of noodles?” now she’s curious, thinking how she’s clueless and really doesn’t know what they have for food everyday over there but if it is just noodles to choose from how do americans move to a place like that and only eat that everyday? or if they move here, how do they like suddenly having to eat pizza everyday? the world’s awfully too fascinating for her one curious mind. “no, i’ll save it for any elderly person that might need to sit. i’m good, i’ll be all right.” saying sweetly, patting his forearm. watching him hand her a makeshift microphone, lucy gray looks at the cup and laughs before leaning into it and eyes flickering up on him, “it’s fun an’ certainly been interestin’ this far. i’d say a shell shockin’ change of culture from the one i’m used to. so it’s all very excitin’ for someone like me.” hand presses to her chest, smiling amusingly. staying optimistic on the outside even if her home and heart is where the hills and hollers are, but there’s no need to rain on any parades— there’s something to always be positive about and she is grateful for the experience. the only way she’ll end up absolutely hatin’ it is if it takes billy away from her again but she’s choosing not to think about that right now to spare her mood getting ruined and then ruining his and then they both wind up in a bad mood.

[marauder-misprint]

Ministry Party

Sirius Black x fem!Slytherin!reader

series masterlist

5.6k words

cw: swearing, fluff, Y/N

All of the Slytherin girls were going home for Christmas so your train compartment was packed like usual. Beatrice was gushing over her parents’ plans to take her to Paris during the break and how she planned on meeting a Beauxbaton boy for some holiday romance. Cora and Pandora were listening intently, but you stared out the window. You weren’t really interested in the love story that wasn’t likely to happen. After a while, Dorcas excused herself, saying something about going to find Marlene’s compartment. 

“So, Y/N, do you have any plans for break?” Cora asked once the door slid shut. 

“Mum and Dad are a bit pissed about my grades so probably studying? Bit dull, I know,” you said uninterested. 

What else were you supposed to say? Your parents might host a party where you’ll get drunk and grounded for the rest of break? You weren’t traveling. You didn’t daydream about meeting some boy on the streets around your house. If you were lucky, your mum would take you shopping so you could get gifts for everyone. More likely than not, you’d spend most of the break in your house, doing nothing too exciting. 

Cora frowned with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Well, what’s no fun. Bea, you should abduct her! Take her to Paris with you!”

Beatrice smiled. “Yeah! Oh, you’d love it! It’s beautiful and the food and the wine!”

“I’d be forever in your debt if you stole me away,” you replied teasingly, although you did want to stop her from ranting on and on about the wonders of Paris again. “I’ll be lucky if I get to leave my neighborhood. No way Mum’s letting me leave the country.”

“Evan and I’ll be home. You should come visit,” Pandora says. “Wouldn’t be leaving the country.”

You gave a haughty laugh at that. “Oh, please. Do we need to cover how my parents can be? My mum would say she never gets to see me and I see you all term. It’s no use.”

“That’s not very hopeful,” Pandora scolded.

“My home isn’t hopeful. It’s where hopes go to die.”

The air in the compartment seemed to thicken. It felt like you had revealed a part of your home life that you usually kept behind closed doors. You didn’t know what they expected though. You stole from just about every store you went into and from people you thought needed to be taught a lesson. You had an ability to get alcohol and hide it somewhere in Hogwarts. You got a few bad grades and now your entire break would likely be forced revisions with your father telling you that your grades are a reflection of your future income; he had been a top student in all of his muggle schools. He would tell you that he didn’t get to where he was by slacking off. 

“Now that I think of it, I can’t say Evan will be around all of break,” Pandora mused out loud after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. 

“Junior?” Cora asked.

“Junior,” she confirmed.  “Ev never brings him around and I know they don’t go to Junior’s. Not actually sure where they go…”

“Don’t you have twin telepathy or something?” Beatrice asked.

The three girls laughed. You sat in silence, thinking about all the snide comments your parents would make. You were flexing your hands and cracking your knuckles unconsciously. Or maybe you did realize that you were doing it. It was somehow soothing. The repetitive pops from your fingers was a quiet symphony to you.

---

As you had predicted, being at home wasn’t a picnic. Your father gave a rant about grades and how important they were. Your mother said it was a blessing that Professor Slughorn didn’t drop you from his Slug Club. They insisted you revise everything that was covered in the semester. After the first two days back, however, the house was eerily quiet. You received and responded to letters from your room. You studied. You would reread spell books on the couch in the conservatory. Your mother would bring you the occasional cup of tea, but you knew it was more to check on your progress than an act of kindness. 

“Y/N, come on! We need to get going!” your mum called up the stairs on Christmas Eve. 

You stood in front of the mirror in your bedroom. It had been a while since you wore an actual dress. You wore skirts at school, but this was different. Your mother had picked it out, along with a pair of heels. It felt like a bit much. You looked through your jewelry box and frowned. Nothing looked like what you were picturing in your head to go with the dress. Then you remembered your school jewelry box that was at the bottom of your trunk. You dig it out and unlock it. You let out a small laugh as you hold up Williams’ necklace before putting it on. It looked perfect. You glance at Regulus’ ring. No. You relocked the box and grabbed a few rings from your normal jewelry collection.

You poked your head out of the door. “Mum! Can I borrow some earrings?”

You hear her sigh impatiently. “Yes, but be quick!”

You hurried into your parents’ room and took a quick look through her boxes. You grabbed the first pair of silver hoops that you could find. Then you met your mother by the front door. 

“Oh, that’s a lovely bracelet. When’d you get that?”

You looked down at your wrist. It was the tennis bracelet from Madam Malkin’s.

“Not sure. Found it in my room over the summer,” you answered.

The two of you got into the car where your father was waiting for you. 

“So, it’s Christmas Eve. I’m dressed up. You’re both very dressed up. Where are we going?” you asked from the back seat.

“You haven’t told her yet? No wonder she willingly got into the car,” you dad said, giving you a look in the reflection of the rearview mirror.

You did not like the sound of that.

“We are all going to the Ministry’s Christmas party,” your mother said shortly.

You let out a groan and threw your head back against the headrest. “I should’ve stayed at school!”

“Y/N…” your mother warned.

No one spoke for the rest of the drive. Your father put on music at some point to break up the silence. The Christmas party was for sucking up to some of the Ministry’s biggest donors and influences. It was stuffy and boring. None of your friends were ever there and the bartenders were determined to only serve those of age. Worst of all, you didn’t have a room you could easily retreat to to avoid it all. 

When you arrived and your parents got out of the car, you stayed seated. You didn’t even unbuckle. Your mother opened your door and glared. 

“Come on, Y/N/ Out.”

“No,” you said with a softness to your voice. “I’m good here. I’ll see you when it’s over.”

“Darling, listen to your mother. You’re coming in,” your father insisted. 

He reached in and unbuckled you. You let out a noise of protest. Then he put his arm around you and forcibly removed you from your seat. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Stop!”

Another couple arriving gave your family odd looks as they walked up to the building.

“You need to learn to carry yourself like a proper young lady or you’ll never get any respect,” your mother snapped at you. “That includes going to events you don’t want to be at. You must act respectable tonight. These are my employers!” 

You rolled your eyes. “I think I’ll just burn high society to the ground.”

Your mother chose to ignore your comment. She led you and your father into the building, greeting her coworkers and the event workers politely. Your father walked slightly behind you to make sure that you didn’t make a run for it. Once inside and without coats, he took his wife’s arm and walked with her, leaving you to either follow them or make it on your own. You scanned the room. Like usual and as expected, you saw no one your age. You recognized a few people from your parents’ smaller parties. You sighed. Then you realized that you lost your parents in the crowd. Apparently, if you stop walking for a moment, they speed off without you, despite saying they would keep an eye on you to make sure you behaved. You spotted a bench just off to the side. That would be your spot for the evening, you thought. As you sat down, you tried to suppress the urge to bang your head against the wall. 

“Orion and Walburga Black! Welcome!” you heard an event work say.

“You brought your sons, how lovely,” one of your mother’s coworkers said.

“Yes, they’re getting old enough to attend these events now,” a voice that must have been Walburga said. 

“Turning into young gentlemen,” Orion added, pride in his voice. 

“Welcome, Regulus and Sirius!” the event worker said. 

That made you want to bang your head against the wall even more. You turned your head just in time to see the family walk forward. You could see them all exchanging words, but in hushed tones. You assumed the boys didn’t want to be here as much as you did. Then you saw both of them spot you at the same time. You pretended not to see them, leaning back on the bench and closing your eyes.

“I see a classmate,” Sirius said smoothly, his voice no longer hushed. “I’ll find you when it’s time to go.”

“Go with him,” Walburga instructed Regulus. “Keep him out of trouble.”

With your eyes shut, you didn’t see him nod and follow his brother toward you. They stood in front of you with their hands in their pockets. They stood there in silence for a moment as you kept your eyes shut. You knew they were standing there, but you hoped they would leave if you ignored them. 

“Y/N,” Sirius said. 

You opened your eyes slowly. 

“Maybe I was asleep?” you suggested flatly, looking from one brother to the other. “Not buying it? Eh, worth an attempt.”

“What are you doing here?” Regulus asked coldly. 

“Mum works for the Ministry. I’ve told you.”

Sirius gave his brother a sideways glance.

“Been to this event before?” he asked, sitting down on your left. 

Regulus sat down on your right. You felt awkward and could feel yourself blushing. You would have endless questions from your mother if she managed to see you like this.

“Sadly, yes. I’ve managed to get out of a few, but, alas, not this year.”

“How… how long is it?” Regulus asked. 

“Feels like twenty questions. You two have 17 left. But at least until 10. If they can’t get people to clear out, it goes longer.”

“What do we do?” Sirius asked.

“Sixteen,” you counted. “I usually do whatever I can do to pass the time. Rubbing elbows with Ministry members and who they consider as elite isn’t really my cup of tea.”

The ‘who they consider as elite’ made Regulus uncomfortable. You knew it would and it was only confirmed by him shifting in his seat. Sirius, however, seemed unfazed by it.

“Food? Drink?” Sirius questioned.

“Food is passed around on trays. Not horrible. Desserts are top tier. Drinks, you have to go through the bartenders at their stations.”

“Hm, that’s not going to do,” Sirius said, standing up. “Care to dance?”

He held out a hand to you. You just stared at it. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw the expression on Regulus’ face; it wasn’t pleasant. You took Sirius’ hand and he led you to the dance floor. 

“Any reason we just left your brother on the bench?” you asked him, casting a quick glance back to were Regulus was still sitting.

The younger boy’s face was stoney. Sirius laughed as he took your waist. Automatically, your arms went around his neck. You swayed to the slow song that was playing. 

“Oh, he’ll get over it. He would like to rub elbows with the Ministry-deemed elite. And from what I’ve heard, you and I, we’re cut from the same cloth.”

Rolling your eyes, you asked, “And what have you heard?”

“That you got Hog’s Head to serve you something other than butterbeer and then left after he found out you’re not pureblood.”

You scoffed. “Is that all? Because I’m sure as hell more than that.”

“Let me think,” he paused. “You’re the source of the drinks at Slytherin parties. You defended that Hufflepuff at the beginning of the year.”

Your hand came down to touch the necklace you stole because of that event. 

“You’re not too bad at school, and people like you.”

“You have to be liked to be in the Slug Club,” you said, unimpressed.

The music changed to a waltz and you both changed how you were holding each other.

“I don’t think being in the Club is your entire goal.”

“It’s not. Getting out alive is.”

“Huh…” Sirius said with a chuckle. “Who’s trying to kill you at Hogwarts?”

“Well, no one right now. That’s the perk of being well-liked.”

“I suppose it would be. I also know that you’re pretty and I’ve told as much. I told you that before Reg even asked you out.”

“You were drunk out of your mind,” you reminded him. “I could smell the whiskey on you before you got in my personal space.”

Sirius laughed. “And what I wouldn’t give to be that drunk again. Gives a little extra confidence-”

“Not that you need it,” you cut him off.

“If there’s more to you than being a half blood, then there’s more to me than my confidence.”

You looked over where Regulus had been sitting. He was no longer there. You assumed he went to find his parents or talk up some higher up Ministry worker. You noticed that several people were watching you and Sirius as you traveled around the dance floor.

“Where did you learn to dance anyways?” you asked him.

“Mother had me ‘n’ Reg take private lessons over the past few summers. You?”

“I went to a few classes two summers ago. Mum wants me to be a well-rounded young lady,” you laughed. “She still won’t drop it.”

“You’re well rounded in some parts,” he leaned in to whisper.

“Oh fuck off!” you scoffed. “Don’t make me slap you when you were actually being tolerable.”

“What do you mean by actually being tolerable? I’m a constant delight.”

“Maybe to Potter and Lupin and Petticoat.”

“Pettigrew.”

“Whatever. You say you’re more than your confidence but then you showcase your ego that’s up your arse.”

“Like you don’t have an ego?”

“My ego is earned.”

Sirius laughed.

“Besides a handful of house points, what’s your ego for?”

“Being liked and being able to handle it.”

He rolled his eyes, causing you to glare at him. You couldn’t believe you were still dancing, but you couldn’t seem to let go of him.

“That doesn’t earn you an ego. There has to be something more. I can earn house points. People like me. I can handle it. What’s the difference between you and me?”

“I… I… I’m not obnoxious when I’m being myself,” you found yourself saying.

The song ended and you took the opportunity to let go of him. You hurried off the dance floor and disappeared into the sea of people. Sirius stood still in the middle of the dance floor, watching you run away from him. Part of him wanted to follow you and get a real answer for why you thought you were better than him. By the time he decided that he did want to go after you and reached the edge of the crowd, you were long gone. He sighed and pushed his way through people. He kept an eye out for Regulus or his parents. It felt right that he should be avoiding them; it’s not like he wanted to be associated with them anyways. Unless someone was saying ‘the Blacks’ son, the one that’s nothing like them.’

You saw Regulus talking to the head of the Department of Magical Transportation. Your mother complained about him a bit; he was a source of plenty of paperwork. They seemed deep in conversation, which made you smile. You did admire how he could put aside his feelings to get down to business. But, like Sirius said, you just weren’t cut from the same cloth. You could tolerate each other most of the time, but his stance on blood status was a real killer. You turned to walk in the opposite direction.

“It must be my birthday,” you muttered to yourself, smiling. 

A full glass of wine was left unattended at a table. You casually walked over and picked it up. You took a sip and grimaced. It wasn’t your favorite nor a drink you would pick out for yourself in just about any other situation, but when you weren’t being served by the bartenders, you took what you could get. Holding the glass close to your chest, you walked away from the table and back towards the bench where you had originally been sitting. You involuntarily held your breath until you saw it. No Sirius nor Regulus nor your parents in sight. Coast was clear. You sat down and watched the people on the dance floor. When a song that required ballroom dancing or a waltz or something similar, it was amazing how many people flocked to the floor. If it was something more modern or something without well-known choreography, the floor emptied out more. You could tell that one group of younger employees were the interns your mother told you about. They joined the floor when the older songs ended and moderns stuff played, as they should, you thought. 

“So, you found yourself a drink. Thought they didn’t serve underage people,” Sirius said, leaning against the wall next to your bench.

“Go away, Black. Didn’t you get the hint that I was done with you?”

“Ah, that’s the problem though. I wasn’t done talking to you and, well, I get what I want.”

You rolled your eyes and looked up at him. He had loosened his tie and his shirt was less tucked than it originally was.

“Fine,” you said curtly. “Talk. Can’t promise I’ll respond.”

He took a seat on your left, just like before, except this side, he was sitting sideways with his right leg propped up so he could rest his arm on his knee and be facing you. You returned your gaze to the dance floor. 

“I want a real answer for why you’re better than me. Not obnoxious? Please.”

“I never said I was better than you. I said my ego was earned.”

“Same difference.”

“I don’t intentionally piss people off. I don’t purposefully make fools of people. I don’t step too far out of line.”

“You wore Regulus’ ring after things went south between you,” Sirius said.

Your breath hitched. You had to look at Sirius. How had he known? His grey eyes were boring holes into the side of your head so when you turned to look at him in surprise, he was already staring very deeply. A knowing smile appeared on his face when he saw your surprise.

“At a loss for words?”

You pressed your lips together as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“No,” you said coldly. You tried to steel your expression into something blank. “I just don’t recall which ring you’re talking about.”

A lie, but you didn’t know how much the brothers talked.

“Regulus give you more than one?”

“He never gave me a ring.” Not a lie.

“So you just happen to have a silver ring with emeralds in the same design as one my uncle gave Regulus, huh?”

“Apparently so.”

“And you just happen to have the same necklace that I’ve seen that seventh year wear?”

His eyes flicked down to your necklace and back up to your eyes. You frowned. There was no way Sirius knew. How could he know? Sure, the girls knew about your sticky fingers, but that was it. You studied Sirius’ handsome face instead of responding.

Then his expression changed. 

“Oh. He never gave you that ring.”

Sirius was connecting the dots. 

“He found out that you’re not pureblood and now you have that ring.” He paused and you swore you could see the gears turning in his head. “That girl nearly attacked a Hufflepuff and you have that necklace. And the bartenders aren’t serving you yet you have a wine glass…”

“What about it?” you asked, trying your best to keep your voice level as if that would somehow convince Sirius that he was wrong when he was absolutely correct.

“You fancy yourself a vigilante,” he said nonchalantly. He said it like an off-handed comment that meant nothing. His grin widened with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Told you we’re cut from the same cloth.”

You rolled your eyes before taking a sip from your glass. You swirled the liquid around. Part of you regretted responding to Sirius when he asked why you thought you were better than him. Now he knew too much. He took the glass out of your hand and had a sip himself. You snatched it back, giving him an annoyed look.

“Get your own,” you grumbled.

“Darling, you know I can’t. Unless you tell me where you got yours.”

You sighed, but maybe this would get him to leave you alone.

“Found it on a table. It’s the only way to do it around here.”

Sirius stood up and stretched dramatically. Then he held out his hand to you again.

“Help me find one.”

You lazily looked up at him with a confused look. 

“It wasn’t a question, love.”

The look changed from confused to annoyed in a flash. He reached to grab your free hand and pulled you up.

“No need to be rough,” you snarled.

“Come on,” he said, his smile never leaving his face. “Hanging out with me? Helping me find my own drink? Gotta be better than sitting by yourself.”

You drained the glass before setting it down on the bench.

“Let’s find me another one too, then.”

You were conflicted with how you felt about Sirius never dropping your hand as he led you through the throngs of people. Whenever you got too close to his parents or Regulus, he pulled you in the other direction and you did the same when you got too close to your own parents. 

“I’ll never hear the end of it if they see me with you,” you hissed at him, earning a hearty laugh from him. 

“They can recognize a Black from a singular glance?”

“No. You’re just a boy.”

After a few circles of the tables, you both had collected new drinks. Sirius had yet to drop your hand. He pulled you back toward the bench where all of this had begun, but then he kept walking. He turned down a hallway and through a door; you were dragged with him. He certainly had an iron grip. After going down another hallway, he opened another door.

“Perfect,” he said as he let your hand go at last.

You followed him into the room. It looked like a normal conference room. There was a long table down the middle of the room with chairs along its edges and a podium at the front of the room. Sirius took a seat and gestured to the chair next to him. You wordlessly sat in it. It didn’t take Sirius long to become comfortable; he rested his feet on the table as he leaned back in his chair. You, being in a dress and heels, kept your feet on the ground, although they were outstretched in front of you and crossed at the ankles. 

“Did you just… assume there was a room somewhere?” you asked. 

“Every good host knows to have rooms where people can disappear to,” he said, throwing his head backwards to shake out his hair. And then he ran a hand through it. “And, believe it or not, the Ministry has to be a good host.”

“I think there are different definitions of good host, Black,” you said.

You were about to go into a tangent about how your parents locked the spare room and their bedroom for parties. If someone needed a lay down, they would have to find your parents or risk being found in the kid’s room. However, you didn’t feel like explaining about all the parties your parents hosted to another Black. Having done so with Regulus was enough and that was on a date. This was… survival? You were doing whatever you could to pass the time. You looked around the room and decided that staying on the bench might have been a better idea. At least then you’d have something to entertain you.

“What’s with the sour look?” Sirius asked.

You frowned. “Nothing to be entertained by in here.”

He laughed. “Babe, I’m right here!”

“Do not. Call me. Babe.”

“Ooh, struck a nerve, did I?”

You made to stand up but Sirius stuck his arm out, stopping you. 

“Sorry. Won’t call you that again. Just trying to have fun.”

You rolled your eyes and adjusted in your seat. 

“So tell me ‘bout yourself.”

“Why?”

“To make conversation with the lovely girl in front of me?”

You shot him a disbelieving look.

“To pass the time?” he offered. 

“You could tell me about you instead. You love attention, don’t you? Love talking about yourself?”

Your voice was teasing but Sirius knew you meant to be insulting. 

“Tell me about this date you went on with little ickle Reggie. I only get so much from the rumors that go ‘round the castle, you know.”

You gave a soft laugh with a shake of your head. This guy. You lightly scratched your forehead.

“Uh, sure. Fine. Whatever,” you mumble. “There were two, actually. Watched a quidditch match and then explored the Hogwarts wall.”

You paused and looked at Sirius. You were surprised to see that he was staring at you, rather than literally anywhere else in the room or out the windows. He doesn’t say anything, but he gave you a smile to encourage you to go on.

“Then we went to Hogsmeade together. And it was going fine. Went to the Hog’s Head and just talked. It was fine. Until blood status came up and he told me to get off my soap box because I’m a pureblood so obviously I can’t talk. And I had to correct him, because I’m not. And he got quiet. You could tell… I could tell it was going to be an issue so I paid and left.”

The room filled with quiet as you stopped talking. 

“And then you got yourself a pretty little ring.”

You exhaled loudly through your nose.

“Yeah. I got myself a pretty little ring. Happy to know that about me?” 

“It’s an interesting tidbit, that’s for sure. You know, I have a matching ring. Red for Gryffindor though.”

“Great, so I’ll throw mine into the Thames next change I get.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “You’ll throw Regulus’.”

“It’s mine now. I don’t give things back.”

“Then why bother throwing it?”

“Because you have a matching one.”

“It’s not like anyone would know.”

“I’d know and that’s enough.”

The room got quiet again. You swirled your drink round and round in your glass. You were nursing it because you knew the moment you finished it, you’d want to leave the room to get another. Leaving the room wasn’t really the bad part. It was the likelihood that Sirius would follow you out. You stared at your drink in between sips. Sirius really had picked a boring room.

Because you were so focused on your glass and refusing to look anywhere else, Sirius stared at you unnoticed. It was almost like back at school. Only this time, he had an advantage. He was close to you. He could see the freckles on your arms. He could see the few loose strands of hair that were falling from your updo. He could see the eyeshadow you had on for the party. He could see your lipstick fading a little bit more with every sip you took and every time you moistened your lips. 

After a while, Sirius chuckled. A thought had occurred to him and he was about to share it with you.

“You know, I-” he started to say before the room’s door swung open. 

Both of you turned to see who it was.

“There you are,” Regulus’ cold voice rang through the room. It wasn’t a yell but the emptiness of the room made it bolder than it really was. 

Sirius groaned as his brother entered the room and took a seat a few chairs down from you.

“Tired of the Ministry elite?” Sirius asked, his voice suddenly colder compared to when he was talking to just you.

“Mum told me to keep an eye on you,” he answered monotonously. “Saw you come this way and you didn’t come back.”

“Mummy’s little pet, aren’t you?”

“Wait,” you said, sitting up straighter. You suddenly remembered hearing at some point that Sirius had run away over the summer. “Why are you even here?” 

Your question was pointed at Sirius, but neither boy spoke.

“You’re living with the Potters now, aren’t you? Why the hell are you here?”

Regulus laughed. It was colder, harsher than you recalled. 

“The dumbass forgot something in his room. He came back to get it and well, Mother has a way with persuasion.”

You looked from boy to boy. Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was probably the first time you saw him uncertain and almost squeamish. His body language wasn’t the confident boy you were becoming acquainted with, but he glared daggers at Regulus in an oh-so-familiar way. Regulus’ expression was slightly amused. You felt the need to break up the silence that was building between the boys. 

“Something important enough to go back for, but not enough to have been packed the first time,” you said with no real purpose. 

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“What was it? I didn’t hear,” Regulus said. He sounded so casual in comparison to Sirius.

“It… it doesn’t matter. I have it now and once we leave, I’m going back to the Potters.”

The room filled with thick silence again. You returned your gaze to your cup. With a Black brother on each side, you felt like you were sitting in the middle of a war zone. You only sort of knew what the war was about, which made it all that much worse. How do you defuse a bomb when you only know one of the wires? 

You’re not sure how much time passes between the last time anyone spoke and when you finish your glass. When you place it on the table in front of you, Regulus stands up and gives Sirius a stoic look.

“We better find Mother and Father.” A trained formality took over his way of speaking, as if preparing to talk to the adults again rather than peers. “Then you can go back to your family.” Bitter venom dripped off the last word.

Sirius nodded and stood up. He followed Regulus out of the room and you were left alone in the room. You sighed. But then the door opened again.

“I thought you were leaving?” you said, looking up at Sirius as he walked back into the room. 

He closed the door behind with extreme care to ensure that it didn’t make any noise.

“Regulus doesn’t know you stopped following him, does he?”

“There’s something I need to say first.” 

He had thought about it. He wasn’t going to say what he had intended when Regulus joined them without invitation. He needed you to know something else. 

“Okay, so say it,” you said, waving your hand in the air to say ‘go on, get it out.’

“I really do think you’re pretty. And you probably are better than me, earning that ego of yours. And that takes a lot for a person to do. But you did get immediately between the seventh year and the Hufflepuff. You did it before anyone else really knew what was going on. I didn’t know that you were the one Regulus liked right away, but once I did, I started to look for what he saw in you. And I found it. I see it. And that’s why I can’t leave just yet.”

Your eyes went wide as he approached you and put a hand under your chin. Then he leaned down to kiss you. It was sweet. Soft. Momentary. Then he straightened and headed back toward the door. He opened it and paused, looking back at you.

“Think about me,” he said before leaving to find Regulus and his parents.

You just sat there. A dumbfounded look was etched into your features at what had just happened. You needed to process it. You didn’t understand how you went from two dates with Regulus months ago to a kiss with Sirius. You thought about what Sirius had said. That he looked for what Regulus saw in you and then he found it. So they had talked about you, or at least about a girl Regulus liked, and then Sirius put two and two together. You also wanted to know what he left behind and went back for, and what their mother had said to Sirius to persuade him to attend this event with them.

tags: @nsr-15, @kabekusa, @made-for-oliverwood, @sunflowerscloudydays, @salvatt1, @sammyreid, @ravisinghs-wife, @petrificustottally

Hit the point where I need a masterlist for the series - woot woot

[alilobsessive]

For the Reader that the Batfam doesn’t know about till she’s twenty and her mom dies of could we get the Batfam reacting to her being absolutely invested and a part of her step family. Like her mom was married to some guy who reader thinks of as her father. She even has older step siblings that just adore her. It’s like so wholesome and the Batfam just wants to vomit from anxiety because what do you mean you don’t feel like a part of our family and feel more related to your step family?!

Even better if the step family is the opposite of the Batfam in every way. Emotionally coherent, great communication, middle class, and oh yeah secretly a villain family that likes to go after big corporations and embezzle their funds. Gotta pay the mortgage on that nice house in the suburbs somehow 😄🤫 but reader and her mom never knew the step dad and his children were villains. They just thought they owned a small family business that required a whole lot of travel.

Honey, baby girl, I love the way you think! This probably isn’t what you had in mind but I did my best.

You always knew that your Father wasn’t your biological father. Although your mother had married him when you were still extremely young, you still had some vague memories of a time before him. But that never changed how you viewed him and your older siblings. Their family, no matter what, you’re Father even went so far as to legally adopt you not long after their marriage.

Finding out your biological father was Bruce fucking Wayne of all people was a shock to everyone, even him. You were born before Bruce had the reputation of a family man, someone who loved helping people. Back then he was known solely as a playboy, not ready or willing to settle down and enjoying his youth as much as he could. Your mother met him at a gala having been invited by her brother in law, a decently wealthy man. Wealthy enough to be invited to these gala’s from time to time. There she met Bruce, they did the deed so to speak, and the rest is history. Of course your mother already knew who exactly your biological father is, she wasn’t the type to go sleeping around frequently. Against her better judgment and the judgment of the rest of her family, she decided to keep you. Lying that she didn’t know who the father was, not expecting him to be a good parent or wanting the stigma of being a wealthy man’s bastard child to follow you around.

Because of this, outside of your Aunt and the aforementioned brother in law, your uncle, the family disowned her. It was hard being a single mother, although her job did pay well it paid well for a single person, not a single person and infant. She relied on your Aunt and Uncle far more than she would like to. It was also through your Aunt and Uncle that she met your Father. An accountant who was temporarily contracted by your Uncle’s Company. He’s older than your mother by a good few years and has three kids of his own that he was taking care of by himself after his wife was killed in a villain attack.

The two had hit it off rather well, and 3 years later they were married. The two of them were the happiest couple you have ever met, even when they were struggling to take care of the four of you, they were happy. So the fact that your Father didn’t even know this was concerning, if she could keep this a secret up until her death what else was she hiding? What information that was quietly eating her alive, did she not even bother to put in her will like this? She wanted you to know, even after his reputation changed things were comfortable and she didn’t want to ruin it with Bruce's presence.

Just like her you thought Bruce and his family should know. It felt wrong to keep this a secret and you weren’t going to bottle it up. Of course you’re Father and siblings had mixed feelings about it, they were understandably worried. This is the richest man in Gotham, who knows what he’s actually like behind closed doors. But it felt wrong to keep this from him, even if you were never going to meet again, he deserved to know. What you definitely didn’t expect was everything that would come after telling them and doing that DNA test, and then another DNA test and then a third just to be safe, Jesus Christ these people are paranoid. Which understandable who knows how many people come up to him with those exact same claims on a daily basis. A lot seeing as when you tried to get in contact with him, you discovered a literal fucking procedure and form to fill out on the Wayne enterprises website for this very scenario. Which also leads to the question how many people signed the forms as a joke.

All and all when the paperwork and blood test finally got through a fucking full month later, you randomly got an email saying you had a meeting scheduled with Bruce at 10am in a week. Once again informing your family made them freak the fuck out. Which makes sense seeing as you’re Father is now an accountant working for the Lex corp branch in Gotham. Competing companies and all that. Your other siblings having gone into similar fields in different companies, your eldest brother having even moved to BlüdHaven and become an Accountant for one of their large corporations. You could never really wrap your own head around numbers. Going to Gotham university for Acting yourself. Completely different from what the rest of your family, including your Mother did for a living. After your meeting with Bruce, which basically boiled down to “why did you inform me” “what do you want” “bla bla bla bla interrogation interrogation” instead of things blowing over and collectively forgetting about it, like you thought. Things got even weirder.

“Oz I swear to fucking god” you say staring at Oswald you’re second brother and the one closest to your age. “What!” He said defensively, “I didn’t do anything!” “I know you’re the one who stole Bethany” “You’re still on about that fucking Minecraft horse! It’s been two years!” “Bethany, my beloved, the horse I rightfully stole from Paisley!” “literally just admitted the horse wasn’t originally yours!- why are we having this conversation again!” “Because-“ “excuse me!” You and your brother's conversation was interrupted by a complete stranger. To be fair the two of you were talking very loudly in a very public, very busy dinner. The man standing in front of you looked to be around your sister's age. Tall and a little muscular with a 9 year old kid hiding behind him, glaring at you like you’re a potential threat. “I’m so sorry to disturb your……?” “Important business transaction” you say with gravity sitting in your Luray Caverns gift shop hoodie, sweatpants and slippers. “Minecraft server discussion” Oz clarifies “IMPORTANT. BUSINESS. TRANSACTION!” “Riiiight” the strange man said awkwardly, the child still glaring.

He clears his throat glancing away before glancing back. “Well as you can see all the other tables are full, I was wondering if it was alright for us to sit with you?” He asks with a warm smile, looking more at you than Oswald. You and Oswald look at each other “Huddle!” You yelp, and then you both lean over the table and turn your backs to them whispering to each other. “People do that??” You ask “I’ve only heard about it in like old movies??” Oz responds, “ya this is weird” “umm” the tall man interrupts, “we can hear you?” The both of you turn around at the exact same time and say “Okay and?” Then go back to your huddle. “I don’t trust them, look at the kid. I bet he’s plotting are murder.” “I don’t know, maybe his face is just stuck like that?” “It is” the tall man once again interrupts. “See?” “You have far too much faith in people” Oz says, shaking his head, shaming you. “Someone has too, if I don't, who's going to stop you from kicking an innocent person who was just trying to ask for directions in the nuts?” He flushes and mumbles “I thought we agreed to not talk about that”.

“I made no such agreement” you glance back at them still standing there awkwardly. Now that you think about it they look familiar. “Hay do I know you?” You ask them, which makes the tall one jump a little, the kid just stands there like a Gargoyle. “Umm no, but you’ve probably seen me on YouTube or the news or something.” You quickly turn back to your brother “oh god it’s a influencer” “fuck” “I’m not a-“ for the first time since they approached you the child speaks “except your fate as an influencer Grayson” which just makes Grayson(?) sigh, looking at the ground defeated. The two of you continue to debate for another few minutes before you both turn back to them, both of you putting a single hand on the table. “Okay!” You say “you may sit with us” Oz finishes. At some point in this conversation a waitress had arrived and stood there watching you four. Looking a mix of tired and confused. “So can I get your guys order?” “Orange juice, Greek Omelette with white bread, please” you tell her in quick succession. “Bro, what? I haven’t seen you look at the menu once since you invited me here to talk about Minecraft’s horses?” “There’s this thing called looking up the menu before you arrive?” “You’re insane, you’re literally insane” Oz says looking at you like you grew three heads.

“No, I'm being practical! I’m not going to sit here for 3 hours debating what I want, when I can get it as soon as possible once I get here!” You two instantly begin arguing again. Grayson and Gargoyle child glance at each other as the waitress writes down the order and mumbles “not this shit again” before walking away. The duo then look back at you two still yelling at each other. Grayson awkwardly slides next to you, Gargoyle child sitting next to Oswald. “Your lucks run out Rabbit boy!” “Stop that!” “No! You Rabbit brained water moccasin!” “We should have never gotten you Epic Mickey!” “Epic Mickey and Epic Mickey 2: Power of 2 were masterpieces of storytelling and Wii physics! Not getting them for me would have been child abuse!” “No it fucking wouldn’t!” “Child abuse!” “Is that true Grayson?” The Gargoyle child asked Grayson. “What?” said man replied, looking confused.

“Is it child abuse?” Gargoyle child had what could only be described as grinch’s smile as he said this. “What no-“ “YES” you yell, instantly cutting him off, slamming your hands on the table making the silverware jump, as well as your two guests. “Yes” you repeat this time softer and with less force, slightly embarrassing as your brother just rolled his eyes. “Denying a small innocent child such a joy is clearly-“ you begin only for your eyes to go wide “oh my god you're too young to know what a wii is” the boy nods. “Uuug I feel oooold!” You groan, sinking down the plastic of the booth, then you shoot up again “hold up- isn’t there a reboot on the switch??” You quickly pull out your phone and start typing away.

As you do the waitress returns and hands you and Oz your food. “Hold on-“ Grayson says “He didn’t order anything?” The waitress sighs, “the whole family are regulars” she explains, “whenever they show up this one” she points to you “oh my god it’s already out!” You quickly look up from your phone “thank you!” And then back towards it. “Already knows exactly what they want and this one” she points to Oz who gives a soft “thanks” “will sit here for 40 or so minutes trying to figure out what he wants, only to order the exact same thing.” “Aa” “ya, so” she pulls out her pen and paper. “Are you two going to order anything” “oh right um-“ Grayson fumbles with the menu and Gargoyle child calmly looks at him. The two quickly order their food and turn back to you too.

“I don’t think we introduced ourselves yet.” Grayson says, you look up from your phone and at him. “Oh ya” putting it away you hold out your hand and tell him your name “I’m Richard” he says with a bright smile, shaking your hand. You resist the urge to make a joke “but most people just call me Dick!” Now you really resist the urge to make a joke. “Damian” Gargoyle child says glaring eyes looking into your soul. You’re brother looks back and forth between the two “Oswald” he gumpaly introduces then takes a bite of his food. The four of you sit and chat together but quickly Oswald starts acting strange. By the time breakfast is over and you say your goodbyes to the group.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” “I think” Oswald begins, looking around suspiciously. “That those two were..” he leans closer and whispers, “Wayne’s kids” “What!” You say in surprise. “That’s crazy! Why would someone like them be at a dinner?” “You” everything about him, from voice to posture to expression was dead serious. “Bitch what” “think about it! You just pop up out of nowhere, prove your well, ya know” he scans the crowd of people walking along the Gotham sidewalk like anyone could be listening in. “Then nothing happens?” He continues, “okay, okay, okay i’m hearing you out you’re making sense, proof?” “fucking Google Dick Grayson” rolling your eyes, you whip out your phone and do just that. Only for your eyes to go wide, “oh shit” “ya” “they weren’t even trying to hide it” “ya!” “oh my god I called Dick Grayson an influencer!” “That cannot be what you just took away from that!” Oswald says clearly distressed.

Dick closes the car door and quietly buckles in as Damian sits in the seat next to him, “soo?” He asks starting up the car. “You’re on my side now?” Damian scoffs, “of course not! Why would I want someone like them in the family?” Dick rolls his eyes. “Come on, you like them!” “No I don’t!” “You joined in with their jokes!” “So?” Dick just gives an affectionate sigh as he starts driving away.

“You wanna get Epic Mickey?”

“….”

“….”

“Yes”

Sitting in a cafe and staring at your laptop, work for one of your colleague classes right in front of you. Dispute coming from a family that consists primarily of accountants and other jobs that mean you're good with numbers, you were not so good at it. Which is why you’re here, in a cafe, with your work barely done or understandable. Paisley having wandered off to the bathroom, not helping you, like she said she would! Sure you didn’t take Acting because you thought you would never need to do most math’s again, but you expect it to be a part of it. But noooo, you still needed a math credit, you wanted to just curl up into a tiny ball and cry. Maybe die, dying sounds good right about now. No! No! Bad, what did the therapist say again? Jokes like this are bad for your mental health, no matter how desperately you wanted to at times like this.

As you stare at the screen trying to magically make the problems un problem themselves a tall and rather intimidating man shows up. “Are you alright?” He asks concerned, “you’re staring very… intently at that computer” you groan “Math” “aaa” he nods in understanding, then slides into your sister’s chair. Turning it around and resting his arms on the back. You raise an eyebrow and straighten up but say nothing, kidnappings in broad daylight aren’t new to Gotham, but you would rather give him the benefit of the doubt. You don’t want to live a life of constant fear.

“What are you struggling with?” He asks, tilting his head, like a dog. But before you could respond your sister comes out of the bathroom, she very aggressively puts her hand on the table. The buff man looks up at your sister “Hi Paisley” you great, you’re sister although shorter than the man is almost as buff. She glares down at him “you’re in my seat” he holds up his hands in surrender. “Hey I mean no-“ “what do you want with my sibling?” She begins immediately interrogating them. The handful of people inside the cafe turn to look at the commotion. “Paisley calm down, we were just talking! Barely at that!” “Ya, miss! All I’m doing is trying to have a conversation!” The buff man says defensively “Bullshit!” Paisley interrupts “answer my question! What. do. you. want. with. them” “I just wanted to talk! Geez!” He throws up his hands and then stands up, leaving the Cafe as a whole.

Your sister's chest puffs with pride as you stare at her dumbfounded. “The fuck was that???” She calmly turns the chair back around and sits down, most of the other people have gone back to minding their own business. Key word:most “what? He was bothering you” “no he wasn’t???” She looks at you in disbelief, “do you seriously not know who that was??” Now it’s your turn to look at her confused. “No?? Should I?” She puts her hands in her face “Jesus Christ” then looks back at you. “That was one of his kids!” “Who?- oh” “ya! I thought you would be more aware after last time!” You shrug, “why should I? Not that big a deal” “not that-what?!?” Paisley looks like she wants to strangle you from across the table. “Ya, I mean I get it” “you??-“ “Listen, if you suddenly discover you had another sibling that no one knew about, wouldn't you be curious too?” She sighs at your question, “when did are lives become a soup opera?” Chuckleing lightly you respond “I know right?” Before going back to serious mode. “But that’s not the point. The point is that I admittedly wasn’t expecting this, but now that it’s happening, I’m not that surprised. At least they have the decency of meeting at a public place and not like a shady alleyway or something.” The stress is clear on her… we’ll everything. Even starting to massage her head like a migraine is coming on. “God, this entire situation is so fucked” she says slumping down putting her head on the table.

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments before you finally speak up. “Sooo Bethany?” She groans annoyed as you’ve been bothering her about this all week. “Fucking fine! I’ll do it!” “Yessss” you do a little fist bump, one step closer to your plan.

Jason pulls out his phone, agitated at having been interrupted in such a manner. His back is pressed against the wall of the ally he’s in, tapping his foot as he waits for Dick to pick up. “Hay Jay!” The chiper voice eventually picks up, “that was fast!” “I didn’t even get 5 minutes to speak to them” Jason hears a low whistle coming from Dicks end. “What happened?” “Well you were right, they definitely figured out what was happening and went on the defensive. Their step sister chased me off almost immediately.” “You?” He said in disbelief “she chased you, Jason Todd, Mr. Murder Kill, off??” “I wasn’t going to pick a fight with a civilian in public!” He could hear Dick laughing on the other end.

Jason’s grip on the phone tightens as he hears this, “So!” Dick says once he stops. “What do you think?” “I don’t know! I didn’t have enough time to form an opinion!” “An opinion if formed-“ “within the first 10 seconds of meeting someone” Jason interrupts, “there okay I guess?” He says, sounding almost confused. “I couldn’t get a good read on them. I still haven’t the faintest clue what they want” “To be a part of the family?” Dick responds, this not being the first or last time he said this since the family learned about you. “Ya no, definitely not that” Jason says shaking his head, “I’ll continue my part of the investigation” “Alright Jay! Have a good day!” Jason hangs up, rolling his eyes and putting away his phone.

Standing by a railing you watch the skateboarders around the park. Why you agreed to meet him here of all places you don’t know, he doesn’t even like skateboarding! You don’t either but that’s not really the point. The point is you’re meeting him here, to make a very important deal. A familiar figure walks next to you and places his arms against the railing. “I know what you’re planning” he says, you don’t even glance at your eldest brother. Cody is the smartest of your siblings, nothing gets past him, absolutely nothing.

It’s what makes him such great competition.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” you say in a flat tone, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. “You’re trying to restart the Bethany war, going to every member of the surver one by one and making deals so they all turn on each other. But the question is why?” You chuckle at that. “Why? you know why, the server is getting dull, everyone is playing on it less and less. We need another big event, another game, another Bethany war.” There’s almost a cruel glee in your tone, a joy at the life this chose will bring back to the server like it had all that time ago. Only for your dramatic performance to be rudely interrupted by a mildly concerned “umm excuse me?”.

You both turn around and see a skateboarder, he looks to be roughly your age wearing Red Robin(pronounced like the jungle) merch. “What is happening here?” He asks looking back and forth at the two of you like he just watched two villains openly discussing their plans for world domination. Which if you two were, he's doing a very bad job at keeping his life. “Minecraft server stuff” you and Cody say at the same time, Red Robin Kid(because he is a kid until further notice) makes a small ‘o’ with his mouth and then nods like that all makes sense now. Knowing how the average Minecraft server operates it definitely does.

Red Robin kid then looks around “sooo, why not discuss this over like a call, or DMs?” “Not dramatic enough” you shrug, “also not safe enough when anyone else involved can easily overhear or find the messages.” Cody continues, leading you to nod in agreement. “So, you’re dramatically talking about a Minecraft war in a skate park, for fun?” You two look at each other and then back at Red Robin kid. “Ya” “basically” “why a skate park?” You turn to look at Cody, he just shrugs. You turn back to the kid, “cause” he just looks at the two of you for a moment longer. He opens his mouth to speak some more only for one of his friends to call his name, he looks at them then back at you. Like he’s debating something, then he goes to his friends. “I want in on it” Cody says continuing we’re the conversation left of “I wouldn’t have it any other way”.

“By the way you really need to memorize the Wayne’s”

“He’s a Wayne???”

“You what?” Bruce said in a calm tone, “I ran into them by complete accident when I was at the skate park this morning.” Tim says in his full Red Robin gear, working on the batcomputer. “Sure it was by accident” Jason said sarcastically, “no really! I didn’t even know they’d be there” “Just being dramatic?” Bruce asks. “There a Acting student Bruce” Tim replied looking towards his adoptive father, “there you’re child Bruce” Dick says walking over and adjusting his suit. “Drama is clearly in your blood.” all he does is sigh and shake his head. “Care to explain what you all were even doing behind my back?” Dick, Jason, Tim and Damien just stood there quietly. As he said that Duke and Cas walk into the batcave. Duke in his pajamas and eating a bag of chips and Cas fully in gear.

Duke looks around the room and then quietly tries to leave “you’re not going anywhere” Bruce says before he can even take a step back. “We were just investigating them, Father” Damien finally chimes in, “as you are too, it’s extremely suspicious that they would appear out of nowhere like that” “takes one to know one” Tim mumbles, only to be sent a glare by the child. “Their story checks out” Bruce begins, “all of us have combed it over several times” “ya but what’s there motive for even telling you” Jason chimes in. “Because, it’s the right thing to do, is a flimsy excuse” “ hold on” Duke says, “are we talking about the new kid?” Duke takes a minute searching his memory for your name before saying it.

Bruce nods, “yes, they’ve been doing their own private investigations.” “So stalking?” “Yes” “Hay!” Dick interrupts, “Tim stalks, we investigate” “I’m literally the only one here that didn’t meet them intentionally!” Tim looks at them offended. “Please tell me you didn’t corner them in an alley or something” Duke asks looking distressed. “Of course not!” “Oh thank god” “were you not investigating them?” Jason asks, Duke just shrugs “Hold on- are you not looking into them?” “Outside of a basic social media check? No, not really, I don’t really care” “Im definitely stalking them.” Cas signs from next to him. “I have followed them home on several occasions.” They all turn to look at Cas, “thoughts?” Dick asks and Cas just shrugs “there alright” “YA!” He points at her, “Cas is on my side! So is Duke!” “I’m neutral actually” Bruce just sighs. Completely uncertain of we’re this is going to go.

In an undisclosed location four people sat around a round table, several different stacks of paper put on top of it. As well as computers, drinks and snacks, “things aren’t going to plan” the oldest of the group, a man in his mid 60’s, said as he looked over the documentation. “When do things ever?” The youngest of the group said, flipping a knife in his hands. “Well none of our businesses are being affected” said the second eldest of the group, “that’s not what we’re talking about and you know that!” The final member of the group almost yells, slamming her hands on the table. “You even intentionally led one of them right to them!” He just shrugs at the accusation, “I wanted to see what would happen, honestly Lucky over here” he nods to the man messing with a knife who then flips him off “got a more in-depth experience” he does sparkly hands “than the rest of us” the old man sighs. “Please don’t fight about this right now, we have more important matters to discuss!” “How is this not important!” “It is! But that’s family talk! This is villain talk time!” Cody rolls his eyes, “the potential of them crossing over is getting closer and closer.” The trio’s father sighs at that.

“I don’t like we’re this is going” “none of us do!” Paisley yells, “they just had to be a decent human being!” “Well that was the goal with raising you four” there Father buts in. Oswald nods “and you did a good job” Paisley just stares at him for a few seconds absolutely baffled. “YOU LITERALLY KILLED TWO PEOPLE LAST WEEK!” “HAY-“ Oswald interrupts “they we’re cops” “please don’t kill more people” There Father says pained. “We don’t want to be labeled supervillain we-“ “can’t risk being caught by a Batman of all people” they all say in sink. “Tell Cody that!” Paisley says pointing at the lounging man, “he’s trying to become Nightwings Riddler! But is failing miserably because he’s bad at making riddles!” “I should just make puzzles” he mumbles to himself, “I’m good at making puzzles, The Puzzler” “Puzzle me this Nightwing!” She says, mocking The Riddler’s voice. “Maybe you would be a better villain if you got Nightwing’s dick out your mouth!” Oswald exclaims annoyed, which Cody doesn’t even dignify with a reply. “Can we please get back on topic?” There Father practically begs, “I don’t know Cody’s one sided attraction to Nightwing seems pretty important” Paisley mumbles. “You can never be like Cat Woman” Oswald stage whispers, Cody actually looks kinda offended at that. There Father stares almost defeated at his squabbling children. He wants nothing more than to keep them safe, and can only feel like he’s falling miserably.

[v4mp-re]

ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ

SUMMARY: Mattheo Riddle still wants to be your best friend, your shoulder to cry on, regardless of what happened during your relationship.

ᴛʀᴏᴘᴇ: ex! Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

T.W: Angst, implication of drinking, mentions of losing feelings for the other party, unknowing of how to move on, slight implication of cutting people out, lack of communication between two parties, mentions smoking.

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ: @cafekitsune

Things were bound to be different.

It was something Mattheo was aware of from the moment you two crossed the threshold between just friends and lovers, yet somehow, he never anticipated that the breakup would destroy so many aspects of your relationship.

Ever since first year, the two of you were inseparable, almost as if you were conjoined at the hip. You two did everything together, from cheating off each others' potions test to both staying at Hogwarts over the holidays in fear of not having the other. For a moment, it seemed like nothing could ever come between the two of you —except yourselves. And that was exactly what had happened.

What had started off as drunken night back in 5th year — the raging green lights emitting from the party — turned into a little more than just rushed confessions and into a year long relationship. Maybe you were better off as friends.

After a few months of dating, you found yourself losing feelings for the curly haired brunette. It was something you stumbled upon when you woke up one morning and found yourself looking at the sleeping boy's figure with a lingering doubt on your mind.

Mattheo didn't give you any problems, and when he did, they were all minor issues that a flick of the wand could fix. No, he didn't do anything wrong, so why was it that the once present butterflies now disappeared? You never understood why all of a sudden, his jokes weren't as funny as how they used to be, his touches not as you remembered. The spark for you in his eyes however, remained constant with every breath he took.

Mattheo found you to be extraordinary, like an angel sent by the heavens above whilst he was a sinner, a devil, undeserving of the fruit that was your love. So no, it didn't surprise him when you broke up with him a few days after your one year anniversary. "I just think we should stay friends." Your excuse lingered in the air, a statement Mattheo never could grasp.

And now it's been months since the break up.

Your tradition to remain at Hogwarts over breaks were broken, something he only ever discovered when he knocked on the door of your dorm room, only for your roommate to inform him of your departure the night before.

How selfish of him, he thought, for taking you away from your family every year.

Mattheo was never surprised though, he knew you would find things awkward and feel guilty for how you ended things with him. He could read you like a book, even when you weren't around anymore.

Final year was hard for him. You had been there with him at the beginning of each term, always sitting in the same compartment carriage beside him, as you would go on about what you were excited for — whether about the classes or simply eager to be able to go to Hogsmeade with him again.

This year, he was met with the bickering of his best mates instead of your familiar presence. Their plans seemingly dull and repetitive in comparison to yours.

He hadn't heard from you throughout the break, his freshly bought quills and parchments gone to waste waiting for your responses, ones that never arrived. Excusing himself, he got out of the compartment carriage. He never was one to wonder the hallways of The Hogwarts Express but that was because he had everything he could ever want in the carriage with him, you.

With your absence, he could only wonder if you got on the train in time. He roams the cramped hallway, ever so slightly glancing into the carriages as he walks, hoping to spot even a glimpse of you.

He does, though the sight wasn't necessarily a welcoming one. There you were, dressed in the cloak Mattheo would always find randomly tossed on your dorm room floor, everything about you was exactly how he remembered it. Yet there you sat, in the carriage surrounded by Gryffindors, your head resting on one of the Weasley twins — one Mattheo couldn't bother remembering.

And it was then that Mattheo fear he had lost you. Your eyes glance to the door, immediately catching his and for a moment there, you swore you saw the tears welling up in his eyes —the tears he refused to let fall. Your smile fades a little and Mattheo notices it almost instantly. He wipes at his eyes with his sleeve, swallowing hard before he walks off.

Your eyes linger on the door a little longer in hopes of his return, he never did.

The two coexisted from then onwards, both acting as if the other wasn't their entire life line — as though you hadn’t seen a forever in his eyes, and as though he wouldn’t rather die than lose you from his life.

Their interactions were always kept to a minimum — a simple nod here, a smile there, but nothing more than that.

That was until the night of the Slytherin party. The quidditch match finals was earlier that day — ending with Slytherin absolutely crushing Gryffindor — which Draco took as an excuse to throw the biggest party Hogwarts has ever seen. It was your standard Slytherin rave, the pulsing of green lights, the smell of alcohol, the obnoxiously loud playing music, everything keeping up to standard in it's own way. Mattheo was situated on the couch of the common room, the cool leather green surface doing nothing to ease the urge of wanting a smoke break.

He excuses himself before exiting the common room and going to the only place he knew to go, the Astronomy Tower.

Mattheo pulls out a cigarette, bringing the familiar bud to his lips before pulling out a lighter to light said object. He's overlooking the edge of the tower, wallowing in the cold night air when the sound of sobs draw his attention.

Normally he would chase whoever it was out, but it was when he turned around to face the individual that he realised it was you, though not the you he remembered.

You sat tucked away in the corner of the tower, your body curled tightly as your sobs echoed softly around you. The sight itself enough for Mattheo to discard his cigarette, stepping on the bud before quickly moving towards you. He slowly moves to crouch in front of you, careful not to scare you as if the slightest movements would make you run.

"Can I just be left alone?" Your voice shaky with every word yet it's purpose was clear.

Mattheo's heart ached.

"What's wrong?" He spoke, his voice barely even a whisper as he stayed still, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you would open up to him like you once did.

His voice was like a homing signal for you, one you didn't know how much you missed until now. You slowly lifted your head, wanting to make sure that he was there and not just something you imagined. Your tear-streaked face met his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. His eyes, usually so guarded and sharp, were soft now, full of worry and something else—something that looked a lot like affection.

"You’re really here," you whispered, your voice trembling as if the weight of your emotions was too much to bear. The guilt of leaving him coupled with the comfort that came with his presence was something overwhelming yet welcoming.

"Of course I am," he replied, his tone steady but low, as though afraid any sudden movement might shatter whatever fragile thread held the two of you together. "I’m not going anywhere."

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers clutching the fabric of your cloak as you glanced down, unable to meet his gaze again. "I didn’t mean to hurt you," you said, your voice cracking under the weight of the truth. "I just—everything got so complicated, and I—I didn’t know how to fix it."

He was quiet for a moment, the silence stretching between you like a fragile bridge.

"I don’t even know why I’m here" you finally whispered, your voice breaking like shattered glass. "I just… I didn’t know where else to go."

When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Maybe you came here because you knew I’d never turn you away," he said softly. Your eyes flickered to his, seeing the emotion hidden behind them. What was normally his calculative gaze, now shown a side of vulnerability to it — one you had almost forgotten in the time apart. "I pushed you away, Mattheo. I hurt you. I ruined everything."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his unruly curls. "Yeah, you did," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you sit here and drown in whatever’s tearing you apart. Not when I can see it’s killing you."

His words hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, the dam broke. The sobs you’d been holding back spilled out, shaking your whole body. Mattheo moved closer, closing the gap between you, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before he gently placed it on your shoulder.

"You don’t have to say anything," he whispered, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it. "Just let me be here for you. That’s all I’m asking."

For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean into him, your head resting against his chest as your tears soaked into his shirt. His arms wrapped around you, strong and reassuring, as though he were trying to hold together the pieces of you that had shattered.

And for the first time in a while, you let him.

[hgeeky]

My year in books 2024 - book series

Over the year I managed to read 140 books (including audiobooks), not including the 4 I started and still have on the go, and 3 that I started and abandoned.

I read quite a few series, here are some thoughts on those (spoiler free). I'll probably follow up with another post or two for other fiction and non-fiction.

Rivers of London by Ben Aaranovitch

I've now read all 9 of the main novels (although I read the first two in 2023), plus Tales from the Folly and What Abigail Did That Summer, all as audiobooks.

Kobna Hollbrook-Smith is an incredible narrator

I absolutely adore the blend of magic, folklore and police bureaucracy. The acronyms and procedure are set out in a way that feels so true to life - with all the quirks that come with how these things translate into practice. And it makes the magic somehow more believable. Plus the characters are so often charming.

I'm looking forward to working my way through the novellas and graphic novels while I wait for the next instalment.

The Aubreyad/Aubrey-Maturin series by Patrick O'Brian

I managed all 20 of the completed novels, my first complete circumnavigation (at some point I'll try to get my hands on the unfinished 21st book)

This is very much thanks to @elodieunderglass posting about it here, which encouraged me to seek out the audiobooks (my library has the Ric Jerrom ones)

I had attempted Master & Commander once, many years ago, because a lot of my family like the books. My grandfather especially liked them, and I wish I had known him better (he died in 2000). But I couldn't cope with the naval jargon at the time and gave up.

I did enjoy the film, and I've enjoyed Hornblower on TV and the Sharpe books, so I do generally enjoy that sort of thing and the audiobooks turned out to be perfect for me.

Ric Jerrom does a wonderful job with the characters and I could let a lot of the naval jargon wash over me (occasionally I did look things up to try to get a better handle on things).

Jack and Stephen are now my blorbos for sure.

And I absoutely love how much O'Brian managed to fit into these books - the natural history, the mores of the time, even the politics, as well as the action, adventure and romance.

The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman

I find these books rather moving, as well as fun

The combination works wonderfully for perking me up, helping me embrace life and find the joy in it, and that's always worth something

In fact it's remarkably impressive

The blend of characters is wonderful, the range of perspectives and personalities really helps me look at the world afresh, and not take things for granted so much.

Jackson Brodie by Kate Atkinson

I read the first one in 2023, and 2-5 in 2024

I've long adored Kate Atkinson's books, and I've read at least two of the Jackson Brodie books before (1 and 4) but thought I'd give the whole series a go

Perhaps not entirely as successful as some of her other books, I did still enjoy them all. I think Big Sky (number 5) was my favourite.

Phryne Fisher by Kerry Greenwood

I really enjoyed the TV adaptation a few years ago so I thought I'd give the audiobooks a go when I saw that my library has them

They are light and easy-going, with grate narration by Stephanie Daniel

I read the first one last year, and got through 2-8 this year. I particularly enjoyed 3 (Muder on the Ballarat Train), 4 (Death at Victoria Dock), 5 (The Green Mil Murder) and 8 (Urn Burial). I didn't mind a bit that I could remember some of the plots from the TV show.

The Locked Tomb by Tamsyn Muir

I gave Gideon the Ninth a go after seeing a lot of posts about it on here, and finding I could get it through Audible plus (which I get occasionally when I can get a discount)

It was an absolute headfuck of a fever dream for most of it and I loved it

Eventually I used some credits to get Harrow and Nona and loved them too. Harrow was also a headfuck but I think I'd got slightly more into the swing of things for Nona.

I went back to relisten to Gideon to see what I made of it, after having more context and it was good in a different way. I enjoyed having more things make sense and I appreciated many of the characters a lot more.

The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkein

When I found out my library had the audiobooks read by Andy Serkis, I thought it would be rude not to borrow them

I enjoyed The Hobbit the most.

I found Return of the King a bit of a slog. It all felt too ponderous when it was focused on humans, elves or dwarves, but fortunately the hobbits, ents and orcs gave it a lot more life and helped get me through.

Edit: Oops I forgot The World of the White Rat!

World of the White Rat - T Kingfisher

I didn't start at the beginning and I've not read everything

I gave the books a go thanks to Audible Plus and now I'm in love with them

Swordheart is my favourite, I've now listened to it twice

I've also covered the first 3 Saint of Steel books and have number 4 ready and waiting

I've also listened to quite a few other T Kingfisher books which aren't in the same world (or at least, not obviously) and loved those too - more on those in a separate post (if I manage it)

[sugarikiz]

— 𝑖𝑖. TOO LATE TO SAY SORRY

𝑖n which . . . your boyfriend messed up really bad , and he has to make up with you somehow.

─── ♡ 𝓅airing . . . bf! heeseung x 𝑓. reader >< 𝓌arnings . . . angst + est. relationship + crying + kissing . 𝓌c 0.63k .

✦

注記 ─── happy first hee fic !! first time writing for him, and it just had to be angst…

NOT PROOFREAD, SORRY FOR ANY ERRORS

lee heeseung; the love of your life. the constant back hugs and the never-relenting compliments all felt like a dream to you. the way he loved you was so much more special other person ever had before, and you felt so happy that you found someone like him in your life.

today, the constant bickering and tension you had between the two of you was different than any kind of disagreement you had ever had. it slowly escalated, both of your tempers rising till your known to be sweet boyfriend lashed out on you.

“you never do anything right, you act like a little child and you never actually try to see how i feel!”

the second those words left heeseung’s mouth, you felt your world shatter. is that really how he felt after all these years of being together?

the moment the man realised what he said, he instantly started regretting it, beating himself up inside. you could have seen the guilt seep into his eyes if you tried, but the way your vision hazed up didn’t let you.

“baby, I-” you shook your head, stopping him from speaking any more. after a few moments of collecting yourself — tears still visible in the corners of your eyes and on the apples of your cheeks — you spoke.

“don’t. don’t apologise for saying what you mean, heeseung.” heeseung? this was the first time in years you ever called him that; it was always ‘hee’ or ‘seungie’ or ‘baby’ or something of the sorts.

never in his two years of dating you had you called him that, so when it fell off your lips, he knew he’d messed up. big time.

you turned on your heel, walking away into your shared bedroom. he could hear the faint click of a lock and small sobs from the other side, but he knew that he couldn’t get you to talk to him, or even get you to open the door before you calmed down a bit.

── .✦

after about a half hour, he couldn’t take it anymore. he had to at least try to get you to unlock the door.

“y/n?” he knocked softly on the door, his tone soft; knowing how sensitive you could be to words. he knew he made a mistake by saying what he did, and he wanted you to know that too.

he heard a small sniffle come from the other end of the door, and sounds of shuffling footsteps. he breathed out a small sigh of relief when he heard your voice, but not so much at your words “what do you want?” you ask, your tone hurt.

he let out a small sigh, preparing himself for what he was about to say. “look, baby, im so sorry for what I said. I didn’t know what I was saying in my frustration, and i took it out on you.” he looked up when he heard the lock click and the door swing open slightly.

you could hear the guilt and remorse for what he said in his voice, and it melted you. it was taking all you had in you not to just kiss the pout off his lips, but you tried to hold onto your urges for a moment.

“you know you hurt me, right?”

he nodded, finally daring to meet your gaze. that was it, that was your breaking point. the way his bambi eyes were a bit bigger and the way his lips contracted into a small pout we’re just too cute for you to not kiss him then and there.

you pulled him towards you by wrapping your arms around his neck and crashed your lips onto his, all your anger and resentment towards him gone in a matter of seconds.

he was a bit taken aback, but still melted into the kiss quickly, kissing you back with the same passion you gave him.

he pulled away after a moment, a smirk forming on his lips. “still mad?”

“hmm, I think one more kiss should do the trick” you giggled, pulling him in again…

[verycoolusername1]

for a Jamie Drysdale fic could you write about how he has a plus size girlfriend and some people make fun of her but Jamie has her back and she soon enough sticks up for herself and tell them something like “you’re mad i have a hottie like Jamie and you don’t” type thing….. sorry if this doesn’t make sense. if it doesn’t just take what you understand and make and great fic of it!

So Hot

Summary: In which 'fans' have a lot to say about your and Jamie's relationship and you had enough.

Jamie Drysdale x plus size!reader

Warning: Cursing and reader is a bad bitch I'm afraid!

A/N: This was actually so fun to write. lol much better than that essay I have to write... also sorry if you like olives, you don't like them in this

You scrolled through the comments of Jamie's new post mindlessly. It was only a simple post. People in the comments say he could do so much better than you or something about your weight, which was already a hard topic for you.

But what really pissed you off was someone saying something bad about Jamie, a horrible assumption about your relationship, and bought up his injury that he recently recovered from.

Jamie came through the door as if being summoned, groceries in his hands.

"Babe, I'm back!" He called out to you.

You turned off your phone and threw it across the couch, not wanting to deal with it right now.

You made your way to the kitchen where you were greeted by Jamie, a shy smile on his face.

"Oh god Jamie what did you do?" You looked at him.

Jamie's face flushed. "I didn't do anything."

"Then what's with the suspicious face, handsome?" You asked.

Jamie loved it when you called him that more than you would like to admit.

"I- okay." He reached in the bag and got out a teddy bear wearing a flyers jersey. "I couldn't help it, looked so cute. Reminds me of someone I know."

You took the teddy bear from him and looked at it. "Yeah, I guess I can see the resemblance between you two."

Jamie chuckled as he touched your waist and moved you closer. "I was talking about you."

"I know, baby." You grinned.

Jamie pecked your lips softly. As he kissed you, you couldn't help but wonder about the comments on his post and if he had seen it.

Jamie being the amazing boyfriend he is, senses your unease. "What's wrong?"

You shrugged. "Nothing... just thinking."

Jamie put his hands on his hips as he looked at you sternly. "About?"

You sighed, giving in to Jamie's puppy eyes. "I read comments under your latest post."

"Were they bad? Do you need me to say something about it? You know I don't like it when people say things about us." Jamie began to ramble.

You kissed Jamie's cheek softly. "It's fine babe, I'll handle it."

Jamie looked at you. "Okay... if you say so. Now, I was thinking of trying out this new recipe... I know you don't like olives so I replaced those with cucumbers."

You nodded along to what Jamie was saying, his eyes somehow brightens brighter as he does so.

Together, the two of you began to prep for dinner. After that was done, you decided to cuddle on the couch.

Jamie laid proudly on top of you, trapping you between him and the couch. Watching some episode of The Office that you weren't paying attention to, your sole focus being on Jamie.

You sneakily took a photo of him on your phone, your heart warming at the sight when an idea popped in your head... you should post this on instagram.

You was set with the idea that you didn't notice Jamie has set his attention to you, craning his neck as he did so.

"What are you up to baby?" Jamie asked.

You grinned down at him. "Nothing." He gave you a look. "Okay fine... I took a photo of you and I was gonna post it on my story to show you off."

Jamie stifled a laugh as he listened to you. "Show me off?"

You nodded. "Yes, show you off! You're just a little human sized teddy bear, everyone has to know."

"I'm glad you think I'm cute but what photo are you posting?" Jamie asked.

"Just of us cuddling, I like just took it." You smiled shyly.

Jamie hummed. "Yeah, post it. I feel nice right here."

You chuckled. "I know you do."

You went on your way to post the photo on your story with the caption. "Living my best life with my lover boy <3"

You smiled, seeming satisfied with the post. You ran your fingers through Jamie's hair, the love you two share grows only stronger tonight.

[forthevillains]

Merry Xmas!!!! xxx as a late Xmas present to us Wesker simps could we pretty please cuz some more obssessive /yandere type Wesker pleasssseee!!! Love your work xx

MERRY LATE XMAS!<3 and thank you so much I really appreciate it!

I’ve been ill so I’m late with this and I hope it’s not as bad (wrote it w a fever lol). This is a short scenario that spawned in my head and wouldn’t leave so I hope you enjoy<3 btw no spice in this one as it wasn’t specified if you want it there or not

You've worked for Umbrella for quite a while, spending perhaps too much time in the laboratory, wondering about the new possibilities of what you were creating in there. You've always been very keen on developing new things, researching whatever you lacked knowledge of. You were smart, oh definitely, such a young thing with such a curious brain. Even if you didn't know it, it brought you very much advantages among your colleagues. Especially since a special someone took a liking to you.

Wesker's been around you ever since you got promoted, moved forward to do things of higher importance, to spend time with more privileged people who have fallen so passionately deep with their job you could barely keep up a normal conversation. Not him though, never him. He's always been an observant man, thus he noticed even the slightest of discomfort in your expressions. He always knew exactly how you felt, what you were thinking and sometimes it has made you feel uneasy at how easily he could read you. It all began so innocently you would’ve thought you found your soulmate rather than a future stalker, rather a madman desiring nothing more than to own, possess.

"In need of any help, dearheart?" he'd ask whenever he noticed you carrying way too many envelopes that they almost slipped past your tensed forearms. Little did you know that they were mostly empty, that it was him who purposely put so many in there so that he could seem like a gentleman, trying to help you out. And it sure worked on you every damn time.

____________________________________

It was late, well past midnight. You were silently cursing yourself for making such a stupid decision to work during holidays. Everyone is with their family at the moment, having a great time, laughing together, telling each other stories from their wonderful lives and you? You were locked up in a lab, taking notes about the newest virus that Umbrella worked on.

The sterile silence of the underground laboratory enveloped the air, save for the soft hum of machinery in the background. You were just about to be done with it for today, your mind was going places, other places than where it should be at the moment and you could barely think straight when your mind was flooded with the images of your warm bed. You thought you could get distracted enough that maybe you wouldn't feel so terrible about having no family or friends to spend time with during Christmas, maybe feel a little more important, feel like you're being productive in a way... But it didn't work.

Suddenly, you could've sworn you heard footsteps. You turned to look down the corridor, but no one was there. Only the faint light from the lab panels illuminated the otherwise dark hallways.

You sighed, wondering just why did you think it was such a great idea to stay here during the night. What had your mind going places that were too far to get back from though, was the fact that Wesker himself decided to stay as well. You didn't talk to each other of course, you somehow ought to keep it professional and not intertwine with what he had to do... But the thought of being alone in here with him, even if he was in another room... The thought sent a strange mixture of frustration and... something else fluttering in your chest.

The quiet click of boots against tile echoed down the hall once more, and you turned just in time to see him approach. His tall frame, cold expression, and piercing sunglasses made him almost ethereal in the dim lighting, like a god descending from his private throne. Weren’t you a realist you would’ve definitely believed that he was indeed one.

"You're still here," he observed in his usual clipped tone. There was no question in his voice. It was simply a statement, one that you knew was far from casual curiosity.

"Where else would I be?" you questioned, immediately regretting that maybe that was a little too well played for him. That the right words would be all for you to vent to him, just like you’ve already done a few times. It made you anxious, eyes flicking away, trying not to meet his gaze. He could definitely notice, he surely knew…

You hated how he always knew when something was off. Of course he'd know that you were just avoiding how pathetic and lonely you felt outside these walls. Without anyone to talk to, anyone to ask for  advice... You didn't have him. That's what he kept telling himself. That you're just so miserable on your own that you willingly overwork yourself, only to be around him. And he wouldn't have it any other way. You belong with him, you can’t be happy on your own.

A slight smirk curled on his lips. "Well there could be loads of answers to that question, dearheart. What's more important is... Where do you wish to be?" It made you think for a second and you nearly blurted out that you'd only wish to be with him, working on whatever he was working on, feeling his presence, being close to him, simply breathing the same air while being able to steal small glances. But you didn't. You couldn't say it out loud.

His approach was slow, calculated. He never rushed, never had to. He was certain of everything—of you, of your thoughts, of your desires. The closer he got, the more you felt your heart begin to race, against all rational thought. What was he even doing? Has he lost his mind?

You had no idea of any of his desires, not how much he wished for an opportunity like this, to get you all alone, all to himself, with nowhere else to run to. It was like a dream come true and he felt exactly like a kid finally getting his favorite candy. He was willing to take a bite, oh definitely and not just one, but he has yet to savor such moment.

Wesker reached you, and without a word, his hand came up to rest against the side of your face, cold but firm. His thumb stroked your cheek, and you flinched, not from discomfort, but from the way his touch felt as though it had always been meant for you—like it had been planned. Every part of you screamed to step back, to pull away, to find a way to escape, but his gaze held you in place, like a trap you couldn't escape.

"You're trembling," he remarked, his voice low, darkly amused. "Why? Are you afraid of me?" His eyes gleamed with a mixture of pride and something darker—something that felt like possession.

"I'm not afraid," you whispered, voice small and fragile. Even you knew the lie didn't hold weight. You were afraid, but there was something else too. Something that went far deeper. Mixture of that something with fear was weirdly addictive to you and you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to run or play along whatever game he’s come up with this time.

He tilted your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. The intense heat in his eyes sent a shock through your body. He'd always been this way, relentless in his desire to break you down, piece by piece, until you were nothing but a part of him. You were never truly free. Not when he was around.

"Don't lie to me," he purred, the words a dangerous promise. "I can hear your heart racing. Your body betrays you."

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand slid down your neck, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin there. It was a delicate touch, one that made your stomach tighten in a way you couldn't deny. A part of you hated the way your body reacted to him, how your pulse quickened when he was near, but you couldn't stop it.

"You like me, don't you?" Wesker's voice dropped even lower, almost a growl now. There it was, reading you like a book, saying words that even you didn’t know were true before he said them out loud. His fingers brushed along the collar of your shirt, sending a shiver down your spine. His control over you was suffocating, but the worst part was... you didn't know if you wanted to break free.

"I... I don't like you. I mean I do - not like that - I mean-" You fell silent. There was nothing more you could do, you know that he knew now, you only assured him by your nervousness.

Wesker's smile widened, but it wasn't kind. It was something colder, something darker. "We both know that isn't true. Don't play these games with me, darling. No need to be shy now." His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "I like you too, you know?"

Your eyes widened. Normally you would’ve loved to hear those words, but the tone of his voice… You couldn’t quite figure out his intentions and it made shivers run down your spine. His presence alone was overwhelming at this very moment. His fingers threaded through your hair, tugging your head back slightly to expose your neck. The intimacy was suffocating, and yet you couldn't look away, couldn't push him off. His dominance was intoxicating, all-consuming. "Don’t be scared now, my dear. Believe that I take good care of what’s mine,” he manages a disappointed frown. As if you fearing him was hurting him in a way when in reality - he liked it. He wouldn’t necessarily hurt you, but he liked to see you trembling underneath his touch, seeing the battle you were having with yourself over what you yourself truly want.

"I'm going to make you feel so good you won't be able to go on without me, my dear, I can promise you that." His hand came up to caress your cheek, his fingers gentle on your skin as he looked into your eyes through his dark shades. "You’ll learn that soon enough, very soon.” And after he let out those words, you knew that there was no way back from this…

[zerocoded]

summary: rafayel loves deeply and sometimes he wonders if you even notice him at all.

authors note: oh what i'd do to find out who made this masterpiece of a banner that just happened to pop on my pinterest feed. like why is this fandom so talented?! ugh. also i feel like rafayel should get a different type of attention that he usually gets? idk, i wrote this so we as a fandom could appreciate more of his actual personality and how complex his character is. this is for my rafayel girlies, i hope you all like it ♡

warnings: i know the summary is bad but pls listen to me • angst hehe, i actually was not planning for this to turn out this way • sfw content ahead, i got you babes • hm, adult themes as of in like sad thoughts? lol • my boy here is being melancholic as hell

word count: 0.5k

rafayel sees the world around him differently than before. between regrets and personal matters, the painter ruminates on his capacity for love every time your eyes meet his. just some centuries ago, his love for you ran painfully through his chest and burned passionately on his hands.

however today, he can't feel the numbness he was used to at his fingertips, the only calluses he was made aware of was the ones he gained through nightly painting sessions.

rafayel's love had a different color in this new lifetime. the cerulean blue that surrounded his vision when he still ached for you every day of his life has lost itself on the modern traffic of a city that he couldn't care less about.

he saw purple everywhere. and somehow his clothes vary from red to white, dark blue to black, beige to the color of your lovely eyes. and just like that, his love ran deeper.

deeper than what he used to, deeper than when his body was trapped on the sand and the only thing he could think about was why did she leave?

he ached differently than before. somehow seeing you fight barehanded with silly monsters that now surrounded planet earth was just as painful as when he was offered to you as a lemurian. you were so different and pretty he could see himself crying the first time he saw you nonchalantly talking to your friends in that college that day.

how could violence and love feel exactly the same when it came to you and him? rafayel could die from his love for you in a thousand different lifetimes and still ache so much when touching your cold skin.

isn't a bite also a touch? - he wondered. you loved him, you said it thrice now, and still the man couldn't shake the feeling of sickness when your back was turned to him at night. your human bareness reminding him of how time had changed both of you. sometimes at night, after you have fallen asleep and his lips were chapped from kissing you so much, he stared at your sleeping form and counted each breath you took so he started to believe this was his life now.

he wondered if you even noticed at all.

noticed how much he troubled thomas to deliver food to you when you were busy at the association, or how he sneakily engraved your name on his artist signature so that you could both live side by side without suffering for once, how he remembered every little thing you shared while drunk, how he randomly brought you flowers throughout the week.

noticed how his voice became serene when talking to you and only you, how he liked to surprise you at your apartment with movie dates and back massages, how he took his time fixing your hair whenever you asked his opinion for an outfit, how you melted everytime he whispered his little promises into your ear.

noticed how he had comitted every inch of you on his brain, not on this lifetime, no - your body still responded the same as it always had been.

he wondered if you noticed how quickly you fell asleep when he started singing or how his little jabs and sassy comments were only a way to distract himself that you were in fact in front of him and, no, you weren’t going to leave him again.

...how his sometimes annoying persona was what he chose to be around you because he saw that that was what you needed this time around. he wondered if you noticed he would love you at any form, life, and color, here and forever.

author's note: so tell me why i could talk about rafayel lore and how for me its the saddest one among the boys all day? he is not even my first pick but somehow i keep giggling every time he pops up on main story >:( GIVE MY BOY SOME MORE LOVE, INFOLD. also this had turned out sadder than i planned lol. send me a request • my masterpost

[chaoticbardlady99]

Nobody's Fool (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: You and Astarion couldn't be happier, but unfortunately, other undead are not very considerate.

CW: Mentions of sex, gore, violence, mentions of Astarion's past (Dead Dove), brief character death

Author Note: Hi! I am sorry that it has taken me so long to post. I have been struggling with some health issues, but I am excited to be writing again. This is short and somewhat unedited because I didn't want to chicken out on posting lol.

Also I don’t care what anyone says- Gale is THE sassiest next to Astarion

Thank you for your likes, comments, and reblogs! They are always appreciated!

Part 5 : Part 7

 The crèche has been genuinely one of the worst experiences of Astarion’s entire life. 

 Okay- maybe that isn’t true- but it was stuffier than a Vampire’s den in there and he would know. 

 There wasn’t a single friendly or charismatic person there, but he did find out that Lae’zel is somehow considered Charismatic amongst her people. 

 Oh- he also graffitied a painting of Vlaakith. That was very fun- in spite of the earful he got from Lae’zel and then he had to sit in the prisons for a solid 30 minutes before you were able to convince them to release him. 

 However, it seems worth it when he tracks you to the river and finds you in your underwear- talking to Karlach as she cools off and simultaneously warms up the water.

  Astarion wouldn’t say he is in love with you- that seems like a gross exaggeration- but he certainly likes you more than he has ever liked anyone before and that is a really big deal for him. 

 He also really, really enjoys kissing you and having sex with you. 

 Maybe it’s because he had to wait for so long or because he had actually felt like a nervous virgin when he silently asked you if he could. 

 You make him feel pure- you make him feel like the sun. 

 “You seem exceptionally chirpy and you haven’t heard a single word I have said, have you?” 

 Astarion feels himself melt at your coy smile and the blush that colors your cheeks is positively delicious. 

You are positively delicious. 

“I- no, sorry, K,” you scratch the back of your head sheepishly, “I guess I am a bit distracted.” 

“It wouldn’t happen to be because of a very sexy vampire staying in your tent lately, would it?” 

 Something about Karlach’s face seems to upset you and he feels himself freeze.

 Are you unhappy? Do you not want to be with him? Are you thinking about something or someone else entirely?

“It’s not like that,” you say firmly, “and while he is indeed very sexy, that’s not why I like him as much as I do.

“He’s very smart, silly, and sweet. I could probably listen to him talk for hours about law and crime- some of the fancier words I don’t understand, but it is so fun to watch Astarion talk about something he is passionate about. He lights up like the full moon!

“I trust him and I feel safe with him,” you are even more red now, “I really enjoy his company and think the world of him.”

  If Astarion had a beating heart, it would be racing right now. He feels lightheaded from the praise and he wants to race out from his hiding spot. He wants to tell Karlach to beat it and then he wants to kiss you, touch you, savor you- as much as you will allow him to. 

 He has never ever been praised like this before. It disgusts him and exhilarates him. He distrusts it and believes it all in the same breath- much like how he feels towards you. Not that you disgust him, more so his growing affections towards you. 

 Astarion never wanted to be in this position with anyone and he didn’t think it would ever happen- especially not with you. You are far too sweet, kind, and empathetic for him. Certainly far, far too good for a bloodthirsty monster such as himself.

 “Hmmm okay, but you had to have done something.”

  You almost blush even harder at her question- crossing your arms and staring up at the sky.

“We did end up… making love,” Karlach shrieks and claps with excitement, “it was wonderful and magical.”

 Astarion doesn’t stop the goofy grin that breaks open his face.

  It was wonderful AND magical! 

 Not two things he would associate with having sex with him. Usually he would associate it with a death sentence. That first kiss seals his victims’ fate, but this time it seals his future getting to enjoy more intimacy with you. 

 And you are picky and you want to be with him. He wonders what your idea of special is. A bed? A nice spot with a blanket and some wine? Maybe sprawled out in front of a warm fireplace? 

 Sex in public? What about on a Selune altar? Your orgasm could be your offering and- if Astarion is feeling generous- he may even give the Goddess a bit of credit for bringing you together.  

“Is he as good as he says!?” She exclaims, “was it gentle? Soft? Rough?”

 You look like you are going to explode from embarrassment alone. He is very, very curious to hear what you have to say. 

 Was he good? Did you enjoy yourself? Was he too aggressive?

“It wa-was very sweet,” you stutter, “and soft and just perfect. He is perfect.” 

 And that is the adjective that seems to strike him with loads of guilt. His initial intentions were not positive and he had meant to use you. He is not perfect- he is a manipulative, horrid monster and he doesn’t deserve you.

 Or maybe he does? Maybe he doesn’t have to be a monster- maybe he doesn’t have to tell you about his initial intentions at all. As long as you are both happy- does it really matter how it began? 

 No, he decides, I won’t hurt them anymore. I- I still have my desires to have their help killing Cazador, but my own feelings…

 He hates to admit they have changed from something coy and disingenuine to puppy love sick and he’s tripping over himself to talk to you again. He doesn’t not like it. It’s just a feeling he has never had before. 

 You and Karlach are suddenly walking towards his hiding spot- dry and in your clothes. You will probably be heading back to pull your hair back, but he has had an idea. A silly little gesture really.

 Astarion makes it back to the tent before you do and he opens a book- pretending he’s been here the entire time. 

“I’mmmmm backkkkk,” you sing and do a gentle spin, ending it with a curtsey, “and I am re-beautified! I no longer smell like a crèche. 

“For the rest of today at least.”  

 Astarion's smile threatens to split apart his face. You look radiant as ever and while he just saw you, he still feels like it’s been hours instead of merely seconds. 

 He puts his book down and gives you a disgustingly adoring kiss on your forehead, then your nose, and then kissing your lips deeply. Astarion read that in a romance novel recently and the recipient seemed to enjoy it in the book. He is very grateful that you seem to enjoy it too.

 You have your arms thrown lazily around his neck and he holds you close to him, his hands threaten to undo the all the hard work you put into getting redressed. He is starving and he needs you- he wants to touch you- provide you with more wonderfulness and-

“TAV!” Gale’s voice pierces through the air outside of your tent, “dinner is in five and I got that bread you like!”

 You look so annoyed and while Gale can’t see you, you still put on your sweetest most appreciative face.

“Thank you, Gale! We’ll be there in a second!”

 Astarion huffs in annoyance- realizing that he isn’t even going to have time to do your hair as nicely as you would probably like. He can’t be all that mad though- your stomach does announce it’s desperation for sustenance with a loud growl. 

“Heh,” you scratch the back of your head, “I suppose all it needed to know is we have good bread.”

“I am very happy for you to have your ‘good bread’, my Dear,” he teases, “but first, I wanted to do something for you- if you would allow me.” 

 You tilt your head curiously- an adorable smile on your face- and you allow him to guide you to the front of the mirror. 

  His lithe fingers go to work, braiding your hair and enjoying the happy humming that leaves your lips as he works. It’s not perfect, but it will do for now.

“There,” he says shyly, “we don’t need our fearless leader catching a cold because their wet hair wasn’t properly put back.”

  Your hands find the braid and you look over your shoulder- the brightest, biggest smile on your face.

 You lean forward and kiss him- it’s far too short for his liking, but he knows it’s time for food.

“Thank you, Astarion. I love it,” one more kiss, “now, let’s go eat some good bread!”  

***********

  Dinner had been wonderful and he is pretty sure he made love to you afterwards (he’s never been so mind numbingly passionate with another before), but he has begun to face the reality that his feelings for you are very real, very strong, and very terrifying. They are a bit exhilarating too, but in a good way. You are the eye of his storm, but he doesn’t deserve you. His initial intentions were cruel and those feelings were false. 

 You would likely kick him to the curb if you ever found out so he is determined for you to never find out. Only, that makes him almost feel dirtier. He hates lying to you- he hates the idea of it so much it makes him feel ill. 

  The heavy feeling in his heart and the silence is probably not great for Astarion’s mental health, but it does allow him to catch the sound of something lurking in camp. 

 Gently untangling himself from you- he peers out towards the now dim camp fire and is met with the sight of two Death Shepards and a plethora of Ghouls. 

“Tav,” he whispers your name, panicking, “Tav, Darling, you need to wake up now.”

 They had all thought the path was entirely clear of problems so they all decided to rest after the horrifying events of the day. 

 The ruin they found had seemed perfect and sheltered from this type of nonsense too. He supposes this is what they get for letting their guard down. 

“Darling,” you finally begin to wake up, “we have a problem on our hands.” 

 You stretch and rub your eyes, crawling after him to peek out of the opening of the tent. He hears your heart stop before it begins to gallop. Your worry only seems to amplify his- Astarion wants you to feel safe in his presence and to be confident that he can protect you. 

“Shit,” you whisper, “we can’t take the entire group by ourselves, but I am not sure how to wake the others without alerting them to our presence.”

 You and Astarion can’t- but he certainly can. 

 “I am going to sneak out the back,” he whispers, your eyes turn as wide as saucers, “do not leave until I come back for you.”

“Astarion-“

 He is already ducking out from behind the tent- using one of his two rings to cast invisibility. First, he sneaks into Gale’s tent- poking the wizard in the cheek and covering his mouth before he can scream in fear. Astarion’s spell wore off and well, he’s a vampire. Not necessarily the most welcome sight in the middle of the night.

 Unless it’s you, but he is exceptionally worried about you and him right now and not dying painful deaths. It would be your first and his second- it’s certainly not on either of your bucket lists. 

 “I need you to keep me invisible,” he whispers, “there are a few unwelcome, undead beasties outside.”

“Shouldn’t you join them?” Gale hisses in his tiredness.

 Astarion’s response? Pinching his nose.

“Okay-okay- WILL YOU CUT THAT OUT!?” his voice almost breaks out of his whisper. “I will keep you invisible! Just don’t get me killed.”

 “No promises.”

 He manages to get everyone up- even Lae’zel- without being stabbed through. Everyone had begun to put on as much of their armor as they could and he headed back towards your tent. 

 He doesn’t see the Death Sheperd in time and it lunges for him, but he isn’t ever hit. Instead, he is suddenly tumbling to the ground- barely catching himself in time.

 His adrenaline kicks up and he kills the Ghoul nearby that attempts to take him by surprise. The rush of gore and the fight makes him feel invigorated- alive. 

 Your scream of pain slows time down entirely. The sound of metal leaving skin and your shield clanking to the ground makes his stomach turn.

 All he can do is watch as the massive greatsword is shoved through your chest and Ghouls begin to leap towards your crumpled form. 

  Astarion has fought hard before- not frequently, but he would say Nere was a bit difficult considering they were surrounded by a pool of death. However, nothing could compare to how much blood lust and rage he feels right now. 

 Karlach is right by him- both of them going blow for blow and the others are taking care of the rest of them. You haven’t moved at all.

 Even worse- your heart isn’t beating and the smell of your blood is so pungent he could choke. Usually he loves the smell, but it’s making him violently ill right now. 

 He cries through the fight- infuriated and heartbroken. He knows you will be back here soon, but this wasn’t supposed to happen. Astarion was supposed to protect you.

 The others are taking care of the fight when he finally decides he can’t take it anymore and he goes racing towards you. 

 Your eyes are wide open and your face is frozen in shock. He sobs- pulling you towards him and shielding you from the gore until someone can save you.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, so so sorry,” he gasps into your neck, his hands are stained with your blood and so is his white shirt, “please wake up, please Tav- I am begging you.”

 He doesn’t know why he is trying- he knows it’s no use, but right now he needs you so horribly. He needs to know you are alive and that you are here- that you aren’t gone forever. 

 That the best person to happen to him in a very long time hasn’t been lost entirely. 

 “Astarion?” Shadowheart’s soft voice sounds miles away, “I need to look at their wounds and revive them.”

“Then do it,” he snaps.

 He hears her take a sharp inhale, “I can’t do that while you are holding them.” 

 Astarion is afraid to let you go, but he does. He gently sets you down on the ground and he closes your eyes- not able to see you in despair a moment longer. 

 His patience wears more and more thin as Shadowheart takes her time healing your wounds. He is trying to extend the patience you would be extending her- he knows hurting Shadowheart’s feelings won’t help you recover from this devastation. 

 He chokes out a laugh of relief when your heart begins to beat again and color begins to fill your face. Your eyes open wide and you begin choking and coughing- blood coming out of your mouth. You don’t stop until you are able to breathe again. 

 Karlach is cheering- everyone is saying how relieved they are and how brave you are. Wyll says that you really took one for the team.

 That’s how he finds out it’s his fault this happened to you. 

 You had seen the Death Shepherd when he hadn’t. You had been keeping watch from the tent.

 You proceeded to misty step in time to push him out of harm’s way, but not yourself. First, your lungs popped. Second, you felt your heart burst in your chest. Third? 

 Well, you don’t seem all that keen on talking about it- eventually just walking back to your tent. The two of you have been laying in silence since.

 Everyone else may not have noticed, but he sees your trembling hands and he can hear how tight your chest is when you breathe. You don’t sound like you can catch your own breath. 

 Everytime it seems like you are going to say something, you seem to choke on your sentence.

 “Darling?” He says softly, “I’m here- what do you need?” 

 You break down sobbing, your face pressed into his chest and your hands clutching at the front of his shirt. Astarion wraps his arms around you- between him and the blanket, the world cannot find you.

 It can’t- no, it won’t- hurt you here. Not in this little sanctuary you have created together. 

  You are quite simply a mess. He doesn’t blame you. He can remember dying for the first time and then coming back. Granted, the experience is probably not quite the same, but it is surely jarring nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, your voice almost a whine, “I should just be happy-“

“Fuck that,” he says with far more heat than he meant to, “you experienced the single worst experience any mortal person could have. You have nothing to apologize for.”

 You seem surprised- blinking away your tears and smiling up at him. 

“Thank you, Star.”

 “You know how you can truly thank me?”

“How?”

“Never sacrifice yourself like that for me again.”

“Astarion-“

“Please.”

 The obnoxious parasite in his brain wriggles behind his eyes and he can feel your request for access. You are confused and you don’t understand why he is so upset. 

 Simply put, and he shows you, he is not worthy of you or your kindness- your sacrifice. He would rather have been the one experiencing the agony of the Death Shepherd’s brutality than watch you die ever again. 

 “I can’t promise you that,” you whisper, your fingers wipe away the tears he didn’t realize he was shedding, “I like you too much to watch you get hurt like that.” 

“My Dear,” he whines and your heart speeds up, “it hurts me even more to see you hurt. I would prefer to be stabbed through- if I am being entirely honest.” 

 “I suppose we are at a crossroads then.”

 He huffs in frustration- he knows he won’t be able to win this battle against you and that you won’t stop trying to protect him. It just means he will have to double his own efforts to protect you.

“Fine, but you need to wait a very, very long time before dying again,” he says sternly, “or actually- you need to avoid dying all together. That would be preferable.”

You laugh weakly, “don’t worry, I agree. I’m in no rush to do that again.

“But I did see my parents for a bit,” your voice is so soft it’s almost a whisper, “they are happy and safe so I suppose I am grateful for that.”

 On a normal day, he may have some quip or tease you for it, but he recognizes that this is something you are sharing with him and only him- it’s his to keep safe.

“I am very happy for you, my Love,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “I am glad you were able to get some closure.”

 You nod happily and the silence is not uncomfortable. He was almost certain you had fallen asleep until you speak up again.

“They like you,” your voice is nervous, “they think you are pretty neat.”

 Astarion snorts- releasing a short laugh. The reality is that that scares the piss out of him, but hey- at least he won the parents’ over in whatever hypothetical land death took you to within your brain.

“Neat is a new one,” he smiles, “I may keep that one.”

“You should,” you murmured into his neck, “it suits you.”

 Your idle chatter settles eventually- only the sound of your snores can be heard throughout the tent. Astarion rubs circles into your back, counts every single one of your breaths, and listens carefully to the sound of your heart beating in your chest.

 No matter what happens in the future- Astarion will never allow that to happen to you again.

Tags: @preciouslittlebhaalbae @xxgrimripp3rxx @alice4wonderland2812 @therobishow @m1ster1e @tragicdruid @katsutoria @aristenfromwarsaw @avabjorna36 @frankie-mercury @golden-baby

[bad-as-me]

Love without Compassion, Compassion without Love

Ok so I wanted to unpack this for a while, but it would be a whole thing to explain and, I'll be honest, the constant hostility from both camps towards the other made me hesitant to make a whole thing about this. But it's been over half a year since sote's release, and the heat has died down enough where I feel comfortable enough to dissect my thoughts as a fan of both of these guys.

tldr: I believe Mohg and Miquella's actions towards one another are meant to mirror each other, because they are inversions of each other's goals.

Full disclosure, this is a culmination of all my general headcanons and interpretations of these characters and their actions. Elden Ring is deliberately vague because it wants you to make up your own mind on what really happened, what matters most to you, things like that. I am not claiming I know the mind of Martin, Miyazaki, and Fromsoft, nor do I think that it would entirely matter if I did.

However, they are still trying to communicate a story with themes at the end of the day, and I find that there is a super common thread in this story around karmic retribution and characters mirroring the actions of another. Mohg and Morgott are an obvious one, as are Miquella and Marika.

But I feel that the intense scrutiny around who the "true victim" was between Mohg and Miquella is completely ignoring the fact that they kind of do unto each other more or less exactly what the other did to them. And I really don't believe that is a coincidence!

We knew in the base game that Mohg stole a sleeping Miquella from his cocoon in the Haligtree. We know he has a penchant for kidnapping people for his service, and that he intended to use Miquella's godhood as an offering to the Formless Mother in his pursuit of Lordship.

We also know the Mohgwyn dynasty is heavily coded in gothic romantic sensibilities. That as Varre tells us, Mohg intends to bless his followers with Love, even if that entails pain and suffering on their part. Mohg is in a lot of ways, a forever open wound: forsaken by his mother for his curse, he only seemed to find respite in the embrace of the outer god known as the Mother of Truth. I think, to Mohg, this idea of love as a painful endeavor is something he operates his entire situation around. He craves love, he craves it especially in maternal figures and people who are in so many aspects, a perfect reincarnation of his own mother. And the painful truth, to him, is that love can only be seized for yourself, and damned be what everyone else thinks of you.

But love is not a kind thing to him. It is a painful, bottomless hole that he is trying to fill for himself. This isn't his fault obviously, it's the result of centuries of abuse and neglect, but that is the fatal flaw of his design that makes him an enemy in our game. He wants a dynasty founded in Love, but without Compassion.

Then we have Miquella, a child of Marika who was surrounded by people who were suffering, but not particularly experiencing that suffering firsthand. He was cursed with eternal childhood, but he was incredibly gifted, and destined to succeed his mother in ascension to godhood. This is his fate, and he knows it's coming no matter what, but either out of a deep sense of care for his sister or just an innocent desire to make everything right, he sets out to make this happen in a way that will somehow fix everything, for everyone.

It's a bold ambition, to be sure. One might say it's a utopian ideal, an impossible ask in a world mired in war and conflict. But Miquella holds this with a deep conviction that could only be manifested in one with a childlike heart, who can't understand just how impossible his own desire really is. He knows of everything his mother accomplished, and in his mind, the only thing that really needs fixing is to just do it right this time.

I'll be honest and say, I don't think Mohg's kidnapping was initially a part of Miquella's plan. I think the track record he already has in seizing people for his own purposes (the albinaurics, the white masks, etc) is enough to believe that he would do it again, and I think it tracks with his general understanding that acceptance is not something that is given to someone like him- it is taken.

Plus, given the understanding that he was bewitched, I just don't like the idea of taking a choice of his that is so central to the events of the game that it is a part of the opening cutscene, and rendering it effectively powerless on Mohg's behalf. I can believe that Mohg's need for an Empyrean body for his goals, meshed with an unhealthy, obsessive need for love from his mother, would translate into jumping the gun and stealing Miquella when everyone is away at the wheel. Love, again, does not come to him out of Compassion, only through force. Unfortunately for him, Miquella is used to failed plans, and knows well how to shift gears and improvise.

Miquella's vow to Radahn happened when they were both fairly young, likely well before Mohg had ever set eye on the vision of a Dynasty in his name. Miquella, forever trapped in the same stage of his life, not only keeps this promise long after it's ever relevant, he incorporates it into his ultimate desire to make everything okay in his new Age.

For the sake of keeping this about only two major characters, I'll keep the Radahn custody situation brief, but in short, Miquella is put in a situation where his promised Lord needs a physical body. And as it so happens, there is a fresh one right in his hands. Someone who also desired for his hand, and the glory of Lordship, but was much too late to be considered for the part.

Miquella's age is one of Compassion. It is so devoted to the idea of endless Compassion, that all other parts of him are shed and made irrelevant. In this endless ambition, powered by centuries of failed plan after failed plan, he starts to forsake so much of himself that the line between "Person" and "Concept" start to blur. He abandons things that should never be forgotten for the sake of a dream. He abandons his Love.

I believe that, in an ill-guided attempt to solve every loose end and satisfy everyone involved, Miquella chose Mohg's body as a vessel out of a "compromise" for Mohg's desires. Radahn may be his destined consort, and Mohg's death may have been made inevitable. However, the wish to be loved and worshipped as Miquella's Lord would still be made his - in body, but not in soul.

Ansbach remarks on the grotesque ritual by saying that "I'm afraid Tender Miquella fails to grasp the humiliation implied by this act." And I am inclined to take him at his word here. Miquella can't understand how this "solution" is an abomination, because the part of him that could have known better is long gone. It is a choice made in Compassion, but not Love.

I hope all of this expresses how much I don't believe anyone in this story deserved their outcome. Rather, their choices are deliberately made to call back to one another. I really do enjoy both Mohg and Miquella as characters at the end of the day, because in so many ways they are mirrors of each other's flaws. Both of them had the intention of using the other's body as a vessel for their own ascension. Neither was right for doing so, but they also had their own reasons for deciding that was what had to be done.

You can't have Love without Compassion, nor Compassion without Love, and that is why they were both doomed to make the same cruel mistakes in their grasp for power.