#i wish i could say what happened but i am unsure if i am comfortable

[iamunabletothinkofablogname]

back btw

[sena-seastar]

Burning Desire

Aemond x Older!sister Reader

Summary: You rush off to confront your brother Aemond after discovering he hurt your sister, only to find him crying. You are angry at him for what he has done, but you cannot stand to see your little brother suffer.

Warnings:  Angst, Smut, Sibling incest

A/N: This was supposed to be an angsty comfort fic, but it very quickly got out of hand. All dialogue in italics means that the characters are speaking in High Valyrian. I was just too lazy to attempt to translate it. No beta, so I apologize for any grammar and spelling mistakes. (Gif is not mine!)

You stormed through the castle halls, ignoring the maids and knights who quickly stepped out of your way. Usually, you would give them some sign of acknowledgment, but tonight, you couldn’t— not when your anger was boiling over. Your hands trembled with repressed rage, and your fingers curled into fists as you tried desperately to refrain from lashing out. There was only one person who was deserving of your wrath, and you were headed to find him now. 

When you arrived at his door, you entered the room, not bothering to knock. The loud sound of the wooden door slamming close behind you echoed in the air. The room was dark; only a few candles were lit, though they were burning dangerously low. You squint your eyes, searching until you find the silver-haired man hunched over in his chair. Your robe made a slight whooshing sound as you stormed over to his side. 

“How dare you!” Your voice cut through the air like a sharpened blade, every word dripping with venom and contempt.

Aemond says nothing. His head is lowered, and his long silver tresses conceal his face.

“You dare to lay a hand on our sister?! Has she not suffered enough?! And now you wish to send her into battle?!” Your chest is heaving wildly as you lose what little composure remains to you.

Once again, you are met with a deafening silence that angers you even more.

“Have you nothing to say?!” you yell, each word cracking like a whip. Your brows furrow and your lips curl into a snarl.

Yet once again, your words go unanswered. You open your lips, prepared to berate him even more until quiet sobs reach your ears. Your blood runs cold, and you freeze. Aemond’s body jerked with every gasp that escaped his throat. 

“I am alone,” he whispers . “As I always have been.”

His words move you to tears. 

“Aemond,” you whisper, stepping closer.

You reach out a hand to touch his shoulder but pull it away just before reaching him. Your mind is suddenly conflicted. Your rage is quickly converting into sadness with every second that passes. The two of you rarely saw eye to eye these past few weeks. His actions above Shipbreaker Bay had left you horrified. The abhorrent murder of your nephew, Jaehaerys, happened not long after. You blamed Aemond for that and did not bother trying to hide it from him.

Then, Aegon returned from Rook’s Rest, burned and broken beyond repair. Your mother came to you shortly after, sharing her thoughts about what had happened. She believed Aemond to be responsible, but you could not bring yourself to believe it at the time. But as the days passed, you found yourself becoming increasingly unsure. Especially after today, when the horrific details of his actions at Sharp Point reached you. Most days, you could hardly even recognize him—this strange man who shares the face of your sweet little brother.

You take a deep breath before reaching out. Your hand trembles as you place it on his shoulder, but he does not flinch from your touch. He leans into it. Aemond raises his head just enough to look you in the eyes. His face is stained with tears, and his eye is red and gleaming with tears, ready to fall. His silver hair is unusually messy and unkempt. The leather eyepatch is gone, exposing the beautiful sapphire embedded into his eyesocket. It is a sight he has entrusted very few to see.

“I am sorry,” he cried. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“I know,” you whisper, pulling him close.

He buries his face into your stomach. His large hands gripped tightly at your sides, and you did your best not to wince. You lift a hand, brushing down his unkempt hair. You were angry at him. You had come here to yell at him, maybe even hit him, but you couldn’t. Not when it filled your heart with great sorrow to see your brother in so much pain. Your little brother. The boy you had always tried so hard to shield from the cruelty of this world. The boy who had always run to you for comfort after being humiliated by Aegon time and time again.

Aemond continued to sob. His tears made the thin fabric of your nightdress stick to your skin, and the cold wetness sent a chill down your spine. You gasp as you feel him pull you down, sitting you on his lap. He held you close, burying his face into the curve of your neck. Your hands rested against the warm, bare skin of his back as you held him. He must have been preparing for bed not long before you arrived as he was only dressed in a pair of black lambswool breeches.

“You are not alone,” you reassure him, gently kissing the scar that marred his brow. “I am here, as I always have been.”

There is a slight chill in the air, but the heat radiating from his skin keeps you warm. Aemond sniffles but says nothing. You can feel his tears sliding down your neck. You move a hand up to his head, toying with his hair. He nuzzles his nose into your neck, seemingly inhaling your scent. Aemond shifts in his seat, spreading his legs a little wider, making the position more comfortable for you. A quiet gasp escapes your throat as you feel the taut muscle of his thigh pressing into the most intimate part of your body.

The feeling sends a rush of heat through your veins. Your breath quickens as you try to push the sensation aside. Your face burns as shame begins to overwhelm you. He just wanted to be close to you, searching for comfort in your arms as he had done many times before. But your body is turning it into something perverse.

Aemond bounced his knee ever so slightly, almost like a tremble. You squirmed, trying to press your thighs closer together in hopes of stopping the heat growing in your stomach. One of Aemond’s large hands rests firmly against the small of your back. The other moves to grip the outside of your thigh.

“Aemond,” you gasp as you feel his lips grazing against our collarbones.

“What?” He asks, his voice so nonchalant.

“I think I should go,” you replied, trying to stand up.

But his hands hold onto you tight, refusing to let you go. 

“Please stay,” he begged, burying his face into the curve of your neck once more.

“Alright,” you whisper, trying to calm him.

His hair tickles your nose. You lift your head a bit, resting your chin on the top of his head. You trail the tips of your fingers against the muscles of his back. Aemond nuzzles his face against your neck. He bounces his knee a bit harder. You wonder if he is doing this on purpose.

“Aemond, stop it,” you mumble, trying to ignore the fire sparking in the pit of your stomach.

“Stop what?” He asked, ghosting his lips over your jaw. 

“You know what,” you whine.

He ignores you; his lips press soft kisses against your jaw. Aemond bunches the skirt of your dress into the hand that grips your thigh. He steadily inches it up higher. The cold air touching your now bare legs makes the hair on your body stand up. Suddenly coming to your senses, you gasp, slapping a hand over his as the skirt of your dress reaches just above your knees. He tries to continue, but you use all the strength you can muster to keep his hand still. 

“We must stop,” you command, trying to stop yourself from giving in to him completely.

This was wrong. You were both betrothed to other people—him to some Baratheon girl and you to the Lord of the Arbor. They were political matches, as most marriages are. You held no love for Lord Redwyne, but you would do your duty as was expected of you.

Aemond easily pushed past your hand, slipping his hand between your thighs. You gasped, trying to squeeze them together to keep him at bay. Your stomach flutters as his thumb rubs across the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Your fingernails dig into his forearm. You pull back, and he lifts his head to look you in the eyes. 

He removes his hand from between your thighs, moving it up to your face. You find yourself melting into the warmth of his palm. The pad of his thumb ghosts over your lips, but his eye never leaves yours.

“You were supposed to be mine,”   he says in the gentlest tone.

“Aemond,” you whine, trying to push him away.

But he refuses to let you go. The hand on your back kept you from standing. His fingertips trail down the side of your neck down to the neckline of your nightdress. His touch on your skin leaves you feeling almost delirious. The fire in your stomach is fully ablaze now. You squirm in his lap as his fingers graze over the tops of your breasts. You cursed yourself for this, as the feeling of his tense muscles sends waves of heat straight to your cunt. The hairs on the back of your neck raise. Your eyes close, and you bite your lip to stop crying out. 

“Look at me.”  

It is a command that you are unable to ignore. Aemond is the prince regent. In this moment, he speaks with the king’s voice. His absolute authority leaves you fearful and painfully aroused. Once again, your eyes meet his. He says nothing, simply watching you like a predator stalking its prey as his hand moves over your nightdress, cupping your breast. You gasp, slapping a hand over his. You know you should push him away, but you don’t. 

A chill runs down your spine. Under his gaze, you feel completely exposed, almost powerless—a feeling you usually dislike greatly. You were a princess of the realm and a dragon rider. You were anything but helpless. Yet you find yourself wanting nothing more than to surrender yourself to him, to escape from your worries and sorrows, to be free from all the tiring expectations that have been placed upon you since your birth.

“Am I so hard to love?” 

His voice trembled, as he struggled to hold back tears. The authority is gone, replaced with something much more vulnerable. The sight broke your heart in two. You had always worried about Aemond, your sweet, sensitive little brother. Since he had come of age, he had changed. He was colder and more distant, not just from you but from everyone, even your mother, whom you know he cared for greatly. It was like he believed he had to be this... pillar of strength, or all would crumble.

You remove your hand from his, moving it up to cup the scarred side of his face. You lean down, pressing a gentle kiss on his brow. You have done this so many times over the years, yet it has never felt as intimate as it did now. Aemond closed his eye, leaning into your touch. A sharp pain stabs at your heart as you watch how desperate he is for your comfort.

The hand on your breast slid back down to your thigh. Aemond’s fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt. Your thumb traced down the deep scar that marked his cheek. You lean down, peppering kisses from his cheek to his jaw, where the scar stops. He turns his head slightly, so that your lips hover above his, almost touching. You rest your head against his. His violet eye stared into your own.

“What of Floris? She is to be your wife.” You say, hoping he may come to his senses, as yours have fled from you completely.

“You will be my wife... for tonight.” A single tear drops from his eye as the words leave his lips.

It is such a beautiful, harrowing sight. One that leads you to shedding tears of your own. Aemond’s hands grip you by the waist, hoisting you up just enough for you to straddle him. Your knees rest on both sides of his legs, trapping him between your thighs. A wave of heat runs through your veins as your bare cunt presses against his clothed bulge. He leans forward, capturing your gasp with his mouth. One of your hands cups his face while the other pushes his hair away from his face. 

The two of you shared passionate, frantic kisses. You had not been prepared from when Aemond’s tongue slid into your mouth. You whine, caught off guard, but do your best to follow along with him. You had no experience with such things. The only kisses you had ever experienced came from tall, handsome knights in your dreams. But even then, those kisses were nothing like this. They were short and sweet. A quick peck on the cheek or lips, but this was much different. Aemond kissed you with such urgency, such deep burning desire.

Aemond lifts his hips, pressing himself against you. The feeling of his hard cock pressing against your aching cunt makes you cry out, though your noises are muffled against his lips. The feeling is so foreign, yet exciting, that you can’t stop yourself from reaching down to palm him through his trousers. His hardened cock is thick and throbbing beneath your touch. A newfound confidence blooms in your chest.

A sound rumbled in his chest; his large hands gripped your ample hips. Your hands moved to grip his shoulders as you rocked yourself back and forth, your bare cunt grinding against his clothed bulge. He hissed, knitting his brows together. You watch as his face contorts into one of pleasure. Your own burning desire is growing too much. Your desperate, heavy breaths fill the air as you grind yourself against him even faster, desperate to reach your peak. He looked up at you; his mouth hung open slightly as he watched you use him for your own selfish gratification.

It’s exhilarating- him watching you- seeing you in a way no other ever has, touching you in a way no other ever has.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises.

His praise sends another wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. The room suddenly feels unbearably hot. You’re so close; you can feel it. The pressure building up in your stomach is eager to be released. You roll your hips even faster, harder. But it is not enough. The throbbing in your cunt is almost painful. You are nearly sobbing at this point.

“I want more,” you whine. “I need more. Please, brother.”

“I am at your mercy, sister,” he smirks. “Take what you want.”

You reach down, huffing as you struggle to untie the laces of his trousers. You can feel his chest vibrate against you as he chuckles.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you grumble.

“My apologizes-” he shudders as your hand wraps around his thick cock. Finally freeing him from the confines of his trousers.

A triumphant smile crosses your face. You give his cock a few strokes, admiring the way it stands so prettily for you, so thick and full. Suddenly, you begin to fear the thought of having to fit it inside of you. Aemond seems to sense your worry. His hand cups the back of your neck, making you look at him.

“Take it slow,” he warns.

You nod, lifting yourself on your knees a bit. Your wetness coats your fingers and his cock as you press the tip into your aching cunt. You whine as the head breaches your walls, and you clamp tightly around him. The stretch is a bit uncomfortable but not painful. You may be a maiden, but you still had desires. Many nights, you have had to satiate your hunger with your fingers.

You lower yourself on him slowly. Thankfully, your wetness makes it easier to take him. You take a deep breath as you take him to the hilt. It takes you a moment to adjust to his size. 

“Are you okay?” Aemond asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

“Yes, I just ... need a moment,” you breathlessly laugh as he lifts a hand to trail his fingers against your jaw.

He nods, raising his chin to kiss gently against the corner of your mouth. You turn your head, pressing your lips to his. A soft tongue gently licks at the swell of your bottom lip, and you grant him entry. The gentleness comes to an end. He licks into you with a fervor that steals your breath away. Your thoughts fade, and you melt into his arms. 

Aemond kisses you like he wants to devour you, and you want nothing more. You lift your hips before lowering yourself. Aemond finally breaks the kiss, and his hands move to your waist.

“Ah-h,” he whines against the corner of your lips.

You begin to move slowly, easing yourself into up and down on his cock. Your eyes never leave him, watching as he presses his head to the back of the chair. His chest moves with his deep breaths, his eye is closed, and his mouth is partially open. He shudders, and a desperate, eager moan emits from his throat. It is a sight to behold.

He lifts his hips, pressing deeper into you, making you cry out.

“Aemond!” You whimper, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades.

His eye fluttered open as he watched you struggle to find the right pace. He gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your fleshy sides. He guided you, raising you up and down on him. The newfound pace made you mewl pathetically, but you were too desperate to reach your peak to care. He called out your name. It sounded almost sinful coming from his lips. 

You drop your head, resting it against his. Your mouth hangs open as you gasp and moan. The faint scent of pine and smoke fills your nose. It’s him, his scent. The smell is almost intoxicating. Your mind is swimming, dizzy from the pleasure of him bucking up into you.

You feel one of his palms cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer. He lifts his chin, closing the small distance between you pressing his lips to yours. You try your best to follow the frantic rhythm he sets. He swallows every sound you make as he holds the back of your neck, refusing to let you pull away—not that you want to. 

Aemond plants his feet on the ground for leverage as he pumps into you. His thrusts are more erratic now as he approaches his end. The air in your lungs is incinerated, and a shameful, high-pitched moan escapes from your lips. You move your hips, rocking against him, dangerously close to finally reaching your peak. 

He doesn’t stop, bucking into you with a force that would be strong enough to toss you off of him if not for the hand holding onto your waist. Your hot cunt clenched around him, the muscles in your legs burned from remaining in this position for so long. 

It’s not fair- how good he is at this- how good he is making you feel. It’s all too much. Your poor wet cunt is overwhelmed with pleasure. The hand on your neck moves down, and the pad of his thumb rubs circles around that sensitive button between your legs. 

“That's it,” he coaxed, his hot breath fans on your mouth. “Let go, give it to me.”

You don’t stand a chance. Not when his cock makes you feel so full, reaching that one spot that makes you throw your head back. One of your hands tangles in his hair, tugging. Your chests’ are flushed against each other as you both rock against each other. You clench around his cock as you finally reach your release, hard and blinding. The world around you seems to disappear. It’s only you and him who matter.

“Ha-ah ... ah,” he sputtered, becoming more desperate.

You cry out as you fill his hot mouth, which latches into one of your breasts. He suckles at your breast like a starving babe. His tongue lashes back and forth around your hardened nipple. The sensation is strange but has you clenching around him even tighter. 

His teeth graze against your nipple. Every grunt and moan that leaves him vibrates against your breast. You can feel his thrusts becoming sloppy and uncoordinated. His cock pulses inside of you, it feels too good. Aemond releases your nipple, resting his forehead on your breast. Choked gasps and grunts slip past his lips as he reaches his peak, releasing inside of you, filling you with his seed.

The two of you stay pressed against each other as you come down for your highs. Aemond’s hips relax, his body melting into the chair. Your body sinks into him, boneless and spent. You lay your head on his shoulder, resting your chin on his collarbone. His fingertips trail over the curve of your back. Your eyes feel heavy as you struggle to keep them open.

“I am sorry for what I’ve done,” he apologized.

“I know,” you reply weakly.

You can feel his warm breath against your ear. His scent, mixed with his sweat, fills your nose, bringing you comfort.

“Our sister has too much of our mother in her. I see that now.”

You frown but say nothing, letting him continue. His lips press against your ear. He nudges your face with his shoulder, making you pull away. He grasps your chin between his thumb and index fingers. Your eyes flicker between the sapphire and his violet iris. You lift a hand to trail your fingers along his sharp jaw.

“But you and I,” he says, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “We are two flames kindled from the same fire. We were always meant to burn as one.”

“Aemond,” you sigh.

“I am afraid,” he admits, rendering you speechless. “I cannot fight this war alone, sister.”

“You are not alone,” you argued. “You have Daeron.”

“Tsk,” he turns his head. “He is still young, as is his dragon.”

“Young or not, Tessarion is still a dragon.”

Aemond says nothing. His eye stared at the plain stone wall of his bedchamber. You watch him silently, trying to read him.

“Come with me,” he asked, turning his head back to you. 

“What?” You gasp.

“Mount your dragon and go with me to Harrenhal.”

“Mother would never allow it,” you shake your head.

“Our mother has made it clear that she does not hold our best interest at heart.”

“She means well,” you protested, trying to defend your mother, no matter how true his words seemed.

“If we do not fight, we will die. Rhaenyra may spare you and Helaena, but she will not be so merciful to the rest of us. She will have to take Aegon’s head, mine, and Daerons's as well. So long as our father has a living son, she will never be able to rule in peace.”

“You don’t know that-”

“I do,” he insisted. “Is that not what our mother has told us our entire lives?”

You blink, and memories of your childhood flood your mind. He was right. Over the years, your mother had repeatedly stressed the dangers that would follow should your sister ascend to the throne.

“Come with me,” he whispered.

Your eyes flickered from his trembling lips to his tear-filled eye. It was not an order but a plea. He was afraid and desperate for aid. You were afraid as well—you had been since Ser Criston placed that crown upon Aegon’s head. It has only been a few weeks, and already, your life has been turned completely upside down. 

You had no desire to fight this war. Many times, you have had to stop yourself from climbing on your dragon and leaving. But you could not abandon your family, just as you could not abandon Aemond now.

You nod your head. He smiled, a look of relief crossing his face. One of his hands finds yours, lacing your fingers together before bringing his lips to yours, giving you one last sweet and adoring kiss. Once he pulls away, you lay your head back down on his shoulder.

“Can I go to sleep now?” You mumble against his skin.

“Yes,” he lets out a breathy laugh. “You can sleep now.”

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ TENDING TO YOUR INJURIES

-ˋ ♡ ◞ xiao ･ alhaitham ･ ayato. genshin impact. repost.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ xiao

you imagined this would have gone differently. you imagined xiao would be frantic, furious-- not at you, but at those who dared bring you harm. you imagined he'd be scolding you endlessly for such acts of recklessness, but he does not. instead, he chooses silence, expression stoic, almost unreadable, and it makes the heart sink into uncertainties.

it is silent.

there is a heaviness that lingers in the air as he tends to your wounds, fresh cuts stinging and irritated by the balm he applies in the gentlest of ways. you imagined this would be so much more different, and you almost wish it was, because you can feel his hurt like it is your own, and you know that he believes your pain is his, always and forever.

the salve is cool against your skin ; it tingles, the back of your hand, but a warmth replaces the sensation as his fingers dance across the injuries. he doesn't look at you, but instead, chooses to displace his anxiety and frustration in the way he takes care of you.

you tilt your head the slightest bit, force your gazes to meet as you smile faintly. it is a guilty smile, he notices, and he does not return it, nor can he bring himself to look away.

"i am still here, xiao."

then, he speaks for the first time tonight.

"you should have called me. you know you cannot face dangers greater than yourself alone."

there is something in his words-- a grief, the thought of what could have been, a preemptive readiness for the loss of a loved one-- and your smile turns somber. he is right. you should have asked for help. you are lucky to have survived the night, and you both are well aware of that.

you grab his hand, squeeze it gently despite the pain. you can see that small flicker of surprise in his eyes as you pull him towards you, and in the way your lips meet his, there is the quiet seeking of forgiveness and a known gratitude.

"i'm sorry, xiao." you murmur against his lips. "i will be sure to speak your name when the time arises."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ alhaitham

"be honest. you're pissed."

alhaitham is quick to care for your wounds, but he is not quick to panic. not a surprise, really, and it's also not really a surprise as to how he's acting.

"i'm not angry". he states, a blunt brutality in his words. "i'm just disappointed."

you don't say anything initially, your expression deadpan as it meets his before you throw him a half-hearted glare. there's a slightly teasing tone in his response, though you know he means them. had you been a stranger, you would have thought he was dead serious.

"i'm sorry," you start, "i almost thought i was being grounded for a second."

alhaitham doesn't say anything at first, simply stares at you-- and it's a long while of just looking at each other until the first person breaks. he's almost certain you will be the first to lose in this battle of resilience-- you always are, albeit through his own means. so he scoots a little closer to you, leans forward until all you can see or think about is him. he cups your face with his hand, touch gentle, almost too warm, and how steady it is that he holds your gaze.

"you are." he murmurs, and you almost think you see a hint of a smile when you finally look away, begrudgingly leaning back the slightest bit in silent admit of defeat.

"shut up."

"i won't." he answers. "now come back to me. you have a scratch on your face, you know."

"oh. is that why you were getting so close?"

"yes," alhaitham chuckles, and you are unsure what makes your heart beat faster : the love in it, or the way he closes the distance between you once more, "but i also happen to like you, too."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ ayato

"beloved, you wound me so."

there's a faint curve that settles on ayato's lips, but there's worry in that smile, and you know that no amount of words can ease it. you let out a quiet laugh, your hands in his as he squeezes them gently in comfort to both you and him : to you, in means of letting you know that he is there for you, and to him, in means of reassurance that you are still here, still alive and breathing.

there's bandages all over your body-- no serious injuries, thankfully, but there are still so many, and how they adorn you terribly so.

"and i thought i was the only one who was wounded." you respond, a lighthearted tone in your words. you do not wish to see him sad, nor do you wish to add any additional stress to his already hectic routine. ayato has experienced much loss in his life -- and even now, he must be on guard for those who wish to harm him through means of hurting those he cares for. you squeeze his hand twice : a quiet apology, an i'm sorry, and he hears it loud and clear.

"in spirit, i'm hurt, too."

your laughter grows a little louder. he's always been so cheesy and theatrical when it came to romance. the worry in his smile dissipates, turns into something of genuine relief at your reaction. though you may be littered in wounds, it's clear that you are alright.

"well, we can't have that, can we?" you murmur, pressing a kiss to his forehead in yet another means of apology. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to worry you." you whisper, and you press your forehead against his. "i'm alright, love. thank you for taking care of me."

[ashherahh]

a love letter from your future spouse

Note: Please take it if it resonates, leave it if it doesn't. Meditate before making your decision. It's completely okay if you don't resonate with this reading. The collective is huge and I'm sure you'll receive the messages you need in due time.

pile 1

I wish I could comfort you. I hate seeing you this way, like the light has been snuffed out of you. I want to make it all up to you. Lay your head on my lap and let me comfort you.

I can be the shoulder you cry on. I can be with you through the storm.

Everything you are working so hard to achieve will all work out. I know you feel like it won't happen but I will be there, cheering you on. I know you can do anything you set your mind to.

This will pass. No matter what happens we will get through it together.

Things may seem as though they are falling apart, but we will rebuild together. We'll fix anything that needs fixing. You can be vulnerable with me, you don't have to do it alone.

At times, I wish you would trust me with everything but I'm reminded by how you never let anyone else see you this way. Uneasy and unsure of things. Being vulnerable is difficult for you, I know. You've always had to be independent and you couldn't rely on others, but you can rely on me.

Tell me what you need and I will give you all I can.

Additional messages: Summer, Autumn. The number 5. Computer screens, messy hair. Fatigue. Coffee. Red, blue, green. Checkered floors.

About your spouse: They're someone very in tune with you. A very, very intuitive individual. It really affects them whenever you go through something. Despite being so in tune with you, they're solid like a rock. They can be quite paternal.

Song: Don't Cry - Guns & Roses

pile 2

You are the most badass person I know.

You've come a long way and I am so proud of you. Every day I'm with you, I'm in awe of your strength. I know you've pulled yourself out of dark places and you've always done it alone but not anymore and never again.

I love your smile. Your smile makes me smile. You make me laugh. Despite everything you've been through you're one of the most optimistic people I know, if not the most optimistic.

I love you so much. More than I can put into words. Sometimes I do struggle with my words, I know but I want you to know that I mean what I say. When I told you I love you, I meant it and I always will.

We will build our home and it will be our place of solace. We'll eat cake whenever we want and we'll go exploring together. You've turned my life into an adventure.

I love listening to you talk. I can listen to you all day long. Everything in my life feels so vibrant because of you. Thank you, my love. I am so greatful I met you.

Additional messages: Gorillaz. Band t-shirts. Eyes. Hands. The numbers 1 and 8. Baking. Black and brown. Glasses. December.

About your spouse: Their inner world is very expressive. They're shy, but on the inside there's a lot happening. They like to look at you, probably with hearts in their eyes all the time. They might even make music.

Song: Things That Scare Me - Neko Case

pile 3

I will never rush you. You are not a burden to love and you are not a burden to understand either.

I will give you the patience no one else wanted to. I will hold your hand through the dark days. For better or worse. In sickness and health. Sometimes I feel like I made those vows in my heart the first time I spoke to you.

Everything sung in me that you will be the one I wake up to in the morning. When I rest my head at night, I thank everything good that I have you in my life. What is trouble against a lifetime with the one you love?

In a way, you saved me. I think of the day I met you all the time, how suddenly everything changed. I feel it when I hold your hand, when we embrace, when I kiss you and you kiss me. Softly, I am reminded of how safe I felt as a child and how peaceful everything was. You brought that peace back to me.

Over the years anxiety began to build in me, I can't say I know when it began but it ended with you. The kindness, gentlessness, and understanding you've shown me has completely transformed me. I don't think you know you did that. That's just how you are. I love you for who you are.

You might believe that you will never find me but you will. I will find you. We will walk into each others lives and we won't remember a day when things were not as they are right now.

Additional messages: Painting. Driving. Number 11. Writing. March and August. Piercings and tattoos.

About your spouse: They're very logical in all situations but when it comes to you they kind of calm down. They might be in a field where they talk a lot. They're aloof.

Song: Sure Thing - Miguel

[cottonlemonade]

How You Met

word count: 1098 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Hinata x chubby!Reader

genre: angst with comfort, happy ending

warnings: spoilers

It was still hot outside even though it was nearing midnight and Hinata’s eyes began to sting. The temperatures rarely dropped below anything considered perfect summer weather in Japan. Last year when he realized it wouldn’t snow during wintertime he found it new and exciting. This year, the prospect only filled him with dread.

For the most part, he really enjoyed Brazil. He had found a new love in beach volleyball, got along pretty well with the people around him and… and that was about it. It wasn’t unusual for him to feel lonely when he had time to think about something other than training on his delivery runs - or when he was alone in his apartment and happened to glance too long at his lock screen showing his friends grinning widely into the camera.

But tonight felt different. The last delivery he had just dropped off was for a married couple, the husband being Japanese. As he opened the door to receive his food, his eyes lit up and after noticing Hinata’s accented Portuguese when he asked for the money, he had switched over to his native language with a hopeful glint in his eyes. And that was all it took. That short exchange had cracked the dam inside of Hinata that had been filling up since his arrival a little over 18 months ago. He reached a park, scarcely bigger than the gym back home, that, from the looks of it, seemed to be mostly deserted. Through the sparse amount of trees with their lusciously green canopy, he spotted the hustle and bustle of a restaurant. Warm, inviting lights, laughter, music - people having a good time. And as usual, he was on the outside looking in. He slowed and eventually got off his delivery bike. Maybe he shouldn’t be riding it when his vision started to blur. A few drops fell onto the pebbly pathway from an earlier short November shower.

Not bothering to wipe away the water from the bench he plopped down and took a deep breath. He had trouble doing so in the swampy humid air. He leaned forward, staring at the ground. Another wave of laughter carried over from the restaurant. He slung his arms around his chest, his head was almost between his knees now and he coughed a little when he felt a lump in his throat. He began to mutter to himself in Japanese. “Why am I here? What was I thinking? I miss everyone so much. I wanna go home! I -“

“Hey, are you okay?”

Hinata quickly turned his head away, closing his eyes to keep calm.

The voice seemed to belong to a young woman. You stood a couple of meters away, a plastic bag from a convenience store in one, a popsicle in the other hand.

Just wishing you would leave him alone, he nodded but couldn’t stop a small sniffle.

“Yeah, you see, I don’t believe that.”, you said in a kindly teasing sort of way. He only realized now that you spoke Japanese.

You added, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”, he said to his shoes, worried you might think less of him when you saw the big heavy tears now rolling down his face and onto the clenched fists on his knees.

Your shadow, formed by a streetlamp behind you, nodded thoughtfully, then held the popsicle between your lips while rummaging in your bag for something.

Pebbles crunching under your shoes, you came closer and a moment later placed a pack of tissues and a small bottle of strawberry milk next to him, taking a couple of steps back again.

He looked up.

“Of course, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure everything will seem a little better tomorrow.”

Your smile was genuine and sweet. A slight accent told him you weren't a native speaker but the only thing he could really make out in the faint light was your curvy silhouette.

When he didn’t say anything you went on, “It’ll be okay. Maybe you should get some sleep.”

After a short unsure pause you walked away. He watched you go. His eyes fell onto the gifts next to him and he let out a small thankful whimper, using his shoulder to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall again. Hinata cleared his throat and, gingerly at first, grabbed the milk and tissues to put in his pocket for later.

The following morning he woke up tangled in his bedsheets and quieted the blaring alarm on his phone. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and as he stared at the ceiling of his small apartment the previous night came back to him. A short twinge of embarrassment rose in his chest. It wasn’t that he had never cried in public but just because he had done so before didn’t mean he was immune to the feeling of shame that followed.

He rolled over and spotted the now-empty bottle of strawberry milk sitting on the low table in his cramped room. What would be the chances of seeing you again? At the very least he wanted to thank you for your kindness. But he was also so desperate for a friend, especially one he could speak Japanese with. And so, deciding he would drive by the little park again tonight, he crawled out of bed and got started on his day.

Six days later and still no luck. It was pretty absurd to hope to find one person again in a city as huge as Rio de Janeiro, especially after only seeing them through a veil of tears in the weakened light of a park lantern, but if Hinata was good at anything it was never giving up.

The first week passed. Then the second.

At this point, he had to squeeze the pack of tissues in his pocket to make sure he didn’t just imagine the whole exchange.

Then two nights later, as he hurried up the steps to an apartment building he felt his determination slipping a little. What if he had already passed you on the street and didn’t recognize you? You might stay that kind stranger forever. He rang the bell of this latest delivery and absently drummed his fingers on his thighs as he waited for the door to open.

“Boa n- oh! Hey you!”

Hinata’s eyes widened. He recognized the voice. Oh, he definitely didn’t expect you to be this pretty. A smile, wider than any he had felt in months, spread across his face. Finally. He found you.

a/n: is it very obvious yet that I love the trope of meeting your s/o when one of you is having a really bad day?

[quimichi]

Hello, I love your work! And I have a request, what about the men from Fontaine who were invited to sleep together? Sorry for the bad English, it's not my native language.

... [SLEEPOVER WITH THE FONTAINE BOYS]◌ೄ

Fontaine boys x Creator!Reader

Lyney

"A...A sleepover?" The very idea would be ridiculous if it weren't just something that actually could happen with Lyney. His mind races with possibilities; a mountain of snacks, a movie night, endless games, just you and him sharing a bed—... Wait, no, no, that's not what you actually meant, right?

Still, his heart flutters at this idea. He tries to keep his face from showing any excitement as he speaks.

"Of course, yes. I'd love a sleepover," Lyney tries to play cool. "You don't mind sleeping with me? Great!" You're happy that finally someone treats you normal. "Me sleep in the same bed as you?" Lyney repeats in shock, though he is only speaking just above a whisper. He blinks rapidly as his cheeks burn with a redness. The very idea is scandalous even for him... But the thought is so enticing. Lyney tries to clear his throat to speak in a more level tone.

"... I would love to, Your Grace," he says.

Freminet

Freminet is nervous, even in a safe environment such as a sleepover. It's almost as if he feels he can't afford to make any mistakes in your presence. He's afraid of ruining things. He sits, silently, on the bed next to you, his knees pressed together and his hands held firmly on his lap. He doesn't want to disrupt your soon-to-be sleep.

Friment blinks a few times, before glancing at you. "Your Grace...I— I am tired, yes." Freminet admits, his voice soft, "But I don't want to disturb your sleep." He adds, a nervous smile playing on his lips as he speaks. "What if i get nightmares and wake you up?"

"You won't wake me up. Just come here and cuddle with me, I'll protect you" Freminet hesitates slightly, but ultimately decides to oblige your request. He climbs more into the bed, and inches his way towards you. He gets next to you and presses himself into your side.

He curls up, his face buried in your chest, and he holds himself tightly next to you. In this moment of comfort and safety, his breathing slows, and he relaxes into you...

Neuvillette

"Sleep... together?" Neuvillettes head tilts back to look at you. Once again, he's unsure as to how to proceed or if he's heard correctly. This time however, you receive no word from him. He's completely frozen in place.

"Yes, in one bed. If you wouldn't mind!"

"In... one... bed?" Neuvillettes voice is a whisper. After a moment, he nods. It's very unusual but he does not hesitate to agree. "I would be honored to share your bed, Your Grace."

"I'm glad you don't mind!" You're genuinely happy he agreed, what a lucky day. "Your Grace..." Neuvillette seems to shift at your response. He can almost feel the words on his tongue, wishing to speak of how you have already shown him more kindness than anyone else. How he treasures your presence. His face is red in embarrassment, unable to speak up. A small noise escapes him before he clears his throat.

"Your Grace. Shall we head to the bedroom?"....

Wriothesley

He lays on his side, the silver glow of moonlight gently filtering through the curtains. His arms are wrapped around you closely, and his hair brushes your ear. His eyes are closed. Your fingers are entwined.

"Wrio," you whisper, glancing at him. A small, private smile pulls the corners of his mouth up. He opens his icy eyes, blinking. It makes him look extra sleepy. "You're still awake?" "Yes..."

"I love it," he murmurs, "when you watch me sleep." His eyes drift shut again. He's so close that you could lean down and kiss him if you wanted.  "I love knowing that you're next to me," he says. "I never feel lonely, not when you're beside me." His eyes slowly open again. He stares at the ceiling, then at you.

Then, he smiles.

"I feel... safe."

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: the mysterious blonde (PART 3)

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: you’re gigi’s best friend but the project is now over. does that mean the little moments you shared with her brother are over too?? that’s what you think until she invites you for a beach day…. but someone special comes along and it makes your day a whole lot better as well as shaping a future

parts: PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

warnings:

a/n: ‘the mysterious blonde’ has two parts prior to this one and it would make way more sense if you read those first. they linked above if you want to check them out or remind yourself of what happened…

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @peterlcsingwendy @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zoyaaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77

After the project was over, there wasn’t much of an excuse for me to see Grayson. But luckily, Gigi was shipping us together so hard that she created lots of helpful excuses in order to create interactions. Except I wasn’t so good at the ‘creating interactions’ part. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the guy, let alone start a full conversation. That’s why at school, when me and Gigi were on lunch break, she sat me down and told me we had to discuss something.

“You need to talk to him more,” she says, staring me dead in the eye.

“I am trying,” I reply, sounding too unsure for it to be true.

“Liar,” she pokes her tongue out.

“Okay but isn’t it going to be super obvious if I just start having conversations with him,” I try to reason with her.

“No,” she shrugs as I’ve just asked her if the sun is green.

“Gigi have you ever talked to a guy before,” I ask her.

“That is offensive,” she gasps, fighting a smile.

I roll my eyes, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Besides the point,” she announces, “you need to talk to him.”

She brings is back to the topic I was trying to change the subject from. Annoyingly there seems to be no way out.

“What about? I don’t even know what he likes,” I groan, “maybe we’re just not meant to be-“

“No I refuse,” Gigi interrupt, putting her palm on my face, “I want to be a bridesmaid at this wedding so I’m going to make it happen.”

I sigh as a comfortable silence falls upon us. I wish I had the courage to talk to him like a normal human but I’m so conscious of what he might think of me that I always seem to back out. There’d been times when I’d been close, for instance last night. We walked past one another and we smiled at each other and I almost turned around and mentioned something he’d said at dinner, but my heart was racing too much and the nerves took over.

“Swimming,” Gigi suddenly decrees.

“Huh?” I say, still partly in my thoughts, trying to process what she said and why.

“He likes swimming,” she clarifies, with a hand gesture.

Now that explained his body.

“Swimming?” I raise my eyebrows, attempting to figure out how I could possibly bring up swimming in a one on one conversation with him without sounding like an absolute stalker psycho.

“Don’t judge your husband,” she replies, slapping my arm lightly.

“Gigi,” I laugh, shaking my head.

“Look he’s coming for dinner tonight and I am going to make sure you guys are left in a room alone together so you have to talk,” she explains.

“That sounds really creepy out of context but thanks,” I grin.

This girl was a life saver. I mean she was literally making my, albeit questionable, love life actually happen. I couldn’t ask for anyone better. I make a mental note to buy her the worlds’ supply of chocolate covered pretzels when I get enough money.

“You’re so welcome,” she smiles, booping the tip of my nose as the bell rings.

***

Gigi stays true to her word, later that day I’m at her house. We’re just been hanging out as usual when she suggests we go downstairs into the living room. Coincidentally Grayson is there, looking gorgeously concentrated as he takes notes on something or other. We sit down on the sofa together, books in hand, when Gigi abruptly gets up. This is it. This is the moment.

“Sorry,” Gigi says to me quickly, “I’ll be back in a mo.”

“Okay,” I nod.

She gives me a wink before she leaves completely. I open my book. I need a distraction. I look down at the pages, the words all mushing into one giant mess. I can’t concentrate when Grayson is around. My hands are sweating and my leg is bouncing up and down uncontrollably. The silence is deafening. I need to start conversation but he looked so concentrated when I walked in. Would he be annoyed? Weirded out? Or would he not care at all? I stare harder at the mess of letters on my page praying for a drop of courage to emerge to the surface.

“What book are you reading?”

My heart almost stops there and then. His voice startles me so much that I my body jerks forwards and a small gasp escapes my lips. I look up to see Grayson looking at me, at me.

“Sorry, did I make you jump?” he asks gently, his tone laced with concern as his eyebrows pinch together

“Just a little,” I laugh nervously, before flipping to the cover on the book, “it’s Pride and Prejudice,”

A smile tugs at his lips, I’ve never seen a man so beautiful when he smiles, “it’s a very good book.”

“You’ve read it?” I say, surprised as my eyebrows fly to forehead.

“Multiple times,” he nods smoothly.

I smile, “woah.”

There’s a few beats of silence before he offers, “you know if you ever wanted to maybe talk about your opinion on it, I’d be happy to-“

“Really?” I cut him off before he can even get his sentence out, being too shocked he’d even ask to keep myself from blurting out a reply.

“Of course,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“That would be really nice,” I reply, hoping my blush wasn’t as prominent as if felt, “thank you.”

“Of course,” he says again, as if it should be natural thing for him to want to talk to me, as of it was no problem

Theres a few beats of silence. I count as the second stick by, trying to work up the courage to use my voice, to say at least something.

“Gigi tells me you swim,” I manage.

I want the ground to swallow me whole. Murder me, murder me, murder me. Why did I say that and why did I say it so awkwardly? There was nothing, I repeat, nothing, that could have worsened my situation.

Grayson looks back up from his avid note taking and replies with a sweet, “I do.”

I couldn’t sense if he was trying to end the conversation there or didn’t know how to continue it but he didn’t seem to be carrying on with his work and he didn’t break my eye contact, so of course my stupid mouth has to carry on blabbing.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, I find it quite calming,” he explains, “it gives me space to think.”

“Oh it’s one of those hobbies for you,” I say, feeling less apprehensive about naturally talking.

He nods.

“I like hobbies like that,” I continue, “things that just take you away from reality because it’s too much.”

“Do you swim?” he asks me.

“I mean I know how to but not competitively or anything like that,” I shrug.

I stare at his facial expression which is unwavering. Why can’t I read him like I can read Gigi? Is he disappointed? Pleased? Does he even care? I’m running around in circles like a headless chicken.

“What do you like to do?” he says, his voice so soft.

He asked about me. I’m taken aback. He cares enough about me to ask what I like. Maybe I’m being slightly delusional but I don’t care, sometimes delusional thoughts are just better than reality. Then again, why would he have asked if he didn’t acre? Could it just be small talk or is he genuinely concerned? I ponder my answer for far too long.

I almost reply but Savannah walks in asking a question, “hey where’s Gigi, I’ve been looking for her everywhere?”

Typical timing, I mentally sigh. I abandon my conversation with Grayson turn to her instead.

“I don’t know,” I shrug, “she said she needed to go for a couple of minutes.”

“Where?” she says, gesturing with her hands.

“I don’t know,” I repeat, “she didn’t really specify.”

“That isn’t helpful,” Savannah groans.

I raise my eyebrows slightly, silently asking her if she was okay. She moves her head forwards slightly, letting me know she is actually okay. She has dark circles under her eyes and a restless look on her face. I can only assume she’s exhausted, annoyed and probably has some sort of headache.

“Have you really checked everywhere?” Grayson pipes up.

“Why? Think you can a better job?” she challenges, arms folded and eyes narrowed at him.

“I was only asking,” Grayson shrugs, “you know what Gigi is like, she-“

“Did someone say my name?” Gigi calls from what sounds like the hallway.

Footsteps approach slowly and Gigi appears behind her twin.

Savannah turns around, “Where have you been?”

“Bathroom,” she answers but I can tell she’s lying by the way she fidgets with her thumb and finger in circular motions.

“I checked there and you weren’t,” her sister replies, her tone rather short.

“Well I went to my bedroom first and then the bathroom, you must’ve just missed me,” Gigi shrugs. Lie number two.

“Okay,” Savannah says sceptically, narrowing her eyes.

***

After my encounter with Grayson on that day I haven’t seen him since. I’ve been over to Gigi’s but she’s explained how he’s been away with his brothers for a bit. I start to lose hope and feelings feel like they might be fading. But it’s the day Gigi invites me out to the beach for the day that things sort of began to change. She texts me the night before and tells me to pack for a beach day. At first I’m a little uneasy but I get over it as she hypes me up to come, via facetime. Now I’m locking up my house and getting into her car, beach day ready. Oh the power of Gigi Grayson’s persuasion.

“We’re going to have the best day in the world,” she assures me as we walk from my door to her car.

“You say that almost every day,” I chuckle lightly

“Can you just not be a Debbie Downer for one day?” she whines at me, her eyes almost glossy.

“I am not a Debbie Downer, I am a Rachel Realist,” I reply, scrunching up my nose playfully,

“That’s not a thing,” she insists, folding her arms across her chest.

“It is now,” I laugh.

“You look more like a Ruth,” Gigi snickers, proud of herself.

My face falls flat, “hey! That’s just mean!”

She sticks her tongue out, throwing her head back as she laughs even harder at my disapproval. When she eventually calms down she looks me in the eye and tells me, “oh and by the way there’s a little surprise for you in the car.”

“Why am I scared?” I ask her, my tone failing to stay steady.

“Have fun,” she sing-sings with a little wink.

“Gigi what did you do?” I say accusingly, worry creeping up into my thumping heart.

“Nothing, nothing, nothing,” she replies, flapping her arms about for me to get into the car, but I’m still too scared.

“Three nothings equal a something,” I exclaim, panicking slightly. A million and one possibilities race through my head.

“How?” she furrows her brows.

“It’s basic math,” I say.

“Just get in,” she groans, pushing me towards the door.

I have no choice. And even after a million and one possibilities, none had prepared me for the one infront of me. Grayson Hawthorne was in the drivers’ seat. My jaw physically drops and I stare at Gigi. She would be getting an earful later. I can’t believe he’s actually here and coming with us. He turns around in his seat to look at me. Grey eyes are pinned to mine and a small smile lands on his lips.

“Hello y/n,” he says gently.

I almost melt right there and then. What is this guy doing to me? How is he doing it to me? Why is he doing it to me? The butterflies in my stomach seem to have multiplied since our last encounter.

“Hi Grayson,” I smile back

“It’s good to see you again,” he replies.

I am internally screaming. I can’t believe he just said that. I can practically feel Gigi’s excitement radiating off of her. I try and keep my cool.

“You too,” I say, then look to the passenger seat, “hey Sav.”

“Hey,” she grins at me, “you okay?”

I nod.

“Let’s drive!” Gigi yells, as Grayson starts up the engine, “oooo can I do the playlist!”

“You packed the snacks,” Savannah complains, “I want to at least get a choice in something.”

“Yeah but your music taste is horrible,” she counters, with a sweet shrug.

“Is not!” she protests, throwing her hands in the air.

I can feel Gigi’s eyes burning holes into the side of my face, I look back at her. She stares at me expectantly.

“Why are you looking at me?” I ask slowly.

“Back up,” she explains.

I am about to be in the middle of a sister argument and I really don’t want to be.

“Hey I’ve never said anything about Savannah’s music taste,” I say, forcing part of a laugh.

“Yeah but I can hear you thinking it,” Gigi tells me

“No you can’t!” I reply, then turn to Savannah, “some of it is good.”

“Ha!” she grins at Gigi, jabbing a finger towards her face.

“I don’t know why you’re ha-ing Savannah, I should be the one ha-ing, she half agreed with me,” she replies, arms folded.

“And half agreed with me, stupid,” Savannah rolls her eyes.

“Do you have to be a peace maker between the two of us?” Gigi turns back to me.

“I am not getting in the middle of this,” I tell her, my hands up in the air as if I’ve been accused of a crime.

“Good choice.”

My heart flutters. Every time he talks my heart flutters. I bite back a smile as I catch his eye in the rear-view mirror. A kind eye, a sympathetic eye, a beautiful eye.

“Oh you can stay out of it Mr I only listen to depressing old man music,” Savannah scoffs, lowering her voice an octave or so.

“It’s called being classy,” he says, “you might be unfamiliar with the concept.”

“I would punch you if you weren’t driving,” she grumbles.

“And I would easily dodge,” Grayson replies.

“Guys were making y/n uncomfortable,” Gigi pipes up suddenly.

“I’m fine,” I say quickly and insanely awkwardly.

“She’s seen us fight before Gigi,” Savannah scowls, probably still bitter about the playlist comment.

“Not like this,” she replies, “let’s all just stop, I want a nice day.”

Silence hits us like a bus. A massive double decker bus. No one speaks for a full twenty minutes. The silence is awkward and uncomfortable and I don’t think anyone knows how to break it. All I know is I’m definitely not going to be the one to break it. Suddenly it becomes apparent that Grayson flicks the radio on, as music starts to play.

The drive is mostly smooth sailing from there and conversations pick up here and there. None of which have remotely argumentative undertones, thank the lords. Though at various points Gigi would stick her head out of the window, scream or sing, and then Grayson would tell her off for being so dangerous and explain how worrying it was. I think it is adorable, personally but I think I’m a little bias. Savannah talks a bit about her upcoming basketball tournament, it’s an important season apparently and me and Gigi agree to make every game. But unfortunately for me, the person who spoke the least was Grayson.

***

When we finally arrive at the beach and park the car, we all get out stretching our stiff limbs. That’s when I take Gigi’s arm and drag her off to the side, talking in a low enough tone so no one else can hear us. I want answers and I want them fast.

“You didn’t think to tell me!” I hiss.

“It needed to be a surprise,” she replies, knowing exactly what I’m talking about.

“I don’t like surprises,” I tell her.

“How can you not like surprises!” she exclaims, looking slightly offended.

“Gigi why would you do this?” I sigh, getting back on track.

“I’m trying to help you out,” she says.

“This isn’t helping me out, it’s going to be awkward,” I groan.

“Just talk to him,” Gigi shrugs, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“I can’t, I actually can’t,” I explain.

“You’re going to,” she orders, “today.”

“Gigi, no.” I reply, a warning undertone laced into my voice.

“y/n yes, “she says firmly, “you know nothings ever going to change if you don’t make it happen.”

“Why isn’t he trying to make it happen?” I retort, arms folded.

“Because you’re not and he might think you’re uninvested,” she suggests.

“And what if he’s uninvested,” I press on.

“I don’t think he is,” Gigi tells me, “but it’s the best way to find out.”

“Gigi!” I exclaim, almost slapping her arm.

“Look if anything just have fun okay, we’re at a beach,” she shrugs.

She had done all of this for me, to help me and my sorry excuse for a love life out. And I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful but this is probably the worst thing for my love life right now. I couldn’t pull myself together around him. He makes me so nervous, so self conscious… but I suppose now I have no choice.

“You two coming?” Savannah shouts over her shoulder.

“Yeah!” I reply, beginning to walk over.

Gigi follows and we make it to the boot of the car. I look for my bag but can’t seem to find it. I do a double take but still can’t seem to spot it.

I begin to ask, “where did my-“

“I’ve got it.”

Tingles run down my spine. I don’t understand how just his voice can do this to me. It’s not normal. I turn around to see Grayson carrying several bags in his hands including mine. Our eye meet suddenly and I want to say so many thing yet each set of words just die in my throat.

“You don’t have to-“ I say.

“It’s okay,” Grayson replies.

“Seriously I don’t mind,” I reassure him, extending my hand out.

“I’ll carry it down for you,” he tells me.

“Are you sure?”

“Very,” he responds, a kindness in his eyes.

“It’s kind of heavy though,” I say, recalling how much I’d shoved into one tiny bag.

“All the more reason for you not to break your shoulder carrying it,” he grins at me.

“What if you break yours?” I say tilting my head to the side.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he shrugs simply.

I gape, wide-eyed, very tempted to ask for more details on the story but before I can he continues.

“Besides it would be worth it.”

I think I almost faint, I feel my knees go slightly weak. I really hope he meant it how I thought he meant it. It would be worth it, worth breaking his shoulder… for me? It is stupid, it’s utterly stupid that I’m overanalysing five stupid words. I shake my head and collect myself.

“Can we get coffee?” Gigi skips along the pathway.

“No,” Grayson says almost immediately.

“I fancy some too though,” Savannah says, “y/n?”

“I could do with some coffee,” I agree.

“Three over one,” Gigi says in a sing-song tone, booping the tip of her brother’s nose.

“You’re getting decaf,” Grayson tells her, sternly.

They continue a little argument, backs and forth like a ping pong game. Me and Savannah share a look stifling our giggles behind our hands. As we walk behind, I admire Grayson. I can’t help it. He radiates this beauty, that’s so addictive that is struggle to look away. I’m still so embarrassed he felt the need to carry my things… was it just a nice gesture or did he think I was weak or maybe I was just reading too much into the whole affair. My mind races with so many different thoughts, so fast and so hard I’m beginning to get a headache.

We arrive outside a drinks place and find a place to sit down. After the long drive there’s nothing more I wanted than a cold coffee. Not to mention I’d forgotten to make my morning cup this morning. My mind finally decides to slow down to a dull humming. A waitress comes over and takes our orders and I notice Grayson telling her quietly to make sure Gigi’s was decaf as her and Savannah get into deep conversation.

Then Grayson turns to me, “you know they’re starting to show old movies at the movie theatre on Saturday nights.”

“Oh that’s so cool,” I reply.

“This weekend the 1940s version of Pride and Prejudice is being screened,” he tells me.

“No way!” I exclaim my eyes wide with excitement.

He nods, with a small smile. The waitress comes around with the coffees and as soon as she’s gone I return the conversation.

“I just finished it yesterday,” I explain to him.

“And…” he asks, prompting me.

I pause for a moment and then say, “I’m conflicted.”

“And why is that?” he wonders aloud.

“Because I loved every second of it and now it’s just over,” I groan, “gone. I can never relive the first time again.”

“You can’t relive the first time but you can relive the moment again,” he says, “and it’s not over forever.”

“How so?” I reply.

“Stories shall forever continue in our minds and as long as we have the power to tell them they never really go anywhere,” Grayson says, almost wistfully.

“Huh…” I murmur, trailing off slightly, “I’d never thought of it like that before.”

“You guys should go together,” comes Gigi’s voice, surprising me quite suddenly.

“What?” I ask, more quickly and loudly than I’d intended.

“The Pride and Prejudice movie one Saturday,” she clarifies, “you both seem really into it.”

Grayson looks slightly alarmed and replies, “I’m sure y/n is very busy and I don’t want to pressure her into-“

“No I’m free, completely free,” I cut him off. I mentally face palm as I realise how horribly obvious that sounded. Gigi shoots me a knowing grin which I choose to kindly ignore.

“Oh… then would you like to go with me this Saturday?” Grayson asks, looking me dead in the eye.

His eyes are so distracting if the question hadn’t been so important I most likely would’ve forgotten how to answer.

“I would love to,” I smile, trying not to sound too eager.

We lock into this trance of staring at one another. Magnetised by our eyes, unable to be the first to look away. The smile on my lips was beginning to make my jaw ache but I didn’t cadre stop. Only an idiot would give up a moment like this.

“Hey y/n, I need the bathroom, come with me real quick?” Gigi asks, prodding my shoulder.

“Of course,” I nod, grabbing my bag, finally tearing my gaze away.

“We’ll get set up down at the beach,” Savannah says, nodding to Grayson.

“What about the coffees?” Gigi pouts.

“We’ll take them, don’t worry,” Savannah rolls her eyes with a smile.

As soon as we’re out of earshot and view, Gigi holds my hands a squeals and so do I. After little jumping up and down, hugging and screaming and a lot of weird looks we take a second to absorb what just happened.

“I’m going to a movie with Grayson this Saturday,” I finally say it out loud, the reality actually hitting me for the first time. I didn’t realise how in shock I’d been until now.

“It’s basically a date,” Gigi says.

“Literally,” I shrug, ignoring we’re completely delusional.

“I think he likes you,” she sings, giggling a little.

“That’s because you want it to happen,” I sigh.

“No I saw him looking at you,” she tells me.

“Well yeah, I was speaking to him,” I deadpan.

“No, when you weren’t looking at him dummy!” she exclaims, rolling her eyes melodramatically.

“You sure?” I ask her, my voice small and uncertain.

She nods enthusiastically.

“Gigi I can’t thank you enough,” I gush, a sudden surge of gratitude coming over me.

“Why?” she replies, looking very confused.

“You literally made it happen, you’re the reason I’m going out with him on Saturday,” I explain, suddenly regretting being so mad at her earlier for inviting Grayson as a surprise.

“All in a days work,” she winks at me.

“I will name my firstborn child after you, to show my gratitude,” I say.

“Awwwwhhh a little Gigi Hawthorne,” she says, putting her hand over her chest.

“A little Gigi Hawthorne.” I confirm, “hopefully anyway.”

We decide that we probably should get back to the others now and make our way down onto the beach together, laughing so hard we struggle to keep ourselves up right or walk in remotely straight lines. People give us strange looks but our bellies are aching and our lungs are dying far too much for us to care.

“Can you see them?” I ask, short of breath from wheezing.

“No…” Gigi says, giggling.

“Oh there’s Grayson,” I say, spotting our beach towels and umbrellas set up, with Grayson lying under them.

“Of course you spotted him,” she teases me.

“Shut up!” I exclaim, slapping her arm.

She laughs again as we make our way towards a very shirtless Grayson. I mean I’d seen him without a shirt before but today it was just different. The sun bounces off of his skin at a perfect angle, and the crown of blonde hair on his head glows.

“Quit gawking,” Gigi snaps me out of my trance, “that’s still my brother you know.”

“I am not gawking,” I hiss at her.

“Oh please, there’s drool running down the side of your mouth,” she tells me, pointing.

“Really?” I ask, self consciously wipe the side of my mouth.

Gigi winks at me laughing. I roll my eyes, unamused and slap the side of her arm.

“You’re not funny,” I say.

“I think that was hilarious,” she grins.

Grayson now spots us and waves us over. We both walk a little faster towards him. Savannah and Grayson had clearly already set up the umbrellas and beach towels perfectly, though I couldn’t see Savannah with him.

“What’s got you so smiley Gigi?” he asks, as we approach.

“Oh nothing,” she sing songs, smiling at me, “where’s Savannah?”

“I think she went to go and hire a surf board,” he explains.

“Ooooo I want to do that!” Gigi says, jumping up and down with excitement.

“It’s over there,” he points her into the right direction.

“Coming?” she turns to me.

“Yeah I’ll pass,” I scoff, imagining what an idiot I’d make of myself on a surf board.

“You’d be missing out,” Gigi tells me, poking my stomach.

“I’ll settle for missing out this time,” I reply.

“Okay then,” she shrugs.

Gigi rushes to take off her shirt and shorts, ready in her bathing suit and promptly runs off, far too excitedly as I sit myself down on a beach towel beside Grayson. I offer him a small smile which he returns with a wider one. I quickly look away as I shed my shirt and shorts, leaving me feeling very exposed in my bathing suit. When I look back towards him, I’m aware that he too has looked away. My cheeks heat up at the thought of him being so gentlemanly as to give me some privacy. I begin to rustle around in my bag in search for my sunscreen when a familiar voice freezes me in my tracks.

“Hey,” Grayson says.

I look up, happy I can now use sunburn as an excuse for my flushed cheeks, “hi.”

“How have you been?” he asks me shyly.

“Okay actually, yeah,” I nod, “how have you been, I haven’t seen you in a while?”

“Yeah I’ve been with my brothers a bit,” he explains.

“All okay?” I make sure.

He nods, “more than okay. My older brother is getting married.”

“Oh my gosh that’s amazing,” I beam.

He smiles, “they’re planning it for three months time.”

I put a hand over my heart, “that’s going to be lovely.”

“Yeah, he has a wonderful fiancée and I think he’ll be really happy,” he tells me, a real brightness in his eyes when he talks about them. It warms my heart.

“I’m glad,” I reply.

We fall into a silence and I grab the sunscreen out of my bag and begin to apply.

“Do you need some help?”

It takes everything in me to not let my jaw drop. I freeze mid movement and don’t know what to do with myself. There are fireworks going off in my brain and my heart is close to exploding.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” I mumble shyly, looking down.

“Of course not,” he smiles, holding out his hand for the bottle.

I pass it to him and turn around, delicately moving my hair out of the way. I feel his hands soothingly rub the liquid in, you’d think he was a professional masseuse. He’s so gentle and careful with my skin. I’m so glad he can’t see my face right now because I don’t think I’ve ever been more red.

“Sorry,” I say quietly.

“Why are you apologising?” he asks, as his hand slips under my strap.

I bite back a gasp to answer his question, “because you have to rub sunscreen into my back.”

“I didn’t realise it was an offensive affair,” he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“You know what I mean,” I smile.

“I’m not sure I do,” he says, pressing for me to carry on.

“Is it not awkward for you?” I ask.

“No, I’m helping a friend out, nothing awkward about that,” he replies and I can hear the shrug in his tone.

Friend. The word echoed through my brain bouncing off every surface. It would torture me at every waking hour, replaying like a broken record. He said ‘friend’. But how else was he meant to word it, how else would I have worded it. But if he felt the same way to me as I did to him would he have still said ‘friend’. Why am I like this? Analysing every second word the guy says. I need to stop driving myself insane.

“I suppose,” I say, trying to not let my disappointment shine through as I turn back around to face him.

He hands me back the bottle, “about earlier, if you felt pressured into Saturday I’m not going to be offended if you don’t want to go.”

“No I do, really,” I say, “why? Did you not want to?”

And suddenly I was on edge, that ‘friend’ comment had really thrown me off and now I was second guessing everything he mentioned.

“No, I absolutely did,” he tells me, an honest look in his eyes, “but I was just making sure.”

“Thanks,” I smile sweetly.

I’m about to continue when Gigi appears in front of me, out of breath and slightly wet.

“What happened to surf boards?” I ask her, shielding my eyes from the sun.

“I fell off too many times and gave up,” she shrugs, “so you’re coming in the water with me now.”

“No I’m okay here,” I say, forcing a small laugh.

Gigi doesn’t even bother replying and instead grabs my arms and pulls me forwards, breaking out into a full on sprint towards the water. I try to drag her back but I’m too weak from laughing so hard, it’s like all of my limbs have gone to jelly.

“And now we go in,” she says, gripping onto my hands tighter.

“It’s gonna be cold!” I whine, taking a few steps back.

“Oh shush, you don’t know until you try,” she scolds me, bringing me back forwards.

I dip a my foot in and immediately retract, “I’ve tried, it’s cold.”

“Come in a little,” she pouts, “for me.”

I groan and oblige. After a few steps in I decide it isn’t as bad as I’d thought until we’re about thigh deep, then I want to turn around.

“No you can’t, we’re barely even in yet!” Gigi exclaims.

“I’m in enou-“

I don’t get to finish my sentence as I’m cut off by my own scream on surprise promptly followed by a face full of water. Trust Gigi to push me in. Before I come back up to breathe, I swim underneath her and tackle her legs so she too topples over. When I get to the surface I’m soaking and salty and highly unamused in contrast with Gigi’s bright eyes and giggles.

“See, wasn’t that fun?” she grins at me.

“No, I’m wet,” I grit through my teeth, trying to hide a smile.

“Well duh… it’s the sea,” she tells me.

I roll my eyes and the put a hand up to block out the sun’s glare. But two people catch my eye.

“Is that Savannah and… Grayson?” I question.

Two heads of golden hair, contrasting with the blue of the ocean, ride on surf boards, tackling waves with smiles on their faces. They look more like siblings than usual.

“Is he surfing? Did you know he could surf? He looks like a professional,” I babble suddenly.

“I didn’t know he could surf,” she says, “then again Gray can probably do any sport ever.”

“He definitely knows how to surf,” I reply, not being able to tear my eyes away from his precision and focus.

“Is that a green flag for you,” she teases, “are you into the surfer boys?”

“Oh put a sock in it,” I laugh, pushing her into the water.

She comes back up gasping for air and laughing, “hey!”

“Payback,” I shrug, “and I’ll do it again if you don’t shut it about my love life.”

“You were thanking me earlier,” Gigi grumbles at me.

“Not anymore,” I sing.

“So bipolar,” she rolls her eyes playfully.

“Shhhh I’m trying to watch!” I say, my eyes still fixated on Grayson.

“You mean stare at his abs,” she raises her eyebrow.

“Well they’re really nice too,” I reply, giving up on being in denial.

She wrinkles her nose, “my brother right there.”

“Hey you brought up the abs thing,” I defend.

“Because you’re staring at them!” she exclaims, looking very disgusted.

Before I can reply to her Grayson catches my eye and for a moment it’s just him there and no one else. He beckons me over with a hand.

“Was that at me?” I whisper to Gigi.

“Who else is he signilling at?” she asks.

We turn around simultaneously and see an old man behind us with a snorkel on. He shoots us a dirty look and we turn around, barely keeping it together. As soon as our eyes meet we start absolutely dying with laughter.

“I think it’s safe to say it’s you,” Gigi wheezes, holding her belly.

“I’m going to swim over,” I say once I’ve pulled myself back together.

“I thought you didn’t like the sea,” she challenges me.

“I do now,” I grin at her.

She shakes her head smiling, “I would be mad at you but I really want a Gigi junior.”

“Exactly,” I say, still trying to work out how I’m going to get out of calling my firstborn child Gigi.

“Don’t do anything naughty,” she winks at me, with a cheeky kind of smile.

“Gigi! We’re on a public beach and we’re not even a couple!” I exclaim, reminding her.

“You never know,” she shrugs

“What have you been reading?” I ask her, eyebrows arched and arms folded.

“Never you mind that,” she says, avoiding eye contact.

“Dirty romance again?” I giggle, poking her shoulder.

“Go get yourself a boyfriend,” she says, detracting from the conversation, “he’s waiting.”

I look over to Grayson who still has his gaze fixated on me.

“We’re coming back to this conversation later,” I tell her.

I don’t give her a chance to object as I dive into the water, out of my depth and swim over to Grayson. When I reach him a rest my arms on his surf board, keeping me afloat.

“Since when could you surf?” I look up.

“Since I was about ten,” he tells me, “my grandfather took me and my brothers.”

Beat.

“Come up, here.”

“On the board?” I ask.

He nods and I ungracefully attempt to clamber onto the surf board. I struggle up and the fall right back down, feeling like a world class idiot in front of Grayson.

He smiles softly at me, “need a hand?”

“Nope,” I grunt, slipping once again, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure about that,” he chuckles, his head titled slightly sideways.

“Yes,” I say determinedly and then, “��� actually no, can I have some help please?”

“Here,” he laughs, extending his hand, “grab onto my wrist, the grip will be stronger.”

I do as his says, holding on tightly to his wrists, I push upwards as he pulls me towards him. His hand slides around my waist, which was now exposed out of the water and he lifts me up onto the surfboard. Once he’s sure I’m on there, he slowly removes his hands. My waist tingles where his fingers have been and so does my face as it rises in temperature.

“Ever been on a surf board before?” he asks me.

“Is it that obvious?” I grin.

“No,” he laughs kindly.

I give him a look, my eyebrows raised, letting him know he doesn’t have to lie to me to make me feel better.

“Well maybe,” he says, a little sheepishly.

“How come you didn’t surf earlier then?” I ask him. He could’ve gone with Savannah and Gigi to hire a board but he chose not to, which made me curious to say the least.

“I didn’t want to leave you on your own,” Grayson shrugs.

My pulse quickens and my face lights up. But I play it cool, or at least I’d like to think I do.

“I’m a big girl, I can handle myself,” I tell him.

“I know but I didn’t want you to feel alone,” he says. He says it like he actually cares, like I actually mean something to him. And it feels magical.

“Thanks,” I say, “so what are we doing?”

“Paddling out, then we’ll stand up,” he explains.

“You’re joking,” I scoff. There is no way that I could possibly do that.

“The waves are babies on this beach,” he says, gesturing to the seemingly unthreatening waves.

“They’re still waves and may I remind you I’ve never done this before,” I reply, eyeing the water intently.

“There’s a first time for everything,” he murmurs.

“You surprise me with your spontaneity,” I hum in response.

“And you surprise me with your reluctance,” he replies.

“I’m not reluctant!” I defend.

He shoots me a pointed look as I sit there with my arms folded.

“I’m not reluctant,” I sigh before hesitating slightly, “…I’m just scared.”

“You don’t need to be scared,” he tells me, “I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen.”

“Okay….” I say hesitantly, “what do we do first?”

“First we need to paddle out, so we have to lay down on the surface board,” he explains, showing me what to do.

I mirror his actions and slowly lay down on my belly beside him, as he lifts an arm and puts it over my shoulders, so he has one hand on each side of the board.

“Feeling good?” he checks.

“Good isn’t quite the word I’d use to describe whatever I’m feeling,” I reply, trying to steady the shake in my voice.

“Okay, now we’re going to paddle out,” he instructs, “you think you want to?”

“Yeah,” I breathe

Slowly and cautiously, feeling a little more comfortable with Grayson by my side, I help paddle out until it feels like we’re in the middle of the ocean. The middle of a vast expanse of salty blue water.

“You see the wave coming up now,” he says, his voice soothing and calm.

I hum in reply.

“We’re going to catch that one,” he explains.

“Okay.”

“I’ll stand first and then I’ll help you.”

I agree. He stands up with ease and good balance, like he’s done it a thousand times before. I presume he has.

“Do you trust me?” Grayson asks.

“Yes,” I say with no hesitation.

“Hold my hands,” he instructs me.

I take his hands in mine and hold them tightly, until my knuckles have gone white and my hand bright red.

“Stand up,” he tells me.

I shake my head, convincing myslef that there are at least eighty different ways to die right this second.

“Stand up, I’ve got you,” he reassures me.

“What if I fall?” I ask worriedly, my voice unfamiliar.

“Then I’ll catch you,” Grayson says, his eyes twinkling.

I stand up, wobbling a little. He catches me by the waist, his palm fitting perfectly in the dip, stabling me. Goosebumps raise on the surface of my skin and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m cold and shocked. Though my face feels a little too heated for it to be blamed on the cold.

“Spread your arms out,” he tells me.

I slowly spread my arms out and his hands don’t leave my waist. It’s my very own titanic moment, though I hope if this is going anywhere it doesn’t have the same end result. And suddenly it’s just him and me in the middle of the ocean alone on a surf board and nothing and no one else matters.

“Ready?” he say into my ear.

“Ready.”

The wave is not a big as I’d thought it would be and we easily ride it. I even find myself laughing and slightly enjoying myself. That lasted for the grand total of five whole second. Then I slip off into the water. I’m quick to kick my way to the surface and grab ahold of the surfboard. Grayson is on his knees looking a little pale, worry lines creasing his forehead.

“Are you okay?” he rushes, lifting me up onto the surfboard.

“Yeah,” I cough, sea water residue in my mouth.

“Are you sure?” he asks worriedly, checking my pulse, vision, hearing and mobility. He placed a gentle finger under my chin and tips my head back.

“I’m sure,” I chuckle, tilting my head back forwards, “but I think that’s enough surfing for me.”

“Understandable,” he nods, dropping his hand, “come on, let’s get back onto shore.”

Together we paddle back to shore, our bodies so close to each others it’s making me nervous. We spot Gigi waiting on the beach for us, looking excited. Before we get there Grayson turns his head towards me.

“You know I’m proud of you,” he says.

“Proud?” I ask trying to focus on the conversation and not how close our faces were.

“You gave surfing a go,” he says, “even though you were scared.”

“Well I had a good teacher,” I murmur, our noses almost touching.

“Thanks,” he smiles and… did he just blush?! I shake the idea out of my head, it’s probably just the lighting or sunburn.

We drift back onto the sand and Gigi runs up to us, beaming, “I found a crab and made friends.”

I shiver, “a crab?”

“He’s cute!” she exclaims

“He?” I ask.

“I’ve names him Bubblez with a ‘z’ at the end and I’m emotionally attached,” she tells me.

She looks at Grayson, her eyes wide and hopeful. A pleading look on her face.

“You’re not keeping the crab as a pet,” Grayson deadpans.

“How did you know I was going to ask?” she groans.

“Because you tried to adopt eight stray kittens and two stray dogs in the last month,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

Gigi replies but I don’t hear the rest of the conversation as someone grabs my attention.

“Hey y/n! Help me drag my board in!” Savannah hollers at me.

My brow furrow, Savannah doesn’t ask for help. Ever. Let alone to pull in a surf board, something I knew she’d done a thousand times and was plenty strong enough to do herself. I know something is up, I just can’t figure out what.

“Meet you back at the umbrellas,” I smile at Grayson.

“See you there,” he replies.

I walk over and grab one side of Savannah’s board, waiting for her to say something.

“I thought you didn’t like him,” she hisses, her voice low, almost dangerous.

“Me too,” I shrug, not even bother to hide it from her anymore.

“y/n!” she exclaims.

“Savannah!” I mock her back.

She rolls her eyes and tugs the board sighing, “please think it through.”

“That’s what I told you about Duncan and you didn’t,” I snap back

She flinches, like I’ve hit her across the face. She drops her side of the board so I drop mine. Guilt floods through me, but I push it back. This needs to be addressed. She readjusts herself and holds her head high.

“It’s different,” she says, trying to mask the tremor in her voice and failing.

“No it’s not,” I counter.

“Yes it is,” she insists, her eyes fiery.

“Grayson is a good person, he cares about you and Gigi-“

“How would you know?” she snaps, cutting me off.

“Because he’s told me,” I yell, “when he talks about you two his whole face lights up.”

She looks taken aback and loses her words for a minute so I take the opportunity to continue.

“He’s kind and gentle, why is it so bad that I want someone like that?” I ask her.

“Because…” she falters, “because if you break up whose side do I take.”

“Hold your horses there, we’re not even together,” I try to smile.

“Hypothetically then,” she says.

“His,” I shrug, “and I’d understand, he’s family.”

“So are you.”

My heart swells and a lump forms in my throat. I’d always been close to Gigi, we’d been like sisters from the start but Savannah and I took a lot of warming up before we became closer. We butt heads often, both being strong characters. Never once did I think she viewed me like a sister. I never thought I was of that importance to her, that significance in her life. But the fact that she does really hit me hard. And now I’m the one who’s lost her words.

“And I don’t want him to steal you from me,” she murmurs, her eyes a little glossy.

“Oh Sav,” I say, wrapping my arms around her, “you think I’d let him?”

“Love makes you do stupid things,” she chokes, “I should know.”

“Then if I do I give you full permission to slap me until i come to my senses,” I joke.

“Okay,” she laughs, wiping a few stray tears away.

“Come on,” I say, picking up my side of the board, “the others will be wondering about us.”

She nods and lifts the board as we begin walking again in a comfortable silence.

“y/n?” she says quietly, gently, almost carefully.

“Yeah?”

“I am really happy you like Grayson and if you guys do ever get together, I would be very happy for you,” she says, “I want you to know that.”

“Thank you,” I smile, “I still think you can do better than Duncan, but if you love him I’m behind you. Except if he treats you like dirt, then I’ll take him bungee jumping without the rope.”

She giggles a little and then grows serious, “he’s good enough to me.”

I don’t want to argue anymore so leave it at that. But my mind is screaming ‘is good enough, really enough?’ I’d have the conversation another day, I decide. We trek back up the beach to Gigi and Grayson who are sunbathing on the beach towels. As we approach Gigi sits up and flicks her sunglasses onto her head.

“What took you so long?” she calls.

“I’m like a donkey with mitten and couldn’t keep hold of the board,” I lie.

“Classic y/n,” she winks playfully.

“Hey!” I complain.

“I practically dragged the whole thing up here single handedly,” Savannah adds.

“Did not,” I mutter.

“I was thinking we should all go for ice cream,” Gigi says, “they have this ice cream bar where you can add as many toppings as you like for free.”

“I didn’t see that when we walked to the beach,” Grayson replied a, joining the conversation.

“Well you obviously have no priorities then,” his sister responds, offended and shocked.

“Priorities?” he questions.

“Beach priority number one, always look for the best ice cream spot,” she exclaims, “you should know this! Have I taught you nothing?”

“The only thing you’ve taught me is to not give you coffee or any drink that is remotely caffeinated,” he says and I try not to laugh.

“Talk to the hand,” Gigi grumbles at him, thrusting her palm into his face, then turning to me and Savannah, “now who’s coming for ice cream?”

“I’m in,” she shrugs.

“Same here,” I nod.

“I’ll come too,” Grayson sighs, but part of me think he actually wants to come.

Her face lights up and she jumps up excitedly, “yay, let’s go!”

We all walk back up the beach, following Gigi who is practically sprinting to show us the way. We eventually reach a little establishment she takes us into. It’s cool inside and all of the walls are brightly coloured, so much so it hurts my eyes a little. There’s every ice cream flavour one could imagine and even more toppings to choose from. Gigi looks like she’s in heaven. I grab a scoop of my favourite flavour and moderately top it with a few bits and pieces I liked the look of before I went and paid. I notice Grayson already standing there with his cone.

“Wow I didn’t pin you as a vanilla kind of guy,” I comment, my eyebrow raised in surprise as I analyse and severely judge his ice cream choices.

“What did you pin me as then?” he says, the corner of his mouth turned upwards slightly.

“I don’t know something like coffee or rum and raisin,” I shrug.

“Do you think I’m a sixty year old man?” he asks.

I laugh, almost choking on my own ice cream, “no, I just thought you had…“ I struggle for the right words, “…refined taste.”

“Saved yourself there,” he teases, “that was a close one.”

I poke my tongue out at him and then realise that maybe that was a little too comfortable of me. But he’s laughing so I take it as a good sign. As Gigi finishes paying for her extremely colourful icecream cone, she links arms with me and begins to tell me all about the extravagant flavours and extras she’s topped the ice cream with.

***

The four of us walk down the beach, eating our ice creams. Most of the way it is silent, with odd pockets of random conversation dotted about the place. Then we lay on the beach for hours, sunbathing, sleeping, just being. I haven’t felt this relaxed in a while. Occasionally one or two of us would leave to take another dip into the sea. Gigi and I are lying on a towel playing with the sand on either side of us, letting it tickle our fingertips as we gossip about school drama and hot celebrities. Though I don’t think there’s any celebrity I could’ve found to rival Grayson Hawthorne right now. I mean he’s just sat there looking gorgeous. How could someone be doing so little and still looking so gorgeous? I can’t wait to tell Gigi about all the things that had happened between us today, I’m practically ready to burst.

“Can we stay until sunset?” I ask, leaning my cheek on Gigi’s shoulder, “we have to see this beach at sunset.”

“We can stay until sunset,” she replies.

“What do we do now then?” Savannah asks.

“What we’re doing is fine,” I shrug.

“We’re not doing anything,” she says, bored.

The thing about Savannah is, she needs to move, like all of the time. The art of doing nothing and just relaxing, Savannah did not enjoy. I made a small bet with myself that she was going to suggest we okay a sport soon.

“Precisely,” I smile, lying back down, closing my eyes,

“What about a game of volleyball?” she suggests.

Won the bet then.

“That sounds good,” Gigi agrees.

“I’ll play,” I say, sitting back up and trying not to sound as halfhearted as I was.

“Gray?” Savannah asks.

“Alright,” he nods.

“Good you’re on my team,” she says.

“Hey! No fair!” Gigi exclaims immediately.

“Ouch Gigi,” I mumble.

“Sorry but we have to face the facts here,” she says with a hand up, “when’s the last time you played volleyball?”

“I don’t know,” I respond.

“Exactly our problem,” she says, “Grayson probably has a secret volleyball career and-“

“I do not,” Grayson interrupts her, sharply.

“And Savannah is good at all sports, our odds aren’t really looking good,” Gigi continues, completely ignoring Grayson’s comment.

“Then let’s just have fun,” I reply.

“Okay,” she grins at me, then looks to the other two and narrows her eyes, “prepare to go down!”

“Pssstt, Gigi,” I whisper-yell so the other can still hear, “I thought you just said we’re going to lose.”

“But we can lose with confidence,” she replies, optimistically.

I shake my head laughing, “you serve first then.”

***

After several volleyball matches of the other two beating us in every game bar one, which Gigi and I would not shut up about, we sit and watch the sunset, per my request. I sit on my beach towel in between Grayson and Gigi staring at the sky covered in shades of pink, orange and yellow.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” I sigh.

“It is,” Grayson murmurs.

I glance towards him and he quickly looks away. Gigi nudges me and I turn to her, there’s a smile plastered on her face. I jerk my eyebrows together asking her to explain. She mouths ‘he was looking at you’. My eyes mirror the size of saucers as I silently ask her if she’s sure. She nods and my heart thumps loudly against my rib cage.

***

It’s only when the sun starts setting down and the sky is a little dark that someone suggests we pack up and head back to the car. By the time we finally reach the car the sky is fully dark and only lit with little twinkling stars.

“I’ll drive,” Grayson offers, once we’ve stuffed the boot full of our things.

“No you drove on the way here, so it’s my turn now,” Savannah says, nicking the keys.

“I call shotgun!” Gigi yells quickly.

I did the math. Me and Grayson were in the back together. Matchmaker Gigi strikes again. I open the door to sit down but before I can get in the seat Gigi dumps the sandy beach bag on the left seat.

“You wouldn’t mind sitting in the middle right?” she asks, loud enough for the others to hear.

In the middle. Right next to Grayson. Of course. I don’t know whether to smile or dread the experience, so I do both.

“Not at all,” I reply, situating myself in the middle seat.

I fumble around with my seatbelt to avoid eye contact with Grayson. Our bare legs are touching, sending the butterflies in my stomach fluttering and tumbling all over the place. Savannah start to drive and the bumps in the road just mean the two of us keep accidentally knocking each other. I try and hide the blush that keeps blossoming darker each time we touch but eventually give up. Another jolt, another spark of electricity shoots across my body. But by about twenty minutes into the drive exhaustion catches up on me, binding my mind together like some sort of kidnapper. I can feel my eyes drooping down and my head lolling to one side.

“Are you tired?” Grayson murmurs.

My heart throbs my chest, so much so I could hear the beating in my ears. I look up into his pools of grey and I nod, yawning a little.

“Lean on me,” he whispers.

“What?” I blurt out, as soon as I’ve processed the three words. I practically jump out of my seat, suddenly awake and alert, my eyes wide in shock.

“Lean on me,” he repeats, just as softly as before.

“Are you sure?” I ask him, still trying to mask my pure shock.

“Would I have asked if I wasn’t?” he replies smoothly.

“Thanks,” I say with a small smile.

Hesitantly I rest my head on his shoulder and attempt to relax. I breathe in. He smells divine. The cotton shirt he wears is so soft against my skin. He places his head on top of mine and I feel reality begin to slip away as darkened swallows me whole.

***

A jolt awakes me, but not fully as I’m still groggy. Even thought I’m half asleep I’m very aware I’m leaning on Grayson Hawthorne. I can smell him.

“Where are we?” I murmur sleepily.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispers, “we’re quite far from home.”

Comfortably situated, resting on Grayson, I listen I his soothing voice as my eyes slowly lull themselves shut again and sleep becomes my captor for the next couple of hours.

***

I wake up disoriented and confused. I’m no longer in the car. I can feel that my face is pressed up against someone’s chest. I open my eyes and realise that I’m in Grayson’s arms, bridal style.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, suddenly sitting up.

This puts Grayson off balance and I begin to fall to the ground very ungracefully. Luckily he catches my waist just before I hit the ground. His hands are strong and steady on the small of my back.

“Sorry,” I murmur embarrassed, as he helps me back up, his hands only dropping from my waist when I’m upright and completely stable. They linger for a little longer than necessary but I’m not complaining.

“No, my apologies I didn’t mean to drop you,” he says.

“If you didn’t I think you’d have a broken wrist,” I reply, “so it’s a good job you did.”

“Gigi suggested I carry you in as you were asleep,” he explains suddenly.

“Did she now?” I say, almost smiling. What would I do without my Gigi?

He nods and then passes me my key, “she found them in your bag.”

“Good to know my best friend respects my privacy and dignity,” I grin, a little sarcasm playing on my tongue.

“Of course,” Grayson plays along.

“Well thanks for letting me use your shoulder as a pillow and for carrying me to the door,” I say, a little awkwardly.

“No problem,” he smiles, “should I pick you up from here on Saturday?”

“Are you sure?” I ask him, “I don’t want it to be any trouble, I can just take the bus.”

“Of course I’m sure,” he nods, “maybe we could go to dinner together before?”

“I’d like that very much,” I beam, my cheeks heating up.

“I’ll get Gigi to pass me on your number incase I need to contact you,” Grayson suggests.

“Yes, I’ll get her to do the same for me,” I agree.

“Got any books on the go since Pride and Prejudice?” he asks me, continuing the conversation, making me very happy.

“Haven’t had a chance,” I sigh.

“Think you can wait another day to start one?” he asks me.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he grins, “but can you?”

“I think so,” I say sceptically, “what do you have planned?”

“You’ll see,” he replies, a little mischievously.

“When Gigi says that I get scared,” I laugh.

“Well I’m not Gigi,” he replies, “I’ll see you Saturday then.”

“See you on Saturday.”

a/n: I AM SOOOO SORRY. I don’t even know why this took me 12 billion years to write but it is finally here and for anyone reading this I really appreciate your patience with me. I hope you enjoyed PART 3 and you guessed it… PART 4 is in the works!! Hopefully that one will take a bit less time

I didn’t realise how long this part was until I’d written it. I actually had to cut PART 3 in half because it was so long but hope you enjoyed this!! Thanks for reading my loves 🤍🤍 this fic is the only thing keeping me sane waiting for TGG

btw I know nothing about surfing or surf boards so don’t come at me.

and a quick thank you to anyone who participated in my little Grayson icecream poll, you’ll notice the results have been put to good use… though I don’t personally agree that it would be vanilla.

TIG masterlist

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 42)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap,

The following morning, at around 8 o'clock, when Cillian was still fast asleep and somewhat hung over, he heard the doorbell  ring. With a pounding headache and heavy eyelids, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way down the stairs.

As he opened the door, he was surprised to find you, standing at the doorstep with the pram and two coffees. 

"Hey," Cillian said  , rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Hey yourself," you replied, a small smile playing on your lips as you handed him one of the coffees. "I thought you could use a little pick-me-up this morning," you told him before pressing a kiss on to his lips.

Cillian smiled nervously, trying to put on a happy face despite the emotions that were swirling within him. He couldn't shake off the guilt of what had happened the previous night with Amanda.

"Thanks," he mumbled, taking a sip of coffee.

You looked at him, your eyes studying his face. "Is everything okay?" you asked, a hint of concern in your voice.

Cillian hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. He couldn't tell you the truth, but he also couldn't keep lying.

"Listen, if it is about last night," you then began to say before he could even say anything. "I came here to apologize. I didn't mean to hurt you when I said that I wasn't for marriage just yet," you told him  , your voice soft and sincere.

Cillian looked away, avoiding your gaze as he took another sip of his coffee.

"It's not about that," he mumbled, still unable to look at you.

"Well, I think it is. Clearly, you are upset and I get that," you told him before tending to Mara who had just started crying in her pram. "Can I come inside so we can talk?" you asked, juggling  the baby in your arms and trying to balance the coffee in one hand.

Cillian hesitated for a moment before nodding and stepping back to let you in. He led you and Mara into the living room and gestured for you to take a seat on the couch. He sat down next to you, feeling his heart still racing as the guilt of what he had done the night before weighed heavily on him.

"Listen," he began, his voice low and hesitant as he took Mara from you, cuddling her tightly, which is when you interrupted him again.

"No, you listen Cillian," you told him. "I love you with all my heart and the fact that I am not ready to marry you has absolutely nothing to do with my feelings for you,"  you said, turning to him as you tried to steady your trembling voice.

"I just need some time to figure things out, to enjoy this moment with Mara and to begin feeling comfortable again within my own skin," you explained, and Cillian looked at you, his heart swelling with love and guilt at the same time. He knew that he should tell you the truth, but the thought of losing you was too much to bear.

"I understand," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No, I don't think you do and how could you?" you said, tears now filling your eyes. "Ever since this traumatic birth experience, I have been struggling with self-esteem. I hate myself. I hate the way I look and, god, that's the reason I don't even want to be seen with you because everyone will think that you can do so much better than me," you  said, sniffing back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Cillian's heart ached as he heard the sadness in your voice, and he wished that he could make you see that you were beautiful, both inside and out, and that he wouldn't trade you for the world.

But he couldn't say any of that because the guilt of what he had done the previous night was still weighing heavily on him.

"Don't say that," Cillian said, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, and I mean that sincerely."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, feeling a mix of emotions coursing through you. "And I appreciate that Cills, but it's just something I have to work through myself you know?" you explained reluctantly. "I have been seeing a therapist for few weeks now and the therapist seems to think that I am suffering from some post-partum depression in a way,"   you said, wiping away a tear that had managed to slip out.

Cillian listened intently, his heart breaking as he heard the sadness in your voice. He couldn't believe that you had been feeling this way and he hadn't even noticed it.

"And I can see that now," you continued. "Seeing a therapist is the right step for me. And I don't want anything to come between us Cills, not even this," you said, finally looking up and meeting his gaze. "But I do need you to be patient with me. I am sorry. It's just need to take baby steps right now,"  you finished, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cillian looked at you, feeling a mix of emotions coursing through him. He wanted to tell you the truth about what happened last night, but he knew that he couldn't. Now was not the right time. It would destroy you  , the woman he loved, and he couldn't bring himself to do that. Not after everything you had been through.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Cillian asked, his voice filled with concern. He couldn't believe that he had been so blind to what you had been going through.

"It's not something I wanted to admit to myself, let alone to anyone else," you told him, your voice wavering slightly as you tried to hold back your tears.

Cillian nodded, understanding what you meant. "Fuck Y/N, I am sorry, I should have noticed,"  Cillian admitted as he looked down at Mara, rocking her gently, as she started to fall back to sleep.

"No, you shouldn't have. I did well to suppress my feelings," you admitted before leaning against his  shoulder, taking in a deep breath.

Cillian wrapped his arm around you, holding you close until Mara was finally fast asleep again and he placed her in the bassinet in his Livingroom.

"I love you Y/N," he then said, turning towards you and gently caressing your face. "I want to be there for you, no matter what you are going through and for me you are the most perfect woman in this world."

You smiled softly, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. "I love you too, Cillian," you whispered, feeling the warmth of his touch making your heart flutter.

Cillian leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a soft, gentle kiss. He wanted to deepen it, lose himself in the heat of your mouth and forget about the guilt that was washing over him, but it was too hard.  Cillian couldn't shake off the guilt and shame that had taken over him after his one-night stand with Amanda. He pulled away from the kiss, turning his head to the side as he took a deep breath.

"What's wrong?" you asked, looking up at him with confusion in your eyes. 

"Nothing," he responded following a long exhale, putting on act and you believed him. 

"Good, then why don't you take me upstairs while Mara is sound asleep? That sure will make me feel better," you suggested with a wink, your voice low and seductive as you looked up at Cillian with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Cillian's heart skipped a beat as he heard your suggestion, a mix of emotions coursing through him. He knew that he shouldn't, not after what had happened with Amanda the previous night, but he couldn't resist the temptation that you presented either.

"Come on," you prompted  , taking his hand and leading him upstairs to the bedroom.

Once you were both in the bedroom, you closed the door behind you and turned to face Cillian, a seductive smile playing on your lips.

"I've been thinking about this all morning," you whispered, stepping closer to him and wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Have you just?" he  asked, his eyes wide with surprise. "All morning?"

You nodded, your eyes shining with desire as you looked up at him.

"Mmmhmm, yes, you, with your cock inside me," you murmured, biting down on your lower lip while Cillian swallowed hard, his body responding to your words without hesitation. His cock was already hardening in his pants, aching to be inside of you.

Cillian's hands wandered down to your hips, pulling you closer to him as he kissed you deeply, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving inside your mouth. His fingers gripped the hem of your t-shirt, slowly pulling it up over your head and discarding it on the floor.

You moaned softly, your fingers working to unfasten the buttons of his PJ-shirt. Once his shirt had joined your t-shirt on the floor, Cillian's hands roamed over your bare skin, feeling the warmth and softness of your body under his fingertips.

Your nipples hardened under his touch, and your body arched towards him, wanting to feel more of him.

"Oh fuck, that feels good," you moaned, your breath hitching as Cillian's hand cupped your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, causing a small drop of milk to escape.

Cillian couldn't help but groan at your words, his cock twitching in his pants.

"You have no idea how much I want you right now," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

You smiled, your fingers working to unfasten the button of his pants. "Then why are you still wearing these?" you teased, your voice low and sultry as you pushed his pants down his hips, freeing his cock from its confines.

Cillian's cock sprang free, hard and thick and pointing straight up at you. You wrapped your hand around it, feeling its warmth and weight as you began to stroke him slowly.

Cillian groaned, his head falling back as he closed his eyes and savored the feel of your hand on his cock.

"Fuck, Y/N," he growled, reaching down to cup your breast again, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "I want to taste you," he groaned before, with one quick movement, he gently pushed you back on the bed. You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with desire as he crawled between your legs, spreading them wide open.

He leaned down, his breath warm against your inner thighs as he placed a soft, lingering kiss on the delicate skin of your thigh.

"Fuck, you smell so goddamn good," Cillian growled, nuzzling against your thigh and breathing in your scent. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as his tongue darted out to trace a path along your slit.

You were already wet and ready for him, the thought of his tongue on your pussy making you quiver with desire.

Cillian groaned, his tongue gently flicking against your clit before he started to lick you in earnest. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue and lips working together to bring you close to the edge.

"Fuck, Cillian," you moaned, your fingers knotting in the sheets as you felt yourself building towards release.

Cillian seemed to sense how close you were to coming.

His tongue circled your clit with more intention, his fingers delving into your wet pussy and finding the perfect spot to stroke.

"Oh god," you cried out, your body shaking as you came hard. Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. Cillian kept licking, swallowing every last drop of you as you rode out your climax.

Finally, you fell back on the bed, panting and spent. Cillian crawled up your body, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at you.

"You taste so fucking good," he groaned, pressing his lips against yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips and it only made you want him more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

Cillian groaned and reached down between your legs, his fingers finding your wetness and sliding easily into your pussy. You moaned into the kiss, your hips bucking against his hand as you rode his fingers.

Cillian groaned, his cock twitching at the feeling of your wet pussy clenching around his fingers.

"Fuck, Y/N," he growled, breaking the kiss and trailing his lips down your neck. "I need to be inside you."

"Then what are you waiting for?" you gasped, gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, aligning yourself with his cock.

Cillian didn't waste a moment. He thrust into you, filling you completely, causing you to cry out with pleasure.

Cillian's thrusts were desperate and urgent, as if he couldn't get deep enough inside you.

"I love you so fucking much," you moaned  , your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer, wanting to feel him deeper and closer.

"I love you too," Cillian gasped, his breath coming in short pants as he felt his orgasm building. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you went over the edge again, screaming his name and losing control.

"Cillian!"

Cillian's hips stuttered for a moment before he too fell over the edge, groaning as he filled you with his seed. He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and sweating.

They lay there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, before Cillian pulled out of you with a groan.

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as his breath slowly returned to normal.

"Fuck," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "That was... intense."

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah," you agreed, rolling onto your side and propping your head up on your hand. "It was."

Cillian turned his head to look at you, a small smile playing on his lips before guilt came  crashing down on him again, and he looked away.

You frowned, your eyes studying his face as you tried to figure out what was going on in his mind.

"Is everything alright?" you asked, your voice filled with concern as you reached out to touch his arm.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Cillian replied, forcing a smile as he turned to look at you.

Though the sex had felt intense, and intense rightfully so, it still felt a little off and wrong. He could tell something was bothering you and that something didn't sit right with him.

"Are you sure?" you asked again, your voice soft and gentle. You could sense the tension in him and your intuition was telling you that you needed to keep probing.

Cillian looked at you, his smile wavering for a moment before he nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure," he assured you, even though he didn't quite mean it.

You sighed, your eyes searching his face for any trace of doubt or uncertainty. Seeing none, you decided to let it go, at least for now.

Tags:

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[cirqosmos]

teaser 𖹭 yandere simulator; xo (only if you say yes) LEVEL: ②

SUMMARY: a roleplay game where instead of a yandere winning over your heart, you win theirs. but what happens when you're force to play that role yourself? a game that plays on your psyche, if you wish to live then you have to make him fall for you and to do that, you know what it takes right?

TEASER RUNTIME: 700. wc 𖹭 FULL FIC EST. WC: 14K

GENRE: yandere, survival death game, drama, violence

GAME'S BGM.

༝༚༝༚!

Your feet paused on its tracks, exhausted beyond your limit. Fringe latching on your sweaty skin as you dropped on your knees.

This... can't be your reality. This just truly can't be true. Clenching your fist tight, you pushed yourself up, racing towards the door, slamming it open only for you to squint your eyes at the blaring morning sunlight. Your bare feet planted on the asphalt, standing there as your eyes met a sight you've never seen before.

Last night, you were inside your run-down apartment, three stories high where you could see the city tower from the distance. Yet here, high-rise buildings are nowhere to be seen. There was no way you could've been suddenly in a damn house. In a strange place. And in an area with its architecture's nothing close to where you came from. Snapping your head to look at the entire house.

Your stomach twisted and shattered in pits. It is that house.

➤ .. "ESCAPING IS FUTILE, MY DARLING."

➤ .. THIS WORLD IS ENDLESS, LIMITLESS."

➤ .. "THERE'S NO POINT OF RETURN."

"Please, let me go!"

You can't be here. You still have work today. What if you lose your job? You have no knowledge of how time works here and there. Dropping on your knees, you crawled towards it—unsure of where to hold it, you clasped your hands together. "Please! I can't be here, I still have work! I still have to pay my bills! I— I haven't—"

➤ .. "WHAT ARE YOU SAYING, DARLING?"

➤ .. "YOU AIN'T A FULL-FLEDGED ADULT YET."

➤ .. "LOOK! YOU'RE GONNA BE LATE!"

It turns around to gesture inside the house, towards the clock on the wall—pulling your tear-filled eyes over it which are currently hovering at 7 AM sharp.

➤ .. "IT'S TIME TO GO TO SCHOOL."

"Bitch!" You spat out, gritting your teeth. "I've graduated eleven years ago! I don't want to play your stupid game! Please, I beg of you!" Screaming at it at the top of your lungs, growing desperate as the truth begins to sink in every passing second. Propelling your body to react in ways.

Crying you did, sinking your body down in unfathomable depth of helplessness.

➤ .. "OH, DON'T CRY, MY SWEET DARLING."

"Is there really no way. . Out?" You mumbled to yourself amidst all the sniffing and heavy gasps. Unable to process each details. Overwhelmed by the truth alone. This is now your truth.

➤ .. YOU JUST HAVE TO PLAY, AND PERHAPS YOU MAY BE ABLE TO RETURN.

➤ .. ALTHOUGH I DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOU HUMANS, I THOUGHT YOU WANTED A BIG HOUSE LIKE THIS ONE. WEREN'T YOU JUST WISHING TO LIVE IN A MORE COMFORTABLE SPACE?

That hits you. It struck the spot inside you where it was most vulnerable. How did it know? You were terrified to ask.

Glaring at it with seething rage, "Whoever you are, I refuse to play your sick game! Who knows what else you got under your sleeve!"

➤ .. ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT?

If you want to live, you have to make sure he falls for you and no one else. Or else he'll be the one to eliminate you.

Yanderes are unable to discern between genders. Male or female, any breathing living being is a threat in their eyes. The mere, mere you are perceived in this light where just being close with their darling—is as easy as labelling you a sore thumb or better yet a pest that latches against his darling's side. 

A mindless creature governed by heart.

Of course, they smile all day, being friendly and welcoming but beneath that facade was a seething intricate web of lies and manipulation, waiting to strike. And if you were well too dumb to notice or deduce all the signs, then it will only be by the end of the day, when the sun has set, when it's the moonlight's turn to conquer—will you only then know, that you've dug the path to your grave.

So you had to be his darling instead.

But why is it that everything keeps getting worse?

"Oh my god, guys! This is insane! You have to see this! There's a love confession happening in the courtyard and it's none other than for Yang Jungwon!"

One of the students coming from the halls almost fell on her knees as she relayed the message with downright glee, only for a multitude profanities rose up.

"What?! Who is it?"

"Eh, who?!"

"Wait, what?" It came out as a soft whisper. Yet a stark contrast with your eyes widening, and an ear-wrenching creak from your chair from how you stood up so quickly, following after them.

The halls quake immensely like soldiers in their training, seas of shoes slammed against the floor, sprinting to the location where many other students gathered around shoulder-to-shoulder. The windows of the academy were filled up to the brim, spilling with faces illustrated with variety of expressions; intrigue, interest, disbelief, shock and envy.

And yours, with an invisible weight of a noose looped around your neck. 

Like an auditorium with their utmost concentration glued on the stage—a theatre play of a romantic tale, an union of two hearts yet it's nothing but a masquerade of your eventual execution.

As beyond that window, a girl was standing before him. Your eyes rattled, heart racing rapidly. Where did she even came from?

You haven't even started yet!

If he—if Yang Jungwon says yes to this love confession, you’re gone for good. Vapored away. Spelling the end of your existence.

WHAT IS A GAME TO YOU?

A game is an activity, one that engages with for newfound experiences, for amusement and fun, or out of pure boredom.

In a sense, it is a virtual world where you are able to do something you were unable to in the real world.

And you wish for a reality where you desired to be craved for. To be loved and to be cherished. That's why you satisfy that desires through gaming.

But how does it feel now to be forced to live that reality now?

Yet what is so hard? It says.

You just have make him to say yes. To do that, you just have to eliminate everyone. But does your morality even allows you to do that?

➤ .. "THEN YOU CAN JUST KILL HER, WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH IT?"

Oh how foolish you are, here you don't play the game.

It plays you instead.

© 2022-2024, pieroulette on [tumblr]. all rights reserved. do not copy or translate my works.

[wellcomeoneileen]

Why does Randy Harrison deserve compensation? What happened to him? You can DM me if it's not okay to be public

Hey! No it’s totally okay.

⚠️disclaimer - I am a NEW fan and so I am NOT the most informed at all. Other people like @brian-kinney-apologist like really know shit. I initially found things bc watching S4 made me go oh there is bts shit going on for sure and googled, and then when I got on tumblr I saw a bunch of posts talking about it, too.

Lots of older sources are harder to find now bc they didn’t do a digital preservation or the website is expired, but here is what I’ve found, from heated Advocate articles whilst the show aired and then from more measured reflections from podcasts around 2016.

Randy was young and it was his first TV show - when he started he didn’t even have an agent, and really didn’t know what he was getting into. He had done sex scenes on stage and thought that he was pretty prepared for what was to come.

However, he has stated he ended up feeling pretty objectified, such as hearing “we need more shots of Justin’s ass” regularly or expressing a desire to not to go-go dancing type scenes (King of Babylon upset him) and then even more go-go dancing being added (S2 Sap scenes). He was also told to act less gay by casting directors for the show, and to “try to be more butch because Justin isn’t out of the closet”

The show pre-dates intimacy coordinators and there have been allusions, including from the actresses Thea and Michelle, that the sex scenes could be uncomfortable to film.

There was BTS clashing, with producer Tony Jones !!reportedly!!! Saying that Randy was a bitch to work with and “showrunners” “reportedly” saying they would never work with Randy again. There are two interview clips, one from when the show was airing, and one from 2016, when CowLip say they wanted all actors to be comfortable on set, and in BOTH clips , like 15 years apart, Randy kinda like laugh/roll his eyes and Gale looks at him very bemusedly. They had bigger reactions in the ~2003 clip.

He was openly pretty angry as the show went on. He told the Advocate that he would never be friends with or respect Justin if real. He disapproved of the Britin relationship. He said he had to fight to include the scene of Justin topping Brian, which was very important to him. Leading into season 5 he stated he hoped Justin was killed off by getting hit by a truck (obviously being glib, but like he was mad lol)

He has said that lots of scenes needed to be reshot because he struggled to do them so much, like the Cody sexy gun scene that made him so uncomfortable, and then either he or Gale said S5 sex scenes were reshot a lot because they just couldn’t stop laughing at that point anymore.

Peter and Scott recently have said the only time anyone asked for actors’ opinions was right after season 1 ended, and to ME they sounded kinda cheeky about it, all these years later, so perhaps it was a cast sticking point? Unsure, and it wasn’t even Randy who said that. Fat grain of salt.

He has more recently reflected on this time period and expressed regret he went out the way he did, and he understands things better and honors his craft more (heavy paraphrasing!) bc he was mentally checked out by the end and wishes he had finished strong instead.

Also, the cast didn’t realize when signing on how isolated they would be from The Industry. Randy has spoken about this in an unrelated podcast, as have the actors who play Ted and Emmett. NYC or LA are where you want to be for networking, and then signing on to spend the majority of the year in Toronto negatively impacted their careers, they feel. Randy has said he had to start from scratch after the show ended, and Peter and Scott have said Showtime had no idea how to market the show nor their stars, and so they had to just watch as all the initial hype fizzled and nothing was done with them. They were contracted to work too much to seriously be involved elsewhere, while simultaneously not getting good exposure, which I IMAGINE created a dire sort of mood and morale on set. < personal interpretation and fictionalizing history.

Meaning, Randy probably at the very least FELT like he had spent five years on a show that didn’t respect him and it was largely for nothing. He has since stated he appreciates the opportunity and it is the reason he was finically secure, for which he is deeply grateful.

And then finally the fans! He had stalker(s?) and tons of creepy people and was heavily typecast and people would come up to him frequently, which made him uncomfy, and would furthermore act like he was actually Justin, which made him super uncomfy. He was kinda like Chappell Roan!! He was like hey I’m not Justin I’m a person and y’all are freaks. He has publicially declined to speak on the stalking issues, which given his vocal responses to other issues, indicates to ME that it’s pretty personal and upsetting (I mean it’s stalking it’s obviously horrible but you know what I mean). During the show he had a boyfriend that fans like tormented online and even on posters (that bit comes from Tumblr or another forum, so not like verified info on my part at all) because they shipped “Gandy” so hard. I know I’ve read on tumblr about the insane Gandy people but all I remember is they were intense and insane and negatively impacted Randy’s actual real life. Again, that’s info from fans that I haven’t read in article or heard from out of his mouth. Secondary source lol.

This point is PURE speculation, but early interviews with the whole cast were super excited, and they all talked about how excited they were for something ground breaking. By the end, people were angry or giving fluff responses, or in Peter’s case; calmly stating the show was a soap opera and that’s okay. I FEEL like everyone thought they were signing up for something more real/gritty/positive impact to society and then were like oh I’m here to look hot in this show that only moms watch to get them turned on to have sex with their husband. Cool.

Now, do I agree with that - no. But, the show audience was vastly different than expected, and the artistic direction might have been too, both of which might have really disappointed people. Esp Randy and maybe Gale. Randy was a capital T theatre person, and Gale was too and had lots of experimental work and like performance art. Randy has ALSO expressed displeasure with some theater work he did because he didn’t think it was fresh and the audience was only older wealthy white people, so we do know that this sort of thing does matter to his sense of fulfillment at work.

TLDR; had to shoot scenes he didn’t want to, several times, felt objectified on set, disagreed with his character’s direction, maybe felt like he wasn’t being listened to artistically, was cut off from other work opportunities, didn’t appear to get along with leadership, had bad fans, was young and in deep over his head, and at the very least *started* with no career or social support system.

Again!! Am not the most knowledgeable person !!! I do NOT want to spread misinformation so hopefully I’ve tagged where I’m reading into things vs actual quotes but also people who have actually been around pls feel free to say 🙋um actuallllyyyyy

[ghost-proofbaby]

if it were anyone else (e.m.)

warnings: strong allusions to depression, disordered eating/rough relationship with food, mentions of smoking, description of a sort of panic attack. very sad. hurt/comfort? not edited.

wc: 1.6k+

a/n: this is literally entirely self indulgent and written entirely after i sat and cried and thought "i wish i had eddie here right now to hold me". maybe in like thirty minutes tops. this is for me and only me. go figure lol. sorry. yeah. anyways.

if you relate, my askbox is always open, and i'm very sorry you've felt this way as well. i hope you all take care of yourselves. drink some water, call a friend. be kind to yourself.

“I’m worried about you.” 

Four words that always manage to strike a certain type of fear in your gut. You don’t know how to react as he says it, how he wants you to react. You can only stare blankly, you can only wish harder for the earth to swallow you whole.

“What do you mean?” you laugh nervously, following it with a hard swallow.

You’re playing dumb. You know it, he knows it. The tremor in your bones and your numb appendages know it, too. 

“You’re…” Eddie stalls, licking his lips, letting his eyes rake over you, “You’re getting bad again.” 

You’re quick to shake your head, forcing another hollow chuckle from your chest, “It’s not that bad. I’m fin-”

“You’re not fine.”

The look in his eyes could crack your spine if you stare too long. Wet eyes, a trembling bottom lip, worry lines etched into his forehead that you realize might be caused by you.

You’re causing him worry. The last thing you want to do, you’ve accomplished. You’re on a fast-track to becoming a burden – the first step is always acceptance. 

You’re still unsure of how he wants – no, needs you to react right now. This conversation is a landmine for both of you, and you hold every breath with every step as you try to navigate it. If you make one wrong step, it could cause an explosion that spares no survivors.

You don’t mind if it tears you apart limb by limb. You do mind if it hurts him. 

“How… How do you know that?” 

It’s not a sarcastic snipping or defensive deterrence. It’s an unfiltered response of genuineness – you want to know the signs, you want to know what has exposed the rot this time.

And then, maybe next time, you’ll be able to better shield it from him with this knowledge. 

“How could I not?” he takes a deep breath in through his nose, and you focus on the flare of his nostrils rather than any of the tears beginning to gather at his waterlines, “It’s been happening for a while now, though, hasn’t it?” 

Your throat is a cage, tight and restrictive and ringing with a bitter metallic taste in its tenseness. You can’t respond with words. You can only nod. 

He chooses to answer your question more properly now that you’ve admitted it, “You’re cold all the time again. You’re always sleeping too much or too little. You’re smoking again, running yourself into the ground. Picking up distractions like they’re going out of style.”

“Hey, they might be. We never know-” you cut yourself off when your eyes meet his. Now’s not the time for jokes, “Sorry. I… I know. I’m sorry.” 

He’s right. Fuck, he’s right. 

“I want to ask you something, and I need you to answer me honestly,” his own steps across these landmines are just as delicate, just as feathery light, as your own. You hear it in his tone, see it in his body language. You wish your body could sink into the mattress you’re sitting on the edge of as he crouches in front of you, warm palms connecting with your knees. Grounding you. Tethering you. Holding you back from that sinking you crave. “Are you… Sweetheart, are you okay?”

If anybody else had built up to such a stupid question, you would have laughed in their face. You would have shoved those warm palms right off of your skin and you would have thrown up those ice cold hands of your own, shouted obviously not. 

Obviously not. I’m not okay. I’m so far from okay, it’s a bit comical. I am drowning. I am treading in freezing cold waters and I am barely capable of keeping my head above the waves. My engine is fucked, my tank is empty. I don’t think I’d even know how to be ‘okay’ again if you did manage to pull this mangled body of mine from these depths and sat me down on safe, solid ground again. 

You can’t say any of this, though. Not because you don’t trust him, not because he would judge you. But because the moment he asks the question that should make you scoff, you let out a sob instead. Something like a muffled, broken wail that tears from deep within you. It had already been ready and poised, laying in wait for a perfect moment like this one to escape. 

His eyes aren’t the only glossy ones anymore. 

“I-” you start, breathing already stuttering and chest already constricting, “I- I-”

“Hey,” he palms smooth up your thighs, carrying their warmth with them, as if he were trying to spread it across you. As if he had heard your thoughts. As if he already knew all about those dark, treacherous, freezing waters you were stranded in. All you can do is spew out another cry, strangled as you tried to swallow it down before it entered the atmosphere between you two, “Hey.” 

You only notice the tears when you crumple forward and he meets you halfway. Those warm palms, those hands so capable of safety and promise, cup your cheeks and his thumbs make quick work of swiping away the salty streams. 

“Hey, baby, breathe for me,” his voice is tragically gentle, “Just one deep breath, okay?” 

To demonstrate, you watch his chest expand dramatically, his hands forcing you to keep your eyes on him. 

You can’t see through the bleariness. 

“C’mon, sweetness,” he encourages again, “One breath. Just one.” 

If it were anyone else, you’d turn into a fit of rage at the coddling. You’d break everything in sight. You’d scream until your already burning lungs finally collapsed as they’d been yearning to for so long. 

But it’s him. It’s just him, it’s just Eddie. 

His chest rises dramatically again, and this time, yours does as well, albeit through stifling hiccups. You’re dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the flood of emotion that was wrecking you. 

“There you go!” his voice rises ever so slightly, and when you flinch a bit at the sudden volume, he retracts, “Sorry, sorry. But that’s it, sweetheart. Another one, okay?” 

Another breath. Another sob. Another wave of all the pain you’ve been battling off. 

You’re cold all the time again. You’re always sleeping too much or too little. You’re smoking again, running yourself into the ground.

He was right and it fucking killed you. None of those are things you could ever shield him from. You didn’t have the heart to pull away those numb and icey fingertips every time he’d reach out for your hand, or try to cover the shivers that managed to rack your bones even in the middle of summer. The sleeping situation had been spiraling, a pendulum of sleepless nights that would end in a sleep so deep that you could have been mistaken for resting with the dead. Maybe the smoking you could have hid, especially when you’d been so boastful about quitting. 

You weren’t running yourself into the ground. You had already collapsed into the dirt, you had already joined the worms. You’d buried yourself alive, six feet under, and nothing could have stopped him from sniffing out that scent of decay on you. 

The death of a soul and mind. The death of the thing that had propelled you forward for so long. No amount of sweet perfume, or hour long scalding showers, or minty gum to occupy your mind rather than a proper meal, can erase that stench. 

You never could have shielded him. He always saw right through you. Always had, always would. 

“I’m sorry,” you end up crying out. 

You don’t know what you’re apologizing for, but you echo the words again. Over and over, on repeat, until he’s rising from the ground. Until he’s sat beside you. Until his arms are suddenly encasing you and you’re awarded a warmth you didn’t feel deserving of. 

He doesn’t smell like the decay you’d surrounded yourself with. He smells like slow waking in the morning, dreary and calm and at a reasonable time. He smells like warm baths that only relax your bones, and don’t have to blister your skin in the process. He smells like three meals a day, all comforting and all effortless and that never linger with a sense of regret.

He’s not decay, never even treading close to death. He’s home. He’s the promise that you could be okay. Even if it isn’t right now. 

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs into the crown of your head, squeezing you tighter into his chest, not even blinking an eye at the patch of wetness you leave behind from where your cheeks bury against him, “Never apologize. Ever. Not with me, sweetheart. Keep the sorries. I don’t need them.” 

If it were anyone else, the holding would have suffocated you. But it’s him. It’s Eddie.

You don’t fight him when he pulls you fully into his lap, situating the two of you comfortably on that mattress. 

You don’t know how long you let him cradle you like that. How much of that time is spent filled with your cries, or how many breaths he gently urges you to take with him. He never once has to verbally say what you already know; he never once promises aloud that it’ll be okay. He doesn’t put that pressure on you, not yet. Not today. Not when he knows the journey to okay is still such a long one. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers to you instead, “I’ve got you, now, sweetheart.” 

If it were anyone else, you wouldn’t believe them. 

But it’s him. It’s Eddie. 

And he’s got you, for now and for as long as you need.

[andromeda-nova-writing]

My Favorite Actor Is…

Fem!Reader

Summary: Infatuation over a film star. It’s a very common thing to have happen. There’s not much to be done over it besides talking about said infatuation over that actor. And if there is jealousy to be had at least handle it as healthy as possible.

Words: 975

AN: I wrote almost all of this on my phone as I was dealing with the holidays when it was written. Just when I thought I would have time to myself to edit the fic and make sure things made sense, I got a new puppy. So it was either edit the fic and be unsure if things made sense or get help. Thanks @milkstore. You are the best. Puppies are tiring but very cute.

“Ayaka had me and Thoma go with her to see a film earlier today,” Y/N explained as she poured herself and Ayato a cup of tea. The two of them were still warming up after coming back to the estate from Inazuma City. The winter air had been so chilly with flurries landing on them but not sticking to the ground.

“Did the three of you enjoy yourselves?” He took a towel trying to dry off his hair. Even though it was flurries, being out there long enough meant that two of them were a little soaked. They had hurried in quickly changing into something dry leaving just hair affected by the snow.

“Yes. It was quite exciting. But I did have one gripe with it.” Ayato could hear the disappointment in her voice changing so fast from the happy one she had started the conversation with.

“What would that be?” He left the towel wrapped around his shoulders to avoid his hair dripping. Ayato grabbed the teacup and took a sip embracing the warmth it brought him.

“There was a new actor in the film. He had the most gorgeous eyes but only had a few lines of dialog.” Y/N rolled her eyes before she frowned. “It was an absolute waste of perfect talent. And to make matters worse, that's the only film he's in.”

Ayato remained silent before letting out a single word in judgment, “Oh.” Now he wasn't one to let jealousy affect him. That was a silly emotion filled with insecurities that he didn't have. But to say he wasn't the slightest bit affected by her words was a lie. One that he would tell because who was he to dump feelings he should process on his own onto his lover.

Any understanding of his emotions was ignored. “Ayaka had told me he even turned down a role that would have given him more screen time. It’s such a crime really. What I would give to see him on screen for those two hours rather than just two minutes.” He could practically see the hearts in her eyes. 

Ayato didn’t think there would come a day where he’d be annoyed even if it was just slightly by the look she had in her eyes. There wasn’t anything to feel threatened by though. If she had to stand by his side while someone tried to openly flirt with him while he and Y/N were holding hands, he could at the least let her fantasize about someone she would never meet.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and he will get cast in another movie.” He did his best to remain engaged in the conversation. When he looked down at his cup filled with the most gorgeous green tea he hated the reflection that looked back. 

“I wish. Sadly he’s too busy with other projects to even think about acting.” Ayato enjoyed the small victory he had gained even though Y/N was upset at the fact she was telling him. Who knew her love of the arts would betray him?

“Well just be glad that he was able to appear in this film.” He comforted her. Maybe the lack of rest was getting to him if such a disgusting emotion as jealousy was trying to make an appearance.

“I am. I do wish I could at least meet the actor and tell him how well his performance was. Thoma said you’d be able to make that happen.” Y/N had placed an empty teacup on the table. He hadn’t even noticed that she was drinking it this entire time.

All Ayato knew was Thoma who he thought was filled with so much loyalty had betrayed him unknowingly earlier. Now he had to compete for his wife’s attention with some mystery actor that he would do his best to never let her meet. “If they are busy it might be easier to get an autograph.” He hoped that Ayaka would be okay with him using her as a way to talk through these emotions later.

“Really? But even Ayaka agreed that he would find the time to talk.” Y/N spoke with a frown that hid the smirk she really had. Not that Ayato could notice at the moment.

How do you ground your adult younger sister and man who grew up almost like a second sibling to him? “That’s not guaranteed dear. It’s a bit of wishful thinking. Ayaka and Thoma don’t even know the man. Who even is this actor anyway?” His composure was finally beginning to break. He wasn’t proud of it.

Y/N laughed. “I didn’t even tell you the movie we saw. I’m sorry. The movie was The Two Musketeers.” It wasn’t often that Ayato felt embarrassed. “The actor was a man named Kamisato Ayato. You sure I won’t be able to meet him?”

It was at moments like this that he was reminded why he and Y/N had wed. It was also moments like this that reminded him one of the reasons they wed was that they both enjoyed a bit of mischief and teasing each other now and then. It was something that lately he had been catching her off guard with. And here he was getting a taste of his own medicine at the moment.

“Y/N.”

“Yes.” She answered with a laugh. 

“I would prefer if you would try to not make me jealous of myself.” Ayato requested with a sigh.

“You know I was wondering when you would catch on.”

“It’s been a long day. A long week.” He explained. She could see the tiredness on his face.

“Why don’t we get my favorite actor to bed then instead of trying to hold a conversation about the day?”

“That would be smart.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 44

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The smell of popcorn is like home. You don’t really have one of those. No, you just exist in Lloyd’s space, occupy the role he’s assigned to you, the one he’s abandoned you to. But that buttery aroma, the salty taste, is familiar and longlost. You can’t remember the last time you were in a theatre, or the last time you were excited.

You are. You are almost ecstatic to be there. To be away from the house for a few more hours. You lead Andy down the aisle and find your row, following the curve to your numbered seats. As you glance over at him and sit in the cushiony leather chair, you almost forget about everything outside the dark theatre.

For an instant, you could pretend you’re on a date with a cute guy. Again, when was the last time that happened? When was the last time Colin took you out? You always planned date nights and it was like dragging a cat to the bathtub. And Lloyd, those weren’t dates, those were humiliation. This isn’t a date either.

You balance your bag of popcorn in your lap and place your cup in the holder set into the leather arm. You feel along the chair and find the button, reclining halfway as you get comfortable. Andy bends his arm over the shared arm rest, picking at his popcorn as the previews begin.

“This is nice,” he whispers. You don’t know why he is, the place is empty. It’s a midday matinee in the middle of the week.

“Yeah,” you agree, “I miss movies.”

“Oh yeah? I prefer the drive-in,” he leans over a little closer, “used to pack up the car, a cooler of drinks and snacks, and take the whole family…” he sighs wistfully, “it was fun. I miss it.”

You’re quiet. Unsure how to answer, you pop a few kernels in your mouth and chew. You swallow and feel a pang, the most you’ve felt in at least a month.

“I’m sorry, Andy…”

“Don’t be. Please. I was lucky, I got good years out of it and I hold onto them,” he rolls a piece of popcorn between his fingers and drops it back with the rest, “not everyone is lucky enough to have that even.”

You feel as if he’s talking about you. It isn’t a surprise. You haven’t been subtle. You’re miserable and Lloyd’s presence screams in everyone’s face. You’re as good as a single mother.

“I’m sure Lloyd will show up soon,” Andy says, “how could he not? With a wife and daughter waiting on him. No man could resist.”

“Please,” you scoff, “I don’t wanna think about it. I want to just forget for a little bit.”

“Yeah, I know what that feels like too,” he sits back, “deal. We’re not us for the next two hours. We’re just two friends enjoying a movie.”

“That sounds amazing,” you breathe and grab another handful of popcorn, “wish we could stay forever.”

🧸

Twenty minutes in, you roll up the top of the mostly empty bag. You set it to one side of your seat and lean back against the leather chair. You yawn as you try to focus on the plot of the movie. You didn’t see the original so it’s all new to you.

You shift around, trying to get comfortable as you feel a tingle around your eyes. You’re tired and the darkness isn’t help. You lean on one elbow and yawn again. You cradle your head as you focus on the actors, trying to lose yourself in the world of cinema.

You don’t know when it happens, there’s a scene on a train, and then the world is gray. You slump over and doze off, falling into a swirl of reams, a mesh of your reality and the movie. The thrumming soundtrack seeps through but doesn’t break your slumber.

You wake only as a sudden boom crack from the surround sound. Your eyes snap open as you find your head propped against a warm pillow. Your arm is slung across the leather as you hug Andy’s and your head is propped up just against his shoulder.

“Oh,” you pull away, “I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry,” he chuckles, “you’re tired. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, I… I guess,” you rub your eyes and try to sit up.

“I don’t mind,” he insists and reaches across the armrest, rubbing your back, “you got a little one waiting to keep you up at home. Movie’s boring anyway.”

You look down and sniff. His touch is comforting even if unexpected. You slowly let yourself lean into him again and he wiggles to get closer on his side. You put your head on his shoulder again, “thanks.”

“No problem,” he says softly.

You sit like that for a while. Your eyes won’t close that time. You’re too aware of his heat, of his scent, of how nice it feels to have his hand just behind your hip. You watch the movie lazily beneath your lashes as his fingers move mindlessly along your side, a soothing up and down.

Your heart swells as your eyes haze. You’re so stupid. Don’t even think of it. You’re gross and old and ugly. He’s just being nice and you’re just desperate.

You tilt your head up to look at Andy. It takes him a moment before he returns your gaze, the blue hue of the screen limning his features. His brows draw together curiously. You raise yourself just a little and bring your hand up to feel the soft pelt of his beard. He shudders.

You press your lips to his. It’s electric and tinged with a sliver of instant regret. Before you can pull away, his hand travels up your back. He catches the back of your head with his other and keeps you angled awkwardly over the arm of the seat.

You give in. You let yourself fall into the moment. You forget about everything else and squeeze your eyes shut tight. You’re not a sad old divorce, you’re not a neglected wife, you’re that girl who used to make out in dark theatres until her head spun.

You drag your hand down his neck and feel the firm muscle of his chest. He rubs up and down your back, squeezing your side. You’re reminded of the extra weight but he doesn’t relent. You devour each other until your breathless.

When he finally lets you go, you sit back and stare forward. He does too. You languish in tense silence as the movie ends and the credits roll. It’s as if you’re both stunned.

“I’m married,” you utter grimly.

He nods and leans forward, elbows on his knees, “I know.”

“I have a child.”

“Know that too.”

“I’m broken.”

He’s quiet. He lets out a gritty exhale and clicks his tongue, “no, you’re not. The asshole left you, you’re hurt.”

“It doesn’t make it right.”

He sniffs and sits up, pushing his shoulders back, “did it feel wrong?”

The question hangs between you. You can’t answer him. You can’t bear to tell the truth but you know he felt it too. It’s not something magical like love, but it’s something simple and base. It’s loneliness and need. It’s two people abandoned in different ways, coming together in a carnal commiseration.

You slide to the front of the seat and stand, gathering up your trash. Andy does the same, not saying a word. This time, you trail him up the row and into the aisle. You catch up to him, walking parallel as you take the low steps towards the back of the theatre.

“We should go to the drive-in some time,” you suggest, “triple showing…”

He stops by the bin to dump his garbage, and takes yours to drop it in too. Then, he surprises you. He puts his arm over your shoulders and ushers you through the door, into the bright lights of the lobby. You feel the tension in him, rigid, almost quaking.

“You think Dottie will let you stay out past curfew?“ He goads.

“It won’t be the first time I’ve snuck out after dark,” you giggle.

[ofstardustanddreaming]

touch starved

headcanon summary: you're touch starved, and aren't sure how to ask for it.

content warnings: none

fandom: the hobbit

character: thranduil x reader

gender neutral reader

you had never been in a situation of a healthy amount of just regular, loving touch from someone. whether it was never being in a relationship, or many relationships that were those who just didn't engage in it. so, whether it was just others choosing not to engage in it, or just never having the ability to, it had left you starved for some touch.

thranduil is a fan of touch and pda, but with his schedule recently, it wasn't often as used to be in your courting. he had fleeting touches, a hand on yours as he debriefs you between meetings, or holding you for a little while during the night as you slept before he woke up and left for the work day.

not to say that you didn't enjoy those touches. you just craved them, yet understood his days were long. you knew you were loved without the touches, seeing the way he looked at you. but that didn't mean you wished for more touch than just his fleeting ones. you longed for longer sessions, being neglected from a sweet touch for so long.

when you heard him enter your room, and looked up hopefully. you were yearning to ask him for longer sessions of just being held, or even holding hands. but you weren't sure how to ask, without seeming like you were wanting to take him from his work, or seeming like you would be needy. you knew those were just insecurities, and thranduil would love nothing more than to cater to you. but sometimes it's just hard to get over the initial anxieties.

when he was changing, he could feel your eyes on him. it was the only thing he could focus on when he came in. he gave you an exhausted smile when he was done, and laid on the bed next to you. he pulled you into his embrace, and you melt into it.

"is there something you wanted to talk about dearest? you've been looking my way like you had a question." he read you like a book. you tense up, unsure how to ask. thranduil could feel it, and was worried something bad was going to happen based on that reaction.

you figure ripping the band-aid off was the best way to do this. "i just feel touch starved lately. i know you're tired lately with work, and i don't want to take you away from it, or be super needy. but could i come to you after our meetings or something to just grab something? sorry if you don't want pda, i can wait until we're together in private if you want but -"

you're cut off with a sweet kiss to your lips. "i'm so sorry my love. i've been failing to give you more than fleeting moments of something you're longing for. i can't imagine how hard you've been craving it. please. bring it to my attention if i'm neglecting that again. work doesn't matter as much as you. come into my meetings if you'd like, anywhere i am, no matter how public. you'll never be a bother for something i love as well."

you can feel tears in your eyes, as he sits up with you next to him, his hands on your face, holding it in a comfortable way. he stares into your eyes to make sure you understand what he says, and you nod. he pulls you in, adding some weight to it, to make sure you could feel the touch like a weighted blanket.

you were thankful the issue had been brought up. a new layer of vulnerability was given between you two, and you gladly took him up on his offer to go get the loving touch you needed and wanted.

[paingoes]

Rubies - Orientation

(Content: living weapon whumpee, recovery, past trauma, past abuse, implied child abuse, implied physical abuse, crying, comfort)

“I want to stay here.”

“You could retire. Haven’t you done enough?”

Delta flinched at that last part. A quick glance up told him Apollo hadn’t meant it that way, but it had still stung in the moment. Not that he could object to it, in either context.

“But you wouldn’t be there,” Delta said softly. “Apollo, I don’t know anyone else. Where am I supposed to go?”

“You’d meet new people. It’s not an island.”

“I want to stay with you.” He placed one hand delicately over Apollo’s wrist and could tell he’d surprised him with the contact. For a second, he thought he’d done something terrible. He’d gotten comfortable enough holding onto Kitty, reaching out for her, but that was her. He shouldn’t have - he flinched -

Apollo sighed gently, rubbing the pad of his thumb in circles on the back of his hand. He had to know what it meant for him, the enormity of what he was suggesting. For Delta to leave. To be alone again.

“It’s your choice,” Apollo relented. “Nobody’s going to force you. Levon’s hoping you’ll stay too. I can tell.”

Delta felt warmer just as soon as he said it.

~

“Yessssssssssss,” Kitty hissed excitedly, practically skipping through the doorway of her room. Theirroom, as she was so eager to point out. “Roomiesssssss!!!!!”

“Just don’t ask her what happened to the last one,” Levon said, holding Delta’s only bag on his hip. It was a light bag. He didn’t need to bring it for him. But they both still insisted that Delta was fragile, that he didn’t need to carry anything.

“She was in love with me.” Kitty said. “It became too much for her.”

“Not how I remember it,” Levon said, placing the bag down on the ground. Delta thanked him quietly, bowing his head, still unsure what to do with himself when the two of them were talking. He tried to go unnoticed.

“You want top bunk?” Kitty asked, foiling his efforts. Her olive green eyes glowed excitedly at the prospect. 

Top bunk. The only memories it called up were of yellowed pages in a brightly lit facility. Children’s books with lives so foreign it might as well have been a different universe. Something soft and playful and totally unavailable to any of them. Summer camp.

“It’s your choice,” Delta murmured, unwilling to commit to any preference, much too scared to overstep. “It’s your room.”

“Our room!” She insisted. Her tail swiped the counter excitedly, knocking most of her things onto the ground.

~

“You can’t tell anyone,” she would say later, down in the caverns, and not to him.

Iza’s crew stared blankly back at her, making Kitty wish that she was here to do it herself.

“I mean it,” she said. “It’s top, top secret. No one can know. And it’s only the three of you, so we’ll know if it gets out.”

Willow was pale and fearful, eyes wide like a doll that had just come to life. “He’s really staying, then?”

“He’s my roommate,” Kitty answered, smiling slyly.

“What’s he going to tell people?” Cass asked. “I mean, he has an accent. Are you going to invent a whole new backstory for him? What’s the plan?”

“Just don’t talk about the psychic thing. If anyone asks, you never met him. OK?” She asked, wondering if she needed to throw in a threat for efficacy.

“Yeah. OK. Whatever.” Cass agreed. “Still think it’s weird that you’re just, like, keeping him around as a pet? Shouldn’t he be in rehab or something?”

“Kitty just wants someone to clean her NEET cave,” Rene said.

Her eyes flickered up. She pushed herself up off the stack of boxes and stalked slowly and deliberately towards him. He tensed — and she only stopped when her face hovered a few inches from his own.

“Take it back,” she said.

“Fucking hell, Kat, I was joking,” he responded, seeming to shrink away, too proud to formally retreat.

“Take it back,” she repeated slower.

“Okay, fine. I take it back. Damn.”

She smiled again, sliding back to her place atop the boxes.

“Not gonna tell, right?” she asked, both ears pressed back in challenge.

~

Delta did end up cleaning, though. He wanted to be useful. He’d gotten in the habit. And the room did need it, truthfully. He hated to touch her stuff without permission. Almost every surface of the room was covered in her trinkets — figurines, dead animals in amber, microcontrollers. He moved them carefully just to clean off the shelves they rested on top of, then immediately replaced them.

He didn’t know if he meant to punish himself doing it, but she had fussed over him when she found him. Secretly, he thought she must have been relieved. It’d been a mess before — and after months without use, it’d only gotten worse. He turned the air filter on for her, obliging her when she told him to shower, to rest.

The top bunk was his, but more often than not he spent the day down on her level. He leaned back against the plaster wall, legs folding underneath him on the soft mattress in a way that still felt deeply unnatural, especially with her next to him. She propped her tablet up on the bed to show him all she was working on. She had been working all throughout the months she was told to do the opposite — and she thought it was important that he know. She’d poached him for IT. He was fine with that. He was so scared he might be useless to them without his powers, scared that without them all he’d be good for was cleaning, drudge jobs, set dressing. He could’ve been a servant if he was trained. But he could’ve been anything if he was trained.

As they came to find out, he knew the basics of most things. He knew a bit of everything, especially about what he was forbidden to know. They blew through the basic courses, but he still wanted firm footing before he had to start. Before he met anyone else.

“You can still rest,” she said, seeing the yawn he failed to suppress, “If we’re going too fast. You don’t have to start right away.”

“I don’t want to freeload,” he said, a bit self-consciously.

“You’ve done enough,” she said, “Galatea would pay your rent for the rest of your life if you asked for it.”

“I wouldn’t ask for that.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t ask for anything, would you?” She teased. He blushed at that. He wouldn’t.

~

It got harder at night. He didn’t know why. He’d spent enough time in that endless, starry void to have adjusted to it. He thought of the port windows just to help him fall asleep.

But it was at night that the fear crept into him — and some deep dread, its mouth yawning, the size of the planet. He paced the halls fitfully at night, still amazed that he was allowed to walk them, amazed they would let him go unsupervised. Theirs was a cavernous base — and he knew the locks for the outer doors. He could walk out whenever he wanted. There was nowhere for him to go, but that nowhere was free to him. 

He opened the door to stare out into the blackness, the point where the gas lights could not reach, the darkness that started right where the trees began. He did not know what he was looking for. A dread. An emptiness.

He clambered up the ladder to the top bunk. He had the same bedding each room started with, then another weighted blanket, a gift. He crawled beneath it, grateful for the warmth, almost able to melt into it. Kitty was still out. He turned all the lights off and he left the window open. When he slept, he pretended he was in a cavern, deep beneath the ocean.

~

His face was wet when he woke up and the room was still dark. He tried to blink himself awake, but his thoughts remained foggy and unalert, his vision slightly blurred. Green eyes hovered close to him, right beyond the wooden cage of the bed.

“Delta?” she said softly. It was so painful. He had never heard anyone handle his name so carefully. He did not move, peeking up at her dark form through the nest of blankets.

“…You were crying,” she whispered.

He winced in shame, almost burying himself further into the sheets. He couldn’t. Weakly, he extended one wrist to her in offering. He just hoped she would get it over with. That he wouldn’t be in so much pain he couldn’t sleep after.

She took his hand gingerly, interlacing her fingers in between his.

“Can I…” She trailed off. He nodded dimly, not caring what it was. She could do whatever she wanted and he never would have stopped her.

She crawled over him, sliding herself in between him and the wall, then beneath the blanket. His eyes widened slightly as she slipped one arm over him, pulling him in closer to her. It didn’t hurt. She hadn’t hurt him for crying. Right. She never did.

“Okay?” she asked softly.

“Mmhm.” He nodded, his mouth still not forming words.

She pressed her forehead in between his shoulder blades, purring a soft rumble that still filled the entire room.

He wiped at his eyes again as the crying started back up. He tried to be quiet, but she didn’t seem to mind.

~

“Do you ever want to talk about it?” she asked over breakfast. 

“…I did talk about it,” he said. “There was a trial. I don’t know if you remember.”

She shrugged, popping the last of the strawberry stem into her mouth.

“Silas is a prick,” she said. “That’s not what I meant.”

He didn’t respond to that, idly twirling the flower petals in between his fingers, still not touching his food.

“Did they hurt you for crying?” she asked when he did not offer it up.

“I never cried much in the first place.”

He was always so quick to defend them still. He knew better than to do it in court, but in private, it was always his first reaction.

“Because you weren’t allowed?” She looked up just to catch him shrugging again. 

After a while, he explained: “I don’t mind that they did. I thought it was childish. I never…had a problem with it until now.”

He wiped his eyes in an absent reflex, though they were dry now. Across the table, Kitty seemed skeptical.

“Is that what they told you? That it was childish?”

“Yeah. It is.”

Trying not to offend her, though he hadn’t seen her cry yet, he added: “It is if it’s me.”

“How old were you when they said that?” She asked plainly.

He didn’t answer. Internally, he was a bit annoyed by the gotcha in her voice. He guessed it showed in his expression, because she stopped pressing at it. Though she showed no offense, he felt guilty in the intervening silence.

“I don’t know how to talk about it,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. No one’s ever asked. I don’t have any practice.”

“You haven’t eaten,” she noticed. 

Reluctantly, a bit chastened, he began to peel at the fruit’s flesh. The pulp tinted his nails red.

“I’m trying,” he said. 

“I know,” she said back. “I’m patient, you know. I waited months to find you.”

He thought back to them. The months spent on the server, his only window to a kinder world. He thought of her on the other side of it. The image of her before had always been dreamlike and immaterial. He had never imagined her in the flesh. He’d have never thought to one day be sitting across the breakfast table from her, with bright fruit against the china and an endless wilderness at her back.

“God fucking damn it,” he said as he felt his eyes begin to water again. She only laughed at his reaction. It wasn’t unkind.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @floral-comet-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem @chiswhumpcorner

@bacillusinfection @ichortwine @whump-queen @lumpywhump

@jumpywhumpywriter

[littlelovelyra]

Of Chains and Crows

Chapter 1/?: "Little Crow"

Word Count: ~ 1,800

Minors DNI - 18+

ao3 if you prefer

Female Rook (named) x Lucanis

Summary: After an almost shared kiss, Lucanis loses his self control and indulges in one night of passion.

Notes: This is a bit of a re-imagining for Lucanis' romance - I'm still finding my footing with this pairing and there will be some moments of pining and angst after this chapter coz things with Spite will get complicated in my story :) Also this was written quite fast as I write on my lunch breaks haha so please excuse any errors or if things feel rushed etc

______________________________

Lucanis:

Mia de Riva was captivating, and it wasn’t just her looks that snatched your attention, no, her effortless form in combat while fighting alongside you had magnificent beauty. Finding someone who complimented your blade craft was hard to come by, yet she fit perfectly. It was as if the gods made her just for you. 

Since the first moment you saw her when she rescued you from the Ossuary, her presence has nestled comfortably in your mind, much to Spite’s disgust, and now the yearning has grown stronger each day. How you wish you could weave your fingers through her soft curls while you whisper sweet nothings against her skin; the thought alone sends a blaze of desire coursing through you. “Mierda. You need to stop this Lucanis.” You mentally urge yourself to break free from the temptation she brings you because you know that nothing could ever happen. Who would want to be with someone that has a demon attached to them?

“Ahhh yes, who would want the baggage you carry, Lucanis?” Spite hisses, enjoying his new weapon of torment to use against you. “Although… I am sure you must have noticed her interest in you, no?” He continues his mind games as you desperately try to block him out. 

Admittedly, there have been moments where you have felt her express interest but you are unsure whether that is delusion or real… so you play it safe and respond politely. You have been out of the game for quite some time now and you fear you may have lost your touch with women.

As if summoned by your thoughts, a light rap sounds at your door, and it sickens you knowing that you have memorised how her knocks sound. Before you have time to respond, Spite uses your momentary distraction to take over and once again you are a prisoner in your mind.

________________________

Mia:

Maybe you didn’t knock hard enough? He usually hears and invites you in so this raises alarm bells instantly. You cautiously push the door open and enter his room.

“Lucanis? I hope it’s okay that I let myself in, I wanted to-.” You stop yourself as you examine the sly smile that has spread across his face, his eyes glowing that eery magenta and you know that it is not Lucanis. 

“Now we get to talk.” Spite hisses in your direction.

“We have nothing to talk about.” You say through gritted teeth. This has been a regular occurrence lately and it’s growing tiresome seeing someone you care so deeply about lose control of themselves. 

“Lucanis. Made a deal. He has not kept. Break our chains. Kill. Escape Prison. And Live. I want Lucanis to honour the deal! I WANT OUT! TELL HIM! MAKE HIM-.” A frustrated growl pours from his lips as you watch Lucanis’ body double over, he is fighting Spite… Lucanis is trying to regain control and to help you softly place your hand on his shoulder, hoping that it can be an actor for him to take hold of. 

“Rook? What happened? Did I- did he hurt you?” Shame fills Lucanis’ face as his gaze examines your body.

“Nothing happened, I’m okay.” You offer him a soft smile and gently squeeze his shoulder.

“How… how do you always do that? Break apart my perfectly gathered clouds of doom? You deserve better than to deal with my mess…” His brows furrow in frustration and his voice breaks ever so slightly. 

“You are more than what you’re going through… and besides, I like messes… well… I like your mess… you wear it well.” Your cheeks flush and you feel like a teenager struggling to form the right words as he approaches you. Lucanis leans his arm over you, gently pressing your body against the wall and a heat pools at your center. 

“This is not a good idea… you like to walk a little close to the edge.” His pitch lowers as his eyes lock in with yours, he is so close you can smell his scent of cinnamon and coffee beans.

“So do you…” you breathe out and place your hand delicately on his chest.

“At least I know I’m doing it, little Crow.” In a hushed, gravelly voice, he leans in further, and you can feel his breath against your lips. Your eyes close as a feather-light touch cascades across your jawline, and you tilt your head, trying to catch his mouth with yours, only to be met with him suddenly drawing away. Confusion and embarrassment settle in the pit of your stomach as you lock eyes with him 

“I… need to clear my head. Excuse me.” Luncanis pushes off the wall and offers you an apologetic smile as he exits his quarters, leaving you with confusion and a longing that aches to be held. 

As you enter your room and lay on your day bed, two little words flit across your mind. “Little crow” … a new heat ignites at your center as your hands gently caress their way around your body. You replay those two words over and over again as you fantasise where that moment could have taken you.

___________________________

Lucanis: 

“Mierda! What is wrong with me?!” You run your hands through your hair in frustration at your cowardice. She was right there… you were so close to tasting her lips, her scent still lingered as if it desperately clung to you, begging you to find her again. 

“You’re a coward, Lucanis. Deep down, you always were.” Spite’s words slither out menacingly and entangle around your thoughts. “You had her, and you ran. HAH” 

“Shut up, Spite! SHUT UP!” Rage fills your veins as you listen to his deception. He’s playing games with you, he always plays games with you, and it seems you always let him win. You did have her… maybe you still do. Fuck it. You think to yourself as you hastily make your way to her room, shoving Spite out of your thoughts as he attempts to sabotage your decision. After years in the Ossuary you have learnt how to shut him out when necessary even when you knew how much it angered him… but tonight, he was not going to win. 

As you reach her door, all etiquette fades amid your urgency as you burst through and take in the sight before you. She lays outstretched on her day bed, wearing nothing but her undergarments, which sends a surge straight to your throbbing core. Her cheeks are flushed as she abruptly sits up, staring at you with her mismatched blue and lavender eyes. 

“Rook… I’m sorry-.”

“Mia. Call me Mia.” She holds your stare and slowly pads across the concrete floor. Once she reaches you, her fingers lace themselves through your hair, and a shiver runs down your body. “Just tonight… then you don’t have to touch me ever again if you don’t want to.” You feel her warm breath against your ear as she gently pulls your face down towards her. 

“Little Crow… if I indulge tonight, I fear I may never want to be without you again…” Your right-hand tangles itself in her curls, and they are softer than you imagined. “Are you sure?” You whisper against her lips and as she nods slowly in response a low groan escapes you as you bring your mouths together. 

Your lips meld together, moving in synchronisation as if they had found their home. She tastes of a sweet hazelnut praline, and you inhale her scent, savouring each moment, searing it into your memories. Your free hand encircles the small of her back as you pull her in tightly against you, earning a small gasp from her as she feels your arousal through your clothing. 

Momentarily, you break free from her lips and watch her, taking in her beautiful form. She laces her fingers between yours, pulling you to her day bed and slowly lays herself down, never breaking eye contact. You tilt your head ever so slightly in curiosity, and then she seductively spreads her legs. Whatever willpower you had left crumbled at her unspoken invitation, and you found yourself crawling your way over her. Fuck willpower. You think to yourself as you scatter hot, wet kisses down her body and release her underwear with a swift flick of a hidden blade. 

Before you dive into her depths, you glance up and meet her gaze as she watches you, sending another ache to your throbbing cock. Without breaking eye contact, you take the plunge, gliding your tongue through her dripping wet folds, and you release a deep groan into her sex. She tastes better than any coffee you could ever make, and if you could swap for this to be your chosen beverage, you would do it in a heartbeat. As your pace quickens with urgency, you feel her legs begin to shake and suddenly her back arches as she shatters around your face, gripping your hair tightly as you slowly work through her waves of pleasure. 

You remove your clothes with haste and hold yourself up over her, taking in the small beads of sweat that have now settled over her brow and across her body. She once again spreads her legs on either side of you and tilts herself up as if she were just as desperate to feel you inside her. 

“So eager, my little crow… Are you ready? There’s no going back after this.” You bring your mouth to her ear as you rake your hardened length teasingly down her slick seam. 

“Yes. Please.” A low groan escapes her lips as she lifts her hips once more. 

Please… the word undoes your self-control, and you push into her immediately. “Fuck.” The word slips from your mouth as you begin to pump in and out of her, the feel of her naked body against yours sends electricity through you. Mia pulls your face towards hers and kisses you deeply. Her tongue slips past your lips and entangles itself in a dance with your own and you release a cry of pleasure at the intimate act. 

Your hand snakes its way down her body and lands on her swollen bud, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body as you tightly circle the sensitive flesh. 

“Lucanis… I’m... going to…” she pants through sharp breaths as you feel her body shaking beneath yours.

“Let go for me. Come for me, little crow; I want to hear my name on your lips.” Your pace quickens as you feel her walls tighten around your cock as she comes undone, sending you over the edge with her. 

You collapse beside her and pull her close, stroking her hair as she leans her head against your heaving chest. A calm settles in the cool air as you lay there with her, and for the first time in what seems like forever, you feel at peace. 

“Peace, for now, Lucanis. You cannot shut me out forever. We still have a deal, and if you do not hold your end of the bargain, Rook will be in danger.” Spite’s voice distantly echoes in the back of your mind, and you pull Mia closer to you, silently vowing to find a way to make this work.