#plenty of crop room

[murog]

there isn't a script for love,,, or for the world ending,,,

[sunshyni]

— my oh my. Johnny Suh

A leaked message stating the obvious about Johnny was enough for you to finally have him.

johnny x Reader | Fluff but suggestive 🤭 | w.c: 1k

— Oh my God, those jeans are killer — Jaehyun started, practically squirming on the couch in the living room of the frat house where he, Johnny, Doyoung, and a few other guys lived. It was crazy how magnetic your presence was; every eye in the room turned to you when you walked in, like it was automatic. — What's her deal, huh?

— Aww, are you like this ‘cause she turned you down? — Johnny asked, sipping a beer and watching you, not like a creep, just admiring. You really were stunning, not only in looks but in brains, too. You worked part-time at a luxury store at the airport and were always looking flawless, though Johnny figured you’d still look flawless even with messy hair.

— Go on, alright? Everyone knows she’s into you, lover boy — Jaehyun pouted, which made Johnny grin and pinch his cheek like he was a little kid; with that look, he actually did look like a baby.

— Don’t play the victim. You’ll have plenty of girls chasing you — he rolled his eyes, and Johnny gave him a couple of gentle pats on the shoulder, then walked over to you, touching your waist softly when he reached you, his hand brushing against your soft skin peeking out from your crop top. — Hey.

— Hey — you practically choked out. Johnny grinned, leaving you a bit speechless. Your natural hair and the low-rise jeans you wore made you look absolutely perfect, but the blush on your cheeks, even before you’d had a drink, gave you an angelic vibe Johnny found himself totally obsessed with.

— You were amazing in the seminar today — he had to say something. You knew that now everyone knew about your crush on him, thanks to that accidentally leaked message to the whole school. It wasn’t anything sexual, but it did make him sound like some Greek god, which Johnny found funny and cute, even if he was already confident in himself. It was the first time someone had complimented him like that.

— Ah, I had to take a shot just before it started so I wouldn’t stammer — you admitted, suddenly unsure of what to do with your hands. How close were two people supposed to be when they weren’t actually a thing? Because right now, you felt incredibly close to him and wanted to laugh nervously. — John… about those messages, I didn’t mean…

— Nuzzle your face in my chest? You can do that — you couldn’t help it and laughed, covering your face with your hands like a shy little girl. You’d vented to the wrong person, that was clear, or your messages wouldn’t have been leaked, but everyone agreed with your words, including Johnny himself. He held you, guiding you back until your back met the wall. — What else do you want to do that you didn’t describe in those messages?

— Should I say it? — you smiled playfully, and Johnny smiled back, hooking a finger through the belt loop of your jeans, pulling you closer. Maybe it was the drink, or maybe it was the green light you gave for him to touch you, but he pulled you a bit closer by the waistband and leaned down to kiss your neck, licking the skin, sucking, and lightly grazing his teeth.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips before you realized. You definitely loved flirting, touches, and making out; you’d never gone all the way, and you felt nervous about how skilled Johnny seemed to be with his mouth, his hands, his whole body, honestly.

— I’ve been wanting to get close to you for a while but always thought you were kinda untouchable — Johnny admitted against your skin, and you practically burst at his confession. You had a confident air, like you didn’t care about anyone’s opinion, but all you wanted was for Johnny to feel the same way.

— Maybe for other guys… but not for you — you said with a smile, and Johnny moved even closer, kissing your cheek, the corner of your lips, but never quite reaching where you wanted. He was teasing, and you knew it from the little smirk he’d flash between a firm squeeze and a soft press of his lips against your skin. — Oh, for heaven’s sake, John.

You grabbed his silver chain that peeked out from his shirt, pulled it free, and kissed him, hard, filled with want, like you were devouring each other against the wall near the frat house door. Johnny tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled back gently, letting you catch your breath, both of you breathing heavily.

— Come on — he said, taking your hand and leading you up the stairs. You followed, weaving past people with drinks in hand, bumping into a few on the way. Johnny opened his room door, which he likely shared with another guy, given the second bed on the right side.

It looked like a typical high school guy’s room, which was kind of cute. Johnny had a shelf full of comics, and his room had its own bathroom; on the doorframe, there was a pull-up bar you couldn’t help but admire, picturing the sight of a shirtless Johnny using it. You felt like a little girl, and maybe, with him, that’s exactly what you were.

— Astroboy? — you asked, playing with a little figurine on his shelf.

— It suits me, doesn’t it?

— Definitely, you’re a star.

You smiled, watching him sitting on the single bed, then followed, sitting across from him, kissing him slowly, your hands exploring his chest with calm. Somehow, Johnny got you to wrap your legs around his waist, and you had to kick off your shoes in the process, which made him chuckle against your lips. Johnny caressed your back as his mouth explored your neck, kissing your skin so delicately it felt like his lips were velvet.

— Johnny… — you began, and he immediately met your gaze. — Hold on, it’s all good. It’s just that… I’ve never…

— Never? — he knew exactly what you meant.

— Only once, almost… but I freaked out, and… — Johnny left a soft kiss on your forehead.

— It’s okay; we don’t have to do anything tonight.

— But I love making out — you said, pressing your bodies even closer, and Johnny grinned, thinking you were way too perfect to be real.

— Me too. So much.

@sunshyni. All rights reserved.

[d-z20]

The Agent Next Door (NSFW)

Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You don't really talk to your (extremely attractive) neighbour, Rio Vidal, until one day an accident leads to you staying at her apartment for a couple of days. And an awkward encounter results in having your fantasy come true. -OR- Rio finds you injured after you slipped and fell out the shower and decides to look after you (non-magic AU)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, blood, small injury, fluff, smut, fingering (R receiving), oral (R receiving)

Words: 3.4k

A/N: Just wanted to write a bit of Rio caring for reader and well then it turned into smut and I have no regrets. Also I have their whole relationship arc in my head now lol

AO3 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Master List

The Worst Morning Of Your Life (so far)

Rio Vidal is your neighbour. You've noticed her plenty of times before—a striking woman with a sharp, confident look that's hard to ignore. You live in the same apartment building, just across the hall from one another. Most days, your interactions are limited to polite smiles and brief chats in the elevator, her dark suit and badge often catching your eye. You've heard her phone buzz with work calls that end with her curt, professional voice. It's obvious she's someone important—serious and dedicated. You've pieced together that she's an FBI agent, but beyond that, you don't know much about her.

You can't deny that you're drawn to her, though. There's something about the way she carries herself—all self-assured and enigmatic. You've caught yourself staring a few times, your heart skipping a beat when she looks back and flashes a rare, amused smile. It's not just her looks—it's the way she moves, the air of mystery she carries, like she's seen things you could only imagine. It makes you nervous, but at the same time, you can't help but look forward to those fleeting moments when your paths cross.

One morning, your shower decides to betray you—your hot water cuts out just as you put your head under. You let out a bloodcurdling scream, quickly trying to jump out of the shower. Unfortunately for you, your foot slips on the hard floor, and you come crashing down, hitting your head on the sink, landing with a very loud thud. Dazed and confused, you are unsure if you passed out for a second there or not, but either way your head is killing you. 

"Fucking brilliant," you mutter to yourself, draping an arm across your eyes to shield them from the light.

At that moment, you heard your front door slamming open and hurried footsteps searching your apartment. You had just about enough sense to yank your towel off the hook and cover up your naked body.

"Y/N?" called a voice just outside the bathroom door.

Shit. It was Rio. You wished the ground would just swallow you up.

"Are you okay? I heard you scream, and then I heard something shatter." You could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

Lifting your head slightly, you noticed the shards of glass from what used to be your bathroom shelf, surrounding you. All you could do was let out a groan and close your eyes at this new development of what was turning out to be the worst morning of your life so far.

This was a bad choice, as a split second later, Rio barged into your bathroom.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Your neighbour teased, but you could hear the relief in her voice. She moved further into the room, assessing the damage. "Not to ruin such a perfect morning for you, but I might have broken your door getting in here." 

You open your eyes, blinking up at her. Taking her in, you noticed she was wearing a cropped baggy tank top and gym shorts. You blink up at her again, and your head throbs with each beat of your pulse, the pain radiating down your neck. You're still dazed, trying to process how you ended up sprawled on the cold bathroom floor with your FBI agent neighbour standing over you. Rio's sharp eyes take in your silence, concern clouding the playful smirk she'd worn just moments before.

"Hey," she says, voice softer now, as she crouches down beside you. She reaches out, fingertips gently brushing your cheek to turn your face towards her. "Y/N, can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"

You swallow, trying to focus. Her touch is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to her usual no-nonsense demeanour. You nod slightly, the movement making your head spin. "Rio," you manage to croak out. "Neighbour, FBI agent. And, apparently, a door kicker."

She huffs a laugh, a brief flicker of relief crossing her face. "Good. That's a start. I don't usually make a habit of barging into people's bathrooms uninvited, but I heard that scream, and... well, I'm glad I did." Her eyes drop down to your arm, where blood seeps from a jagged cut. She curses under her breath, her grip on your shoulder tightening just slightly. "You're bleeding. We need to get you cleaned up."

You glance down at your arm, wincing at the sight of blood trickling down to your hand. "I really know how to make an impression, huh?"

Rio shakes her head, lips pressed together in a tight line. "Let's save the jokes until you're not covered in glass, yeah?" Without another word, she slips an arm under your shoulders, helping you sit up. The world tilts slightly, but her hold on you is firm, steadying you as you get your bearings.

"You're going to have to trust me for a minute," she tells you softly. "Can you stand?"

"Maybe," you say, though you're not entirely sure. She helps you up, careful not to jostle your injured arm, and you try to ignore the heat of her skin against yours, the way her fingers dig into your side just enough to ground you.

Rio's eyes dart around the room, quickly assessing the mess of broken glass and water pooling on the floor. "Alright," she says decisively. "I'm taking you back to my place. We'll patch you up there. Your shower is out of commission, and I don't trust that you won't take another tumble if I leave you alone here."

You don't have the energy to argue, so you just nod, letting her guide you out of the bathroom. The two of you make it to the hallway, but not before she grabs a spare towel and wraps it around you more securely. Her movements are quick and efficient, but there's a gentleness to them that surprises you. It's a side of Rio you've never seen before—one that's patient and caring, not just the tough, sarcastic woman you've exchanged pleasantries with in passing.

As you step into her apartment, you notice it's much more personal than you'd imagined. There are framed photos on the walls—nothing too sentimental, mostly candid shots of places she's travelled to, city skylines, and sunsets. Her living room is cosy, with a worn leather couch and a small stack of books piled on the coffee table.

"Sit," she instructs, pointing to the couch. You sink down into it, feeling strangely out of place but oddly comfortable. Rio disappears into the bathroom for a moment, returning with a first aid kit. She kneels in front of you, carefully prying your hand away from your arm.

"This is going to sting," she warns, pulling out an antiseptic wipe. You flinch as she cleans the cut, her brows knitting together in concentration. "Sorry," she mutters. "I'm used to dealing with criminals and suspects, not clumsy neighbours."

"Criminals don't trip in the shower much?" you quip, trying for humour despite the pain. It earns you a small smile from Rio, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"Not usually, no. Though I'll admit you're far more entertaining." Her voice softens again, the smirk fading as she wraps a bandage around your arm. "You scared me for a second there, you know."

The confession catches you off guard. "I did? you ask, watching her face as she finishes tying off the bandage.

She doesn't look up, her focus still on your arm. "Yeah," she says quietly. "I thought something bad had happened. Guess I care more about my neighbour than I realised."

Your heart skips a beat, the words hanging in the air between you. It's the first real admission of anything beyond casual friendliness, and it leaves you breathless. You're about to say something—anything—but Rio stands up, offering her hand to you.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get you some proper clothes and maybe a coffee. You can stay here until we sort out your door and shower."

Rio's grip on your hand is firm as she helps you up, her expression still hovering somewhere between concern and her usual, dry amusement. You follow her into the kitchen, and she releases you, motioning for you to sit at the table. It feels strange being here, in her space, especially after the chaos of your morning. She pulls out a chair for you with a slight roll of her eyes, as if it's absurd that you'd even try to resist her instruction.

"I don't have any shifts for the next two days," she announces, moving towards the coffee maker without glancing back at you. "And considering you might've blacked out for a second back there, I'm not letting you out of my sight. So, you're staying with me, here, until you're back on your feet properly."

You open your mouth to argue, but the look she throws over her shoulder silences you. It's one part worry and two parts something else—something softer, almost protective.

"I can manage," you say, but your voice lacks conviction, especially as you rub your throbbing arm. The bandage is already starting to bleed through a bit. Rio's eyes narrow at the sight, and she steps closer, prodding your arm gently.

"Yeah, you're doing a great job," she says dryly, then nods to herself. "You're staying here."

"Fine," you sigh, though part of you feels a flutter of something—relief, maybe, or the thrill of being looked after by someone like Rio. "But I can sleep on the couch. I don't want to kick you out of your bed."

Rio's lips twitch into a smirk. "I'm not letting you take the couch. You've already proven that you're a danger to yourself in any situation that involves standing up."

You can't help but laugh, despite everything. "So, what, we share your bed?"

She raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to challenge her. "It's a queen size. I think we can manage. Unless you've suddenly developed a fear of co-sleeping?"

The thought of sharing a bed with her sends a rush of heat through you, but you try to play it off with a shrug. "As long as you don't hog the covers."

"I'll do my best," she says, the smirk widening.

-

The first night is awkward, as expected. You lie stiffly on one side of the bed, while Rio takes the other, the space between you feeling like a chasm despite the closeness. She's warm though, and you can feel the heat radiating from her body and the subtle scent of her shampoo filling your senses. It's both comforting and maddening, making it hard to fall asleep. You’re hyper-aware of every shift she makes, every time her arm brushes against yours. At some point, she turns onto her side, facing you, and you feel her eyes on you in the dark.

"You still awake?" she whispers.

"Yeah," you reply, swallowing hard.

There's a pause, then you feel her hand brush against yours. It's light, almost as if by accident, but when you don't pull away, she leaves it there, her fingers barely touching yours.

"Try to get some sleep," she murmurs. "You need to rest."

"Alright," you say, voice hoarse, and somehow, with her so close, you finally drift off.

Over the next day and a half, the tension between you shifts, It's subtle at first—small, lingering glances from Rio that last a bit too long, the brush of her fingers against your back when she helps you into the kitchen. Her sarcasm returns, but there's a flirtatious edge to it now, like she's testing the waters.

"You're really milking this injury, aren't you?" She teases, handing you your drink to have with the pizza she bought for dinner. "You'd think you broke your entire body, the way you're lounging around."

"Hey," you protest, setting the drink down. "You're the one who insisted I stay. Don't blame me for enjoying the hospitality."

She leans against the counter, arms crossed, a grin tugging at her lips. "Oh, I'm well aware. But don't get too comfortable with me waiting on you hand and foot—I've got to go back to work tomorrow.”

-

That night, the atmosphere between you shifts even more. When you climb into bed besides Rio, there's no hesitation this time. She turns towards you almost immediately, her hand resting lightly on your hip as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of your shirt, her breath warm against the back of your neck. It's a small touch, nothing too bold, but it feels significant—an unspoken acknowledgement of everything simmering between you two. You fall asleep like that, closer than before, your fingers unconsciously brushing hers under the covers.

When you wake up, she's already dressed for the day, leaning over you with a mug of coffee in hand. She sets it down on the nightstand with a playful smile. "Morning sweetheart," she says, her voice laced with that familiar teasing tone, but there's a softness to it now. "Try not to do anything risky while I'm gone, yeah? I don't want to come back to find you've taken a tumble without me here to save the day."

You laugh, reaching for the coffee, but there's a flutter in your chest at the pet name, even if she means it jokingly. "I'll do my best," you say. "But no promises."

She smirks, leaning down just enough to press a light kiss to your forehead. "Good. I'll be back later. Make yourself at home."

You do. The rest of the day passes in a strangely pleasant haze, and you find yourself enjoying the small comforts of her apartment. It's quiet without her, but there's a sense of ease you haven't felt in a long time, like you truly belong here. You find yourself smiling for no reason, touching the small trinkets on her shelves, running your fingers over the soft throw blankets she has draped across the couch.

By the time you decide to take a shower, you're feeling entirely too content. You strip down, stepping under the hot spray with a sigh. That's when your thoughts drift back to Rio—how she looked last night, half-asleep and tousled, her arm draped over your waist, her expression unguarded in a way you'd never seen before.

Your thoughts turn to fantasy almost unbidden. You imagine her joining you in the shower, pressing you back against the cold tiles, her hands sliding down your wet skin. You can almost feel it—the heat of her breath on your neck, the firmness of her body against yours. You start to move your hand towards your aching clit, letting out a quiet, shuddering moan, lost in the fantasy of what it would be like to kiss her and have her hands on you.

You don't hear the bathroom door open, but suddenly, you hear her voice—low and amused. "You sure you're okay in here? Didn't have another fall, did you?"

You freeze, eyes snapping open. You can barely see her through the steam, but she's there, standing just outside the shower curtain, and you realise with a jolt that she must have heard you. You heart slams against your ribs as the curtain slides back just a little, and Rio steps inside completely naked, her smirk evident even through the haze.

"I really just can't trust you not to injure yourself while showering, can I?" she says, voice teasing but thick with something else—desire, maybe. Her eyes travel down your body, lingering in a way that sends a shiver through you.

"Rio," you breathe out, half a warning, half a plea.

She steps closer, crowding you against the wall, her hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. "You know," she murmurs, her lips so close to yours now that you can feel the brush of them with every word. "I think you've been waiting for me to do this."

And then she kisses you, slow and heated, like she's been thinking about this just as much as you have. Her mouth is soft but insistent, coaxing a response from you until you melt into her, hands tangling in her hair as you kiss her back just as eagerly. The steam from the shower mixes with the heat between you, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

When she finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, her forehead resting against yours. "I knew it," she whispers, her voice laced with satisfaction. "You've been wanting this so badly, haven't you?"

You nod, swallowing thickly. "Yeah," you admit, barely louder than a whisper. "I have."

She grins, tugging you closer until you're pressed against her, chest to chest. "Good," she says, leaning in to kiss you again, deeper this time. "Because I've been wanting it too."

And with that, she shoves you against the wall. Hard. She's kissing you all over, igniting the skin where each one lands. She nips and sucks at your neck, finding where you're most sensitive. A moan escapes your lips, and you buck your hips, trying to get any kind of friction against your core. For a brief moment, you start to get embarrassed, but then one of Rio's hands finds its way between your legs. She dips a finger between your lips and hums at how wet you already are for her.

Looking directly into your eyes, silently telling you to keep her gaze, she lowers herself to suck on one of your tits, tongue swirling around your nipple, making it harden quickly. The hand not on your clit, starts to pinch your other nipple, pulling another loud guttural moan from you. 

Working her mouth down your torso, marking up your body as she goes, Rio sinks to her knees, her face now directly opposite your dripping cunt, eyes still locked on yours.

Her hands deftly grip your hips, steadying you against the wall. "You've got to promise me you're not going to fall again, sweetheart," she all but growls, the arousal evident in her voice.

You nod your head, but it wasn't enough for the woman, who digs her nails into your skin where she's holding you. "Ye-Yes. I promise."

That is all Rio needs before she starts to drag her tongue through your folds. Switching between broad licks along the length between your entrance and your clit, and firmer, more purposeful circles over your bundle of nerves.

You feel dizzy, but you know it has nothing to do with your concussion and everything to do with the woman kneeling between your legs. Despite your head spinning, you manage to bring your hands down to tangle in Rio's hair, pushing her harder into you. You need more.

She moans against you, clearly enjoying how turned on you are. The vibration from the moan goes straight to your core, and you nearly cum just from that. Sensing you're close, Rio pushes two fingers inside you, causing you to curse her name inbetween moans.

You feel her chuckle and then start fucking you more vigorously. "I want to hear you, baby. I want the whole floor to hear you moan my name," she says, momentarily pulling away from your pussy. You can't help but oblige as she starts to curl her fingers, resuming her licking and sucking.

With her fingers curling inside you like that, it isn't long before you climax, legs shaking, cumminng hard over her fingers and tongue. Rio helps you through the end of your orgasm, making sure to hold you up as you come back down. 

"Okay, darling, I think we need to sit you down before you lose another fight with gravity," Rio smirks. You can't help but agree; your knees feel very weak and it's taking all of your concentration to stay upright.

"Oh, by the way, I bumped into the maintenance guys on my way in," Rio says lightly, helping you out of the shower. "And they said that your door isn't getting fixed for at least another week. So, it looks like you'll have me to help you shower for a little while longer." Winking, she drags you to her bed, determined to continue what she had just started.

_

alright folks, I've got a sequel in the works but can't decide on the vibes (there'll be smut regardless): READ PART 2 HERE

[angelfrombeneth]

THE NOT SO SECRET, SECRET - P . PARKER

Mature Content Ahead

Peter Parker (Tom) x Stark!Reader

Summary: You and Peter are sneaking around but how secret is your secret?

Warnings: SMUT

You and Peter have been hooking up for a while. Since your dad brought him to the compound you've been around eachother a lot. Your dad still doesn't know about your late night rendezvous with Peter, and you'd like to keep it that way.

You are Tony's eldest daughter. You aren't an avenger and he wanted you to steer clear of that life but you refused to live with Pepper and Morgan because you wanted atleast a bit of action. You're like any teenage girl going to school, having boy problems. You decided to join the cheer squad for Midtown High, considering you train daily with Nat you might aswell put it to good use.

You were one of Tony's prized possessions he held you really close. Daddy's girl if you will. You were extremely smart and he used your mind to his gain with Avenger tasks which you were more than happy to help with. It was a perfect arrangement. It got even more perfect when Peter arrived at the compound 2 years ago. Both of you being the same age, go to the same school, yet you'd never seen him before. The pair of you instantly connected becoming friends at the compound and at school, but then it became more.

You hopped out of the shower, pulling on a cropped tank top over your bare chest with some shorts. You pulled your hair from the shower cap, running your fingers through it as you smiled.

"The Avengers are back Miss Y/N" FRIDAY filled the room.

"Thanks FRIDAY" You smiled, before grabbing a clip and clipping your hair back in a loose ponytail before skipping down the stairs.

"God I'm exhausted" Thor groaned, throwing himself on the couch.

You reached the bottom of the stairs, turning the corner and leaning against the door frame staring at them all. "Long day?" You chirped.

You watched as Peter's head raised and his eyes shot daggers at you. He scanned your body, continously. You were satisfied with this.

"Y/N, Have you done your homework" Tony emerged from his side office just off the livingroom as he stood, fixing his shirt cuffs.

"Yes, Dad" you groaned.

"Good, that's my little girl" He smiled at you before turning to everyone in the room. "All of you come with me" He stated before walking towards the conference room before halting. "Not you Parker" As he looked at Peter.

The rest of the Avengers piled into the conference room before the door shut.

"Aww, Poor Parker being left out" You cooed, walking over and standing above him as he settled into the couch.

Peter looked up at you, sighing as he reached to touch your thighs, holding the flesh just below your ass. "I can have much more fun out here with you" He smiled.

"I'd love that but, I'm tired" You snickered. You leaned over, giving him a perfect view down your shirt as you pecked his lips softly. "Tah tah!" Before turning around and running off upstairs.

That night, Peter had plenty of food for thought, the way your ass spilled from those tight ass shorts you wore or the way your nipples stayed harder under your tank top. He couldn't help but think about you.

THE NEXT MORNING

"Morning" You smiled, as you walked into the dining room, leaning over Steve as you grabbed a waffle, taking a bite. You stood in your Midtown High cheer uniform, decked in Blue, White and Yellow. Your hair up in a high ponytail as your sleek silver rectangle reading glasses rested upon your nose.

"Morning Y/N, You got cheer today?" Steve smiled as he held your waist as you leaned against him.

"Yep!" You popped the 'P' as you smiled at him, "You coming to class Peter" You smiled up at him.

His eyes were already trained on you, burning through your clothes as if he was trying to see you without them.

"Yes- Of course" He stumbled over his words.

"God Parker, that reminds me. You whine like a bitch" Bucky scoffed.

"What-" He looked to Bucky confused.

"I've never know someone to moan like a bitch like you do" Bucky laughed, earning a snicker from Thor and Sam.

"Aww Bucky leave him alone" Nat scolded him.

"Yeah! And besides, what's wrong with that Buck? I love a whiney man" You smirked, watching as Peter choked on his water. Everyone laughed as Peter grew redder in the face "Anyway, catch up Parker. Im not waiting for you!" You cheered before walking out.

Peter instantly scrambled behind you, grabbing his bag and hoodie before darting out the door after you.

"Ten bucks, they'll hook up" Nat spoke.

"20, they already are hooking up" Buck, leaned back in his chair smirking.

"You think? He follows her like a lost puppy" Sam started.

"Even more so, I'm seeing it" Thor thought.

"We'll see" Nat raises her mug smiling to Bucky.

"Little Stark definitely has him on a leash" Sam laughs.

THAT EVENING

You sighed, walking back into the compound, dropping you bag on the floor by the door to the kitchen as you walked over to the fridge.

"Rough day?" You heard, as you bent down to grab a waterbottle from the bottom draw of the fridge. You turned around to see Peter leaning against the door frame in loose joggers and a compression shirt.

You hummed as you twisted the cap off the waterbottle, taking a sip as Peter made his way over to you.

"Missed you today, you were so busy with cheer I didn't see you" He huffed, placing a hand on your waist, his other hand moving the hair from your ear as he peppered kisses down your neck.

You smiled, placing the water bottle down on the counter as you turned to look at Peter, your hand instantly lost within his locks. You sighed, your hand dropping to the back of his neck as you pulled him towards you, your lips landing upon his.

This kiss was slow and soft, your lips moving against one another's as his hands slid down to your ass, kneading at it as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

You hummed, pulling him closer, both your arms wrapping around his neck as your tongue toyed with his, pulling him as close as you could as the pair of you pratically exchanged DNA.

Peter pulled away, panting softly as he smirked as you, the pair of your lips, slightly red and swollen. "Upstairs?" He quirked his eyebrow as you smirked nodding before taking his hand and leading him up to his room.

"We can't do it in my room, someone will tell my dad" You whispered walking down the hall past a few avengers bedrooms.

You made it to Peter's room. He grabbed your waist yet again crashing his lips onto yours as you sighed. His hands tightly on your hip as the kiss deepened. His lips, softly and flush against yours as his tongue subtly slipped in and out.

You leaned back against his door, feeling for the handle as you pushed it open, the pair of you stumbling in the room before Peter slammed it shut with his foot.

Breaking away as you kicked off your shoes and climbed onto his bed, he stood striking down at you.

"FRIDAY, Lock the door. No one can come in" He smirked.

"Door is locked Mr Parker" FRIDAY chimed back.

"All to myself" He smirked, peeling his shirt off and dropping his joggers as he dove ontop of you, kissing you again as his hands found themselves all over your body.

You giggle, your lips against his as you kiss him back before he pulls away, his lips against your neck, sucking at the skin as you sighed, your hands running over his bare back.

He pulled away for a moment, pulling your cheer dress over your head and throwing it across the room, leaving you in just your underwear.

"Didn't know you were that needy Parker" you laughed, his hands instantly on your bra as he yanked it down, his hands kneading at your breasts.

"I'm going to make you feel so good" He smirked, his hands reaching you unclasp your bra before tossing it aside as his mouth latched onto one of your breasts.

You gasped, biting your lip as his hands held your waist as you manurved to straddle him as he leaned against the headboard.

You sat up, yanking his boxers down to his knees as his cock sprung out and hit his stomach as you smirked. You grabbed a condom from his drawer, ripping it open abs sliding it down his length as you smirked. His eyes trained on you as his mouth was still full of your breast.

"Gunna ride you" You hummed, your hand sliding up his length as you sighed, pulling your panties aside as you pumped him a few times before slowly settling yourself down on his cock. Gasping for a moment as he penetrated through.

"So fucking hot" Peter mumbled, his hands on your boobs, squeezing them as he peered at you.

Your hips began to rock back and forth, rolling down against him as you hummed, the feeling of him curving up into you, drove you insane.

You hummed, biting your lower lip holding a pout as you tried to control yourself against the pleasure. Peter's mouth suctioned onto your breast, as his hand kneaded the other as you continued to rock your hips back and forth.

"You are such a boob guy" You let out a soft chuckle, your hand caressing through his hair as you sighed, swivelling your hips further against Peter.

A soft pop sounded the room as his mouth withdrew from your skin. "Mhm- How can I not be" He pecked your lips softly, as he shimmied back, leaning back against the headboard, spreading your legs with his as he began to thrust up into you.

"Ah!-" You yelped out, the thrusts throwing your body forward against his, your hands slithered up to grab the headboard as you attempted to steady your breaths between thrusts. "Nghh- there.. please-" You pleaded as hus hands gripped your hips tighter as he thrusted harder into you.

"Good girl-" He hummed, pushing up with his calfs, the position changed as you fell back against the foot of the bed, your back against the sheets as Peter got ontop of you, your legs clamped around his waist as his lips Instantly attached to your neck, sucking the skin harshly as his hips buckled into yours.

"Oh my god!-" You gasped, clawing at his back as you yanked his hair his eyes connecting with yours as you pulled him into a deep kiss. The pair of your lips locked messily, your tongues darting against one another as his pace became consistent.

You'd break away and take breaths as you yelped each time Peter pulled out and thrusted in once again- the feeling was amazing.

Your hand slid up to his neck, as you applied slight pressure as his eyes rolled back slightly and his pace sped up.

"Nghh- You like that- you like when I do this Pete?" You gasped, your hand toying with the grip on his neck as he pistoned faster into you- your voice cracking with moans as he continued.

A soft whine left his lips as he continued to thrust, a smile upon your lips at his sounds.

"M-mhm close" He groaned.

You placed a hand on his chest, signalling him to slow down as you slowly climbed out from under him as you smiled, getting onto all fours.

"I want you to cum in me Pete.." You smile back at him.

Peter quickly kneeled, gripping your ass as he slapped it, yanking the condom off his cock tying it n dropping it into his bedside bin- before rubbing his tip against your slit as you hummed.

"Is it safe to" His touch was soft against you.

"Shut up, I don't care" You pouted looking back at him.

With that he bottomed out, grasping your hips harsh as his bare cock thrusted into you- A whine behind you as he could feel every. single. inch.

"You've been such a good boy, I'd treat you, now fill me up" You leaned back against his chest, your hand on his cheek as you pecked his lips.

His hand pushed you back down into all fours as he thrusted into you.

Your back arches as you hummed, his pelvis thrusting into you as your eyes closed, gripping the sheets as you took it all in.

"Doing so good f'me" Peter mumbled from behind you, kissing your shoulder as he leaned over you, hand caged around your waist as he continued to thrust into you like a rabbit in heat.

You nodded as you sighed, your head hanging forward as he continued to thrust. Your body growing slightly tired as you whined, letting put a soft whine with each thrust.

"Faster.." You sighed, turning back and looking at Peter.

A wide smirk, spread across his face as he lifted you up to lean back against his chest, your lip between your teeth as you reached back, wrapping your arms round the back of his head.

"Such a good girl for me... If only everyone know how much of a good girl you were" He kissed your cheek, his hands snaking around your found as he gripped your tits. Peter was definitely a tit guy, every chance he could, he'd be holding them.

His lips on your neck, as he began to nip at the skin as his pace began to pick up. You croaked out a squeak as your body recoiled against the thrusts at first, soft hums leaving your lips as he'd thrust in and out of you.

You stayed like that for a while, both in such an intimate position but that was till Peter couldn't take it anymore. His hand harshly pushing you back down onto all fours as he grabbed your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he pummelled into you.

"FUCK- mhmphh!-" You screamed, throwing your face forward into his pillow, muffling any noises that came from you as he thrusted. Your ass slapping against his skin as he sped up. Soft groans leaving his lips as he was chasing his high. You were already so close, you were just waiting for him- but you don't think you could last much longer.

"Yes- Fuck.. Yes! I'm cumming-" Peter whined, his hand thrown over his face as his thrusts became sloppy as he bottomed out, thrusting harshly once more before pouring his load into you.

You also, releasing at the same time, letting out a loud screech at you fisted the sheets as you grit your teeth.

The pair of you panting heavily as Peter slowly pulled out, groaning as he collected any escaping and thrusted it back into you a few times.

"Mhpmh-" You whined slightly as he did so.

"Sorry" He laughed, pulling away as he layed next to you, scooping you up and pulling you into his side.

You smiled, pecking his lips softly before laying your head on his chest.

"That fucking uniform does something to me, I was thinking about you all day" He laughed, as you rolled your eyes chuckling.

The pair of you stayed there for a few more minutes before Peter carried you into the shower, where you two yet again couldn't keep your hands off one another.

THE NEXT MORNING

"I'll take that 20 bucks now Nat" Bucky walks into the seating area with a coffee in his hand.

"What?" Nat looked up at him, confused.

"I was up all night because of those kids- I told you they were hooking up" Bucky rubbed his head, groaning.

"I knew it" Sam smirked.

Nat groaned before leaning over and giving Bucky 20 dollars, of which he was very happy about.

"Morning!" You smiled, definitely a pep in your step as you walked into the lounge area wearing just a large tshirt.

They all turned to look at you, shocked at the sudden entrance, but even more shocked when they noticed the marks all over your neck to your legs. Bite marks, hickies and mysterious bruises.

"What?- Is there something on my face?" You reached to rub your face.

"You look like an animal has attacked you-" Sam chuckled.

You rolled your eyes at him.

Peter came behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your cheek softly.

"Look, I know you guys know and my dad isn't here right now, so I'd just appreciate if you all didn't tell him" You smiled, your hand reaching your caress Peter's hair.

"Didn't tell me what?"

You all froze. Especially Peter.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Wolf and the Rabbit

Male Alpha Wolf Hybrid Tsundere x Male Omega Bunny Hybrid Reader CW: Mildly dubious consent (Not the sex but other actions), consensual sex, knotting, being chased, pheromones, a/b/o, biting, scent marking, scent kink, underarm kink, huffing underwear, masturbation Word Count: 2k (This was written at the request of a good friend who wished to remain anon, I hope you all enjoy it. If you REALLY love it feel free to tip me at the link in my pinned post or even commission me.)

City life had gotten unbearable. The constant bills and dead-end job. The hustle and bustle of the environment. Traffic and construction. It had all just become far too much. It was suffocating and oppressive. You clearly needed a change.

And what better place for a bunny hybrid like you to live than in a nice forest. You saved up your money and sold many of your possessions to buy a nice burrow under a great oak tree.

It was everything you had hoped for. The burrow was the size of a small house. A bedroom, bathroom, living room, and small kitchen. Outside, there were plenty of wooded areas for you to forage, and clear spots near the burrow entrance allowed you to grow crops. Lettuce and carrots were a must.

One sunny day, after you had finished unpacking the last of your boxes, you decided you should explore the edges of your property. You hummed to yourself as you went along, putting any food you found in a basket. You had amassed a sizable amount of dandelion greens.

Suddenly, your ears perked up, and your nose wiggled. Something was off... you felt like you were in mortal peril...

You heard a snarl and bolted. You could hear footsteps giving chase behind you, but you didn't dare look. In no time, your pursuer caught up to you and pushed you to the forest floor. You tried to crawl away, but he flipped you over on your back, giving you a view of him for the first time.

A growling wolf man.

He leered down at you with cold eyes of steel, the blue-grey fur on his ears and tail bristling. He was much larger than you were, fairly chubby but also very muscular. His scent was that of an alpha.

“Think you can just wander into my territory and get away from me, creampuff!? No, I gotta teach you a lesson!”

Tears streamed from your eyes as you stared at his bared fangs. You were sure he had gone feral and was going to rip you to shreds. You futilely stammered out some pleas and protests. He rolled his eyes and pinned you down, putting you into a bit of a chokehold as he rubbed your head into his underarm. He continued this until you thoroughly reeked of his scent and then got off of you with a grunt and left.

“There, now you know my scent, I’m Lupin, and this is my territory, don’t come near it again!”

“I-I’m…” You muttered your name to him as he walked away, though you didn’t know why you bothered.

He hadn’t been trying to do anything sexual to you. You were an omega, but he told himself that he wasn’t interested. He was above all that and valued his solitude above all else. But as he left, he had to conceal a massive boner. That night thoughts of hunting you down and marking you all over with his smell haunted him. He had no choice but to masturbate to the thought.

The incident had a similar effect on you. You started producing quite a bit of slick. Once he had shown he had no interest in harming you, his scent became erotically stimulating, and it clung to you heavily. Of course you knew that it was not a sexually charged act and that he had only marked you because you had violated his property, but you couldn’t help jerking your cock and slipping your fingers into your slick lubed hole while thinking of him hunting, marking, and fucking you.

You just couldn’t stay away. You did for a few days, but you couldn’t resist your fantasies. So inevitably, you found yourself “accidentally” out of the bounds of your property line.

It didn’t take long for Lupin to descend upon you. He hadn’t been far, and he could detect your omega pheromones easily. It surely wasn’t because he had been brooding near the shared border of your properties in hopes that you would come by again.

You zipped away, and once more, he gave chase. This time, you knew who was there and didn’t have the same type of fear and were much more clear-headed. Your evasive skills were better as a result. The both of you enjoyed the hunt immensely. The thrill of catching and dominating you spurred him on while the rush of resistance and submission drove you.

This time, when he caught you, he made a big show of acting frustrated and annoyed at the very notion that you would dare to invade his space a SECOND time. Clearly, he had not properly put you in your place.

Feeling a bit more resistant than you did during the first encounter, you just huffed and turned away from him.

“Stubborn fucker.”

Then he did the same as he had done the first time but finished by removing his shirt and scenting it by rubbing it all over his sweaty body before forcing you to wear it. It was far too large and looked rather comical on you and steeped you in his scent even more thoroughly than you already had been.

You blushed and looked away, trying to seem undaunted as he pointed and laughed at the sight while trying not to make it apparent that seeing you in his clothing while wearing his scent wasn’t the hottest thing he had ever encountered.

He quickly left, leaving you to deal with the growing pool of slick that was soaking your pants. The wolf-man only waited until he was out of sight before he whipped out his cock and started fervently jerking off. Similarly, you didn’t make it home either before you had to pleasure yourself.

It quickly became a favorite game for both of you. You'd enter his domain and act like it wasn't on purpose, and he'd chase you away and act super annoyed when he finally caught and marked you. You'd hurl insults at him and tell him he stank, and he'd call you an idiot with no common sense.

And when the other was out of sight, you'd each fervently tend to your arousal.

Though one time when you went seeking to get scent marked, he was curiously absent. He had gone to a little marketplace where all the nearby forest dwellers gathered to trade and purchase wares. No one had told you about it yet. Lupin had a stall where he peddled foraged items and wood carvings he made.

As you ventured deeper and deeper into his land, you made sure to make a lot of noise, even resorting to straight-up shouting insults. You were about to give up and turn back when you stumbled upon his house.

It didn't appear that anyone was home, though, so you were still going to leave... right after you walked around outside a bit so he would know you had been there. Just to annoy him.

While you walked around a bit, you noticed a captivating smell. His smell. Though not very fresh, it still made you leak a bit of slick. It was wafting from an open window. You knew you should have just ignored it and that what you were doing was a massive violation, but like a moth to a flame, you climbed right in anyway.

Your sensitive nose found the source of his scent immediately, a dirty close hamper with some recently worn boxers on top. So you did what any omega bunny close to heat would do... you grabbed his boxers and put the crotch to your nose and inhaled deeply before shedding your clothes and wiggling into his warm covers.

They smelled of him too.

You continued to huff his under garment as you began to wank your cock desperately, his scent sending you fully into heat a bit earlier than expected. You alternated between slipping fingers into your naturally lubed hole and playing with your cock, but nothing satisfied you.

The self pleasure session must have lasted over an hour by the time it was interrupted by Lupin opening his room to the sight of you entirely debauched, your cum on your belly, slick pooling on his sheets, and his underwear in your hand. You stopped immediately when he entered and stated at him wide-eyed in an expression of fear mingled with surprise.

After a long silence, the wolf man finally spoke up, "What the fuck do you think you're doing you gross little weirdo!??"

The room was filled with the smell of your lust charged omega pheromones, he feigned a look of abhorrence while hoping his rapidly hardening cock didn't make a noticeable bulge in his pants.

You were blushing with embarrassment and a bit out of it due to your heat, but you managed to collect yourself.

"I was coming over to bug your grumpy ass when I went into heat... and well... even your disgusting smell will do when I'm desperate..."

The two of you traded insults, and he got slowly closer as the two of you did so.

"Your musk is really inadeq-"

He stuffed your face in his armpit before pulling away and getting into the bed with you. Your mind was fuzzy as your heat and a direct dose of his alpha pheromones claimed your senses.

"I don't... want your smelly dick in me... but it'll help my heat, so..."

You turned away, blushing even more deeply than previously as you spread your legs for him.

"Well, I don't want to either... but whatever gets you to stop being so needy and out of my bed..."

Your hole was so lubed and well prepped by your own fingers that he slid in every inch of his thick cock into you effortlessly. You shuddered as he entered you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he nibbled at your neck while he fucked you.

"Heh, such a needy slut. You take me pretty well, though."

You scoffed half-heartedly at the comment.

Lupin flung your legs over his shoulders and forced you into a mating press before pounding into you in earnest. You, at least in the moment, abandon all pretense of not wanting it. As does he.

A loud moan escapes you as you cum hard, he isn't far behind and instinctively bites your neck as he knots you. The two of you lay panting a moment before he started grinding his knot back and forth within you. You went several more rounds, until you both were sore and barely conscious. The two of you found yourselves passed out within one another’s embrace.

You both awoke the net morning roughly at the same time. Each of you hardening your expression when you remembered you’re supposed to hate each other.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I let you put that gross knot in me!”

Hey! Don’t act like the victim here you fucking freak, you came into my house and got your slick and pheromones everywhere! It clouded my brain. Fuck look at the mess you made!”

You scrambled out of the covers to get your clothes on as he did the same before hopping out of the bed, your little cotton tail wagging in annoyance.

“Well what the fuck ever, I have to go!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let the door hit you on your way out…”

You made for the door as he asked under his breath, ���Same time next month…?”

You had already shut the door behind you by the time you had registered what he had asked. You opened the door briefly to give your response.

“Yes please.”

You then slammed the door, feigning anger, and headed home for a much needed shower. You blushed and grinned like an idiot the entire way back.

[starsinthesky5]

nothing's gonna hurt you baby || joe burrow x reader

description: the first game of the season doesn't go as planned and it kills you to see joe like this. you can't help but feel deja vu...

a/n: ahem, is this thing on 🎤🎤.  i'm backkkkk… after a much-needed tiny break (not planned just life getting in the way). this is a little something i cooked up! still working on "taste" which is a slow work in progress but that's the main next fic that'll be coming soon!

as always, thanks for reading & showing love :)))) i hope this wasn’t too much yapping and nonsense lol. the smut isnt my best because i wrote it while i was half asleep but i hope you enjoy it. there’s also plenty of song references throughout the fic (biggest one and the inspiration being this CAS song)

warnings: angst, fluff, smut. that's literally the whole fic :)

word count: 12.2 k

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

You leaned back against the wall across from the entrance to the locker rooms, anxiously picking at a thumbnail on your finger as you waited for your boyfriend to come out so you two could go home. You were standing in your orange halter crop top with a little '9' embroidered on the bottom left side and matching white jean shorts with the same '9' embroidered in orange on the back right pocket. The '9' on your shorts was a little bigger than the one on your top which Joe loved because according to him ‘everyone knows who your ass belongs to’. His adorable possessive nature was always something you admired and appreciated. He was very secure in your relationship and knew nobody would take you from him, but that didn't stop him from ensuring everyone knew you were his at any chance he got. 

You were also wearing orange stiletto knee-high boots which adds to the overall orange vibe of your game-day outfit. The theme was 'open in orange' so you were wearing as much orange as you could possibly make look cute. Your '9' necklace was the only piece of jewelry you had around your neck, and your wrists were decked out with bracelets given to you by Joe–each one even more polished and expensive than the previous one, and various rings on your fingers. Your favorite one, the beautiful promise ring Joe gave you for your 2nd anniversary, shined brighter than any of the jewelry you had on. It was a ‘secret garden’ inspired ring, one of your favorite books of all time. 

There was a growing pit in your stomach as you stood there gazing at the large ‘B’ on the wall outside the locker room, a slow-burning sensation that started about two minutes into the game, and it was only getting bigger as the minutes passed by. By the end of the game, you were the most on edge you had ever been in your entire life. 

Since this was Joe's first real game back after his wrist injury, your anxiety was already pretty bad by the time you got to the stadium. Your brain was swarmed with 'what-if?' scenarios and it was eating you alive. Joe, however, seemed the exact opposite of you. He was completely calm, normal, and focused like this was any other game. His peaceful temperament wasn't surprising since he had always been like this before every game but it also should've been expected since he worked through most of his emotions with you the night before and didn’t have anything left to get out. You on the other hand did a complete 360; you were so calm with him last night but right now you were on the verge of ripping your eyelashes out. 

Flashback to the night before

You reached over to grab your glass of water, taking a big sip to help wash down the spicy chicken you were eating for dinner. You looked up at Joe as you were swallowing your water, noting how he was playing around with his food on his unusually full plate. You had been eating for almost 15 minutes and by now, his plate should be empty given how much of an animal he was once dinner rolled around. 

“Not hungry?” you broke the unusual silence and asked. 

Joe's eyes glanced up to meet yours, his cheeks burning because you took note of his behavior, which you weren't supposed to. “Uhh, not really,”  he sighed as he placed his fork down and leaned back in his chair, his sweaty hands sliding up and down his thighs out of nervousness. 

“You do know you have a game tomorrow, right?” you chuckled as you placed your fork down and leaned back in your chair like he was. “You need all the protein you can get,”.

“...Y- yeah, I know,” Joe mumbled after a few seconds of uneasy silence. 

You instantly noticed the change in his body language at the mention of the game; the way his eyes fell down to his lap after his mumbling response, the way he started bouncing his left leg, his shoulders tensing up a little bit, the way he was constantly doing something with his hands as if he was uncomfortable, the way he was chewing at his bottom lip. These were all things Joe did when he was feeling anxious. 

But why was he anxious?

“Hey, you okay?” you asked while leaning forward again, his body language making you worry.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” he swallowed, still not meeting your eyes. He knew all it took was for you to get one look at his eyes to figure out he was lying and he really didn't want to burden you with his complicated emotions tonight. 

“He’s lying,” you thought to yourself. The fact that he was avoiding eye contact with you was a dead giveaway. “Joe?” you said while lowering your head to get into his view. 

“Yeah?” he said, his voice slightly trembling as he finally looked into your eyes. 

“Why are you lying to me?” you said as your face dropped at the sight of his tired eyes and shaky voice. 

“I’m not ly-,” he began to say before you interrupted him.

“Yeah, you are,” you interrupted. “I know you, remember. I know you better than you know yourself,” you softly laughed. 

You weren’t wrong there, you did know Joe better than he knew himself and he was the first one to admit it. You knew exactly what he was thinking, exactly how to put his feelings into words even when he couldn’t do so himself, and exactly how to handle him. There was a reason why you were the only person he let into the bubble that he had around himself once football started back up. You were his shelter in the hurricane that became his life once he was back on the field and without you, Joe would be a mess. 

Your response earned no reaction from Joe, he just sat there in silence and continued to bounce his leg up and down as he started to play with the wristbands on his wrist, yet another anxiety-related mannerism. 

You let out a tired breath, “I’m not doing this, I can’t have him shut me out again,” you thought to yourself before scooting your chair back, walking around the dining table, and sitting down on the seat next to him. You turned your chair to face him and grabbed his hands, feeling the thin layer of sweat that coated his palms which made your heart hurt. 

“Joe, it’s just us right now. Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby, talk to me,” you said while giving his hands a soft squeeze. You were feeling deja vu right now, you found yourself in the same situation you found yourself in many times over the early months of the off-season, only then it was 10 times worse than it was right now. 

Joe looked into your eyes, his body feeling heavy as self-doubt, anxiety, and fear crept into his mind. He was nervous about tomorrow’s game. Joe had never been nervous about a game like this and you were sitting in front of him, trying to get him to talk which you shouldn’t need to ‘try’ to do, he should be openly talking to you right now about his feelings. He always let you into the bubble, so why was it so hard for him to do it right now?

He realized that he was shutting down again, just like he had when he first got injured back in November. He didn’t want to go back to that dark place again, especially since coming out of it was a struggle that affected you both very badly. “I’m scared,” he choked out a few seconds later, trying his best to push through the wall he was unknowingly building again.

“Why?” you quietly asked as you felt your heart shatter because of the tone of his voice. You hated seeing him like this, it broke your heart to see him like this. You moved your hand up to cup his neck, the pads of your fingers were softly rubbing his tan skin which was a gentle action that you knew would calm him down. 

“It’s my first game back from injury. An injury that could’ve easily ended my career. It should’ve ended my career,” he said while lifting his hand to wipe a stray tear from his eye.

“But it didn’t,” you smiled. “It didn’t end your career then and it won’t end your career now,”.

“How do you know that? I haven’t played in a real game since November. I haven’t gotten hit yet, I haven’t gotten sacked yet, and I haven’t been putting that much pressure on my hand. Tomorrow could easily be the last game of my career. Just one wrong move and-,”.

“No.” you interrupted. “You’re not doing that. Not on my watch,” you sternly said, trying to prevent him from getting too far inside his head about everything. Overthinking was his worst enemy.

“I’m being realistic, Y/N. Who knows if I’ll be the same Joe I was before,” he said while blinking away a few tears. 

“You don’t need to be the same Joe you were before,” you soothed while continuing to rub his neck. “What you went through was unlike anything anyone has seen before, if people are expecting you to get right back to where you left off then they have no heart or brains. You’ll get to where you need to be, I promise. Things like this take time,” you added. “The Joe you are now is more than enough. You have grown in many ways that you might not have been able to unless you went through what you went through after November. You’ve worked on yourself and become more open, honest, and loose. You’ve put in the work on the field, in the weight room, in training, and even at home. You’re coming out of this a better person and a better player. A better Joe,”. 

“I just don’t want to let anyone down. What if we lose tomorrow? With the slow start narrative getting louder and the aftermath of my wrist injury, this could be really fucked. This year is so important and I just don’t want to let anyone down; the organization, the team, the public, you,” he continued, his grip on your other hand becoming tighter. “I know I have a chip on my shoulder and have a lot to prove this year, but the thought of people not seeing that is killing me,”.

“You won’t let anyone down, Joe. And you could never ever fucking let me down, never say that again,” you said as you continued to rub his neck, seeing that he was getting more loose from your touch. “You’ve worked so so hard the past 10 months to get back to where you want to be and everyone and I mean everyone has seen that. I’ve seen that. Adversity always makes you better, it ignites that fire inside of you. That fire makes you who you are,” you said to him, feeling a little more comfortable yourself after seeing his body relax a bit. “Remember who you are. You’re Joe Burrow. Heisman winner, College Football National Champion, the first overall draft pick, one of the Top 5 quarterbacks in the league, one of the highest-paid quarterbacks, Ohio’s golden boy. You’re all of those things for a reason, Joe. You have it in you. You don’t need to be afraid or doubt yourself because you did all of those things, nobody else, just you,”. 

You moved your hand over and wiped the tears that slowly were sliding down his cheeks before feeling Joe grab your hand and press a wet kiss to your palm. “I love you,” he sniffled. “I genuinely don’t know what I would do without you,”.

“I love you too,” you smiled before you leaned up to kiss his forehead. “Tomorrow is unpredictable, I will admit. But you control the narrative. You control what happens and what doesn’t happen out there. It’s just you and the football like it always has been. I know you and I know you’re going to kill it,”. 

Joe gave you a small nod as he let your words sit inside of his head; you were right and he knew you were right. He did all of this himself, he single-handedly built his reputation and although there was an immense amount of pressure on him to maintain it, he knew that it was his reputation. He had control over his story, not anyone else. He didn’t need to work at anyone else’s speed except for his own. He knows the narrative that the media has been running with since November, that his career has been hindered by continuous injuries and he’s ’injury prone’. He knows what that title has done to the public's opinion on his career and rank as a player, but they don’t get to define him based on what they think. He is defined by everything he does himself. 

It’s not their story, it’s his. 

He reached out and placed his hand on your waist, gently pulling you from your chair and into his lap. You instantly looped your arms around his neck and pushed his head to the crook of your neck, this warm hug from you was the final thing he needed to fully calm his nerves. “You always know what to say to me,” he mumbled against your collarbone as you ran your fingers through his slightly grown-out frosted tips, his hands softly massaging your plush skin. 

“It’s my job,” you chuckled. “I signed up for this when I met you at that football practice all those years ago and I plan on staying true to what I signed up for as long as I can,” you added before you dropped a kiss on his cheek, your mind calming down once you felt him relax against you.

“You better plan on it. I’m not letting you go anywhere,” he said as he pulled you in tighter. 

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t want to go anywhere,” you giggled in his ear before pressing a kiss to it, then turning back to serious to finish off your little pep-talk. “I’m so proud of you, Joe. More than you’ll ever know. You’re truly the hardest working man I’ve ever met and you continue to amaze me with your dedication and determination every single day. Never think that you’re not good enough and you’re not who everyone thinks you are. You’re Joe Fucking Burrow. Never forget that,”. 

“I won’t,” he sighed contently, finally at peace. “I won’t forget,” he said again before he pulled you closer and closed his eyes, getting lost in your palliative embrace. 

End of flashback 

You were so calm last night and now you were the complete opposite; you couldn’t figure out where and when things went south with your emotions. During the game, your brain was running a mile a minute as you thought of everything that could go wrong: Joe re-aggravating his injury, someone else on the team getting badly injured, and the team not being able to beat the slow start narrative. You were anxious, nervous, and deeply scared once the first quarter of the game started, and your feelings were validated when two minutes into the game Joe got sacked and fumbled the ball. 

You remember your heart stopping once you saw him go down as this was the first time he had been hit since November. 

“No!” you screamed as you shot up from your seat, your hand gripping the necklace around your neck as you looked down on the field and saw a bunch of large behemoths on top of him. “No, No, No,” you panicked as your breaths got shorter, your anxiety getting worse and worse as you saw flashbacks from the Ravens game in November. “Please be okay,” you thought to yourself as you were on the verge of tears. 

Then you remember your heart dropping to your feet once you saw the ball come loose and even though he recovered it, this whole play left a bitter taste in your mouth since it was literally the first few minutes of the game and things were already not going as planned. Luckily, his going down didn’t seem to affect his wrist, but you could only imagine how it affected him mentally. 

You thought that would’ve been the only sack of the game, but once again you were wrong. Each time Joe went down, you felt your heart stop. Each time he ran, your heart stopped again as you got flashbacks from early last year with his calf injury. Each time the camera panned to the sidelines and focused in on him, you felt like crying because you could tell the way the game was going was eating away at him by his facial expressions. 

Every sack, every fumble, every drive that ended without scoring, and every turnover was killing you because the things Joe feared were happening even though you told him they wouldn’t. Seeing him flex his wrist on the sidelines and in between plays was the one thing that really did it for you. You didn’t know if this was just to keep his hand loose because he was feeling some tightness or whether this was because something was actually bothering him, your brain was in panic mode for the rest of the game. 

“I hope he’s okay, that was ugly,” you thought to yourself before you jumped at the sound of the locker room door swinging open and snapping you out of your daze. 

You watched as Joe walked out of the locker room, his eyes exhausted and defeated as he gave you a small ‘reassuring’ smile, however, it wasn’t very reassuring because his eyes gave his true feelings away in an instant. 

You returned his smile with a smile of your own, opening your mouth to ask him if he was okay but before you could he leaned forward and dropped a kiss on your lips. He held it for a few moments as he melted into your touch which was the only relieving feeling he had felt all day before pulling away, entwining your pinkies, and leading you out to the car. 

“That’s not good, he’s never this quiet when I come to meet him after the game,” you thought to yourself. If you didn’t say something first, he almost always did, but he wasn’t saying anything which was concerning. You stayed quiet as he led you out to the garage, your eyes not leaving his weary face for one second. You could tell he wasn’t okay, you could tell he was beating himself up over today’s loss.  

A few moments later, he led you over to the passenger’s side of the car, an unusual move since you always drove the both of you home after a game. “I thought I was driving,” you gently said as you looked up at him. 

“I got it,” he said with no emotion in his voice, dropping your pinky and looking into your eyes with his now cold and emotionless ones. 

“But Joe I-,” you began to say but before you could finish your sentence he turned around and walked to the other side of the car. 

“He definitely heard me,” you thought to yourself as you watched him open the backseat door and roughly throw his bag in, then slammed the door shut with a little more force than usual which startled you. 

You let out a deep breath before opening your door and sliding into the passenger seat, your body stiff and frozen because of the way he was acting. You were scared to say something, scared to do something because you didn’t know what reaction you’d get from him, “He’s not doing this again, right?” you worried. 

10 minutes into the drive home, you started getting agitated. He had yet to say anything to you, not even asking you if you were cold and if he should turn down the AC which he always asked you whenever you were in the car since he knew you got cold easily. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were practically turning white and his eyes were so locked in on the road in front of you that he hadn’t even noticed that you started shivering a little bit. 

“Are you okay?” you finally broke the tension and asked, your bottom lip in between your teeth out of nervousness. Joe rarely ever raised his voice at you or got irritated by you saying something to him, but that didn’t stop you from getting nervous around him whenever he was acting like this. 

You saw his jaw clench for a brief moment, your heart skipping a beat as you braced yourself for a potentially explosive reaction, but then you saw him unclench it. “I’m fine,” he said, once again with no emotion in his voice. 

You gave him a small nod and then a few seconds later asked another question since he wasn’t budging, “How’s your wrist?”.

He let out a sigh, one that you could hear from his nose so it was definitely coming from a tired place, “It’s fine,” he said again, not giving you much to work with. 

“He’s not fine, lying yet again. Maybe I could make him laugh? I need to do something to get him to loosen up” you thought to yourself, your brain scrambling to think of something to make him laugh even if it was for a brief moment. 

“At least you guys scored a touchdown this time,” you smiled a few seconds later. “Even though you didn’t win the game, I’d say it was better than week 1 last year against the browns,”. 

You studied his face carefully after you finished your sentence, searching for any tiny muscle movement that resulted in his lips curling up into a smile, but nothing. “Yeah,” he nodded, once again with no emotion. He then reached over to the center console, turning the knob for the volume up so that the once softly playing music was blasting throughout the car. 

You felt your lip quiver and your eyes started to pool with tears as you continued to look at him, praying that he would look at you for even one brief moment, but he didn’t. “He’s doing it again,” you thought to yourself as you fell back into your seat. “He’s fucking doing it again. Just like he did after he got injured. He’s shutting me out,” you thought as you felt a tear slide down your cheek, your head turning away so that you were looking out the window so if Joe did happen to look over at you, he wouldn’t notice your silent tears. 

Joe did look over at you. He was waiting for you to stop looking at him because he couldn’t look into your eyes right now, not when his brain was all over the place and he could regret the things that potentially came out of his mouth. He looked over at you when he saw you turn your head to the window from the corner of his eyes, his eyes softening when he saw your body shaking. You were cold. He always asks you if you’re cold, and this time he didn’t. 

“I fuck everything up,” he muttered under his breath as he reached over to turn the AC down. 

30 minutes later

After a car ride filled with deafening silence, you made it back home a half hour later and were pouring two glasses of water for you and Joe. He was sitting at the kitchen island behind you scrolling on his phone, still quiet as ever. You grabbed his glass and placed it in front of him, getting a peek at what he was looking at on his phone. 

Media reactions. 

Joe never looked at what the internet was saying about a game after it happened, it was one of his ‘blocking outside noise’ methods, so why was he looking at them? 

“You really shouldn’t be looking at all that bullshit,” you said to him as you took a small sip of your water, the cool liquid feeling like a quiet unraveling of tightness within your body.

Joe was so focused on his phone that he didn’t notice that you were talking to him, the only things that he could hear were the voices of reporters talking about the team’s constant slow starts, his poor performance–saying that he played scared, rusty, and didn’t look like himself and that this team is constantly setting itself up for failure. 

A video came up on his phone, an analyst was talking about his performance in today’s game, “We have to talk about Joe Burrow. He said he was ready, he said he felt great, and he said that this team was ready. But did that Cincinnati Bengals team that played against the Patriots today look ready? Absolutely not. Did the Joe Burrow who stepped out onto that field look ready? Absolutely Not. He looked scared, he didn’t look like himself. The lack of Deep Balls, the lack of throwing down the field. That’s not the Joe Burrow we’ve seen in years past. What’s truly going on in Cincinnati? Is there a deeper issue within that we aren’t seeing?”. 

“They see right through me,” Joe thought to himself, feeling his eyes sting from the hot tears that were threatening to come out. He felt like the room was on fire, and there was invisible smoke. Nobody could really see what he was going through, all they saw was the burning room. 

You felt your heart drop as you heard the reporter talk about Joe’s performance in today’s game, knowing that Joe was probably already criticizing himself and this was going to make it worse. “Joe?” you said a little louder, snapping him out of the dark haze he was stuck in.

“Hm?” he hummed as he looked up at you, noticing your pursed lips and worried eyes. 

“Are you okay?” you asked again, feeling uneasy from the look he had on his face.

“...I said I’m fine,” he replied, his voice a little rougher than earlier. 

You shook your head, “I know you’re not fine. Stop lying to me,” you said with a more rigid tone. 

“I’m not lying to you. I said I’m fine. I don’t think it could be more simpler than that,” he rolled his eyes as he picked up his glass of water, taking a big sip. 

“If you are really ‘fine’,” you say, making air quotes around ‘fine’, “Why are you looking at all that bullshit? You never look at any of that because you say it messes with your head,” you say.

“Because I can?” he scoffs, standing up from the barstool and walking around the island to place his water glass in the sink. 

You take a deep breath, trying not to point out his snappy attitude because you know he isn’t in the right headspace right now. “Joe, seriously. I know you’re not fine but it’s just me. You can talk to me,” you gently say as you walk over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder but he quickly turns around and walks back over to where he was sitting to grab his phone which made your hand drop from his shoulder. 

“I know you had a shitty game, I know you’re in your head about it, I get it. Trust me I do, but just let me-,” you begin to say as you walk over to him before he interrupts you. 

“Do you though?” he asks. “Do you really get it? Sweet talking and hugs don’t magically make everything better, Y/N,” he says, his voice a little louder. 

“Ouch.” you thought to yourself. “No. Remember, he’s not in the right headspace, Y/N. He’s not trying to be hurtful,”. 

“I’m not saying that,” you say to him. “I know that doesn’t make everything better but talking to someone about your feelings does. You know that. You spent weeks working on that, remember?” referring to the therapy sessions he had this past off-season to work through the emotional and mental effects of his injury and just overall mental health. 

“I know, but I said I’m fine. I don’t need to talk about anything, especially with you,” he said, his words feeling like a punch to your gut. 

“Okay, what the fuck?” you thought to yourself. “What do you mean ‘especially’ with me?” you asked, your tone switching from gentle to slightly angry. 

Joe stays quiet for a few seconds, his gaze fixed on the concerned look on your face. He knew what he was saying to you was most likely hurting you and you were coming from a place of worry, but he couldn’t control the things that were leaving his mouth right now. “I’m not doing this with you right now,” he shook his head and turned around, walking over to the stairs.

“Doing what?” you said loudly, following him over to the stairs. “I’m just trying to get you to talk to me but you’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be,”.

“How am I making this a bigger deal?” he grumbles, turning around to look at you. “You’re the one that won’t leave me alone. I’ve said that I’m fine to you like 5 times now,”.

“You’re making this a bigger deal because you’re shutting me out, again,” you say, feeling your cheeks burn with anger, frustration, and sadness. You and Joe hardly fought, and whenever you did, it broke both of you. You felt like absolute shit right now and you couldn’t even imagine how Joe was feeling. 

“No, I’m not. You’re being unbelievable right now,” he rolled his eyes again and started walking up the stairs with you hot on his tail. 

“No, I’m not,” you say, echoing his words. “You are shutting me out just like you did after your wrist injury. What happened to letting me in your bubble? Because right now it feels like I’m being pushed 100 feet from your bubble for no reason,” you said, your voice a little shaky as you tried to hold back your building tears. 

“I’m not shutting you out, Y/N,” he said loudly, his voice even more rougher. “Just because I don’t want to talk to you about how shitty I did today doesn’t mean I’m shutting you out. I just don’t want or feel the need to talk to you about it,”.

“See, you aren’t okay. I knew you weren’t okay. You know you played like shit so you’re clearly not fine,” you huffed as you made it to the top of the stairs.

“Is that all you wanted to hear? That I played like shit? Okay, yeah, I played like absolute shit. You win. Now will you leave me alone?” he said, trying to hold back from shouting at you even though he was dancing on the line that separated shouting from talking loudly. 

“That’s not what I want to hear, Joe. You know that,” you said, your voice cracking once you felt a hot tear slide down your cheek. “I just want you to talk to me about your feelings, especially after our conversation last night. I don’t want you to go through all that again because I know how hard you tried to move past this mentally. You shut me out before and dealt with all of this on your own, and I saw how badly it affected you. I don’t want you to do that again. I can’t see you like that again,” you cried, your body shaking as all of your built-up emotions from the entire day were coming out. 

You wiped your eyes as you followed him down the hallway, both of you walking past your bedroom and heading toward his office. You made it to the door and watched him open it and step inside. You were going to follow him in, but he turned around on the doorstep which blocked you from going inside. “No,” he shook his head.

“But..Joe I-,” you cried harder.

“No. Just please go away,” he said, his jaw clenching again like it was earlier, but this time it stayed clenched. “I can’t deal with you right now,” he said, his words feeling like a stab to your heart now. 

There was nothing behind those eyes now. He had built up that wall again, that wall you tried so hard to prevent from being built because you knew you’d never be able to get over it. The same wall that he had built back in November after his injury. He did it again. After working so hard to be more open and honest about his feelings, thoughts, and emotions, he went straight back to square 1. 

“Joe, please,” you pleaded. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby, if you just talk to me,” you cried more forcefully.

Joe stared at you for a few heartbeats, his heart-shattering at the sight of the state he had brought you to. It was all his fault. Everything was his fault; the game and now this argument. Deep down, he knew you were right, but he just couldn’t see it because the wall he had built was too high. 

He was about to open his mouth to say something, trying to listen to you and talk to you about how he was feeling, but he backed down once he saw you start to shake. He saw your distressed face, your red eyes, your trembling lip, your shaking body, and your rapid breathing. He knew this was all his fault. If he unloaded all of his incredibly heavy, intense, and dreadful feelings on you right now, that would be so incredibly selfish of him. 

Joe backed up in the doorway which made you think he was letting you come inside, but just as you were about to come in, he shut the door on your face. 

You stare at the closed door for a few seconds, not processing what just happened. He really wasn’t letting you in. After all that, after everything he went through? After everything you both went through these past 10 months?

“Do you know how scared I was the entire game? Do you know how every time you went down my heart stopped? Do you know that I spent 5 minutes crying in the bathroom during halftime because I saw the look on your face?” you shouted at the door, your sobs getting louder. “I know this is hard for you but I’m here, Joe. I’m always h- here,” you choke out. 

“Just leave me the fuck alone!” Joe shouted through the door, tears sliding down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut because he instantly regretted saying that to you especially with that harshness in his voice that he knew would hurt you. 

You backed up from the door once you heard him shout at you, he never shouted at you, not even when you had arguments worse than this. You looked around the hallway, trying to collect your thoughts but there were none left to collect. You said everything that you could’ve possibly said to get through to him, what more was there left to say?

He wanted you to leave him alone, so you were going to do just that. 

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone,” you whispered to yourself, turning around and walking to your shared bedroom, your sobs echoing throughout the house as you disappeared inside your room. 

On the other side of the office door, Joe was sitting in his office chair, hot tears sliding down his cheeks as he was drowning with regret. He lamented saying those things to you, he doesn’t know what came over him. What was wrong with him? 

“Why did I do that to her? Why the fuck did I do that to…her?” he sniffled. He knows his anxiety and fears are controlling him right now, but there was absolutely no reason for him to take it out on the one person who always is there for him no matter what.  

“I fuck everything up,” he cried as he looked at a photo of the two of you sitting on his desk, a photo his mom took after he got his wrist surgery. 

Flashback to November 27th

“Babe, can we go skydiving?” Joe laughed as he rolled his head against the pillow to look at you. He had just woken up from surgery so he was feeling the effects of the anesthesia, and boy were they funny. The things that were coming out of his mouth were nothing but lighthearted, pure fun. It was good to see him laugh and smile especially since how melancholic his attitude had been since he got injured. 

“Absolutely not,” you said while giving him a serious look. “You are not jumping out of a plane as long as I am on this earth,”. 

“But why not? They have parachutes,” he pouted. “I think it would be sooooo fun,”.

“This is the same man who hates flying. Can you believe it?” Robin laughed as she finished typing up a text to send to family members to let them know the surgery went really well. 

“I know right?” you laughed with her. 

“How long did they say I can’t do stuff with my hand for?” Joe asked you with his adorable wide-eyed stare. 

“I think they said to have it in a sling for at least a month right now until your first follow-up,” you said as you brushed his hair out of his eyes.

“A month?” Joe dramatically gasped, his jaw dropping to the floor.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Sorry baby, you’re not Deadpool and can’t heal within 5 seconds,” you smiled. 

“Wait, does that mean we can’t have sex for a month?” he gasped again.

“Joe!” you shrieked, your cheeks turning red because his mom was right in front of you both.

“Ah, wait. Loophole, duhh. You can just be on top which I know you love,” he winked while using his finger to point at you for emphasis. 

“Oh my god,” you whined as you hid your face in your sweatshirt sleeves, hearing Joe’s mom break out into a fit of laughter. 

“Hey, don’t hide your pretty face from me,” Joe pouted as he used his good hand to lower your hands that were covering your face. “Ahh, there she is. My beautiful, adorable, sexy-as-hell, fiance,” he said after you uncovered your face.

“Fiance?” you raised an eyebrow and asked. “Is this your way of proposing?” you giggled. 

“No. When I actually do, it’ll be way more grander, sexier, and special than this,” he winked. “Like I’m talking maybe on the top of the Empire State Building, maybe in the middle of the football stadium, maybe at the top of the Eiffel Tower, maybe even while we go skydiving type special proposal. But I know I’m marrying you and I like the word fiance better than girlfriend,” he laughed. 

“You’re insane,” you laughed as you dropped your head to his chest, feeling him cup your head with his good hand and drop a kiss on your head. 

“I love you like a lot,” he giggled. “Like a lot a lot,” he giggled again.

“Ohh, I know,” you cheesed. 

“You definitely don’t. I love you more than words can describe,” he smiled, you craned your head up to look into his sweet eyes before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I love you too, Burrow,”. 

After you pulled away you were about to get up from his hospital bed but his mom spoke up, “Wait, stay like that. I’m going to get a picture,” she smiled.  

“Yesss,” Joe nodded. “I loveeeee pictures, especially with my fiance,”. 

“You are really something,” you giggled as you sat up straight.

You moved your hair back and helped Joe scooch up in the bed before turning your head and pressing a kiss to his cheek, placing your hand under his chin as he had a giant grin on his face. His good hand was wrapped around your waist and was holding you as close as possible to his body. 

You two were so happy. For once this past month, you were laughing, you both were smiling. 

“Are you going to be my protector for the next few months?” Joe giggled. “Not let anything bad happen to me and my wrist?”.

“Oh, 100%. I am your nurse, personal bodyguard, and protector. Nobody is hurting my man on my watch,” you grinned again as you smothered his cheeks with kisses. 

You both knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but as long as you were by each other’s side, nothing was going to hurt you. 

End of flashback 

“Nothing’s going to hurt me as long as she’s with me. I can’t keep pushing her away,” Joe whispered to himself as he snapped out of the sweet memory and wiped his tears. 

2 hours later

It had been two hours since your fight with Joe so it had been two hours since you had last seen him. After going into your bedroom earlier, you spent about 10 minutes crying in the bathroom as you tried to change into some comfier clothes. You felt awful about the whole thing. The way you lost your cool a few times, the way he was talking to you, just everything–it was horrible. 

You were currently sitting on the couch, sipping on some water and scrolling through some photos on your phone of the two of you. You let out a small laugh when you came across a silly photo of the two of you at a Hurricane Party you dragged him to at LSU. You remembered he was fully against the idea of going to a party during a hurricane, saying it was ‘batshit crazy’ and a ‘death wish’ but you managed to drag him along with you because you didn’t want him to sit inside and stress about the storm. In the photo, you two were standing on the deck of your friend’s house, the wind blowing so hard against you that Joe’s hat was flying away, and you with the hat you were trying to catch. His hand was tightly gripping onto yours and there were silly, drunk, lovesick smiles on both your faces as you were being soaked from the rain.  

“We’re insane,” you sniffled, realizing how batshit crazy it really was to party during a hurricane. 

As you were looking at other photos, you heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. You looked over at the bottom of the staircase, seeing Joe coming down in comfy clothes and wet hair which meant he showered and came out of his office at some point. 

“At least he wasn’t in there for the entirety of these two hours looking at stuff from the game,” you thought to yourself. 

Joe met your eyes as he walked into the room, seeing how red and puffy they were which was yet another thing that made him feel like absolute shit. He turned his head away at the same time you turned yours and walked into the kitchen, pulling out a glass from the cabinet. 

He started pouring you a glass of water, adding a few ice cubes because he knew you loved to chew on ice after you cried. At first, he didn’t understand the correlation, but then you explained to him that the ice has this cooling effect that can reduce heat and swelling around the face that happens after crying for a while. 

He grabbed the glass from the counter and slowly walked over to the couch, standing in front of you and holding the glass out. “Here,” he softly said, his voice just as heavy as yours which told you that he was crying too.

You slowly looked up at him, noticing that his eyes were also red and puffy. He definitely was crying too. 

“Thanks,” you quietly say as you take the glass from him, taking a big sip and letting the ice cube float into your mouth. 

“At least he remembered the ice,” you thought to yourself, appreciating the fact that he added them. 

You start to chew on the ice as you see Joe plop down on the couch next to you, your body freezing up because you remember everything he said to you earlier. You knew he was coming from a place of anger and guilt, but it still hurt. Joe noticed you tense up next to him, because of him, and that felt like a knife to his heart.

You both stayed quiet, staring at the random re-run of an episode of Friends that was playing on TV, but your minds weren’t focused on what was happening in the show. They were focused on each other. 

Joe felt his bottom lip start to quiver as his eyes once again pooled with tears, all of his emotions were coming out again. He fucked things up with you so bad tonight that he didn’t even know how to fix it. He hurt you. You were just trying to help him for his own good and he shut down on you. He shut you out. The one and only person that he let into his bubble. The one person he needed in his bubble. 

His brain was already crowded with anxiety and fear regarding football, but this was the worst thing out of everything. He didn’t want to go back to that dark place again, he didn’t want to deal with this on his own.

You heard soft sniffles come from beside you so you looked over, your heart shattering again as you saw Joe on the verge of tears, his eyes so red and his lip trembling like he was trying to hold it together. 

He didn’t need to hold it together, not around you. You knew that. You needed to make sure he knew that. “Come here,” you whispered to him as you put your arm around his shoulder and pulled him into your chest.

Joe immediately snaked his arm around your waist and rested his cheek against your chest, letting his tears fall from his eyes onto your pink tank top. You wriggled your hand into his frosted tip hair, scratching his scalp and pressing kisses to his head as he cried harder into your chest. 

You hated seeing him cry, but you knew he was feeling a lot right now and he needed to get his feelings out and this was the best way for him to do it. “It’s okay,” you soothed as you rubbed his back. “I’m here,”.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m s- so fucking sorry,” he cried harder. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, I didn’t mean to say all of that horrible shit to you. You don’t deserve any of that, you were just trying to help,”.  

“I know, baby, I know,” you said, blinking away a few of your own tears. “It’s okay,”,

“No, it’s not okay,” he said. “This is all so fucked up. I fucked everything up,” he sobbed. 

“No, you didn’t,” you said to him as you continued to rub his back. “You didn’t fuck anything up, Joe. Everything’s fine,”.  

“I did. I fucked up in the game and then I fucked up things with you. Nothing’s fine,” he sniffled. 

“Listen, Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby. As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine,” you said to him before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Like I said earlier, I’m right here. Just talk to me,”.

“...You’re right,” he sniffled, breaking through the mental wall he had built. “You belong in my bubble, I can’t keep you out of it,”.

“So don’t,” you said, pulling him in tighter. 

“I’m scared,” he breathed out a few seconds later. “I feel guilty about everything. This game was supposed to be different. I was supposed to be different. I feel like all of this was my fault because I wasn’t as ready as I thought I was. This was my first game back and I played like absolute shit out there,”.

“Oh, Joe,” you said as your face dropped as well as your heart. 

“I disappointed everyone. Most importantly, I disappointed you. Even after everything you told me last night, I couldn’t do it. Everything that could’ve gone wrong went wrong and I didn’t do anything to fix it,” he said as a few more tears fell from his eyes.

“You didn’t disappoint anyone, Joe. Nobody expected you to go out there and play like you had a completely normal year. You went through so much with this injury, obviously things weren’t going to go back to normal in one game,” you gently said. “And you could never disappoint me. I told you, I know you. The public doesn’t know you like I do so they’re going to run with whatever bullshit they want as an explanation for why the game went the way it did. I know why things went the way they did, I’m not disappointed in you at all. I’m proud of you for going out there and doing what you did today,” you said as you pressed another kiss on his forehead and moved your hand back up to his soft hair. 

“I just feel like I had the shinest wheels, you know? There was so much hype and fire around me when I first got drafted, but ever since then, I’ve just disappointed everyone. It feels like the wheels are rusting. I know what everyone’s been saying, and I get it. I would say the same thing if I was in their shoes. It’s been 5 years of nothing but injuries, slow starts, and coming up short. I feel like I’m falling behind everyone, everyone keeps getting better and I feel stuck. Right now, all of my cages are mental and that’s why I’m scared. If I keep doing this, I’m wasting my potential. I’m stuck as the ‘injury prone’ and ‘wasted potential’ quarterback,” he said, the vulnerability in his voice comforting you because it meant he was letting you in.

“I haven’t done what I promised to do when I got drafted, so why should people believe me when I say that I’m built for this? Why should they believe me when I say that this year will be different? And you know what? They don’t believe me, at least not anymore and I saw that today. They see right through me. Even I see right through me,” he said.

“Can you see right through me?” he asked you, looking up into your soft eyes. 

“Yes,” you nodded, his brows furrowing at your response. “Not in that way though,” you added. “I see right through you because I know you. That’s why I knew you weren’t fine the second you walked out of the locker room. Remember, the media, the fans, and the public don’t see through you, they only see the surface level because they don’t know you. They don’t truly know how hard you work, how strong you are, how much passion you really have for this. They’re going to spew whatever bullshit they want because that’s what they do. If they were in your shoes, then they would know why these things happen and the reality of the situation. They can’t see through you, I promise. And as for the not getting better, you’re crazy if you think that. I saw you in practice, your throws have never looked better. You have never looked better, all this muscle and beefiness is a part of getting better. And like I told you yesterday, you control the narrative. You don’t have to be the ‘injury-prone’ quarterback, you can change it. Deep down, you know who you are. Don’t let these trolls and interlopers define you,”. 

Joe nodded as he felt his breaths steady out and his tears start to dry up. “I played scared yesterday, and I don’t know why? I thought I was ready, you know? We weren’t supposed to lose that game,”.

“I know,” you sighed. “But you’ve gone through so much these past 5 years, it’s completely normal to be hesitant and nobody should be blaming you for this. Yesterday’s loss wasn’t just on you. You’re on a team, Joe. They didn’t play perfectly either and the blame shouldn’t only fall on you. You’re a piece to the puzzle, a big piece, but not the only piece. The media always wants to pin everything on one person. One thing that I admire about you is how easily you block out the outside noise, don’t change that. Block it out like you always do,”. 

“This is game 1 out of 17. Don’t let this define you and don’t let the noise get to you,” you said as you used your thumb to rub the skin underneath his eye, wiping away the wet tear trails.

Joe nodded again, taking in all of the words you were saying to him. You were right, about all of it. He was so in his head about everything and so panicked that he couldn’t use logic and sense to think clearly. This was just one bump in the road as you explained. He had 16 more games to play and 16 more opportunities to show everyone what he’s made of. 

“You’re right,” he nodded. “This was one game. I can take this, learn from my mistakes, and get better,”.

“That’s exactly what I like to hear,” you smiled after hearing him work through his complicated feelings. “You’re going to get better. The team is going to get better. If you want to fix the blaring issues, do it with a calm, collected, and cool mind. You’re called ‘Joe Cool’ for a reason. Live up to that name,” you giggled. “Don’t lose your cool, don’t lose your composure over shit like this. I know you feel awful about how things went today, but one bad game doesn’t define a player and doesn’t define the entire season. Things were rough, but you always, no, you will bounce back,”.

“Thank you,” he sniffled against your chest, his brain feeling like it had just been given a nice comfy king-sized bed and cloud-like blanket to sleep in for the night. You were the only person that could make him turn his brain off and he couldn’t thank you enough. “I think I just got panicked after seeing everyone’s reactions and seeing how things looked out on the field plus everything I was feeling yesterday made it worse,”.

“Of course,” you smiled as you gave his head another kiss before holding him tighter against you. “And I get it. Sometimes it feels like the walls are caving in but that’s why it’s always important to talk to someone when you feel that way. Bottling up those feelings only makes it worse,”.  

“You're 100% right, Y/N. I’m sorry about earlier,” he said while looking up into your eyes again. “That was so fucking uncalled for. And I’m sorry for raising my voice, I was a dick to you the entire night,”. 

“It’s okay,” you smiled. “You were a dick, I agree,” you began to say, earning a laugh from Joe which made your heart smile, “But you’re my dick and I know how to handle you,” you smiled, then quickly furrowed your brows. 

“Wait, that doesn’t sound right at all,” you slapped your hand against your mouth after realizing what that sounded like, another laugh coming from Joe’s mouth. 

“I know what you mean,” he smiled. “But seriously, everything I said was straight bullshit. You mean the world to me and without you, I really think I would end up in an insane asylum. You’re the single most important thing in my life and I appreciate everything you do for me. Don’t ever leave me alone if I ask you to. Like please, I can’t live without you. Chain yourself to my wrist if you need to,”.

“Noted,” you smiled. “Just don’t freak out on me like that again, okay? You worked so hard this past year to get out of that zone, break free from that dark cloud, and I don’t want to see you back there,”. 

“I promise I won’t go back there and if I ever feel like I am, you’ll be the first person I come to. I’m never going to keep you out of the bubble again,” he said as he pressed a kiss to your chest. “I love you,” he said with another kiss to your chest.

“I love you too,” you smiled down at him. “I love you like a lot a lot,” you giggled, echoing what he said to you after his wrist surgery. 

“You know, sweet talking and hugs do make everything better,” he laughed as he looked up at you with his child-like smile you loved to see. 

“Oh, I know,” you winked. “But you still feel pretty stiff right now. Are you sure you’re 100% okay?”. 

“I think it’s just all the tension that I didn’t get to release out on the field. And I guess everything that happened after made it worse,” he grimaced. 

“Ah, that makes sense,” you nod, trying to think of a way to help him get his tension out because you knew if he didn’t, he’d be whiny all night about it. “How about some hot, post-loss sex to make you feel better?” you wiggled your eyebrows and asked. 

Joe’s eyes jumped up to meet yours as he was a bit taken aback by your straightforwardness. “For real?” he asked as he got up from your chest. 

“Mhm, the perfect way to get the tension and aggression out,” you said while licking your lips and giving him a sultry smile. 

“I love you, so fucking much,” he growled in your ears before shooting up from the couch, snaking his arms under you, lifting you up, and leading you up to the bedroom bridal style.

“At least the wrist seems to be just fine,” you giggled as he quickly ran up the stairs with you. 

Not even 5 minutes later, you two were mostly naked, on the bed, and attached to each other’s lips as if you had never kissed each other before. His lips moved against yours hungrily, signaling that he was feeling that way tonight and that you should brace yourself for what was to come.

You felt him pull away from your lips and start pressing wet, sloppy kisses down your body. “I thought we were getting right to it?” you asked him as you felt his gentle lips on your belly. 

“Mmm, I gotta make it up to you first, then we can get to it,” he smiled up at you. 

“But I said I-,”.

“Nope. I have to make you feel good first, you deserve it,” he winked before he continued to kiss down your body. You felt him attach his lips to the skin of your inner thigh, rhythmically sucking and biting which would surely leave a mark while his hands crept up to the waistband of your lace panties. He then moved his lips to press a kiss to your clothed core before pulling your underwear down, tossing it to the side, and then flashing you a devilish grin since he saw how you were squirming around on the bed because of the undeniable ache between your thighs. 

The next few minutes passed by like a blur and the next thing you knew, Joe’s head was buried deep in between your thighs and your back was arching off the bed. “Joe,” you moaned as you felt him push you back down, the expert swirl of his tongue sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. “J- Joe,” you whispered, your head falling to the side as your eyes fluttered shut. 

Joe couldn’t help but smile into you as he continued to eat you out like a starved man, the beautiful sounds coming from your mouth making his heart happy but also, his dick.

“Mmm, fuck..,” you whimpered as you gripped the silk sheets, tossing your leg over his shoulder and lightly gliding your foot along his muscular back. The sudden touch made Joe groan into your core which sent vibrations throughout your body, your heated touch feeling like fire against his cold frame.  

He continued to lap at your drenched folds, all while his hands were tightly gripping your hips and massaging your plush skin. “You’re so fucking good at this,” you whispered with another loud moan following after as you felt his perfect ski-slope nose rubbing against your aching clit.

You placed a hand into his hair, softly pulling on the strands as you pushed him closer to your core and yet another moan came from your mouth. Joe lifted his head out from in between your thighs and looked up at you, “You’re extra vocal tonight,” he smirked, his lips and chin coated with your wetness. 

“Shut up,” you whined before you pushed his head back down, a smile appearing on your lips when you felt him attach his lips to your bundle of nerves and flick your clit with his warm tongue. You felt yourself fading away, getting lost in the sensual supernova that was happening down below.

“...Oh my god,” you whined a few seconds later, feeling him thrust a finger into your core which pushed you closer to your orgasm even faster than before. “Don’t stop,” you said while pulling on his hair, your leg lightly wrapping around the back of his neck. 

You felt him move his other hand down, his thumb resting on your clit as he rubbed slow circles around the bundle of nerves–this movement made you see stars. The combination of his thumb rubbing your clit, his finger thrusting in and out of your slick core, and his mouth going unhinged was making the imaginary band in your stomach tighten harder than it ever had before. 

“I’m close,” you whimpered, your hips gently bucking at the jolt of pleasure moving through your body. “I’m..s- so…c- close,” you whimpered, this time a little louder because his thumb started moving faster around your clit. You then feel him add another finger into your core, your hips grinding against the bed as you search for any form of relief, but the only thing that could relieve you was taking his sweet time. 

“Baby, please,” you begged, your eyes fluttering shut as your back arched off the bed again, his fingers rapidly thrusting in and out of your core while you felt a more extreme feeling begging to be released from inside of you. “Oh, fuck,” you moaned, the feeling about to break through in just a few seconds.

Joe curled his fingers inside of your core and moved his mouth back up to your clit, roughly attaching his mouth to the bud and sucking you in a way that he knew drove you crazy. And then just a few seconds later you dropped back down to the bed as you felt yourself tip over the edge, his name falling from your lips like some seductive chant while you came undone. “Joe!” you screamed, tightly closing your eyes and feeling your entire body shake with the force of your orgasm. 

Joe looked up through his eyelashes, watching you restlessly move around and hearing breathy moans leaving your beautiful mouth as he lapped at the juices of your intense–still going–orgasm. He was slowly getting more and more worked up as he watched you come apart, knowing he was the only man who had ever seen you this vulnerable and raw and was the only man who was going to see this. 

A minute later you open your eyes, your chest heaving as you recover from the intense high that washed over you, “Holy fuck,” you panted as you saw Joe smiling at you, his lips and chin completely covered in your release, his face showing that he somehow enjoyed this just as much as you did. 

“Did I just-,” you asked, feeling the soaked sheets below you, as you caught your breath. Your eyebrows shoot up in amusement as you watch Joe wipe his chin with his fingers before using his tongue to lick them clean. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “You did,”. 

“Oh my god,” you said, hiding your face with your hands out of embarrassment. 

Joe let out a throaty laugh before kneeling on the bed again and hovering over you, then moving your hands off of your face, “Why are you hiding,” he smiled.

“Because I just…,” you said while biting your lip, his bedroom eyes making you want to pounce on him right that second even though you also wanted to run and hide for some reason.

“What?” he said while trying to hold back his cocky smile. “Squirted?” he asked while moving your hair out of your face.

“You don’t have to say it like that…,” you said while hiding your face again. 

After all this time, you still felt shy around him. He’d seen your most embarrassing moments, your best and your worst. He’d seen it all. The fact that you felt embarrassed about this little thing was adorable and another reminder that you were the most precious girl he had ever met. 

“Don’t feel embarrassed, babe. It’s not the first time and it’s definitely not the last time,” he softly said while leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I think it was super hot and super sexy,”. 

“Really?” you asked while peeking out at him through your fingers.

“Mhmmm. Besides, I’ve seen way worse than this. Can’t forget the time I walked in on you fingering yourself while I was away at practice,” he grinned from ear to ear, as if he was proud that he made you so worked up even when he was away from you.

“Joseph Lee,” you screamed while playfully slapping his bare chest.

“Hey, it was a great show,” he shrugged. “I can still remember the sounds,” he said while clearing his throat. “Oooh, Joe. Ohhh Joe, fuck. Joe, ah… Joey!” he moaned as he mimicked you, all while laughing because he couldn’t be serious about it. 

“You know, I don’t have to offer an outlet for you to release your tension,” you shrugged as you started to get up from the bed but felt yourself being caged in by your large boyfriend. 

“Ahem, I don’t think that’s how this works, baby,” he shook his head. “Once you put something on the table, you can’t take it off,”.

“Oh yeah?” you teased. “What if I do?”.

“You don’t wanna know,” he whispered in your ear before slamming his thick cock into your dripping entrance with no warning. 

“Joe,” you gasped, the sudden feeling of him stretching you out and filling you up so extreme and lively. 

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned as he threw his head back, his cock moving at an instantaneous pace. “That’s it…,” he said again but a little quieter while he dropped his head to the crook of your neck, the feeling of your warm walls wrapping around him so intense and special. 

“Joe, fuck,” you whimpered as you felt his cock repeatedly slam into your cervix, his body moving against yours recklessly and roughly. His thrusts quickened as he moved deeper and deeper inside you, the sounds of your breathy moans getting louder with each snap of his skilled hips. He sported a euphoric look on his once-tired face, a sign that he felt relaxed and it was all to your credit. 

The next few minutes were hot, steamy, and messy as he whispered filthy praise into your ear which matched the pure vulgarity that was happening between you two on the bed right now. His hard thrusts made it difficult for you to hold it together, your nails clawing at his tan back as you bit down on his shoulder and got lost under his touch. “You’re so good to me,” he moaned in your ear, his hand moving up and wrapping around your throat. 

“Joe,” you struggled to moan, feeling his grip around your throat becoming a little tighter as the pleasure inside of you was rapidly building.

“Ah, fuck,” he panted as he picked his head up and cupped the back of your leg, and lifted it over his shoulder; this new position opened you up even more and made it easier for him to hit all the right spots inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whimpered, the sight of his lip in between his teeth and his thick body moving against you making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“I’m close,” you moaned as you looked down, moaning again at the sight of his shaft rapidly moving in and out of your slick heat.

“Fuck, me…too,” he groaned, his pace getting rougher and rougher as sounds of your skin slapping against each other echoed throughout the room. “I love you,” he moaned loudly once he felt his cock start to twitch inside of you. 

“Joe, fuck…please, I need to come,” you whined, his grip on your leg getting tighter. 

“I know baby, I know,” he whimpered, “I’m almost there,” he added as he dropped your leg and moved his hand to the headboard, gripping it tightly as he used it as leverage to slam into you even harder. All the tension, all the aggression, it was all coming out in the most fruitful way possible. He was getting away from himself, and it was all thanks to you. 

“Ah, fuck,” you screamed, feeling yourself on the brink of pleasure, stars filling your eyes as his pace remained rough and hard. 

A few seconds later, you felt him shoot endless ropes of cum into your wet heat which were accompanied by another loud moan from him. “Fuck. Oh fuck,” he panted as he slowed his thrusts into you, making sure that his release stayed inside of you and that you reached your high.

“Joe, please,” you pleaded, needing to feel your high right this second. 

“I’ve got you,” he said while giving you a lazy smile, his hand moving down to your clit and rubbing rapid circles around the sensitive bud as he slowed his thrusts even more.  A few seconds later, you clamped down on his cock, arched your body up into him, and felt yourself let go for the second time tonight. “Oh my god,” you moaned before you felt him press gentle kisses all along your neck and eventually your face, your lips meeting in a sloppy kiss as your highs washed over you. 

A few minutes later, you were both lying against the messy sheets, your head tucked into his chest as he played with your hair and once again apologized to you for how he acted earlier tonight. 

“Joe, I promise, It’s okay,” you giggled. “You’ve made it up to me in more ways than one. The fact that I can’t walk right now is an apology enough,”. 

“Okay, I’ll stop now,” he smiled. “Thank you for everything though. This and for everything you said earlier,”. 

“No need to thank me, baby. I told you, this is my job. We’re in this together and I promise that nothing’s going to hurt you as long as you’re with me. Like I said to you back in November, I’m your protector,” you grinned. 

“That you are,” he laughed, his body feeling loose and light under you for the first time all day. 

“Thank god he feels better," you smiled to yourself. Joe was the most important thing in your life, having him relaxed, focused, and calm was all you wanted. He deserved all the happiness, success, and love in the world and you needed to make sure he knew that. Moments like this were going to happen all throughout his career, but they were controllable and you were a big reason as to why they were. He wasn't kidding when he said he needed you inside his bubble or he'd end up in the insane asylum. You were his safe haven, his place of tranquility, his calm in the storm.

“I love you more than anything, Joe. Everything's going to be alright, I promise,” you smiled up at him, then leaned in for another kiss before you felt him pull the sheets over you both. 

“I love you too, Y/N,” he smiled as he nuzzled his nose against yours and leaned in for another kiss. 

–The End–

part 2 is on the masterlist!

[stevieschrodinger]

The stone wall is chilly at Eddie's back, but he relishes the relief it offers in the stuffy hall. Every brazier is lit, a hog turning over in the massive fireplace. The queen is entertaining again, dignitaries and minor neighboring royals visiting to celebrate another successful season. Plentiful crops. Peace. All that sort of stuff.

"He's here you know, I've seen him," Chrissy sidles up to him. She's done something to the skirts of her maids outfit, twisted them up somehow to the point of being vaguely indecent. She only does it to tease the Queen; everyone in the hall knows if they lay so much as a fingertip on their Queens beloved paramour they're likely to loose an arm. A punishment no doubt delivered by sir Steven, the queens favored knight.

"Of course he's here, our royal highness wouldn't be in public without his protection."

Chrissy hums, "you going to go find him?"

Eddie shrugs, "maybe?"

"Not after another kiss?"

Eddie rolls his eyes, "it isn't like that and it wasn't...he was very gentlemanly." And he was, it was so chaste, as soft as a butterflies wing. And then Steve had left and now Eddie is...uncertain.

"Bet you wish he wasn't though," Chrissy's tone is lewd.

"Easy for you to say, we can't all be the Queens bed warmer."

"Slattern."

"Sow."

They watch the crowed absently for a while, making merry, doing no doubt irreparable damage to the wine cellar.

"You have a feeling about him though," Chrissy idles. Wheedling.

"He can always see me," Eddie admits.

"What, always?"

"Well...he knows I'm there, somehow. Like he can sense me."

She turns to him, gesturing Eddie up and down, "what, even when you're all the way invisible?"

Eddie nods, "and when I'm a bird...he can tell, somehow."

"Really?" Chrissy leans in like Eddie's just revealed the most interesting thing ever, "but you look just like every other scraggly crow-"

"Excuse you-"

"Okay, so slightly above average plumage but not...discernible. I've seen you as birds loads of times, but it's not like I could pick you out of a crowed."

"He can."

"Huh. Well can't you just...cast a spell or something to find out-"

Eddie sighs deeply, "Chris-"

She raises her hands defensively, "I know I know 'My magic only affects myself an inanimate objects,'" Chrissy recites in what is an unfortunately accurate caricature of Eddie.

They're silent again, Chrissy nudging Eddie with a lethal elbow when Steve appears on the dais, checking in with Queen Robin. He's beautiful. No helmet tonight, and he's got the fancy armor on, in deference to the event no doubt. He has to look the part as head of the Queens Guard. He's so shiny.

Eddie sighs, lovelorn and pathetic.

"If you're going to do something you better do it soon, his parents have him betrothed to some noble someones daughter."

Eddie swallows thickly, "and it would be very sensible of him to pursue that. Pretty wife will produce pretty kids and they can live on their no doubt very pretty dowry. It's a good match, both of their stations would benefit."

"Eddie...you are the kingdoms wizard, the only magic user at court...you're not nobody." Eddie shrugs. "What if I told you...what if I told you I definitely know it's not what he wants."

Eddie drags his eyes away from where Steve is standing, scanning the room like a holy beacon of protection. "And how would you know that exactly."

Chrissy shrugs a shoulder demurely, "they are best friends. They talk to each other. And then Robin talks to me."

Eddie scoffs, "if that's what you call it."

Chrissy elbows him again, "look just...talk to him, okay?" She squeezes Eddie's arm through his robe before she moves away.

"I know it's you," Steve says into the darkness, the same way he always does.

Eddie, briefly, debates remaining hidden. He likes the cool air out here on the balcony, and his seat on the wall is comfortable. He lets himself reappear, despite his misgivings. Even though he's sitting right next to where Steve is leaning, Steve doesn't startle. Steve never startles.

Everyone else does.

"Having a good night?" Eddie asks, keeping his eyes out on the view, the horizon, the stars.

The leather straps that hold Steve's shiny armor shift quietly as he shrugs. Steve's always very quiet, everything about his armor well oiled and well cared for, "not sure yet."

That peaks Eddie's attention, and he turns, "what will be the decider?"

Steve smiles, beautiful, perfect, his hair flopping over his forehead, "if I'm about to get another kiss or not."

Eddie turns away, huffing, "heard there's a wedding in the offing."

"Not if I get a better offer."

Eddie huffs again, Steve's hands are warm where they come to rest on his shoulders, warm through Eddie's woolen cloak, warm against the chill of the late evening. Eddie swallows thickly, reaching up, and Steve tangles their fingers together where they rest on Eddie's shoulder.

There's a soft kiss to Eddie's curls.

"Your parents going to cause trouble?"

"They can try. I don't know if you knew this but my best friend is the actual Queen."

Eddie doesn't want to laugh, he doesn't want to give Steve the satisfaction, but it slips out regardless. Eddie starts to turn, swinging his legs over the wall, letting Steve help him to slide the rest of the way, robes catching on the stone.

"Come here, my little blackbird."

"Actually I'm a crow-"

Steve shuts him up with a kiss.

[bluejutdae]

Perv!Roommate Jeongin | Jeongin x you

notes: I did not edit this, so there are probably mistakes and mix ups. Enjoy :)

> PervRoommate!Jeongin seems innocent enough at first. He’s a polite and kind guy, who often asks if you need help cleaning the kitchen or around the apartment. You consider yourself lucky, you’ve heard of plenty of stories in which a roommate found online turns out to be someone crazy or an asshole. Jeongin is an okay guy, though. A bit reserved and introverted, so it’s not super easy to start a friendship with him, but nothing too alarming. As soon as the first heat wave of the summer arrives, you’re both shedding clothes. He rarely wears a shirt, or if he does, it’s one of those tank tops cut at the side. You start wearing crop tops or loose light shirts and shorts, hoping to find refuge from the heat.

> PervRoommate!Jeongin who started getting obsessed with you since the first time you two met. According to him you’re too pretty for his own good. And yours. The shorter your shirts become, the bigger his obsession. Everyday he wakes up and hopes to see a sliver of skin normally covered. Once you were stretching on the couch after a long movie and your cropped shirt showed the lower edge of your bra cup; after that, he made his mission seeing your bra fully.

> PervRoommate!Jeongin feeds his obsession with you by stealing glances when you’re not looking, his eyes tracing your legs in your sleep shorts, your braless boobs, your plump lips wrapped around a spoon. It escalates quickly, and waits until you leave the house to sneak into your room with his heart running faster than ever and he rifles through your drawers, searching for a pair of your panties.

> PervRoommate!Jeongin that hides your underwear under his pillow, heart punching behind his ribcage with a mix of thrill and guild. That same night, when he’s sure you’re asleep he takes them in his hands and buries his face in them, inhaling your scent (or rather the one of your softener, but it has to do for now). His hand is inside his shorts before he even consciously decides to, his cock hard and weeping, so turned on by what he did that even the simple touch of his too dry hand has him on the edge. It doesn’t take long before he’s coming (it actually takes embarrassingly little) and he catches his spurting cum with your panties, soiling them and marking you as his.

> PervRoommate!Jeongin starts to take advantage of your living together situation to see and touch more of you. He accidentally on purpose enters the bathroom when he knows you just took a shower, hoping to catch you naked; movie nights start later than they used to, so much that you normally fall asleep on the couch near him mid-movie, and he has all the time to stare at you, imagining you’re his. He is careful, never doing more than you let him, never spooking you, but little by little he pushes your boundaries to see how much he can get away with.

> PervRoommate!Jeongin makes it a habit to steal your underwear. He waits for the moments when you’re out, sneaking into your room to take another pair. Now he feels a little bolder, leaving subtle hints of what he’s doing. Nothing too obvious, nothing that can track back to him, but enough to make you wonder if it’s all in your mind or if there’s something really happening. Despite your doubt, you don’t suspect him. He’s your sweet and reserved roommate, so innocent looking…

> PervRoommate!Jeongin finally becomes more comfortable around you, letting you hug him and becoming more touchy; often brushing your arms, your knees or your thigh under the false pretense of friendly comfort. You notice his gaze lingering on you a second too long, but you don’t give it too much importance. He’s a timid guy, he probably has little experience with girls despite his ripped body and gorgeous face, so maybe he’s curious about girls?

> PervRoommate!Jeongin, who comes back home with four bottles of soju, asking you to celebrate his promotion with him. He looks so happy you can’t refuse. One bottle turns into two, and later you’re both tipsy (you more than him, but he doesn’t let you see that), sitting on the couch talking about friends and relationships. It’s the perfect moment for him to make his move. He leans closer, pushing away a strand of hair that escaped your ponytail. The air is thick with tension and his hand -when did he put it on your thigh?- slides a little higher.

> PervRoommate!Jeongin talks with a deeper and more confident voice, complimenting you in a way you’ve never seen him do. There’s something darker in his eyes, in his words, but you don’t mind. Unwilling to make a mistake, you brush it off as friendly flirting, just something funny when you’re tipsy, but he has a different idea in his mind. He’s persistent when he leans in and whispers “you smell so good. I wonder how you taste” in your ear. His hot breath against your skin makes you shiver. You’re too surprised by the turn of events to reject him. You can’t protest even when he suggest something more, when he suggest you two help each other; he’s suggesting a friend with benefit situation, but the soju and his breath and his voice and his hand on your thigh are too much for you to say no.

> PervRoommate!Jeongin knows exactly which buttons to push, when he looks at you from under his eyelashes with an expression that is a mix of innocence and absolute raunch; you’re confused. Are you taking advantage of him? Was this your idea? He uses his sweet and innocent façade to manipulate you, playing your emotions until you’re agreeing.

> PervRoommate!Jeongin insists on sealing the deal with a kiss, and the moment your lips meet, you realize he’s far from inexperienced. His hands slide under your shirt, one grabbing your hip and the other wandering on the expanse of your stomach. Despite every doubt you can have, you melt into his touch; your resistance crumbles under his lips, that are slowly but fiercely tracing a path from your lips to your tits.

> PervRoommate!Jeongin’s obsession grows even more now that he has tasted you, not what he knows what it feels to be inside you, to make you cum on his cock, to hear you moan his name. His dark desire grows and grows, and so does his belief that you belong to him, you just don’t know. Right now, he has you exactly where he needs you to be, a little confused but sated, enough interested in his twisted version of affection that you can’t seem to escape.

> PervRoommate!Jeongin who brings you breakfast in bed, the morning after, smiling sheepishly but with rosy cheeks, confessing he never expected the night to turn like it did. And every time he touches, every time you concede, he knows he has you in his grasp and he can now do whatever he wants…

[punkshort]

Roommates | 8. forever

Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Tommy and Maria get married.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, idiots in love, alcohol and food consumption, sexual tension, flirting, a wedding!

WC: 7.6K

Series Masterlist

"Oh, goddamnit," you muttered under your breath, pausing in your rush across the hot parking lot to tug your dress out from underneath your heel. You crouched down for a moment to examine the dress to make sure it wasn't damaged before you stood back up, this time bunching all the extra material in your fist before trotting as quickly as you could to the entrance of the restaurant.

"Slow down, you ain't missin' anythin', they haven't even sat down yet," Joel said, startling you from his post on a bench next to an ashtray.

"Oh, hey," you said breathlessly, then looked him up and down. "Were you smoking?"

He shook his head and stood up, dusting off his grey dress pants in the process. "Just gettin' some air. Tryin' to cut back."

"Good for you," you said, then nodded towards the door. "Ready? I need to get out of this heat."

"After you."

You thought for sure you would be in for Maria's wrath when you hit traffic and ended up being almost fifteen minutes late for the rehearsal dinner, but mercifully, Joel was right. The group was in the reserved banquet room but hardly anyone had sat down yet. Instead, people were mingling and laughing in small groups as the waitstaff filled up waters and placed open bottles of wine across the tables.

As you scanned around and looked for a seat, your eyes landed on someone familiar and a wide smile stretched across your face.

"Mrs. Miller!"

Joel and Tommy's mother beamed when she heard your voice and quickly abandoned the people she was talking to in favor of pulling you into a hug.

"Oh, honey, how are you?"

"Good! Late, but good," you laughed when she released you from her death grip. She kept her hands firmly planted on your shoulders and gave you a once over.

"Love that dress, my goodness. Doesn't she look beautiful in this dress, Joel?" she asked mischievously. You felt your cheeks warm and you looked down at the floor while Joel just rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Mama," he replied flatly.

"You'll sit with us, right, dear?" she asked.

"Of course," you said with a nod.

"Good, I want you to meet the man I've been seeing," she replied before wrapping her thin fingers around your arm to lead you to her table, which, of course, was shared with Tommy and Maria.

James seemed nice and he got along well with both Joel and Tommy, from what you could tell. Before he retired, he worked in construction, just like their own father before he passed away, and he seemed absolutely smitten with their mom. His arm was around the back of her chair or holding her hand the entire dinner and you could tell Mrs. Miller was adoring every second of it.

"Are you still seeing that lawyer, dear?" she asked right when dessert was placed in front of you. You felt your chest tighten as you stared down at your tiramisu and you focused on the skills you learned in therapy whenever you felt this type of feeling crop up. Take a few deep breaths, collect the data, put things in perspective. Just as you were about to answer, you felt Joel's hand on your knee and he cleared his throat.

"No, Mama. Didn't work out."

He must have given her a look when your gaze was still fixed on your plate because there was an awkward silence before she spoke again.

"No matter. Plenty of fish in the sea. Maybe you'll meet someone tomorrow at the wedding."

You forced yourself to meet her eye and smiled. "Yeah, maybe," you replied weakly. Joel's fingers tensed around your knee for half a second before he slowly pulled his hand away to pick up his fork. When she began to talk softly to James, you took the opportunity to shoot Joel a grateful smile, which he returned with a wink.

"Thank you," you whispered. "I could have handled it but... thank you."

"Welcome," he replied just as quietly. "And I know you coulda, but you don't gotta do everythin' by yourself."

Joel began to eat his dessert while you sat there, immobilized. For some reason, hearing him say those words knocked you on your ass for a moment. You were always the type to take on too much and rarely ask for help, another trait that contributed to your anxiety. The only thing that pulled you out of it was Tommy's voice aimed in your general direction. He was giving instructions to the wedding venue from the restaurant so you all knew where to go after dinner to do one quick walkthrough before the big day, so you nodded along and finally picked up your own fork.

"You wanna follow my truck?" Joel asked once dinner disbanded and everyone slowly filtered into the parking lot. You shook your head and pulled your keys out of your purse.

"No, I think I know where it is. It's not far from the hotel."

He nodded and glanced over his shoulder, checking on his mother. "You get settled in okay?"

You gave him a curious look. "In the hotel? Yeah."

The wedding wasn't too far away from home but most of the wedding party elected to stay in the hotel where the reception was being held so they wouldn't have to worry about getting a ride after drinking.

He nodded again and swiped his palm over his mouth. "Which room?"

You laughed and playfully shoved his shoulder, making him grin and stumble a bit over the asphalt. "What?" he asked innocently, but he didn't sell it. You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop smiling as you unlocked your car and opened your door, tossing your purse onto the passenger seat. As you were about to bunch up your dress and get into the car, Joel cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow, indicating he was still waiting for an answer.

"409," you said with a sigh. His tongue clicked against his teeth and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"418. Right across the hall."

"What a coincidence." Propping one arm on your hip and the other on the roof of your car, you tapped your fingers on the hard plastic, waiting for him to say something else. His eyes drifted up and down your body before meeting your gaze once again, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. People streamed past you to their cars, heels clicking on the blacktop and soft chuckles floating in the air, but you kept your eyes pinned on each other, silently daring the other to say something more.

Against all odds, or maybe it was always inevitable, your relationship managed to mostly repair itself over the past few weeks. It was nice to have Joel back in your life again in any capacity he was willing to offer, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore your feelings for him. The morning you woke up on Tommy and Maria's couch with Joel's arms wrapped around you, holding you against his broad chest with his face buried in your hair felt like a literal wake up call. As you laid there listening to his deep, steady breaths, you tried to think back to a time when you fell asleep in his arms without sex preceding it, but you came up empty.

It felt really fucking nice, so you had closed your eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but it was impossible. You felt like yourself again. You spent months in therapy wondering where that feeling went when all along the answer was right there.

"See you at the country club," he finally said before tearing himself away and forcing his feet to move in the direction of his truck.

"Yep," you said softly, watching him longingly as he made his way through the cars until he disappeared from view. You took a deep breath and looked around the parking lot when your gaze unexpectedly met the deep brown eyes of Mrs. Miller, watching you from the passenger seat of James's SUV.

You felt something happen in that moment. Something unspoken passed between you through the glass and you had never felt more seen. Woman to woman, she held your gaze and you swallowed the lump in your throat, knowing your expression was betraying you by that point, but what could you do?

James pulled out of the parking spot and you blinked, snapping yourself out of your stupor. When the car passed, you could see the knowing look in her eye, one that told you you weren't fooling anyone, and then they were gone.

The event coordinator, Michelle, was a tiny little thing who also happened to be very bossy. She probably did at least one wedding a weekend the entire summer for god knows how many years, so she knew her shit, but considering the entire wedding party had just come from dinner with copious amounts of alcohol, her patience was wearing thin. She was barking orders at the first bridesmaid and groomsman at the front of the line while the four of you stood in the back snickering to yourselves.

"Goddamn, she ain't messin' around," Tommy said quietly with a grin.

"A woman after Maria's heart," you replied over your shoulder.

"I've never felt more calm in my life," Maria chuckled softly. "There's no way this isn't going off without a hitch."

On the actual day, it would just be you and Joel at the end of the line, but Tommy and Maria wanted to observe during the rehearsal.

Michelle was making her way down the rows of bridesmaids and groomsmen, instructing each set how to stand, where their hands should be, and what their cue was to start walking.

"Slow!" she barked after a pair began walking. You saw the bridesmaid's shoulders flinch and you had to hide your grin by biting your lip and looking down at your feet.

When she got to you and Joel, you straightened up. Suddenly it felt like you were back in high school and the vice principal was about to chew you out for skipping class.

"Closer together, please," she told you, waving her perfectly manicured, blood red fingertips at the two of you. Immediately, you stepped to the side and apparently so did Joel because you bumped into each other.

"Okay, not that close," she scolded. You had to hold yourself back from kicking a foot at Maria when you heard her snickering.

Michelle took you by the shoulders and placed you exactly where she wanted, then did the same to Joel, leaving just a few inches between you. You could feel his fingers impatiently twitching at his side and you got the feeling Michelle made him nervous, too.

"Okay, crook your elbow, like this," she told him, yanking his arm up and bending it before she flattened his palm against his stomach. "Great. Don't move. Maid of honor, loop your arm through, place your fingers here, hold your bouquet at your bellybutton. Both of you, straighten your spines and begin a slow walk once they make it to the first set of chairs. Any questions?"

You both quickly shook your heads and you looped your arm through Joel's, just as she instructed, and pretended to hold a bouquet at your waist with your other hand.

When you saw your cue, you both began to walk, praying you were going slowly enough. You heard her voice begin talking to Tommy and Maria, asking if they had any questions or if anything was missed, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fuck, she's scary."

You giggled and glanced up at him. He was staring straight ahead but he had a little amused smirk tugging across his face and you could see that damn dimple creasing his cheek. You tried not to think about how close you were to him, how long it had been since that night on the couch, or how comfortable it felt to touch him again, and instead focused on where you were supposed to stand once you got to the altar.

Joel dropped his arm and you went your separate ways, taking your places at the front of the bridal party, and waited for the next instructions. Tommy and Maria came down the aisle talking with Michelle and motioning towards the chairs while you all waited. You let your gaze drift over to the men and you caught Joel already looking your way. You gave him a little smile and you watched him swallow before taking a deep breath, dragging his eyes away from you.

Michelle's commanding voice cut through the air and you snapped your head back in her direction. She was explaining the bullet points of the ceremony to everybody while she pushed Tommy and Maria up on the altar between you and Joel.

"Next, the officiant will say you may kiss the bride, you two will kiss-"

Tommy took that moment to wrap his arm around Maria's waist and bend her backwards before planting a wet, sloppy kiss on her lips, causing the entire wedding party to break into fits of whooping and laughter. Michelle clapped her hands sharply and the noise instantly ceased. Tommy picked Maria back up, who was pressing her palms against her cheeks with a huge smile, and he shrugged.

"Sorry, thought we were rehearsin'."

She cleared her throat and raised a thin eyebrow at him before she continued, explaining the music would start and Tommy was to lead Maria down the aisle, which he did without goofing around.

"You two," she said, motioning towards you and Joel. You both stepped forward and stood where Tommy and Maria were just standing. "Same as before, hold onto his arm, keep your bouquet at your bellybutton, and don't begin walking until the bride and groom walk down the entire aisle, got it?"

You both nodded stiffly and, once Tommy and Maria reached the end, you started to walk. Michelle began to instruct the next couple and Joel picked up the pace a little once he knew she wasn't looking.

"You're gonna get us in trouble," you teased.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

You gasped and gave him a little hip check and then you heard Michelle calling after you to stop fooling around.

Joel chuckled as you felt your face flush with an embarrassing smile. A few months prior, a comment like that might have sent you spiraling into a pit of self despair just for simply being reminded of the camping trip, but that day you managed to let it roll off your shoulders.

You joined Tommy and Maria and watched as the rest of the bridal party practiced leaving the altar. Joel casually stretched his arm behind you, leaning on a railing so he could say something to Tommy behind you and Maria, but when they finished up and Tommy began talking with his groomsmen, Joel kept his arm on the railing. The fabric from his button down was brushing ever so slightly against the skin of your back, exposed by your dress. Your jaw was tight from the effort it took to not react when his thumb skimmed over your spine, sending tingles across your skin.

"Did I tell you this dress looks nice on you?"

His voice was warm and deep against your ear and it took everything you had not to lean back into his shoulder, it was so hypnotizing.

"Your mom kind of did that for you," you reminded him quietly, keeping your eyes on the rest of the wedding party as they began to cluster around Tommy and Maria, laughing at some story Tommy was telling them about his tux fitting.

"Well, it does. This's your color," he said lowly and you could practically feel his eyes dragging over your soft curves being hugged by the delicate material.

"Thank you," you replied a little breathier than you would have liked. You tilted your chin to risk a glance at him, finding yourself immediately getting lost in his eyes. You searched his face, trying to read him, trying to figure out what he was thinking but you kept getting hung up on all the little details about him that you loved. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the patchiness in his beard, the little scar across the bridge of his nose.

Fuck, he was perfect. How did you ever let yourself take it for granted?

"What're you thinkin' 'bout?" he asked softly. Apparently he had been doing the same thing to you: trying to read your expression, see inside your head.

You swallowed and gave your head a little shake.

"How fucking stupid I was."

His eyebrows twitched up in surprise, his lips parted and you were certain he was about to say or ask something else when Tommy stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled so loud, the whole wedding party groaned and covered their ears.

"C'mon, let's all have one more drink back in our room, place is fuckin' huge," he announced, causing a ripple of laughter amongst the small group.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

Maria and another bridesmaid hooked their arms through yours, pulling you away from Joel and through the venue towards the parking lot, laughing and babbling suggestions for their hair the following day. You glanced once over your shoulder and caught his eye, clocking the tortured look he gave you. Even from a distance you could see the longing, the curiosity to learn what you meant, and the absolute frustration at having the opportunity ripped away.

Joel tapped lightly on your door the next morning but figured out pretty quickly he was too late. You had already left with the other bridesmaids and Maria to get ready at the country club, leaving Tommy and the groomsmen to get ready in the honeymoon suite at the hotel.

He tried to get you alone for just five fucking minutes the night before but the group was too small and it was impossible to tear you away without being obvious. He could tell you wanted to talk, too. He saw it in the way he caught your eye more than once in that measly little hour spent in Tommy's hotel room. Then he got caught in a painful conversation with another groomsman about golf and suddenly, you were nowhere to be found.

He excused himself and hurried back to his room, hoping to catch up with you, but it was no use. He hovered around your door, fingers carding anxiously through his hair, wondering if he should knock, debating over and over in his mind whether or not invading your space would scare you off until he heard an elevator chime and the doors slide open and he slipped into his room in a panic.

He should have just fucking knocked.

The next time he would see you would be at the ceremony. He wouldn't be able to talk to you til the reception, well after pictures and dinner and speeches were done.

It was going to be a very long day.

You up? We got breakfast here, get your ass going

Joel rolled his eyes as he continued to gather his things after his shower, wishing more than anything that you had just texted him instead of Tommy.

Be there in 10

He draped his tux over his shoulder, two fingers hooked through the hanger, and carried a small bag of toiletries in his other hand as he shuffled out the door, stealing one last glance at your room as he went.

He rode the elevator up to the top floor and stepped out, already hearing the men laughing and glasses clinking with the steady thumping of a deep bass line through the walls. Knowing he would have to be loud for them to hear, he made a fist and pounded on the wood, rattling the door in its frame. It swung open and Nick, the groomsman who monopolized his time last night talking about fucking golf, stood on the other side.

"Joel, mornin'. Come on in, got some catchin' up to do. We're already two drinks deep." Nick stepped aside with a friendly smile and allowed Joel to enter.

"Two drinks? Shit, might wanna slow down, gonna be a long fuckin' day at that rate."

Nick laughed and let the heavy door close, then patted him on the shoulder as he headed over to the little kitchen area. "We all put our shit in the spare room. Go ahead and I'll get you somethin' to drink. Got some food here, too."

"Alright," Joel replied, his eyes drifting around the living room as he walked towards the bedrooms. Tommy caught his eye and raised both arms in the air.

"I'm gettin' married!" he shouted excitedly. Joel grinned and kept walking.

He would have to be patient. As much as he couldn't get you off his mind, he had to be present for his brother. This was going to be one of the happiest days of his life and Joel would be damned if he messed that up for him.

Nick slid a glass of champagne in Joel's hand after he emerged from the spare room and he quirked an eyebrow.

"Pacin' ourselves," Nick explained with a shrug.

Joel nodded and took a sip, the flute looking comically small in his grip, before setting it down and forcing himself to join in the festivities. And he was doing a pretty good job at pushing you from his mind for once until a few hours later. All the men had gotten dressed and a hairdresser Maria hired was going around fixing loose pieces of hair on everyone when Tommy's phone pinged. He picked it up and a huge smile spread across his face.

"It's Maria."

He turned the screen around to show a picture she took. It was of the room where the girls were getting ready, a candid shot of bridesmaids in the background getting their makeup done or sipping on champagne. The main focus of the picture was Maria's left hand extended in front of her, her engagement ring sparkling in the light, but Joel hardly noticed the diamond when you were in the corner of the shot talking to another bridesmaid with a dazzling smile that always made him weak in the knees. You looked so fucking beautiful and you didn't even have your makeup done yet.

He wasn't the only one who noticed you, unfortunately.

"Hey, what's the deal with Maria's maid of honor?" Nick asked Tommy. "She's pretty and seems like fun."

If Joel had even a moment to think, he might have caught the way Tommy immediately looked in his direction, conflicted and unsure what to say. But it didn't matter because Joel set Nick straight instead.

"She's unavailable."

Nick swiveled to look at Joel. "Oh, damn. Figured as much."

Joel nodded and cleared his throat, trying to avoid the very obvious look his brother was giving him, and took a long sip of whiskey.

Once Nick wandered away, Tommy instantly sidled up to Joel and he knew he was in for it.

"Unavailable?" he repeated under his breath. "Got somethin' you wanna share?"

Joel shrugged, trying to look casual but he knew Tommy saw right through him. "It's the truth. She ain't interested in seein' anyone."

"Hm," Tommy said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, loving the way his brother was squirming under his questioning. "How'd you find that out?"

"She told me."

"Told you."

"Yep."

"And under what circumstances did she... tell you?"

Joel frowned and finally dragged his gaze to meet Tommy's. "We're just friends now."

"Didn't exactly answer my question."

Joel scoffed. "Don't you got shit to worry 'bout, like vows or somethin'?"

Tommy shook his head. "Nah, got that all locked down. Would much rather hear 'bout your friend."

He groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Ain't nothin' to tell, I promise. Nothin's goin' on."

"Well, weddings are romantic. Drinkin'... dancin'... beautiful venue... dim lights. Might stir up some old feelin's."

Joel nodded and looked at his watch with a sigh. "Limo'll be here soon."

Tommy bit his cheek, wishing Joel would open up a bit more, but decided not to push it.

"Oughta wrangle everyone up. Almost show time."

"They're here!" a bridesmaid squealed when she saw the limo pull up to the front doors and the men slowly piling out, one by one.

"Well, guess he didn't get cold feet," Maria joked next to you as she fumbled with her earrings, but judging by the way her fingers shook, she was nervous.

You stood up to fuss with her hair, making sure the flowers that were carefully weaved in were still firmly in place.

"You look absolutely stunning," you told her warmly with a smile through the mirror. She took a deep breath and finally dropped her hands in her lap.

"Thank you. For everything. I know you got your own shit going on -"

"Nuh-uh, none of that. Today's not about me. It's about you and Tommy and I'm delighted you chose me to stand next to you today."

She smiled and reached behind her to squeeze your hand, which was curled around her shoulder. Tears welled up in her eyes and she nodded. Just one quick, definitive nod signaling the topic was closed, then stood up and brushed her hands over her dress.

"Well, let's go do this," she said, her voice wavering just a bit. The rest of the girls heard and cheered excitedly before scurrying around to check final touches on their makeup before filing out the door, where Michelle stood waiting.

"Ladies, the groomsmen just got in position and the groom is heading to the altar now. Maria, your father is waiting for you in the office. We'll hide you in there in case there's any late arrivals that might sneak a peek."

Once you all filed down to the foyer, you hung back to give Maria one last hug before she was whisked away into a small office where her father stood waiting with misty eyes.

When the door closed behind her, you gripped your pink and purple bouquet in one hand and gathered up the skirt of your peachy dress in the other and lightly jogged to catch up with the rest of the bridal party. When you turned the corner, everyone was finding their partner and whispering excitedly amongst themselves while Michelle walked around, making small adjustments to posture and checking everyone's teeth.

Joel turned around when he heard your heels clicking on the tile floor and couldn't stop his smile from spreading when he laid eyes on you.

"Sorry, just wanted to give her a quick hug," you said to him quietly as you took your place by his side. You were busy fixing your dress and batting pieces of hair out of your face so you didn't notice the way he was gazing down at you, temporarily spellbound.

"No problem," he finally managed to say, then caught Michelle making her way towards him so he quickly jut out his elbow for you to loop your hand through. After Michelle adjusted the placement of your bouquet and moved on, you finally glanced over, taking him in for the first time. He looked so fucking good, it was criminal. All the groomsmen were wearing the same tux, and all of them hand white button downs open at the collar with no tie, but Joel looked the best, by far.

Your mouth opened to tell him so, but at the last second you chickened out.

"Did you guys have a good morning?" you asked instead.

His eyes roamed leisurely over your face and the longer he took to answer, the faster your heart raced under his scrutiny.

"Yeah, it was alright," he finally said. Somewhere in the back of your mind you heard music begin to play and the first pair of the bridal party began to walk. "Wanted to catch you before you left this mornin' but you must've got an early start."

"Oh?"

He nodded slowly, eyes still trailing over you, admiring how beautiful you looked. He knew he was being obvious but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Did you need something?" you asked, swallowing the lump in your throat. You knew you should have been paying attention, that you would miss your cue if you didn't, but you couldn't look away from his heated gaze.

"No, just..." he trailed off and took a deep breath, eyes momentarily fluttering closed before he reopened them. "You look really pretty."

Blood rushed to your cheeks and you smiled.

"T-thank you, you-"

"Best man, maid of honor, let's go!" Michelle whispered angrily, snapping you both out of your daze. Forcing a smile on your faces, you waited for your cue and began to walk up the aisle.

Aside from Maria, you two were the last to enter. The altar looked stunning. Not a single flower was out of place. The white rose petals the flower girl had scattered were evenly distributed along the deep red carpet that was laid over the grass to mark your way. You passed by rows and rows of friends and family, their faces lit up with excitement while the photographers bounced around in your peripheral vision, snapping pictures as you went.

When you reached the end of the aisle, Joel dropped your arm and you stepped apart, each taking your rightful place, just as you practiced.

The music changed and the doors opened, finally revealing Maria and her father. You glanced over at Tommy so you could see his reaction but your gaze locked with Joel, instead. His face softened and he shot you a secretive wink before dragging his attention to the bride.

The ceremony was beautiful. The sun was shining but it wasn't too hot. Both of them remembered the vows they wrote, bringing out the occasional laugh or tear from the guests. It made your heart swell to see your best friend so unbelievably happy. And when Tommy dipped Maria backwards for a dramatic first kiss, even Michelle cracked a smile from her place in the back.

After the ceremony, the wedding party was whisked away to take pictures while the guests enjoyed a cocktail hour back at the hotel ballroom. If you weren't in the pictures, you spent most of your time with the rest of the bridesmaids and occasionally stealing glances in Joel's direction when he wasn't looking. Shit, you hadn't even drank anything since you had a mimosa earlier that morning and you still couldn't keep your mind off him.

It didn't help matters when, at one point, the photographer asked for a picture of just you and Joel. Under the warmth from the sun, he had began to sweat a little. You could see it from the way the exposed patch of chest glistened and when you got closer to pose for the picture, his natural scent mixed with the hotel soap he must have used that morning filled your nostrils, making it difficult to focus.

"You got your speech all ready?" he asked once the photographer moved on.

"I think so. You?"

He nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"We should probably do a couple shots first, loosen up," you joked, nervously twisting your hands together in front of you.

His face lit up and he unbuttoned his jacket. "Here," he said, handing you a small flask with his name engraved on it. "Gift from Tommy."

"Nice. All I got was this necklace," you said sarcastically with a laugh and a point to your neck before unscrewing the flask and taking a sip. The whiskey burned on the way down and you felt the warmth bloom in your stomach, your muscles instantly relaxing.

"Thank you," you told him, handing him the flask. His fingers brushed against yours briefly, sending sparks down your spine, and you quickly tugged your hand back, averting your gaze. "Oh, looks like your mom's up next. Might wanna head over."

He sighed and readjusted his jacket after pocketing the flask. "Duty calls, I reckon."

You nodded and pursed your lips, rocking back and forth on your heels. Why were you acting so weird? It was just Joel. But as you watched him stroll across the perfectly manicured lawn, you knew why.

After dinner and all the festivities were over, you were going to find the courage to finally tell him how you felt.

And you couldn't be more nervous.

It felt like dinner took forever. Michelle drilled into your head that your speeches would come after dinner and before the cake cutting, so naturally the entire time you were eating, you were a nervous wreck. Fortunately you were too nervous to even drink anything else past the small sip you had from Joel's flask, your stomach twisting in knots the longer it took for each table to get served. Tommy and Maria disappeared after they ate to greet each table and be back in their seats by the time dinner was finished, so you sat picking at your food with your heart hammering in your chest, scrolling the notes app on your phone, reviewing your speech.

"Nervous?"

You jumped at the sound of Joel's voice, who had somehow slid over to take Maria's chair without you noticing.

"That obvious?"

He shrugged and leaned back, surveying the ballroom.

"Your foot's tappin' so fast it's shakin' the damn table."

You giggled and dropped your face into your hands with a groan. He chuckled and took a sip from his glass of champagne, then paused when his eyes landed on an older woman at a nearby table looking in your direction.

"Who's that sittin' next to Maria's folks?"

You popped your head up and looked, then your face broke out with a wide grin. "That's my mom," you told him without taking your eyes off her, giving her a little wave. Joel looked back and forth between the two of you.

"You look alike, shoulda guessed."

"You think?" you asked, then your smile slipped when your mom pointed in Joel's direction and gave you a face before fanning herself with her open hand. You clenched your teeth and slashed your fingers in front of your throat, trying to tell her to knock it off, but she just laughed.

"Pretend you didn't see that."

"See what?" he replied innocently before giving your mom a charming smile and wave.

"Joel!" you exclaimed, smacking him in the leg. "Stop flirting with my mother!"

He threw his head back and laughed at that, his shoulders bobbing up and down and his hand clutching his stomach and just seeing him so happy and carefree made you smile and laugh, as well. Once he regained his composure he straightened up in his chair, his cheeks tinted pink and his eyes bright as he looked at you.

"Don't worry, baby, don't wanna make you jealous."

Your jaw dropped in shock and your brow furrowed but your heart fluttered excitedly in your chest at the term baby coming from his lips again. Before you even had a chance to formulate a response, he cleared his throat. "I'm just kiddin'. Tryin' to take your mind off the speech. Did it work?"

Did it work? This man had you spinning around in circles and he didn't even see it.

"Yes," you mumbled, mind still reeling. Baby, baby, baby.

"Good, 'cause we're up," he said, his eyes drifting over your shoulder, spotting the newlyweds heading your way. He stood and vacated the chair so Maria could sit back down.

You took a deep, shaky breath when the DJ cut the music and made the announcement that the speeches were to begin, and the whole ballroom fell silent, turning in their chairs to get a better look at the long table where you sat up front.

Joel went first, which initially you were relieved, but then about thirty seconds into his speech you realized you wish you could have just gone and gotten it over with because you could hardly focus on anything he was even saying. You faintly remembered him talking about growing up with Tommy and telling some embarrassing story that made everybody laugh but then ended up getting the guests teary eyed when he turned it around at the end, using the story as a sweet example of how Joel always looked out for him and he was now passing that torch onto Maria.

After a polite round of applause, Joel sat down and all eyes turned to you. The DJ told everybody your name, announcing you were the maid of honor, before walking over to hand you the microphone. You cleared your throat before standing on shaky legs and forcing a nervous smile for the room.

"Good evening," you began, then repeated your name. "I have not only the pleasure of being Maria's maid of honor, but also her best friend."

You stole a glance in her direction and you felt your nerves begin to subside when you saw the look in her eye and the warm smile stretched across her face.

With a deep breath, you confidently launched into your speech. You began by telling the guests how you met, how you bonded over one particularly painful meeting at work and afterwards got sushi together for lunch. Ordering the same dish by happenstance cemented your relationship and from then on you saw each other through countless breakups, illnesses, birthdays and even some vacations. After telling the room a silly story about a road trip the two of you took one year with no destination or goal in mind other than to have fun and live in the moment with the promise to stay close forever, you paused and looked down at Maria next to you.

"And then she met Tommy," you said, eyes drifting in his direction. "I knew from the day she came home and told me about him that he was different."

Tommy smiled and wrapped an arm around Maria's shoulders.

"I don't think I've ever seen two people more perfect for one another," you continued, turning your attention back to the room. "At the center of everything, they're best friends. They accept each other, faults and all." Tears began to well up in your eyes, trying not to draw comparisons to your own life as you pushed through. "And that's how I knew early on we would end up here today."

You looked back over at the newlyweds, Maria leaning into Tommy's shoulder, pure happiness radiating from them both as they gazed at one another.

Then you locked eyes with Joel and your throat went dry.

He was looking at you, hanging on your every word, and the expression on his face told you he must have been thinking the same thing as you. Unable to tear yourself away from the emotion behind his eyes, you continued your speech for the room, but it felt like you were talking directly to him.

"When two people love each other fiercely, when they're willing to do whatever it takes to make things work, when they learn to open their hearts and make sacrifices for the sake of that other person, their partner, their love... I believe that is what makes a relationship last." You dragged your eyes away from Joel and looked at Tommy and Maria once again. "And you've both proven time and time again you're more than capable of doing that for one another."

Maria swiped a tear from the corner of her eye and you picked up your glass, watching as the rest of the room did the same.

"I'd like to wrap up with this quote I found online, so I can't take credit," you said with a ripple of soft laughter echoing through the ballroom. "'Love is a friendship that has caught fire. So may your love burn bright for years to come'. Here's to my best friend and her new best friend."

After the room collectively toasted to the new couple and rewarded you with a round of applause, you slumped down in your seat with a sigh of relief. Maria tugged your shoulders, pulling you in for a hug that squeezed all the air from your lungs, whispering her thanks in your ear, then Tommy followed up with the same and a kiss on your cheek.

You tossed back the rest of your champagne and immediately looked around for a server to ask for more. Now that your nerves were finally at ease, you wanted to enjoy the rest of the party and relax, temporarily pushing the conversation you planned to have with Joel from your mind.

Tommy and Maria stood to go cut the cake, diverting the guests's attention so you could slip away to the bar with your empty glass. As you were leaning up against the bar, waiting for the bartender to refill your glass, you felt a familiar presence sidle up next to you. When Joel brushed his palm against your lower back, you had to suppress the shiver that tried to make it's way down your spine.

"Can I get one of those?" he asked the bartender when she returned with your drink. She nodded and placed a cocktail napkin on the bar before disappearing.

Joel's shoulder nudged against yours and he tilted his face towards you. "Nice speech."

You smiled and continued to stare down at the tiny bubbles rising and popping in your drink. "Thanks. Yours was good, too."

"Here you go," the bartender said, placing an identical glass next to yours. Joel nodded his thanks and lifted it up, raising it between your bodies for a toast. You obliged, gently clinking your flutes together before taking a small sip and turning around to look out over the ballroom. Across the way, Tommy and Maria were posing with their cake while photographers and guests took pictures.

"I liked that quote. 'Bout friendship that turns to love," he said nonchalantly. You bit your lower lip and tried to tamp down the rise of emotion in your chest, your nerves in desperate need of some rest.

"Yeah, I thought it was fitting."

Your eyes flickered to his, those deep brown eyes you'd had the pleasure of seeing in every shade, then to his mouth, his soft looking lips so inviting, you wondered what they tasted like in that very moment. Probably champagne, but you were willing to bet you would get a hint of chocolate from the wedding favors that were placed at every seat because you knew him well enough to know he couldn't resist sweets.

"You ever have that?" he asked, and you thought you could hear a little tremor to his voice. "Friendship that turns into love?"

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest as you took a shaky sip from your champagne, eyes now pinned on the newlyweds but you were hardly absorbing a thing that was happening. Your mind was racing with the implication behind his loaded question and you could hardly remember your own name.

Taking a deep breath, you answered him.

"Once," you said softly, then slowly turned your head, gazing up at his side profile while he appeared to be taking in the party, but you could see his pulse thrumming fast in his neck, his tanned skin twitching with every nervous beat of his heart. "You?"

He hummed and finally tilted his head in your direction, eyes drifting up and down your face, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Yeah. Once."

You felt yourself practically melt under his gaze, your muscles going lax, your body being pulled like a magnet towards him. Was it too late? Did you miss your chance? Or was it possible something was still there, something that could be salvaged? Joel murmured your name, his hand rising from his side, and you had a feeling you were about to get your answer when a familiar voice shattered the moment.

"Joel! C'mon, take pictures with my phone while I dance with your brother. James can't see in this lighting, he won't get it right."

As Mrs. Miller got closer, she noticed you next to him for the first time and it was impossible to miss the look of regret on her face when she realized she interrupted your conversation.

"Oh, nevermind, I'll find someone else," she said, clutching her phone to her chest, eyes sliding back and forth between you both. You cleared your throat and stepped away with a smile.

"No, you go on. I have to find my mom and say hi."

Before he had a chance to stop you, you slipped away, weaving through the crowd until you disappeared from view.

"I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to intrude."

Joel shrugged and tossed back the rest of his champagne. "It's alright, Ma. Go dance with Tommy, I got it," he said, holding a hand out for her phone. Hesitantly, she placed it in his palm, then reassuringly rubbed her hand up and down his arm.

"Will you save me a dance for later?"

Joel gave her a pained smile and nodded. "'Course, Mama."

She pressed her lips into a thin line, easily picking up on her eldest son's dismay once you left. Right when they were about to reach the dance floor, she stopped and cupped Joel's face with both hands, looking up at him with an adoring smile.

"It's all gonna work out, honey. I promise."

Joel almost feigned confusion, almost put up his walls so to protect his feelings. But in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he sighed and nodded.

"I hope so."

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[moodymisty]

Based off this post sorry I fucking HAD to

Warnings: Vaguely NSFW, Sicarius walking in on you and Guilliman

Why must all his men break protocol? Sicarius wonders if the Codex is merely kindling to them, if they are so willing to break the sacred rules so easily.

Titus, Uriel, and now new men of second company have decided to be a pain. He only hopes reporting this to Guilliman himself will prove to be enough of a threat to his men and whip them all back into shape; Both current and future troublemakers.

In his frustrations, so wrapped up in his own mind on how to deal with this consistent issue, he fails to do a proper knock at Guilliman’s door. Instead he simply walks in, slamming the controls with more force than needed.

Within moments he freezes, as a musky, heavy smell hits his nose and the full noises of the room echo in his ears without the soundproofing in the way.

“Roboute!”

You squeal, hands wrapped tight in the short crop of Guilliman’s thin blonde hair. Most of his head and face are obscured by your skirt- and thighs, which wrap around his head like a vice. The holotable is on but unused, symbols placed randomly from your accidental touches as you sit on the edge.

Sicarius stands frozen, unable to will his body to move as his ears are suddenly filled with the sounds of you and his primarch’s moans- accompanied by then odd, wet sounds of whatever his mouth was doing. What is only two seconds is plenty to him, given how fast his mind moves in comparison to a baseline.

He… was aware of all the basics of sex and reproduction, but the intricacies of pleasure beyond that were spotty at best. He had no need to delve into such useless things, unlike some other, less proper Astartes.

He was also unaware you could do such things with your mouth.

How beneath a primarch’s holy stature; Guilliman’s words have guided armies but now he’s on his knees in penance and using his tongue like its just a-

A loud scream rips through your throat as you spot him and sit up, and Sicarius’ two seconds of internal thought is interrupted as you see him frozen in the doorway with a hand still on the door’s controls.

Guilliman of course is instantly on the defensive hearing your scream, rising to his feet- and removing his hand from his trousers - before reaching for his blade.

Until he realizes it’s Sicarius.

Guilliman relaxes with an angry look on his face; Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before using the same hand spread flat outward to try and shield some of you from Sicarius, and reserve some of your modesty, while you adjust your clothes.

“Did your time in the warp remove your ability to announce yourself before entering, Captain Sicarius?”

Sicarius is angry at his primarch now, and has zero care for you behind him hot faced and attempting to cover yourself to some level of decency.

“I, I did not think it was needed, my primarch. I have an urgent issue that needs addressing.”

Guilliman angrily breaths through his nose, and Sicarius can see the veins in his neck.

“Go. Leave. Whatever you came here for I am sure it can wait until we both forget this encounter ever happened.”

They are both painfully aware that each other have eidetic memories, but they can only hope this moment somehow slips from their minds.

“Yes, my primarch.”

Sicarius finally manages to get his armor to move, and Guilliman sighs. Sicarius swiftly takes two steps backwards and closes the door, facing it at it closes.

He stands there for a moment, the image of his primarch on his knees between the legs of a simple baseline, and a hand doing something in his trousers is seared into his mind. Why is his primarch doing such things when there is work to be done?

“Are you alright Captain Sicarius?”

A marine says as he walks by, looking at his dead expression as Sicarius turns to face him. He points the door.

“Is Primarch Guilliman busy-“ Sicarius quickly speaks, cutting him off.

“Yes he is busy, do not disturb him.”

Sicarius has a far off stare that makes the random Astartes look at him oddly.

“I need to leave. Do not go in.”

Sicarius walks off, rubbing his hair with his gauntlet and grumbling to himself.

[moonlitstoriess]

The Heir and the Outlaw-Eris Vanserra x fem!reader (oneshot)

Summary: In the shadows of the Autumn Court, where betrayal is currency and power is survival, Eris Vanserra has finally had enough. To dethrone his tyrannical father, Beron, he strikes an uneasy deal with Y/N, an outsider with her own vendetta against the High Lord. Their alliance is fraught with tension, mistrust, and a dangerous chemistry that threatens to burn them both. As plots unravel and secrets come to light, Eris and Y/N must decide if their fragile bond is strong enough to survive the inferno—or if they’ll both be consumed by it.

see masterlist

Warnings: just a mix of everything really lmao, also its really long guys😭

The throne room was suffocating.

Heat radiated from the great stone hearths lining the walls, their flames licking upward as if they too bowed to the High Lord’s wrath. Yet it wasn’t the fire that burned Y/N’s skin—it was the weight of a hundred gazes, each one eager to see her fall. The Autumn Court was a den of wolves, and she was the wounded prey dragged into their midst.

She stood in the center of the room, wrists bound with rough iron, the metallic tang of blood on her lips where one of Beron’s soldiers had struck her. The crimson trail was drying now, stiff on her skin, but the defiance in her eyes hadn’t dimmed. Not even as Beron stared down at her from his throne of flame and iron, his cruel smile a weapon sharper than any blade.

Beron tilted his head, studying her like one might examine a particularly irritating insect. “You’ve caused quite a bit of trouble, haven’t you?” His voice was low, smooth—a predator’s purr before the strike.

Y/N didn’t answer. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Her silence drew a ripple of amusement from the courtiers gathered in the shadows. The sycophants, the schemers, all perched like vultures awaiting the kill. Among them stood a tall male with red hair that caught the firelight. She barely glanced at him, her focus fixed on the High Lord, but somewhere in the back of her mind, a thought lingered: Another one of his cruel sons. Eris? Maybe one of the others. Does it even matter? To her, they all looked the same—arrogant, sharp-edged, and entirely untrustworthy.

Beron’s smirk deepened. “Nothing to say? I suppose that’s to be expected from a filthy little outlaw.”

The word hit its mark, but Y/N refused to flinch. Yes, she was an outlaw. A ghost in the shadows, a thorn in Beron’s side. Her work had earned her plenty of enemies in the Autumn Court, in both the human and fae realms really, but she hadn’t been reckless enough to get caught. Not until now.

“You’ve been trespassing in my lands, stealing from my stores, and stirring trouble among my people,” Beron continued, his voice growing colder with each accusation. “And here you are, bold enough to stand before me and think you’ll leave with your head still attached.”

A flash of fear sparked in her chest, quickly buried beneath a rising tide of anger. She had known the risks, but Beron’s accusations weren’t entirely true. Not all of them, at least. Yes, she had stolen, had trespassed, but she hadn’t done it for herself. The people of the villages—Beron’s own subjects—had suffered under his greed, his neglect. Someone had to help them. Someone had to fight back.

But that wasn’t why she was here. Not entirely.

The vendetta that burned in her veins had nothing to do with stolen goods or ruined crops. It had everything to do with the family she’d lost, the lives Beron had taken in his endless quest for power. She had come to this court with a plan, with revenge etched into her bones, and now it was crumbling before her eyes.

Beron rose from his throne, the flames at his back surging higher. “I should kill you here and now. It would be a fitting end for a little thief.”

She braced herself, even as her heart thundered against her ribs.

But instead of a blade, Beron waved his hand dismissively. “Lock her in the dungeons. I’ll decide her fate when I feel like it.”

Rough hands grabbed her arms, and Y/N didn’t struggle as they dragged her from the room. The red-haired male—Eris, she was now certain—watched her go, his expression unreadable. She told herself she didn’t care. He was just another piece of this rotten court, another predator in a den of monsters.

Still, his gaze lingered, and for a moment, Y/N thought she saw something flicker in his amber eyes.

She didn’t have time to wonder what it was. The heavy doors slammed shut behind her, sealing her in darkness.

The dungeon was everything she expected of the Autumn Court—cold, damp, and reeking of decay. Iron bars lined the narrow corridor, their rusted edges gleaming faintly in the dim torchlight. The air was thick with the stench of mildew and despair, and somewhere in the darkness, water dripped in a slow, mocking rhythm.

Y/N was shoved into a cell without ceremony. She stumbled but caught herself before she hit the stone floor. The door slammed shut behind her with a metallic clang, the sound echoing through the empty halls.

The guard sneered through the bars. “Enjoy your stay, thief.”

She didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. Instead, she backed into the far corner of the cell, the damp stone biting into her palms as she sat down. The guard lingered for a moment longer, as if waiting for her to break, before finally retreating down the corridor.

Silence settled like a heavy blanket, broken only by the occasional drip of water.

Y/N let her head fall back against the wall, her eyes closing as she inhaled deeply, trying to steady her racing thoughts. This wasn’t the plan. She had been careful—every move calculated, every step planned to avoid detection. She hadn’t expected Beron’s soldiers to find her, much less drag her into the heart of his court.

Her hands curled into fists. She had let her guard down, and now she was paying the price.

The hours crawled by, each one stretching into eternity. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, but she ignored it. The iron cuffs around her wrists made her skin itch, their magic suppressing the faint hum of power that always thrummed in her veins. She was trapped—physically, magically, and in every other way that mattered.

But she wasn’t done. Not yet.

Her eyes flicked open at the sound of footsteps.

They were light, measured, and deliberate. Not the heavy boots of a guard, nor the hurried steps of a messenger. These footsteps carried purpose.

Y/N sat hunched in her corner of the cell, her knees drawn up, feigning indifference as she stared at the cracked ceiling. She didn’t look up when the footsteps stopped outside her door.

The familiar scent of burning leaves hit her before she heard his voice.

“Still alive, then?”

Y/N’s head turned, slowly, to the source of the voice. The red-haired male from the throne room—Eris, she recalled now. She didn’t bother hiding her disdain as her gaze swept over him. He stood just beyond the bars, his arms crossed over his chest, his stance deceptively relaxed.

“I’d hate to disappoint,” she said dryly, her voice rasping from the damp air.

Eris’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. His sharp amber eyes flicked over her, cataloging every detail—the bruises on her wrists from the iron cuffs, the dirt smudged on her face, the rigid set of her jaw.

“I expected more from someone with your... reputation,” he said, his tone light but laced with something sharper.

Y/N shifted, stretching her legs out in front of her, pretending she didn’t care about the scrutiny. “And I expected more from a prince, but here we are.”

That earned her a genuine smirk, fleeting but real. Eris crouched down, his hands resting on his knees as he leveled her with a look. “You’re bold for someone in your position. It’s almost admirable.”

“Admirable,” she echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Coming from a Vanserra, I’m sure that’s a compliment.”

Eris tilted his head, unbothered by the jab. “Perhaps.”

The silence stretched between them, taut and heavy. Y/N’s gaze didn’t waver from his, though every instinct told her to stay on guard. Eris wasn’t here out of boredom—that much was clear.

“What do you want?” she asked finally.

Eris tapped a finger against his knee, his expression thoughtful. “Curiosity, mostly. My father seems quite taken with the idea that you’re a threat. I wanted to see if he was right.”

She scoffed, leaning back against the wall. “And? What’s the verdict?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. “The jury’s still out.”

Before she could reply, he rose to his full height, brushing nonexistent dust from his coat. “Enjoy your stay, outlaw,” he said, his voice dripping with mock courtesy.

Y/N’s jaw tightened as he turned on his heel and disappeared down the corridor, his footsteps echoing into the distance.

He’s testing me, she realized, her fingers curling into fists. But for what?

The hours bled into days, or maybe it was the other way around. The oppressive darkness of the dungeon made time feel meaningless. Y/N had nearly convinced herself that the prince’s visit had been a one-time nuisance when the sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor again.

This time, she didn’t bother pretending not to notice. She sat cross-legged in the center of the cell, her sharp gaze locked on the shadowed figure that appeared outside her door.

Eris stopped just shy of the bars, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. “Still breathing, I see,” he said, his tone almost bored.

“Disappointed?” she shot back, her voice steadier than she felt.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his head tilting as he studied her. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Keep saying that, and I might start to believe it’s a compliment,” she said dryly.

Eris ignored her remark, his sharp gaze cutting through the darkness like a blade. “What were you doing in Autumn, Y/N?”

Her spine stiffened. “Shouldn’t your father have figured that out by now?”

“My father has his own theories,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “I prefer to form my own conclusions.”

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. “And what conclusion have you come to?”

“That you’re stubborn,” he said with a faint smirk. “And reckless. But perhaps not entirely stupid.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Glad to know I’ve met your high standards.”

Eris’s smirk widened, but his amusement didn’t reach his eyes. “Tell me something, Y/N. Do you enjoy playing the part of the martyr, or is it just second nature by now?”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t let it show. “What are you talking about?”

“You came here for a reason,” he said, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You didn’t stumble into Autumn by accident. So, what is it? Revenge? Spite? Or something bigger?”

Y/N’s stomach twisted, but she kept her expression neutral. “What makes you think I’ll tell you anything?”

Eris stepped closer, his fingers curling around the bars. For a moment, his mask slipped, and she caught a glimpse of something darker beneath the surface.

“Because,” he said softly, “I have a feeling you and I want the same thing.”

And then, just as quickly as he had come, he was gone.

Y/N hadn’t slept. Not properly, anyway. Every creak of the dungeon, every distant sound of boots on stone, kept her on edge. She couldn’t shake the memory of Eris’s last visit—the way he had looked at her, as if he already knew her secrets. As if he was just waiting for her to confirm them.

She sat against the cold wall, her legs stretched out in front of her, when she heard the footsteps again. Slower this time. Measured.

She didn’t move, didn’t bother looking up as the familiar scent of smoke and autumn leaves drifted through the air.

“You’re persistent,” she muttered as he stopped outside her cell.

Eris chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “And you’re predictable. I’d have thought you’d be halfway to trying to escape by now.”

She finally looked up, her gaze sharp. “And give you the satisfaction of watching me fail?”

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, wrapped bundle. He tossed it through the bars, and it landed with a soft thud at her feet.

Y/N eyed it warily before unwrapping it to reveal a piece of bread and a small bottle of water. Her stomach twisted painfully, but she refused to let him see her gratitude.

“Generous of you,” she said dryly, taking a small bite.

Eris leaned casually against the bars, watching her with a faint smirk. “I need you alive, not starving.”

The words caught her off guard. She froze, the piece of bread halfway to her mouth. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, his tone light but his eyes serious. “Alive. Useful. That’s what you are to me.”

She set the bread down slowly, narrowing her eyes. “Care to elaborate?”

Eris stepped closer, his fingers wrapping around the cold iron bars. “I’ve been watching you. Listening. You’re not just some petty criminal with a grudge against my father. You’re smart. Resourceful. Dangerous, even.”

Y/N snorted, leaning back against the wall. “You’ve got a strange way of giving compliments.”

His smirk didn’t waver. “Call it what you want. The truth is, I need someone like you.”

She tilted her head, feigning disinterest. “For what?”

“To help me take him down.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and dangerous. Y/N stared at him, her mind racing.

“You’re joking,” she said finally, though there was no humor in her voice.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he shot back, his tone sharp.

Y/N crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him. “Why should I believe you? You’re his son.”

“And you’re his enemy,” Eris said smoothly. “We have something in common.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “And what? You just expect me to trust you?”

“No,” he admitted, stepping back from the bars. “But I do expect you to think about what I’m offering. You can rot in this cell, or you can help me take down the High Lord of Autumn.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a cold smile. “And what’s in it for you, Prince Eris?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His amber eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something deeper—anger, resentment, maybe even pain.

“Freedom,” he said simply, his voice low. “For both of us.”

And just like that, he was gone again, leaving Y/N with more questions than answers.

The hours bled together, the oppressive silence of the dungeon broken only by the occasional drip of water or the scurry of unseen vermin. Y/N sat hunched in the corner of her cell, her fingers tracing patterns in the grime on the stone floor.

She should’ve been planning her next move, calculating her odds of survival. Instead, her mind replayed Eris’s words: "Freedom. For both of us."

The absurdity of it made her scoff under her breath. A son of Beron—freedom? The words didn’t fit together, not in any version of reality she’d ever known. She knew what the Autumn Court stood for. Knew what Beron and his ilk did to people like her.

And yet...

A faint rustling sound pulled her from her thoughts. Her eyes darted toward the source—a small, scruffy rat creeping under the bars of her cell. She tensed, prepared to scare it off, when she noticed the tiny scrap of paper tied to its leg.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The rat stopped just out of her reach, its black eyes glinting in the dim light. Slowly, deliberately, Y/N extended her hand. The rat flinched but didn’t run. She whispered soothing nonsense until she could untie the scrap of paper and the creature scurried away into the shadows.

She unfolded the note with trembling fingers, her eyes scanning the jagged, hastily scrawled words: "Stay alive. You’re not done yet. Trust no one."

The last line sent a chill down her spine. It wasn’t just a warning; it was a reminder of why she was here in the first place. The people who had sent her knew how much she had to lose—and how much she still had to gain.

But how?

Her thoughts raced as she stared at the note. The organization hadn’t abandoned her, but they didn’t seem to have a plan to get her out, either. And then there was Eris. His offer wasn’t trustable, not by a long shot. But it was a way out.

The sound of boots on stone shattered her thoughts. She crumpled the note in her fist, shoving it into her sleeve just as the familiar scent of smoke and autumn filled the air.

She didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“I see you’re still alive,” Eris drawled, his tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather.

“Disappointed?” she shot back, leaning against the wall.

His lips twitched, almost a smile. “Not yet.” He stepped closer, his amber eyes flicking over her, searching for something. “Have you thought about my offer?”

“Have you thought about giving me a reason to believe you?” she countered.

Eris tilted his head, his smirk vanishing. “I’m giving you a choice, Y/N. Rot in this cell and hope your friends care enough to come for you, or work with me and ensure Beron pays for what he’s done.”

“Work for you, you mean,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“No,” Eris said, his voice soft but cutting. “With me. We want the same thing. You know it.”

She stared at him, her mind a storm of doubts and possibilities. The note in her sleeve seemed to burn against her skin, its warning echoing in her head.

“Why me?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Eris leaned closer, his expression unreadable. “Because I’ve seen what you’re capable of. And because I need someone who hates him as much as I do.”

The words hit her like a blow. He wasn’t lying; she could see it in his eyes. The hatred there wasn’t for show. It was deep, consuming, and real.

She let out a slow breath, her decision forming like a blade being sharpened. “If I agree to this... you’d better keep your end of the bargain.”

His smirk returned, sharp and dangerous. “You have my word.”

“Forgive me if that’s not worth much,” she said dryly.

Eris chuckled, stepping back. “Wise of you. Now eat something. You’ll need your strength.”

With that, he was gone again, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Y/N leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. She had made her choice. Now, all she could do was wait for whatever came next.

The days blurred together in the prison’s suffocating darkness, the stench of damp stone and rotting food mixing with the cold bite of the air. Y/N had been left alone for what felt like an eternity, only the echo of her own thoughts to keep her company. But she had never been one to let solitude break her resolve. It was a harsh ally, but one that had kept her alive this long.

Then, as abruptly as it had come, the silence was shattered.

The faintest flicker of movement in the corridor, barely perceptible even to her trained eyes, was the only warning before the door to her cell creaked open. She tensed instinctively, her senses on high alert. Was it Beron’s guards? Had they come for her, to finish what they’d started?

But no.

The figure standing in the doorway wasn’t a guard.

It was Eris.

His amber eyes gleamed with something unreadable, but his posture was calm, controlled. Too controlled. He was trying to hide something, she realized, but not quite well enough.

“You’ve come,” Y/N said, her voice low but steady.

“Did you think I’d leave you in here forever?” Eris asked, his voice laced with a sharpness she couldn’t ignore. “You’re not the only one with a plan.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s your plan then?”

Eris didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into the shadows beside the door, and a small, intricately carved box appeared in his hand. He set it down on the floor with a soft thud and knelt beside it.

“I’m getting you out,” he said, his tone more serious than she’d heard it before. There was no mockery now, no games. Only the weight of his words. “But you need to trust me.”

Y/N’s instinct was to step back, to keep her distance. Trust was a currency she hadn’t traded in years. She had learned that lesson the hard way. But she knew the reality of her situation. She was running out of options.

Eris opened the box. Inside, there was a set of carefully arranged tools—thin, metallic wires, a set of blackened knives, and what looked like a small vial of liquid.

“An escape plan?” she asked, her skepticism creeping in. “You think you can just waltz in here and pull me out like it’s nothing?”

Eris’s lips curled into a cold, almost cruel smile. “It won’t be easy. But it’ll work. That’s all that matters.” He lifted the vial, swirling the contents in the dim light. “This will mask our scent. It’ll make sure we’re not tracked.”

Y/N watched him closely, still unsure. But as he worked, as he moved with practiced efficiency, she couldn’t help but feel the faintest stir of something—a fragile hope, maybe.

“You know,” she said, her voice quieter, “I didn’t expect you to come through for me.”

“Why’s that?” Eris asked, glancing up at her from his task.

“Because you’re Beron’s son,” she answered sharply. “I don’t exactly have a history of trusting people like you.”

Eris didn’t flinch. Instead, he merely offered a small, cold smile. “And yet here we are.”

Y/N wanted to push him again, wanted to question his motives further, but something in the way he moved—so sure, so confident—made her pause.

As he worked, he spoke again, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it that made her pay attention. “This isn’t just about you, Y/N. I have a score to settle, too. If you’re going to help me, I need you to keep up.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “And why would I help you?”

Eris met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “Because you want Beron to pay. And because you’ll need someone like me to get close enough to make that happen.”

She remained silent, her mind turning over his words. Trusting him felt like throwing herself into a storm, but was there really any other way out? The chains that bound her here were made of more than iron. They were made of fear, of power, of a system that held her down. But maybe—just maybe—Eris could be the key to breaking them.

A rustling sound pulled her from her thoughts. Eris had finished his preparations and was standing, holding out a dark cloak in her direction.

“You’re going to need this,” he said.

Y/N hesitated, but then the inevitability of the situation hit her. She grabbed the cloak, the fabric heavy in her hands.

The cloak weighed heavier than it should’ve, its fabric slipping over her thin shoulders like an anchor. She winced slightly, the bruises across her ribs protesting even the smallest movement. Her body felt foreign—frail, weakened from days of confinement, malnutrition, and exhaustion. But she didn’t let that show. She couldn’t afford to.

Eris, having finished his preparations, glanced over at her with a sharp eye. His gaze lingered for just a second too long on the hollowed cheeks, the sunken skin beneath her eyes, the bruises that covered her arms and legs. He was quick to mask the flicker of concern—if it had ever even been there—but Y/N caught it. His amber eyes sharpened, calculating, before he stepped toward her.

“Take it slow,” he said, his voice low, but with an authority that made her stop, turning to face him. “You’re not going anywhere if you collapse the moment we move.”

She shot him a look, irritation flickering across her face. "I’m fine."

Eris didn’t respond to her protest. Instead, he gave a sharp motion toward the small step down from the cell’s threshold. He was already behind her, close enough to catch her if she faltered. "You need rest before anything else. Trust me, you won’t last long if you push yourself."

Y/N bristled, but the fogginess in her head, the dull ache in her limbs, told her he was right. She straightened, but the dizziness made the world blur for a moment. Her stomach twisted with hunger, but there was no time for that now. She gritted her teeth, steadying herself, and finally nodded.

"Fine." She couldn’t afford to waste more time arguing.

As she took the first shaky steps toward the corridor, she barely made it two feet before her legs buckled beneath her. The floor rushed up to meet her, but before she could hit the cold stone, Eris was there, catching her with surprising gentleness for someone so accustomed to cruelty.

“Careful,” he muttered, his hands firm around her arms. She felt the heat of his touch seep into her chilled skin, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself lean into it. The steadying grip of his hands was a strange comfort in the overwhelming weakness that gnawed at her body.

She didn’t say anything, but the frustration simmered under her breath. How could she have let herself fall apart like this?

Eris didn’t let her dwell on it, though. “You’ll be stronger soon,” he added, his voice oddly soft. “But we need to move. The longer we wait, the more chance they’ll find out.”

She managed to nod, swallowing the growing lump in her throat. Slowly, she rose with his help, feeling the strength of his hold on her—he wasn’t going to let her fall, not yet. Her legs wobbled beneath her, like they hadn’t quite remembered how to carry her.

With a steady, calculating look, Eris motioned again, this time a bit more forcefully. “One step at a time. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

Y/N shook her head, stubbornness flaring. “I don’t need to be carried.” But it was a struggle to stay upright. She forced her legs to move, forcing her muscles to obey even though they were trembling beneath her.

Eris studied her for a moment longer, his eyes narrowed. Then he sighed, apparently conceding. “Alright, but if you fall again, I won’t hesitate to pick you up. Understand?”

She didn’t respond, too focused on making the next step. It was hard to concentrate through the fog of hunger and weakness that clouded her thoughts, but she willed herself forward. The corridor stretched on endlessly, the faint glow of torchlight casting long shadows on the stone walls.

She could feel the weight of Eris’s gaze behind her, watching, assessing, ready to catch her if she faltered again. And it was when she took another step, her knees shaking with effort, that the world tilted and spun violently.

Without warning, Eris was there again, his hand firm at her back, pushing her upright. "Stop. We rest here."

She wanted to protest, wanted to tell him to let her try just a little longer, but the cold truth was undeniable. She needed to rest, and Eris was right—he had been watching her, keeping track of the limits her body had reached, knowing more about her than she cared to admit.

The next few moments were a blur. Eris didn’t rush her, though his impatience was evident. He guided her to a small alcove just off the hallway, where she sank against the stone wall, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

“You should’ve taken better care of yourself,” Eris muttered, his tone a mixture of irritation and something else she couldn’t quite place.

Y/N glared up at him, but the fire in her eyes was dimmed by the sheer exhaustion flooding her system. “Not all of us have the luxury of being well-fed and pampered,” she snapped back, her voice raspy from days without proper hydration.

Eris didn’t respond, but the faintest tension in his shoulders told her he understood. He pulled a flask from his belt, offering it to her. “Drink,” he said simply, his voice softer now. “I’m not in the mood for a fight. Not now.”

Y/N hesitated, but then, her parched throat betrayed her. She took the flask, uncorking it with trembling hands. The cool liquid slid down her throat, the sensation almost painful, but welcome. It was nothing like the usual bitter, foul water they had given her in prison. This was clean, and it left a cool trail down her chest as she finished the last drop.

The flask was taken from her hands, but before Eris could say anything more, she spoke again. “I’m not going to be a burden.”

“You won’t be,” Eris replied, his tone more certain now. “You’re just... getting back on your feet. And we have a long way to go.”

The words hung in the air between them as they both looked at the dark corridor ahead. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder how much farther they would go before the walls closed in on them again. But for now, she took a steadying breath, feeling the smallest fraction of strength return to her limbs. And as she slowly pushed herself up, Eris was there, steadying her once again.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said, as though reading her mind. “Just keep moving.”

Y/N nodded silently, her gaze steady on the path ahead. She had no other choice but to follow him, to trust this strange arrangement—for now.

The journey from the prison cell to wherever Eris was leading her felt like an eternity. Y/N’s legs burned with each step, the effort of walking still too much for her weakened body. Her stomach growled, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She had no idea where they were going—only that she couldn’t afford to stop.

They passed through narrow corridors, the walls cold and silent, as if the stone itself had been drained of warmth. Eris walked beside her, silent but watchful, his hand never far from her arm, ready to steady her if she faltered again.

The journey was slow, but eventually, they reached the end of a hidden passageway, a small wooden door tucked in the corner of a forgotten hall. Eris produced a key from inside his coat, turning it quickly in the lock and swinging the door open.

Inside was a small, dimly lit room—much like the cell, but far more comfortable. There was a bed with thick blankets, a sturdy chair by a low-burning fireplace, and a small table cluttered with remnants of food. The scent of wood and smoke filled the air, faintly mixed with the sharp tang of herbs.

Y/N barely had time to process the warmth of the room before she collapsed onto the bed, her body too drained to stand. Her head spun from the sudden movement, and she could feel the exhaustion pulling at her, the desire to rest fighting with the cold weight of reality pressing on her shoulders.

Eris closed the door quietly behind him, his footsteps light as he moved to the fireplace and stoked the embers with practiced ease. His movements were deliberate, as if he had done this many times before. For a moment, Y/N watched him, her thoughts tangled with confusion and frustration. He had helped her escape—he’d kept his word, but there was a strange tension between them now, something she couldn’t quite place.

“Sit,” he said, his tone sharp but not unkind. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but the words caught in her throat. She had been given nothing but scraps for weeks, and the thought of food, even the simple fare he might offer, made her stomach twist. But she was too weak to argue, too exhausted to do anything but obey. Slowly, she leaned back against the pillows, her limbs heavy, her body craving sleep.

Eris moved with quiet efficiency, taking a small pot from the table and adding some dried herbs and a few vegetables to a broth. The smell of it wafted through the room, and Y/N's stomach twisted again, the hunger gnawing at her.

He handed her a bowl after a few moments, the steam still rising from the liquid. “It’s not much,” he said, as if trying to downplay it. “But you need something in you. Just a sip for now.”

Y/N accepted the bowl, her hands shaking slightly as she brought it to her lips. The warmth of the liquid was a comfort, and she drank slowly, savoring the taste, even though it was nothing special. It was food, and that was enough. She didn't care about anything else in that moment.

Eris watched her carefully, his amber eyes flicking from her face to the bowl. She could feel his gaze, but she refused to look up, pretending not to notice how intense it was.

Once the bowl was empty, she placed it on the side table and finally met his eyes, her voice quiet. “You never did tell me why you’re helping me. Why this? Why now?”

The question hung in the air between them, and for the first time since she had met him, Eris hesitated. He stood by the fire, the crackling sound filling the silence. He was calculating, as if considering how much to reveal.

“You’re right,” he said finally, his voice steady, but with a slight edge. “I didn’t owe you anything. But Beron’s... missteps have cost me. And I don’t take kindly to people trying to control my actions.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “So, this is about you?”

His lips curled into a small, sardonic smile. “Partially. But I can admit when I see a cause worth supporting.”

“You don’t strike me as the type who supports causes,” she muttered, her eyes narrowing. “More like the type who crushes them under his heel.”

He looked at her, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. “I don’t crush things that aren’t worth my time.”

There was an undeniable challenge in his words, but Y/N didn’t flinch. She leaned back against the pillows, closing her eyes for a moment. Her mind was starting to clear a little—at least enough to process her situation.

The tension was palpable between them. There was a quiet understanding that they both had agendas, but neither one was ready to reveal all their cards. The silence stretched on, but Y/N felt herself slipping deeper into the warmth of the bed, the exhaustion lapping at her like waves.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Eris said, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “I’ll give you that.”

Y/N opened one eye, catching him off guard as he turned back toward her. “I’m still here, aren’t I?” Her voice was rough, but there was something in the way she said it that conveyed both defiance and exhaustion.

Eris’ gaze softened, just for a moment, before his usual coldness returned. “You’ll make it,” he said simply, though she couldn’t tell if he was speaking about the immediate future, or something much longer.

“You’re sure about that?” Y/N scoffed, though the words felt hollow. “How much longer do I have to trust you?”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Eris stared into the fire, as if weighing her question carefully. Finally, his voice broke the silence, low and serious. “As long as it takes for you to get stronger.”

Y/N swallowed, the weight of his words settling over her. This was more than just an escape—this was a way to get to Beron, a way to make him pay for what he had done. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, Eris was her only chance at seeing that through.

She closed her eyes, the weight of her body sinking deeper into the bed. “Then I’ll get stronger.”

Eris didn’t reply. But when she opened her eyes again, she saw him watching her, his expression unreadable.

And for the first time since this whole mess had started, Y/N allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—she might survive this.

Eris stood by the fire, his posture stiff, his gaze fixed on the flames that danced in the hearth. His mind was focused—too focused—to let his thoughts wander too far. But they kept straying back to her.

Y/N.

She had barely said a word, even as she sipped the broth he had given her. She was weaker than he’d expected, but there was something in the way she held herself, even in that state, that kept pulling at the edge of his mind. It wasn’t pity—he didn’t have time for pity—but there was something undeniably interesting about her. She wasn’t the usual sort of prisoner.

She was a legend, a name whispered in every shadowy corner of the realm. A figure of rebellion and whispered rumors, loved by the lowlifes, hated by the highborn. Y/N, the outlaw, the one who had evaded capture for years. A thorn in the side of every tyrant. And yet, here she was, a broken shell of that legendary figure, lying in front of him, barely able to lift a finger.

Her beauty was not what he was used to, not the polished perfection of the court, not the subtle seduction of his family’s alliances. Hers was a rough sort of beauty, sharp and untamed, like the wilds she no doubt called home. There was an edge to her—one he couldn’t quite place. Her strength, despite her fragile state, had been apparent from the very beginning. He’d seen it in her eyes when she fought to stay conscious, even after being starved and tortured.

And yet, as she drifted into unconsciousness, Eris couldn’t help but notice the vulnerability in her that she kept buried deep. The curiosity of her origins, of the secret organization she served, of her own ambitions and secrets tugged at him in ways he quickly dismissed.

Focus.

This was not the time for distractions. His father had no knowledge of the real reason Eris had decided to bring Y/N into his plans. Beron had simply ordered the capture of the fugitive, and Eris had executed that order, which is ofcourse how that sneaky little mouse who had never been caught fell into Eris' perfectly thought out trap. But that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was the bigger picture, the one his father would never see.

Eris had his own secret agenda. Y/N wasn’t just some weapon to him—she was the means to an end, the key to the power he sought. She could help him dismantle his father’s grip on the Autumn Court, help him carve out his own path, one where Eris alone stood as the High Lord. His father had always underestimated him, used him as nothing more than a tool in his schemes. But Eris wasn’t going to let that continue.

He had his own plans. And Y/N? She could either become an ally or an obstacle. But for now, she was useful. And that was enough.

As he watched her sleep, breathing slow and shallow, the bitter taste of their arrangement lingered in his mouth. He didn’t care what she thought of him. He didn’t need her loyalty—he needed her skills, her connections, and her rage. And in return, she needed him too. She was running from something, using him as a stepping stone to whatever end she sought, just as he was using her to gain the power he deserved.

It was a simple exchange. Nothing more. No room for distractions. Not yet, at least. But something about her—something dangerous—pulled at him. He quickly erased the thought. He had no time for curiosity. He had too much to do.

But as he stood there, the faintest trace of doubt tried to creep in, and he stamped it down hard. Y/N would play her part. They both had their roles to play. Once they had what they wanted, the game would be over, and they’d move on.

For now, though, it was all about the plan. And the plan would make him one of the most powerful Fae in the realm.

It hadn’t taken long for Beron to notice her disappearance. A matter of hours, perhaps, before the guards started to come to him with news of the empty cell. They had all seen her locked away. But no one had seen her leave.

Eris could already hear the furious shouting echoing from the halls, his father’s rage pouring out like a tidal wave.

“Where is she?” Beron’s voice had thundered through the manor. “She cannot simply vanish. Find her, and bring her back, dead or alive!”

Eris remained silent, his face a mask of impassivity, even as he listened to the chaos unfold. His father was a fool if he thought it would be that simple. No one escaped the dungeons of his stronghold without help.

But then again, Beron had never been known for his intelligence. He was a beast—brute force and violence were his go-to methods. Subtlety was not his strength. It had always been Eris who managed the quiet manipulations, the behind-the-scenes dealings that ensured the Autumn Court stayed in power. And now, with Y/N gone, Eris knew it was his job to keep everything under control before his father tore the entire palace apart looking for her.

Eris made his way to the throne room, the air thick with tension. Guards scrambled, shouting orders, their voices raised in panic as they searched the castle. His father’s voice was the loudest, but Eris could sense the undercurrent of fear, of uncertainty, running through his father’s normally domineering tone. Beron was furious, but there was something else there too—a touch of something deeper. Something he’d never admit.

Eris didn’t need to worry about that. His role was simple.

“Father,” Eris said smoothly as he entered the room, his voice calm and controlled, as if there wasn’t a care in the world. His cold eyes flicked over to the soldiers rushing past, the frantic looks on their faces. “I’ve already sent out a team to handle it.”

Beron whipped his head toward him, his anger radiating off him like a storm. “A team? We need to find her now, before she gets away!”

Eris’ lips curled into a slight, almost imperceptible smile. “You overestimate the threat she poses. Y/N is a problem, yes, but she is also a legend—there is more to her disappearance than a simple escape. Whoever is helping her will make a mistake. They always do. We just need to wait.”

His father was not convinced. His thick brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to argue, but Eris cut him off.

“We’ll find her, Father. But we’ll do it with precision. Not brute force. You’ll just make things worse.” His tone didn’t rise. It was a quiet, almost detached warning, but it was enough to make Beron hesitate.

Eris’ gaze flicked to the soldiers gathered around, still frantically searching for any trace of her. There was no need to rush. He knew exactly where Y/N was—and he wasn't about to rat her out.

Eris turned to his father, who was still seething. “Calm down. We’ll get her back, but we need to be strategic. I’ll take care of this.”

Beron’s face twisted in frustration, but he relented, nodding sharply. “Fine. Do what you must. But if you fail, it will be you answering for it.”

The threat in his father’s voice was unmistakable, but Eris didn’t flinch. He had long ago stopped fearing Beron. In fact, he used it. Everything had its place. And Y/N? She was a tool—a means to an end.

With a final glance toward the doorway, Eris turned and left the room, his cold mask firmly back in place.

As he walked through the halls, his thoughts turned back to Y/N. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to her—a deeper layer to the rebel who had fought for the lowborn and outrun every other High Fae in the land. But he couldn’t afford to care.

Not yet.

He would use her. And then, when the time was right, he’d destroy her. Just like everyone else who had been foolish enough to stand in his way.

But for now, he would play the game. Keep things calm. Keep the mask intact. And when the time came, when the last piece of this puzzle fell into place, he would have the power he sought.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d learn exactly what kind of legend Y/N really was.

The small room had become her refuge. For the first time in weeks, the dim light of the torch didn’t feel like a threat, but a sign of safety. The bruises on her body were healing, though the pain still lingered, reminding her of the endless days in that wretched prison. Her muscles ached as she slowly stretched her limbs, trying to ignore the tightness of her chest.

Eris had sent food every night—fresh bread, fruit, and meat—though she never once saw him deliver it himself. Perhaps, he felt like he had shown enough of himself the first time he brought her here. Sometimes she wondered if he even cared that she ate or if it was all just part of the plan, a move to keep her alive long enough for whatever game he was playing to unfold. She’d been fed, rested, and given a place to breathe, but she never let herself forget the price she was paying for all of it.

She had no illusions. Eris wasn’t helping her because he cared. He was helping her because he needed her. But in that moment, with a half-empty plate of food resting beside her, she couldn't help but let her guard down just a little. She had been alone for so long—torn between running and staying, trapped in a cage of her own making. Eris, with his cold, calculating eyes and cruel smile, had forced his way into her life in a way no one had before.

But now… now, she was stronger. Not fully healed, but enough to stand on her own. She could feel the strength returning in her bones, the fire that had burned within her when she first started this fight slowly rekindling. She was no longer the broken fugitive hidden away in the shadows. She was Y/N, the outlaw with a name that made people tremble and the power to bring kings to their knees. And it was time to put that power to use.

The door creaked open, and she didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Eris entered without a word, his presence filling the room like a dark cloud. He was silent as always, as cold and controlled as the iron in his veins. She could hear the faint sound of his boots against the stone floor, but she didn’t move. Not yet.

“Feeling better?” His voice was low, calculating. His eyes studied her carefully, no doubt searching for any sign of weakness. But she didn’t let him see it.

“Does it matter?” she replied, the edge of defiance creeping into her voice. The truth was, she didn’t care if he noticed how fragile she still felt. She was done with pretending.

He paused for a moment, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “It matters,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking over her with something almost like… approval. She quickly dismissed the thought. She wasn’t here for his approval.

“Your plan,” she said, breaking the silence. “What’s the next step?” Her tone was cool, but she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to hear what he had to say, but the sooner she did, the sooner she could make a decision.

Eris stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers. She could see the glint of something dark in his eyes, a quiet power that sent a shiver down her spine. “You’ll be a part of it,” he said. “The key to everything I’m planning.”

She met his gaze, her own expression hardening. “I’m listening.”

He didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he simply watched her, his thoughts unreadable. Then, at last, he spoke again. “We both have a common enemy: my precious father, Beron.”

Her jaw clenched at the mention of Beron’s name. The man who had ruined everything. The man who had taken her family from her. The one who had put her in that damn prison in the first place.

She swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat, forcing herself to focus on Eris. “You want to kill him?” The words tasted like acid in her mouth, but she kept her gaze steady.

Eris’ eyes gleamed with something dangerous. “Not just kill him. I want to take everything he has, strip him of his power, his title, and make him see who really deserves the throne.”

A shudder of unease ran down her spine, but she refused to show it. She had no love for Beron, and she would see him pay. But Eris? He was a different kind of monster, one she didn’t fully understand. She had learned to trust no one in her time as an outlaw, but this—this was more than just revenge. This was a game, a dangerous one where neither of them could afford to lose.

“And you think I’ll help you?” she asked, her voice hard, though there was a small edge of uncertainty beneath her calm exterior.

Eris’ smirk widened, dark and knowing. “You’ll help me because you need me, just as much as I need you.”

Y/N remained silent, staring into his eyes. She didn’t like it, the way he was so certain of her. But deep down, she knew he was right. They were both using each other—she just hadn’t admitted it yet.

“So,” he continued, voice smooth and deliberate. “What’s your answer?”

Her fingers tightened into fists, her nails digging into her palm. She could feel the weight of the decision settling over her, but there was no hesitation in her mind. She had nothing left to lose, and Eris—despite all his cruelty—was offering her a way to finally take control of her life again.

She looked up at him, eyes cold. “I’m in.”

The plan Eris laid out was very complex. Add to it some of the ideas Y/N thought of, and you had yourself a large pot of... well, everything. A complex and risky, but also very structured and specific plan.

Eris stood before her, his dark eyes calculating as he laid out the foundation of their scheme. Every move, every word had a purpose, a role to play. But as Y/N listened, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of the whole thing—the risks, the challenges, the unspoken consequences. Nothing about this was easy. And it wouldn’t be until Beron was dead that she could truly breathe.

"Let’s start simple," Eris’ voice was steady, giving nothing away. "We’ll use your connection to the common folk. They trust you—more than anyone realizes."

Y/N didn’t need to hear the rest of the plan to know where this was going. Her reputation had spread like wildfire in every village, town, and city. She was a ghost, a whisper in the shadows, always just out of reach of every venomous tyrants grasp, including Beron. The lowlives, the outcasts, the ones the high courts ignored—they revered her. She had once stood for them, fought for them. And now, in her hidden exile, they still remembered her name.

"And how do we use that?" she asked, leaning back in her chair, her fingers tapping against the stone tabletop. Her thoughts were a whirlwind. "I’m hiding from Beron’s men, Eris. And you think a few whispered words from those filthy peasants are enough to move the needle? No offense, but that’s a shortcut I’m not willing to take."

Eris didn’t flinch at her criticism. His smirk remained, cold and unreadable. "We need allies. People in the right places, ready to fight when the time comes. It’s not just about what you did in the past, Y/N. It’s about what you can get them to do for us now. A rebellion, a force ready to rise, led by those you trust."

A rebellion. A revolt. It was just a word, but it carried the weight of an entire revolution in its syllables. Y/N narrowed her eyes. "And what do you expect from me? A few promises and speeches? I’m not about to throw my life away for another failed cause."

Eris’ eyes locked with hers. "I’m not asking you to. But you’re more than a symbol. You’re the spark that will ignite this fire. A revolt is meaningless without someone who has the courage to lead it. Someone who has already proven they can outsmart Beron’s forces at every turn."

Y/N studied him, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn’t wrong. The common folk wouldn’t follow just anyone—they’d follow her. But leading them into a rebellion against Beron wasn’t something she could take lightly. She’d seen the kind of devastation his wrath could bring. She would need more than just words; she’d need a plan that couldn’t fail.

"I’m listening," she said, crossing her arms. "What else?"

Eris glanced around, as if making sure no one was listening, then began to lay out the next part of the plan, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"We start by infiltrating Beron’s inner circle. I’ll get close to him—closer than anyone realizes. He trusts me, perhaps too much." A dark glint flashed in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "We’ll gather information, figure out where he’s vulnerable. We expose his weaknesses—his alliances, his secrets—and we use them against him. We have to break him from the inside."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "And how do we do that? You’re talking about walking into the lion’s den, Eris. What makes you think he’ll let you so close?"

Eris gave a small shrug. "He doesn’t have a choice. I’m his son, and I’m the one who will inherit his power. He won’t suspect me—not until it’s too late. I’ve been biding my time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike."

Y/N’s thoughts whirred as she processed the information. The idea of Eris using his place as Beron’s son to get close enough to take him down wasn’t a bad one—if it worked. But there were too many unknowns, too many variables. She wasn’t about to bet everything on a chance.

"You’re underestimating the danger here," Y/N said, her voice low. "You’re playing with fire. Even if you get close to him, that doesn’t guarantee we’ll have a clean shot at him. Beron is dangerous. And you’re not the only one who’s waited a long time for this."

Eris stepped closer, his gaze sharp, unwavering. "I’m not underestimating anything, Y/N. But you’re right. We need to be strategic. I’ll play the role of the dutiful son for now, keeping Beron distracted. Meanwhile, you’ll move in the shadows, gathering support. You know the people, the ones who are sick of Beron’s reign. Find them, recruit them, and keep them ready. The moment Beron falls, the rebellion will rise with him."

Y/N frowned, thinking carefully. "And where do we go from there?"

Eris didn’t hesitate. "Once we have Beron in a vulnerable position, we strike. We take him out, publicly. We make sure it’s loud, impossible to ignore. We destroy his reputation, expose his crimes. And when his power crumbles, we move quickly—cutting down his supporters, his key figures, anyone who can replace him. We leave no room for anyone else to step into his shoes."

She absorbed this quietly, still not convinced. "And you expect me to do all of that while hiding from Beron’s men? You’re asking me to risk my life for your game, Eris. You know how this goes. The moment they realize I’m back, they won’t stop until they have me."

Eris didn’t flinch. "We will make sure they don’t find you. You will be our shadow, Y/N, hidden in plain sight. If they don’t know where to look, they can’t find you."

Her mind raced. There were too many steps, too many risks. But there was no turning back now, was there? She had already walked too far down this path. Beron was her enemy, and if this was the only way to get close enough to destroy him, then she would have to play along.

"I still don’t trust you," she said, her voice biting, though she knew it was mostly for show. "But I’ll play your game. For now. Don’t get comfortable, though, Eris. I don’t answer to anyone."

Eris gave her a cold smile, the faintest glimmer of something dangerous in his eyes. "You will answer to me, Y/N. Eventually. But for now, let’s just get the job done. After Beron’s gone, we can sort out the rest."

Y/N stood at the edge of the makeshift camp, the firelight flickering across her face as the shadows of the rebels gathered around her. The weight of the task ahead pressed down on her chest, the constant hum of fear and uncertainty gnawing at her. She wasn’t sure what she expected when she first set out to rebuild this rebellion, but it wasn’t this. Not this.

"Who are these people?" she muttered under her breath, glancing at the ragtag group of disheveled faces before her. Some looked hopeful, some terrified. Others just seemed like they were here out of necessity, their eyes glinting with a mixture of desperation and defiance. Y/N had never been a leader, had never wanted to be, but here she was, thrust into the role by sheer circumstance.

A young man, no older than twenty, stood at the front of the group, his hands twitching at his sides, looking every bit the part of a soldier who had never seen battle. "You told us we were going to fight Beron," he said, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "But we’re not prepared for this. We don’t have the strength. We don’t have the resources. And—" He cut himself off, eyes darting to the others as if gauging their reactions. "Some of us aren’t sure it’s worth it."

Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she studied him, her mind racing. She hadn’t expected this much resistance, but there it was, in the raw form of human doubt. "You think I don’t know that?" she said sharply, stepping forward to meet his gaze. "You think I’ve been waiting for this moment, for years, with nothing but hopes and dreams?" She shook her head, bitterness creeping into her voice. "We’re not waiting for a miracle. We’re making one."

The young man’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t reply. His hesitance was the same as the others’—an undercurrent of fear that Y/N knew all too well. It was the same fear that had kept her hidden for so long. The same fear that had kept them all under Beron’s thumb.

But there was no time for that now. Not when every second counted.

She turned away from the group and walked over to one of the quieter rebels, a woman with a scar running across her cheek, a battle-worn look to her eyes. "I need to know who else we can trust. Who’s ready to move."

The woman hesitated, her eyes flicking to the others, her voice low. "They’re not all ready to act. Some are too scared, others… some have family in Beron’s courts. They won’t risk everything just to see him fall."

Y/N clenched her fists, frustration boiling beneath her skin. "Damn it. This is our only chance. If they’re not with us, then they’re against us."

The woman’s eyes softened with sympathy, but she didn’t argue. "I’ll talk to them. See who’s willing to join your cause."

Y/N nodded, though doubt lingered in the back of her mind. She needed more than just the willing; she needed those who wouldn’t hesitate, those who would see this through to the end.

And that’s where Eris came in. Back at the palace, Eris was playing his own dangerous game. He’d become adept at walking the fine line between being the son his father wanted and the traitor he had every intention of becoming. For weeks, he had been spending more time with Beron, attending meetings, walking through the halls of his father’s estate with the air of the loyal heir, while secretly sowing the seeds of rebellion.

But as the days passed, Eris could feel the pressure mounting. He could feel Beron’s eyes on him more often, could sense the unease growing in the air around them. Beron was a cautious man, and for all his arrogance, he wasn’t blind. He could see the cracks in the façade, and Eris knew it wouldn’t be long before his father began questioning his loyalty.

"I know what you’re doing, Eris." The voice, low and venomous, broke through his thoughts as he sat in the grand dining hall, pretending to savor his meal. His father’s voice was always like that—sharp, full of hidden threats.

Eris didn’t flinch. He didn’t let his gaze waver from his plate. "I have no idea what you’re talking about, Father."

Beron’s eyes narrowed, his voice lowering. "You think I can’t see it? You are my son, Eris Vanserra. You’ve been distant, more so than usual. You’ve been... careful. Too careful. What are you hiding from me?"

Eris forced a smile, keeping his posture relaxed, but every muscle in his body was tense, ready for the slightest sign of danger. "You’re imagining things, Father. I’m as loyal as I’ve always been."

The silence between them stretched for a heartbeat too long. Eris could feel the weight of Beron’s gaze upon him, and for a moment, he feared the mask would slip, revealing the truth behind his carefully constructed lies.

But then Beron simply grunted, dismissing the conversation as though it were nothing more than a passing annoyance. "Don’t disappoint me, Eris. You have the world at your feet. Don’t squander it."

They met at some random tavern in the lowest part of Autumn. Y/N’s patience was wearing thin. The male she was supposed to meet was late, a complication she didn’t need. Every passing minute felt like a risk. She had to keep moving, keep finding people she could trust—if they existed at all.

Then, finally, the door creaked open, and a tall figure stepped inside. The hood of his cloak was pulled low over his face, but the way his eyes scanned the room told her everything she needed to know. It was Eris.

“Do you always like to make an entrance?” Y/N asked, her voice laced with sarcasm as she moved toward him. She was irritated, her patience already stretched thin with the weight of her mission.

Eris gave a small shrug, his lips curling into a half-smirk. “I like to keep people on their toes.”

She didn’t return his smile. "You’re late.”

“Not by much,” he said, dropping into the seat across from her. “And I’ve brought something that might make up for it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak. She was tired of his games, but the truth was, she needed him. As much as she disliked it, they were tied together by necessity.

“What’s the news?” she asked, leaning forward, her fingers tapping on the table impatiently.

Eris glanced around, his voice lowering to a murmur. “Beron’s becoming suspicious. He’s watching me more closely. The façade is wearing thin. But I have a plan. We need to move quickly.”

Y/N’s interest piqued. “Move quickly? Why? What’s your plan?”

Eris leaned in, his gaze sharp. “We need more leverage. I’ve been playing my part, keeping Beron distracted. And through getting closer with his inner circle, I managed to manipulate them into saying some things that I never even knew about. There’s one thing he holds close—something he’s kept hidden for years. I need to get to it. We’ll use it to put him in a position where he has no choice but to fall. But to do that, we need to leave the city. We need to get close to the human lands.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed in confusion. “The human lands? What does that have to do with your plan?”

Eris hesitated for a moment, his eyes calculating. “Beron has kept a secret. Something he’s been hiding even from me. It’s in a remote location, not far from the border. I can’t afford to let anyone else get to it first. Once I have it, I’ll have the leverage I need to make my move. But getting there will be dangerous. We’ll need to stay off Beron’s radar. That’s where you come in.”

Y/N considered his words carefully. “You want me to help you get this… whatever it is? Why should I trust you?”

Eris met her gaze, unwavering. “Because this is bigger than both of us. If we don’t do this now, we lose our chance. You’ll get the rebellion you want, and I’ll get what I need to bring Beron down.”

There was a heavy silence between them. Y/N’s mind raced, weighing the risks. She didn’t trust Eris, not entirely, but she had no other choice. The rebellion needed action, and this could be their opportunity.

“Fine,” she said finally, standing up. “But we do this my way. We stick to the plan, no deviations. I won’t risk my people for your secrets.”

Eris stood as well, his lips curling into a faint, almost amused smile. “Agreed. But don’t forget—this is as much about you as it is about me. We leave right this second."

Y/N didn’t respond, her mind already shifting into action. They had a long road ahead of them, and the stakes were higher than either of them could imagine.

As they stepped out into the night, the tension between them was palpable. They weren’t allies—they were tools, using each other to reach their separate goals. But for now, it was enough. And with that uneasy understanding hanging in the air, they moved toward the wilds, where the next phase of their plans would unfold.

The Wilds loomed like a beast on the horizon—dense, untamed, and brimming with the unknown. The sun barely pierced through the thick canopy, casting everything in shades of green and gray. Y/N adjusted her cloak, her sharp gaze scanning the path ahead. Every step they took felt heavier, as though the forest itself wanted to swallow them whole.

“This better be worth it,” she muttered, breaking the silence.

Eris, a few paces behind, gave a low chuckle. “Do you think I enjoy trudging through this forsaken wilderness? I assure you, I’d much rather be sipping wine in my father’s halls, pretending to care about his ridiculous court.”

Y/N shot him a sharp look over her shoulder. “You mean pretending to care while you’re plotting his demise.”

He grinned, unbothered by her barb. “Exactly.”

The tension between them hung thick in the air, unspoken but always present. This was no partnership of trust—it was an alliance of necessity. And yet, despite her better judgment, Y/N found herself begrudgingly impressed by Eris’s unshakable composure. Even out here, in the heart of nowhere, he carried himself as if the world still revolved around him.

“Quiet,” Y/N whispered suddenly, her hand shooting up to halt him.

Eris frowned but obeyed, his sharp ears straining. At first, there was nothing but the rustle of leaves and the distant call of some unseen creature. Then it came—a faint, rhythmic sound, too deliberate to be the wind.

Footsteps.

Y/N crouched, motioning for Eris to do the same. They pressed themselves against a moss-covered boulder, their breaths shallow. The footsteps grew louder, accompanied by low voices.

“They’re close,” one of the voices said, gruff and laced with urgency. “Keep searching. They couldn’t have gone far.”

Beron’s men.

Y/N’s grip tightened on the hilt of her dagger. She glanced at Eris, whose expression was unreadable, save for the faint tightening of his jaw. He leaned closer, his voice a whisper. “We can’t let them find us.”

“No kidding,” Y/N shot back under her breath. “Got a brilliant plan, or are we winging it?”

He gave her a thin smile. “Follow my lead.”

Before she could argue, Eris stood, his movements impossibly silent for someone so tall. He raised a hand, and the air around him shimmered. The faintest flicker of flame sparked in his palm before extinguishing. A diversion.

The forest came alive in an instant. Flames burst to life in the distance, licking at the trees, crackling and snapping. The guards’ shouts turned panicked as they rushed toward the sudden inferno.

“What the hell are you doing?” Y/N hissed, tugging at his sleeve.

“Giving them something to worry about,” Eris replied smoothly, his voice calm even as chaos erupted around them. “Now, move.”

They slipped through the underbrush, their steps quick and precise. The smoke was thick, curling through the air and masking their escape. Y/N could hear the men yelling, their voices growing fainter as the fire drove them farther away.

They didn’t stop until the sounds had faded completely. When they finally paused, Y/N rounded on him, her face flushed with frustration.

“Are you insane?” she demanded. “You could’ve burned the whole forest down!”

Eris shrugged, utterly nonchalant. “I controlled it. You’re welcome, by the way.”

She glared at him, her chest heaving. “You’re reckless.”

“And you’re dramatic,” he countered, brushing ash off his sleeve. “We’re alive, aren’t we?”

Before she could retort, a deep, guttural growl cut through the air. Both of them froze, their eyes snapping to the shadows ahead. Slowly, the figure emerged—a massive, wolf-like creature with glowing yellow eyes and razor-sharp teeth. It snarled, its hackles raised, and Y/N felt her blood run cold.

“Tell me that was part of your plan,” she murmured.

“For once,” Eris said, his voice tight, “I’m as surprised as you are.”

The beast lunged.

Y/N rolled to the side, her dagger flashing as she slashed at the creature’s flank. Eris summoned fire, his hands blazing as he threw a wall of flame between them and the beast. But the creature was fast, far faster than either of them anticipated. It circled them, its movements fluid, predatory.

“Great,” Y/N said, dodging another attack. “First your father’s goons, now this. You really know how to pick a route.”

Eris didn’t reply, his focus on the beast. He lashed out with another burst of fire, forcing it back. “Stay close,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, but she obeyed, falling into step beside him. They moved as one, circling the creature, their movements coordinated despite their earlier bickering.

Finally, with a combined effort—a well-placed dagger strike and a surge of fire—the beast fell, its massive form collapsing with a final, guttural snarl. Y/N leaned against a tree, catching her breath, while Eris extinguished the remaining flames around them.

“Next time,” Y/N said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “remind me to let you take the lead.”

Eris smirked, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You’d be lost without me.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. The truth was, as much as she hated to admit it, they worked well together. Begrudgingly well.

As they continued deeper into the Wilds, the tension between them remained, simmering beneath the surface. They had a destination—a secret to uncover and a kingdom to upend—but the road ahead was treacherous, and neither could predict what awaited them in the shadows.

Eris pressed forward, his boots crunching against the leaf-strewn path. The Wilds were relentless—uneven terrain, thorny underbrush, and no sign of civilization for miles. He glanced back briefly to make sure Y/N was still following. She was, though her steps had grown slower, her movements heavier.

She muttered something under her breath—likely another colorful insult aimed at him.

Good. If she still had the energy to be annoyed, then she wasn’t entirely falling apart.

He kept his focus ahead, ignoring the uncomfortable twist in his gut. Guilt was a foreign feeling, one he wasn’t inclined to entertain. This alliance wasn’t built on kindness, and Y/N knew that. She was a tool, just as he was a tool to her.

Or so he told himself.

Behind him, her footsteps faltered.

“Eris,” she said, her voice sharp, though tinged with exhaustion.

He didn’t stop.

“Eris.”

This time, there was a distinct edge to her tone, one that brooked no argument. He sighed, coming to an abrupt halt.

“What now?” he asked, turning to face her.

Y/N stood a few feet away, her hands braced on her knees as she glared up at him. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“That’s dramatic, even for you.”

“I’m serious,” she shot back, straightening. “We’ve been walking for hours without a break. My legs are staging a rebellion. Either we stop, or I collapse, and you can carry me the rest of the way.”

Eris raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

She scowled, but the corners of her mouth twitched, betraying her amusement. “Your choice, red.”

Red. The nickname grated on him, but there was something oddly endearing about the way she said it—like she wanted to annoy him but didn’t quite hate him enough to mean it.

“Fine,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “Five minutes.”

“Ten.”

“Seven, and not a second longer.”

She smirked, clearly pleased with herself, and plopped down on a nearby rock. Eris leaned against a tree, watching her as she pulled a flask from her cloak and took a long sip.

“You’re not as invincible as you like to pretend,” she remarked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

Eris folded his arms, his gaze narrowing. “And you’re not as delicate as you pretend to be.”

“I’m not pretending.” She grinned, stretching her legs out in front of her. “I’m openly complaining.”

He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself. She had a way of disarming him, of slipping past the walls he kept so carefully constructed. It was infuriating.

“You’re impossible,” he said.

“And yet, here we are,” she replied, her tone light but her gaze lingering on him.

Eris looked away, focusing on the distant trees. The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable but charged with something unspoken.

He didn’t want to acknowledge the way her presence affected him, the way her laughter seemed to carve cracks into his carefully built facade. She was a means to an end. That was all.

But then there were moments like this—quiet, unguarded moments that made him question everything.

“Why do you keep going?” Y/N asked suddenly, her voice soft.

Eris turned back to her, startled by the question.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, tilting her head to the side, “you could’ve found someone else to help with your little rebellion. Someone easier to work with, less… annoying.”

Eris smirked. “True, but where’s the fun in that?”

She rolled her eyes, but he caught the faint flush of color on her cheeks.

The truth was, he didn’t have an answer for her. Or rather, he had an answer, but he wasn’t ready to admit it—not to her, and certainly not to himself.

Instead, he pushed off the tree and extended a hand to her. “Break’s over. Let’s move.”

She eyed his hand suspiciously. “You’re being awfully nice. What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t entirely true. There was always a catch.

Reluctantly, she took his hand, her touch warm despite the chill in the air. He pulled her to her feet, her balance unsteady for a moment before she found her footing.

“Careful,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended.

She looked up at him, something flickering in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place. For a brief, maddening moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them.

Then she smirked and let go of his hand. “Try to keep up, red.”

Eris watched as she strode ahead, her steps light despite her earlier complaints. He shook his head, a wry smile playing at his lips.

She was going to be the death of him.

And for reasons he couldn’t yet understand, he didn’t entirely mind.

Y/N trudged along behind Eris, her patience worn thinner than the soles of her boots. It had already been a day! “How much longer, red? Or are you leading us in circles to enjoy my delightful company?”

Eris didn’t glance back. His stride remained purposeful, his shoulders set like iron. “Keep up, Y/N. Complaining won’t make the journey shorter.”

She threw her hands up in frustration. “You said we were heading to the human lands, Eris! But this doesn’t feel like the direction of any border I’ve ever heard of. In fact, it feels like we’re headed straight into a trap. Are you sure you’re not trying to kill me yourself?”

His sharp laugh echoed through the trees, though it held no warmth. “If I wanted you dead, darling, you’d already be feeding the crows.”

“Charming,” she muttered, her legs burning from the unrelenting pace. “Seriously, where are we even going? Or do you just enjoy keeping me in the dark?”

“Enough, Y/N,” Eris snapped, his voice low but laced with a rare bite. He suddenly halted, turning to fix her with a glare that could’ve seared through stone. “We’re here.”

Y/N froze, blinking at him. “What do you mean we’re—” Her words trailed off as she took in their surroundings.

The dense forest had parted to reveal a lake that seemed to shimmer with an unnatural stillness. Mist curled above its black surface like fingers reaching toward the sky. The air felt colder here, heavy with an ancient weight that pressed down on her chest.

And then it hit her. The stories. The whispers of a place where no mortal—or immortal—dared to tread.

“This… this is Koschei’s lake,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze snapped to Eris. “What the hell are we doing here? I thought we were going to the human lands!”

Eris smirked, though his golden eyes glinted with something darker. “Plans change.”

“You arrogant ass,” Y/N hissed, stepping closer to jab a finger at his chest. “You dragged me all the way out here without so much as a warning, and now you expect me to just—what? Stand here while you make a deal with a god?”

“Precisely.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Perhaps,” Eris said coolly, brushing past her to approach the edge of the lake. “But unlike you, I have a plan. So, if you’re done whining, stay quiet and let me handle this.”

Y/N opened her mouth to retort, but the air shifted—an icy ripple that sent shivers racing down her spine.

From the depths of the lake, a figure began to form. Black water dripped from his skeletal frame, his hollow eyes glowing faintly as he emerged. Koschei’s presence was suffocating, his voice a silken whisper that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

“Well, well,” the Death God said, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The fox prince graces my domain. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Eris’s mask of calm didn’t falter, though Y/N could see the slight tension in his jaw. “I have come to ask for your assistance.”

Koschei chuckled, a sound that sent ripples through the lake. “Assistance always comes with a price, princeling. Are you prepared to pay it?”

Y/N tensed, her hand drifting to her dagger as she cast a wary glance at Eris. Whatever he’d brought her here for, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

And as Koschei’s gaze slid to her, cold and calculating, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking a very thin line—one wrong move away from ruin.

The cold bite of Koschei’s presence wrapped around Eris like a noose tightening by the second. The Death God stood motionless, his hollow eyes fixed on Eris, assessing, calculating.

Eris forced himself to maintain a calm demeanor. The mask was second nature by now, even as his instincts screamed at him to turn and run. But there was too much at stake—his plans, his court, his people’s future.

And then there was Y/N.

“I seek information,” Eris said, his voice steady but firm. “A secret held by Beron Vanserra. I believe you have it.”

Koschei tilted his head, his lips curving into a cruel smile. “Many secrets pass through my waters, fox prince. Why should I part with one so precious?”

Y/N, standing just behind Eris, shifted uneasily. He could sense her discomfort even without looking.

“Because,” Eris continued, his tone sharper now, “you’d benefit from Beron’s downfall. A weakened Autumn Court is a weakened Prythian.”

Koschei chuckled darkly. “You think I care for your petty court politics?”

Eris clenched his jaw. “I’m offering you an opportunity to tilt the balance in your favor.”

Koschei stepped closer, his presence oppressive. “And what do you offer in return? Surely you didn’t come to my lake empty-handed.”

The god’s gaze flicked to Y/N, who froze under his scrutiny.

Eris’s heartbeat quickened, though his face betrayed nothing. “What I offer is my business. Name your terms.”

Koschei’s smile widened. “Oh, I’ve already decided. Give me her.” He gestured to Y/N.

The world seemed to tilt. For a moment, Eris’s mind blanked.

“What?” Y/N breathed, her voice barely audible.

Koschei ignored her, his attention on Eris. “Wasn’t that why you brought her here in the first place, princeling? To trade her for the secret you so desperately desire?”

Eris felt his stomach drop. The god’s words pierced him like a blade, and for once, his mask slipped.

Y/N’s gasp cut through the silence. “You—what?”

Eris swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. “That wasn’t the arrangement.”

Koschei’s laughter echoed across the lake. “You’re lying to yourself, Eris Vanserra. The girl was always a tool, wasn’t she? But now…” The god’s smile turned mocking. “Now you hesitate. How quaint.”

“I need time,” Eris said quickly, his voice sharper than he intended.

Koschei raised a brow. “Time? You want me to wait?”

“Yes,” Eris said, his tone firm despite the chaos in his mind. “Twenty-four hours. I’ll return with an answer.”

The Death God considered him for a long, agonizing moment before finally nodding. “Very well. But if you fail to return, know this: I will find you both.”

With that, Koschei disappeared into the mist, leaving the air cold and suffocating in his wake.

Eris turned to Y/N, but before he could speak, she glared at him with such fury that he almost flinched.

“What the hell, Eris?”

“Not here,” he snapped, grabbing her arm. “We need to move. Now.”

The crackling fire cast flickering shadows across the small clearing, but it did nothing to thaw the icy tension hanging between them. Y/N paced back and forth, her movements sharp and frantic. Her hands trembled, the fury in her blood barely contained. Whether her trembling was from rage, fear, or a mix of both, she couldn’t say.

“You lied to me!” she spat, her voice cutting through the still night like a blade. She didn’t stop pacing, her steps growing faster with every word. “You—you brought me here as some…some bargaining chip?” Her laugh was sharp, humorless, a sound borne of disbelief and betrayal. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you. I knew it. I should’ve known better than to trust a Vanserra.”

Eris sat on a fallen log, his usual regal posture diminished as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. His fiery hair glinted in the firelight, a crown of embers atop a face twisted with frustration and something dangerously close to guilt. When he finally lifted his head, his golden eyes met hers with a storm of conflicting emotions—anger, shame, and something else she couldn’t quite place.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said, his voice low, almost too quiet to hear over the crackle of the flames.

“Oh, so you admit it then?” she shot back, stopping in her tracks to glare at him. “You admit you were planning to trade me to that monster?”

“I thought I could do it,” Eris snapped, the intensity in his tone enough to make her flinch, though she refused to show it. He shot to his feet, his height and presence suddenly looming as he closed the distance between them. “At first, I thought it would be simple. But now…” He faltered, raking a hand through his hair. His voice dropped again, rough and frayed at the edges. “It shouldn’t have been this hard.”

Her throat tightened, and for a moment, her rage was overtaken by the sting of betrayal. “I hate you,” she said, her voice breaking despite her best efforts to keep it steady.

Eris recoiled as if she’d struck him, but his recovery was swift. His jaw tightened, and his expression twisted into something cold, almost cruel. “You’re blaming me?” he hissed, his golden eyes burning with a new kind of fire. “You’re blaming me when we both know this isn’t one-sided? We were both using each other, Y/N.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice rose, the incredulity and anger in her chest threatening to burst.

“What about your little organization?” he continued, each word sharper than the last. He took a step closer, his gaze locking onto hers. “Were you planning to rat me out to them the second this was over? Or were you just going to kill me under their orders?”

Her breath hitched, and for a brief moment, she froze. That hesitation was all he needed to press on.

“That’s not—” she started, but he cut her off.

“You’re no better than me,” he said, his voice colder now, though she caught the slight waver in it. “So don’t stand there and act like you’re some righteous martyr when you’re just as manipulative and ruthless as I am.”

Something inside her snapped. “You don’t know anything about me!” she shouted, her voice cracking with the force of her anger. “You don’t know what I’ve been through or what I’ve sacrificed to even be here.”

“Then tell me,” Eris demanded, his tone softer but no less intense. He took another step closer, towering over her now. “Because all I see is someone who’s as willing to play dirty as I am.”

The fire between them seemed to dim, the tension thick enough to choke. Y/N clenched her fists at her sides, her body trembling with a mix of emotions she couldn’t even begin to untangle.

“You are impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head as she turned away from him.

“Impossible?” he repeated, his voice rising with disbelief. He threw his arms out, his control slipping as his emotions finally broke through the carefully constructed mask he wore. “Do you think this has been easy for me? Do you think I haven’t cursed myself for every step I’ve taken toward this gods-damned mess?”

“Why should I care how hard it’s been for you?” she shot back, spinning to face him again. “You lied to me. You brought me here to trade me like some pawn on a chessboard!”

“I thought I could do it!” he roared, his voice echoing through the clearing. His chest heaved as he struggled to rein in the storm of emotions swirling inside him. “I thought it would be easy. But now…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground as his voice softened. “Now it’s not.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, she thought she saw something break in him, something raw and unguarded. But the moment passed, and his walls went back up.

“I will never forgive you for this,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat.

Eris’s expression hardened, but his eyes betrayed him. There was something vulnerable, something desperate lingering in their depths. “Good,” he said, his tone sharper than a blade. “Because I’m not giving you to anyone.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“You heard me.” He straightened, squaring his shoulders as if steeling himself for what was to come. “I’ll find the secret myself. I don’t know why or for what reason, but I can’t trade you. I won’t.”

She let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Yeah, sure. You’re smart, but not smart enough to outwit a god.”

Eris didn’t flinch. Instead, his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “If Rhysand and Feyre can do it, so can I.”

Y/N gaped at him, her mind racing with a thousand questions, but before she could voice any of them, Eris was already moving.

“We’re leaving,” he said, his voice firm and unyielding. “Now.”

For a moment, she stood frozen, her emotions warring within her. Then, with a muttered curse, she grabbed her things and followed him into the dark forest, the fire behind them burning lower and lower until it was nothing but embers.

The camp materialized in the forest’s depths like a secret whispered too loudly. A smattering of tents and crude wooden structures sat nestled among the trees, almost imperceptible until you were standing in the middle of it. Eris stepped through the wards without hesitation, his sharp gaze sweeping over the area.

Y/N trailed behind him, her silence more ominous than any insult she might have hurled his way. Her hood was drawn low over her face, her footsteps deliberately quiet.

“You’ve been here before,” Eris noted, glancing back at her.

Y/N didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes were fixed on the nearest tent, where two figures huddled close, their conversation halting as they spotted her.

“Y/N,” one of them said, stepping forward. A tall, wiry man with piercing gray eyes and a knife strapped to his thigh. His voice was clipped, suspicious. “You weren’t supposed to come back here.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, but her tone was light, almost mocking. “Missed me already, Lioran?”

The man—Lioran—didn’t return the smile. His gaze slid to Eris, narrowing. “Who’s this?”

“Eris Vanserra,” Eris said smoothly, his tone polite but edged. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

Lioran’s hand drifted to the hilt of his knife. “We don’t take kindly to his kind here.”

Eris arched a brow. “My kind?”

“The scheming, backstabbing kind,” Lioran shot back, his voice sharp as steel.

“Then you’re in luck,” Eris said, his smile a razor-thin line. “I only scheme when it’s worth my time.”

“Eris,” Y/N hissed, stepping between them. She turned to Lioran, her voice low. “We’re not here to fight.”

“Then why are you here?” Lioran demanded, his gaze darting between her and Eris.

Y/N hesitated, her shoulders tense. “We need a place to rest. Just for a few hours.”

“Not here.”

“We don’t have a choice,” she snapped, her tone harsher than intended.

Lioran’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have a choice, or he doesn’t?”

Eris stepped closer, his presence somehow both casual and imposing. “I appreciate your hospitality,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “Truly. But we’re staying.”

“Over my dead body,” Lioran growled, his knife halfway out of its sheath.

“That can be arranged,” Eris replied, his hand hovering near the sword at his hip.

“Enough!” Y/N’s voice cut through the rising tension like a blade. Both men froze, their gazes snapping to her.

“This isn’t your fight, Lioran,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging in her eyes. “Let us stay, and we’ll be gone by dawn.”

Lioran hesitated, his grip on the knife tightening. Then, with a muttered curse, he stepped back.

“You have until sunrise,” he said, his tone icy. “After that, you’re on your own.”

The tent was small and sparsely furnished, with little more than a pile of blankets and a flickering lantern. Y/N sat on the ground, her arms crossed over her chest, while Eris leaned against the canvas wall, watching her with an inscrutable expression.

“You’ve been here before,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

Y/N didn’t look at him. “What gave it away?”

“The way they looked at you,” he said, his tone annoyingly perceptive. “Like you were one of them. Or maybe like you weren’t anymore.”

She flinched, but her voice was sharp when she replied. “What’s your point?”

Eris tilted his head, studying her. “My point is, you’re full of surprises.”

“Coming from you, that’s almost a compliment.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Silence stretched between them again, heavy and uncomfortable.

“Why did you bring me here?” Y/N asked finally, her voice low.

Eris hesitated, his golden eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite place. “Because I needed to buy time.”

“For what?”

“To figure out what the hell I’m doing.”

His honesty caught her off guard, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond.

“I thought you always knew what you were doing,” she said, her tone softer than before.

“So did I,” he admitted, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the tension between them shifting into something quieter, more uncertain.

Then Eris straightened, his usual smirk returning. “Get some rest,” he said, his tone turning brisk. “We leave before sunrise.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, settling onto the pile of blankets with a huff.

As Eris extinguished the lantern, the darkness seemed to press in around them, heavy and unrelenting.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N wasn’t sure which of them she trusted less—the tyrant High Lord's arrogant prick of a son, or herself.

The dim light of the lantern flickered one last time before going out, plunging the tent into darkness. Y/N lay motionless for what felt like hours, her breathing slow and even, feigning sleep. She could hear the soft rustle of fabric as Eris adjusted his position, the steady cadence of his breaths eventually signaling that he had drifted off.

Quietly, she pushed herself up, careful not to make a sound. Her boots barely scuffed the ground as she slipped out of the tent, the night air cool against her flushed skin. The camp was silent, save for the occasional crackle of a dying fire or the distant hoot of an owl.

She found Lioran near the edge of the camp, seated on a stump with two others—Elira, a sharp-eyed woman with a scar slicing through her lip, and Darin, a broad-shouldered man with a perpetual frown etched into his face. Their hushed conversation ceased the moment they saw her, their expressions shifting to guarded wariness.

“Y/N.” Lioran’s voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness. His gray eyes burned with a mixture of anger and something that almost looked like betrayal. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Y/N crossed her arms, her jaw tightening. “I needed help. I thought this place could offer it.”

“You thought this place could—” He stood abruptly, his fists clenching at his sides. “We thought you were dead, Y/N! For months, we worried, planned, searched. And then you show up out of nowhere, with him? What were we supposed to think?”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” she snapped back.

“No choice?” Elira interjected, her tone biting as she stepped closer, her dark eyes narrowing. “You’re standing here now, aren’t you? Looks like a choice to me.”

Y/N’s hands curled into fists. “Do you think I wanted this? To be dragged into his mess? To be used as leverage and then left to figure out how to survive?”

“Used as leverage?” Darin’s deep voice rumbled as he leaned forward, his arms still crossed. “What does that mean, Y/N?”

She hesitated, her gaze flicking to Lioran, then Elira, and finally Darin. “He sold me to Koschei,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Elira’s expression hardened into something cold and unreadable, but Darin’s eyes widened in shock. Lioran’s jaw dropped slightly before he recovered, his voice rising in disbelief. “He what?”

“Keep your voices down,” Y/N hissed, glancing nervously toward the tent where Eris slept. “He’ll wake up.”

“You’re telling me,” Lioran said, his voice low but no less cutting, “that Eris Vanserra sold you to Koschei, and now you’re just... traveling with him? Are you out of your mind?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she repeated, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself. “I escaped, and he needed my help. We’ve been stuck together ever since.”

“And you didn’t think to tell us this sooner?” Elira demanded, her tone sharp as a blade. “You disappear for months, let us think you’re dead, and now you show up dragging him into our territory?”

“I didn’t even know you were still here!” Y/N shot back. “For all I knew, you’d packed up and disappeared.”

“We wouldn’t have had to move if someone hadn’t led him straight to us,” Elira retorted, her scarred lip curling into a sneer.

“I didn’t lead him here!” Y/N shouted, her frustration boiling over. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I’d risk you all like that?”

Elira took a threatening step forward, but Lioran held up a hand to stop her. “Then why are you here, Y/N? Why now?”

Y/N straightened, her voice steady and fierce. “Because Beron needs to be stopped. Because Koschei is a threat to all of us. And because I can’t do this alone.”

“And you think we’re just going to trust you?” Lioran’s words were laced with bitterness. “After everything?”

“I don’t care if you trust me,” she said, her voice firm. “I’m not here to beg for your forgiveness. I’m here because I know what’s at stake. Beron won’t stop until he’s crushed everyone who stands in his way, and Koschei is more dangerous than any of you realize.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with truth.

Darin glanced at Elira, then Lioran. “She’s not wrong,” he muttered reluctantly.

“Shut up, Darin,” Elira snapped, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

Y/N pressed on, her voice growing stronger. “I need allies, not enemies. If we don’t stand together, we’ll all fall separately.”

Elira scoffed. “And we’re supposed to believe you haven’t told him anything about us? How the hell did he find this place?”

“I don’t know!” Y/N’s voice cracked with exasperation. “Do you think I’d risk all of you like that? Do you think I’d risk us?”

Lioran stepped closer, his gray eyes boring into hers. “Did you?”

“No!” she said fiercely. “Are you mad? He’s the last person I’d trust with that kind of information.”

The tension crackled between them like a live wire, neither willing to back down.

Finally, Lioran sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is going to cause problems,” he muttered. “She isn’t going to be happy about this.”

Y/N frowned. “She?”

Lioran hesitated before answering. “You know who I mean. Do you think she’ll just let this slide?”

“She’ll understand,” Y/N said, though her voice wavered slightly. “She has to.”

Lioran’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll see what I can do. But you’d better hope you’re right.”

With that, he turned and walked away, Elira following after him. Darin lingered for a moment, his gaze softening. “Be careful, Y/N. This isn’t just about you anymore.”

“I know,” she murmured, watching him go.

When she returned to the tent, Eris was still asleep, his breathing deep and even. She lay down carefully, staring up at the canvas above her, her mind racing with the implications of what had just transpired.

The battle wasn’t just with Beron or Koschei anymore. It was with the people she had once called allies—and the thin thread of trust that might be their only hope of survival.

Y/N woke to the low hum of voices, the kind that filled the camp with life but carried a weight of unspoken words. The sun barely peeked over the treetops, casting soft golden light on the forest floor. She blinked, groggy but alert enough to notice Eris wasn’t lying in the other makeshift bed anymore.

He stood a few feet away, crouched low as he packed their meager supplies. His shoulders were taut, the golden hair at the nape of his neck catching the early morning light. Y/N observed him for a moment, trying to gauge if he suspected anything. The tension in his frame was a constant, but there was no immediate sign that he’d pieced together her late-night conversation with Lioran.

Good. For now, at least.

Lioran’s laugh carried from near the campfire, followed by the murmur of other voices. Y/N shifted her attention there, noticing how the others in the camp were moving more leisurely this morning. They didn’t look at her with the same outright hostility as before. Suspicion lingered in their glances, but there was something softer in the way they interacted.

Pushing herself to her feet, Y/N walked over to the fire. Lioran stood on the opposite side, ladling out a hearty stew into small bowls and passing them to the others. He froze for a second when he spotted Y/N approaching, but her expression smoothed almost instantly.

“Breakfast?” Lioran offered, his tone clipped but civil.

Y/N took the bowl, her fingers brushing against Lioran’s briefly. The touch was enough to convey her silent plea: Don’t tell him.

Lioran's gaze flicked toward Eris, who was now leaning against a tree, his eyes darting between Y/N and the rest of the camp. His brow furrowed, but he said nothing.

“Thank you,” Y/N said softly, breaking the silence.

The others in the camp shifted awkwardly but seemed to relax when Lioran handed Eris his bowl without a word. For a while, the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the quiet clinking of spoons against metal.

After they’d eaten, one of the camp members approached with a small satchel. “For your journey,” he said, handing it to Eris.

The male looked surprised but accepted it, his lips twitching into a brief, almost reluctant smile. “Gratitude,” he said simply, though the tension in his voice hinted at deeper emotions.

Y/N caught Lioran'ss eye one last time as they prepared to leave. There was a flicker of something there—an unspoken truce, or maybe just mutual exhaustion. Either way, Lioran's curt nod told her he’d keep her word. For now.

The forest stretched endlessly around them, dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. Eris walked ahead, his posture rigid as ever. Y/N trailed behind him, her mind racing with questions she couldn’t ask aloud.

“You’re unusually quiet today,” Eris remarked, not turning to look at her.

“Maybe I’m tired of hearing your voice,” she shot back, quick and sharp.

He stopped abruptly, forcing her to stumble to a halt. He turned, his golden eyes narrowing as they locked onto hers. “We’re barely an hour into the day, and you’re already insufferable.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “I could say the same about you.”

Eris took a step closer, his height casting a shadow over her. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be running for their life, you have a remarkable talent for wasting time.”

“And for someone who’s supposedly saving my life, you have a remarkable talent for being unbearable,” she countered.

Their argument carried on for several more minutes, each barb sharper than the last. But eventually, the tension fizzled, replaced by the quiet rhythm of their footsteps.

Hours passed, the forest growing denser, the air heavier. Y/N watched Eris from behind, his movements graceful but purposeful. His shoulders were broad, his steps measured, and for a brief moment, she wondered how someone so infuriating could also be so... captivating.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his sudden halt. “We’ll stop here for a while,” he announced.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who said we don’t have time to waste.”

“Do you ever stop complaining?”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

He ignored her, kneeling to inspect a patch of moss on the ground. His indifference only fueled her frustration. Before she could think better of it, she darted forward and jumped onto his back, her arms locking around his neck.

Eris staggered, his hands instinctively grabbing her legs to steady her. “What the hell are you doing?” he growled.

“Making a point,” she replied smugly, tightening her grip.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, twisting to try and shake her off.

They tumbled to the ground in a chaotic heap, Y/N landing on top of him. She straddled his waist, pinning his arms down with a triumphant grin.

“Admit it,” she teased. “You’re impressed.”

Eris glared up at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Get off me.”

“Make me,” she challenged, leaning in slightly.

His golden eyes flicked to her lips for a fraction of a second, and the world seemed to slow. Y/N felt her heart stutter, her breath catching in her throat. For the first time, there was no sarcasm, no hostility—just raw, unfiltered tension.

But then, as quickly as it came, the moment shattered. Eris shoved her off him, his movements abrupt and almost panicked.

“Childish,” he muttered, brushing himself off as he stood.

Y/N stared at him, her cheeks flushed. “You’re the one who started it,” she retorted weakly, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

The atmosphere shifted as the sun dipped lower in the sky. The once-warm light grew colder, the shadows longer.

Eris’s pace quickened, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Y/N struggled to keep up, the unease in her chest growing with every step.

Then, without warning, she doubled over, clutching her chest as a sharp, searing pain shot through her.

“Y/N?” Eris was at her side instantly, his hands steadying her.

“I’m fine,” she gasped, though her trembling fingers betrayed her words.

The air around them seemed to thrum, an eerie energy crackling in the silence. And then, a voice—silken, cold, and dripping with malice.

“Running from me, little fox? Did you really think you could escape so easily?”

Koschei’s voice reverberated through the forest, wrapping around them like a vice.

Eris’s jaw clenched and he muttered a curse before saying, “Show yourself,” he demanded.

The laughter that followed was hollow and bone-chilling. “Not yet. But know this: your defiance will not go unpunished.”

Y/N felt the pain intensify, her vision swimming as Koschei’s words burned into her mind. Eris' grip on her tightened as he suddenly pulled her to his chest.

“Her life is tied to your choices now, princeling. Fail me, and she will pay the price.”

The voice faded, leaving a suffocating silence in its wake.

Eris tightened his grip on Y/N, his face pale but resolute. “I won’t let him win,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.

By the time they resumed their journey, night had fallen, draping the forest in shadows that seemed to reach for them as they passed. The moon hung low in the sky, its silvery glow filtering through the canopy to illuminate the narrow, winding path ahead. Eris walked a few paces ahead, his movements sharp and purposeful, the tension in his shoulders impossible to miss.

Y/N trailed behind, her mind a tangle of questions and doubts. Every step felt heavier, the weight of Koschei’s words still pressing against her chest. She watched Eris’s profile as he moved—his jaw set in determination, his golden hair catching the moonlight like a crown of fire. He hadn’t said a word since they’d left the clearing, and the silence between them was thick enough to choke on.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you going to tell me what this brilliant plan of yours is?” she asked, her voice hoarse but steady enough to cut through the night.

Eris didn’t so much as glance back. “No.”

Her footsteps faltered. “No?”

He stopped too, turning to face her. The moonlight carved sharp lines across his features, making his expression impossible to read. “I told you to trust me,” he said, his tone low but firm.

“Trust you?” Y/N repeated, the words dripping with disbelief. She scoffed, crossing her arms as her voice rose. “After everything that’s happened? After everything you’ve done?”

“Yes,” he said simply, his golden eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that stole her breath.

The calm certainty in his voice only fueled her frustration. She took a step closer, her fists clenched at her sides. “You can’t just demand trust, Eris. That’s not how it works. Not after—” Her voice cracked, and she quickly turned away, hiding the tremble in her hands. “Not after everything.”

Eris stayed silent, watching her as she fought to regain control. The only sound between them was the rustle of leaves and the distant cry of some nocturnal creature.

When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost gentle. “I know I’ve given you every reason to doubt me.”

Y/N’s head snapped back toward him, surprise flashing across her face. She hadn’t expected him to admit it.

“But if you don’t trust me now,” he continued, his gaze unwavering, “you’ll only make this harder on both of us. I have a plan. I’ll see it through. And I’ll keep you safe.”

“Safe?” she repeated bitterly. “You think this is about safety?”

“What else could it be about?” he asked, a flicker of irritation breaking through his calm facade.

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Because it wasn’t just about safety. It was about the lies, the manipulation, the way he always seemed to keep her one step behind, forcing her to rely on him when she wanted nothing more than to stand on her own.

“It’s about control,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s about you never letting me have a say in my own damn life.”

Eris’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. For a moment, she thought he might argue. Instead, he took a slow step closer, closing the distance between them.

“I’m not doing this to control you,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’m doing this because I know what’s at stake. And whether you like it or not, I’m your best chance at surviving this.”

Y/N stared at him, torn between fury and something she couldn’t quite name. The truth of his words only made her angrier, but there was something in his eyes—something raw and unguarded—that made it impossible to look away.

Finally, she let out a long, shaky sigh and turned back toward the path. “Fine,” she said, her tone sharp but resigned. “But if this goes sideways, I’m blaming you.”

Eris let out a soft huff of laughter, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in what could almost be called a smile. “Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said, falling into step beside her.

The silence that followed was different this time—not quite comfortable, but no longer suffocating. As they walked, Y/N stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye. For all his arrogance and infuriating confidence, there was something steady about Eris, something that made her wonder if maybe—just maybe—he really did know what he was doing.

She quickly shoved the thought aside. Trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford, not when so much was on the line. But for now, she’d follow him. For now, she’d pretend that his plan was enough.

The night stretched on, the moonlight guiding their way as the forest seemed to close in around them. And though neither of them spoke again, the tension between them lingered, simmering beneath the surface like a fire waiting to ignite.

By the time the first rays of sunlight broke through the thick canopy above, Y/N’s legs ached, and her patience was nearing its limit. They had walked for hours, the night stretching endlessly, with only the sound of rustling leaves and Eris’s steady footsteps to break the silence.

He hadn’t told her where they were going, and the vague promise of a plan did little to soothe her growing frustration. She bit back the questions that kept rising in her throat, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his secrecy irked her.

Instead, she focused on her surroundings, noting the shift in the forest’s atmosphere. The air had grown cooler, the trees older and more gnarled, their roots twisting across the ground like veins. There was a sense of ancient power here, something that made her skin prickle and her steps falter.

“Keep moving,” Eris called over his shoulder, his tone clipped.

Y/N scowled, quickening her pace to match his. “You could at least tell me if we’re getting close.”

“We’re close,” he said simply, offering no further explanation.

She glared at his back, tempted to hurl a rock at his head. But before she could voice her irritation, the forest opened up, revealing a clearing bathed in golden light. At its center stood a stone archway, weathered by time but still imposing. Strange runes were etched into its surface, glowing faintly as if alive.

“What is this?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eris didn’t answer. Instead, he strode toward the archway, his movements more deliberate now, as though he were stepping onto sacred ground.

Y/N hesitated before following, her gaze darting around the clearing. The air felt heavy here, charged with a magic that made her heart race. She didn’t trust it—and she certainly didn’t trust Eris.

But curiosity won out, and she approached the archway, her eyes narrowing as she watched him trace his fingers over the glowing runes.

The runes were exactly as he remembered them from the stories his father used to tell. Tales of a hidden passage, a place where the secrets of their bloodline were guarded, waiting to be uncovered by those bold enough—or foolish enough—to seek them.

Eris’s fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against the cold stone, though he quickly steadied himself. He couldn’t afford hesitation now, not when they were so close.

“Eris,” Y/N’s voice broke through his focus, sharp and demanding. “What is this place?”

He glanced at her, taking in the way her arms were crossed defensively, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to read his mind. A part of him wanted to explain, to ease the suspicion etched across her features. But the other part—the part that had been shaped by years of manipulation and betrayal—held back.

“It’s the key to our survival,” he said finally, his voice low but resolute.

Her scowl deepened. “Could you be any more cryptic?”

He ignored the jab, turning back to the archway. With a deep breath, he pressed his palm against the center rune, feeling the surge of magic as it reacted to his touch. The runes flared brighter, casting the clearing in an otherworldly glow.

A low rumble echoed through the ground, and the air around them seemed to ripple. The space within the archway shimmered, transforming into a swirling portal of gold and crimson.

Eris stepped back, his chest tightening. He’d spent years wondering if this place truly existed, if the stories were more than just myth. And now, standing on the precipice, he felt the weight of what lay ahead.

Y/N stared at the portal, her heart pounding in her chest. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “You brought me all the way out here for a portal? What even is this?”

Eris turned to her, his expression unreadable. “It’s a passage to the truth,” he said, his voice steady but filled with a tension she couldn’t quite place.

“Truth about what?” she demanded. “Your father? Your grand scheme? You can’t just keep dragging me along without answers, Eris.”

He hesitated, and for a moment, she thought he might actually open up. But then he shook his head, his jaw tightening. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Before she could argue, he stepped through the portal and disappeared.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. She glanced at the swirling magic, dread pooling in her gut. She had every reason to turn around and leave, to abandon him to whatever madness lay beyond. But she also knew that whatever this was, it was bigger than both of them.

With a muttered curse, she stepped into the portal.

The air on the other side was colder, sharper, and filled with the hum of ancient magic. Eris landed gracefully, his boots crunching against stone as he surveyed the chamber before him. The room was vast, its walls lined with glowing symbols that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat.

At the center of the chamber stood a pedestal, atop which rested a small, intricately carved box. It was unassuming at first glance, but Eris could feel the power emanating from it, a power that called to him like a siren’s song.

He stepped toward it, his breaths coming quicker. This was it—the key to his father’s secrets, to the truths that had been kept from him for so long.

Behind him, Y/N appeared, stumbling slightly as she adjusted to the new surroundings. “What the hell is this place?” she asked, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

Eris didn’t answer. His focus was solely on the box as he reached out and lifted it from the pedestal. The moment his fingers closed around it, a wave of energy surged through the room, causing the symbols on the walls to flare brighter.

“What did you do?” Y/N demanded, panic creeping into her voice.

Before he could respond, a figure materialized from the shadows—a tall, cloaked man with eyes that glowed like molten gold.

“Eris,” the figure said, his voice deep and resonant. “You should not have come here.”

Eris froze, his grip tightening on the box. “Who are you?”

The man stepped closer, his presence radiating authority. “I am the keeper of the Vanserra bloodline's sins. And you have just unleashed them.”

The sudden appearance of the cloaked man caught Y/N off guard, her hand instinctively going to the dagger at her waist. She knew better than to trust anyone who emerged from the shadows, especially someone who seemed to know far more than they should.

Eris tensed beside her, his posture straightening. “I don’t remember inviting you.” His voice was cold, calculating, but there was a flicker of something—fear, maybe—beneath the surface.

The figure’s golden eyes, glowing with an ethereal light, fixed on Eris. “You don’t need to invite me, son. I’ve always been here, watching.” He stepped closer, his movement slow and deliberate, his feet never touching the stone floor. “You think you can just walk in here and uncover secrets that were meant to remain buried?”

Y/N exchanged a glance with Eris, her gut twisting with unease. The air around them had thickened, suffocating, as though the very room was alive with tension. The glowing symbols on the walls pulsed in a rhythm that matched the frantic beating of her heart.

“What do you want?” Eris demanded, his voice a bit sharper now, but his hands still gripping the box like his life depended on it.

The figure’s lips curled into a twisted smile. “What I want? I’m not the one who has come looking for answers, Eris. You’re the one who wants to peel back the veil of the past, but be careful. Some truths, once uncovered, cannot be undone.”

The words were heavy, ominous. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine.

Eris’s grip tightened on the box, but his expression remained unreadable, almost like he was steeling himself for something worse. “I’m done being kept in the dark. Whatever you are, whatever my father has hidden from me… it’s time for the truth.”

Y/N watched the interaction between them closely, unsure of how much she should trust Eris’s confidence. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this man—this figure who seemed to appear from nowhere—was more than he let on.

The cloaked figure laughed, a low, mocking sound that reverberated around the chamber. “You think you’re ready for the truth? You’ve been living in your father’s shadow for so long, you have no idea what you’re about to uncover.” He reached out, but his fingers stopped just short of touching the box Eris held. “That box contains not just your father’s secrets but his sins. If you open it, you open the door to everything he’s done. Everything he’s become.”

Eris’s jaw clenched, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes now.

“Isn’t it better to leave things in the past?” Y/N asked, her voice low and tense. She could sense Eris’s hesitation, and it unnerved her. Was he truly ready to face what lay beyond this point? She wasn’t sure.

The cloaked man tilted his head slightly, considering her words. “Wise, but futile. The past has a way of coming for you. Especially when you’ve buried it so deeply.”

Eris didn’t back down. “I don’t care. I need to know.” He opened the box.

The air seemed to hold its breath.

Inside the box, there was a small crystal, no larger than a stone, but its light was blinding. A bright, pulsating red.

Y/N squinted, shielding her eyes from the intensity of the light. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but she stood frozen, unable to look away. The power radiating from the crystal felt familiar but twisted. Like something that had once been pure had been corrupted by darkness.

The moment he opened the box, a wave of energy slammed into him. It was as if the world around him buckled and shifted, pulling at his very soul. His vision blurred, his knees buckled, and for a split second, it felt like he was falling into an endless abyss.

The cloaked figure smiled knowingly, watching Eris struggle to maintain his composure. “I warned you.”

Eris clenched his teeth, forcing himself to stay upright. He had expected something—maybe not this intensity—but he hadn’t prepared for the physical weight of it. The crystal in his hand pulsed with malevolent power, and the symbols on the walls flared to life.

For a moment, he thought he saw shadows move within the symbols—whispers that seemed to beckon him. He felt a pull, a magnetic force drawing him deeper into the room, deeper into whatever this place was.

Y/N reached out instinctively, her hand brushing against his shoulder. “Eris… what’s happening?”

He turned to her, eyes wild, the golden hue of his gaze dimming as he fought to regain control. “It’s my father… he’s hidden this here for a reason. This crystal is—”

Before he could finish, the ground beneath them shook violently. The air thickened with the smell of burning metal and decay. The runes on the walls were no longer just glowing—they were alive, twisting, writhing like snakes.

The cloaked figure raised his hands, his eyes glowing brighter. “It’s already too late. You’ve unleashed something far worse than you can imagine. That crystal binds you to your father’s will. It always has.”

Y/N moved closer to Eris, her hand brushing the back of his as she tried to help steady him. “We need to leave. Now.”

Eris shook his head, determination flooding his veins despite the rising panic. “I can’t… I need to understand. I can’t just turn back now.”

The cloaked figure chuckled darkly. “You will never understand. You are just a pawn in his game. You always have been.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered between Eris and the figure, her thoughts racing. There was more to this than either of them knew. She could see it in the way Eris struggled, in the way the cloaked figure seemed to savor every moment of the pain they were experiencing.

Eris’s grip tightened on the crystal as the room seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. Then, without warning, a voice echoed through the chamber, cold and detached.

“You should have never come here, Eris.”

Y/N’s heart froze. The voice was unmistakable.

It was his father.

The voice that echoed through the chamber sent a chill crawling down Eris’s spine. He had heard that voice in his dreams, in his nightmares, in his everyday life—the cold, emotionless tone of a man who had never cared for anything other than power.

The crystal in his hand vibrated violently, and the world seemed to warp around him. The air thickened with the weight of his father’s presence, though he could not see him.

“Father,” Eris breathed, his voice hoarse.

“You’re foolish, Eris. You always have been. Thinking you could change the past, thinking you could erase the sins you’ve inherited. You can’t escape me. Not now. Not ever. And now, I know exactly where you and that little birdie of yours are.” The voice sounded nearer now, echoing in every corner of the chamber.

Y/N stepped forward, her eyes flicking between Eris and the source of the voice, her hand still on his arm. “Eris, this isn’t you. Don’t let him—”

But before she could finish, the cloaked figure raised a hand. “Do you think this is over? You’ve only awakened a fraction of what lies ahead. Your father’s reach is far greater than you know, Eris. You’ve only scratched the surface.”

Eris shook his head, the weight of his father’s voice still pressing down on him. He could feel the truth of it gnawing at his insides. His father’s reach—his control—had never really ended. It was still pulling at him, tethering him to a past he couldn’t escape.

And then the realization hit him like a blow to the chest: He was more like his father than he’d ever wanted to admit.

His eyes met Y/N’s, and in that moment, something shifted. The hatred he had felt for his father, the anger, the rage—it seemed almost insignificant in the face of the storm that was coming. He couldn’t change the past. But maybe, just maybe, he could do something different now.

Y/N saw the moment Eris broke. It wasn’t physical—there was no visible crack in him, no sign that something had shifted—but she could feel it. She could see it in the way his shoulders slumped, the faint tremble in his hand as he held the crystal.

He was facing something deep within himself. And Y/N knew that whatever it was, it was more dangerous than any enemy they’d ever fought.

The cloaked figure laughed, a low, bitter sound that echoed through the chamber. “You’re too late, Eris. You’re already bound. Your fate has already been decided.”

But Y/N wasn’t done. She stepped forward, pulling Eris’s arm to stop him from retreating into himself. “We’re not done,” she said firmly. “Whatever this is, we face it together.”

For a moment, there was no response. Then, slowly, Eris met her eyes, his gaze shifting from uncertainty to something more determined.

“Together,” he muttered, as if testing the weight of the word.

And for the first time since they’d met, Y/N believed it.

The ride back to the capital was a blur of motion and urgency. Y/N didn't even know from where Eris got the horses. The forest around them seemed alive with the weight of Beron’s presence, the shadows stretching unnaturally long as if the High Lord himself were watching their every move.

Eris had barely spoken since the chamber, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed straight ahead. Y/N had tried to pull him out of his silence, to remind him they needed a plan, but his focus was razor-sharp, and she knew better than to press too hard.

Still, the tension between them was unbearable. Every rustle in the trees, every snap of a twig, set her on edge. They were being hunted—she could feel it in her bones.

“We’re not going to make it to the capital unnoticed,” she finally said, her voice cutting through the oppressive quiet.

Eris didn’t turn, didn’t even glance her way. “We don’t have a choice.”

“And what happens when we get there?” she pressed. “Your father isn’t just going to let you stroll into his court and accuse him of treason.”

His lips curled into a humorless smile. “He won’t have to. The court’s already in chaos. This will just tip it over the edge.”

Y/N swallowed hard. She didn’t doubt Eris’s ability to lead, to inspire loyalty in those who followed him. But Beron had ruled for centuries with an iron fist, and loyalty to him ran deep, even among those who despised him.

He could feel the weight of Y/N’s doubts pressing against him, though she hadn’t voiced them outright. She was right to be cautious. This wasn’t just a gamble—it was a death wish.

But there was no time for hesitation.

The information he’d uncovered in the chamber was enough to destroy Beron’s reign, enough to rally the court against him—if Eris played it right. The crystal now hidden in his saddlebag pulsed with a faint warmth, a constant reminder of what was at stake.

“Keep your guard up,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “If Beron sent someone after us, they won’t be far behind.”

Y/N snorted softly, though there was no humor in it. “Good to know you’re finally acknowledging that we’re being hunted.”

Eris didn’t reply. His attention was fixed on the horizon, where the first faint outlines of the capital’s spires were visible against the darkening sky.

The attack came just before dawn, swift and brutal.

One moment they were riding through the dense undergrowth, the next, the air was alive with the sound of arrows slicing through the air.

“Down!” Eris barked, throwing himself from his horse and dragging Y/N with him just as a volley of arrows thudded into the trees where they had been riding moments before.

The horses screamed and bolted, disappearing into the forest as a group of masked figures emerged from the shadows, their movements silent and precise.

Eris drew his sword in one fluid motion, the blade catching the faint light of dawn as he placed himself between Y/N and the attackers. “Stay close,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Y/N didn’t hesitate, pulling her own dagger free as the first of the attackers lunged toward them.

The fight was chaotic, a blur of clashing steel and snarled commands. Eris moved with deadly precision, his strikes quick and calculated as he dispatched one attacker after another. Y/N fought with the same ferocity, her smaller blade flashing in the dim light as she defended herself against the onslaught.

But the attackers kept coming, their movements coordinated as if they were being guided by an unseen hand.

“Eris!” Y/N shouted, her voice sharp with warning.

He turned just in time to see a massive figure charging toward him, a wickedly curved blade glinting in his hand. Eris barely managed to deflect the blow, the force of it sending him staggering back.

Y/N lunged, her dagger slicing across the attacker’s thigh as she moved to cover Eris’s side.

“Nice timing,” he muttered, his breathing ragged.

“Don’t mention it,” she shot back, her own chest heaving as she scanned the trees for the next threat.

Just as it seemed they were being overwhelmed, a sudden burst of fire lit up the forest.

Eris’s flames roared to life, consuming the nearest attackers in a blaze of heat and light. The remaining assailants faltered, their carefully coordinated attack breaking apart as panic set in.

“Run or burn,” Eris growled, his voice carrying over the crackling of the flames.

The surviving attackers didn’t need to be told twice. They vanished into the trees, leaving their fallen comrades behind.

Eris let the fire die, the light fading as quickly as it had come.

Y/N slumped against a tree, her dagger still clenched tightly in her hand. “Well,” she panted, “that was fun.”

Eris shot her a look, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes now, despite the tension still coiled in his frame. “We need to keep moving.”

She nodded, forcing herself to her feet. “Next time, maybe warn me before you set the forest on fire.”

The camp they set up was crude but sufficient. A circle of stones held a small fire, its flames snapping against the cold night air. Eris moved efficiently, his every motion sharp with frustration. Y/N leaned against a tree, her arms crossed, watching him with a frown.

The tension between them had been simmering since the attack in the woods, the unspoken words and mounting pressure finally reaching a breaking point.

“We shouldn’t stop,” she said, her voice cutting through the crackle of the fire.

“We have no choice,” Eris replied without looking at her. “The horses are gone. We’re lucky we made it this far on foot.”

Y/N pushed off the tree, her arms falling to her sides. “We’re wasting time.”

Eris rounded on her, his golden eyes blazing. “And what would you have me do, Y/N? March us straight into the capital half-dead and unprepared?”

“Yes, if it means we’re one step ahead of Beron,” she shot back, her tone sharp. “He knows we’re coming. Every second we spend out here is a second closer to him tightening his grip.”

Eris let out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t feel the weight of it every damn moment?”

“Then stop acting like you’re the only one with something to lose!”

The words hung in the air, sharp and raw. Eris froze, his chest heaving as he stared at her.

Y/N didn’t back down, her voice trembling with the force of her anger. “You’ve been holding onto this plan of yours like it’s the only thing that matters. But guess what, Eris? I matter. My people matter. The things I’ve fought for—bled for—they matter. And I won’t let your pride or your fear jeopardize everything.”

Eris’s gaze darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine. You want to talk about what matters? Let’s start with you. Who are you, Y/N? Really? Because every time I think I have you figured out, you throw another secret at me.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she squared her shoulders. “You want the truth? Fine. I’m from the Eastern Wastes. My family was slaughtered when Beron’s soldiers raided my village, claiming we were harboring rebels. I survived by sheer luck—or maybe because I was too young to fight back.”

Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. “I was taken in by the Blackspire Alliance—a group that fights against tyrants like your father. They trained me, turned me into a weapon. I’ve spent my entire life dismantling regimes like Beron’s, piece by bloody piece.”

Eris blinked, the firelight catching in his eyes. “The Blackspire Alliance... They’re a myth.”

“They’re real,” Y/N said bitterly. “And they’re the reason I’m still alive. But they’re also the reason I’ll never have a normal life. I’ve done things—terrible things—in their name. And I’ll do more if it means taking Beron down.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

When Eris finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “Do you think you’re the only one with scars?”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her gaze locking with his.

“I’ve hated my father for as long as I can remember,” Eris said, his tone filled with quiet venom. “He’s cruel, manipulative, and he’s ruled our court through fear and bloodshed. I’ve spent my entire life trying to find a way to stop him. But every time I got close, he reminded me of just how powerless I was. How easily he could destroy everything I cared about.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides. “And then there’s my brothers. Do you know what it’s like to stand by while they suffer under him, knowing you can’t save them without damning yourself?”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off, his voice rising. “I didn’t think it would be this hard. I thought I could handle it. But then you came along, and suddenly everything became so much more complicated.”

He took a step closer, his golden eyes burning into hers. “Because now, when I think of you in the slightest danger, it feels like my chest is being ripped open. And I hate it. I hate that you make me feel this way when I can’t afford to be distracted.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding. “You think I don’t feel the same?” she whispered.

Eris let out a frustrated growl, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. “Then why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you act like this is just some mission to you?”

“Because it has to be!” Y/N shouted, her voice cracking. “If I let myself feel anything more, I’ll lose focus. And if I lose focus, we both die.”

Her words seemed to pierce through him, and he stopped pacing, his gaze locking with hers.

“You’re a coward,” he said softly, the accusation like a slap to the face.

Y/N’s eyes blazed with fury. “How dare you—”

“You’re afraid to let yourself want something for once in your life,” Eris continued, his voice rising. “Because if you do, it’ll mean admitting that you’re not just a weapon. That you’re a fae. And that terrifies you.”

Y/N took a step forward, her hands clenched into fists. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough,” he said, his voice steady now. “I know you’re strong. Fierce. Loyal. But you’re also so damn scared of being vulnerable that you’d rather push everyone away than let them in.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words to respond.

Eris closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her with a fierceness that stole the air from her lungs.

Y/N froze, the shock of it crashing over her like a wave. But then the heat of his lips, the raw desperation in his touch, pulled her under. She kissed him back, her hands gripping his tunic as if he were the only thing anchoring her to the world.

The kiss was a battle in itself—fierce, messy, and filled with every unspoken word they couldn’t bring themselves to say.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard, their foreheads pressed together.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling.

“No,” Eris agreed, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “But it means something.”

Y/N closed her eyes, her chest aching with a mixture of fear and longing. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, in this moment, she let herself feel.

The kiss lingered like a phantom between them, neither willing to address it, both too stubborn to break the uneasy silence. The tension was palpable as they packed up the camp, their movements sharp and deliberate.

Eris’s usual sharp remarks were replaced with clipped instructions. Y/N, for her part, kept her replies short, her mind a tangle of confusion and frustration. The awkwardness gnawed at her, but she refused to be the one to crack first.

The forest thinned as they neared the outskirts of the capital. Smoke curled on the horizon, faint but unmistakable—a sign of the chaos that awaited them.

Y/N broke the silence, her voice quiet but firm. “You’re sure about this?”

Eris didn’t look at her, his golden eyes fixed ahead. “I have to be.”

Her stomach twisted. She hated how much she cared about his answer, how much the thought of losing him made her chest ache.

By the time they reached the outskirts of the capital, the sun was rising, casting an eerie orange glow over the smoke-filled sky. Y/N’s steps faltered as she saw the figures waiting for them.

At first, she thought it was an illusion. But as they drew closer, she recognized the faces—fighters from the Blackspire Alliance, rebels she hadn’t seen in years, and even a few she’d thought long dead. Among them were the familiar silhouettes of their leaders, the very people she thought would never forgive her departure—yet they had answered her call.

Her gaze landed on Lioran, standing at the front, his expression grim but resolute.

“You...” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We answered,” Lioran said simply.

Her throat tightened, her hands curling into fists at her sides as memories of their last meeting rushed back. The argument. The betrayal. The way she had left, believing she would never see any of them again.

“I didn’t think—” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

Lioran’s tone sharpened, though there was no malice in it. “You didn’t think we’d come?” He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “You’ve been leading us for years, Y/N. Did you really think we’d let you face this alone? That we wouldn’t fight for the cause we all believed in?”

Behind him, others began to move closer, their faces illuminated by the growing light of dawn. Karys, the fiery-tempered weapons master, adjusted the massive axe strapped to her back. Her expression was as stern as ever, but there was a flicker of warmth in her stormy eyes as she nodded at Y/N.

Beside her stood Elira, the Alliance’s healer, her long silver hair tied into a braid that fell over her shoulder. Though her soft features bore the lines of worry and exhaustion, her lips curved into a small, reassuring smile.

And then there was Garran, the tactician whose sharp mind had kept them alive through some of their darkest days. His dark eyes gleamed with intelligence as he stepped forward, giving Eris a curt nod of acknowledgment before turning his attention to Y/N.

“You didn’t just call us,” Garran said, his voice low but carrying weight. “You called everyone. Word spread faster than wildfire. And this—” He gestured to the crowd behind him. “This is only the beginning. More are coming. More than you ever imagined.”

Y/N’s eyes swept over the gathered rebels, taking in the sea of faces—new and old, scarred and hopeful. Among the common folk were blacksmiths still wearing soot-streaked aprons, hunters clutching bows and quivers, and even children barely old enough to hold blades but standing tall with determination.

“I never expected...” She trailed off, unable to find the words.

Elira stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “You gave us hope when we had none. You think we’d forget that?”

A lump rose in her throat, and she blinked rapidly to push back the sting of tears. “I thought I lost all of you,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Karys snorted, her tone dry but not unkind. “We’re tougher than that, girl. You should know better.”

Eris had been standing a few paces behind Y/N, his amber eyes keenly observing the exchange. His expression remained unreadable, though his posture was unusually stiff. When Garran’s gaze flicked to him again, something unspoken passed between the two men—acknowledgment, perhaps, or the silent beginnings of trust.

“We’re ready,” Lioran said, his voice steady as he stepped closer, his presence commanding. “But you should know: Beron’s forces are already tearing the city apart. The fighting’s started, and it’s going to get worse before it gets better. If we’re going to strike, we need to do it soon.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, her resolve hardening like steel. She looked at the rebels—at her people—before turning to face the city, where smoke and ash painted the horizon.

“Then we’d better get to work,” she said, her voice resolute, though her heart thundered in her chest.

Behind her, the Blackspire Alliance roared their agreement, the sound rising like thunder over the chaos of the burning capital.

The capital was unrecognizable. Smoke choked the air, curling into the dawn sky like dark serpents. The acrid stench of burning wood, charred flesh, and spilled blood was suffocating. The streets, once bustling with life, were now a graveyard of shattered debris, overturned carts, and the lifeless bodies of those caught in the crossfire.

Fires raged unchecked, devouring homes and businesses alike, their flames crackling and hissing as they leapt from building to building. The inferno painted the sky an angry orange, casting jagged shadows that seemed to dance across the carnage below. Shouts and screams echoed through the streets, mingling with the clash of steel and the guttural cries of the wounded.

Y/N moved through the chaos like a storm, her iron sword flashing in the firelight. Her movements were precise, almost graceful, as she cut down anyone who dared to stand in her way. Behind her, the rebels of the Blackspire Alliance fought with a ferocity born of desperation, their weapons gleaming as they clashed against Beron’s forces.

Every step was a battle. The royal guards were relentless, their polished armor splattered with blood and soot as they surged forward in tightly-knit formations. They fought with the discipline of trained killers, but Y/N and her rebels matched them blow for blow.

At one point, as she turned a corner, her sharp gaze caught sight of a group of civilians huddled against the wall of a crumbling building. A mother clutched her sobbing child to her chest, her face pale with terror. An elderly man leaned heavily on a wooden staff, his knuckles white as he tried to shield a young boy with his body.

They were surrounded. A squad of royal guards closed in on them, their swords gleaming with deadly intent.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. Fury surged through her veins, white-hot and unyielding, as she launched herself into the fray. She moved like a blur, her weapons slicing through the air.

The first guard didn’t even have time to react. Y/N’s sword tore through his chestplate, rending steel and flesh as he crumpled to the ground. The second swung his blade at her, but she ducked under the arc and drove her axe into his unprotected side. He fell with a strangled cry, his sword clattering uselessly to the ground.

The remaining guards turned to face her, their faces a mix of shock and rage. One of them shouted an order, and they charged as a unit, their swords aimed at her heart.

Y/N snarled, her fangs bared, and met them head-on. Her swordcaught the blade of the first guard, sparks flying as steel met iron. With a powerful twist, she disarmed him, her hand slashing across his throat in a single, lethal motion.

The next guard lunged at her with a spear, but she sidestepped the thrust with inhuman speed. Grabbing the shaft of the spear, she yanked it free from his grasp and swung it like a staff, knocking him off his feet. She didn’t stop—couldn’t stop—as she drove her bare hands into his chest, ensuring he wouldn’t rise again.

The last guard hesitated, his grip on his sword faltering as he stared at her. Y/N advanced on him, her steps deliberate, her hands dripping with blood.

“Run,” she growled, her voice low and menacing.

The guard’s nerve broke. He turned and fled, his armor clanking as he disappeared into the smoke-filled streets.

Breathing hard, Y/N turned to the civilians. “Get to safety!” she shouted, her voice sharp with urgency as she wiped blood from her brow.

The mother stared at her, wide-eyed and trembling, before nodding quickly. She grabbed her child’s hand and bolted toward a nearby alley, the elderly man and boy following close behind.

Y/N watched them go, her chest heaving with exertion. Relief flickered through her, but it was short-lived.

“Commander!” one of the rebels shouted, running toward her. “More guards are coming from the west! We’re outnumbered!”

Y/N clenched her jaw, her hands flexing as she scanned the street. The fires had grown, consuming entire buildings and forcing the rebels to funnel through narrow, smoke-filled passageways. They couldn’t hold this position much longer.

“Fall back to the eastern square!” she barked, her voice carrying over the chaos. “Regroup there and hold the line until we can push through!”

The rebel nodded and sprinted off to relay the order. Y/N took a moment to steady herself, her gaze lingering on the bodies of the guards she had killed.

She turned back toward the fight, her resolve hardening. There was no room for hesitation, no time for fear. They had a city to reclaim, and she would see it through—no matter the cost.

The throne room was a gilded mausoleum, its ornate gold-and-red design bathed in the flickering glow of Eris’s flames. The suffocating weight of power, corruption, and decades of unspoken resentment seemed to pulse from the walls. Eris stalked forward like a predator unleashed, the fire in his palms mirroring the inferno blazing in his chest.

Beron sat on his throne, his expression a twisted mix of disdain and amusement, as though he couldn’t believe Eris would dare challenge him. Flanking him were Eris’s remaining brothers, their faces betraying a mix of fear and loyalty, their swords already drawn.

"Back to grovel, boy?" Beron sneered, his voice oozing contempt, but there was an edge of uncertainty in his tone.

Eris didn’t bother replying. Words had long since lost their meaning in these halls. Instead, he let his flames roar to life, casting monstrous shadows across the room as he hurled a blazing inferno toward his father.

Beron barely moved in time, the blast of fire scorching the side of the throne and sending shards of molten gold flying. The room erupted into chaos as Beron’s sons lunged forward, their weapons catching the firelight in deadly arcs. Seems like Eris would have to fight his brothers, oh well, he would get them healers after all this mess is over.

The fight was brutal, every strike carrying the weight of buried history and bitterness.

One of Eris’s brothers, swung his sword in a vicious arc aimed at Eris’s neck. Eris ducked, his movements fluid and precise, and countered with a sweep of flames that engulfed Caleb’s arm. The brother screamed, dropping his weapon and stumbling back, but Eris didn’t stop. He spun, using the momentum to drive his fist—wreathed in fire—into the face of another brother, the impact echoing through the chamber.

“Enough of this!” Beron’s voice boomed, and the High Lord raised his hands. A surge of raw, fiery power rippled through the air, colliding with Eris’s flames and extinguishing them in an instant. The oppressive weight of Beron’s power bore down on the room, choking and hot.

“You think you can kill me?” Beron snarled, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward. “You think you’ve earned that right?”

“I don’t think,” Eris said, his voice like steel. “I know.”

With a roar, Eris reignited his flames, the inferno hotter and brighter than before, defying the cold weight of Beron’s power. He surged forward, his blade flashing in the fiery light as he clashed with his father. Sparks flew as their weapons met, the force of each strike reverberating through the walls.

Beron’s attacks were relentless, fueled by years of cruelty and dominance. He lashed out with blasts of fiery magic that twisted and coiled like living things, seeking to ensnare and crush Eris. But Eris was faster, his flames burning away the dark tendrils with each strike.

“You’ve always been a disappointment,” Beron hissed, his face contorted with rage. “Weak. Sniveling. Unworthy of my throne.”

Eris laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that cut through the clash of steel. “And yet here I am, standing where you thought I never would.”

He pressed the attack, his blade moving like liquid fire. He drove Beron back toward the throne, each strike fueled by the years of pain and humiliation he had endured. But Beron was no weakling; he had ruled for centuries with cunning and strength. He parried Eris’s blows with precision, his magic coiling around him like armor.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eris saw his last uninjured brother attempting to flank him. With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent a jet of fire spiraling toward the man, forcing him to dive for cover.

Beron seized the distraction, sending a blast of fireballs toward Eris’s chest. The force of it knocked Eris off his feet, slamming him into a gilded pillar. Pain lanced through his back, but he gritted his teeth and rose, flames already igniting in his hands again.

Beron smirked. “You can’t win, boy. You’ll never be more than a shadow in my legacy.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Eris growled. His flames erupted in a brilliant cascade, setting the drapes and banners ablaze, turning the throne room into a fiery hellscape.

Beron lunged, but Eris was ready. He sidestepped the attack and drove his blade deep into Beron’s side. The High Lord gasped, his power faltering for a brief moment.

“Still think I’m weak?” Eris spat, twisting the blade and pulling it free.

Beron staggered, but his eyes burned with defiance. “You’ll regret this. You don’t have what it takes to—”

Eris didn’t let him finish. With a roar, he drove his blade straight into Beron’s chest, the force of the blow driving them both to the ground. Flames erupted around them as Beron’s power surged one last time before fading entirely.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the crackling of fire. Eris stared down at his father’s lifeless body, his chest heaving with exertion. The High Lord of Autumn was no more.

But the victory felt hollow, the weight of what came next settling heavily on Eris’s shoulders.

As Beron crumpled to the ground, his lifeless body hitting the marble with a finality that echoed through the throne room, Y/N screamed.

The sound tore through the chaos outside the palace, raw and guttural, cutting through the clamor of battle like a blade. She stumbled, clutching at her chest as a searing, inexplicable pain radiated through her body. It felt like fire licking at her veins, consuming her from the inside out. Her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the blood-streaked ground.

Lioran was at her side in an instant, his face pale with panic as he caught her before she hit the stone. “Y/N! What’s happening?” he demanded, his voice tight with fear.

She couldn’t answer. Her breath came in short, desperate gasps as the pain worsened, an invisible hand tightening around her ribs. Her vision blurred, the sounds of the battle around her fading into a muted roar.

“I don’t know—” she choked out, her hands trembling as they gripped Lioran’s arms. “I—can’t—breathe.”

Around them, the fight seemed to stall as their people noticed their leader faltering. The fighters of the Blackspire Alliance closed ranks, forming a protective circle around Y/N and Lioran.

“Get back! Give her space!” one of the rebel leaders barked, their voice shaking despite their attempt at authority.

Lioran gently eased Y/N onto the ground, his hand pressing against her clammy forehead. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he urged, his voice softer now, betraying the raw edge of fear he couldn’t hide. “You’ve faced worse. Whatever this is, you’ll fight through it.”

But she wasn’t so sure. The pain wasn’t like any injury she’d ever felt. It was deeper, rooted in something intangible. It wasn’t her body breaking; it felt like her very soul was unraveling.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to focus on Lioran’s face, his familiar features anchoring her in the storm. “It feels like—like something’s tearing me apart,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lioran swore under his breath, his gaze darting to the others surrounding them. “We need a healer. Now.”

“There aren’t any left,” one of the rebels said grimly. “The palace guard took them out first.”

Y/N shook her head weakly, her lips twitching into a faint, humorless smile. “It won’t help,” she murmured. “This... this isn’t something a healer can fix.”

Lioran’s brow furrowed, his frustration boiling over. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re bleeding internally or—”

“No,” she cut him off, wincing as another wave of pain coursed through her. “It’s not physical.” Her voice broke, her hands trembling as they clutched at her chest. “It’s something else.”

Before Lioran could respond, her body convulsed, her back arching as a sharp cry tore from her lips. The pain reached a crescendo, so overwhelming she thought she might lose consciousness. Darkness crept at the edges of her vision, and for a terrifying moment, she thought this might be it.

Through the haze, she heard Lioran shouting orders, his voice a desperate thread pulling her back. “Get her out of here! Cover the retreat!”

“No,” Y/N gasped, her hand weakly gripping his wrist. “Don’t... leave the fight. This war—”

“This war doesn’t mean a damn thing if you’re dead!” Lioran snarled, his composure cracking. “We’ll win, Y/N, but not without you.”

Her grip on him faltered as another wave of agony wracked her body. The world seemed to tilt, the colors and sounds blurring together into an incomprehensible mess. Somewhere in the distance, the roar of fire surged—Eris. He was still in the palace, still fighting.

“Eris,” she whispered, the name slipping past her lips before she could stop it. “He... I...”

“What about him?” Lioran demanded, shaking her lightly to keep her awake. “Y/N, what’s happening to you?”

But she couldn’t answer. Her thoughts were a tangled web of pain and confusion, her heart a drumbeat of desperation. The last thing she saw before the darkness took her was Lioran’s terrified face, his voice fading into the abyss.

The battlefield was a hellscape of fire and ash, screams and chaos, but all of it faded for Eris when he saw her.

Y/N lay motionless amidst the wreckage, her face pale, her body unnaturally still. His breath caught in his throat, his heart freezing in his chest as if time itself had stopped. The world dimmed; all he could hear was the sound of his own footsteps pounding against the scorched ground as he ran to her.

“No,” he whispered, the word torn from his lips as he dropped to his knees beside her. His hands trembled as he cradled her lifeless form, pulling her into his arms. “No, no, no.”

Her head lolled against his chest, her body limp and unresponsive. Blood streaked her skin, mingling with the soot that coated her. Eris’s flames, usually so controlled, flickered erratically around them, casting harsh shadows on her face.

“Y/N,” he choked, his voice raw and broken. He pressed his forehead to hers, his hands cupping her cheeks as if he could will her back to life through sheer force of will. “Please. Don’t do this. You don’t get to leave me now. Not now.”

Around them, the fighting raged on, but none of it mattered. Lioran and the others had stopped, their gazes fixed on their fallen leader and the man holding her as if the world had ended. The rebels looked on, their faces etched with sorrow, their grief palpable in the air.

“Y/N,” Eris begged, his voice cracking. “Wake up. Please, wake up.”

Nothing.

His flames surged higher, the heat searing the ground beneath him. Despair clawed at his chest, threatening to consume him whole. He pressed his lips to her forehead, his tears dripping onto her skin. “You can’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “You can’t. I... I need you.”

For a moment, he thought he heard something—a faint beat, a whisper of breath—but it vanished as quickly as it came. The weight of her absence crushed him, the realization settling like a blade through his heart. He let out a strangled cry, his fire roaring around them in a wild inferno of anguish.

“Damn it!” he roared, his voice echoing through the broken streets. “If anyone’s listening, bring her back! Take me instead, just... bring her back!”

His magic surged wildly, uncontrolled, as if answering his desperation. Golden flames erupted around them, illuminating the battlefield. He pressed his forehead against hers again, his voice a whisper now, filled with a quiet, breaking despair.

“Take it,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “Take everything I have. My fire, my life, my soul—take it all if it means you’ll stay.”

The flames surrounding them began to shift, flickering and curling as though alive. A strange, ethereal energy rippled through the air, weaving between Eris and Y/N. His magic, golden and blazing, intertwined with something darker—something shadowed and ancient that seemed to rise from her very essence.

The ground beneath them trembled as the energy grew brighter, stronger, their combined power forming a connection that pulsed with life. Eris gasped as the magic surged through him, binding them together in a way he couldn’t explain. It was more than power—it was lifeblood, fate, and eternity, all merging into one.

Y/N’s chest rose suddenly, her lips parting as she drew in a ragged breath. Her eyes snapped open, wide and panicked, before locking onto his.

“Eris?” she rasped, her voice weak and trembling. “What... what’s happening?”

Relief crashed over him like a tidal wave, so overwhelming he thought he might collapse. He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks as his tears continued to fall. “You’re alive,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You’re here.”

She blinked at him, confusion mingling with the lingering pain in her eyes. “What did you do?” she asked, her voice shaking. “I... I felt like I was gone.”

Eris managed a weak, lopsided smile, his fingers trembling as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I gave you everything,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I couldn’t lose you.”

Around them, the rebels watched in stunned silence, their disbelief evident on their faces. Lioran’s eyes darted between the two, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t find the words.

Y/N’s gaze softened, though tears welled in her eyes. “Eris,” she whispered, her fingers brushing against his cheek. “You didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did,” he interrupted, his voice firm despite the tremor in it. “You think I’d stand by and let you go? After everything we’ve been through?” His jaw tightened, his flames flickering weakly now as exhaustion began to weigh on him. “We’re connected now, Y/N. You’re not allowed to leave me—not ever.”

She stared at him, her lips parting in shock as the weight of his words settled over her. Around them, the chaos of the battle seemed to fade, the flames of destruction giving way to an eerie, fragile stillness.

Then, Lioran’s voice broke the silence, hoarse but filled with awe. “They’re bound,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Did you... did you just save her by tying your lives together?”

Eris glanced at him, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “It doesn’t matter how,” he said, his voice low but steady. “What matters is she’s here. She’s alive.”

The rebels began to stir, murmurs spreading through the crowd as they took in the scene—the High Lord’s son, the fiery commander, cradling their leader as if she were his entire world. It was a sight none of them could have imagined, yet it filled them with a strange, unexpected hope.

Y/N’s hand tightened on his, her eyes glistening as she searched his face. “Eris... thank you,” she said softly, her voice breaking with emotion.

He leaned closer, his forehead pressing against hers, his voice a whisper only she could hear. “Don’t thank me,” he murmured. “Just promise me you’ll stay.”

As the fires of battle began to fade, the two of them remained at the center of it all, bound by magic, by fate, by a love neither of them had fully understood until now.

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

[cumironi]

HEART SPIKES AND HEATENS

(✽) summary. it was supposed to be your date with the boyfriends, but it’s raining and none of you want to spend time being cold and wet. . . so, you three decided to spend the day at the apartment, drawings doodles on sukuna’s tattoos and gojo’s arm, getting all high and stupid.

featuring. gojo satoru, ryomen sukuna (college au)

warning. established relationship, poly! suku-go, fluff, crack, lots and lots of name-calling, petname(s), suggestive words/conversation(s), smoke jōint(s), high/drunk,

it’s 3 pm, and the rain hasn’t let up for hours, falling harshly against the windows of the apartment and turning the sky a dull, heavy gray. the soft patter of the downpour fills the living room, mixing with the faint sound of lo-fi music playing through the speakers. the three of you had planned a date today—something special—but the rain decided otherwise. still, none of you seem to mind too much. instead of heading out, you’ve all settled into a quiet, lazy afternoon together.

you’re still dressed in your intended date outfit: a crisp white cropped shirt that hugs your shoulders and arms perfectly, paired with a pleated black pinstripe skirt that sits snugly on your waist. your hair falls naturally, slightly tousled now, framing your face as you lay on your stomach across the soft carpet in the living room. your bare legs stretch out behind you, toes curling occasionally as you focus on your task.

in front of you lies sukuna, sprawled lazily on his back like he owns the place. his dark green oversized jeans hang low on his hips, the fabric bunched at his ankles where his bare feet peek out. he wears a black sleeveless shirt that clings to his toned torso, showing off the intricate black ink of his tattoos that trail up his arm and over his shoulder. one arm rests in front of you, muscles relaxed, his hand stretched open to give you full access to his skin. his other hand, however, holds a joint lazily between two fingers, the faint wisps of smoke curling toward the ceiling. sukuna looks half-lidded, eyes fluttering closed now and then as he exhales with a content sigh, clearly enjoying the stillness of the day.

gojo is lying nearby, parallel to sukuna, with his arms tucked lazily behind his head. he’s dressed comfortably too—black baggy jeans with a loose black t-shirt layered under a dark brown jacket that lay boneless on the floor not far away. the soft fabric is slightly crumpled, evidence that he’s been lounging for a while. gojo’s white hair flops over his forehead, a contrast to the dark palette of his outfit. he’s watching you, an easy grin tugging at his lips every time you focus just a little too hard on coloring sukuna’s tattoos.

“what are you even doing?” gojo finally asks, the teasing lilt in his voice breaking the calm. he cranes his neck up slightly, his bright blue eyes twinkling as they settle on the small pile of colored markers scattered around you.

you don’t look up, chewing on your bottom lip as you carefully drag a bright pink marker across one of the roses etched into sukuna’s forearm. “i’m fixing him.”

sukuna lazily opens one eye, shifting his arm ever-so-slightly to keep his muscles relaxed for you. “fixin’ me, huh?” he repeats, voice low and rough. he takes a deep inhale of the joint, his chest rising and falling with the exhale, before he turns his gaze to gojo.

gojo grins wider in response, clearly amused by your antics. “you don’t think i’m pretty enough already?” sukuna teases, his eyes narrowing mischievously. sukuna watches idly as you continue to add color to his skin, your concentration unwavering. “i thought you loved my ink, doll,” he adds, his expression turning slightly smug. he takes another draw of the joint before holding it out to you lazily.

gojo chuckles at his remark, his gaze flickering between you and sukuna before his eyes are fixed on you, watching every small movement you make in fascination. “you’re both plenty pretty,” you say with a small huff, not looking up from your task. sukuna chuckles, a deep rumble from his chest, while gojo lets out a soft snort of amusement.

you continue coloring, your fingers wrapping around sukuna’s arm to steady it. you can feel his muscles under the skin, tense but at ease, and you take silent pride in the fact that he’s allowing you to do this. sukuna hums low in his throat, the vibrations running through his chest and into your fingertips. “yeah, baby?” he asks, his voice laced with a hint of mockery. despite the playful tones, his muscles are relaxed under your hands, allowing you to continue your work without any resistance from him.

gojo, ever observant, watches the small interaction with a hint of an amused smile, his blue eyes tracking the way your fingertips move across sukuna’s skin. he keeps his mouth shut, letting you two have your moment. you pause for just a second, sukuna’s words rolling through the air with that deep, teasing hum of his, and the corners of your lips twitch up. your hand stills, fingertips resting lightly against the inked designs on his forearm. then, without missing a beat, you tilt your head, meeting his gaze with narrowed eyes and a perfectly exaggerated mockery of his tone.

“yeah, baby?” you mimic, dragging out the words with as much sarcasm as you can muster, your voice high and mocking as you flutter your lashes dramatically. the look you shoot him is equal parts playful and smug, daring him to say something else.

sukuna’s lip curls into an amused smirk, the vibrations of his chuckle reverberating under your fingertips. “watch it,” he mutters, though there’s no real bite to his words—just that lazy, teasing drawl he always uses when you push back.

without missing a beat, you pull the cap off a bright yellow marker with a quiet pop and switch focus, a devious glint in your eyes. “you know what? you don’t have enough stars.” you lean closer to his arm, the tip of the pen pressing carefully against the space between his intricate tattoos. little bursts of yellow start to appear—stars scattered randomly, as if you’re adding your own personal constellation to his skin.

“seriously?” sukuna mutters, his brow arching as he tilts his head just enough to watch what you’re doing. “this is what we’re doing now?”

“oh, absolutely,” you shoot back, grinning as you carefully dot a smaller star next to a skull. “it’s called enhancing the art, baby. i’m making you look heavenly.”

gojo, who’s been silently watching this exchange like a spectator at a comedy show, finally snorts, the sound breaking through the rain and the low music. “heavenly? yeah, right. sukuna’s more like the villain who got glitter bombed by accident.”

you don’t even pause, your focus still on the yellow stars you’re meticulously adding to sukuna’s tattoos. the marker glides across his skin as you hum softly, a noncommittal sound that borders on mock innocence. without looking up—without even missing a beat—you deliver your response, deadpan and smooth as ever.

“yeah. a hot one.”

sukuna’s smirk widens at your words, his sharp gaze flickering to your face as you remain focused, completely unbothered. there’s a beat of silence, filled only by the steady scratch of the marker and the quiet patter of rain outside. then, without warning, he shifts—just enough to lean closer, his movement lazy and fluid, like a predator that doesn’t need to rush.

before you can react, he presses a kiss against your cheek, the warmth of it brief but deliberate, his lips lingering just long enough to catch you off guard. “cute,” he murmurs, the word low and teasing as it rumbles against your skin. there’s no mockery in his tone now—just something undeniably smug and pleased, as if he’s won a game you didn’t even realize you were playing.

gojo lets out another amused snort from his position nearby, watching the two of you interact. “yeah, cute,” he mutters, his voice filled with an affectionate annoyance that borders on fond. he sits up slightly, leaning back on one elbow as he takes a hit from the joint after he steal from sukuna’s fingers. the smoke curls from his lips as he exhales, his gaze wandering over your form, still laying on the carpet, the colorful markers surrounding you.

you don’t look up, the soft hum escaping your lips acting as both acknowledgment and dismissal—a subtle, wordless response that says you’ve heard them but refuse to give them the satisfaction of a full reaction.

yet despite your calm facade, a small, barely-there smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. it’s the kind of smile that lingers, slow and unintentional, betraying the fact that sukuna’s kiss and gojo’s teasing have amused you more than you’d care to admit.

your focus remains on sukuna’s arm, the yellow stars you’re carefully adding between his tattoos growing brighter under your meticulous work. the soft patter of rain fills the space again, the atmosphere warm and still as if the three of you exist in your own little world.

sukuna’s eyes narrowed slightly as he caught the faint curve of your lips forming a small smile. though he didn’t comment, his sharp gaze lingered on you with quiet intensity. beneath your fingers, his muscles remained loose and unbothered, but the subtle shift in his posture betrayed a certain vigilance—as if he was waiting for something unseen.

gojo, on the other hand, let out a low scoff, clearly amused by your expression. his smirk grew as he tilted his head back lazily, taking a slow drag from the joint between his fingers. even as the smoke curled upward, his sharp blue eyes stayed trained on you, brimming with mischief. meanwhile, sukuna’s focus didn’t waver, though his eyelids grew heavier, the warm glow of the room and the haze of the joint casting a languid spell over him. the faintest hint of a grin tugged at his lips, though it was difficult to tell if it was from amusement or pure contentment.

gojo stretched out with an exaggerated groan, sprawling across the carpet floor with his arms spread wide. “mmm,” he sighed, his voice low and drawling as he stared at the ceiling. the soft scratching of the marker against sukuna’s arm was the only sound filling the cozy quiet, accompanied by the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows.

sukuna let you continue your work on his skin, utterly unbothered, while gojo suddenly broke the tranquility. “hey,” he muttered, lets out a soft sigh, his eyes still glued to the ceiling as he mutters in a mock-whine, “can i be next?”

you hum softly, the sound nonchalant yet sweet, as you give a small nod of your head without glancing up from sukuna’s arm. “don’t worry,” you say, your tone light but teasing as your marker continues its gentle path over his skin, adding the finishing touches to another star before changing color for another tattoo. “you’re next.”

an exaggerated grin spreading across gojo’s lips at your words, head tilted towards you. “yeah? what are you thinking for me? something cool, right?” looking up for a second, you meet gojo’s expectant gaze with a deadpan expression that doesn’t match the devious glint in your eyes before drowning in a task in hand. “how about pink hearts?”

sukuna lets out a snort, his arm trembling with suppressed laughter as your words register. his amusement is subtle but unmistakable, his crimson eyes gleaming with unspoken humor. gojo, on the other hand, roll his eyes. “pink hearts?” he echoes, his tone teetering between mock outrage and barely concealed amusement. “you’d decorate me like a damn valentine’s day card?”

your laughter spills out in response, soft and warm, resonating through the cozy atmosphere of the room. your gaze finally lifts to meet gojo’s fully, a playful sparkle dancing in your eyes. “it’s cool,” you quip, dragging the word out with exaggerated teasing as you snap the yellow marker’s cap back into place with a satisfying click. “it’s edgy. you’ll look like everyone’s valentine at the same time.”

gojo props himself up on his elbows, his brows furrowing in mock indignation as he glares between the two of you. “edgy? hearts aren’t edgy—they’re soft and cute. i’m cool and edgy.”

you roll your eyes, grinning as you grab a pink marker and hold it up like a trophy. “oh, don’t worry. i’ll make them edgy. spiky hearts with little sparkles. super intimidating.”

gojo lets out another groan, collapsing back onto the carpet dramatically as he throws one arm over his face. “this is emotional sabotage,” he mutters, though the smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrays him. “i trusted you, and you’re turning me into a walking valentine’s day ad.”

“you’ll love it,” you shoot back, uncapping the pink marker with a flourish and holding it up like it’s some kind of divine weapon. your grin is wicked, your tone dripping with smug confidence as you add, “you always do.”

gojo peeks at you from under his arm, his lips twitching like he’s trying to fight back a smile. “i do not.”

“oh, but you do,” you counter smoothly, already leaning toward him with the marker poised. “you’ll look so cool.” you exaggerate the word, drawing it out as if you’re promising him something legendary. “spiky hearts, sparkles, and a little blue? the edgiest valentine alive.”

sukuna hums low in his throat, clearly enjoying the exchange as his head turns just enough to watch. “gojo, just give up already. she’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

“i do not—” gojo starts to protest, but his words are cut off as you swipe the marker across his arm in one smooth motion, the first spiky heart taking shape before he can move. he stares at it, stunned for half a second, before groaning dramatically. “oh, great. this is how my legacy ends.”

“a masterpiece,” you declare proudly, biting back a laugh as you start to add sparkles around the heart. “you’re welcome, by the way.”

sukuna watches, his expression still lazy and content as he lets out an amused huff. he’s enjoying the spectacle, his eyes flickering between gojo's dramatic reactions and your smug expression.

gojo, meanwhile, continues to lament his apparent downfall. “my reputation,” he moans, dramatically flinging his free arm across his face. “ruined. all because of some pink hearts.” he glances up at you, a mixture of mock irritation and genuine affection in his gaze. “i am not wrapped around your finger,” he protests, his tone still half-hearted as he watches you work.

you chuckle softly, shaking your head as you lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to gojo’s arm—right above one of the freshly drawn spiky hearts. “i know,” you murmur, the corners of your lips curling into a warm smile as you meet his gaze. despite the teasing, there’s a flicker of affection in your voice, soft enough to ease his dramatic pout.

gojo blinks at you, stunned for just a beat, before the faintest dusting of pink colors his cheeks. he clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure as he mutters, “well, good. as long as you know.”

without missing a beat, you pick up a blue marker, uncapping it with an exaggerated flourish as you lean back to examine your “canvas.” “come on, stop pouting,” you tease, nudging his side lightly with your elbow. “i used another color too. balance, baby. artistic integrity.”

“artistic integrity, my ass,” he grumbles, though his lips twitch into a grin as he peeks down at his arm, now adorned with spiky pink hearts and tiny blue accents. “you’re lucky i’m this handsome—i can pull anything off.”

from his spot, sukuna snorts, the sound deep and full of amusement. “keep telling yourself that, pretty boy.”

gojo shoots him a glare, half-serious but softened by the lingering pink on his cheeks. you just shake your head, smiling as you add another finishing touch to the design—because if nothing else, you’re thorough with your work.

you frown dramatically, a playful pout forming on your lips as you glance at sukuna. “so rudeee,” you draw out the words, the mock hurt in your tone exaggerated as you giggle. “’m over here, pouring my artistic soul into you two, and this is the thanks i get?”

sukuna chuckles, clearly amused by your exaggerated protest. he tilts his head, the movement lazy and slow, his eyes fixed on yours as he smirks. “my apologies,” he says, the words rumbling deep in his chest. “your sacrifice shall not be forgotten, doll.” gojo rolls his eyes, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he watches the exchange. he props himself up on one elbow, his gaze flickering between the two of you. “i take it back. your art sucksss.”

you let out a dramatic sigh, exaggerating the weight of it, though you keep working with focus. your playful pout is still in place, but you don’t say anything further. you just continue adding tiny details, not letting their teasing faze you.

the room falls quiet for a moment, but you can feel both of their eyes on you while they busy passing the joint to each other, their gazes softened, watching every movement with something akin to admiration. your hair falls across your face and shoulder, the stray strands brushing against your cheek, and one of the markers put a home in your ear, leaves a faint pink smudge on your ear and cheek, both that you are unaware of. you continue your work with the cap of the marker wedged between your teeth, your focus purely on the task at hand.

sukuna watches silently, his eyes tracking every move you make, his expression softer than before. from his angle, he can see every detail—the way your hair falls across your face, the smudged marker on your cheek, the concentrated expression on your face as you work. his muscles are relaxed, but there’s a hint of tension there too, as if he’s holding back from reaching out.

gojo, meanwhile, just grins, his eyes flickering between your face and the masterpiece taking shape on his arm. “cute,” he murmurs, the word more affectionate than mocking.

sukuna’s eye flick to gojo for a moment, silently watching the affectionate look on his face, before looking back at you. there’s another moment of quiet, the only sound being your steady breathing and the soft sound of the marker on skin. gojo, apparently feeling sukuna’s gaze, turns his head, their eyes meeting for a moment. there’s a brief, unspoken exchange there, a silent understanding.

sukuna’s lips curl into a small smirk, his eyes flickering back to you, his expression still oddly soft. the pink-haired man tears a scoff, rolling his eyes away from you and a halo of smoke swirls out of his lips, “brat,” a mutter could be heard for you.

your eyes flicker briefly to him at the sound of his mutter, your concentration breaking for a moment. “i heard that,” you say, the corner of your lips curling up in a slight smile.

gojo, meanwhile, chuckles softly at the exchange, clearly enjoying the banter. he raises his arm, examining the now complete design you had worked on, his gaze flickering back to you. “i gotta hand it to you, doll—spiky hearts look even better than i imagined.”

you don’t even look up, still absorbed in your task, your hand moving with precision as you add a few final touches. the pink marker glides smoothly over the skin, and you carefully add a few little blue stars, scattering them around the design like tiny accents.

“i know you’ll appreciate it eventually,” you say nonchalantly, the teasing tone in your voice clear, though you don't let your focus waver for a second. with the last stroke of your marker, you pull his arm away, leaning back slightly to examine your work. you give a small nod to yourself, satisfied. “done,” you say, your smile a mixture of smugness and quiet pride.

you glance up at gojo then, finally meeting his gaze. “not bad, right baby? spiky hearts and all.”

gojo grins as he looks down at his arm, admiring the final results. “not bad? doll, these are art masterpieces. i feel like i should frame my arm and put it in a damn museum or something.” he raises his arm, letting out a dramatic gasp, “oh, the sacrifices i make for beauty. i bet even paris of troy would shed a tear at this sight.”

sukuna, despite his lazy exterior, actually lets out a low chuckle at gojo’s exaggerated reaction, his lip curling up in a sly smirk. you let out a squeal of excitement, your voice high-pitched and bubbly as you mirror gojo’s over-the-top enthusiasm. “i know, right?!” your excitement is contagious, practically bouncing with energy as you grab sukuna’s arm and drape it over gojo’s, positioning them side by side like they’re two precious pieces of art.

sitting on your legs, with your calves resting comfortably on the back of your thighs, you expertly slide your hand into gojo’s pocket, pulling out his phone with practiced ease. the mischievous glint in your eyes intensifies as you quickly open the camera app, positioning the two arms just right to capture the perfect shot.

“this is going to be legendary,” you announce, snapping the picture with dramatic flair. you pause for a moment, inspecting the shot with a critical eye, before giving a nod of approval. “yup, this is museum-quality stuff right here.”

you can feel their eyes on you as you settle between them, your body nestled between sukuna and gojo on the carpet. with the phone in hand, you zoom in on the picture, your focus drawn to the vibrant pink hearts and tiny blue stars scattered across their arms. you can’t help but laugh softly at the ridiculousness of it all.

“you two look so silly,” you comment, your playful grin widening as you swipe through the photo to get a better view. “seriously, this is peak art... but also kind of ridiculous.”

gojo, ever the charismatic showman, shoots you an exaggerated pout, his tone dripping with mock betrayal. “silly? ridiculous? you wound me, doll. we look badass!” sukuna’s quiet chuckle rumbles in response to gojo’s theatrics, the corner of his mouth twitching with faint amusement. yet, beneath his sharp smirk lies a flicker of something softer, almost imperceptible—a rare glimpse of tenderness he doesn’t often show.

you, however, are entirely engrossed in the photo, oblivious to the dynamic between the two men. your fingers pinch and spread the screen, zooming in on the pink hearts and smudges adorning their arms. gojo takes the opportunity to lean in, his chin resting on your shoulder as his eyes follow your movements, a sly smirk playing on his lips.

humming softly, you finally lower the phone, a playful grin spreading across your face as you lift your hands to inspect them in the air. your skin is streaked with colorful smudges—bright pink, soft blue, and a few haphazard lines of purple—and the sight makes you smile. “looks like i got in on the action too,” you muse, your voice light with amusement.

your small chuckle fills the room as you continue to admire your handiwork, completely unaware of the way gojo’s gaze softens as he watches you. his eyes follow the movements of your hands, his smile widening at the colorful chaos you’ve created. even sukuna, in his understated way, glances at you with a rare sense of contentment.

gojo’s eyes slide from the photo to your hands, zeroing in on the rainbow of smudges decorating your skin like some kind of art experiment gone wrong. his lips twitch upward into a mischievous grin as he chuckles. “look at you, doll,” he starts, his tone laced with teasing affection. “you look like you’re about to host a daycare finger-painting for toddlers 101.”

sukuna, lounging nearby, rolls his eyes and lets out a derisive scoff. “daycare?” he mutters, his voice dry and just loud enough for you to hear. “more like an after-school program for disasters.”

your gaze shifts from your mess-covered hands to sukuna’s long, relaxed fingers, honing in on the joint he’s casually holding like it’s calling your name. without even a hint of warning, you dart forward like a caffeine-fueled gremlin, snatching it straight from his grasp with a swipe so quick it could’ve been a magic trick.

sukuna’s brows shoot up in surprise before settling into an amused arch, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. “bold move,” he remarks, clearly entertained by your antics.

ignoring him entirely, you bring the joint to your lips, taking the slowest, most dramatic drag in the history of bad decisions. exhaling a plume of smoke like you’re starring in a rebellious indie film, you lean back with a smug grin. “i’mma good teacher, y’know,” you declare, your voice tinged with mock self-importance.

gojo, who’s been silently observing this entire circus, finally loses it. he bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach as he leans back. “oh, yeah, top-tier educator right here!” he chokes out between wheezes. “if the subject is how to steal people’s vices and look ridiculously proud of it, you’re a genius!”

sukuna’s lips curl into a crooked smirk, his sharp eyes fixed on you with a mix of intrigue and bemusement. he lets out a low, gravelly chuckle, the sound rich with amusement. “oh yeah?” he drawls, his voice dripping with lazy confidence. “think you’ve got what it takes to teach me something?”

gojo, on the other hand, is already grinning like a kid watching chaos unfold. his gaze flickers between you and sukuna, fully aware of the game you’re playing and absolutely loving every moment of it. leaning back with a casual air, he watches you take another slow drag, the smoke curling lazily in the air as a mischievous smirk spreads across your lips. the sheer audacity of the scene only fuels his entertainment, his eyes twinkling with delight.

you exhale the smoke with a slow, deliberate grin, your gaze locking on sukuna as you tilt your head, feigning innocence. “well, for starters,” you say smoothly, “you can stop being such a greedy ass and learn to share the good stuff with your partners.”

sukuna’s smirk widens, his sharp gaze narrowing in mock offense as he tilts his head, clearly unbothered. “greedy? me? nah, doll,” he drawls, voice dripping with sarcastic charm. “i’m just a connoisseur of life’s finer pleasures. no crime in appreciating quality.”

gojo snorts so hard he nearly chokes, his laughter spilling out like he’s just heard the joke of the century. “finer pleasures? you mean hogging everything good like a dragon on a pile of gold?” he quips, his grin so wide it looks borderline painful.

sukuna rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall out of his head. he is glaring at gojo with an expression that screams try me, clown. “oh, shut up,” he fires back, feigning annoyance as he snatches the joint from you, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays his amusement. “i’ll share when i feel like it—maybe.”

gojo leans back, sprawling like he owns the entire room, his smirk practically radiating smugness. “sure, sukuna. we all know your idea of sharing is letting us watch you enjoy it. greedy bastard.”

you can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous exchange, shaking your head as you hand the joint back to sukuna. “seriously, you’re both like kids fighting over the last slice of pizza,” you deadpan, a grin tugging at your lips. “greedy asses, the both of you.”

sukuna snatches the joint back with that signature smirk, his tone dripping with fake irritation. “hey, don’t lump me in with him,” he grumbles, flicking his wrist toward gojo like he’s flicking off a fly. gojo’s jaw drops, and he presses a hand to his chest as though sukuna just insulted his entire bloodline. “hey, what’s that supposed to mean? i’m a saint compared to you, jackass.”

sukuna rolls his eyes so hard they might fall out of his head, his voice dry as sandpaper. “yeah, sure, you’re a saint. and i’m mother theresa, motherfucker.”

gojo practically cackles, leaning back like he’s heard the greatest joke of the century. “oh, please. i have far more angelic behavior than you do. i’m practically a saint compared to mr. grouchy over here.”

you glance between the two of them, raising an eyebrow as you hold back a snicker. “wow,” you interject, voice dripping with sarcasm. “what a holy duo we’ve got here. should i start calling you ‘saint gojo’ and ‘pope sukuna’ or just skip straight to planning your canonization?”

gojo lights up like it’s christmas morning. “saint gojo does have a nice ring to it!” sukuna groans, dragging a hand down his face. “great. now he’s never gonna shut up about it.” you roll your eyes at their bickering, a playful sigh escaping your lips. “idiot,” you mutter, shifting your position with ease. you rest your head on sukuna’s stomach, your hair spilling over him, while your legs casually drape over gojo’s waist, trapping him in place.

“comfy?” sukuna drawls, his smirk lingering as he glances down at you, though he makes no move to push you off. he passes the joint to gojo with an almost lazy flick of his fingers.

gojo takes it with a dramatic flourish, holding it like it’s a prized treasure. “oh, look at that,” he says, his voice dripping with mock reverence. “sukuna finally shares. truly a miracle for the ages.” you chuckle softly, a little smirk makes its way to your lips, tugging the edge softly. “don’t let it get to your head, baby. one good deed doesn’t make him a saint.”

sukuna lets out a low scoff, his expression feigning offense. “oh, please,” he says, “i’m plenty saintly, doll,” he replies, his tone filled with mock irritation. “and i don’t need a single good deed to prove my sainthood. you’re both just jealous of my undeniable benevolence.”

gojo takes a slow drag, his eyes flickering down to you sprawled across his lap. a smirk dances on his lips as he watches you get comfortable. “oh, please,” he quips, ’you’re the least saintly person i know. you’re the devil incarnate, you know that?”

you roll your eyes, the sarcasm practically dripping from your voice as you retort, “oh, absolutely. sukuna’s a shining beacon of morality and grace. i mean, saints everywhere must be quaking in their halos knowing he’s out here setting the standard.”

sukuna snorts, his lips twitching into a smirk as he lazily tilts his head to look at you. “glad you finally see the truth, doll.” without missing a beat, you glance at gojo, pointing a finger at him as you continue, “and you’re no better, satoru. calling someone the devil while sitting there with that smug, ‘holier-than-thou’ face? talk about irony.”

sukuna let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by your banter. “yeah, doll, glad you finally get it.”

gojo, meanwhile, feigns a look of mock offense, his hand moving in the air in dramatic fashion. “me, smug? holier-than-thou? i’m just stating facts, doll. it’s not my fault that i’m so damn perfect. and clearly, it’s not my fault you’re both a pair of heathens.” he takes a slow drag of the joint, his eyes trained on you as he blows out a stream of smoke. “and you’re one to talk, doll. you’re no saint yourself.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes dramatically as you look at gojo, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “what the fuck do you mean, ‘i’m no saint’?” you throw your hands up in mock frustration. “i’m a perfect picture of a saint compared to you two. i’m sure as hell a better person than the two of you combined.”

you reach for the joint in gojo’s hand, taking a slow drag before blowing the smoke out with a satisfied grin. “the only bad thing about me,” you add, the words laced with playful mockery, “is because of you two bad influence. so, really, you should be thanking me for not being worse.” your fingers that holding the joint swing around as you pointing at your two boyfriends.

sukuna and gojo’s reactions to your sarcastic outburst were priceless. their faces twisted in mock outrage, and it was clear they were both enjoying the show. sukuna’s lip curled into a sly, almost mischievous grin as he chimed in, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “oh, doll, you’re a saint alright. a saintly brat.”

meanwhile, gojo put on his best dramatic scoff like he’d just been hit with the most devastating betrayal. “thank you? thank you?! as if you’re not just as bad as us. in fact, you’re damn worse than us.”

before you could even react, gojo snatched the joint back from your hand with a smug smirk. his eyes locked onto yours with that signature playful intensity, narrowing in that way that always made you feel like he was about to pull some ridiculous stunt. “we influence you? yeah, right. you’re just as bad, if not worse. you don’t need our influence to be a little hellion. you’re naturally devilish, doll.” his voice oozed with mock teasing, every word dripping with exaggerated amusement.

you can’t help but roll your eyes at their simultaneous reactions. gojo, with his exaggerated expressions, and sukuna, with his sly grin. it’s almost comical how they both manage to be so different, yet so irritating at the same time.

“please,” you scoff, a hint of challenge in your eyes as you respond. “i’m only this bad because of you two. i mean, look at yourselves. you’re not exactly paradigms of virtue."

gojo’s eyes widened in mock horror, his posture exaggerated as if you had just delivered the ultimate, unbelievable audacity. “oh, doll, you wound me!” he exclaimed dramatically, his voice rising with faux indignation. “are you saying we’re not the picture of innocence? how could you?” his expression was a mix of feigned hurt and playful sarcasm, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

sukuna, however, didn’t even bother with such theatrics. he just let out a low, amused snort, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk. “yeah, we’re practically angels compared to you.” his tone was effortless, as though he were used to this kind of banter by now, and nothing could rattle him.

with a languid stretch of his arm, sukuna reached over, his fingers brushing lightly against gojo’s as he nonchalantly snatched the joint from his hand, not even sparing a glance at him. he brought it to his lips with an almost bored expression, taking a long, lazy drag as though the whole situation was beneath him. after a moment, he exhaled the smoke slowly, his eyes gleaming with that characteristic wickedness. “but you’re right. we’re far from virtuous. guess you’re just stuck with a pair of heathens for boyfriends, huh?” he said with a raised brow, his voice dripping with amusement.

you hummed thoughtfully, pretending to consider his words with exaggerated seriousness. then, with a sly grin curling at the edges of your lips, you reached out, your fingers grazing sukuna’s wrist with purpose. you gently guided his hand, bringing the joint to your lips with a delicate movement, taking a slow, deliberate drag. you let the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling it lazily, watching the tendrils of smoke swirl in the air like a fleeting, ephemeral thing.

“sadly.” you let the word hang in the air, your voice soft but tinged with mock sorrow. with a playful tilt of your head, you added, “nobody wants you two heathens... so i guess i had to pick you up, huh?” your tone was laced with teasing, and you gave them both a look that was part challenge, part amusement, knowing full well how much you enjoyed throwing their own words back at them.

gojo’s handsome face contorting with mock devastation, as if your words had pierced him to the core. his fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his semi-wrinkled shirt, pulling it as though he were trying to keep his very soul from escaping. “oh, the pain! the absolute betrayal!” he gasped, his voice carrying a note of exaggerated agony, the air around him charged with over-the-top theatrics.

sukuna, however, simply chuckled darkly, his lips curling into a smug smile that only heightened his arrogance. “oh yeah, doll? you had to pick us up? you think you did us a favor? we’re the best damn thing that’s happened to you.” his voice was rich with self-assurance, the words dripping with his usual brand of ruthless confidence, as though he were the undeniable prize in this game.

you couldn’t help it—your snort of laughter slipped out before you could even contain it. it was a sound that surprised you, but you quickly smothered it with an amused glance at sukuna, your gaze lingering just long enough to catch the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. then, you shifted your attention to gojo, your toes lightly grazing over his stomach, tracing the fabric of his shirt in a soft, teasing motion as you allowed a chuckle to escape your lips. “glad to know delusion is free, huh?”

you leaned back slightly, lifting your leg with deliberate care, letting your smirk speak volumes. “but hey, keep thinking you’re the best thing that’s happened to me. you’re both good for entertainment, at least.” your voice had the right amount of mock affection, as though you were toying with them, enjoying the very idea of their inflated egos.

gojo raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk that matched the mischief in his eyes. “delusion is free?” he repeated, his tone dripping with mockery, his expression a mixture of challenge and amusement. “please, doll, don’t be so quick to dismiss our greatness.”

sukuna scoffed lowly, the sound rich with feigned irritation. his expression flickered for a moment with mock annoyance, and he leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on a sharper edge. “entertainment, huh? is that all we are to you? just a couple of jesters here to amuse your highness?” the words were laced with sarcasm, a subtle challenge hanging in the air as he regarded you with an air of exaggerated exasperation.

you can’t help but smile at their reactions, clearly enjoying the banter. “oh, don’t be so dramatic,” you say with a feigned innocence. “you’re not just jesters. you’re my favorite jesters.”

you take another pull on the joint, your gaze flickering between your two boyfriends as you blow out a stream of smoke. “and i appreciate the entertainment, don’t get me wrong, but really, you’re lucky i’ve decided to put up with your obnoxiousness.” you look down to gojo, poking his side with your toes before added, “especially you.”

gojo’s breath hitched in a dramatized gasp, his hand flying to clutch his chest with such intensity that it seemed as if he had just been struck by an invisible arrow— apparently, that’s his go-to expression, dramatic ass. “lucky? lucky that you’ve decided to put up with us? please, doll, we’re the ones who should be thanking our lucky stars that we found you,” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with exaggerated reverence, as though your very presence was some rare gift bestowed upon them.

sukuna, on the other hand, barely spared him a glance. his eyes flickered with a mixture of amusement and mild annoyance as he rolled them at gojo’s theatrics. “oh, calm down, dumbass,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp, laced with a touch of irritation. “you’re giving me a headache with all that whining.”

gojo, not one to back down easily, pouted dramatically, his lower lip jutted out in a perfect display of mock hurt. “i’m not whining. i’m just expressing how lucky we are to have the privilege of your presence.” his tone dripped with sarcasm, and his eyes flickered back to you, his smirk playing at the edges of his lips, daring you to challenge him.

sukuna scoffed once more, his expression now tinged with a faint but unmistakable irritation. “you’re lucky you’re cute, satoru, or else i’d be tempted to smack that look off your face. you’re insufferable.” the words were delivered with an edge of genuine annoyance, though his eyes softened slightly at the sight of gojo’s pout.

you snort, unable to hold back your amusement as you watch the back-and-forth between the two. you take another slow drag from the joint before casually passing it back to sukuna, your eyes never leaving gojo’s exaggerated pout.

“lucky you’re cute, huh?” you repeat with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at gojo’s dramatic expression. “that’s the only thing saving you right now, huh? pretty boy gets away with everything.” you roll your eyes but can’t help the playful grin spreading across your face as you lean back, resting your head against sukuna’s side.

the hours slip by as the three of you remain sprawled out on the floor, the conversation flowing between playful teasing and lazy banter. the sky outside slowly deepens into twilight, casting the room in soft shadows. the air grows thicker with the lingering scent of weed, the haze hanging in the air as sukuna’s joints grow fewer and fewer.

you lay between gojo and sukuna, your head still resting against sukuna’s chest while you lazily pass the joint between the three of you before sukuna take the last hit without either you nor gojo realized. the warmth of the room and the heavy, calming buzz settle over you, your body relaxed and content despite the chaos of the banter. every so often, gojo lets out a loud, exaggerated laugh, while sukuna just shakes his head, taking another drag as he passes the joint back to you.

the room is quiet for a moment, save for the sound of slow exhalations and the occasional chuckle. you lean your head back to look at the two of them, eyes half-lidded, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “y’know,” you say lazily, “this isn’t so bad. could get used to it.”

gojo, sprawled out lazily on the other side of you, lets out a soft, knowing chuckle, his eyes locking with yours in a way that sends a little thrill through the air. “oh, getting used to it, are we? finally admitting that we’re not so bad?” he teased, his voice dripping with a sense of mock triumph, as if he’d just scored a small but satisfying victory over you.

sukuna, on the other hand, let out a slow, almost theatrical sigh, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. his fingers, restless, began to stroke your hair in a tender motion, the simple gesture feeling strangely intimate amidst the teasing. “careful now, doll,” he warned, his tone rich with a playful edge. “too much time with us and you might start liking us a little too much.” his words were a mixture of amusement and dark amusement, as though he were both cautioning and daring you to embrace whatever was growing between the three of you.

you let out a lazy, indifferent “meh” sound, rolling your eyes playfully as you surveyed the two of them, caught in their ridiculous back-and-forth. glancing between them, you couldn’t help but tease, your grin wide and full of mischief. “eh, not really my type,” you muttered, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm, clearly enjoying the banter as it unfolded before you.

gojo lets out an exaggerated gasp, his hand flying to his chest in mock disbelief. “not your type? how dare you?” he exclaims with a blend of feigned hurt and over-the-top offense, his voice rising dramatically, as though your words were an unforgivable insult.

sukuna rolls his eyes at gojo’s antics, a trace of amusement flickering in his gaze. “oh, please, satoru,” he drawls, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a sly grin. “don’t take it too personally. she clearly has no taste.” his voice is laced with mockery, every word dripping with playful derision. you smirk, the tip of your finger tracing slow, deliberate patterns across sukuna’s thigh, the action sending a subtle jolt of electricity through the air. “not my fault if your overinflated egos can’t handle the truth,” you reply, your tone dripping with sass and amusement.

gojo pouts dramatically at your response, his lower lip thrusting out in exaggerated mock hurt. “overinflated egos, she says. please, doll, we have every right to be confident. we’re the best damn thing that's happened to you.” his eyes narrow, daring you to challenge him, the playful arrogance hanging in the air between you like an unspoken dare.

sukuna snorts in response, his expression turning even more smug as a sly smile curls onto his lips. “yeah, doll. and you’re just proving our point. you’ve got a thing for cocky, arrogant jerks like us.” his voice carries an edge of amusement, as though he’s reveling in the truth of the statement, not the least bit bothered by the accusation.

you roll your eyes, the movement exaggerated as you continue to trace circles on sukuna’s thigh with a casual, almost bored air. “please,” you scoff, the sarcasm in your voice unmistakable. “i’ve got standards, you know.” you raise an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the playful back-and-forth, but unwilling to give either of them the satisfaction of admitting their point.

gojo scoffs, his eyes narrowing with playful challenge as he leans in slightly, his voice laced with teasing mockery. “oh yeah? standards, huh? and what are those, exactly?” the words are edged with curiosity, like he’s dying to know what could possibly be your “type.”

you grin, the smirk on your face widening as you continue your lazy assault on sukuna’s thigh, your toes nudging at gojo’s side with a teasing prod. “definitely not whitehead and bitch face,” you retort smoothly, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you jab your toes into gojo’s ribs for emphasis, then poke sukuna’s side with a playful flick of your finger. the taunting gesture is accompanied by a light laugh, daring them both to rise to the challenge.

gojo feigns a dramatic gasp, his hand clutching his side as if mortally wounded. “whitehead and bitch face?” he echoes, his voice dripping with exaggerated hurt. “please, doll, you wound me. and here i thought we were friends.” his expression shifts between mock betrayal and playful amusement, eyes wide as if you had committed the gravest of sins.

sukuna, on the other hand, lets out a low, throaty chuckle, the sound rich with amusement as he watches your mock irritation. your finger’s lazy tracing on his thigh seems to soothe him, even as his smug smile never falters. “yeah, doll,” he drawls, his voice laced with a playful challenge. “friends, huh? that’s one way to put it,” he muses, his eyes locked on your hand as it continues its delicate dance across his skin.

you gasp theatrically, your eyes widening in mock horror as if gojo’s words had struck at the very core of your being. “friends? friends?” you echo back, your tone dripping with exaggerated disbelief and mock outrage. “oh, fuck off, you prick,” you snap playfully, your feet pressing against his side with a soft shove, your lips curling into a sly grin.

gojo stumbles back in exaggerated fashion, clutching his side with a mock wince as though your light shove had caused him untold pain. “ouch, doll, that hurt,” he laments dramatically, his face contorted in mock agony, his tone dripping with faux sorrow.

sukuna, clearly entertained by the spectacle, lets out a quiet chuckle, his hand lazily stroking your hair as he watches you both. “oh, woe is you, satoru,” he drawls, his voice rich with sarcasm. “how will you ever recover from that devastating blow?” his lips quirk into a smirk, clearly amused by the banter.

you sit up, pushing gojo away with your feet, and your eyes narrow, suddenly fixating on sukuna’s hands. you tilt your head in mock accusation, raising an eyebrow as you study him intently. “did you finish it?” you ask, your voice dripping with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

sukuna grins unapologetically, a lazy, unbothered look in his eyes as he holds up the now-empty joint between his fingers. “caught red-handed,” he admits with a cocky tilt of his head, clearly unfazed by your gaze.

gojo’s pout deepens as he eyes the empty joint in sukuna’s hand with feigned disappointment. “ugh, really, man? you couldn’t save some for the rest of us?” he grumbles, his expression thoroughly put out as if this betrayal is a grave offense.

you hum indifferently, your gaze flicking between the two of them as if you couldn’t care less about sukuna’s confession. but your eyes tell a different story; they dart around the room, scanning every corner with sharp suspicion. first the table, then the couch cushions, and finally, a brief glance down to sukuna’s lap, where you eye him intently, your features betraying no sign of the suspicion swirling within.

sukuna, noticing your subtle movements, raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your obvious search. “looking for something, doll?” he asks, his smirk deepening, his voice laced with a teasing challenge.

gojo, blissfully unaware of your internal investigation, tilts his head in mock confusion. “yeah, doll,” he adds with a chuckle. “what’s with the scavenger hunt? lost something?”

you ignore their teasing entirely, focusing instead on sukuna, your eyes narrowing with increasing suspicion. without a word, you slide your hand under him, your fingers brushing against the back pocket of his pants. sukuna stiffens slightly, his smirk faltering just enough to reveal his surprise.

“what are you—” he starts, but you cut him off, your hand triumphantly retrieving his cigarette case. you pop it open with a snap, your eyes lighting up as you spot two perfectly rolled joints nestled inside.

“ahah!” you exclaim with a victorious snort, lifting the case high as if you’ve just uncovered a long-lost treasure. “thought you could hide these from me? think again, prick.”

sukuna groans, an exaggerated sigh escaping his lips as he leans back into the couch, the picture of reluctant surrender. “you’re like a damn bloodhound, doll,” he mutters, though the amusement in his eyes betrays any trace of annoyance. “can’t hide anything from you, can i?”

gojo, on the other hand, bursts into laughter, pointing at you with glee as if you’ve just pulled off some mischievous heist. “look at you,” he laughs, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “beaming like a kid who just found the candy stash!” he shakes his head with a grin that could rival the most devious of smirks. “you’re such an addict, doll. next thing we know, you’ll be rolling your own joints like some wannabe stoner.” his teasing tone fills the room, the light-hearted mockery echoing as the playful banter continues to dance between the three of you.

you shoot gojo a glare, flipping him off without missing a beat. “shut up, satoru. at least i’m not whining over someone else finishing the stash like a little bitch.”

without giving gojo a chance to respond, you shift your attention to sukuna, moving to straddle his waist. he groans in protest, clearly more annoyed by your audacity than your weight, but he doesn’t push you off. instead, he sighs dramatically, his expression a mix of exasperation and reluctant compliance.

“you’re such a pain in the ass, doll,” he mutters under his breath, though his actions betray his words as he lazily flicks the lighter to life for you. the warm glow of the flame reflects in his crimson eyes, and despite his grumbling, there’s a faint trace of amusement lingering in his smirk as he holds it steady for you before you lean forward and a little halo of smoke sneak past your lips.

gojo leans back, a mock expression of offense painted on his features. gojo’s jaw drops, his hand dramatically flying to his chest. “me? whining? i don’t whine, doll. i express valid concerns like the mature adult i am,” he retorts, though his pout says otherwise.

sukuna, meanwhile, lets out a sigh as you settle yourself in his lap, his hands instinctively moving to rest on your waist. he keeps up his feigned annoyance, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the sliver of exposed skin where your shirt has ridden up. as you lean forward and take the first pull, he watches you the smoke filling your lungs as you exhale slowly, the tension easing from your body, his gaze lingering on your lips, watching the tendrils of smoke curl away.

sukuna watches you from his position, his fingers still tracing light patterns on your waist, but his focus seems to shift to the way you handle the joint. his gaze lingers on your lips as you take the drag, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. as you inhale the smoke, he lets out a low hum.

rolling your eyes at gojo’s dramatics, you stretch your arm out, holding the joint toward him with a smirk. “here, take it and stop whining, satoru,” you say, your tone dripping with mock sweetness. “maybe a little smoke will help you with all that ‘mature adult’ energy you’re putting out.”

gojo, still pouting, takes the joint from your hand, his eyes flickering up to meet yours as he brings it to his lips. “oh, ha ha, very funny, doll. just you wait, i’ll show you who’s the mature adult around here,” he mutters, taking a deep drag. he holds the smoke in for a moment before exhaling it in a slow, steady stream.

you mutter under your breath, just loud enough for gojo to hear, “what an idiot,” your tone dripping with sarcasm. gojo lets out a scoff at your muttered comment, his eyes narrowing playfully. “oh, you’re one to talk, doll. calling me an idiot when you’re the one straddling sukuna’s lap like a desperate teenager,” he teases, a smirk playing on his features.

sukuna, meanwhile, remains silent for a moment, his gaze still fixated on you. the intensity of his stare makes you smirk, your fingers running lightly over his chest, teasing the fabric of his shirt. his expression remains neutral, but a flash of desire flickers in his eyes as he feels your fingers trailing across his chest.

rolling your eyes, you glance down, only to find sukuna’s gaze still fixed on you. you tilt your head slightly, raising an eyebrow as you ask with a smirk, “what?” he raises an eyebrow at your question, his voice low and mocking as he responds. with an indifferent shrug, his eyes not leaving yours as he replies, “just admiring the view, that’s all.”

you hum softly, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you glance at gojo for a moment, amusement dancing in your eyes. you then turn your attention back to sukuna, the teasing tone in your voice unmistakable. “i’m no teenager, but i’ll admit... i am desperate,” you say, your voice low and playful.

without giving sukuna a chance to respond, you lean down slightly, your already short skirt riding up further as you move closer to him. you let the space between you both shrink, your lips capturing his in a kiss, slow and deliberate, as if to emphasize your words.

when your lips meet his, sukuna lets out a low sound, his fingers gripping your hips a little tighter as he leans into the kiss. he responds with a quiet hunger, his tongue flickering over your bottom lip as he deepens the kiss. gojo, meanwhile, still leaning back on the floor beside, watches the scene unfolding before him. his eyes flicker between you and sukuna, his own smirk widening as he takes another drag from the joint.

you hum softly against sukuna's lips, the sound reverberates between you two, the tension building. you pull back just enough to bite his lower lip gently, tugging it between your teeth before leaning back in, kissing him again with more intensity. the kiss deepens, each movement a reflection of the growing desire between you both, while gojo watches, amused but clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him.

sukuna reacts to the sharp bite with a low, rumbling growl, his fingers slipping beneath the loose fabric of your shirt as if claiming you. his touch is deliberate, tracing the soft, exposed skin beneath, sending an electrifying shiver down your spine. he presses you even closer, his body a solid heat against yours, as his tongue dances into your mouth, exploring with teasing precision, tasting every inch of you.

meanwhile, gojo remains sprawled on the floor, his eyes dark and hungry, flicking over every curve of your body. he watches sukuna’s hands move beneath your shirt with a slow, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. the joint in his fingers burns slowly, forgotten for the moment as he becomes absorbed in the raw intensity of the scene playing out before him.

sukuna’s hands continue their exploration with an almost possessive hunger, each stroke sending waves of pleasure and heat spiraling through you, leaving you breathless and acutely aware of his overwhelming desire for you. his lips abandon your mouth, trailing down the line of your jaw and moving lower, planting soft, heated kisses along your neck that send a thrill of anticipation rushing through you.

gojo watches this silent, unspoken dance unfold with a predatory gleam in his eyes. the joint, once a small comfort in his hand, is forgotten, dropped to the side as he becomes completely enraptured by the sight of you and sukuna. a low hum escapes him, his voice thick with both intrigue and unrestrained desire. “god, you two are something else,” he murmurs, his words laced with a dark satisfaction.

you pull away from sukuna, your breath shallow and quick, trying to regain some sense of control. your cheeks are flushed a deep red, whether from the kiss, the lack of oxygen, or the effects of the weed, it's hard to tell. you let out a heavy sigh, your eyes half-lidded as you glance between sukuna and gojo, your voice soft and slightly breathless.

“i think i’m high,” you murmur, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. the effects of the weed mix with the lingering tension in the air, and you feel a little light-headed, but there's no denying the buzz.

sukuna chuckles at your declaration, his thumb brushing against your flushed cheek as he grins, amused by your hazy expression. “you think?” he muses, his voice gruff. “more like you’re gone, doll. you’re practically floating right now. and here i thought you had a higher tolerance than that.”

gojo, meanwhile, lets out a loud bark of laughter, his own eyes fluttering slightly to keep you in focus. “she’s blitzed,” he teases, his lips curling into a smirk.

you roll your eyes at their teasing, your tone sharp yet playful. “shut up, both of you,” you mutter, reaching for the joint in gojo's hand with a quick, determined movement. you take another drag, inhaling deeply, your eyes briefly closing as the smoke fills your lungs. as you exhale slowly, you pass the joint to sukuna, your gaze lingering on him for a moment.

“your turn, asshole,” you say with a smirk, leaning back slightly as you let the haze settle around you.

sukuna takes the joint from your hand with a slow, deliberate motion, his thumb grazing against your fingers as his eyes lock onto yours. a smirk curls at the corner of his lips, his gaze never leaving you as he brings the joint to his mouth. he inhales deeply, savoring the smoke, holding it in for a moment as the weight of the moment stretches between you. then, with a controlled exhale, the smoke billows from his mouth in a steady, thick stream, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

gojo, still chuckling at your earlier comment, watches the exchange between you and sukuna with a sharp, calculating interest. his eyes flick between the two of you, a playful spark igniting behind them, his lips curling into a mischievous grin.

“damn, y/n,” he teases, his voice light but carrying an edge of amusement. “you really can’t hold your weed, can you?” he chuckles, leaning back as his gaze flickers with further delight at your reaction.

you shift on sukuna’s lap, leaning back just enough to let the weight of the moment settle in, your head tilting upwards to the ceiling as the haze of the weed wraps around you. a deep, contented sigh slips from your lips, the foggy warmth in your chest making everything feel just right. slowly, you let out a soft laugh, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them. “this is better than going out for a date,” you murmur, a lazy grin spreading across your face.

your mind, cloudy and buzzing, wanders back to the date the three of you had planned earlier, the thought floating through your haze. gojo lets out a laugh, eyes flicking between you and sukuna, his amusement glinting brighter. “damn, doll, you’d rather get high than go on a date with us? who are we, chopped liver?” his voice is thick with mock offense, but the mischief dancing in his eyes is impossible to miss.

sukuna, never one to let a moment of teasing slip away, chuckles darkly, his hands drifting lazily over your thighs, tracing invisible patterns. “nah,” he drawls with a smirk, “she’s just too stoned to appreciate anything else right now.” his grin widens, clearly enjoying every bit of your sluggish reaction.

you let out a low, breathy chuckle, your head swaying slightly as the world around you blurs and ripples like a mirage. the ceiling above seems to stretch and shift, and you blink slowly, trying to focus on the warping edges of your vision. everything feels off-kilter, a delicious spin in your mind, before you lower your gaze and lock eyes with both sukuna and gojo.

“yeah,” you murmur, a lazy grin tugging at your lips, your voice heavy and slow, the words slurring just a little. “i’m definitely too stoned.” the realization hits you in a way that only adds to the dreamlike amusement of the moment, and you let out another soft, dreamy laugh, the sound floating lazily into the air.

gojo lets out a sharp snort, his amusement barely contained as he watches you in your clearly altered state. “doll, you’re not just stoned, you’re practically on the moon right now,” he quips, his voice dripping with playful mockery as he chuckles low in his chest.

sukuna’s gaze, however, sharpens as he watches you intently, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. he takes in the dazed, almost ethereal look in your eyes and the soft, blissful smile on your lips. a flash of something darker, something possessive, flickers across his face. “you look completely out of it, doll,” sukuna murmurs, his voice husky and filled with low amusement, as his eyes lock onto yours. “are you even aware of what you’re saying right now?”

gojo leans forward, eyes glinting with intrigue, clearly enjoying the way you’re unraveling before him. “yeah, you’re totally baked,” he teases, a knowing smirk playing at the edges of his lips. “didn’t know you were such a lightweight.”

you chuckle softly, rolling your eyes at their relentless teasing, your fingers absently toying with the hem of your shirt. “of course, i’m aware,” you mumble, your voice a tad slow, but steady enough to keep their attention. “don’t treat me like i’m completely gone.”

your gaze flicks between sukuna and gojo, lingering on sukuna just a beat longer before flicking to gojo. a sly, playful grin curls on your lips as you lean back just slightly. “but since we’re talking about awareness,” you begin, your voice taking on a teasing, almost mischievous tone. “do either of you know what i’m aware of more than anything right now?”

sukuna raises an eyebrow, his expression a curious mixture of intrigue and caution. he knows you too well to not sense the playful mischief behind your words, but the exact nature of it eludes him for now.

gojo, however, leans in even closer, his interest piqued by the hint of something more beneath your words. “what are you aware of, doll?” he asks, his tone laced with curiosity, eyes flickering between you and sukuna. he silently acknowledges the possibility that you might just drop a bombshell.

sukuna can’t help but let out a surprised laugh, caught off guard by your unexpected shift in tone. gojo, on the other hand, rolls his eyes exaggeratedly before breaking into a chuckle of his own. “oh yeah? we’re dicks, huh?” gojo retorts, his voice dripping with mock offense, but the gleam in his eyes betrays the amusement bubbling beneath his words. “please, elaborate. i’d love to hear why you think we’re such terrible boyfriends.”

sukuna joins in with a chuckle, his face a perfect mix of amusement and exaggerated outrage. “yeah, doll,” he adds, his tone filled with feigned indignation. “don’t be shy now. go ahead and tell us all about our apparent dickishness.”

you hum softly, your amusement lacing the sound as you take another languid drag from the joint. your eyes half-lidded, a dreamy smile spreading across your lips as the high wraps around you. you don’t bother responding to their mock outrage, your laughter bubbling up effortlessly as you lazily pass the joint to sukuna.

sukuna accepts it with a shake of his head, his lips curling into a knowing smirk as he watches you with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. “she’s in her own world,” he mutters, clearly entertained, before taking a slow drag from the joint himself.

gojo snorts as he observes you sprawled across sukuna’s lap, completely unbothered, as if the world around you had faded into a background blur. “look at you,” he teases, affection dripping from his words as he gazes at you with playful exasperation. “completely out of it. doll, you’re a walking PSA for why not to share weed with your boyfriends.”

he takes the joint back from sukuna, inhaling deeply, and blows a cloud of smoke into the air before his attention returns to you. “so,” he says, voice mockingly casual as he looks at you with raised eyebrows, “while you’re floating up there in space, any fun observations to share with us mere mortals stuck down here?”

you blink slowly, your gaze drifting lazily between sukuna and gojo before you lean back slightly and flash them a lazy grin. “fun observation?” you repeat, tilting your head in exaggerated thoughtfulness. “yeah, i’ve got one.”

sukuna and gojo exchange a quick glance, their curiosity piqued. sukuna’s smirk widens in anticipation, bracing himself for whatever absurdity you’re about to deliver. gojo leans forward, clearly eager for whatever nonsense you might have to offer. both of them regard you with arched eyebrows, their expressions a mixture of amusement and eager curiosity.

“alright, doll,” gojo encourages with a light, teasing tone. “let’s hear this fun observation of yours.” sukuna’s smirk deepens as he watches you, his arm instinctively curling around your waist to steady you, as if he knows you might topple over from the sheer weight of the haze surrounding you.

you shift slightly on sukuna’s lap, adjusting your position as his arm instinctively tightens around your waist to steady you. a lazy grin spreads across your lips as you gesture dramatically with your hands, drawing a large, exaggerated circle in the air.

“up here,” you say, your voice light and airy, “there’s this stupid orbit.” you pause, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and glance between sukuna and gojo. gojo leans forward, intrigued. “oh? and what’s in this ‘orbit,’ doll?” his tone is playful, though there's a spark of curiosity hidden beneath it.

you let out a soft chuckle, your fingers completing another exaggerated circle in the air before you deadpan, “it looks just like your whitehead—” you flick your gaze to gojo with a teasing smirk, “—and his bitch face.” your eyes dart to sukuna, your giggle bubbling up as you savor their reactions.

gojo’s smirk falters, his eyes narrowing at your unexpected retort. sukuna, however, erupts into a fit of roaring laughter, unable to stifle his amusement. he even gives you a playful pat on the ass as he laughs louder.

“oh, damn, doll,” sukuna chuckles, clearly entertained. “you're so out of it that you're talking out of your ass right now, huh? that's the funniest thing you've said all night,” sukuna laughs, his hand tightening its grip around your waist as if to keep you from slipping away.

gojo scoffs, feigning offense as he rolls his eyes. “oh, yeah? well, your orbit in this universe looks like a bunch of fuzzy, incoherent nonsense, doll.” you roll your eyes, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you mutter under your breath, “talking about nonsense… rich coming from someone who’s always obnoxiously nonsense.”

you didn’t think they’d hear you, but both sukuna and gojo freeze for a moment, exchanging knowing looks before their eyes snap back to you. “oh, really?” gojo drawls, leaning in closer, his smirk sharpening into something far more challenging. “care to elaborate on what kind of ‘nonsense’ i’m spouting, doll?”

sukuna, still laughing, shakes his head, his grip on your waist tightening slightly, as if to keep you from slipping away. “nah, let her keep going,” he says, clearly relishing in the unfolding drama. “i wanna hear this too.”

you blink, realizing you’ve been caught. your cheeks flush—not from embarrassment, but from the combination of the weed haze and the realization you’ve just made a verbal slip-up. you let out a soft laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “nothing.”

gojo and sukuna exchange a knowing glance, their amusement growing as they watch you try to backtrack. sukuna lets out another chuckle, his hand still resting possessively on your waist as he grins. “oh, hell no, doll,” he says with a smirk. “you don’t get to back out now.”

gojo tilts his head, the devilish gleam in his eyes growing sharper as he leans closer to you. “yeah, doll, spill it. what did you mean when you called me obnoxious nonsense?”

you let out a soft laugh, the sound hazy and almost dreamlike as you shake your head. “nothing,” you murmur dismissively, waving a hand in the air before leaning forward and pressing your cheek against sukuna’s chest. his warmth is grounding, and you let yourself sink into the feeling as your body relaxes completely against him.

you hum softly, your eyes fluttering closed as you mutter, “damn, my head is spinning.” your words are barely audible, almost lost in the soft fabric of sukuna’s shirt. sukuna’s arms tighten around you, his chest rumbling with a low laugh as he notices how your body practically melts into his. he leans in, his voice soft but steady.

“you’re so out of it right now,” he murmurs, his hand gently running through your hair.

meanwhile, gojo chuckles, clearly entertained by the whole scene. “yeah, doll, you’re orbiting pretty hard up there in space right now,” he teases, reclining on his hands as he watches the situation unfold with glittering amusement.

you let out a heavy sigh, your entire body going limp as you allow yourself to sink further into sukuna’s chest. your weight presses against him completely, your arms falling limply to the floor on either side of his waist, your fingers brushing the carpet as though they’ve forgotten how to move.

your eyes remain closed, your face nuzzled into the fabric of sukuna’s shirt, his warmth wrapping around you like a heavy, comforting blanket. “mmm,” you mumble, your voice muffled, but content. sukuna’s soft chuckle vibrates through his chest, his gaze softening as he looks down at you. he continues gently running his fingers through your hair, grounding you with his steady touch.

gojo watches the scene with a smirk, his eyes flickering with a playful glint. “you’re practically a ragdoll right now, doll,” he teases, a hint of affection threading through his words. “looks like you’re gonna pass out any second.”

you mumble softly, your voice barely audible, “i might be...” your words trail off as your head sinks further into sukuna’s chest, your body lax in his embrace, just as gojo had jokingly predicted.

sukuna hums in acknowledgment, the vibrations from his chest soothing against your cheek. he leans down, pressing a firm kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment as if sealing an unspoken promise. “listen, doll,” he says, his voice low and serious, though the playful undertone still lingers. “you better never smoke without me or gojo around. i don’t want anyone trying to take advantage of you like this— useless and unaware.”

gojo nods in agreement with sukuna’s statement, his expression hardening for a moment as he contemplates the possibility. the idea of someone taking advantage of you, defenseless and lost in your high, clearly doesn't sit well with either of them.

“yeah, baby,” gojo adds, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “we don’t want anyone messing with you when you can’t even process what's going on. you're off limits when you’re like this, got it?”

gojo moves closer, shifting onto his side next to you. he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips brushing gently against your skin. his voice is barely above a whisper as he murmurs, “do you hear us, baby?”

you softly nod, your eyes still closed, the haze of the high clouding your senses. the steady warmth of sukuna’s body beneath you and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest provide a sense of security that lulls you into a deep sense of contentment. their words wrap around you like a protective cocoon, keeping you safe in their embrace.

sukuna lets out a low hum, feeling your nod, the knowledge that you understand their words settles over him like a heavy blanket. his fingers continue to stroke through your hair, the motion almost methodical, as he speaks again.

“good,” he says firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. “you’re always off limits to anyone except us, but even more so when you’re in this state.” sukuna and gojo exchange a glance, a silent connection passing between them as they both watch you, boneless and disoriented on top of sukuna. it’s a sight that is both intriguing and worrisome, to witness you so completely undone by a mere drug.

sukuna’s hand continues to gently tangle in your hair, his touch soft yet firm, as if seeking to keep you grounded amidst the haze. gojo, meanwhile, leans forward and brushes his fingertips against your cheek, the touch barely a whisper. “baby,” he murmurs, his voice tender and concerned, “do you even know where you are right now?”

you let out a long, heavy sigh, the weight of everything pressing down on you like an insurmountable burden. the dizziness is overwhelming, a fog settling in your mind, clouding your thoughts and stealing your clarity. your eyelids flutter, but you fight the urge to succumb to the haze. instead of responding, you tighten your eyes shut, desperately trying to block out the spiraling confusion swirling inside your head. you try to cling to something solid, to anchor yourself amidst the storm of disorienting sensations.

yet, even through the thick fog, you can feel sukuna’s fingers gently carding through your hair, his touch steady and grounding. and gojo’s hand, warm and reassuring, rests lightly on your cheek, a subtle presence that brings you some semblance of comfort. still, the haze is suffocating, and focusing feels like an impossible task.

your body, like lead, refuses to obey your commands, sinking deeper into the disorienting daze. but in the midst of the confusion, the warmth of sukuna and gojo’s presence feels like a lighthouse in a storm, their proximity offering you a safe harbor, even if the world around you feels too far away. with your eyes closed, drifting between the fog of your mind and the warmth of their touch, you sense the soft exchange of glances between them. their faces, usually brimming with confidence and amusement, now carry a trace of concern, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

sukuna’s hand, still in your hair, moves with the same rhythmic precision, massaging your scalp with a soothing pressure that, against the weight of your dizzying thoughts, brings a small measure of clarity. the steady movement lulls you, pulling you from the disorienting fog, but it’s still hard to grasp onto anything concrete.

“doll,” sukuna’s voice cuts through the haze, deep and low, a soothing lullaby in the chaos of your mind. “open your eyes for us, will you? we need to see those beautiful eyes of yours.”

you try to comply, but it takes longer than expected. your response is sluggish, a slow nod that feels like an eternity to produce. finally, after what seems like a small eternity, your eyes crack open, just slightly, the world around you blurry, unfocused. you blink up at them, barely registering their expressions, the room around you spinning in a slow circle.

sukuna’s gaze softens when he sees you struggling to stay grounded, though his grip on you remains firm, a protective presence keeping you from slipping away. gojo lets out a breath, a soft sigh of relief escaping his lips as he watches your eyes flutter open, still glazed with the remnants of the fog in your mind.

“there you are,” gojo murmurs, his voice a gentle caress as his fingers trace the contours of your face, his touch light but deliberate, as if committing every feature to memory. his expression softens with a rare tenderness, but there’s still that playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, as if trying to lighten the atmosphere despite the obvious concern in his eyes.

sukuna continues his slow, steady motion through your hair, his touch almost tender now, his large hand providing a comforting pressure against your scalp. it’s as though he’s trying to pull you back to the surface, to anchor you to the present, but even his steady presence can’t erase the fog lingering in your mind.

“doll,” sukuna’s voice takes on a more serious tone now, yet still carries a certain warmth, “we need you to answer a question for us. just a simple question. think you can do that for us?” his words are firm, but there’s an undercurrent of reassurance in his voice, as though he's giving you the space to collect yourself.

you hum softly, the sound barely audible, but enough for them to hear. your response is slow, your thoughts clouded, but you’re still trying. you’re still there.

gojo and sukuna exchange another look, this one laced with an unspoken agreement. sukuna’s hand continues to glide through your hair, but now it’s even more deliberate, grounding you further, a steadying force in the midst of your dazed state.

“good,” gojo says, his tone carrying a touch of approval. “now, doll, listen closely. we’re going to ask you something, alright? it’s really simple, just one word, nothing complicated.” his voice is calm, though a faint hint of something more serious lingers beneath the playfulness. sukuna’s hand doesn’t falter, its rhythm steady as ever, anchoring you as gojo prepares to ask the question.

gojo takes a moment, a slight smirk playing at his lips, but his eyes reveal something deeper—a rare sincerity that surfaces when it’s just the three of you, alone in this moment.

“do you know where you are right now?” he asks, his voice still teasing, yet there’s a thread of concern woven in. his gaze never leaves you, as if watching for the smallest sign that you’re beginning to find your bearings again.

their eyes meet once more, their gazes a mixture of protectiveness and tenderness, but there's no mistaking the underlying urgency—wanting to be sure that you’re truly okay, that you’re not lost in the fog.

you scoff, the sound barely audible as you shift slightly, a lazy smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. if you were fully sober, you’d probably curse them out and smack them for treating you like you couldn't function on your own.

instead, you mutter, “fuck off,” your voice weak and hoarse, as you weakly push gojo’s shoulder with little force, too tired to even put any real effort into it. your body still feels like it’s floating, but the familiarity of their touch and their concern lingers, and for now, it’s enough to make you feel safe.

sukuna and gojo burst into laughter at your attempt to sass them, amused by your weak, half-hearted response. despite being under the influence, your sharp tongue and fiery attitude refuse to fade, a testament to your usual feistiness.

“oh, there’s our spitfire doll,” gojo chuckles, his voice full of affection and amusement, the sparkle in his eyes betraying his enjoyment. “even in the middle of a high, you can't seem to help yourself, can you?” leaning down with that characteristic grin, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his touch a gentle contrast to the tension in the room.

sukuna, still tenderly running his fingers through your hair, lets out a low chuckle. his touch, though playful, holds a subtle trace of affection as he murmurs, “i suppose that answers the question, though.” you let out a soft sigh, the exhaustion from the drug coursing through your body, making everything feel heavier. still cradled against sukuna, you fold your arms tighter around yourself, your body seeking the warmth and comfort that he offers. your eyes, still heavy with the haze of the high, close again as you murmur, “can we move to the bed now?” the soft pleading in your voice is clear, even though the comfort of sukuna’s arms makes it hard to summon the energy to move.

sukuna and gojo share a knowing look—unspoken communication passes between them, the depth of their concern evident in their eyes. the fog of your drugged state is apparent, and they both recognize that it’s time to move you to the bed.

“yeah, baby,” sukuna responds, his voice a soft mix of authority and care, “we’ll move you. just hold on for a second, alright?” with deliberate care, he shifts, lifting you gently as he rises from the floor. gojo trails behind, his gaze never leaving you, his fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that speaks volumes. he watches your every move, filled with a mix of concern and deep affection as he follows sukuna’s lead.

once at the bed, sukuna lays you down on the soft sheets, adjusting the pillows beneath your head to ensure you’re comfortable. gojo settles at the edge of the bed, his eyes scanning your face, lingering on the softness of your features, still filled with a quiet intensity.

sukuna chuckles again, this time low and with a hint of amusement, as he undresses, slipping off his clothes until only his boxers remain. his gaze lingers on you, watching the way your face has softened, relaxed in the aftermath of the high. a wry smirk plays at his lips as he mutters under his breath, “dumbass,” with affectionate exasperation. “look at her, completely out of it… such a brat.” his words carry both humor and a layer of fondness, his teasing only highlighting his affection.

gojo, on the other hand, takes a moment to watch sukuna, a low whistle escaping his lips as his eyes roam over sukuna’s form before his attention snaps back to you. he leans in, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch light and delicate as though you might shatter if he wasn’t careful.

“she’s quite the dumbass right now, isn’t she?” gojo muses, his voice filled with playful amusement as a smirk tugs at his lips. he proceeds to gently remove the jewelry from your wrists and neck, placing each piece carefully on the nightstand before tenderly taking off your clothes, ensuring he’s gentle with every motion. his hands move with deliberate care, and once you’re only in your underwear, he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulls the blanket up around you. his movements are tender and deliberate, as though trying to cocoon you in warmth and safety.

glancing toward the window, gojo observes the relentless rain, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. a quiet sigh escapes him as he watches the storm rage outside, his voice barely a whisper, “hell of a storm.” the low hum of rain becomes a background to the otherwise still room as he slowly undresses, ready to settle beside you.

meanwhile, sukuna reaches over to switch off the lights, plunging the room into darkness, save for the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the window. the room feels peaceful in contrast to the chaos outside, the distant thunder muffled by the closed windows and thick curtains. the silver moonlight casts a calming glow, the only source of light as they prepare to settle in.

with the room now dark, sukuna climbs into bed beside you, his warm body pressing gently against your side, his hand finding yours under the blanket. his fingers brush over your palm, tracing the lines of your hand as though trying to steady you, grounding you in the present.

gojo, having finished undressing, slides into the bed on your other side. the two of them sandwich you between them, their bodies close, limbs intertwined in an intimate, protective embrace. it’s a cocoon of warmth, of security, a stark contrast to the vulnerability you’re feeling from the high. despite your state, they’re hyper-aware of your every breath, your every movement.

sukuna, still holding your hand, presses his head gently against your shoulder, his voice low and soothing as he mutters, “there we go, all nice and comfortable, doll.” his words are a lullaby, grounding you further in the moment.

gojo, propped up on his elbow, studies your face intently, the faintest trace of concern mingling with the amusement still in his eyes. his touch is careful as he brushes another strand of hair from your face, a tenderness that speaks volumes in its simplicity.

“you’re gonna be one hell of a headache tomorrow,” he muses with a soft chuckle, a playful hint to his voice. “such a little idiot, letting yourself get so out of it.” sukuna’s chuckle rumbles against your back, the vibrations reverberating through your skin. “yeah, doll,” he agrees, his voice a deep rumble. “you’ll be feeling it tomorrow. but for now... we’ll just keep you right here, safe and sound.”

both sukuna and gojo tighten their hold on you, their arms encircling you like a protective barrier, refusing to let you slip out of reach even an inch. they’re both hyper-aware that you have no control over your body right now, and they’re fiercely protective over your vulnerability.

[deathbyathousandspiders]

hey! could you write something where tony accidentally finds out the reader, his daughter, and peter are dating? they’re both scared for his reaction but then he’s actually super cool about it :)

I LOVE STARK!READER !!

i got saucy w this one :,) my b

!!! 18+ MDNI !!!

content warnings — steamy peter make outs, light swearing, sexual content, suggestive dialogue.

✨masterlist✨.

2.1k.

Nothing could beat lazy Sundays at the compound. The whole team was either MIA, on a mission, or training, so every room fell still with serenity. It was the perfect time for you to stick your nose in a book, and lounge around the empty estate. Your father was off somewhere across the complex working on some gadget, which left you free to roam around wherever you wanted.

Your hair gently tickled your bare shoulders as you tied it up, laying your book face–open on the kitchen island so that you could keep reading and grab a snack. The air conditioning nipped at the skin exposed from your minimal clothing; your black–cropped tank top and favorite pair of shorts didn’t protect you from the artificial frost in the air, but it certainly helped with the heat when you stepped outside.

Just before your hands fell back to your book, arms wrapped around your waist from behind. Their shape and placement was something so familiar, the touch brought you more comfort than startle. Cedarwood and bergamot were quick to fill your nose whilst your boyfriend’s head craned into the base of your neck. His fingers locked to the belt loops of your shorts, tugging you back into him so that he could feel more of you.

“I’ve been looking for you..” His voice was throaty. Needy. The pads of his thumbs traced tiny circles into either of your hips, gently pressing further into your skin when your hand stretched up to comb through his fluffy brown curls. His affection and body heat were a welcomed company in the cold of the kitchen.

A smile found your face, even though Peter couldn’t see it from where he was. “I missed you too, baby.” Humming, your fingers scratched his scalp. “D’you know who’s here right now?” Your voice grew hushed, heart racing with the small adrenaline rush infiltrated your system.

“Your dad’s in his lab, Steve and Natasha are in the gym, and Vision’s with Wanda in the meeting room, but otherwise.. Everyone else’s out..” Peter’s voice dropped an octave as he spoke just above a whisper, his lips finding your collarbone. “Sam, Bucky, Thor..” In between each name, he placed another kiss on your neck, only inching higher. The more skin he nipped at, the more your fingers curled around his hair, curving your neck so that he had more access to you. “Bruce, Clint, Rhodey, Pepper…” His whispers sent shivers down your spine, especially as his left hand slid under the fabric of your shirt.

As Peter trailed kissed up to your jaw, a shuttered moan caught between your lips. You fought the urge to roll your hips back into his, knowing that you couldn’t finish what you were starting. If anybody found you two, your secret relationship would be out, and your dad would give you hell for it. “Peter.. We can’t…” You spoke breathlessly, tugging at his hair; it was an attempt to pull him from your body, but you didn’t try too hard.

His lips hovered over his favorite soft spot in the crevasse of your jawline, brushing his teeth along the surface of it just to rile you. It certainly didn’t help that he aimed his breathy chuckle right at it, but god did it feel good. “Why not?”

You huffed impatiently, eyes half lidded whilst your entire body anticipated the gentle brushing of his lips against your neck. His cooling fingers teased at the bottom of your left breast, testing waters you two hadn’t touched before. Sure, you’d let Peter Parker touch you like this plenty of times before, but never in the open like this. Never in the open where your secret could be outed.

“Cause I–” You felt the tug of Peter’s smirk against your skin at how worked up you were already getting. “I’m reading…” You knew that Peter was well aware of how secretive you needed to be. ‘Reading’ was merely just to give him a hard time.

He let out a quiet sigh, pressing a lingered kiss to your cheek. His thumb lightly rubbed at your rib cage beneath your shirt, but otherwise, he gave up his attempt. “You’re sure I can’t even get one kiss?” He asked, pouty even in his tone of voice.

You turned your head to look at him. Your eyes glanced at his lips just to tease him, “Over my dead body, Parker.” Your voice still sang out low, wanting nothing more than to taste him right then and there.

Peter’s face inched closer to yours, snickering quietly at your stubborn response. “Not if your dad kills me first..” He mused, voice still just as groveled as before. His lips nearly brushed against yours, but the sound of the floorboards outside of the kitchen made you both add three feet between you.

“Why would I kill you?” Your dad’s voice hummed nonchalant, as if he wasn’t interrupting such an intimate moment. He walked right through the thickening tension like it wasn’t the weight that it was. Tony’s focus seemed to be glued to his holographic wrist watch, completely oblivious to Peter’s hand slyly slipping out from under your black camisole.

You and Peter glanced at each other, astonished that he seemed so unfazed and unaware. Perhaps, your father didn’t hear as much of the conversation as you assumed he did. Maybe he truly was clueless to the blush coating your cheeks, and the timid bulge poking at the fly of Peter’s jeans.

“Uhh..” Peter lost every thought that occupied his brian. “Because I ate the last Pop Tart. I–I just figured you’d be upset.” Even he didn’t sound convinced about the excuse.

Finally, Tony looked up from his watch, eyeing you first, then Peter. This was the closest you two were to getting caught, and even though the AC was cranked fairly high, it felt like the air suddenly ran much cooler. Your heart was in your throat, easing a little when your father walked over and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek.

Tony leaned back on the kitchen island beside you, crossing his arms over his Nirvana band–tee. “Lucky for you, kid, I’ve got a whole secret stash in my lab.” He spoke with his typical Tony tone, “I’ll let you off the hook this time.”

Little did you or Peter know that your father actually heard most of your conversation. How much of it? He’d never tell you. Tony Stark knew that you and Peter had the hots for each other for a long time. He was just waiting for both of you to come clean about the relationship, or for the perfect time for him to address it. He’d known for a while, but the longer it took, the more entertaining it was to act like he was oblivious to it. Now, how he found out about the relationship, he’d never tell that to you either.

“Are you calling my daughter a liar, Rogers?” Tony asked the blonde from across the pool table, watching as the captain missed the shot with no reaction.

Steve stood upright, stepping back so that Tony had room to make his turn. “No. No, Tony.” He started, “All I’m saying is that if Peter were chivalrous, he would ask you for your permission first. That’s all.”

The topic of the evening was why you and Peter both flaked out of game night. Ever since Sam joked that you could’ve been bailing to go out together, every conversation Tony had was directed on how likely the possibility truly was.

His eyes squinted at Steve, readjusting his cue and stance in one swift movement. He knew Steve was traditional, but sometimes, Tony forgot just how traditional he really was. “They don’t need my permission. They’re teenagers.” Tony creased his hips, focusing on the pool table for a second. “Besides,” with a faint clank, Tony knocked two balls in with one hit, “Maybe she asked him out. It’s the twenty–first century.”

Steve sighed with a slight twinge of annoyance, both at Tony’s coyness and his success in their game. He leaned on his cue like a cane, watching the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist walk around the table again. “Alright, fine.” Steve huffed. “But if they are out canoodling tonight, what are you going to do about it?”

A focused glare glistened in Tony’s eyes as he bent over to take the shot. He pulled the cue back a few times, pondering on both his turn and the question. If he made this shot correctly, he could win the whole game; if you and Peter were really out on a date, what would he do?

Tony shoved the wooden rod in his hand, acing the shot just like he calculated. He subtly smirked to himself, looking back at Steve to answer his question. “I’ll find a way to give them hell for it.”

And that, he was. Ever since he caught you and Peter getting frisky on the security system later that night. That conversation happened months ago, and Tony still managed to make both of you incredibly jittery. He wasn’t entirely sure why it was such a big deal to tell him, or why you’d kept it a secret for so long, but he knew sooner than later you’d find a way to tell him.

Little did he know, Peter Parker was finding his way onto your bedroom in the thick of night after patrols.

You unlocked the door to your balcony, welcoming him in with the kiss you meant to give him hours earlier. Hungrily, your lips clasped with his, getting drunk on his taste, and lacing your fingers in his hair. “God, I missed you..” You spoke between kisses.

“Missed you too, baby..” Peter let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, finally able to relax in your presence.

Both of you took steps towards your bed, slow and steady to avoid the lack of contact. Peter’s mask was lost somewhere on your bedroom floor, and you wasted no time to press the button on his chest and strip him from the suit he’d been wearing.

Peter got to your bed first, sitting back on it and quickly helping you climb on top of him. His hands grasped every inch of you that they could — grazing your neck, squeezing at your hips, grabbing your ass, and now inching up your inner thigh as you straddled his lap. His hips arched up to meet yours, pressing up against you in a delicious way.

Tongues greeting each other, you both moaned into each other’s mouth. You couldn’t get enough of each other, and the foreplay only reminded you of how little patience you had for it. You didn’t just want Peter right now, you needed him. Inside you. The ache in your lower stomach felt throbbing, and you were confident that your arousal was already coating the fingers Peter had at your upper thigh.

Just as you both parted the kiss to catch your breath, your bedroom door abruptly opened, light invading the room. Your blood ran cold as your head snapped toward the door in time with Peter’s; you both met the casual stare of your father. Tony Stark stood in the doorframe, unfazed, in pajamas, toothbrush in his mouth.

The room fell quiet, apart from the sounds of the bristles cleaning Tony’s pearly whites, and the faint heavy breaths that you and Peter tried to catch.

Taking the toothbrush out of his mouth, Tony was the first to break the awkward, deafening, silence. “Hey, Kid.” Tony’s head nodded upwards, as though he were greeting Peter in public. Not like he was speaking nonchalantly to Peter, flushed, in boxers, sat beneath his daughter’s thighs. “Next time, can you use the front door so that I don’t have to disarm the security system?” Even if little he knew, little was still more than nothing.

Peter stared blankly at him, sure as hell that this had to be some nightmare he just hadn’t woken up from yet. He glanced at you, then swallowed the frog stuck in his throat. “Uh– uh, yep! Yeah, I–uh, I can do that!” He wasn’t sure why his voice always raised two octaves when he was nervous, but it definitely made this moment that much more amusing for Tony.

With a small smile, your dad grabbed the doorknob with his freehand. “Thanks.” He then put the toothbrush back in his mouth, slowly shutting the door. “Have fun! Use protection.” His words were muffled and spat due to having his mouth full, but he shut the door after that.

As awkward as it must’ve been for you and Peter, Tony found that moment to be as satisfying as he pictured it to be. Boy, he would give Peter the talking to of a lifetime in the morning, but it thrilled him to know that you’d found someone who made you so happy.

He didn’t see need to kill Peter either, after all.

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 5

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 3.0k

c/w - language

a/n - yall have been all up in my asks today, so i pumped this chapter out. gotta give the people what they want fr. sorry it’s a lil short, this chapter was kind of a filler tbh! also, did anyone catch the irl past references in the first scene? ;) as always, hope yall enjoy!! (also, this is unedited. like usual lol)

Azzi is woken bright and early the next morning by none other than her best friend, who seems awfully cheerful considering the night they just had.

“Wow, P,” Azzi grumbles once she’s sitting up in bed, watching Paige buzz around the room through bleary eyes. “It’s early for you.”

“Didn’t really sleep,” Paige says, slipping out of her pajamas so she’s only in boxers and a sports bra. (Azzi knows she should probably look away, but she doesn’t.) “We gotta run to the store, get up.”

“Okay,” Azzi yawns, blinking slowly while Paige slips into a pair of basketball shorts and a crop top that Azzi’s pretty sure belongs to her. “Be up in a sec.” But Paige disappears into the bathroom and Azzi can’t help but lay back down, snuggling under the warm sheets—if she’s being honest, she didn’t get much sleep last night, either. But where the lack of sleep is making Paige hyper, it’s making Azzi want nothing more than drift back off for just a few more minutes.

She’s barely fallen back asleep when something large and solid lands on top of her, and she buries her head into the pillow, groaning. “Ow, Paige, get off.”

“Get your ass outta bed,” Paige responds, but she is laying across the entire length of Azzi’s body like a warm, nice-smelling weighted blanket, and it only lulls Azzi back to sleep. She thinks about the irony of it, that their roles have switched this morning—usually Azzi is the one who has to drag Paige out of bed.

She’s only half-asleep but she swears she’s started snoring when Paige rolls of her and jabs her in the ribs. “Azzi!”

“No, Paige, please,” Azzi mumbles, throwing an arm over her face. “I’m tired.”

“Well I’m not going to the store by myself,” Paige says stubbornly, tugging on Azzi’s hand. “Come onnn.”

“We’ll go later,” Azzi tries to reason, but Paige won’t have that, pulling on her arm even harder.

“We gotta go now, Lauren’s gonna be here in a couple hours.”

Oh. Right. Paige’s siblings get back from their respective activities this morning, and of course Paige would never reunite with them empty-handed.

“Okay, okay,” Azzi concedes, finally sitting up once again, stretching out her arms. Paige, satisfied that Azzi is up now, gets back out of bed and heads back to the bathroom.

“Get ready fast, I wanna give ourselves plenty of time,” she calls, and Azzi watches her as she washes her face in the sink, rubbing her face aggressively like she always does.

Yawning, Azzi finally gets out of bed, wincing when she finds her neatly packed suitcase next to Paige’s already disorganized one, her clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor. “Paige, we need to unpack today.”

Paige pokes her head out of the bathroom and looks down at the mess that is her suitcase, then shrugs. “Nah, it’s okay.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Azzi says, kneeling down to move her suitcase away from Paige’s before she starts carefully rifling through the outfits she packed. “I dunno what to wear.”

“It’s warm out today,” Paige says, disappearing back into the bathroom. “You pack those lil jean shorts? With the flowers on them?”

“Yeah,” Azzi replies, instantly looking for those. “But my ass hangs out in them.”

There’s silence in the bathroom and Azzi thinks maybe Paige didn’t hear her, but a moment later she’s saying, “Yeah, wear those with your purple tank.”

It may raise her eyebrows, but it also makes her smirk, and Azzi does exactly as Paige says.

Thirty minutes later, the two of them—after successfully sneaking out of the house without running into Paige’s parents—are at the store, tossing anything they think her siblings will like into the basket. A new video game and snacks for Ryan, and some brand-name makeup and flowers for Lauren. (They also get energy drinks, even though Azzi doesn’t think Paige needs it.)

By the time they get back home, they should still have an hour until Lauren gets home—but as soon as they walk through the front door a young, strawberry-blonde girl is barreling into Paige’s arms, squealing.

Paige grunts dramatically, and then hands off the grocery bags to Azzi so she can wrap her arms around her little sister. “Whoa, what you doing home?” she asks, bending down to kiss her hair. “We were supposed to get here before you.”

“I couldn’t wait,” Lauren replies, muffled from where she’s buried in Paige’s chest. “So I came home early but you weren’t even here, and Mom and Dad said they didn’t know where you went to.”

“Sorry, Laur,” Paige responds, rubbing her sister’s back before pulling away. “We were out getting some stuff.”

Lauren waggles her eyebrows. “Gifts?”

“Mm. Maybe.” Paige smiles when Lauren giggles excitedly, and it’s only then that they address Azzi, who is standing somewhat awkwardly, trying to let the two sisters have their moment.

Lauren’s smile falters only a little when she sees Azzi. To her credit, she still sounds cheerful when she says, “Hi, Azzi, it’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, good to see you too,” Azzi responds, smiling as openly as she can. She’s only met Paige’s siblings a few times—not counting Drew, obviously—and so it’s a little uncomfortable when Lauren goes in for a hug. But this is a twelve-year-old girl, and Azzi is a grown adult, and she welcomes her with open arms, hugging her as well as possible with her groceries still in her arms. Paige takes them back from her after only a second of her struggling.

“You’ve gotten taller,” Azzi comments, because that’s something that you say to kids, right?

It seems to be a good thing to say because Lauren pulls back and beams up at her. “Mom says I’m almost as tall as Paige was at my age.” She looks back at Paige with a proud smile.

Paige grins back, ruffling her hair. “That mean you gonna start playin’ ball?”

“No way,” Lauren replies, playfully vehement. “Ryan keeps saying he wants to try, though.”

“I’ll convince him, for real,” Paige insists, and they all start moving to the kitchen so they can set the grocery bags down.

“Can I see my gift now?” Lauren asks, sliding into a bar stool.

Paige wags a finger at her. “Nuh-uh. We gotta wait for brother.”

Lauren groans dramatically, then giggles at herself and looks curiously at Azzi. “So, is Josh not here, then?”

Beside her, Paige freezes. Azzi glances cautiously at her, and she collects herself quickly, sharing a comforting look with Azzi. “Um,” she says, rounding the island to sit next to Lauren, “did Mom not tell you?”

Lauren wrinkles her eyebrows. “Tell me what?”

That’s enough of an answer, and Paige runs a hand over her face, clearly nervous to have to go through this all over again. It makes Azzi angry, for the millionth time, at her parents—of course they wouldn’t tell her younger siblings. Of course they’d make Paige do it.

“Well, uh,” Paige starts, “yeah, no, Josh isn’t coming. He and I, we actually broke up.”

“Oh.” Lauren frowns. “Sorry. Are you sad about it?”

“No, um, it’s okay. I realized I didn’t like him that much.”

“Why not?” Lauren asks.

“Well, because,” Paige looks to Azzi for help, and all Azzi can do is nod at her. “It’s because he’s a boy.”

Lauren’s frown deepens. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” she looks down at her lap, then makes eye contact with her little sister, “I mean I don’t really like boys, Laur.”

Lauren stares at her sister, and then she glances at Azzi before looking at the countertop, eyebrows furrowed just like Paige’s do when she’s thinking. “So,” she begins slowly, looking back up to Paige, “you like girls? Like, you like like them?”

“Yeah,” Paige says, and she and Azzi share a look, unsure of where this is going. Azzi hasn’t even noticed until now that she’s holding her breath.

“And you wanna date them?” Lauren clarifies.

“Well, I actually am dating one already,” Paige says, and before she can finish her sentence Lauren looks back at Azzi and she can swear she sees the moment it clicks in her brain.

“So Azzi is your girlfriend?” she says.

Paige hesitates, then says, “Yeah, she is.”

Azzi was expecting a lot of reactions, but Lauren’s bright, proud smile wasn’t one of them. “I guessed!” she hops off her barstool to round the island and give Azzi yet another hug. “So that means I have a new sister!”

Sort of incredulously, Azzi laughs, rubbing the younger girl’s shoulder. Paige blinks once before saying, “That’s not how that works.”

“She’s my in-law now,” Lauren replies with a duh tone, like Paige is slow, and it makes Azzi laugh again.

“No, she’s not your in-law until we get—“ Paige cuts herself off, biting her lip and Azzi stops laughing. Because they’re going to ‘break up’ almost as soon as this trip is over and they can’t get Lauren’s hopes up too much about things like marriage.

Lauren doesn’t seem to notice. She shakes her head firmly. “She’s my sister. I don’t care what you say.” Smiling slyly up at Azzi, she says, “So, cooler older sister,”—Paige gasps, offended—“will you please convince your girlfriend to let me open my gifts now.”

Azzi falters, but then she’s looking over at Paige, who is staring at her little sister with something like awe, and she decides that for now, they should just enjoy the innocent, loving acceptance of 12-year-old girls.

——————————————

By the time Ryan gets home Paige’s parents have joined them in the kitchen, and even though it’s tense with them around, Lauren’s chatter lifts the tension significantly. When the front door opens, Ryan barrels into Paige in a similar fashion as his little sister did, and the three siblings reunite happily, all of them a bundle of teasing and arguing and catching up.

When Ryan catches sight of Azzi, nobody has time to be nervous or hold their breaths because Lauren wraps an arm around her waist and says, “Azzi is here because she’s Paigey’s girlfriend. Say hi.”

Ryan opens his mouth, then closes it, then glances at his parents—who are stubbornly avoiding anybody’s gaze—before looking at his older sister with a questioning expression. Paige nods, and so he turns back to Azzi and says, in classic teenage-boy fashion, “Hey.”

Azzi takes much satisfaction in the way his parents fumble over themselves, apparently shocked that their children are capable of so much more love and acceptance than they are.

After the kids open their gifts, they drag Paige and Azzi upstairs to give them the ‘grand tour’ of their rooms. “Mine has changed,” Lauren says once they arrive at the room across the hallway from Paige’s. “We painted it sage green because the pink was too babyish for me.”

Paige and Azzi nod in agreement.

“And I don’t have my unicorn blanket anymore,” Lauren continues, jumping onto her bed to showcase this fact.

Paige places a hand over her heart. “You got rid of blankie? You love that thing.”

Azzi smiles, knowing that exact feeling—being a big sister and watching your siblings grow up without your permission.

But then Lauren heads to her closet and rummages around inside before pulling out a tattered, pink baby blanket with unicorns sewn into the fabric. “Don’t tell Ryan, but I couldn’t actually get rid of it.”

Paige sighs in relief.

Ryan’s room is dark, lit only by red LED lights, and his bed is unmade. He’s got a PS5 set up in one corner of his room and a desk that looks widely unused in the other. There’s dirty clothes everywhere.

“It’s kinda messy,” he says, carelessly tossing a few clothes off his bed to sit in it, powering up his TV.

“You take after me,” Paige says proudly, and Azzi nudges her in the arm, rolling her eyes. Paige grins at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and Ryan glances away from his TV at them.

“So, you guys are really dating?” he asks.

At the question, the both of them share a nervous glance—does he suspect something? But when Paige says, “Yeah, why?” he replies with a simple, “I figured.”

“Whatchu mean?” Paige asks.

He shrugs nonchalantly, looking back at his TV. “I could tell. Whenever we came to visit you were always texting Azzi or calling Azzi or talking about Azzi. It was all, Azzi this, Azzi that, my name’s Paige and I’m soooo in love with my little Azzi-Wazzi—“

“Yo, okay, bye!” Paige says loudly, going to shove Azzi out of the room, but she keeps her feet planted, amused and so, so curious.

“No, seriously, it was annoying.” Ryan sighs. “I remember the one time we came up and Azzi was staying with you and y’all kept playing footsies under the dinner table. It was gross.”

“We did not!” Paige exclaims as Azzi laughs loudly.

“Did too. And that night you dragged Azzi to your room and I heard you moaning really loud allll night.”

Azzi is cracking up now, and Paige puts her hands on her hips, having given up on trying to drag her away. “Okay, now you’re just making shit up. That’s inappropriate.”

Ryan shrugs again, a slight smirk on his face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that actually happened, though.”

Paige puts her face in her hands. Azzi looks over at her, grinning widely, and knows it’s her duty to give her shit for this later.

——————————————

During the aforementioned later, while the two of them are getting ready for bed side-by-side in the bathroom, Azzi’s barely even opened her mouth before Paige says, “Don’t.”

The two of them didn’t get a second alone for the rest of the day, because Paige has a little sister and it’s kind of her job to follow them around everywhere and ask annoying questions. Or at least, annoying to Paige. Azzi was more than happy to let Lauren talk her ear off—she’s never had a little sister before.

And besides, she’s used to it considering who her best friend is.

Lunch was spent outside on the porch, soaking in the sun, and it was good because Paige’s parents opted to eat inside. But dinner was awkward, all of them sitting around the table, eating the roast beef Dean had made. Lauren still didn’t seem to pick up on the tension, but Ryan, being a little older, did—apparent in the way he looked curiously between the four adults at the table. He never asked about it, though, and when Paige held Azzi’s hand over the table her parents didn’t say a thing (though Dean looked a bit like he wanted to smack their hands apart) so that’s gotta be a good thing.

Now that they’re finally alone, Azzi is not going to miss out on her opportunity to tease the hell out of her best friend.

“So, you’ve always been a little obsessed with me, huh?” she grins, ignoring Paige’s warning.

Paige rolls her eyes, but Azzi swears her cheeks turn a little pink. “He was making that up.”

“Weird, because I believed him,” Azzi replies, watching as Paige starts brushing her teeth. “Seems like a trustworthy kid.”

“He’sh a fifteen-year-old boy, you can’t trusht none of those,” Paige says around the toothbrush in her mouth.

“Maybe it’s you I can’t trust.”

Paige spits and then gives her an offended look. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Would you?” Azzi teases, and for some reason, it seems to actually make Paige nervous.

She turns away, wiping her mouth on a towel. “‘Course I wouldn’t.”

“Not even if you had a big, fat crush on me?” Azzi says, wish is super unfair because Azzi is the one lying about her big, fat crush, but it feels pretty good to project.

“Bro,” Paige groans, walking into their room, kicking off her basketball shorts on the way.

But Azzi isn’t going to let up. “He seemed pretty serious.”

“He said he heard us moaning,” Paige says, looking around on the floor for a pair of pajamas. (They did not, in fact, unpack today.)

“Okay, he might’ve lied about that,” Azzi admits. She watches, amused, as Paige mumbles to herself while pulling on a pair of PJ pants before she pulls her shirt over her head. “What’re you getting all nervous for?”

“You’re teaming up with my brother,” Paige replies, flopping onto her side of the bed.

“You apparently talk about me 24/7,” Azzi counters.

“Talked,” Paige immediately corrects, and when she sees the triumphant grin on Azzi’s face, she backtracks. “I mean, I didn’t! Obviously I didn’t, that’d be weird.”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi says, “super weird.”

“And I’on even think about you like that, you’re my best friend.”

“I know.”

“And you’re not even my type, for real.”

“Uh-huh.” A week ago, maybe even yesterday, that sentence would’ve been a dagger straight through Azzi’s heart, a harsh reminder of her unreciprocated feelings. But Paige says it like she’s trying to convince herself, and she’s clearly all flustered, her cheeks very evidently pink now, and Azzi wonders—

Slowly, she makes eye contact with Paige, unbuttons her little jean shorts, and shimmies out of them.

Paige averts her gaze, reaching onto the bedside table to take a drink of water.

Interesting. Taking it a little further, Azzi turns away from Paige and pulls her shirt off, letting Paige know two things at once: one, she is wearing a thong, and two, she has not had a bra on all day.

Behind her, a coughing fit starts and she can hear Paige thumping at her chest while her water goes down the wrong pipe.

She grins to herself, sauntering into the bathroom. “Imma take a shower. Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone.” And without a glance behind her, she closes the door.

Pressing her ear to it, she can hear Paige mumbling to herself. She can’t make out exactly what she’s saying, but she does make out a few strings of curse words.

Well. What an interesting development this is.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa

[gallaghersgal]

real love, baby

carmy blurb inspired by this ask!! mature, 18+. smoking 🍃, plenty of fluff, domestic and lovely <33

wc: 650

carmen's been high before, smoked a couple joints with mikey & richie in his teens, took gummies for his sleep while staging in copenhagen. but recently he confessed to you, he's never had an enjoyable high. with his brother he was often on edge, trying to remain cool for the older boys.

so on a monday morning when neither of you have anything to do, and there's a farmers market down the block you've been dying to visit, you wake before carmen and make your way into the living room. you open your freshly restocked stash and unwrap the glassware you'd ordered for this moment, a bong much smaller than your own, to let your boyfriend get the hang of it.

after grinding enough for the morning and packing the first bowl, unable to resist a hit or two for yourself, you get to work on breakfast. carmen wakes to the thick, earthy smell of the smoke paired with the savory scent of bacon and eggs. you plate up two breakfast sandwiches and make your way to carmen's side where he stands by the open window.

you show him how to inhale from the bong, sharing your first hit with him by taking his chin and exhaling the smoke into his parted lips. it's more filtered that way, gentler even though his lungs have become accustomed to the intrusion. he kisses you soundly after that, tongue slipping past your lips as he exhales through his nose.

it takes fifteen minutes for your plates and the first bowl to be cleared. by then carmen's contracted a case of the giggles, his eager hands reaching for the glass piece when you fail to clear the smoke in one go. you laugh with him, and kiss his sweet, rosy cheeks. while you repack the bowl you instruct carmen to pull up a playlist of yours, swaying your shoulders to the beat of the familiar songs.

your boyfriend isn’t a dancer by any means, and you’re fine with that. you let the music move you enough for two. but something about this morning gets carmen up, his hands tugging you upright and into his arms. full of giggles, you move to the beat.

after smoking down the second, as you pack the third bowl carmen bashfully asks what you plan on wearing to the farmers market, wanting to match with you. with a grin on your face, you tug him into the bedroom and giggle at the way he makes sure your bong is in his hand too, never one to be wasteful.

you open all the bedroom windows, taking turns taking hits as you choose a matching outfit. after finding a cropped white tee in your half of the closet and a pair of levi's jeans you know you have to recreate his signature look. you pair the two with the leather jacket carmen had planned on wearing, but he doesn't tell you that. looks better on you anyway, he thinks. instead he puts a zip up hoodie around his shoulders, promising to take it off if you want a picture together, even if you tell him it's too cold. he'd do anything for you, no matter how small or silly.

you freshen up with dry shampoo to soak up the smell, reassuring carmen that a brisk walk on a chicago spring morning will wash away the rest of the smoke that clings to your bodies. you both take a spritz of his cologne, because it's a stronger scent of course, not because you love being enveloped in carmen.

the walk to the farmers market is taken at a leisurely pace, hand in hand. together you purchase homegrown espresso beans, fresh mozzarella and pasta, and a colorful array of fruits and vegetables. carmen disappears from your side for a bit while you survey the selection of a "green" bakery, offering infused sweets as well as quality gummies. you purchase the sleep blend gummies for carmen to try, and a packet of infused candies for yourself.

when the transaction is done you look around for your boyfriend, noticing first the large bouquet moving toward you, then his bright smile. of course carmen bought you flowers.

THX 4 READING → dividers by cafekitsune (x), saradika (x). dedicated to @saltnsugarbear hehe

[kathlare]

behind the scenes

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: During a Quadrant promotional shoot, the team’s routine day is shaken up when Amelie makes an unexpected entrance, leaving everyone starstruck.

Wordcount: 3.1 k

Warnings: just fluff

full masterlist // request over here!

January 12th, 2024 - London, United Kingdom

Lando adjusted his Quadrant hoodie as the cameras began rolling. The bright lights of the studio set bounced off the polished floor, giving everything a clean, modern look. Will was already in his element, cracking jokes as the crew set up their equipment. Becky and Zac were off to the side, discussing ideas for the promo, while Max stood next to Lando, fiddling with his phone.

Today’s shoot was an exciting one—Quadrant was introducing their new athlete lineup, and the energy in the room was infectious. Lando loved these moments, surrounded by friends and creative chaos. Still, there was a small part of him distracted, knowing Amelie might drop by. She was in London too, wrapping up a meeting for an upcoming project, and they’d talked about catching up later. What he didn’t expect was for her to walk into the studio mid-shoot.

The first half of filming went smoothly, with Will leading the intros and the crew getting plenty of footage of everyone joking around. As the team reset for a new segment, the door to the set swung open.

The door to the set swung open, and Amelie stepped in, wearing a casual yet effortlessly chic outfit—a black cropped sweater paired with high-waisted jeans and white sneakers. Her hair was loosely styled, framing her face with a natural elegance that immediately drew every eye in the room.

Lando froze for a split second, his heart skipping a beat. He hadn’t expected her to show up so early, and the reaction from the room was instant.

—Holy shit. Is that Amelie Dayman?—Will blurted out, eyes wide as saucers.

—No way. No fucking way,—Becky gasped, practically dropping her coffee.

Zac’s mouth hung open, and one of the crew members literally fumbled with a piece of equipment, causing it to clatter loudly to the ground.

—Guys, chill,—Lando hissed under his breath, glancing at Max, who was already grinning knowingly.

—Mate, you chill. That's Amelie bloody Dayman,—Will shot back in a stage whisper, gesturing wildly in her direction.

Amelie, completely oblivious to the mini-meltdown she’d just triggered, flashed a bright smile and waved. —Hi! Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to see how things were going.—

—You’re not interrupting,—Max said smoothly, stepping forward to give her a quick hug. —Good to see you again, Ames.—

—Good to see you too, Max,—she replied warmly before her eyes found Lando. The soft smile that spread across her face made his stomach flip.

Lando crossed the room in a few strides, his embarrassment melting away as he saw her. —Hey, you,—he greeted, pulling her into a hug. —Didn’t think you’d make it so soon.—

—I finished early,—she murmured, leaning into him briefly before stepping back. —Thought I’d surprise you.—

—Well, you definitely succeeded,—he said, throwing a pointed look at his friends, who were still staring as if they’d seen a ghost.

Will finally snapped out of it, though his voice remained incredulous. —So, uh, you two know each other?—

Amelie raised an eyebrow, glancing between them and Lando. —Of course. We’ve been friends for years. Didn’t Lando tell you?—

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing slightly. —Yeah, uh, friends. Totally. Just... friends.—

Max coughed pointedly, earning a sharp glare from Lando.

Becky, clearly not buying it, folded her arms. —Right. And does “just friends” always look this cozy?—

Amelie tilted her head, confused for a moment, before realizing how close she and Lando were standing. She laughed, a melodic sound that only seemed to make everyone in the room more captivated. —Okay, maybe we’re a little more than friends.—

Will’s jaw dropped. —A little? Mate, are you kidding me?—

—Alright, alright! Yes, we’re dating,—Lando admitted, throwing his hands up. —Happy now?—

The room erupted into chaos.

—This is amazing.— —You lucky bastard!— —Oh my God, I knew it!—

Amelie’s eyes widened as she looked around, a mix of amusement and mild panic. —Wow, okay. You all are very... enthusiastic.—

—Sorry,—Becky said, not looking sorry at all. —It’s just, like, you’re you, and he’s him. This is massive.—

Amelie glanced up at Lando, her expression softening. —I don’t know about massive, but he’s pretty great.—

Lando rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. —Alright, enough. Can we focus on the video now?—

—Not a chance,—Will declared. —This is the biggest Quadrant scoop of the year.—

—Seconded,—Zac added, pulling out his phone. —This is going straight to the group chat.—

Lando groaned, dropping his head into his hands. Amelie just laughed, patting his arm. —You’ll survive, Lan.—

Max leaned over to Lando, smirking. —Told you it’d come out eventually.—

—Shut up, Max,—Lando muttered, though his tone was more resigned than annoyed.

As the crew gradually settled down, Amelie found a seat off to the side, watching with a bemused smile as filming resumed. Lando kept stealing glances at her between takes, his heart feeling lighter than it had all day.

Every so often, their eyes would meet, and Amelie would flash him a small, private smile that made him forget anyone else was in the room.

When the shoot finally wrapped, Becky sidled up to Amelie. —So... any tips for dealing with this one?—

Amelie grinned. —Patience. Lots of patience.—

—Oi!—Lando protested, but he was grinning too.

As the crew began packing up, Will clapped Lando on the shoulder. —Mate, you better hold onto her. She’s way out of your league.—

—Tell me something I don’t know,—Lando replied, his gaze drifting back to Amelie, who was now chatting animatedly with Max.

The chaos of the day finally started to simmer as the crew packed up the set. The Quadrant promo had turned into a different kind of highlight reel, with Amelie’s surprise visit stealing the show. Lando was still reeling from the revelation. While it wasn’t how he’d planned for their relationship to be revealed to his friends, he couldn’t deny the small thrill of everyone knowing.

He watched from the side as Amelie chatted with Max, her laughter carrying easily through the room. She looked perfectly at ease, despite the initial fan-like reactions from everyone else. If anything, she seemed to enjoy the attention, her natural charm disarming even the most awestruck members of the crew.

Will sidled up next to Lando, sipping a coffee that he definitely hadn’t had during filming. —You’re a sly bastard, you know that? How’d you even pull that off?—

Lando sighed, knowing there was no getting out of this conversation. —It’s not like I planned it. It just... happened.—

Will raised an eyebrow. —“It just happened”? Mate, you’re dating Amelie Dayman. That doesn’t just happen.—

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, trying to suppress a grin. —We’ve known each other for years, alright? It’s not some wild celebrity thing.—

—Still, though.— Will shook his head in disbelief. —You’ve got some serious game, mate. Respect.—

—Alright, enough of that,—Lando muttered, though his cheeks flushed. —Can you all just not make a big deal about it?—

Will smirked. —Oh, it’s already a big deal. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us... for now.—

Lando shot him a warning look. —I mean it, Will.—

—Yeah, yeah.— Will waved him off before strolling away, no doubt to find Becky and gossip further.

As the last of the equipment was packed and people started trickling out, Lando made his way over to Amelie. She was now leaning against a table, scrolling through her phone, her expression relaxed. The sight of her, so effortlessly part of his world, made his chest ache in the best way.

—Hey, you,—he said softly, slipping an arm around her waist.

Amelie looked up, her smile lighting up her face. —Hey, yourself. Done being the star of the show?—

—Hardly. You stole that title the second you walked in.—

She laughed, resting a hand on his chest. —I didn’t mean to cause such a scene.—

—You didn’t. They just... weren’t ready for you.— Lando’s fingers traced absent patterns on her waist. —Honestly, I wasn’t either.—

Amelie tilted her head, her smile turning teasing. —Should I have texted first? Given you time to prepare?—

—Maybe.— He leaned down, their foreheads almost touching. —But then I wouldn’t have gotten to see their faces when you walked in. Totally worth it.—

She hummed, her fingers playing with the strings of his hoodie. —So... does this mean your friends approve?—

—They’re obsessed with you. Not that I’m surprised.—

Amelie’s eyes softened. —Well, for the record, I think your friends are great. A little loud, but great.—

Lando chuckled, his thumb brushing against her cheek. —You handled them like a pro.—

—Years of red carpets and press tours. This was easy,— she teased, leaning into his touch.

Lando couldn’t help but laugh at her response. He’d always admired her poise, how effortlessly she navigated situations like this. —Well, I’m glad you came. It’s... nice having you here. Makes this whole thing feel a lot more real.—

She smiled at him, her eyes soft. —It’s real, Lando. Just, you know, not how we expected it to be.—

He leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead briefly before pulling back, his hand still resting on her waist. —Yeah. But I’m kind of glad it’s happening this way. Feels... natural, I guess.—

Amelie looked up at him, her fingers tracing the edge of his hoodie again. —Yeah, it does. You’ve got your friends, I’ve got mine, and now we get to be a part of each other’s worlds in a way we never really got to before.—

Lando’s heart skipped. That was the thing with Amelie—they’d always been there for each other, even in the years when they didn’t quite work. But now? It felt different. It felt... right.

—So, I’ll see you at mine tonight?— he asked, a little hopeful. He hadn’t planned to get serious with her so soon, but the way she looked at him made him feel like they were already past the point of casual.

—Of course, Lan,—she replied, her voice a mix of amusement and warmth. —I wouldn’t miss it for the world.—

Max, who had been watching from a distance, cleared his throat dramatically, crossing his arms. —Alright, lovebirds, enough with the PDA. You’ve had your moment. Can we wrap this up so I can go home?—

Lando shot him an exasperated look. —Oh, shut up, Max. It’s not like you haven’t seen us act like this a hundred times already.—

Max held his hands up in mock surrender, still grinning. —Alright, alright. Just, like, keep it down, yeah? Some of us still have a bit of dignity left.—

Lando couldn’t help but chuckle, his arm still around Amelie as he pulled her a little closer. The warmth of her presence was enough to make him forget all the chaos that had just unfolded. The crew was starting to wrap up, packing up equipment and heading out, but for a moment, everything felt still.

Amelie looked up at Lando with that familiar mischievous gleam in her eye. —So, how about we ditch all this and go grab something to eat? I’m starving.—

Lando raised an eyebrow. —You’re really trying to get me out of here, huh?—

—You bet I am,—she said with a playful smile, tugging on his arm. —Come on, let’s go. I’ve been on my best behavior all day, now I deserve some downtime.—

Max snorted from behind them. —Right, because you’re always so “well-behaved,”—he said, sarcasm thick in his voice.

Amelie shot him a wink over her shoulder. —Hey, Max, you don’t know the half of it.—

Lando squeezed her waist affectionately, making sure to keep his voice light. —Come on, before he starts talking about us again.—

Max raised both hands, his grin unrelenting. —Alright, alright. Go on. Just don’t forget that I’m the one who knows all your dirty secrets, Lando.—

Lando rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the smile on his face. —Thanks for the reminder, mate.—

As they made their way out of the studio, Lando kept his arm around Amelie’s shoulders, feeling a sense of peace he hadn’t expected. This was real. They were real. And for the first time in a while, he was looking forward to what came next.

The evening stretched ahead of them, full of quiet moments and inside jokes, and Lando found himself feeling more content than he had in months. They weren’t ready to go public yet, after all, there was still a bit of navigating to do, but being together, in their little bubble, felt like the most natural thing in the world.

—You know, I can’t believe you didn’t tell anyone sooner,— Amelie said softly, her voice steady and thoughtful.

Lando paused, glancing down at her. —I wasn’t sure if we were ready for that kind of attention yet. It’s... easier this way. But, yeah. I guess I should’ve told them. I just wanted it to be... normal, you know?—

Amelie smiled up at him, her fingers still interlaced with his. —I get it. I think I just needed a little more time to figure out how to do this with you.—

Lando nodded, his thumb gently tracing her hand. —We’ll figure it out together, alright?—

She leaned her head on his shoulder, looking up at him with a soft smile. —Yeah. Together.—

Max’s voice came from behind them, loud and exaggerated as always. —Are you two seriously going to stand there, or are we going to grab some food? I’m fucking starving!—

They both turned, sharing an amused glance before laughing.

—Coming, Max,—Lando called out, pulling Amelie toward the car with a smile. —Let’s go before he starts ordering for us.—

As they climbed into the car, the comfortable silence settled in, punctuated only by Max’s animated chatter in the backseat. For Lando and Amelie, it was just another step in their journey—a journey that had started years ago and, now, was something neither of them could have ever predicted.

But in that moment, it didn’t matter. They were together. And that was enough.