#should have added more but this set was started way too long ago so here we are

[aenslem]

#she is the universe #and the universe is chaotic af

[silverfairywings]

— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES. PT III

eris vanserra x archeron!reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: sorry for such a long break!! pls let me know what u think and again if you’d like to be added to the tag list send me a message or ask as I rarely check my notifs and go back to them. also sorry abt the cliffhanger uhmmmm also unedited ok bye

“You look like crap.”

Your eyes flutter open to see Mor scrunching up her face as she peers at you from her seat across your own at the dining table. It takes a second for her words to register and you throw a belated scowl her way.

“Good morning to you too,” you mumble, sitting up to continue swirling your spoon around your bowl of barely eaten oatmeal. Your appetite seems to have vanished over the past week, but you try and force a spoonful down your throat, nearly gagging.

Mor narrows her eyes at you and her lips press into a thin line of concern. “No, you seriously look like crap. You’re not eating lately and you were literally asleep at the table when I got here.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” you say, defensively. “I was resting my eyes.”

“You sound like Cassian after a three hour afternoon nap.”

“I’m just having a little trouble sleeping.” You set your spoon down and push the offending bowl away from you before slumping in your seat. You brush off her skeptical look with a wave of your hand. “I’m always like this after absorbing Fae magic.”

And over the last few days you’ve been absorbing a lot. All in an attempt to find out as much as you could about the Fae rebel group that had been attacking the borders of multiple Courts, in order to weaken them and make a point against you.

Well, you and your sisters. Not all of Prythian was accepting of Feyre for how she was Made, and even less so of you and Nesta and Elain. Instead, they viewed you as unnatural mutations and the whispers had only become worse after the War. It seemed that the lack of conflict looming over Prythian was unacceptable in their eyes.

With the help of your powers and Azriel’s shadows, you were closer than ever to finding them. Truthfully, the idea that there were Fae out there who hated you didn’t bother you so much in the sense of feeling like outcasts, but you couldn’t lie. They were starting to be a giant pain in your ass.

“You’re never like this,” Mor scoffs, gesturing to the bags under your eyes and the hollowness of your cheeks. As her voice raises, the pounding of your head gets more intense and you attempt to hold back a grimace. “Why is it affecting you so much this time?”

“It’s the type of magic I’m absorbing,” you practically whine, abandoning all pretences of being okay and allowing your shoulders to drop. “It’s so angry and harsh and impure, Mor! It’s literally making me sick because I have nowhere else to redirect it.”

At that moment Rhysand and Feyre walk in to join you at the table.

Rhysand, having overheard you, chimes in as he reaches for a plate of fruit. “Good news, our little Siphon,” he nudges you lightly, the nickname making you scrunch your nose up in mock annoyance. “We have enough information now to move forward using Az and Cass and resources from other Courts. The only thing we need you to do now is rest.”

Rhysand’s upbeat tone brings a weak smile to your face. You know that he’s being flippant to make you feel better, like he always does when you’re stressed or unwell and you’re nothing but appreciative as he whistles under his breath, nonchalantly piling some fruit onto a plate for you.

“You should have been resting days ago,” Feyre eyes you from beside Rhys with furrowed brows, taking in your tired form. “We told you yesterday would be too much.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Give me a couple hours and I’ll be fine for the meeting in Summer.”

Mor snorts and looks up at you, amused. When you raise an eyebrow, her smile drops into an incredulous expression. “You’re not serious.”

“I need to be there to discuss what I siphoned from that knife we found at the border of Dawn,” you say, holding up a hand and rushing out the rest of your words when Feyre opens her mouth to speak. “And Rhys promised me I would be there since it’ll be all the High Lords, Court informants and even soldiers. I couldn’t possibly not go.”

Feyre sighs, sensing that you’re not going to back down. She nods slowly, pointing at your plate. “Finish all of your breakfast and your lunch later on and then you can go.”

You let out a breath, feeling nauseous when Rhys slides your plate closer to you and simply shrugs when you glare at him. Traitor, you speak to him in your mind. He suddenly becomes very interested in a strawberry.

“Watch me,” you say confidently, waving your fork at Feyre who rolls her eyes at you and goes back to her own breakfast.

Summer court is your least favourite court at the best of times, though you’d never admit that to sweet and kind Tarquin, who’s arguably one of your favourite High Lords.

The beautiful, shimmering lagoons aren’t of interest to you as large bodies of water have always unsettled you. The warm breeze that everyone welcomes always reminds you of the times you had to suffer through sweltering heat when foraging for food with Feyre in your adolescence. You’ve always preferred a colder climate and appreciated a more muted daylight.

Considering your current health, the ripples in the water make you dizzy and the light salty breeze nearly brings your breakfast and lunch up.

You’re thankful for the sheer, thin material of the sage coloured dress that Nuala and Cerridwen chose for you because you suddenly feel a sheen of sweat covering your body.

“Are we done sightseeing?” you ask weakly, desperate to be inside already.

Elain turns to you and winces. “You don’t look too good….”

“Aw, thank you, Elain.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she tuts, coming over to fan your face with her hands. You swat them away, sputtering and try to catch Rhysand’s attention to move things along. He reluctantly agrees and gestures everyone to move along, too used to your aversion to Summer.

As you all enter the palace made of gleaming marble, you hang further back to avoid the watchful eyes of Feyre who seems to be waiting to send you right back home to rest.

The palace is beautiful and you push down your nausea to look around and take in the tall arched windows. The jewelled embellishments adorning the frames trail higher and higher and you crane your neck to see them.

This turns out to be a mistake when your vision starts to blur and another wave of nausea causes your steps to falter, the world tilting sharply.

A firm hand grips your elbow in an all too familiar fashion, steadying you before you’re sent flying to the ground. Another hand settles around your waist where the cutout of your dress exposes your now damp skin, glittering with sweat.

You look up and find Eris’ amber eyes locked onto your own.

“Foolish,” he mutters, his voice sharp with irritation, yet his hands remain steady in their position, holding you up. It’s the first word he’s uttered to you since your encounter a couple of weeks ago in the Spring Court where he’d left on frosty terms. You had seen him twice since then, but it was in the middle of meetings and siphoning sessions and he had barely spared you a single glance.

Your lips part but your senses are too overwhelmed to think of a response before he carries on, lightly shaking his head at you. “You overexert yourself all week and then travel here? What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m fine,” you manage to say, pulling away from him, but his grip only tightens. You can’t help glancing around and noticing that the growing crowd of all the Court officials has separated you from the Inner Circle. You huff out a breath as you register his words. You knew Rhysand had to communicate with the other High Lords with updates, but you didn’t know that included your physical state. “Gods, High Lords are such gossips…”

“You’re not fine,” he says, scowling like you’ve dreadfully inconvenienced him by nearly collapsing. His gaze flickers over the pallor of your skin and the way you’ve started to shiver slightly. “You drained yourself dry this week. And for what? To impress Rhysand? To prove something to him?”

“Let go of me, Eris,” you attempt to snap at him, but even you can hear the lack of strength in your voice. His eyes soften slightly when you say his name without your usual bite. “I can’t have this same conversation with you when I’m like this.”

“You think I want to be the one always catching you from falling on your face? Trust me when I say I have things I would rather be doing,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes.

You grit your teeth at the reminder and heat flares in your cheeks, whether it’s from embarrassment, anger or the climate of Summer, you don’t know.

Before you can retort, Eris sighs and straightens you up, still not fully letting you go. Releasing the hand around your waist, he loops your arm in his own and makes you lean on him for support. To your utter surprise, he doesn’t say anything as he starts walking towards the meeting room where everyone else files in. Despite your frustration, you’re grateful for his strength.

The moment of blissful silence doesn’t last too long, however. As he begins to lead you to where your family is stood and clearly looking around frantically for you, Eris leans in to whisper in your ear. “You need to sit down at the table,” he orders quietly, High Lord behaviour on full display.

You’re about to argue that no one else is going to be sat and he immediately catches this, cutting you off. “Don’t be stubborn for once in your life,” he murmurs, breath warm against your ear, making you shiver more than you already were. “Please?”

You quickly turn your head to meet his, shocked at the pleading in his voice. You didn’t realise how close this would bring your own face to his and words leave you. Thankfully, you’ve reached your family as you hear Cassian’s loud voice and it snaps you out of your little bubble.

“Finally!” he exclaims, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “We were about to send a search and rescue team, thinking you’d finally collapsed.”

“Why didn’t you?” Eris asks, coldly.

Cassian merely rolls his eyes at Eris’ attitude and gestures at Azriel.

Feyre comes forward to take your other arm in hers and explains. “Azriel’s shadows informed us that you were with her, Eris.” She smiles warmly and sincerely at him and Rhysand nods at him in recognition of his actions. “Thank you for looking after my sister.”

Eris shakes his head. “Don’t thank me yet. I foresee many falls in her near future that I’m sure I won’t be present for.”

Feyre’s mouth twitches, but she quickly smoothes her face into an expressionless one when you frown at her and she busies herself with disentangling you from Eris.

He takes a step back, dark and fiery hair catching the sunlight through the tall windows and glances at you once more, not breaking eye contact, yet his words are directed towards Feyre. “Just make sure she sits down. The Night Court doesn’t need a martyr,” he says drily, before walking away.

Your mouth goes dry at the double meaning in his words, but you can’t shake off the shock at seeing genuine concern in his eyes. You must have looked practically near death, but you appreciated it all the same and you don’t even realise your eyes are lingering on him as he walks away until Feyre sits you down next to Nesta.

Your older sister raises an eyebrow at you, always so intuitive and you swat weakly at her to look away from you. Cassian’s eyes flit back and forth between you two, confused.

Before he can say anything, the meeting commences and you feel a shift in the energy of the room, full to the brim of Court officials, emissaries, a few warriors and of course, the High Lords around the table.

Your turn to speak comes fairly quickly since the most information regarding the Rebels is from you and Azriel. As per Rhysand’s instructions, you don’t go into any details regarding your siphoning powers, instead just sharing the information you gained due to them. You try to ignore the way people are staring at your weak form, but you continue to speak with all the strength you can muster. Evidently, you’re doing a convincing job as people start to nod, satisfied and scribble things down.

When Azriel’s turn arrives, you zone out a little, already having heard everything a few times over. Your ears only perk up when everyone is discussing plans of action against the Rebels and a question is asked in your general direction.

“Who are we thinking is to be at the front lines of this hypothetical mission?” The question comes from one of the Spring Court advisors, Vaelith, an older Fae with silver hair gathered in one long braid down his back.

His gaze lingers on you for only a split second before moving onto Rhysand and you feel compelled to answer. “Myself and Azriel,” you blurt out, before you can think twice. “And others of course, but the two of us are the most familiar with-”

“We’re all aware of the Shadowsinger’s abilities,” Vaelith interrupts you, holding up a hand to stop you from talking. You hold back a scowl. “What makes you suitable to lead such a mission aside from your… familiarity with a selection of items left behind by these Rebels?”

“I’m more than able to-” you cut yourself off and swallow, gaining yourself a second to think of a way to defend yourself without giving away your powers, as per your High Lord’s request.

Careful, Y/N

Rhysand’s voice sounds clear as day in your head and you try not to wince at the volume considering the silence of the rest of the room. The other High Lords knew of your powers, but Rhysand had requested they keep it to themselves, even from their own Court officials. Whether or not Rhysand had used his Daemati abilities to ensure this, you didn’t want to know.

“I’m more than able to assist in a plan of action,” you continue firmly, voice hardening. “I’m not sure if you remember a certain War we just had, but you may wish to remind yourself who was at the front lines of that.”

A few laughs break the tense silence and some people start muttering, slowly raising the volume of the room. You almost don’t hear Vaelith’s next words. “You haven’t really answered my question.”

“Let’s use our senses, Vaelith,” a voice rings out from further down the table and you’re startled to realise that Eris is speaking up. The room finally quietens down and you sit up impossibly straight, surprised that Eris is about to defend you.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

He only spares you a fleeting glance, but even from your seat you could see it’s full of amusement and mocking. The thing that surprises you is that the mocking is directed at you. “Look at her. Are you really questioning the abilities of a female who barely has the strength to sit up in her seat, let alone fight?”

Your stomach drops, a ball of humiliation unfurling in your chest as he continues to speak.

“I’d like to believe Rhysand has more sense than to send someone on the frontlines who would just be doing the rebels a favour,” Eris drawls, raising an eyebrow at Rhys, still avoiding your gaze.

Rhysand nods. “I can assure you I’ll only be sending my strongest soldiers, Vaelith,” he smirks, faintly, as though the implication he’d do anything to suggest otherwise is laughable. “Now may we discuss matters of actual importance? Tarquin, what have your soldiers been preparing?”

The tension dissolves almost immediately, but you’re still shellshocked, shaking with anger rather than weakness now. It’s as though you’ve been pumped with a burst of adrenaline and it doesn’t seem to be dampening.

After the conversation has shifted to a completely different subject, you shift from your seat as discretly as possible and mutter to Nesta that you need some air before standing up.

You look at the High Lord of Autumn before you walk away, but it only infuriates you more. Eris doesn’t look anywhere near you, but his jaw is clenched all the same, as though he can feel you glaring at him.

Mor catches your arm as you’re walking out and hisses in your ear. “You’re still not well,” she turns her body fully towards you. “Wait for me to come with you.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, shaking your head and clenching your fists to keep them from trembling as you speak through gritted teeth. “I feel suddenly energised. I’ll only be outside.”

Mor gives you a once over and is clearly satisfied with the fact that you’re unlikely to collapse again as she nods and releases your arm, allowing you to rush through the crowd of people and push through the guards.

You walk briskly away from the doors of the meeting room and further down the empty hallway until you’re satisfied that no one will hear your heavy breathing.

You lean against a pillar, exhaling in and out to control your anger and keep the tears at bay. Gods, you feel so stupid. Of course, Eris is incapable of being a decent male to anyone, let alone to you. Damn him and his cruel smirk and damn Rhysand too for allowing it to happen.

Brushing away the tears that have managed to fall, you curse yourself for not just pushing him away and allowing yourself to collapse on the hard marble flooring. It was giving you whiplash the way he could be so full of concern one second and practically call you useless in front of a room full of officials the next.

The longer you stand against the marble pillar, the weaker you begin to feel and that burst of adrenaline you previously felt is no longer present. The anger that fuelled you mere seconds ago is now winding you and a rising sense of panic begins to consume you.

You decide to turn around to walk back so you’re closer to the doors of the meeting room in case you embarrassingly do collapse.

However, the second you take a step, a flash of movement in the corner of your eye is all the warning you get before strong arms clamp around you from behind and a cloth is pressed against your mouth and nose, preventing you from breathing. You can’t even scream as the scent of something strong and chemical floods your senses, making your vision blur.

You thrash around in an attempt to use the little strength you have left to escape, but the arms only grip you harder and the world begins to spin. The last thing you feel is the cool marble floor as your knees give out and no one bothers to catch you as you hit the ground, darkness swallowing you whole.

tag list: @fabulouslyflamboyant @deepestmentalityperson @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @abysshaven @nayaniasworld @rcarbo1 @paleidiot @tenshis-cake @bunnyredgirl @goldenmagnolias @whydohumansss @fandomtrash465 @mrsbarnes32557038 @aaprilshowers @scarsandallaz @-im-fantastic- @cat-or-kitten @annamariereads16 @adelina-127 @onlymexsarah @puddlesplasher17 @eyes-capone @hermaeuswhora

[chloe-petrichors]

seething, blooming // jace x reader

your father has always been something of an opportunist, but trying to marry you off to the blacks while he courts the greens? this is taking playing the game to a whole new level.

the rose discovers she is an instrument of war. —victor hugo.

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!tyrell!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon au (set after aegon takes the crown but before luke's death bc luke will never die in my eyes), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s), arranged marriage, mention parental death/death in childbed (reader's mother), love at first sight vibes, jace is a flirtatious little shit with his betrothed, tooth rotting fluff, love confessions. word count; 6k+ notes; one day i might write for another man. but that day is not today. jace velaryon u have my heart. i'm not majorly pleased w this fic but it's given me enough trouble and it's as good as it's gonna get! this was longer originally, and was meant to be a bit more political at first hence the blurb/quote choice, but i haaated some of the scenes so ended up scrapping 'em. she's not as long as predicted as a result but still an ok length i think. some of the scenes i scrapped were tragically the smut ones, so have this fairly pg one-shot with the promise of the smut-shot sitting in my drafts coming ur way soon. fair warning that the scrapping of scenes has fudged with the pacing a bit but honestly i can't take this fic sitting in my drafts any longer so here u go!! i have a taglist now, mostly cos eldrith keeps telling me i have to tag her in everything, so lmk if you'd like to be added to it! requests; are open !

the rising sun paints highgarden in shades of pink and gold.

you stand upon your balcony, finger curled loosely over the pale marble as you stare distantly out over the rolling green fields and blooming gardens. the faint bubbling of the river mander in the distance adds to the peaceful morning, the early wash of sunlight coaxing the sleeping world into life. a cool breeze carries the sweet smell of roses and you take a steadying breath, eyes fluttering shut as you tilt your face up to the sun.

it's a morning that starts like many others. you’ve always risen from bed early, the slow blooming of morning stirring you from slumber more often than not. birds chirp and bees buzz and the river flows and you rise with it, like part of you calls to the breaking dawn.

if not for the thick sheaf of parchment discarded on your father’s desk, it could be a morning like any other. but the parchment is there, and this day will be like no other before it.

today, a dragon is expected at highgarden.

a targaryen has not stepped foot in the reach since before you were born. you don’t think even the princess rhaenyra – queen, now, according to some – had come this far on her marriage tour years ago. but your father has taken it upon himself to invite a prince to your home.

you love your father deeply, but in this you think he must be a fool. as lord paramount of the reach he is, in theory, the power of this kingdom. but anyone with a lick of sense knows that it’s the hightowers that the people look to; oldtown is home to the starry sept, the citadel and, perhaps more importantly, the dowager queen’s family line.

the tyrells have only been in power for a few generations, and people’s memories are long. too many know the truth of how house tyrell had been only a steward when the gardener kings had ruled before the conquest. and so too many see tyrell as a house grasping for power that should be beyond their fingers, and your father is apparently determined to prove them all right.

he’s been careful about his neutrality as war threatens to break out between the targaryen kin, brother and sister both claiming their right to the throne and the realm splitting down the middle. your father has not officially allied with either side, walking a careful tightrope to appease both. up until now you had assumed he sided more with the greens, but he’d sent your assumptions crumbling with only a few sheets of parchment.

your father has always been too ambitious for his own good.

gods, how you miss your mother. when she’d been alive, she’d tempered the worst of your father’s foolishness. she’d been a stark before she’d married, steadfast and sensible in the face of your father’s folly. she’d been a woman unlike any other you’ve known; ferocious and a little wild, but with a good heart and a warm smile for any she’d met.

she’d taught you how to be a lady, but so much more than that – she’d taught you to know your own mind. to know when to mind your tongue and when to speak, how to grow your roots so deep you will always stand tall, flourishing and growing like the most determined of flowers. she’d taught you a little of that northern ice, too, reminding you oft that for as much as you were a rose of highgarden you were equally a wolf of the north, and the wolf’s blood has always run thick in your veins. 

she’d called you her little winter rose; delicate and steely and a rare bloom, indeed. she had loved you so fiercely you’d flourished with her tender care, just as the patch of winter roses she’d brought from the glass gardens of winterfell had bloomed ‘neath her careful ministrations. a piece of the north she’d brought south with her, a tiny bit of her home that she’d cradled and cared for until the day you’d lost her to the birthing bed.

your little brother is nearing six, now, and many moons have passed since the sudden grief of your mother had overwhelmed you. but, in recent days you have ached with her loss more often, wondering what she would think of your father’s plans, what she would say to soothe your storm of anxiety. with your looming marriage you find yourself missing your mother acutely, the grief a reopened wound in your chest.

because you are a betrothed woman, now, to be married to a stranger, a prince who is sure to be fighting a war against his kin in the moons to come.

the velaryon prince arrives on dragon back as the sun reaches its peak in the sky.

he dismounts his winged steed in an empty stretch of land a distance from the keep itself, and your father greets him there with a host of staff to accompany him back to the entrance courtyard.

your brother leo bounces in place beside you where you stand with the rest of the household in the courtyard, fairly vibrating with energy at the prospect of seeing a real-life dragon. since the news of the prince’s arrival was announced a sennight ago, leo has done little else but babble about dragons and magic and targaryens. you wish you could share his excitement, his sheer uncomplicated joy, but this visit comes with too many conflicting emotions for you to enjoy it at all.

you’ve always known you would not marry for love. you are the eldest child and only daughter of the lord of the reach – love has never been a factor you could afford to consider. you would do your duty and marry for your house, to seal whatever alliance your father deemed important enough. you’d resigned yourself to this fate as a young girl when your mother had told you in slow, halting words the fear she had felt coming south to marry your father.

but you’d not expected to marry a total stranger. you’d thought your father would at least do you the courtesy of allowing you to meet a suitor before betrothing you to them, but in his feverish ambition to sit his blood on the iron throne he’d promised you to a man you’ve never laid eyes upon.

you don’t want to be queen.

frankly, you think yourself a touch unsuited for it. your father has many times bemoaned your wildness, the wolfs blood that drives you to stubborn recklessness. though you’ve mellowed a little with age and experience, you think you’re still a bit too prone to chaos to be queen of the seven kingdoms one day. never mind the complexities added by the fact that queen rhaenyra’s claim is so fiercely contested, and her half-brother is the one currently physically sitting the iron throne.

thinking about the mess you’re marrying into too much makes your head ache, and the blazing noon sun does little to ease it. leo beside you continues to whisper rapidly about everything he knows about dragons, which is actually quite a lot considering his young age. you think absently you might need to have a word with the maester’s again; leo has wrapped most of the household around his finger, and the elderly maester is prone to indulging your brother when he fixates on a new topic of interest instead of sticking to his lessons.

the sound of hooves on cobble stones startles you from your meandering thoughts, and you straighten your spine as your eyes take in the unfamiliar man riding into the courtyard beside your father while your brother finally falls silent.

he’s handsome, at least; a tumble of dark curls brushing his shoulders, a sharp jaw and a strong nose. though you like to think yourself more than superficial, it eases at least some of your worries to know the prince is attractive to you. your mother had done you the courtesy of explaining what was expected of you on your wedding night after your first moons blood, and in secret since you’d perused the library for books detailing more lustful acts in an effort to satiate your unending curiosity.

you’re worried enough about completing your wifely duties without having to worry about finding the man lying with you repulsive, and so you allow yourself a few moments of relief at his pretty face.

your father dismounts first, gesturing for you to step forward as the prince gets down from his own horse. leo moves forward with you, eyes wide and shining with something akin to hero worship as he gazes at jacaerys. you have a wry thought that perhaps he should marry him since he is so clearly already enamoured, but you brush that aside as your father and the prince approach.

“i am most pleased to introduce my daughter, your grace, as well as my son and heir, leo,” your father says as they reach you, his satisfaction in his successful planning clear as he smiles smugly.

you dip into a perfect curtsey as leo bows a touch clumsily at your side. as heir it would traditionally be leo’s job to greet the prince, but when you send him a sidelong glance you see he is too busy making moon eyes at the darkhaired man to say anything, and so you take it upon yourself to speak.

“welcome to highgarden, my prince. we are honoured to host you,” you greet, finally meeting jacaerys’s eyes. they’re a warm amber shade, the noon sun turning them to liquid honey as he looks at you, and you feel your cheeks flush with the appreciation you can see in his gaze as he drinks you in. it seems he does not find you repulsive either, at least.

he sketches a quick bow, eyes never leaving yours, and you feel your heart start to race in your chest at his attention. “it is an honour to be here, my lady, and to finally make your acquaintance.” he smiles at you then, small and a little crooked but there, and your flush deepens. “i look forward to getting to know you better in the coming days.”

you swallow, hoping your budding attraction is not as obvious as you fear it is. your father is looking increasingly smug as he watches the interaction, though it seems to war with some paternal annoyance as jacaerys lightly flirts with you.

“and i you,” you return softly, a smile quirking on your lips.

“—can i meet your dragon?” leo bursts out, seemingly unable to contain himself any longer, and jacaerys blinks down at him in surprise as you resist the urge to press your palm to your face.

“leo,” you scold immediately as your father chortles at his heir’s enthusiasm for dragons. “the prince has had a long journey. you should give him a chance to settle in before demanding anything of him.”

“right you are, my dear.” your father waves to the household steward before turning to the prince. “alyn will show you to your rooms, your grace, so that you might freshen up, and then we have a feast prepared for this evening to welcome you to highgarden.”

jacaerys nods easily as the greeting crowd begins to disperse, the maester corralling leo to take him for his lessons with fond exasperation even as the boy loudly protests. you mean to go walk the gardens, and so you stay standing in place as the prince trails after your father and steward alyn.

he pauses beside you, though, a slight smile on his face as you look up at him questioningly. your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his face, and it takes a moment for you to process his words. “i look forward to speaking to you further at the feast, my lady.”

you smile back at him, cheeks flushing once again as his eyes linger on your mouth for a breathless moment. “i shall save you a dance, my prince,” you return a touch coyly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“only one dance?” he teases, eyebrow arching.

you hum, head tilting to the side in mock consideration as something like satisfaction gleams in jacaerys’s eyes. “i shall have to use the first dance to judge your dancing skills, your grace, before i risk promising you another.”

he laughs then, a little surprised but no doubt pleased as his eyes crinkle with his wide smile. “then i shall do my best to meet your standards, my lady.” he dips into a quick bow of farewell, then, as you finally take note of your father lingering on the steps to the keep with raised eyebrows.

“we shall see,” you return as you curtsey.

you allow yourself a moment to watch his retreating back, eyes dragging over the strong line of his shoulders before you internally shake yourself and head to the gardens, thoughts swimming with honey brown eyes and tanned, freckled skin and a slow dawning certainty that while this betrothal may be unexpected, you doubt it will leave you unsatisfied.

the feast is in full swing by the time the prince arrives at the hall.

the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune as couples twirl on the dance floor. you sit at the head table with leo and your father, watching with a careful eye as your brother cuts up his food. he’s only just mastered the art of eating his food without spilling half if it down his doublet, but as distracted as he is by the festivities and the prospect of seeing a dragon close up, you worry he’s at risk of making a mess of himself regardless.

so absorbed in your task you are, it takes a long moment for you to realise jacaerys has arrived. it’s only when your skin prickles with awareness that you look up from leo and catch sight of the prince winding his way across the floor to the head table, eyes fixed on you. your head tilts to the side slightly as you watch him move, graceful and controlled, through the crowd.

he’s in black and red again, just as he had been when he’d arrived. it seems your father had been right when he’d stated that jacaerys favours his mother’s house colours. you smooth your hand over the skirts of your dress, the deep wine-red of the material feeling less out of place now, before standing with your father to greet the prince.

you all exchange pleasantries quickly as the noise in the hall dims, people realising the prince has arrived. your father ushers jacaerys into the empty seat between you and your father as he raises his goblet to the hall before speaking in his booming voice.

you don’t pay attention to your father’s speech, too aware of the warmth radiating from jacaerys who stands only inches from you to focus. you risk a glance at him from the corner of your eyes only to find his dark honey eyes fixed on you, and you cannot help but smile to yourself even as you flush, turning your eyes back to the crowd.

rousing applause and cheers draw you back to the moment, and you catch yourself in time to raise your wine in toast with your father. you go to sit back down as the crowd returns to its revelries, but the soft brush of a hand on your arm halts your movement. you turn expectingly to the prince, a soft smile on your lips.

“yes, your grace?”

“would you do me the honour of a dance, my lady?”

your lips quirk into a sly smile even as you bob your head in a nod. “i suppose i did promise you one, did i not?”

“that you did, my lady, and i have thought of nothing else since.” dark honey eyes sparkle with mirth as he offers you his hand, and with a quiet giggle you take it and allow him to lead you to the dance floor.

you feel the heat of his hand on your waist like a brand even through the layers of your dress, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. you inhale deeply in an effort to steady yourself as you rest your palm on his strong shoulder, and are immediately overwhelmed by the woodsy scent of him as he claps your hand in his and begins to dance.

you start the dance in comfortable silence, both of you taking a few moments to get a feel for the other and settle into the steps, and when you feel comfortable enough you speak.

“how are you finding highgarden, prince jacaerys?”

“jace, please,” he entreats, and elaborates only when you blink at him in confusion. “my friends and family call me jace, not jacaerys. we are to be married, my lady. it would please me a great deal for my future wife to refer to me as such.”

you nod in acceptance, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his eager expression. “jace it is, then,” you say, and try not to feel the way your heart flutters at his radiant smile in response. “although you have not answered my question. how are you finding highgarden?”

he hums, twirling you as the dance requires and then pulling you closer before responding. “your father has been very hospitable, and it is certainly beautiful here. the grounds especially, though i’m afraid i’ve not had the opportunity to see much of them as yet.”

“a shame we shall have to rectify, i think.” you offer him a small smile as you press just an inch closer, finding yourself wanting to be nearer him. “perhaps i could show you the gardens on the morrow?”

“yes,” he agrees a touch too quickly, and you giggle as his cheeks turn pink. “that is to say— i should like that very much, my lady. very much indeed.”

you lapse into silence once more as the dance reaches its crescendo, and you find yourself reluctant to leave the comfort of his hands as the music pauses while the minstrels ready their next song.

jace seems to share the sentiment, it seems, as his eyes linger on your entwined hands for a long moment before returning to your face. “have i met your standards enough for another dance, then?”

you take a moment to pretend to consider it, eyes narrowing slightly as you hum. he shuffles on his feet as he waits for your response, and you find the nervous motion far too endearing.

“i suppose so,” you concede after a moment, grinning at his smugly pleased smile as he tugs you closer.

“and what about the dance after that?” he asks lightly, something cheeky in his eyes as the music starts up again and he sweeps you along the floor.

“you should not press your luck, jace,” you say imperiously, although the effect is rather ruined by the silly smile on your face as he laughs with you.

jacaerys smirks. “my lady, since meeting you, i have felt nothing but a lucky man.”

you smother a snort, shaking your head at his unrepentant expression. “you are incorrigible.” it comes out a touch exasperated and yet far too fond.

“yes,” the prince agrees readily, a sly twinkle in his eyes. “but i think you rather enjoy it.”

your startled laugh is loud, though thankfully not so loud as to be heard over the minstrels. “perhaps.”

after that, the night is lost to flirtatious banter and dance after dance in your betrothed’s arms as a seed of affection is planted deep in your heart. and when you wake in the morning after dreaming of nothing but jace’s lips and eyes and words, you can think only one thought;

gods, i am in so much trouble.

time passes in a slow trickle of syrupy summer heat.

as the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in jace’s company. you’re always chaperoned, of course, a household guard following at a respectful distance wherever the two of you choose to roam. you find the whole thing a touch ridiculous; jace is to be your husband. it’s hardly like spending time together alone would be a significant scandal in light of your impending marriage, but your father insists there will be no doubts about your honour before the marriage actually takes place and so ser dickon is assigned as your reluctant shadow.

the date of the wedding itself remains unset as you and jace start to know one another. your father wishes for the marriage to wait until the war is done – a last-ditch chance to keep his options open, perhaps. Or, if you are feeling generous, a way to try and keep you safe from the greens when war inevitably rages. jace’s mother wishes the marriage to happen as soon as can be arranged – a way to try and ensure further heirs with the uncertainty of war looming, you assume.

you find yourself hoping the queen’s will wins the day as time creeps on. jace becomes ever dearer to you the more you learn about him, and soon you think of your impending marriage with nothing but hope and warm desire.

because oh, how you want him. from the first moment you’d laid eyes upon him you’d been attracted to him, but the more you get to know him, the more your heart opens to him – the more you ache for him. for his mouth on yours, his fingertips on your skin, his voice in your ear. if you were a less reckless woman, a little less shameless, you’d be embarrassed of how easily you think of him in your moments apart.

but late at night when the candles burn low and you are alone in your bed, there is no shame to be found, only the wildness of your wolfs blood and liquid heat as your hand drifts between your legs and you find completion with your betrothed’s name on your lips.

beyond the desire, though, is a slow blooming affection. it feels like every time you learn something new about him or share a new experience together, another petal of tenderness unfurls in your chest. when your father had first told you about your betrothal, you’d not dared to hope for more than civility with your husband-to-be, but now you find yourself harbouring deep fondness on top of steadily burning desire, and you look to your future as his wife with little else but excitement.

you’re not sure if jace feels the same. you don’t doubt he desires you; his flirtation and the weight of his gaze on your form is too frequent a thing for you to think otherwise. but desire is not the same as affection, and though you hope desperately that the way he always seeks your presence whenever he steps into a room means what you want it to mean, you can’t be sure.

after a week passes, you both start to chafe at the relentless presence of ser dickon. it feels like every time you so much as think about inching closer to jacaerys, ser dickon is there with his stern glare of disapproval. and so, when one morning jace suggests taking you to meet his dragon, alone, you are quick to agree.

you leave your guard long behind at jace’s instruction; he doesn’t want vermax crowded with strangers, he explains, but you personally think he seems a little too gleeful at the idea of being alone with you for that to be sole reason behind his insistence ser dickon stays far away. you don’t say anything since you’re equally pleased to finally be spending some time with your betrothed without feeling others curious eyes on you.

your excitement starts to waver, however, as you and jace get closer to his dragon. you’ve only seen vermax from a distance before this, and though it perhaps shouldn’t the size of him startles you. he’s just so large and fierce looking, the sharp spines on his back catching your eye. the beast yawns as you slow to a stop, jace sending you a quick smile before he continues on to greet his dragon with fondness, and the glimpse into vermax’s open maw – gods, there as so many teeth – has your palms starting to sweat.

jace stands beside his dragon, murmuring soothing words in high valyrian that you don’t understand as his hand smooths along his snout. your heart races in your chest, nerves making your hands shake when faced with this great beast. you curse your reckless curiosity, your northern stubbornness that makes it impossible for you to refuse a challenge. you have no idea how jace can look so at ease, the line of his shoulders relaxed and the slightest smile on his face as he talks to his winged steed, but there he stands.

“you can come closer now.” he turns to you, brown eyes shining with excitement and, yes, a hint of challenge.

he expects you to back out, you think, and that realisation has you straightening your spine and pressing your lips together. you twist your fingers in your skirts to hide the way they tremble as you step cautiously forward, eyes darting from jace to vermax and back. when you’re within touching distance of the velaryon prince, he reaches for your hand. the shock of his bare skin against yours arrests you for a moment, the slide of calloused fingers around your wrist startling in how easily it sparks desire in you.

you’re so distracted by the feel of him that you don’t realise until it’s too late that jace has tugged you closer, guiding your hand until it’s pressed to vermax’s scales, and then you’re too busy being surprised by how soft they feel to be annoyed that he’s so easily coaxed you into this position.

you still as the dragon rumbles, swallowing thickly as your fingers twitch against green scales. he blinks lazily at you, an alien intellect gleaming there as he seems to consider you for a long moment, and as you blink back at him some of the fear in your chest shakes loose.

because this is not just some beast, you realise. this is fire and blood and magic made flesh. there is life and intelligence in vermax’s eyes, not one you recognise but one you immediately respect. being this close to the dragon is a heady rush of awe and adrenaline; the knowledge that vermax could so easily harm you at any moment but is choosing not to because he trusts his rider. it’s staggering and wonderful and beside you jace is beaming, eyes shining with happiness at seeing you greet his draconic companion, and you are helplessly, hopelessly, wholly overwhelmed by your affection, your desire, by jace.

you kiss him.

it’s barely a kiss, more a breathless press of your mouth against his, and he startles at the sensation even as his arm loops around your waist. you break apart for the barest moment, nose sliding against his as you tilt your head, and jacaerys sighs out your name with heavy relief before he captures your mouth once more.

you’ve been kissed before, so you know the mechanics of it, but it’s never been like this. his lips move smoothly against yours as his hand flexes on your waist, drawing you closer until your chest is pressed against his. your hand tangles in his hair, fingers twisting in the soft curls and he moans with it, hand dragging up your back to cradle the back of your head tenderly as his tongue sweeps over your lips.

the gentle pressure of it has you gasping and he takes the opportunity immediately, tongue sliding against yours as heat pools in your core. your thoughts tumble wildly, incoherent as you can think of nothing but of how desperately you want more. the taste – the smell – the feel of him is drowning everything out that isn’t jace and you cannot resist it, do not even want to.

you want to kiss him forever, want his hand in your hair and his tongue in your mouth for always. you think he might even let you with how relentless he is, barely giving you a moments pause to catch your breath before consuming you in another desperate kiss.

you finally part only when vermax grumbles, cheeks blazing with heat as you step out of jace’s arms. jace murmurs lowly to his dragon in valyrian, and he nudges his great snout against jace’s shoulder in response before stepping away and curling down into the long grass to sleep. you take the moment to properly catch your breath again, hand pressing to your heaving chest in an effort to soothe your racing heart.

when you peek up at jace from beneath your lashes, you flush deeply at the sight of him. his curls are a mess, his lips swollen and cheeks pink beneath his tan. he looks almost debauched, and it sends a rush of desire through you. you suddenly can think of nothing other than him looking like this only flusher and skin glistening with sweat and in your bed.

the thought startles you into dropping your gaze to your feet, and you shuffle uncertainly. you feel – unsettled. you don’t think there’s anything wrong with sharing a kiss with your betrothed, and yet something like guilt curdles in your stomach as you worry at your bottom lip. you had kissed him. for all that he’d kissed you back, you worry that now he will think differently of you. think worse of you.

a knuckle tucks under your chin, then, lifting your face so that you meet jace’s eyes. you feel small and strangely vulnerable in the aftermath of your kiss, like you have somehow shown him something you never intended to, and the urge to shy away remains. but you are not a winter rose for nothing and so you tuck the doubt away as jace runs his thumb soothingly along the line of your jaw.

“i have been thinking of doing that since the moment you first smiled at me,” he confesses, a hint of shyness in the quirk of his lips even as he stares steadily into your eyes.

“oh.” you blink at him once in surprise, the uneasiness in you finally settling at the fondness in his gaze. “oh. that’s— good.” you curse yourself for your lack of wit in this moment as jace snickers.  “i-i mean, i’m glad that it was not… unwelcome.”

your betrothed looks at you with deep affection, then, cupping your cheek and ducking down to press a fleeting, butterfly-soft kiss to your mouth before reluctantly parting from you. “it was most welcome, my lady. most welcome, indeed.” his eyes sparkle with mirth. “i find myself looking forward to the next time you greet vermax, if this is the kind of response such a thing garners.”

“jace!” you narrow your eyes at him in pretend annoyance, even as you smother a giggle with your fingers. “you should not expect me to indulge in such desires again, then, if you persist in being so smug about it.”

his laugh warms you as the two of you fall into easy banter, leaving vermax to his rest and returning to the ever-watchful ser dickon, and all the while all you can think of is how much you cannot wait to kiss him again.

as the air cools with the dying light of day, you lead jace to the gardens.

in the week since your first kiss, jace has oft tugged you into shadowy corners for more kisses any chance he’s had. his desire for you is matched only by your own for him, and as your confidence in your mutual attraction has grown, you have been equally as likely to pull him into a dark alcove to trade sweet words and sweet kisses in secret.

it’s thrilling and exciting and wonderful, but as the week passes you find a growing doubt whispering in the back of your mind.

while you cannot doubt jace desires you, not when he is so relentless in chasing after your smiling mouth, neither of you breathe a word of any feeling between you beyond attraction. perhaps it is reckless of you, foolhardy to fall for him so quickly – but then you are your parent’s daughter, all wolfs blood and deep roots, and you know no other way of being than this.

so you take him to the gardens as the moon rises in the sky, sneak past the night guards and out into the fresh air. you guide him through the blooming flowers and swaying trees, stopping along the while when the fancy takes one of you to stop and examine an interesting bloom or inhale a sweet scent. at least three times he stops you to slot his mouth against yours, to swallow your breathless giggling with feverish kisses, and each time he does it takes longer and longer for you to disentangle yourselves from each other.

eventually, with swollen lips and mussed hair, the two of you reach the winter roses. your effervescent mood becomes sombre as the moon shines on the blue flowers, turning the petals almost silver, and jace seems to recognise the change in atmosphere, a seriousness overtaking him as he watches you approach the flowers.

“my mother planted the first of these roses,” you tell jace as you kneel at the edge of the flowerbed, uncaring of the risk of dirt on your dress as you brush fingers over the pale blue petals tenderly. “winter roses, they are, from the north. from winterfell. she was born a stark, you see, and when she was betrothed to my father the only thing she asked was to be able to bring a few blooms from the glass gardens. she used to call me her little winter rose when i was a child, and she would bring me here and show me how to tend to them.”

jace kneels beside you, glancing at the side of your face before turning to look curiously at the blue flowers. “they’re beautiful,” he tells you sincerely.

“i’ve always thought so, too,” you agree almost absently, stroking the petals in an effort to calm your racing heart. “everyone told my mother she’d never be able to get them to grow so far south. they’re very rare, you see, and need very particular conditions.” your lips quirk up into a fond smile. “but my mother, for all that she became a tyrell, was always a stark at heart. stubborn, you know. and now look at them, thriving.”

you gesture out at the carefully tended rows of roses. “nobody else comes here, now, other than the gardeners and me. i think… i think my father finds it too hard, being here. it makes him miss her too much. so i come here when i need to be alone. or when i wish to be reminded of her. it's the one place in the world where i feel i can be wholly myself, without any pretence or worry.”

jace’s gaze is fixed on you, now, eyes almost black in the faint moonlight as understanding dawns on him. “thank you for bringing me here.”

you nod once, climbing back to your feet, and jace follows you. he watches you so intently, like he’s afraid that you might disappear if he dares to look away. you feel a little like you might, feel tenuous and vulnerable and a breath away from cracking your chest open.

“i’ve never brought anyone else here,” you confess quietly, flexing your fingers with nerves as jace’s lips part in surprise. “i wished… i wished to share this with you. to share who i am, myself, with you, i suppose.” you laugh a little self-deprecatingly. “however pretentious that sounds.”

“it doesn’t,” jace denies immediately. you sense he wants to say more, but he seems to understand that you’re building to saying something yourself, and so he stays quiet, expression earnest and open and fond as he gazes down at you.

“i know it’s perhaps too soon – we have only known each other a few weeks. but i… when i first found out we were betrothed, i was so scared. i worried you would be some arrogant princeling, and i dared not hope for anything more than civility between us. i’ve always known i would not marry for love, but i did not ever consider i would marry a man i had never met.”

you pause for long enough to suck in a breath, feeling a little like the floodgates have opened and you simply can’t stop speaking, can’t stop the feeling pouring freely from you. “and then i met you, and you were so unlike anything i’d expected. i know we still have so much more to learn about each other, and i know that things are— complicated, with the war, and that our marriage may be a ways off yet, but still— i find myself feeling for you, and i cannot hide it anymore. i don’t wish to hide it from you anymore.”

you let the open affection in his face buoy you as you steel yourself, pressing your shoulders back in a mimicry of confidence. “i wanted to show you this part of me, this place, because i….” you hesitate for a breathless moment, biting your lip, before gathering every scrap of courage you possess and diving in headfirst. “i am falling in love with you, jacaerys.”

you inhale the sweet scent of the pale blue petals deeply, let the familiar scent soothe you as jace stares at you with wide eyes. the winter roses are something that, until now, have been so uniquely yours. as you’d told jace, none other than you and the gardeners comes to this corner of the gardens now. the staff that tend so carefully to the flowers know to leave you well enough alone if they stumble across you, skirts splayed on the ground and fingers diligently caring for the roses. you’ve never even brought your sweet little brother, though you can admit that’s for practicality as much as anything else – his childish energy is a bit too boisterous for these delicate blooms.

bringing jace here, bringing him here to confess the deepening affection you harbour for him, feels raw. feels like you’re tearing your heart out of your chest and offering it up to him for perusal, hands bloody and soul bare. feels like saying ‘this is all that i am and all that i have been and all i will ever be and i hope, i hope, i hope it’s enough.’

jace finally, finally speaks, sighs your name, soft and sweet and tender, and hope blooms in your chest.

“oh, my sweet lady,” he murmurs, crowding into your space as he cups your cheek, and the smell of woodsmoke and dragon and jace floods your senses. “i am falling so unbelievably in love with you. only, it does not feel so much like falling as it is like choosing it, like walking into love with you with my eyes wide open and seeing nothing but you.”

it's almost unbearable, the blazing heat of his gaze as he presses his forehead against yours, and it makes you tremble as your hands clutch as his elbows in an effort to ground yourself to this moment, to him. “our betrothal was decided for us without care or consideration for our own desires,” he says, lips brushing against your own with every whispered word. “i know that as well as you, but i need you to know that if i had the choice i would choose this. i would choose you, your stubborn heart, your fierce spirit, your gracious soul.”

his hand slides from your cheek to your hair, holds you so tenderly like you are something precious, and it steals your breath from your lungs as you revel in his unbridled affection. “i care not when we marry, if we marry, in truth, because in my heart you are already mine just as i am already yours.”

he kisses you, then, a desperate and greedy thing, as if he can no longer restrain himself from devouring you whole. and you are just as needy, hands fisting in his doublet as you press yourself against him and somehow finding yourself wishing to be closer still. the world narrows down to him and him only; his mouth, his hands, his hair. you can think of nothing else, and do not wish to, because in this moment you are wholly yourself and he is wholly himself and it’s enough, it’s wonderful and delicate and it’s enough.

and, there beneath the moonlight and amongst the winter roses, deep and enduring affection, the kind of love the bards sing songs about, takes root.

taglist; @eldrith

[theyluvkarolina]

౨ৎ LOSS ౨ৎ

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

SUMMARY౨ৎ it was a rough weekend to say the least. sadie's first tennis tournament didn't exactly go as planned in her mind. how does oscar handle his little girl being to down with herself?

PAIRING ౨ৎ Not really a pairing, but reader makes multiple apperances 🩵

WARNINGS ౨ৎ sadie being a perfectionist :( (me tbh)

A/N ౨ৎ I HAVEN'T SEEN IT FULLY BUT I SAW SNIPPET OF IT 🥹 i can see this happening 100% 🩵 (minus the karting! little sadie is a tennis player in the future 😋) small little imagine for today before i do school notes!! (sadie is about 7 here!)

Part of the Dad Oscar mini-series 🩵

Two sets. Two sets was all it took to get eliminated from her first tournament final.

Sadie sat in the backseat of the car, arms crossed and gaze fixed out the window as the ride remained quiet, with Oscar glancing at her in the rearview mirror, noticing the way her lips pressed together tightly.

She wasn’t one to cry easily. If anything, she hates crying. But at this point, the lump in her throat was undeniable.

Oscar gave a sigh before speaking, “Sadie, you did great. You know that? Getting second in your first ever tournament is amazing.” he smiled softly.

“If i did great then I wouldn’t have lost.” Sadie replied bluntly.

He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. God, how he wished you were here right now. You’d know what to do. “Sadie, you didn’t lose, you came second. And that’s something to be proud of.”

“Second is first to lose.” Sadie replied, rather quickly as she fiddled with her fingers while looking out the window.

Oscar gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, the weight of Sadie’s words hanging in the air. He understood her frustration all too well, but it was hard to see his little girl already feeling the pressure of expectations.

“I get why you're upset, Sadie,” Oscar started, glancing at her in the mirror. “I really do. But you know what? I didn’t win all the time either, especially not at the beginning of karting. It takes time, and every time you play, you’re learning something new.”

Sadie didn’t respond right away, her eyes still fixed out the window, but Oscar could see the slight frown on her face.

“And you know, you always keep the memories with you,” Oscar added softly, remembering what he had said in that interview not long ago. “Every match, every race, every time you give it your all—it stays with you. It’s not about always being the best. It’s about getting better and enjoying what you do.”

“Do you always remember the times you lost?” Sadie asked quietly, her voice breaking the silence as she turned to look at him.

“…Some more than others.” Oscar replied.

“What about wins?”

“Everyone remembers when they win.”

“Even your first win in Hungary that the team messed up the pit stops making the whole race behind Lando and when lando didn’t change positions until the very end?” Sadie asked, tilting her head slightly with her blunt tone.

“…You know, you’re making this really hard for me to comfort you now.” Oscar blanked.

“I know,” Sadie replied, the corners of her lips twitching up ever so slightly, despite her sadness. “That’s why I said it.”

Oscar couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, “Well, thank you for that, Sadie… but seriously,” Oscar said, his voice softening again, “I know it’s tough, but you should be proud of yourself. It’s not about comparing yourself to me, or anyone else for that matter. Tennis is your thing. It’s your journey. You love playing, right?”

Sadie’s frown deepened. “…mhm.”

Oscar noticed Sadie’s eyes wandering to the tennis bag in the backseat, her small fingers tracing the strap. Her thoughts were clearly elsewhere, but he took the opportunity to continue. “Nothing comes from nothing, Sadie. It’s okay to be sad and want to do better, but don’t ignore the amount of effort you put into it.

Sadie was quiet for a moment, her little fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt as she mulled over Oscar's words. "But it’s not enough," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar's heart squeezed at the sight of his daughter, so young and already feeling the weight of expectation. “Sadie, you don’t have to be the best at everything right away," he said gently, “and you don’t have to be as good as me, either… besides, I’m barely any good at padel, let alone tennis.”

Sadie finally turned to look at him, her expression serious. “But you’re always good, Daddy. Everyone always says how great you are.”

Oscar bit his lip, trying to think of how to explain it in a way she would understand. “That’s because I’ve been doing this for a long time. Sadie, you’re young. You have time to grow.”

Sadie stayed quiet, though her frown softened just a bit. Oscar smiled softly, taking that as a sign to keep going. “You love tennis, right? That’s what matters. If you enjoy it, you’ll keep getting better. And guess what? I’ll be there to watch every match.”

“You really think I did good?” Sadie asked hesitantly, her voice smaller now, as though she was afraid to believe it.

Oscar nodded, catching her gaze in the rearview mirror. “I know you did. I was watching, remember? Every single serve, every single shot. You didn’t give up, even when it was tough. That’s what makes you great.”

Sadie finally met his eyes in the mirror. “But I wanted to win.”

“I know you did. But you’ll have more matches, more chances. It’s okay to be sad now, but you should also be proud of what you did today.” Oscar paused before adding, “Plus, second place means you’re already better than most people on the court.”

That earned him a tiny smile from Sadie. "I guess.” she mumbled, her hand resting on her tennis bag.

“Now… ready to show your Mum your trophy?”

`· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑

“Second place? …In your first tournament?” You asked, stopping what you were doing to look at the pair that just returned home.

Sadie stood next to Oscar, her tennis bag slung over her shoulder and the silver trophy cradled in her arms. Her gaze was still shy, as though unsure whether her result was something to be proud of.

Oscar gave you a small, knowing smile, as if to say, Please help me here.

You knelt down, meeting Sadie’s eyes as she shifted on her feet. “That’s amazing, Sadie!” you exclaimed, your voice full of pride. “Second place in your first ever tournament? That’s incredible!”

Sadie blinked, as if she hadn’t expected your reaction to be so positive, her lips parting in surprise at the compliment, making her cheeks slightly redden. She looked at you for a long moment before glancing at Oscar, who place a hand on her shoulder. "But I wanted to be first…" she whispered, her voice trailing off.

"I know," you replied softly, nodding in understanding. "And that’s okay. It’s good to want to win, but it's also okay not to win every time. What's important is that you did your best, and look—" you pointed to the trophy in her hands, "you still achieved something incredible. Second place out of all those players? That’s huge."

Sadie’s eyes finally lifted to meet yours, and you could see the tension in her shoulders ease a little, though she still looked unsure. "You really think so?" she asked, her voice small.

“It’s not just me.. we know so.”

Oscar watched the exchange, his heart swelling as he saw the tension ease from Sadie’s small frame. You always knew exactly what to say.

“Now,” you said, pulling back slightly and smiling at her with a playful glint in your eyes, “how about we put that beautiful trophy somewhere special? I think it deserves a place on the self, don’t you?”

Sadie nodded, her earlier disappointment fading away bit by bit. “Yeah… I think so.”

Besides, there was still more that the future holds.

[roosterforme]

Don't Waste Another Minute | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When you finally recognize that you have been hanging onto your relationship for all the wrong reasons, you end things. You knew there would be someone better for you, and it was a welcome realization to see that he had been right there in front of you the whole time. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, asshole Jake, drunk Jake, reader dumps Jake, crude language, alcohol, swears

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @mak-32

As soon as you told Jake that you thought he'd had enough to drink for one night, he called you a bitch for the fifth time. It was mortifying. Because this time your boyfriend said it in front of his friends instead of just quietly whispering, "I'm gonna need you to stop acting like a bitch."

The area around the pool table went quiet, and it took everything inside you to keep your head held high. His friends weren't the ones who had to deal with the aftermath of angry, drunk Jake. You were. They weren't constantly getting yelled at for hiding his keys when he couldn't walk straight. And they weren't driving around in a car that still smelled horrendous weeks after he threw up a bottle of Jack Daniels next to the center console. You were. 

Your lips were shaking as you met his glassy, green eyes. And then Bradley Bradshaw stepped forward and put a hand on Jake's shoulder. "That's not cool, Hangman," he said, his voice deep and angry. He set down the bottle of beer he had been nursing and met your eyes with chocolate brown ones that somehow made you feel a little more grounded. Then he added, "I think you should apologize to your girl."

Just as Jake scoffed, you returned your attention fully to him. You pressed your lips together until you were sure you could speak without making a fool out of yourself. "No. I'm not his girl. It's been a long time since that was something I wanted to be. I can't do this anymore, Jake." 

As you dug his car keys out of your pocket, he slurred, "I should have dumped you months ago. You don't even know how to have fun. You're just a stuck up bitch."

You tried your best to ignore him as you handed his keys to Javy and softly asked, "Can you make sure he gets back to his place safely?"

"I will," he promised, nodding at you. Then you glanced around the group of aviators you had become fond of over the past several months since Jake first brought you here. You were going to miss them, especially Bradley and the soft smiles he always gave you. And the way he just stood up for you. 

But right now his handsome face looked stony as he shook his head at Jake. You ran your hand along Bradley's arm and tried your best to smile at him as you left the group and started to dig your phone out of your pocket. "Bye," you whispered to nobody in particular. You'd get an Uber and go back to your place and snuggle up in bed, and you'd be fine. You knew you would. 

As you headed for the door, you heard Bradley angrily say, "I wish you would have had the balls to dump her months ago. She's too good for you."

That made you smile as you pushed the door open and let the cool night air and the sound of the ocean wipe your senses clean. If you were being honest with yourself, you probably only stayed with Jake for as long as you had because you were afraid he was going to hurt himself or someone else one of these Saturday nights. The sting of embarrassment was worse right now than the pain of breaking things off with him, and that fact let you know you did the right thing.

You shivered as you looked up at the moon and the smattering of stars that were visible this close to the city. And then a massive body slammed into you, which you realized was probably your fault for standing so close to the exit. 

"Shit!" grunted a deep voice.

"I'm sorry-" you started as a big arm wrapped around you, steadying you.

"It's you," Bradley said when you looked up at him over your shoulder. "You're still here."

"Yeah... it's just me." You sounded a little breathless. You noticed you felt safer after ten seconds with his arm wrapped around you than you ever had when you were with Jake.

Bradley cleared his throat and slowly released you. "I just wanted to see if you needed a ride home. You know, since you left Jake's keys with Javy."

You turned to face him fully and took one big hand in yours before anyone else could exit the bar and slam into both of you. With wide eyes, he followed you willingly as you walked backwards toward the railing. "I'm fine," you assure him, letting go of his warm hand with an embarrassed shrug. "I'll get an Uber and have someone who didn't just witness my ex boyfriend call me a bitch before I dumped him take me home."

"He should have never said that," Bradley rasped, eyes fixed on your face. "He overdoes it on the weekends, and I'm sure he doesn't actually think you're a... well, you know. You're sweet. Everyone knows that."

You smiled softly up at him. "Thanks," you whispered. You let yourself indulge in committing to memory the way Bradley Bradshaw just said you're sweet. Because it made you feel warm inside. Then you entered your passcode and opened your Uber app, but before you could do anything else, he took your phone out of your hand. 

"Let me take you home," he said as you reached for your phone. But he tucked it behind his back. "That way I'll know you get there safely."

You reached your arms around him but he took both of your hands in his as your chest brushed the front of his shirt. "Did you put it in your back pocket?" you asked as you cocked your head to the side, only pretending to be annoyed. 

"Maybe," he replied with a grin as he squeezed your hands. "But you won't need it until I drop you at your place anyway."

You studied his face. The orange flicker of light from the lamppost in the parking lot bathed him in softness as he waited for you to respond. The only time you ever saw Bradley get drunk was on his birthday when Natasha drove him home. But he'd been funny, never crass. He'd even carried you from the jukebox over to the piano when he insisted he could do a better rendition of Changes than David Bowie. You smiled at the memory, and then he was smiling back at you.

"You just had that one beer tonight?" you asked softly, already knowing the answer. You supposed he drew your gaze more frequently than you were ready to admit. Especially in the past month or so. 

"Yeah," he replied immediately. "That's all I usually have."

"I know."

There was a beat of silence between the two of you. Your words felt like an admission, and you wanted to know how he'd respond. He laced his fingers with yours and said, "I'd never do anything to put you in danger. Been drinking just one beer on Saturday nights in case you were too far gone to get Jake and yourself home safely."

Now you weren't sure what to say. He'd been silently paying attention to you this whole time, too. No wonder you felt safe around him. "Okay," you whispered, and Bradley very hesitantly released your right hand. But you stayed close to his side, your left hand still held tight in his, and he started to head toward his Bronco.

Silently he unlocked the passenger side door and helped you climb in. "Thanks," you muttered, but then he removed his hand from yours, and you suddenly shivered as he closed the door. You thought of your apartment briefly, wondering if Jake's hoodie was hanging in your closet and thinking you'd just throw away the framed photo of the two of you in Venice Beach. It didn't really hurt to think about it, but you didn't feel the need to mourn over it either.

Then you realized Bradley had already turned right out of the parking lot and then made the first left. "You don't need directions?" you asked him as he went straight through the green light. 

He laughed softly but kept his eyes on the road. "I remember where you live. I picked the two of you up there once."

You remembered it, too. He had opened the door for you and helped you into the Bronco that night as well. He had been wearing the same shirt he had on now. And he smiled at you the same way. 

But you were still surprised he knew which street to turn down and which building was yours. "You can park in one of the visitor spots," you told him as your heart swelled with nervous excitement when he shifted into park.

Bradley paused with his hand on the key in the ignition and turned to look at you. "Will you let me walk you up?" When you nodded without hesitation, he killed the engine and smiled at you. And a few seconds later, your fingers were laced with his again. And you were climbing the stairs up to your apartment door. 

"Thanks, Bradley," you murmured, glancing up at him, unsure how to ask when you might possibly see him again after this. You didn't have his phone number, and you had no real reason to keep going back to the Hard Deck, but you wanted to see him again.

And then you felt a little embarrassed by it all. Sure, he remembered where you lived and he had been looking out for you. But you just broke up with Jake earlier tonight, even though things felt like they had been over for a lot longer. And you didn't want to rebound with his coworker of all people, especially since Bradley had you feeling like you wanted him to wrap you in his arms and make you feel safe all the time. 

And now you'd been standing in front of your door for long enough that it was about to become awkward unless one of you said something. But you were afraid the words on the tip of your tongue would be enough to shatter the moment if you said them. 

Your eyes caught on the scars on Bradley's neck as he swallowed hard. "Anytime you need a ride or... anything, I'll be around," he said with one of those soft smiles. But when he went to remove his hand from yours, you wouldn't let him. And then that smile slipped as he took a step closer to you. 

You decided to say the words and shatter the moment, because you had nothing to lose. "Do you want to come in for a little while?" you asked, and Bradley was nodding immediately.

You didn't expect him to keep his hand in yours as you closed and locked the door and showed him around the small space. You'd spent time with Jake in all of these rooms, but as you listened to the deep rumble of Bradley's voice and his soft laughter, you knew you'd sooner recall these memories once he was gone. But you didn't want him to leave at all, even though it was almost midnight. 

"Do you want a glass of water?" you asked him.

"Sure," he replied so quickly, both of you laughed. And then he commented on the books you'd left out on your table while he drank his water very slowly.

"I have more of the books from that series in my room."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, still hovering close by. "I only read the first two."

You simply took him by the hand again, and he went along with you, leaving the glass of water behind. When you paused in your bedroom doorway and reached in to turn on the light, you laughed and said, "You still have my phone in your pocket."

"I know," he replied, his gaze dipping down toward the floor as he blushed. "I've been holding it captive, trying to figure out a way to ask you for your number."

"Really?" you asked, stepping closer and coaxing his gaze up to yours. 

He nodded as he squeezed your hand again. "Feels like some sort of violation of guy code if I ask for it the same night you broke up with Jake. But I really don't want to leave here until I shoot my shot."

You gasped. Bradley Bradshaw. Wanted to shoot his shot. With you. "Shoot it," you said so softly, you weren't sure if he even heard you. But then his eyes went a little wide, and that smile you liked so much was back. 

"Alright." He cleared his throat and chuckled, cheeks still pink as he said, "Hey, so, here's the thing. I've actually had a massive crush on you for months. And I'd love to get your phone number. And I realize that you just got out of a relationship, so I don't mind waiting a few weeks to use it."

You were still holding hands as you pressed your lips to his cheek, and then his free arm wrapped around your waist. You kissed the edge of his mustache, and his fingers flexed against your back. "You can have my number, Bradley."

He sucked in a deep breath as you kissed his cheek again. "Okay. Cool. That's good. And uh... how long do you think I should wait before I call you?" he asked, and you couldn't tell if he sounded more nervous or more excited. 

"You could call me tomorrow," you whispered, still amazed at how safe you felt around him. "Or you could stay a little longer. Maybe we can start the third book in the series? If you want to."

"I want to," he said softly and immediately. "I want to do both. Call you tomorrow and stay a little longer."

When you tugged him toward the bookshelf next to your bed, he followed, his eyes on you as you reached for the third book. You toed your shoes off and kicked them aside as you asked, "You coming?" Then you crawled across your bed, leaving room for Bradley. 

He only hesitated for a second before he yanked both shoes off and placed them near yours. Then the sight of him easing himself onto your bed and slowly settling back against the headboard next to you left you aching to put your lips on his face again. He was giving you that same warm smile he always did, and now you realized you'd been craving these glances in your direction for a long time. You'd been seeking out his smile at the bar and at barbeques and on beach days. 

He cleared his throat a little nervously, probably because you were staring at him now. "Do you want me to read it out loud?" he asked, his voice so raspy, it set off goosebumps along your arms. You replied by setting the book on his lap and scooting a little closer, because you wanted to shoot your shot, too.

"In a minute." You brought your hand up to his face and brushed his stubbled, rosy cheek with your fingers before you kissed his lips. And it was just that simple. A soft press of your lips against his, and you were in the midst of the best kiss of your life. Not necessarily the needy kind where you wanted to tear his clothes off, but the kind where you were aware of every nerve ending in your body. But you already knew, if you let them, your feelings for Bradley would escalate into more.

With your forehead resting on his and your lips hovering over his mustache, you smiled and said, "Okay, now you can read the book."

He laughed softly and kissed you one more time before you eased yourself away from him. Then you curled up against his side, and he brought his arm around you as you helped him hold the book open. Nothing could have prepared you for listening to the words of your favorite story read in his voice. You barely moved, your lips pressed together as his steady, deep voice and his warm scent had you slowly melting. 

Bradley read and turned the pages one handed, your cheek on his shoulder and your arm creeping around his midsection. You had no idea how much time had passed when he whispered, "Do you want me to stop?"

You didn't. It had been forever since you felt like this. Comfortable and safe. Maybe you'd never felt this way before. Like you were absolutely certain this man wouldn't hurt you. Like you were sure he'd never call you a bitch in front of his friends or in private. But you didn't know if it was okay to keep holding onto him. 

"You can take the book home with you," you told him as you sat up slightly. But he made no move to get out of your bed, and you didn't ask him to. So you just settled right back where you were, and you felt Bradley's lips brush along your hair as you fell asleep. 

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

Loud, angry pounding noises did not belong here right now. No, Bradley was enjoying sleeping on a soft cloud with his dream girl snuggled up next to him. Everything was warm and perfect and smelled nice. Why was there still pounding? He cracked his eyes open to find you starting to stir next to him. You stretched and made a cute little noise as your chest bumped his ribs, and then your eyes opened wide.

"Oh," you gasped, quickly pulling your arm away from where it had been thrown over his midsection. "Bradley." Your voice was a combination of surprise, disbelief and pleasure, and he wanted to make sure you were okay with the impromptu sleepover, but there was still someone pounding on your front door.

He cleared his throat, but his voice was still raspy from sleep as he said, "You want me to go yell at whoever that is?"

"No," you replied as you climbed on top of him and kissed his lips. Bradley wanted to put his hands everywhere on you, but he kept them at his sides, still unsure about what he was allowed to do right now. "I'll be right back. You stay here."

Then you were out of bed and across the room, glancing back with a smile before you vanished through the door. Bradley's heart was pounding as he let his head sink back against your pillow. Okay, he needed to play this cool. He couldn't fuck this up. He'd been waiting months for you to realize Jake wasn't good enough for you, and he'd been spending months trying to make sure he would be, given the opportunity.

Your phone was still in his back pocket along with his, and he pulled them out to check the time. But when he looked at your lock screen, he saw that you had seventeen missed texts from Jake. And now he thought he heard Jake's voice in your living room. 

Bradley was out of bed instantly when he heard you ask, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I came to apologize, but it looks like you should be the one apologizing to me." That was definitely Jake's voice, and he was definitely pissed off. 

"I don't know what you mean, Jake," you said as Bradley walked slowly down your hallway. He shoved both phones in his pocket and kept himself out of sight. "If you want to apologize for constantly calling me a bitch, then go ahead. Otherwise, just leave."

Jake laughed in a way that made Bradley's hands clench into fists. "You got a lot of nerve talking to me like you think I'm stupid. I saw his Bronco outside. I know he's here." Bradley squeezed his eyes closed and took a deep breath, and then Jake loudly said, "I knew you were a bitch. How long you been fucking Bradshaw?"

"I'm not," you insisted, your voice shaking. And as much as Bradley had loved reading your book to you and snuggling in your bed all night, now he wished he hadn't stayed. Because you didn't deserve this. 

"You really expect me to believe that?" Jake asked you maliciously. "Where is he, you fucking slut?"

"Don't you dare call her that," Bradley practically growled as he stormed into the living room. Jake was standing too close to you, and he didn't like that. But you were standing your ground as you turned to look at Bradley with some tears shimmering in your eyes. "I never touched her, and she never touched me. So just apologize or leave."

"Fuck you, Bradshaw," Jake spat. "I don't have to listen to a single fucking think you say."

"Get out of my apartment," you demanded. "I dumped you last night for a reason: you drink too much, and you're mean to me. And it was a long time coming. Just go."

Bradley could sense Jake's hesitation, so he took a few steps closer until he was standing right behind you. He made eye contact with him, just daring him to try something. Because Bradley wasn't in the mood to listen to him saying nasty shit about you, especially not when Jake interrupted the start of something so perfect. 

"Go," you repeated. Jake looked you up and down from head to toe and shook his head before he finally turned and slammed your front door behind him. 

"Are you okay?" Bradley asked softly, wishing he knew if it was okay to touch you. 

"Yeah," you whispered before turning and throwing your arms around his neck. 

Bradley let his hands settle on your waist as you looked up at him with bright eyes. He didn't feel bad about stepping on Jake's toes any longer. "I'm sorry if I made things worse for you by being here. But I can't really bring myself to apologize for falling asleep with you, because I liked it so much."

You laughed. It was the prettiest sound. And then you kissed him again with more heat this time, and Bradley had to convince himself to do this the right way. "Hey," he whispered as he broke the kiss. "I still need your phone number."

"Okay," you replied, and you whispered it to him as he entered it into his phone contacts. 

"Okay," he echoed as he handed your phone over for the first time since he took it from you outside the Hard Deck. You didn't even flinch as you swiped away the texts from Jake. "Now, here's what's going to happen. You ready?"

"I'm ready," you told him with a hesitant smile.

He kissed you one more time before he started to back away toward your front door. "I'm gonna go, but I'll call you."

"You better," you replied, and your smile was a little more sure now. 

"I will," he promised. "Just wait." Then he opened the door and closed it behind him as he tapped your name on his phone screen. 

You answered immediately, a giggle in your voice. "Hi, Bradley."

"Hey, so you know how you said I could call you today?"

"Yes," you replied, clearly smiling. "I do recall saying that."

"Great. So I was thinking I'd head home quick to get changed, and then I could come pick you up? Maybe we could get breakfast burritos and coffee from Lucy's Takeout? Go sit on the beach with the book?"

There was a beat of silence before you said, "That sounds nice."

"Then it's a date."

Bradley was all smiles as he ended the call and knocked on your door. When you opened it a second later, he leaned in and kissed you. "I actually need my shoes," he murmured against your lips, and you started laughing. 

"Wait here," you told him before you dashed toward your room and then returned holding his shoes and the book. Bradley slipped his shoes on and took the book in one hand as he pulled you close with the other.

"I'll be right back. Like seriously, it'll be embarrassing how quickly I get back here."

You buried your face against his chest and whispered, "It'll be embarrassing how much that makes me smile."

He had to force himself to leave after that, because the sooner he got back to you, the sooner he could start making you his.

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

Just imagine Bradley reading a book to you on the beach while also feeding you breakfast. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@backinwonderl4nd

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@pieceuvmind

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

[heartsforvin]

BAD FOR BUSINESS

guys i got this idea from reading a matt sturniolo fic 🙏🏼

buckle up mfs, its a long one

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: smut, p in v, age gap ( r’s 23, v’s 30), use of pet names, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, cussing, use of pet names, use of y/n, lmk if i missed anything !!

summary: when vinnie hired you on to babysit his four year old, he never expected things to take a turn the way it did

you started the job right before the boy turned one. he was the sweetest infant, and even more sweet as a toddler.

it was hard to believe it had already been three years since you started the job, it feeling like yesterday.

you show up at the household five days a week, everyday like clockwork at seven in the morning just so vinnie could be at work on time.

just like today. it was six-forty-five when you pulled up to the hacker residence, fifteen minutes early.

there was really no actual set time you had to be at the house, but vinnie did say before at least seven-fifteen.

knocking on the door softly but loud enough to be heard, you waited for the man to answer.

you were met with the man on the other side, giving you a greeting smile.

you would never admit this to anyone but you always thought vinnie was attractive. with his blonde curls, strong bone structure, and not to mention the obvious muscle.

he still portrayed that ‘dad bod’ but it wasn’t as obvious as most.

“goodmorning ms l/n,” he smiles. “come on in, wes is still asleep but i’m sure you don’t mind.”

you smiled back with a nod as you walked into the house. it wasn’t big, a single story with only two bedrooms, perfect for vinnie and his son.

over the years you came to find out their story. you found out that vinnie’s girlfriend at the time had just up and left the baby as his responsibility.

it was clear he needed the help, and daycare was just too expensive for him to handle, so he decided to hire an ongoing babysitter.

that’s where you come into play. three years ago you had found this ad on a website, clicked on it and read the description.

once you did you knew you had to at least interview for the family, you didn’t ever expect to be hired.

now here you were three years later, wesley had become someone you truly loved like your own son.

“should i wake him up if he sleeps in a little too late?” you asked the older man as you set your things down on the kitchen counter.

vinnie shook his head. “no, not unless it’s past ten.” he informed.

you nodded and watched as vinnie grabbed his things off the counter. he had tattoos run along his hands that you swore was the hottest thing.

shaking your head, you look at the man across from you as he repeats his words you didn’t hear.

“there’s yogurt and strawberries in the fridge, strawberries are all cut up so all you have to do is serve them. you know he’s going to want apple juice with his breakfast so — water it down.” you cut him off with a smile.

vinnie returns the smile and nods. “right. i’ll be home probably about five-thirty, six so i’ll see you then.”

the two of you say goodbye and that’s when you go and sit down on the couch a bit until the boy wakes up. it was around seven-twenty in the morning so you knew it would be at least an hour or two before he wakes up.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

about an hour later you saw the young blonde peek into the livingroom, wide smile across his face when he noticed you were there.

“y/n!” he exclaimed as he ran up to you. you scooped him up in your arms and kissed his head.

“morning, wes. sleep good?” you asked as the boy squirmed out of your arms and sat beside you on the couch.

with a nod to his head, you smiled. standing up, you grabbed his hand and helped him off the couch before saying, “your dad got breakfast all ready for you, you hungry?”

the blonde smiled widely as you helped him down and ushered him into the kitchen.

you grabbed his booster seat and sat him in it before going to the fridge and grabbing the yogurt and strawberries for his breakfast.

“here you go wes. you want your apple juice?” you knew his answer but just thought to check in case there was a chance he didn’t want it.

like always, wesley smiled as he asked politely for the drink. your went to pour it in a sippy cup and watered it down just a bit like always.

handing it to him, he thanked you as you ruffled his hair with a smile. you had eaten breakfast on the way here so you decided to sit at the table and wait for the boy to finish.

once he was done you cleared the table and helped him out of his seat. you put it back in its respective spot and then took the blondes hand and told him it was time to get dressed.

“which shirt today, dinosaurs or trucks?” you asked the boy as you held up two shirts.

he looked between the two before pointing to the one in your left hand. “dino’s!”

you laughed and smiled as you put the other shirt away. after dressing him, you told him you had to clean up the kitchen and to stay in his room to play with his toys until you got done.

once done with cleaning up the kitchen, you decided to take wesley to the park. it was a pretty nice day out, plus it was the last few weeks of summer so you wanted to make sure he got all his time outside in.

“hey wes, you wanna go out to the park? you can bring your car with.” you ask, the boy’s eyes lit up at the last words you said.

for wesley’s fourth birthday vinnie had gotten him one of those battery operated toy cars. wesley loved it the minute he saw it and was outside for a good two hours riding it around that day.

after getting very excited about hearing he could bring his car with, wesley immediately ran to the kitchen to wait for you.

you laughed at the boy's excitement as thee two of you made it out to the garage.

opening up the garage door, you got the car out and wesley immediately got into the toy car and drove out of the garage.

"hold on bubba, gotta close the door." you informed the boy, seeing as he was already halfway down the driveway.

after closing the garage door the two of you were off to the park. it wasn't that far from vinnie's place, so it was perfect walking distance.

once arrived, wesley stopped his car and you watched as he made his way to the slide.

as you watched the boy, your thoughts immediately went to the older blonde man, more specifically, how attractive he really was.

you shouldn't be thinking like this, especially since he was your boss, not to mention years older than you, but you couldn't help yourself.

you wondered if he thought about you the way you did him. he couldn't have though, he's acted nothing but professional to you for the past three years.

you've always thought about what it'd be like to be in a certain situation with him. how would he react? would he be polite and push you away, or would he give in?

that's what you had to find out.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

back at the house, it was around five-forty-five and you were getting wesley ready for dinner. he had demanded chicken nuggets and mac and cheese to you on your guys' way home from the park.

you of course couldn't tell him no, so here you were, preparing everything for his dinner.

after getting the boy into his booster seat, you finished up cooking the mac and cheese before serving some in a bowl to him, the chicken nuggets were served soon after that.

"had a good day today, wes?" you ask as you sit down at the table with him.

wesley smiles and nods. "when's daddy gonna be home?" he asked you before scooping up mac and cheese.

you checked your phone for the time before answering him. "soon, bub, probably after you're done eating."

wesley smiled and continued to finish his food. about twenty minutes later vinnie walked into the door and wesley immediately ran up to him.

"hey bud!" vinnie said as his son hugged his legs.

vinnie set his things down and picked up his son. "had the best day!" wesley exclaimed to his dad.

you watched with a smile as wesley told vinnie all about your day today. vinnie flashed you a smile and for a minute your plan was working.

"alright bud, go in your room and play for a bit while yn and I talk, okay?" vinnie said as he put the boy down.

wesley ran to his room while you and vinnie watched. once he left you started to clean up the dishes from dinner.

you watched as vinnie rounded the other side of the island and took a seat on one of the barstools. "you don't have to clean up, you're good to go home for the day." vinnie informed.

you smiled and shook your head. "its alright, i don't mind," you told him. "plus you worked all day, it's the least i can do."

vinnie noded and just stay put. after dishes were done you had offered to bathe wesley to help out once more before leaving.

"you don't need to do all that." vinnie says as he takes a sip of his drink. "I can bathe him, he is my son of course." he laughs.

it was the first real laugh you've gotten to hear in years, and you had to admit that you loved hearing it.

although, he was right, you definitely did not have to wash wesley up, vinnie could do it himself. you just loved spending time with both vinnie and wesley, you couldn't help it.

"okay, let me just say goodbye to him and i'll be out of your hair." you tell the man before you walked out of the room.

once you left, vinnie let out a heavy sigh, thanking everything that you left when you did. recently he's been having thoughts no boss should have about the person they've employed.

thoughts like how pretty you are, how pretty you looked in your bathing suit that one summer when he had invited you over to swim because wesley wouldn't stop asking for you.

"fuck." he cursed under his breath, now trying to not get a tent in his pants before he sees you for the final time.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

the next day you arrived at the house exactly at seven. knocking on the door, vinnie opened it moments later with his eyebrows furrowed.

"shit I'm sorry, i forgot to tell you wesley's at my parents house today. you don't have to work today, go home and take the day off." he informed with a smile.

you smiled too, that's when you took in his appearance; tousled hair and sweats, no shirt.

your breath caught in your throat at the sight. you hadn't seen him like this since that summer he invited you over for a little pool party with wesley.

vinnie notices how you react and chuckles. "this looks unprofessional, know," he breathes. "i just needed a day to myself, i know it sounds selfish but it's true."

you shrug it off. "don't need to explain yourself, it's fine i understand." you tell him with a smile.

vinnie returns the gesture. "well i guess i'll get going," you sigh. "thank you, i'll see you tomorrow."

vinnie smiles before he watches you walk off, that was until he called you back over.

"hey actually if you'd want, i could have some help around the house a bit." he tells you, opening the door for you.

you walk into the house and set your things down on the counter. vinnie comes up behind you, hand gliding against your back before he faces you.

he's still in his sweatpants and no shirt. he looks at you and takes in your outfit.

a nice baby blue sundress paired with black converse. he loved how you dressed cute but also a bit casual too.

"so uhm," vinnie clears his throat, making you smile. "you can start with whatever you want first, no rush and you definitely don't have to do this." he explains.

you smile as you start to walk over to the kitchen sink, vinnie follows in suit and sits at the island chair that faces you.

you start with the dishes that are already in the sink before going to the ones on the counter

"what'd you guys do last night after i left that has the sink overflowing?" you ask with a small laugh.

vinnie reciprocates, laughing with you before answering. "wes wanted cookies before bed, unfortunately he makes it hard to say no and so i gave in."

you laugh, the four year old can be very persistent with things. as you continue with the dishes, you can feel vinnie's gaze linger on you.

he watches as you wash the dishes then set them on the counter to dry. watches as you glance over at him and starts smiling.

he smiles back, not even hesitating before he does, almost like its on cue, an instinct.

"you're beautiful, you know that?" he doesn't know what possessed him to say that, but he's glad he did.

the reaction he gets out of you is one he suspected, your cheeks tint to a red color, smiling wide as you look at him.

"thank you, vinnie. you're not so bad yourself, even when looking casual." you return the compliment.

you both don't know what is going on right now, this was extremely unprofessional, at least it felt like it.

vinnie didn't care right now though. he'd been having these thoughts about you for so long, he needed to act on them.

taking a bolder approach, he stands up and rounds the other end of the island so he's now by you. you turn to face him, and that's when you notice the slight stubble on his face.

you thought it made him look sexy, paired with his tattoos, you almost didn't want to give in.

his hand travels to land on your waist, you look down at the placement and that's when vinnie asks, "is this okay?"

it shouldn't be, but it sure does feel okay. nodding your head, you give him a verbal response too, just so he knows.

his other hand cups your jaw and that's when you watch as he leans in, so you do the same until you're met in the middle.

the way his lips felt on yours was like nothing youve experienced before. it was needy, hungry, like you've both needed this for so long.

its almost like you did, you've both imagined this moment too many times, and finally acting on it almost felt unreal.

"jump." vinnie says against your lips. you do as told, jumping up so you're now in his arms.

none of you break apart as you feel him gently place you on the counter. his next movements however were not so gentle.

a gasp slips out of you when you feel his hand come in contact with your clothed pussy. he smirks up at you, watching your head tip back as his finger presses against your clit.

"vinnie." is all you muster out, it coming out as more of a moan.

vinnie smiles as he continues to rub at you through your panties. he watches as you widen your legs for him and bite your lip.

"let it out, baby. its only us, let me hear you." vinnie says, making you let out a loud moan once he circles your clit again.

carefully, he pulls your panties to the side and chuckles softly when he sees how wet you are already.

"barely touched you and you're already this wet f'me? dirty girl." he rasps before gliding his finger over your folds.

a whine slips from you and he smiles up at you, standing to give you a quick kiss before going down on his knees.

the sight in front of you almost makes you let go right then and there. vinnie's head disappears from your view and under your dress.

he grabs the waistband of your panties and pulls them down, tossing them on the floor somewhere before dipping his head between your thighs again.

you feel his fingers on you again, making you moan out his name for the second time. vinnie smiles to himself before easing his middle finger into you.

"shit," you moan, holding onto the edge of the counter. "vinnie, please."

he removes himself from between your legs and looks up at you, asking what you want. "you want more?"

you nod an he happily obliges, dipping his head back under. this time, his middle finger and mouth make contact with you.

his finger his sliding in and out of you at a rapid pace as his tongue prods at your clit, eliciting moans out of you.

soon, he gets antsy and lifts himself up again. "can i take this off?" he asks, referring to your dress.

you nod with a smile and before you know it, its off in a second. he asks to take your bra off too, to which you do for him, landing somewhere in the room.

his hands immediately find your chest, taking both of your breasts in his hands and squeezed them, making your head tip back.

he kisses from your lips all the way back down to where he was moments prior. his mouth lands on you again and you grip his hair, tugging softly which makes him groan into you.

"taste so good, princess." vinnie mumbles against you as his tongue laps up your juices.

you push his head into you more, causing a groan from him and moan from you at the feeling. you feel his ring finger enter you and that's when the pleasure intensifies.

"vinnie, g-gonna-" you're cut off by a whine as you feel his finger hit that one special spot.

vinnie looks up at you, continuing his actions as he speeds up his pace on you.

before you can utter the words to him, you're summing on his face in a second. vinnie lifts off of you and smiles, making you smile with him.

"so fuckin' good, baby," he breathes out before kissing you. "stand up f'me."

you do as told, hopping off the counter and standing up. before you have the chance to speak, vinnie's turning you around so you face the counter.

"gonna let me fuck that pretty pussy? huh, sweetheart?" you can't even answer him, the tone in his voice already making you wet.

you nod as you feel his hand make contact with your ass. his sweats pool to his ankles, letting his cock spring free and smack against his abdomen

"gonna give it to you so good, baby." he whispers in your ear as he strokes himself a few times.

you wiggle your ass just to tease him, he smacks it again before asking if you're ready.

with verbal conformation, you tell him you're ready and that's when you feel him push into you for the first time.

"shit, feel so fucking good already, don't know if i'll last." his words make you smile as you bite your lip.

vinnie grabs your hips and starts to move in and out of you at a slow pace. you grip the counter, already feeling like it's too much.

"so big." is all you can say, making vinnie smirk.

his thrusts soon become needy and face paced as time went on. when you noticed, you moved your ass back on him, making him moan.

"that's it, fuck yourself on my cock. good girl." the praise goes straight through you, making you whine in pleasure.

vinnie kisses your shoulder as he fucks into from behind. he can't believe this is happening. he doesn't want it to end.

his hands move from your hips to your chest in an instant, squeeing both of your tits as he thrusts into you.

"feel so good princess," he rasps. "god we should've done this sooner."

you smile at his words and agree. even though this is completely wrong, it feels so right.

"vinnie," you whine when you feel his thumb rub circles on your clit. "baby please."

he takes that as a sign that you're close and his pace along with his thumb on your clit becomes harsher.

"give it to me baby, come on. be a good girl and cum all over my cock."

his words only spur you on more and before you know it you're doing as told. a loud moan rips from you as you let go on vinnie's cock, making him smile as he reaches his release.

with a few more thrusts he cuts deep inside you with a moan followed with it.

"fuck." he says once he catches his breath.

he grabs your dress off the floor and helps you put it back on. he grabs his pants and puts them on himself after.

"that was.." you trail off with a laugh, not even knowing the correct words to use.

vinnie laughs with you, also not knowing the right words to use to explain what just happened.

you fix your hair and dress before you hear the doorbell ring. both you and vinnie go wide-eyed when you hear the door open and the sound of his son's voice.

"shit." he mutters. you watch as he quickly picks up your bra and puts it in your purse.

wesley comes around the corner just in time, followed by vinnie's parents. they've met you before so you say hello before grabbing your things.

"I should head out. thank you again vinnie for letting me help out, i'll see you tomorrow." you say to the blonde man.

he walks you out real fast and as you two are alone, he kisses you quickly. "see you tomorrow."

you smile and walk to your car, checking your purse for your keys. that's when you realize you left something on the kitchen floor, no doubt one of the three people who just walked into the house finding it.

tomorrow's going to be an awkward day.

hiii this has been in my drafts for months so i’m glad i finally got it out !!

i switched to writing on my new laptop but some things i do still have to do on my phone but majority of my writing will be from there (not like you can tell LOL)

but i hope you guys liked this !! i loved writing it <33

tags: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @sturnioloshacker , @khackerr , @42angelgirl , @visualbutterflysworld , @slvthrs , @leqonsluv3r , @bernelflo , @kriissy4gov , @laylasbunbunny , @khxna , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @defnotayonna , @supabhad , @kayleighh , @hallecarey1 , @violet0182 , @skye-44 , @eddieslut69 , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @miilzzy , @jpg3 ,

[merakiui]

monops's reflection.

yandere!jade leech x (female) reader x floyd leech cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, unrequited love, obsession, drugging, kidnapping/captivity, restraints, dark/possessive/violent thoughts, biting, blood, characters written as 18+ note - happy birthday, tweels!!! :D may you continue to be crazy.

Mostro Lounge is tranquil tonight, save for the occasional clinking of glass against glass and the soft melodies tumbling from your lips. You busy yourself with song while you wipe the surface of a table, bending forwards to reach the very back with the dampened rag. Jade finds himself eyeing your figure as you flit about, observing the way you wring the cloth free of excess water, your fingers curling into the sodden fabric as if attempting to strangle it. And then it’s promptly dunked into the bucket and wrung out again in repetition. He stands behind the counter and continues to dry the same glass he started on two minutes ago, its shiny surface reflecting his distracted countenance.

There’s something curious about you.

He can’t quite put his finger on what that something is. The more he analyzes you, the further he strays from a proper interpretation of your character. For a human who can’t use magic, you’re surprisingly selfless. You cheer your friends on in their academic endeavors, offering them your help whenever it feels like they might need it, and you carry your own weight at the lounge, boldly standing up to patrons who get too big for their britches. Jade wanted to pity you in the beginning, when customers had been rough and rude with you, but you’d dealt with every difficulty with a bright grin and a few choice words.

You’re strong; you never back down.

Jade sets the glass in its rightful place and reaches for another, all while keeping his mismatched stare on you. He wonders how much pressure it would take for you to finally snap. Would you still be able to smile then? Could you even manage to stay afloat in pessimistic waters with that blithe façade of yours? If he were to cut into you with knife and fork—with dreadfully sharp words and even sharper actions—would you allow yourself to bleed out? Or would you accept your fate and smile up at him from your porcelain plate, promising him you’ll patch yourself up because it isn’t a big deal?

When you act so cheerful, so blissfully ignorant to the beast who lurks behind, it sets a potent yearning aflame. A yearning to break you well beyond repair. A yearning to take that smile, chew it up, and spit it out until it’s the most devastated frown he’s ever seen.

“Good work today, Jade!” With a breathless huff—he wants to bottle that breath and each one that will follow—you set the bucket down and roll your shoulders. Exhaustion shadows your face, adding deceptive age to your youthful appearance. “Do you need any help?”

“I’m quite all right. Thank you, though.” He returns your smile with one of his own, the usual placid, tight-lipped thing that both eases and unsettles depending on the situation. His default expression, forever the same unless circumstances call for the other faces he’s stowed in his vast repertoire. “You’re more than welcome to head back if you’ve finished for the evening. I can handle the rest.”

“You sure?” The bucket is in your hands again, and you carry it over to the sink to empty the murky water into the basin. He notes the way your arms shake ever so slightly as you struggle to balance the heavy thing against the counter. “I don’t mind waiting here until you’re done.”

“Very well. In that case, I won’t take too long.”

He finishes drying the remaining lineup, arranging each on its respective shelf before wiping the counter for extra measure. He doesn’t have to do it, but he does. It never hurts to be clinically clean.

Floyd should be done with the stock count by now, he thinks, gazing at the door leading to the kitchen. I should check it just in case.

After folding his rag into a neat square and tucking it away, he strides over to the door, opens it a crack, and pokes his head inside. The kitchen space is devoid of life. With furrowed brows, Jade opens the door wider just as Floyd jumps out from his spot behind the racks. He’s holding the clipboard in one hand and flailing with the other. His attempt at a fright does nothing to startle Jade, but it does cause you to flinch back. You do that a lot. Jade’s noticed that you scare easily, often falling victim to Floyd’s pranks during your shifts. It’s all harmless fun, but sometimes Jade catches himself wishing for Floyd to push you just a little harder. A little rougher. Maybe one day he will and Jade will finally witness tears lining your lashes.

“F-Floyd!” you snap, humiliated. 

“Gotcha, Shrimpy. You always fall for it, y’know? Like a silly, stupid Shrimpy.” He passes the clipboard to Jade on his way out and adds, “Pretty sure everything’s correct.”

“Is it?” Jade peers at his brother’s handwriting. “If you don’t mind, I’ll review it once more.”

“Be my guest. Wasn’t really havin’ a ball fillin’ it out anyway.” He shrugs and then beelines for you, lifting you into the air with ease. He spins you despite your protests. Nasally laughter soon overtakes silence. Floyd has always been fond of your reactions; he eats them up as if it’s a special treat. “I wonder if you’ll get sick. You get motion sickness, Shrimpy? Tell me! Tell me!”

A covert smile stretches onto Jade’s mouth as he disappears into the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind him. While he goes over the numbers and corrects the errors Floyd’s made, he listens to you pleading with his brother to release you. Most of the numbers align with the remaining supplies and ingredients, and he adds his own notes in the margins so that Azul will know which are especially low and in need of replenishment. Checking his brother’s work isn’t a favorite pastime of Jade’s, but when it comes to the lounge and its success he’d rather look over a few numbers than watch sales plummet and listen to Azul’s endless slew of woeful complaints.

Once he’s made the necessary changes, he slips the sheet from the clipboard and heads back out. You’re in the process of chasing after Floyd, who’s holding your timecard above his head and dangling it like it’s a piece of bait. Part of Jade wants to enjoy the spectacle, but the other part is ready for the sweetness of sleep. For once he sides with the latter and clears his throat to get Floyd’s attention. 

“Ah, you’re already done?” Having lost interest in the game, he drops your card at once. It flutters to the floor, and he watches with wide, gleeful eyes as you swoop down to catch it. “That all we gotta do?”

“I believe so. Azul’s staying late, so he will lock up.”

Jade sets the inventory sheet on the nearest table for Azul to find before retrieving and filling out his timecard. Floyd hasn’t even marked his hours yet, and Jade exhales an empty sigh and takes the initiative to write it in for him. It’s always been like this. Jade looks out for Floyd, not only because they’re family and have always done so, but because there are some instances where he’s much too careless.

It has been noted that the two of them are a package deal. A duo. A pair. Inseparable twins who balance each other with varying levels of insanity. Their bond is unbreakable, having been built from blood and the will to survive ever since they were vulnerable elvers. Floyd is a reflection of Jade, and Jade is a reflection of Floyd; that’s how they have lived. Like day and night, sugar and salt, and light and dark, they operate like clockwork, expertly in time with one another.

The center of their relationship has always remained the same, and Jade suspects it will never change, even after they’ve acclimated to human society. They are predators with finely honed instincts, masquerading above the water as humans. With razored rows of teeth and an insatiable hunger for unpredictability, the two of them function in a domesticated world. In order to survive in such a foreign environment, Jade has learned that they need each other, which is why it’s so salient that they get along most days.

And much like night and day, like a person with a shadow, one cannot exist without the other.

“See ya tomorrow, Shrimpy!” Floyd flashes you a jovial grin as you take your leave, but there’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “I’ll be waiting…”

“Um, yeah… H-Have a good night.”

With your timecard now in Jade’s capable hands, he’s free to observe your handwriting. There’s nothing special about the way you write, but it still manages to mesmerize him. Every loop of each letter, messily intertwining like frayed strings of fate, adds charm to the script. It’s obvious you tried and failed to sign your name in cursive, but the fact that you even bothered to do so is cute.

It’s truly not that important, he reminds himself as he places the cards back where they belong.

“Shall we head back now?”

Floyd nods, stifling a yawn. As they walk through peaceful halls, he adds in a conversational tone, “Awfully boring when Shrimpy’s not around.”

Jade weighs that declaration and finds himself nodding in agreement. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

i. on a moonlit night, under an eave of twinkling stars, monops waltzes gracefully with the ghost of his other half. the shards of a shattered mirror reflect two sides of the same coin, of human and monster. when the clouds part and an ethereal beam encases the solitary monops, the illusion melts away into a fleeting dream.

Floyd is everything Jade is not: energetic, extroverted, and brash. Such adjectives can’t possibly describe Jade’s outward demeanor—the one he carefully orchestrates for public consumption. He’s polite and kind, soft-spoken and always wearing a smile despite the situation. He cloaks himself in a many-layered mask—a perfect predator with multiple disguises at his disposal. If he must shed a dozen skins to uphold his gentlemanly disposition, then he will gladly peel them away one at a time until he’s found one that fits flawlessly over bone. Jade could never hope to become what Floyd is, but what Floyd is not Jade is. And he is composed of qualities that reflect Floyd’s own behaviors. 

He’s not ashamed to admit what he lacks. This is just a facet of life. You can never truly have everything you want. If the world was fair, everyone would achieve their goals without adversity. Any aspiration, no matter how small and insignificant, requires an adequate fight to be worthy of achievement. Survival is not much of a dream, but it’s the only thing Jade’s ever known as he floats through the world alongside his brother. His dreams are Floyd’s, or so that’s what he’s always told those who enquire. He shares these things with him because he does not have any to call his own.

Not yet, at least.

And sharing—it’s a word he knows well. Everything that Jade owns, Floyd owns as well. They share the same face, the same room, the same clothes. They might even come to share the same lover one day, should they both find their hearts pierced by Cupid’s miserable arrows. Jade has never been against the concept of sharing. It’s an acceptable way of life for him. He grew up practicing the concept, and it has taught him how to coexist with others. Sharing is an extension of the bonds he’s formed.

Still, he’s avaricious in some aspects. Hopelessly so.

There’s no denying the difficulty that arises when one wishes to share in the turbulent waters of the Coral Sea, where the natural order caters to the strong and crushes the weak, but splitting the essentials is what guarantees survival. And if it’s worked so well in the past, why should he stop now? Therefore, sharing will always be a priority, even if their desires are fraught with selfish envy.

Jade is watching you again.

You’re sitting in the courtyard with Azul, gesturing wildly as you recount a story he can’t hear from where he stands behind a stone pillar. Azul’s expression is soft with amusement; his lips quirk up in laughter, and his eyes never leave yours. Your cursive may be a mess and you might be feeble in the face of danger, but you certainly know how to enthrall others. If Jade didn’t know any better, he’d suspect you to be a siren. Night Raven College would be the perfect hunting ground for a predator of that nature. Perhaps once you’ve charmed Azul you’ll devour his heart and leave a streak of gore in your wake.

That’s impossible. 

Jade is certain of this fact because he knows you’re not a predator. You are very much the harmless prey who has wandered into a den of ravenous beasts. He wonders if the thought that Azul may be dangerous ever crosses that empty, pea-sized brain of yours. He’s as much of a hunter as the rest of the students here, and with those eight tentacles of his he could easily send you to a watery grave. You wouldn’t have much of a chance to struggle, not unless Azul’s own benevolence grants you that futile hope. Thinking about it—about the thrill of a one-sided scuffle—has his heart racing, his palms wetting with sweat.

Oh, but you’re not meant to be Azul’s prey.

So get out of his eyes. Step off of the stage that entertains. Untangle yourself from unseen tentacles.

You are Jade’s.

From the moment the two of you crossed paths—from the moment you took up a job at the lounge and relied on him during your training—you belonged to him. 

And he’s not quite sure he wants to share you with anyone.

Perhaps that dumb smile of yours hides something far darker. Perhaps your blood wouldn’t taste as delectable as he once hoped if it’s already been tainted by Azul’s silver tongue. In his own paradise, an ideal world constructed within the confines of his mind, you wouldn’t look at another man, another woman, another person. Not another living thing. You wouldn’t speak to another man, another woman, another person. Not another living thing. You wouldn’t know the tastes of sweet poison or bitter love unless Jade chooses to bestow these flavors unto you. You would only see him, only taste him, only adore him with those wondrous eyes—eyes that are so impossibly strong even when the harshest of insults are thrown your way.

So get the fuck out of Azul’s eyes. Step off of the damned stage that entertains. Untangle yourself from unseen tentacles before Jade slices all of them off at the root.

These feelings ignite a perilous, potent spark deep within his chest. Seeing you smile at Azul in such a casual setting—it’s not right. This terrarium display is wrong. So wrong. 

The internal fuse has been lit and it’s nearing its inevitable implosion. Stop looking at him with those eyes. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

If Jade could, he would slice your smile off and keep it for himself. Pin it to the wall like it’s a rare species of butterfly, your wings having been severed from the sky.

You’re unbearable.

He fears you wouldn’t belong anywhere in his ideal world, for if you found yourself in the depths of the Coral Sea he wouldn’t allow you to surface.

The most confounding specimen I’ve ever encountered.

Azul is an only child. His mother and step-father would miss him terribly.

— — — 

Jade spies the delightful pep in your step as you skip past the bar later that same day. You’re balancing drinks and desserts on a tray as you make your way to a nearby table, and he’s immediately reminded of why he’s so drawn to you. You’re a puzzle he has yet to solve—an experiment he has yet to collect enough data from. If he could, he’d shrink you down to the size of his index finger and place you in one of his terrariums so that you could live out your tiny life amongst an array of plants. And Jade would be content to observe from above like a godly sovereign with the power to change your fate in a single snap.

Perhaps it’s not right to view you as a specimen or prey. Perhaps it would be better to regard you as a slab of meat, raw and uncooked, just waiting to be snatched up in his maw.

“Please enjoy!”

Your voice pulls him from his reveries. It’s a melody he’s come to savor in solitude. Naturally lilting, it’s the type of voice even the most jealous of souls would covet. He wants to reach deep inside your throat, grasp it for himself, and cradle it to his ear as if it’s a secret-spilling conch.

But claiming ownership of your sound isn’t enough. He wants to—needs to—devour your everything. Your body and soul, marking you as his, ensuring you’re kept under his thumb forever, seared into his own existence like a brand. Then your every breath will be his, and the blood that courses through your veins shall also become his. The darkest of reds might just suit you more than the aquatic hues of Mostro Lounge’s uniform.

Oh, what he’d give to paint you in vinous vermillion.

“Jade, could you cover for me? I’m going to take my break now if that’s okay with you.” Jade must have scanned your hopeful expression for longer than normal because you begin to fidget in front of him, toying with the hem of your apron. “Uh, that’s fine, right?”

“Yes, of course. Go right ahead.” He sends you off with his trademark smile, dusting his destructive thoughts away.

After you’ve retreated to the kitchen, he turns his gaze on the patrons, listening to the noisy din of laughter and chatter. He overhears a group discussing peculiar textbook titles and how most of them are unnecessarily convoluted and complicated. One of the students brings up a title that didn’t make any sense to him and he describes his surprise when he learned it was a book full of love spells and potion recipes. His friends, as all close friends often do, crack jokes at his expense, prodding for more information on who he intends to enchant. The conversation is bland and juvenile, but it does manage to strike a chord of curiosity in Jade.

Love.

Jade has never known the true meaning of romance. Such a thing does not exist in his perfect world. In some lonesome corners of the ocean, merfolk reproduce because they must. Because it’s the only way to survive. It will be like that for him and Floyd in the future, lest they find themselves ensnared in true love’s deadly trap and choose to reproduce for the sole purpose of fickle feelings. To mate out of love rather than obligation—it’s not unheard of and he isn’t opposed to it. Many humans adopt this way of life.

Jade would like to try it for himself, but he doesn’t know how. He’s never known the answer to this question—the one equation he could never work out. Is his heart too small, or is he incapable of comprehending the complexities of romance? Perhaps neither is true. When he considers the requirements that must be met to qualify love as love, he realizes the adoration he feels for you is not fluffy or innocent. Can such a grand obsession be classified as love if it’s dark and spiraling, condemning him to horrific visions? 

Jade does not gaze upon you with fondness. He looks at you as if you’re to be his next meal.

Even when he feels like breaking you would quell some monstrous urge within him, there’s another side that wishes to simply lock you away and protect you from the world and its inhabitants. Because it’s the world that will save you from him, but if you were imprisoned in his world, where it would be just you and him, no one could ever hope to reach you.

Jade isn’t entirely cruel. He would like to share his hobbies with you. He would like to live alongside you in the Coral Sea, tying his life to yours. It’s not an impossible desire, but he knows you wouldn’t be content with this arrangement. Not because it would be unwilling. Not because it would be Jade who has fallen for you and dragged you beneath the waves. It’s precisely because it’s the sea that you might object. You would have to adapt to life in a new, underwater environment. You would have to relinquish certain pleasures unique to the surface, abandoning your bipedal friends and family to live in isolation with him.

But isolation is better than the other terrariums that wait for you. He’ll smash all of them so that you’ll only know this one—the one with him.

Jade has been moving on autopilot for so long now that it finally occurs to him that you’re nowhere to be found. The longer he spends counting the lounge’s staff, the more his observations are proven true. You haven’t returned from your break, which is very unusual considering you’ve always been so diligent about time management. Responsible, that’s what you are. It’s one of the qualities that’s won Azul over. 

He surmises it has also shocked his heart with bolts of not-so-lovely lightning.

Despite the bustling, crowded lounge, he slips inside the kitchen to search for you. Usually Floyd’s crowding around you whenever you have a moment to spare, but he isn’t anywhere in sight either. Jade knows his brother and his mood swings well. When he isn’t feeling the lounge, he’ll escape elsewhere until his mood has been restored. He can understand and overlook Floyd’s absence, but yours is inexcusable.

The chefs are hard at work cooking up delicious meals, and all kinds of savory scents blanket the air. Jade glances at the knife block tucked away in a corner, filled with blades of varying sizes, as he passes. After watching you for so long, he’s learned that you often spend your breaks in the storage room, away from the eyes of customers and Azul. Perhaps the space has become something of a comfort for you, or maybe you just like taking shelter in the kitchen.

A sharp gasp joins the chefs’ clattering.

Jade’s stare snaps towards the storage room door. He frowns when he notices it’s been left ajar.

As he approaches, he can make out the sounds of rustling fabric and salacious gasps. He peers through the sliver into the dimly lit space, a single yellow eye spying a terrible scene. It takes a lot to stun Jade Leech, but the view before him is stunning in a very crooked way. It sends a shockwave rumbling through his body, temporarily freezing him to his spot. Unable to look away, to preserve his eyes and mind, he watches. Every inch of him itches.

Bile claws up his throat with acidic fingers.

You’re pressed against the shelves, skirt hiked high and panties pushed haphazardly to the side. Towering over you, anatomy pinned to yours in a sinful connection, is Floyd. His hands are gripping your wrists as he rocks forward to slot himself deeper inside. You search for a solid hold to steady yourself, burying your head in your arm to muffle your keening cries. 

“Please… It’s… S’too much. Hold on,” you babble, clinging like a koala.

Floyd leans in to nip at the shell of your ear, eliciting a shudder and a squeal from you. “Not happening, Shrimpy…” His lips travel along the length of your neck, pressing playful kisses into your skin. “You’re really so cute, you know that? So cute and soft… I can’t keep my hands off of ya.”

“We really—oh—really shouldn’t do—hah—this!”

Floyd hums, nonchalant, and slowly slides out of your tight, gummy walls. The tip of his cock prods at your pussy once more, glistening with the dew of your essence.

“Why not?”

“Seriously… What if someone sees us? What if—”

Your retort is cut short when he snaps his hips against yours, filling you in a single thrust. You crumple in his arms, tears gathering in your eyes.

Tears. Because of Floyd. Tears.

“So what if they do? I’ll get ’em good if they peep on my Shrimpy.” He licks a stripe up your neck and then sinks his pointed teeth into the area, hard enough to draw blood. You flinch against him, your pretty face contorting with a mixture of pleasure and discomfort while he laps up your blood. Floyd hums merrily, the sound coming deep from within his chest. “Shrimpy always tastes so yummy. I wanna do this aaall the time!”

“Wait, don’t leave any marks!”

“Oops. Too late.” Grinning boyishly, he grabs your chin and tilts your head up to meet his greedy lips. “Lemme kiss it better for ya.”

Jade watches you melt into the kiss, watches you become putty in his twin brother’s hands. Your eyes flutter shut for the briefest moment, only to flash open when Floyd begins to thrust into you. He sets a hasty, sporadic pace as he pursues an orgasmic high. Your sobs are swallowed in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses that leave you breathless and reaching. You claw at anything stable enough to support you, your fingers curling into Floyd.

A perfect fit.

While he stands there and takes in the sight of his brother claiming the angel he had hoped to someday make his, it dawns on him that the entire storage room is stained with the memory of you. Your smell, your existence, your everything—it lingers even when you aren’t here. It is imprinted on the walls and shelves; it is on Floyd. Your entire soul has been his long before Jade even laid eyes on you.

Now he knows why you frequent the storage room. Now he knows your secret.

He’ll open your torso and pry it out of you, crush it underfoot, and insert a new secret. A better secret. His secret.

Floyd finishes inside of you with a husky, satisfied groan, his arms wrapped possessively around your trembling frame while you bite back bawdy moans. Jade is overcome with a loathsome chill. You have never belonged to him. Not ever. Certainly not now.

“We should get back out there.” Your mumbling reaches his ears, subdued in the cramped storage room. “Before someone comes looking.”

“Don’t wanna. S’warm and cozy inside.”

“Floyd…” Greedy hands are roaming beneath your shirt. You squirm, attempting to pull yourself off of his softening cock, but he yanks you against his chest and holds firm. “We can do this again later. But right now I need to clean up and you have to work. If we take too long, someone will definitely come looking.”

Floyd rolls his eyes, unwilling to acquiesce until yellow crosses yellow. For a strained moment Jade holds his brother’s inquisitive stare, investigating his blank expression for an iota of emotion. The air stales between the both of them, unspoken accusations festering. And then Floyd’s dull hues brighten and a wide smirk blossoms on his lips.

“Fine, fine. We’ll get back to work now.”

An apocalypse rages within Jade’s terrarium heart.

ii. when he turns to the shards for a solution, the image that is offered is weak and hazy. if he is to live without his other half, he must find ways to fill in the blanks. and so it is said that the lonesome monops clutched the largest shard in a resolute fist and cut away the impression of his other half.

In some cases, Jade is Floyd’s shadow, a reasonable body double who is admired for his patience and persistence. Sometimes he’s the collar and the leash; other times he is meticulously unrestrained. Everything is an act, carefully curated for unsuspecting audiences. Floyd is all physical destruction. He is swift like a clean cut, devastating like a tsunami.

For the first time in a while, Jade cannot bear the face he sees in the mirror. It doesn’t feel like it belongs to him, for it is a reflection of Floyd. It’s a permanent reminder that the two of them are linked whether or not he fancies that. But Jade does not want to be the collar and the lash, nor does he wish to recall the day Floyd took yet another precious thing from him. This face is proof that even he cannot have anything for himself. It is evidence that he is bound to share and share and share until death. He will remain as the shadow, the dark, the salt, and the night for all of eternity, a two-faced creature lacking a true identity.

Neither of them addresses the elephant in the room. If Floyd shows any indication that he wants to bring it up, Jade sweeps the topic away before it can poison his mood. He knows as well as Jade does that it’s not worth bickering over, even if their hackles raise whenever they look at each other.

So Floyd’s been fucking you in the storage room. What’s so traumatic about that? Really, it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but the image still persists in his head like a ruthless phantom. He’s left lying awake at night, sifting through that memory and the ones that came before it for any inkling of what went wrong. Was it his own patience that cost him? Was it the fact that Floyd could charm you in ways Jade just couldn’t?

They have the same face. So why did you choose to love his other half?

Without Floyd, Jade feels incomplete. That’s his family—his only brother. He shouldn’t hate his kin, but he can’t just sit with envy and frustration and pretend as if it’s okay.

The mirror reflects his grim countenance, sneering at him with troubling familiarity. Cracks spiderweb along the length of the glass, extending outwards from where his fist landed. Pain sparks beneath bruising knuckles, masterfully hidden under the pristine fabric of a pure-white glove.

The terrarium is filling with foul things, and Jade doesn’t have enough control to stop the invasion.

— — —

“It’s been really slow today, hasn’t it?” you ask, looking to Jade for his input.

“I’ll admit it’s unusually quiet.” He glances at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He’s tired, but it hardly shows. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, not at all! I welcome the break. Still… It’s weird. Mostro Lounge almost always has lots of customers.”

“I suppose it’s less work for us.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Heaving a relieved sigh, you rest your elbows on the counter, content to watch the few patrons lingering in the lounge. Jade’s eyes travel along the length of your back, over the the dip and swoop of your spine when you bend forward, and he’s immediately brought back to the day he discovered you and Floyd in the storage room.

“I’ve got it!” you announce moments later, lighting up like a bulb. “The reason it’s so quiet.”

“Oh?” He raises a brow, feigning ignorance.

“It’s because Floyd’s not here. Everything’s super lively when he’s around.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. It’s a shame he’s not scheduled today. Oh, but it’s not so bad when it’s just the two of us. We’re a good team!”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“I’m happy we can talk like this. It feels like we never have the chance to speak during work and I’m always worried I’ll bother you if I try to start a conversation.”

“You couldn’t possibly bother me.” Jade pauses to ruminate on his thoughts before adding, “Well, you were awfully troublesome in the beginning. Ah, don’t look so upset. I’m only admitting my feelings.”

“Am I still troublesome?” You cross your arms over your chest, pouting.

You are. Very much so, I’m afraid.

“I tolerate you now.”

“That doesn’t sound any better!”

Jade chuckles. “It’s merely constructive criticism. Take it in stride.”

“Ugh. You’re the worst.” Despite that, a smile creeps onto your face.

It’s the same smile you show Floyd, so therefore it has no meaning. It’s not special.

Jade abhors it. He should be the one in that storage room with you. It should be Jade who touches and lavishes you with filthy praise before inevitable destruction. Consolation before bruises and bite marks. Sugar before salt. Love before lust.

You can’t possibly fit in his make-believe terrarium now—not when your heart lies with Floyd. Just what is his brother to you? What do you possibly see in him that you fail to see in Jade? They are the same. They are mirror images of one another. There is no difference.

So why won’t you look at him with admiration in your eyes? Eyes he’ll gouge out for beholding another man. Why won’t you kiss him in secret? Lips he’ll sew shut for touching a mouth that isn’t his. Why won’t you beckon him into that cursed storage room and pull him flush against you, joining together in bodily matrimony? A body he’ll cage to prevent it from fleeing. Why can’t you love him until the very feeling is leaking from your pores? Leaking like the blood that will run far and red when he transplants his love into your chest. Why must you associate yourself with the other half—the better half? 

The half that’s won.

It doesn’t matter if Floyd’s willing to share. Jade isn’t feeling charitable. He doesn’t want to cut you up into tiny shreds and share. You’re for his enjoyment. This is a non-negotiable fact.

Perhaps he’s the worst just as you claimed. Because if he was the best he’d have you. Because if he was the best he wouldn’t feel the need to mourn a gutting loss. Because if he was the best he wouldn’t feel the need to fall back on a nasty trump card. But when fair play fails, one must resort to sordid schemes in order to secure victory. You can’t expect to climb the corporate ladder without stepping on a few rotted rungs in the ascent, courtesy of those who came before.

It’s fine if he plays dirty. After all, his feelings have never been defined by purity.

“You seem tired. Would you like me to fetch you something to drink?”

“Mm, yeah. Could you? I’d hate to trouble you.”

“It’s not a problem. Will tea be suitable?”

“Sure. I could go for chamomile. I heard you’re great at making tea, so I know it’ll be good.”

“I still have much to learn, but I’m flattered you hold me in such pleasant regard.”

“I doubt you could ever fail. You’re always succeeding. I’m actually kinda jealous. How are you so good at—oh! Someone needs me at table three. Be right back.”

Jade nods, replaying your words in a loop. I doubt you could ever fail. You’re always succeeding. But he has failed. He’s failed and it’s eating him alive because you’re so close and yet out of his reach.

You spread your wings like a good social butterfly and abandon your place at the counter. Jade’s left to prepare your tea in peace. He chooses from the vast selection lining the wall—chamomile just as you suggested—and goes through the motions of filling the kettle with fresh water. He’s working on a time limit here, so he withdraws his magic pen, mutters the proper incantation, and waits for the telltale hiss. Even though he would like to prepare it with the utmost care, he must be hasty and stealthy if he wants to slip the special ingredient in without garnering unwanted attention.

Luckily, you’re trapped in a conversation with a friend and won’t be returning to his side anytime soon. That’s another trait he’s learned about you. Just like Floyd, you adore chatting. It’s not difficult to hold a conversation with you, especially when you’re the one leading it. You shine when you speak. He needs to snuff you before anyone else comes to seek your light.

Perhaps it’s this intoxicating quality of yours that caught Floyd’s heart. Jade can’t quite ascertain when he started looking at you from less-than-friendly angles or what the exact catalyst for your relationship with his twin was. It must have begun as a wicked fascination. An innate curiosity with the surface and its humans. How else could Floyd have fallen for you if he rarely spoke with you? Was it your strengths that earned his approval? Was it your humanity that left him impressed?

It’s not fair, but Jade won’t whine about it. He’s not a child. Whining won’t solve anything.

He must love you until you shatter.

The kettle whistles, thus yanking him from his innermost contemplations. He lifts it, minding the burning surface, and pours the water into a porcelain cup. Steam rises and furls like wispy, ghostly fingers. He could keep the vial hidden in his pocket and serve you a normal cup of chamomile. But the situation isn’t normal and he can’t just charm you as he normally would.

That didn’t work, so he must cross that method off his list and resort to what’s next. It��s only natural to fight for the thing you cherish most, so he shall do just that.

If Floyd hasn’t broken you yet, he certainly will.

You’re back at the counter just as he finishes stirring it in with the now darkening, tea-tainted water. Jade hands it to you, reminding you that it’s still hot. It’s an empty warning. He couldn’t care less if the liquid scorches your tongue. Let it burn, he thinks, his eyes narrowed as he watches you blow on it so it’ll cool faster. Perhaps then you’ll stop tangling your tongue with him.

Sometimes love is as unforgiving as the deep sea, turbulent and harrowing. Sometimes you must kill the one you love to truly understand the feeling—to dissect it down to the biological, scientific level.

Like always, he observes you while you drink the tea throughout the remainder of your shift. You look so sleepy, your eyelids fluttering and snapping open. You’re slipping; he can see it. Jade wonders what face you might show him later—what emotion will reflect in fragile eyes.

He knows it won’t be love, but that doesn’t stop him from hoping.

iii. separated from his other half, monops is unrecognizable—a hollow monster who has lost fractions of his humanity in a selfish effort to dispose of unnatural characteristics. he cannot hope to find his own personality amidst the mess in his tower, so he sits before the broken, bloodied shards once again. his other half meets him there, shattered and in pieces as he stares.

You shift in your sleep, just barely breaching the surface of consciousness. Jade placed you on his bed after carrying you from the lounge to his and Floyd’s room, where he proceeded to bind your arms and gag you. You look mostly peaceful tangled in his sheets, an oblivious thing who knows nothing of the mountains he’s had to scale in order to arrive at this point—at the glorious top.

Floyd’s not here, but Jade suspects he might have already known what was coming. They’ve always known how to read the other. Maybe it’s telepathy.

Or maybe not. They’re just aware of the other’s monstrosities. That’s all there is to it.

It’s then when your eyes snap open. Jade doesn’t bother to hide the smile crawling onto his face as he watches you come to, slowly assessing your surroundings. It doesn’t take long for you to start struggling once you’ve registered the tie binding your wrists together and the gag shoved into your mouth. Your voice comes out muffled, but your nostrils are flaring. Your eyes are widening. He can smell your fear—taste it on the tip of his tongue.

It prickles his skin, sets it on fire.

Jade sits primly at the edge of Floyd’s bed, content to study you from a distance. You’re writhing desperately in an attempt to loosen the restraints. He’s tied them well. It’s a technique mastered and put into practice. You’re not getting out of this.

“You fainted.”

You startle, turning your head to look at him. The fear seems to diminish for a moment before it returns in full force. Your glassy eyes are pleading: Why?

“It’s not wise to overwork yourself. You should prioritize your health more.”

Oh, is this it? Are those tears? Already? When he hasn’t even done anything to you yet? Have you really been this weak all along?

You try to talk despite the gag, and the attempt is so pitiful that Jade crosses over to tug it down from your mouth. Saliva strings from the gag. Messy.

“Jade! What the hell?! Why am I tied up? Why am I in your room?”

He frowns. “I’ll admit I’m rather…displeased.” He could unleash the torrent right now, but he won’t. Not yet. “Perhaps you might know why my mood has soured?”

“I… What? Is this because I fainted? Look, I’m sorry. I’ll take better care of myself. Please don’t make this a big deal.”

He tilts his head, confused. “I don’t quite care that you fainted.” He seizes your chin and forces you to meet his mismatched hues. “I care about the company you keep.”

“The company I keep? I don’t understand. What are you—”

“Give it some thought.” His fingers dig into your cheeks. Hard.

You yelp, attempting to pull away. He doesn’t release you. “I don’t know what you mean! Seriously, what’s all of this about? Did I do something wrong? Please… Please let me go.”

“You’re getting there.” He lessens the pressure on your jaw. “Come now. You’re so close.”

“Jade, please—”

“This is regarding your involvement with my brother,” he begins, and horror settles on your face. “Ah, so you are following. Wonderful.”

“Did you… Did you see us?”

“More than I ever wanted to see, yes.” He smiles thinly and releases you. “I thought it was such a dreadful, ugly thing to behold. My own kin lusting after the only thing I’ve ever loved to such a degree.” He swipes a faux tear from his eye. His voice drops to a threateningly low decibel next, and darkness passes over his features. He looks scarily grotesque. “It made me so ill. Seeing you in that closet with Floyd… Watching you talk to Azul—to everyone else—makes me so ill. I fondly contemplated the most troubling things.”

“W-What?”

“It truly is a conundrum.” He sighs as if unloading a heavy burden. “To feel so strongly for something that even love and hate become one and the same… I want nothing more than to strangle you whenever I see you with Floyd, with Azul, with anyone who isn’t me. I want to cut into your torso and make you suffer tenfold for what I’ve had to endure.” His fingers curl around your ankles, sliding down to reach your shoes. He unties the laces, sliding both from your feet. And then he’s grasping them, rubbing circles into your soles. “I want you to look at me no matter what, even when you’re a shredded, bloodied mess.”

“You… You’re joking, r-right?”

“Am I?” He smiles again, but it’s wider this time. Exhilarated. Excited. “Should we see who’s laughing when I sever your feet at the ankles? He peels your socks off next, tossing them over his shoulder. “Do you think that’s a fitting punishment?”

“Fuck no! You’re insane!”

He hums his acknowledgement and reaches for your skirt. Your heart drops into your stomach, every muscle tightening with raw terror. Instinctively, you kick out at him. Your foot slams into his chest. If it hurts, he doesn’t let it show.

“Don’t you dare touch me, you creep! Stay the fuck away!” By the third kick, he catches your foot. And he stares at it. Quietly. Expressionlessly. There is nothing in his face. That horrifies you. “Jade… Jade, I’m sorry. Can we please… Can you please stop this?”

“Am I truly that undesirable? You would rather have Floyd than me?”

“Yes, of course! Floyd’s not a fucking pervert like you!”

Jade’s laughter is sudden and short. It trembles through him like an earthquake. “Forgive me. It was so funny I just had to chuckle.” A smug smile takes up residence on his face. “Do you really think Floyd is so pure? That he’s the perfect partner all humans dream of?”

“He didn’t outright admit to wanting to murder me so, uh, yeah, he’s much better than your crazy ass!”

Jade squeezes your foot once before setting it down on the bed. He crawls over you, his hands snaking up your thighs. “That’s a shame. You’ll think differently soon enough. He just hasn’t given you reason to fear him yet.”

“I highly doubt—hey! Don’t touch there!” You struggle again, your breath coming in short, helpless huffs. “Let go of me. Please. Jade, let go…” Your voice trails off, spotted with distress.

His hand settles over your clothed pussy next. Two fingers press up against that sacred spot, tracing the area experimentally. “This is that warm and cozy place, yes?” You shake your head at him, lips trembling. He smirks, vicious and mean, and strokes slow, soothing lines up and down the outline. “Is it your safe day? Ah, but perhaps love is stronger than medicine. Stronger than all of the filth Floyd’s emptied in you. What do you think?”

“No… No, stop!”

“It really did sicken me—the thought of you and Floyd. Together. Forever. If you were to fall pregnant, I’d have to take a textbook to your stomach. The alchemy textbook. That one would inflict the most damage, you see,” he admits with a pleasant hum. He watches the spreading wet patch with predatory glee before gazing back at you. “But you’re not pregnant, right?”

“I’m not! I’m not!” You gasp when his fingers dip into the waistband of your panties, harshly tugging them from your skin. And then his fingers are inching towards your pussy. “What are you—stop! No, no, no! Floyd! Floyd, help!” You squirm beneath him, kicking and screaming. “Floyd! Floyd, help me! Please! Anyone—someone—please help!”

A shadow passes over your face for a second before his hand comes down upon your mouth to silence your incessant shrieks. Your sobs are softer now, each plea spoken into his palm. Jade exhales slowly, composing himself.

“You’ve said his name more than enough. Say it any more and I’m afraid I’ll have to remedy this bad habit. Just how much do you value your tongue, I wonder?”

Before you can even think of struggling further, he’s switching the positions. Sitting back against the headboard, he tugs you onto his lap. You try to get away from him, but he holds you steady. The gag is fastened around your mouth once more, tighter this time.

“Now, now. You’re not going to escape, so there’s no point in exhausting your energy. Pointless pursuits are never rewarded,” he chides, tutting. He pulls his magic pen from his pocket and flicks it in the air once. A mirror materializes, displaying your disturbed expression in the glass.

Your mind blanks out then, logic overridden with the intrinsic desperation to survive. Is that really you looking back? It can’t be. The (Name) you know has never looked this fearful. Her face has never been this warped with panic.

But then you feel something stiff prodding you from behind, and the horror triples. You squirm again, much more forceful, sobbing into the gag and shaking your head as if that will earn you a sliver of sympathy from him. He continues to hold you against him with one arm while the other reaches to pull himself free from the confines of his pants and boxers.

“We have the same face, so there’s no need to cry. If it really helps, just think of me as Floyd,” he teases, and it sickens you. Makes you feel so gross and filthy. You want to step out of your skin, travel to a place that isn’t here, disappear into the tile and never return. Tears trace down your cheeks in salty rivulets. You can only produce blubbery whimpers now. His erect cock curves up towards your stomach. Jade lifts your skirt to get a better view. The mirror reflects it all in crisp detail. “What do you think? Is it bigger than his?”

His knuckles trace your cheek, uncharacteristically tender.

“It will seem that way when it’s inside, won’t it?”

In response you shift in his lap, tugging at the tie tightly secured around your wrists, and he merely chuckles. It’s delightful, really, the way you move like captured prey. Your chest heaves when the fleshy head of his cock presses shallowly inside your pussy, sampling wet warmth. You pray it’ll end fast. You pray he’ll be gentle. You pray he’ll skin you alive so you’ll never have to spend another second in this body. Anything but this.

Jade doesn’t grant either of those prayers, for he lifts you up slightly, aims for home, and slams you down in one brutal thrust that punches the air from your lungs. You choke on your tongue, biting down so hard that your teeth split the skin on the inside of your cheek. Blood pools into your mouth. It stings, but nothing hurts more than the unwanted intrusion. Shamelessly, much to your horror, your walls affix to him in an attempt to accommodate his girth. Without intending to, you catch yourself in the mirror. The stretch is sinful, your pussy wrapped snugly around him, and he’s slotted all the way to the hilt.

It’s torture for you.

It’s a twisted relief for Jade. A triumphant euphoria.

He exhales a shaky breath, his lips peeling apart to reveal a row of sharp teeth. In the mirror he looks every bit the predator he’s meant to be: cruel and cutthroat, staking claim on a stolen prize. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips as he rocks you up and down, occasionally bucking his hips to meet your soft, plush ass.

“It’s strange,” he manages through his grunts and groans, his breath hot on your nape, “I imagined this would feel more gratifying than any other gruesome thrill. Mm, but it’s not—” he slams you down again, reveling in your muffled wailing, “not nearly enough.”

Your eyes, wet with tears, question his reflection. You watch with bated breath as he slides your collar away, leaning in to press his lips to your neck. Your pulse stutters in his mouth, a jittery, fearful thing.

He inhales the pungent scent of sweat and sex, the scent of your fear, the scent of himself on you. From head to toe, externally and internally, you are covered in him, wrapped around him, molded to his very shape. You’ve gone stiff in his arms, too frightened to move a single muscle, but it only serves to excite him more. He needs to bear witness to all of it—to every inch of you, stripped bare and wired with anxiety.

Needle-thin teeth prick your skin. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Does it hurt?”

Despairing and hopeless, you deflate against him. Your body shakes with every sob.

It hurts. It hurts so much. More than anything has ever hurt before. And Jade knows this because he isn’t gentle. He has no interest in being sweet. He bites to harm. To kill. To destroy.

Jade sinks in deep: his teeth in your throat and his cock in your guts. And it hurts.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs, his lips slick and spattered with crimson when he pulls away, breathing heavily. “I’m so pleased…”

The blood just won’t stop. It’s flowing in rivers, cascading down the juncture between neck and shoulder and staining your clothes. Did he bite something major? Oh God—are you going to bleed out? Are you going to die? Did he get that one artery—the throat artery—the whatever-the-fuck-it’s-called artery? Is that even possible? Why won’t the blood stop? Why do you feel so fuzzy—so faint? It really won’t stop. It’s an ocean.

It’s everywhere.

Jade pinches you to bring you back to yourself; his nails prick your thigh, imprinting crescent moons in skin, and it works. You surface, taking in big gulps of oxygen while your heart skips over itself. You can’t drift off even if you wanted to; your reflection is much too haunting, destroyed and debased in every possible way. It grounds you in reality, digs deeply.

“Pain is the most thrilling form of love. You’ve taught me something new. Thank you.”

From behind, peering over your shoulder, his reflection grins at you. Wildly untamed and blood-stained, he’s manic. Unhinged. Uncaged. His pupils are so large they nearly eclipse his heterochromatic irises, rendering both eyes beady and black. Two pits of a molten void—a starless outer space.

He looks just like Floyd.

[captainsophiestark]

Crib Construction

Cassian x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: ACOTAR

Summary: Cassian and his mate have been tasked with putting together Nyx's crib. Unfortunately, it's a harder task than they thought it would be.

Word Count: 1,282

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Cass, come here. Does this look right?"

My boyfriend didn't waste a second before joining me on the floor, kneeling behind me and looking over my shoulder. Neither of us spoke for a minute, then I heard a rustling of paper as Cassian sighed.

"Yeah, it looks right. That hasn't stopped it from being wrong before, though."

"Well, let's just hope for the best."

I could feel through the mating bond just how little Cassian wanted to do that, but he knew as well as I did that we didn't have much other choice. I took a deep breath, then gently pressed the two pieces of wood before me together, trying to get them to link like they were supposed to.

Of course, it didn't work. I added slightly more pressure, but still nothing. I put my entire weight and all of my strength into it, and when the damn thing still didn't budge, I let out a scream and shoved both pieces away from me before I could really lose my temper and accidentally break something.

"This is bullshit!" I shouted, whirling around to face Cassian. He had a look of grim resignation, meeting my eyes with sympathy. Our positions had been exactly reversed about ten minutes ago. "Rhys set this up as a way to get back at you for winning the snowball fight last time, and I'm getting caught in the collateral. This sucks."

"Honestly, maybe he did," Cass said, sighing and leaning back on his hands. "Or maybe Az did something to break this one too before he got kicked off the job."

I groaned, flopping over and into Cassian's side to lay against his chest and stare at the ridiculous contraption that had been defeating us all afternoon. Rhys and Feyre had asked us to assemble Nyx's crib, and at first, we'd been honored and happy to help. But hours later, when nothing was going right and none of the pieces were fitting together the way they were supposed to, I was about ready to throw all of it out the window and into the Sidra below.

We'd been given the task in the first place because Az had shattered the same type of crib to pieces after spending a day being stumped by the puzzle. Cassian and I had inherited the task for our ability to keep each other calm, and because we were generally less destructive when continually frustrated by a puzzle. This crib was about to ruin that reputation.

"Okay, maybe we should just start over from the beginning," I said, sitting up and turning to face Cassian after our brief rest. "Like, take everything apart and lay it all out on the floor again, then start back from step one."

Cassian groaned. "Honestly, I hate that idea. But what we're already doing clearing isn't working, so..."

"So let's try it. Deep breaths, and then a total reset. A fresh start."

"...Alright. Let's do it."

With a lot of heavy sighing, Cassian and I took apart what little progress we'd made, separating the crib back into its individual parts, the way it had come. Once we got it all laid out again, I took the instruction manual from Cass and laid that out in front of us, too. With one last deep breath, we started in again at step one on page one.

I wish I could say this attempt went better. But it didn't. Cassian and I almost destroyed the whole thing Az-style in a fit of frustration three times each, one of us barely managing to pull the other back every time. We were just lucky our destructive streaks never lined up, or the pieces of the crib before us would've already become nothing more than a pile of ash.

"Alright, that's it!" Cass finally shouted, standing up abruptly from where we'd been trying to wrestle together the corners of the crib with no luck, despite using both our strength at once. "I'll be right back."

"What?" I flung my arms out to either side of me as Cassian headed for the door. "You're abandoning me? Seriously?"

"Not abandoning! Changing tactics."

Before I could ask for clarification, Cassian was out the door. I stared after him, waiting for him to reappear or say he was kidding or something, but he didn't. I huffed, then shook my head and turned back to the crib, its pieces still mostly laid out on the floor.

I sat there and stared at the pieces for a few long beats, contemplating my next move. Honestly, I'd just about decided to throw them out the window and tell Rhys the thing'd never been here when the door came swinging open again.

I turned to find Cassian striding towards me, the confidence and determination back in his step. I raised an eyebrow at him, but he just grinned.

"I've solved all our problems."

I snorted, but smiled at Cassian all the same as he came to a stop before me. The fact that he'd managed to make me laugh at all in the middle of this nonsense was exactly why we were mates, and it made me love him even more.

"Cass, you know I love you, and you know I trust you, but... I'm having a hard time seeing how that could possibly be true. Unless you convinced Mor to take over for us...?"

"No, but just as good." I raised an eyebrow, and Cassian's grin widened as he dropped down next to me. Slowly, from behind his back, he pulled out a hammer, tape, and a few other supplies.

I just stared at everything for a moment, then snorted and leanded into Cassian. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

"Babe... we can't use that stuff to put this crib together."

"Why not?"

"Because it won't be sturdy enough! We don't want it to give out while the baby's in it. We both know we can't risk that."

Cassian hummed, rocking forward just enough to get a few of the pieces of the crib into his hands. He lined them up like we'd been doing all day, then raised the hammer in his other hand.

"Maybe you're right about the tape," he said. "But all we need to fix this is a little extra power. We can't force it together with our strength alone, so we'll use a hammer."

"Cass-"

Before I could get another word out, Cassian swung the hammer. I could see him putting his full Illyrian strength into it, and sure enough, the pieces whacked together. Unfortunately for us, they also splintered into more pieces than would be fixable, even with tape.

Cassian and I just stared at the wreckage for a moment, neither of us speaking. Cassian was the one to break first.

"Shit."

I laughed, all the stress and ridiculousness of the past few hours disappearing along with our hopes of actually succeeding at our task. I leaned into Cassian, and a moment later, he joined me.

"Well, that didn't go like I was hoping," sighed Cassian. I laughed again.

"Really? That's not what you were going for?"

"Not quite."

We shared a smile, then slumped back together, Cassian's arm around my waist as I leaned into his chest. I sighed, staring at the ruins of the crib before us. Not a single part of me wanted to do something about fixing it.

"So... how about we call Mor and find a way to pass this on to her?"

I laughed, then nodded as I leaned even further into Cassian.

"Baby, I was thinking the same thing. You, me, and Az have had to tear our hair out over this thing already, I think it's her turn."

"And even better, if any of us has to call Amren in, it'll be Mor."

"Exactly."

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Maasverse Taglist: @lilah-asteria

[ghostboneswrites2]

A Mess || Part 8

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring everything here starting with this series since it was the most popular!

A/N: this is not the last part I promise

Summary: You finally make it to the town you set out for all those days ago. Feelings get shared when you find a place to stay for the night.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, suggestive

        "Can't believe we left the map." Daryl shook his head as he drove. He finally got one of the cars working, though it had a strong gasoline smell as he drove it. 

        "You were in charge of it." You pointed out.

        "Don;t need it anyhow." He defended. Men and their pride when it came to directions never ceased to amuse you. "Should be 'bout thirty minutes up this road. We can load up some while we're there, get gas, hole up of the night, and loot s'more before we head back tomorrow."

        "Sounds great." You agreed. "If I have to go one more day without a shower I'm gonna kill someone."       

        "Can barely fight a walker off of ya. Who you gonna kill?" He teased.

        "I was distracted." You defended.

        "With what? The view?" He retorted. Well, yes, but you couldn't tell him that.

        "Whatever." You grumbled, crossing your arms and turning your attention out of the window.

        It wasn't long before the town you two originally set out for rolled into view. You spent an hour looting an old thrift store for some clothes and random things you thought the prison could use. Board games, soaps, hairbrushes, plates and bowls, you name it. If they had it, you took it. Next was the pawnshop for guns and ammo, which were pretty sparse but they did have some good knives and machetes. You also found an old DVD player and some movies that you thought might be nice for Carl or something. Daryl focused more on equipment. Golf clubs, tools, lawn equipment for when everyone started working on the garden.

        On your way out of the pawnshop with your load of treasure, you noticed a flyer on the window. 'MONTHLY FOOD DRIVE - DELIVER ALL GOODS TO 227 PINEBLUFF CT DR'

        "Hey, check this out." You called Daryl over. He squinted as he read it.

        "C'mon. Town's small. Can't be too hard to find."

----

        It wasn't hard to find. It was a church, of course. Wasn't hard to clear the place out, either. Just the pastor and a few ladies stumbling around. They had a bunch of canned goods stored in an office, which you and Daryl happily loaded up in the car.

        "Think this is a good spot to crash for the night?" You asked him. 

        "Nah. Windows are all busted. We'll find a little house or somethin." He said.

        So, when you guys were done with the church, you drove around for a little while, siphoning gas from random vehicles and searching for a house suitable for the night. He settled on a little blue house, with a fenced in front and back yard. He reasoned the fencing was good added protection.  Plus, the windows looked to be in tact and overall the place looked untouched.

        There weren't any walkers inside, but there also wasn't any food. There was, however, running water. Whoever these people were, they ran their house off filtered rain water. 

        While Daryl was working on blocking all the exits off with furniture and nailing blankets over the windows so nothing could see inside, you opted for a shower. It wasn't hot since the house had no power, but damn was it nice to feel clean. Well, as clean as you could get with no soap, anyways. The towels were all dusty, so you drip dried when you got out. When you were dry enough you slid into the extra outfit you packed, and found your way back out to Daryl. He had the house as safe as he could get it by then.

        "All yours." You told him.

        "Nah." He shrugged.

        "Uh, you smell like a biohazard." You insisted. He glared.

        "Yeah, shoulda smelled yourself. By day two in that tree house you were chokin' flies." He shot back.

        "And, would ya look at that, I showered!" You sneered. He huffed a little breathy laugh and shook his head as he grabbed his bag and disappeared to the shower.

        You were hungry, so you decided to light the gas stove and heat up a can of Campbell's chunky beef stew for the two of you to share. By the time it was done, he was out, so the two of you ate in silence before tossing the emtpy can and borrowed spoon in the sink.

        "It's not even dark yet." You commented.

        "Yeah. Best to get to bed early. We can head out first thing, make it back home by tomorrow night." He reasoned.

        "Guess so." You agreed.

        "Guess? You don't wanna get back?" He questioned.

        "And give up our quality bonding time?" You joked. He scoffed and shook his head. Damn, you were a smartass. 

        "'S that what ya call it?"

        "Yup. What else would it be?"

        "Thought we were stranded on an island." He recalled.

        "Oh, that. No, I was just hungry." You shrugged. "Never take me seriously when I'm hungry. I become a different person, really."

        He rolled his eyes a little. "Still wanna play that game?" He asked.

        "What game?"

        "Twenty questions."

        "Twenty-one questions, Dixon." You corrected. "And sure. You go first."

        "Alright." He nodded, pondering for a moment. He had a million questions he could ask, but somehow they felt too personal. Did you miss Shane? Were you ready to move on? Did you like him, or were you just a tease? Why did you always pick on him? Was it the same reason he always picked at you and gave you shit? "How ya like the shoes?"

        "They're good." You nodded. "I love them. Thanks again. Uh.." You thought for a second. "How long do you wanna grow your hair out?"

        "I dunno." He shrugged. "What'd ya like to do before the world went to shit?"

        "Hmm... Paint, listen to music, go go out and eat my weight in food from little hole in the wall restaurants." You recalled. "What kind of music do you like?"

        "Whatever was on the radio." He said. "You plan on movin' on?"

        That was an okay question to ask, right? He broke the ice pretty well, he thought, with the rapid fire Q&A flying between the two of you. He realized maybe not, though, because you seemed to really take your time with that one.

        "Don't see why not." You finally said. "I mean, he would, right? As long as I thought I found someone who would treat me right... Are you seeing anyone right now?"

        You asked the question so casually but it choked him up. He felt so naked, like a chicken with all its feathers plucked off one by one.

        "No." He cleared his throat. "Nah."

        Uncomfortable silence blanketed over the two of you.

        "Your turn." You reminded him.

        "Oh. Are you?"

        "Am I..?"

        "Seein' anyone." He clarified. You giggled a little.

        "No. But I have met someone. Real nice guy, actually. He gets me gifts and teases the hell out of me,  but I think he'd do just about anything for me." You smiled to yourself. He had to know you were talking about him, right? Wrong. He was clueless. Right over his head. He admittedly felt sad to hear it. Who was this guy? He kind of sounded like everything Daryl tried to be for you. "Do you like anyone?" You asked, taking him out of his swirling thoughts.

        "Nah." He shrugged. A lie, but everything he had tried to work up to was washed away when you said you met someone.

        "Oh." You said, slight sadness hinting in your voice. "Your turn." You reminded him again.

        "Who's the guy?" He asked.

        "Oh, you don't know him." You waved him off. If you could slap yourself, your would. What kind of lie was that? He knew everyone. There were literally less than ten of you if you didn't count the baby. 

        "Oh? Some kind o' pen or somethin'?" He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Then it hit him; you were talking about him. That's why it sounded like everything Daryl tried to be for you, because it was him. "Oh." He blurted quietly.

        Your face felt like it drained of blood completely. Well, way to completely humiliate yourself around the only real friend you had, huh?

        "You okay?" He asked.

        "Yeah." You nodded, forcing a smile, but your voice was sort of meek and squeaky. You shook it off, reminding yourself that you were, in fact, not the type to falter under pressure. This would be no different. So what if you liked him and he didn't feel the same? You could get past that. It was nothing--

        "(Y/N)." He snapped you out of your thoughts. 

        "Hmm?"

        "You asked if I like someone..." He trailed as he shifted uncomfortably.

        "Yeah?"

        "It's just -- I do, but... How do I know she likes me too?" 

        He didn't make eye contact as he asked. In fact, he looked quite literally everywhere except at you.

        "You just... ask. And if you don't wanna ask... Make your move." You shrugged.

        "Right." He nodded.

        Well, that conversation had gotten awkward enough for you, so you figured that was a good place to end it. You cleared your throat and stood up.

        "I'm gonna go choose a bed." You announced.

        You went to walk past where he sat on the couch but he stood up abruptly and cut you off.

        You looked up at him with confusion. What did he want? Your nerves were eating away at you and you were honestly pretty tired. You shifted your weight anxiously.

        "Daryl--" You went to complain about it but he had other plans. He gripped your arms firmly and smashed his face into yours. Like, actually smashed. It hurt. "Ow." You mumbled as you rubbed over your mouth. He gulped. It was supposed to be a kiss. Was he always so clumsy?

        "Sorry, I--"

        "Were you trying to kiss me?" You asked. He just stared at you. "'Cause, I gotta tell ya,you could really work on your technique." You smirked. 

        When he remained frozen, you began to feel bad for teasing him. He clearly had no idea what to do now. His hands were even still rested on your arms.

        "Here, let me show you." You whispered. You reached up for his face, his hands sliding softly off of your arms. When your palms found his checks,you tippy-toed up a couple of inches, and slowly leaned in, placing your lips softly on his. It wasn't a long, rhythmic kind of kiss. It was just simple and soft, and it lasted just a few seconds longer than a quick peck-and-go.

        His eyes were still closed when you pulled back, a tiny smile slowly spreading over your lips. When his eyes opened,he looked disappointed, like he was waiting for more. 

        He leaned down slowly, a little unsure. He was waiting for you to stop him, but you didn't. You pushed yourself back up on your toes o close the gap and snaked your arms around his neck. This time, it was deeper. You slowly moved your lips, allowing him to find the rhythm and synchronise. When he felt a little more confident, his hands gripped your hips and he quickened the pace.

        Slowly, he eased you down onto the couch. You gladly followed his lead. When you were comfortably seated, his lips peeled away and his kisses found their way down from your cheek to your neck to your collarbone. Oh, this was going to get good.

A/N: next part will be spicy ;)

Masterlist || Taglist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader

((I didn't use the tags in all the one shots I just transferred cause I didn't wanna hit you guys with like 348827502720 notifications in one day))

[comfortzonequeen]

Under Starlit Skies

Summary: A story where reader and Austin Butler are working together on a romantic movie, and while filming, their on-screen chemistry starts to blur the lines with their real-life feelings for each other?

Warning: N\A

Y/N L/N and Austin Butler were cast as leads in a romantic drama, a project everyone in Hollywood was buzzing about. The movie, "Under Starlit Skies", was about two people who meet by chance during a magical evening and slowly fall in love. Their characters, deeply intertwined in emotion, had undeniable chemistry from the very first table read. But what no one anticipated was that this chemistry would spill into their real lives.

Day 1 on Set

The first day of shooting took place in a beautiful, secluded vineyard just outside of Napa Valley. The scene required Y/N and Austin to share a quiet, intimate moment under the stars. As they rehearsed the lines, the glow of the moonlight and the warmth of the nearby campfire set a calming tone.

"You're really good at this," Austin complimented, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim light.

Y/N smiled, feeling a slight flutter in her chest. "Thanks. I could say the same about you."

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, effortlessly bouncing off each other's energy. The crew was watching closely, captivated by how easily they seemed to connect. Even the director, a veteran of countless love stories, was impressed. "Cut! Perfect take, guys. Let’s move on to the next."

But neither Y/N nor Austin was ready to walk away. They lingered, sharing a smile, before heading off to their trailers.

Late-Night Rehearsals

As the days turned into weeks, Y/N and Austin found themselves spending more time together. The demanding shooting schedule gave them little time for much else, and soon they were having late-night rehearsals in Y/N’s trailer.

"You know," Austin said one evening, leaning back on the couch, "this script is great and all, but I think we could add something more to this scene. Make it feel... real."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Like what?"

"I don't know, maybe we play with the pauses between our lines. Sometimes, when people are falling in love, it's the silence that says the most."

She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "I like that. Let's try it."

They ran through the lines again, adding subtle moments of quiet, glances that lingered a little too long, and smiles that felt all too genuine. By the end of the scene, they were sitting closer, their knees touching.

On-Set Chemistry

The director had noticed something shifting between Y/N and Austin. Their on-screen chemistry was electric, so much so that the rest of the cast began making little jokes about it.

"You two should get a room," one of the crew members teased after a particularly steamy scene.

Y/N laughed it off, but her heart raced every time she was near Austin. It was undeniable—they were growing closer. What started as friendly banter had evolved into something much deeper. Austin would make her coffee in the mornings, and she'd wait for him after they wrapped each day. Their conversations grew longer, and the silences between them, even off-camera, were comfortable, full of unspoken understanding.

The Turning Point

One evening, after filming a particularly emotional scene, Austin invited Y/N to grab dinner at a quiet little restaurant off the beaten path. The small town they were filming in didn't have much, but the ambiance of the place was perfect.

Over dinner, they talked about everything—life, work, dreams, and fears. Y/N shared stories of her childhood, and Austin opened up about his career and the pressures of being in the spotlight.

"I'm glad you're here," he said softly, his hand resting on the table near hers. "I don't think this film would've worked without you."

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. "I feel the same way. This has been... unexpected."

"Unexpected, but good?"

"Yeah. Really good."

There was a pause, the kind Austin had suggested in their rehearsal weeks ago. They held each other’s gaze, the energy between them shifting.

Austin reached across the table, gently taking Y/N’s hand. "We should stop pretending this is just for the movie."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his boldness, but the truth of his words resonated deeply. "What do we do then?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Austin’s smile was tender, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "We let it happen. No pressure. No expectations."

Balancing Work and Love

After that night, Y/N and Austin’s relationship evolved quietly. They tried to keep things professional on set, but their stolen glances and subtle touches didn’t go unnoticed by the cast and crew.

Off-set, they spent their free time exploring new cities together as the movie took them to different locations. Whether it was wandering through the streets of Paris or sipping coffee in a cozy café in Prague, they found moments to just be themselves, away from the public eye.

The intensity of their work on-screen bled into their real-life connection, but they both knew the importance of keeping things balanced. They supported each other, Austin showing up to set early to cheer her on during difficult scenes, and Y/N being a grounding presence when the weight of fame bore down on him.

The Premiere

When "Under Starlit Skies" premiered, the media couldn’t get enough of KC and Austin. Their chemistry on the red carpet was undeniable, with photographers constantly snapping pictures of them laughing together, stealing little touches, and whispering in each other’s ears.

As the movie played on the big screen, audiences were captivated by the love story, but what most didn’t realize was that the real love story had unfolded behind the scenes.

By the time the credits rolled, it wasn’t just the characters in the movie who had fallen in love. Y/N and Austin had found something real, something they hadn’t anticipated but couldn’t deny. And as they stepped out of the theater hand in hand, the world watched in awe, knowing this wasn’t just a Hollywood romance—it was the start of something beautiful.

End

Author's Note: This is my first ever imagine guys so please don't come for me. I know it's short but ...... No buts. But please feel free to tell me what you think. Been hella obsessed with AB lately.

💋😘

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, part 17

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 17: meeting the overlords

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm sure you can all imagine why I called you here," Lucifer began. "Humans are starting to put together that Full mages are not from their world. As I've stated in previous meetings, we should be revealing ourselves, not waiting to be discovered."

I scanned the face of every Overlord at the table. They were all in their Demon form, some more terrifying than others. There were eighteen Overlords in total but each one had a second hand, putting the overall count at 36 individuals. 37 if you counted the King of Hell.

"A decade ago we had decided to wait some time before revealing ourselves," one of the Overlords said. She had long white horns and huge, white clawed hands. Her eyes were blood shot red. "Why the change of heart?"

My shoulders stiffened when I realized who sat two seats down from her. The man was wearing his pink hat and jacket. It was the owner of the fighting ring who drugged me. I couldn't tell where he was looking with his glasses covering most of his face.

"We were, but then someone went crazy on the surface." The man who spoke wore a navy blue suit and had a flatscreen TV for a face. His voice sounded familiar. "Tricking them with the whole illusion magic doesn't work when you massacre them with the 'illusion'."

"I do believe you were the one who broadcasted the whole thing, old friend," Alastor didn't hesitate. "What was it you said? You're all in for a real treat, tonight?"

"It was your choice to come out the way you did. I was just doing what I do best."

"I fail to see the problem when your broadcast barely had sight of me. We all know how unreliable it can be."

"How about all the people who escaped to tell the--"

"Regardless of how or why it happened, it did," Lucifer interrupted, "and we need to decide what the next steps will be. I'd like to hear from the surface Overlords about announcing ourselves to the surface."

"Now?!" someone yelled from the other end of the table.

"Yes, now," he answered firmly. "Thanks to Alastor's incident--" radio static caught in the Radio Demon's throat "--we'll need to reveal ourselves soon. We need to set our historic record straight and keep it that way."

A moment of silence fell over everyone's head. They looked between each other with various expressions, no one quite sure what to say next. I looked at the Demons standing behind them but most of them had blank stares, revealing nothing about their own thoughts.

"Why do we need to do anything if they're going to figure it out anyways?" someone finally asked.

A woman with large pigtails sitting beside the ring owner laughed. "Do you want to stay an Overlord on the surface? Humans are notorious for killing anything that poses a threat to them."

"We have to show that Demons are more than just humans with more-than-average magic," the TV added. "If we don't, they'll hunt us down for sport. There's more of them than there are of us by a large margin."

"Why are we worrying about being hunted? Humans with Slight magic are no match for Demons." The Overlord was a huge humanoid wolf with neon colors all over.

"Humans together under a common cause are a match for Demons," the woman in white said. "It's important to set a precedent before they realize they can outman us."

"How does thy propose to accomplish such a feat?" This Demon had two sets of bright green eyes and his cloak wrapped tightly around his body.

Demons started looking between Alastor and the TV.

"A television broadcast wouldn't be a bad idea," the TV man smiled.

"Aren't we expecting to reach the entire surface? You barely cover a continent as is," Alastor challenged.

"I advance more with every passing day. It would take less than a month to have a reach all over the surface. Something that can be accomplished if your highness provides proper resources." He nodded his head to Lucifer.

"Yet I've been broadcasting to the entire surface for centuries," Alastor said. "Since the Great Collapse, radio has been the only reliable source of communication."

"Who would believe the word of a Demon who's been tormenting them for hundreds of years?" he snapped back. "People can see a Demon for themselves instead of taking your word."

"Television can be fabricated."

"A radio host can lie."

"They're both important," Lucifer interjected, "and having both can solidify what we're trying to do. Vox, I can provide the resources you need to expand. Alastor, you'll wait for my word before you broadcast." The Radio Demon's eyes narrowed in response.

"What exactly are we broadcasting?" Vox asked, seemingly bored now. He scratched at his bright blue claws. "Humans know Demons as Full mages. Are we merely changing our name?"

"Humans," Lucifer explained, "use the term Full mages to mean anyone who can control more than just the basic elements. But Full mage Humans and Demons are two different species."

"What is the difference?" the neon wolf asked. I was surprised to notice a collection of nods from the rest of the Overlords. How much of their own history did they not know?

"The main difference is that we have control over Existence magic. So dark, chrono, and cosmo magic. Humans have no control over such magic. Demons can control various advance magic, even bending and expanding it, such as technology magic." He gestured to Vox, who casted a smirk in Alastor's direction. "Humans can control very few advance magic. The most I've seen a Human control is four. Demons have access to all, though many of you know it's best to pick a few to master."

"You don't expect to share this information with Humans, do you?" the woman in white questioned. "Giving up such crucial information could lead to our ultimate downfall."

"You're right," Lucifer agreed, "That would give them too much information about us. But we need them to be aware of the difference between Human Full mages and Demons. Aside from appearances of course." He looked down the eighteen frightening faces.

"I say we tell them we can control everything," Pigtails suggested. Well, more like declared. "They'll never know. If we scare them into thinking we can master any and all elements of life, they couldn't imagine fighting against something so powerful. And appearances would just confirm it."

"What happens if they develop the technology to rival our power?" the woman in white asked.

"I don't think you'd be around to see that day," Pigtails shot at her, "And besides, we'll just keep them from getting to that point. They're all about advertising their new inventions. Riding of it and its inventor is easy."

"Thou would be foolish to not prepare for thy future." The man dressed in black with neon eyes spoke before the woman could.

Lucifer nodded. "It's something to be concerned about, but it's something to discuss only after we've revealed ourselves."

"Sooo." Vox ran his long claw across the table so it made a screeching noise. I clenched my jaw and dampened the noise. "We're telling the Humans that we can control any and every element. What happens if they get angry?"

"Surface Overlords have been up there for quite some time." Lucifer crossed his arms. "How would you handle an uprising?"

"Same way as down here," the ring owner beside Vox answered, "Fear, manipulation, and manpower."

"I would advise surface Overlords to maintain and increase this manpower." Lucifer stood from his chair. "I will contact all of you when we are ready to reveal ourselves. As for you two," he looked to Alastor and Vox, "we will speak privately about what exactly you will be broadcasting. This meeting is over."

Everyone filed out of the room within minutes. Rosie casted a smile and a small wave in my direction as she left. As she did, another woman walked in. She wore an all red suite and had long, gorgeous blonde hair. She was followed by a shorter woman who had a lot of silver hair and large red X over her eye.

The pair quickly made their way over to me, the blonde energetically introducing herself as Charlie Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer. I was speaking to Princess of Hell.

"Are you really Alastor's soulmate?" She got really close to my face. Alastor casted a glance over his shoulder at me.

"Uh, yeah."

"I can't believe it! I never thought he would have one."

"Doesn't everyone get a soulmate?"

"Demons never had soulmates until they could go to the surface. Once the portal opened they started to get them, so a lot of the old Overlords don't have one." She spoke so fast it was taking an extra effort to comprehend it all.

"Oh, I didn't know that."

"It's pretty cool if you think about it. But you have to tell me what it's like being his soulmate. Ever since I met him he's always bragged about not being chained down to a soulmate."

"Oh uh..." How do you answer a question like that? I noticed Alastor had cocked his head a little to hear better. How was he paying attention to both his conversation and this one at the same time? "He's uh...how long have you known him?"

"Well I've personally known him for only about a century, now."

"Oh. Uh...and how long have you known of him?"

"He's been a nuisance for everyone for centuries," the other girl mused.

"Interesting." I played off my sudden realization.

"So what's he like?" Charlie pressed. "He's always going on about everything just being entertainment and not getting attached to anyone."

"Oh, well, he hasn't really changed then. I didn't think I had one either, quite honestly."

"Were you really a ring fighter?" the other girl abruptly asked.

"Vaggie—"

"What?"

"I was," I answered. "Why do you ask?"

"It was just really cool to watch you fight. I saw the whole thing online. You were amazing!"

"Oh." My face grew warm. "Uh, I really didn't do well."

"Sure you did. Were you taught how to fight or did you learn it from the rings?"

"I learnt it."

"How many rings did you take down?" Charlie asked.

"I think seven? But I didn't really take them down. They started back up a week later." I folded my arms together, drawing in on myself.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Charlie put a hand on my shoulder. I looked between it and her, surprised at how friendly she was being toward me. "I know a thing or two about failure."

"Charlie..."

"It's okay Vaggie."

"What do you mean?" I gently pushed.

"I tried saving my people awhile back and it didn't really work out. I tried to redeem sinners and Demons so they could go to Heaven but...it kinda fell through."

"How come?" I turned to face her completely.

"Well, it was going alright but then the portal to the surface opened. And what was the point of being redeemed when they could relive life on the surface?"

"Oh, that's really bad timing." I was trying to wrap my head around the fact that there was a Heaven and Hell in the first place, and that the Princess of Hell was telling me she was centuries old. She seemed more like my age.

"Yeah. But I figured I would wait and try again in a different way. Reimagine it!" Her eyes widened and she looked like a little kid with a gloriously bad idea.

"I think you totally should," I agreed. "What's the harm in trying again?"

"Exxxactly!" Her smile widened even more. "And you shouldn't give up taking down those fighting rings. Who knows what kind of Demon children are stuck in them? You're the only one giving any of them hope."

My mind started to wander. "Yeah...I guess so."

"We've got to keep in touch." Charlie pulled out her phone.

"Oh, I don't have one," I said nervously.

"Pfft, of course not," Vaggie sent a glare into Alastor's back, "Someone's still in the dark age."

"Yeah, well, Husker is the only one who's got a phone. And it's a pretty old one too."

"We'll connect through him then. I already have his number in my contacts."

"You already know him?"

The two of them laughed. "He and Alastor were a part of my hotel before it went under."

I nodded slowly. Alastor was in a heated discussion with Vox and Lucifer. They were all sending shots back and forth at each other, only Alastor remained in his seat while the other two were on their feet and pointing fingers.

"Maybe give it a break and meet another time?" Charlie quickly walked over. She put a hand on her father's shoulder.

"Charlie is right, per usual." Alastor half bowed his head to her.

"Of course she is," Lucifer crossed his arms. I didn't realize how short he was until Charlie stood next to him. She was my height and yet he was shorter than her shoulders.

"Come dear," Alastor said to me as he stood, "let us go home. This has been quite a productive meeting." It sounded more sarcastic than anything. Vox tried to say something but he was glitching all over. I was shocked I didn't see any smoke coming from his television head.

Charlie and Vaggie both waved as we left. I was close on Alastor's heels until we left the palace. I took the opportunity to look around at Hell. Everything was red but it looked like a normal city. The only give away was its inhuman inhabitants.

Alastor wrapped a hand around my shoulders as we teleported back to the house. I was shocked at the temperature difference. The night had been warm when we left but now the wind was like an icy chill that went right through my bones. Alastor walked ahead but I didn't follow.

"Alastor," I called. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "I um...I'd like...I'd like you to teach me magic, again."

"Why's that?"

I wasn't expecting him to ask why. He's been pushing my training so much, why wouldn't he want me to accept it? I struggled for a response and he let the air hang silent for several moments.

"Because that's how I want the next hundred years to go," I finally said. It was true, to an extent, but I had other reasons for wanting it. Reasons I didn't want him to know.

His eyes narrowed, as if trying to detect the lie. He smiled wide so his yellow teeth showed. "A wise choice, my dear."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Lots of dialogue and information but much needed! Looks like things are going to start turning around for us. Feel free to ask questions or leave any comments. I love interacting with you all!

[thegingerwrites]

Thinking about her… (obikin Ella Enchanted au, I just rewatched it last night)

I think the fic itself starts off after Maul attacks Mandalore and Obi-Wan goes to stop him. He fails as a result of his “gift”—Maul tells him to stand and watch as he kills Satine. Obi-Wan returns to the Temple distraught and he begs Yoda for the chance to leave the frontlines to go off and find a way to break his curse. Yoda decides to do him one better.

“No,” Obi-Wan says, hardly looking up from his travel preparations. The idea is unthinkable. Anakin cannot be here.

“I’m coming with you. Master Yoda approved it and everything.” Anakin sets himself down in the pilot’s seat like he has any idea where they’re going.

They are not going anywhere.  This must some kind of mistake.

“And did Master Yoda tell you anything about what this mission entailed?” Obi-Wan asks, feeling a headache coming on, a tension welling up behind his eyes. Master Yoda is the only one who can tell Anakin anything about what Obi-Wan is setting off to do. He took that choice away from Obi-Wan long ago.

“He said you were on a voyage of self-discovery, one with very real consequences for turning the tide of the war. He said it would likely start with finding your family on Stewjon and expand outward from there.” Obi-Wan allows himself to relax a little. Nothing too specific from Yoda then. Nothing that suggested anything about the nature of Obi-Wan’s problem.

Anakin pauses, biting the inside of his cheek before adding one more thing. “He also said that you would never be able to believe in yourself as a Jedi until you made this trip. That you didn’t trust yourself. And Master, if I didn’t want to come with you before he said that, there was nothing that could have stopped me once I heard it.”

Obi-Wan shuts his eyes tight as though to will Anakin away with the power of his thoughts. Because Yoda isn’t wrong. Obi-Wan has never phrased it quite so succinctly to himself before but that is ultimately what pushed him to go. He cannot help the people he loves until he breaks free of this curse. He cannot become the Jedi others believe him to be while beholden to his gift.

“I didn’t ask Master Yoda for permission to come on this mission with you,” Anakin continues. “If I had known what you were doing, I would have snuck on board without going through either of you. But he sought me out and asked me to accompany you and now I know there is no better place for me to be.”

“Surely that should be something for me to decide.”

“You are the greatest Jedi—the greatest man I have ever known. Everything I know about becoming either one comes from you. If there is anything I can do to return the favor, to show you what I know to be true, I am going to do it.”

There is something almost refreshing about Anakin’s refusal to yield. Normally, when Obi-Wan is forced to do something he does not want to do, it is because someone has ordered him and he can’t work his way around it in time. But Anakin hasn’t given him a command; he could technically leave him behind or relegate him to the sidelines or toss him out an airlock. Instead, Obi-Wan has a choice to make.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan says at last, coming around to sit down in the cockpit beside Anakin. “Fine, you may join me. But you must do as I say and you cannot ask me any questions about what we are doing. I will not answer. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

Obi-Wan meets Anakin’s eyes over the flight controls. He sighs before allowing himself the smallest of smiles.

For the first time since his decision to embark on this mission, for the first time since Mandalore—perhaps even since this whole blasted war began—Obi-Wan allows himself to feel something like hope.

There is a chance, however small, that Anakin might be a real asset to this endeavor. The company at least, being able to share the weight of something that has plagued him all his life even if he still cannot speak of it, might make this journey easier to bear.

“Thank you, Anakin.”

Anakin checks the calculations for their jump to hyperspace and completes the takeoff procedures Obi-Wan began. For a moment, Obi-Wan thinks they will simply settle into the familiar rhythms of a joint mission, that the conversation is over now and they can put the uncomfortable intimacy of it behind them.

But as Obi-Wan waits to speak with space traffic control to receive their flight clearance and Anakin sees to the rest of their preparations, he adds one parting note to their conversation, his voice low and serious to protect the tender and exposed intimacy of the confession.

“I am here for you, Master. Always.”

[ok555ficideas]

I asked you that once, too

Andrew and Neil were lying in their bed in Columbia late at night. Both on their backs, looking up at the ceiling, not ready to fall asleep quite yet, but too tired to talk. Neil was very conscious of the way he was positioned on the bed. They were used to sharing. Their beds in the Fox tower were pushed together and apart from extremely bad days that were still sometimes haunting both of them, they shared every night. 

Here the bed was bigger so Neil didn’t have to worry as much about disturbing Andrew by touching him, but tonight was different. Tonight Neil had voiced out his desires out loud back in Eden, and he didn’t want to push the matter. He wanted Andrew to mull it over on his own and not disturb that process. 

The thing was that for the longest time Neil didn’t even know that this was something he would crave so much. Before Andrew he didn’t know a lot of things about himself and he was happy to follow the blonde’s lead. He didn’t crave sex the same way his teammates did. At first he thought that it was because of the way he grew up; always on the run, never able to think about something other than survival. 

With Andrew it was easy, the goalie set the pace and Neil was more than happy to follow along. Because the thing about Neil was that what was doing it for him, was Andrew. He loved when he could see the tiny crack in Andrew’s so well kept composer. He loved knowing that Andrew was enjoying himself, and that was enough to make Neil enjoy himself too. 

Neil knew that there was a possibility of there coming a time when Andrew would suggest something that Neil wouldn’t be into, but he really believed that there wasn’t a lot he wouldn't be willing to do, if he was doing it with Andrew. 

But this wasn’t about sex. No, what he craved right now had nothing to do with getting off. He wanted to be completely enveloped by Andrew without it leading to something more. He wanted to feel the steady movement of up and down of Andrew's chest against his back or under his head. He wanted to bury his face in Andrew’s neck, not to kiss him there, even though he enjoyed how much the other liked it, but to breathe him in and drift off feeling safer than he has ever felt. 

He knew it was a long shot, Andrew sometimes held his hand before falling asleep, or let their legs get tangled together, but he always pulled away before he let himself close his eyes. Being in complete contact with Neil was probably something Andrew was not ready for, but Neil made Andrew a promise and he was determined to keep it. 

Few weeks ago Andrew told him that he is allowed to ask for things. Andrew told him that the answer would probably be no more than yes, but that he should ask, that he should not be afraid to voice what he wants out loud. 

“I'm scared that you’re just going along with this, I need to know that you want this.” Andrew had said to him and it was a show of vulnerability that Andrew so rarely portrayed. 

So Neil started asking. He asked for kisses, he asked to hold hands, sometimes he even asked for Andrew to get him off. ‘Yes’ was not always the answer, but Neil didn’t care. He would always respect a ‘no’ and he was enjoying the spark that lit up in Andrew’s eyes every time Neil asked for something. 

But this was new, this was the first time Neil asked for something that was a new territory. When he broached the topic Andrew didn’t say anything. He looked at Neil puzzled and announced that they were leaving. He collected everyone from the club, despite various protests, mostly from Nicky, and drove them to the house without another word. 

Now they were laying there, Neil desperately waiting for Andrew to say something.

“You can say no.” He whispered after not being able to take the silence for another second. 

“I know that.” Andrew replied immediately, like he was waiting for Neil to say something all along. “I’m not saying no.” He added, a little bit more quietly. 

Neil turned around to lay on his side and propped himself on his elbow. Andrew was still not looking at him and was focused on one tiny crack in the ceiling. 

“Are you saying yes?” Neil asked, his voice careful. 

He could see Andrew swallow by the way his Adam’s apple moved. The blonde looked nervous and despite him letting more and more emotions show around Neil, he was still surprised by this one. Andrew was always so stoic and not phased by anything. Neil was scared that he had crossed a line, but then again Andrew asked him to ask for things. 

“I won’t be able to fall asleep.” Andrew finally looked at Neil. “But I can wait for you to fall asleep like that and then move away.” 

Neil took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. He didn't want to show his excitement just yet. He needed to know something first. 

“Do you want this too or are you doing this just for me?” 

A corner of Andrew’s mouth moved and it almost looked like he was about to smile. It took Neil off gourd, how quick various subtle emotions had crossed through Andrew today so visibly. 

“I asked you that once, too, remember?” 

Neil did remember. It was in the same conversation when Andrew asked him to ask for things. Neil had a hard time explaining his feelings about sex. Every time he tried to voice it out loud it sounded like he didn’t enjoy it. 

“You told me that you’re doing it for me, but that is why you want it.” Andrew continued after Neil didn’t reply to his previous question. “I didn’t get it then, but I chose to trust you. But I get it now, I didn’t feel the need to hold your hand until you started to ask me to. I agreed, because I wanted to make you happy and it wasn’t something that would trigger me. With time I started to enjoy it, because I knew that you did. I think this is like that too. I don’t know if it will trigger me or not, but I know that I want to try, because you want to.” 

Neil was suddenly overtaken with a wave of relief. Ever since that conversation he was trying to sort it out more in his head to help Andrew understand how he felt. Hearing that Andrew felt the same, just with other aspects of their relationship, filled him with so much joy and sense of being understood that it was almost too much for him to handle. 

“How do you want to do this?” 

Andrew scooted himself closer to Neil and motioned for him to turn around. When Neil did, Andrew outstretched one of his hands under Neil’s head and with the other, slightly shaking one, he reached around Neil and slowly put it on his chest. Neil tried to not move a muscle and let Andrew lead. For a moment they were awkwardly laying there with Andrew barely touching him, but after a minute Andrew’s hand relaxed and Neil was gently brought closer to Andrew’s chest. They both let out a deep breath and Neil melted into Andrew’s embrace. 

“I’m going to wait till you fall asleep or till it gets too much for me and then I’m going to pull away.” Andrew spoke right into his ear and it sent shivers down Neil’s spine. 

“Okay.” Neil whispered. “Can I put my hand on yours?” 

“No.” 

Neil only nodded at that and closed his eyes. His breath was slowly evening out and he felt himself drift off faster than usual. His body was in total bliss and he had never felt as safe as here in Andrew’s arms, with the blonde’s steady breath on his neck and the heartbeat that he could feel on his back. 

When Neil woke up the next day, Andrew was far away from him on the other side of the bed, with his back tightly put against the wall. Neil smiled at the sleeping form in front of him and couldn’t help but be proud of both of them for how far they had come. 

[twiishaa]

and the rest was bassically history: track 001. unsteady basslines

🎧 masterlist for this smau 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆

🎶 currently playing : fe!n by travis scott ✩°. ⋆⸜ 🎶✮

there was around 10 minutes until the curtains rose for COMET’s special performance at the Extracurriculars Fair, but backstage, the group were on the cusp of a disaster.

asahi, their bassist, was nowhere to be found.

it had been like this for a while, he was absent in their conversations online, constantly trying to make his presence smaller in their live performances since, and avoiding anyone and everyone, including his band mates. but they thought it wouldn’t come to this — that, even after everything, he’d still preform with them, they were a team, right?

apparently not.

asahi had never felt more alone than he did now; standing at the back of the building, listening to the havoc wreaking inside. he didn’t want to leave his friends hanging like this anymore but he just couldn’t face the crowd.

the extracurriculars fair, one of the most popular events of the university’s calendar was today, and COMET were set to preform a surprise set at the end. however, after the release of their new EP two weeks ago, the group received criticisms for some of their songs, the hate directed almost all to asahi. he didn’t have the courage to stand up and preform again. he couldn’t take it anymore, breaking down into tears behind the building. pathetic.

semi checked outside one last time, in the audience, and even on the balcony. asahi wasn’t anywhere to be seen. yn followed in close pursuit, almost bumping into semi when he stopped abruptly.

“any luck?”

“yn, we’ve looked here about a million times. he’s not here.”

yn looked down, her eyes filling with guilt.

“what do we do now?” yachi was halfway up the stairs to the balcony.

semi sighed. “we’re just gonna have to preform without him today.”

“what? we can’t do that! asahi’s one of us! the songs are gonna sound so empty without him!” yn exclaimed. semi gave her a knowing look and she looked back at yachi. the three of them descended the stairs to meet with tsukki. he knew what the plan was from their eyes, and nodded.

kiyoko tapped yn on the shoulder. “the last club are wrapping up now, you guys should get into position.” she was always good at reading the room.

“still haven’t found him?”

yachi shook her head. “we’re gonna have to preform without him…” she trailed off after seeing a tall, brown haired boy behind kiyoko. he smiled awkwardly, making an attempt at waving.

“he was backstage and heard about asahi going missing, and apparently he knows the bass line to your songs,” kiyoko started.

“well, i know some so if it’d be any help to you..” the guy tried to explain himself to the four, slightly confused members of COMET.

semi and yn glanced at each other, and then at the others. handing a sheet of paper to him, semi said, “here’s our setlist. i can write down some of the chords if you want here but just keep a steady beat and let me know if you need anything else. there’s a spare bass over there.” he pointed towards a few spare guitars, amps, mics and basses.

the brown haired boy studied the paper after taking it from semi, and bowed slightly. “thank you! oh- i’m oikawa by the way.”

kiyoko looked at yn, and with one glance could tell she was in for a long debrief after this.

🎧 notes 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆

guys i told you id release it soon

there was originally more, but i thought it would be too much in one chapter so expect track 002 very soon … 😈

love replies telling me what you think!! love you guys!!

🎧 taglist: @turquoisenintendo64 @laughingfcx @riverharkness @walllflowerrrsss @jtaimeurmom @saaavsha-0924 @itsdragonius @tar0star @applemiffi send an ask or comment to be added to taglist!! 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆

[fkinkindagauche]

Not A Fish, Out of Water

Another fill for @harringrovewinterbingo, square B3 - "a Santa outfit you shouldn't wear around kids".

Set in the Mer universe from the first fic in this series, The First Taste, but it can be read as a stand-alone.

Thanks to @dame-zoom-a-lot for continuing to beta, and continuing to egg me on with this AU.

Please check out their awesome Tumblr posts of Murray's field notes, set in this AU! Day 0 Day 1 Day 2 Day 3

Rating: Teen and Up | WC: 3,308 | Tags: Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Enemies to Lovers, eventually

Ocean divider by @/saradika-graphics

Summary: Mermen Billy and Steve get sent above the water on a mission. The first order of business, finding clothes, doesn't go great for Steve.

Steve had never been this cold. He stood naked on the lake shore, trying to get used to the physical sensations of having legs and using his lungs. The frigid air assaulted his wet skin, now a strange peach color instead of its usual green. His only consolation was that Billy was shivering just as much as he was.

"Fuck," Billy exhaled, wrapping his arms around himself. "How is it this much colder above the ice?"

Steve knew the answer, because he'd listened to Dustin ramble one too many times. The water in the lake beneath the ice layer stayed a constant 4 degrees Celsius throughout the winter, a temperature their mer bodies adjusted to every year with the lake turnover. The temperature in the air could get far below that in the winter, and the wind made it feel even worse.

But he wasn't about to say any of that to Billy, who already thought he was enough of a loser without adding "nerd" to his list of shortcomings.

Billy shook his legs out and looked down at his body. "And why is our junk on the outside? This looks ridiculous."

Steve ignored Billy's question, though he did agree that having external genitalia was distinctly uncomfortable. "I thought Hopper said Murray was going to meet us," Steve muttered, teeth chattering.

"Hopper? You on a non-honorific basis with the King now? Figures." Billy turned away from Steve, looking down the lake shore.

Steve mentally castigated himself for the slip-up. Billy never hesitated to remind Steve of his privileged status as nephew to the King. As the two strongest and most attractive mermen in their age group, it seemed like Steve and Billy had been in direct competition for something for most of their lives. Every time Steve prevailed over Billy (which was, admittedly, a relatively rare occurrence) Billy claimed it was due to nepotism.

Steve sighed, looking the opposite direction from Billy for any sign of movement. There was nothing, just an empty stretch of sand.

"I don't think we can stay out here very long like this," Steve ventured.

Billy didn't reply, he just started to walk away from Steve. Or he tried to. He crumpled to the ground on his first attempt.

"Shit, you okay?" Steve asked, rushing to help him up, moving with more grace than Billy. Steve had been topside once before, a few years ago with his father, and was ready for the way the legs that Owens gave him would feel.

Billy shoved away Steve's proffered hand. "I'm fuckin' fine, man," Billy grumbled. "Not all of us have gotten a chance to practice walking with daddy." He stood up on his own and took a few shaky steps, getting used to the legs.

Steve followed as Billy wobbled down the shoreline. He scanned their surroundings, looking for Murray or anyone else. He knew people weren't actually allowed to walk around naked up here, something to do with the external genitalia situation, so he was really hoping Murray would be the first person to find them.

"I cannot believe I agreed to this," Billy complained as they walked. "Why should I have to freeze to death up here to keep the King's little twerp from tanking her entire life?"

"You seemed pretty excited about it when the King asked you to come," Steve pointed out before he could stop himself. Always poking the bear.

"That was before I knew you would be coming. And before I knew how fucking cold it was up here."

They trudged along the beach for another few minutes, Steve growing increasingly worried about the effect the cold was having on their human bodies. The sun was getting low on the horizon, close to setting. Steve knew it would get even colder then.

Finally, just as the sun was setting, they saw a figure in the distance - a man, bundled up in many layers of clothes. The man frantically waved his arms at them and shouted something. Steve couldn't hear it over the crashing of the waves. He quickened his pace, Billy falling into step beside him.

"Well if it isn't the fishy wonder boys!" the man announced when he was closer. "Or are you just a couple of crazy nudists out for a winter stroll?"

"Hi, Murray," Steve said. He'd met Murray on his previous trip up.

"Oh, Hop sent me little Stevie Harrington, all grown up?" Murray asked, recognizing Steve and clapping him on the shoulder. "And who's your hunky friend here?"

"I'm not his friend," Billy growled, pushing himself in front of Steve. "I'm Billy Hargrove, and I'm leading this mission." Steve rolled his eyes. The only way Billy had agreed to let Steve come as well was if Hopper said he was the leader. Hopper, only thinking about getting his daughter El back, didn't give a shit about Billy and Steve's ongoing ego competition, so he'd agreed in a heartbeat. Steve wasn't enough of a bitch to protest.

"Oh, great, he sent me a pair of warring adolescents," Murray said sarcastically.

"We're 19!" Steve protested.

It didn't look like that changed Murray's opinion at all.

"Alright, first step, put these on." Murray threw a large coat at each of them. "My car's just over this dune, so hopefully you won't get frostbite before we get there."

Steve hadn't known the frost could bite. He glanced apprehensively at the ground, then grabbed the coat and put it on. He relaxed a little once his core was adequately warm.

They followed Murray up over the dune. The walking immediately became difficult, sand shifting treacherously under their feet. The muscles in his newly formed calves started to burn. Thankfully, the dune wasn't high, and they crested the top in just a few minutes. They ended up on a brief forested trail that led to the concrete of a parking lot. A large sign at the head of the trail read "INDIANA DUNES NATIONAL LAKESHORE".

"Is that a car?" Billy asked with something approaching reverence. There was one car sitting in the parking lot, which Murray approached with a set of keys.

"Yeah," Murray replied. "A really crappy one."

Billy didn't seem to care. Steve knew all about his obsession with cars. Billy had gotten hold of a book on cars from one of the clan's trips up top a few years ago, and hadn't shut up about it since.

The inside of the car was slightly warmer than outside, and Steve was grateful to sit down. Steve had ceded the passenger seat to Billy, not wanting to come to blows this early on in their mission. The car warmed up further after Murray started it and pulled onto the road.

Billy fiddled with all the controls he could reach from the passenger seat, pressing any button and turning any knob he could get his hands on. He pressed one knob, and music filled the car. They had plenty of human artifacts underneath the lake in their dry cave system, but they didn't have electricity, so the only music they were able to listen to was music they made themselves.

Billy's mouth dropped open. "This is the radio?" he asked, in awe.

"Yeah, kid," Murray confirmed, amused.

Steve stared at Billy as Billy stared at the radio. It was rare that he got to see Billy's face completely devoid of negative emotions.

"The fuck are you looking at, Harrington?" Billy demanded, catching sight of Steve staring at him in the rearview mirror. His face resumed it's natural disposition, teeth bared in a snarl. Steve looked away, but didn't give Billy the satisfaction of a response.

"So, what do you two know about what's going on with El?" Murray asked. "Hopper didn't tell me shit."

"Right, so," Billy began. "We got what we know about the whole situation from my dumbass little sister, Max, who finally spilled the beans on El now that she knows how much trouble she's in. Over the summer, El met some kid who was out kayaking on the lake, and claimed she fell in love with him."

Ah, to be fifteen again, Steve thought to himself, when you could fall in love with someone after just a few minutes of talking to them in a boat.

"El apparently wouldn't give it up, thinks she's really in love with this kid," Billy continued. Steve could hear the disdain in his voice. "Eventually she went to see Vecna, who agreed to turn her human. Apparently, if El can get this kid to tell her that he loves her before the winter's over, Vecna will turn her into a human permanently. But if she can't, she'll lose her human form, and be Vecna's thrall. Either side of the deal is not something Hopper is pleased about."

"Who's Vecna?" Murray asked. "Another witch? Wait, did Owens get canned? Is he alright?" Murray sounded like he was nervous for Owens.

"No, Owens is still there. Vecna used to be the clan witch, before Owens," Steve explained. "He got exiled after he attempted to kill a few kids for some weird ritual."

"Huh." Murray relaxed a little on hearing that Owens was okay. "Why doesn't Hopper just come up himself and get her?" Murray mused.

"He needs to stay down there to keep an eye on Vecna, make sure he doesn't try to interfere up here," Billy replied, "but he wants us to bring El back ASAP to make sure she doesn't somehow get turned into a perma-human before they figure out how to break the contract."

"Did Max have any idea where she would have gone?" Steve asked.

Billy shook his head. "Not that Hopper could get out of her. But this is the closest town to our village, so Hopper wanted us to start looking here."

Murray's house wasn't far from the lake, only about a fifteen minute car ride.

"Make sure your coats are zipped," Murray instructed before they got out of the car. "Can't have you flashing the neighbors. I don't need to give them anything else to call the cops about."

They followed Murray into the house, both of them looking around with wide eyes. It had been summer the only time Steve had been above the water before. Everything looked completely different now, the whole world covered in a layer of snow.

After Murray had given them some of his clothes to put on, Billy said, "Alright, let's go find the princess."

"Slow down there, cowboy," Murray said. "You're not gonna be able to do much of anything but attract unnecessary attention going around at night. Rest up, we'll start in the morning." Murray overruled Billy's many protests, refusing to be their guide this late at night.

His guestroom was small, with only one bed. Steve groaned when he saw it.

"You can take the floor," Billy announced, stripping off his clothes and sliding naked into the bed. He flung his arms and legs wide, taking up the entire surface.

"Seriously?" Steve responded, hands on his hips. "That bed's plenty big enough for the both of us."

Billy threw a blanket and pillow at him. "Oh? Too soft and coddled to sleep on the floor? Or you trying to get another round on the Hargrove love machine? I told you I only did that because anyone looks pretty when you've had enough lake 'shroom."

"Fuck you," Steve muttered, face flushing bright red. He'd thought they were agreed on never mentioning what had happened at the party on the solstice, but Billy couldn't resist the chance to needle him. Steve threw the blanket and pillow on the ground. He hated how easy it was for Billy to goad him into doing what he wanted, but he wasn't about to insist on sharing the bed after that.

He settled on the floor as Billy chuckled to himself, satisfied. Billy shut off the lights, and Steve heard him start to snore just a few minutes later.

The floor was hard and cold. Steve pulled the thin blanket up over his shoulders, huffing miserably. He missed the soft bed of algae covering the rock he'd slept on beneath the lake.

He could hear Billy's snores deepen above him. Billy was presumably very comfortable in the large bed after their first day of walking. Steve hadn't thought that legs and feet would hurt so much. They were made for walking, so why was using them for their intended purpose so painful?

Steve stretched out his legs, rolling over and trying to get comfortable. It wasn't happening. The floor was too hard, and he was too cold and sore. He sat up, peaking his head over the side of the bed.

He could see Billy clearly in the dark, his eyes used to piercing the darkness of the benthic zone. Billy was clustered on one side of the bed, not even using all of it anymore. Steve grabbed his blanket and crawled in beside him, careful not to move the bed too much.

"What the fuck are you doing in the bed?"

Steve was roused from his slumber by Billy's irate voice, and several very hard whacks on his shoulder.

"Ow!" Steve yelped, rolling away from Billy and falling out of the bed in a tangle of blankets.

He hadn't woken up before Billy. He rubbed his shoulder, glaring at Billy.

"The floor is fucking uncomfortable, and that bed could easily fit three people," Steve grumbled.

Billy rolled his eyes. "You can't even survive one night without a cushy sleeping situation, princess?"

"I didn't see you sleeping on the floor," Steve shot back. How did every conversation with Billy turn into an argument so quickly?

"Whatever," Billy mumbled, sliding out of the bed. He still hadn't quite mastered his legs, and almost fell over when he first stood up. Steve snorted back a laugh.

"Oh, fuck off, Harrington."

Steve's eyes were drawn, as they so often were, to Billy's broad shoulders and strong chest. It was truly a tragedy that Billy was so attractive, but such a fucking dick. Steve turned away, pushing himself up off the ground. Thankfully, Billy was turned away from him so he didn't witness Steve's own difficulties with his new legs.

Steve stared at the clothes Murray had given them the day before. They didn't fit either of them right, and they were scratchy and distracting. Steve had only had to wear clothes once before. It was a uniquely distressing experience. Judging by the look on Billy's face as he pulled a shirt over his head, he agreed.

Murray was waiting for them in the kitchen. "How'd you sleep, fish boys?"

Steve groaned. "I wish you wouldn't call us that. We're human-phytoplankton hybrid merpeople. No fish involved."

"Yeah. Fish boys," Murray repeated. "What d'you eat, by the way? Do I need to get you Miracle-Gro or something?"

"I don't know what that is," Steve admitted. "We can just eat like humans while we're in fully human bodies."

Murray got them something he called cereal, which they both ate after he showed them how.

"How are we gonna find the princess?" Billy demanded as soon as they were finished eating.

"Hold up a sec. Ol' Papa Hopper sent you up here totally unprepared for human life," Murray said. "Left it to me to orient you. So you're gonna sit down and be oriented."

That was unfortunately true. Hopper had completely lost it when he found out what El had done. He'd gotten his own lake witch, Owens, to give Billy and Steve fully human bodies. Then he sent them topside with no instructions other than vague directions to Murray's house and the demand, "Bring me back my girl."

Billy snarled at Murray. He hated being told what to do.

"First things first," Murray continued, ignoring Billy, "we're gonna need to get you some clothes that actually fit, so you don't stick out so much when we go looking for El."

Steve didn't understand what was wrong with the clothes they had on now, besides the fact that they were clothes, and they were rubbing horribly against his skin.

Murray pointed to the couch in the living room, where a huge pile of clothes was sitting.

"I pulled these from the donation bin at the church around the corner," Murray said. "Try to find something in there that makes you look less like you've been living on the streets."

"What the fuck does that mean? Don't you all live on streets?" Billy asked, face scrunched up in angry confusion.

"Just find something that fits," Murray said with a sigh, leaving them.

They dragged the clothes into the guest bedroom. Steve immediately started to dig through them, not wanting to let Billy get everything good. His eyes were drawn to a flash of bright red. He pulled out a pair of shorts that looked small enough to allow for maximum freedom of movement. They were a garish red color, with an attached white belt. He found another bright red garment to go with them - a vest with soft white trim along all the edges.

"Stop hogging the pile," Billy said as he shoved Steve away, but Steve had found what he wanted.

He retreated to the corner, taking off the baggy clothes Murray had lent him. The tiny red shorts fit like a glove, conforming beautifully to his human thighs and ass. He even kind of liked the way his dick looked, a nice lump in the front beneath the belt. The vest was also comfortable, exposing much more of his skin to the air than Murray's clothes had.

Billy threw another red object at him. It hit him in the middle of the chest. "I think that goes with your outfit," Billy said. Steve looked down at the red cap with a conical shape and a white ball on the end. He put it on his head, and moved to look at himself in the mirror.

Seemed like a good outfit. It definitely fit, so it should meet Murray's criteria to let them go out searching.

Billy had changed into a fitted shirt and a pair of the pants Murray had referred to as jeans. The blue of the shirt brought out the color of his eyes, brilliant and sharp. The jeans hugged his ass, putting it on display. Steve looked away, pushing those thoughts down.

"Oh, absolutely fucking not," Murray said immediately after he walked back into the room. He was looking at Steve with a sort of horrified fascination on his face. "You getting ready to go audition for the Chippendales holiday show?"

Steve felt like he didn't understand half of what Murray said, even though it was ostensibly in English. "What's wrong with it?" Steve asked, looking down at himself. "It fits."

"Yeah, it sure does," Murray said with a manic laugh. "But you can't go around looking like that. You're showing off a few too many of the goods. Need to cover yourself up more. Like him." Murray motioned to Billy, who smirked at Steve. Of course Billy had somehow completed this impossible task appropriately.

Steve sighed and started to strip off his clothing. "Whoa there, sailor!" Murray yelled, covering his eyes. "You can't just take off your clothes in front of people."

Steve groaned. "Why are there so many rules?" he grumbled.

Billy threw a pair of jeans at him. "Try these. Should fit your skinny ass."

Steve tried not to be insulted on behalf of the ass he hadn't even possessed 24 hours ago, and went back to the pile of clothes. He'd figure this out somehow.

Also on AO3.

[gogesimp]

I had this idea last night, I replayed it in my head a few times and then this morning I saw this absolutely beautiful thread which had an uncanny resemblance to what I had thought of.

I contemplated whether I should bother writing what I had down and posting it somewhere. I haven't yet done it for this ship.

But what urged me to go ahead was the fact that this was more like a headcanon rather than an AU, and hence I wouldn't be adding to my very long list of wips.

So here goes-

This is set in the canonverse and both Satoru and Suguru are in Jujutsu High. The timeline is maybe before the star plasma arc or let's say something like that doesn't happen here.

Either way, both of them are sort of in love with the other. They have not outright confessed yet, because that'd be cheesy and Suguru's never gonna be the one who brings it up. But sometimes he feels he wouldn't have to.

Especially at times like these, where they are all alone in Suguru's dorm room, lights out with only the moon's beams to illuminate them and their tangled limbs.

Suguru's clothes are scattered around, some lying on the bed while others have been deposited on the floor. Satoru's haven't even made it to the bed where he is lying over his precious Suguru, just pausing to take in how beautiful he looks.

Long black locks splayed out on the pillow, skin dewy with sweat and a blush slowly spreading across Suguru's lovely cheeks down to his neck.

Satoru looks like a dream as well, if one were to ask Suguru. He loves lying on his back because from his vantage he can take in the ethereal form of his lover. In the dark, his eyes glow effervescent, the blue shining like sapphires. His white hair is tousled and sticking up at odd angles. On his milky skin Suguru can spy the blush sitting high on Satoru's cheeks & he can't help but turn a deeper shade of red when his eyes track down that thick, corded neck to his defined chest and muscled core.

He doesn't need his eyes to deduce how well endowed Satoru is so he brings them back up. His gaze gets locked with that cerulean one and he feels a big calloused hand gently cradling his cheek. Soft caresses are bestowed on his face. The other hand is wrapped around Suguru's cinched waist, holding him delicately, thumb brushing against the hip bone.

A silly thought enters Suguru's head. Before he can articulate it though, Satoru starts introducing a lubed finger and soon Suguru trades moans and whines for coherent speech.

The bed creaks in time with Satoru's thrusts. He doesn't go too fast or slow. It's like this man is taking his time to unravel the beauty writhing under him. Suguru's high pitched moans and breathy whines find a perfect complement in Satoru's guttural groans and huffing.

It's only after Satoru has finished and is now slumped over Suguru, using the soft warm body as a comforting bedding for himself that Suguru's mind brings forth the thought he had a few moments ago.

The smile stretching his lips seems instinctual, so does the way in which his hand finds its way into Satoru's hair and gently starts carding his fingers through the soft white locks, adding a scritch intermittently.

"Satoru...!"

The answering hum resonates within his body given the way Satoru is draped over him.

"I wanted to tell you something, a silly thought I had."

There is a stir and the body lying on top of him moves. Using his elbows to prop himself up Satoru stares into Suguru's violet eyes.

The hand which had been petting Satoru's hair slips down to now hold that handsome face.

It is indeed silly.

The way his heart picks up speed as he gets lost in the depth of those ocean blue eyes.

The way his heart clenches at how Satoru makes love to him, gently and tenderly. Treating each inch of Suguru as something precious and worthy of being cherished. Of being held close to and looked after.

It is indeed silly that Suguru finds the strongest sorcerer, the ruthless man he knows that Satoru is as cute and adorable.

Well right now he does look like a cub with the way he is staring intently at Suguru, expecting some reward or trinket.

"What was it Suguru?"

Snapped out of his trance he decides to not divulge his prior thoughts.

"Nothing really, just ignore I said anything."

Satoru pouts and Suguru just has to look away for his own health because his heart can't take anymore hits today.

"Awwww.. but I wanted to know."

"Stop pouting now, it really wasn't something big. What? You don't believe me?"

There is a certain glint in those blue eyes and Suguru feels just a tad bit nervous.

When Satoru still doesn't elaborate Suguru's unease increases and he tries to fill in the silence.

"Come on Sat-- umph"

Soft pink lips descend on his and they move gently. And Suguru can't help but sigh.

He feels so ....

It's right there, on the tip of his tongue. It's what he feels when Satoru's strong hands wrap around his waist.

It's the emotion bursting within him and making butterflies' wings flutter in his tummy.

As the lips retreat and warm breaths of air fall on his sensitive, tingly lips he hears the low rumble of Satoru's voice.

The words are spoken right against his parted mouth, eyes fixed on his and staring straight into his soul.

"I know. I know Suguru. And it's ok."

The lips move down to his neck where Satoru mumbles against the marked skin.

"You can take your time."

Suguru has to use all of his willpower to not let anymore of his tears fall. He realized a bit too late when one or two stray drops had leaked away and flowed down to his ears.

Satoru can probably sense them but Suguru still wills the tears away.

After Satoru has settled himself once again on top of Suguru, he finds his hands gravitate towards the man lying over him.

His fingers find the tresses while the other draws patterns on that broad back. His head slowly angles itself closer to Satoru's and that's how Suguru falls asleep.

He sleeps peacefully even with Satoru draped over him.

And as for Satoru, the gentle heartbeat of his beloved was the only lullaby he needed to make his eyes heavy.

His heart feels full, knowing that even though the words haven't been uttered what they feel for each other is tangible.

It might take time but they'll eventually get to a stage where verbal confirmation of their mutual feelings will come easy to both.

But for now this is enough.

This is it.

Thank you for reading this word vomit. Honestly this isn't exactly what I had thought of. It was waaaaaaaay better in my head. I wonder why I bother writing 🙃 but here we are.