#so you can make other kinds of cobblestone

[krobezgades]

BANJO

W: timeskip 50 years after the events of Act 3 of Arcane's season 2; OC with no name, no use of Y/N, english is not my first language, I apologize if there are any mistakes or inaccuracies in the text. It’s kind of songfic actually, so if you want you can check on song «Мне было бы легче петь — Аквариум» and its lyrics.

No matter how fiercely the stone is wounded, it bears no grudge and harbors no plans for revenge over its chipped side. It just lies awkwardly in place, cracked at its most visible point, steadfastly enduring the gazes of passersby. Ten years will pass, and moss will creep up its summit, completely enveloping its cold, scarred flesh. Then, wrapped in a fluffy green cocoon, it will conceal from everyone the very existence of that chip. It will know of it alone, quietly coexisting with the thought of its small imperfection. An enchanting imperfection.

The reborned city will cherish its scars from a distant past as if they were its greatest treasures. I have spent enough time here to confidently call them trophies.

I remember every crack in this road; every pattern of peeling paint on the corners of buildings that aspire to perfection in their height and flawless geometry. Echoes of a past that roared through this street half a century ago still hide within the minor imperfections of seemingly repaired walls. I vividly recall how this alley was cleared of fallen concrete blocks from the tower. I know well that at the intersection of two houses, in the very corner, lies a modest meter of granite cobblestones that cracked on that very day and was left unreplaced due to the inaccessibility of that nook. The new road looks splendid. These streets live their lives, their bright present, yet unobtrusively remind us of their past.

A musician by the entrance of a small shop is as old as the world itself. He was old when we were young, and he has played the same songs all his life. Their tender melodies have become part of my own consciousness; they cling to my mind so that I hear this music even on days when the old man with the weathered banjo does not come out to play. Strolling down this street always feels serene, almost perfect.

This path, starting from my own doorstep and ending at the gates of the Academy, I could traverse with my eyes closed, never stumbling once. This road is the least of what one can learn over more than fifty years of relentless repetition. Whether it rains or shines makes no difference, I will never lose my way here. It seems that even if all the cobblestones were shattered to pieces, I would still be able to walk blindfolded. All these paths have been explored back and forth, and the only thing that changes here each day is the faces of people. Countless happy and sorrowful, young and old, in love and lonely. Some faces I do not recognize, but many — mostly those of children — seem very familiar to me. I knew their parents as children when we were young. These beautifully diverse people! I look at them with the same thoughts.

Of all the fears available to them, which seems the most dreadful? A girl bitten by a stray dog now fears dogs. A heartbroken lover, since being left behind, will fear trusting others again. Meanwhile, the greatest fear of all is missing something. Every crack in this road. The pattern of peeling paint on building corners. The nagging thought gnawing at the weary mind of a dear one. Failing to notice it once can suddenly reveal that this thought can no longer be extracted from someone else’s head. Indeed, that head has become entirely foreign; it is the very head you manage to memorize along with every strand falling onto the pillow in a shared bed. The face becomes unfamiliar too. The gaze changes. As it reaches a fever pitch, that insistent thought hits its limit and becomes the sole source of movement. And how can one abandon it when moving has become so arduous?

Life goes on. The city has healed and forgiven all its offenders. It has not reproached anyone for its sorrow and has grown anew upon its own ruins. How disheartening it is that people cannot do the same.

My body has renewed itself thousands of times since it all happened, yet with each new gray hair and thread of wrinkle, I feel as though the past refuses to let me go.

Thousands of nights help to coexist with the past, but they do not allow for complete reconciliation. My mind was not mathematically inclined, and even after all these years, I am unable to approach the solution to the mysterious formula. The formula according to which that intrusive thought should have resolved itself in someone else's head. Perhaps it all comes down to the nature of the mind.

I turn around at the quiet thud almost automatically, no matter where in the city it echoes. An old man, bent under the weight of years, walks alongside me. Unable to discern the sound of his footsteps, I distinctly hear the rhythmic tapping of the metal tip of his cane.

The most understandable and sweet sound in the world.

Intermingling with the soft, creaky voice of a musician and his battered banjo, this thud itches somewhere deep in my chest. It is a melody from a long-gone past when both we and this city were still young. And if the city can still proudly stretch its countless concrete backs into a stately posture, I can no longer straighten my old shoulders. Side by side with this giant, we have been stretching in different directions over the years: the city upwards, and I towards the ground. We know each other better than anyone else. I greet every crack in this road and every pattern of peeling paint on the corners of buildings; and in return, the city greets me with a symphony of the most familiar sounds. It knows me well.

The shortest route to the Academy lies through the old market. Long ago, it was built perfectly: bright stalls, resembling one another and always impeccably clean, stood in neat rows without any garish variety. Many years ago, this city would not have tolerated excessive diversity even in its trading rows, and now there is a delightful fair every day. Small imperfections have given this place a special charm, visible in the colorful flags on now so different stalls and the great variety of goods from two cities. It is no longer necessary to display products in straight lines. It is not essential to adhere to the strict color palette of the city. And it is these inaccuracies that have infused the place with life.

As I walk along the very edge of the fair, not diving into the crowd, I habitually stop next to a stall where bags of nuts are displayed at face level. I lower my dry palm into the pistachios. I pick one up. Bringing it closer to my face, I squint. With age, my vision has become quite cloudy. This can be reconciled with when you know the city by heart, but some things still deserve to be examined thoroughly for the tenth or even hundredth time.

In a crack of the pale shell, a green side of an aromatic kernel has appeared. Without this crack, this little charming imperfection, would the bright nut be visible?

I still do not understand how I failed to notice it at first glance. Sometimes it seems that time has lost its count; my time is also nearing its end, and yet I cannot grasp so many things. When you are very young, it feels as if just a little longer and all the complexities of the world will become clear, that this understanding will inevitably come with age and experience. And here I am, already over seventy, still as bewildered as I was at twenty. And the morning is just as it was at twenty.

Crossing the gates of the Academy for the thousandth time, I do not hurry to enter the building. Not far from the entrance, a pedestal with tall, proud statues has recently emerged. I stand before them feeling quite small and catch myself thinking that now I truly feel tiny.

— Beautiful, isn’t it?. — A voice sounds behind me, and I don’t need to turn around. The hoarse yet lively voice brings me back to my senses. I merely shrug. — You don’t like it?

— You know better how monuments should look, Ekko. .

— Everyone decides for themselves what the monument should look like. — He concludes, standing very close and politely offering his elbow. — Really, Miss Dean, what don’t you like? Indeed, a cane and stoop are not the best epithets for a statue; that’s why they weren’t included.

I shrug again. He is the only person who speaks to me about these things as if nothing has happened. And he is the only one I am grateful to for it.

— It’s not about the cane.

— Then what is it?

The empty gaze of the statue looks into the distance, at the rooftops of the city. I don’t remember exactly, but his gaze must have looked the same way.

I never think about it at all. Never. I am deeply concerned only with the details of this city. Why should I remember anything else? And yet…

— Not a single mole on its face. There should be two, actually.

Ekko is silent, then he pats me on the shoulder. If I had retained my youthful boldness, I would lament this. He used to pat me on the shoulder with a lively cheer, as if teasing; now these comforting gestures do not touch me.

— Forgive the sculptors their little inaccuracy.

The city forgives everything.

— Beautiful work. The Academy was missing something monumental. Besides the huge building, there should have been something to make this place breathe.

Ekko leaves. He is not interested in long, candid conversations where one must piece together some deeper meaning bit by bit. He fears touching on certain things not so much out of a desire not to offend but out of fear of stirring something in his own soul.

Meanwhile, reminders are everywhere. The city keeps its imperfections just for people like him. Every crack in the road. Every pattern of peeling paint on the corners of buildings.

The city tries to drive me into the Academy’s lecture hall with the booming sound of a bell, promising the start of classes. This ringing hasn’t changed for what seems like hundreds of years. It rang before us, rang when we were young, rings now, and will ring for many more years to come. This metal is not afraid of death or oblivion.

Tearing my gaze from the statue, I turn it back to the road that has been our path for so many years and now lies only before me.

The same melody still plays on. A musician by the entrance of a small shop is as old as the world itself. He was old when we were young, and he has played the same songs all his life. Their tender melodies have become part of my own consciousness; they cling to my mind so that I hear this music even on days when the old man with the weathered banjo does not come out to play. Strolling down this street always feels serene, almost perfect. It just lacks one small imperfection: the quiet tapping of a cane.

While the soft voice of the banjo hums in my mind, my legs lead me into the lecture hall. Hundreds of young faces, whose joys and sorrows this city will witness more than once, greet me with calm anticipation.

“Good morning, Dean…,” “Dear Dean…, I’d like to consult you about my new project…,” “Dean…, what if…»

Hundreds of voices hush as my bent silhouette stands at the lectern.

— May I have your attention. The materials for today’s lecture are not included in the late edition of the history manual. Everything you hear from now on will not be on the exam, so if you are not paying attention to the topic, there will be no consequences.

The lights in the lecture hall dim. A student sets up the projector, and with a gentle press on the metal lever behind me, a pale portrait blooms to life. With two beautiful moles on its face.

— Write down the topic.

“The Final Glorious Evolution.”

[knightpixie]

oh

that's how you make clay in this modpack

[priniya]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 BEFORE US! ᡣ𐭩ᯓ

pairing. ollie bearman x webber!reader.

summary. a drunken encounter leads to a history straight out of rom–com, turning the world of a formula 2 driver upside down.

notes. reader tells ollie the plot of before sunrise. also, reader is said to be ollie’s age (kinda self-indulgent LOL) maybe part 2 of them meeting in spa? 😁

it was eleven in the evening, while you were having a good time on the streets of hungarian capital city. your actions were not exactly responsible as you were there with a friend of yours that you met online a few months ago. also, you weren’t exactly sure how you managed to strain away from your father and oscar. well, alright — there was a possibility that a train, a sweet smile and a promise to be safe were involved.

honestly, you don’t even know how you ended up in that small bar, but in the larger point of view, you were happy that you let lara drag you there. you already had a few drinks in, you were going back to your booth, when you accidentally bumped into a muscular, tall guy, spilling the drink on your white dress.

“shit, i am so, so sorry.” the boy — because you could easily notice that he must’ve been similar to you in age — spoke relatively slowly, probably out of kindness as he couldn’t tell if you were fluent in english or not. some would call it offensive, but you considered it slightly endearing that the boy tried to be as considerate as possible, knowing that not everyone in the world speaks english.

his face fell to your chest for a tenth of a second, a small cough escaping his lips, before his cheeks tinted pinkish from embarrassment that he even let himself be so blatantly disrespectful towards you. what made it even worse was that the once white dress became see-through.

“shit, shit, your dress. i– here, take this.” he stuttered, swiftly taking off his grey hoodie, letting you take a glimpse of his toned stomach for half a second as his shirt rolled up.

people around you two, suddenly stopped existing and maybe the alcohol you’ve consumed that night was at fault — or maybe it was the charming aura around him, but you honestly couldn’t care less. he was the only guy that wasn’t trying to harass you or make your night less fun and definitely more stressful.

“you shouldn’t apologise, it’s all my fault. i wasn’t paying enough attention.” your voice was loud, but yet still soft enough, so only the boy you bumped into could hear you. “i’m yn, my friend lara is there in the corner booth, do you… um, maybe wanna join us? so i can get you a drink for bumping into you?”

it might’ve been a risky move — he could always say no, laugh at you and go away, thinking you were the most embarrassing person in the entire bar. or he could think that you were a pretty cute, interesting girl that he’d like to spend a july evening with. and, fortunately for you, ollie introduced himself with a quick breath of relief (that he didn’t know he was holding), said that he’d love to join you and buy you a drink, but he was there with two other guys and one of the friends’ girlfriend.

so, upon hearing that, as a responsible human being, you… suggested that they should join you as well, because you really felt like getting to know ollie a tad better. upon hearing that he wasn’t there alone, you nodded with a small smile, before suggesting that it’s not really a big deal and that maybe the four of them would like to join you and lara, who wouldn’t have anything against it since she was a social butterfly, loving bigger crowds.

two and a half hour later, you ended up walking down the cobblestone pathway, while your newfound group of friends was a few steps ahead. lara quickly got along with kimi, eliska and gabriele, so you felt less guilty that you got so occupied in the endless conversation with ollie, slowly trailing behind the group. a month or two later, you were told by eliska that she saw the way you and ollie click and made sure you could get along.

you weren’t sure where the six of you were going, budapest was a gorgeous city, but keeping your eyes on bearman was pretty much enough. he had your arm hooked around his as you slightly started to stumble from the tiny gaps in the path. a giggle escaped your mouth as he whispered a really cheesy joke, his lips inches away from your ear. then, your drunken mind thought that you should come clean with the cute boy about why you’re actually in budapest.

“i have a confession.” you started quietly, your words barely above a whisper. ollie let you continue as he simply nodded. if you weren’t tipsy from all the strawberry daiquiris you had at the bar earlier, you would notice how his body tensed slightly, almost as if he was afraid of what you were about to say.

the first thing that came to his mind was that you had a boyfriend somewhere in monaco, while he was really getting a vibe from you that maybe you were interested in getting to know him as much as he wanted to get to know you. just half a second later came the thought that you knew who he was and it was just as awful. he hasn’t been in the spotlight of motorsport for a long time yet, but he was aware of how people’s perception on things change once they realise what he does, and he really, really didn’t want it to be the case with you.

“this is not something i usually tell people on the day i meet them, but you’re so genuine and so, so nice to me.” your words were coming off as rambling, though despite the lump in his throat, the prema driver couldn’t help but think that maybe he could live with the thought of you bumping into him on purpose if he could listen to your cute rambling for a few more minutes. “and i’m really enjoying spending time with you right now, and-and i don’t want you to think that i’m like a liar or something, because i really am not.”

“hey, breathe. whatever it is, i don’t think i’m gonna perceive you as a liar.” his quiet chuckle with a nervous undertone was enough for you to calm down a bit. his hand dropped to yours, squeezing it for a little more reassurance.

“that’s what i’m really hoping for.” you whispered, looking down at your jointed hands, a ghost of smile lingering on your face. “so, there’s this sport you might’ve heard of — or not, honestly if it wasn’t for my dad, i don’t know if i would, but — gosh, i’m sorry i’m rambling again. alright… there’s, um, formula one, right? i guess you know, because it is a big thing in england, i suppose.” oliver nodded once again, a pit in his stomach growing.

“the thing is… i’m in hungary for that exact reason. there was the grand prix this weekend and i came here with my dad, because, um… he’s a manager of, um, one of the drivers. oscar? he won today, yesterday, technically.”

ollie couldn’t believe what he just heard. he was so scared that you were pretending just to boast about hanging out with formula 2 and formula 3 drivers, while you were having an inner turmoil of your own, weighing pros and cons of telling him that you were the daughter of the mark webber. he could see the nervous expression on your pretty face and his heart swelled, knowing that in those two and a half hours of constant chatter he gained so much of your trust to be told that.

for other people it might seem like it was nothing, nevertheless ollie knew how much fake people you must’ve met in your life, who liked you for your father’s achievements and not you. god, for a moment he felt like crying.

“i was there too.” he gave you a shy smile. before you were able to overthink every possible scenario with the worst possible outcome, his smile widened, his hip gently nudging yours. “i’m racing for prema in f2.” he chuckled at your surprised expression.

bearman, as he was a tad more sober than you, could easily notice the weight falling off your shoulders, once you recognised him, quickly replaced by a blush of embarrassment that flooded your cheeks.

“that’s why i thought i’ve seen you somewhere.” you muttered, scrunching your nose, gears in your brain working overtime. “i’m sorry, it’s— i haven’t really been up to date with formula 2. but i remember you from saudi, i wasn’t there, but my dad was really impressed. everything makes sense now, though.”

“no need to be embarrassed or anything, i’m glad neither of us recognized each other. you made me feel like a normal teenager for once.” he grinned down at you, your face matching his as he let go of your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer, but you couldn’t really complain.

you didn’t remember the moment, when your night turned into a reenactment of one of your favorite rom-coms — before sunrise. gabriele, kimi and eliska had to go back to their hotels, suspiciously at the same time, when lara’s curfew was coming. it was truly reckless for you to stay out with ollie till your train back to the place your father had rented for the four days stay in hungary. once you were alone, he made sure to keep you close to him at all times, so if an emergency occured, he’d be able to protect you.

“i feel like i’m in a movie.” your admission was soft as you slowly sat down on the grass in the park, the state of your white dress long forgotten as it’d be green once the sun was up.

“a movie you like?”

“my favorite one.” ollie smiled.

“tell me about it.” he suggested, plopping down next to you, uncorking the wine you two bought earlier in one of those 24/7 shops.

“it’s about two people that met on a train going across the europe.” you started explaining, ollie’s free arm slung across your shoulders once again, making you realize what his love language must be. “he’s american and she’s french, once they stop in vienna, he asks her to get off the train with him and walk around the town with him till he has to go to the airport, because it’s his last day in europe. she thinks it’s crazy, but she agrees and they spend the entire night together. nothing kubrick-esque happens there, all of the action happens during their dialogues. they share opinions and stuff. it��s kind of silly, but they end up in a park, too, with wine and stuff.”

“like us.” he commented, his eyes still lingering on your face as they were, while you were skimming over the plot of the movie.

“like us.” you repeated softly.

“so, what do they do in the park?” ollie asked another question, earning himself a small hum from you as you shifted closer, his thumb absentmindedly drawing shapes on your shoulder. your stomach was filled to the brim with butterflies as he asked all the right questions, made all the right moves, giving you all the right smiles.

“they kiss.” a whisper left your lips, tilting your head to get a better view of his face.

“they kiss.” it was the prema’s driver’s time to repeat the short sentence as you just nodded, noticing the way his eyes flickered to your mouth.

sweet silence embraced the two of you as bearman took his chance and leaned forward an inch or two, cautiously testing the waters. when you didn’t pull back, a smile tugged onto his face, before cupping your cheek with his free hand.

however, ollie didn’t kiss you for a moment that felt like eternity. his mouth just hoovered over yours, giving you a chance to back up, to show him that he read the signs wrong, but you didn’t. your eyes locked with his, before his lips were moving against yours in a sweet, gentle and almost tantalising manner. you couldn’t tell how long were you kissing for, but when the two of you finally pulled away, his mouth was tinted with the red shade of your lipstick, both with messed up hair and slightly swollen lips.

it was almost seven in the morning, while you were sitting at the train station with your hand clasped in ollie’s. the silence between you was truly the most comfortable thing in the world at the moment. budapest was slowly waking up in the background as you enjoyed his presence beside you.

“what do they do in the movie before they part ways?” he interrupted the silence.

“they promise to see each other in a six months time in the same place. they don’t exchange numbers or anything, though.” you recalled, wondering where was he going with this.

“and do they? meet, i mean.” he asked, already expecting the answer as you’d told him it was a trilogy.

“not in the set time. she can’t make it to vienna again, because her grandmother dies, but he does.” you nodded. “but they do meet each other again, eight years later, this time in paris.”

“good thing we’re not jesse and celine.” ollie joked, a grin tugging on your lips as you nod in agreement. “i do have your number, and we can see each other in spa on thursday, if you want to.”

“i do.” this time, you were the one to press a gentle kiss on his lips for a brief second as your train arrived. bearman just grinned back at you, leaving a kiss on your forehead. “i’ll see you on facetime then, and in belgium.”

ollie stayed for another five minutes after your train departed. his gaze dropping to the phone in his hand before he quickly sent you a message.

ollie: thank you for making this night amazing for me x

[kairoot]

𝑴𝑶𝑶𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 — 西村力.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: during the village’s annual moon festival, the moon shines big and bright. legend says that it reveals a person’s true emotions under its light and can rekindle lost feelings. when you move to the little romance village, it’s bustling with talk of the festival and a famous local painter. deciding to see what the gossip was about, you attend said moon festival. but what happens when you run into this unknown artist under the moon’s light?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: niki x 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : fluff , s2l, soulmates (???), folklore kinda thing.. 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 : no 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : riki is kind of a loner .. ( 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 ) : special thank you to nini ^^ @flwrstqr for proofreading for me, I love u ♡︎. pls leave reblogs, they are much appreciated !! ♡︎ WC: 3.3K

**

THE VILLAGE SQUARE WAS a kaleidoscope of lights, colors, and laughter. Lanterns hung from just about every surface, casting a warm, golden glow over the cobblestone streets. The air was full of sweet scents, coming from every corner of the small town.

You weaved through the large crowd, taking in all of the sights and sounds. It was beyond anything you’d ever experienced. Being a new resident to the town, you couldn’t understand what all of the excitement was about over one festival but now you felt the same way everyone else did.

Melodic strains of the village’s music played, causing people all around to dance together, not caring if they were strangers to one another. You smiled, the sight somehow bringing you joy.

After walking a few miles, an older shop catches your eye. The traditional decorations hanging outside the tiny building, with a crescent moon sketched on the wooden door. You opened it to walk in, the small bell ringing as the door moved.

You were greeted with the sharp tang of an earthy aroma of dried clay and the rich smell of more wood from the easels, frames, and shelves. The subtle hint of fresh pencil shavings, and the crisp scent of new canvases waiting to be transformed.

A few employees smiled and waved at you, their kindness making you feel welcome as you got ready to explore this new environment. The store was quiet; the only noise being a few painters conversing with one another, the low traditional music that played in the background, and pencils or paintbrushes moving against the canvases.

You walked further into the shop, wandering around the shelves to look at different tools and paintings that had been hung up on display.

You ran your hand over the wooden shelf, another crescent moon etched into the dark surface.

This town is serious about the moon, you thought.

You continued your mini journey through the aisles, amazed by some of the artistry inside of them.

But a certain painting seems to pique your interest. You let your feet guide you to the image, captivated by the delicate brushstrokes that brought the scene to life. Just as you let your fingertips graze the painting, another hand brushed against yours. Startled, you pulled your hand away at the same time as the other person’s, causing the art to fall to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologize to the stranger, before you both chuckle at the small incident. The stranger crouches to pick the canvas up from the ground, holding it with a firm grasp.

You look up, only to see a much taller male in front of you, dressed in all black with a paint splattered apron tied around his waist. His eyes sharp but filled with surprise as he stared back at you.

His beauty captivated you in a way. In a way where you couldn’t even find your words or perhaps even start a conversation.

You both stood silently until he sucked in a breath, hesitant on whether he wanted to say something.

“So, uh—, arts’ your thing, too?” He glanced at the painting in his hands and then back at you, a gentle smile making its way to his face.

“I guess I’ve found it kind of interesting lately,” you beamed, feeling a bit more at ease. “What about you?”

“Yeah, uh, this is mine actually..” He trailed off. Your eyes widened in surprise, suddenly feeling guilty for the incident that had occurred a few minutes earlier.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to knock it down, I was just curious, and—“

He looked down, chuckling, “It’s no problem. I was thinking of chunking it anyway.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “But it’s way too good for you to just throw away like that.”

He shrugged, still smiling a bit. “I don’t know.. I’m just not too fond of it.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Why’s that? It seems really beautiful to me.”

He looked at you with a spark of enthusiasm in his eyes. “Well, if you’re interested, you can make your own. I give mini-lessons from time to time. If you’re free, I’d be happy to show you some techniques.”

A smile crept onto your face. “I’d love that.”

“I’m Riki, by the way.” He extended his larger hand.

You shook his hand, the warm and firm grip making you feel as if you had butterflies in your stomach.

“Y/n.”

The sunlight filtered gently through the shop's windows, casting a warm, inviting glow over the art supplies and canvases. You arrived at the store a bit early, your excitement barely contained. Riki was setting up a small workspace in the back corner, his movements precise and deliberate. The room was filled with the rich scents of paint and wood, a comforting backdrop for the lesson ahead.

“Hey,” Riki greeted as you walked in, his smile making your heart flutter. “Ready for your mini-lesson?”

You nodded, trying to maintain a calm exterior but feeling a tingle of nerves. “Definitely!”

Riki’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he motioned for you to join him at the small table. “Alright, grab an apron and we’ll start with some basics. I’ll show you how to create depth and texture in your painting.”

You took one of the dark aprons off of the hook by the door and took a seat. Riki’s proximity made you acutely aware of his presence. He stood close enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the earthy aroma of the paint. As he demonstrated the brushstrokes, his hand occasionally brushed against yours, sending a shy smile to your lips.

“Alright, so you want to use a light touch for the highlights,” Riki said, his voice warm and encouraging. He leaned in slightly to show you the technique up close, his face just inches from yours. The closeness made your cheeks warm, and you found it hard to focus on the painting as you became acutely aware of the soft sound of his breath and the gentle way he spoke.

“Like this,” he continued, guiding your hand with his own. His fingers were careful and steady, and you felt a gentle pressure as he helped you maneuver the brush. “The key is to layer the colors gradually, so it builds up the texture without looking too harsh.”

His hand lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him. Riki’s eyes were soft, and his smile was reassuring. “You’re doing great. Just remember to relax and let the brush do the work.”

You nodded, trying to steady your breath as you followed his instructions. The way he spoke to you, with such patience and attentiveness, made your heart race. Each time he leaned in to offer guidance, you felt a flutter of shyness but also an endearing sense of comfort.

Riki moved to the other side of the table, giving you space but still offering occasional tips and encouragement. “You’re really picking this up fast,” he said with genuine admiration, his voice carrying a note of pride. “You have a natural eye for detail..”

You blushed at his compliment, focusing on your painting with renewed determination. “Thanks. I’ve really enjoyed learning from you.”

He smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting a hint of something more than just professional interest. “I’ve enjoyed having you as my ‘student’.”

As the lesson continued, you found yourself growing more confident. Riki’s careful instruction and the way he interacted with you made the experience both educational and heartwarming. Every time he offered a correction or praised your work, it felt like a gentle nudge toward something greater.

By the end of the session, you were both smiling, the painting before you a testament to the techniques Riki had shared. “I think you’re ready for more advanced techniques next time,” he said, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “But for now, you’ve done really great.”

You beamed, feeling a mix of accomplishment and affection for the kind-hearted teacher who had made your art journey so special. “Thank you. I can’t wait for our next lesson.”

As you packed up your things, Riki’s gaze lingered on you with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m looking forward to it too,” he said softly. “See you soon.”

You left the shop with a smile, carrying not just the knowledge of painting but also the warmth of a shared connection.

A few days later, the festival was in full swing again, but this time it was a different night. You decided to take a quiet walk to a nearby beach, not too far from the festival setup. The moon hung low in the sky, casting its silver light over the ocean waves.

You carried with you a small set of painting materials, inspired by the techniques Riki had taught you. Setting up on the sand, you began to paint the scene before you: the moonlit waves and the gentle shimmer of the water. With each brushstroke, you used the tips he had given you, trying to capture the serene beauty of the moment.

The night was quiet, save for the soft sound of the waves and the occasional distant laughter from the festival. As you worked, you felt a sense of peace and contentment, lost in the beauty of the moment.

After a while, you sensed someone approaching. Turning slightly, you saw Riki walking towards you, his eyes bright with curiosity and admiration. He stopped a few feet away, watching you paint with a soft smile on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice gentle. "I didn't expect to find you here."

You smiled back, feeling a flutter of happiness at his presence. "I needed some quiet time to practice. I’ve been kind of inspired."

Riki moved closer, sitting down next to you on the sand. His proximity was comforting, and you felt a warm sense of connection as he admired your work. "You've really captured the essence of the scene," he said, his eyes scanning your painting. "It's like seeing the world through your eyes."

His compliment made your heart swell with pride. "Thanks.. I’ve been trying to use the techniques you taught me.”

“Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his face. “My techniques?”

You chuckled lightly, nodding, “Yes, your technique.”

You continued to paint, occasionally glancing at Riki, who watched with genuine interest.

The moonlight cast a soft glow on his features, making the moment feel even more magical. After a while, Riki spoke, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

"You know, the legend of the moon... it's said to reveal the truth about one's emotions," he began, his eyes fixed on the waves. "I've always been afraid to let the moon see mine, not after what happened before."

You looked at him with curiosity. “What happened?”

He sighed softly, looking out at the ocean. “I once let the moonlight reveal my true feelings and it led to heartbreak. It was... painful.. But that’s a story for another day..”

He turned to you, his eyes sincere and vulnerable. “Somehow, being with you, I don’t feel that fear. There’s something about tonight, and about you, that makes me believe in the magic of the moon again.”

You felt a pang of sympathy and reached out, gently placing your hand on his. “Riki, you don’t have to talk about it if you’re not comfortable.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. “Thank you. It’s just... hard to think about sometimes. The pain was so real, and it made me afraid to show my true emotions again.”

You squeezed his hand gently, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Take your time. I’m here. Though we met nights ago, I’m here.”

 Riki‘s eyes softened, and he gave you a small, appreciative smile. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

The moon’s light bathed the beach in a gentle glow, illuminating the quiet understanding between you. Riki’s honesty and openness resonated deeply, and you felt a sense of connection that was both comforting and profound.

He shifted slightly, moving closer to you until your shoulders almost touched. The warmth of his body next to yours was a silent reassurance, a wordless promise of support. “You’re really something, you know that?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you turned to look at him, finding his gaze already on you. “I could say the same about you,” you replied, feeling the intimacy of the moment deepen.

Riki’s eyes held a mixture of vulnerability and strength, a silent testament to the pain he carried and the bravery it took to admit it. He took a deep breath, his fingers brushing against yours as he spoke. “It’s just... sometimes the memories are too painful. But being here with you, it makes it a little easier to bare.”

You felt a surge of tenderness for him, your heart aching at the thought of the hurt he’d endured. “I’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”

He nodded, his eyes glistening with unspoken emotion. “Thank you. It’s... it’s a lot, but knowing I have someone who understands means everything.”

The waves whispered their secrets to the shore, and the moon shone down, wrapping you both in its gentle embrace. The moment was filled with quiet revelations and tender support, a reminder that sometimes, the simple act of being present could be the greatest comfort of all. 

As the night continued, you returned to your painting, the brush gliding smoothly across the canvas. Riki watched you with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with admiration and something more—a tenderness that was growing stronger with each passing moment.

Unbeknownst to both of you, the moonlight was beginning to take effect, subtly enhancing the emotions between you. Every glance exchanged, every soft touch, carried a deeper meaning, an unspoken promise of what could be.

You finished your painting, setting the brush down and turning to Riki. He reached out, taking your hand in his. “Come on,” he said softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let’s take a break.”

He led you to the water’s edge, where the waves gently lapped at the shore. The cool water splashed over your feet, sending a delightful shiver up your spine. Riki laughter filled the air, infectious and free, and you couldn’t help but join in.

You ran along the shoreline, the waves chasing after you, and for a moment, all your worries melted away. Riki caught up to you, grabbing your hand and spinning you around, both of you laughing as you stumbled into the shallow waves.

The moonlight danced on the water, casting a magical glow over everything. You splashed each other, the cool water mingling with the warmth of your laughter. Riki’s hand never left yours, his grip firm yet gentle, grounding you in the moment.

At one point, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as the waves rolled in. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you under the moon’s tender gaze. You looked up at him, your heart swelling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name but felt deeply in your soul.

“Riki,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the ocean.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “I know,” he replied softly, his breath mingling with yours. “I feel it too.”

The moonlight seemed to intensify, casting a silver halo around you both. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken words and shared feelings. Then, with a gentle tug, Riki led you back to the shore, where you sat together, the waves gently lapping at your feet.

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you. The night was filled with love-filled glances and quiet intimacy, a perfect blend of comfort and connection. The magic of the moon had done its work, weaving a spell of closeness that would linger long after the night had ended.

You both sat in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythmic sound of the waves providing a soothing backdrop. Riki’s fingers traced gentle patterns on your hand, his touch sending a pleasant shiver through you. He seemed lost in thought, and you didn’t want to disturb the quiet peace that had settled over you both.

But then, as if needing to break the silence, he spoke again, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever fully heal from what happened. It’s like a part of me is still stuck in that moment.”

You turned to him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. “Healing takes time, Riki. And it’s okay to feel that way. Just remember, you don’t have to face it alone.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I do. Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here. And if you’re not ready, that’s okay too.”

Riki’s gaze softened, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. 

The intimacy of the moment deepened, the air around you thick with unspoken emotions. Riki’s fingers continued to trace gentle patterns on your hand, each touch sending a warm, tingling sensation through you. You could feel the connection between you growing stronger, the bond solidifying in a way that felt both natural and profound.

As the night wore on, the two of you shared stories, laughter, and moments of comfortable silence. You found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn’t expected, sharing parts of yourself you usually kept hidden. Riki listened with genuine interest, his responses thoughtful and kind.

Eventually, the lure of the waves became irresistible again, and you found yourselves splashing through the shallows, once again, laughing and playing like children. Riki’s laughter was infectious, his joy a balm to your soul. You chased each other through the surf, the cool water a delightful contrast to the warmth of your growing affection.

At one point, Riki caught you around the waist, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You laughed, the sound pure and free, your heart swelling with happiness. He set you down gently, his arms still wrapped around you as the waves hit your ankles.

The moonlight bathed you both in its gentle glow, casting a magical light over the scene. Riki’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “For everything.”

You smiled, your heart full. “I should be the one thanking you. This has been... amazing.”

Riki’s eyes held a promise, a silent vow of what could be. “Let’s make a pact,” he said softly. “No more hiding. From the moon, from each other, from ourselves.”

You nodded, feeling a surge of hope and determination. “Deal.”

The night continued, filled with love-filled glances, quiet intimacy, and the gentle lapping of the waves. The magic of the moon had woven a spell of connection and understanding, one that would linger long after the festival lights had faded. As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you knew that this night would be a cherished memory, a moment of pure, unadulterated connection.

And as Riki‘s hand found yours once more, you knew that even if you had met only nights before, for some reason you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

✩

TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @flwrstqr @elysianiki — send an ask to join.

[fioiswriting]

The lust we share

Summary : When your husband takes you to Harrenhal, you meet his lover. And things don't turn out the way you thought they would.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x reader, Alys Rivers x Reader, Aemond x Reader x Alys

TW : pwp, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, light angst, threesome, unprotected sex, breeding kink (implied), praising kink, loss of virginity,  not proofread.

Words count : 3652

AN : hi everyone!! How are you doing ? SO I know. I know I should be working on all my other works in progress BUT I had this idea and…Well. I had to write this. Who else is excited to see Alys??? Btw I’ve finished my exams and my internship, so I should have more time to write <3

Sorry, it’s filthy. As always. 

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !! 

Enjoy 🖤

From the moment you see her, you're mesmerised by her striking beauty, which makes her mysterious and dangerous. There's something intriguing about her gaze, as if she's reading through you, and it sends shivers down your spine every time. She seems to pierce your soul, deciphering your deepest secrets, leaving you both entranced and unsettled. She moves with a graceful confidence, her long black curls bouncing behind her. You don't know where to look. She's mesmerising. Your gaze is relentlessly drawn back to her.  She has curves where you don't.  A confidence you don't have.

You can only see in her what you lack in yourself, and in a way, you understand Aemond.

But Alys is surprisingly gentle with you. Her eyes show a kind of pity. You were nervous, frightened, and the edges of your thumbs can testify to that.  After all, Alys is the other woman. Or maybe it's you, the other woman. Alys was there before you, after all. And she exudes a confidence, a poise, a maturity that you'll never be able to match, as if she were able to bend anyone or anything to her will. You can see why they say she's a witch. 

With you it's different. Alys is patient. You just don't like the pitying tone she uses when she talks to you, as if you were a frail little thing to be pitied, as if she's afraid to break you – but you're no doll. You're not made of glass. You don't need pity. She knows you had no choice. You were forced to follow your husband to Harrenhal.  Maybe that’s why she pities you.

She wonders how you manage to stay by his side, when you know the horrors he's committed, and it's something you wonder too. Every step he takes is made of ashes and blood, and you know the cries still haunt the walls of Harrenhal.  The blood is probably still fresh, soaking the cobblestones.

She's made a habit of brushing your hair, stroking your long curls, cradling you and talking to you, and there's something comforting about the way she mothers you. You seek solace in her arms, when your husband is distant. At least you are not alone.

Your marriage to Aemond is recent. She listens as you confide in her and caresses your head. You are young and frightened, and you know the King needed an alliance to continue the war - your father had military and financial support to offer him.  Marrying into the Targaryen family is a privilege no one can refuse. And especially not when your husband is the Prince Regent.

"Does he treat you well?" Your gaze meets hers in the mirror, but you are quick to look away. There's something too sincere in looking into her eyes. You feel as if she can see into your soul, read the truth, reveal your secrets, and that makes you uncomfortable. 

" He's cold. Distant," you reply. Because it's true, Aemond is caught up in the gears of war, and he doesn't have much time for you, but you accept the place he's given you.  He has a need to control, you've noticed. He controls and owns and dictates the rules of the game. Maybe it's comforting, for him, maybe it's his way of coping.  He never shows vulnerability, at least not to you. 

"Does he satisfy you?" Your face immediately turns red. You don't know how to tell her that you haven't consummated the marriage yet. You got married in a hurry. You didn't have time for -

At least he insisted you accompany him to Harrenhal. He didn't want you waiting for him in the Red Keep, he wanted you close to him. Because you are his wife, he said. 

"We... We didn't..." You babble. You search for your words. And then you see her smirk, a subtle hint of a smile, almost imperceptibly curling the corners of her lips. You hardly know her, it's strange to discuss such intimate matters with your husband's lover. She knows him better than you do. Perhaps he showed her vulnerability, perhaps she knows what scars his soul. You wonder what she's thinking. She's indecipherable. Alys is a mystery. She exudes a special aura.

" What a pity," is all Alys answers. She has finished combing your hair. She takes the strands that have fallen across your chest and pulls them back behind your back, admiring her work. You hardly recognise yourself. You look bold. Almost confident. Your cleavage is accentuated. You look pretty.

You let her fingers brush over your bare shoulders, the touch light and pleasant. She places the finishing touch around your neck; a sapphire necklace. 

"Now you look like a future queen," she whispers, her lips painted red in the hollow of your ear, and you shiver. With desire or surprise, you don't really know. There's a kind of certainty in her voice that intrigues you. You're not quite sure what that is. For a brief moment, you have the feeling that you detect some truth in her words, and you say nothing. Her eyes are shining. 

Perhaps there's a part of unspoken desire there that you keep hidden beneath your innocent appearance.

You feel your husband's burning gaze on you all evening. You are alone at dinner. The two of you. The servants have brought the dishes and left immediately. He's at the other end of the table, his head held high, separated from you by steaming plates that make your mouth water. He has barely spoken, but you know that Aemond is a man of few words. He's all about quality.

"You look beautiful."

You politely accept the compliment. You like to feel that he fancies you. But then again, who doesn't like compliments? You cut your meat, your movements precise and delicate, like the lady you've been taught to become all your life. You play your role to perfection, it's a form of comfort, at least.

"I'm pleased that you find me to your liking, husband."

He looks satisfied. A silence falls over you. You are still hesitant in his company. You still have to adjust to him. You need to know how far you can go. What are your possibilities and your limits.

" She's intriguing, your Alys. "Your voice doesn't sound quite the way you would like it to, and you blame yourself. It gives the impression that you're reproaching him. That's not what you want. He stares at you with his one good eye, unreadable. 

"My Alys," he muses. "She is, indeed." He lets a doubt linger, and you regret having brought up the subject of Alys. "She sees much and more. She saw a future for me." He pauses. You raise your eyes to him, puzzled. "For us."  You and him, he means. And for a split second, you wonder if this has anything to do with what she told you.  A future queen. She said you looked like a future queen.

Your pulse quickens. The idea seems dizzying.  But there are certain desires that should remain buried, you know it. You don't want to appear power-hungry, even if your core is burning at the thought of having the whole Kingdom at your feet. 

Perhaps your husband can see it in your eyes.

Aemond wears the Conqueror's Crown on his head like the Prince Regent that he is, and you can't help but think that it suits him so well. It's what he is made for. He looks like a statue carved in marble, ethereal and suspended in time, the embodiment of Targaryen beauty and grace.

How can such an angelic face hide such a cruel man?

"But don't be jealous, wife." He continues in the face of your silence. His voice is cold. It cuts through the air like a sharp knife. "For it is you I have chosen to marry, and I intend to be a dutiful husband."

You feel your cheeks flush. He's watching you so intently. His good eye shines even brighter than the sapphire you know hides under his eye patch. You feel as if he's undressing you with his gaze. 

"I want you, tonight."

The statement sends a wave of heat between your thighs. You know what he means. You want it too. But to hear him express his desire so clearly, as if leaving no room for discussion, awakens a familiar sensation in your core. Aemond wants to take what he wants, what is rightfully his, and you may be sick in your head because the idea excites you as much as it frightens you. He's dangerous.  You know what he's done. And yet. And yet, you can't help but want him. 

By the time the meal is over, he's already standing in front of you. Tall. He towers over you, and as he leans towards you, forcing your chin up with the tip of his forefinger, he whispers, "You wouldn't deny your husband, would you?"

Gods, you can feel your arousal forming between your thighs, spreading across the fabric of your underwear. He's looking at you, his purple eye burning with desire. Between his legs, a visible bulge is already stretching the linen fabric. You notice it easily; it reflects the hunger you can read in his eyes.

"I wouldn't. Not when you are already so desperate."

To back up your words, your eyes drop to his crotch. He clenches his jaw and remains silent for a moment. You wonder what he's thinking, what thoughts are racing through his brain right now. He looks at you with a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as if studying an unknown specimen. Maybe you've been too bold.  Maybe he likes it. 

"I bet you are already wet."

A shiver runs down your spine. He doesn't look away, not for a moment, and your eyes are relentlessly drawn to his, as if hypnotised. 

" Check. "

He doesn't waste any time. His fingers run down your body, slipping under the thick layers of your dress - you're wearing green to please him, but it's not the colour of your house. They work their way up your leg, up the inside of your thigh, raising goosebumps on your skin in a long shiver of pleasure. You feel him brush against your folds; a touch so light it's like a ghost. But isn't that his purpose, to haunt you in the depths of your soul? When he ventures between your warm folds, your teeth bite your lower lip to prevent the slightest sound from escaping your lips. You don't want to give him that privilege. You don't want to show him that you need him.

"Indeed, you are."

He captures your innermost essence with the tip of his finger and immediately withdraws his hand. His forefinger touches his thumb, and he inspects the transparent thread that stretches between his fingers. You look away. Your cheeks are flushed. You're burning with embarrassment at your body's betrayal.  He wipes his fingers and straightens up as if nothing had happened.

"Be there when I call for you."

And with that, he leaves the room. You're left alone, staring at the flame dancing in the middle of a candle. Between your thighs, your centre throbs.  Your husband is a mystery.

You are lying on the bed. Panting, you are drowning in a combination of feverish pleasure and anticipation of what is to come. Alys plants kisses on the back of your neck, spicy and intoxicating like the finest Dornish wine. Her fingers brush over your nipples, and with a deft movement, she rolls them between her forefinger and thumb, pinching them gently.  She is behind you. You lie with your back against her full breasts, her legs on either side of your body. Her long black hair tickles your collarbones as she leans towards you, and an herbal scent wafts through the air; a mixture of sage and lavender.

Her lips were between your thighs a moment ago. With devotion, the tip of her tongue explored your still untouched womanhood, collecting the fruits of your desire, her fingers drawing circles against your entrance. She's experienced. She knows what she's doing. You've never felt anything like this before. And when your thighs have closed around her face, one of your hands buried in her thick mass of black hair, she welcomed your climax into her mouth. Her half-closed eyes looked up at you from under her long lashes, an enigmatic smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She seemed proud of herself, and of her work.  You're sure she can still taste you on her lips.

When she had finished, she remained between your legs for a moment, tracing little circles on your lower stomach, her lips still glistening with your essence and her own saliva. Your chest rose and fell quickly.  Red with embarrassment, you didn't dare meet her eyes and see the blatant traces of your shared sin still staining the lower part of her face. She let you catch your breath. Regain your senses. Come down from that little cloud you're still on.

It's Aemond who moves first. He stands and joins Alys, wiping what's left of your desire on her lips with his thumb. He looks satisfied. You wonder if he liked what he saw, if he liked seeing his wife tremble under the caresses of another.  He pushes his thumb between Alys's lips, forcing her to taste you once more, and she sucks his finger with infinite compliance. You can see in their eyes that they know each other intimately, that he has already tasted her body. You can see it in their eyes, in the glances they exchange.  You wonder if there has been more than carnal pleasure. You think there is. He kisses her chastely on the lips.

Aemond looks in your direction. He burns with desire, excitement and anticipation. You are about to become his and he can't hold back any longer. He needs to possess you. 

"She did well," Alys murmurs, amused. "Give her a moment."

But he doesn't want to wait, he wants his wife. He undresses, and that's when Alys comes up behind you. She strokes your hair and whispers a series of praises into the hollow of your ear. You're cottony between her fingers, but your core is throbbing again at the thought of feeling your husband inside you.

"Open your legs," Aemond commands. And Alys gently spreads your thighs so that you reveal yourself to your husband.

Aemond details your body. Every part, from your lips to your breasts, from the valley between your breasts to your navel, and then the curve that leads to your centre. Alys follows the path of his gaze - her fingers on your nipples, and then her fingers running along your abdomen to your folds, caressing them gently.  Her index and middle fingers slide between your flesh.

"Look how ready she is for you," Alys whispers to Aemond. You’re wet. His eyes are locked on you, right where you want him most. His member is hard, slightly curved against his belly, its angry red tip already leaking white beads.

And you are ready. You're just waiting for it. Desperately. The orgasm Alys gave you with her tongue has awakened a new, hungry desire in you.  You stifle a moan that Alys encourages you to express with her lips along your throat. 

Aemond leans over you, capturing your lips with his own. He nibbles at your lower lip. You feel his dominance, his need to own you. He's rough with his kiss, as if he's waited too long. Maybe he has.

You moan. Where Alys' body is soft and full of curves, Aemond's is angular and made of muscle. 

"I want you," he whispers again against your lips. His fingers slide down your body, lingering on your breasts as he caresses your already erect nipples. Then he moves them between your thighs. He's meticulous with his movements. Precise. He traces your slit, spreads your folds to tease your little bud. You stifle another moan.

"And I can tell you want me too."

His fingers are against your entrance, which clenches around nothing as you feel him draw circles without ever entering you. It's frustrating. Slowly, he inserts a finger. You move your hips, desperate for more contact, desperate to welcome him deeper into you.

"Stay still," Aemond whispers, pressing down on your lower body. Behind you, Alys runs her hand through your curls. She strokes your long hair and when you move, she shushes you.

"You'll take what I give you," he adds, his lips against your jaw, his fingers inside you. "But if you are patient, you will be rewarded. I always reward good girls." You feel a slight stretch as a second finger enters you, and the sensation is delicious. Delicious, but not enough. Even when he starts to move his fingers back and forth - they are subtly crooked inside you, even when he traces the curve of your breast with his mouth, catching your nipple between his lips. 

"You're doing well," Alys breathes, praising you. There's her body behind you, and Aemond's lips on your breasts, his fingers buried inside you, deep, and your body is on fire. But it's not enough.

"I'm ready," you moan. "Please."

Behind you, Alys chuckles softly, her chest rising and falling as she senses your desperation, senses your desperate need for more. The impatience of the youth, she thinks - for Aemond is like that, too. Impatient. Impulsive. She had to teach him as well. As Aemond withdraws his fingers and positions himself between your legs, you feel Alys hold your thighs apart. Her fingers are hot against your skin, but there's something soothing about having her against you, around you. Her presence calms the too-rapid beating of your heart - an inevitable form of apprehension at the thought of what is about to happen.

There's something strange about the idea of sharing such an intimate moment with your husband and his lover. It's not what you imagined, and yet you love the feeling of having them both against you. You're safe. You feel safe. The war can't reach you when you're between their bodies - it's a silly thought.

And then, his round tip rubs between your folds, testing your entrance. The contact is hot. When he finally enters you, the stretch catches you off guard, your fingers close in the sheets, then around Alys' arm.

"Fuck. You're tight." Aemond grunts.

The sensation is new and incredible - the slight pain you felt at first quickly dissipates, replaced by pleasure. 

Soon you feel nothing else. Alys' hands leave your legs and move up your body. One hand on your breast, the other at the top of your folds, where she draws slow circles around your pearl.  She knows what she's doing. She knows what she's doing, and so does Aemond. And there they are, both slaves to your own pleasure.

He sets his pace. She sets hers. You know you won't last long; your walls are already beginning to tighten around his member. You feel him so deep inside you, and there's this one spot, this one precise spot that he hits at a steady pace that makes you feel like you're seeing stars.

Soon your husband's movements become sloppy, messy. 

"Fill your wife, Aemond." Alys whispers in a commanding tone, and there's something about hearing her give orders to your husband that sends a wave of warmth through your lower belly. She reaches out her hand, strokes his hair, his cheek. "You need an heir, don't you? So, spill your seed, I know you can." She addresses Aemond, but her honeyed voice echoes in your ears. You shiver, once more. The thought. The thought is -

You feel your release sweep through your body like a wave washing over you. You throw your head back against Alys, who is already kissing you.  Her fingers leave your folds. Aemond brings them to his mouth - he cleans every trace of you that still stains her skin with a hm. It's filthy. It's indecent. But you're too far gone to think about that now. 

All you can think of is Aemond's arms around your waist as he pulls you up so you're sitting on top of him, facing him, his forehead against yours, as he spills his seed deep inside you, white ropes painting your wombs. He holds you against him, his hands on your waist, the grip mean and possessive. You put your arms around his neck, your breasts pressed against his chest. And he holds you like that, against him, when his member stops throbbing between your inner walls, when he feels his member softening inside you. When you come to your senses, still high from your second release of the evening.

"Now you truly belong to me," he whispers against your lips, and all you can answer is "Yes, I do".

As you lie back, you can still feel the sticky combination of your two fluids dripping between your thighs. But your eyelids are already heavy - your lovemaking has exhausted you. Alys strokes your hair, under Aemond's watchful eye. He's still hesitant, despite what's happened between you - but it's hard for him to be vulnerable.

"You did well," she mutters, but she doesn't know if you can hear her or if you're already asleep. Aemond finally reaches out to caress your face with a gentleness you don't recognise; his thumb against your cheek. He's soft. You look so peaceful, asleep between them.

You are not sure what tomorrow will bring. You are not sure what the future holds. But when you close your eyes, your dreams are made of crowns and sapphires.

Ashes and flames too - but you'd rather forget that. Outside, the war still rages.

[p0orbaby]

hii could I maybe request an alexia fic where you bring her to one of the german Christmas markets of your hometown and make her try different food and the famous mulled wine (just lots of fluff coziness pls 🥹) ale being a sucker for keeping your lips warm by kissing them

-

The Christmas market smells like sugar, spice, and the kind of nostalgia you wish you could bottle. String lights hang above in tangled webs, dripping amber light onto the cobblestone streets, while the air crackles with frost and the distant hum of Christmas carols played by a mediocre brass quartet.

You’ve barely stepped onto the main thoroughfare when Alexia stops, head tilted, taking it all in. Her cheeks are already pink from the cold, her gloved hands stuffed deep into her pockets.

“Is it always like this?” she asks, her accent curling softly around the words.

“Every year,” you reply. “Wait until you see the giant bratwurst stand”

Her lips quirk up at the corner. “You’re really selling it”

“Trust me, it’s iconic”

You lead her through the crowd, weaving between parents tugging kids in sledges and couples huddling close, their breath fogging in the chill. Alexia keeps her hand on the small of your back, steering you instinctively around every wayward shoulder and rogue pram. You’d find it annoying if it wasn’t so her.

The bratwurst stand is as dramatic as promised: a hulking structure with smoke pouring out of its chimney and a six-foot inflatable sausage bobbing on the roof. Alexia stares at it for a long moment, then turns to you, deadpan.

“Iconic,” she repeats, though her mouth twitches with barely restrained laughter.

You grin, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the line. “Wait until you taste it”

When she takes her first bite, she moans softly, her eyes fluttering shut. “Okay. You win”

“I always do,” you say, smug.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, too busy devouring the rest of her bratwurst.

Next is the mulled wine. You hand her a steaming mug, the scent of cloves and citrus wafting up. She blows on it delicately, watching the tendrils of steam curl away. When she takes her first sip, her eyes widen, and she licks her lips.

“This is…” she pauses, searching for the word. “Perfect”

You take a sip of your own, the warmth sliding down your throat, and hum in agreement.

She leans in then, her lips brushing your ear. “Your lips are cold.”

You glance at her, eyebrow raised. “Subtle”

Alexia shrugs, utterly unbothered. “I’m keeping them warm”

Before you can respond, she kisses you. It’s soft, lingering, the taste of mulled wine and bratwurst mingling in a way that shouldn’t work but somehow does. When she pulls back, she looks entirely too pleased with herself.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, though you can’t help smiling.

“And you love it,” she replies, stealing another sip of your wine.

The rest of the evening is a blur of lights and laughter. You make her try roasted chestnuts (“Like warm, edible rocks,” she declares) and Schmalzkuchen, the powdered sugar leaving smudges on her scarf. She insists on buying a ridiculous hand-carved ornament for your tree—a lopsided angel with one wing noticeably shorter than the other.

By the time you leave, your cheeks hurt from smiling, your hands are frozen despite your gloves, and Alexia has kissed you approximately ten more times under the guise of “keeping your lips warm.”

[writingwisterias]

Double the Chances

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

Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader x Chris Redfield

Warnings: Smut, 18+ Only, MDNI, Slight Yandere! Leon and Chris, Threesome, Breeding kink, Cream pie, multiple orgasms (F), Spit roasting, Cowgirl, Oral (M), Double penetration, Mentions of bodily changes during pregnancy, Dacryphilla, Praise kink, Blacking out, Overstimulation, Aftercare Summary: Chris and Leon have taken a liking to you, what happens when they come up with an agreement for you, one that's too tempting to ignore.

I fear I may have cooked....

The music of the club flooded out onto the streets as you opened the door, your figure illuminated by the flashing neon lights above.  The cold air nipping at your exposed skin made you pull your jacket tighter around your frame; your breath visible as you sighed heavily. People filtered past you their shoulders occasionally bumping yours as you hovered near the entrance for warmth. Your eyesight was blurred as the alcohol settled in your system. The phone light illuminated your face as you looked at the time, eyes avoiding the notifications that popped up - many missed calls and texts from your ex. All pathetic apologies for a mistake he had made; as if you could accidentally fall into someone. The low battery warning should have concerned you, it should have instilled fear and panic about how you were going to get home safely, but he ruined you, why should you care? You had nothing to return to, no home to call your own anymore. You barely drank, the alcohol feeling alien as it coursed throughout your body another effect he had created on you. How his actions had changed your regular behaviours. Tears dripped from your eyes as you looked at the cobblestone street, your frame now shaking from the cold. "Are you alright?" A deep voice sounded from beside you, the hand making contact with your shoulder jolted you from your trance. You nodded, looking towards the sound of the voice. "yeah-Yeah I'm good thanks" you mumbled, swiping away the fearful tears that had leaked out of your eyes before your eyes fell on the man. He was attractive you had to give him that, his smile was almost dangerously kind; like it wasn’t giving you his true intentions. Excitement coursed through you maybe this was finally your chance to forget about your ex. 

Normally Leon wouldn't have interacted with you, often his drunken state would have had him stumbling down some dark alleyway to puke his gut up – not a good look when trying to find someone to burry your cock into. However, today he limited himself as he has done every time he and Chris went out recently.  They both began to rely on each other to help get over their alcoholism, turning to talk to each other about the things they had seen instead of the bottle. In this instance, it was good they had limited themselves, for if their eyes were blurred with their drink they would have never spotted you. They watched you throughout the night, biting their tongue when you would saunter over to a man and dance with them, their eyes trailing over the mesmerizing sway of your hips. Their fingers would grip the glass that held their drinks tighter as they watched the men touch you. "She would be perfect for what we spoke about" Leon muttered to Chris pointing his index finger over to your form. Chris chuckled deeply before nodding, "She is"

Leon wasn't sure what he was doing when he followed you out, leaving Chris to pay for the tab. His mind wasn't straight when he asked if he could take you home, his thoughts running on praying you would fall into their small trap to propose their plan to you. "Do you need a ride? Me and my buddy can take you back?" He offered. You hesitated the only logical part of your brain left begging and pleading for you to refuse the offer, that you were better off stumbling down the street home instead of getting into their car. But, tonight wasn't the night for your logical thinking clearly - so you accepted.

Your heels clicked against the cobblestone as you followed the men's path; you had now learnt their names Chris and Leon. Their muscly builds helped you feel protected as you walked between them, their arms occasionally brushing against your own. Your body was stiff and alert, still not fully trusting the companions you had picked up. "Thank you for this really- I wasn't sure how I was going to get back" you whispered, your voice was quiet and shy barely audible. Leon and Chris shared a glance over the top of your head, smiles on their faces as they looked back down at you. "It's no worries, we will keep you safe...where do you need to go?" Chris asked. His voice was lower than Leon's laced with dominance compared to his friend. "I...um..don't know"

You weren't sure where to go, your home was filled with the smell of sex and the longer aroma of her perfume. Your shared apartment was claimed by them now, and the thought of how graphic the texts of their talks about fucking on every surface made you cringe, your apartment was no longer. You had nowhere to go. No one to turn to, having moved away from your family for him. "You don't know?" Leon teased, his heart thumping in a slight panic over you being too drunk to even consent to anything they were planning. You shook your head "My boyfriend cheated on me and we shared an apartment...I can't go back-"

"you can come back with us" Leon suggested. You stopped, looking at the two men in front of you. Your eyes scanned every detail, your brain searching for any signs or characteristics that would alarm you. Your frame shook as the breeze brushed past again, the chill swirling between your legs causing you to shiver. You nodded, observing their reactions. "If it's not too much of a problem" you spoke. Chris smiled, his arm held out for you to loop your own through as they walked towards their car. "It's not a problem at all." He spoke. His smile was kind but his eyes were darker, their actions almost seeming more dangerous than your drunken mind was catching on. Your eyes remained on the cobblestone watching your every step- you didn't need help embarrassing yourself in front of these attractive men. Yes, they were and you weren't ashamed of the throbbing of your pussy at the mere thought of them both. Your mind wondered what it would be like, would they be caring and attentive? Helping you to your release in a passionate manner unlike your ex (If he ever did that in the first place.)

The car ride was mostly silent as you stared out the window of the backseat, their whispered chatter and laughter filled in most of the silence. Perhaps you should have listened to their conversation more, you shouldn't have drunk so much, their red flags were practically waving in your face. Yet you didn't notice until they opened their apartment door and ushered you inside. Their jackets thumped against the sofa as they threw them on it. "Welcome," Leon grinned. Your eyes scanned the place, the walls were mainly blank, a few pictures littered here and there but nothing more. You spotted the kitchen through an archway, assuming the rest of the place lay beyond the door. You began to rub your arms, attempting to shake off the goosebumps that ran up your arm. "Thanks, guys, I don't know how I can thank you" You muttered a weak chuckle leaving your lips nervously. Your words caused the men to glance at each other almost instantly, their eyes narrowing as they silently communicated. "Are you both telepathic because you seem to be doing that a lot?" you joked, Chris and Leon laughed turning to you with warmer smiles.

Leon's outstretched hand gestured you to sit for them, your brows knit in confusion but you did as was requested anyway. The soft cushions sank slightly as you sat, their forms now towering over you. Your eyes lingered on Chris' arms where they were crossed over his chest, his biceps bulging deviously. "You see our jobs make our futures uncertain, we live together for a sense of home. In hopes, if someone is here it will be welcoming. We have spent hours talking about our dreams for family, for belonging to something else than the services we devote ourselves to." Leon began to speak, and he moved to sit next to you. You watched as his thigh rested next to his, the muscles clenching against the fabric of his jeans. You waited for them to continue with a small nod of your head. Their smiles brightened, Chris, shifting slightly in an attempt to hide his growing erection. "Would you like to live here, give us the stability of a home? Welcome us when we return, and give us love and affection when we need it" Leon asked.

They both twitched nervously as they watched you, Leon was unsure of what he would do if you refused their offer. You were perfect, your looks were mouthwatering - your form perfect for carrying the seed he wanted so desperately to implant deep inside of you. "So just live here? or is there more to it?" you asked, hands fidgeting against the fabric of your dress, their stares were intense alluring to more of a plan they haven't disclosed to you. Chris cleared his throat, his arms lowering at his side before he crouched before you. "Our age and occupations prevent us from a normal life, we both wish for a family...crave it. To watch someone nurture what we have created together."

You glanced at them again. Your brain went over the idea repeatedly until finally, you nodded. A small nod. But one they both grinned at brightly. Chris slowly rose to his full height, the tightness in his pants tenting in front of your face. "Thank you. We don't have to do anything right away...we understand if you are tired from everything you have been through today-"

You admired how much it seemed they cared, that in this arrangement it seemed they wished you to be equal. They were allowing you to take command, lead them and shape them to be the devoted partners you have dreamed of. You smiled at them, and the warmth in your lower stomach began pooling quickly at the sight of their hardened bulges. "It's okay, I need it"

As soon as the words left your lips they both worked to usher you into the bedroom. The touch is gentle and caring but their mind racing with deep primal thoughts of your swelling form. The only problem - whose seed would be the cause of your beauty. Who would go first?

You began to slide yourself out of your dress, the fabric pooling at your feet in a small circle. Your nipples pebbled at the temperature change, and goosebumps ran up your skin as they eyed you eagerly. Your ex had never looked at you with such admiration, you felt like a goddess they were about to vow themselves to. Leon acted first, his lips enclosing your own in a heated sloppy kiss, his hands landing on your waist pulling you in closer to his chiselled body. The fabric of his shirt scratched at your sensitive buds eliciting a small moan to slip from your lips. Leon smiled against the kiss, pressing himself closer to your chest attempting to hear the sound again. Whilst you were distracted with Leon you felt Chris come behind you. His weeping tip tapped against the back of your thigh - you felt his chest press against your back as he pulled you closer into him. His lips attached to your neck, softly biting as pulse point leaving his mark on you. You felt him tug backwards towards the bed, his form supporting you as he gently laid you down. You felt his cock slide against your clothed cunt as it slipped between the soft flesh of your thighs, the tip weeping and red desperate for your attention.

Your hands seemed so small next to it, you'd have to use two to evenly wank him off. Your fingers curiously danced closer, watching as the precum coated your fingertips as you spread it around his mushroomed tip. Chris' groan grumbled deep from his chest, the vibrations of it caused you to squirm slightly. Leon stood at the foot of the bed, admiring the sight before him. Your small frame didn't even cover the mass of Chris' muscles. You looked so petite against his friend. "What a sight to behold" Leon stated as his hand began to wrap around his erection, wet sounds filling the room as he began to play with himself at the sight. Your mouth watered at the sight of Leon's cock, be it a lot small than Chris' but his balls were hanging lower, the skin around them taught. "She's soaking" Chris muttered, he could feel the gusset of your underwear sticking to his length- the white fabric practically see-through now.

"Is that so? Do you want this as much as we do, darling?" Leon cooed as he began to crawl onto the bed. His form lying next to you, his cock resting against Chris' thigh. Leon's mouth latched onto one of your breasts, sucking at the peaked nipple. Chris groaned again as you squirmed against him, his arms wrapping around your stomach preventing you from moving too much. "Please Leon-" You whimpered, your eyes screwed shut in frustration at the small amounts of pleasure he was giving you. Your pussy clenched around nothing as it craved more. Chris’ fingers moved to tease at the waistband of your panties, his fingers slipping underneath before they slowly began to circle your clit. Now and then he would swipe a finger over the bundle of nerves sending your hips jolting along the length of his cock that was still stuck between your thighs. The precum now dribbling down the side like wax on a candle. “Oh darling, you are going to be perfect for us…I can already tell” Leon cooed as he released your breast, his fingers pinching and tweaking at the nub as he whispered in your ear. “I can’t wait for these to fill for me, for your body to blossom with one of our children. You’ll be the perfect goddess for us” 

His words danced around your brain, your thoughts melting as you became dizzy with pleasure. Your body shook as your orgasm shattered through you after one more flick of Chris’ finger. Whimpers left your lips as your body sagged against Chris’ form. “Oh love we aren’t done yet” Chris chuckled, his lips pressing a kiss against the crown of your head. Leon helped you get up off Chris, helping you rest on all fours with a pillow underneath your hips to support your weight. The fabric dragged along the soft skin of your legs, exposing your pussy to them. “Who’s going first?” Leon asked, his cock thumping against his stomach as he observed your submissive form. Chris shrugged, “Does it matter?” 

“Of course, it does, whoever finished first is more like to be the cause of her pregnancy” Leon grumbled. The atmosphere changed then. Dazed you glanced at the men, their muscles clenching as their primal need overtook them. Chris, without speaking quickly lined himself up first, his hands gripping your hips as he slowly sunk himself into you. He allowed you to get adjusted to his size before he began to thrust. Starting slow, drawing out his length to the tip and then bottoming out. You moaned at the feeling of the stretch he was giving you. “Fuck” Chris muttered as he watched his length get buried into you. Leon’s cock tapped against your cheek, the tip leaving some of his pre on your face. “Don’t be shy” he joked. Your tongue ran down his length, tracing every curve and vein of his cock. Your mouth sinks onto his length, and your drool begins to pool at your chin. Your hands gripped the sheets as Chris began to propel you forward slightly, forcing you to take in as much of Leon’s cock as you could. Your gag reflex kicked in, contracting around his cock causing Leon to throw his head back, his fingers gripping your head tightly.

Your eyes began to water at the lack of air, and your head began to spin in complete ecstasy. You could feel your second orgasm building you as they both thrust against you. Your whines were barely audible with how far Leon was shoving his cock down your throat. Chris’ thrusts faltered first, his orgasm coming in hot as his balls tightened. His cock was rigid inside you as the vein began pulsating inside your velvet walls as he finally fucked his load into you. His tip kissing the entrance of your cervix as he tried to get as deep as he could. “OH- Fuck” He groaned as he leant over your form. 

You whined as his thrusts stopped, the pleasure against your gummy walls stopping along with the build-up. “Chris….You left her unsatisfied” Leon tutted as he pulled his length from your mouth, he smirked at the line of drool that still connected the two of you. “I’m so sorry love” Chris muttered against your spine as he placed small kisses. “I needed to be the first to cum in you dear, I wanted to watch your womb swell with me first” He panted, his hand now splayed across your lower stomach. “It’s….it’s okay” You whispered, your hips began to back into him, desperate to build up your sweet release. “Oh honey it's not, see you're having to fuck yourself on him just to get what you want… it's not working is it?” Leon spoke again, his breath tickling your ear. Your eyebrows knit in frustration as you whimpered, collapsing on the bed before shaking your head. 

Leon smirked as he pulled away, settling himself against the headboard with his cock standing in the air ready for you. Chris reluctantly helped you settle on Leon, watching as you leaned back into him for support as you smiled at how full you felt. You could feel his balls press against your ass, the curve of his cock hitting just right where you needed him at this moment. Both men were completely different, giving you different pleasures that your Ex has never achieved. Any hesitation of your new situation left as you began to circle your hips, eyes shut as you worked desperately to get a release on Leon. Your thoughts emptied as you did so, it was a lot like therapy. You lay your hands against Leon's abs, using the stability to help push yourself along his length. His whisps of hair that were at the base of his cock tickled against your clit the friction adding to the built-up. Leon threw his head back against the headboard, grunts leaving his mouth as he felt you fuck yourself on him.

Your gasp caused his head to shoot up, Chris’ large hands had begun to grope and tease your breasts eliciting the prettiest moans. Leon focused on holding out, waiting for your release to shatter through you, he knew you were close with the tears that leaked out of your eyes, the way your hips began to slow down, your body shuddering as it struggled to carry you through to the break of your release. His hands gripped your hips, helping them move in the motion you needed, he could feel your walls contract around him, the evidence of Chris leaking out from between the two of you pooling in his hair and on his balls. The sounds were wet and messy as they filled the room, your body covered in a light sheen of sweat as if you were glowing above them. Your breath hitched before you collapsed against Chris, your orgasm snapped through you, your juices running down Leon's cock creating a cocktail of sex with Chris’. Leon followed quickly afterwards finally letting go, you felt his load coat your walls, the warmth of him filling you. 

The three of you stayed like this, the excitement still flowing around the room as you all took in your deeds. You could already feel Chris’ cock twitch against your back again. “I could get used to this” You breathed out. Why should you care about your ex now? Why should he occupy your time when you had these two, both caring and gently ready to submit their love and devotion to you like you were their goddess?  “Good” Chris growled. His fingers gathered up the cocktail of everyone spreading it along his length. Your eyes widened as you felt him prod at your entrance. “It won't fit-” You whimpered shaking your head against his shoulder. Leon slid down the bed, chuckling at the concern that was laced on your face. “It’s okay sweetheart, you were such a good girl for us” Leon cooed, his cock already hard inside you. You felt Chris push you down against Leon, You buried your head in his neck bracing yourself for the stretch of them both. 

Chris entered slowly, pausing to help you adjust to the stretch of them both. Your hands scratched agaisnt Leon's body, your nails leaving red tracks as you cried out. “It’s too much” You whimpered, tears now streaming down your flushed cheeks. “Doing so good love” Chris groaned as he finally bottomed out. Leon’s fingers brushed through your hair, leaving kisses on your head as he soothed you. “Such a good girl like this - letting us breed you” He whispered. You nodded meekly against him. Leon smiled at your eagerness, enjoying the way you were completely submitting yourself to them both. “You’ll never have to worry about anything anymore, you’ll just be here to welcome us home like a good slut, spreading your legs to give us this perfect pussy” He muttered, grinning agaisnt your forehead as you whimpered and nodded. Chris began to move, his thrusts slow as you cried out at the stretch, the burn soon turning into pleasure. You had never felt so full, the stretch and the burn were insane, almost painful. You cried again as Leon began to move, the two of them working on matching their thrusts to prevent less pain for you. Your nails dug crescents into Leon’s skin, the scent of him filling your nose as you buried yourself against his pulse point. “Doing so– great sweetheart” Chris grunted. Their praise went straight to your clit, the puffy nerve desperate for attention as it pulsated against Leon’s happy trail. “More –” You whimpered. Leon’s brows raised in shock as he heard the words, his brain trying to wonder what you could have meant. How could you want more when they were both fucking your sweet hole? Chris figured it out first, his fingers circling the bud as they finally reached the attention-deprived part of your body. You were full-on sobbing now as the pleasure continued to build up, Your body becoming pliable against Leon - black spots filling your vision before you finally gave into the pleasure and collapsed on Leon’s chest, allowing them both to rut into you. 

The temperature change caused you to wake as you were lowered into the hot bath. The swirling scent of cheap bath soap filled your nose as you relaxed against the body behind you. “There we go” Chris cooed as he placed kisses against the side of your head. You could vaguely feel Leon’s hands wipe a cloth against your body with care, avoiding your sore and sensitive pussy. “You did so good for us” Leon praised, a soft caring smile plastered on his face as he looked at you. “I knew you would be a good one” 

You smiled at him, gazing at him with hooded eyes. You relished in the post-sex feeling, smiling at the aftercare they were both giving you. 

[ushiwhacka]

time skip! ushijima wakatoshi + fem! reader | mdni | 1,080 words | established relationship, prone bone, creampie, body worship, it's still summer in my <3

he’s warm underneath you, skin soaked in sun and dusted in salt flakes. slow in the afternoon heat as you lay entangled, knees knocking together, your nose pressed into his neck, fingers massaging his scalp, and his arms loose around you. he smells of sweet coconut and the sea. 

the air sticky and hot, it wraps around you and sinks into your pores. the kind of warmth that feels like melting, blurs the edges of your bodies into one another. 

you’re lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of his chest, and wake to a kiss on the crown of your head with the taste of his skin sitting on your lips. he washes the dreams out of your eyes   and zips up your dress. drags his knuckles over your spine then kisses you right at the base do your neck.

and he holds you close, lets you cling onto his arm as you walk along cobblestoned streets. your heels unsteady over slippery stones. watches your every step from underneath knitted brows as you look around and gasp and point out pretty buildings. 

wakatoshi tries to get his fill of you, how you purse your lips in thought while reading the menu, how you turn away, just a little flustered under the weight of deep olive eyes. the expectant look on your face as you shove a fork into his mouth, and he agrees that it’s so good because everything you give him is good. 

he holds your hand in his over the table, squeezes it tighter at the feeling of your foot on his calf. unassuming and batting your eyelashes as you go above his knee, press into the muscle of his thigh. 

he’s even more handsome with his skin a deep bronze, a dusting of pink across his sunburnt nose and the tops of his cheeks. he wears his shirt with the top buttons opened just enough for you to see a peek of the hard planes of his chest. and he looks at you with a strange glow in his eyes, only you, precious and his.

and he doesn’t miss the intention in your voice when you coo his name, “wakatoshi,” drag it out into something of a whine, “you should ask for the check.”

you walk with hands intertwined again. maybe it’s the three piña coladas making your head fuzzy, or maybe he has just spoiled you so horribly, but you decide it’s not enough to just hold him. 

you stomp your feet and tug his arm back. “kiss.” you demand with your neck craned up towards him and eyelashes fluttering. 

there’s something about the way he touches you, the way he rubs the pads of his fingers into your cheeks. ardently. gently. how his mouth slots over yours.

the way he sinks onto his knees in the middle of your hotel room. fiddles with the delicate straps of your heels, presses his lips where the buckle has left an imprint in your skin. then he kisses the back of your knee, the inside of your thigh, the wet spot on your panties.

firm hands trace the back of your legs, grip the fat of your ass. he pulls you forward, buries himself deeper between your thighs, helps you rub your pussy on his face. and gasps turn into silent cries each time his nose catches on your clit. the friction only enough to build your frustration.

“wakatoshi,” it comes out so small, “please. i need you inside me.” he can never resist when you look at him with such pleading eyes, with tears welling up at your lash line. “please, toshi.”

he gives you what you want. always does. 

you whimper into the sheets as he sinks into you. his hand on your lower belly, pulling you up towards him. and even when he’s throbbing inside you, every muscle alight with the need to thrust into you, feel your walls stretch painfully around his girth, he resists. he waits until your body relaxes under him. eager lips drag against your spine and over your shoulder blades, leave searing, open-mouthed kisses up the back of your neck. 

his other arm wraps around your chest, holds you close enough that you can feel the beat of his heart against your back. 

gravelly and dark when he speaks in you ear. “are you alright, darling?”

“no.” your voice breaks. “can you just fuck me already?”

you choke on air your own spit when he pushes into you, when you feel him in the deepest parts of you dripping cunt. it’s new and overwhelming and sends a mess of pleas and prayers scratching up your throat. the tip of his cock sits so snug at your cervix, rubs against it each time he grinds his hips into you. so intentionally slow. 

there’s something about being held so tightly, trapped and helpless in his arms, the raw power of his body pressing into you. the already heavy air feels thicker and you gasp to suck in a breath after each drawn out, squeaky whimper. 

all you can feel is him — the amber of his cologne, the heat of his skin, his breath hot and hitching at the nape of your neck, the salty tinge of his sweat where your tongue lolls out to taste his forearm, low grunts that tingle in your ear and down your spine, the hard muscle where you sink your nails into his flesh.

wakatoshi loses himself in the feeling, in you. there’s something predatory and repressed that overwhelms his senses when he has you limp and trembling underneath him. how you take all of him and keen and whine and beg for more. how your pussy squeezes around him, how it drools all hot and slick when he whispers an “i love you” into the fat of your cheek. whiny and sniffling when you demand he comes inside you.

his chest heaving, he drops his forehead in the dip of your shoulders. listens to the sweet sounds of contented sighs sour into complaints when he even thinks about moving away from you. and he gives you what you want once again, drapes his body over yours and nuzzles into your neck, spoils you with kisses so tender they make you giggle. and he lets you spoil him with your love, wring him and twist him in any way you want. because being wanted by you is the most devastating pleasure he’s ever known.

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[benedictscanvas]

coat stays on - remus lupin x reader

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: it’s just sickly sickly fluff my loves

a/n: @burnthoneydrops encouraged me to post this weeks ago and honestly i totally forgot about it but she’s wonderful and i can’t deny her!! i hope you enjoy, it’s the first i’ve written for remus so i’m a little conscious of it! i’ve also just opened up requests and you can see the characters i’ll write for here, please send in all the fluffiest fluff your hearts can think of <3

- - -

If your hand was starting to feel a little clammy in the crook of Remus’ arm, you weren’t saying anything. The streets were lined with market stalls and lots and lots of people, more importantly, and you were pretty sure if you let go of him right now you might never see him again.

“Doing alright sweetheart?” he asked, leaning his head down to your ear so you’d hear him properly because the man refused to raise his voice even a little, “Still with me?”

You squeeze him tighter to you and rest your head on his arm briefly rather than answering. The two of you had long since lost the others in the crowd, likely because you weren’t clinging to them as you did Remus. It would make you feel silly if it didn’t make you feel ten times better.

It had been Lily’s idea to venture out into the Sunday markets in town, but she clearly hadn’t thought about the timing. Just days before Valentine’s Day and it was packed, almost shoulder to shoulder as you traversed the street. But the 5pm February darkness had enveloped the cobblestones and most of the stalls had decided to illuminate their wares with pretty fairy lights on strings, wrapped around the poles. All kinds of colours. There was a helter skelter a little ways down that was lit up in warm gold.

Despite struggling with the sheer volume of people, Lily had been right that it would be something you’d enjoy.

Remus steers you towards a stall with a blue and white striped roof, filled with fudge of every flavour you can think of. He’s quiet as he stares at them all in turn, but when his eyes land on your favourite, you watch him smile and point it out to one of the sellers.

“That’s not fair,” you murmur, nudging him with a sharp elbow, but either he doesn’t hear you or he ignores you. To get your own back, you signal to the other seller and ask for Remus’ favourite in return.

“Here we are,” he says, handing you the paper bag once you’re a little away from the stall. You’re smug as you hand him one right back. He looks inside before he pouts at you and its adorable. He’s adorable.

“Thank you,” you grin and he rolls his eyes but still thanks you back. Then he points over your shoulder, where the buskers are playing, to the little tables for resting shoppers. There’s an empty one. The two of you share a brief look before you scurry over to claim it. When you sit across from him, you have to let go of his arm and it feels all wrong.

Until, of course, he shuffles his chair around the table so you’re sitting next to each other instead, facing the band.

You’re both content to nibble on your respective fudge for a while, listening to the music, but Remus breaks the comfortable quiet.

“I’m sorry we lost the others,” he says, face close to yours in a way that makes your chest ache, “I know you and Lily were looking forward to this together.”

He’s right in one way, because you were. But it was also inevitable that you’d only get half of Lily’s evening and that James would get the other, something you were thrilled about, honestly, if it meant that during that other half you got Remus.

You couldn’t quite tell him that, yet, so you settled for the next best thing.

“Sirius was in one of his moods,” you shrug, “I think we’ve come out of this one on top.”

Remus doesn’t laugh. You find it quite hard to make him laugh and you used to be conscious of it. You’ve since found that the little smile he does towards his lap is even more gratifying, like he’s holding in a belting laugh out of something that looks like fondness.

He’s doing it now, bottom lip caught by his teeth.

“Right as always,” he muses, looking back up at you, soft as ever. You struggle to keep the awe from your face.

“I am often right,” you whisper back, breaking off another chunk of fudge and popping it into your mouth, “It’s really pretty here at night. Shame about the people.”

“They’re awful, aren’t they?” Remus says, only joking a little, “Although, I’d rather you didn’t come here at night when no one’s around, hm?”

You nudge him again just because you can. He catches your elbow as if punishing you but all he does is run his hand down from your forearm to your hand to see if you’re cold.

“Mr Protective, you are. As if I’d want to come here on my own, idiot.”

“You’re cold,” he says instead, mutters it like he’s talking to himself as he squeezes both your hands in his own. You wonder if he even heard you call him an idiot like he was your favourite person on the planet.

“It’s an evening in February, lovely, of course I’m cold.”

You watch his pink-tinged cheeks to see if the blush deepens at your best name for him, but you can’t tell if it’s just from the chill in the air. He starts unbuttoning his coat, leaning forward in the chair to take it off.

“Woah, slow down there Rem,” you insist, holding your hands out to him to stop him, “I am fine. Since when do you worry about me so much?”

He doesn’t answer straight away but he does put his arm back into his coat. He’s thinking about what to say, something you’ll always let him do, but it means he’s going to answer seriously. It’s worrying when you’d just been teasing him.

“I always worry about you, I think. Absentmindedly. Wondering if you feel alright, if you’re comfortable. You haven’t looked very comfortable this evening.”

He doesn’t lie to you, ever, but you’re pretty sure that’s the most honest Remus has ever been with you. He can’t even look at you either, just staring at the floor and scuffing his shoe against the chair leg.

“Remus…”

“I don’t like you cold. And I don’t like to think of you alone. Sorry. I know you don’t need looking after like that.”

And he sounds heartbroken enough to break your heart.

“No, I don’t need looking after,” you confirm softly, because it’s true. He’s always said you’re the most independent person he knows. But you still wind your arm through his and tug him into your side, “I’d quite like it if it’s you, though, I think. If you’ll let me return the favour.”

It’s always the returning that he’s not so adept with. Your affection and your time and your energy are all things he struggles to see he deserves. It’s mostly why you worry about him too.

“Don’t take your coat off for me though,” you warn, putting your head on his shoulder, “You idiot.”

This time he definitely hears you and he must hear how utterly smitten that word is. He’s your idiot. He has to know it by now.

“Okay. Coat stays on,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss to your crown and then place his chin there, gentle as ever, “Also, I lied. I’m very glad we lost the others, by the way. Not sorry at all.”

So maybe he did lie to you sometimes. It was a lie you didn’t mind, even if you’d pretend to.

“Yeah? Why’s that now?”

He slowly nods his head until his nose is nuzzling you instead of his chin, and you feel another feather light kiss, this one near your ear.

“Like you lots. Even more than them,” he breathes, and you try not to melt into him then and there.

“Oh lovely,” you whisper, “Like you lots too.”

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 14 - 'This House' | ‘Act II’

word count - 10.6k

You left the Grand Palais as Jude Bellingham’s girlfriend. The cobblestone streets beneath your feet felt both familiar and foreign, every step taking you deeper into a wave of nostalgia that both soothed and stung. The last time you walked these streets, Paris had been your whole world, a place where you grew up, discovered parts of yourself, and found refuge. But now, with Jude beside you, it felt like the city was offering you something new—a chance to rewrite your past with someone you loved.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice tender. He stopped you mid stride. “I love you more than anything in the world, you know that?” You nodded, draping your arms around his neck, pulling him close. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” he continued, his voice a little rough with emotion. “I’ll never make you wait for anything from me ever again. Not for this, not for anything. I swear.” He told you. 

“What about for another kiss?”  You asked as you looked up at him through the tears, a teasing smile playing on your lips. Jude’s expression softened, and then he smiled—slow, confident, the kind of smile that made your heart flip. 

“Never. Absolutely never.” He leaned in, his voice a low murmur against your lips,  And with that, he kissed you again. This time, it wasn’t rushed or filled with the urgency of the past. It was slow, deliberate, full of the promise that no matter what happened, no matter where life took you, this—right here, right now—was forever. You continued walking until you turned onto a street you knew too well. The café up ahead brought a smile to your lips before you even reached it. The warmth of the place radiated out into the street, the scent of fresh croissants mingling with the bitter aroma of coffee. It was almost exactly how you remembered it from when you were a little girl but also from the other month too. As you stopped in front of the café, you could hear faint French chatter coming from inside, the clinking of cups against saucers reminding you of afternoons spent with your mum. You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh, your heart tight with nostalgia. You went in an ordered a coffee but remained mum just basking in the familiar place with the new feeling of Jude’s arms around you. 

"This place..." you started, your voice trailing off as you turned to Jude, who had been quietly observing you, clearly picking up on the emotion in your expression. "I used to come here all the time with my mum. We’d sit inside for hours, just talking, people-watching." Jude gave you a soft smile, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. His warmth against you was grounding. As you walked outside the cozy Parisian café, Jude smiled softly, watching the people pass by as if he belonged in this little corner of your childhood. He had surprised you by suggesting this spot, one that held so many memories for you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had found it by accident or planned it intentionally. 

"Did you?" he asked, playing innocent as though this was all new information to him. You raised an eyebrow, seeing right through his playful attempt. 

"You knew, didn’t you?" you teased, taking a step closer to him and plucking the coffee cup from his hand. He chuckled as you took a sip, your lips still curling into a smile. 

"Maybe I did," he said with a smirk. "But come on, it’s me. Of course I knew." You shook your head, biting your lip as you handed the cup back to him. 

"It’s you… and Whit. Whitney told you, didn’t she?" Jude nodded, his eyes twinkling. Jude laughed, confirming your suspicion. He repeated her name in admission with a nod, clearly amused at how well you knew him. "This is still so good," You took a sip, letting the familiar taste settle on your tongue before glancing up at him. 

"It’s nice, but I still think yours is better." He interjected.  You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“Oh, shut up. Come on, it’s just coffee.” You took a sip, letting the familiar taste settle on your tongue before glancing up at him. 

“No, really,” he insisted, his grin playful. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the way you make it or how you look when you’re making it. But this one,” he raised his cup, “doesn’t compare.” You felt your cheeks warm, flattered by his word even if he was lying.

“You’re just being sweet because you’re my boyfriend now,” you teased, nudging him lightly. Jude chuckled, taking another sip before lowering his cup. 

“Maybe, but I still mean it.” You looked down at your cup, memories of this café flickering through your mind. You bit back a grin fighting your natural response. Jude laughed seeing you struggle, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. You looked up at him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you and the familiar smell of fresh coffee in the air. Jude grinned, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Guess I’m good at this boyfriend thing already, huh?” You nodded, leaning into him with a content smile but still rolling your eyes. The two of you kept walking, his hand still holding yours tightly as you wandered deeper into the heart of your old neighborhood. It was a late afternoon, the city falling into a lull before it approached the evening, the streets were nearly empty, leaving the two of you to take your time. As you neared your childhood street, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. You hadn’t been back here in a while, at least not since everything with Jude had happened, and there was something almost too perfect about being here with him now. It was like your past was coming full circle.

"You okay?" he asked softly, glancing at you with concern. Jude must have noticed your sudden quiet, because he squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. You nodded, but a breathy laugh escaped you, one you couldn’t quite contain. You felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you, emotions that were hard to put into words. Without thinking, you buried your face into Jude’s bicep, the familiar warmth of his body calming your racing thoughts. He responded immediately, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head, as if to remind you he was right there, sharing this moment with you. The sound of his lips against your hair was soft, a quiet assurance, and for a second you closed your eyes, feeling a lump in your throat. Paris was supposed to feel like home, but right now, with Jude by your side, you realized that home wasn’t really a place anymore—it was him.

"You wanna show me," Jude murmured, his voice gentle but curious. "Show me where your house was?" He asked because after all it was him… he knew where you were. He had this all planned. Your heart swelled as you looked up at him, your eyes watery but filled with warmth. You nodded, taking a deep breath before pointing down the street, toward a row of familiar old buildings. 

"It’s just down there," you said, your voice quieter than usual, but steady. As you both approached the street, your steps slowed, each one feeling heavier with memories. You hadn’t expected to feel this emotional, but there was something about being here, in this place that had shaped you, that tugged at your heart in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Jude stayed close, never letting go of your hand, his presence a constant comfort. When you finally reached the building, your old home, you stood still for a moment, just looking at it. The ivy still crawled up the side, the windows still the same soft blue you remembered. But everything else felt different—like you were standing on the threshold of something new.

"This is where you grew up," he said softly, more of a statement than a question. Jude pulled you closer, his arm around your waist as he gazed up at the building with you. 

"Yeah," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "This is where I grew up." You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.  Jude turned to you then, his gaze soft and understanding, as if he could sense the weight of the moment. He lifted your chin gently, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

"You’re incredible, you know that?" he said, his voice filled with so much sincerity it made your heart ache.

"I don’t feel very incredible right now," you admitted, your voice shaky with emotion. You blinked back tears, a quiet laugh escaping you as you leaned into his touch

"You are," he whispered, his hands gently brushing your hair back. "And I’m so lucky I get to be here with you." Jude smiled, pressing his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, letting the moment wash over you. Standing there with him, outside the house where you had once been just a girl dreaming about the world, it felt like you had come so far. And with Jude by your side, it felt strangely different.

“Thank you for all of it,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I love you,” Jude’s smile widened, his eyes softening even more as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. 

"I love you too," he murmured into your hair. "More than anything." For a moment, you stayed there, wrapped in his arms, letting the weight of everything settle. The past, the present, the future—it all seemed to blur together, and in that moment, you knew that no matter where life took you, as long as Jude was with you, you’d always be home. As you stood in front of the tall brownstone building, nestled snugly between its neighbors, a deep sense of nostalgia washed over you. It felt surreal to be back here, in front of the home that had witnessed so many of your childhood memories. The window on the second floor where you used to sit and watch the world go by, the steps leading up to the door that you knew so well—they all tugged at your heart. You wrapped your arms around Jude’s waist, the familiar comfort of him grounding you as the emotions swirled inside. Jude’s arms tightened around you instinctively, sensing the weight of the moment. He didn’t say anything at first, just held you, letting you take it all in. His presence was calming, a solid anchor in the sea of memories and emotions this place held for you.

“Do you want to go in? Maybe… see where I grew up?” After a few quiet moments, you looked up at him, your voice tentative as you asked. You watched Jude’s face closely, searching for any hesitation, but all you saw was the same warmth and understanding he always offered you. “Only if you want me to,” he said gently, his tone soft but full of affection. “If you’re ready to share that part of yourself, I’d love to see it. But I understand either way in or not, I’m okay, angel.” His words sent a warmth spreading through your chest, making you feel safe. You knew he understood how important this place was to you, how much it meant to let him in, not just to the physical space but to a part of yourself you hadn’t shared with many people. That understanding, that patience, made you love him even more. You found yourself swaying a little in his arms, your body moving side to side in a gentle rhythm, like you were a child again. It felt playful, innocent, like you were both stepping into a moment that was pure and untainted by the complexities of the world. Jude smiled, his hands moving to your waist, indulging your movements, matching the slow dance of your body as you swayed.

“I can’t believe I’m back here with you,” you murmured, the words barely above a whisper. “It feels like I’m stepping back into a part of myself I haven’t visited in years.” Jude’s eyes softened, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I can see it in your eyes. You light up when you talk about this place.” He told you. You giggled softly, resting your head against his chest. The familiarity of the brownstone, the memories tied to every corner, every step—it all felt overwhelming, but in a comforting way. The thought of bringing Jude here, of sharing this part of your history with him, made you feel connected to him in a way you hadn’t felt before. This wasn’t just about showing him where you grew up; it was about showing him who you were, who you had been, and who you were becoming with him. With a mischievous grin, you stepped back and began speaking to him in French, the playful tone of your voice ringing through the air.

“Okay, allons-y,” you sang, swaying a little as you said it, your voice light and teasing. Jude’s eyes twinkled as he caught the meaning, a smile breaking across his face.

“Lead the way,” he replied, his voice full of warmth as he gestured toward the door. Before you could move, he pulled you to him, his arms wrapping tightly around you. His lips found yours, pressing softly at first, then with more intensity as he held you close. The kiss was slow and tender, filled with unspoken promises and emotions. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered, “I love you. More than anything.” Your heart swelled at his words, the weight of them settling in your chest in the most beautiful way. You had always known Jude cared, but hearing it like this, standing in front of your childhood home, made everything feel more real, more permanent. Taking his hand, you turned toward the door, a new kind of excitement bubbling up inside you. You led him up the familiar steps, each one underfoot just as you remembered. The moment felt heavy with significance—this was the first time you were inviting someone into this space, someone who mattered in a way that no one else ever had. Jude was your first in so many ways, and now he would be a part of this too. As you reached the door, you paused for a moment, looking back at him. His eyes were full of understanding, patient as always. With a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside, the familiar smell of the brownstone hitting you immediately. It smelled like home—like memories, like love, like everything you had once been. Jude followed closely behind, his hand still holding yours. His eyes roamed the space, taking in the details, the high ceilings, the old wooden floors, the little touches that made this place unique. You led him through the hallways, pointing out the spots where you used to play, the room where you spent hours reading as a child, the kitchen where your mother would make breakfast every morning. “It’s beautiful,” Jude said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “I can see why you love it here so much.”

“It’s not just the place,” you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. “It’s the memories. It’s the people who made this home. It’s… everything.” You smiled, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. Jude pulled you into him again, his arms wrapping around your waist. 

“Thank you for letting me in then. Now it’s a little part of us,” he whispered against your hair, his lips brushing your temple. “This place, these memories—they’re a part of your story, and now they’re a part of mine too.” He cooed. You closed your eyes, leaning into him fully, feeling a deep sense of contentment wash over you. 

“Please don’t ruin them okay?” You sympathetically smiled at him. You knew in that moment that this was right—that Jude wasn’t just a part of your present, but your future as well. And as you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you felt the weight of the past and the promise of the future all coming together in the most beautiful way.

Jude had arrived in Paris with his usual swagger, but the moment he stepped into your family's home, something shifted. His confident grin softened into awe as he took in the elegant townhouse, full of history and charm. As Jude’s eyes roamed the walls, they landed on a series of framed photos. His smile grew wider, then softened even more. 

“Oh Wait…” He pouted as he stepped closer to one picture in particular, where you, maybe six years old, sat on a swing in a sundress, that same bright smile lighting up your face. “This…this is you?” He turned to you, eyes twinkling with amusement and something deeper, something tender.

“Yep, that’s me,” you said, giggling as you watched him fall into the charm of your childhood photos. 

“Aw angel…You’re adorable. I can’t believe you had the same smile back then—makes sense, though. Always lighting up a room.” Jude shook his head, still grinning. He turned to face you fully, stepping in close and wrapping his arms around you. You fit perfectly against him, your back against his chest. “ Alright so tell me about this place,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “Show me all the good bits.” He smiled. 

“Well…it’s always been home, you know? Running down these hallways, sneaking up to the roof to look out over the city. It’s different now, but I used to feel like I could see the whole world from up there.” You leaned your head back against his shoulder, thinking for a moment.

“A little Parisian troublemaker, huh? I can picture it.” He planted a soft kiss on your neck, making you shiver. Jude rested his chin on your shoulder, his voice low and teasing. 

“Do you want the tour or not, Judey?” You turned in his arms, pushing playfully at his chest.  He smirked, taking your hand as you led him around the house. Room by room, you pointed out little details—places where you and your family used to gather, your favorite hiding spots, the best views. Jude took it all in, making silly comments here and there but mostly watching you, as if he was learning something new about you with each step. You told stories of sneaking late-night snacks and peeking through the curtains to catch glimpses of the city’s magic. 

 “I love it,” he murmured. “I love that you let me inside. And I love…” He paused, smiling against your hair. “I love seeing you like this. In your element.” Jude pressed a kiss to your temple, and for a second, it felt like the whole world stilled

“Well,” you said, your voice light and teasing, “don’t get too used to it. I don’t show just anyone my childhood bedroom.” You blushed, feeling the weight of his words and the warmth of his body pressed against yours. Jude chuckled, his grip on you tightening. 

“Don’t worry, I feel pretty special.” He turned you to face him, his hands resting on your waist as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in the softest, most intimate way. As Jude wandered into your childhood bedroom, he seemed taken aback by the transformation. The room had obviously grown with you, updated from the days of childhood dreams to the reality of who you had become. The walk-in wardrobe now filled with clothes and accessories hinted at the stylish, confident woman he knew, but something else in the room caught his eye. Something that stopped him in his tracks. At the far end, beside the large window that bathed the room in soft, natural light, there was a corner filled with easels, canvases, and sketchbooks. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but now, standing there, Jude was hit with a wave of curiosity. His brow furrowed as he stepped closer, gently touching one of the canvases leaning against the wall. Paintings. Art. Everywhere. He blinked, realizing the depth of it—this wasn’t just a hobby. You had stacks of sketchbooks, binders filled with awards and certificates from galleries, photographs of you at exhibitions with serious, thoughtful expressions on your face. There was even a shelf filled with small trophies, trinkets that you had won over the years. “Angel… you did all of this?” Jude asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he were afraid of disturbing the stillness of the room.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s nothing, really. It was a hobby.” You, standing by the door, shifted uncomfortably.  But Jude shook his head, clearly not accepting that response. He sat down on the carpeted floor, his long legs folding awkwardly beneath him as he reached for one of the sketchbooks. Flipping through the pages, he became immersed in the drawings—some of them quick and raw, others detailed and intricate. He could see the progression of your talent, the way you’d honed your skill over time.

“I feel a bit dumb you know. How did I not know about this?” he asked, his voice full of awe.

“I don’t really talk about it much. It’s personal.” You hesitated, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. Jude kept flipping through the pages, more intrigued than ever. He ran his fingers over some of the drawings, feeling the texture of the paper as if it held some secret about you he hadn’t yet uncovered. The further he went, the more emotional he seemed to get, and soon, he wasn’t just looking at the art. He was looking at the photos of you standing next to your work at shows, certificates of recognition, articles praising your talent. He could see how much this world meant to you, how deeply intertwined it was with who you were. He swallowed hard, feeling a lump forming in his throat. His chest tightened as he realized something that made him pause. Sometimes, he got lost in the idea of you as this sexy, confident woman who turned heads wherever you went. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t love that part of you—the way you made his heart race, the way you commanded attention with just a glance. But here, in this room, surrounded by the art you’d created, he saw the parts of you that were layered with complexity, talent, and emotion. This wasn’t just the woman he was falling for. This was the person behind it all. A talented, interesting, intricate person he desperately wanted to understand more deeply. Jude suddenly felt a tightness in his chest, and to his surprise, his eyes grew damp. He couldn’t quite explain it, couldn’t find the words for why this moment was hitting him so hard. But seeing this side of you—this vulnerable, artistic side that you rarely showed the world—it made him feel something so deep, he couldn’t speak.

“You really are incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I mean it. I say it a lot but I really had no idea…” He looked up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. You bit your lip, feeling exposed but also deeply touched by his reaction. You hadn’t expected him to be so moved. Jude placed the sketchbook aside, standing up and walking over to you. He took your hands in his, his grip firm but tender. “Sometimes, I get so caught up in…in how much I want you. How beautiful you are, how you drive me crazy. But this…you…” He took a breath, trying to steady himself. “You’re so much more than that. You’re this amazing person, and I feel lucky just to know you. To even get a glimpse of this.” You blinked, the weight of his words settling over you. His vulnerability matched yours, and for a moment, you were both standing there, completely open and raw with each other. It was hard to feel ‘interesting’ or ‘accomplished’ when Jude Bellingham was standing next to you but right now he managed to make you feel just that. Jude pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close. “You’re more than I ever could’ve imagined,” he murmured against your hair. “I don’t even know how to tell you what I’m feeling right now.” But he didn’t need to say anything more. In that quiet room, surrounded by your art and your memories, you both understood just how much deeper this connection went. You giggled softly, taking a seat and bringing Jude with you, your body naturally leaning into his. The warmth between you two felt comfortable, familiar. As you kissed his cheek, your hand reached out to a small box tucked beside the bed. Pulling it into your lap, you began to sift through its contents, nostalgic feelings rising to the surface. From the box, you pulled out a worn, slightly frayed paintbrush. Its handle was chipped, the bristles uneven, but it held a history that made your heart swell. 

“This,” you said, holding it out for Jude to see, “was my first paintbrush. My grandma gave it to me. It’s pretty crappy now, but back then, it felt like she was handing off a baton in a weird way.” Your voice softened, remembering her. “She was a painter too. When she got sick…it was like losing part of myself. I didn’t handle her death well at all.” Jude, his gaze fixed on you with deep empathy, gently took the brush from your hand, holding it with an almost reverent care. He looked at it as if it were some priceless artifact, but what really struck him was how much it meant to you. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know he understood. “I could teach you to paint sometime,” you offered with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood, although you meant every word. “If you’re interested.”

“I’d love that. Honestly, I’d love anything if it meant learning more about you.” Jude nodded, his eyes never leaving yours.  For a moment, the room was quiet, the weight of your shared vulnerability heavy yet comforting. He sighed, the sound almost carrying a burden of guilt. Jude was visibly emotional, and you could see something weighing on him. “I feel like I’ve dragged you into my world so much,” he admitted, his voice low. “And I almost forgot you have your own. I got so caught up in everything that…I don’t know, it just hit me.” You were about to respond when Jude asked, somewhat unexpectedly, “Would you paint for me one time? Just…let me watch you. I want to see your process, how you work. That brain of yours in action.” The request caught you off guard. It wasn’t something anyone had ever asked of you. You blinked, processing his words, feeling a sudden rush of emotion swell in your chest. No one had ever wanted to see you in your element—not like that. 

“No one’s ever cared about that part before,” you confessed quietly, your voice faltering. You shifted uncomfortably, your throat tightening. “All they ever want is the finished piece. The beautiful outcome. In every part of my life, it’s like…no one wants the raw stuff. No sketches, no mistakes.” You looked into Jude’s eyes, realizing how profound this moment was. Here he was, asking to see the mess, the uncertainty, the parts of yourself you usually kept hidden.

“But I do. I want to see it all. The process. The rawness. Everything that makes you who you are.” He brushed a thumb across your cheek, his expression soft and tender.  Your eyes stung with tears, but they were good tears. Ones that came from feeling seen, truly seen, for the first time. Jude wasn’t just interested in the shiny, perfect version of you. He wanted the layers, the chaos, the realness beneath.

“Okay,” you whispered, “I’ll paint for you.” You swallowed hard, nodding, a small tear slipping down your cheek. Jude pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. 

“Thank you, angel” he murmured into your hair, his voice full of gratitude. “I’m so lucky to know you.”  And in that moment, you knew he meant it in a way no one ever had before. You smiled softly as you led Jude through the house, feeling a growing sense of comfort. After sharing your art, it felt right to show him more of your world, the pieces of yourself that had been hidden for so long. You stopped in front of the kitchen pantry and pointed to an old cupboard, grinning as you spoke.

“I used to hide in here,” you said, the nostalgia in your voice evident. “My brother would try to find me, but this was my secret spot. I thought I was a genius.” Jude chuckled, his hand grazing yours, as he leaned closer to inspect the cupboard as if imagining a younger version of you tucked inside. 

"Bet you were impossible to find." He smiled. 

“Oh, I was very good at hiding,” you said playfully, leading him down the hallway. You guided him up a winding staircase, your voice soft but full of meaning. “There’s more I want to show you.” You entered a lounge area, stopping near an elegant grand piano.  "My dad plays this during Christmas," you explained. "We all gather here, and my grandpa makes the best martinis. It’s tradition." Jude’s eyes softened as he imagined the scene—your family, the music, the warmth of it all. You saw the way he took it in, every detail, like he was learning more about you through the spaces you occupied. Next, you showed him a room that was entirely your mother’s closet. It was more grand than anything he’d imagined, but it didn’t surprise him. “This is my mum’s sanctuary,” you said with a light laugh, pushing open the doors. “She’s always had a flair for fashion.” Jude whistled, his eyes wide, but he wasn’t just impressed by the luxury—he was captivated by how everything seemed to reflect who you were, your history, and your family’s essence. Afterward, you wandered into your dad’s office, which was lined with shelves of classic films. Jude looked around, clearly impressed by the collection. “He’s a bit of a film buff,” you explained, feeling proud of your dad’s passion. “We used to watch movies in here all the time.” You could sense how deeply Jude was appreciating this journey through your childhood, how every corner of the house seemed to reveal a new layer of who you were. Finally, you stopped in front of a large portrait hanging on the wall. It was of you as a little girl, painted in striking detail by a renowned artist. The significance of the artist was lost on Jude, but that wasn’t what mattered. He stood there, staring at the painting, his gaze transfixed on the image of you as a child. His breath caught in his throat, and you could see the emotion in his eyes, the way he was trying to process it all. The canvas seemed to capture something eternal—an essence of you that he hadn’t fully understood until now.

“That’s you,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “It’s… you.” 

“Yeah, that’s me.” You nodded, your voice quiet.  Jude’s eyes never left the painting, and for a moment, it felt like he was seeing you—the real you—in a way no one else ever had. There was a weight to the moment, a recognition that went beyond words. He turned to you, his hand gently brushing your arm. 

“You’re… gorgeous” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s like everything I’ve learned about you here makes sense. This house, these memories, everything… it’s all you.” You smiled, feeling a lump rise in your throat as the weight of his words settled over you. Jude wasn’t just appreciating the beauty or the luxury of your home. He was understanding the essence of what shaped you, what made you who you were. And that, more than anything, made your heart swell.

“I’m glad you got to see this part of me,” you whispered. “Thank you… for wanting to know. For all of today.” Jude pulled you close, his lips brushing your forehead in the softest of kisses. 

“I want to know everything about my girlfriend. Every detail, every story, every part.” And in that moment, you knew that Jude wasn’t just falling for the surface. He was falling for every intricate piece of who you were. Jude had been wandering through your family’s home for what felt like hours, and it made him laugh inside. The place was enormous—winding staircases, hidden rooms, grand closets, and memories packed into every corner. Yet, somehow, you were still nestled in the heart of Paris, as if this sprawling sanctuary was tucked away behind the city’s cobbled streets. It was such a paradox, but also, it was so you. Of course, your home was as hidden and intricate as you were.  Finally, you both reached the top floor, stepping out onto the rooftop. The breeze was cool, and the sky was painted with shades of gray, but you could still see the Seine winding through the city and, far in the distance, the Eiffel Tower piercing through the clouds.

“Wow. You really can see the whole world from up here.” Jude whistled, impressed.

“Told you.” You smiled, looking out over the familiar view. He stood behind you again, pulling you against him as you both stared out at the city. For a moment, it was just the two of you and Paris. His arms tightened around your waist, and he rested his chin on your shoulder again, his voice soft.

“Happy?” he asked, his tone shifting, more serious now. You turned your head slightly, meeting his eyes. 

“Never in my life have I felt happier.” As you stood there, with the Paris skyline stretching out behind you, you felt more than just the connection to the city—you felt it to him. Jude had seen the world, traveled to countless cities, and yet there was something about this—seeing Paris from your rooftop—that felt different. It was like stepping into an oasis, a secret world high above the streets where the Seine shimmered below, and the gray Parisian skyline stretched out like a dream. The gardens of Luxembourg, the distant spire of the Eiffel Tower peeking through the clouds—it was all there, quietly perfect. He stood there, taking it in, a moment of awe flickering across his face. And then, he turned to you, watching as you soaked it all in with a soft smile. He could tell that this was more than just a view for you—this was home. This was your world, the one you had kept so close, and now you were sharing it with him. You caught his gaze, and with a grin, you slipped away to a small bar area tucked into the corner of the roof. Moments later, you returned with a bottle of champagne, the bubbles dancing inside the glass. Plopping down onto a cushioned couch, you offered the bottle to Jude, but he shook his head, eyes sparkling.

“You probably do it better,” he said with a smirk. You giggled, knowing he was probably right, and as the cork popped and flew into the air, you saw Jude’s smile widen. He sat down beside you, close enough that his leg brushed yours, the energy between you electric but softened by the warmth of the moment.

“Consider this our relationships aperitif,” you teased, handing him a glass as you poured. 

“A perfect start then.” He laughed softly, eyes never leaving yours. For a while, you both sat in a comfortable silence, sipping the champagne, your bodies close as you looked out over the city. But Jude kept glancing at you, unable to decide what view was more beautiful—Paris or you. As cliché as it sounded, he wasn’t sure which took his breath away more. The city, with its romantic skyline and old-world charm, or you, sitting there with your carefree smile, your hair catching the sunlight, and that spark in your eyes that made him feel like he was falling for you all over again. “This… it’s all so you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.” He reached for your hand, his fingers brushing yours as he spoke, his voice low. There was a pause. You could feel the gravity of the moment, the way the champagne in your glass seemed to swirl in slow motion, the city below you quieted as if it were just the two of you in the world. “You know…” Jude’s voice was quieter now, more vulnerable. “I’ve been to so many places. But this... sitting here with you, seeing Paris through your eyes... I don’t think I’ve ever felt this close to someone before. Like, really close.” He cooed.

“I’ve never really shared this with anyone before. My world, I mean. It’s just... hard, sometimes.” Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned in slightly, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Thank you for letting me in.” Jude kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering as he held you a little tighter. And as you sat there, the city lights beginning to twinkle in the distance, you realized how much this moment meant. It wasn’t just the beauty of the view or the champagne; it was the fact that for the first time, someone really saw you—the raw, unfiltered version. And that person was Jude, the one who had been through the ups and downs with you, and was still sitting there, holding your hand like he never wanted to let go. The rooftop felt like a sanctuary, far removed from the world below. The golden glow of the Parisian streetlights flickered in the distance, and the soft breeze carried the faint sounds of the city’s night. Wrapped in Jude’s arms, you felt cocooned in a moment that felt infinite. His steady heartbeat echoed in your ears, and the warmth of his body pressed against yours made the night air feel even more serene. You hesitated before speaking, unsure of how to bring up what had been swirling in your mind. The thought had felt too big, too sudden, yet the more time you spent with him, the more right it seemed.

“So… would you... maybe. Like would you want to go to my family’s chateau?”  You shifted in his arms, looking up at the stars, before glancing up at him through your lashes, your voice coming out soft and tentative Jude’s head tilted slightly, his lips twitching in amusement as his eyes flickered with that familiar playfulness. 

“Me? You want me to meet your family,” he sang, his voice lilting with mock seriousness, as if it was a grand revelation. You let out a laugh, your face warming under his teasing. 

“No, I mean, yes, but not like that,” you tried to explain, stumbling over your words. “It’s just… my family’s there, and it feels like the right time, you know? If we're already in France... it’s a bit of a drive but I want you to meet them.” Jude’s grin widened, and before you could say another word, he gently pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around your waist as he started to sway you both side to side. 

“Angel,” he murmured softly, his lips brushing the top of your head, “it’s only right. You’ve already met my family. It’s about time I met yours, too, yeah?” He cooed. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your heart fluttering at his words. The nerves you had been holding onto dissolved into something warmer, something deeper. You weren’t afraid of him meeting your family, but there was still an underlying current of anticipation. This felt like a big step, a solidifying of the bond you had been building since you met. 

“I just—” you started, but Jude stopped you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. His presence, as always, was grounding. You melted into him, resting your head against his chest, feeling the gentle rhythm of his breathing.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said quietly. “I want to meet them.. I want to know all the parts of you.” The weight of his words settled between you, heavy but comforting. You smiled into his chest, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The city below continued its hum, but up here, it was just the two of you, caught in your own little world. Eventually, you glanced up at him again, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his arm. 

“So… we’ll stay here tonight?” You asked. Jude blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. 

“Uh, I mean… if that’s what you want…” His brow furrowed in a cute, puzzled expression as he stammered,  You couldn’t help but smile at his hesitation. There was something in the way he responded that told you he hadn’t expected this at all. 

“Oh wait,” you teased, your voice filled with playful suspicion. “Did you… have something else planned?” You asked. Jude’s sheepish grin was immediate, and it gave him away. He rubbed the back of his neck in that endearing way he always did when he was caught off guard. 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting us to stay at your family’s tonight,” he admitted, his eyes glinting with humor but also with a hint of something deeper. “I didn’t even know if you’d want to go in.” He smirked.  Of course, you thought. He had flown you to Paris, organized the Grand Palais to look unbelievable for him to ask you to be his girlfriend—it was all so romantic, so meticulously planned. You laughed, the sound soft but full of warmth, knowing how much care he had put into this night. 

“Of course you did,” you teased, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw as you gazed up at him. “You’re not one to do things halfway, are you?” You smirked. Jude chuckled, his arms tightening around you. 

“Not when it comes to you, no, angel.” he said, his voice dropping to a murmur, his lips brushing against your forehead. Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of emotion at the way he looked at you. The mischievous glint in his eyes had softened, replaced with something more serious, more intimate. You felt a rush of affection for him, for how much effort he had put into making this night special.

“Take me where you want.” You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered. Jude’s breath hitched at the mischievous tone in your voice, and a slow, satisfied grin spread across his face. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes gleaming with excitement and affection. 

“Oh, angel,” he said, his voice low and full of promise, his lips barely brushing yours before he leaned in for a kiss. The kiss was slow and lingering, filled with the unspoken emotions that had been building between you all night. It was a kiss that felt like a promise, like the beginning of something even bigger than the two of you could imagine.  When you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his, and you both sat there in silence, the rooftop around you forgotten, the city below distant. “I’m excited to meet them,” Jude whispered, breaking the comfortable quiet. “But I’m even more excited to spend tonight with you. Taking you right to bed.” He smirked. You smiled, feeling your heart swell with happiness. In this moment, it didn’t matter where the night would take you—what mattered was that you were with him, and that, together, you were building something beautiful. 

You and Jude stumbled out of your family’s home, the night air cool against your flushed skin as you both burst into fits of giggles. Paris was magical at night, and in your slightly tipsy haze, it felt even more surreal. You clung to each other, walking in sync down the cobblestone streets, laughing about nothing in particular, but everything at the same time. Jude’s arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, his other hand keeping a steadying grip on your own as you both wobbled along. 

“God, that wine is so good, angel” he chuckled, his voice a little slurred but full of warmth. You maybe had overindulged in the perks of your family’s vineyard on the roof. 

“Maybe,” you giggled back, leaning into him as you walked, “just maybe we’ve had a bit too much wine.”

“Nah, we’re fine. But… food. Definitely food.” Jude grinned, his eyes sparkling under the dim streetlights. You both stumbled your way to the Four Seasons, somehow managing to make it to the penthouse suite, where the lights of Paris glistened through the windows. The second the door closed behind you, you both burst into another round of laughter, leaning against the wall for support.

“Baby…Room service?” you suggested, still giggling as you kicked off your shoes, your voice a little more breathless now.

“Absolutely,” Jude agreed, already grabbing the phone with a slight fumble. “What are we ordering? Everything?” He smirked. 

“Definitely everything,” you said, collapsing onto the plush couch, your head tilting back as you stared up at the high ceiling. “Maybe… some fries, a burger… and—oh, dessert! We need dessert, Jude.” Jude looked over at you, his eyes soft as he watched you, the smile never leaving his lips. 

“Yeah, we need dessert,” he agreed, still watching you as if you were the most mesmerizing thing in the world. You caught his gaze and blushed, the warmth spreading from your chest. 

“What?” you asked, feeling your heart flutter.

“Nothing,” he said, picking up the phone to place the order. He walked back over to you, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his arms. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

“You’re drunk,” you teased lightly. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Maybe I am. But I’m never too drunk to be in love with you.” Jude chuckled softly, brushing a kiss against your temple. You sighed happily, your arms wrapping around him as you nestled closer, the world outside disappearing as you sat there together. Drunk, yes, but perfectly content. The kind of drunk where the laughter was louder, the touches softer, and everything just felt lighter.

“Maybe,” you whispered, closing your eyes as you breathed him in, “I’m gonna go change quick.” You told Jude sitting up. Ever thoughtful, you had no idea that Jude had all your bags from the plane brought to the hotel. 

“Okay, angel.” Jude cooed but there was a glint in his eye that made an idea pop into your head. Feeling playful and seductive, you approach the bed, your fingers deftly peeled off your dress, watching the heavy fabric pool onto the floor. You were initially going to change into something else but this felt more… right. Your movements were deliberate and teasing, slowed by the haze of alcohol. You stood in the luxe room just in your panties, your full, round tits, heavy with anticipation, your nipples already taut and begging for attention. You stepped out of your dress around your feet, leaving it on the floor. Now clad only in a skimpy pair of lace panties, you climbed onto the bed, your heart racing with excitement. The soft sheets caress your bare skin as you stretch out, your long legs on display, leading up to the moist center of your desire.

Jude finished calling room service, seeing as you hadn’t returned he came to the bedroom and as he came through the door frame, his eyes immediately locked onto you, his jaw dropping in awe. His gaze travels up your body, taking in your smooth thighs, the curve of your hips, and the swell of your tits. He took a step towards the bed, his eyes never leaving your naked form.

"You are fucking unreal," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. He knelt on the bed, leaning over to place a soft kiss on the inside of your ankle. He worked his way up, kissing the sensitive skin behind your knee, the tender spot that makes you squirm. His lips trailing along the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "So fucking sexy," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. His hands sliding up your thighs, gently grasping your hips and pulling you towards him. He planted a kiss on the crease of your thigh, so close to your core, making you gasp and arch your back. Jude's lips finally meet yours, and he kisses you deeply, passionately. His tongue dances with yours, mimicking the intimacy yet to come. His hands roam over your body, cupping your breasts, thumbing your nipples until they peak even harder. He praises you, whispering how beautiful and sexy you are, his words making you melt into the sheets. "Fuck food. I want you so much, angel," he growled, his voice filled with raw desire. With a growl of possession, he tore at your lace panties with his teeth, ripping the fabric away from your body. Your pussy, glistening with arousal, is now fully exposed to his hungry gaze. He leant down, his breath tickling your sensitive flesh. "Always so wet for me," he says, his voice thick with need. His tongue traced the outline of your pussy, parting your folds gently before delving deeper. He ate you with abandon, his tongue flicking your clit, then plunging into your hot, wet center. Your hands gripped his hair, holding him close as waves of pleasure wash over you. He teased your sweet spot, sucking and licking until you're writhing beneath him, your moans filling the room. He devoured you, his mouth relentless, driving you closer and closer to the edge. And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, you cried out his name as your orgasm crashed over you. Your body shaking, and you clutch at the sheets, your release so intense it leaves you breathless. You pulled at Jude’s arms with one hand to come kiss you only for him to shudder when your other hand wrapped around his painfully hard dick. Watching you cum had made him even harder and he couldn’t wait to have you and watch you fall apart on his cock.  

Jude, not yet satisfied, pulls you up, positioning you above him. Your legs straddle his waist, and you feel his hard length against your throbbing core. He groaned at the feeling. The feeling was overwhelming, Jude shut his eyes and rocked up against you, delirious with the friction. With one hand on his shoulder, you pushed yourself up onto your knees and lined his cock up with your entrance, sinking down slowly.   He guides you down, sinking yourself on his rigid cock, filling yourself with him. His size stretched you deliciously and the slight burning only added to the pleasure running through your veins. He was so big, you could feel him in your stomach once you were fully seated and you actually needed a moment to adjust. 

“Fuck, you feel so big,” You whined as Jude dropped his forehead to your chest. He felt big and you felt so tight he was trying to avoid cumming on the spot. You slowly began to roll your hips at a slow pace. You begin to ride him, setting a slow, tortuous pace. Your tits bouncing with each downward thrust, and you lean forward, your nipples grazing his chest, creating a delicious friction. He filled you completely, stretching and satisfying you in ways you never imagined. Jude's hands gripped your hips, helping you find a rhythm as you bounced atop him. The pleasure continuing to build, intensifying with every stroke. You leaned back, giving him an alluring view as you fuck him, your eyes locked on his.

"Fuck, angel, you feel so good," he grunts, his eyes dark with passion. He encouraged you to ride him harder, faster, and you oblige, eager to please. You grind down on him, your clit rubbing against his pelvis, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You were both completely entranced on the slow drag of his cock, you could feel every hard vein and ridge of it slowly fucking into you.  As you rode him, your bodies slick with sweat, he reached between your bodies, stroking your clit in time with his thrusts. The sensation becoming overwhelming, a perfect storm of pleasure. You threw your head back, your hair cascading down your back as you climaxed again, crying out his name. “Good girl.  Cum on my cock.” Jude  Your eyes locked onto his, and he held your gaze 

“Holy shit, Jude. That… that.” You couldn’t get your words out as you slowed a top of him. You sat up letting Jude’s hard cock begging for release come out before sitting back down taking all of him again. 

“Oh my god.” Jude scoffed a bit in disbelief at how good you felt. He slapped your ass as if to act as a start gun and you smirked. You moaned at his second slap, the sting of his massive hand against your skin. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you. “Fuck baby, squeezing me so tight.”  Your eyes rolled back. You couldn’t do anything but give into your next orgasm building up. The room filled with the sound of your skin slapping.  

“Baby… Jude.. wait..” You managed to mutter out when he started to fuck you again.  His pace was relentless, his hips unforgiving as he moved, driving his cock up into of you, consistently hitting a spot so deep inside you. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh my- fuck.” he cursed. “I’m gonna cum.” His fingers dug into your skin and his head fell back, as he pushed his hips up one last time before he spilled into your tight heat. Jude rolled his eyes at the way you gently moved your hips against his to help him ride out his high.   It didn’t take long for your own orgasm to crash over you. Jude's grip on your hips tightened, and he bucks his hips wildly, driving himself deep into you. You followed him into ecstasy, his body tensing as yours shook. He cursed as he filled you. His cum painting your walls white. Your sensitive pussy overflowing with both of your juices. 

“Holy shit, baby.” You whined. As he stilled inside of you finishing out his high. He collapsed his head into the valley of your boobs when he was done. 

“Oh my god, Y/N.” He chuckled a little. You didn’t want him to pull out yet. you gripped your fingers on his hair and massaged his scalp, causing Jude to hum in contentment, whilst his hands caressed your back in soothing motions. You moved him to rest your face onto his chest, you could feel his heart pounding against you, both of you spent and satisfied. You kissed his neck, savoring the taste of your passion, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you possessively. "I love you," he whispers, his voice filled with adoration. You smiled feeling just that but you couldn’t speak. Not yet, not after that.  You were lying in bed, the soft light of the Parisian lights filtering through the curtains, bathing the room in a gentle warmth. Jude’s hand idly traced a fine line tattoo along the side of your boob, his touch light, almost absent-minded, but you could feel the care in every stroke of his fingers. His gaze followed the lines of ink, and after a few minutes of comfortable silence, he broke it with a question.

"Have I told you I like these?" he asked, his voice soft and thoughtful as he continued to drag his finger along one of your tattoos.

"That's good, because I can't seem to get them off," you replied, your tone light and playful. You smirked, glancing at him with a teasing glint in your eye.  Jude chuckled at that, the sound vibrating through his chest as his eyes flicked up to meet yours. You studied his face for a moment before curiosity got the better of you. 

"Would you ever get one? A tattoo, I mean." You asked. He paused, considering the question, his brow furrowing slightly as he thought. 

"Maybe," he said after a moment. "I like the idea of having something with me all the time." He told you. You giggled at that, the sound soft and bubbling from your lips as you trailed your hand over his chest, your fingers skimming lightly over his skin. 

"You could just get my name right here," you teased, tapping the spot over his heart. "That way you can keep me with you all the time." Jude rolled his eyes, but there was a small, thoughtful smile playing at the corners of his lips. He didn’t say anything, but you could see the wheels turning in his head, the way his eyes lingered on you a bit longer, like the idea had lodged itself somewhere in his mind. You didn’t push it, instead, you let the conversation fall into a peaceful silence, the two of you wrapped up in the warmth of each other’s presence. After a while, Jude leaned down, his lips pressing gently against your skin, leaving soft kisses in his wake. His touch was tender, almost reverent, and it made your heart swell. You closed your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, but then he spoke again, his words catching your attention.

"Actually," he murmured against your skin, "I would get one. Now that I’ve thought about it." You opened your eyes, looking at him curiously. 

"Oh? What would you get?" You asked. Jude smiled, kissing you again, his lips brushing the soft curve of your shoulder.

"Baby, you're the only person I want with me 24 hours a day," he whispered, his voice full of sincerity that made your heart flutter in your chest. You smiled at that, your cheeks flushing slightly as you ran your fingers through his hair, your heart swelling with affection. He kissed you once more, lingering for a moment before pulling back, his expression soft but serious. "Maybe a little angel," he mused, more to himself than to you. His lips curved into a smile as if the idea was taking root in his mind. "Yeah, I think I'd like that a lot." He told you. You grinned at him, warmth spreading through you as the thought of him carrying something so personal to you with him wherever he went made your heart swell. 

"A little angel," you repeated, your voice full of affection. "I think I’d like that too." Jude kissed you again, slow and tender, his lips capturing yours in a way that felt like a promise—a promise that no matter where life took you both, you'd always have each other. Suddenly, it occured to you that you two had made a plan for tomorrow and hadn’t told your family any of it. It was late but you knew they’d be awake.

"I'm gonna call my mum," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of nerves and excitement. The night was beautiful, and the warmth of his arms wrapped around you made everything feel perfect. You glanced at him, feeling a sudden burst of excitement.

"Right now?" Jude raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You were currently naked in bed but she wouldn’t know that. You nodded, already reaching for your phone. 

"I just want to tell her we are going to come to the vineyard. She won’t say anything but she’d kill me if I showed up with you and she didn’t have a meal prepared.” You smiled.

“Alright, call her. I’m curious to hear her reaction.” Jude chuckled, his grip around your waist tightening. The phone rang a few times before your mum’s warm voice came through the line. 

“Ma petite fille! [ my little girl] What a surprise to hear from you so late, chérie! Where are you?” Your mum cooed over the phone. You smiled, glancing at Jude. 

“Paris, maman. I just actually wanted to ask you something.” You slowly dragged out the question, getting a bit nervous to actually tell her you were bringing a boy home.

“Tu es à la maison? [You’re at home?] Ah okay. D'accord chéri [Okay, dear] What is it?” She said, her voice immediately taking on that tone of curiosity that only a mother could have.

“So… Was going to come to the vineyard tomorrow. Is that okay? I mean, Jude, my Jude…I want him to meet you all. Papa est là? [Is dad there?] Is that alright?” You stumbled feeling a bit nervous suddenly.  There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a soft squeal of excitement.

“Oh mon Dieu, of course! Of course, bring him! I’ve been dying to meet this Jude you’ve been going on about. I want to meet this beautiful boy. Your dad will be thrilled! Louis est là aussi.”  [Louis is here too].  She told you. You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. 

“Merci maman. I knew you’d say yes. I can’t wait for you to meet him.” You smiled looking up at Jude. As you were about to say goodbye, you heard your dad’s voice booming in the background. 

“Est-ce que c'est mon beau bébé?” [Is that my beautiful baby?]  Your dad yelled to your mum. You couldn’t help but grin as your dad’s voice got louder. “Tell mon chère to drive my car out to the chateau. S'il te plaît!” He cooed. You shook your head, rolling your eyes affectionately. 

“Papa really needs me to drive his car out?" You asked your mum while you sympathetically smiled at Jude. Jude, who had been quietly listening, smirked at that, clearly amused. You mouthed  ‘don’t ask’ to him, stifling a laugh.

“Parfaite! Parfaite! I’ll tell papa you agreed then,” your mum said before her tone turned warm again. “We’re so excited to meet him, darling. Jude sounds wonderful.” She cooed. 

“He really is,” you said, glancing at him, your heart swelling. “Merci, Maman. à bientôt!” [see you soon] You cooed as you hung up, Jude looked at you with a teasing glint in his eye. 

“So… your dad’s car, huh?” Jude smirked.  You groaned, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“He doesn’t need it. I don’t know. He has other cars but this car… It’s a thing.” You smiled back at him. “He probably wants it to actually use, but I don’t know, maybe he’s doing it to like set the tone with you.” You sighed.  Jude laughed, pulling you closer.  Your dad was protective of you and the car he wanted you to drive out, it definitely had the effect on people, boys in particular, to feel a bit daunted by it.

“Alright. I can’t wait to see it. And your family.” Jude cooed. 

“They’re going to love you,” you said, feeling your heart skip a beat at the thought of tomorrow. Your mum’s excitement, your dad’s request—it all felt so surreal, but it also felt right. You could feel the gravity of the moment sinking in. Tomorrow, Jude would meet your family, and somehow, it felt like the start of something even more significant. As the city of Paris sparkled outside, and the night stretched on, the two of you remained there, lost in each other, the promise of love and room service keeping you blissfully wrapped up in the moment.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 15 - Le Château xx

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 23 - Forced choice, secrets revealed, (public display) - Warriors & Legend

Slipping some hdw au into this one heh heh heh

If you’re unfamiliar with it, all you really need to know is that hw Link is part dragon. Since this is lu, that’d be Warriors. Also unrelated to hdw, Legend’s mermaid tail works like it does in my other mermaid Legend fics. Hee.

Warnings: brief blood & injury, whipping (offscreen), brief/implied animal abuse.

Ao3 link

NEXT (day 29)

————————————————————

“All right boys, I have a deal for you.”

Warriors glared at the woman who’d spoken, her smile much too bright for the situation. Her boot pressed down harder on Legend’s chest, and the veteran wheezed, gills flaring as he tried to get in water that wasn’t there.

“The only deal I’m making is one that involves you letting him go,” Warriors snapped, and the woman let out a tsk, sending dark hair over her shoulder as she shook her head.

“That’s not an option. He’s just what my troupe needs, a new attraction, some extra spice. ‘The boy who can breathe both water and air! Watch as his legs twist into one, how he defies nature itself!’” she said excitedly. “Business will boom!”

The group of performers around her cheered, shaking their weapons in the air. Legend wheezed again, and Warriors looked down at him in a panic, his tail flapping weakly in the shallow water it rested in. It was just enough water to trigger Legend’s mermaid tail, but not nearly enough for him to breathe.

The whole situation was ridiculous honestly, the two of them swarmed by the group after Legend had tripped on a loose cobblestone and accidentally triggered his scales by falling into the gutter. It would be laughable if Legend wasn’t trapped and essentially drowning, and Warriors didn’t have a good dozen weapons pointed at his neck.

Legend’s face was starting to turn red from lack of air, and he was giving Warriors a look that begged him not to do anything stupid.

Unfortunately, Warriors already had a stupid plan forming.

“I’d hate to ruin such a pretty face, so here’s the deal,” the woman with her boot on Legend’s chest said. “You let us leave with your friend, no fighting, no following, and in return, we won’t kill you.”

“Pass,” Warriors said with a glare, sword clenched tightly in his palm. The woman made a pouting face.

“Aw, can’t we settle this like civilized people? We’ll be gentle, so long as you cooperate,” she smiled, and dug her heel into Legend’s ribs.

Legend grunted in pain, and Warriors swallowed, his thoughts whirling. His idea really was stupid, and the thought of using it made him cringe, but he was outnumbered and rapidly running out of time. Legend’s wheezes kept growing more frantic, and Warriors didn’t want to bet his safety on whether he could take on the entire crowd.

At least he wasn’t in his own Hyrule. Revealing the secret here would be awful, and he knew these people would exploit the knowledge, but at least it wouldn’t come with the political firestorm it would at home.

And if it got Legend free, it was worth it.

Warriors sighed.

“What if I have a better deal for you?” he asked, and the woman raised an eyebrow.

“What kind of a deal? If it involves you, I already have a fella,” she said mildly, and Warriors swallowed.

“Nothing like that. A trade. Me for my friend.”

Laughter went through the group, and the woman snorted. “You may have a pretty face, but you’re nothing compared to a merman, honey. Sorry.”

“Would it change things if I told you I’m half dragon?” he said quietly.

The woman’s ears flicked, her eyes widening. “Oh?”

“Yes. Much more exotic then a kid with a curse,” Warriors said, keeping his eyes off of Legend. He wished he could’ve told him about this on his own terms. Who knew what he was thinking at the moment. “If you let him go, I’ll come quietly.”

“And do everything I say?” the woman said with a raised eyebrow, and Warriors swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. He would escape. It wouldn’t be for long.

“Yes.”

She hummed consideringly, eyes trailing over Warriors. Legend wheezed again, and she glanced down at him, then back up again, crossing her arms.

“Well, I can’t really pass that up, can I?” she said, and snapped her fingers. Two burly men came up and grabbed Warriors’ arms, one twisting his sword out of his grip.

Warriors didn’t resist like he said he would, and happened to catch Legend’s eye, the other hero giving him an unreadable look. He was pretty sure he saw exasperation in his gaze though.

I don’t have a tail whenever I get wet, Legend, I’ll be able to escape better than you.

Warriors’ arms were tied behind his back, and he breathed out as the woman finally stepped off of Legend’s chest. A different bunch of people came forward as she snapped her fingers again, hauling Legend up out of the water, and they held him still while his tail split back into legs.

Legend began to struggle the moment he had his legs back, but the people held him tight, suddenly pulling ropes over his wrists and ankles. Warriors watched in shock as Legend was thrown back to the ground, a cloth tied over his mouth, and he snapped his gaze over to the woman.

“You said you’d let him go!” Warriors shouted, struggling wildly against the men’s hold. He shot an elbow out, trying to hit one in the face, but they only twisted his hands tighter behind his back, at an angle that felt like they were close to breaking.

The woman who was obviously in charge came over to him while he struggled, still smiling happily.

“We had a deal!” Warriors spat.

“We didn’t shake on it hon,” she said with a shrug, tapping his nose. “And there’s no way I’d pass up on a real mer. I happen to have a use for dragon blood at the moment, but even if you were lying about that, having another pretty face around is always good for business. I’m sure I’ll find a use for you somewhere.”

Warriors tried to lunge for her, but the men held him back, kicking his legs out from under him. Warriors dropped to his knees as she walked away with a laugh, and locked eyes with Legend, the veteran’s expression frantic as he was dragged away as well.

Oh Legend I’m sorry.

Then something hit him in the head, and with a burst of pain, Warriors knew no more.

(...)

A tapping noise woke him back up.

Warriors groaned, eyes flickering as he tried to figure out where the tapping was coming from. His head was throbbing, but it wasn’t too bad, and he pried his eyes open, a mostly dark room meeting him. The pounding kept up, more quickly now, and Warriors raised his head and looked to the side.

Two glowing eyes stared at him, and Warriors yelped, sitting up rather abruptly.

His head hit wood, and he made a pained noise, rubbing his forehead. He looked back over at the eyes, and Legend gave him a grim smile, the motion making the scales on his cheeks shine.

Oh. Right.

Warriors groaned, more in annoyance this time than anything, and glanced around, wrinkling his nose at the small cage he’d been dumped in. It was wood on the floor and ceiling, but metal bars blocked off everything else, the door firmly locked.

“Well. This is just lovely,” he sighed, and Legend let out a snort that shot out bubbles.

“Yeah, quite a nice predicament we’ve landed ourselves in. You okay, pretty boy?” Legend asked, his voice warbling a little strangely. Warriors was surprised he could hear him through the thick glass. “Or should I say dragon boy? Nice plan by the way.”

“Sorry, it was all I could think of,” Warriors apologized, leaning against the bars with a wince. The cage was so small he could only just barely sit up.

“Yeah, well it was a valiant effort,” Legend hummed, rubbing a dark bruise on his arm. He was silent for a moment. “Were you uh... were you serious?”

“About being half dragon?” Warriors asked, and Legend nodded. “...Yeah. It’s true. On my father’s side.”

Legend made a noise Warriors wasn’t sure how to interpret. “Huh. Well, I’ve heard weirder.”

Legend didn’t sound accusatory or disgusted or anything, mostly curious, and Warriors’ shoulders lost some tension he didn’t even know he’d been holding. It looked like Legend wasn’t weirded out much at all. Which was understandable since he was currently covered in blue scales and barely looked Hylian at the moment, but the reassurance was nice.

“...So how’d your mom get with a lizard exactly?”

Warriors’ goodwill towards Legend immediately disappeared. “Oh don’t even start, no, he has a hylian form! Don’t be weird!” he said in disgust, and Legend laughed, the sound oddly musical.

It broke into a bit of a wheeze, and Warriors’ exasperation turned into concern as Legend coughed a couple times.

“...Are you okay vet?” he asked worriedly, and Legend waved him off with a webbed hand.

“Yeah... yeah, ‘m good. Having a heel ground into my chest didn’t do me any favors,” he said with one last cough. “And all this going back and forth between lungs and gills isn’t much fun. But I’m alright.”

Warriors took a moment to study Legend, bruises painted across his skin, fins drooping. He didn’t look too bad, but he wasn’t in great shape.

“So how are we getting out of here?” Legend asked, breaking Warriors’ thoughts.

“We’ll think of something,” Warriors sighed, looking around his cage. “If I had something to pick the lock I could get out of this thing at least. Think you could get out on your end?”

“I already tried breaking the glass, it’s reinforced or something,” Legend grumbled. “And again with the lock, there’s bars over the top of the tank.”

“So we’re stuck for now, then.”

“Yep.”

Silence fell over them as they digested their situation, and Warriors sighed, looking around their prison. He was pretty sure there were in the back of a large wagon of some sort, based on the size and shape of the area. A few small beams of sunlight snuck through some cracks, lighting up more cages and equipment Warriors really hoped wasn’t for them.

He wondered what that woman was going to do with him. Legend was very obviously exotic—all she would really have to do was put him in a tank and the money would pour in—but Warriors looked rather normal. She said she had a use for him, for someone with dragon blood specifically, but what exactly was she thinking?

And how was he going to get him and Legend out of this mess?

A quiet chirping cry broke the silence, and Legend and Warriors both froze, pricking their ears.

“What on earth was that?” Legend asked in confusion, and Warriors shushed him, eyes narrowing. His night vision was a bit better than most Hylians, but he still couldn’t see very well in the shadowy room. And something about that sound...

He could just barely make out another cage, a spot of sunlight shining beside it, and another crying chirp came from its direction. Something about the sound struck Warriors right in the chest, and he kicked at the bars, peering through them and trying to see better.

“Whoa, what’s gotten into you? Any clue what that is?” Legend asked, and Warriors growled, kicking at his cage again.

“I don’t know, but it sounds hurt. I don’t think it—”

“Ma!”

Warriors went silent again, listening as the tiny voice repeated its cry. Legend looked utterly confused as Warriors kicked at the bars again, another tiny cry ringing through the room, and he growled in frustration.

“Cap, seriously, why are you so wound up? It’s probably just an animal or something,” Legend said confusedly, and Warriors stared at him. “I don’t like that it’s trapped either, but we can’t get it out right now.”

“An animal? Can’t you hear it talking?” Warriors said in disbelief, and Legend slowly shook his head.

“All I hear is growling and chirping. ...How hard did they hit your head?”

Warriors opened his mouth to argue, but a door was suddenly opened, and the room flooded with light. Warriors and Legend both squinted against it, and the chirping cries faltered into a whimper.

Footsteps clicked against the wooden floor, and the woman who’d gotten them both in here stood above the two of them, flanked by two larger assistants.

“Oh great, you,” Legend grumbled.

“Me. You might want to fix that attitude there merman, or today isn’t going to be much fun for you,” she said with a tsk. “Time to learn some tricks.”

“I already know plenty of tricks, I don’t need more,” Legend shot back, his arms crossed.

“It’s always good to expand your repertoire. But first,” she said with a clap, turning back to Warriors. “Let’s see that supposed dragon blood put to some good use. Hope you weren’t lying, honey.”

One of the burly people she’d brought with her stepped away, and went over to where the frantic chirping had been coming from. He came back with a cage in hand that was only about as big across as a shield, then put on a hefty pair of gloves.

The cage was set down, and then opened, the man quickly grabbing something from inside. A terrified chirp came from the cage, and Warriors and Legend both watched in shock as a tiny pale green dragon was yanked out, its eyes wide with fear.

Outrage burned in Warriors’ chest, and he watched in distaste as the poor creature was manhandled, the man avoiding its attempts to bite and claw him. Warriors stiffened as the man approached his cage, but didn’t have time to attempt an escape as he unlocked the door and quickly tossed the dragon in.

It hit the ground with a small thump, then wailed, scrambling to its feet and immediately running for a corner. It cowered against the bars, spikes on its back raised threateningly, and bared its teeth as a squeaky growl came from its throat.

Then it froze, nostrils twitching.

It raised its nose in the air, and suddenly looked straight at Warriors, eyes wide.

Then it made a beeline for him, chirping in distress as it clawed its way up his leg. Warriors jumped and nearly kicked it away, but something stopped him, something that told him the tiny dragon wasn’t a threat. Sure enough it didn’t try to bite him, and quickly latched itself onto his shirt, body trembling. Warriors carefully touched its head, and it butted cautiously against him.

“Well then, looks like you might have been telling the truth after all,” the woman hummed in interest, tapping her chin as the dragon clung to Warriors’ shirt. “I need someone who it’ll listen to, I haven’t made any progress getting the thing to behave. But if you’re dragon like it is, then you should have no problem.”

“He,” Warriors said quietly, running a careful hand over the tiny scales. The dragon nuzzled into his hand. “It’s a he.”

“Good to know. Start training it,” she said, and put a hand on the whip at her belt. “Or else this will be unpleasant for all of us.”

“Are you kidding? Look how small he is, he’s only a hatchling. You can’t train a baby,” Legend snapped from his tank, and the woman gave him a look.

“I’ll do whatever the public wants to see. Now come along honey, you have tricks to learn.”

The burly people she’d brought with her unlocked the top of Legend’s cage, then dragged him out despite his best efforts, tossing him onto the floor. Legend grimaced as his tail turned to legs yet again, and before he could recover he’d been grabbed and was quickly dragged away.

“Hey!” Warriors shouted when one of them kicked Legend, and the veteran struggled viciously. “Get your hands off—!”

The door was slammed, cutting off the sound of Legend’s struggling. Warriors was plunged into darkness once again.

He let out a tense breath, and looked down, the dragon still shaking against his chest. He was trying to work his way under Warriors’ scarf at the moment, and Warriors lifted a fold out of the way so he could slide in.

The shaking eased a little finally, and Warriors studied the tiny dragon in quiet curiosity. It was less like dragons he’d seen in his world and more like Wild’s, a long body, small legs, no visible wings. Two tiny horns poked from his head, and his eyes were bright with a pure green that reminded Warriors of Faron woods.

He’d never seen a dragon that wasn’t full-grown before, and Warriors looked at every detail in quiet fascination. He grew more worried the longer he studied the creature though, noting how thin he was, his scales lacking some sparkle.

Warriors may never have seen a baby dragon before, but he knew what a healthy dragon should look like.

And this wasn’t it.

“Ma,” the dragon chirped again, breaking him from his thoughts. He whimpered as he hid in Warriors scarf, claws scratching him a little. “Ma.”

A little wail came from the dragon, and Warriors felt that sharp feeling in his chest again, a frantic urge to fix the problem, get rid of the threat, stop the crying.

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” he tried, wishing he could purr on command as the hatchling cried. Unfortunately that particular quirk only seemed to happen without his permission. “We’ll find your mom and get you out of here. Calm down.”

He scratched a careful hand over the dragon’s head, and his wails quieted a bit. He looked at Warriors with his bright eyes, and tilted his head.

“Ma?” he asked, and Warriors nodded.

“Exactly, we’ll get you back to your mom,” he assured, all while he was wondering how exactly he was going to do that.

The dragon made a small chirp, and nestled himself up next to Warriors’ neck, still shaking just a little. Warriors kept scratching near the base of his horns, and the dragon gradually relaxed, tiny claws flexing.

Warriors glanced at the empty tank beside them, worry clenching at his chest. He didn’t know what Legend was dealing with, but he hoped it wouldn’t be too bad.

Right. Like our luck is ever that good.

The dragon let out a sound Warriors thought was a sniffle, and he petted him again, letting him nuzzle deeper into his scarf. At least the little guy wasn’t attacking him. Can he tell I’m half dragon? Is that enough to label me not a threat?

...Or is it just a Hero thing?

Warriors sighed, and attempted to get in a more comfortable position as the dragon chirped again. It didn’t really matter much.

What really mattered was figuring out how they were going to get out of this.

(...)

Hours passed, Warriors attempting to talk to the dragon, and not getting very far. He gave up eventually, and tried to think of some semblance of a plan while he waited for Legend to come back.

But Legend was gone for a long time. Long enough that both Warriors and the dragon were asleep when the door finally reopened.

They both startled, and the dragon chirped in alarm as moonlight spilled into the room, tiny scales sticking up as he scurried under Warriors’ scarf. Warriors quickly sat up as the same two burly men came in, and sucked in a breath as Legend was dragged in behind them.

He wasn’t moving.

Legend was lifted up and tossed back in the tank without a word, and Warriors clenched the bars as he saw him jerk, blood floating through the water. A brief cry came from him as his legs merged back into a tail, and he went limp as it finished, breathing heavily.

“Legend?” Warriors asked frantically as the men left, leaving them in darkness again, “hey, Legend, talk to me. What did they do?”

Legend didn’t reply for a few long moments, floating silently except for his pained breathing. More blood wafted through the water, and Warriors caught a glimpse of red lines cut into his back.

“Oh Legend, did they whip you?” He whispered, and Legend finally opened his eyes, blinking slowly.

“Mm... yeah,” he mumbled, letting himself drift down to the bottom of the tank. He breathed out tiredly. “Kept talking back, refused to do what they wanted. Lady didn’t like it. Actually got loose once, gave her a black eye. Really didn’t like that.”

He chuckled, then grimaced, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Legend, why didn’t you just play along?” Warriors asked in dismay, and Legend huffed.

“Tried to at first. Didn’t work,” Legend grumbled, then hissed as he shifted around a little.

Warriors watched in alarm as a little more blood wafted into the water, and Legend grimaced as he tried to get himself into a comfortable position.

“‘M alright Wars,” Legend sighed when he fell still, his eyes closing again. “It’s not that bad. Won’t let ‘em win.”

“I know,” Warriors said quietly.

The dragon still in Warriors’ scarf finally poked his head out, and crept along Warriors’ arm, nose twitching as he stared at Legend. Legend opened his eyes again, and the two of them watched each other in silence.

“Made a friend?” Legend rasped, and Warriors hummed, reaching a few fingers through the bars to just barely brush Legend’s tank.

“Yeah. He mostly initiated it though. Poor little thing is terrified,” he replied, watching the dragon settle down on his arm. “And before you ask, I can understand him a little, but not everything.” Warriors had gotten as far as getting him to say something vaguely like his name, but that was really it.

“Any idea how he got here?” Legend asked, and Warriors shrugged, the dragon still watching Legend with his bright green eyes.

“He can’t talk that much. Probably the same way we did, more or less. But... I’m thinking he might actually help get us out of here, if I can figure out everything he can do,” Warriors said with a small smile. Legend hummed, and shakily moved forward a bit, resting his head against the side of the tank around where Warriors’ fingers brushed.

“I’ll let... you plan, then,” Legend murmured, and closed his eyes again.

“And you rest. Sounds good,” Warriors replied softly.

Legend didn’t say anything else, and Warriors kept his fingers on the glass until his breathing evened out, and he knew the younger hero was asleep. He drew back with a sigh, leaning his back against the bars again, and the little dragon moved to his lap, still watching Legend.

“You hear that little guy?” Warriors said softly, running a hand over his head. “I’m going to think of a plan to get us all out of here.”

“Ink,” the dragon chirped in agreement, nestling up to his shirt.

Warriors sighed again as the little dragon closed his eyes, and while the more scaly prisoners slept, Warriors thought and planned, all to the sound of tiny snores and raspy breathing.

[etherealeowyn]

“When you look at me like that my love, I don’t think I could do anything other than give in to you" - Elrond (Rings of Power) x Fem Reader

Y/n reunites with Elrond and explains that she doesn't want to be left behind when he goes on his journeys anymore.

Fluff

Word Count: 817

My requests are always open, so feel free to message me if you have an idea! I'll write for any character from The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or The Rings of Power!

All the trees surrounding the city of Lindon had turned into a series of warm orange and yellow hues. Fortunate were one’s eyes when the autumnal sun danced upon their leaves, for it seemed as if they were sparkling, making the already ethereal location even more stunning.

Y/n’s long blue velvet dress swept across the floor as she walked on the perfectly lain cobblestone path, her footsteps echoing through the open halls. Her eyes flickered from tree to tree, feeling a sense of immense happiness knowing she was once again visiting the place she loved so dearly. Delicately, she held a letter from her love, comforted by the knowledge that she would soon be in his arms.

Her elven ears slightly perked when she heard footsteps growing closer from behind. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips when she recognized that the steps were familiar, belonging to none other than Elrond.

“My love,” Elrond spoke, his soft voice breaking the near-silent atmosphere of the hall.

Swiftly he spun her around by the waist until her body was delicately pressed up against his. Y/n stood there momentarily, staring into his eyes, taking in all his gorgeous features before saying, “It feels like a lifetime since I last laid eyes on you.”

Elrond laughed slightly before responding, “I agree, a few months feels more like a year when I’m away from you,” making her blush.

“Promise me, you’ll never leave me again. Life is so mundane without you, I practically died of boredom.” Y/n joked, causing the elf to smirk at her.

Tucking a strand of her long hair behind her ear, he said, “I’ll try my best, but you know good and well that I can’t promise something like that,” with a laugh. “Middle Earth always has something in store for me that I cannot prepare for.”

“I can’t argue with that,” she replied, “But maybe Middle Earth will be kind enough to let us make up for the time that we have lost with each other.”

“I can only hope,” Elrond spoke, taking one of his fingers and delicately placing it under Y/n’s chin, before angling her face up so their lips could meet.

“Or…,” she began, wrapping her arms around the elf’s neck, “Perhaps next time I could join you.”

A mix of surprise and concern appeared on his face, this being the first time that Y/n had ever asked to join him on one of his missions. At the same time, he couldn’t help but imagine how much more enjoyable it would be for him if the love of his life accompanied him.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind that, but you must know that most places I travel to are riddled with danger. I’m not sure if I’d be able to keep you safe,” he replied, worry prominent behind his voice.

“Darling, I have immense faith in your abilities to protect me, quite frankly, I feel safer in your arms than here,” she spoke, looking up at Elrond through her eyelashes.

Y/n had grown tired of the long days and even longer nights spent without him in various elven cities, for she never felt at home unless she was by Elrond’s side. She was willing to follow him anywhere if it meant she’d be by his side.

“When you look at me like that my love, I don’t think I could do anything other than give in to you,” he said turning away for a moment to hide the rosy blush creeping onto his face.

“I’m well aware,” she replied taking one of her hands and gently caressing the side of his face, “Does that mean that I could go with you next time?”

“Yes… but on one condition,” Elrond responded grabbing her hand from his face and placing a delicate kiss on it.

“I’d do anything,” Y/n whispered hastily, eagerly wanting to know the condition that he had thought out.

“Would you marry me?” he asked, his grey eyes softening and brimming with pure love.

Y/n’s jaw dropped slightly at his question, before she immediately jumped into Elrond’s arms, letting him spin her around in celebration. When he finally set her down, she gently grabbed both sides of his face and brought his lips to hers, planting a kiss full of pure excitement.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Elrond spoke, with a smile pulling at both corners of his mouth.

“It’s absolutely a yes, a thousand times yes!” she exclaimed before the elf pulled a beautiful silver ring from his pocket, adorned with the most stunning moonstone that Y/n had ever seen.

She extended her hand and watched Elrond slide it onto her index finger, immense joy running rampant through her body, making it feel like she was floating.

“I can’t wait for our next journey together,” Elrond softly stated, wrapping his arms around Y/n in a loving hug.

[danikamariewrites]

could i request one with rhys x reader where he is so incredibly in love with her it’s ridiculous. He is such a simp for her, she literally only has to ask and he gets her anything she wants. one day she jokes about him being very generous and says

” i’m sure if i ask for a golden pony, you’ll find a way”

next day he’s visiting Helion and asks for a golden pony.

The ic even makes fun of how much he simps for reader. One day they’re all walking in velaris to go to ritas and readers strap on her heel slips. Rhys gets on his knees to fix it with no hesitation. The inner circle looks at him with incredible shock and their jaws are dropped. Bc in acomaf it says that he has sacred tattoos on his knees and will never bow for no one and nothing but his crown. it’s the first time they ever see rhys on his knees for someone. Reader doesn’t know ab it and just says thank you and they continue walking. After a while he confesses to her and she feels the same and live happy forever 😁😁

Only For You

Rhys x reader

A/n: this is so freakin cute and writing this had me kicking my feet giggling

Warnings: none

You and Rhys had grown up together, so his kindness and generosity was nothing new to you. Whenever you needed or even just wanted something Rhys would get it for you. New shoes? Done, he knows what style you like. Need new clothes? He has your size and his tailor knows exactly what to make you.

You had always insisted on paying you back but he never let you. Rhys would always say, “Nonsense y/n. I like biting you things so please let me get this for you.” You’d breathe out a sigh of defeat and cup his cheek. “Thank you Rhys. I swear if I asked for a golden Pegasus you’d find me one.”

Rhys cherished your warm touch. He loved your soft skin and how gentle you are with him. The High Lord was so clearly in love with you but he was too afraid to admit it. If Rhys lost you as a friend because of his feelings he doesn’t know how he’d go on.

And he didn’t forget about that golden Pegasus. It was your 450th birthday present and you named her Sunny.

Tonight you were all headed to Rita’s to unwind after a busy work week. Mor had teased you about Rhys while you got ready together. “He’s completely and utterly in love with you! How can you not see he is wrapped around your finger.”

You had just rolled your eyes and laughed at your friend. “We’ve been friends for centuries Mor. Rhys would’ve said something by now. I just have to deal with that.” Deep down you were mad,y in love with Rhys. You just kept telling yourself he didn’t feel the same way. It made everything easier. You two were just friends after all.

Walking to Rita’s you and Cassian were hanging on each other crying laughing at something Mor said about Amren. Your heel caught in a crack of the cobblestone, causing the strap of your shoe to come undone. “Oops, hold on a second, my shoe.”

The group stopped as you lifted your dress a little to asses the damage. Before you could fix it, Rhys was on his knees looking up at you with a small smile. “I got it for you darling.”

His fingers gently grazed your ankle, sending a shiver up your body. You watched as Rhys carefully buckled the strap around your ankle again. Without thinking he caressed your calf and looked up at you. You swear you saw hearts in his eyes.

You run your fingers through his soft raven locks, bringing your hand down to caress his face, holding his chin. Giving it a small squeeze you say, “Thanks Rhys.” Mor giggles and takes your arm, pulling you ahead of the boys.

Cassian and Azriel stare at their brother with their jaws on the ground. Rhys stands, brushing off his pants. “I thought you said-“ Cassian started. Rhys cut him off, “Only for my equal.” Cassian didn’t think it was possible but he felt his jaw unhinge more at Rhys’s confession.

Rhys started to follow you and Mor while Cassian stood frozen. Azriel came up next to him closing his mouth and patting him on the back. “I can’t believe I knew before you.” He said with a smug look on his face.

When you woke up the next morning something felt different. You felt a light in your chest, pulling you out of your room.

Getting ready you follow that pull down the hall all the way to Rhys’s office. You find him sitting in his armchair, seemingly contemplating something. You felt nervousness radiating off him. Not only could you hear his heartbeat, but you swore you felt it in your own chest.

Pausing, you place your hand over your heart. You slowly approach him. Resting a hand on his shoulder Rhys leans back into the cushioned seat, placing his hand over yours. Rhys looked up at you with a hope on his beautiful face. The light of the fire in the hearth before him highlighting his high cheekbones and perfect jawline.

Closing your eyes you took a chance and reached out down that new glowing bond. Towards Rhys. Towards unconditional love. Rhys gripped your hand tighter as he let out a shaky breath.

Opening your eyes you found Rhys’s line with silver. You blinked your own tears away as you looked at him with adoration. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he whispered. “I said I’d never bow before anyone or anything but my crown. That changed when I found you, my equal in every sense of the word.”

Rhys pulled you onto his lap. “I love you too Rhys,” you whispered back, “I’ll share that crown with you for the rest of our lives.”

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

a/n: the slow burn is slow burning

part 10: the inevitable crash

word count: 3,048

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The street was quieter than usual, the night cold and empty except for the occasional passerby. You made your way down the alley toward the Garrison, a slow, deliberate pace, your thoughts more on the events of the past days than the path ahead. The weight of the decision you made—though correct in your mind—Tommy’s amusement at your actions, the tension in the air between the two of you. It was a lot to carry, but it wasn't the first time you’ve found yourself with something weighing you down.

Just as you reached the corner, you heard footsteps behind you, quick, deliberate, the sound of boots on cobblestones. You instinctively reached for your knife—the concept that it could be Arthur or John trying to scare you crossed your mind. But when you turned, the figure that stepped out of the shadows was one you knew all too well.

Bingham.

The one who used to buy information from you. A man who’d never been above using others for his own gain, his reputation dark enough to send a ripple of unease through anyone who dealt with him. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The familiar scar across his cheek caught the moonlight.

“You’re walking alone at this hour, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Not a smart move, considering who’s still looking for your services.”

You stood firm, swallowing the minute flinch on your brow. “I’m not in that business anymore, Bingham.”

He stepped forward, eyes gleaming with a knowing, calculated glint. “You think I don’t know that?” He laughed softly, but there was something dangerous in it, something that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not asking for your services, darling. I’m offering you a way back in. You’ve got a talent for finding things out. I remember what you're worth. I doubt the great Thomas Shelby and the Peaky Blinders really know.”

You met his gaze without hesitation. “I've kept my connections, Alfred. I've extended my kindness to the Blinders for a modest fee. I don't think anything else will be necessary.”

Bingham tilted his head, stepping closer. His voice quieted, but the threat was all too real, seeping through each word. “Don’t make me remind you what happened the last time you tried to play both sides, sweetheart. You’re a smart woman. Don’t let the Peaky Blinders loyalty cloud your judgment. It’s only a matter of time before they stop keeping you safe and start seeing you as a liability.”

Before you can respond, a sudden, sharp voice erupted from behind you.

“Come now, y/n. I started drinking without you.”

Tommy placed his hand on the back of your neck, his silhouette cutting through the dim light, standing with a calm, controlled presence that you knew so well. His eyes flickered down to you, then back to Bingham. There was no hesitation in his movement, no uncertainty. He was here, and his presence kept the unwelcome guest from getting any closer.

Bingham didn’t flinch, though the subtle tension in his jaw betrayed his irritation. “The Thomas Shelby,” he sneered. “Of all the people to come out and... Save the day. Surprised you didn't send one of your errand boys to fetch her. Didn't think she was worth a rope from the big man.”

Tommy stepped forward, guiding you with him, not bothering with any pretense of diplomacy. He looked down at the ground. His voice was cold, clipped. “You're standing on Blinders property.” He motioned with his hand. "All of this, those buildings. This pub. The rubble beneath your feet. And this woman—" His grip on your neck tightened. "—she's Blinders property as well."

Bingham’s eyes scanned Tommy's face, but he found no trace of humor. There was no doubt in his mind about the power Tommy wielded, especially with the way he stood tall, unwavering. There was a threat in Tommy’s voice that left no room for negotiation, and he knew it.

“I suppose this is where I bid you farewell, y/n,” Bingham muttered, though his bravado was quickly fading. “In time, we will see each other again. I'll make sure of it.”

Tommy didn’t react to the veiled threat. He just raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. “Come around here without an invitation again, and your body will be beneath this rubble. And then you'll be my property, too.”

Bingham chuckled at Tommy's threat, but, with a final glance at you, he stepped back into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as he appeared. The tension lingered in the air long after he was gone.

Tommy stood there for a moment, his eyes still locked on the spot where Bingham vanished, his jaw tense. He took a slow breath, finally turning to face you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, the concern in his voice softer than usual, though his gaze remains sharp. His hand remained on your neck though his grip eased until it was a gentle hold.

You nodded. “You shouldn't have gotten involved.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed briefly, a hint of something unreadable in them. “I don't know what that fucking was, but I meant what I said.” He paused, looking at you with a touch of seriousness in his eyes. “The Blinders don't take kindly to strangers on our property. Touching our things. And that includes you.”

You placed your hand on his wrist and eased it down. "I'm not your fucking property, Tommy. Don't think I didn't catch that."

"You're a Blinder now, are you not?"

You could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave you a quick, assessing glance before heading for the door of the Garrison.

“Let’s get inside,” he said. “It’s too cold out here for games. Even yours.”

You followed him, the weight of Bingham's warning still hanging in the air, but now you were sure of one thing: Tommy Shelby wouldn’t let anyone take what’s his. Not without a fight. And part of knowing that meant accepting that—even though you would fight to the death to deny it—he believed you were his, too.

Tommy pulled a chair for you and set up behind the bar. He didn't speak. You watched quietly as he popped open a fresh bottle of whiskey. He pulled two glasses, but as he was about to pour yours, you held up your hand.

"Gin tonight."

The confusion quickly washed over his face. He pulled a bottle of gin from below the counter and filled your cup with a couple of inches. He placed the bottle down with a thud and toasted to the air. An odd silence that you'd never experienced with him before drifted over the bar.

He'd look at you occasionally as you sipped your drink, and you returned the glance. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but you knew something was brewing in his mind. Whatever he was thinking about, it was heavy. And though you didn't know the depth of it, you could tell he was carrying it alone.

"So, are you thinking about your big white wedding?" you asked quietly in an attempt to steer the conversation away from Bingham, letting the gin roll over your tongue. "A man who drinks in silence in a woman's company always has something like that on his mind."

Tommy didn't often look shocked, but when he did, it brought a smile to your face, knowing that you read him properly. This time, it wasn't the case.

"No," he whispered. "No white wedding. She wore purple."

For once, you hated that you were right. Though he said so little, the sadness beneath seeped into your skin. The news about his wife's death came to you via a drunk Blinder who sat beside you in a pub. Though, the information alone did not carry the weight of Tommy's loss, his melancholy tone said everything you needed to know. The aftermath of your business never returned the following day.

The gin rested against your lip long enough for the burn to turn into nothing. You couldn't leave the conversation this way, but you didn't know how far to push before he'd back down.

"What was her name?" you asked.

Tommy's eyes connected with yours. It was the only proper way to say her name, the only proper way to tell this story. And though the depth of this story had seemingly died with time, it never got any easier.

"Grace. Grace Shelby."

You lowered your gaze, the name of Tommy's ghost imprinting itself deep into your memory. "Do I need to ask if you loved her?"

"No, perhaps not."

You looked around the Garrison, motioning to the air with your glass. "And what did she think about all this? About you."

Tommy tilted his whiskey all the way back then swiftly poured himself another. "She loved me."

"That wasn't my question." You sat up straight and tapped the counter. "I asked what she thought about you."

Tommy stared at you as he processed what you were asking him. It wasn't a kind question. Or maybe, it was. You were being gentle with him, and that wasn't something he was used to. And if someone had tried, he probably didn't notice.

Grace had, until the end, hoped—expected—things would go right. And so he tried if only for her and her memory. He mourned. He wept—in private, but he still did nevertheless.

And now, here you were. Asking if he really knew what Grace wanted. He should have been insulted except your question didn't imply he was wrong. He knew what Grace thought about all of this. And damn if he didn't try.

"Can I ask you something else?"

"I don't think my permission would stop you regardless," he sighed.

"The way you were before her," you started, your voice low and soft, "are you that man again?"

Tommy's jaw tightened. Now, your questions were teetering on things he didn't know how to answer. He eyed you with caution as you raised your hand and rested it on the top button of his shirt.

"When a woman falls in love with a broken man—" You twisted your fingers, and the button came undone. "She finds you with your shirt open. Cold. Exposed. But you don't know any different because that's how it's always been. And then it happens—" Quietly, you refastened it. "—and suddenly you're warm and safe. She buttons you up and reminds you to take care of yourself."

You smiled softly, a kind contrast to his cold stare.

"And when that story comes to a close—" You tugged on his collar with a brief but strong pull, and the button came clean off. It clattered to the bar. You picked it up and held it in between your eyes and his. "—Either you're cold again or you're not."

Tommy took the button from your fingers and held it in his hand. Such a fragile token, he thought. If he played along with your line of thinking, he could throw it in the river and never be warm again. Or he could hold onto it and put himself together once more. He might never know which choice was the right one.

"Look, Tommy. I won't besmirch Grace's name by saying this, so I'll put it plainly." You reached your hand forward and rested it a few inches in front of his. "There are loves in our life that are meant to make us want more."

The faint image of a face formed in Tommy's mind. Grace's smile, the softness of her eyes. He saw it so clearly, greeting him again just as she had in his dreams for so long.

"There are those that make us want less."

Grace's smile turned blurry like a thick fog from the river drifted over, unkind and unwilling to let the light shine through

"There are those who wish us to be more than we are because they alone saw the potential, and those who wish us to be more than we're capable of."

Heavier and heavier, the fog took over her image.

"And then there is a love, only one love, that takes you as you are. As you were. As you ever will be. Because they take all of the shit, the broken pieces, the parts of us that are shattered beyond belief—and damn, they fucking love you anyway."

Until she was gone. Replaced by the sweet dew of vapors, overtaking the memories he held onto so dearly. Your words didn't force him to forget. Many tried and failed. No, you made him see it all differently, lifting the veil that love so crudely pulled over his eyes.

Tommy came out from behind the bar and stood before you, still turning the button between his fingers. His expression hadn't changed since you started speaking, a sign that he was processing all you had to say. If you were wrong, he might've stopped you. If you were right, then he wouldn't admit it.

What was it—that pull you felt? He felt it, too. The softness in Tommy's eyes tugged at you. The need, the desperation for comfort that he would never willingly seek—it was calling you, and you didn't understand why. Until now, he was your reflection, separated by the half-inch of glass in the mirror, but now the two images would coincide and pray they wouldn't shatter the other.

You expected him to flinch when you reached for his cheek, but instead, he accepted it. And you swore, just for a second, his eyes softened further as the warmth met his skin. He leaned into your palm with the briefest movement that could've easily been mistaken for a twitch. Before you could process what was happening, he mirrored you, his hand on your face, pulling you towards him until his temple rested against your cheek.

"You may call me a ghost, but ghosts only travel to those who call them." you whispered in his ear. "Maybe it's time you hang up, and just live."

The room felt like it was closing in around the two of you, the air crackling with the weight of unsaid words and the weight of every shared glance. Tommy was so close, so close you could feel his heartbeat pounding in sync with yours. The pull of him—this was what you expected, wanted even. You wanted the walls to come crashing down until he spilled out before you. The indestructible face of Tommy Shelby melted away for you at last.

Tommy pulled back and his eyes flickered to your lips for just a split second, the raw hunger in his gaze finally bubbling to the surface. He leaned in just enough that you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, your noses brushing as he exhaled. You could taste the desperation, the cold loneliness on his breath.

That taste rolled over your tongue, and the second realization washed over you in an unfamiliar warmth. You hadn't just broken him down. You were reciprocating. The mirror of your hesitation, a fire ignited from two matches burning into char until plumes of smoke poured out into the sky. Both your pieces on the board were at a standstill, locked in a face off that could only end in the two of you being taken out of the game entirely.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, pulling you just a little closer—closer than you'd had ever been. His lips hovered above yours, his gaze never breaking from your eyes.

As the space between you disappeared, the door to the Garrison slammed open.

“Tommy?” Arthur’s voice cut through the thick tension like a dagger.

Tommy stiffened, his eyes still locked on yours, but there was a flash of annoyance, a flash of something—something dangerous and almost angry—that passed over his face. He didn’t want to break this. He didn’t want to stop, but reality was harsh. Arthur’s sudden entrance slammed you both back into it.

Your breath faltered, and in that split second, when everything had been on the verge of shattering, you felt something cold rush over you. A rush of self-preservation, an instinctive retreat. Without a word, you pulled back from Tommy’s grip, your heart racing in your chest.

The heat lingered, still hanging heavy in the air, but it suddenly felt distant. You didn’t know how to explain it, how to admit how close you had come to meeting him down in the place where you forced him to stay—and you hated yourself for it. You couldn't let him see even though you'd both emerged from the same pool.

“Arthur,” you said, your voice colder than you'd intended, a mask sliding back over your emotions. “You’ve got a damn good timing.”

Tommy, still standing where you left him, didn’t speak. His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in his cheek. He didn’t want to show how much he wanted to follow you, how much he wanted to pull you back into the moment that had slipped through his fingers. But he kept it in check. He had to.

Arthur looked from Tommy to you, his eyes narrowing. He saw the shift in the air, the way you were both too quiet, too controlled, like something had just cracked wide open and was now trying to fix itself. He could feel it in the room—the heat, the power play, the way you had both come so close to something irreversible.

But no one knew who had the upper hand.

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly, but there was something in his eyes—a protective concern—for both of you. You wouldn't give him the chance to ask. Not now.

“Goodnight,” you snapped, turning on your heel and heading toward the door.

He nodded once, a silent acknowledgment. Then, almost as an afterthought, you glanced back, your movements deliberate.

"For the next deal, I’ll stay hidden. That’s what you expect, right?" Your words were laced with the same sharpness as before, but this time, there was something else behind them. It was the understanding that however this would play out, whichever of you was the first to slip further than intended—that one mistake could break you both.

The moment was broken, and so was your composure.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6 get temporary amnesia

~ the sequel >:3. for headcanon purposes, the scenario remains the same: your beloved slipped on a cobblestone and hit their head. they retain basic functioning but don't remember you, and need a week of healing to recover ~

Julian

Here is what he knows: he woke up with 0 recollection of what happened and how he got here, and an irresistible stranger is treating him like he's worthy of love and taking care of him

He's about to break his own record for how quickly he can fall in love. He doesn't know when last someone treated him this well

You, on the other hand, can feel your heart cracking slightly every time you interact with him

The adoration in his eyes when he looks at you is missing the settled confidence of a secure relationship. He's desperate for your affection, but beneath the neediness is a deep unease

You've become accustomed to a Julian that doesn't ask constantly for a kiss because he knows you'll always give him one. This one asks, takes, and then winces like he expects to be shut out

The afternoon three days in when he tearfully tried to pack up with nowhere to go so he couldn't burden you didn't help at all

Tripping over himself to dote on you however he can, partly out of love, but mostly to convince you he's worth keeping around

Might laugh at his own misery when his memories return

Asra

You've gotten all kinds of looks from them over the course of your relationship, but this is the first time they've ever looked ... wary

Grateful for your help, sure, appreciative for the lodging and food and care, of course, and plenty friendly

And completely, entirely distrustful

He doesn't know you. He doesn't know your motives. He doesn't know what you want. Even after observing you enough to realize that you really are acting out of love, you still terrify him

Because their own traitorous heart is rioting to let down every wall and ignore every instinctive guard to be close to you again, to be themself around you, even to give of themself to you

Faust's ongoing confusion and the effects of your bonded hearts serve to both ground and unsettle him, even after learning why

They aren't mean at all - if anything, they act like a close friend - but they sleep separately from you, avoid general touch, and get antsy after sharing a space with you for longer than a couple hours

You know his memories are back when he's suddenly pulling you into a hug, so grateful that you could love him like he's loved you

Nadia

She knows she's missing memories and she's not happy about it

Yes, you woke her up, and yes, she can tell that she can trust you, and yes, she's excited at the possibility of finally having found her person. However -

She is apparently a COUNTESS and that is not something to take lightly. Clearly, there is a lot of work to do. As eager as she is to bond with you, she expects you to prove yourself worthy of it

Fill her in on her job. Assist her with whatever proves challenging with her regular work. Tell her what she needs to know to succeed

And don't push her boundaries. She's stressed and will ice you out

Even as she's frustrated with her dependence on someone she doesn't know, she's quietly relieved for your companionship and support. She'd much rather have you than nobody

So tell her about yourself. Use your shared meal times to answer her questions, let her interview you until she does know you well enough to be at ease around you

Slightly embarrassed about her behavior when her memories return. She'll apologize for it by spoiling you nonstop

Muriel

There's no nice way to put it. He's terrified of you at first

When he first opens his eyes, he's injured enough to make fighting difficult, he's in a hut in the middle of nowhere, and his only source of information is the person who brought him here - you

For all he knows, you could have been the person who hurt him enough to trap him, you could be keeping him captive for your own entertainment, you could be lying to him about who he is

Something in his gut tells him it's been done to him before

But as another day or two passes, he quickly realizes you're an exception. He knows how to observe and read people, and you truly care about him. He still hates touch, though

He doesn't know what madness possessed you to feel that way, but he doesn't take your feelings and actions lightly either

You're about to be on the receiving end of a scary amount of unquestioning loyalty, without the stability of a trusting, secure relationship to temper it

So relieved when his memories come back. He's a whole new level of trusting with you now that he knows what you'd do for him

Portia

It's gut wrenching to watch your partner for life open her eyes and the first words out of her mouth be "hey cutie, what's your name?"

Somehow, it's even worse when her response to your crestfallen face is to pull you into a hug, warm and comforting and yet distant with the politeness of trying to help a stranger

As soon as she starts asking questions and you tell her what happened, she's determined to make things right

That's okay if she doesn't remember, you're here to tell her! Not to mention how excited she is to find out that she's already bagged the attractive stranger who's been showing her so much love

So full of wide-eyed wonder for the life you two had built together. Tell her everything, show her your daily routines, share the inside jokes, take her to your favorite date spots

Still not comfortable with physical affection beyond cheek kisses

Flirts with you nonstop anyways. You're strung between her optimism, her clear affection for you, her relational distance from you, and the knowledge that it isn't what it was. It's sweet agony

Covers you in kisses while she sobs when her memories return

Lucio

A. Pain. In. The. Ass - Neck.

The thing that makes the life he has with you so wonderful now is the fact that he shares it with you. You make him want to be a better person. You make a bedroll safer than a suite

But when he doesn't remember you? Everything about the life you've built together is distasteful to him at first

What do you mean, you don't own a house? He's this much of a grown up and still living the nomadic lifestyle of his early twenties?

Sure, you're cute, and the part of him deep down that craves and appreciates your love keeps drawing him back to you, but he'd always thought he'd end up with someone rich and powerful

You're just a journeyman. The magic is cool, but still - really?

Keeps trying to wander off and make reckless, selfish decisions and handing the responsibility to you. If you didn't want him to blow your budget on caviar, why'd you give him the coin purse?

Gets so uncomfortable with the conscience he has around you

Doesn't have many words when his memories return. He just wants to hold you tight and apologize until he can make up for it all

[f14fun]

lay all your love on me - op81 (C6)

synopsis: in which oscar piastri and a university student begging for her euro summer vacation collide in a steamy, abba-inspired romance

prose (8.8K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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06: O-live-You And Other Things That Could've Been Said

The moment we stepped outside, the heat hit us like a solid wall. The sun was already high in the sky, radiating a fierce, unrelenting intensity that made the air shimmer like a mirage. It felt like stepping into an oven, the kind where the heat clings to your skin and settles in your bones, refusing to let go. The cobblestones beneath our feet were warm to the touch, and the faint breeze that occasionally swept by offered little relief, more like a faint exhale of hot air than anything truly cooling.

Mae immediately fanned herself with her hand, squinting against the harsh glare of the sun. “Oh my god, it’s not even ten yet and I’m already melting. I swear, this island is trying to roast us alive.”

Edie tugged at the collar of her tank top, flapping it to get some air. “I don’t know how people live like this. I can feel my makeup sliding off my face. At this rate, I’m going to look like a Picasso painting by noon.”

Hattie pulled her hair into a messy bun, beads of sweat already forming at her temples. “We’re officially in a sauna. A beautiful, picturesque sauna that’s actively trying to kill us with heatstroke.”

Oscar wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his shirt clinging to his back. “You guys are such drama queens,” he said, though his own forehead was glistening with sweat. “It’s not that bad. Just… extremely, painfully hot.”

Mae shot him an incredulous look, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Not that bad? I can practically see the soles of my shoes melting into the pavement. If I pass out, just drag me to the nearest air-conditioned place and leave me there.”

Oscar chuckled, glancing over at me. “You holding up okay, or should we start taking bets on who drops first?”

I fanned myself with my hand, feeling the heat radiate off the ground in waves. “I’m fine, but I might have to invest in one of those little handheld fans soon. Or, you know, a personal ice bath.”

Oscar shot me a mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling despite the beads of sweat gathering at his temples. “An ice bath, huh? That’s my kind of recovery. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve when it comes to cooling down after a race. Maybe I could show you how it’s done—F1 style.”

I rolled my eyes, but the smile on my face was impossible to hide. “Oh, so what, we’re going to do some pit stops for hydration and tire changes along the way too?”

Oscar laughed, running a hand through his damp hair. “Only if you’re up for it. I can be your personal pit crew. We’ll keep it professional, of course… until we get to the ice bath part.”

Mae groaned loudly, rolling her eyes as she overheard. “Please, Oscar. Save the flirting for after I’ve downed a liter of water and found some shade. We’re all dying here, and you’re still trying to turn this into a date.”

Oscar just shrugged, unbothered, and shot me a wink. “What can I say? I’m dedicated to the full experience. And hey, if it involves ice baths and a little friendly competition, I’m all in.”

I nudged him playfully, feeling a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the weather. “Well, if you can handle the heat on the track, I’m sure you can handle a little morning market stroll. But I’m holding you to that ice bath promise—I might just need it after this.”

Oscar smirked, leaning in closer. “You got it. I’ll even make sure it’s got all the F1 essentials—like speed, precision, and just enough flirtation to keep things interesting.”

His teasing sent a shiver down my spine despite the scorching heat, and for a moment, I almost forgot about the sun beating down on us. But then another wave of hot air hit, reminding us all just how relentless the day was going to be.

Hattie, overhearing our exchange, fanned herself dramatically and shook her head. “Alright, you two, keep it cool… literally. We’re about five minutes away from turning into human puddles, and I’m not prepared to deal with that kind of meltdown.”

We all laughed, the tension easing as we continued down the path, our steps a little lighter despite the oppressive heat. And as Oscar’s playful banter echoed in my ears, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, a little F1-style cool-down wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Edie let out a groan, shielding her eyes with her hand. “At this point, I’d settle for a bucket of ice water to the face. I don’t care about looking cute; I just want to survive.”

As we trudged along, the heat wrapped around us like a heavy blanket, every breath feeling thick and labored. The chatter continued, but now it was peppered with complaints and exaggerated groans, each of us trying to find some humor in the absurdity of the oppressive sun. The market couldn’t come soon enough, and as we walked, we silently vowed to find the nearest shade—or, even better, a cold drink—before any of us truly combusted under the relentless summer blaze.

Oscar fell into step beside me, close enough that our arms brushed as we walked. “Bet you five euros Mae buys something completely useless within the first ten minutes.”

I grinned, nudging him lightly with my shoulder. “I’ll take that bet. But I think it’s going to be Edie who cracks first. She’s got that look in her eye—like she’s on a mission to buy something she doesn’t need.”

Oscar laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re on. This might be the easiest money I’ve ever made.”

We continued down the winding path, the sun already blazing above us and making every surface shimmer with heat. The air was so thick and warm, it felt like walking through a giant hairdryer, and every step seemed to bring a fresh wave of stickiness that clung to our skin. The occasional shade from an overhanging tree felt like a blessed oasis, but those moments were fleeting, and soon we were back in the relentless glare.

Mae groaned dramatically, pulling her hair up into a messy bun as she fanned her neck with her hand. “I swear, this is how people end up in documentaries about survival. If I faint, just drag me to the nearest gelato stand.”

Edie, already looking flushed and slightly disheveled, tugged at her tank top. “Forget gelato; I’m about two minutes away from dunking my head in the nearest fountain. I can’t believe people live like this.”

Hattie chimed in, her voice laced with mock despair. “I feel like I’m being slow-cooked. If this is a test of endurance, I’m failing spectacularly. Someone tell me why we thought coming out in this heat was a good idea?”

Oscar glanced at me, his smile wicked. “Don’t worry, everyone. I’ve got it all under control. We’ll get to the market, find some shade, and then maybe I’ll set up an ice bath demo right there in the middle of the square. I’m sure it’ll be the highlight of everyone’s day.”

I laughed, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. “Oh yeah, nothing says local culture like a makeshift ice bath. You’ll have an audience in no time, and I’m pretty sure they’d crown you the king of market day.”

Oscar flashed me a grin, his hand brushing mine as we walked. “As long as you’re there to cheer me on, I’m ready to make it happen. We can call it ‘Beat the Heat: The Oscar Edition.’”

Mae, overhearing us, rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “I’m not paying to see that, but I’ll definitely take a video. It’s going viral, for sure.”

Oscar shot her a mock glare. “Only if you promise to catch my good side. And for the record, I’m pretty sure this ice bath idea is going to save lives today.”

Edie snorted, already scanning the stalls in the distance as the market came into view. “Oscar, you’re not saving lives. You’re just trying to impress your new audience,” she teased, giving him a playful nudge. “But hey, if it gets us a cold drink faster, I’m all for it.”

The market was a sensory overload in the best possible way—vibrant stalls overflowing with fresh fruits, handmade trinkets, and colorful textiles flapping in the light breeze. The mingling aromas of spices, fresh bread, and grilling meats filled the air, and every few steps, a vendor would call out to us, trying to lure us in with their wares. The place was alive with people—locals haggling with vendors, tourists snapping photos, and children darting between stalls with sticky fingers and delighted grins.

Oscar and I wandered through the aisles, pausing occasionally to admire a particularly colorful display of woven baskets or to sample a piece of sweet, juicy melon that a vendor insisted we try. It was a chaotic, joyful atmosphere, and despite the heat, I found myself genuinely enjoying the experience.

That is, until we reached a stall filled with every kind of olive you could imagine. From glossy black olives marinated in herbs to bright green ones stuffed with garlic, the selection was endless. Oscar, with his usual mischievous glint, picked up a toothpick and speared an olive, holding it out to me.

“Come on, try this one. I promise, it’s the best thing you’ll ever taste,” he said, his voice dripping with the confidence of someone who’d already decided the outcome.

I eyed the olive suspiciously, but the look on his face was so hopeful and endearing that I couldn’t refuse. I took the olive, popped it into my mouth, and almost immediately regretted my decision. The taste hit me like a freight train—intensely salty, bitter, and pungent, with a weirdly spicy kick that felt like it was attacking my taste buds from all sides.

I gagged, trying desperately to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was no use. My eyes watered, and I felt the immediate, burning need to spit it out. But before I could, I accidentally inhaled, choking on the olive’s briny juice in the most unattractive way possible. I doubled over, coughing and sputtering, as the taste continued to assault my senses.

Oscar, realizing what had happened, tried to help by patting me on the back, but his well-meaning thumps only made things worse. I stumbled forward, knocking into a rack of precariously balanced jars filled with pickled vegetables. The entire display wobbled ominously before tipping over with a loud crash, sending jars shattering to the ground and splattering their contents all over my sandals.

“Bloody fuck!” Oscar yelped, jumping back as brine and pickled peppers splashed up around us. He reached out, grabbing my arm to steady me, but we were both already slipping in the mess.

I finally managed to spit out the offending olive, doubling over in laughter as I wiped tears from my eyes. “Oh my god, that was—what the hell was in that olive? I think I just tasted hell!”

Oscar, trying to suppress his own laughter, looked down at the mess we’d made. “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t think it would be that bad! You looked like you were being possessed by some ancient demon.”

“Note to self,” I managed between gasps, “never, ever take an olive recommendation from you again.”

Oscar grinned sheepishly, still holding onto my arm to keep us both from slipping. “Deal. But hey, at least it’s a market memory we won’t forget anytime soon.”

We worked together to gather the scattered jars, our hands brushing occasionally, sending small electric jolts through my already flustered system. The vendor, a grumpy old man with a thick mustache and a fierce scowl, continued muttering under his breath, clearly unimpressed with our attempts to make amends. I offered him a sheepish smile, trying not to slip on the brine-soaked pavement, while Oscar dug into his wallet, pulling out a few euros to cover the damage.

As we finished up, Oscar turned to me with that infuriatingly charming grin of his. “Well, that’s one way to make an impression. I’d say we’re officially banned from the olive section.”

I laughed, wiping my hands on my dress, which was now speckled with flecks of pickling spices. “At this rate, we’re going to get banned from the whole market. I mean, who knew olives could be so dangerous?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Dangerous? I’d say they were just misunderstood. But hey, if you want to blame me for this epic disaster, I’ll take the fall.” He struck a dramatic pose, hand over his heart, like a martyr taking the blame for a noble cause. “I, Oscar from Australia, solemnly swear to never force-feed you another olive as long as we both shall live.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress my grin. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re apologizing. Otherwise, I’d still be gagging over that monstrosity you made me eat.”

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a mock whisper. “Lucky? I think you’re just softening up to me, olive incident and all.”

I pushed him lightly, but the warmth in his gaze didn’t falter, and I found myself caught in the easy rhythm of his teasing. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head. But you’re definitely going to owe me an ice cream after this.”

Oscar smirked, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Ice cream? Please, we’re in Greece. You mean gelato,” he corrected, his voice dripping with playful mockery. He stepped closer, his tone teasing but his proximity making my heart skip a beat. “And trust me, I know the best place. Only the finest for my olive-battle buddy.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “Alright, Mr. Gelato Expert. Lead the way.”

A few minutes later, we were standing at a small gelato stand, the sweet, creamy scent wafting through the air, instantly making me forget the earlier chaos. Oscar handed me a scoop of hazelnut gelato, then grabbed his own, a vibrant pistachio. As he took a triumphant bite, a dollop of green gelato smeared right onto his nose, turning the flirty moment into an adorably ridiculous one.

I stifled a laugh, trying to keep my composure as he continued to talk, completely unaware of the green splotch on his face. “See? This is real dessert. None of that commercialized stuff—”

I burst out laughing, and he paused, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Uh, you’ve got a little… something,” I said, pointing to my own nose as a hint.

He tried to swipe at it but missed, smearing it even more. “This?”

I shook my head, biting my lip to keep from laughing too hard. “Here, let me.” Without thinking, I reached up, my fingers gently brushing his nose as I wiped away the sticky gelato. The touch was brief, but it was enough to make my pulse quicken.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like the busy market around us had faded away, leaving just the two of us in a little bubble of shared laughter and unspoken tension. Oscar’s gaze softened, the playful glint giving way to something deeper as he leaned in slightly, our faces close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off his skin.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low, “I think I’m going to have to spill gelato on myself more often if it gets you this close.”

I laughed softly, still feeling the tingling of where his nose had brushed against my fingertips. “You’re ridiculous,” I said, but there was no hiding the smile on my face. “But if that’s your plan, maybe try keeping it on your gelato next time.”

Oscar chuckled, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief as he leaned in just a little closer, closing the already narrow gap between us. “Can’t make any promises,” he said, his voice dipping into that teasingly low, flirtatious tone that sent a familiar thrill coursing through me. “Besides, I’m not sure gelato is half as fun without a little mess.”

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth spreading through my chest made it impossible to hide the grin tugging at my lips. “I’m starting to think you do it on purpose,” I said, trying to sound exasperated but failing miserably as Oscar’s thumb grazed a stray bit of gelato from the corner of my mouth, his touch lingering just a beat longer than necessary.

He shrugged, still impossibly close, his grin broadening. “What can I say? Keeps things interesting.” His voice softened, and for a brief moment, his gaze flickered to my lips before meeting my eyes again, his expression a mix of playfulness and something deeper that made my heart skip. “But I have to admit, I’ve got pretty good taste.”

I felt my cheeks flush under his steady gaze, the space between us charged with an almost tangible electricity. The casualness of his words belied the underlying tension simmering just beneath the surface, each flirty remark and lingering touch a dare to step closer, to push the boundaries just a little more.

“Yeah?” I challenged, tilting my head slightly, unable to resist the pull of the moment. “Well, just so you know, you’re not the only one with good taste.”

Oscar's eyes darkened with a mix of intrigue and something more playful, his smile never wavering as he scooted closer, his thigh brushing against mine on the impossibly narrow bench. The space between us was almost nonexistent now, our legs tangled in a way that felt intimate, unspoken, and thrillingly reckless. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the brush of his arm against mine sending little jolts of electricity through me.

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he said, his voice low and edged with that teasing drawl that made my pulse quicken. He leaned in closer, so close that I could feel his breath, warm and sweet, grazing my cheek. “But I think I like hearing you admit it.”

The proximity, the way his eyes held mine without flinching, had my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I tried to play it cool, but the intensity of his gaze, the closeness of his body, made every breath feel charged with possibility.

“You’re really pushing your luck,” I said, my voice coming out softer than I intended, almost breathless. His knee nudged mine, a playful, subtle reminder of how little space was left between us.

Oscar smirked, scooting even closer, his leg pressing against mine with a deliberate pressure that sent my nerves into overdrive. “Maybe,” he whispered, his lips barely an inch away from my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “But something tells me you’re not exactly complaining.”

The words hung between us, laced with a flirty challenge that dared me to push back, to match his game. I tried to muster a witty comeback, but all I could focus on was the feel of his thigh against mine, his shoulder brushing my arm, the intoxicating closeness that made the world around us blur.

“Bold assumption,” I managed to say, but my voice wavered, betraying the flutter of excitement thrumming beneath my calm facade. “What makes you think you’re so irresistible?”

Oscar grinned, his confidence unwavering as he leaned in, closing the gap until his lips were just a breath away from mine, close enough that I could feel the heat of his smile. “Call it a hunch,” he murmured, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. “Or maybe it’s just that look you give me every time I get this close.”

My breath hitched, and I found myself leaning in without meaning to, drawn to the warmth of his presence, the challenge in his eyes. His teasing was relentless, but it was the way he looked at me—like this was all just foreplay for something much bigger—that left me breathless, my heart racing as if daring me to make the next move.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” I said, my voice a shaky whisper, half accusation, half something else entirely.

Oscar’s grin widened, his thumb brushing my wrist in a touch so light it sent a ripple of warmth through my whole body. “And you love it,” he said simply, the certainty in his voice leaving no room for doubt. And maybe, just maybe, he was right.

My heart pounded in my chest, the air between us thick with unspoken tension, and for a split second, I thought he might kiss me. But just as the moment reached its peak, a loud honk blasted through the air, startling us both.

We jerked apart, whipping our heads around to see a vendor on a tiny motorbike, zigzagging through the crowded market with a basket of fresh bread strapped precariously to the back. He shouted something in Greek that I couldn’t quite catch, but the tone made it clear—get out of the way or risk getting run over by a man determined to deliver his breakfast goods.

Oscar laughed, breaking the spell as he scooted back just enough to avoid a collision. “Well, that’s one way to ruin the mood,” he said, still chuckling as he raked a hand through his hair, his confidence momentarily deflated by the absurdity of the scene.

I couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the tension between us dissolving into sheer ridiculousness. “Guess the universe decided you needed to cool it,” I teased, nudging him lightly with my shoulder. “Pretty sure you just got cockblocked by a bread guy.”

Oscar held up his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Alright, alright. I get it. Even the universe thinks I’m too much to handle.” He leaned back against the bench, shaking his head as he watched the motorbike weave away into the crowd. “Who knew my biggest competition would be a guy delivering carbs?”

I snorted, trying to stifle my laughter. “Hey, everyone’s gotta eat. Maybe take it as a sign to slow your roll.”

Before Oscar could respond with another flirty comeback, the sound of hurried footsteps approached, followed by a burst of laughter. Suddenly, Mae leaped onto Oscar’s back, her arms flailing as she yelled, “Revenge is sweet!” Oscar staggered forward, caught completely off guard, and nearly dropped his gelato.

“What the—Mae!” Oscar exclaimed, half-laughing, half-groaning as he tried to regain his balance. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Mae grinned wickedly, clinging to his shoulders like a monkey. “Just evening the score for this morning’s stealth attack, big brother. You’re not the only one who can sneak up on people.”

Hattie and Edie appeared behind them, both wearing matching amused smirks. Hattie folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “We’ve been looking for you two all over. Thought you’d ditched us for some secret gelato rendezvous.”

Edie nodded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, Mae said you were probably off flirting somewhere. Turns out she was right.”

I could feel my cheeks flush as I glanced at Oscar, who was still trying to pry Mae off his back without spilling his gelato. “Us? Flirting?” I said, feigning innocence. “We were just… enjoying our ice cream. Totally innocent.”

Mae finally hopped off Oscar’s back, adjusting her shirt with a triumphant smile. “Sure, sure. We believe you. But don’t think we didn’t see that little moment just now. If you’re gonna get all cute and flirty, at least invite us next time so we can take notes.”

Oscar rubbed his shoulder, shaking his head at Mae’s antics. “You’re all just jealous of my natural charm. Can’t a guy enjoy gelato in peace?”

Hattie smirked, nudging Edie. “Or maybe we just like keeping you on your toes. After all, someone’s gotta make sure you’re not too distracted by… certain distractions.”

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile. “Don’t worry, girls. I’ve got it all under control. And besides, someone’s gotta keep him from knocking over gelato carts.”

Oscar shot me a look of mock betrayal, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “Great, now I’ve got all of you ganging up on me. But hey, if it gets Mae off my back—literally—I’ll take it.”

Mae patted his shoulder, still grinning. “Aw, don’t be such a baby. We’re just here to keep you grounded. And if that means ambushing you from time to time, then so be it.”

Oscar shook his head, laughing under his breath. “You all have too much fun at my expense.”

Hattie, always ready with a quick retort, smirked as she picked up a napkin to wipe some melted gelato off the bench. “Hey, it’s only fair. You spent the entire morning trying to charm the life out of everyone. We’re just giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

Edie leaned against the bench, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “And let’s be real, Oscar—keeping you grounded is practically a full-time job. It’s like herding a cat with a God complex.”

Oscar threw his hands up in mock defeat. “Alright, alright. I get it—I’m officially outnumbered.”

Mae grinned, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, definitely. But you love it. You wouldn’t know what to do without us.”

Oscar glanced at me, his grin widening. “Yeah, well, I think I’ve got some backup now. Someone’s gotta be on my side.”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Don’t look at me. I’m just here for the gelato and entertainment. You’re on your own.”

The sisters burst into laughter, and Oscar let out an exaggerated sigh. “See? This is my life now—betrayed by everyone I care about.”

“Hey,” Mae said, elbowing him in the side. “That’s the price you pay for being charming and annoyingly persistent.”

Oscar slung an arm over her shoulders, pulling her into a playful side hug. “Yeah, well, I guess it’s a small price to pay for being this irresistible.”

Edie rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with mock exasperation. “There he goes again. We can’t take you anywhere.”

I glanced at the bags the sisters were carrying, each one bursting with colorful trinkets, snacks, and what looked like the most random assortment of souvenirs imaginable. “So, what did you guys get? Anything worth bragging about?”

Hattie held up a woven fan, waving it dramatically in front of her face. “Essential survival gear,” she declared. “If I have to hear Mae complain about the heat one more time, this thing’s getting thrown at her.”

Mae shot her a look, then pulled out a tiny carved wooden turtle with a goofy grin etched into its face. “I got this little guy. He’s the new mascot of our misadventures. And don’t you dare say he’s useless, because I’m emotionally attached now.”

Edie, not to be outdone, produced a pair of wildly patterned sunglasses that looked like they’d been pulled straight out of a 1980s music video. “And I got these. They were practically begging to be bought.”

I grinned, exchanging a knowing look with Oscar. “Well, well, looks like I win the bet. Edie cracked first.” I held out my hand toward Oscar, palm up. “That’ll be five euros, please.”

Oscar sighed dramatically, fishing the crumpled bill out of his pocket. “I should’ve known better than to bet against your instincts.” He slapped the money into my hand, feigning disappointment. “Enjoy your winnings.”

Mae’s jaw dropped, her eyes darting between us. “Wait, wait, wait. You guys bet on us?”

Oscar shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s all in good fun. I just had a feeling Edie wouldn’t be able to resist the lure of something ridiculous.”

Edie clutched her sunglasses to her chest in mock outrage. “You bet on us? What are we, a reality show now? Next thing I know, there’ll be a scoreboard tracking all our bad decisions.”

Hattie laughed, shaking her head. “Honestly, I feel betrayed, but also kinda proud. At least you guys know us well enough to make accurate predictions.”

Mae crossed her arms, a mock pout on her lips. “I would’ve bet on Edie too, though. She can’t go five minutes without buying something weird.”

I smirked, pocketing my euros. “Don’t worry, it’s all out of love. And hey, at least now I’m five euros richer.”

Oscar slung his arm around my shoulders, grinning. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But I’m coming back for that money, just you wait.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the easy camaraderie between us all. “Well, you’re welcome to try, but I think I’ll keep my winning streak going.”

As the playful energy buzzed between us, we decided to split up again—Mae and Edie darting off towards a stall selling handcrafted jewelry, and Hattie wandering towards a display of local ceramics. Oscar nudged me, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Come on,” he said, tilting his head toward a boutique nestled at the end of the market. “Let’s check out that shop. Looks like your kind of place.”

I followed his gaze to a quaint little boutique tucked into a narrow alley, its entrance framed by delicate vines of bougainvillea spilling over the roof. The shop’s exterior was painted in soft pastels, and a whimsical, hand-painted sign above the door read Marina’s Closet in elegant, looping script. The glass windows were filled with a curated display of dresses, sun hats, and accessories, each item carefully arranged to catch the eye. Through the window, I could see racks of brightly colored clothes, twinkling with the promise of a well-spent afternoon.

As we stepped inside, the cool air was a welcome relief from the heat outside. The shop was small but charming, filled with an eclectic mix of elegant summer dresses, flowy skirts, and delicate blouses in fabrics that ranged from soft linens to airy silks. The walls were painted a soft blush pink, and the space was filled with carefully arranged plants, their green leaves trailing down the walls and adding to the shop’s intimate, garden-like feel. Soft music played overhead—a mix of gentle acoustic and soft pop that set a relaxing, dreamy mood.

Antique mirrors lined the walls, their ornate, gold-gilded frames reflecting the soft light of the hanging lanterns that gave the boutique a warm, cozy glow. Shelves displayed colorful accessories—scarves, statement necklaces, and wide-brimmed hats, each one more elegant than the last. The floor was a mix of polished wood and a plush rug in the center, creating a sense of luxury and comfort all at once.

Oscar’s eyes sparkled as he glanced over the selection, his smile widening as he pulled out a flowing dress in a delicate shade of dusty rose. “This place is pretty cool. It’s got that ‘I know I’m expensive’ vibe,” he joked, running his thumb over the soft fabric. “But hey, nothing wrong with dreaming a little, right?”

I nodded, trailing behind him as he moved down the aisle. My fingers brushed against a rack of silk blouses and embroidered tops, each more intricate than the last. I picked up a dress—a light blue number with delicate floral patterns stitched along the hem—and flipped the tag over, my eyes widening at the price. “Yeah, it’s definitely out of my usual budget. I mean, I love window shopping, but this stuff? This is like, ‘Do I need to sell a kidney?’ territory.”

Oscar glanced at me, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he gently took the dress from my hand, holding it up against me. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” he said, his tone playful but with a hint of seriousness. “And besides, it looks amazing. You should try it on.”

I hesitated, looking around at the boutique’s carefully curated atmosphere, every detail screaming exclusivity. “I don’t know, Oscar. This isn’t exactly my kind of place. I’m more of a ‘sale rack at Zara’ kind of girl. And these prices? Let’s just say they’re a bit much.”

But Oscar didn’t seem to care about the price tags or my hesitations. He found another dress—a soft lavender one with a cinched waist and delicate lace detailing at the shoulders—and held it out to me, his grin never faltering. “Just try it on. What’s the harm? It’s not every day you get to play dress-up in a fancy place like this.” he said, his voice casual but sincere. “Try it on. What’s the harm in that?”

I hesitated, glancing at the price tag again. “Oscar, this stuff is like... ridiculously overpriced. I don’t think trying on a dress I can’t afford is gonna make me feel better.”

He grinned, nudging me gently. “Come on, it’s just for fun. And besides, you never know—maybe you’ll fall in love with something, and I’ll just have to figure out how to make it yours.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “Fine, but only because you’re annoyingly convincing.” I took the dress from his hands and headed toward the fitting room, the soft fabric cool against my skin.

Inside the fitting room, I slipped into the dress, feeling the way the light material draped elegantly over my figure. It was simple yet stunning, with delicate lace detailing along the neckline and a flowing skirt that brushed just above my ankles. I smoothed my hands over the fabric, feeling unexpectedly confident as I stepped out to show Oscar.

His eyes lit up as he saw me, and he leaned back against one of the mirrored walls, his gaze roaming appreciatively. “Wow,” he said, the word coming out in a breathless sort of way that made my cheeks warm. “You look... amazing.”

I twirled slightly, watching the dress flare out around me. “Yeah? You don’t think it’s too much?”

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Not at all. It’s perfect. But let’s see more—you’re not done yet.”

Encouraged by his reaction, I tried on a few more dresses—a pastel blue sundress with delicate embroidery that hugged my waist and a soft, buttery yellow wrap dress with fluttery sleeves. Each time I stepped out, Oscar’s praise came easy, his eyes bright with genuine admiration that left me feeling both flattered and slightly overwhelmed.

I stood before the mirror, dressed in the last outfit—a bold, deep green dress with a plunging neckline and an effortlessly elegant cut that made me feel like I was stepping into another world. I turned slightly, admiring the way the color brought out the warmth in my skin. “I can’t decide,” I admitted, biting my lip as I looked at the three dresses hanging beside me. “They’re all so beautiful, but...”

Oscar stepped closer, his reflection appearing beside mine in the mirror. “Why choose?” he said lightly, his hand brushing my shoulder as he gazed at the dresses. “You look incredible in all of them.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Oscar, that’s not how this works. These dresses are... well, let’s just say they’re not in my usual shopping cart. I have to pick one, and even that feels like a splurge.”

But Oscar just shrugged, his smile turning teasing. “Or you could let me handle it. Consider it my treat.”

I blinked, turning to face him fully. “No way. Oscar, you can’t just—”

He cut me off with a playful roll of his eyes, already reaching for his wallet. “I can and I will. Besides, you’re the one who’s been keeping me entertained all day. It’s the least I can do.”

I watched, half in shock, half in admiration as he took all three dresses to the counter, handing over his card with a charming smile. The shopkeeper, a kindly older woman with a twinkle in her eye, rang up the total, her knowing smile suggesting she’d seen this kind of gesture before.

“Oscar, you’re ridiculous,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice light but unable to fully hide how touched I was. “But... thank you.”

He handed me the bags with a wink, his fingers lingering against mine for just a second longer than necessary. “You’re welcome. And besides, now I get to see you in all three. Totally worth it.”

I laughed, feeling the weight of the dresses in my hands and the warmth of Oscar’s gesture settle in my chest. It was more than just a shopping trip—it was another shared moment, another flirty, unplanned adventure that made everything feel a little more magical.

“You really are something else, you know that?” I said, shaking my head but smiling all the same.

Oscar grinned, stepping closer as we made our way out of the boutique. “Yeah, but I’m your something else. And I think that’s working out pretty well.”

As we stepped out of the boutique and back into the bustling market, I felt the weight of Oscar’s generosity with every step, the boutique bags brushing against my legs. It was more than just the dresses; it was the way he effortlessly turned a simple shopping trip into something memorable, something that lingered in the air between us like an unspoken promise.

I tried to brush off the fluttery feeling that had settled in my chest, but it was no use. This thing with Oscar—it was different from anything I’d ever known. I’d had my share of flings before, little sparks that fizzled out as quickly as they began. Those past connections had always felt manageable, easy to keep at arm’s length. But with Oscar, nothing felt sensible anymore. The boundaries I’d set for myself, the rules I used to follow, they all seemed to blur in his presence.

Every time I looked at him, it was like the ground had shifted beneath me.

The truth of it all was incomprehensible, a quiet realization that settled in as we strolled through the market together.

I glanced at him, watching the way he moved with such easy confidence, the way he could make a simple afternoon feel like an adventure. It was unsettling, exhilarating, and it was all him.

Oscar’s eyes sparkled with a playful intensity, his voice dipping into that teasing, confident tone that always sent my heart racing. “Just so you know,” he murmured, leaning in closer, “if you keep looking at me like that, I won’t have a choice but to make you lay all your love on me.”

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, caught between the thrill of his words and the undeniable pull that kept drawing us closer. “Is that a challenge?” I shot back, my smile betraying the flutter of excitement I couldn’t quite hide.

Oscar’s grin widened, his thumb tracing a light, teasing line along my wrist. “Not a challenge, sweetheart—just a promise.”

I stood there, momentarily stunned by the warmth of his words, feeling the electricity of the moment crackle between us. Before I could even think to respond, Oscar reached out casually and took the shopping bags from my hands, his movements smooth and effortless. It was such a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes—his natural ease, the way he so confidently stepped in without asking, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hey,” I protested lightly, reaching to take them back, but he just shook his head, flashing me that boyish, infuriatingly charming smile.

“I’ve got it,” he said, his tone light but firm, like there was no room for argument. “Besides, it’s only fair. You did all the hard work trying them on. I’m just here to look pretty and carry the bags.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress the grin tugging at my lips. “Yeah, sure. Because that was so exhausting for you.”

Oscar shrugged, adjusting the bags in his hands as if they weighed nothing. “Hey, I’m just doing my part. You get to rock the dresses, and I get to be the guy who made you smile today. Seems like a fair trade to me.”

Oscar glanced over, catching my gaze, and his smile softened. “I mean it, you know. You look amazing. And I’m glad you let me do this,” he said, giving the bags a little lift as if to emphasize his point.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, the sincerity in my voice matching the look in his eyes. “Not just for the dresses, but… for today.”

He winked, nudging me lightly with his shoulder as we continued down the cobblestone street. “Anytime. And hey, just remember—you don’t have to lay all your love on me. But I’m here, just in case you feel like it.”

We regrouped with the rest of the crew at a quaint, sun-soaked café nestled on a side street, its tiny tables spilling out onto the cobblestones under the shade of a vine-draped pergola. The café looked like it had been plucked straight from a movie set—warm, rustic, and effortlessly charming, with mismatched chairs and handwritten chalkboard menus propped against the stone walls. Mae, Hattie, and Edie were already seated, chattering animatedly over a pitcher of iced tea, the condensation pooling lazily on the table in the afternoon heat.

“There you are,” Mae called out, waving dramatically as we approached. “We were about to send out a search party. Or, you know, just assume you two were off kissing ass and making out somewhere.”

Oscar chuckled, pulling out a chair for me with a gallant flourish before dropping into the seat next to mine. “Who, us? We’d never. Just two innocent tourists enjoying the sights,” he said with mock innocence, shooting me a playful side-eye that made my heart do a little flip.

Hattie leaned forward, smirking as she sipped her drink. “Innocent, huh? I don’t know, Oscar. The way you two keep disappearing, it’s so suspicious from my point of view.”

Edie snorted, pushing a basket of fresh bread toward us. “Yeah, and we’re all just here for the free show. So, did you buy out the whole boutique, or was it just a private shopping spree for two?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my grin. “Very funny. It was strictly a ‘window shopping with a side of unsolicited fashion advice’ kind of trip.” I shot Oscar a look, remembering how he’d nudged me into trying on almost everything in the shop.

Oscar leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head, looking far too pleased with himself. “What can I say? I’ve got a knack for knowing what looks good. And hey, she made it easy.”

Mae scoffed, breaking off a piece of bread and popping it into her mouth. “Easy? Oscar, the way you two were eyeing each other, I’m surprised we didn’t walk in on a full-blown fashion montage. Music and all.”

Oscar raised his hands in surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. Guilty as charged. But can you blame me? She makes everything look good.”

I felt my cheeks warm under his praise, and I tried to keep my composure as I reached for a glass of water. “Don’t encourage him,” I said, trying to sound exasperated but failing as a smile crept onto my lips. “He’s already got enough of an ego without you guys cheering him on.”

Edie chuckled, nudging Mae. “See? I told you. They’re basically one flirty comment away from starring in their own rom-com.”

Oscar shot Edie a mock glare, then turned back to me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Well, if this is a rom-com, then I guess that makes you the leading lady,” he said, his voice dipping into that teasing, flirty tone that never failed to make my heart skip.

"Your shit is so corny dude, lighten the fuck up," Edie sighed, burying her head in her palms. Mae slapped her head, giggling furiously.

I snorted, grabbing a menu and pretending to study it intently. “Great, then I demand script approval. No more surprise elbow attacks, and definitely no scenes where I have to chase you down a street.”

As I pretended to study the menu, Oscar leaned in, trying to catch a glimpse of my choices. “You know, I’d recommend the moussaka. It’s practically a work of art on a plate.”

“Artful moussaka? Really?” I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I’ll stick to the classic spanakopita. At least it can’t judge me.”

“Spanakopita it is, then,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll get the same. Mae, Hattie, Edie, what are you guys having?”

“Just the usual—some dolmas and a slice of that legendary baklava,” Mae said, looking gleeful. “I’m here for dessert first.”

“I’ll do the baklava too!” Edie piped up. “We can share a slice and get a second for later—strategic planning, you know.”

As Hattie scrolled through the menu, her expression turned mischievous. “I’ll have the chef’s special, but only if you promise to steal a bite of mine, Oscar.”

“Only if you promise to share the secret recipe,” he replied with a wink.

Just as we were about to place our order, a waiter approached our table. “Ready to order?”

We all chimed in, each person stating their choices. I noticed a sudden flurry of confusion on the waiter’s face as he scribbled down our orders.

“Uh, so that’s two spanakopita, one moussaka, two baklava, and… the chef’s special?” he recapped, looking uncertain.

“Right!” Mae said enthusiastically.

As I pretended to study the menu, Oscar leaned in, trying to catch a glimpse of my choices. “You know, I’d recommend the moussaka. It’s practically a work of art on a plate.”

“Artful moussaka? Really?” I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I’ll stick to the classic spanakopita. At least it can’t judge me.”

“Spanakopita it is, then,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll get the same. Mae, Hattie, Edie, what are you guys having?”

“Just the usual—some dolmas and a slice of that legendary baklava,” Mae said, looking gleeful. “I’m here for dessert first.”

“I’ll do the baklava too!” Edie piped up. “We can share a slice and get a second for later—strategic planning, you know.”

As Hattie scrolled through the menu, her expression turned mischievous. “I’ll have the chef’s special, but only if you promise to steal a bite of mine, Oscar.”

“Only if you promise to share the secret recipe,” he replied with a wink.

Just as we were about to place our order, a waiter approached our table. “Ready to order?”

We all chimed in, each person stating their choices. I noticed a sudden flurry of confusion on the waiter’s face as he scribbled down our orders.

“Uh, so that’s two spanakopita, one moussaka, two baklava, and… the chef’s special?” he recapped, looking uncertain.

“Right!” Mae said enthusiastically.

But then the waiter’s expression shifted to one of realization. “Um, we actually ran out of the chef’s special a few minutes ago. Would you like to choose something else?”

Hattie’s face fell. “Oh no! That was the one thing I was really looking forward to!”

Oscar glanced at Hattie, his brow furrowing as he sensed her disappointment. “Hey, how about we order a few extra baklava? They’ll definitely lift your spirits, and we can make a little baklava party.”

“Yeah, and I’ll swap you half my spanakopita if you want,” I offered, trying to ease the mood.

“See? Look at that! A culinary compromise,” Oscar said, grinning as he turned back to the waiter. “So, that’s two spanakopita, three baklava, and Hattie, what would you like instead of the special?”

“Uh… I’ll take the Greek salad,” Hattie said, her smile returning. “And I’ll make sure to save a bite for you, Oscar.”

“Perfect!” Oscar declared, a playful glint in his eye. “Just be sure it’s not the size of a small planet.”

Just then, Mae reached for the pitcher of iced tea but knocked over her cup of water instead, sending it cascading across the table. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, grabbing napkins in a panic.

“Mae!” Edie laughed, trying to help. “You just wanted a splash of drama, didn’t you?”

Hattie giggled as she handed Mae more napkins. “Looks like you’re creating your own little water feature over here.”

Oscar, ever the quick thinker, grabbed a few napkins and leaned in, grinning. “Don’t worry, Mae. You’re not the first one to bring a bit of chaos to the table. Just think of it as adding a little flavor to our meal.”

"Oscar don't even," Mae rolled her eyes. "You're so bloody pasty and white you even if I added seasoning to your water you wouldn't taste any difference."

The group erupted into laughter, and Oscar feigned shock, putting a hand over his heart. “Pasty? I’ll have you know I’m just ‘lightly seasoned,’ thank you very much.”

At that moment, I took a sip of water, and his ridiculous remark caught me off guard. I choked on the cool liquid, my eyes widening in surprise. The refreshing taste turned into a near disaster as I fought to keep it all down. I felt the water bubble up in my throat, and for a split second, I was convinced I might just spray it all over the table.

My cheeks flushed as I quickly covered my mouth with my hand, stifling the urge to burst into laughter or worse, make a total mess. I managed to swallow just in time, but I couldn't help the splutter that escaped, sending a small splash of water onto the table.

“Whoa! Are you alright?” Edie leaned forward, her eyes wide with concern and amusement.

“Yeah, just… almost became a fountain,” I gasped, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Thanks to you, Oscar.”

He leaned back, hands up in mock surrender, clearly enjoying the chaos. “I’m just here for the entertainment! Didn’t mean to turn you into a water feature.”

“To be fair Osc, you're more like ‘extra bland,’” Edie chimed in, grinning as she took a sip of her tea. “You’re practically a walking Greek salad without the dressing.”

“I think that just made it worse,” I added, trying to contain my giggles.

Oscar laughed along, clearly unfazed. “Well, someone has to be the contrast in this colorful group. I’m here to balance out all this vibrant energy.”

“Right, because we definitely need someone to remind us of a plain piece of pita bread,” Hattie teased.

“Hey, I’m the life of the party!” Oscar shot back, leaning in closer to me. “And let’s be honest, without my charisma, who would keep the chaos in check? You all would be lost.”

As the laughter faded, we savored the last bites of our meal. The moussaka was rich and savory, the spanakopita perfectly flaky, and the baklava—a sweet ending that left us all satisfied. I leaned back in my chair, a contented sigh escaping my lips. “That was honestly one of the best meals I’ve had in ages.”

“Agreed!” Mae chimed in, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I could eat Greek food every day.”

Oscar grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Speaking of keeping the fun going, I heard there’s a great nightclub nearby. We should totally check it out!”

Hattie perked up, clearly intrigued. “Oh, that could be fun! I’m in!”

Mae’s expression shifted, disappointment washing over her. “I can’t go,” she said, her voice dropping. “I’m still underage.”

Edie looked at Mae sympathetically. “That really sucks. But hey, we can still hang out! I’ll stay with you.”

Mae’s frown softened slightly at Edie’s reassurance. “Yeah, that could be nice. Thanks, Edie.”

Oscar turned to me, his grin widening. “So, what do you say? A little nighttime adventure? Just you, me, and Hattie tearing up the dance floor?”

I met his gaze, the thrill of spontaneity igniting in my chest. “Count me in.”

“Alright, then! Let’s make this night unforgettable!” he declared, excitement bubbling in his voice.

“Ain’t nobody wants to see you dance, white boy,” Edie rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Oscar feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart. “Excuse me? My moves are legendary!”

“Legendary at what? Scaring away everyone on the dance floor?” Edie shot back, laughter lighting up her eyes.

“Hey, I’ll have you know my dancing is an art form!” Oscar retorted, grinning widely. “I just need the right audience.”

"I can never argue with you Osc," Edie shook her head.

As we stood up to leave, I glanced back at Mae and Edie, who exchanged a knowing smile. It was clear they would have their own fun together. I felt a mix of anticipation and nerves as I stepped outside, the warm evening air wrapping around us like a promise of adventure.

With Oscar and Hattie by my side, I felt ready to dive into whatever the night had in store.

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author's note: a double update for my lovelies, so sorry i didn't update on sunday <3, i hope you enjoy chapters 5 and 6!!

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