#that neither of them are likely to bring up

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: When the husband you’ve never met returns from the war you’ve never understood, he comes bearing a strange and inexplicable gift — a prince in chains who he refuses to kill.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mydei x F!Reader

Chapter Word Count: 10.2k

Content Warnings: pls check the masterlist there is. a lot. and i’m not retyping all of that LOL

A/N: I AM SOO SCARED TO POST THIS NGL LMAOAO like i said in the warnings i literally. have not played amphoreus yet. idek anything about mydei SDKJH i am so worried i will disappoint everyone who's expressed interest in reading this HAHA i was also. not expecting anyone to do that tbh. BUT thank you all for your kind words on the masterlist and i hope this lives up to expectations at least a bit!!

You spent the day of your wedding with a man made of marble — a stand-in for your new husband, who was off fighting in a war of the kind which had neither cause nor, seemingly, end. The statue was carved in his image and sneered down at you as you whispered to it, swearing vows of duty and obedience and docility, but, in spite or maybe because of its detached lifelessness, you found its presence to be a kindness. What did it say of your husband, that you preferred the company of that dead stone to him? Perhaps very much, or perhaps very little. 

He is a generous man, the servants assured you, giggling amongst themselves, exchanging knowing looks as they dragged you into the foreign palace where you would spend the rest of your days. You will want for nothing.

It was draftier than your home, the wind bouncing off of the white walls and nipping at you skin. You spent your time buried under seven-and-twenty layers of furs and fabrics, lying in an unfamiliar bed and flinching away from the shadows upon the ceiling. This was an idle and dull way to waste away your existence, and yet you could not bring yourself to do anything else, trapped in the mire of waiting and waiting for your husband’s return.

He came back in the third month, which was as auspicious as anything. They loved that number here, you had come to find: three, the symbol of fortune and fate, of magic and mischief, of power and punishment. Three vows sworn; three blessings granted; three months passed before you finally met the man you had married.

There was much fanfare about his arrival. When you peered out of the window, you saw that the streets were stuffed to the bursting with throngs of people shoving one another around, hissing and biting as they craned their necks. At first it surprised you — was he truly so loved here, even when he was elsewhere despised? — but then you realized that it was not your husband upon his charger that they were all lined up to meet. Rather, it was the procession following him which captured their interests, the spoils of war which he displayed with a juvenile, worthless pride.

A triad of elephants covered in finely wrought armor, their heads hung low and resigned, their plodding walks spiritless and lame. A herd of sheep with silver wool, dotting the dark cobblestones like a cluster of stars, stumbling along at the prodding of a soldier-turned-shepherd. A wagon filled with spears and swords, ostensibly once neatly stacked, now a matted mess of steel and bronze. Vases carried in the arms of the younger men, overflowing with coins that trailed after them like breadcrumbs, snatched up by the most daring of the onlookers, who did not fear rebuke. And, finally, in a place so honorable it could only have been mocking—

“Lady,” a soft voice said. You drew your coat tighter around you, although today was, by all accounts, warm for the season, and pretended like you did not hear the girl. She sighed and then tugged on your arm insistently; perhaps it was improper, but there wasn’t anyone who would chide her for it. “You have been summoned by his majesty.”

Hadn’t you known this would happen eventually? Hadn’t you expected it? You had had your time to come to terms with it, which was more than most got, and so there was no excuse for the reluctance which choked your throat and stilled your footsteps. This was your duty, this was what you had sworn, and so — and so you could not hesitate.

“Lady…” the girl said with another sigh. You pretended to be all-consumed with the action of closing the curtains, your back to her as you struggled to force a smile onto your face. When you deemed your expression acceptable, you spun around and nodded at her.

“It will not do to keep him waiting,” you said, motioning for her to lead the way. She did so without complaint, perhaps relieved that you were not giving her further trouble; even now, the servants did not know what to think of you, could not quite fathom what category of being you were. Some were fond of you, but most treated you with a careful distrust that you could not blame them for, even though you sometimes wanted to.

The grand entrance hall of the palace opened to the mouth of the road, which swelled out into a sprawling courtyard. Its centerpiece was an enormous fountain which sprayed a fine, cool mist into the air no matter the time of year, and it was by this fountain that you waited, wringing your hands as your husband drew nearer and nearer. Belatedly, you thought that you should try to conceal your distress, but there was nothing to be done about it now. The best you could do was say, if you were asked, that it was simply the joy of a bride faced with the prospect of a reunion with her beloved. Nobody would question that, although then again, nobody questioned you very much in general, so it was doubtful that you’d even have to use the quick excuse.

Your husband’s warhorse was a sprightly, slender beast, its coat the dappled grey of royalty, its face pretty and dished in the way of the Eastern breeds. When it paused in front of you, it shoved its black muzzle into your shoulder, nearly knocking you down, and then it stomped its hoof when your husband tightened the reins, pulling it back before dismounting and handing it off to a waiting stableboy. 

“My apologies, dear lady,” he said, bowing before you with as much gallantry as you had been told he possessed. His voice was gentle and amused, his face even more handsome in flesh than it had been in stone; you should’ve, by all rights, felt pleased. You were married to this man. You belonged to him. How many women wished to be in your place? Yet all you could muster was fear, throttling and all-consuming. He was beautiful in the way of a snake, and you knew without knowing that he was poised, in some way, to strike.

“It is alright,” you said, disguising the tremble of your voice with a broad, false grin. “I am glad to finally make your acquaintance…my lord.”

The address was unfamiliar on your tongue. What would your younger self, that girl who had never known subservience nor strife, say if she saw you ducking your head in defeated compliance? How she would laugh! How she would pity you! My lord. But he was exactly that.

“The sentiment is returned in full,” he said, and then he extended his arms in a grand, sweeping motion. “Indeed, to celebrate this momentous occasion, I have arranged for you a gift!”

“A gift?” you repeated. Certainly, you had asked for no such thing, and you did not have the time to school your face into neutrality, naked surprise flashing across it. Your husband chuckled at the sight, nodding at you.

“I have brought the finest of plunders for you, dear lady,” he said, and your stomach twisted into knots at the familiarity with which he spoke to you, as if you were affable lovers instead of strangers. “Even your father’s treasures, vast and bountiful as they may be, cannot compare to this!”

The mention of your father stabbed at your heart, and hidden in the folds of your coat, you clenched your fists. Your father, the richest man in the world…and yet your husband dared compare his meager gift to that? You wanted to spit in his face that for your third birthday, your father had gifted you a villa made of gold, the walls inlaid with gemstones and painted with flowers. Indeed, you might’ve goaded him in such a way if you had the capabilities, but then you noticed what the army-men were bringing forth and your mouth suddenly refused to move.

It was the prisoner, the one kept in a place of honor by your husband and his soldiers, the one who the entire empire had ridiculed as he had been paraded through it like a champion hound. He was tall, towering over the army-men flanking him, and although his eyes drooped nearly shut, there was a heat to his demeanor, a severe, ferocious anger which shone through his exhaustion. He seemed like more of a half-tamed jungle cat than a man, and indeed when he halted before you, you half-expected him to snarl, to bare bloody fangs and lunge at your throat with fingers like claws, like swords, tearing through your neck as if it were paper.

“When he’s like this, you almost forget what a monster he can be,” your husband mused, reaching out and flicking the man on the forehead with a snicker. “Isn’t he all but lovely? Oh, don’t worry, dear lady, he can’t do anything to you. He’s under the influence of a sleeping draught at the moment, and anyways, those chains are thrice-blessed. It’s perfectly safe.”

The chains he spoke of were as gold as the man’s hair, looping around his wrists and forearms, curling over the red marks emblazoned on his shimmering skin, weaving in between his legs and around his torso. They were sturdy and gleamed with the power of their three blessings, and although you still understood little about this strange place with its strange power, you could tell that it would take a great force, greater than was possessed by any mere man or deity, to break them.

“He’s the prince of Kremnos,” your husband said when your shock stretched on. “A right beast, I’ll say. We almost fell to his efforts, but in the end, we bested him — as you can see. What do you think? Do you like him?”

“He’s — it’s — horrible,” you said, your skin crawling the longer and longer you stared at the prince, your words a jumble, your head spinning. You wanted to be anywhere but in this courtyard, in front of this fallen man, who was kept alive for — for what? For amusement? For play? As a gift?

“Isn’t he?” your husband said, patting you on the shoulder with a grim smile. “And now he is yours.”

The thrice-blessed chains flashed in the sun, and you shook your head, both in refusal and to clear your vision of the blinding, searing spots they left in it.

“I have no need of a prisoner,” you said, and although your tone remained ever-muted, you spoke as cuttingly as you could manage to. “What will I do with him? Why do you torture him so? You bested him; if he was as fierce an opponent as you claim, then the least you owe him is a death with dignity. Kill him and be done with the matter. Why have you brought him all this way? I don’t want him.”

“He will die, eventually,” my husband said. “I shall execute him myself when it comes to it, but the time is not yet right. I don’t expect you to understand such matters, and neither should you trouble yourself with doing so…but know this, dear lady: you cannot give back a gift once it has been freely given. You can do what you’d like with him now that he is yours, but you cannot refuse him. Perhaps that is how affairs were conducted in your backwards land, but here it is not so.”

You wanted my land, you longed to say. You took me from my father and wed me to a statue in search of it. And still you call it backward? But you could not, so instead, you turned away — away from the prince, who was close to crumpling and only remained standing out of sheer will, and away from your husband, who beamed as if he had done something great or wonderful.

“I will retire now,” you said. Do not follow me. This remained implied, unsaid, but a fool your husband was not, and so he only hummed in agreement.

“Be well, dear lady,” he said. “My messengers have told me that you are having difficulties adjusting to the climate here. I shall be sure to pray for your feeble constitution.”

“Thank you, my lord,” you said, stiffly, primly. It scratched like bile and you hated every minute of it, but you had no recourse for the matter, so you swallowed it down, as you always did and always would.

“And what of the prisoner?” he said. “Shall I send him to a jail? Do you think he is better suited for deprivation or pain?”

They meant to make him shatter, to methodically yank him apart until he faced death with the dull eyes and swayed back of an over-aged broodmare. You supposed to them it was meaningless — why should they show consideration or kindness to a man who would never show them the same? — but you were no warmonger, and that apathy did not cling to you yet. The prince was a beast born of sun, a wild, vicious creature, and if he really was slated to die, then you wanted him to meet his end as just that, nothing less. 

“Leave him be,” you said. “Treat him as well as you are able.”

“He would’ve killed me,” your husband said, a low note of warning in his voice. You shrank into the safety of your clothes, as if they were a shield against his vexation.

“But instead you will kill him,” you said. “So how does it matter? You said I could do as I like; well, this is what pleases me. Don’t prolong this anymore than necessary.”

You darted back into the palace without waiting to hear his answer, your jaw burning and your footsteps heavy against the mosaic floor as you ran all of the way to your chambers and slammed the door shut behind you.

For three days and three nights you did not leave your room, taking all your meals in seclusion, refusing any visitors that might attempt entry. You could not help it; the thought of seeing your husband or any of the soldiers made you want to weep — you! Who never wept, even as a baby! So you claimed that you were terribly unwell, that you could not stand for fear of collapse, and that managed to ward away your husband without incurring his wrath, even though it was only a temporary solution.

As the sun set on the fourth day, there was a knock on your door, and you were about to call out that you had no interest in conversation when someone hissed through the crack in the entrance: “Lady, I come not on your husband’s behalf but another’s. There is trouble, and you must attend to it.”

“What?” you said, scrambling to your feet, crouching by the entrance, pressing your ear to the wooden door without opening it. “Who is this? Who are you? Speak plainly, so that we may understand one another!”

There was a shuffling sound, and then an exhale. You worried with the collar of your shirt as you waited for them to continue, your arms pulled tightly around yourself, your brows furrowing together as you chewed on your lower lip.

“The prince of Kremnos,” they whispered. “He calls for you.”

“Are they mistreating him?” you said, straightening and flinging the door open. “The prince, are they — hello?”

The hallway was devoid of life. You peered down it, craning your neck this way and that, but it was placid, showing no signs of having been disturbed. Shutting the door slowly, you leaned against it, holding your head in your hands. Was this place driving you to insanity, then? And if it was, then why could you not have thought of something more pleasant than summons from a prisoner — prisoner!

Wasn’t it your duty to make sure your husband had held good on his word? The prisoner was yours, though the notion of ownership sent unpleasant shivers down your spine and didn’t feel quite right — perhaps a better way to think of it, then, was responsibility. He was your responsibility, and maybe the strange vision had been nothing more than a reminder of what you owed the man.

You waited until it was midnight, when you could be certain that your husband would not rise from his slumber at the sound of your activity, and then you donned a pair of slippers and a cloak, throwing the hood on and retreating into the billowing depths of the fabric, so that your face was obscured from prying eyes. Of course, there would not be very many of those, not at such a late hour, but you did not want to risk even one person recognizing you and reporting back to your husband, whose reaction to this escapade you could not foretell.

Although you were not so familiar with the palace’s layout, as you had never spent much time exploring it, most constructions of this nature followed a similar plan, and you had grown up in exactly such a grand, sweeping home, so you found the doorway to the cellar in record time. As the palace had no towers, the cellar was the only logical option for the keeping of such a dangerous prisoner, and you had no doubt in your mind that this was where you would find the prince, if he was still somewhere that you could find him.

The half-moon was your only witness as you fumbled with the lock, trying every key in your possession until one finally slotted into place and turned. Wincing as the door heaved open with a profound creak, you yanked it shut behind you quickly, without ceremony, lighting a small candle and using it to guide your way down the dark stairs, rushing so that you were out of sight in case someone came to investigate.

You did not know how long you walked for, but eventually the stairway ended, giving way to cool, damp earth. The must of uncut stone permeated the thick, heavy air, and the adjustment of your eyes to the surrounding blackness was slow, the pain of it only alleviated somewhat by the little candle’s valiant flame.

“Come to toss scraps at me?” The voice was rumbling and low; in spite of its weakness, you could hear a sneer in it, a disdain in the rough baritone. “You needn’t try again. Like I told you, I won’t eat your trash.”

“No,” you said. “I’ve brought nothing with me.”

There was a brief pause, and then: “You sound different than the others.”

“This tongue is foreign to me, as it is to you,” you said. “I cannot speak it in the same way as those who were born here. Verily I have been instructed in the art since I was but a child, for my father must have known in that manner of his what would eventually become of me, but I will never lay claim to it the way that a native of this empire would.”

“You’re his wife.” Chains clanked, the harsh drag of metal against stone reverberating in the cellar, and then you felt more than saw his looming countenance, filling what you had mistakenly believed upon arrival to be an empty room. Swinging your candle before you so that it was close to your heart, you gasped when it reflected in a pair of eyes glaring at you from mere paces away, the irises possessing a hollow and impossible brilliance in the way a pair of fading embers might. 

The chains now only encircled his left leg, binding him to the wall but leaving him otherwise free to move as he liked within the length of his confines. He had been stripped of armament and adornment alike, his mane of hair tangled and falling lank about his broad shoulders, yet for all of these injustices, you had no doubt in your mind that he was anything but a prince. He had a dignity to him, a hard-won pride to the straightness of his back and the firmness of his gaze; before you could chase it away, the thought came to you that there was far more intrinsic nobility to this man than there was even your husband.

“I suppose that I am,” you said.

“Have you come to gloat about your craven lord’s cowardly victory, then?” he said. The chains were pulled taut, so he could come no closer to you than he already was — you were sure of this, but you were still a slave to your instincts, which urged you farther and farther from him with every second. He watched you go with some measure of delight, like he was relishing in this power which you had inadvertently gifted him, and when you skittered to a stop, he huffed. “There is nothing to be proud of, and you look a fool for suggesting there might be.”

“I was just…” you trailed off, because it suddenly felt entirely absurd to suggest that you were inquiring after his wellbeing. What did it mean, the wellbeing of a doomed man? What reason would he have to believe your intentions? “What is your name?”

“My name?” he said with a brittle, incredulous laugh that rapidly descended into a cough. “Why? Do you wish to curse your husband with it? Does your language not have gods you can swear on?”

“You’re sickly,” you said, frowning and ignoring his jabs.

“You have torn me from the sun and chained me in this dingy room, and yet you have the gall to be surprised by that?” he said, scoffing. “You’re more of an idiot than that husband of yours.”

“I did no such thing!” you said. The defiance took you by surprise. You had forgotten what it felt like to defy someone, to disagree and resist their words, to feel alive with resentment and bad-temper. “I didn’t wish for this. I didn’t wish to keep you here anymore than you wished to be kept!”

“Is that so?” he said, and then he grinned at you, but it was less of a smile and more of a threat. “Then free me.”

“What?” you said.

“If you don’t want me, then free me,” he said.

“You’ll kill me if I do,” you said uneasily, shifting from foot to foot. 

“I give you my word that I will spare you,” he said, placing a solemn hand over his heart. 

“Not the others?” you said.

He did not respond, which in and of itself was a response. It was one you shouldn’t have liked as much as you did, but in truth the prospect of such a slaughter made your fingers twitch towards him. Only for a moment, and immediately, you shoved your hands behind your back, but it was too late — he had seen, and he raised his eyebrows at you in return.

“Well, anyways, it doesn’t matter,” you said hastily, hoping to distract him before he could comment on the treason. “I couldn’t free you even if I wanted to. Your chains are thrice-blessed. I didn’t know what that meant until recently, but now that I do, I understand why you have been kept without even a permanent guard.”

“Blessings,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you put genuine stock into that drivel.”

“Perhaps the gods of other lands have forsaken their subjects, but this empire is known as the birthplace of every divine act, and so deities still sometimes glance upon its people and offer up their favor. Thrice-blessed chains are one such offering, for they are in fact more like contracts than they truly are chains,” you said. When he did not interrupt you with any snide remarks, you were emboldened to continue. “They can restrain anything, even a god, but this strength comes at a cost: they are conditional. If their captive can understand this condition and meet it, they will crumble into dust, but until then, the chains remain unbreakable.”

“What is it?” he said insistently, reaching out his hands like he was going to grab you and shake the answer out. He fell short, grasping at empty air, his muscles straining against the chains which, true to legend, did not falter. “This condition. Whatever it is, I will do it. You only need to tell me and I will do it!”

“I don’t know,” you said. His lip curled, and you shook your head frantically. “No, no, I’m telling you the truth, I really don’t know! Only the wielder and the gods he prayed to can know for certain. The conditions are decided arbitrarily, without trend or reason. It could be anything from singing a song to moving a mountain! At least, that’s what I’ve gathered from the little I’ve read on the topic.”

“The wielder — your husband, then? That’s easy enough. Bid him to tell you, and then relay to me his answer,” he said.

“Easy enough? Not in the slightest. He would just as soon do your bidding as he would mine,” you said. The prince squinted at you, and evidently he must’ve determined that you were serious, for he broke into that awful laugh again, the one that must’ve once been handsome and full-bodied but now was little more than a rattling plea for air. 

“You are pitiful,” he said. “I thought that you must be some great, fearsome empress, as wicked as your husband, but you are just a frightened mouse of a girl. You would not survive a day in Kremnos, you know. It would crush you.”

Duty. Obedience. Docility. They were branded onto you, swirling letters that you had unwittingly carved into yourself with every wedding vow you spoke, and you could not escape them any more than the prince could escape his chains. If only you could argue with him, tell him that once upon a time, you had been someone unrecognizable from who you were now…but already, you had tested their limits. Your tongue was frozen in your mouth, refusing to move in anything but accordance with your oaths, and so you only clasped your hands together.

“If you say it is so, then it really must be the case,” you said. “Farewell, prince of Kremnos.”

“Farewell,” he said, but it was clear he did not mean it. “Dear lady.”

“Don’t call me that,” you said, recognizing the provocation for what it was. “You are not my husband, nor do I wish for you to be.”

“Then what should I refer to you as?” he said. “Your excellency? Your grace? Your most exalted highness? Your holiness, the saint of the realm?”

“Here, I am only known as lady,” you said quietly. “But I bore a different name before. I cannot…I cannot say it anymore, but if you ever come to know of it by other means, then please call me as such.”

Morning brought with it a freezing palm pressed to your brow. It startled you to consciousness both because of its temperature and its temerity, for you could not fathom who had dared to enter your room without your permission, and while you were asleep, at that! In the haze of your sleep-addled mind, a rebuke rose to your lips, but then someone clicked their tongue and you fell silent even as you clambered to a more alert state.

“Your fever has finally broken, dear lady! You do not know how overjoyed I am to hear it,” your husband said, helping you into a sitting position, one hand cradling the back of your neck and the other holding up a glass. You blinked, trying to clear the fog from your vision, swallowing down the water he poured down your throat without objection.

“Fever?” you said.

“The ailment you have been suffering from,” he said. “I was told it was a fever of some sorts. I bore it quietly, the prospect of your malaise, but today I could not stop myself from checking on you. I had some dreams of playing the nurse, but here you are, entirely well! Such a miraculous recovery.”

His grandiose words masked suspicion with affection, but he did not make any further accusations, for just as you had sworn to heed him, so too had he promised to trust you. His vows had been made to a portrait of yours, as well as written in pig’s-blood and sent to you in a sealed envelope. You could recall them with perfect clarity, the way the stench of iron clung to the parchment as you unfolded it and rang your fingers over the lines, which were grouped in stanzas of three. 

Trust. Favor. Companionship.

You spent the entire day with your husband, although you had neither the desire nor the will for it. You hardly ever had the desire or the will to do anything, of course, not nowadays, but this was the worst of all, because your husband was not just a reminder but the very reason for everything which had happened to you. Still, you could not refuse, so you trotted along at his side, motionless as he showed you off to his officers, his advisors, and even, at one point, his cousin, who could not be less interested in you if he tried.

“Brother,” he said boredly, for indeed he and your husband were the only children of their respective fathers, and so were more like siblings than anything, “you have better things to be doing than showing off a woman who doesn’t bear showing off in the first place.”

“Are you saying that she is somehow deficient?” your husband said, swelling up with righteous indignation. Anyone else might’ve lost their head for the statement, especially given how blandly he had said it, but his cousin was above reproach, being the only person he really loved.

“I’m saying that she looks ill with misery,” his cousin said, and then he sighed, returning to his book. “I’m not so sure the lady has recovered from her illness. You ought to be more cautious with her, that’s all.”

His cousin was younger and handsomer than he, and as the two of you walked away, you thought that you would not have minded marrying him as much. Though perhaps this was a paradox — after all, if he had taken you in the manner that your husband had, then you would have hated him, too. It was your lot in life, then; always you would detest whoever you wed, whoever stole your freedom in that way and bound you to them with the cruel ropes of matrimony.

The hall where you took your dinner was like an enormous cavern, so large that you felt like your voice might echo if you spoke. You and your husband were the only ones in it, which heightened the effect, and every clank of his silverware against his porcelain dishes resounded in your ears like discordant bells.

“My prisoner,” you said after a long time had passed wherein the two of you discussed nothing. Your voice was dry with disuse, and you pushed the food on your plate around without attempting to eat, although it was all appetizing and you were certainly hungry.

“What?” your husband said, covering his mouth with his hand as he chewed.

“My prisoner,” you said, clearing your throat but keeping your gaze trained firmly on your food. “The prince of Kremnos. Is he well?”

“You’re asking after his health?” your husband said with a chuckle. When you did not laugh or otherwise indicate that you were joking, he frowned at you. “You needn’t fret. As you requested, I am treating him as well as I am able. Far better than he deserves.”

The image of the prince, chained and kept in darkness, the only sound his persistent cough and unsteady breathing, given scraps for sustenance and mice for company, flashed across your mind. 

“I wish to see him,” you said. There was a warning in the back of your head — duty, obedience, docility — but you ignored it as best as you could, stabbing oversharp fingernails into your thighs, hard enough to draw blood and distract you from the dangerous line you tread. “My lord, I wish to see the prince and ensure that he is alright with my own eyes.”

At this your husband did not even pretend to humor you. He burst into a raucous fit of cackles, his fork and knife clattering to the table, his eyes watering at the corners. You waited for him to stop, picking your own cutlery up in vain before setting it down and folding your hands in your lap.

“No,” he said. “I am afraid that I cannot allow that, dear lady.”

“You cannot—” you began, but it was too much, you had stepped over that precarious boundary, and now you were frozen. Gulping, you counted to five before continuing. “He is mine. He is mine, you said it yourself, so why — can’t — I — see — him?”

Each word dug into you like gravel, and you knew that you had lost this argument before you could even attempt to have it. How could you ever win? When you had sworn thrice over that you would be tractable, how could you ever try to be anything else? Your intentions did not matter as much as the execution, not to the number three and the power it lent this empire.

“How obstinate,” your husband said, appraising you with a new eye. “I am sorry, dear lady, but as my cousin said, you are still weak. It will do you no good to be faced with such a base creature. You can see him again on the day of his execution.”

“Yes,” you said through gritted teeth, which was not as much as you wanted to do but was as much as you could, at present, manage. “Might I be excused?”

“Excused? You haven’t eaten anything,” he said, pointing at your plate. True to his word, it was untouched, and you picked it up, holding it close to your chest as you stood. 

“My stomach is protesting,” you said. “I will take it to my room and eat it later. If it pleases you.”

“Very well,” he said, waving at you. “I shall pray for your health, dear lady. Sleep as late as you’d like tomorrow, but once you are awake, I implore you to join me in my preparations. There is a grand celebration in the afternoon, as a marker of our victory against Kremnos, and I have been summoned to speak; if you could muster some words as well, it might hearten the people and warm them to you.”

“Yes, my lord,” you said. “I shall think of something.”

“See to it that you do,” he said, watching you with an unreadable expression on his face as you left, your footsteps growing faster and faster until you were all but racing to your room, your head spinning and palms clammy like you had gotten away with some great crime. 

Tonight, there were no strange voices beckoning you, but that did not stop you from staying awake far past the moon’s rise, waiting until it hung over the clocktower before picking your way back to the cellar, your heart pounding as you crept back down those dark, endless stairs, an actual lantern in one hand and your plate in the other.

The prince was still there. You had half-expected him to have disappeared, to have turned out to be some figment of your imagination, but he was leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest and his lips pursed as he watched the light of your lantern approach. When he realized it was you, his eyes narrowed, and he tucked his chin to his chest in what you could only assume was a stubborn display of the meager strength he had left.

“I brought food for you,” you said, setting the lantern on the last stair and presenting the plate before you. “Please eat it.”

“What do you think I am?” he said. “Some kind of a dog, such that I am eager for  you to foist your refuse on me? Hardly. Take it and leave me at once.”

“You’ll waste away,” you said. “You are only doing yourself a disservice! This is my own dinner, which I have gone without so that I could bring it to you. Does that make it easier to stomach?”

“Shall I sit on the floor, then, and eat it with my hands?” he said with a disparaging smile. “Will that amuse you? Is that why you’ve come? I heard your husband, you know. ‘Do what you’d like with him now that he is yours.’ How joyless your life must be, to think that this is what you entertain yourself with!”

“It is joyless,” you bit back, and your eyes widened at the freedom of the declaration. “It is! But you are not my — you are not some kind of amusement, I resent that you — I even spoke against my husband for you, and you say that! Fine, then. Starve, you thoughtless simpleton! Starve and die for all the good it’ll do me!”

You turned on your heel and stomped towards the stairs with the graceless irascibility of a child, not even sparing a glance over your shoulder at the prince. He was quiet, but you knew from the heavy weight of his stare on your back that there was something like turmoil brewing in his mind, a turmoil which weakened your resolve with every step you took away from him.

It was to your credit that you made it all of the way to where the lantern was sitting before you wavered, your stride shortening until you halted in place. Scrunching up your face, wondering when you had developed this love for punishment, for strife and conflict, you allowed your shoulders to sag in acceptance.

“Dispose of this before anyone comes to see you,” you said, shoving the plate into his hands before he could protest. “I suppose it matters little how you do it, but you must, or else I will be convicted of treason, and where will that leave us? Imprisoned side by side and left to rot together.”

He did not respond until you were almost out of earshot entirely, and then he coughed. You could not tell whether it was to capture your attention or to clear his voice of any residual hesitance; regardless, he accomplished both objectives, as you lingered for a moment longer than you would’ve.

“Ten,” he said. “That’s how many times I could’ve killed you in the time you’ve been here. But I—”

You continued walking before you could hear the rest of it.

You woke up the next day in better spirits than you had in some time, and in fact when a servant announced that you had a visitor, you opened the door with a new vigor. Upon realizing that the man in front of you was not your husband but rather his cousin, you thought that you might die from the glee of it all. Taking his arm, you allowed him to escort you to where the imperial contingent was setting up for the festival, at a grand stage which took up most of the square and was already laden with visitors at its base.

“It is a relief to see you recovering so well,” your husband’s cousin said. “The rumors in the palace are that you’ve contracted some illness of the chronic variety; in truth I believed them, especially after our meeting yesterday, but today I see that you have been revitalized. Did you rest well last night, then? I heard that you did not eat your dinner, but you must’ve taken it in your room, yes?”

You had done neither of those things, and his questioning did make you pause. What was the cause of your good mood? You had gone to sleep for only a short time, without much of anything in your stomach, and your situation had not improved any, so why did you feel, even if only marginally, as if you were something like yourself again?

“I suppose it must be something like love,” he mused, without waiting for your answer. 

“Ah, pardon?” you said, startled from the winding turns and byways of your thoughts at the strange declaration.

“To think that even a day in your husband’s presence has cured you to such an extent,” he explained. “Surely it is love? I cannot think of any other name for it…but I apologize! It is not my place to inquire, nor to speculate. I trust you will not tell my cousin about this?”

He had, in the taken-aback blink of your eyes and the pinch of your brow, found what he was seeking: a demure shyness which he could only comprehend as a lack of affection. You knew, then, that you had passed the test of the man, who had not believed any more than your husband that you were truly ill.

“I will take your leave,” he said, and then his palm clamped down on your shoulder. “But I trust you know this: however much you may love your husband, he is a difficult man to be loved by in return. If ever you are in search of solace…there are places you may turn to, dear lady.”

“What did he say to you?” your husband said, appearing at your side with his expression arranged into something like a frown. “I could not hear. Was he bothering you? I am sorry if he was. He has always been headstrong.”

“He was not bothering me,” you said, incapable of lying to your husband with any great skill but remaining certain that it was absolutely imperative you did not divulge his cousin’s secrets to him. “We spoke as family members might.”

If he recognized your evasive language, he did not comment on it. Instead, he stroked his chin in thought, and then he directed his attention towards the stage, where one of his generals was beckoning him — and, by extension, you.

The sun hung high in the sky as you ascended to the podium, though its rays did not dare touch you, disguised in your husband’s shadow as you were. Your vows tied more than your tongue, after all; your entire being, everything but your heart and your mind, were trained and twisted into the picture of submission, and soon those, too, would fall, leaving you a husk which could do nothing but nod and follow along.

Your husband did not need to start with any address. His mere presence was enough to silence the gathered empire, every single onlooker leaning towards the stage in eager anticipation of his words. From your vantage point, it was like the swell of a tide, crushing and suffocating, inescapable in its overwhelming intensity, but where you withdrew, your husband brightened at the weight, lifting his head and squaring his shoulders.

“Mydeimos,” he said, over-enunciating every syllable. The word, unfamiliar and foreign to your ears, had a rhythmic, marching cadence, more suited to a battle-cry than a formal declaration, and it seemed you were not alone in your thinking, for it had all the effect of one on the crowd.

A heckling clamor burst from them, the individual words indecipherable but for brief snippets. Demon. Monster. Warmonger. Kill. Curse. Blood. Kill. Kill. Kill! Your husband waited for them to quiet of their own volition, and only then did he venture to continue, this time with a wide, beaming grin.

“Mydeimos has fallen. The prince of terrors is no more!” he shouted, raising his fist in the air to thunderous applause. “Without him to lead the army, Kremnos will surely follow suit. Their lands will be ours within the year, of this much I assure you! Our empire will soon be the most prosperous in all the world. Even the great lands of the Southern Sea will pale in comparison!”

Your heart twinged at the mention of the Southern Sea. You could envision it even now, the streaks of salt left on the cliffs where the water lapped at them, the ripples in the placid blue where the balmy winds skimmed along the surface, the moon-white sand as it clung to the crevices of your feet and hands.

When you were younger, your father would take you on his boat and dip his fingers into it, urging you to do the same. You would ask him why and he would answer, always with a laugh or a smile: of all the jewels in my treasury, my darling, the Southern Sea is the second-loveliest. Then you would ask him which could be the first, if even the sea was not its equal, and he’d press his damp hands to your cheeks and kiss your hair and say you, my darling, you and only you.

“What a horrible thing he was,” your husband said. “Mydeimos. That wretched excuse of a man…the world is all the better now that he is locked away. I watched him — watched him, good citizens, with my own eyes — tear out a man’s heart with naught but his nails and teeth! Even now I can imagine it…the tips of his canines dark with pierced flesh…bits of entrails coating his fingers…the heart still beating in his palms…he looked the proper part of a devil, and I was certain that I had died and found damnation!

“But as I said, he is no more. Our army prevailed, as we always have, and as we always will; I made Mydeimos beg for mercy with my sword at his throat and my foot upon his inhuman heart, and then I dragged him back so that all of you could see what he has been relegated to — a chained puppy, given to my dear lady as a pet and kept as a servant until the day of his execution.

“For the surest way to kill a Kremnoan is to destroy their pride, and the prince of terrors has more pride than most, so we must endeavor to strip him of it, systematically and fastidiously, until even a child can cut him down!”

Your husband concluded his speech and pulled you forward simultaneously, with a great flourish which invited praise and drew attention to you both. You swallowed, your mind racing at breakneck speed, far too quickly for you to make any sense of the things you were saying until you were saying them.

“I have not seen the prince of Kremnos — Mydeimos — since the day that he was brought to me,” you said. The applause that had begun faded as soon as the soft words sparkled into existence, and the many eyes of the audience blurred together until you could pretend like you were alone, like you were speaking to nothing but small, bright stones reflecting your own sentiments. “But as my lord husband said, he was proud. I feel as though I have never seen a man prouder. Even after his loss, he remained proud. Even with nothing else left, he clung to that pride, that assurance…I remember thinking to myself that it was, in its own way, admirable. That he was admirable.”

Your husband’s arm around your waist grew tighter with unspoken warning, though it needn’t have. You had said all that you wanted, all that you could, and now there was nothing left but the judgement of the collective.

“Lady!” someone shouted, the singular soul brave enough to speak. She was a woman — you wondered if this was what bolstered her confidence, a perceived kinship between the two of you for that fact alone. “Do you fear the prince?”

“No,” you said, and although you had meant it only as a vague and empty placation, you were surprised to find that it rang true. You were not afraid of him, and it wasn’t his chains or his infirmity which caused this emotion to surge in you; rather, it was what he had told you last night, that declaration he had made with the utmost of seriousness, which you had not even allowed him to complete. “I am not. He cannot harm me.”

You knew your words would be interpreted as faith in your husband and the empire, and furthermore that this misinterpretation would curry favor with your subjects and your lord alike, so you did nothing to correct it. Yet you would know, and would hold close to your heart the knowing, that it was not your husband who you held faith in: it was Mydeimos, the prince of Kremnos, who might’ve killed you ten times over but had instead let you live.

“You have much to improve in terms of your orating,” your husband said coldly as the three of you — him, his cousin, and yourself — returned to the palace.

“I thought her speech was excellent,” his cousin said, shooting you a sly smile behind his back. “Very concise, and of a good style. It’s a gift to be able to convey meaning so succinctly. You ought to nurture it.”

“She certainly conveyed a meaning,” your husband said. “It remains to be said what value that meaning truly holds.”

“Is that for you to decide? Ah, brother, don’t be a curmudgeon, I am only teasing you! You spent so much of our childhood poking fun at me, so how can you fault me for paying you back in kind?” his cousin said.

“You need some lessons in respect,” your husband said, but without any real bite behind it. His cousin snickered before sobering, shifting his weight toward you.

“Will you take your dinner in your chambers again, lady?” he said. You nodded.

“If it does not offend,” you said. 

“Do as you please,” your husband said. “Though I expect you’ll do that anyways, sworn to me or not. Isn’t that right, dear lady?”

You couldn’t think of any response which would be satisfactory, so you said nothing, allowing the two of them to escort you to your room, where you waited with bated breath until the night fell and you could return to the cellar.

The entire way down the stairs, you turned the name over in your mind, polishing it in the way waves polished driftwood, battering it with incessant worry until it shone, uncanny and unrecognizable. Mydeimos. Mydeimos. Mydeimos. The prince of terrors. The man who had torn a heart out with his teeth. What did it say of you, that you were making your way to exactly such a knave? With trepidation, of course, but what did it say that you were still doing it anyways? Perhaps very much, or perhaps very little.

“There is an odd pattern to your footsteps,” he said before you could even greet him. He stood as he always did, prepared for a battle that he would never again see. “Or perhaps it is your breathing, or something else entirely.”

“What do you mean?” you said, putting your lantern and the dinner down in the space between you both. “I walk and breathe as I always have, as others do.”

“I know you,” he said, disgust mingling with the barest traces of awe in his tone. “The door to this cellar opens frequently. All manner of men come to visit me, to mock me from their places at the bottom of the stairs, lambasting me from the safety of their distance. I recognize few, and  I remember fewer — nor do I have any great desire to — but when it is you, I know. From your very step, from the very creak of the door, I know. I cannot understand how or why, but I know.”

“My husband told me your name,” you said after a pause, when it became clear he was not expecting a reaction from you. Motioning towards the food in a gesture you hoped he took to kindly, you continued: “I did not ask him, but he mentioned it in passing, so naturally now I know it.”

“I see,” he said, and although his gaze flicked towards the ground, he did not move. You remembered, then, what else your husband had said in that speech of his, the vainglorious words echoing in your ears: for the surest way to kill a Kremnoan is to destroy their pride, and the prince of terrors has more pride than most, so we must endeavor to strip him of it, systematically and fastidiously, until even a child can cut him down!

“Mydeimos,” you said, and then you sat on the floor, which was made of a cold stone that shot chills down the backs of your legs. Resting your elbows atop your thighs and your chin in your hands, you blinked up at him. “That is what he called you. ‘The prince of terrors.’”

“How unimaginative,” he said, and you suppressed a shudder at his glare, which was baleful and acute as it settled upon you. “My-deimos. Many-terrors. Yes, that is my name, though that ridiculous nickname is of his own invention. The Kremnoans would laugh if they heard it.”

“He said that he watched you tear out a man’s heart with your nails,” you said, and then you glanced at his lips, simultaneously and unconsciously wetting your own with the tip of your tongue. “And your teeth.”

He bared those very teeth, white and glinting, in a barking laugh — as much an expression of warning as it was humor. “My teeth! Your husband is one for fiction.”

“And — and he spoke of how he defeated you,” you said. At this, anything resembling mirth vanished from Mydeimos, and he grew curiously immobile — you almost thought that you had frightened him into the grips of memory, but then you realized that he was not frozen as much as he was waiting.

“Did he?” he said. “And what did your husband say of my defeat, dear lady?”

“He  made you beg for mercy with his sword at your throat and his foot upon your inhuman — upon your heart,” you said, correcting yourself for the slip of the tongue, finding no merit in telling him about that particular detail. “And then he dragged you back here.”

The longer Mydeimos remained silent, the shallower your breaths became, a cold fist forming around your heart and squeezing, the muscles in your arms and legs contracting, protesting their inactivity. You needed to run. If you were wiser, if you had anything resembling self-preservation, you would run, would flee and hope that you were fast enough to make it to the stairs before he pounced. 

You supposed you lacked both wisdom and self-preservation in spades, for you remained on the floor, peering up at him and praying that he could not read your mind, could not comprehend the depths of your thoughts.

“So that is his story,” he said. “I should’ve known he wouldn’t tell his people the truth.”

“He made it up,” you said rhetorically.

“You don’t sound surprised,” he noted.

“It is not — it is not —” You gnawed on the inside of your cheek, trying to come up with some way to circumvent your wedding vows, some way you could impress upon him what you were trying to say. “When we were wed, it was said that I loved him madly and completely, that I bawled to my father until he allowed me to come here.”

“Then it is not his first time dabbling in such falsehoods,” Mydeimos completed. When you nodded, he snorted. “You cannot speak ill of him, can you? Is it magic?”

“In the way of this land,” you said with a shrug.

“What an emperor,” he said. “So he can neither bed his wife nor win his battles without the use of tricks and obfuscation? Where I come from, they have a word for those like that, but as it is foul, I will not trouble you with hearing it.”

“What do you mean?” you said. “Ah, not by the foul word…that is, what tricks do you refer to? If the story he told is inaccurate, then how did he really defeat you? For surely he must have, or else you would not be here.”

“He did not defeat me,” he said. “Believe it or not, but that is the truth.”

“How?” you pressed, for you had already eschewed wisdom once and did not mind doing so again.

For a moment, it was as if the sun shone down upon him again. You saw him as he was on the day he met you, or perhaps even before — the prince of Kremnos, sleek and powerful and indomitable, red marks blooming in place of the scars he would never receive, eyes ablaze in his hollow face, hair as wild and untamed as his spirit.

“He surrendered,” Mydeimos said, scowling. “Our numbers were smaller, but Kremnoans have never cared for things like odds. We were winning, indubitably we were winning, and your husband knew it as well as we did. They attacked us in our own territory, fought us with our own weapons…how could we have lost? We would’ve wiped them out, but your husband and his men raised their white flags, and so we ceased to attack them.

“I went to parley with them, to negotiate the terms of their surrender. In a show of goodwill, I agreed to your husband’s request to come unaccompanied. His men were exhausted, and I found it honorable that he was putting their wellbeing first, so I ignored my instincts and the warnings of my advisors, going forth alone, leaving my armor and weapons as I was instructed to.

“That was my mistake. I should never have expected honor from a serpent, whose nature it is to bite. The surrender was a ploy; I was met by hordes of guards, each with a spear pointed at my heart. Even then, I fought. Do not think I met my end willingly, dear lady — I fought and killed as many men as he threw at me. I could’ve killed them all, I would’ve killed them all, but right as I was about to, he threw these chains at me from the corner where he hid. It should not have worked, his aim and the strength behind it were both lacking, but it was as if the metal had a mind of its own, and before I knew it I was bound.”

“As I told you, they are thrice-blessed,” you said. “Divine. They long to fulfill their purpose, and will do anything to that end. If it defies the laws of nature, well, what are those laws compared to the ones who wrote them? Those men were only a distraction. Once my husband received these chains, there was nothing which could’ve changed your fate.”

“What sort of a god favors a man who feigns surrender?” Mydeimos said. “What kind of deity loves perfidy?”

“I have often asked myself the same questions,” you admitted, half-expecting yourself to be unable and closing your eyes in relief when you weren't. “Why is it that he is the one they champion? What justice is there in that? He must have been a saint in his past life, to be treated as he is. A saint, or a martyr, or something like that. Something wonderful to the point of deserving so many miracles in this next iteration of his.”

You chose your speech carefully, injecting as much resentment into it as was needed to convey to the prince what you really meant, but not enough that you seized up into inaction. Not enough that you strained against the hold that your vows held over you.

You heard him exhale, and at this, you allowed your eyes to flutter open once more, peeking up at him and immediately wishing you hadn’t.

Whatever had briefly rallied in him, whatever fervor and fire he had briefly regained…it was gone. It was gone, leaving him fractured and bereft, forlorn instead of fearsome, prisoner instead of prince. Your husband had done that to him. Your husband had destroyed him, as he had destroyed you, and it was this reflection of your own fate which tore at you the most.

Breaking off a piece of bread, you dipped it in the long-cooled sauce pooled in the corner of the plate, and, without a word, held it out to him. He eyed it suspiciously, and for a moment you thought he might refuse it. The beginnings of an argument bubbled to the surface, but it never had the chance to take shape — before your lips could so much as part, he knelt across from you and took your proffered hand by the wrist.

Holding it in place, his thumb digging into your pulse like a reminder that he didn’t want this, didn’t want to accept your help, he used his free hand to swipe the bread from your palm. Then, his brows heavy, low over his eyes with mistrust and reluctance, he shoved it into his mouth and ate it.

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[terrestrialnoob]

"John." Bruce said with so much accusation he could see the man suppress a flinch. The toddler in front of them started to crawl to the edge of the table. Bruce reached his hand out and stopped the child. It stared at his hand in fascination before reaching out and touching it curiously.

"Bats..." John wanted to deflect, but Bruce stared at him until he cracked. "The texts said it- he?- was forged in lightning on the edge of life and death. That's not- I don't know how in the seven hells that could make a baby. An adult wouldn't be able to survive what that implies."

"But that's what we have." Bruce said, the baby had tried to put his gauntlet in his mouth, but Bruce had a small, soft dog toy in his utility belt, clean and safe for a toddler to chew on.

"Yeah, I think I need to do more research... A lot more." John said and stood up. "You don't mind taken care of him, yeah? I mean, I wouldn't trust me with a baby."

"I want a copy of all your research so far and to be kept updated on all new information." Bruce said. He had his own list of things to help figure out what the toddler was. First thing he was going to do when he got home was a DNA test.

John nodded stiffly and walked out of the room like a man on a mission. Bruce was thankful the man was taking this seriously.

"Oh, this is going to be great!" Dick said leaning in where John had been. "A little brother I can finally have a good first impression on."

"Aren't you Robin's favorite?" Bruce asked as Dick offered his hand to the toddler like he would a new pet.

"Not at first." Dick said as the toddler ignored him in favor of the toy. "You remember how we were all stunned when he showed up and interacting with him had a real learning curve."

"Red Ro-"

"Neither of us were in a good headspace when we first met him."

Bruce sighed, he didn't bring up Jason, but, "Black Bat?"

"Sister." Dick answered quickly. "This time, I'm going to be nice right from the start."

"So does this mean no burgers?" Barry asked with a sigh.

Clark answered for him, "B probably wants to take the kid somewhere safe. The three of us can still go though."

Barry smiled, but Bruce knew it wasn't the same when he wasn't there. Sure, Barry, Clark, and Diana got along- actually were real friends who enjoyed each other's company. But Barry was looking forward to sharing work stories Bruce. Clark could keep up with the technical aspects, and Diana valued his knowledge, but Bruce was actually interested in it.

Clark was the least disappointed since he and Bruce hung out far more out of costume. Diana was right in the middle, wanting to spend time with her friends, but she values duty enough she would never ask Bruce to put herself over a child.

Diana shook her head and laughed at Bruce. "I do believe this means you have more children than friends."

Bruce gave her a look that meant, "yeah, you're right but it's rude to say so."

"Hey, Bats, can I have a word?" John asked as everyone started filling out of the meeting room.

Batman gave him the side eye. "You don't usually come to meetings."

John raised his hands in surrender. "Caught me, I'm really here to ask you a favor."

Batman looked over by the door, where it looked like Superman, Wonder Woman, and the Flash were there waiting for him. But, he turned back to John and asked "What do you want?"

John tried not to cringe at the tone in his voice, telling himself that's just what a tired after meeting Batman sounded like. "I need help with a puzzle box."

John pulled said box out of his coat pocket and held it up for Batman to take, but the man examined it closely without touching it. "What's in it?"

"A world-ending weapon, probably. There's like, a 10% chance it's a world-ending monster." John helpfully provided.

"And you want to open it..."

"Yeah..." John sighed then explained, "It's part of a pair, with this-" John pulled a gear shaped dial puzzle out of his pocket. "But, since I solved this one, that one wont work for me."

"Why do you want to open it?"

"Because, whoever solves the puzzles control it."

"But you've been magically locked out of solving this one." Batman pointed at the box still in John's hand.

"Yeah, so I need someone good at solving puzzles -you- and who's dabbled enough in magic to effect the box -you again- and who I trust not to use whatever's in it to destroy the world."

Batman gave him the patented bat-interrogation glare. "You still haven't explained why you want to release this weapon."

"It's a fail safe. Like the two keys thing governments put in front of their nuclear bombs. According to the texts I read, this isn't the only way to release the whatever-it-is, but once we solve both these puzzles, you and I will have control of it and absolutely no one else can get it." John wiggled the box at Batman. "We do this now, we don't have to pray I can track down all the alternate methods, and neither of us can use it without the other's permission."

Batman closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You're certain this is the best method to ensure the safety of as many people as possible?"

"Yep."

"And you're certain I'm the right person you want as the other half of your fail safe? Not another magic user?"

"I feel the degree of separation will be useful in determining what situations call for using a world-ending weapon."

Batman let another deep sigh and took the puzzle box.

"You two staying late?" Superman asked as John and Batman sat back down at the table. Him, Wonder Woman, and the Flash came over to check on them.

"Sorry, we can get dinner together another time." Batman said without taking his eyes off the box. Each side had nine squares, each with a rune on them that glowed when pressed. There was a pattern, John was sure, but after he'd solved the dial puzzle, the runes where blurred and the squares didn't light up when he pressed them.

"How long do you think your puzzle thing will take?" Flash asked, looking over Batman's shoulder as he seemed to solve the puzzle quickly. Or so John hoped, again, he couldn't actually see what kind of progress Bats was having.

"Ten minutes, tops." Nightwing interrupted. Batman did glance at him, but then went right back to work on the box. "We still have plenty of time to go to Bobby's before closing."

"I thought you had better things to do?" Superman asked.

"And pass up on burgers with you? Never." Nightwing said with a wink. "Is John joining us when this is done?"

"I'll have to take whatever comes out of the box back to the house of Mystery." John said, though burgers did sound good at the moment.

Silence lapsed into the room as they watched Batman work. And ten minutes later, it was done. The puzzle box glowed and one of it's faces folded into itself, leaving a hole shaped just like the gear puzzle. Batman held it out and John dropped the gear into it. The room filled with a bright flash, and once it faded, sitting on the conference table between John and Batman was a toddler. He had black hair and bright blue eyes and freckles scattered across his face. He reached out a little hand towards them and started babbling.

"Fuck."

[drdemonprince]

Imagine a world where we looked at having sex the same way we do going out dancing or grabbing dinner.

Some people really enjoy visiting dance clubs or restaurants, include their partners in these activities, and make them a cornerstone of their social calendar; other folks are quite indifferent, and can take or leave them. Some people might only like engaging in these activities when they are completely alone, and others among us have highly specific preferences for the ways we might participate in them, if at all.

We don’t tend to assume a person’s life is incomplete if they have never been to a rave, and if a new buddy recommends we take an invigorating walk instead of grabbing an order of tibs and injera, we probably don’t bat an eye. If a romantic partner doesn’t share our passion for darkwave it might cause us problems, but we could just as easily call up a buddy with a Boy Harsher shirt and still have a good time.

Most of us recognize there’s potential for trauma surrounding body movement and food, but we don’t consider a person fundamentally broken if their parents forced them to eat vegetables or take a ballet class. We’ll consider it wrong that their feelings weren’t respected, and understand if they never want to join us for Black Swan and cheese fondue.

We don’t clutch our pearls if a child finds out that people twerk or drink wine. Even when forms of these activities are firmly for adults-only, it’s evident to all of us that they can be openly discussed, that no one is harmed by acknowledging their existence. These parts of regular life are not seen as magical, or assumed to be always beneficial or always negative for a person. Sometimes you eat an incredible burger. Sometimes you trip over your feet and briefly look like an ass. Neither defines your life or brings you to ruin.

And in the bold, sex neutral world that I am proposing, we’d have much the same attitudes toward intimacy. If we could view sex neutrally, we wouldn’t necessarily consider it a deal-breaker if a romantic partner enjoyed floggings and we preferred Tantric massage. A person who eschewed all sex or only had sex alone would be a bit of a private type, not a fundamentally different or lacking type of being. If a person was forty-five years old when they made their sexual debut, we’d treat them like someone who found a new hobby later in life, not like they were carrying some major social defect.

When sex was used as a tool of abuse or exploitation, we’d focus a lot more on the facts of the mistreatment, rather than the lurid details of the sex. We wouldn’t treat sex as radioactive, imbuing all it ever touched with a kind of sinister energy. And because we wouldn’t have to push back against such a demonized view of sex, we wouldn’t have to claim that sex was some life-changing, sacred activity that possessed a special ability to cement marriages or alter bodies, either.

Sex would just be a blasé thing, like going to the grocery store, getting a foot massage, taking a shit, or rolling a joint: highly pleasurable to some, completely squicky and uncomfortable to others, varying in its importance over the course of our lifespan, and never fundamentally good nor evil, just a regular part of human life.

We could think dispassionately about sex if this were the case, not viewing gay men in puppy hoods as predators simply for existing in the open air, or penalizing librarians for giving kids resources about their own bodies. We could acknowledge, without flipping out, that fetuses masturbate in the womb, children sometimes tie their dolls up in proto-fetishistic ways, and teenagers have sex with one another.

We would not consider it pathological if a young person had no interest in any of this, or if any person enjoyed sex in ‘unusual’ ways — they’d be no more strange to us than a lover of peanut butter and pickle sandwiches.

And if a child were sexually exploited, or an adult person coerced into sexual activity, sex neutrality would allow us to look to the power and access that made such an awful violation possible. We’d see the problem was that a child had no one but their parent to rely upon, and nowhere else to go when that parent blocked them from seeing friends, restricted their access to food, or used them for personal gratification. Rather than being blinded by our aversion to sex, we’d be able to name all three controlling behaviors as equally wrong, all potentially fraught and traumatic.

I wrote all about sex neutrality and how it helps us to better understand issues of consent, abuse, and desire. You can read it for free (or have it narrated to you by the Substack app) at drdevonprice.substack.com

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 20

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: smut, oral fem receiving, fingering, drinking, angst, tension

I swallow hard, my pulse thudding in my ears. Every inch of me is hyper aware of him, his sun kissed skin, the faint scent of seasalt and sunscreen clinging to him, the way his fingers flex against the counter like he's holding himself back.

I wet my lips, watching as his gaze follows the movement. "Maybe I just wanted to make sure you were.. comfortable" I murmur.

Matt exhales a sharp breath, shaking his head with a low chuckle. "You're killing me, you know that?"

I smile, feeling bolder. "Good."

For a second, neither of us move. The tension is thick, electric in the space between us. Matt closes the distance before making his way down to my shoulder and then my chest, his fingers tugging at the hem of my bikini.

Matt unties my bikini top and tosses it aside before kissing me again, this time more roughly. Matt slips his hands under my hips and lifts me up, setting me on the counter. He steps in between my legs, his body pressing against mine.

His eyes trace over my body, before his lips work their way over to my neck, his tongue flicking out occasionally against my skin, until he reaches my tits. He takes one in his mouth while he fondles the other, occasionally switching while my breathing becomes more laboured.

Matt pushes me back onto the counter, as his hands slide down from my waist to my thighs, gripping them tightly as he holds my legs open, his thumb rubbing over my clit through my bikini fabric at an agonisingly slow pace.

Slight breathy groans leave my mouth, as Matt toys with the ties of my bikini bottoms, pulling them loose and allowing his finger to slip under it, letting him feel the heat he just created. He kisses my stomach, as I let out a light moan. 

“You’re teasing me Matt”

Matt looks up at me and without hesitation, shoves two fingers into me, allowing me to let out a louder moan. 

“Fuck Matttttt, that feels so good” I pant, as Matt picks up his pace, no time to ease me in, in all honestly with the way he was kissing me, I didn't need to be.

I squeeze my eyes shut, to try to allow myself to completely relax. I feel hair brushing off my stomach as a warm, wet sensation attaches onto my clit. Making my whole body buckle.

I look forward, and Matt's tongue is swirling around my sensitive bud as his fingers pulse inside of me. I grab onto his hair tightly as the knot in my stomach builds faster and faster.

“Don’t stop Matt I-I’m gonna-” I yell out as I knock my head back against the kitchen counter.

“Fuckkkk!” I moan as the knot in my stomach breaks, my body shudders as Matt removes himself from me. 

I sit up as I try to catch my breath back, surprised at how quick that was. I feel just as warm inside the villa as I did outside it. “Fuck I’ve never felt like that before.” I say shaking my head innocently as Matt smirks at me. 

“Glad I could do that for you." Matt says as his kisses my forehead before turning and heading toward the sink to wash his hands. "A sandwich will bring you back down to earth now”

“What happened to me helping you out?” I question, raising an eyebrow.

“Letting me pleasure you is all the help I need.” Matt grins. “And making you lunch will just top it all off.” He gestures vaguely toward the fridge. 

I exhale, steadying myself as I grab my bikini off the floor. "That’s okay I’ll get you back tonight.” I say as I lock eyes with Matt, giving him a smirk.

I take myself to the bathroom to fix myself and when I come back Matt has everything set up.

We move around the kitchen in sync, grabbing the bread, meat, and whatever else we can find that seems remotely sandwich worthy. Nick’s habit of stocking up on groceries during vacation finally pays off, and I make a mental note to thank him later.

Matt smirks as he spreads mayo onto a slice of bread. “Nick’s probably the only person I know who food shops on vacation.”

I laugh, stacking slices of turkey onto a random sandwich. “Honestly, it’s a lifesaver right now. Imagine if we had to go find a store?”

Matt groans. “Would’ve ruined the whole ‘sneaking off’ plan.”

I roll my eyes, but my stomach flips at the way he’s looking at me, like he’s still thinking about what just happened on the counter.

We finish making the sandwiches, eating ones for ourselves before stuffing the rest into a bag. Leaning against the counter, I take a bite, sighing happily. “Okay, maybe Nick really does deserve credit for this.”

Matt takes a big bite of his own sandwich, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, but we can’t tell him. He’ll get a big head about it.”

I giggle, nudging him lightly with my elbow.

Once we’ve finished eating, we grab the bag of sandwiches and head back down toward the beach. The sun is still high, the sand warm under our feet as we approach the group.

Nick spots us first, raising an eyebrow. “Took you guys long enough.”

“We were making food for all of you” I say, holding up the bag like a trophy.

Nate sits up from his lounger, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Wait, you actually made lunch? Thought you just wanted an excuse to sneak off.”

I roll my eyes, tossing him a sandwich. “You’re welcome.”

Matt flops down onto his lounger, throwing an arm over his face. “You guys are so ungrateful.”

Chris, still scrolling on his phone with his airpods in, grabs a sandwich without looking up.

Nick unwraps his sandwich and takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully before smirking. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll admit, this was a solid move. Maybe I’ll keep stocking the fridge after all.”

I grin, settling back onto my lounger, propping up the sun umbrella to cool down my sun warmed skin. 

Chris stretches lazily on his lounger, finally putting his phone down and glancing around at all of us. “We haven’t hit a nightclub since we got here.”

Nate hums in agreement, sipping his water bottle. “True. We’ve been to a few bars but nothing too crazy.”

Chris sits up straighter, his sunglasses pushing up into his hair. “Let’s go out tonight. Order in, have some drinks at the villa, then hit the club. Go all out.”

Nick immediately nods. “I’m in. We need a proper night out.”

Nate grins. “You just want an excuse to text that guy and get him to meet you there.”

Nick throws his crust at him. “Mind your business.”

I glance at Matt, who’s already looking at me. “What do you think?” he asks, tilting his head.

I shrug, pretending to consider it. “A club does sound fun.”

Chris claps his hands together. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Matt smirks but says nothing, just leaning back on his lounger.

Nick sits up, already pulling out his phone. “Alright, I’ll see what food we can order for later. What are we thinking? Pizza again?”

We all groan at the idea of more pizza.

“No more pizza” I say, shaking my head. “We’ve had enough of that.”

Nick nods. “Something different, then. We’ll figure it out later.”

Chris claps his hands again, excitement clearly setting in. “Alright, settled. Tonight, we party.”

I lean back on my lounger, stretching my legs out. The ocean breeze is warm, and the thought of a night out makes excitement bubble up inside me.

Nick is glued to his phone, his lips twitching in amusement as his fingers fly across the screen. I nudge his arm.

"What's he saying?" I ask, peering over his shoulder.

Nick barely glances up. "He just asked where we're heading tonight."

I grin, nudging him again. "Well, tell him we're going to the nightclub. Give him a chance to show up."

Nick hesitates for a second before rolling his eyes. "You’re really invested in my love life, huh?"

"Absolutely" I tease. "Someone has to be."

Matt chuckles from his lounger, leaning back on his elbows. "She’s got a point. You might as well shoot your shot, man."

Nick sighs dramatically but types out the message anyway. "Fine. But if this goes terribly, I’m blaming you."

I hold up my hands. "Hey, if it goes terribly, at least it’ll be entertaining for the rest of us."

Nate, overhearing, smirks. "Yeah, and if it goes well, we’ll give you so much shit about it."

Nick groans. "I hate all of you."

I just laugh, watching as he hits send. Tonight was already shaping up to be an interesting one.

The sun was beginning its slow descent. We had spent most of the afternoon in and out of the water, sprawled out on the loungers, soaking in the sun, and laughing over the stupidest things. 

Matt was next to me on the sand, his arms resting on his bent knees as he traced patterns into the grains with his fingers. 

"You good?" he asked, catching me staring.

I smiled, shrugging. "Yeah, just taking it all in."

He smirked, nudging me with his knee. "You look happy."

I bit my lip, feeling a warmth rise in me that had nothing to do with the sun. "I am."

He nodded, as if he already knew. Then, without saying anything else, he grabbed my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. It was subtle, nothing dramatic, but enough to send a wave of electricity through me.

We sat there like that for a while, letting the sounds of the ocean and the distant conversations of the others fill the silence. I didn’t know how long we stayed like that before someone called out.

"Alright, let’s head back!" Chris announced, stretching his arms over his head. "Sun’s going down, and we’ve got a big night ahead."

Reluctantly, I stood, brushing off the sand before Matt and I followed the rest of the group toward the villa. The walk back was easy, everyone still in that post beach daze, the kind where your skin feels warm and tight from the sun and the exhaustion starts to creep in.

Chris walked ahead, scrolling through his phone before glancing back at us. "I’m posting pictures from the shoot" he said casually. "Gotta get that early promo going."

As we reached the villa, my phone buzzed in my hand, the familiar Instagram notification lighting up my screen. I glanced at Matt, who had just pulled his own phone out, both of us seeing the same thing, Chris had just posted the photos from the shoot.

Clicking into the post, I scrolled through the slides until I found it, the shot of Matt and I standing side by side, both in our near matching jackets. The way the photo was framed, the way we naturally leaned slightly toward each other, made it look effortless.

I barely had time to process it before I saw Matt hit the repost button, adding the photo to his story without hesitation. He hovered for a second, as if considering adding something, then let it go up as it was.

I smirked, nudging him with my elbow. "So, you’re just gonna post that without acknowledging the fact that I know you picked it all out yourself?"

His brows lifted slightly, but his lips curled into a grin. "Oh yeah? And what exactly do you think you know?"

I crossed my arms, tilting my head at him. "I don’t think, I know. Chris can’t hold his piss."

Matt glanced at me, pretending to be clueless. “What do you mean?”

I scoffed, giving him a look. “Matt. You picked everything out. The jacket. The number. My initial. Are you really gonna act like that was some random coincidence?”

He exhaled a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean.. it worked, didn’t it?”

I narrowed my eyes. “So, you are admitting it.”

He hesitated for a beat, then finally shrugged. “I wanted it to feel right.” His voice was quieter now, more honest. “Like.. if I was gonna do it, I wanted it to actually mean something.”

I stared at him, my heart doing this weird, unsteady thing in my chest. Chris had already spilled it ot me, but hearing him say it out loud made it different. It wasn’t just something he threw together. He thought about it.

I bit my lip, trying to keep my voice light. “So what? you wanted us to match so bad?”

Matt smirked slightly but didn’t break eye contact. “Maybe.” A pause settled between us. “Or maybe It was the only way I could express my feelings for you without admitting it.”

Something about the way he said it made my stomach flip. I rolled my eyes, shoving him lightly before turning to the stairs. “You’re unbelievable.”

He followed beside me, his shoulder bumping into mine. “Yeah, but you like it.”

I didn’t say anything. But I didn’t deny it either.

We all split off to our rooms for showers, to get rid of the suncream and random pieces of sand. We all hoped the showers would wake us up so we don’t need to nap.

After showering, I step back into my room, styling my hair first before I root out the outfit I’d decided on earlier. I can hear doors opening and closing, muffled conversations, the occasional blast of music as someone picks their getting ready playlist. I slip into my outfit, taking my time with my makeup, wanting to feel my best tonight.

As I swipe on my lip gloss, there’s a knock at my door. “What do you want to eat?” Nick’s voice comes through as he pokes his head in.

I glance up, setting my lip gloss down. “What are we getting?”

“Anything. I’m just taking orders, gonna get it all delivered.”

I think for a second before shrugging. “Surprise me”

Nick smirks. “Dangerous game. You might end up with something weird.”

I roll my eyes. “I trust you.”

He disappears down the hall, moving from room to room, taking everyone’s orders. The house slowly settles into that familiar pre night out routine, hairdryers whirling, perfume and cologne lingering in the air, someone’s speaker playing a mix of throwbacks and current songs.

By the time the food arrives, I’m fully ready, my hair styled, outfit on, makeup done. We all gather outside, taking seats around the villa’s patio table as the smell of takeout fills the air.

Nate digs into his food immediately, barely waiting for everyone to get their plates, while Chris argues with Nick over who ordered the better meal. Matt slides into the seat next to me, his knee brushing mine under the table, sending a small jolt of warmth through me.

After finishing our food, we linger outside for a while, chatting and letting the night settle in around us. Nick turns up the speaker, filling the space with music. With full stomachs and the excitement of the night ahead, we move back inside to start drinking and getting into the mood for the club.

Chris takes over DJ duties, queueing up a mix of songs that get everyone hyped. Nate and Nick are already a few drinks deep, laughing at everything, while Matt leans against the counter next to me, his arm brushing mine every so often. I sip on my drink, feeling the buzz start to settle in, warmth spreading through my body.

As the night goes on, everyone starts to loosen up, Nick dramatically lip syncs to songs, Chris hypes him up. We’re all dancing around the villa, singing along to every song, taking random pictures, and just enjoying ourselves.

By the time 11pm rolls around, we’re all buzzing with energy. Chris checks his phone. “Alright, let’s get moving”

Everyone scrambles to grab last minute things, phones, wallets, extra spritzes of perfume or cologne. I check myself in the mirror once more before heading to the door.

“Everyone good?” Matt asks, making sure we’re all set before we leave.

We pile into an Uber and make our way to the club, everyone on the brink of being drunk. The streets are alive, groups of people heading in the same direction as us, laughter and music filling the air. Excitement bubbles up in my chest as I look around at my friends, knowing the night is only just beginning. How lucky I am to share these moments with them.

We step into the club and the place is already packed, bodies moving in sync with the music, laughter and conversation barely audible over the sound.

I nudge Nick. “Is he coming?”

He nods, a smirk playing on his lips. “He said he’d be here, so we’ll see what happens.”

I grin. “Exciting. You nervous?”

“Please” Nick scoffs. “He should be nervous to see me.”

We exchange a laugh, and before we can even think too much about it, “ExtraL” by JENNIE and Doechii starts to play. 

That’s our cue.

We don’t waste time and instantly make our way to the dance floor. The music pulses through my body as we move, completely lost in the moment. 

At some point, the rest of the boys slipped away, and when I look over toward the DJ booth, I realise why. They’ve somehow managed to get us a table right next to it, complete with a bottle of vodka and mixers waiting.

Chris waves us over, motioning to the table. “We’re up tonight” he grins, already pouring drinks.

I slide in next to Matt, his hand finding the small of my back. I glance up at him, and the strobe lights flicker across his face, making his eyes seem even brighter.

“You good?” he asks, leaning in slightly so I can hear him over the music.

I nod. “Very.”

I’m not sure if it’s the club, the drinks, or just the feeling of being in our own little world, but I know one thing. I’m ready for whatever the night has in store.

Nick suddenly stiffens beside me, his eyes flickering toward the entrance before he straightens his shirt and fixes his hair in a way that’s meant to be casual but is anything but. I follow his gaze and immediately see a guy making his way through the crowd toward us.

“Is that him?” I whisper, nudging Nick with my elbow.

Nick exhales quickly, composing himself before smirking. “Yeah it is.”

Nick waves the guy over to our booth and he approaches us, a confident but easygoing smile on his face. He’s tall, well dressed, and looks older than Nick, “Nick” he greets, his voice barely audible over the music.

Nick tilts his head slightly, his smirk deepening. “You made it.”

“I said I would” the guy replies, his eyes flicking over to me briefly before returning to Nick.

Nick introduces everyone to the guy and tells him all of our names. We share pleasantries to try and make him feel comfortable. He slides in next to Nick seamlessly joining our conversation. He’s got that easy charm about him, fitting in as if he’s known us for years. We chat for a while, mostly teasing Nick, who’s pretending not to be flustered but is failing miserably. 

Chris suddenly stands up mid conversation, adjusting his shirt. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Matt and I both turn to look at him. “Where are you going?” I ask, but Chris just gives me a vague smirk before disappearing into the crowd of people on the dance floor. 

After a few minutes, the guy leans in closer to Nick and says something that makes him laugh. Nick shakes his head, but I can tell he’s enjoying the attention. “Alright, let’s go get a shot, lead the way.”

I watch as they disappear toward the bar, turning to Matt with an amused look. “He’s so into Nick”

Matt chuckles, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me in closer. “Yeah, but do you think Nick’s into him?”

I glance back at the two of them, already deep in conversation, Nick laughing at something the guy said. “Oh, 100%.”

Nate chimes in “I hope this goes well for him.” As he pours drinks, handing us each one. 

“So do I” I say, taking a sip of my drink.

Matt and I are sitting close, closer than we probably realize, his arm draped casually along the back of the booth, his knee knocking lightly against mine. There’s this natural pull between us, one that feels impossible to ignore.

I just want to be all over him right now. Maybe return the favour later.

Chris returns to the booth, but he’s not alone. Two girls trail behind him, both dressed to kill, their eyes scanning our group as they approach. Chris gestures between them like he’s presenting a prize.

“This is Rachel” he says, nodding toward the girl in a tight red dress. Then, he motions to the brunette next to her. “And this is Christina.”

The second the name leaves his lips, my stomach drops. Christina. As in Vegas Christina?

Matt stiffens beside me, his fingers gripping tighter against his glass. I glance at him, my pulse kicking up, but his face is unreadable.

I shift my attention back to the girl, studying her. She’s exactly how I thought she would look. Long brown hair, sharp cheekbones, an effortless confidence in the way she carries herself. She’s looking at Matt now, and something in her expression makes my blood boil.

Chris, oblivious or maybe just entertained by the sudden tension, speaks up. “Figured I’d fly them out. Thought you’d wanna catch up, Matt.”

Matt finally speaks, voice smooth but firm. “Didn’t think I had anything left to catch up on.”

Christina’s lips twitch, like she was expecting that response. “No? Could’ve fooled me.”

I don’t know what she means by that, but I really don’t like the way she says it.

My mind is racing. I know things have happened between Matt and Christina before, he’s never denied that. But Matt told me himself that he hasn’t been with anyone since that night in the house. And Vegas was after that, so.. surely not.

Still, the way she looks at him, the confidence in her tone, it’s messing with my head.

I glance at Matt, but his expression is carefully neutral. Chris, meanwhile, is grinning like he’s watching the most entertaining scene unfold, completely oblivious to the tension he’s just ignited.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Nate shifting uncomfortably, looking just as out of place in this situation as I feel. Our eyes meet, and without a word, he tilts his head toward the bar before mouthing the word. “Shot?”

It’s exactly what I need right now.

I nod, pushing up from the booth. “We’re getting a drink” I say to no one in particular, but Matt’s gaze flicks to me immediately.

“Want me to come?”

I shake my head, forcing a small smile. “I’m good.”

I need a second to breathe, to process whatever the hell this is before I let it get to me. Because right now? It’s definitely getting to me.

Nate follows behind me to the bar before ordering two shots of Sambuca. Nate slides the shot toward me, watching as I pick it up. “You good?”

I exhale, rolling the glass between my fingers before finally throwing it back. The burn of the shot matching the burn in my chest. “Yeah. It’s just.. a weird situation.”

He leans against the bar, arms crossed. “What's making you feel weird?”

I set the shot glass down, sighing. “I know he's been with her before Nate. But Matt told me he hasn’t been with anyone since right before you came to stay, so I know nothing happened in Vegas. But still.. it’s just weird seeing her here.”

Nate nods, considering that. “I don’t think Chris has any clue what’s going on between you two” he says after a beat. “If he did, he wouldn’t have invited Christina out.”

I run a hand through my hair, stealing a glance back toward the booth. Matt’s eyes are already on me, his jaw tight, like he’s waiting to see what I’ll do. Christina is talking to Chris, but she’s angled slightly toward Matt, like she’s waiting for an opening.

I turn back to Nate. “Let’s do another shot.”

He grins, signaling to the bartender. “Now you’re talking.”

As we make our way back to the booth, I immediately notice that Chris and Matt are gone. Nate clocks it too, but neither of us say anything. Instead, we’re left to take the only open seats. Nate slides in next to Rachel, leaving me no choice but to sit beside Christina.

She shifts slightly as I settle beside her, turning just enough to face me. Her perfectly lined lips curl into a smirk, and I already know whatever is about to come out of her mouth isn’t going to be pleasant.

“So” she starts, dragging out the word, her nails tapping against her glass. “You and Matt are, what? Friends?”

I keep my expression neutral. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

She hums, taking a sip of her drink. “Funny. I just didn’t expect him to be the type for.. complicated situations.”

I raise a brow. “Complicated how?”

Her smirk widens, like she’s enjoying this. “Well, we do have history. I just assumed if he was seeing someone, he would’ve told me.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. So this is what we’re doing.

“I don’t think Matt owes you an update on his personal life” I say smoothly, taking a sip of my drink.

Christina lets out a light laugh “Oh, It’s just.. you know how it is when you have that kind of connection with someone. Some things never really go away.”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but Christina doesn’t stop there.

“Vegas was.. unforgettable” she says, swirling the ice in her drink. 

I refuse to give her the reaction she’s looking for, so I nod casually. “Oh yeah? How was it?”

She tilts her head, almost throwing me a pitiful look. “Oh Y/n I can’t spare you the details! You know what they say. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

That’s it. That’s my final straw.

I feel my stomach twist, my chest tightening in that way that tells me I’m two seconds away from either snapping or letting this whole night ruin me. And I won’t give her the satisfaction of either.

I put my drink down, pushing it away from me. The last thing I need is more alcohol fueling whatever emotions are bubbling to the surface.

Nate notices my change in demeanour. “You good?”

I nod quickly, already standing up. “Yeah, just..just gonna head back to the villa.”

He watches me carefully. “Want me to come with you?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay.” 

“Nope, not happening” he says, standing up and walking toward me leaving the two girls behind us. “First off, I’m not letting you leave here alone, and second, I’m not staying with those two either.”

I let out a breath, not wanting to argue. “Fine” I say, and we start weaving through the club toward the exit.

Just as we’re near the door, I catch movement in the corner of my eye, Matt and Chris. They’re standing near the bar, mid conversation, but their heads turn in sync when they see us leaving.

For a split second, I think Matt might step forward, might ask where I’m going or what’s wrong. But he doesn’t. And I don’t stop either.

I don’t even get to say goodbye to Nick, who’s completely wrapped up with the guy from earlier.

I just step out into the warm night air with Nate, leaving it all behind.

Nate and I get to the villa in silence, the quiet settling around us in stark contrast to the volume of the club we just left. I pull my phone out of my purse the second we’re inside, checking my notifications. Nothing from Matt.

Wow. Is that really how it is?

Anger rises in my chest, hot and sharp. It’s not even about Christina anymore, it’s about the fact that I walked out of there, and he didn’t even bother to check in. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t feel like this. 

But I do.

And that’s exactly why it stings.

I let out a frustrated breath, holding the power button on my phone until the screen goes black. If he’s not going to message me, I don’t even want to give myself the chance to sit here and wait for it. I just need to sleep this off.

“The sooner I sleep” I mutter to myself, slipping my shoes off, “the faster this night will be over.”

And with that, I take myself to bed and pass out.

Hours later, I’m jolted awake by the sound of my bedroom door bursting open. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest as Nick stumbles inside, completely unbothered by the fact that he just rudely woke me up. Sunlight is already creeping through the curtains, and I instinctively reach for my phone, turning it on to check the time.

7am.

I groan, rubbing the sleep from my eyes before looking at Nick, who’s swaying slightly where he stands. His clothes are wrinkled, his hair a mess, and his eyes are heavy lidded, but he’s grinning like an idiot.

“Are you okay?” I mumble, still groggy. Then, as I properly take in his state, realisation hits me. “Wait, are you still drunk?”

Nick pauses, squinting as if he’s actually trying to figure it out. “Not completely.. The hangover is starting to kick in already.”

I sigh. “Where the hell were you?”

He grins wider, dropping onto the end of my bed dramatically. “I went back to his place.”

I laugh at Nick, shaking my head. "Did you have fun at least?"

He grins, flopping onto my bed dramatically. "I did. I really like him."

I smile at that. "Good. But you need sleep, Nick. You’re barely sitting up."

Nick groans but nods, and as I help him up, he leans on me slightly. "Walk me to my room?"

I sigh but hook my arm through his anyway, guiding him down the hallway. "Come on, lightweight."

We're almost at his door when, suddenly, he perks up with a mischievous glint in his tired eyes. "Wait! Let’s say hi to Matt!"

I barely get the words "No, Nick, let’s not-" out before he’s already reaching for Matt’s door handle.

Everything happens too fast. The door swings open.

And then I see it.

Long brown hair fanned out on the pillow. A bare shoulder peeking from under the sheets.

A girl. 

In Matt’s bed.

Christina.

a/n : what else did you expect from part 20 fr (dont kill me pls)

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[akashirl]

- mi ♡ sei ship questions !!

↓↓ (beware the long post)

ps: i used both first and third person. i am my s/i, after all.

I. PRE-RELATIONSHIP

1. they first met on sei's first year and mi's second year of middle school, during basketball practice. it was the second practice miguel had attended, sei didn't show up on the first day.

2. miguel's first impression of sei was that he was an angel on earth, like some sort of divine being. it was absolute love at first sight. seijuro's first impression of miguel was that he was tall and a good player. he didn't think much of him at that time.

3. miguel was the one who felt romantic feelings first. it was immediate.

4. both of them tried to repress their feelings. miguel because he felt like he wasn't worthy of sei's admiration, and sei because he knows that being with another guy would be simply impossible due to his role as the only heir of the akashi lineage.

5. sei's life would have been ruled by his father's decisions. he wouldn't play in the nba, rather follow business like intended and put his dreams aside. his life would be quite monotonous. as for miguel, he would have succumbed to his disorder and just straight up would have died, without any kind of strength to keep going and no one to stay alive for.

6. they never left the flirting stage. sei is quite flirty in private, and it flusters miguel easily, who always tries to flirt back but fails miserably (marinette core).

7. OH BOY. miguel doesn't have a good relationship with his mother so he's living in the rakuzan dorms. his parents like sei, but they pretend to be unaware about miguel's feelings for him. as for sei's family, oh god. miguel is familiar with sei's nanny and driver, but he hasn't met masaomi personally. he's not exactly fond of him, either. so basically, neither families know that they're a "thing".

II. GENERAL

1. it was sei who initiated it. it was after my second practice at rakuzan after the absolute storm that was having to deal with my disorder... (i get way too shy talking about this) sei promptly told me that he already knew about my feelings for him, and kissed me when we were all alone and the lights were low. i didn't even have to say anything, he could read my thoughts effortlessly.

2. they didn't have an "official first date" but rather lots of casual hang outs. they spend all their free time together, be it playing basketball together or chess, studying together or going out during lunch break at rakuzan. they go to the movies together and sometimes bring the rakuzan gang along.

3. i am going to EXPLODE. this was on my first misei lore post but here it goes: it was after practice and miguel went to clean up in the locker room. sei followed him. they were all alone. mi didn't realize he was even there until he turned around; he asked if sei needed everything and seijuro simply went up to him, cupped his face with his hands and brought him down for a kiss. it all happened so fast that miguel felt like he was close to passing out. then sei pulled back, looked him in the eyes and said "don't ever scare me like that again.". how romantic, huh? crazy.

4. sei was mi's first crush, love, "relationship", and pretty much everything. mi was NOT sei's first crush (i see you, nijimura) but he was his first true love, "relationship" and whatever else.

5. back in middle school, sei was 152cm (4'11) and miguel was 167cm (5'5), that's a 15cm (5.9 inches) difference. now, sei is 173cm (5'8) and miguel is 177cm (5'9). i suppose sei barely caught up. as for the age gap, sei is 16 going on 17, while miguel is 17 going on 18.

6. well, both miguel and seijuro have an emotionally distant approach to others, albeit for different reasons. while quite literally everyone follows sei unquestioningly, miguel's reluctance provides an unusual pushback. he doesn't like being ordered around, and makes sure seijuro knows that. he keeps him on his feet, not ever putting him on a pedestal (and then fanboying about him in private but that's another story). they're like a king and his knight -- except the knight refuses to submit to the king and his shenanigans. dog lover × cat lover. milk person × black coffee person.

7. miguel's parents like sei and find him an "excellent role model" for their son. sei's father, however, thinks of miguel as just one of sei's friends from school. that is not masaomi's main focus. miguel resents him.

8. sei takes the lead in social situations, often being the one who initiates chats (he's secretly a yapper.). they're both introverts, but miguel is way more introverted than sei is. they share the same friends at rakuzan (mibuchi, kotaro, nebuya and chihiro) but miguel is strangely uneasy when it comes to being with the rest of the kiseki. he is friends with midorima and momoi, but finds it difficult to strike a conversation with the others. they're not on the same level basketball wise and it makes miguel feel a little bit out of it.

9. that depends on who's fronting. oresei is not the jealous type, but bokusei is extremely possessive. he matches miguel's freak, i suppose. oresei is confident enough not to mind that kind of thing...miguel is extremely insecure. bokusei is just naturally jealous. they're working through it.

10. [i don't quite understand what this question means. apologies.]

11. seijuro. seijuro does that. no questions asked.

12. they're extremely open about pretty much anything, sei can always tell when miguel is hiding something from him, and when it's the other way around, miguel always gets a gut feeling. though they're not the type to hide things.

13. miguel. he feels as if sei is just wasting his time on him and will eventually move on and find someone better, which he knows he wouldn't be able to handle -- but that's how he feels anyway. i mean, have you seen akashi seijuro? how did i even manage to pull such a human...? of course, he doesn't let sei know about this insecurity of his. but he doesn't need to. seijuro knows and reassures him all the time.

14. "once more to see you" by mitski, "amor de ganga" by miguel luz, "once upon a dream" by lana del rey are some of the songs in our playlist...

15. there's not a recurring argument but miguel often gets very worried with how much pressure seijuro puts on himself. he doesn't like it when sei stays at school until dawn working or when he has no time even to eat...they've had an argument before about sei's perfectionism and how it's affecting his life negatively and sei took notes. he's trying to fulfill his duties in a healthier way...

III. LOVE

1. miguel said "i love you" first, (ore)sei is the one saying it more often. i have a strange relationship with the word "love" so i don't go around saying it without meaning it...miguel is trying to become more confident in using strong words.

2. quality time, acts of service and words of affirmation.

3. miguel tries to make pick-up lines land and fails miserably. when it comes to cheesy gestures, he likes buying sei flower bouquets. after the game against jabberwock, miguel went up to seijuro and gave him a bouquet with red camellias, dahlias, white roses, red gladiolus and white chrysanthemums.

4. they cuddle almost every night at the rakuzan dorms, when everyone else is asleep. it's like the world has stopped spinning and they have all the time in the world to give to eachother. when it comes to pda, they don't do it much due to the private nature of their relationship.

5. it's often sei who initiates the kisses. sei's favorite spots to kiss: miguel's nape (where he has the tattoo), cheek, lips, shoulder. miguel's favorite spots to kiss: forehead, knuckles, lips and neck.

6. they like playing basketball, watching movies together, trying different restaurants together and playing chess against eachother.

7. sei is better at providing comfort. neither of them are very emotional, but sei always manages to make miguel feel safe -- he also tried to give advices to "solve" whatever problem miguel is facing. miguel, on the other hand, tries to distract sei whenever he's feeling down. he knows that sei's head can be quite the dark place to be living in, so he tries his best to get him to focus on something else.

8. they prefer verbal affection because it's something that they're able to do wherever, no matter the circumstances; but they've grown to appreciate physical affection too, even though it's mostly just hands on one's shoulder, slight hand brushing and timid hand holding. they're afraid of society ok. let them be.

9. what reminds miguel of sei: the sun, cats, the color red, gems / stones, gold, roses, the smell of cinnamon. what reminds seijuro of miguel: paintbrushes, silver, the ocean, clouds, the moon, apples and the smell of vanilla.

10. they like everything about eachother. they admire especially eachother's mental strength -- since both of them have disorders and are sort of "fighting their own demons", god knows what that means. seijuro likes the way miguel looks absolutely done with everything and everyone at all times, something about his aura just screams "i want to go home" and sei lowkey digs that. on the other hand, miguel likes seijuro's imposing nature and leadership. he admires the way he is confident about who he is -- and wishes he could be as confident as sei.

11. what miguel calls seijuro: sei, captain, aka-chan (when it's bokusei), or simply seijuro. he is kind of shy with petnames. what sei calls miguel: dear, my love, my knight, miguel-senpai or simply senpai.

12. sei has the memory of an elephant. miguel has the memory of a goldfish. he cannot remember anything.

13. miguel tends to be the first apologizing -- probably because he usually is the one in the wrong. sei has his arms crossed with an imposing expression, but he relaxes, gives him a faint smile and walks up to him, kissing his cheek. "alright. that's better."

14. the protectiveness scale would probably look like: bokusei > miguel > oresei. both miguel and seijuro tend to eachother's wounds...

15. miguel buys sei flowers (that seijuro keeps hidden in his room) and books, since sei likes reading a lot. sei likes getting miguel art supplies and he bought him a designer pen once. miguel can't even mention that he likes something without sei IMMEDIATELY wanting to buy it.

IV - DOMESTIC LIFE

[ au where they're 19 and 20 in college, and sei plays in the nba (lakers)]

1. both of them have a say in the decorations, but sei is quite minimalistic and miguel is into way too many medias not to decorate the fridge with shadow the hedgehog magnets. their house has some portraits of them together as well as some pictures of shiori, paintings that miguel has done all over the walls and pictures from places they've visited together.

2, 3 & 4: questions about marriage, weddings and children make me extremely flustered so i'm afraid i cannot answer them. might make a separate post about this au...

5. they're both breadwinners. sei makes loads of money from playing in the nba and miguel also makes a decent amount from his job as a psychologist. miguel cleans and sei cooks.

6. hmmm, i don't know...i don't think so. the pets stayed at miguel's parents' house and they often visit them.

7. miguel worries the most. seijuro is quite calm most of the time. he knows not to stress himself.

8. seijuro really dislikes bugs and quite literally demands for miguel to kill them.

9. that obviously depends on the holidays but (boku)sei is VERY festive as we know. months before the holidays, he is already prepared. be it dressing up, decorating the house, whatever, sei is absolutely ready. don't even mention christmas near him.

10. seijuro wakes up early and mi always convinces him to return to bed. seijuro succumbs, obviously.

11. sei doesn't move an inch when sleeping. it's almost as if he's dead (he sleeps like a man in a coffin) and miguel moves while being asleep, hogging the blanket to himself. by that time though, seijuro is already asleep and doesn't feel the cold. miguel is also the one brushing his cold feet on sei's leg. still sei doesn't move an inch. he looks as dead as a rock. and when it comes to cuddling, they tend to switch! (boku)sei has a preference for being the little spoon but other than that, they're pretty versatile.

12. miguel, he really likes to dance at parties and drags sei around. it really isn't like miguel to be so hyped up about anything, so sei dances along with him with a content smile on his face. they sing their favorite songs. it's their happily ever after.

13. they often visit sei's mother at the graveyard and leave her flowers -- then they return to water them everyday. it's common for sei to do this after he wins a game. also, after a game, sei and miguel go to a restaurant to celebrate the victory. then they walk at night while they talk about whatever's their heart's content. playing chess against eachother has also sort of became tradition to them.

14. miguel's the type to do that. "i don't know, you choose" even though he does have a place in mind and simply wants sei to guess. and seijuro always gets it right.

15. miguel drives, seijuro gives directions.

oh my GOD, this was long.

— ship questions redux (by myself + @newbordeaux)

I. PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

What was their first impression of each other?

Who felt romantic feelings first?

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

What was their "flirting stage" like?

How do their friends and family feel about them as a couple?

II. GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did they go about it?

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

What was their first kiss like?

Were they each other's first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

What is their height difference? Age difference? Do either matter to them?

How do their personalities complement each other? How do they clash?

What is their relationship with each other's families like?

Who takes the lead in social situations? How are they around each other's friends?

Who gets jealous easier?

What are their parallels, whether in their personalities or their histories?

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other's ear in public?

Do they hide anything from each other, big or small?

Which one thinks they aren't good enough for the other, if at all?

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

What is their most common argument about?

III. LOVE

Who said "I love you" first, and what was the situation?

What are their primary love languages?

Who uses the cheesy pick-up lines, or does corny gestures?

How often do they cuddle or engage in PDA?

Who initiates kisses? Where is their favorite spot to kiss each other?

What are their favorite things to do together?

Who is better at comforting the other? How do they usually comfort each other?

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

What reminds them of each other?

What do they like best about each other?

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Who remembers the little things?

How do they make up after an argument? Who is the first one to apologize?

Who is more protective? Who would get into a fight to defend the other? Who tends to the other's wounds?

What gifts do they typically give each other?

IV. DOMESTIC LIFE

When they move in together, who gets the most say in decorations? What do they each have to have in the house?

If they get married, who proposes, and how do they do it? Would they change their surnames?

What is the wedding like? Who attends?

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like as parents? What are the kids like?

Are either of them the "breadwinner"? Who cooks? Who cleans?

Do they have any pets?

Who worries the most?

Who kills the bugs in the house?

How do they celebrate holidays?

Who is more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Who hogs the blankets or takes up more than their fair share of the bed? Who puts their cold feet on the other? Who are the big and little spoons?

Who likes to dance with, or sing for, the other?

Do they have any "couple traditions", or family traditions?

Who is the one who always says "I don't know" when the other asks where they want to eat?

Who would drive, and who would give directions?

[elliesglock]

FIRST OF YALL ARGUE LIKE A DAMN OLD MARRIED COUPLE and second of all CAN YALL QUIT??? okay sorry i needed to get my thoughts down immediately so this is gonna be a little jumbled

let me not SPEAK on the looks paige keeps giving azzi in this video. because that would be wildly offensive and disrespectful to jesus christ. he does not need to see the heart eyes and tomfoolery i just witnessed 😭. p licking her lips after azzi agrees that paige is the biggest trash talker on the court. like okay you want her to see how big it is WHATEVER P. i feel paige is always gonna be the one that wants to be seen as the protector and wants azzi to know she'll protect her or argue or be mean to whoever she needs to her to.

i like how p is so argumentative all the time but the second azzi is like idk it could be this paige immediately recounts what she said and is like yeah right princess ofc! not in this entire video cause they're literally arguing but after the who's most likely to crack a joke in the locker room question azzi is indecisive and can't think of an answer. so she says neither and even though paige holds up azzi (wildly untrue) she puts it down immediately. which is so telling cause p is always so ready to argue her case i jus find it funny she immediately does what princess says.

the who's messier debate, p you can't stop exposing urself i can't make this up 😭 p showing YET AGAIN she has a big problem w azzi always being sick because she can't resist kissing her and in turn gets sick as well. she has a personal trauma but she'll do it to kiss her girl. also paige's eyes not leaving her the entire time she's laughing and just cracking up w her. it's the little things for them fr aweee. ive always felt like azzi saying "don't gaslight me" is such the perfect girlfriend argument answer. like i'd say that to my gf when we argue fr. she's such the fem fr. "DONT gaslight me." she seems experienced i bet she uses that a lot. also azzi shushing her and she immediately does, idk if it was my friends and they sushed me id be even louder and arguing w them more. but p immediately pipes down?? like okay that's ur gf and u do exactly what she says alright!

it's a beautiful day i could really go out and frolick in a field of dandelions, MENACE PAIGE AND AZZI ARE BACK WE ARE SO BACK. azzi saying it's crazy that paige thinks she needs to go out with makeup? OMG??? SO GF OMGGNGKSJEJ. and paige getting a little smirk and smugness to her and saying, "cause i look good." i know she has the biggest head when azzi says ANYTHING nice to her 😭. also the way her voice drops and gets all flirty omg get a room. i think they legit forgot they were on camera for a second and decided to start flirting LIVE. it's so telling to me their facial expressions cause p's eyes immediately start getting lower and her smirk gets bigger. azzi really giving her those butterflies QUICK. and the way p gets softer and just seems all around more sensual LORD HAVE MERCYYYY. i mean me too if azzi was shocked i thought i needed makeup to go out. i think what really blows me is azzi's expression. she gets this dopey little blushy smile and seems a little shy after realizing what she said aweeee. her cheeks get red too. damn if you're gf don't have u still blushing after 8 years just throw it away. they are sooooo flirty and blushy around each other still. the awkwardness afterwards like they had to lock back in and everybody was shocked they were that open? shit me too i had to pause the video fr 😭.

p loves to be petty and passive aggressively bring up pet peeves about azzi in these kinda videos. probably cause they on camera and azzi can't bicker w her. but the two constants, paige dislikes how azzi is offline and how she is always sick. i think p doesn't like if azzi doesn't answer her and she'd be the type to send azzi's name like 20 times to get through to her ummmm lesbian. i'll expand on this further in a second.

i would like to say a few times in this interview they give themselves away and say "us" or "last time we had movie night" or "when we were together last night." it's giving VERY couple. they probably are slipping up but i don't think they gaf 😭. it's like when you have a couple in ur friend group and they say yeah during our last movie night. just feels domestic and like they're secretly hinting at their dates. also "how do i look like this" is CRAZY AZZI. i don't know if she was asking me how do i look or asking paige how do i look this good? paige's answer to both would've been "amazing baby just so gorgeous." also the fact azzi won't put it on paige's life like. obv it's not that serious if they were friends but paige knows azzi won't agree to it because it's DEEPER than that to them. nobody's swearing on their gfs life when they're lying and paige knows that and uses it to her advantage. sigh. paige saying she styles azzi like girl we know she's your little doll and you probably spin her around and take fit checks w your camera to smile and cheese at later.

paige admitting AZZI STEALS HER CLOTHES NOBODY FUCKING MOVE. we been knew but thank god it's like music to my ears hearing them admit it. paige also complaining like she doesn't offer all her clothes up, she's probably throwing extra layers on azzi when she's cold cause she doesn't want her baby to get sick. i need to lay down. also the way they're arguing is giving your friends that are couples are bickering and asking for your opinion and keep interrupting each other to get their point across, am i the only one 😭 i feel like im stuck in the middle of them trying to settle an argument LOLOLOL i know kayla's tired. paige not even fighting back when azzi says she looks better in paige's clothes. if that was my friend IMMEDIATELY we have to get down cause wym?? but paige is so whipped she literally just nods her head like yes my baby looks so good in all my clothes. probably cause she's so possessive she doesn't mind azzi stealing her clothes because her girl IS WEARING HER CLOTHES. for everyone to see. she loves to stake a claim goddamn.

okay now i'm resurfacing the argument early that paige hates when azzi doesn't respond. when asked about who takes longer to answer paige immediately gets this annoyed tone and says "OH....MY GOSH" and holds up azzi's sign. first of all she's sassy asf. second of all i know she's soooo tired of it because to be that annoyed that fast. paige is so fucking clingy and i know when azzi doesn't respond immediately to her ipad kid texts it drives her UP THE WALL. and it gives paige is like i literally have dnd on for everyone and don't want to talk to anyone but you and you're not responding? i guess it's fuck me. i know she sends that ten times a day. also she gives she would text azzi after she hasn't answered a while and say, "oh what position she got you in?" "feel good?" "is she as good as me?" HER POSSESSIVE ASS. anyways that's what it gave.

also azzi i'm so sorry paige taught u how to dougie you gotta rebuke that and not be whipped she tryna pass down her stiff hips 💔💔💔

alright that's all i got im a mess rn....thank you for reading love ya 🥰

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch 3

“For good service, and cute waitresses”

pairing: premilitary!jk x secret fuckbuddy! oc

contents: mild language, no smut (yet), fluff, humour, celeb au, very mild angst, slowburn </3

wc: 6k

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: if anyone wants to join pls comment!!

a/n: this fic is going so much better than id thought it would! i love it and cant wait to progress. Nari’s might also come across as mean, but know its in a best friend way and she truly does love oc. ENJOY MY LOVES <3 p.s, all interactions are much appreciated, pls dont be afraid to let me know what you think:)

masterlist | < previous | next >

You find yourself back at Nari’s apartment. These days, it’s the only place you feel like going to. Your own place feeling like a lost cause- clothes piling up, draped over your desk chair you could’ve sworn you cleaned up last week, dishes in the sink that you could’ve sworn you’d washed yesterday. Work has been exhausting, and when you’re not caught up in the bustle of the diner, you’re busy running errands and keeping up with side hobbies, using them as an excuse to avoid everything else.

At least at Nari’s, things feel a little less overwhelming, and it’s easier to forget everything else.

And Nari doesn’t mind, she’d never mind.

She’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of wine, her free hand lazily scrolling through her phone. Her TV hums in the background, playing some trashy reality show neither of you are actually watching. You’re curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, fingers absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the throw pillow in your lap.

You’ve been quiet for way too long, and though you are a quiet person by nature. It’s never been truly quiet with you around Nari.

And Nari notices. Of course she does.

It’s not past a second before she side eyes you over her glass, pausing mid scroll. “Alright” She says, pushing off the counter. “What’s going on with you?”

You blink up at her. “Huh?”

“You look like you just got caught committing a crime,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Spit it out.”

You shake your head quickly. “It’s nothing.”

Nari stares at you for a second longer, then sighs, putting her phone down on the counter. She’s walking over, the heels of her socks dragging slightly against the floor, and plops down next to you, pressing her shoulder against yours.

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the pillow. The words are there, right at the tip of your tongue, but saying them out loud makes it feel too real.

Nari doesn’t give you the chance to stall any longer. She sets her phone down and walks over, plopping down on the couch next to you. “You’ve been sitting there looking like you’re about to have a breakdown for the past twenty minutes,” she says. “Either you tell me what’s going on, or I start guessing, and you know I have no filter.”

You exhale sharply. “It’s not that serious.”

Nari just stares. “Yeah, okay. So why do you look like you’re about to throw up?”

You press your lips together, debating whether you should even bring it up. It’s stupid. It really is. But the anxiety has been eating away at you since he did it, and if anyone’s going to tell you if you’re being ridiculous, it’s Nari.

You reach into the pocket of your hoodie and pull out a small, crumpled piece of paper. For a second, you just hold it between your fingers, staring at it like it as if that would make it disappear. Then, finally, you place it on the coffee table between you and Nari.

She frowns. “What’s that?”

You swallow. “Jungkook left me his number.”

There’s a beat of silence. Nari blinks. Then she blinks again, leaning forward to get a better look at the paper, like she needs to confirm that you’re not messing with her.

“Wait—Jungkook?”

You nod, heart hammering against your ribs.

“As in the Jungkook?” You nod again, looking at her as if to say: yeah Nari, who else?

Nari lets out a sharp breath, eyes darting between you and the paper. “And you’re telling me this now?” She takes the paper from your hand “Saturday?! Seriously? It’s been 2 days and you’re only telling me now?” She whines, smacking your arm lightly.

You shrug, biting your lip, not trusting yourself to say anything.

Nari stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. “And what exactly is the problem here? Did you text him? Has he shown up to the diner again?”

You bite your lip. “What if it’s a joke?”

Her expression drops into something unimpressed. “What?”

“What if I actually message him, and he laughs in my face? What if this is just some silly game?” You cross your arms, shifting uncomfortably. “Imagine I actually text him, and it turns out he just left it to mess with me.”

Nari looks at you like you just suggested jumping into oncoming traffic for fun. “Are you stupid?”

You blink. “Yes! What- No. Ugh! I dont know?”

“Why the hell would he give you a fake number? Celebrities don’t just do that.” She picks up the paper, waving it in your face. “And Jungkook? He doesn’t seem like the type to waste his time playing games.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” she cuts you off. “I saw the way he was looking at you. That man is not out here giving his number to random women for fun.” She shakes her head. “And even if it was a joke—which it isn’t—you’d at least know. Right now, you’re just sitting here torturing yourself over something you haven’t even done yet.”

You press your lips together, stomach flipping. “I don’t know, Nari.”

“I do know.” She leans back against the couch, arms crossed. “And at the very least, now you can get a heads-up before he randomly shows up again and you dont have to shit your pants every time he does.”

You let out a laugh, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, but you saw what happened last time…”

Nari rolls her eyes. “Listen I get that- Crazy fans and shit? Not it, but you could be missing out on something big here.” She shrugs, taking a slow sip of her wine, like this isn’t making your entire brain short-circuit. “Worst case scenario? He doesn’t respond. Best case scenario? Well.” She smirks. “I don’t think I need to spell it out for you.”

You stare at the number again, nerves buzzing under your skin.

Fuck it.

Your fingers twitch as you pick up your phone, opening your messages. You hesitate, heart in your throat.

The phone sits between you and Nari on the couch, untouched. You haven’t stopped staring at it since she made you unlock it, since she made you pull up Jungkook’s number and prove to her that it’s really there. His name isn’t saved, obviously—you’re not that delusional—but it’s there. Sitting at the top of your recents, right where you left it.

And you hate that it’s there.

Nari sighs. “Alright, I literally can’t take another second of this. Either you text him, or I’m throwing your phone out the fucking window.”

Your body jerks up immediately. “I can’t text him.”

She looks at you like you’ve personally offended her. “Yes, you can.”

“No, I actually can’t.” You grab a pillow and shove your face into it. “You do it.”

A scoff. “What? No.”

“Nari, please.” Your voice is muffled, desperate. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”

“You literally will,” she deadpans. “Probably within the next hour.”

“I’m serious.” You peek at her from over the pillow. “Please, just send the first message.”

“You’re being ridiculous. He wouldn’t have given you his number if he didn’t want you to use it.”

“Or maybe he gave it to me as a joke.”

She groans, standing up and dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my fucking God. What is wrong with you?”

“If I message him, and he laughs at me, I’m never leaving this apartment again.”

She rolls her eyes, dropping back onto the couch beside you. “Yeah, because Jungkook has nothing better to do than sit around and make fun of random girls.”

“Exactly.”

Nari grabs your arm, shaking you. “You’re so stupid.”

You let out a strangled sound as she shakes harder, knocking you against the couch cushions. “Nari, stop—”

“No, because you’re actually so stupid. I saw the way he was looking at you.”

You groan extra loud.

Nari shoves you again, this time hard enough that you almost fall sideways. “You are so dramatic.”

“Okay, then you message him,” you whine, turning back to her with wide, pleading eyes. “Please. Just send one text, and then I’ll take over.”

She groans, leaning her head back against the couch. “Fine. But I’m not doing ‘Hi, this is YN.’ That’s lame.”

You nod immediately. “Yeah, no, that’s boring.”

She thinks for a second, then smirks. “What if we go with, ‘Hey, soldier, miss me?’”

You push her. “Stop.”

Nari just laughs. “Or, ooh!—‘I heard boys like you love discipline, so I waited a respectable amount of time before texting. 😉’”

“Im deleting his number.”

“You love me.”

“I don’t.”

She hums, tapping your phone screen. “Okay, what about this: ‘I promise I’m not a stalker, but I did just spend the past two days debating if this was actually your number.’”

You hesitate. “…Okay- Yeah, that’s actually kinda good.”

“Duh.” She types it out and, before you can stop her, presses send.

Your stomach drops. “Nari, what the fuck.”

She throws the phone onto your lap with a smug grin. “Too late.”

You gape at the screen, heart pounding as the message sits there. And keeps sitting there.

Jungkook doesn’t reply immediately.

Which—of course he doesn’t. He’s busy. He’s literally Jungkook. He’s probably off training or singing or whatever idols do in their free time.

Still.

You groan, throwing your head back. “This was a mistake.”

Beside you, Nari pats your head like a disapproving mother. “No, I made a mistake. I should’ve sent, ‘Hey, kookie~, miss me?’”

You nudge her away. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You kind of do. But now, you’re stuck waiting for a reply.

And it’s already driving you insane.

—

Hours pass.

You and Nari don’t do much of anything—just exist in the same space, like always. The TV plays some random drama you’ve both seen a hundred times before, voices droning on in the background while you scroll through your phone and Nari flips through a magazine she doesn’t actually care about. The comfort of it is familiar, easy. This is why you come here. Why her apartment is the only place you really want to be these days.

But none of it stops your eyes from flicking back to your phone every two minutes.

Still nothing.

Nari notices. Of course, she does.

“Y/n.” She doesn’t even look up from her magazine. “Get it the fuck together.”

You huff. “I am together.”

“No, you’re not.” She turns a page, unimpressed. “You look like you’re waiting for an organ transplant.”

You make a face, shifting to sit on your hands so you physically can’t reach for your phone again. “I just—I don’t get why he hasn’t replied yet.”

“Because he’s Jungkook?” Nari deadpans. “You know, worldwide superstar, busy man, famous guy? Maybe, just maybe, he has other shit to do?”

You grumble, kicking at her leg. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?”

You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “What if he’s ignoring me?”

Nari groans. “Oh my God. I literally cannot do this with you right now.” She tosses the magazine onto the coffee table and sits up, jabbing a finger at you. “This is what we’re not gonna do, okay? We’re not gonna sit here and spiral. We’re not gonna create insane scenarios in our head. And we’re definitely not gonna act like Jungkook is some high school jock plotting to humiliate you in front of the whole cafeteria.”

You glare at her. “That was a very specific example.”

She shrugs. “I read a lot of Wattpad in my youth.”

“As you should.”

“Anyway.” She leans back, stretching her arms over her head. “Since you clearly can’t function like a normal person right now, I’m declaring a ban on all Jungkook-related thoughts for the next few hours.”

“You can’t ban thoughts.”

“I can in this household.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t argue. Mostly because she’s right—this whole thing is driving you insane, and if you don’t stop obsessing over it, you’re going to lose your mind before Jungkook even gets a chance to reply.

So, you let it go. Or at least, you try to.

The night continues as it always does. You and Nari switch to watching trashy reality TV, taking turns talking shit about people you don’t know. You fight over the last slice of pizza, which Nari wins, but only because she threatens to lock you out of the apartment. You don’t think she’d actually do it, but you’re not willing to take the risk.

Time slips by unnoticed, and before you know it, the sky outside the window has darkened completely.

“You sleeping over?” Nari asks, stretching her legs across the couch.

You blink at her like she’s just asked something stupid. “Of course, I am. What do you think?”

She smirks. “Good. I was gonna make you stay even if you said no.”

You laugh, throwing a pillow at her. She dodges easily, flipping you off in the process.

And then—your phone buzzes.

Your whole body goes still.

Nari notices immediately, eyes snapping to your phone, and then to you.

“Oh my god,” she says slowly. “Tell me that’s who I think it is.”

You don’t answer. Just stare at the screen like it might disappear if you blink.

Another buzz.

Nari lunges forward, but you snatch the phone before she can grab it. Your hands are shaking.

She bounces impatiently beside you. “Well? Open it!”

Swallowing thickly, you finally unlock the screen.

[ iMessage:]

Unknown Number: Took you long enough.

Unknown Number: Was starting to think you weren’t interested.

You just stare. Your stomach does a weird little flip, your heart picking up speed.

Nari, practically vibrating beside you, grabs your arm. “WHAT DOES IT SAY!?”

You lift your head slowly, meeting her gaze with wide, horrified eyes.

“He’s flirting with me-“

Nari screams.

And just like that, everything is chaos again.

Your brain short-circuits.

Your hands tighten around your phone, fingers pressing into the edges like you’re afraid it might jump out of your grasp. Your breathing is uneven, and you’re pretty sure your heart is going to give out right here, on Nari’s couch, before you even get the chance to respond.

Nari grabs your wrist, shaking you violently. “WHAT THE FUCK?! REPLY.”

“I CAN’T.” You clutch the phone to your chest like it’s some kind of secret government file, eyes blown wide in panic. “OH MY GOD, WHAT DO I EVEN SAY?”

Nari looks at you like you’ve just spoken in an ancient language. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT DO YOU SAY? YOU SAY SOMETHING BACK. LITERALLY ANYTHING.”

“No, no, no, I—” You shake your head frantically, scrambling up onto your knees as if somehow getting higher up will help you think better. “If I reply too fast, it’s gonna look desperate.”

Nari throws her hands up. “Desperate for what? A conversation? Bitch, this is not high school! We are adults. We do not play fucking mind games over text like we’re waiting for our crush to message us back like we’re 15!”

You press your palms over your face, groaning into them. “Oh my God, what if this is a joke? What if he’s messing with me? What if—”

“WHAT IF HE’S NOT?” Nari yells, shoving at your shoulder. “What if he actually fucking likes you, you absolute dumbass?”

You glare at her, shoving her back. “DON’T CALL ME A DUMBASS, I’M HAVING A CRISIS.”

“IT’S A STUPID CRISIS.”

The two of you wrestle on the couch for a second, limbs flying, before she overpowers you and shoves you back into the cushions. You huff, staring up at the ceiling, trying to steady your heartbeat.

A few deep breaths. Then another. Okay. You’re fine. You’re cool.

You roll your head to the side, looking at Nari. “What do I say?”

She stares at you, completely done. “You say, ‘Hey, this is me responding to your text message.’”

You groan, throwing an arm over your face. “Be serious.”

“I am being serious.” She snatches your phone right out of your grip, dodging your grabby hands as she holds it above her head. “Look. You’re overthinking. You don’t have to send an essay, just flirt back.”

You peek at her through your arm. “How?”

“Oh my God.” She sighs dramatically, shifting so she’s sitting on her knees beside you. “Okay, let’s workshop this. He said, ‘Took you long enough. Was starting to think you weren’t interested.’” She pauses. “Ooh, that’s kinda sexy.”

“SHUT UP.”

“I’m just saying.”

You groan again, kicking your legs in frustration. “I hate this. Why am I like this? I should just block him.”

Nari slaps your thigh so hard you yelp.

“YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING.”

You whimper. “Fine. Just—help me.”

She grins, shuffling closer. “Okay. So, we’re going for playful, yeah? Something that keeps the same energy.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Like, oh? You were waiting for me? That’s kinda cute.”

Your entire body recoils. “EW, no, that sounds so corny.”

She cackles. “Okay, okay. What about, ‘Oh, were you hoping I’d text first? That’s adorable.’”

You blink. “Ugh why are you so good at this?”

“I know.” She flips her hair dramatically. “I am the queen of texting.”

You shake your head, snatching your phone back. “Fine. I’ll say something like that.”

“Good.” She pats your knee. “Now send it.”

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Your pulse pounds in your ears. You type the message. Delete it. Type it again. Delete it again. At this point, you’re just spamming letters on your keyboard.

“Nari,” you whisper.

She groans. “What now?”

“…Can you send it for me?”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

You flinch at the volume of her voice. “But—”

“No buts.” She glares at you, unimpressed. “Send it. Now.”

You hesitate for one more agonizing second. And then, taking a deep breath, you hit send.

You both freeze, staring at the screen like it might explode.

The message sits there. Marked as delivered. Silent.

You toss your phone across the couch and bury your face in a pillow.

Nari gasps. “Bitch, what are you doing?”

“I CAN’T LOOK.”

“Oh my God.” She lunges for the phone. “What if he replies? What if he—”

Buzz.

Your whole body seizes up.

Nari screams.

You scream.

Neither of you move.

Buzz.

Another message.

You shoot up so fast your vision goes blurry, scrambling for your phone. Nari practically jumps onto your back, gripping your shoulders as she shrieks into your ear.

You unlock the screen, heart pounding, pulse hammering against your ribs. And then—

[ iMessage:]

Unknown number: Adorable? That’s a new one. You trying to flirt with me?

Your soul leaves your body.

Nari shrieks. “OH MY FUCKING GOD.”

You smack her. She smacks you back. You both devolve into incoherent screaming, kicking your legs and shaking each other like wild animals.

And somewhere in the chaos, it finally sinks in.

Jungkook is flirting back.

This is real.

What the fuck do you do now?

You’re still gripping your phone like it’s a lifeline, staring at Jungkook’s message like the words might rearrange themselves into something less terrifying.

Your brain is malfunctioning. Your hands are clammy. Your heart rate is somewhere near cardiac arrest levels.

“Nari,” you whisper, voice shaky. “What do I say?”

Nari, who has just spent the last five minutes screaming and shaking you like a maraca, suddenly changes tactics. She plops back against the couch, crossing her arms. “Nothing.”

You blink. “What?”

“Nothing,” she repeats, grabbing the remote and flipping through Netflix. “Let him wait.”

Your whole body jolts. “WAIT?”

“Yes.” She leans back smugly. “We’re watching a show. You’ll text him in the morning.”

You gape at her, horrified. “No. No, no, no, please—”

“Yes.”

“Nari, please!” You grab her arm, shaking her dramatically. “I will literally die. My soul will leave my body.”

“Okay, good,” she says, deadpan. “Then I’ll text Jungkook myself and tell him his little admirer died of thirst.”

You let out a strangled noise, throwing yourself back against the couch. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” She pats your knee like you’re a distressed child. “And you asked for my advice, so now you’re gonna take it. No texting until morning. Let him wonder.”

You stare at her, betrayed. “This is evil.”

She shrugs, putting on some random drama. “Welcome to the game, bitch.”

You sulk for a few more minutes, checking your phone every five seconds like a lovesick fool before Nari finally yanks it out of your hands and tosses it across the room.

“BED,” she orders, standing up. “Now.”

You groan but eventually drag yourself to your feet, trudging to her bedroom like a prisoner on death row. When you finally get under the covers, you let out a heavy sigh.

“This is torture.”

Nari snickers, turning off the light. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You highly doubt that.

—

The next morning, you wake up feeling… slightly less insane. Only slightly.

Nari is still dead to the world when you roll out of bed, stretching with a groan. You grab your phone off the nightstand and check your notifications.

No new messages from Jungkook.

You stare at the screen for a moment, heart sinking slightly. Not that you expected him to double-text you or anything, but still.

Shaking off the disappointment, you tiptoe out of Nari’s apartment and head home. It’s a busy day—you’ve got errands to run, places to be, things to do. You get caught up in it all for a while, hopping from one task to the next.

And then—

Buzz.

[ iMessage ]

Unknown number: So, am I getting a response, or did you decide flirting with me was a one-time thing?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: hiya

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You walk with Andy towards the boutique. It feels strange. He doesn’t walk ahead of you like your mom always does, and you don’t have anything to drag with you. You still feel lost without the tank. You keep meaning to fix the tube only to find nothing more than your nose. 

He opens the door. You peek through the windows before you go through. It’s a nice place with curly lettering on the sign and colourful clothes on sleek black mannequins. You cling to your elbow as you look around at all the displays. 

“Hi, how are you doing today?” A young woman approaches you, all in black. She’s taller and slender and has wavy blond hair. “I’m Marlie. I can help you find anything you’re looking for.” 

“Oh, I don’t... I don’t know...” you murmur. 

Andy clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck with a chuckle. “Gotta be honest, I don’t either,” he says. “We’re a bit lost, I think. Clothes shopping.” 

“Right, well, you’re in the right place,” she smiles prettily. “We have all sorts here. Everything on trend. Any ideas? Inspo?” 

You look at Andy and his brows rise. He looks just as confused. “Um, how about, well, she likes Sabrina Carpenter.” 

“Ooo, me too,” she grins, “come with me, I’ll show you all the best pieces.” 

You can’t stop her before she has you by the hand. You glance back at Andy as he wears a sheepish expression. You remember what he said. Try to enjoy this. 

You look at Marlie. She’s probably around your age. You know she’s just doing her job but her demeanour makes her feel like a friend. 

She lets go of you and steps forward. She seizes a shirt from the table and unfolds it. “Hm, about your size.” She shows you the shirt; off the shoulder with a ruffle along the top. “That’s so cute.” 

“Oh, uh,” you touch your shoulders, “my bra...” 

“We sell strapless ones,” she offers. “But you don’t always need to wear one.” She pauses and peers toward Andy. You follow her gaze. He keeps his hands behind him as he leans in to check out the rack of sunglasses. He looks even more clueless than you. “If you think it’s okay with him.” 

“Oh, him?” You turn back to her. “I guess. He said... he said I could choose.” 

“Nice,” she shimmies excitedly, “I have so many ideas. 

She rushes around in a flurry as you trail her. She knows exactly where everything is. When she has an armful, she leads you into the back where the change rooms are. 

“I’ll let you try it all on.” She declares. “I’ve hung it in there for you, if you need help, there’s a bell inside.” 

“Oh, sure, I... thanks.” 

You’re not used to this. You were usually the one waiting outside the booth as your mom tried on her haul. You would sit on the bench and watch all the young girls like you; or not like you. They had friends. They were happy. 

You step in and close the door. You try on the first shirt and do your best to match it with a skirt. Neither cover you very much. The red checker halter matches the leather skirt with the zipper up the front. It’s nice but you’re not sure it’s for you. 

“Sweetie?” Andy’s voice makes you twitch. 

You spin and near the door. You put your hand on the clasp and hesitate. “Yeah? 

“You okay?” 

“Mhmm, I... I’m not sure about this.” 

“No? Well, why don’t you let me see? I’ll be honest,” he offers. 

Your eyes round. You don’t know if he should see you like this. It will be embarrassing if it looks bad. 

“Well, er, I don’t know if it fits. And I don’t... I don’t wear this stuff,” you say. 

“I’m sure you look great. How can I know if I don’t see?” 

You stare at your reflection in the door. He brought you here, he’s helping cover the cost for now, and he’s being so patient. Your mother would be screeching at you. 

You slide back the lock. Slowly, you pull the door inward and shuffle out. You keep your head down. He’s quiet. 

You feel his gaze crawling over you. The air turns stagnant. You squirm. 

“It looks bad,” you sniff. 

“Honey, it looks... wow. You look so nice. I mean, the clothes fit you really well.” 

You dare to peek up at him and lift your brows, “really?” 

“Oh, yeah. Really good,” his cheeks tinge pink above his beard. Is he lying? 

“I don’t... I never... this isn’t what I usually get.” 

“Right, but... did you pick your clothes or did you just take what she gave you?” 

You shrug, “I guess... what she gave me.” 

“It’s not what I like. How does it make you feel?” He asks. 

You sway and turn around. You look in the mirror. You blink at your reflection. Your eyes stray and find his. The clothes make you feel strange but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel better. Maybe you can be normal. You might even be pretty. 

Well... 

You reach up and touch your hair and frown. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks. 

You flick your lashes at the threat of tears. You shake it off. 

“Nothing, it’s just...” 

“We can go to a salon? If you need a trim. Oh, and I don’t know, I was going to ask. I don’t really know about these things. Stupid man and all. But makeup? There’s a store—not that I think you need it but... I don’t know. Whatever you want or need.” 

“Makeup? I don’t know...how.” 

“They have videos, if you want to learn. Or we can ask at the store. Only if you want to,” he says. 

You look at him and try to smile. “Andy, you’re not stupid. You’re too nice.” You lower your eyes. “I’ll do whatever. Maybe... just look around? See if it’s... if maybe...” you face him. “just look. Is that okay?” 

“Sweetie, all I want is for you to be happy.” He insists. “So, you tell me what to do.” 

💗

The makeup store is even more intimidating. Foolishly, you thought the boutique was the hard part. This is so much worse. It’s so busy and everyone there is so pretty and perfect. Girls with glossy lips look at tubes of colour and the associates in their all-black attire float like swans as they move between customers and discuss their products. 

You can’t breathe as you skirt along the front aisle, turning to peer through the windows and contemplate escape. Andy says your name and gently touches your sleeve, “you okay?” 

“Ummmmm,” you look at him then all around. “I don’t know what I’m looking for.” You bring your fingers up to drag down your cheeks, your anxiety mounting. “And I—I—I don’t look like them.” 

“Like who?” He asks. 

“Those girls—women. They... they know what they’re doing. Oh, Andy, I don’t know,” you flutter your fingers then tug on your hair nervously. “I need my oxygen.” 

“Sweetie, just... breathe, okay? In... out...” He coaxes as he rubs your shoulder. 

You take a breath in then let it out. You gulp. He did come all the way here. You wring your hands and nod. 

“I’m sorry, I... I’m not used to everything. I’m sorry. I’m... a loser.” 

“Sweetie, what did I tell you about talking like that?” He girds. “You’re not any of those things you keep saying. You’re a special girl and you deserve special things. Just because you don’t know something, doesn’t mean you can’t figure it out, right?” 

“I... I guess,” you tuck your hands into your sleeves and make fists. Your press your knuckles to your chin. 

“You okay to wait here? I’ll go look for help.” He squeezes your shoulder. 

“Um, um, um,” you blink at him. “Sure, I can... wait.” 

He rubs with his thumb and reluctantly pulls away. He turns and strides away. He’s so tall, he can see over the shelves so easy, and he’s undeterred by the crowds or the noise. He’s normal. He’s strong. You’re not. 

You spin and nearly knock into another customer. You back up and sidle along to the corner, staring at the bottles of floral perfume. It’s not just that you don’t belong here, you don’t belong anywhere. That’s all too clear. 

“Oh, hello, hon,” a trill voice chirps at you, “you need some help?” 

You turn at the tall brunette as she approaches. Andy is behind her. He keeps a distance and nods at you. He’s there if you need him. 

“I’m Tilly,” she introduces herself, “I hear you’re looking to start fresh.”  

You stare at her and scrunch your lips. You drop your hands to your sides, “yes. Thank you. I... I don’t know anything about... about make up.” 

“Oh, my, that’s alright! Figuring it all out is the fun part,” she beams as she claps her hands together. “But oh my gosh, look at your skin. You’ve got the perfect complexion. What do you use?” 

“Well, I... I... use vaseline on my lips, they chap because of... erm, I used to have an oxygen tube, so... I got all dry around my nose...” you babble and cringe. “I just use shea butter on my skin.” 

“Shea is wonderful,” she praises. “We have some products with it if you want to add to your regimen but whatever you’re doing is working.” 

Your chest tickles and you smile, cheeks bulbing tightly, “really?” 

“Oh, you have this glow. You are radiant,” she hums and taps her chin. “Makes me think you don’t need much.” 

“Right, er, well. I wouldn’t know how to... use any of it.” 

“I can show you. How about we try it out and see? I’ll grab a few products and put them on for you, then you can make up your mind.” She suggests. 

“That’s.... that’s not too much?” You sway. 

“No, hon, come on. Oh, I love this. I just adore getting to show people new things.” She points you along the next aisle, “now, I’m thinking you probably don’t need a foundation, but we’ll do a tinted moisturiser as a base, to give you a bit more highlight. A tine dash of blush. I think just a stick, no powder...” 

She leads you around the store, weaving up and down as she plucks up products. You’re lost even as she explains each one. She takes you to a chair near a mirror and has you sit down with your back to it. You climb up as she lays out the samples. 

“First, we’ll start with the moisturizer,” she instructs. She dabs it around your face and spreads it with a tear drop sponge. “So, you said you used to have oxygen. Were you sick?” 

“Oh... yeah. But I’m better now,” you frown. 

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. It’s never fun, is it? I’ve got diabetes, my monitors right here,” she points to her belt as she grabs the next product. 

“Really?” 

“Oh, yes. But we live. We survive,” she smiles. “I grabbed this liner, it’s very creamy, you see, it goes on very easy and you just need a quick swipe.” 

“Okay,” you say. You follow her direction to close your eye. 

“That man you’re with,” she gently touches yours face to stretch your eyelid. “He’s very nice.” 

“Yeah,” you agree dully. 

“He seems very concerned. Says he want you to be happy so you tell me if you don’t like it, okay?” She switches eyes. 

“I will,” you promise. 

She continues as you try not to wince. You’re not used to being touched by anyone but the doctors; they’re always so clinical. Or your mother; she’s always rough. She’s not. She’s tender as the plies her expertise. 

“Now, you ready to see yourself?” She asks as she caps the lip gloss. 

You bat your lashes, getting used to the coating on your lashes, “sure.” 

She turns you to the mirror. You stare at yourself. You look... like you but like someone else too. You lean in as you take in the subtle but noticeable difference. You sit back slowly, silently, and your eyes stray around the mirror. 

Your gaze meets Andy’s as he stands across the store. He perks up and smiles. He crosses the main aisle as he gives a wave. 

“Well, what do you think?” Tilly asks. 

“I... I like it. It’s... not too much.” 

“Oh, like I said, you’re so naturally pretty,” she says. “I’ll get you full-sized products and meet you at the till. That good?” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

“Oh, I loved it,” she assures you. 

She gathers up the samples and leaves you. Andy approaches and clears his throat. You look at him as his eyes scour you. You wilt beneath his gaze. 

“I... it’s too much?” You gesture to your face. 

He shakes his head then hits his chest with his fist, “ahem. I... sorry, sweetie. You look... you look so good you took my breath away.” 

You make a face then laugh. That’s such a silly joke. You shake your head. 

“It’s the truth,” he chuckles. 

“Andy, you don’t have to lie,” you insist as you slide forward on the chair. He steps past the mirror and offers his hand. You take it as you get down. “Thanks.” 

“I’m not lying. Sweetie,” he squeezes your hand before he lets go. “You look amazing. Once you get into some of your new clothes, I’m sure you’ll feel it.” 

“Oh, uh, maybe,” you curl your shoulders. “She said she was bringing everything to the counter.” 

“Right,” he reaches for his back pocket. 

“But if it’s too much--” you show your palms. 

“Nothing’s too much for you,” he grins and waves you toward the front of the store. “Come on.” 

[macapunoz]

UNREQUITED CLUB ; choi seungcheol

summary it’s not good to resort to breaking hearts if you’re afraid to admit you’re still in love with someone else.

starring seungcheol x f! reader

genre angst，fluff (i might be lying)，unrequited love，mutual pining at some point (?)，uni au，reader does fashion designing

contains reader is kinda toxic，same thing with coups (they’re just both not good ppl)，breakups and leading ppl on，based on a true story。。。 sorry 97z

word count 6k ( thankyu sophi for proofreading ) | playlist bad religion by frank ocean, japanese denim by daniel caesar, secret door by arctic monkeys, all because i liked a boy by sabrina carpenter, fluorescent adolescent by arctic monkeys, green by 12bh, toxic till the end by rosé, first love by sondia

from rhin，this was originally gonna be a smau oneshot but i need to clear my penalties😭 (only 2k words left🗣️) anyways this fic is dedicated to my friend who doesnt have blr but her bias is scoups and she hates the dude cheol is based on😹😊🫰

You always thought you could do well with love. As a kid, you dreamed of marrying a prince after watching way too many princess movies. As you got older—going into middle school—your standards changed once you discovered a few dramas. A lot of them happened to have male lead CEOs, so you wanted a hot, rich man instead.

Eventually, those fantasies died down once you ended middle school. The boys you’ve encountered made you lower your standards and began to think that all boys were full of shit. But you figured you’d find better when you’re an adult. Sure, you’ve found at least some guys cute, but you knew way too much about them to never find yourself together with them.

It was only then that the first year of high school changed something in you. You knew a few older kids since you were family friends with them, and some of them had friends that would tag along. One of those friends happened to be Seungcheol. He was in tenth grade when you met him—just a year older than you. Always smiling and always said kind words.

From there, you’ve been crushing on him. You always thought he was different from all the other boys you’ve liked before. But you figured it was more of a you problem. You remember how you couldn’t even say a word to any guy you liked back then. However, talking to Seungcheol was a piece of cake. You two were close, and others always told you that they think he makes it obvious he likes you.

Back then, you wouldn’t dare to tell him how you felt. He was way out of your league, and you recall that he mentioned not being interested in dating. Plus, you liked it when you thought of him as a friend more than a crush. But like they say, the more you suppress the feelings, the stronger it gets. 

Your feelings towards him lasted until his final year of high school. He was graduating soon, so you figured it was time to confess to him. You were hoping for a rejection, but he ended up reciprocating the feelings. Or, so you thought. Just a week before his graduation, he admitted to you that when he said he liked you, he meant it as friends.

He didn’t mean to hurt you, but all you could ever think of was how much he disappointed you. For a few days, you ghosted him, until the day before he graduated, he wanted to talk to you. Although he never liked you in that way, he still liked you as a friend. Neither of you wanted your friendship to be ruined all because of that. 

You ended up attending his graduation, since you thought it would be mean not to show up to a friend’s important day. It was a bit sad though; you realized your final year of high school would feel a little bit empty. But you reassured yourself that you’d use that time to get over him, because he promised you that it’s okay if you still like him since getting over takes time.

So about doing well with love right now, you’re certain you’re ready for it. You hope you’re at least ready for it.

“I gave your number to Mingyu,” your friend brings up. You two were talking about the men in your biochemistry class, saying how they were either too old or too mid. There were only a few guys who weren’t too bad, and your friend gave your number to one of them.

“Mingyu? As in biochem Mingyu?” You quickly got up from lying down on her bed, looking dead into her eyes in case she was joking with you.

“Yes, that Mingyu. He’s been eyeing you for quite some time, so I told him I can get him with you.”

You wish you could tell her you’re not too sure about this. You have some mixed feelings; a part of you says to YOLO it, but another part is hesitating about it, and you’re not sure what is exactly stopping you. Mingyu is a nice guy, very nerdy, and tall. Lots of girls want him, but it turns out he wants you. What’s the worst that can happen?

A notification from an unknown number pops up on your phone. The message was from Mingyu, and he was asking you out to lunch some time. It took you a while to respond since you and your friend were getting giddy over it. But you ended up agreeing to have lunch with him.

The lunch date with him wasn’t too bad. He was super sweet when you two were conversing. He always kept complimenting you, and it made your heart skip a beat. He did it often, and your pounding heart began to feel sort of different. You weren’t feeling quite ecstatic, but you figured you were just nervous.

From there, you’ve gone on several dates with him, and at this point, you’re just waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend. There’s no rush; he’s probably not ready, so you might as well wait for him. The more dates you go on with him, the more you’re hoping he doesn’t ask you. But on one date, he ends up asking you to be his girlfriend, and without thinking before speaking, you immediately say yes.

You never told anyone except your friend about the two of you being together, and you never found yourself with him during biochemistry. You weren’t too sure why you did that, but the relationship ended when you told him you couldn’t give him the same amount of love he gave you. That was only because you found yourself staring at Seungcheol for only two seconds. Your relationship with Mingyu lasted for only two months. 

When you told your friend about the breakup, she was surprised that you didn’t cry about it. She kept pestering you to tell her why you broke up with him, only to get a vague response from you that you just felt bad. You weren’t sure if it was the pang of guilt for staring at Seungcheol or the fact that you didn’t actually like Mingyu, but you were sure it had to do something with Seungcheol.

“Hah, Cheol just sent me another stupid brain-rotted reel,” you say out loud to your friend, scrolling through Instagram on your phone while she does the same.

“Seungcheol? I thought you said you guys don’t text anymore." Your friend’s curiosity piqued right when you mentioned that name.

“No, no. We don’t text like that anymore, but we send reels here and there. He probably just does it to annoy me or infiltrate our DMs. The only time he ever texts me is when he’s waiting for me by the studio,” you tell her, not realising she never knew that you always meet up with him at the end of the day.

“He’s the one giving you rides on Tuesdays? I thought that was Mingyu.”

“Nope. Seungcheol takes the same route going to the dorms, so he offered to give me rides once a week.”

“Is that why you broke up with Mingyu?” Your friend’s question makes your eyes go wide. You close your phone and get up from resting on her headboard to look at her properly.

“I–” You don’t want to continue your words; it’s most likely something you wouldn’t want to hear, especially if it’s about Seungcheol. “I’m… starving. Let’s eat first and talk about that later,” you mutter, hoping she forgets about it later on.

You never ended up talking to her about that, and you hope she never brings it up.

Seungcheol places a cup of coffee on the table in front of you. You were resting your head on the table, but immediately lifted up when Seungcheol sat next to you. “You look like you were dying today, so I got you some energy.” You thank him for the drink and start downing it like you were parched for days.

He picks up your notebook and starts analyzing the draft you drew. “What’s this for?” He asks, pointing at the lazy sketch of a jacket.

“It’s for my fashion properties assignment. We have to make an outfit out of fabric given to us. Mine is leather, so I’ve been brainstorming how to make this jacket look cute but comfy. I already drew the skirt for it.”

“I think you can easily come up with something. Your designs are cool and leather looks hard to work with, but you’re always dedicated,” Seungcheol assures you, hoping you don’t crash out in front of him over this.

You scoff. “Hah, what do you know about fashion?” Pointing out his every-day lazy black hoodie and grey sweat pants combination. 

“Okay, not everyone wants to wake up early and choose what to pair their tops with their bottoms! Some just pull out whatever they have,” he rolls his eyes.

“You would not survive fashion school,” you joke, making Seungcheol huff but grin. As much as he can be annoying and get annoyed by you, he’ll never take a joke seriously.

If only he knew how much he makes your day by his annoyance.

Life was calm. You were so close to finishing the leather jacket, only having to attach the pockets, but you decided to take a break and finish it another day. You still had to work on the skirt, but you had plenty of time—grateful that this project is due in six months.

While waiting in the mall for your friends to come back from the washroom, you were sitting down and sketching out a new design in your journal.

You were thinking of making a top for your friend since her birthday was coming up soon. She would definitely like a sweatshirt. Your name gets called out, turning your head in that direction, and you see your friends walk out the washroom.

The three of you walk around, thinking of what stores to check out. Jiwon brings up going to the shoe store nearby, so the two of you follow her. You roam around the store, looking at the different kinds of shoes. Platforms, Mary Janes, sneakers, boots, all kinds that were in your size and style.

“…Yo what the heck? I didn’t know you work here.” You overhear Jiwon. She was talking to one of the workers, most likely a friend of hers. He’s tall and kind of cute. His glasses sit on the top of his head, and you caught him glancing at you while talking to your friend.

You avert your eyes to the black loafers, picking it up as you examine them. Your other friend goes up to you and asks your opinion if she should get brown boots or black boots. After she tried both on, you told her to get the black pair since she already owns a brown one.

As you accompany your friend to the check-out, Jiwon goes up to you and says she needs to go buy some makeup after this. You looked at her friend, who was standing by the counter, catching him staring at you again. He quickly turns his head and walks away.

It only took a week later to meet Jiwon’s friend again at a café. You were sitting alone by the window and still sketching out the top for your friend, so focused that you didn’t notice someone was standing in front of you.

“Can I sit here?” He asks, making you look up. You nod and go back to sticking your head into your journal. He sits in the chair facing and starts a conversation. “You’re one of Jiwon’s friends, right?”

You put your pencil down and look at him. “Yeah, and you are?”

“Dokyeom,” he introduces himself with a smile, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

You shake his hand. “(Name).”

You got to know a lot about him and talked about how the both of you met Jiwon. He was her classmate since high school, and you met her in your fashion design courses. You ended up exchanging numbers, and the moment you left to go back home, you spammed your friend with multiple messages.

As usual, you laid on her bed while you yapped to her about him. It’s always been this way with every guy you both encounter since your high school days. You talked for a while, not even realising it was already midnight—at least it’s a weekend night.

You spoke to Dokyeom very often. Always texting during your lectures and even calling at night. Sometimes you would even call him while you were sewing. There was something familiar about him every time you talked, and it felt nice.

One time you were on call, he asked you about your ideal type. You never really had an ideal type, so you said common traits all your crushes had from the top of your head. “Someone tall, kind, and a cute smile too. I’d want them to be smart and productive as well.”

"So...me basically,” he jokes. You agreed without a thought and that conversation started your relationship with Dokyeom.

You really like him. He was kind and entertaining. He was always fun to your friends and was nice to everyone. He always took you out on dates and took you home. Unlike Mingyu, Dokyeom made sure that the world knew you were his.

He really loved you and wanted to show everyone that he did. And by every one, he meant every one. The news got to Seungcheol one day and it all just stopped. The daily brain-rotted reels he sends you ended up being three times a week. 

He barely got a response from you to the reels, and you only reacted to the messages. He slowed them down and sent them to you once a week. The only time you responded to a reel he sent, he left your message on ‘seen’, and then stopped sending you reels.

It’s not that he hated you or anything. He just knew you had a boyfriend now, so he didn’t want to go against your relationship’s boundaries. He would still pick you up every Tuesday, but the car ride conversations were always about school now or sometimes silent. He never asked about Dokyeom, and you never brought him up.

Being distant with Seungcheol kind of hurt, but you knew you were just getting over him and Dokyeom was there to help you. Or so you thought. Somehow, there would be conversations you have with Dokyeom, and you would absentmindedly bring up Seungcheol.

The first time you did, he asked who he was, and he didn’t sound jealous, just curious. You explained that he was just an old crush from high school and that he was basically a distant friend to you now. 

He got more curious about him so you showed him his profile once. He looked through his account and started saying how you downgraded so much, pointing out Seungcheol’s physique.

You didn’t want Dokyeom to be hurt, so you began assuring him that he was much better than Seungcheol. You admit that Seungcheol played you back in high school and that he’s not even all that. Ever since that, you would bring down Seungcheol.

You were convinced you disliked Seungcheol, but Dokyeom always thought otherwise. Even though you would talk badly about him, your boyfriend still listened to you talk about him.

“I think you still like him,” Dokyeom brings up while you were ranting about what Seungcheol did to you in your junior year of high school. You were taken aback and denied so quickly. “You talk about him more than me,” he mutters. You apologized and assured him that you care about him more than Seungcheol.

“You know it’s okay if you still like him,” he considered. 

“No!” You retorted. “That’s just morally wrong! Why would I like another man while I’m in a relationship?! I don’t like him anymore, and I never will. I have you now, and you already make me happy.”

Dokyeom still wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to see you angry again, so he just nodded and patted your head.

Another time you brought up Seungcheol was when Dokyeom asked you who your first love was. When you admitted it was Seungcheol, he already knew since you always talked about him. When you asked him who his first love was, all he did was point at you, and that already made you regret saying your answer.

I never will. You said that in hopes you won’t ruin your relationship because of an old crush. Why do you always find yourself talking about Seungcheol anyway? He did you so wrong, and you’re sure he doesn’t care about you. Why was he even your first love?! 

A week later, you realized you were lying. After you told Seungcheol he doesn’t need to drop you off at your dorm anymore since Dokyeom could take you there, you ended up deleting his contact on your phone and unfollowing his Instagram. But after one car ride with your boyfriend, you thought about Seungcheol and what he really means to you. Dokyeom was right.

You went to Jiwon for advice about it, and she figured he would want you to admit it to him since all he wants is for you to be happy. That night, you confessed to Dokyeom that you still had feelings for Seungcheol, but it was only 1%—since 99% is for your boyfriend.

However, the more you saw Seungcheol, the feelings kept growing more. You never told Dokyeom, but you didn’t want to keep hurting him. On one random Monday afternoon, you met up with him at the same café you first met him and broke up with him on the spot. You never wanted to admit it was about Seungcheol, so all you told him was that you were just the problem in the relationship—which was true.

Your relationship with Dokyeom only lasted for six months, but for some reason, you felt relieved and free. It only took you a few days to realize that Dokyeom reminded you of Seungcheol, and you used him to fill that empty void since senior year. But no matter how loving Dokyeom was to you, you secretly hoped it was Seungcheol instead.

Guilt held onto you and convinced you that you were a bad person at this point. You knew you were going to die alone, but honestly, you’d rather have that than break someone’s heart again. Not only were you single—which you could care less about—you were still distant with Seungcheol. 

You tried not to care, but every time you saw him on campus, it always hurt to think about how distant you two are. It got to a point where you walked past him and neither of you said hi. You figured he hated you until you once had a dream about him when you got a fever.

You were at a party, and all of a sudden Seungcheol’s friends made fun of you. You blamed it on him and left the party. The scene changed, and you were walking with your friend to your next lecture. As you walked down the halls, you noticed your mother’s friend was with someone, so you greeted her, not bothered by the fact that your “aunt” was at your university. That someone she was with ended up being Seungcheol. When he smiled and waved at you, you frowned and ignored him as you walked away. 

You instantly jolted awake, sweating real bad as the headache you had earlier stopped. You looked at the time, 4:27. It’s Tuesday, and around this time, you would wait for Seungcheol to pick you up. You thought a lot about the dream and how you were so mean to him in that dream.

“I don’t want to hate him anymore,” you think to yourself. You open your phone to Instagram, look up his username, and immediately hit follow. Then you go to your contacts and type his number to remake his contact in your phone—still remembering his number and putting it in your phone like the first time you two exchanged numbers. 

Right when he followed you back three minutes later, you sent him a message about how you don’t like the two of you becoming distant and wanting to start over as friends. He agrees, and you ask to see him over lunch.

The next day you met up with him for lunch, and he was still the same annoying Seungcheol: always watching brain-rotted reels while you two talk and always teasing you. It feels nice to have this back, and you’re glad the two of you are not going to be distant anymore. Well, you thought you two were on bad terms, but everyone, including him, never thought that. It should’ve hit you that he could never hate anyone, so what would make him hate you?

After that, you went to the design studio thinking about Seungcheol. You really do like being friends with him, and you’re sure you don’t like him romantically. You soon realized that you didn’t need to bring him down in order to get over him. Today made you realise why he’s your first love. 

You finally finished the leather jacket and the skirt. You never realized how you never got to finish the outfit while you were with Dokyeom, but only being able to finish it when you were alone. The good part of being a single fashion designer is that you have a lot of time for yourself to design anything.

The bad part, though, is that people like you always make apparel for others but yourself. It took you a while to notice that the leather jacket was too oversized for the skirt. It’s a men’s jacket, and the measurements were for Seungcheol.

After handing in your design, you finally took some time to design something for yourself. Maybe some jeans or a cute sweater. Since Valentine's Day was coming up and you and your friends were invited to a party that day, you had an excuse to make a whole outfit for yourself.

You took several days brainstorming and sketching out what to wear, but you finally settled on something simple. Maybe you were too focused on creating your outfit that you didn’t realise Valentine’s Day was about love, and all of sudden all your friends had a date to the party.

“I can’t believe we’re the only ones without a date!” Your friend complains. “Even Jiwon is going with that red head guy!”

“Hey, we have each other. You should wear that top I made for you for your birthday.”

“I definitely will.”

The both of you lie down on her bed, except this time you’re not talking about guys. It’s not bad to not have a date, but you’ll be disgusted if you see your friends all over their dates.

“Hey, it’s kind of ironic how all our friends’ dates are all friends too. And they have three guys who still don’t have a date.”

“Yeah, no. Saerom tried setting me up with Junhui because she thought we’d be perfect for each other, but he keeps sending me cat photos. And didn’t he like everyone?”

“Yikes. I forgot his friend group is odd.” Right when you brought that up, you get a text from Minghao, Jun’s cousin. He asks you if you already have a date to the party, and you reply with a no. The only person from that friend group you can tolerate is Minghao. He’s pretty much normal, but he’s just a friend.

Minghao then asks you if you want to go with him to the party. “Oh, wow, Minghao is asking me out,” you say to your friend. “What should I say?”

“Yes! Are you crazy (Name)?”

“What about you, though?”

“I’ll be fine. I have Hayoung since she doesn’t want to go with anyone.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s not going to show up.”

“Still. Just go with him!”

You sigh and send him a thumbs up. A part of you only wants to do this for the fun of it, but another part of you doesn’t want to since you like being alone.

The day of the party rolls by, and you just finished up the dress you were making for it. All your friends agreed you were all going there together. You quickly made a few adjustments to your dress in the car, putting the pack of pins in your handbag. If there’s one thing you can’t go out in public without, it’s a sewing kit.

You arrive at the house where it was being held, and you see several people entering. When you all entered the house, your friends easily found their dates and you met up with Minghao.

You honestly just wanted to stay with your friend, so you stuck with her as Minghao followed behind with his friend. No matter how many times you wanted to be with your friend, your other friends and his friends always pushed you into Minghao’s arms and took pictures.

You felt that same pang of guilt when you were with Mingyu and Dokyeom. You know that feeling a bit too well, and all you want to do is leave the party with your friend. You eventually gave up and just stuck with Minghao for a while.

As you left him to go get a drink, you bumped into Seungcheol, who you thought doesn’t go to parties like these. "Hey, I thought your mom banned you from going to parties." He mentioned as you two walked to the kitchen.

“I thought you don’t go to parties? And my mom doesn't care anymore.”

“My friends convinced me to go here.” He picks up his phone, and his screen reveals ‘Mingyu’ as the person calling him, making your heart drop. He answers the call, hanging up seconds later. “Which, speaking of, are looking for me. I’ll see you around (Name)!” He walks the other way, and you leave the kitchen without a drink in your hand, only leaving with a pounding heart. 

You went back to Minghao and told him you were going to go home with your friend, and you left him without giving him a chance to say goodbye. Honestly, you hope Seungcheol didn’t see you with him and hope that none of your friends upload those photos. 

You looked for your friend and left the house together. Instead of going back to the dorms, you two just walked to the nearest convenience store to just hang out and calm down.

“So you don’t like Minghao?” Your friend asks as you look through the candies in the candy aisle of the store.

“I like him as a friend, just not in that way.” You confirmed, picking up a pack of gummy bears and following your friend to the drink aisle.

“I heard Saerom’s man was the one encouraging Minghao to ask you,” she points out.

“Junhui got pissed at me because I took his last person he was going to be with, like I kept telling him he can have his cousin!”

“What made you want to leave, by the way?”

You stayed silent as you watched her think of what beverage to buy. She looks back, waiting for an answer. “I think it’s because of me.”

She picks out an orange soda, and you two make your way to the cashier. “What do you mean?” She asks, in the middle of paying.

“I think I just like being single.” You two leave the store and sit down at a table right outside, placing your stuff on the table.

“And that’s okay. It’s not bad being single,” she assures, putting down the drink and holding your hand with one hand.

“I know it’s not. I just don’t do well with love; I keep hurting guys.”

“I can tell. I was there when Mingyu asked for your number, when Dokyeom said he was your ideal type, and when Minghao asked you out.”

You sigh and chuckle after. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m such a manipulator. I just led on three guys.”

“(Name) as much as I love you, that’s not something to be proud of.” You nod in response, repeatedly muttering a bunch of ‘I know’ to her. “You always keep saying it’s about you and your emotions. But have you ever considered it’s about Seungcheol?”

This is what your friend has wanted to discuss since your days with Mingyu. You knew your breakups were because of Seungcheol, but you never realized it wasn’t him, it was about him. That feeling in your heart you had earlier when you saw your ex’s name on his phone brings you back to freshman year.

You like Seungcheol.

“I think I still like Seungcheol,” you admit to your friend.

“All because you saw him earlier? Cause I saw you two talking in the kitchen,” she brings up about that little interaction that made you aware of your feelings.

“No. I think I always liked him, but I was in denial about it. Just think about it. I caught myself staring at Seungcheol while I was with Mingyu. Dokyeom told me I talk about him a lot. And well, Minghao never reminded me of him.”

“I figured. Whenever I asked you if you were going to be with your man, you were a bit soulless. No offence, but you were never excited when you talked about them. Now that I think about you, when you were with them, you never talked about them at all to us.”

You lowered your head, mentally slapping yourself for doing that. “It was so different from Seungcheol though. Every time you looked at Seungcheol and talked to him, it wasn’t the same with the others. I saw stars in your eyes. You didn’t like him; you were in love with him.”

Your friend is still holding onto your hand, ignoring the fact that you’re in the middle of having a heart to heart in front of a convenience store. 

“(Name), I think all you needed was to be honest with yourself. It’s okay to love Seungcheol. No matter how many hearts you break, you’re not a bad person. It just shows how caring you are. You can still be friends with him even if all our friends hate him. Even though I think what he did to you back in junior year was so messed up, you were so strong to go through that heartbreak. You are amazing and loving, and I want you to tell that to yourself every day.”

With your free hand, you cover your eyes with it. Your friend gave you tissue paper from her bag, as she was quick to notice that you were tearing up. She moves herself closer and brings you into her arms.

“Choi Seungcheol is one lucky man to have you love him.”

You got your leather jacket and skirt back, getting a 98% on it. As long as you got over the nineties for it, you’re happy. You only lost a few points for making it a men’s jacket instead of a women’s jacket. 

Since you got the jacket back, it would make sense to give it to Seungcheol since it’s clearly his size only. Your friendship with Seungcheol has been calm ever since that heart-to-heart with your friend. He still picks you up from the studio, but instead of taking you to your dorms, you two go on little side quests for fun. 

The weather has been getting warmer, so you two would go wherever to hang around outside. He picked up a hobby of taking photos due to a friend of his gifting him a camera. So every time he would drop you off at the dormitory, he would take a picture of you in front of the building.

“Open your sweater so you can show off the new shirt you made,” he requests, looking at you through the lens as he watches you zip down your sweater. You made an unserious shirt, printing a picture of a sock monkey on it. 

After hearing camera clicks, he puts the camera down. “Cute outfit,” he points out.

“And we need to work on your closet!” You tease.

He rolls his eyes and tells you good night, driving off when you tell him to rest well tonight. Right when you turn around, you face Jeonghan, who happens to be one of Seungcheol’s friends and lives on the floor above you.

“Wow, and Jisun said there was going on between you two,” he remarks. If there was anyone nosy about you two, it would be Jeonghan. According to Jisun, several guys—including Jeonghan—would ask about you and Seungcheol, some of whom she didn’t even know by name. 

"Yeah, cause we’re friends,” you confirm, heading to the elevator as Jeonghan follows you in.

“I asked Seungcheol if he still likes you, and he said he likes you as a friend only.”

Even though you’re quite annoyed by him, you still manage to respond to that. “Well, he never had feelings for me, so he’s valid for that. Plus, I like it that way.”

“So you can’t be delusional anymore,” he jeers as the elevator comes to a stop on your floor. You step out of the elevator, hoping Jeonghan just minds his own business and stays in there.

“I like being his friend anyway, Yoon Jeonghan,” you mimic his tone as you watch the doors close in front of him.

You’re not wrong with your words, though. You love being friends with Seungcheol.

Seungcheol and you are on your usual side quests after he picks you up from the studio. This time there were bands performing at a nearby park, so you went there to chill. You brought the jacket, but held onto it considering he’s going to assume it’s yours.

As you picked a spot to sit down, there was already music and the sky was getting dark soon—before that, you two went to feast yourselves with cheap ramen and an unhealthy amount of soda. 

You hand him the jacket without saying anything; he takes it with a puzzled expression displayed. “It’s the leather jacket I was designing a few months ago. I accidentally made it your size,” you speak up, smiling as you watch his perplexed expression turn into an ecstatic smile.

“Accidentally? Or did you intentionally make it for me?” He jokes as he puts it on, making you push his shoulder.

“This is going to be the last time I’ll ever make you something.” You snootily look away. He laughs and apologizes—always apologizing after he makes fun of you.

You two stayed silent as you swayed to the music. It’s calm and sweet. You could stay in this moment forever, nothing and no one to bother you. Right now could be a good time for Seungcheol to make another stupid joke, but he seems to be enjoying the music too.

This is what you need. Nothing romantic with him, but close to him. The sky was dark, and you pointed out the fairy lights hanging around the trees. Seungcheol lies down his head on the grass, now staring at the sky, as you follow along.

“Sky is too cloudy to see stars,” he mentions. You avert your eyes from the sky to him, turning your head to comfortably gaze at him. He was still looking up. You don’t expect him to look back; he never does. But you enjoy this, just intaking his unforgettable face.

“Thank you, (Name),” he mutters, “for coming here with me.”

You don’t respond right away, still listening to the music. “Of course, but I’m sorry,” you let out, now turning your head to gaze up at the sky again.

“Sorry for what?” He asks, your no-context apology makes him look at you now, watching you stare at the non-existing stars—just like his love for you.

“Still being in love with you.”

svt masterlist .ᐟ

[sensationallysangwoo]

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝙱𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚜: 𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗/𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐-𝙷𝚘 𝚡 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝! 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝙻𝚄𝙵𝙵 ♡

♡ 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝. 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚜.

♡ 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝: 𝚂𝚎𝚖𝚒-𝙰𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝. 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢. 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝙱𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎. 𝙰𝚐𝚎 𝙶𝚊𝚙 (𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝚂 𝙰 𝙻𝙴𝙶𝙰𝙻 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙳𝚄𝙻𝚃.)

♡ 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Your hands are shaking. You feel like crying as you anxiously wait for the result of the test.

You honestly should have 100% expected this to happen, but in the moment, neither you nor Berlin were thinking about protection.

He was on top of you, kissing and worshipping your whole entire body as you came undone underneath him. The way he slammed in and out of you was heaven as your bodies intertwined passionately.

Before you knew it, he exploded inside of you and you were so caught up in the pleasure you didn’t even consider the outcome. All you could focus on was him.

Berlin is your boyfriend officially, but things are still very very new. You have only been together for a little less than a year now but you know in your heart that he’s perfect for you. He’s intimidating, bold, the slightest bit domineering. Your sweet, gentle disposition compliments him perfectly, making you two a match made in heaven.

He’s older than you as well, so much older. He’s 41, and you are in your early 20’s. You look up to him as sort of an authoritative figure, but primarily a lover. He guides you through life and you remind him not to take himself too seriously, despite the “business” he’s in.

The double line illuminates on the screen of the test. Positive. Your pulse throbs in your neck as anxiety washes over you.

What will Berlin think? You immediately do what your brain always does: imagine the worst case scenario. He’s going to be pissed, upset, stressed, and then leave you. He won’t want to deal with a baby at his age, let alone at all. Berlin, Song Jung-Ho, one of the most high-profile criminals in the country, is not going to want to be a father. Nuh uh. No way.

You hastily throw the test in the trash.

You’ve always wanted to be a mother. You love babies. You have always wanted to nurture a little one, watch them grow and develop their own personality, and share so many memories and experiences with them. Will Berlin want that too, though? You really truly don’t know, but as mentioned before, you’re almost certain he doesn’t want that. He’s too wrapped up in his “business.”

The front door jostles and heavy footsteps clunk in the foyer. Shit, he’s home for the day.

“My angel! Where are you hiding?” His voice echoes through the house as you slowly tiptoe out of the bathroom.

“Hey…how’s the planning going?” You ask, trying to make conversation while also keeping your cool.

“It’s going well. Those goddamn hostages better start behaving themselves, though. I’m tired of their shit. The only way to get ‘em to listen is to scare the shit out of ‘em.” He scoffs.

You nod slowly, a worried expression clearly donning on your face.

He’s quick to notice that you are not your usual cheery, bubbly self. Normally you’re all over him, arms wrapped around him, peppering his face in kisses. Right now, you’re noticeably somber.

He approaches you. His tall frame hovers over you as he brings a hand up to your cheek, cupping it tenderly.

“What’s wrong my little love? You can tell me anything.” He softens his gaze.

You smile bashfully at his touch. His dark, almost black eyes bore into you . Your own eyes fall to his chest, unable to maintain eye contact. He knows the hold he has on you.

“Nothing, Jung-Ho. Just have a stomach ache, that’s all.” You lie.

“Go lie down, then.” He squeezes your cheek before kissing it, then pats your head and makes his way to the bathroom. Oh fuck.

Your heart races. You lie down on the couch and hope and pray he doesn’t notice the test in the trash. This was futile.

The bathroom door creaks. Berlin stands in front of you. He crosses his arms, smirks, and cocks an eyebrow. “You thought I wouldn’t notice, huh?”

You gulp as you quickly stand up.

“Jung-Ho, I’m so sorry—I was way too scared to tell you—If you want to leave I understand—“ Your face burns red hot as your stammer.

He smiles so widely that the corners of his eyes wrinkle. He immediately pulls you into a strong embrace. He nearly breaks you with how tightly he’s holding you. You melt into him, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. His lips meet yours in a gentle, soft kiss.

“We’re going to be parents!” He exclaims. Your heart melts at his enthusiasm. You’re extremely excited and also extremely relieved.

He presses his forehead against yours. “Why were you afraid to tell me, little love?” His words ghost against your lips.

“I-I didn’t know how you were going to react. I was afraid you were going to leave me.”

“Leave you! That’s ridiculous, my darling. I would never leave you no matter what. Also, you’re a horrible liar. I knew something was up with you the minute I stepped in here.” He laughs.

You beam at him. You look at him and see your future. The father of your child. Your future husband, hopefully. He rubs your belly tenderly. “Well what are we waiting for? We need to prepare for our little one!”

Over the next couple of months, your belly grows and so does your love for Berlin. He’s always been a completely different person when he’s at home, with you. Now he’s an extra different person with the pregnant version of you.

He gets you whatever you want at the drop of a dime. If you mention you are craving something, he will buy you 100 of them. He cooks for you, cleans for you, and watches you like a hawk to make sure you’re safe and healthy. He’s follows you everywhere, you’re his top priority.

He’s so worried about you that it could even be a little overbearing at times, but you know he means well. He doesn’t want anyone even so much as looking at you while you’re pregnant.

“Do you need anything? Do you want anything?” You hear these phrases come out of Berlin’s mouth over a thousand times a day. His tough exterior completely fades when it comes to you and your child. He’s always holding you close by, his arm around you protectively.

He holds your waist, holds your belly, and is constantly giving you kisses and cuddles and reassuring you that you look beautiful, even if you might not feel that way.

The night before your due date rolls around, and Berlin is as excited as ever. His phone rings, but he doesn’t care about anything relating to the heist right now. He just wants to meet your precious angel who he will love forever, along with you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @yxluana , @swtt4hk , @massivecheesecakesmuttss , @miss-conjayniality , @ladiesman21777 , @dilfismz , @vkeyy , @kudiikis , @daeholuvs , @insidekatmind , @sealcowboy , @torasgfreal , @melfresita-ruri , @ellfucksup , @hrh007, @m4nbl00d , @phoebecatesl0vr , @meadowfics

[pepper-potts-in-charge]

Pepper had known the moment Tony walked in. It wasn’t the loud entrance, or the way the room seemed to shift when he stepped through the door. It was that feeling, deep in her chest—the pull that never quite went away.

She'd been doing this for weeks now—pushing away the ache that came with seeing him again, trying to fill the spaces between them with work and distractions and anything but the truth. But tonight, standing in this ballroom, it felt like that truth was impossible to ignore.

Tony hadn’t spoken to her yet, but she knew he was watching. She always did.

It had been a few weeks since the engagement ended, and it still felt like they were tiptoeing around each other. Pretending. They both were. They still loved each other. She could feel it, just as she knew he could feel it too.

But the words had been said. The engagement was off. The ring, once a symbol of promises they both wanted to keep, had been tucked away, and there was no easy way to bring it up again. Not here. Not like this.

She forced herself to smile and engage with the people around her, but it wasn’t easy. Her gaze wandered, just a little, to the side of the room where Tony stood. His eyes were already on her, sharp, calculating. She could tell by the way his posture shifted, the way he moved through the crowd like he was on a mission, yet still, the pull between them was undeniable.

For a second, she almost thought she could pretend it wasn’t there. Pretend it didn’t hurt. But she knew better. She’d never been able to pretend with Tony for long.

He hadn’t turned into someone she didn’t recognize. He was still the man she knew—the one with the jokes, the bravado, the impossible confidence. But there was something else, something different about him tonight. Maybe it was the way he held the champagne flute between his fingers like he was trying to ground himself, or the way his eyes lingered on her without saying anything. She wasn’t sure.

It would have been so easy to go to him. So easy to break the distance between them, even for a moment, just to hear his voice and feel that magnetic pull they’d always shared. But she couldn’t. Not yet. She wasn’t ready to let all the old emotions resurface, not when they hadn’t even had the chance to fully process what had happened between them.

Instead, she focused on the conversation in front of her, though it felt like she was just going through the motions. Every word, every gesture, every smile—it all felt distant compared to what was happening in her chest.

She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. They weren’t together anymore. That was the choice they had made, together and apart, because they couldn’t get it right. The timing had never been right, not for them. And yet... here they were. Both pretending. Both doing everything they could to avoid facing the fact that the engagement may be over, but everything they shared still lingered.

Pepper could feel her heart rate quicken as she caught his gaze across the room. There it was again—the unmistakable weight of Tony Stark’s attention. It wasn’t just that he was looking at her. It was the way his eyes held hers, as if there were a hundred unspoken words passing between them. Words neither of them was willing to say out loud.

For a moment, she wanted to reach out to him. To break the distance. To say something, anything that would make this easier.

But she didn’t.

She could feel the room around her moving, the people shifting in and out of focus, but all she could think about was how much she wanted to turn around, to go to him, to collapse the space between them. But she wouldn’t.

Because no matter how much she still loved him, no matter how hard it was to breathe when he looked at her like that, she had to protect herself. She had to protect both of them. They’d been down that road too many times, and she wouldn’t go back to it.

Instead, she turned her attention back to the crowd, but not before she saw the flicker of something on Tony’s face. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was regret. Maybe it was nothing at all.

But whatever it was, it left her breathless.

And for a moment, Pepper wasn’t sure if it was worth pretending anymore. But she held on. She smiled, kept talking, kept pretending. Because this was their new reality.

It was complicated. It always had been. And maybe that’s why she had to keep walking this tightrope. Even when she wanted to fall.

SATURDAY OPEN RP! GOLDEN GALA CHARITY EVENT HOSTED BY EMERSON ENTERPRISES CEO!

The atmosphere within the main ballroom is spectacular with all the golden accents on top of black table clothes. The room is decorated to the nines with everything that could ever be done. James has his staff to thank for that.

The guests start to trickle in slowly but surely. The splendor of it all actually makes some of them gape in awe.

James knows he's going to have to go around the room talking to each one throughout the night, and maybe they will talk to each other. Tonight is about making connections and possible friendships with the people of the city. They have to band together to fight what could possibly come. This is his strategy.

This is just one step of many to take down HYDRA.

But they aren't on his mind tonight.

He greets everyone with a smile when he walks up to them. And they greet him in return when they want to speak with him.

The auction will be towards the middle of the event followed by dancing. He's pretty sure the ones with children won't stay for that.

Mingle and have fun.

Even though there are Anti-Mutant protestors threatening to show up at any moment.

At least Rumlow isn't going to be here.

//OOC Instructions: Mingle, have fun, and make some chaos happen.//

@luna-draven-barnes @wilsonfisk-thekingpin @under0-0s @the1-and-only-peggycarter @thund3randrain @thebestmerc-1 @the-daily-bugle-official-blog @nearthewaters @theoldcapsicleicle

If I missed your tag, I'm sorry, I can't remember everyone that I talked too for some reason (probably fibro brain fog) and anyone is welcome to join!!!

[izzygoesdark]

SMOKE AND MIRRORS - part 2

summary: Spencer does his best to be a good boyfriend to you, but he also takes the time to discuss the next murder's details with you. \\ pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader \\ warnings: unsub!Spencer, accomplice!reader, mention of suicide, canon-typical violence \\ words: 1.7k \\ series masterlist

Doubt begins to seep through the cracks that showed up after your conversation in the car. Spencer wants to eliminate the team, and you’re a member of said team. Hell, even he’s a part of it, maybe he would go as far as committing suicide at the end as a grand finale. 

Shortly after you get home, the reminder on your phone prompts you to rush into the bedroom to take your birth control pills. Sure, he said it’s time for the baby project, but you’re unusually uncertain right now.

Why would you bring a child into this world when there’s a chance neither you nor Spencer will be around to raise them? Because Spencer might kill himself or go to prison and be executed in the end for the things he has done, while in your case it’s either prison or being killed by the father of your child.

Although there’s a chance he will let you live and take the fall for everything to protect you. 

It doesn’t matter, though. What matters is that you absolutely cannot get pregnant yet. But here’s the problem–the pills are gone. Cursing under your breath, you take a good look around the drawers, hoping it’s just hidden under or behind another object.

“Looking for these?” 

Your head snaps to the side to find Spencer standing in the door, holding up the pills you’ve been searching for. When you hesitantly nod, he lets out a long sigh and walks into the room to kneel in front of you.

“Baby, you know you can’t take them from now on,” he tells you a little too sweetly, like he was gently scolding a little kid. 

Without any sign of hesitation, you nod. “You’re right, and I’m sorry, I just thought –”

Spencer shakes his head as he takes your hands in his. “That’s the beauty of our relationship, sometimes you don’t have to think,” he says so naturally that it almost scares you.

Almost. You’ve seen him murder people in cold blood, this is nothing compared to that. 

“Can I… Can I tell you what I’m thinking about?” you ask quietly, carefully avoiding his gaze. But then he gently grabs your chin to force you to look at him, and nods. “I know I’ve been the one talking about having a baby, but maybe we should focus on the plan. I don’t want to start making mistakes just because I’m distracted by the pregnancy.”

There’s a heavy silence settling between the two of you, one that’s only broken by the sound of a troubled sigh. “What is this really about? I can tell you were lying just now,” he tells you patiently. 

One of his hands moves to your neck, long fingers wrapping around it without the threat of hurting you. It’s more intimate, more gentle, which charges the air with a well-known electricity. You gulp, and he can feel the way your throat moves under his fingers, something that brings a smirk to his face. 

Before you know it, he captures your lips in a kiss, then pulls you down from the bed to sit in his lap instead. His touches are featherlight, as if he was worried you might break if he wasn’t careful enough. He cares about you, that one’s clear, but that thought, that theory of yours doesn’t let you enjoy the moment. 

Spencer notices that your mind is somewhere else, so he rests his forehead against yours and places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. “Will you finally tell me what’s going on?” he asks quietly. 

Gulping, you rest your hands on his shoulders. “What will happen when you start taking out the members of the BAU? What’s the order? Are you planning to kill everyone?”

“Oh, I see what’s occupying that beautiful brain of yours,” your boyfriend says with a short chuckle as he leans back to properly look into your eyes. “You’re safe. You will always be safe, I’ll make sure of that.”

“So you’re not planning to kill me too?”

His eyes narrow in confusion. “Why would I kill the love of my life?” he asks before giving you a soft kiss that’s followed by a loving smile that he flashes at you. “Come on, dinner’s here.”

You let out a long sigh of relief when he walks out of the room and leaves you alone for a second. You love him, you still want to help him, but knowing you’re perfectly safe around him takes a heavy weight off your shoulders. 

Maybe he was already planning this, maybe he changed his plans after your conversation, but Spencer acts like the perfect gentleman during the rest of the night, without pressuring you into having sex with him. 

Giving you time and space, the strategy that was proven to work back during a relapse of his.

The next morning you wake up to the familiar, sweet smell of waffles, accompanied by the strong scent of coffee, the perfect breakfast combination that happens to be Spencer’s specialty. You don’t know where he learned to make waffles, maybe it was Penelope who taught him, but no matter where it came from, you’re certainly grateful for it. 

When he notices you, he flashes a big smile at you and points at the barstool on the other side of the kitchen island. “Morning, baby,” he says happily when he puts one hand on your shoulder and slides a plate in front of you as he kisses your head.

You return the smile, the worries of the day before being nothing but empty echoes today. After realizing you were unusually anxious, he decided to transform into the slightly awkward nerdy boy you fell in love with to help you calm down. There’s nothing a late night Doctor Who marathon and a bunch of random facts can’t fix.

“When did you wake up?” you ask while you twirl the fork with your fingers. 

Spencer puts his own plate next to yours, then sits down with a thoughtful hum. “About an hour ago. Thought it would be a shame to go back to sleep when I could just as well surprise you with breakfast,” he says happily before taking a bite from the waffle.

These mornings have always been precious to you, when the two of you can sit down before work to prepare for the day ahead in peace. And now he clearly does his best to impress you, to stay in your good graces, so the least you can do is to enjoy the moment while it lasts.

“You’ve gotta taste this,” you hear him say before he cuts a piece of your waffle and raises the fork to your lips. “I don’t want to sound arrogant, but this might be the best waffle I’ve ever made.”

You obediently part your lips, and God, he’s so right about this. Soft, sweet, perfect in every way. “I love it,” you say it with a smile, then dig in with your own fork. 

The comfortable silence doesn’t last long, because Spencer takes a deep breath and pushes his plate away as he looks at you. “So, the candidates.” He waits for you to turn to him, then places four photos in front of you before speaking up again. “The first one is Kelly Leigh, 23, lives in Quantico. The next one is Josh Stutton, 49, in Baltimore. Then we have Max Tubbs, 14, right here in DC. And the last option is Amanda Jones, 32, living in Richmond. A waitress, a chef, a student, and a marketing manager.”

At first, you don’t know what to say, you just turn your attention back to the pictures, trying to see what he sees. Because Spencer has a unique way of seeing things, especially his victims. There’s no connection, no pattern, he just picks out whoever he finds interesting. The hair color looked nice in the sunlight. The kind of coffee she drank was blasphemy. The kid was too loud. And the list goes on. 

To gain some more time, you look back at your breakfast to take another bite. If you pick the kid, it will be the second teenager in a row, which could make the BAU come up with another theory about a pattern. The college student lives in Quantico, it would be right in the FBI’s backyard. The chef and the marketing manager don’t make sense to you, but maybe that’s the point. Those are the “funny” options. 

In the end, you let out a sigh and point at Kelly Leigh’s photo. “I don’t wanna go too far,” you explain, which draws a big smile on Spencer’s face when he picks up the picture. 

“Well, your wish is my command, baby,” he tells you cheerfully before leaning over to give you a quick kiss. “Blunt weapon or poison?”

And the planning goes on like this, with him giving you options, and you choosing at random. 

Things are finally back to normal, and the peaceful drive to the office is only interrupted by your phone’s ringtone. Luckily, Spencer once again decided to sit behind the wheel, so you don’t hesitate to answer your boss’ call. 

“Hey, Hotch,” you greet him. 

“Morning. Can you put me on speaker? I need to ask Reid something,” he says confidently. 

Your brows shoot up as you slowly glance over at Spencer. How the hell does he know? But you can’t tell him the truth, you need to act stupid. “Why don’t you call him? I’m still on my way to the office,” you say with fake hesitance. 

There’s a quiet laugh and a sigh on the other end of the line. “He didn’t answer. And sweetheart, I’m a profiler, I know you’ve been together for months, you come to and leave work together, and if my guess is right, you already live together. So please, put me on speaker now, we’ll discuss the rest when you get here.”

With a sigh, you do as he says and flash an apologetic smile at your boyfriend. “He wants to talk to you,” you mouth him, then clear your throat to speak to your boss. “You can say whatever it is,” you tell Hotch.

[frazzledfawn]

flight risk

john wick x fem reader, minors mdni

synopsis: life was perfect, despite what your parents wished for you, you had all you could possibly want. surely your husband wont wake you up at 2am and drag you across the world, uprooting everything you've ever known.

authours note: this is the first thing i've ever written AHHH AHHH AHH, thank you for reading though!! oh my goshhh, i'm so nervous.

cw: drugging, guns, suspected kidnapping, morally grey but also not john, john just wants his wife guys </3

it had been exactly 3 years since you had uprooted your life after meeting john. which sounds like a major sacrifice, because well sure, thats how your parents viewed it. the confused pinching of your mother's eyebrows as she fiddled with her wedding ring told you that. 

you didn't need to be a genius to recognise that perhaps your father didnt trust john, slipping pepper spray into your purse and a pocket knife onto your keychain as you said goodbye in the airport. maybe it was an act of rebellion moving away, far away. sure you were naive, but in a specific way. you had seen shit, a lot of shit, but you made an active choice every day: see the good. is it indescribably cliche? absolutely! but hope kept you going. 

so when you stumbled upon a particular six-foot man with a limp, you tilted your head both in awe and intrigue. your first dates were awkward, almost forced. he was incredibly vague about every little detail in his life and so naturally, you chalked that up to ‘he must not like me.’ when you asked about his family, he responded that he didn't speak to them. when you asked about his job, you got the typical ‘im a contractor’ response. what the fuck is a contractor? what are you like a spy? psh. 

but he was sweet, a gentleman too. paranoid and perhaps vigilant to a fault, but you didn't ask questions. he was just being overprotective, which was nice in your eyes. you fell deeply in love with him, getting married 2 years after meeting him. you pieced together his career. he would call you a pacifist when you commented on the number of guns he seemed to own casually. which sure, wasn’t exactly a lie. but he didn't view the world as black and white, and therefore neither should you, you decided very quickly. 

it was your anniversary so you decided to set up a beautiful, intimate dinner at home. he arrived and you pushed him away to put on some slacks, even though it was just the two of you. he would chuff, kiss your temple, and oblige. so there you sat, serving dinner, walking over to his side of the table to pour him merlot when you accidentally bumped the bottle with your hip, knocking it off the table. you let out a yelp, frozen as you watched him catch it effortlessly without breaking eye contact with you. there were 2 things to note about his actions. 

1. you were unquestionably sure that this must be the most attractive thing anyone has ever done, fuck.

2. the speed of his reflexes did not match the job description or the skillset that belongs to a ‘contractor’

the dinner continued, albeit awkward because you had questions. and to your surprise, he wasn't so vague. now he was being blunt to a fault. which you suppose married couples are. 

“im a hitman” he stabbed a shrimp sitting on top of the pile of pasta, bringing it to his mouth with a sense of casualness that was unnerving. haha. funny.

so naturally, you giggled as he chewed. 

“a hitman? john that’s- ridiculous. can you be serious for a moment? i love your jokes, but this is our anniversary dinner.” you laughed softly into your wine glass, tilting your head and propping your elbow on the table to rest your cheek on (an action that would have caused your mother to hit the back of your hand with her fork due to the improper manners you were displaying).

“not a joke baby” he hummed almost with a solemn look in his eye. the reality of the situation hit you like a freight train when he reached out to hold your hand over the table, drawing soft, soothing circles on the back of it. not a joke. it wasn’t a joke. 

he slept on the couch that night. maybe it was harsh, but no- no, he deserved that. you married a man, a hitman. who lied about his entire career and kept guns under floorboards, you didn't even know could be kicked up. alas, trust was built back up. he reassured you he only killed dangerous people who did bad things. life wasn't so black and white, you realised once again. it took a while, but you fell back to the stage where you trusted him again. 

he came home late some nights, and left to go overseas every now and then for a week or so. but he would come back with little souvenirs for you: wine from rome, chocolate from switzerland, and jewellery from india. he made money that you could only dream about, but who can put a price on taking someone's life? 

you adored him though. maybe it was fucked up, maybe you were sick and twisted. but your husband would kill for you without hesitation, and you couldnt lie to yourself and say that fact didnt turn you on at least a little bit. 

you both moved to tokyo, right in the middle of the city about a month after this dinner. relocation seemed to be a common theme, but new cities and new languages were always exciting for you. and he assured you all was well, but you had your suspicions. maybe he feared someone he pissed off would come find you, even the score and put a bounty over your pretty head. 

you enforced the fact that if you were going to sleep with guns in the house, they all needed to be locked away in gun safes. there needed to be rules, and trustworthiness for this to work. john lied, he kept a hidden one in his bedside table, and another under your bed alongside the others in the safe. 

the rain pelted, it was a sunday night, well morning technically you realised. pretty much all of japan had been hit with a tropical storm, which meant that sleepless nights in your shared highrise apartment came with built in ‘white noise’ sounds from the thunder outside. though this night, you slept soundly. it was about 1am when you faintly heard footsteps, belonging to john you assumed. 

talking in incoherent sleep babble, you didnt open your eyes, you just mumbled ‘john..?’ muffled by your pillow. whoever it was stopped what they were doing and walked over. 

“mm, hi baby. it’s me. go back to sleep mkay? it’s late.” a silky smooth voice surrounded you in a blanket of warmth and you mumbled an i love you and drifted back off.

unaware. he waited until you were out cold before he started haphazardly shoving belongings of yours into a suitcase. he proceeded to zip it up and prop the suitcase against the wall next to his own. on top of his suitcase laid two drivers liscences, marked with photos of the two of you, but with different names, addresses, birthdays. identities. you stirred in your sleep as a calloused palm gently cupped your cheek, whispering your name. your eyes blinked open sleepily. 

“hi my sleepy girl” he looked down at you, perched on the side of your bed with a soft smile, still dressed. which was odd, why wasnt he in his usual sleeping sweatpants? you sleepily blinked up at him, looking over to your digital clock. 1:47am. 

“mhmhphmh?…” you mumbled out, an unspoken question as if to say come to bed, what are you doing? your eyes fluttered closed again, snuggling back down.

“honey, need you to wake up for me, kay? im sorry, i know, i know..” he gently rubbed your back, biting down on his cheek until he drew blood, loathing himself for what he was about to put you through. his sweet, sweet girl.

“eyes open, open them up for me.” he gently tapped your cheek and begrudgingly open them, sitting up looking unimpressed. 

“it’s 2am i wanna-” you yawned softly, covering your mouth. “wanna sleep john, just come to bed.” your eyes shifted around the room landing on the packed suitcases. suddenly sleep no longer felt like a priority. 

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, tucking your hair behind your ears as you looked to him for answers wordlessly. he sighed softly, a deep one that he had clearly been holding in for a moment or two. he gently stood up, holding out a hand for you to take and pulling you up, walking you to the walk-in robe. 

“i know you’re confused, and probably scared. you trust me, don't you baby?” he looked down at you as he rummaged through clothes that belonged to you. he settled on a sweater and jeans. 

“trust you..? of course i do.. i just don't, john.. what's happening?” you asked, almost with hurt in your voice, a conviction of what was about to occur. 

he gently walked back over, mumbling a quiet ‘arms up’ as he slipped your nightgown off, putting a sweater on you, and passing you jeans to put on. 

“it’s just a precaution baby. don't want to scare you, okay? we’re just going on a trip for a little bit, okay?” he said calmly as you zipped up your jeans and slipped on converse. you swallowed thickly as he put a baseball cap on your head.

“an incognito sort of trip?” you said with disappointment, realising all too well what this trip meant. “where? you know i panic when i fly, i can't get on a plane, john.” he kissed your forehead softly, washing away any doubt. 

“there are eyes and ears everywhere, baby, we have to be quiet about this, just have some faith in me, i wouldn't purposefully put you in a dangerous situation, yeah?” he walked out, sliding her fraudulent id into her pocket. it was like a whole double life he lived. she had no idea he had these made, did he have fake passports too? emergency cash stashed somewhere? you followed him like a lost dog as he picked up your suitcases. 

“we aren't coming back here, are we? to this apartment?” you asked in a flat tone, one of hurt and despair. he gently shook his head, giving you a solemn smile. you disappeared into the kitchen, dumping everything in the fridge into the bin. 

“honey? what are you doing? baby- i.. we have to go, now.” you looked up at him, rushing to shove perishable items into the bin. 

“i dont want to leave the apartment in disarray, someone will realise and come and look, and i dont want the owners of the building stumbling across rotten food. its the polite thing to do.” you said, mindlessly stepping into action. 

“very polite. clever girl. we dont have time for that though, baby. come on. need you to listen to me and focus.” he held out a hand which you begrudgingly took. 

you suddenly yanked away, running back into your closet, to which he sighed pinching his nose. 

“baby. i won't tell you again,” he said, short. pointedly. you reassured you would only be a minute, running back out with your wedding garter in hand, shoving it into your suitcase. wedding albums, dresses, suits would all sit here and haunt your empty apartment. 

you needed to take something with you. he noticed what you did and looked down at you like you had punched him in the gut, pained, hurt. he gently cupped the back of your head, bringing you forward to press a pained kiss to your forehead as he cursed under his breath.

“im so sorry sweet girl. i just need to keep you safe, you understand that, don't you?” you gave him a brief nod, a faraway look in your eyes. 

he led you out into the hallway, and then ushered you into the elevator as he took a phone call. he spoke in tongues, well, that was what it sounded like to you. codewords and a whole different language. something eastern european you guessed. you perched a seat on top of your suitcase, as he spoke. he looked over to you and continued speaking, reaching down to pick up his suitcase, phone held to his ear by his shoulder as he pulled your suitcase along with you sitting on top of it. he hung up the phone. down another hallway. suddenly you were in the apartment building's garage. he led you to a black suv. you looked at him confused. 

“you drive an aston martin, and this isnt my kia sport.” 

“no, it isn't your kia sport. get in, honey, come on.” you sighed, still so many unanswered questions as he ushered you in, doing up your seatbelt. 

“i didn't know you were bilingual,” you said, looking down at your converse, chewing your lip. you didn't know what to say, too many things to ask. 

“what language was that?” 

“ukranian.” he spoke softly, driving you through the city, he passed you a bottle of water that was in the car. “drink, you need to stay hydrated.” 

“john im scared, i don't understand any of this and i need to call my dad, tell him what's happe-” he gave you a knowing look. sighing softly, holding out his hand for your phone. 

your furrowed your eyebrows, but trusted him. passing him the phone. he dropped it onto the floor of his car and stomped the foot that wasnt on the accelerator onto your phone, smashing it. you let out a loud gasp of shock, confusion. he had a stone cold face as he rolled down the window and threw it out of the car. 

“john!” you choked out, in disbelief. 

“don't fight me on this sweetheart. i need you to listen to me and do what i say, okay? im trying to keep you safe, and that isn't going to work if you have your phone on you. you cant be traceable.” you sat there, realising the weight of his words. 

“i asked you to drink, baby. please.” you scoffed, a little attitude now. you wanted to throw the water in his face or tell him to shove it up his ass. he was being vague again. not answering your questions, ordering you around. but you conceded and drank, he watched you out of the corner of his eye. 

you sipped, thinking about how much your family would worry when you didnt answer their calls, would they file a missing persons report? i mean, they didnt know what john.. truly did. oh god this was going to be messy. you gulped down the water, curled away from him. was it petty? sure. but you wanted to know you weren't happy with him. 

you sighed sipping the water and suddenly the bottle slipped from your hand, sloshing onto your shoes and dribbling down your lips as you tilted your head almost in slow motion, realising what had happened. john didn't react. why wouldn't he react? oh… oh.

“john, i feel dizzy n’ fuzzy or something.. i dont-” you slurred out, not recognising your voice, you sat confused as your head lolled back into your seat and you slipped into unconsciousness. 

fuck,  john swore under his breath. the guilt was going to eat at him alive. he needed to get you on a plane, a private unlisted one of course, far away and off the grid. but he knew he would have to drag you on kicking and screaming, your phobia of flying would ensure that. that would be loud, and messy. next best solution? 

mildly drug the love of your life to make the transition smoother. god you would never forgive him for this, but it’s something he was doing for you, he tried to convince himself.

the unmarked suv pulled up to an open field, somewhere in japan. an undisclosed location. there was a plane under a huge tarp waiting, he pulled the tarp of the smaller plane, it was only built for two. he never mentioned he could fly a plane, or that he had fake passports made up, or that he spoke multiple languages and had various safehouses built.. nothing of the sort. but why would he want to worry your precious mind? there was nothing he hated more than seeing the look of fear on your face. 

he shoved the luggage in and sighed, cursing again as he slung you over his shoulder, walking up the two steps to the plane, sitting you down and strapping you in. tears welled in his eyes at the sight of you sitting there, looking so vulnerable. he gently pulled your head up to slip on the headphones and closed the plane door. as he strapped in, the plane roared to life and suddenly the two of you were in the air. 

he landed the plane somewhere in sweden. a field. where he of course, had another unmarked suv waiting. he killed the engiene, swallowing his guilt as he slid your headset off and scooped you back up, wiping a small line of drool from the corner of your mouth, your jaw had gone slack. 

you stirred slowly, words slow to come out of your mouth, still a little slurred as he drove around sweden. something garbled and entangled, adjacent to ‘john?’. he clenched his jaw, inhaling softly before deciding to pull over, if you slapped him, it would probably be best if the car was stationary. 

he turned to look at your sweet face. waiting for you to speak. you winced softly, your head aching, limbs like jelly. groggy. 

“you..- did you?” you mumbled out with bite. you had pieced it together as you passed out. he didnt react, because he was expecting you to fall unconscious, because he have you water he had previously drugged. 

“i had to get you on a plane. without you pulling my hair or screaming.” he said calmly, staring straight forward. 

“i might just fucking kill you, actually, ive decided.. im your wife!” you yelled, and he flinched. “you deserve this, john” - he spoke to himself in his mind. 

“my darling girl, i know. i know..” he winced as you continued your rant. 

“you fucking drugged me! with what? what was it? some fucked up sedative im sure you have lying around in our apartment. oh! im sorry, our old apartment. i cant do this. where the fuck are we? im going back home.”

“cant tell you the drug. it’s something from somewhere, we can call it that. we’re in sweden, i have a safe house being set up but we need to stay in a hotel tonight.”

“oh! fantastic, we’re in fucking sweden and my husband practically used a date rape drug to knock me out.”

“honey please dont ever use the word ‘rape’ and ‘my husband’ in a sentence together, ever again. clear?” he said sternly looking at you.

you sighed softly. “im sorry- i didnt it mean it like that. but im still fucking seething with you.” he turned the car back on, turning back onto the road. 

“which is entirely fair. you can slap me when we get to the hotel, alright baby? i just need to get you somewhere while we wait for the safehouse.” he said softly. 

you grumbled something out but relented. “im not going to slap you, you’d somehow get off on that.” you blurted out and he chuffed under his breath, knowing that would be true. 

you arrived in a hotel, a fancy one at that, he spoke to the front desk. luggage at his side. oh great, he speaks swedish too. you glared at him as he spoke. he walked you to the elevator. 

“honey?” you said with a deceiving smile and anger in your voice. 

“yes dearest?” he responded with equal sarcasm.

“next time i comment on the fact you’re bilingual, maybe correct me and say trilingual.” 

“polygot actually, 8 languages.” 

you turned your head to look up at him, and yell. but the elevator doors dinged and opened, revealing a sweet looking couple. you bit your tongue and he stepped aside letting the couple out. he had the nerve to strike up a conversation with them as you looked at the ground, no idea what was being said. 

“åh vilket underbart par!” the woman cooed softly, nudging her husband who agreed smiling gently. 

“ah tack så mycket, det här är min underbara fru. kul att träffa er båda, men vi måste komma till vårt rum. önskar dig lycka till!” john spoke and your eyes widened softly at the accuracy of the accent, he dragged you into the elevator. 

“i love you. i love you so much. please realise im doing this for you. to protect you.” he said, holding your cheeks softly in his palms as the elevator rode up to your floor. 

“i love you too. im just confused, and scared.. i wouldnt have gotten on a plane otherwise, im still peeved you did that though.” he nodded, kissing your forehead.

“i know baby, how about i run you a bath and we can order some champagne and talk? would that be alright?” you nodded softly as he walked you to your hotel room. it was lovely, luxurious even. he ran the bath and you stripped, slipping in and sighing in bliss, closing your eyes. 

you heard him speak on the hotel phone, probably ordering champagne, and he checked the hotel room, paranoid. the champagne never came, and so he sighed, poking his head into the bathroom, looking at you in absolute awe. you turned your head looking towards him.

“im just going to run down to see what’s taking so long, okay baby? i will be right back, two minutes at most.” you nodded softly. 

“that’s okay. ill be here… and john?”

“hm?”

“i love you.” he smiled walking over to kiss you delicately, looking into your eyes.

“i love you too. two minutes, time me.” he murmured before disappearing. 

two minutes later, almost exactly - if you had bothered to time it, you heard the door click. you smiled to yourself, closing your eyes softly as you relaxed in the bath, bubbles covering you. you heard the footsteps approach the door. 

“john? dont bother with the glasses, just come here.” you called out, assuming he was going into the hotel room to collect the glasses. he never responded. he always responded to you. 

“john?” you called out, voice wavering. it’s not like you could call him. but surely it was him. you sighed, stepping out, wrapping a towel around your body. soap suds rolling down your chest as you padded out into the bedroom part of the hotel room. he was nowhere to be seen. 

“john? baby?” you mumbled softly. it all happened so fast.

you had no time to react as a hand clamped over your mouth from behind. another grabbing your waist, hand around your towel. your short towel. you kicked, screaming, muffled behind the hand. trying to kick out the feet from behind you. you halted, inhaling shakily when you felt something cold press to the side of your head. this wasn't john. 

likes, reblogs and comments are so so so incredibly appreciated.

i love you!

[blu3haw4]

Happy Clexaweek everyone! I bring to you today a new idea born from... such a random post. An anon sent me a prompt for introvert college gamer Clarke and Lexa and I couldn't resist. I build up their characters through asks and I've been having a lot of fun with it, So

Here's... (already on AO3)

The Sex Life Of Gamer Girls

Summary: Clarke and Lexa are introvert college student who unknowingly attend the same school. They both love gaming and they meet online, they love chatting with each other, and there's lots of flirting online as well. After learning they attend the same school -and a little awkward silence- they make plans to meet up.

“You’re still in your underwear!” Octavia groans, closing the bathroom door forcefully behind her.

Lexa turns to frown at her, despite knowing that attitude is more than justified. She’s changed too many times to count, and they don’t really have that much time until they must be at the theater for sound check with the rest of the orchestra.

It’s just… that she has a few options. Three pairs of pants and three blouses give her room to try them all a few times in different combinations, and that’s not even adding the jackets, which may change the outfit completely-

“Why are you so worried, I though Sky was just a friend”

“She is! And it’s Clarke-”

“Not the point” Octavia rolls her eyes; she knows Clarke and Sky are the same person.

“That she’s my friend doesn’t mean I don’t want to impress her” Lexa deadpans.

“Okay, and you don’t think the master solo you’re playing tonight will do the trick?” Lexa just huffs at her and turns to examine her clothes again.

Octavia groans again.

“Just tell me what’s up” She rolls her eyes falling into her bed. They both know what’s up, they’ve been best friends for too long and roommates for what feels like even longer to not know what is up.

Still, neither would say it.

“You’ve never cared about your looks other than the prize and brand of your clothes-“

“That’s not true”

“Yes, it is”

“No it’s not”

“And understatement then”

“Overstatement”

“Whatever!” Octavia growls and Lexa can’t help the triumphant smirk “If she’s really just a friend go black dress-pants, black shirt and the grey vest. You look cool, you dick”

Lexa’s smirk falls, she utters a response about the word sounding like dyke just to keep Octavia talking as she turns back to her clothes with a frown.

She knows she looks cool with the vest, profession even, some might say. The colors, or rather shades, are fitting for the play and she knows it’s going to be comfortable on her seat. And she knows Clarke is just her friend, her online friend that she’s going to meet in real life for the very first time. After a year of playing together and recently after an awkward couple of months since they found out they go to the same school, but ultimately, just her friend,

But she might be more, closer than expected, they flirt a lot, or at least Lexa thinks they do, sometimes, not that she has ever asked or acknowledge it with her, she doesn’t want to or would admit it -right now-…

“What if…” She sighs through her mouth, sitting down on Octavia’s bed and avoiding eye contact with her “cool… is not… what I’m going for”

A second goes by, then another. She counts to three before gazing over to Octavia. She’s narrowing her eyes and it’s clear she’s trying to tame the smirk raising, Lexa can’t help but join her.

“If… you would rather, let’s say, look… hot. Go with the leather pants and the green knitted sweater with the… big crunch turtleneck” Octavia hums “Your figure does “Woop!” She says, making an hourglass silhouette with her hands and winking at her.

“I don’t have an hourglass figure” Lexa rolls her eyes at Octavia’s defiant laugh. She stands to get the sweater regardless. It wasn’t within her first options, but it should work, she can envision the outfit in her head and… yeah, she does look hot in that.

“The tight ones?”

“No, the others. With the belt. You could also do heels.”

“I’m not doing heels” Lexa rolls her eyes, putting on an undershirt before grabbing the sweater.

“Your ass pops with heels. Sexy as fuck”

Lexa pauses, with the turtleneck half over her face, considers for a second and turns to look at Octavia. She’s already smirking, Lexa huffs as she pulls the sweater the rest of the way down revealing her own smirk.

“I’m just saying, Sky is going to love it, she would have to be blind to not want to kiss you”

“It’s Clarke” Lexa corrects as she slides the pants up and bounces to get them past her hips. She ignores most of the sentence and refuses to acknowledge the blush rising to her cheeks.

“It’s the same person! We both know who I mean”

“But I need us to get used to calling her Clarke”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been calling her Sky since we met, and she asked me to please call her Clarke when we see each other”

“Okay… but why?”

“Because it’s her name!” Lexa rolls her eyes. And okay, that is maybe a bullshit answer, but she doesn’t have to explain everything to Octavia.

---

There’s no need to, really, when Octavia has heard it all already. From the first time Lexa realized they never addressed each other by any names, through teasing when she heard ‘princess’ coming out of Lexa’s mouth for the first time, all the way to a few days ago when Clarke asked to "please, for the love of god, don't you dare call me Sky.”

It was a funny thing, a few memories that Lexa held dearly, close to her heart.

The first time they talked they greeted each other with ‘hi there’s and ‘hello’s and continued to talk directly about the game, they told each other coordinates and gave each other directions, they were the only two playing so there wasn’t any real need to clarify who they were talking to.

It went like that the first few times they played together, just greeting each other with ‘hi’s and ‘hey there’s while Lexa started to realize there were only two ways she could think of to call her new duo and one of them was ‘Princess’.

The first time she called her Sky wasn’t even talking to her, Lexa was telling Octavia all about her new online friend and she went with it and it just kinda… stuck. She still didn’t bring it up to Clarke for another while, Clarke hadn’t brought it up either, but they’ve talked once about potentially playing in teams of four which would inevitably force them to talk about it.

“We were just talking the other day that it would be fun to play squad but” Lexa tasked, she didn’t know why she felt so nervous “I mean, I would have to ask her a name or something, right? If we’re going to be talking with more people, I mean… But her username is SkyPrincess… and I’m not about to call her Princess”

Octavia eyed her suspiciously, because of course she noticed Lexa’s nervousness, she could’ve brought it up directly to this Sky, but instead she asked her best friend for advice.

So, it was her job… to tease her.

"I mean if you wanted to” she said suggestively.

"Octavia! No" Lexa blushed, because… maybe she did. A little. Secretly.

"Okay, but keep it in mind" Octavia winked at her before tasking and turning more serious “Just ask her. I mean it’s not like GaHeda gives any indication of your name. It translates to Girl Commander”

“She could think of calling me Heda”

“Didn’t you already tell her what it means? She would be having the same argument we’re having with her friends”

Which might as well be the case, she didn’t ask, but she got a better grip on her emotions by the time the subject of playing squads was brought up again.

“Should we play with open mic?” She asked.

“I mean… sure, it would be   fun. Does it matter?”

“Uhm not really I just… I would need to know... how to call you, so we can communicate better.” Lexa paused. “Cause I’m not gonna call you Princess"

“What if I am an actual princess?”

“I... you aren’t- are you?” Lexa stutters, not that she believed so, but… could it-

Clarke snorts, unable to keep up her own lie “no… but I could've been” she joked, oh so pleased with herself.

Lexa snorted and rolled her eyes “Can't imagine a princess using Fornite’s open mic”

“Are you a princess? How would you know?”

“I could be. And that's the reason I wouldn't call you a princess”

“…You just stepped on your own lies” Clarke giggled out after a second.

“Whatever!” Lexa rolled her eyes again, she was smiling though, Clarke always made her laugh whether she was trying or not “Can I call you Sky or are you going to tell me your name?” She tried, smiling through it, no longer nervous.

“Will you tell me yours? Because I don't want to call you "Heda" now that I know it means commander... even though you are bossy” Clarke started laughing,

“You are bossy!” Lexa laughed with her.

They calmed into a few giggles “Okay, okay. I must admit I do like sky…” Clarke chewed her lip and considered for a second before adding “but uhm, my name is Clarke”

“Klark” Lexa tried out, and it made her smile.

“Mmh, sure, click the K however you'd like” She couldn’t help but murmur, trying to tame her smile.

“I'll stick with Sky then” It’s the tasked respond she gets, making her laugh a full belly laugh. She could almost imagine the eyeroll that accompanied it, if only she knew how Lexa looked.

“I should make you call me Heda just for that” Lexa huffed while she was still laughing.

“I'll call you Gabe if you don't tell me your name” She shot back, still giggling when she answered, not missing a beat.

“Noo! Iugh, that's awful” Lexa sounded truly disgusted “It's G-AH not G-ei-b. You're not trying to say g-ei-m. It's like g-ah-m-ah” she clarified, it was a different language after all.

Before Clarke could come up with a joke she added “aaand! My name is Lexa”

It paused Clarke. It’s pretty, it fits her in a way that she can’t fully understand. She tested it in her head for a second, mouthing it as her eyes roamed her screen, dreaming of putting a face to the name.

“Lex-ah” She smiled, unable to be serious for too long “... not lex-ei?”

“I’m disconnecting” Lexa sighed immediately through what Clarke simply knew to be a tamed smile.

“No wait!” She called out anyways, giving the seriousness Lexa was surely looking for… only for a little bit “Lex-aH is fine, Lex-aH is perfect, beautiful even"

She said without thinking, not realizing she put no filter in her words. She didn’t take it back, not embarrassed, no regrets. She hoped Lexa liked it… or at least didn’t hate it.

“You done?” Lexa asked in a dry tone that was just so… her. So used to be serious but hiding laughter behind it.

Clarke couldn’t help but smile knowing that she had got to know Lexa enough at that point to be able to tell those little details.

“If you forgive me, yeah” She tried with her brightest smile, knowing that even if Lexa couldn’t see it, she could surely hear it.

“Let's play then Sky”

“You're really not going to say my name again?”

“Noup” and there was laughter, slipping through a single word and making Clarke smile and giggle.

Clarke didn’t argue, she did laugh the first twenty times Lexa called her Sky, not caring that their different teammates couldn’t understand what was so funny.

Lexa continued to call her Sky every time after that day, and Clarke did end up calling Lexa Heda sometimes, mostly as a way to mock her bossy-ness, laughing at her -and maybe flirting a little- after Lexa described exactly what she needed to do.

Lexa got her turn as well, when Clarke was feeling serious and she took it upon herself to boss her around about weapon load-out and heals and locations, she would just throw in a “yess, princess!” not only making her blush but immediately disarming her.

It was annoying that she liked it so much.

Annoying that she liked Sky just as much, because no one else called her that, it was their thing, Lexa’s names only for her. There was always a specific tone that came with it as well, a tone to shifted and morphed through the months, when there used to be a teasing tilt now there was a softness to it, an affectionate tilt to the word, maybe a flirtatious one as well… or maybe Clarke was projecting.

There have been other names recently, proposedly thrown in there to test the waters on what exactly their relationship was about. It was a constant state of doubt, of overthinking and questioning if what she was doing was okay, if Lexa liked it or was just been polite, of whether she was actually clueless, and Clarke wouldn’t -couldn’t- blame her, she didn’t know what exactly she was doing either.

She couldn’t say that it had started recently, but it definitely felt like there had been a pause when they found out they went to the same school, and then they were back to it even stronger after the holidays.

It was a little over a year since the first time they played together when they talked about it for real. They both knew the other was a college student, but they didn’t know much else about it. They hadn’t really talked about it in depth, just the classic ‘oh I need to study for a class’ or ‘I have this group assignment’ and then they were back to talking about the game.

The only reason Lexa started asking more questions that time was because Clarke had joined the game three hours later than they had agreed, she was three hours late because a group meeting for a class she didn’t even like had run that late because everyone was knee on arguing with each other and they couldn’t agree on anything. Clarke was so tired and so pissed, Raven was out at a party with Nyilah and Echo had a terrible headache and Clarke just needed to complain about it to someone.

That night was the first time she shared about her career choice -by complaining about the classes that didn’t fit with it anymore- how she had only truly realized what she wanted mid semester and now she was stressing with a pair of classes that she didn’t like or care for, and it felt good to share with Lexa this new part of herself one she was really and recently excited about.

In turn, Lexa shared a little about her life as well, she told Clarke about the classes she was learning were not what she wanted, those subjects she learned she only liked as extracurriculars, she told her about her extracurriculars, and that it was very likely that anytime she said she couldn’t make it after class it was probably due to them, much more probable than her needing to study.

They talked about the different courses their schools offered and were surprised to realized they offered pretty much the same ones, they got suspicious when Lexa mentioned a science fair she attended a few day prior and Clarke remembered there had been one at her school as well. Neither of them really wanted to ask because they were afraid to be right; Clarke had never pondered the idea of actually meeting Lexa in real life, but suddenly it became all too possible when Lexa cleared her throat and reluctantly asked.

“Hey uhm… Clarke?” and that was already a change, Lexa calling her by her name always meant serious, though until this point nothing had ever been truly serious “are you… attending *Polaris University*?”

“I… am. Are you as well?”

“…Yeah”

They were in the middle of a game, so it wasn’t hard to shift subject and ignore the awkwardness, one that was born from… very confusing feelings. Because they both knew that if this was anyone else, they would close the game and block the person to never have to worry about it again, instead, because they liked each other so much they were caught in this limbo of what the fuck to do.

When they ended second place in their game and the options’ screen loaded in, Lexa asked “Ready up?”

“Yep, let’s go” Clarke answered, and they played for another hour before saying goodnight like any other time, only difference been not asking when they would get on again.

It was around the end of November so it wasn’t hard to use Thanksgiving as a self-told excuse to not play much -Lexa lying more than Clarke about not having the time, she retired back to other, offline, games since she wasn’t spending it with her family, and there's only so much time you can spend talking with your best friend when only one of you has a social life and you live together-

After Thanksgiving is finals time so it’s the same thing, neither ask the other to play and they don’t really chat over discord, but it still feels like they are giving out excuses even when they’re only in their heads. It’s around this time that Clarke finally tells her roommate and college best friend, Raven, about Lexa. Over the past year Raven has heard her name a few times, she’s never bother asking more though since Clarke also played with other people including her childhood best friends.

Clarke has no filter that day, she sits on Raven’s bed and asks for her help on her dilemma, she explains how she met Lexa and how great she is and how much she likes playing with her and how good it felt to tell her about her life and feel like real friends -she didn’t mentioned the flirting- but how that had led to finding out they were in the same school which then led to the awkward thanksgiving break that made Clarke realize she didn’t want to lose her but didn’t know how to move forward. Ultimately the answer was giving it time and Raven promised not to tease her about it… in front of their roommates.

Finals roll out and then winter break and they finally calm down a bit, Lexa has been playing on her own since Clarke hasn’t even started the launcher, but then a day before Christmas she gets on.

They’re both in their hometowns, it’s late at night for both and it’s easy to send a group request and play together, blaming their quietness on tiredness and just chilling in every game. Just like that, they start playing regularly again, Lexa confesses to being practically free all break long and Clarke jokes -and means it- that she’s going to use her as an excuse to get aways from too much family time.

They go back to school, and they go a few weeks playing without mentioning it, each pondering in their heads the chances of running into each other, of whether they would recognize the other and whether they would want that to happen.

It feels like they get to the same conclusion at the same time when they start tiptoeing around the subject. The flirting turns ON for real, silly still because that's who they are but oh so clearly there. It’s fun, and it’s easy to forget they were troubled by about a month with this when now it felt so easy.

Clarke starts very consciously saying "sorry, babe" and "babe, c'mon" during fights, Lexa leans much more into calling Clarke Princess, either while watching her clutch a 1v2, or when she's found her favorite gun and she’s bringing it over to her - Clarke misses snipers this season but will settle for the hunting rifle recently added- Lexa also sneaks a little "goodnight princess" every so often, that makes it impossible for Clarke to sleep those night, blushing and smiling like a fool while trying not to imagine other scenarios where Lexa could call her that.

The nagging feeling that it can all fall apart if she pushed too far is still there, and then Lexa brings up meeting up, very casually mentioning she’s going to be playing with the orchestra -because yes, she plays the piano- and she would like if Clarke could assists “I think you could like it, it’s quiet an epic set”

---

The doubts and questioning and overthinking only increased after they had agreed to meet up. And they are right there as Clarke changes outfits so many times, not deciding on color palette or style, and what she’s supposed to do for her make up, and her hair-

She tried to do all this freaking out during the week, preparing beforehand was a smart move, even though she wasn’t supposed to be stressing; Lexa was her friend… had to be, at least until they met for real and she figured out her feelings.

Hiding away from Raven … wasn’t her smarted decision. She Is, after all the only person who knows about Lexa, or how Clarke feels about her. She already knew her so well - sharing a dorm and a room together for a year and a half does that- of course she clocks Clarke’s internal struggle the minute she walks into their room, dressed and ready to be Clarke’s plus-one, and finds her in front of the mirror with three different tops on her hands, and none of them on her.

“Girl, really?”

Clarke turns straddled, wide eyes pressing the tops close to her body and blinks.

Raven closes her eyes and sighs, if she wants to laugh, she covers it perfectly, she drops her bags and massages her forehead before getting to work.

“Did you pick the bottoms?”

“Uhm-”

“Cargos, then, you look good, you’ll feel comfortable and they’re easy to match” Raven grabs one of the tops from her hands and throws it back to her bed “That one doesn’t. Are you going light or dark?”

“I… was thinking light” she swallows, she’s not intimidated… at all, it’s just that Raven is weirdly this serious and she’s unsure how to react. That’s all.

“Light blue one, I love those. These two don’t match though” Raven says as she grabs the remaining two tops and throws them as well. She finds Clarke’s cargos and throws them at her “Put them on” She says as she starts rummaging through Clarke’s closet.

“Ohhh look at you! you’re perfect” Raven gasps after a second “Listen I know you love cleavage” she says turning to face Clarke “but you don’t own this top for no reason” she smirks showing her a knitted, sleeveless crop-top color cream.

She doesn’t wait for an answer before she’s throwing it at her, she throws herself to her bed with a satisfied sigh and lets Clarke get dressed.

“I think you know you need to go with the combat boots, and for coats, just pick any of the high-end long-ass ones, I know you own a bunch but just don’t take forever. Actually, just go with the cappuccino one”

Clarke simply nods, going over her large selection of coats in her head as she finished dressing, confirming that, yeah, the cappuccino one is perfect. She’s a bit surprised at how… honest Raven’s help seems to be, she know Raven is a good friend and cares about her, it’s just that her help is usually accompanied by-

“I don’t know why you’re so worried about this- Scratch that I know why” Raven interrupts her thoughts, turning to her with a smirk.

Oh, there it comes.

The teasing.

“Obviously you’re like in love with this girl or something-

“I’m not!”

“-but I mean come on, you already know each other, she already likes you!”

“I’m not worried”

“And I’m not a genius, Griffin don’t lie to me!” She rolls her eyes “if you weren’t worried you wouldn’t have told me about her when you found out she was studying here” she raises her eyebrows, giving her time to say something even when they both know she won’t.

“You say she’s your friend, and you think she’s inviting you to this thing as a friend… but you don’t know if you want her to be more -Your words, not mine-”

“I know! Can you just… forget it, just today. Just be there, don’t mention it” Clarke pouts and then spins in place showing off her outfit to Raven.

“Hot” Raven nods and winks, and as Clarke walks to her closet to grab her coat and boots Raven sighs, long and tired “Fiiine, but only because I love you. And only today, I want all the details tomorrow. No gatekeeping!”

“Some gatekeeping”

“Only if you get lucky. I’ll forgive you wanting to keep the details of some gross love making”

“Raven!” Clarke scowls, blushing.

“Do we have a deal?”

“Ugh!” Clarke simply groans and walks out with her purse and phone.

It’s nerve wrecking, to stand backstage knowing Sk-Clarke!- is out there and will be able to tell who Lexa is immediately. It’s a little ridiculous that she’s not nervous about playing but about Octavia getting recognized by Clarke while popping her head out of the curtain to try and see if she finds her.

“How do you not know how she looks?” Octavia huffs as she closes the curtains for a third time.

“I told you, she just said she’s blonde” Lexa shrugs, she doesn’t want to stress out -more than she already is- trying to find Clarke in the audience, the chances of recognizing her were practically zero, she had no description, no picture, nothing.

“How will you meet up then?”

“I told her I play the piano, and that we can meet after at the… one of the exits, I don’t remember now” Lexa shook her head. Octavia rolled her eyes painfully and returned to her position between the curtains trying to see if she could spot Clarke.

She gets scowled at by their maestro and sent to her seat behind her drums a minute later and Lexa follows suit sitting behind the piano. She tries to focus on the sheets of music written in front of her, but her head is already running over any possible place Clarke could be sitting and how she might look from there.

‘So much for not stressing’ She scowls at herself, but it doesn’t stop her from spotting every blonde in the audience as soon as the curtains open. She closes her eyes a minute later as the greeting applauses quiet down and she takes a deep breath, focusing, tuning everything else out.

The music’s start with the piano and Clarke can’t comprehend how incredible Lexa looks leading the group. Raven asks which one is Lexa as soon as the curtains open and Clarke has to pause for a second, realizing she’s going to need a minute -or an hour- to process seen Lexa for the first time, so she lies, she tells Raven she doesn’t know. She’s honest when she tells her that they’ve never shared any social media or pictures of each other, but the reality is that there’s only one piano, and the pianist fits the description perfectly.

Lexa looks… majestic. The sweater is very feminine, the crunch turtleneck softens her broad shoulder, the light behind her accentuates her waist, as does the thick belt attached to the high wait of her pants that have no right making her legs look that good while sitting down. Clarke can’t tell from this far, but she wonders if the color of the blouse is a choice to accentuate that of her eyes. Her hair is tied back at the top by a few braids and the rest falls like a cascade over her back, her posture is pristine and relaxed, she moves with the music naturally and graciously.

Clarke can’t imagine how she’s supposed to stay friends with this girl.

The set ends with an explosive assembly, Lexa meets eyes with Octavia, both sighing heavily out before smiling brightly. As usual the standing ovation and exit of the stage is a blur, Lexa find Octavia out of the shared changing room, and they hug the rest of the adrenaline out.

And while still high on that feeling, on that excitement that is amplified by the thought of meeting Clarke, her stomach still crunches when she spots a blonde girl walking towards her with purpose at their agree exit. She’s looking at her, a smile growing bigger with each step, because of course she already knew who Lexa was, she had to have known from the moment the curtains opened and must’ve been watching her the entire set.

Lexa is breathless before Clarke can even reach her, because not even all the excitement in her body can make her heart cartwheel the way seen Clarke for the first time does.

Clarke is… gorgeous, she looks like a model striding towards her, the cappuccino coat gives her an air of confidence that matches her steps, the cargo jeans frame her hips perfectly, giving a teas of her tummy before the crop-top covers her from and reveals the slightest bit of cleavage. Her hair is loose, and her waves bounce with her steps. She’s wearing eyeliner, a simple strip of black line makes the blue of her eyes shine, or maybe that’s just the excitement.

When she’s finally withing reach, Clarke goes in for a hug; she lifts her arms before the distance is gone, shrugging a little as a warning to Lexa, barely missteps, cautions for only a fraction of a second, before she goes fully into it, deciding that it’s fine, because they’re friends, they have been for over a year now and it might be the first time they see each other in person, but this is how Clarke greets her friends, and she won’t apologize unless Lexa complains.

She doesn’t, she actually likes it, so much that it feels unreal. Lexa’s not a hugger, she only ever hugs Octavia but other than that she keeps physical contact to a minimum, and yet, she melts into the feeling of Clarke’s body fitting into hers. Clarke pulls her close and Lexa wraps her arms around her waist over the coat, she closes her eyes against Clarke’s shoulder and squeezes back when Clarke pulls her even tighter against her and sighs into her neck.

It's definitely a little too long before they pull apart and Lexa spares a thought to Octavia before she’s looking at Clarke again and all thoughts evaporate.

“Hey there!” Clarke breathes out as her eyes jump all over Lexa’s face, trying to take it all in at the same time.

They haven’t let go at all when Lexa laughs a little nervous “Hi”

---

It takes them both right back to the first few times playing together, all the excitement and nervousness to get to hang out again, the comfort of having fun with someone new, the insecurity of sounding cool that faded through time as they learned to be goofy with each other.

The very first time they played together was in the early morning of November first, Lexa had dropped Octavia off at the custom party of one of their soccer teammates before getting back home to play fornite -with her spookiest skins- She decided to play duos a few hours in and opened her microphone.

Meanwhile, Clarke came back from a frat party she went to with her friends -who all remained there or migrated to other parties- a little tipsy and knee on continuing to have fun she immediately opens the voice chat and starts playing duos.

Lexa is the first person to join the voice chat since Clarke started.

Clarke is the first match since Lexa opened her microphone.

They greet each other and Clarke is very excited to talk to someone, Lexa isn’t sure if she finds it endearing yet, but she plays along. At first all they say are technical stuff; where the other likes to land, with what strategies the other plays, which are you chosen weapons and such, better at shooting or building and such.

They communicate well during fights, and they actually win their first game. From then Lexa gets more friendly, she asks more specific questions about the game and preference whiting it, she laughs and tags along to Clarke’s idea of switching skins anytime they lose, Clarke asks her which are her favorite and they spend an entire game discussing old ones and new ones, Lexa can’t believe she agrees to put on the Christmas ones nor can she understand how Clarke convinced her to ‘go festive’ to ‘call for the Christmas spirit’

They learn through games and games what better strategies fit them better, Lexa is less coy -and maybe a little flirty, Clarke has a pretty voice- when admitting to feeling like a pro at building and editing them. In turn, Clarke’s confidence turns up as well going over the top to prove that her aim is unmatched.

They win countless games, and they go on for hours until the sun rises and they’re both shocked that they’ve been up so long. Joking and laughing they promise to get on another time and try playing ranked since “Clearly we’ve found ourselves the wining duo”. They disconnect with quiet goodbyes and go to sleep with untamed smiles.

For months to come they play together often, they get each other’s discords to be able to invite each other more often and the audio is often better as well.  They keep playing for months and months, through winter, spring and summer all the way back to fall.

---

Octavia, who has known about Clarke all along, and is casually standing behind Lexa, can’t help but think “Friends’ my ass” as she tries not to react at Lexa’s very unusual response to a hug. She stands there for even longer than she expects after they part from the hug and just hold each other.

Eventually they seem to remember they’re not the only people in the world and Lexa turns to look at her, finally -and maybe reluctantly- letting go of Clarke.

“Uhm, Sk-Clarke” Lexa slips for a second and Clarke’s eyes widen even while her smile seem to grow “This is Octavia, my best friend” she finishes, turning to Octavia with a blush raising from her chest up to her cheeks.

“Hey, I’ve heard a lot about you… and heard you a lot” Octavia winks as she extends a hand.

“Sorry about that” Clarke breath a laugh while Lexa frowns at her. Before they can fall into some awkward argument or silence Clarke continues “Well, I would love to introduce you to my roommate, who so kindly joined me” she give Lexa a look, a smirk is there and Lexa’s eyes shine with hers “But she has abandoned me as soon as we stepped out”

“Oh no, were we that bad?” Lexa jokes, still smiling, unable to stop. She can’t explain it and doesn’t want to think about how Clarke’s mare presence makes her so happy.

“Oh no, god, you guys were amazing! It was honestly so enchanting, it felt magical”

“Thank you” Lexa and Octavia answered automatically, they could both hear the genuine tilt of happiness in Lexa’s voice though.

“Raven’s probably off trying to find a party” Clarke added after a beat of smiling at Lexa.

She just couldn’t help it, Lexa was… so pretty. Beautiful, and hot and just- so attractive, but specifically pretty, her gaze had a softness that complimented the sharp angles of her jaw, and her smile? The way her eyes lit up with it and her nose seemed to crunch a bit as if she was used to taming it down, she was just so pretty, and Clarke didn’t even want to pretend. She was sure that after a few more conversations she would say it to her, just like she told her she liked listening to her voice after only a few times playing together.

“I’m uhm-” Lexa turned only for a second to look at Octavia “I’m pretty sure some of the boys are from a frat house, they surely have a party or something planned”

Lexa finds herself saying, unsure why and not really bothered by the implication that she would go to something like that. She doesn’t get the chance to clarify anything or for Clarke to ask her because Raven joins them, all cheerful jumping into Clarke’s back and shouting a ‘hey-yoo’ as a greeting.

Lexa’s eyebrows raise up to her hairline, her smile is too bright to fully fall, but there’s definitely a different feeling in her gut now.

“I landed us an invite to the celebration with the musicians! I already texted the girls. Did you find your chick?”

And now she is blushing -she’s not sure which is responsible, the implication that ‘your chick’ is more, is different, not necessarily a friend or that ‘your chick’ is said with familiarity, like Clarke talks about her like she’s… hers.

“Raven!” Clarke hisses, blushing as she pushes her off her “Don’t jump on me” she says trying to cover up for the phrasing. Because she’s not ready to process any part of that sentence, even when it’s only two words “Be nice This is Lexa, and her best friend Octavia. This is my roommate Raven”

“I’ve been denigrated to ‘roommate’!? You’re repaying me with extra shots tonight. Hi! It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you. Great play back there, by the way, gave me chills, for real!”

Clarke sighs, she tries her best at not closing her eyes -or rolling them- at Raven’s extra extrovert greeting. Lexa remains still, smile frozen and eyebrows still raised. She looks like a deer caught in headlights.

Clarke moves to try and say something, salvage the situation, but it seems to be all Lexa needs to recover.

“Hi. All good thing I hope and… thanks, we’ve been practicing a lot, it was very exciting. The crowd’s reaction was great” she says fluidly. Strongly, confident.

Clarke swallows, she sounds different than she’s even heard her, natural but also monotone like she’s used to it, like she knows how to handle it, she sounds… very sexy. And her smile is still there, her eyes don’t shine as much until she glances at her briefly, and maybe Clarke is protecting, but she smiles again, even if Lexa isn’t looking at her anymore.

Lexa sees her smile in the corner of her eye as Octavia greets Raven and they start talking about the party, sure that she’s no longer needed in the conversation she turns back to Clarke. She’s smiling, wide like she can’t be bothered to tone it down and it makes Lexa feel validated, because she’s so happy, she’s so excited to get to be with Clarke in person and she’s still too stunned to know what to do with herself.

“Y’know…” Clake stars, needing to stop the racing thought in her head “when you told me you played the piano, I didn’t imagine you would pull a solo like that, it was truly incredible”

“Thanks…” Lexa blushes, it’s not that she doesn’t know she’s amazing in her solo, it’s just that Clarke… noticed- “I mean you’ve seen my skill building and editing…” She adds, smirking a little, leaning closer “Did you really think I don’t explode this talent”

She doesn’t mean to flirt -or so she tells herself- but the implication of how far her talent extended wasn’t lost to her once the sentence left her mouth, and she won’t bother with clarifications.

Before they can gather their thoughts, their friends tell them to start moving. There’s a slight pause after Clarke asks where they’re going, and Raven rolls her eyes “Obviously to the party I just mentioned”

Octavia looks at Lexa and she doesn’t know what to say or do so, she looks at Clarke instead, who’s already looking at her with a questioning gaze. She doesn’t look hopeful nor disappointed, a little worried maybe but Lexa doesn’t even question it when the next sentence out of her mouth is “Sure, let’s go”

Her hopes of not making it a big deal go out the window when Octavia jumps on her back, letting out a strangled “Really?” before she’s squeezing her tight and vibrating with excitement.

“Okay, people this is not a drill! Let’s get going before she changes her mind!” Octavia says as soon as she jumps off her, she grabs her hand in the process and pulls at her while Lexa blushes furiously.

Raven turns to Clarke with raised eyebrows and all Clarke can do is shake her head with a shrug. She laughs when Raven grabs her hand with a shrug of her own and pulls at her in a similar manner.

She doesn’t let her anxiety take over, it starts pushing her to wonder if Lexa doesn’t actually want to go to this party, instead, Clarke takes a deep breath and waits until she’s alone with Lexa again -it happens fairly quickly, they catch up and Raven replaces her with Octavia, before they resume their own conversation.

“I take it frat parties aren’t your usual?” She asks even while Lexa still isn’t looking at her, she does smile at the question though.

“Not really” Lexa concedes and braves a look at Clarke “Parties in general are not… my usual- but hey! Neither is making friends online and yet here we are” She smiles bright, renew excitement over the topic.

Clarke smiles with her, likes the way Lexa shrugs and lifts a conspiratory eyebrow, still she can’t help but worry “We don’t…” she swallows “We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to- we can do something else or… go somewhere else” it’s Clarke’s time to shrug.

Lexa’s smile softens, and she has to look away from Clarke because really, quit it with the blushing! “It’s fine, really” she reassures “It’s not that I’m not a fan of parties per se” she smirks just thinking about it “I just… don’t particularly like people” she grimaces but her smile is too bright for it to look genuine.

Clarke snorts, like she doesn’t mean to laugh but can’t help it “You and me both” she hushes leaning closer as they giggle “I’ve heard… that alcohol helps a lot with it though” she says after a bit and it’s Lexa’s turn to snort.

“Oh I know” she nods her head, leaning into Clarke as well, because she can, and it feels good and Clarke isn’t complaining “I do know it tends to... become a problem later on as well”

“Touché” Clarke nods “Good thing we can leave whenever we want” she winks, reassuringly, she thinks, she wants Lexa to know that she can be honest anytime she’s not comfortable. And so what if it’s also a little flirty? It’s harmless.

They make good use of that statement in the end.

When they arrive at the party, the frat house is packed, there isn’t a line yet, but a couple of boys are out talking, planning a head of that moment. One of them is the guy Raven talked to, he shamelessly flirts with her and looks shocked to realize Octavia and Lexa are coming with her, he invites them in and promises to find Raven later.

All throughout Lexa eyes Clarke with a slight frown, she just keeps shrugging and shaking her head lightly, it’s a normal thing, typical Raven behavior.

Octavia grabs Lexa’s arm inside and they make it to the bar. Her best friend is giddy she gladly takes two shots from Raven, Lexa doesn’t even look at Clarke as she dedicates the first of whatever is in the tiny plastic cup to Octavia.

Lexa turns to Clarke when Raven places a second round and Clarke smiles, she leans in to be heard over the music and tells Lexa that she’ll take hers if she doesn’t want it. Lexa in turn raises a challenging eyebrow clinks it with Raven’s before taking it.

Octavia hugs her again once their grimaces are gone and Raven offers to pour them a mixed drink to last them a while, Clarke wants vodka and Octavia asks for rum for her and Lexa, she winks at her discreetly and then hugs her again.

“You’re not even drunk, stop being so clingy”

“I’m just excited that you’re here!”

“And I’m excited that you’re both here!” Raven cheers downing her drink quickly and pouring another “Which one of you is going to introduce me to the rest of the music bros?”

Clarke tries not to laugh as Lexa turns to her alarmed, she shrugs just for the sake of it and then Octavia is speaking, Clarke can’t hear it very well over the music, but she assumes she’s offering because a minute later they’re both gone.

The butterflies come swinging back to her stomach and a smile rises without her consent when Lexa turns to her again.

“Do you wanna go somewhere quieter?” Lexa leans in, a smile of her own adorning her face.

It takes them a minute to move around the packed house and then some to find a pocket of air with less noise. They end up sitting in the nook of a window by the corner of the huge lounge room, they’re farther from the dance floor than they were in the kitchen, and they both sigh a sigh of relief followed by giggles as they lean back.

They sip their drinks, suddenly a little awkward, not sure how to start a conversation and afraid to keep on just looking at each other. Clarke is the brave one at first, asking about Lexa’s drink choice and how Octavia answered for her.

“I’m don’t usually drink so… I tend to not care what I am drinking” Lexa shrugs, she takes another sip and braves a look at Clarke “Is Vodka your usual?”

“Yeah” Clarke smiles “It’s… tasteless enough, I think it makes it easier to mix. I’ve learned to drink tequila in mixed drinks with Raven, though, and there’s just… nothing like it”

“In a good way?”

“Yeah, it’s so much better. Specially with sweet drinks… but it’s more expensive and it’s quick to give a hangover”

Lexa laughs “Oh yeah, I’ve had my fair share of tequila hung overs”

It’s easy to move the conversation around, it feels nice to ask the questions they avoided before, those that felt too person for two friends that only talked about the game they were playing. Lexa shared about her friendship with Octavia going all the way back to sophomore year of high school, Clarke tells her how Raven quickly scaled from roommate to best friend and how her childhood friend met her the summer before, and they were so jealous.

They talk about all their classes and possible majors, Clarke just about figured out before break that she’s really interested in biochemistry, and she’s excited to see where it might lead her, Lexa joins in excitedly to talk about science since one of her many extracurricular is focused on chemical experimentation, she explains to Clarke that she has a lot of extracurriculars, always has had, from sports to chess, to science and music, all her passions have led her to a variety of classes, but she’s mostly find them boring or overly specific.

They talk a little bit about high school and how each of them moved around the bizarre social hierarchy of it, they maybe throw in a little hint about their dating game and maybe it’s a little flirty, maybe it’s a bit of a joke but so easily not.

Throughout their conversation Raven comes over a few times to check in on them and Octavia comes over to hug Lexa anytime she sees her, Lexa accidentally calls Clarke Sky a couple of times and it may become a little less intentional once she realizes Clarke blushes every time.

They’re constantly leaning on each other and talking closely, and giggling all the time.

They refill their drinks and ‘babe’ enters Clarke’s vocabulary full force, she ignores Raven’s looks from across the room and can’t help but blush any time she catches Octavia winking at Lexa, for her part Lexa downs her drinking faster than Clarke, too happy and too comfortable to care about any of it.

Their friends drag them into a game of beer-pong with shots -warm beer is gross and it’s not like most people here aren’t rich- appealing to their competitiveness to lure them. Octavia and Raven team up against them, swearing that they’re the sober ones and thus will win. Clarke and Lexa are content to stay glued to each other, leaning into the other as they wait for their friends to shoot, holding the other as they drink their shots and calling out sweet encouragements before every shot.

They end up winning against their friends, barely, and as celebration the crowd makes them down the remaining of their shots. They chose to grab some water next and return to their little nook. With liquid courage they get even more comfortable in each other’s personal space, they flirt a lot, smirking every other sentence and talking about anything that comes to mind.

Clarke calls Lexa Heda jokingly making her drop a few Princess’ in between, they’re not blushing as much anymore, just enjoying it and leaning into it, so much that they don’t mind Octavia’s side eyes and Raven’s raised eyebrows, they just keep trying to find ways to make the other call them pretty names.

They start talking about fornite at some point, they recall Winterfest and how they sped through levels to get every reward possible, they agreed, now that it was over, that it was kinda… ‘meh’, the year before had been better and it mostly had to do with the addition of the OG maps and all the hype about that taking away the attention of the holidays.

“The collaborations were insane though!” Lexa rolled her head back and the sideways to rest on Clarke’s shoulder.

“Right?!” Clarke turns to her even when she knows she won’t be able to see her, it’s nice to have their faces so close together “Like what do you mean Snoop Dog, The Shack and Marya fucking Carey all have matching Santa skins?”

They both break into laughs and Lexa leans heavily into her. They sigh in unison with smiles on their faces, content to watch the party for a minute- that is until a group of frat boys not too far from them start… barking?

Lexa quickly lifts her head off Clarke’s shoulder and turns to frown at her, Clarke shrugs with a shake of her head and it’s not long until they start laughing again. They giggle the remnants of their cringe out while looking at each other and then Clarke smirks a mischievous little smirk.

Lexa tilts her head, and Clarke does the same in the direction of the exit, she doesn’t take her eyes off Lexa and her smirk grows when Lexa imitates her, they continued tilting their heads and nodding them until they can’t keep from laughing anymore.

The frat boys are still barking when they stand up and start looking for their friends, they tell them they’re heading out and make a quick job of leaving, they both take deep breaths a block down the house and sigh out giggles.

“Where should we go?” Lexa asks, and she doesn’t care that she still hasn’t let go of Clarke’s hand.

“Don’t call me crazy-” Clarke uses their joined hands to pull Lexa closer and whisper conspiratorially “but… we could… go… play”

“Oh, this is why we get along!” Lexa throws her head back and Clarke reigns her back in when she loses her balance for a second.

“Let’s go then Heda”

“Lead the way Princess”

They agree to go to Clarke’s place first, Octavia will be staying with a friend so they can have the room to themselves, thus they’re going to pick up Clarke’s laptop and go. The walk is full of talking and laughing and flirting, it’s silly, so unserious but so… them.

“This’ me” Clarke nods to their right as they approach the dorms wing of campus.

“Really?” Lexa huffs “I’m right over there!” she points to their left, two buildings down from Clarke’s.

“For real? That is so crazy!” they laugh and decide to ignore that before today -okay maybe form a month ago- that information would’ve been scary as fuck.

They enter Clarke’s dorm quietly, not remembering that her roommates were all at the party they just left, Clarke hesitates before letting Lexa into her room, but it’s hard to think when she turns her head and Lexa is right there, practically glued to her and so giddy.

They’re a little drunk, so Clarke is stumbling a little, throwing her coat over her bed and trying to get her laptop, she’s also trying to make sure her -half- of the room is presentable or close enough to Raven's to pretend. And Lexa is all excited for apparently no reason other than being in Clarke's room, and the flirting hasn’t stopped and it’s making them both a little dizzier.

So when Clarke stands up and Lexa is standing too close, neither of them move.

They're breathing unevenly and they stare at each other for a long moment, trying to decipher what's going on, looking for the answer in each other’s eyes.

Lexa is all too happy to stay right where she is, she knows in a few minutes or less she’s going to want to touch Clarke in some way, grab her hand or her wait, kiss her or worse, lean her forehead to hers, but she can’t be bothered right now, because Clarke is really pretty and she’s really happy that she was brave enough to invite Clarke to her orchestra, because she’s really happy to be there with her.

Clarke is a bit more antsy; she’s looking up because Lexa us wearing a bit of heel, and she was already a bit taller than her and her lips are right. There. So Clarke has enough. She leans up and touches her lips to Lexa’s softly. She doesn’t mean to capture her lower lip in hers, she’s just a little clumsy, at the moment, and Lexa-

Lexa is kissing her back.

Lexa’s hands move quickly to hold her -uncovered- waist, and sighs into Clarke’s mouth at the contact, she doesn’t question anything, doesn’t even think about it when she stars leaning into her, chasing her lips and that tongue that ever so softly teases her bottom lip.

Clarke sneaks a hand up to Lexa’s jaw and holds onto her -very… vert strong- bicep with the other, she takes half a step back and her ass meets the side of her bed, she has to sort of sit on it when Lexa keeps leaning because the bed is a little lofted for storage. She doesn’t move her hands from Lexa, which makes it so she can feel her bicep flexing when Lexa takes a larger step closer and pulls at her waist lifting her so she’s sitting fully on the bed.

The kiss is teasing and tight, but the moment Lexa wiggles her way between Clarke’s legs, parting them just enough to fit and pull her close, the kiss turns deep, Clarke doesn’t think twice when the new angle and closeness allows her to comfortably slide her arm around Lexa’s neck and swipe her tongue confidently into Lexa’s mouth.

Lexa moans in turn, chases her tongue and sucks on her bottom lip, she’s still leaning on Clarke, pushing her onto the bed. She extends a hand for leverage and snakes the other one around Clarke’s waits, leaning more fully into her. Clarke’s hand on her bicep flies back to hold herself as well when Lexa keeps on leaning until she’s practically on top of Clarke even with her feet still on the ground.

It’s outrageously long before they break for air, and when they do, they don’t part if anything they hold each other closer as if to make sure the other won’t leave. They press their foreheads together, but neither is brave enough to open their eyes, they breath heavily, drunkenly.

Lexa moves slightly, bumping her nose with Clarke and huffing a giggle at Clarke’s answering bump, she opens her eyes just in time to see Clarke open hers and the smirk adorning her lips reaches up to her eyes.

Over all the noise in Clarke’s head, questions and desires and also just mush, she can’t help but high-five herself in her head, she was right Lexa’s sweater do compliment her eyes, it’s a deeper shade of green than her grey-ish green eyes, but green all-the-same.

“Hi” Clarke’s giggle drunkenly.

Lexa smiles dopily “Hey there”

“You didn’t tell me you were such good kisser”

“I’m good at a lot of things” Lexa giggles, and she really doesn’t mean it flirty this time, but then Clarke’s pupils dilate and she’s thankful to her subconscious.

“Yeah?” Clarke bites her lip “Will you show me?”

Oh hell! She’s got game!

Lexa kisses her, she kisses her deeply and dirty because that was really hot, and oh so smooth and she doesn’t know what to say, she’s always been better with actions anyways-

She can’t help the smirk that gets kissed off by Clarke at her next idea; Lexa sneaks a hand under Clarke’s top and feels around the clap of her bra, she pulls away from the kiss with a wet sound and smirks at Clarke’s frown before she’s snapping the claps open with a simple twist of her wrist.

“Example number one” She giggles again and Clarke gasps at her with a smile.

“You should get my top off next” Clarke winks, recovering quickly.

It takes Lexa a second to swallow down before nodding her head “yep, great idea”

They make quick work with the crop top, and Clarke throws her bra to the side enjoying the way Lexa completely stops at the sight of her boobs.

“Like what you see” she bites her lips, one hand back behind Lexa’s neck and the other planted back on her bed, her back arches in such way and she knows she’s an spectacular view.

Lexa gapes, blinks once and then not for a long while which makes Clarke chuckle, she pulls slightly at Lexa’s neck, urging her to lean on her again and Lexa can only brace herself on the bed, still transfixed.

“Can I-” She clears her throat, her voice is hoarse, eyes dark with want as she looks up to her eyes. Clarke shudders a breath as Lexa swallows and tries again “Can I touch you?” she breath out.

Clarke could moan at the sound of Lexa’s desire, she bites her lip harder instead, takes a shuddering breath and nods her head.

Lexa’s eyes are back down to Clarke’s breaths, it’s not that she hadn’t realized Clarka had… such voluminous rack, she just thought she wasn’t supposed to care. And there’s a very big difference between clothed and enclosure boobs and… this.

She moves her hands to Clarke’s hips, enjoys the way her breath catches when she moves them to her waist and they make contact with her bare skin. Lexa licks her lips as her hands travel up Clarke’s ribs and move accordingly to fit the underside of Clarke’s breast in the cup of her hand.

They both sigh when Lexa presses up and squeezes the full weight of Clarke’s boobs.

“Fuck”

Clarke smirks, and Lexa can’t be bothered to recognize that she said that out loud, she plays with Clarke’s nipples for only a second before Clarke is pulling her forward into a kiss. She pauses her ministration, if only to moan into Clarke’s mouth as their tongues meet.

A hand snakes down her neck groping her tits over the sweater on its way down to her waist when Clarke pushes the sweater up to pull her closer still. She quickly pushes it higher util Lexa has to lift her arms to take it off, she does so reluctantly, not happy to let go of Clarke’s breast.

Clarke laughs at her when they kiss again, having regained her balance she kisses Lexa more comfortably, now sitting up, while making a quick job of Lexa’s belt, and consequently, her pants.

Lexa steps back to step off them and Clarke takes the chance to slide off the bed, ready to comfortably kiss all over Lexa’s body when she freezes. Lexa’s is wearing a matching set of linger. A dark shade of green, it’s not see-through but the artist in Clarke can recognize the work of the beautiful design over the lace.

She blinks when Lexa huffs a smirk at her, her gaze breaks the patter of bra-abs-panties to look at Lexa in the eye; she gives her a smirk of her own and pulls her closer by the hips, bending down to drop a kiss under Lexa’s sternum and dropping down to her abs.

While Lexa shudders at Clarke’s lips on her skin she can’t help the smile on her lips, it feel good to have this effect on Clarke, it makes her feel sexy and desired and she likes it. Clarke moves up her body grabbing a handful of Lexa’s ass to drag her closer and kisses her again, she’s still leaning on her bed and Lexa happily steps into her again, holding Clarke’s shoulder as they kiss and taking the chance to kick off her heel.

The first step down leaves her eye level with Clarke and their lips part at the change angle. Lexa moves her hands down to Clarke’s knees consciously through the holes in Clarke’s cargos, and Clarke wraps her arms around Lexa’s waist. She kicks her second heel off while they look at each other smiling.

“Come here” Clarke breaths into her leaning forward for a kiss and then back to pull Lexa on the bed.

They giggle and adjust so Lexa can climb on the bed, they kiss and tickle each other trying to get Clarke’s shoes and pants off. Clarke lays flat on her back and encourages Lexa to straddle her.

The sight of Lexa fluidly sliding down to kiss her is one Clarke’s sure she’ll never forget, she moans into the kiss and holds Lexa’s waits, she arches her back at the feeling of the linger gracing her nipples and she suddenly can’t wait to her Lexa’s bra off.

She’s a little distracted though, Lexa moves to kiss her jaw and down her neck, and Clarke’s hands travel up to Lexa’s ribs and then down to her hips and back to grab a handful of her butt.

They moan and sigh and they pull at each other for kisses while molding their bodies together. Lexa sits back to flick her hair, and Clarke follows her halfway up, chasing her lips, but stopping at the gorgeous view of Lexa straddling her. Clarke absently traces her hand up Lexa’s tight and while leaning on her elbows she sneaks her hand to cup Lexa’s cover core.

Lexa bites her lip to contain a groan as she rocks her hips into Clarke’s hand. She keeps going like that rolling her hips sensually, her hand holding her hair as she watches Clarke watch her.

“Fuck… I want to touch you”

“You are touching me, Clarke” Lexa smirks, enjoying the effect she’s having on Clarke.

Clarke pushes herself up and ghosts a kiss over Lexa’s lips “I’ll be more specific. I want to be inside you” her voice huskier than a second ago “Can I do that?”

The little whimper that crawls out of Lexa’s throat is not something she’s proud of, but she can’t ignore the glow of pure want the fill Clarke’s eyes after hearing it. She bites her lip, nodding her head and moves her hands into Clarke’s hair to draw her into a kiss that is all tongue and teeth.

Clarke wastes no time moving her underwear aside and making room for her fingers to explore. Lexa resists the urge to roll her hips into every touch while smirking at every one of Clarke’s gasps.

Clarke teases her entrance repeatedly, rubbing around her clit but never truly touching it, she bites Lexa’s bottom lip and licks into her mouth while using her free hand to encourage her rolling hips.

It’s not long before they both know Lexa is ready and Clarke enters her with a singular digit. They moan into each other’s mouths as Lexa stills and gasps, adjusting to the feeling, she moans again when she starts moving and Clarke follows suit, calmly going in and curling out. A second finger is added, and Lexa turns her head to hide in the hollow between Clarke’s neck and shoulder, she nibs and kisses the skin available as her arms go around Clarke’s shoulders, giving her more leverage to rock into her fingers.

Clarke sucks her neck and bites her earlobe as they move in sink and she gasps every so often, adjusting her hand to give Lexa a better angle to rub her clit over Clarke’s palm. It’s only the third time Lexa’s open mouth kiss turns into a shuffled moan that Clarke speaks to her.

“Lexa… you know we’re completely alone right? You don’t… need to keep quiet” she says, blushing. Because they concept of wanting to hear Lexa feels way more intimate than the position, they’re in, specifically since it’s an addition to it.

Lexa grunts lifting her head, she doesn’t stop the rolling of her hips and Clarke doesn’t stop the movement of her hand “These are paper-thin walls Clarke!” She scowls, heaving the words out, her face is flushed, and the crown of her head is damp from forming sweat -Clarke didn’t know she could get even more beautiful- “of course I have to keep quiet!” She groans.

Clarke kisses her instead of arguing, because she can, and she looks so pretty, and she can feel the moan she heaves into her mouth and it’s good enough for now. They continue kissing and huffing and moaning into each other until a particularly perfect moan from Lexa cuts off by her biting her own lip.

“Hey. Listen” Clarke huffs “quick floor plan description, behind me is the common room, currently empty. Behind you there’s a laundry room that is obviously closed right now, past my closet is the hallway, also empty, and out the window… you saw it was also quite empty”

Lexa closed her eyes hallway through the sentence, frowning and she kept moving and conflicted as to how Clarke could form such an elaborate sentence when all Lexa could think was-

“Fuck!”

She feels the smirk Clarke presses onto her neck, she bites her lip again and assumes her brain understood beyond her consciousness.

“That’s it, let me hear you, Heda”

She moans a filthy moan, Clarke smirks is wider, she bites Lexa’s neck, and she huffs in mild annoyance.

“Make me, Princess” she shoots between hoarse breaths.

She smirks when she opens her eyes to a gapping Clarke staring at her with lust, she closes her eyes quickly after when Clarke moves to lean one hand back fuck her harder with the other.

“Sky!” Lexa moans and immediately blushes.

It was loud, very loud. And the wrong name-

“Say that again” Clarke hushes, nibbing her jaw, thrusting up to meet her rocking hips.

“Sky…” Lexa… whimpers, she wishes she could call it something else, but it is what it is.

Clarke kisses her and they rock against each other in sync, Lexa moans and Clarke gasps and they’re both panting. Lexa closes her eyes, throws her head back, Clarke can’t keep staring. Their rhythm is thrown off for a second when they hear a creaking sound, they both blink and quickly realize it’s the bed protesting from the motion.

They smirk at each other.

They kiss messily while still smiling and pick up the pace, Lexa throws her head back again, moaning freely and Clarke latches her mouth to her neck. She moves her arm from behind her all the way around Lexa’s torso and pulls her close.

Lexa adjusts in Clarke lap, making her lean on her hand again and she takes the chance to push her by the shoulders back to the bed. Clarke lands with a huff and her hand flies to pull pillows behind her head when Lexa presses her hand over Clarke’s ribs, almost cupping the underside of her boob and starts rocking her hips firmly into Clarke’s hand.

Her moans grow louder, her eyes close and her breath heaves even more, her hips eventually start stuttering, moving erratically and Clarke holds her hip while thrusting up, helping her hand reach deeper.

“Fuck! Sk-mmhh, Clarke!”

They both know she’s close, she’s riding Clarke’s fingers with purpose, sighing and moaning and huffing heavily, all it takes is Clarke moving her free hand to press her thumb to Lexa’s clit and one singular undulating thrust for Lexa to frees in pleasure, strangled moan caught in her thought before she comes undone, shaking screaming out the end of her moan.

She leans heavily on her hand over Clarke’s ribs through her orgasm and eventually flops forward, laying half on top of Clarke with both pairs of hand trapped between them.

As Lexa lays there, completely spent, Clarke can't help but smile and move to kiss the side of her forehead. Her fingers are still wrapped around Lexa's warm walls and her hand is folded with her release. She leans to kiss her shoulder as well as she moves her hand out of Lexa and from between their bodies, she grabs Lexa's hand to move out from between them as well and can't resist the chance to kiss the back of it.

Lexa huffs a laugh and what feels like an audible eye roll. She lifts her head slowly and deliberately leans in to kiss Clarke. The kiss is soft and so deep, Lexa is fully leaning on her now and her weight make the kiss harder.

Lexa moves her kisses to Clarke's jaw, she bites her earlobe and sucks on her pulse point, she moves down to kiss her collarbone as Clarke huffs a shig, her breaths fastening. It is with only one slurry look, that Clarke arches her back, and Lexa starst devouring Clarke’s nipples expertly.

“Can I go down on you?”

“You, uhm- you don’t have to” Clarke breaths, heavily.

“I-" Lexa bites her lip, looks down and they slowly sensually up "I want to”

"Mh-mhh?" Clarke hums, high pitched affected not only by Lexa's work on her tits but also the look of pure desire on Lexa's face.

At Lexa's nod, Clarke nods as well and Lexa smirks as she starts making her way down to her core.

Lexa takes only a short moment to admire the glistening heat of Clarke's heat before diving in. Clarke moans loudly at the first swipe of Lexa's tongue, throwing her head back and grabbing onto her sheets. It spurs Lexa on, each new movement, new swipe or kiss to Clarke's can't grants her a series of different sounds and reaction out of Clarke that are simply too hot.

A thought of where and with how may people Lexa might've learn to be that good crosses Clarke's mind, but before she can get jealous of upset she remembers she's no one to judge. She doesn't dwell on it for too long either, Lexa is far too talented with her tongue for Clarke to be able to hold any thought for longer that two swipes of Lexa's tongue.

Eventually Lexa enters her with one finger and then quickly a second one when it goes in too easily. She looks up as she attaches her mouth to Clarke's clit a second later, smirking as Clarke whimpers a shudders below her.

"Fuck! God Lexa yes!" Clarke throws her head back, a hand jumping to Lexa's hair when she starts moving; both her fingers inside her and her tongue over her clit, circling it expertly..

It doesn't take too long before Clarke is coming apart, shaking and shouting out Lexa's name, shuddering away and up into Lexa's mouth, overwhelmed with pleasure.

She taps Lexa's head tiredly to signal her that she can't take anymore and still whispers when Lexa removes her mouth from her. Lexa smirks and moved to kissing her tight, pulling her fingers in and out slowly to draw out the last of her orgasm.

Lexa kisses her hip next, leaving a mark as her fingers continue moving and Clarke jerks and moan with the aftershoks, she moves to the other hip and pulls out slowly when Clarke taps her head again, she takes a long deliberate path up Clarke's body, kissing any skin aviable and diving right into a kiss to her lips once she reaches them.

Clarke moans at the taste of herself on Lexa's tongue and enjoys the way Lexa deepens the kiss and rolls her hips on top of her as a response. They make out for a bit, smiling and huffing at each other, bumping noses and rolling into each other as their hands roam mindlessly.

That is until Clarke slides a thigh between Lexa's and feels her wetness rub on her. She presses up, moaning as Lexa bites her lips and cants her hips mote firmly into her. Clarke leans up to kiss Lexa and in a swift and impressive move turns them around in the small bed to lay on top of Lexa.

"Fucking me turned you on, didn't it?" Clarke whispers against Lexa's ear, snaking a hand down her abdomen and bitting her earlobe.

Lexa breaths out, swallowing a whimper as Clarke grazes her fingers over her folds finding her freshly wet.

"You're very vocal" she eventually breaths out, her eyes are closed and Clarke is sucking a bruise into her neck as she toys with her can't lazily.

Clarke smiles into her neck, hums in agreement and bites her lightly. She moves her fingers as though she's going to enter her and lifts her head.

"Do you like that? That I'm vocal?"

Lexa opens her eyes while blushing, she bites her lip and nods slightly, she then throws her head back with a moan as Clarke enters her with two fingers easily.

"Good... because i want to talk you through this one okay?" She huffs a chuckle into her lips, and Lexa moans as Clarke pulls out hooking her finger on the way.

"Skyy!"

Clarke thrust into her with the help of her thigh and starts a rhythm, one that Lexa matches with her huffs and moans and curses and calls of her name, all the while Clarke prises her, and tells her how good she feels, how good she sounds, how beautiful she looks and how she can't wait to see her come undone again.

"Fu-fuck! Like that-SKY!"

"I love it when you call me that, fuck"

"Yeah...? Fuck-" Lexa bites her lip.

The bed is creaking again, knocking against the wall as Clarke pounds her fingers into her cunt.

"Yeah, but... fuck. I want you tl say my name when you come. I want to hear you clicking that K like you always do-

"Fuck- ah! you" Lexa huffs a laughs and Clarke laughs with her, kissing her cheek and making her blush.

Becasue of course something like a kiss to the cheek after a joke would make her laugh, never mind that she's but naked, legs spread open and Clarke fingering her into an orgasm.

A kiss to the cheek is too much.

"Fuck Lex, you're so tight" Clarke hushes against her collarbone.

Lexa moans, because she likes the nickname, it's nothing special, but she likes it. And Clarke is doing ungodly things to her pussy, caressing her sides, saying all the right things and sucking on that specific spot right on top of her collarbone that drives her crazy, because she has her all figured out already.

And she is tight, she can feel it, she's so close, she can feel that familiar feeling in her lower belly, tugging at her, making her moan-

"Cla-ahrke!"

She comes so hard, for so long and Clarke keeps taking to her, she can't tell what she's saying because her brain is mush, but it's dragging her climax on and on until she can't take it anymore.

Still shaking she grabs at Clarke's bicep, squezing and whimpering, moving her hips away.

"No more?" Clarke whispers soflty. Lexa can't only shake her head "Okay baby" she kisses her jaw and if Lexa's face wasn't already red from coming, she sure as well would be blushing.

Clarke kisses Lexa's shoulders soflty, trying to keep her weight off her as she still breaths heavily. Lexa's eyes are closed and Clarke takes the chance to look at her. Her faced flushed a pretty fading shade of red, her lips parted sightly as she huffs her breaths out, her hair is a mess, sprawled around the pillow under her. Her collar bones and chest are red as well, adorned with a couple hickeys she can't help but to be proud of.

And then Lexa blinks her eyes open, heavy eyelids drop a couple of time before she can keep her eyes fully open. And then a smile raises slowly, and Clarke realizes as she tries to smile, that she was already smiling brightly.

"Hi" Lexa chuckles.

"Hey there" Clarke leans in to kiss her and Lexa moves her hands to hold her close.

They move a little messily, laughing as Lexa refuses to separate their lips, Clarke lays on her side and Lexa turns with her.

The kiss turns lazy when Lexa has no strengths to even coordinate her lips, her eyes close permanently. Clarke smiles and pulls back, kissing Lexa's nose just because and watching a smile rise slowly with a slow huffed laugh.

"Sweet dreams, Heda"

"Mmhh, g'night Princess"

-

...To be continued 😉😌

[lotties-ashwagandha]

(headcanons) dating lottie matthews includes…

written for @cassioo and everyone else in a rage after episode four! adult timeline in mind.

⬦ going to the farmers market together!!! even when she doesn’t have the wellness center. she just wants to walk around and maybe take everything home with her, and when everyone asks where her wellness center is she tells them that it’s temporarily shut down (she WILL be rebuilding it somehow in some way).

⬦ if you’re into it she’ll also take you on morning dates where you grab coffee somewhere and then go into little crystal stores. she will buy a new tarot deck and ask you to help her pick it out, and she will spend an insane amount of money on crystals (because they’re EXPENSIVE nowadays) both for herself and for you if you see anything you want to pick up. i can see her being really into the jewelry pieces those places sell too, she likes being able to have crystals on her but in a way that she can wear to be aesthetic. she mixes and matches different crystals for whatever energy she wants to bring into each day and has a few different pieces of jewelry for each of her favorite crystals so she can accessorize however she wants.

⬦ sorry I’m obsessed with lottie and tarot bc i’ve been getting back into tarot lately and also @chaithetics put the lottie tarot idea in my head in her comments on this post SO i have to say. lottie teaching you tarot AARGHH or if you already know how to read tarot you give each other readings. discussing how you read certain cards and the differences in card interpretations between you (because tarot is SO specific to the individual when it comes to card interpretations). pulling the lovers card! and on that note I think lottie would be into doing readings about your relationship with you as well, both of you sitting down and asking the cards about strong and weak points in your relationship. it’s a good way to open up communication together.

also. I need someone to make a yellowjackets tarot card deck. PLEASE. hear me out: lottie as the high priestess, natalie as the moon, akilah as temperance, mari as strength, taissa and van as the lovers, the wilderness as judgement, misty as the magician, and so on.

⬦ double dates with taissa and van!!! you go and do some gay shit like wine tastings or museum visits and van gets you all kicked out of the art museum because she starts touching paintings.

⬦ binge watching lottie’s reality tv shows! she gives you everyone’s backstories and lore if you’re watching something that you haven’t seen yet but she has. you make it into a whole event, you have the dates marked on the calendar for when new seasons drop of your favorite reality shows. i suspect when lottie had the cult she still had a tv in her cabin so she could watch them. anyway it makes for fun at home dates together, think season three episode two with misty and callie except neither of you get drugged out like misty or throw up on the kitchen counter!

⬦ shopping dates! shoplifting perhaps. you’re going into the mall and coming out with beautiful clothes and home decor, whether you pay for it all or not is for you to decide. im looking the other way. lottie would love to spend her money on you though as she does have quite a lot of it, she loves for everything in her life to be elegant and taken care of very nicely and that’s something that would extend to you as well.

⬦ that would also mean spa dates, or going to get your nails done together. if you don’t typically get your nails done she still takes you with her because she wants you to pick her nail polish.

⬦ she explains all of her herbs and supplements and such to you, her ashwagandha and her maca root, and teaches you what each is used for and why. she wants to be able to share that with you, especially if she doesn’t have her wellness center anymore and people with similar knowledge aren’t as easily found. i think in general she would love being with someone willing to learn about her practices, she wants to show you what she believes in because it is so special to her and she wants to share that love of it with you.

⬦ mornings with her! i feel like lottie leans toward being a morning person, most of her energy comes in the morning, but she does appreciate the luxury of having lazy mornings now and then. being able to wake up with you and having the luxury of holding each other in the morning. it grounds her to be able to wake up and be centered in a routine as well — i can see her having a scheduled morning meditation or journaling routine or something else to help keep her centered starting off the day. sometimes she lets you help her braid her hair, too.

⬦ nights with her would be tranquil, too, but in a different way. in the morning the peace comes in preparation for the energy of the day, but at night there’s a new relaxation to being together. you cook dinner together, new recipes you find. and random thought but when you go to bed she is the little spoon. fight me.

that’s it :) LOVE YOU SEE YOU NEXT TIME! season three episode four isn’t real. and I did not kill lottie matthews :( all of you and your dirty accusations. bah! no taglist btw this time I’m insecure about my headcanon quality.

[femininenachos]

10 years of Clexa kisses (Yours for the (s)taking edition)

She wants nothing more than to put her hands on Clarke’s body. And the dark, heated look Clarke is giving her only fuels the very vivid ideas in Lexa’s head; about reversing their positions, grinding her hips against tensed muscle, bringing them both to a slow, sensual climax.

But she’s also all too aware that they don’t have the luxury of time right now.

To start something and have it curtailed would be a tragedy, particularly the thorough ravishment Lexa has in mind.

Also, bursting into flames during the act is guaranteed to kill the mood.

So it’s with regret that she says, “Could we possibly take a rain check?”

Clarke’s face cycles through a few emotions, frustration and disappointment being foremost, and Lexa tries not to preen.

“I want to. Believe me, I do,” she says. “It’s just, you have work and sunlight is sort of my Achilles' heel…”

Clarke casts a glance towards the alarm clock on the nightstand. Her eyes go wide and round.

“Oh, shit.” She scrambles up and off the bed to pull the blinds down and the curtains shut tight. Whirls back around, fraught and full of panicked energy. “What are you going to do? I mean, will you have enough time to—”

“There’s a safe house nearby. If I leave shortly, I can make it.”

Her relief is palpable.

Lexa swings her legs around. Stands and massages the crick out of her neck. She notices her coat still in a heap on the floor and picks it up.

“I’ll dispose of this. Do you have a spare trash bag?”

“Yeah, in the kitchen.”

She follows Clarke through the apartment into a galley kitchen. It’s so cramped and narrow that Lexa almost walks into Clarke when she stops to search through a drawer. They’re standing far too close when Clarke turns around, a roll of black plastic in hand. She tears off one bag and gives it to Lexa.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

An uneasy silence hangs in the air between them while they look at each other, neither sure what to say.

Clarke breaks the tension with a hollow chuckle. “You know, I figured you were the type to sneak off before sunrise. Admittedly, for totally different reasons.”

“I wish I could stay, Clarke.”

A nod. Clarke worries her lip as she scans Lexa’s face. What she’s searching for, Lexa can only hazard a guess but she keeps her expression open and sincere.

“I like the way you say my name.”

Apropos of nothing; not at all what Lexa expected to hear.

She’s even less prepared for what happens next: the confidence with which Clarke invades her space, crowding Lexa back against the stove until her rear bumps into the oven door handle.

Whatever qualms Clarke might be having are masked by the determined glint in her eyes as she closes in. Dropping the trash bags, she curls a hand around Lexa’s neck, the other going to Lexa’s hip.

And then Clarke is kissing her; soft, warm lips moving with gentle insistence.

Lexa is slow to react, mouth opening in blind reflex as Clarke leans up, angling in deeper. Lexa’s mind goes blank; fuzzy, white static ringing in her ears and drowning out the rapid thump of Clarke’s heartbeat as their lips cling together and a hot puff of breath hits her cheek.

It only lasts a moment, but Lexa feels a phantom flutter in her chest, a swoop in her stomach, a weakness in the knees. She tingles all over. It would be embarrassing if she wasn’t so inexplicably taken with this woman.

“You feel warm,” Clarke whispers, thumb stroking the side of Lexa’s neck and making her melt.

“The gift of your blood.” Lexa draws back an inch to look at Clarke, becoming solemn and serious. Voice going soft. “Clarke, what you did was—”

She’s cut off by Clarke kissing her again. With the kind of slow, soft hunger that has Lexa contemplating whether they could just barricade Clarke’s bedroom against the light. Potential death seems like an acceptable risk if it means she gets to continue doing this.

“I can think of a couple of ways you could thank me,” Clarke says, breathier. Her hand drops to Lexa’s sternum to push her away, retreating a half step. “But later.”

“Tonight?”

An eyebrow flexes. “My haemoglobin is that good, huh?”

“That’s not all I want to taste.”

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