#that was actually me being hit on and i did not know it at all until like 5yrs later

[lovelookspretty]

lies for lunch

rafe cameron x reader

— in which y/n returns to her hometown, the outer banks, to work as ward cameron’s assistant at cameron development, but living under his roof for the summer leads to unexpected tension with his son, rafe.

warnings: animosity, rafes daddy issues, safe !!

authors note: for the sake of the story i need y/n or you or whatever to have a person of familiarity whos hung back in obx to act like you’ve known each other for years, SO U HAVE A FICTIONAL BROTHER 😭

for the past ten months, you’ve been working at cameron development, helping ward negotiate deals and obtain permits. it’s been almost like being his assistant through everything. what started as an internship turned into a full-time job with actual pay after all this time.

they were right—hard work and determination can really pay off. you just didn’t expect to get so lucky with how quickly things moved. after a series of private meetings where ward discussed traveling back to north carolina to work in his hometown, he suggested you come along.

the relationship isn’t weird or inappropriate. you’re one of the few employees ward genuinely appreciates, which is more than he can say about the burnouts that float through the company. since you’re from the outer banks yourself, ward thinks it makes sense to bring you along to continue working for him and the company for as long as possible.

but anyway, you’re absolutely thrilled to be back in the outer banks. it’s more than just a job opportunity—it’s a chance to reconnect with everything familiar, everything that’s been tugging at your heart since you left.

the occasional visits have been fine, enough to keep the homesickness at bay for a while, but that constant, quiet longing for the place you grew up never really goes away. but now? now you’re staying in obx for the summer. no more fleeting weekends, no more rushed goodbyes. you’ll have time to breathe, to soak it all in. to be home.

the airport air is still fresh in your lungs when you slide into the backseat of the car, your bags dumped beside you. before the door even clicks shut, your fingers are already scrolling through your contacts. there’s only one person you want to talk to right now—your brother.

“hey,” you say, stretching out the word, a grin tugging at your lips as you hear the familiar click of him picking up.

“hey,” comes his easy, laid-back reply, his voice filling the small space around you like it always does. like home. “did you land?”

you bounce slightly in your seat as the car hits a bump, your grip tightening on your phone for a second. “yeah,” you confirm, digging through your bag absentmindedly. “i’m about twenty minutes from figure 8, so i’ll be there around noon. are mom and dad home?”

there’s a slight pause on his end, the sound of him shifting around, probably sprawling lazily on the couch back home. “nah, they’re not,” he finally says. “i swung by to check, but i guess mom’s out at lunch with her friends, and dad’s working today.”

you let out an involuntary groan, the disappointment settling in your chest. of course, it would work out like this. “this is what i get for trying to surprise them.”

his voice comes back, laced with mild amusement. “it’s your fault for not announcing you’re coming a day earlier.”

he’s right, but you don’t want to admit it. instead, you plow forward. “look, can you at least call mom and ask if she can be home soon? ward wants me to head straight to him as soon as i land, but i really wanna stop by as soon as i can. i can’t be there later than two.”

on the other end, you can almost hear the exaggerated sigh that you know is coming. the kind that’s loaded with all the typical dramatics. he’s probably rolling his eyes too, even though you can’t see him. “yeah, yeah, whatever,” he mutters, clearly unable to resist playing up his irritation. “i’ll take care of it. just text me when you’re on your way. still can’t believe you’re working for wc.”

with that, the call ends abruptly, and you pull the phone away from your ear, blinking down at the screen in mild confusion. wc? who calls him wc? you furrow your brow, lips tugging into a slight frown as you shoot off a quick text to your brother.

‘ 1st, nobody calls him wc. and 2nd, what??? ’

your phone buzzes again. his reply is as cryptic as ever.

‘ just a coincidence that in ny u ended up working for someone from obx still. don’t u remember him growing up? ’

you stare at the message, trying to piece together what he’s talking about, until another text follows almost immediately.

‘ he has like 3 kids. rafe, sarah, wheezie. i saw rafe down at the pier a few weeks ago. we used to see them at parties when we were younger. ’

rafe? sarah? wheezie? none of those names ring a bell. you rack your brain, searching for some kind of recognition, but you come up empty. a soft laugh escapes you as you quickly type back, ‘idk who that is lmao sorry’ and lock your phone, leaning back in the seat with a sigh.

ward cameron has three kids. it’s a strange thing to realize, that the man you’ve been working for these past couple of years has an entire family you’ve never heard of. but then again, work was always work. personal details were rarely exchanged unless necessary. and now, you can’t help but think—would you meet them? would they be anything like ward?

your brother mentioned seeing one of them recently, so you can assume at least one of ward’s children still live here. you wonder if the rest do too.

your thoughts wander as the car turns down another road, bringing you closer to the heart of figure 8. it’s been a long time since you’ve been back here, long enough for some of the details to feel fuzzy, but the feeling of the place—that never changes. the salty air, the warmth of the sun filtering through the car windows, the sense of familiarity that sits low in your chest, almost like relief.

you try to imagine what the next few months will be like. working for ward in the outer banks is worlds apart from working for him in new york. for one, the pace is different—slower, more laid-back. and for another, you won’t be disappearing into a faceless crowd when the workday ends. you’ll be here, surrounded by people who might actually know your name. or at least remember your face.

the car slows down, the gravel beneath the tires crunching softly as you near the cameron estate.

“thank you!” you call out, waving as the driver pulls away, leaving you standing on the driveway with your bags at your feet. for a moment, you just stand there, taking it all in. the cameron house looms in front of you.

you bend down, grabbing the straps of your bags and hauling them up, careful not to drag them across the grass. even though this isn’t your home, there’s an odd comfort in the way it feels.

you’ve been here before—well, not here exactly, but close enough. working summer jobs in figure 8 as a teenager had given you a glimpse of this world. a world where you were always on the outside, always temporary. back then, you were just a girl from the cut, doing what you had to do to get by.

no one looked at you twice. but now? now you’re here for something more. wanted, even.

the thought of it makes your stomach twist with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. you adjust the weight of your bags on your shoulder and step up to the door, knocking firmly before dropping your things to the floor with a soft thud.

a small sigh of relief escapes your lips as you straighten up, rolling your shoulders to shake off the stiffness from the journey. you’ve been lugging these bags around for hours, and your arms are starting to feel like lead.

as you wait, you take a moment to fix your hair, fingers smoothing back stray strands that have fallen into your face. it’s only then that you hear a rustle in the bushes to your left. your heart skips a beat, and you freeze, mid-motion, your eyes flicking toward the sound. you stretch your neck slightly, peering over your shoulder, but there’s nothing. just silence. your pulse settles again, and you let out a quiet laugh at yourself.

the door suddenly swings open, and you drop your hands to your sides, your face breaking into a smile. standing in the doorway is a girl, and instantly, you’re struck by how put together she looks.

her long blonde hair cascades down her back, and she’s dressed in a cozy white knit sweater paired with shorts. it’s casual, effortless, but there’s something about it that screams figure 8 wealth. but what really catches your attention are her socks—brightly colored, with little monster faces peeking out from the tops.

you smile a little wider at the sight. you’re starting to like her already.

“hey, i’m y/n,” you introduce yourself, stepping forward and extending your hand.

“it’s so nice to meet you! i’m sarah,” she replies, her smile just as warm as she reaches out to shake your hand. her grip is firm but friendly, and before you know it, she’s ushering you inside with a wave of her hand. “come on in! my dad isn’t here right now, but i can actually show you to our guest room. it’s, like, right next to mine. it’s so homey. you’ll love it.”

her energy is almost overwhelming, but in a good way. she’s excited, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved.

“i mean, yeah, sure,” you say, bending down to grab your bags again. but before you can get a good grip, sarah is already stepping in to help, lifting one of the bags with ease. you follow her inside, the door clicking shut behind you as you enter the home.

it’s everything you expected and more—bright, airy, with high ceilings and tasteful decor. it’s the kind of place that feels almost untouchable, like something out of a magazine.

as you make your way toward the stairs, you can’t help but glance around, taking it all in. the house smells faintly of lemon and clean linens, and the soft hum of the air conditioner is the only sound that breaks the quiet. it’s beautiful, but it’s also a little intimidating.

“so, is there anyone else home that i should worry about if i, like, wanted to shower?” you ask as you follow sarah up the steps.

sarah shoots you a smile over her shoulder as she leads the way. “i think you’re good. my brother and sister are here, but they won’t bother you. wheezie’s doing her homework, and rafe . . . well, he’s probably not even home.”

her tone is casual, like she’s talking about the weather, but you can’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity. you remember your brother mentioning a rafe in his text earlier, but the name still doesn’t mean much to you. maybe you’ll meet him later, maybe not. either way, it’s not something you’re too concerned about right now.

you reach the guest room door, and sarah twists the knob, pushing it open with a flourish. “here! this is your room for the summer.”

you step inside, and your breath catches in your throat. it’s . . . gorgeous. simple, but elegant, with soft cream-colored walls and wide windows that let in streams of natural light. the bed is large, with crisp white sheets that look impossibly inviting, and there’s a small sitting area in the corner with a plush chair and a side table. it’s more than you ever expected.

“wow,” you breathe, your eyes sweeping over the room. “this is . . . really nice.”

sarah grins, setting your bag down on the chair. “told you! if you’re gonna shower, i’ll leave you to it. but if you need anything, my room’s right next to yours.” she gestures vaguely toward the door. “the bathroom’s across the hall from mine. my dad will probably be home in, like, half an hour? him and rose just ran out to do something before you got here.”

you nod, but your mind snags on the name—rose. ward’s wife. it’s funny, now that you think about it, how little you actually know about ward’s personal life. you’ve worked with him for years, but he’s always kept things strictly professional. it’s only now, standing in his home, that you’re realizing just how much of his life is a mystery to you.

sarah gives you one last smile before slipping out of the room, closing the door behind her. and just like that, you’re alone. you let out a long, slow breath, your fingers absentmindedly twisting the rings on your fingers as you take a moment to center yourself. it feels surreal, being here. like stepping into someone else’s life for a while.

you cross the room and pull back the curtains, revealing a stunning view of the island and for a moment, all your worries melt away. it’s beautiful here. peaceful. maybe this summer won’t be so bad after all.

you grab your bathroom bag and a fresh set of clothes, the weight of the morning starting to press on your shoulders as you make your way to the bathroom. you pause outside the door, hearing the muffled laughter of sarah and wheezie from across the hall.

their lighthearted chatter pulls a soft smile onto your lips, a sense of warmth in this house. it's comforting, in a strange way, to be surrounded by family—even if it's not your own.

the bathroom is sleek, modern, almost too luxurious compared to what you're used to. you lock the door behind you and let out a long, relieved breath. the hot water feels like an escape, like it's rinsing away the tension of the trip, the awkwardness of being in someone else’s home, and the nerves tangled in your chest about what comes next.

as the minutes pass, you try to calm the buzz in your mind. you know you need to hurry—the last thing you want is to be caught mid-shower when ward and rose return. you quickly towel off, pulling on your new clothes with an urgency that betrays your attempt to stay calm.

you grab your bag off the counter, unlock the bathroom door, and step back into the hallway. as you cross toward your room, you stop abruptly. there, by the door, are three guys, clearly in the middle of something. confusion furrows your brow—who are they? why are they here?

one of them has his back to you, looking into the room, while the others glance in your direction, the closest one nudging the other to signal your arrival. great. more people.

the one in the doorway catches your eye. his hand is rubbing his jaw, his stance casual, like he owns the place. for all you know, he does. his other hand is stuffed in his pocket, his expression unreadable as he turns toward you.

you can feel the weight of their stares, but you offer a polite smile, trying to act unbothered even though you feel a little out of place. honestly, the house is big enough for all of them, and you're too new to figure out who’s who just yet. you’re not even sure who lives here or if they’re just guests like you.

before any introductions can be made, ward’s voice booms from the front of the house, pulling you from the awkwardness of the moment. “is she here?”

you move past the tall boy, dropping your bag off in the guest room, and make your way downstairs. your heart leaps when you spot ward and rose. the grin that stretches across your face feels genuine, a relief after navigating the uncertainty of the last few hours.

“hey,” you say, stepping off the last stair to shake their hands. “thank you for letting me stay in your home, by the way. i met sarah. she’s great.”

ward gives you a friendly nod, his demeanor warm but business-like—he's already familiar with your work ethic and you know that he expects the same here.

“yeah, wait ‘til you meet rafe and wheezie, though,” he says, glancing at rose, who’s already inching away, clearly not interested in small talk, and it stings more than you’d care to admit. but you brush it off, focusing on the fact that you’re here for work, not approval.

“did sarah show you your room?” ward asks, guiding you toward the kitchen.

“yeah, she did!” you nod, falling into step beside him. “it’s really nice. i also used the shower, honestly. also super nice.”

he chuckles lightly, gesturing to the open space around you. “help yourself to anything while you're here. bathrooms, the kitchen, the living room—whatever you need as long as you're working with me here.”

when you reach the kitchen, ward turns to face you, and you're about to answer his question when the boys from earlier walk in, their presence shifting the energy in the room.

the tall one—who you now realize must be rafe—moves with an air of familiarity, heading straight for the fridge without so much as a glance your way, though his friends have sprawled out on the couch nearby, keeping half an eye on the situation.

“you grew up here?” rafe asks, pulling something from the fridge with a nonchalance that borders on arrogance. his tone isn’t rude, exactly, but there’s a challenge in his words, like he’s testing you.

you shift your weight slightly, feeling his attention on you now. “yeah, i did.”

“humor me,” he says before his father can talk, smirking as he continues, “figure 8 or the cut?"

there it is—the divide. figure 8, the land of privilege and wealth, versus the cut, where people like you are from. it's a question loaded with judgment, but you stand your ground.

you hesitate, unsure whether to entertain your boss’s son. “that’s . . .” you begin saying, noticing the small hint of a smile on his lips as he twists the bottle cap off. “i lived in the cut.”

ward quickly steps in, raising a hand to ease the tension. “y/n,” he says, using your name in a way that reminds you you’re under his wing here. “you don’t have to answer his questions.”

there’s a quiet pause before he officially introduces rafe, confirming what you already suspected. “this is rafe,” he says, nodding toward his son, who watches you intently. ward pauses as he brushed over it quickly, “and his friends,” like he doesn’t want to say it.

you give a small wave in return, feeling the awkwardness creep back in. you’re not sure what to make of the boys yet, but the dynamic between them feels . . . off. guarded. like there’s more going on than meets the eye.

ward claps his hands together, breaking the silence. “time for lunch. rafe, can you please tell sarah and wheezie to come down?” he asks, already heading toward the patio doors. “y/n, feel free to find a seat at the table.”

you murmur an ‘okay’ and follow ward outside, the breeze hitting your face as you step onto the patio. you take a moment to scan the setup, unsure where to sit, but ward motions for you to pick any spot. the table looks inviting, the outdoor space just as luxurious as the inside. it’s surreal, really, being here—like stepping into a different world entirely.

the table outside is a lavish spread, every dish meticulously placed as though the meal is a display of the cameron family's status. some of the food is freshly prepared, you can tell by the steam rising from the platters, while other dishes have clearly been delivered, probably from some upscale restaurant.

everything is pristine, almost too perfect for a casual lunch, but you remind yourself this isn’t just any ordinary lunch. this is a welcome—to ward’s world, to his home, and into the lives of the camerons.

this lunch wasn't really about you, though. it’s more of a formality for ward’s return to north carolina.

as you sit at the table, alone for now, your gaze drifts to the patio, the large windows giving you a glimpse into the house. your thoughts wander to art, and you can almost hear his voice in your head—his dry humor, his sarcastic quips. he’d love this, probably have a million things to say about the whole setup.

the camerons, so far, seem nice. well, most of them. sarah is definitely the easiest to get along with, the type of person you instantly feel comfortable around. but rose? you're not even sure she’ll show up for lunch. and rafe . . . you’re still figuring him out. there’s something about him, something unreadable that leaves you on edge.

as your eyes sweep around the room inside, they land on rafe. he's with his friends, the same group from earlier, laughing and talking like they don’t have a care in the world. there’s an ease about him when he’s with them, like he’s more at home in their company than anywhere else.

you can’t quite put your finger on it, but something about him feels . . . dangerous? no, maybe not dangerous, but unpredictable. like he could switch from charming to something much darker in the blink of an eye.

and then it happens—he looks at you. directly at you, like he knows you’ve been watching him. the way he smiles is almost smug, as if he’s aware of the effect he has on people, on you. your heart does a small flip, caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze.

then, just as quickly, he says something to his friends, who erupt into laughter, and you feel the uncomfortable prick of self-consciousness. are they laughing at you? god, you hope not. the last thing you need is to be the butt of some joke you don’t understand.

you pull your focus away, trying to ignore the warmth creeping into your cheeks, and you shift in your chair, suddenly too aware of how out of place you feel. this isn’t your world, not yet at least. you’re still figuring out the rules, where you stand, who you can trust. it's like being in a play without knowing your lines.

“i know my kids are going to be a handful when they’re all together, so . . . be prepared for that,” ward’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you turn slightly to glance over your shoulder at him. there’s a warmth to his tone, something almost paternal. “but they’re good.”

you force a small smile and nod, though you’re not sure how much you believe him. you have a feeling ‘good’ might mean different things in the cameron household.

“you’re a year or two older than sarah,” he continues, and you turn back to face the table, focusing on the clean lines of the polished wood, the way the sunlight catches on the glassware. “you’re not that far off in age with rafe, either. sarah’s probably going to be your best friend. she can’t help it.”

there’s a lightness in his voice, and you get the sense that sarah is the glue that holds this family together, the one everyone relies on to keep things civil. “but rafe . . . he’ll warm up to you.”

will he? you can’t help the slight lift of your brows, amusement flickering in your expression as you consider his words. you don’t agree, but you can’t say that. something about rafe feels like he’s not the type to easily ‘warm up’ to anyone, especially someone like you—an outsider stepping into his territory.

“yeah,” you murmur, your tone filled with doubt, “i’m sure of it.”

the cameron family finally gathers at the long, polished table outside, sunlight filtering through the trees and casting dappled patterns across the plates. you take in the scene quietly as everyone finds their places, the quiet shuffle of chairs pulling out, scraping slightly against the patio stones.

it’s a family affair, but rafe’s friends have tagged along—an addition that seems unsanctioned by ward but tolerated nonetheless. ward positions himself at one head of the table, with you and sarah flanking either side of him like you’re all part of some carefully orchestrated tableau.

rafe is at the opposite end, far enough that the distance feels intentional, deliberate. you can’t help but notice how he’s checked out, his gaze drifting, uninterested. to your right, one of his friends, the blond one, settles beside you, and his presence feels awkward, like he’s trying to take up as little space as possible, aware of the invisible tension in the air.

on the other side of him, the other friend sits, both of them quiet for now. down sarah’s side, wheezie sits next to her sister, then rafe at the very end. the empty chair beside wheezie feels like a gap. technically it’s rose’s chair if she were to have changed her mind.

“so what are you?” wheezie asks, breaking the initial silence, and you can see sarah’s immediate reaction, the quick glance she shoots her sister, a mild scolding in her eyes.

the phrasing is blunt, too blunt, but then again, wheezie is a kid—still learning the art of conversation, still figuring out the way words land.

before you can answer, ward steps in, his voice calm but authoritative. “y/n is my assistant,” he says, filling in the blank you hadn’t yet decided how to describe. you pause mid-chew, a small bite of food lingering on your tongue as you listen to him explain. “she’ll be working with me here in north carolina for cameron development over the next few months.”

you nod slightly, not sure how to react to being discussed like you’re not there. you’ve been in situations like this before, professionally at least, but it feels different now, being talked about in front of his family. a piece of you wants to assert yourself, to explain your role in your own words, but it feels like there’s no room for that right now. so, you stay quiet.

“that’s cool,” sarah says, her voice warm and genuine as she glances over at you, a small, encouraging smile on her face. she seems like the type who would get along with almost anyone, a natural mediator. “what do you do? as his assistant and all.”

from the corner of your eye, you catch rafe’s subtle shift, his gaze flicking toward sarah, his expression sharp for a moment, like he’s not interested in this conversation but is still somehow annoyed by it. you wonder what’s behind that look, what tension simmers under the surface.

you swallow and clear your throat, aware that everyone’s waiting for your answer now. “uh, yeah,” you start, your voice sounding more casual than you intend, like you’re trying to downplay your actual responsibilities.

“your dad has his job—he oversees the projects, handles the big picture stuff. i come along when he needs help with negotiating contracts and leases, hiring architects, engineers, contractors, all that. i also scout available land for potential developments.” you pause, glancing around the table. “just stuff like that.”

there’s a moment of silence, and for a second, you think maybe your explanation was enough. but then, like a crack in the veneer, rafe speaks, almost mockingly, “do you also get him coffee whenever he asks? do you fuck him, too?”

his words hit like a punch, unexpected and crude, cutting through the air with a kind of reckless confidence that leaves you momentarily stunned. for a second, the table feels frozen, like no one’s quite sure how to react.

the blond boy next to you nearly chokes on his food, a strangled half-laugh escaping before he catches himself, suddenly aware that rafe’s comment shouldn’t be funny.

your stomach twists, a flush of heat creeping up your neck as you force yourself to stay composed, staring straight at rafe from across the table. his gaze is fixed on you, unflinching, like he’s testing you, waiting to see how you’ll respond.

it’s infuriating—the audacity of it, the way he tosses out the insult so casually, like it’s no big deal.

ward sets his fork down with a soft clink against the plate, his fingers intertwining as he leans forward slightly. the tension shifts, thickening around the table, and you can feel every set of eyes on you, but your focus remains on rafe.

“rafe,” ward’s voice is calm, measured, but there’s a warning in it. and yet, rafe doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch. he stays locked onto you, like you’re locked in some kind of silent standoff, and part of you wonders what he’s trying to prove.

after a beat of silence, ward adds, “can i talk to you inside the house?” it’s not really a question, more of a command, and finally, rafe moves. slowly, he pulls the napkin from his lap, tossing it onto the table before rising from his seat.

ward turns to you, his expression softening into something apologetic, and you nod slightly, acknowledging his silent apology even though you’re not sure what to do with it. as they disappear inside, the tension lingers, heavy and uncomfortable.

you force yourself to take another bite of food, though it feels like chewing cardboard. the uneasy feeling coils tighter in your chest. this is off to a rocky start, to say the least. sarah and wheezie seem fine, but rafe . . . rafe’s going to be a problem.

sarah reaches across the table, her hand brushing lightly against yours, and you glance up to meet her eyes. there’s sincerity in her expression, a quiet kind of empathy. “i’m so sorry for him,” she says softly. “rafe has a tendency to act like an idiot on a daily basis. don’t let anything he says get to you.”

before you can respond, the blond boy—topper, you think—finally speaks, his voice quiet but carrying a hint of amusement. “he doesn’t have a tendency to act like an idiot every day,” he says, shaking his head slightly as he takes another bite of food, a small smile playing on his lips. it’s the first thing he’s said to you directly, and the casualness of it surprises you.

“oh, he absolutely does,” sarah retorts with a light laugh. “and i’m sure you get yours from him.” she turns to you, smiling again. “y/n, this is topper and kelce, if you hadn’t already been introduced.”

before you can say anything, wheezie pipes up quickly, almost as if she’s sharing a secret, “sarah and topper used to date.” her voice is soft, but the reaction from sarah and topper is immediate—they both look over at her, like this was something she wasn’t supposed to say out loud.

“what?” wheezie says, glancing around the table innocently.

you can’t help but smile at the sibling dynamics playing out in front of you. it reminds you of your own relationship with your brother, the way siblings know each other’s secrets, their histories, the things that outsiders wouldn’t catch unless they were paying attention. in this brief moment, amidst the tension, you find a sliver of familiarity, of something you recognize.

you pull your napkin off your lap, rising from your seat, feeling the tension still clinging to your skin like humidity. you adjust your clothes, smoothing down fabric that doesn’t need smoothing, but it gives your hands something to do.

“where’s the nearest bathroom inside?” you ask, trying to sound casual, but you can feel the strain in your voice, the way your words almost trip over themselves.

“once you’re in the kitchen, it should be the door in the hallway if you just keep walking straight,” sarah tells you, offering a small smile. you nod in response, forcing yourself to return the gesture, though it feels hollow.

you step away from the table, and sarah seizes the moment to nudge wheezie, probably to scold her for spilling her relationship drama with topper.

as you make your way toward the bathroom, your steps slow. it’s not like you really need to go. you glance behind, making sure no one’s paying attention, before diverting your path to the front door instead. the knot in your stomach tightens with every step.

the front door is slightly ajar, and through the opening, you spot rafe. he’s leaning back in a chair on the porch, his head tilted toward the sky as if it’s the only thing he can stand to look at.

ward’s standing near him, mid-conversation, and their voices pull you in, despite knowing you shouldn’t eavesdrop. you lean against the doorframe, just out of sight, your heartbeat quickening.

“you didn't have to fly out some girl that works at the company just because she’s doing good,” rafe says, lifting his head from the chair, his voice tinged with frustration, like he’s been holding it in for too long. “i could've taken the job, especially because i’m already here.”

there’s bitterness in his words, but beneath that, you catch something else—something raw. rafe’s trying to understand why he’s being left out, why he’s not the one ward trusts.

“exactly, rafe,” ward replies, his tone firmer than before. “you're twenty-one and you’re still here. she’s twenty and she's been working with me for nearly two years. don’t you think that says something?”

his words land heavily, and for a moment, there’s silence. you feel the weight of the comparison ward’s making, and it sinks into you too, even though it shouldn’t. rafe chuckles, standing up, but it’s not out of amusement. it’s a defense mechanism, a way to shield himself from whatever hurt ward’s words are causing.

“y/n is here because she’s good at what she does,” ward continues, his voice steadier now, trying to end the conversation.

“alright, dad,” rafe says, nodding, but his expression betrays his words. “let's say i believe that—because i don’t—why am i not in her place?”

ward sighs, shaking his head like he doesn’t understand how rafe isn’t getting it. “rafe, think about what kind of job she has. how could i trust you with that?”

the words sting, and even though they aren’t directed at you, you feel a strange sense of guilt crawling under your skin. you know you’ve earned your place, worked hard for it. but hearing it spelled out like this, in such a stark contrast to rafe, it makes you feel . . . uncomfortable.

rafe rubs his chin, his fingers brushing against the stubble there. he doesn’t say anything, just nods like he’s processing it all, or maybe pretending to. he turns to head back inside.

and that’s when he sees you, standing there, caught in the act of listening.

his eyes lock onto yours, and for a second, you don’t know what to do. your throat tightens, but you force yourself to keep your head high. you can’t apologize. you don’t need to. this is your job, after all, the one you’ve worked damn hard for.

still, the silence stretches between you, heavy and uncomfortable. rafe doesn’t say anything, just turns away, walking back out toward the patio. you exhale, realizing you’ve been holding your breath. the knot in your stomach only tightens as you push yourself off the doorframe and head toward the bathroom, your footsteps almost echoing in the stillness of the hallway.

you stop in front of the bathroom door, staring at it like it might hold some answers you don’t have. your hand reaches for the knob, your fingers curling around it, but you don’t turn it. instead, you stand there, replaying the conversation in your head, trying to make sense of what you’ve just heard. rafe’s resentment, ward’s trust in you—it’s a lot to take in, and you wonder if you’re supposed to feel . . . what? proud? guilty? it’s hard to pin down.

before you can figure it out, you hear footsteps approaching. your hand drops from the doorknob just as ward’s voice reaches you.

“hey,” he says, his tone softer now, though there’s still an edge of frustration lingering there, probably from his conversation with rafe. “you and the girls getting along good?”

you plaster on a smile, nodding even though your thoughts are still tangled from the scene outside. “yeah, we’re good.”

ward mutters a small ‘good, good’ as he walks past you, heading back to the patio. you watch him go, your arms crossing over your chest as if that’ll hold you together. you follow behind him slowly, a quiet unease settling in your chest. this family, with all its complications, feels like a storm you’ve just walked into.

and then there’s rafe. if he already resents you, you can only imagine how his friends—topper and kelce—will react. boys like them, they stick together, and you know that dynamic all too well. the chances of them giving you a fair shot seem slim.

you brace yourself as you step back outside, a small sigh slipping past your lips. this job, this place—it’s not going to be easy. but nothing worth it ever is, right?

“so you're from the outer banks?” sarah asks as soon as you sit back down. there’s an edge to her voice, like she’s making an effort to seem casual but is still trying to figure you out. you can’t blame her. she’s probably just trying to get a feel for who you are, maybe ease the tension that’s been hanging in the air since you got here.

“where from?” she adds, glancing at you over the rim of her glass.

you pause, fork hovering just above your plate, feeling a flicker of unease. it’s a simple enough question, but you can already feel the weight of your answer.

“near quinton,” you say, cutting into your food with deliberate care, keeping your tone light. “a little south.”

you don’t look up as you speak, focusing on the neat little slices you’re making in your lunch, as if perfecting that action could keep the conversation from slipping into uncomfortable territory.

“i’m surprised we haven’t met before today,” you continue, the lie slipping out so smoothly you almost believe it yourself. “my friends and i knew just about everyone before i left the island.”

but the truth sits heavily in your stomach. you don’t know them. sure, your brother mentioned that your families had crossed paths when you were younger, but the memories never stuck. whatever brief moments there were, they’ve faded into the backdrop of your childhood.

rafe, however, doesn’t let your words slide by as easily. he latches onto them like a dog with a bone, straightening in his seat, eyes gleaming with interest.

“your friends?” his voice cuts through the air, almost too eager, too sharp. it’s like he’s waiting for you to say something wrong, give him an opening to tear into you. sarah watches him warily, her eyes flicking between you and her brother. she’s looking for help—maybe from her dad—but the tension is palpable, thickening by the second.

your phone buzzes in your back pocket, and the vibration pulls you from the uncomfortable scrutiny rafe’s casting in your direction.

“who do you know here?” he presses, and his tone is challenging now, like he’s daring you to prove something to him. to justify your place here, in this house, at this table.

you lift your gaze then, meeting his eyes with a steady look, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. but there’s something in the way he’s staring at you that makes your skin crawl, like he’s already made up his mind about you, about what kind of person you are.

it’s fucking exhausting.

“hate to interrupt you, ray,” you say, letting a mocking lilt creep into your voice as you rise from your seat. you keep your movements controlled, measured, not too rushed. “but i have a phone call.”

you pull your phone from your pocket, waving it slightly, feeling a small rush of satisfaction when rafe’s jaw clenches ever so slightly. “let me just take that really quick so we can continue our conversation.”

you don’t wait for his response, because you know whatever he says will just add to the irritation simmering beneath your skin. as you step out of the way, you hear him mutter, “it’s rafe,” under his breath, like correcting you is somehow important to him.

“it’s actually my brother!” you whisper-yell back, flashing the screen of your phone in his direction, making sure he sees the call.

as you walk away, you feel the tension ease just slightly, but it’s still there, humming beneath the surface. this place—figure eight, tannyhill—it’s like a tangled web, and you’ve just stepped into it, with people like rafe already ready to watch you stumble.

you press your phone to your ear as you step out of the patio and into the cool air of the home, and you try to calm yourself, leaning against the wall as your brother’s voice greets you on the other end.

you know you’ll have to go back in there, face rafe again, but for now, you allow yourself a brief moment to breathe.

considering making this a few-part series (maybe) !! let me know if you’d be interested thru replies, anons, or dms <3

@tiaamberxx

[itsasilentreader]

ᯓ★ 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 ― 𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: idol!Hyunjin x fem!reader

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3,2k (got a little carried away lol) — 𝟮𝟮 𝙢𝙞𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: angst, comfort

𝙏𝙒/𝘾𝙒: hurt/comfort, reader's insecure and hyunjin is being oblivious most of the time

𝘼/𝙉: This is also a request. I normally don't really like reading angst but writing it is so much fun lol. Hope you'll enjoy this one!

⤷ 𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘺.

⋮ 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

You were heading to the studio with lunch for Hyunjin and the others. He didn’t reply to your texts all morning so you thought you’d surprise him and the others with lunch. You know how they can be when they are busy, so they probably appreciate it if you bring them something to eat.

You entered the building and down the hall to the studio they’d probably be at. Stopping in front of the door, you see it was not fully closed. Raising your hand to knock before entering, your hand comes to a halt when you hear your boyfriend’s voice.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really. It was just that his voice was a little louder than usual, and you happened to stop by at the wrong time.

“Man, it’s so annoying. My phone keeps blowing up and she won’t leave me alone,” you could hear him let out a frustrating groan. “Sometimes she’s just… too clingy, you know? As if she can’t do anything by herself. ‘S driving me crazy.”

Murmurs followed your boyfriend's confession, but your heart was pounding so loud to hear their responses. Hyunjin said it so casually, but his words hit you like a punch to the gut.

Clingy? He thought you were being too clingy?

You thought you were just showing how much you cared for him — it hadn’t felt like too much. But now it felt like you overstayed your welcome like everything you did and every touch had been one too many.

Fighting back the sudden tightness in your chest, you swallowed hard. You stood by the door for a minute gathering your thoughts, before silently turning around to walk away. Your heart now aching with a newfound distance you weren’t sure how to close.

Apparently, your lingering by the door hadn’t gone unnoticed by one of the members. Felix saw something from the corner of his eye and before he could say something, he saw you turn around and walk away from the studio.

He frowned at the words of his friend and the thought of you possibly overhearing him. “She just cares about you,” Felix spoke up before getting out his phone to text you. He didn’t get a response from the older boy, at least not a verbal one.

You arrived back home when you heard your phone going off. Could it be Hyunjin? Did he text you a lie about how he was just busy and didn’t see your texts coming through?

You hated this. You hated this feeling of being lied to. If he thought it was too much, he should have just said so instead of going to his members behind your back.

Sure, he can vent to his friends. It’s not like you don’t do this with your girlfriends. But complaining about your partner and being actually hurtful? You wouldn’t do that.

You set down the bags that contained the lunch boxes before getting your phone out of your purse. It was Felix, asking if you just stopped by. He had seen you turn around and walk away instead of coming in.

You quickly typed a reply, saying you did want to stop by but forgot something at home. It wasn’t really a lie that he would believe, but at this point, you didn’t want to talk about it.

Your heart felt heavy and when you finally sat down on your couch, you felt the pressure behind your eyes building up.

Maybe you were overreacting? No, this was a valid reaction to something that felt so hurtful. This started a spiral of overthinking.

Were you really that clingy? And was it so bad that he might consider breaking up with you? He knew your last boyfriend said one of the reasons he broke up with you was because you were so overbearing towards him. But it was just because you love to show people you care about them.

In the beginning, Hyunjin assured you multiple times that you weren’t overbearing. He said he loved it when all your attention was on him and that you made him feel so loved and special with every little thing you did for him.

So what has changed?

You had hoped your afternoon would be filled with spending some time with your boyfriend, his friends and good food. Instead, it was filled with overthinking and tears.

In the days that followed you tried to act as if nothing was wrong. You tried to continue on, but his words echoed in your head and it made it impossible for you to be as relaxed as before.

Hyunjin could feel you were pulling back slowly, creating distance between the two of you.

The thing that stood out the most was how your frequent texting went from constant texting him things to a few texts a day to almost radio silence during the day.

Normally, you’d always ask him how his day was going, if he needed something to eat, if you could stop by to see what they were working on and even random things you’ve seen during the day that reminded you of him.

Now it felt like you only texted him out of necessity and not because you wanted to talk to your boyfriend.

The week continued, and it seems like the rift between you and Hyunjin has grown even wider. The tension kept knotting in your stomach and your hands kept fidgeting when you were alone together.

You were asleep, or pretended to be, when Hyunjin left for work and the dinners you had together were being eaten in an uncomfortable silence.

You cancelled a date night with the excuse of not feeling great and went straight to the bedroom. You didn’t come out for the rest of the night, leaving Hyunjin alone with his thoughts.

He felt like you were on edge, but he couldn’t figure out why or what had happened for you to be acting this way towards him. The sudden coldness and distance.

He had to admit, he missed your blabbing during dinner, or when you’re watching a movie and you tell him random fun facts about it. He just could not dwell long on your behaviour, because work still demanded a lot of his time and energy.

This resulted in the members deciding to go out to dinner together when they finished the last remaining details for the comeback. Felix suggested asking you along too; he got the feeling from his friend that something was going on between you.

Hyunjin hasn't talked much about you and what you guys have been up to lately, but he hasn't seen you in the studio during lunch lately either. You would normally come to surprise your boyfriend and the members while they were working hard on their comeback.

This also raised suspicions that you might have overheard Hyunjin's harsh words.

That brings you to here right now, at a table in a fancy restaurant, sitting next to Felix and Hyunjin. Your hands started fidgeting again, a habit you picked up the past few days.

Hyunjin sitting next to you, oblivious to your fidgeting, laughing and chatting with his friends - like hadn’t shattered your confidence with one careless comment.

“Hey, are you alright?” Felix’s voice was soft as he leaned closer, his concern clear. You gave him a small, forced smile.

“Yeah, just tired,” you mumbled. The lie felt heavy, but the ache in your chest felt even heavier.

Hyunjin’s laughter pulled your attention back to him. He looked so carefree and completely unaware of the hurt he’d caused. That’s what stung the most—how easy it was for him to say something that lingered with you, while he didn’t seem bothered at all.

Did he really not notice? Or does he not care enough to do something about it. Then again, you didn’t know if you should bring it up to him.

Felix spoke up again, “I haven’t seen you at our studio during lunchtime lately. What’s up with that?”

His attention was fully on you, trying to figure out what was going on in that head of yours. The question seems to caught you off guard. He observed you telling a forced lie to him about your absence. Suspicion confirmed.

Your eyes strayed quickly to Hyunjin but it seemed you didn't want to focus your attention on your boyfriend. His attention went to your hands, which were still fidgeting. He knew now that you indeed heard your boyfriend tell his members that he thought you were clingy and it was eating away at you.

This needs to be resolved quickly, he thought, but he didn’t want to intervene right now. It seems like you need a friend in this moment and he wanted to help you not have the troubling thoughts in your head for a moment.

He switched up the conversation with a different question to ease your mind, and you seemed to be eager to change the topic.

And this did work for a while, you were having good food and good conversations with the rest of the group. Except for Hyunijn, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him.

After the dinner ended, and everyone went their separate ways home, you fell back into an uncomfortable silence again. The car ride home seemed to last hours when it was in fact only a 20-minute drive.

Hyunjin tried to place his hand on your leg, but you just slightly turned your body the other way and faced the window the entire ride home.

When you stepped foot into your apartment, you immediately headed to your bedroom to change into your pyjamas. Hyunjin still was a little confused and watched you disappear into the bedroom.

Deciding to confront you about the distance he felt, he went after you. You were already in the bathroom, removing your make-up.

“Hey,” Hyunjin’s voice was cautious, a little hesitant. “Is something wrong?”

You didn’t answer him straight away. Your eyes found his and you looked at him through the mirror, before settling back to your own reflection to continue removing your make-up.

Should you admit that you’d heard everything? The hurt twisted inside you, mingling with the fear of pushing him away even more.

Finally, you turned to face him, your voice barely audible. “Do you really think I’m clingy?”

The question clearly caught him off guard, he just stood there and blinked at you. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t leave his lips.

The silence followed by your question was suffocating and it made you second — no, triple—guess all the thoughts and emotions you’ve felt for the past days. The reaction he gave you made your mind wonder if you might be overreacting to five simple words.

‘Sometimes she’s just too clingy’.

You felt so vulnerable, but you couldn’t hide your unspoken thoughts anymore. Your eyes stayed focused on Hyunjin. He swallowed thickly before parting his lips to speak. “You’ve heard?”

He had no idea you were at the studio, or near the studio when he was venting to his members.

A sad and tired sigh left your lips and you turned your attention back to your reflection, continuing your skincare. It felt weird, acting as if it was just a normal question, meanwhile the words chipped away at your confidence.

“It’s just... sometimes...” His voice finally broke the tension, but it didn’t sound as sure as you’d hoped. Running a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his features.

You could see him trying to find the right words, but every second he hesitated only making your chest tighten more.

“What? Sometimes what?” you pressed on. “I’m sometimes too much? Am I too close all the time? Overbearing? I can’t do anything by myself?” Though your voice was quieter now, he could hear the hurt and uncertainty bleeding through.

He winced slightly at your words and pressed his lips together. He let out another sigh, “No, it’s not like that. I- I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…” He trailed off, trying to find the right words.

You didn’t respond to his words, just waiting for an explanation as to why he said you were ‘too clingy’ and ‘couldn’t do anything by yourself’. But the explanation never seemed to come, the words stuck in his throat.

Though, you weren’t sure what you wanted to hear. His silence felt louder than any explanation he could have given.

“I was venting, and I just… I didn’t know you heard that... I’m sorry.” Frustration was seeping into his features. “It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or- or what you do!” His voice softened and his eyes searched yours.

He didn’t know whether to take a step towards you and reach out or keep his distance, though the latter option is something you already succeeded in the past few days.

It didn’t feel good enough for you. The words fell flat between you, without meaning. You felt your chest tighten again and the suffocating feeling in your throat came back. The burning sensation of fresh tears behind your eyes was building up, ready to be released down your cheeks.

Turning away from him and nodded, “I get it, Hyunjin.” The man winced at the sound of your voice and hearing his name coming from your lips. “It’s fine. My ex said the same things, I’m used to it by now.”

It wasn’t fine. You weren’t used to it, not by a long shot. But you didn’t know if you could handle hearing more, or even if you wanted to.

Pushing past him, you went back into your bedroom. Turning on the lamp on your bedside table, you pulled back the covers and got into bed. Hyunjin lingered in the bathroom, trying to gather his thoughts on how he could explain to you he didn’t mean it like that.

He didn’t mean to hurt you, it was just in the heat of the moment and being stressed out because of work didn’t help either. Not that it should be an excuse.

You reminded him of the words your ex had said to you tugging at his heartstrings. That hurt. He knew it was a bad and rough break-up for you.

Even though it was so significantly small for him, something said in passing when he was stressed, holds an entirely different meaning and feeling for you.

You lay in bed staring at the window, silently letting the salty tears run down your face, and onto your pillowcase. From your position in bed, you reached out to turn off your light. The darkness engulfed you.

Hyunjin came into the bedroom after a minute. You felt the bed dip behind you, and he softly reached out to you. He rested his hand on your shoulder, trying to be comforting to you.

He could hear your breathing, uneven and heavy. Without seeing your face, he knew tears were rolling down.

The moonlight is peeking through the see-through curtains in front of the window., and it lit up your face. Right now, that was the only light in the room. You stayed quiet, not trusting your voice to say anything to your boyfriend.

“It’s not fine,” he murmured, almost like he was talking more to himself than to you. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.” When he didn’t hear anything from you, he continued.

“I just…” He exhaled slowly, clearly struggling. “I didn’t know how to explain it. Sometimes, when I’m stressed or overwhelmed, I don’t know how to handle things. But it’s not about you. It’s never about you.”

His words hovered between you. The sting of what you’d overheard lingered, reminding you of how easy it was for him to call you clingy in front of the others.

You wondered if he even realized how much that had hurt, or if he was just trying to smooth things over now that he knew you’d overheard.

“Then why say it at all?” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady. “If it wasn’t about me, why say it like that? Why make me feel like… like I’m too much?”

Hyunjin looked pained, his eyes flickering with regret as he gently pulled you to him in the dark. “You’re not too much. You never are.” At his words, you turned to face him.

Carefully he reaches for your hair to brush the loose strands from your face. “I know it's not an excuse to say I was stressed, but I really didn't mean it. The past few days I felt the distance between us and it ate away at me. I didn't know what was going on and what I had done to make you distance yourself from me.”

Your silence urges him to continue, “I didn't know how to bring this up, but I understand why you've been so distant these past few days. I was just venting to my friends without realizing this could hurt you. Especially after your break-up with your ex, I'm so sorry...”

His fingertips traced the side of your face before wiping away the tears that ran free. You swallowed hard, you wanted to believe him. You really did, because it is normal for people to vent about their feelings, good and bad.

But another part, the part that heard him so casually say you were clingy, kept you guarded.

Your hand reached out for his that was still lightly tracing your face, “I don’t want to feel like I’m smothering you, Hyunjin. I just… I don’t know what to do now.”

“You know, I missed your random texts. The one you always send if you see something that reminds you of me. And when you ask me how my day is going. The boys also have been asking about you, y’know.”

The sincerity in his voice made you look up at him. “They miss you at lunch too, just like I do.” For the first time since this conversation started, you saw the cracks in his usual confidence.

“It really hurt, the way you said it so casually too. And it felt like a punch in the gut after you know what my ex said to me. But it is my insecurity, not yours. I just need to figure out how to deal with it.”

He gently shook his head. “If you feel hurt about what I said, that is completely valid. I know it is an insecurity of yours, and I shouldn’t have been so casual about it.”

You let out a sigh and initiated intertwining your fingers with his. The small act brought a soft smile to his face. Watching your features, being lit up by the moonlight, he felt his racing heartbeat calm down.

“We’ll figure it out together baby. If I feel like I don’t need a distraction during work, I’ll put on my do-not-disturb mode on my phone, okay?” His words made you nod in agreement.

“And I will try to communicate my feelings more, especially when it comes to something like this. I realize now that I just have to talk about this when it bothers me.”

In response to your words, he nodded. “I love you, baby, so much.” Before you could respond he drew you closer, his lips brushing yours in a lingering kiss. “I love you too Jinnie.” You tugged him closer, kissing him with tender, quiet softness. You finally felt the tightness in your chest melt away.

He wanted to do better for you. His hand in yours felt like a promise—one he wasn’t going to let slip away.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

Ⓒ︎ 𝗶𝘁𝘀𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥. 𝗗𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵.

[thewritetofreespeech]

In the Dark

pairing: Aemond x Targaryen!reader [Rhaenyra & Daemon's daughter]

summary: one night, while coming back from the Street of Silk, Aemond runs into an all too familiar figure in the dark. request from @brideofcthulhu10

tags: married reader, targaryen incest, tw: knives, tw: mentions of potential SA

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

The Street of Silk was never quiet, but they were usually a bit more subdued this time of night. Aemond had planned for it this way.

Leaving the comfort of the palace to find comfort somewhere else, the prince always snuck out under the cover of darkness and returned just the same. No one the wiser. No one able to catch him and mock that he would be out here with whores instead of in bed with his wife. No one able to know what he was really doing here….

The prince adjusted his cloak to pull around him to make his way back to the secret tunnels of the castle. He rounded the corner and paused as he caught a glimpse of another figure in the streets. Not unusual, but not the usual sort either. Aemond’s good eye scanned the potential witness and noticed that their cloak was made of much finer material than any other in Flea Bottom. Too nice for peasants, though it clearly made efforts to seem plain.

Aemond growled through his teeth as he realized who it was. Even with the cloak, those whisps of silver hair that snuck out of the hood are a dead giveaway. Although Aemond had already memorized the gait. “What are you doing out here?” He hissed at his wife as he appeared behind her like a shadow.

You spun around fast. Wide eyed in startled fear, which quickly faded when you realized it was him. An odd feeling for Aemond, as it was usually the other way round when people realized it was him. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“What are you doing out here?” He repeated, still hissing, but more from the whispering now. “What are you doing outside the castle, alone, at night, without an escort?!” His blood boiled with each new remark to his list. Aemond thought his wife clever for a time, but he would have to rethink that in this lunacy.

You glared at him. “I do not need an escort.” You insisted. “And what are you doing out here? Last you told me; you would be with Ser Cristion for the night.”

The apple of his throat bobbed, but Aemond refused to admit he gulped at the accusations of his wife. True, they were both at fault here. Sneaking out unbeknownst to their people and partner. The only difference was that Aemond’s transgression did not come with the inherited danger a young lady, alone, in the middle of the night had. Your life was not your own now, and Aemond was angry that you were being so careless with it.

“That is immaterial. You do need an escort. What if I had been a stranger in the dark?”

“I can handle myself, Aemond.” You continued to insist. Why did the Gods have to give him such an infuriating woman as a wife? “I’m not the soft petal that other women in the palace are. I’m a Targaryen.”

True, you were not as soft as the other ladies. Rhaenyra may bare bastards left & right, and Daemon may be an opportunistic lech, but they had done right by their daughter. Teaching you to not only be an adequate lady of court, but also a skilled rider, both of dragon & horse, and how to defend yourself. Targaryens were never short of enemies. It was best to be prepared. But their Targaryen jewel had not been trained in the same way Aemond had. More how to hold a knife and properly thrust when the moment came, but not actually overcome a group of attackers if swarmed.

“Targaryen’s bleed just as much as anyone, ābrazȳrys.” Aemond told her. Stepping close. You predictably take a step back away from his ire. “We are not immortal like our beasts. What would you have done if I had been another man? Two men? Twenty?”

Your back eventually hit a walk. Locked on with Aemond’s eye as you felt a swell of fear in your belly at his words. “I…I would run away.”

Aemond cruelly laughed at your answer. “You would outrun twenty men? You’re fast, byka ābrazȳrys,” he remembers the races they had when they were children, before he sprouted to his current height, “but not fast enough to outrun twenty.” He then used that impressive height of his to quell around you. His arm coming up to place his hand against the wall. Blocking one exit. “What would you do if I had been a stranger in the dark?”

There was a tense moment between you. You felt trapped. You have to force your body to stay still and not tremble. “Stop it Aemond.” You hiss as you try to push him away. He’d made his point. Perhaps this was a bad idea. But you would never admit it.

“Who's Aemond?" Your eyes flickered up to him as Aemond’s voice sounded different. Void of the subtle hints of affection he had for you, and stone cold. A blade was suddenly out from by his pocket and by your throat. “I'm just a faceless, masked man in the dark.”

Your back went straight against the wall as you tried to create as much space as possible between you, Aemond, and the knife. “S-Stop it…”

“Make me.” Was his reply. “You’re a strong, capable Targareyn, aren’t you? Make me stop.”

You realize you can’t. You’re too afraid. This was indeed Aemond, your husband who loved you, but your mind kept thinking on what if this wasn’t Aemond. What if this had been a strange man in the dark? What is this wasn’t a test but truly real? An enemy of your mother? An enemy of Aemond? Or just a man like so many in the city who pulled women into dark alleys and forced them to their needs? What if this had been real?

Aemond saw the fear welling up inside you as tears came to your eyes in panic. He put the knife away and leaned in to give you a kiss. His build softening around you as the point had been made and the ‘game’ was over. You cling to Aemond in relief. Like a life raft out to sea. Overcome with emotions you kiss your husband desperately in a manner unbecoming of commoners in an alley, much less royalty.

Aemond kissed you back with equal fervor. Never missing an opportunity to kiss you. Relief also washed over him as well, thinking on the what-ifs if he had not run into you and another man did. What could have happened to you. The prince growled possessively at the thought and ran his hands over your body to claim it from these imaginary brigands. You moaned against his lips. Breasts heaving as you pant against him while his knee slid up between your legs as he bucked against you. “Let us go home issa jorrāelagon.”

You nodded fervently. You just wanted to go home now. Be with your husband. Be in the palace walls. Be safe.

The prince released you and the two of you walked back through the cobblestone streets for the tunnels. “Why are you out here anyway, issa jorrāelagon?” He realized you had never answered him.

“Father told me once of a spot past the Iron Gate that, if you look out at it at sunrise, you can see Valyria.” Aemond resisted the urge to roll his eye. What a ridiculous story. Valryia was leagues away. He’d barely come close to it on Vhagar; though in truth he would never fly near the place after what happened to Princess Aerea. “I know it’s silly, but I wanted to see it.”

“Why now?” He asked. You had lived in King’s Landing on & off for most of your life. Had you wish to see ‘The Valyrian Sun’ (yes, he knew what she was talking about) you could have done so at any time before. Why now, alone, when such danger was about for them?

“In times of trouble, I look to the Old Gods more, like your mother looks to the Seven.” Daemon’s influence, no doubt. Or perhaps it was just her own. Aemond parroted the phrases and did the prayers when asked by his mother, but he would not truly say he was bound to one set or the other. “I thought it might bring me some clarity on things. Some answers.”

“Answers on what?” You don’t answer, which made Aemond suspicious, but he doesn’t pry further. “Why didn’t you just ask me to come with you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t go if I told you it was something my father taught me.”

He frowned. Did you really think him that petty of the man that he wouldn’t go just because Daemon Targaryen taught of it first. “Come. This way.”

You do not have time to react as Aemond took your hand and pulled you down a different alley. “Where are we going?”

“The proper way.” He told you. “You were headed for the Dragon’s Gate. Yet another reason why you need an escort.” You frown at Aemond’s slight but follow after him.

The two of you meet the ‘Valyrian Sun’ together. There is no cast of Old Valyrian in the sun beams, nor any of the answers you seek. But when you turn to look at Aemond amongst the sunrise, you feel some kind of peace. Some kind of answers. “Let’s go home.”

[solxamber]

Royal Scandal- Ruggie Bucchi x reader

You're being forced to marry someone to take the throne you've fought your entire life for. Okay, if that's how it is, you'll make sure to choose the one person here that your dearest parents will disapprove of the most.

I really like how this one turned out!

The ballroom was resplendent, filled with swirling silks, dazzling jewels, and a sea of royals from every corner of the world. It was your nightmare, distilled into one room. You stood at the head of the grand staircase, glaring down at the crowd, feeling utterly betrayed by your parents.

You—the crown heir, a skilled warrior, a tactical genius, and the pride of your kingdom—reduced to nothing more than a prize in a political matchmaking game. It was an insult.

“Really?” you muttered to yourself, grip tightening on the bannister. “They think they can push me into marriage to take the throne? They’ll regret this.”

From across the room, the usual parade of suitors hovered about, each one vying for a moment of your attention. They were all here to win your hand, though it was clear many of them weren’t here for you. The throne, the kingdom, the alliances—it was all just a game of power to them.

And then there was him. The only non-royal standing awkwardly by the hors d'oeuvres table. Ruggie Bucchi.

Ruggie was here because of Leona, and Leona was here because Falena had pawned off the responsibility of attending this ridiculous event onto his younger brother. But as usual, Leona wasn’t particularly interested in mingling with anyone. He had quickly made his way to the most comfortable couch in the room, leaving his attendant Ruggie to do all the heavy lifting—literally. Ruggie was managing Leona’s food, drinks, and handling the other guests with a sharp smile that concealed just how little he wanted to be here.

Leona had been an unexpected ally ever since your diplomatic trip to the Savannah, where your banter had somehow sparked an unlikely friendship. Leona, for all his royal airs, had grown fond of teasing you relentlessly, and the two of you exchanged jabs every chance you got.

You've met Ruggie before, during the visit. You knew of his circumstances and a wonderful plan was brewing inside you at this moment.

Ruggie wasn’t a suitor. He wasn’t even remotely interested in this ball. And yet…

Oh, this could work.

A grin began to spread across your face.

The next morning, the grand hall was packed with suitors, ministers, and your parents, all eagerly awaiting your declaration. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a sword.

“Today,” your father began with his booming voice, “our heir will announce their chosen partner. We know that this decision will aid in the prosperity of our kingdom.”

Your mother nodded, casting you a pointed look, as if to remind you of the importance of this moment. Oh, if only she knew what was coming.

You stepped forward, scanning the room with a serene smile. Your heart raced with excitement as you looked past all the anxious, hopeful suitors. Finally, your gaze landed on Ruggie, who stood in the corner, shoving the last of a sandwich into his mouth. He caught your eye, freezing mid-chew.

You raised a hand, pointing directly at him. “I have chosen Ruggie Bucchi.”

There was a deafening beat of silence before your declaration actually registered.

Your parents’ smiles froze, the air in the room turning cold. The ministers paled, their gazes snapping toward Ruggie, who was standing in the back, his next sandwich halfway to his mouth. He blinked, looking over his shoulder like you couldn’t possibly mean him. Maybe there was a “Ruggie Bucchi” that he didn’t know about?

But the world stopped when it hit that yes, you did mean that Ruggie Bucchi—the hyena from the slums of the Sunset Savanna who had no royal blood, no land to offer, no armies. Just a cunning smile and a love for free food.

Leona, sitting lazily on the side, blinked at you before letting out a sudden burst of laughter, the sound echoing through the hall. His usual smirk widened into something truly wicked as he turned to your parents with a shrug. “Well, what did you expect? You did say they could choose anyone in the room, didn’t you?”

Leona, never one to miss an opportunity for chaos, leaned back in his chair and grinned even wider. “It would be a shame if you went back on your word now. After all, it was very clear—whoever they chose, right? I’m sure the esteemed royals wouldn’t go back on a promise they made to their only heir in front of all these witnesses.”

Your parents were speechless, their faces a mix of horror and disbelief. Your mother looked like she might faint, and your father sputtered, glancing between you and Ruggie, who still hadn’t moved from his spot at the back of the room. He slowly lowered the sandwich, looking very much like he was rethinking every life choice he had ever made.

Your father’s mouth opened and closed, his face rapidly turning a shade of purple as he tried to find words that wouldn’t cause a diplomatic disaster. Your mother’s eyes darted around the room, probably searching for an escape route. Meanwhile, the ministers exchanged horrified glances, clearly trying to figure out how to spin this in a way that wouldn’t end in utter embarrassment.

Leona, of course, wasn’t done yet. “You know,” he added, casually inspecting his nails, “a promise is a promise. And from where I’m sitting, it looks like Ruggie here’s your new royal consort.” His eyes sparkled with mirth, clearly loving every second of the madness you'd just incited. “After all, we wouldn’t want to insult the future ruler’s decision, right?”

You could practically see your parents’ souls leaving their bodies.

Ruggie, to his credit, finally stopped gaping like a fish and straightened up, wiping crumbs from his vest and putting on a cocky grin, like he had totally planned for this from the start. “Welp, looks like I’m movin’ up in the world,” he said, swaggering forward, though the slight wobble in his step gave away his shock. He shot Leona and you a glance that screamed, Why are you doing this to me? But Leona just gave him a lazy shrug in response, clearly enjoying the show. And you just grinned back at him.

Your mother finally found her voice, though it was shaky at best. “This… this can’t be—”

“Oh, but it can.” your voice cut through the hall, smooth as silk and twice as smug. “You said anyone. Don’t tell me you’re regretting those words now?”

Your father visibly swallowed, realizing the bind he was in. The ministers were sweating bullets, clearly hoping someone else would step in and stop this disaster, but no one dared to speak. After all, it would be political suicide to go against a future ruler’s decision in front of a room full of witnesses.

Ruggie had now reached the front, his grin widening as he gave a quick, exaggerated bow to you, looking for all the world like a cat that had just caught a very large mouse. “Guess I’m your guy now, huh?”

You flashed him a triumphant smile, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Looks like it.”

Your father, still in a state of shock, muttered something about tradition, but it was too late. The damage was done. You had chosen Ruggie, and with Leona egging on the entire thing, there was no way they could take it back without creating an uproar.

Leona, still lounging like the king of chaos he was, gave you a little salute. “Congrats to the happy couple. Can’t wait to see the wedding.”

Your parents looked like they might faint. The suitors—well, some of them looked relieved to not be part of this train wreck, but others were trying very hard not to burst into outrage. Ruggie just stood there, now fully committed to the bit, his grin as wide as ever.

And so, with your parents begrudgingly forced to accept your choice, the announcement was made. You had successfully thrown the entire royal court into chaos, and judging by the look on your face, this was far from over.

As for Ruggie, well, he was already calculating how much food he could swindle from the wedding feast.

After the uproar finally died down, and the ministers and royals reluctantly dispersed—each with their own whispers and murmurs of the chaos that had just ensued—you managed to pull Ruggie aside, away from the prying eyes of the court. His expression was still a mix of disbelief and amusement, as though he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what had just happened.

“Well, that was something,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I’ve had some wild gigs before, but to be the royal consort? That’s a new one.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his casual tone, even as the situation around you felt anything but. You led him into one of the side corridors, away from the grand hall, before stopping to face him. Ruggie crossed his arms, clearly curious about where this was going. “Alright, spill it. What’s the deal here?”

You took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts. “I know that whole declaration just now was insane, but I had to do something drastic.”

“Yeah, drastic is one way to put it,” he snickered, leaning against the wall, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m the only heir to the throne,” you began, the frustration in your voice evident. “I’ve trained my whole life for this. The swordsmanship, the diplomacy, the studies. I’ve done it all. But my parents—” you trailed off, your voice tight with anger, “—they won’t let me take the throne unless I get married. It’s ridiculous. I don’t need to get married to rule, but they refuse to see that.”

Ruggie tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “So, what? You picked me just to get them off your back?”

“Exactly.” You smiled, but it was more cunning than genuine. “They’re too stuck in their ways to listen to reason, so I decided to make them regret forcing me into this. That’s where you come in.”

His ears twitched in curiosity, though the grin on his face was as sharp as ever. “And what exactly do I get out of this?”

You took a step closer, lowering your voice to ensure no one overheard. “I need you to play along with this marriage for a year. Just a year. By that time, I’ll have stabilized the kingdom, taken the throne officially, and you’ll be free to leave. No strings attached.”

Ruggie’s eyes narrowed as he considered your words. “And what do I get in return?”

“The wealth you’ll get out of this will set you up for life. I’m talking more money than you’ll know what to do with. You’ll never have to worry about another odd job or scrape together food again. After this year, you can go back to the Sunset Savanna, and you’ll have enough to take care of yourself, your community, your grandmother—whoever. You’ll never have to work again.”

Ruggie raised a brow, a flicker of interest in his eyes. He was a practical guy, after all, and if there was one thing that motivated him, it was a good deal. “And all I have to do is pretend to be your royal husband for a year?”

“Yep,” you confirmed with a nod, crossing your arms. “Think of it as the best con of your life. We’ll fake the marriage, play the part for a year, and then when it’s over, you’re free to go with a fortune in your pocket.”

For a moment, Ruggie was silent, his sharp gaze studying you, likely weighing the pros and cons of this insane proposal. “So, you’re basically hiring me to be your fake spouse.”

“Exactly.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “You know, this is probably one of the most ridiculous offers I’ve ever gotten—and I’ve been offered some weird stuff before—but,” he shrugged, “money’s money. And if it means I get to live easy after this, then I’m in.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, relief washing over you. “So, we have a deal?”

Ruggie chuckled, extending his hand to you. “We have a deal. But don’t expect me to go easy on the royal kitchens while I’m here. I’m gonna milk this for all it’s worth.”

You smirked, shaking his hand. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Ruggie’s grin turned mischievous as he added, “And don’t worry. I’ll play the part of the perfect doting husband. We’ll give ‘em a show they’ll never forget.”

With the deal struck, you both walked back into the palace, the weight of the future ahead not lost on you. A fake marriage with Ruggie Bucchi—one year, just one year, and then you’d be free. What could possibly go wrong?

Except, somewhere deep inside, you had a feeling that the real challenge wasn’t in the act itself—it was in not falling for the witty, resourceful hyena at your side.

Your wedding was the most extravagant affair your kingdom had ever seen. You spared no expense, throwing the grandest celebration imaginable, just to rub it in a little more. Lavish decorations, exotic foods, and a royal procession that stretched for miles.

Ruggie, for his part, looked both delighted and completely out of place as he stood beside you during the ceremony. He leaned over at one point, whispering, “I’ve never been this well-dressed in my life. You sure we’re not overdoing it?”

You grinned, adjusting his ornate cape. “If we’re going to make them suffer, we might as well go all out.”

The priest, an elderly man with a tremble in his voice, stood before the two of you, his wrinkled hands holding the ceremonial scroll. His voice was deep, reverent, and filled with emotion—entirely too much emotion for the farce that was about to unfold.

You felt a little sorry for him, considering that he was the one who taught you the scriptures and history of your nation when you were younger, one of the only people to see you for you instead of the "heir". But you knew the next part was going to be hilarious.

“We gather here today,” the priest began, “to unite these two souls in the eternal bond of marriage.”

You dared a glance at your parents, sitting stiffly at the front row, their faces a mixture of horror and resignation. The ministers were whispering frantically among themselves, occasionally darting their eyes towards you and Ruggie as if hoping this was all a nightmare they’d soon wake up from. The absolute satisfaction you felt seeing them squirm almost made this whole ridiculous charade worth it.

But the best part? Leona. Sitting at the back, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking with the effort to keep from bursting out in laughter. Every now and then, you could hear a muffled snort escape him, and you had to fight the urge to look back at him. One glance, and you’d both be done for.

“And now,” the priest continued, oblivious to the brewing chaos, “the couple will exchange their vows.”

You took a deep breath, turning to face Ruggie. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly with suppressed laughter. His eyes met yours, and you could see the absolute glee dancing in them. This was going to be ridiculous.

You cleared your throat and began, doing your best to sound as dramatic and sincere as possible. “Ruggie Bucchi, from the moment I saw you,” you paused, a wave of barely-contained laughter bubbling up in your chest, “I knew you were the one destined for me. Your… resourcefulness, your… cunning, your ability to stretch a loaf of bread for days… it all captivated my heart.”

Ruggie’s eyes widened slightly at that, and you saw his lips twitch as he struggled not to laugh. You forged on.

“I vow to cherish every moment we spend together, whether it’s in the royal kitchen, watching you devour a feast meant for ten people, or in the court, where I know you’ll always have some… crafty solution to every problem.” You bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face as you added, “I promise to never let a day go by without admiring your thriftiness.”

You finished with a flourish, and the nuns and priests in the room were openly weeping, clutching their hearts as though your “love” had moved them to tears. It was a struggle to not just burst out laughing at the scene. The more you spoke, the more ridiculous it all felt, and you swore you could hear Leona snickering from the back, not even trying to hide it anymore.

Ruggie cleared his throat, taking his turn, his voice as smooth and exaggerated as possible. “Your Highness,” he began, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. “From the moment you dragged me into this—” he coughed, “I mean, the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special. You’re not like other royals,” he said, the smirk on his face just barely concealed. “No, you’re so… generous. So thoughtful. Offering me all the wealth I could ever dream of—”

You gave him a small nudge with your elbow, and he winked at you before continuing.

“I vow to stand by your side, no matter how absurd the situation.” His grin widened, his voice growing more theatrical with each word. “I’ll be there when the royal chefs burn your food, when the ministers drive you mad with their endless meetings, and most importantly, I’ll make sure there’s always a way out of any mess you get into—royal or otherwise.”

The priest was dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief, clearly moved beyond words by the display of "eternal love" unfolding before him. The nuns were practically clutching their rosaries, and one of the ministers was furiously scribbling notes, perhaps planning to write a memoir about this "historic" union.

But you could feel Ruggie shaking with barely-contained laughter beside you, and you knew he was struggling just as much as you were.

Leona, meanwhile, was not helping.

“Isn’t this just the most touching thing you’ve ever seen?” Leona called from the back, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he stood up and clapped once, slowly. “I mean, who could have predicted such true love would bloom in the royal court? Makes you wonder why we ever doubted them.”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, and sure enough, Leona’s face was barely composed, his smirk broad as he leaned against the back wall. He mouthed, “Go on, keep it up,” as if he was daring you both to escalate the absurdity.

Ruggie, never one to miss an opportunity, took the challenge.

“And, in return for your endless affection,” Ruggie continued, placing his hand dramatically over his heart, “I swear to be the most diligent husband this kingdom has ever seen. I will work tirelessly—mostly to keep you out of trouble, but also to ensure that you never have to lift a finger. You’ll never have to worry about running out of your precious riches, or losing your crown jewels, because I’ll be there to safeguard every coin.”

He shot you a playful wink before finishing with, “And of course, I’ll always be ready to take off with you when things get a little too… boring around here.”

The priest, overcome with emotion, was full-on sobbing now, while your parents sat pale-faced, probably wondering what cosmic force they had offended to end up in this situation.

The room erupted into applause, and Leona, now clapping with a wide grin, leaned over to one of the younger nobles. “You’ll tell the archivists that the vows were this good, right? Might as well get all the details in there.”

Your parents couldn’t even muster a response. They sat rigidly, eyes flickering from you to Ruggie, to the now entirely tearful congregation. The sight of the priests and nuns weeping, utterly convinced by your "heartfelt" vows, was the icing on the cake. You could almost hear the grinding of your father’s teeth from where you stood, and your mother’s strained smile looked one twitch away from cracking.

By the time the priest finally declared your union, both you and Ruggie were barely keeping it together. The ceremony had transformed into a spectacle of ridiculous proportions, and you weren’t sure if anyone could really tell if the applause was genuine or just out of sheer disbelief.

When the final words of the ceremony were spoken and you were “officially” bound together, Ruggie turned to you with a grin so wide it could only be described as mischievous.

“Well, Your Majesty,” he whispered, loud enough for you alone to hear, “we really pulled it off. But I think I deserve a bonus after that performance.”

You stifled a laugh, giving him a light shove. “Wait until after the banquet. I’ll have them send extra desserts to your room as compensation.”

And with that, the two of you walked down the aisle, the very picture of an odd, unexpected royal match.

Leona gave you both a mock bow from the back as you passed by, still laughing silently to himself as the ministers and nobles exchanged bewildered glances.

The following weeks were a blur of royal duties, much to Ruggie’s bemusement. He followed you around, trying to figure out how he ended up playing the role of a royal consort.

“So,” Ruggie said one evening as he flopped down onto the couch in your chambers, “I gotta admit, I thought this was gonna be way worse. I mean, I’m not exactly cut out for all this fancy stuff, but the food? The food is incredible.”

You chuckled, sitting beside him. “Well, it’s only for a year. Then you’ll be free, and you’ll never have to deal with this nonsense again.”

Ruggie shot you a grin. “You’re counting down the days already?”

You smirked. “Aren’t you?”

He shrugged, his grin softening. “Honestly? You’re not as bad as I thought. Could’ve ended up with someone way more annoying.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him playfully. “Gee, thanks.”As the months went on, something strange began to happen. The more time you spent with Ruggie, the more comfortable things felt. Sure, it had started as a deal—a way to get what you wanted—but somewhere along the way, the lines began to blur.

Ruggie was surprisingly good company. His sharp wit and laid-back attitude were a refreshing change from the stiff, formal interactions you were used to with the other royals. He was resourceful, quick-thinking, and even though he constantly complained about the pomp and ceremony of royal life, he never once let you down.

Then there was the way he treated you. Not as a royal, not as some prized heir—but as you. He teased you, made you laugh, and shared stories about his home and his grandma with such affection that it warmed your heart.

Speaking of his grandma, the first time you visited her, she welcomed you with open arms. She was sharp-tongued and quick-witted, much like her grandson, and the two of you hit it off immediately.

“Oh, so you’re the one who roped my boy into this fancy business?” she had said with a cackle, patting your hand. “Well, you’ve got my approval, sweetheart. Just make sure you keep him in line.”

Ruggie groaned, slumping in his chair. “Grams, please…”

As the year drew closer to its end, you found yourself dreading the day Ruggie would leave. You didn’t want him to go. You didn’t want this to end.

The anniversary of your marriage was fast approaching, and your stomach twisted into knots every time you thought about it. Tomorrow, Ruggie would be free to go, just like you promised. A year of playing the perfect royal consort, and it would all be over. He’d get his freedom, you’d get the throne.

So why did the thought of him leaving make you want to scream into a pillow?

You paced your chambers like a caged animal, mentally kicking yourself. You were supposed to be a genius tactician. Yet here you were, spiraling into an emotional wreck because of one laid-back, cunning hyena.

The door creaked open, and Ruggie strolled in with his usual smirk. “You’re pacing. Never seen you this jittery before. What’s up?”

You froze mid-step, spinning to face him. Your mind was a mess of conflicting emotions. How were you supposed to say this? Should you ease him into it? Throw him off with a joke? No, definitely not the joke. He’d roast you for it.

Ruggie raised an eyebrow. “Uh, you good? You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

You blurted out, “I don’t want you to leave.”

Ruggie blinked. Twice. Then blinked again like he was trying to reboot. “Come again?”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you repeated, feeling your palms start to sweat. You took a breath, stepping closer to him. “Tomorrow, you’re free to go, just like we agreed. But I… I don’t want you to. Somewhere along the line, this stopped being just a deal for me. I—I love you, Ruggie.”

Ruggie just stared at you, mouth slightly open like you’d just asked him to wear a ballgown and perform ballet in the throne room. Then he blinked again. “Wait… what?”

You closed your eyes. “You heard me.”

“I think I need to hear it again because there’s no way you just said that,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to get his brain working again.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I. Love. You.”

Ruggie stood there, looking like you just grew a second head. “Hold on, you’re serious?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m being serious!”

Ruggie scratched his cheek, looking away as if he was still processing. “Well, damn. Didn’t expect that.” Then he met your eyes again, his usual grin faltering slightly. “You really love me?”

You nodded, feeling your heart pound. “Yes. And I can’t imagine you not being here. Not as some royal consort, but… just as you.”

Ruggie stared at you for a long moment, before he let out a quiet chuckle. “Y’know… I didn’t plan on this either. This was supposed to be a quick gig, get some cash, eat some fancy food, and bounce. But… well, you’re not like the other royals. You’re kinda fun to be around.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Kinda?”

“Okay, fine, a lotta fun. Happy?” He grinned.

You punched him lightly on the arm. “Not the point!”

He laughed, rubbing his arm dramatically. “Ow, inflicting pain already? But nah, seriously… You’re different. And I guess I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you if I actually left.”

Your heart flipped. “So… you’ll stay?”

Ruggie let out a sigh, but there was a fond smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I’ll stay. I mean, how can I leave behind someone who lets me sneak pastries from the royal kitchens without ratting me out?”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated but relieved. “That’s what you’re staying for?”

He laughed, pulling you into a loose, playful hug. “Nah, it’s one of the perks though.”

You rested your head against his, feeling your worries melt away. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh, you better. I’m expecting a raise and benefits.” He teased, planting a quick kiss on your cheek.

You smirked, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “Benefits? What are you, my royal accountant?”

“Hey, I gotta get something outta this deal.” He grinned wider. “And speaking of, I plan on eating you out of house and home from now on. Just a heads up, Your Majesty.”

You groaned, swatting him on the arm again. “That’s already happening, Ruggie!”

“I mean even more now. You’ve created a monster.” He laughed, pulling you closer again, his nose nuzzling into your hair. “But seriously… I didn’t think this would happen either. Us. But I’m glad it did.”

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth. “Me too.”

As you stood there in each other’s arms, you couldn’t help but think about how far you’d come from that deal. What started as a scheme to outsmart your parents had turned into something real, something you hadn’t expected, but something you wouldn’t trade for the world.

And as Ruggie’s laughter echoed in the room, you realized that maybe, just maybe, plans falling apart wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“Well,” Ruggie said, smirking at you. “Guess I’m stuck with you now, huh?”

You chuckled, leaning into him. “Yeah, but admit it—you love it.”

He kissed your other cheek, his voice soft but teasing. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I do.”

And with that, you knew inciting that royal scandal was the best thing you could've ever done.

Masterlist

I don't know why but this is the fic that I like the most out of everything I've written lol it was supposed me like 2k words but I couldn't stop and this was born.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 18

The next afternoon Kara waits anxiously alongside Esme at the front window, searching for the standard SUV that Lena typically uses. To her surprise, the vehicle that eventually turns into the driveway isn't an Escalade, but rather a small sedan with only one occupant.

Kara watches the driver's silhouette lift her hood up and adjust her sunglasses, before Lena steps out. Unaware of being watched, Kara spots a flash of apprehension wash over the woman's features, but she reaches into the back for her overnight bag nonetheless.

Motioning for Esme to stay put, Kara crosses to the front door and swings it open. Lena's features brighten under her sunglasses, sending a shiver of desire down her spine. She can't remember if any of her prior partners had ever been so outwardly glad to see her. Kara decides she likes being the thing to make someone's day better.

"Hey," Lena greets softly as soon as she's in range.

"Hey," Kara returns. She stands aside so Lena can step inside. They don't embrace, let alone kiss, so once the door is closed they stand in a sort of awkward, delighted, tentative silence.

"Hi," Esme chirps, nervous herself for an entirely different reason. When Kara had emerged from the guest room following her call with Lena the day before, Esme had been ready to disavow her idol completely-- but her relief in finding out Lena remains in Kara's good standing had been palpable.

Halfway through removing her sunglasses, Lena freezes for half a heartbeat. Then her eyes zip to Esme, and Lena's face splits into a huge smile. Kara wonders if Esme can tell that this smile is different from the ones she'd gotten after the concert. Oh, Lena had been just as genuine then, but this time... this time Lena's smile is deeper, warmer.

"Hi Esme," Lena returns brightly. "How are you?"

"Great! I mean--" Esme rocks back on her heels, doing her best to temper her eagerness. "Fine."

Lena's gaze flicks bemusedly to Kara, who meets it with a knowing smile. Green eyes return to Esme, her smiling taking on a shy look. "Can I have a hug?"

Esme's face explodes into glee. "Yes!"

She bounds to Lena and throws her arms around her as Lena laughs and hugs just as tight.

"Thank you for letting me stay the night," Lena tells her.

"Are you kidding?? This is so cool! My friends would die if they knew--!" Esme halts her chatter, stricken. "They don't! I swear, I haven't told *anyone*."

Kara, Alex, and Kelly had stressed the importance of discretion for the next few days, and Esme had quickly gotten on board. As teenaged as she is, with all the frivolity that entails, Esme is sensitive enough to know that being loose with Lena's plans would hurt Kara, and ultimately hurt her whole family.

"I know," Lena assures her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Esme squeaks.

"Hey," Lena says, "do you like that new witch show? The one with--"

"The one with Samantha Arias?" Esme gasps. "Yes!! Omg I love it!!"

"It airs tonight, right? I rarely get to watch it live, so if you don't mind the company...?"

"You watch it too?!? Yes, yes, yes! Oh my god... we can make popcorn, and drink  cider, and you can use my skull mug--"

Eyes flying wide, Esme detaches from Lena with a jerk. "I think we ran out last week! Hold on, I gotta go check--" She dashes towards the kitchen, where Alex and Kelly were graciously giving them space.

"Mom!! Do we have cider?! Lena wants to use my skull!"

Lena watches Esme go, and when she turns back to Kara her lips are pressed tight against the laughter about to bubble out.

"She's been really excited to see you again," Kara says quietly. She sidles over, hands in her pockets. "I think the photos hit her harder than they did me."

Lena's cheeks flush. "Kara, I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve... any of that. If I'd known they'd be released I would have told you from the start."

Kara nods. "I know. And thank you." She pauses. "How are you doing? I'm not the one who was actually in the photos this time."

A huff of frustration answers her. But Lena simply shrugs. "It comes with the territory. Still sucks though."

"I'm sorry."

"The worst part is that I can't even really do anything about it," Lena continues softly. "No bridge is ever truly burned in this industry, so... I don't know."

Kara takes her by the hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Well, you don't have to think about it today, or tomorrow."

Lena smiles, chasing the shadows from her features. "Very true."

"You ready to meet the rest of my family?"

"You bet." Lena's confidence lasts for a millisecond, before it wanes to a grimace. "But in all honesty... how much does your sister hate me?"

Kara snorts. "She doesn't *hate* you..."

"But she doesn't like me."

"She hasn't even met you," Kara reminds her, but relents a moment later. "But let's just say she's more Team Kara than Team Luvers"

Lena blinks. "Team Luvers?"

"Our portmanteau, according to Esme. Popped up after the photos did... Though I'm not sure who the other team is supposed to be."

"Oh my god--" Lena says, covering her mouth even as she smiles. "I had no idea--"

Kara believes her. With the tour schedule the way it is, and how quickly Lena had flown out after last nights show, she likely wouldn't have had time to check the comments, if she'd even had a mind to read them.

"Well, if Esme says it's true, it's gotta be. She's got her finger on the pulse of your fanbase, let me tell you."

She moves to pull Lena towards the kitchen, but pauses when Lena resists.

"I'm glad," Lena says softly. "That your sister is Team Kara. That you have your family as a support system."

Kara flushes, warmed by the sentiment. "Not so different from you, huh. What with your mom--"

Lena steps forward, pressing one finger to Kara's lips. Kara is too enthralled by Lena's closeness to mind the unexpected shush.

"Your family and my mother are not the same." Lena's finger lifts, only to be replaced by a soft kiss. "And be glad for that."

Then Lena steps away, and Kara teeters for a moment before regaining her balance and her senses.

"Right," she coughs. "Got it. So-- time to meet the in laws?"

Lena chuckles. "Let the gauntlet begin."

[strnilolover]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .˚ Does He Know? ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .˚

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧

♫ Moth To Flame • Swedish House Mafia & The Weeknd

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧

♡ Toxic!OffandOn!Matt x Unloyal!Fem!Reader

♡ Warnings : Cheating (don’t do that), getting caught cheating, slight smut, degrading if you squint, pet names (sweetheart, bunny), random boyfriend name (Adam), toxic relationship, I think that’s all?

♡ Wc : 795

♡ A/N : something about this just makes me so 🤭. Don’t cheat on your partners though, this is just a fanfic. You keep running back to Matt because you just can’t let go of him, he’s where your heart truly lies.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧

Matt was never one for relationships, only ever having hookups or one night stands with multiple girls. You being included in the mixup. But he wasn’t stupid, he knew you were looking for someone to spend the rest of your life with. The look that appeared in your eyes anytime you looked at him, told him everything he needed to know.

So he knew that eventually you would move on from him, finding a new boy to love you and satisfy all your needs. Adam — the sweet guy you had met during a time you and Matt hadn’t been speaking, Matt turning you down after another attempt to confess your love for him.

All you ever were to Matt was just a good fuck really — so why was he so jealous that you found a different guy other than him to be with? He didn’t care, he shouldn’t. But he does.

You were always so easy though. Anytime you saw him in public, he knew what he did to you. Reeling you back in so easily when your relationship was fresh, having your body trembling beneath his. All while your poor Adam didn’t have a clue.

You cut him off one day though, telling him enough was enough. That you loved Adam and weren’t going to throw the relationship away, just because he wanted to fuck you. So — he let you be, knowing how much of a good guy Adam was…all the things he heard through your friends.

But, after a few months of not speaking, you called him one night. Matt answered of course — he could never decline a call from you. “Matt…I miss you.” Was what your voice had said through the speaker, the words sending a rush of satisfaction down his spine.

After that one night, you kept calling — every night when Adam would go to bed. You would sneak into the guest room on the other side of the house, pulling out your phone to call Matt. You knew it was wrong, so wrong on so many levels. How could you cheat on a person who you knew loved you? It didn’t seem to bother you much though — hiding the pictures on your phone that Matt would send, Or the videos he would record when he was plowing into you.

Adam still didn’t know — didn’t see how your behavior changed over time. How your phone seemed to be more important, he was so naive that is actually hurt you a little to think of what you were doing. But again… you didn’t really care.

It seemed as though your connection with Adam was severing the more you kept Matt in your life, but you still didn’t care. It felt like Matt was the only person to ever understand you, the only person to know why you cried. You knew he wasn’t any good for you, so why did you keep going back for more?

Matt knew you were slowly coming back to him — to only him. The longer he talked to you, the more frequent late night visits from him became. Sneaking into your home while Adam was asleep just down the hall, burying himself into your warm walls like you were made for him.

And he always brought you down for it, made fun of you. “What would your poor Adam say if he saw you right now bunny, hm?” He would whisper into your ear as his cock hit repeatedly into you, his hand holding your neck, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“He wouldn’t appreciate the fact you’re letting me use your mouth like this right?” He’d taunt as he’d have you on your knees in front of him, mouth stuffed full. And all you could do was shake your head every-time, knowing how much of a bad person you were.

That was until one night, right after you and Matt finished — literally — cuddling in his arms in your guest bedroom.

The door had slammed open, Adam standing right there in the door way with a sick look on his face. His features turning up in disgust and disbelief as you scrambled to pull the covers up over yourself. “Is this what you’ve been doing every night?! Sneaking behind my back to fuck him?!” He had yelled at you, and all Matt could do was smirk.

He leaned down to your ear, making sure to speak loud enough where Adam could hear, keeping eye contact with the man. “Go ahead sweetheart, tell him the truth. Tell him where your heart lies — where it truly lies.” He mumbled, watching as your face flushed red, your lips parting.

Matt knew he had you wrapped around his finger. You were his, and he wasn’t going to let you go now.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧

© Strnilolover

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🐾ɞ˚‧

♡ A/N : you know I really should learn to not write a whole bunch LOL. I kinda fw this honestly… it’s not the best but I couldn’t not write abt toxic!OffandOn!Matt cause he’s so scrumptious. Again please don’t cheat on your partner, that’s never a good thing to do. Let me know if you guys like this?

[warping-realities]

A Night in the Devil's Den - Part I

“I still think we should hit up somewhere else, Jamie. There are tons of bars that would look the other way and let us grab a few drinks.” One of the three young men passing through New York during college break said as they made their way to the old building housing the Devil’s Den, apparently the most hyped club in the city, which had a strict policy of keeping anyone under 21 out.

“Stop being such a fag, Fred! We’re gonna get in, trust me, man of little faith.” Jamie, the group leader with light brown hair, same color as Mark, shot back. Fred, on the other hand, was blond, and more sensitive, which didn’t mean he couldn’t hold his own when it came to arguing; on the contrary, the debate skills of the former debate team captain were legendary.

“Chill, Fred. The worst that can happen is the bouncer looks at the IDs that Jamie’s buddy hooked us up with and realizes we don’t have the right age and kicks us out. But I doubt that’ll happen; in a few months, we’ll all be 21.” Mark commented, always the peacemaker.

“Another reason to wait until we’re actually of age. I don’t want any trouble, guys.” Fred tried to argue again.

“I can’t believe you came all the way here to chicken out, man. If you wanna bail, I’m cool, but think about all the work I put into getting these IDs. And I didn’t even charge you guys!” Jamie grumbled.

“That’s just because your buddy did it for free, asshole. Who the hell is he, anyway?” Mark jumped in before things got heated between the two.

“Some dude I met at the hostel; he’s the one who told me about this place. Apparently, this is the spot for anyone looking for a good time.”

“You mean you trusted someone you barely know? Doesn’t that seem kinda sketchy to you?” Fred asked, outraged, totally shooting down Mark’s efforts.

“I’m sick of your attitude, man! If you’re so unhappy, why don’t you just head back to the hostel?”

“Hey, hey, chill out, you two! We’re here to have a good time! Fred, let’s check out the place, and if we don’t like it or they kick us out, we’ll head back to the hostel, and I promise I’ll be your wingman with those hot Italian chicks who showed up yesterday, alright? And Jamie, you dumbass, he’s not entirely wrong; it was pretty stupid to trust a stranger, but it’s done now, so let’s just try to have fun, please?” Mark chimed in again.

“Fine, but you know that your parents would kill us if anything goes south, Mark.” Warne Fred, whose parents had already passed away, and, in Jamie’s opinion, was the last one who should be worried instead of acting like a little pussy. Not that he’d say that, at least not now that his buddy finally decided to man up.

“Finally acting like a man, Fred, and not like a little bitch!”

“Hey, man, that’s enough!”

“Chill out, Mark; you’re starting to sound like your dad. Sorry, Fredster, I just want an unforgettable night with my best buds.” Jamie said, hugging Fred on one side to encourage him while Mark did the same on the other.

As they approached the ridiculously long entrance line, Jamie commented.

“Since we’re talking about those hot Italian girls, it’s funny that if we were in most other countries, we wouldn’t even need to convince Fred here; we’d all be of age to drink until we drop without a care in the world.”

“I don’t think your dad would be too happy about hauling his kid from the gutter.” Mark remarked.

“He’s not as strict as your dad, man, but yeah… maybe it’s best not to push it. Damn, look at this line! No way I’m waiting all this crap! Oh, wait, I just remembered something; follow me!” Jamie said, signaling for his friends to follow him to the front of the line, where a huge black guy, looking like a muscle mountain, was running the door, checking IDs and occasionally greeting a buddy with a half-smile in his otherwise stern face. He saw the guys approaching and crossed his arms, giving them a menacing smirking look.

“Hey, fellas, what do you want here?”

“Good evening, sir! Jerome told us to go straight to the bouncer at the main door and, said… said that he hopes you have a… a hell of a night.” Jamie said, sounding unsure for the first time.

“Jerome, huh? IDs?”

“Here you go, sir.” Mark replied, handing over the fake IDs, which the guy scrutinized for a few seconds.

“Any problem, sir?”

“Nope, on the contrary, looks like you guys got VIP passes. Jerome must’ve liked you a lot.” He said while fiddling with a walkie-talkie before speaking again. “Jerome’s group is on the way.” He radioed someone before handing the IDs back to the guys and cracking a smile. “Boys, looks like we’re all in for a hell of a night!”

As they stepped into the spacious lobby, the guys were hit with the sounds of music and excited screams, along with flashing lights. And the most impressive thing of all was a guy with olive skin, well-groomed beard and black hair, and a distinctive aquiline nose that hinted at some mediterranean ir middle eastern heritage. But what really stood out about the guy was his stunning build, partially covered by a sharp suit and shiny black pants, with his muscular torso on display for anyone who wanted to see, staring at them with disconcerting eyes and a mischievous grin that made the three feel like they were really inside the Devil’s Den.

“Dude, they really know how to set a mood.” Jamie remarked, eyeing the imposing figure. “Alright, first drinks, then we hit the dance floor for the hot chicks!”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna hit the bathroom; my bladder’s about to explode!” Fred said.

“Then it’s a wonder you didn’t piss yourself from fear before we even got in.”

“Go fuck yourself, Jamie!” he shot back, irritated, as he blended into the crowd on the dance floor.

“You really can’t pass up a chance to be an idiot, can you?” Mark commented, following his other friend through the crowd. “Let me talk to him; you do something useful and grab the drinks. You know a few shots will loosen him up.”

“It’s not my fault he needs booze to stop being a little bitch.” Jamie yelled to be heard over the noise, turning heads with expressions of disbelief toward him, but he was too hyped about the night’s promises to notice, heading for the nearest bar, closely followed by the sinister figure from the entrance. It wasn’t until he reached the bar that he noticed the company.

“Hello, James.” The man said over the cacophony, though his voice didn’t need to rise for Jamie to hear him.

“How do you know my name?” Jamie shouted back.

“Jerome gave me a heads-up about your arrival; I’m Mr. Shay the manager of this place. And I know you shouldn’t be here tonight, kid.”

“Damn… then why didn’t you stop us at the door?”

“Because I understand the need for a young man to rebel. Especially when his dad is such a major buzzkill.” The man said with bright eyes.

“I… he just wants what’s best for me… a decent job for a real man and… and sometimes it’s a drag.” Jamie replied in a whisper, not realizing the man knew way more about him than he should.

“Oh, I get it, kid, and just when you finally have a chance to chill, your friends leave you hanging.”

“Pussies!” The kid grumbled, not seeing the man’s eyes flash dangerously.

“You seem to have a problem with gay people. What’s that about?”

“I don’t have a problem with gays; I have issues with little faggots, those sissy boys who take it up the ass like they’re chicks. My dad raised me to be a real man.”

“But it’s tough living under the weight of other people’s expectations, under the rigid standards taught by someone, isn’t it? Sometimes all you wanna do is chill out, let loose, and be happy, right? And have your friends be able to enjoy that with you.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, it’s settled! Poncho, a shot of tequila for my buddy here.” The man said as the spell seemed to break while he glided through the crowd with ease, almost floating, and for an instant if one looked closely one would catch a glimpse of his true form.

Still a bit dazed, Jamie turned to the bar and bumped into a Latino guy in his late thirties, with a chiseled, muscular chest completely exposed except for a bow tie around his neck, sipping a drink while the shot of tequila the other guy ordered was held in his hand.

“On the house.” The guy said with a smile. Without thinking twice, Jamie downed the shot.

“Nice one, hermano.” The man commented, grinning.

“Gracias, tio.” Jamie replied, smiling as he left the bar with a dreamy look.

There was definitely something extra in that tequila, Jamie’s rational side thought, a side that seemed to shrink more every minute. He wandered aimlessly through the crowd, seeing colors and smelling scents he’d never experienced before, while that rational side tried in vain to shout inside his head, drowned out by an overwhelming numbness.

“Mierda, que guapo…” he murmured in Spanish, watching a muscular guy dancing shirtless. Without even stopping to think how out of character that was for him.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, with an unspeakable desire taking hold of him, making him vibrate and tremble inside he made his way toward the guy, and just like that, in the blink of an eye, Javier, the latino 21 years old man, approached the older man.

“Hey, papi, want some company?” He asked with a vacant look and dreamy voice that the other guy didn’t seem to notice, and in a few seconds, they were both dancing to the rhythm of the music.

“So, kid, where you from?”

“Right here, raised in El Barrio.” Javier answered.

“But where did your family come from?”

“My grandparents came with my dad and my uncles from Colombia in the early 90s. Maybe you know my uncle. He works as a bartender here; they call him Poncho, even though he’s not Mexican, but he says he doesn’t care.”

“Oh, so that’s why a kid like you is in here.” The man commented.

“I’ll show you who’s the kid.” Javier replied, kissing the man, who returned the kiss with passion.

Neither of them seemed to notice that the kid’s shirt seemed to evaporate in the air or the inches he gained in height or the facial hair sprouting on his face. After a long moment of pleasure, the two pulled away.

“So, papi, am I man enough for you?” Javi asked with a grin, while the other guy stared at him, breathless.

“Now I gotta bounce; my shift’s about to start!” Javi said, walking with a smile toward the bar. His muscles growing and expanding into an athletic, well-proportioned physique, with just the bow tie of his uniform to cover up.

“Hey, you didn’t even tell me your name, boy!”

“If you want to find me, just head to the bar. And don’t call me boy; do I look like a kid to you?” He replied, flexing his muscles. Only a man could call him that, and that certainly wasn’t this one.

When he got to the bar, his uncle greeted him with a smile but also with a warning.

“If your dad finds out about this…”

“What my dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him, tio. Plus, next year I’ll be graduating, and the boss is gonna put me to work in accounting, although I think I’ll still take a few shifts with you just for fun.”

“Javi, you really don’t get it, do you? If not your dad, then because of that musclehead you’re seeing.”

“It’s his fault for not showing up yet. And right when the main attraction’s about to start.” He said, looking at the club’s stage lighting up. “Though to him no attraction compares to my ass.” He concluded with a grin.

[samandcolbyownme]

FIC MOMMA I NEEEEED MATT STURNIOLO IDC EHAT I MEED HIM

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, toxic relationship, arguing/fighting, name calling, kissing, rough unprotected sex, choking, hair pulling, biting, scratching, creampie filth

Word Count: 2.5k | unedited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You couldn’t deny that the chaos in your relationship with Matt drove you insane. But the sick and twisted park inside of you loved it.

It loved the toxic chaos, the wreckage and it especially loved the make up sex that followed and falling in love with him all over again.

It was a cycle.

A dark and twisted cycle, but you couldn’t let him go.

“What the fuck, Matt?” You huffed, “You’re drunk, again?” You paused your tv show and sat up from the couch as he spoke, “Even when I’m drunk, you’re my my only type.”

“What does that even mean?” You ask, tilting your head as you hear familiar chatter in the background, “Are you at that fucking club again?”

“Nothing is happening, y/n. I just..” he groans, the sound getting quieter, “my friends hate seeing me so down.”

“Maybe if you wouldn’t be such a fucking asshole, you wouldn’t have to be so down.” You roll your eyes, “I said I was done and I meant it that time.”

“Come on, baby. You and I are like Bonnie and Clyde. If you’re done, I can have two grave sites dug later tonight because I’m not letting you go.”

“You literally called me a fucking crazy bitch for getting pissed that you flirted with the waitress right in front of me.”

“I wasn’t flirting, see.” He laughs, “I was being fucking nice, what do you want me to just be a fucking dickhead to everyone I come across?”

“You’re a dickhead to me so what the fuck does it matter?” You scoff, “I can’t.. I can’t do this.”

“Not fight any more?” He laughs slightly, “Yeah, same. So what do you say to a little.. make up sex? Hmm. I can come over right now.”

“No.” You say quickly, “I told you, I’m done.”

“Oh my god, y/n. You hate my guts, but then five minutes from now, you’re going to say you love me, fuck, I’m not-“ he sighs, “You can’t tell me you don’t love me. You posted those pictures of us, but you just cropped me out.”

“Yeah, because I looked good.” You roll your eyes, “I’m hanging up now. Have fun with your little one night stands and whatever the fuck it is you’re drinking.”

As you pull the phone away from your ear, Matt’s voice gets louder, “I love you, I love you, please.”

You shake your head, hitting the red circle.

You throw your phone down and take a deep breath as your phone chimes on the cushion next to you. You close your eyes, kicking your own ass for even looking at his texts.

I’m missing you baby

Is it someone new?

Y/n, please just tell me did you move the fuck on already? I mean, I guess you know what they say, can’t stop a running from running so go do what you need to do and I’ll be here when you come running back okay

You scoff, your thumbs moving at the speed of light as you text him back,

There’s no one fucking else Matt you fucking control my life, my everything. I’m trying to move on because your love is not fucking love and it’s all just a big fucking mess.

I said I’m done, and I mean it. Leave me the fuck alone or I swear to god I’ll slash your fucking tires

You grip your phone, your hands shaking with both rage and regret. You see his chat bubbles pop up and laugh at his response,

God

You’re actually crazy

I love it

You shake your head, closing your eyes as you try and figure out what to say back, “Fuck, Matt.” You sigh, shaking your head again before typing

I love you, Matt… but please, just let me the hell go we’re only hurting each other, and that’s not helping anyone in any way that is good

You set your phone down, hands moving to cover your face, “What the fuck. What the fuck.”

Your phone chimes again but you ignore it.

It chimes again, you ignore it.

It chimes again, and finally you huff, snatching your phone off the couch and standing up as you walk to your bedroom. You glance down at your screen, quickly skimming over his messages,

We can make it work, I can change we can do this

please don’t say that please

Let me come over let me see you please baby

As you’re typing, another message comes through and you can’t help but let out a laugh to hide the fact that it’s like a knife through your chest,

Fine I’m done with you

Bye

You throw your phone on your bed and close your door, turning to walk back out to the couch and click play on your paused show.

Two hours later, you decide to grab your phone. To your, not so much surprise, you see a text from Matt,

Hey

You roll your eyes, sitting down on your bed. You stare at the text, taking a deep breath before you start to type.

A knock on the door causes you to stop and you let out a sigh as you stand up, “I swear to god.” You walk out to the door, “Matt. If it’s you I’m-“ you open the door and there he stands, a smug smirk resting on his lips, “You’re gonna what?”

You roll your eyes, “close the door.” You go to close it and he stops it, holding it open enough to slip in before closing it, “No you’re not.”

“Leave.” You cross your arms, “I mean it, Matt. We can’t-“

“What? Can’t what? Be in love with each other? Because I hate to break it to you sweetheart, we are.”

“Matthew.”

“Y/n.”

You tilt your head back, eyes closing as you gather up all the patience you have, “Why are you here?”

“I said I missed you. So I did something about it.”

“We broke up.” You look at him, “And I meant it this time.”

He squints, leaning against the counter, “So then, what was.. mm, two nights ago?”

“Break up sex.” You shrug, “I don’t know.”

“The night before that?” He tilts his head a smirk on his lips and you shrug, “I don’t kn- I don’t know!”

“Mm. Okay.”

“I believe, I told you that I was leaving right after and you fought me on it.” You roll your eyes, “And guess what, I was gone when you woke up, both times.”

“That doesn’t mean shit, you still talked to me, called me-“

“Correction. I answered your calls.” You point at him and he chuckles, giving you a shrug, “Same difference.”

You shake your head, “Not really, no.”

He laughs, walking over to you. His hands slide over your hips and pull you in, “Come on, ma. I know you missed me, too. Can’t do a day without anything.”

“I can, you just never give it any time to see for yourself.”

He tilts his head, “Tell me you don’t think about it.”

“Think about what?” You look up at him, “If you’re referring to-“

“You.. face down, ass shaking, as you beg for me to fuck you. Telling me how sorry you are. How much you miss me, how much you miss how good I make you feel.”

“Shut up.” You look down and he tilts your chin up, “Eyes don’t lie, baby. I can tell you miss me just as much as I miss you.”

“Must not be a lot then.” A smirk toys with your lips and he smiles, “Mm. Keep telling yourself that.” He dips his head down, his lips connecting with yours for a split second before you push him away, “No. no. We’re not..” you sigh, “Not doing that.”

“We can be better, for each other, ma. Come on.” He walks over to you, “I promise, I’ll try harder.”

“You said that the last few times and look at where it’s gotten us.”

He scoffs, “I’m sorry, what more do you want from me?”

“I want to actually be treated like a girlfriend. Not an option, or a.. a place holder while you look for something.. someone else.” You shake your head, “You know what, I’m not explaining it anymore.”

“I know, you’re done. But let me prove to you how sorry I am, ma. Please. I’ve been needing you, non stop thinking about you.”

You chew on your lip, staring down at the floor, “It just.. feels like we breakup just to make up, you know?” You look up at him, “And that’s just.. I don’t know, lately I’m exhausted.”

“So let me take care of you.” Matt offers, “Please. I really..” he tilts your chin up, “we’re like.. Bonnie and Clyde, baby. I’m willing to die for you.”

“Sure as fuck doesn’t seem it. You’d probably be too busy looking at another girl to even see the bullet coming at me.” You push his hands off of you and go to walk away.

He grabs your arm, pinning you up against the wall.

You wanted to fight him, push him out of the door, but you just couldn’t, “Matt.”

“You’re who I want, I was dumb, stupid.” His lips trail up your neck and you let out a small sigh as he continues, “I’m trying, y/n.” He kisses up to your lips, “This is me trying.”

You reach up, laying a hand on his cheek, “I don’t know if I want to slap you, or choke you out.”

“I’ll let you do both if you’re on top of me naked.”

You look up at him, your hands pulling him in by the neck, “We scream when we fuck, we scream when we fight..” you shrug, “So why the fuck not.”

His lips are on yours. His hands travel down your body as he slides them down to lift you up.

Your left wrap tight around his waist, his hand tangling in the hair at the base of his skull as his lips move with yours.

He walks you over to the couch, laying you on your back as his body stays hovered over yours. He wastes no time slipping his hand into your sweats, his fingers circling your clit.

You moan, body arching off the couch.

He groans against your neck, “No one can replace you, just like no one can replace me.”

He sucks a hickey into your skin, earning an even louder moan from you, but they continue flying from your lips as his fingers slip into your achy cunt, “Fuck, oh my god, Matt.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, eyes rolling back as his fingers curl, “Fuck, yes, yes.” You whine, walls squeezing his fingers, “Oh fuck, fuck.”

Matt kisses up your neck, “Keep them comin’ ma. Wanna hear all you got for me.”

You moan louder at his words, your nails dragging down his skin as your body tenses up and jerks beneath him, “I-I’m co- fuck, I’m there, I’m there!”

Matt’s fingers work you through your high, listening to your loud moans and whines as you come down, “Fuck, fuck, yes, yes!”

He pulls his fingers out, moving his hands to take off his white tank and you push your sweats down, kicking them off before you remove your shirt.

Matt stands up to kick off his clothes and he sits down, reaching over to pull you into his lap.

You immediately sink down onto him, head tilting back as you feel him enter you fully, “Oh shit.” You slide your hands up his shoulders, leaning forward as you look down at him.

His hands grip your hips, urging you to move, “F-fuck.” He groans, “Move, fuck, move.”

You move your hips, moaning louder and louder the faster your pace builds up. His hand slides up, taking your hand to move it to his neck, “Do it. Use me to get it all out, ma.”

You smirk, your lip pulling between your teeth as your hand tightens around his neck. He tilts his head back, moaning out as his hand returns to your hip.

Your mouth falls open, moans repeatedly flying out as you stare down at him, “You’re so fucking hot.” You tighten your grip and he moans louder.

Your eyes stay locked on his, your head tilting back as you slam your hips down, “Fuck, Matt! Fuck, fuck!”

His hands guide you up and down, his grip just as tight as your hand on him. You lean down, your lips connecting with his as your hands slide around his neck.

You grip the back of the couch, moaning loudly into Matt’s ear as you cum, “Fuck, fuck, feels so good, so fucking good.” A string of moans and whine follow, and suddenly you’re on your back.

“So fucking good.” Matt moans, his thrusts fast and intense as he guides you through, “Fuck, I love you.”

You arch your back, your nails creating welted lines as you drag your nails glide over his skin, “I-i love you, I love you, oh fuck, d-don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop.”

His lips land on yours, your moans mixing together which cut the kissing short. Your eyes roll back and close as your legs hold him tight around the waist, “Oh my god. Matt, Matt, fuck!”

“Feels so good.” He moans out loudly, “Fuck, ma. M’gonna cum.”

You open your eyes, staring up at him, “There’s no one else but you.” You pull him down, lips planting onto his, “I can’t let you go, either.”

He nods, groaning as his thrusts quickly turn sloppy. You tighten your legs and moan as you feel his cock twitching inside of you, coating your walls with his cum.

“Fuck. Fuck.” He moans, head tilting to the side as he slowly pushes in deeper, “Fuck, ma.” He looks down at you, giving you a slight smirk as his chest rises and falls quickly.

You undo your legs and lift your head, “Oops.” You smile and bite your lip as he pulls out, “Just couldn’t help myself.”

He shakes his head, “You know what this means right?”

You roll your eyes as he sits up, “I’m yours.”

“Mm, what else?” He bites his lip, smirking as you laugh slightly, “This pussy is also yours.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He leans in, pecking your lips, “So.”

“So.. what?” You stand up, your legs shaking slightly and Matt smiles as he notices, “Well first off, I think I did a good job, yeah?”

You slip on your panties and put your shirt back on, “Yeah, like always.” You laugh and sit back down next to him, “So..”

“Oh yeah.” He looks over at you, his head resting back on the couch, “You going to be here when I wake up?”

You take a deep breath, nodding your head with a smirk, “Maybe.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Thanks for reading! I love you all so much. I’ll catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

A fellow fan (who prefers to remain anonymous) shared their “wild theory” that there can be more to the Elrond and Galadriel kiss scene that meets the eye, and asked me to do an "breakdown" and see if it can be. Now, this is just theory, don’t get your hopes too high, please. 

This scene isn’t meaningless like many are trying to make it to be: this is the kiss that Morfydd Clark teased at the premiere, and it’s in one of the main trailers for Season 2.

I rewatched the entire scene like 5 times, and I did notice there was something strange about Elrond (body language, the way he walked and, even, the way he spoke), and before the kiss itself, Adar himself seems to act shady as his eyes linger on Elrond’s face, with suspicion.

All of this can mean nothing, however, there can be some clues, here: 

Elrond sounded quite passive-aggressive in his exchange with Adar, and kind of manipulative as well (this is a tense scene, but Elrond seemed OOC); 

Elrond didn’t actually choose anything: it took me a third rewatch to observe this, but the way the scene is written and acted, it’s like Elrond isn’t there to strike any bargains with Adar or stop the attack on Eregion (which should be his goal in this scene, no?), but rather to help Galadriel break free.  

Random mention of Melian (yes, Elrond’s ancestor, but also the Maia who fell in love with an Elf); 

Elrond hitting back at Adar with mentions of his “children” (and the camera lingers on the Orcs to see their reactions. We already saw the Orcs starting to turn on Adar, and in 2x01 we saw another character pulling out the same move); 

Elrond randomly calling him “Adar” to his face;

The weird way Elrond removed the pin from his cape is quite similiar to another scene we’ve seen of a pin being removed in S1; 

Adar’s entire demeanor changes as soon as he gets close to Elrond, and looks him in the eye;

The music that plays during the kiss, seems quite familiar to the 6:22-6:25 chords of the “Last Temptation” OST. 

After Elrond leaves the tent, his demeanor seems extra cold for his usual self, and he speaks only in Elvish. He also tells the soldier that he’ll try to hold on the walls of Eregion in a cryptic way (I mean yeah, but there's another character who’s also holding the walls at the moment, and who saw the Elfish army coming from a mile away, and probably Galadriel in a cage, too).

What’s the wild theory? It’s not Elrond in that scene, but Sauron.  

We know Sauron can bend reality to his will and create illusions: we’ve seen him impersonating Finrod, Galadriel’s brother, in 1x08; and this Season he shaped the entire reality around Celebrimbor for him to complete the Nine.

We know Adar and Sauron also share a connection and they seem to be able to recognize each other (Adar knew that Halbrand was Sauron), so can that explain the change in Adar’s demeanor as soon as he looks into Elrond’s eyes? Because he realizes it’s not him, not Sauron in front of him?

A few months ago, there were some “leaks” that Sauron would impersonate Celeborn to kiss Galadriel: what if he impersonated Elrond, instead? 

Can this be how Sauron will prove to Galadriel his love for her? Because he was the one who helped her escape Adar, and he’ll show her this at the finale?  (with how the kiss was filmed, it’s possible to do a character-change-reveal situation) 

Now, and as I’ve said in the beginning of this post, this is a “wild theory”, so don’t get your hopes too high.

[matrixbearer2024]

Just something I'd like to say about the Stan twins among other things I've seen here on tumblr and everywhere else. Also because I'm genuinely confused why this is even a thing. I don't really see the point in why people have to look at characters and say: good/bad, nuances exist and morality is mostly grey haha.

One of the reasons why I chose to write for Ford isn't really because I don't think he's a bad person, au contraire I know he's done really shitty things but I don't think he's bad. That would be an oversimplification.

If I had to be completely open about it, his situation is actually pretty similar to mine aside from the fact his sibling is a twin. My brother is two years younger than me.

But still, shit happens. Cornered by everyone and everything, one is labeled as gifted and special while the other is seen as stupid and useless, then the split between family and aspiration.

Granted, I've never made a deal with a demonic piece of geometry and I've gone through a different set of circumstances in a completely different time frame– but still. I get where his arrogance comes from and I get how being outcasted can make you prone to doing a lot of shitty things to chase validation.

God forbid someone comes to you and strokes your ego to death, that's the easiest way to manipulate someone with the picture of self-confidence and it's made of glass.

I can't say that what happened to me was a fortunate occurrence, but I was severely humbled at a young age and it's probably why I turned out differently. Ford never really did, he clung onto the idea of being special and being a coveted rarity.

Point is, I can kind of see where he's coming from and a lot of his fights with Stan I also kind of understand. I'm not condoning his actions, especially because I've had legendary fights with my brother before and remembering them all makes me feel like shit because there are things I've done I can never bring myself to forgive– but it's why I can understand why shit unfolded the way it did.

I'm not even going to go into grudges because I've held a grudge over someone for 12 years so I can also get why Ford would end up doing that for fucking 30– but yeah. I don't think either twin is really right or wrong. Stan got dealt a bad hand like my brother, and Ford got shoved into the limelight like me. I can understand the both of them well.

Also to those who wonder why Stan would even forgive Ford, I don't know what else to say other than it might be a sibling thing. I used to fight with my brother simply because he'd excel better in some of the things I do. I'd purposefully work harder to overshadow him and he knew. He would let me succeed and even rub it in his face because he saw that it made me happy.

Even after all this time he doesn't hold it against me so that's something I'm eternally grateful for. But yeah, he cared that much when all I did was be selfish. I still think it depends on some siblings but yeah, for these two they hit close to home just for doing what they do.

Not to mention, my brother's also had his moments where it looks like he's destroyed my things/projects on the sole reason that he thinks it's taking me away from him. That it's taking his best friend away from him.

One of those times was when I was creating a painting for a competition years ago, he got mad I spent so much time on it and accidentally knocked over the water container and it spilled all over my work. The painting was effectively ruined and I blew up at him for it.

Sound familiar?

Where Stan played off his destruction, my brother kept apologizing and owning up to his fuck-up. Where Ford refused to listen, I eventually just compromised with my brother and told him to help me create the new painting.

That painting didn't win any prizes but still ended up being exhibited, I'd show a picture of it with my brother and I next to it if I didn't like keeping my irl family private online.

Ford also being kind of unable to move on/deal with himself is something I do to detriment. It takes a lot to deal with that, much more overcome it.

Things change, time passes, circumstances shift. But yeah, this is just my two cents on it and kind of a window to why I also write Ford and Stan the way I do.

[dreaminrainbows]

Happy 28th lovies!

September was such a hectic month, i had three concerts in the span of a week, one of which was Louis', the end of the Festival Louis Era, the start of uni and my fav F1 driver being dropped (i was also deep in my Veronica Mars feels for a chunk of the month). It has been a rollercoaster of emotions to say the least but here are all the fics i read this month that made it a million times better!

Consider leaving comments and kudos, feed your authors the attention they deserve!

My Hands at Risk, I Fold by yourgorgeouscolors | [43.7k|

"Sometimes, when Louis first wakes up, he thinks he’s back in the hospital, and panic hits him." Or, Harry is a famous popstar, Louis is a famous football player and one injury changes everything.

Deemed and Delivered a Crime  by LetTheMusicMoveYou/ @letthemusicmoveyou28 | [35.4k]

Harry keeps his voice low and calm. “I need you to listen very closely because I’m only going to say this once.” When he’s only greeted with silence on the other end, Harry continues. “For every hair that is harmed on Louis Tomlinson’s head, I am going to break one of your bones. And then when you’re reduced to a pathetic little pile on the floor, my men and I are going to kick around your limp carcass in my garden for footie practice. Do you understand?” There’s a few more beats of silence, before the voice on the other line answers. Still sounding calm and unbothered by Harry’s creative threat. “I’m glad you received our message Mr. Styles. Are you ready to settle on a suitable sum for Mr. Tomlinson’s release?” (Or the one where Harry is the most feared mob boss in London. Louis is his ex-husband who left that violent life two years ago to teach Uni. His peace is shattered when he’s kidnapped by Harry’s rivals).

you are half of me (and I am all for you) by angelichl/@angelichl | [24.7k]

One Direction, an obscure indie rock band, is about to embark on their first cross-country tour, living out of Louis' beloved van named Patricia. Harry is in love, and Louis is oblivious. Or is he? Featuring skinny-dipping in Texas waterfalls, getting lost in the desert, stargazing under the New Mexico sky, performing in front of crowds that grow in size each night, and falling in love on the road during the greatest summer of their lives.

Please Tell Me That You've Got Me by ColourfulSuitmoon/@colorfulsuitmoon | [20.6k]

“This was a pleasure, ladies. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Louis says. He then turns to Harry and gives him a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow too, kitten.” Harry is stuck staring at the door where Louis just disappeared through. “Did he say…” Harry starts. “Kitten,” Florence says with a nod. “Harry…” “No, it’s just a fluke. It doesn’t mean anything,” Harry says firmly. Or a world where the nickname your soulmate will call you appears on your chest on your 18th birthday and Harry wakes up with the only name he hates.

Chasing Feelings by Neondiamond/@neondiamond | [20k]

When homicide detective Louis Tomlinson first gets assigned to work with detective Harry Styles, the newest addition to the Doncaster police station, on the biggest case of his career, he’s less than enthused about it. There’s a serial killer on the loose, and Louis has no time to waste working with a newbie, despite how attracted his inner Alpha may be to Harry’s sweet scent. Along the way, he finds he may have been too quick to judge the Omega.

Language Of A Petal by bittersweetsin/@bittersweetsin | [15k]

“Wait, you're reading Divin-“ “-Divined Souls? Yup,” Harry finishes for him. Starving off a grin, Louis says, “Have you actually been stalking me all this time and just lied about not knowing me?” “Guess we’ll never know.” or Louis is a librarian, and Harry comes in all the time to return books he’s finished reading. Every time Louis opens the book to check for any damages, there’s always a flower hidden in between one of the pages, specifically on a paragraph that has a deep meaning.

Heat and Greet  by HoldingOnToChaos/@holdingontochaos | [12.4k]

Harry and Louis are co-workers who are excited to represent the company they work for and do an important presentation at a week-long conference in Yosemite. It's just their luck that Harry slips into heat while there. Panicked at the thought of missing the presentation, Harry asks Louis to help him through it. And how could Louis deny the omega he's been dreaming about since they met?

I Feel It When My Heart Beats by QuickedWeen/@becomeawendybird | [10.6k]

Harry offers to be her best friend Liam's fake date to his work Valentine's Day party, and the night takes an unexpected turn.

One Minute Old by crimsontheory/@ireallysawanangel | [9.2k]

“And he left you,” Niall interjects, the venom clear in his voice. “That asshole left you high and dry and broke your heart.” Of course, Niall remembers that. Louis may have told him everything—minus the sexy parts—and Naill, being the overprotective mother friend that he is, took offence to that. “He didn’t break my heart,” Louis refutes. He was hurt and confused by it but he wasn’t heartbroken. And apparently, he’s still hurt by it if the way it felt seeing Harry yesterday was any indication. “You were pretty smitten with him and then you spent days moping around your apartment after he left. I think that’s called being heartbroken,” Niall points out. “Okay, okay, I was upset. We get it,” Louis says, trying to move past it. This isn’t ‘poke fun at Louis’ emotions hour’. “Anyway, I called to tell you that he showed up at my door yesterday.” “To beg for your forgiveness I hope.” “No, he’s—” Louis stops, unsure how to phrase it. “He’s pregnant. And I’m the father.” Or, a one-night stand of Louis' that he never thought he'd see again shows up at his door six months later.

Ride My Sleigh Tonight  by kingsofeverything/@kingsofeverything | [9k]

In exchange for free food and drinks at Liam’s office holiday party, Harry pretends to be his boyfriend. But this is not that story.

Tight As A Tourniquet by reminiscingintherain/@reminiscingintherain | [7.4k]

“Mum?” “Yes, poppet?” “Could I do your job when I’m a grown-up?” “I don’t see why not, sweetie,” she agreed. “You can do anything you want, as long as you put the work in, and dedicate yourself to it.” Louis Tomlinson has always wanted to be a midwife like his mum, but in a world where it's expected for Omegas to be the caregivers, how is he going to manage his career when he presents as an Alpha?

Now That I've Found You by allwaswell16/@allwaswell16 | [6k]

Harry Styles has a great job working for his brother-in-law’s construction company. He has just one small problem. His concrete sub-contractor just quit, and he needs a foundation built as soon as possible. One fateful turn brings him exactly what he’s been looking for—an experienced concrete construction company that happens to be owned by the most beautiful man he’s ever laid eyes upon. Or Louis is a long haired, sweaty construction worker. Does anyone really need to know more than that? Harry doesn’t think so.

There's No Better Love by QuickedWeen/@becomeawendybird | [5.3k]

Louis has just started seeing this girl, and he can't stop thinking about her. Turns out the power of positive thinking is real.

The Nest by Blue_Green28/@bluegreen28fics | [5k]

Harry is a very particular omega who doesn't like to have items of Louis' in his nest until he secretly starts to steal them for it. or, 5 times one of Louis' personal items is missing and 1 time he finally finds them.

Profound Bond by babyhoneyhslt/@babyhoneyheslt | [4.6k]

Harry Styles, an Angel Of The Lord, is sent on a mission to save hunter Louis Tomlinson from the deepest pits of Hell in order for him to fulfill Heaven's plan.

The World Will Open Its Arms by lululawrence/@lululawrence | [4.5k]

Harry scrubbed at the countertop. It wasn’t even dirty, but it was three in the morning and the girl who was supposed to relieve him over an hour ago never showed. He was now on hour ten of his shift and his feet hurt and his back ached and he was trying not to cry, thanks to more fucking judgmental alpha truckers who could smell it on him. Of course they could. He practically lived at the diner. The entire place reeked of it. Unbonded pregnant omega.

Alone and Back Again by LadyLondonderry/@londonfoginacup | [4.4k]

Harry Styles has very few enemies, and even fewer friends. On the outskirts of the village, past the stream but before the river, sits a small one-room cottage, cool in the summers but draughty in the winters. In that one room cottage sits a cooking pot over a fire, a smaller selection of woodworking tools, and a nest of furs that is the pride and joy of one lonely omega. Or, what does one do when a feral alpha shows up in town ready to be executed?

The Rose & Dagger  by galastyles | [4k]

The first time Harry went to a session at The Rose And Dagger, he told himself it was a one time thing. The second time, he said it was to get the idea out of his system. By the fifth visit, he stopped making excuses.

Up on the Roof with a School Girl Crush by HelloLovers13/@hellolovers13 | [3.9k]

Harry was just trying to get some work done and have a quiet night in. He did not expect to become host to a drunken Louis, who had overestimated his Halloween costume's ability to fly.

He's An Angel  by cc_horan28/@cc-horan28 | [2.7k]

As the sun set over the horizon and they reeled their lines in, Louis saw a glint off the beach. They began to head back to where the horses were tied, and the glint solidified, turning into a vague shape that was… Coming out of the sea? Louis couldn’t believe his eyes as he saw what looked like a man just walk out along the shoreline to where their rides were tethered. The shopkeepers and locals were all whipping to stare at him, but the man seemed completely unbothered.

Just a Little Taste, Babe by allwaswell16/@allwaswell16 | [2.6k]

Harry’s been pining over Louis Tomlinson since their sixth form days. Now, he’s backstage at Louis’ concert and trying not to embarrass himself.

HOT TO GO! by allwaswell16/@allwaswell16 | [2k]

When Harry does something weird at the barricade, he leaves Louis’ show devastated and hoping he can somehow make things right. Or the accidental pervert fic

A Tight Space  by haztobegood/@haztobegood | [2k]

Niall pushes the bedroom door open. A huge mass of brown fur bolts between his legs. Louis startles with a hand to his chest. “What the fuck was that?” “Oh, that’s the cat. I told you Liam found a stray a few days ago. That’s him.” “Are you sure that’s a cat?”

and in those rare moments by we_are_the_same/@so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed | [2k]

London, May 23rd, 2025 Interview with Harry Styles, popstar, bisexual icon and philanthropist, by Louis W. Tomlinson.

for your eyes only (i’ll show you my heart) by moon_rose25/@darkinfinity | [1.9k]

Louis quickly opened his eyes and scanned the room, his eyes stopping on the sofa on the far left side. There was a man, turned with his back towards Louis, and based on his slow rise and fall of his back he guessed he was sleeping. If he had to guess, it was probably an omega, based on the faint scent. Or omega Harry has touch depri and finds comfort in alpha Louis’ scent

How to Fire a Tailor by LadyLondonderry/@londonfoginacup | [1.8k]

Harry Styles is a tailor. His best paying customer is an eccentric duke. Also Niall is there.

Singing Like a Bird 'Bout It Now  by QuickedWeen/@becomeawendybird | [1.8k]

Dr. Louis Tomlinson is worn to the bone, but only has a few patients left before the end of the day. One of those appointments takes quite a few twists and turns.

Cosy Cashmere  by red_panda28/@red-pandaaa | [1.5k]

“Hey,” Harry smiled back, stretching out a hand. “So, I was thinking,” Louis started as he stepped closer to the couch, tangling the finger of his unoccupied hand with Harry’s. “We could go get some new nesting stuff for my upcoming heat? Well, I’m gonna go anyway, but I thought I’d ask if you’d like to come with me.” “Alright, give me like, fifteen minutes to change and then we can go,” Harry said. OR Louis and Harry go shopping for new nesting stuff

Curiosity by HelloLovers13/@hellolovers13 | [934]

Fae Harry lets curiosity get the best of him. Human Louis is intrigued.

Expresso by reallynotmemoi/@reallynotmemoi | [880]

Louis falls in love at first sight with a boy from his Tuesday lectures, and proceeds to make a fool out of himself in front of said boy. But maybe not all is lost…

****

saccharine desire by DaddyAlphaLouisBabyOmegaHarry/@bottomhaztoplou | [682]

During Louis' rut, a new kink is discovered.

Tumblr only allows me to add 30 pics BOOHOO!!

Anyways Happy reading!

Don't be shy leave comments and kudos!

You have no idea how appreciated they are!!

[wyndryga]

welp. im rereading animorphs. its liveblogging time

first book observations:

its remarkable how well KAA fleshes out her main cast with just the observations of Jake. like the story is built around Jake being both incredibly introspective and observatory abt his friends and his own place in the world but also Just Some Guy

i think its also a really interesting look at setting up a fictional series. 60% of the aliens they romp with in the next 60 books are introduced in the first 7 or so chapters. everything gets fleshed out as the series goes on but you immediately know 'okay there's 4 main groups of aliens. they have lasers and mind control. you can shapeshift now, go forth'

jake having to be held back from trying to kill visser three with a metal pipe within thirty seconds of seeing the guy

you are a teenager walking home from the mall and psychically experience an aliens death from his perspective in real time. what do?

rachel swears like a sailor when given the opportunity

rachels ruthlessness is IMMEDIATELY established holy shit. opening action scene has jake and rachel realizing theyre the fastest runners, making themselves targets, and then when jake trips he tells her to keep running and she does. berenson family wild

oh okay that homeless dude totally died. i actually did not remember that At All

hey jake. mr berenson. this is definitely a very straight way to talk about your friend you think is a guy

tobias' cat being named Dude, who is also his first morph: me when im totally not already pretending to be a guy on a regular basis

Totally Normal Boy develops a personality after shapeshifting into a cat for the first time. hello girl

ah. this is why i am the way i am

hey jake? what the fuck, dude

jake the tumblr doggirls would love you (just turned into a dog talking about another dog)

i do love how kaa writes the kids as animals. very fast paced narrated thoughts, def had a huge impact on me as a writer

"hmm i wonder why animorphs was such a hit with trans autistic furries"

I WONDER

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - Aemond Targaryen

Chapter 6: A Snake in the Garden

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 3.3k (two fic posts in one day? booked and busy) ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ not all of the elves are so welcoming, but sometimes anger can bring clarity.

It was early morning and the light from the fireflies and strung-up lanterns illuminated the garden you were in. It was located just outside your room and full of countless herbs and other plants that you needed to keep stocked in the laboratory. You had begun your routine of tending to patients, meeting with Lyra a little longer than most, and entered the laboratory when Daeron sent you on a mission to stock up some of the dwindling plant stores. You did not think how much you would miss gathering plants until you were set about that task again for the first time in many days. 

You were winding through the garden. All of these ingredients grew in little light but bloomed like nothing else. You relished in the ability to be away from work, while still completing a useful task. Your body went through the motions of cutting off leaves or stems when needed and placing them in their respective jars that sat in the wicker basket next to you. You hummed quietly to yourself, lost in your task. 

Like a cloud blocking the sun, a figure stood just behind your kneeled figure and blocked the light from the lanterns strung above. You ceased yourself from cutting a leaf from a plant and turned around. An elf stood, his eyes piercing you with simmering hatred. You recognized him from just a few short days prior. It was the same elf that had been walking beside Aemond when you passed him in the hall. His skin looked sunkissed, despite there being little sun that actually penetrated through the canopy of trees. His dark hair matched the darkness of the deep forest beyond the settled lands. 

He was altogether the embodiment of the elvish characteristic of beauty, but there was something wrong about the energy he gave off; it was almost predatorial. 

“Make any progress yet?” He spoke. 

Your face scrunched up in confusion as you rose to your feet, “What?”

“Is your kind so stupid as to not understand words?” The elf had his arms held behind him and he puffed out his chest in indignation. 

“I am merely confused by such a sudden question from someone I do not know.” You met his scorn with a tone of veiled aggression. He seemed to catch on to your attitude and it only angered him further. 

He looked you up and down with judgement, “Remember your place. You are nothing but an unwelcome guest, I am on the King’s council, Ser Criston Cole.” 

You held back a retort. He was obviously looking to anger you, for why would he even bother to stop and talk? You breathed in and out and remained calm. He would not get a rise out of you. There was no way you would further instil whatever ridiculous negative notions he had about your kind. 

“Oh, my humble apologies,” You presented a veneer of respect, though deeply despised it, “I spoke out of turn. Forgive me, my nature as a human must have gotten the better of me.” 

Criston seemed satisfied at your words, “A human and a woman. It’s a wonder you’ve risen to such a station.” He adjusted his posture to lean on one leg. You reached down and picked up the wicker basket of herbs and brushed at your skirt. 

“Princess Helaena honoured me with her advocacy so I may take up such a position.” You know you hit a nerve, for he could not rebuke what you said without inadvertently insulting the princess. A quiet huff escaped his mouth as the two of you stood there. You stared one another down, each silently challenging the other to strike first. 

“As if your knowledge can come close to that of the elves?” He challenged. It seemed as though he was not willing to give up the fight easily. 

“My father was an exemplary scholar whose research has led us closer than ever to finding a cure, Ser Criston.” Your voice slowed upon reaching his name, undercut with disgust. 

“Was?” He rebuked, “Maybe humans should stop trifling in matters that do not bother them, lest something unsavoury happens.” 

Criston’s words made you choke down any possible means to defend yourself. The mere mention of the possibility of your father meeting an unjust end had your stomach rolling. It was something that had been long toiling in your mind. He had been gone for so long, a part of you was relentless in coming to terms with the fact that he may not dwell on this earth anymore. The reminder of it - of the very real reality of it all - paralyzed your body. 

You compose yourself, “The taint affects the world. We all must work to stop it.” 

Criston then gestured behind him, his arm outstretched, in some kind of mockery, “Well, by all means, you must get on with it.” His mouth curled into a grin. You did not want to walk away with him having dismissed you. It felt like a surrender on your end, but truly you had no care to continue. He could think and act however he wished, but he would not have you lash out and further jeopardize your stay in the kingdom. 

You bowed slightly and walked around him. You knew he was staring you down as you left - there was no way he was not by the terrible dread you felt. It was with only a look that he could raise the hairs on the back of your neck. His gaze was predatory, in every sense of the word. He seeked to exploit you - for reasons unknown. You merely were nothing but a possible plaything to beat around and annoy. 

Once you knew you were out of his vision, you released your anger and stormed down the halls of the castle toward your study. Your hastened and heavy footsteps pounded against the stone like heavy rain. Who was he to question your merits? You were here, that counted for something. You knew that elves were naturally imbued with more wisdom - they lived so long it was no question. Perhaps, that wisdom did not translate to being smart. 

You already showed your prowess in knowledge. You had even beat Daeron at the progression towards a cure. One of your experiments worked - if only for a moment. That was something he and other elf healers had failed to do. You knew, despite your lack of experience, there was something in your mind that made you equal to them. At least, you hoped there was something there. 

You had arrived at your study and set the ingredients down before making haste to the library. If there was one place you could expect peace and quiet, it would be there. You had shut the door abruptly and marched in. Your feet took you from the ground level to the first level in the many balconies that encircled the inside of the tower. You were so lost in your march to cool down that you bumped into one of the shelves, making a couple of books tumble to the floor. 

A sigh escaped your lips. Everything had been building up inside after Criston’s desperate attempt at angering you - which unfortunately worked. Watching those books fall was like stones falling from a damn and you had no way of releasing that pent-up frustration. You knelt down to pick them up. One of the books, bound in dark black leather and detailed with iron bindings piqued your curiosity. You placed the other books back in their respective spots but carried the other one away. 

You made your way down to the ground floor where all of the tables were. Picking a spot in from of the centre fireplace, you sat down and opened the cover; forgetting all about your disturbed morning in the garden.

You were on a mission. The past few hours were spent scanning through the book you found. It was a tome on more unconventional plants linked to the use of dark magic. While a topic such as that would normally throw you off, you had decided there would be no harm in reading it. However, you did not expect to become so enraptured with the study and use of these bizarre plants. 

It was when you stumbled upon one plant that felt so familiar. The sketches on the side were well done with in-depth observations written down. It looked like the belladonna plant, but the flower was much darker. Mortua terra. That was the name inscribed to such a plant. It sparked an idea in your mind and that was how you now found yourself marching through the laboratory and into the sick hall in search of Daeron. At the end of the hall, by some of the grand windows, was a balcony where Daeron would settle to get some written work done in the encompassing environment of the elder trees and fireflies. 

The door was already open and you spotted your friend in a chair by a wooden desk, hastily scribbling down on a piece of parchment. A lone candle burned on the desk with a wax melter on top. You took a moment to take in the sight of the lit-up darkness around you and noticed the white stone settlements throughout the trees with elves going about their day. 

“Daeron?” You questioned. He halted his movements and looked up. When he spotted you, a friendly smile made its way on his face. 

“Do you need anything?”  

You placed the book down on his desk, and opened to the page on the flower you found. “I was wondering if I could receive an escort to get this plant. I think it may be of use.” 

Daeron inspected the page, reading the words. He flipped the book to the cover and read the title while his other hand keept his place in the pages. His face was a mix of curious and anxious. 

“No.” His tone was unnerved. Daeron closed the book and shoved it towards you. You picked it up and wrapped the book in your arms. 

“No?” You were both confused and disappointed, “Why?” You wanted a reason for his hasty dismissal of your suggestion. The whole time you had worked with him, he was always open to trying new ideas. Daeron was an elf who loved to expand his knowledge, so why was he so resistant to this?

“This is nearing dark magic,” Daeron reasoned, “That is not something one would wish to dabble in.” He picked up his quill and began to write again. 

“The taint is dark, right?” You steeled yourself to remain calm. You were steadfast in your position and would not waver. As with your last experiment that was almost successful, you felt the same deep need to pursue this one. 

“Where are you going with this?” Daeron shifted a pile of parchment on his desk. In the short time you had known one another, he could tell when you were gearing up to present an argument. 

“My last experiment involved the principle of poison against poison. It obviously did not work. But what if the taint is dark magic and not poison? Why can’t we use dark magic to fight itself?” The idea had come to you in the library as you flipped through the book. It came from nowhere but had taken root in your mind. 

Daeron stopped fiddling with objects on his desk. He rested his elbows against the surface and brought his hands together, “Do you know a single thing about dark magic?” 

“Admittedly, no, but-”

“If you did, you would know this is a dead end.” He cut you off. His shoulders were squared and his head was tilted slightly. 

You rested your hands on the desk as you leaned down to speak to him more clearly, “Daeron-”

“No, this is for your safety as well. That magic requires types of sacrifices I would not wish on anyone.” He spoke with such sincerity that you almost wavered. He was only doing it to protect you, but if you were truly honest, you cared little for your safety when it came to the possibility of finding a cure. What was a single life when compared to countless others? 

“Please,” Your voice whispered as the fireflies above seemed to fly more erratically, “I truly think we could have something here.” You did not wish to beg, but if that is what you must do, you will do it. 

Daeron looked into your eyes and folded. He hung his head down and nervously picked at his fingers, a habit you had seen Helaena do several times. His chest rose and he exhaled a long sigh, “I will think about it. If we get more desperate, then possibly, but you must understand what you are asking to do.” 

“Then help me understand,” You responded. Daeron looked around the balcony - as if searching for a way to get out of answering. 

He spoke your name with a sudden ounce of severity, “One day, but not today.” 

You stopped holding on to the desk and stepped back, taking the book with you. There was nothing but silence from the forest around and you could hear your own breath. Daeron went back to his work, dismissing you in a way that reminded you of Aemond when he dismissed you in the library. With the amount of similarities you started to find between the Targaryen siblings, you began to wonder about their childhood. Surely, if they shared such subtle characteristics, they had grown up quite close. 

With your dismissal, you left the balcony and walked back into the sick hall. You scanned the space and watched other healers aiding patients in their beds. You made your way down the aisle. You stopped at Lyra’s bed, wishing to possibly talk to her again, but saw she was in a deep sleep. Patients had difficulty sleeping after a few days of taint infection and it led to insomnia. If she was getting sleep, you would not dare disturb it. 

You decided it would be best to spend the rest of the - admittedly late - day in your room as opposed to the laboratory. With Daeron’s dismissal of your idea, it is not like you could pursue any experiment - for the mortua terra plant was the only idea you had come up with in the past few days. 

You were walking down the halls of the castle towards your room when the elf you wished to see the least seemingly appeared out of nowhere, “Make any progress yet?” Aemond’s sultry voice hit your ears, eliciting another wave of annoyance through your body. Out of all the damned halls in this castle, he had to be here?

His words were the exact same that Criston had uttered to you that morning. You began to wonder if this was some sort of coordinated attack. It felt like some sort of ruse to torment you, throw you off of your work so you would fail. You knew they likely wanted to see you fail. Regardless of your studies to cure the taint, they wanted a human to fail. If Criston’s words were to be taken seriously, why should they be bothering to throw you off? You were a human and in their eyes inferior. By that logic, there would be no need to exact such a mockery. 

The events of the day - Criston’s lecture, Daeron’s dismissal, and now Aemond’s taunt - folded over you. You turned to Aemond, dressed in similar attire that you usually see him in with his sword strapped to his side with his hand resting on the hilt like he was constantly prepared for a spontaneous fight. 

You plastered on a pleasant smile to show his tricks would not falter you, “Perhaps I would be making faster progress if some members of your council were not so intent on disturbing my activities, your grace.” 

Aemond moved his hands to connect in front of him as he looked you up and down - a habit he made in the rare times you two conversed. “Disturbing you?” You were further bothered by his response. He dared to pretend he did not know anything. An elf king, older and wiser beyond your years, believed that was a smart play? That you would not understand? 

“Whatever you and Ser Cole are trying to pull will not waver me or drive me off, your grace. I am here to find a cure, something that would greatly benefit both kingdoms.” You retorted. You wanted to find the fastest excuse to leave. Something about Aemond sent you mixed signals. His presence felt dark and foreboding, eliciting fear; however, a part of you could not help but feel lured in. It had to have been an elf characteristic - to be so pleasing. 

“No doubt it would benefit all,” Aemond responded, “I simply wished to receive an update.” You wanted to understand the hidden motive behind his words, for surely there was one. 

The book in your hand felt heavy, but you decided not to inform the elf king you had begun to pursue dark magic paths to a cure, “There is not much to talk about, other than the menial progress one of my experiments made.” 

“One of your experiments?” Aemond questioned. 

You wanted to leave - desperately - so you could continue your research and draft up a few plans for concoctions with the newly discovered plant. If you had solid plans, Daeron would be more likely to pursue that path. 

“I am in the middle of some important research, your grace. Prince Daeron can fill you in. He should be in the laboratory at this time of day,” You bowed to the king, “Good day, your grace.” You dismissed yourself and went back onto your path to your room. The familiar feeling of his eye on your back almost made you drop your book. You held it firm to your chest as you turned right to the hall with your room. 

When you entered your room, you placed the book on your table. Dinner had already been delivered to your room and you saw in the wood-carved chair. Next to your plate, you opened the book and began to reread many of the entries. You flipped to the page of the flower that absorbed so much of your attention. 

It grew in the dark depths of the elf forest, outside the boundaries of the settled kingdom. You leaned back in your chair in thought. Glancing out the window to the garden in front of you, you were overcome with an idea. It was stupid - beyond stupid. Risky, no doubt. 

If you were able to obtain a sample of the flower and brew a potion, that could perhaps persuade Daeron to consider following this course of action. You had permission to conduct your own experiments, technically the gathering of such a plant would fall in line with that. The only issue was the security. You had only just been able to get rid of the constant guards escorting you around the castle. Daeron insisted on it - as he felt it was nothing more than a hindrance when you needed to set about tasks. 

The rules set forth for you had been lax in the past few days, but security around the castle was still tight. It would be difficult for you to sneak out, but the risk seemed worth it. If your experiment was successful, there would be no need to fret over how it was done. 

It was a simple plan. Before the hours of the morning, you would move through the garden and out of the palace grounds. The garden by your window was the medicinal one, and only the healers ever went there. They would all be asleep, as would most of the castle. You closed the book and took a final bite of your dinner. The plan was settled. 

Tomorrow, you will venture into the deep dark woods.

Chapter 7: The Dark Woods Deep Preview

A low growl hummed through the stagnant air. A silhouette, large and imposing, moved towards you slowly. You could smell it before you could properly see it. The odour, foul like rotting meat, permeated the surrounding area. Your free hand reached up to block your nose, but by then it was too late. Bent down and hunkered, a beast of large proportions - larger than any you had ever seen - dragged its heavy claw-ridden paws across the exposed dirt of the forest floor. The upsticking roots of trees were met and marked with deep cuts. 

The beast's eyes were glowing yellow, flickering like the freed fireflies around you.

☾⋆⁺₊✧ If you want to be added to the taglist, click here!

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[solxamber]

Shark Tanks and Shady Deals - Azul Ashengrotto x reader

After narrowly dodging a one-way trip to the sharks, you've hit rock bottom, career-wise. Enter Azul: your friendly (totally-not-shady) talent manager. In a moment of desperation, you sign with him. Wait, he's actually really good at this. Like, too good at this. Maybe the near-shark experience was just the universe’s weird way of setting you up?

w.c: 10.5k

You were doomed. Utterly and completely screwed.

The day had started out as usual—you’d shown up for filming in your usual state of caffeine-induced autopilot. But the moment you stepped on set, you’d been hit with the news that the director wanted a small change to your next scene.

A small change, they’d said.

You weren’t sure how dangling over a pool filled with actual sharks for the sake of some cheap thrills counted as a "small" change.

Seriously. Actual sharks. And worse? The scene involved you trying to “seduce” the lead while balancing on a wobbly plank that dangled above the tank. Who wrote this script? Why was this being greenlit? This had to be breaking a law.

“You’ll be perfectly safe!” the director had assured you with that suspicious smile that directors give when they’re one day away from having a lawsuit slapped on their desk. “We’ve had the sharks… sedated. Probably. No need to worry!”

"Probably" wasn't exactly reassuring.

And that’s how you’d found yourself standing in front of your director and refusing. Actually refusing. You weren’t about to let yourself become the thumbnail for the next YouTube video essay about ‘Actors Who Died Stupidly for Garbage Art.’

“C’mon, what are you, chicken?” your co-star had sneered, all smug as if he wasn’t terrified himself. He’d been gripping the railing with white knuckles while trying to act all cool about it.

“Listen, if I wanted to end my career, or my life, I’d start a Twitter feud with a K-pop group,” you had deadpanned, crossing your arms. “I’m not doing it.”

What followed was a spectacular implosion. You could still see the disbelief on the director’s face, as if the concept of an actor saying “no” was alien to him. Your refusal? It kicked off a chain reaction: you were labeled “difficult,” your role was cut, and before you knew it, your agency had dropped you faster than you could say "shark-infested waters."

Now, you were sitting on a park bench, staring at the crumbs of your half-eaten sandwich, contemplating the life choices that had led you to being unemployed and blacklisted from any decent drama in the country. The sharks might’ve been preferable to this.

You sighed. Maybe you’d start a new life. Move to a remote island and become a hermit. Or maybe a fisherman! Fishermen didn’t have to deal with directors, right?

“Excuse me,” a smooth voice cut into your thoughts, breaking you out of your pity party. You blinked up, squinting into the sunlight, only to find yourself staring at a man who was entirely too polished for this park. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his silver-rimmed glasses reflecting the afternoon light in just the right way that you almost thought he was some kind of model.

“Sorry to disturb you,” he said, flashing a well-practiced smile. “But you seemed rather... troubled.”

Great. You were so pathetic that strangers were now approaching you out of concern. Fantastic.

“No, it’s fine,” you mumbled, trying to sound less pathetic than you actually were. “I’m just... processing life.”

“Well,” he said, taking a seat beside you with a confidence that made you think he owned the place, “I couldn’t help but overhear a bit about your recent… situation.”

You side-eyed him. “Do I have a sign on my back that says ‘Miserable and Fired’?”

He chuckled softly, and you realized that he probably did know your situation—if the sly look in his eyes was anything to go by. This guy was shady. No questions about it.

“But you know,” he continued, leaning back against the bench, “for someone with your talent, there are always… opportunities. You just need the right connections.”

The way he said "connections" sent a small shiver down your spine. Oh, great. This guy’s gonna offer me some dodgy deal involving pyramid schemes, isn’t he?

“Who are you, exactly? I don't want to sell MLMs by the way” you say, skeptical.

He flashed you a business card. Azul Ashengrotto, CEO of Mostro Corp. The card was ridiculously fancy—embossed gold lettering, sleek finish. It practically screamed ‘shady but professional.’

“I’m a manager,” he said smoothly. “I run an agency that helps clients… of a certain caliber.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Certain caliber?”

“Talented, of course,” he said, smiling like a fox who’d just found a henhouse. “And from what I’ve seen, you have the potential to be a star. It’s just a shame that such talent is going to waste.”

You stared at him for a moment, half expecting him to start laughing and reveal that this was some kind of prank show. But he didn’t. He just kept smiling that annoyingly charming smile, waiting for you to bite the bait.

And you were desperate enough to bite. “Alright, Mr. Ashengrotto. I'll bite. What’s your deal?”

What followed was one of the strangest business meetings you’d ever been part of. You found yourself in a dimly lit café that doubled as Azul’s office, where he laid out his plans for your career with the kind of precision and efficiency that made your head spin.

Everything seemed normal at first—he arranged auditions for you, connected you with stylists, and even got you a few decent roles to build your portfolio. But then, things started getting weird.

For one, Floyd Leech—the guy who looked like he enjoyed squeezing the life out of people for fun—was suddenly your bodyguard. You had no idea why you needed a bodyguard, but there Floyd was, lurking behind you with that predatory grin of his, ready to pounce on anyone who so much as looked at you funny.

“Oh, don’t worry about Floyd,” Azul had said with a dismissive wave when you’d asked about it. “He’s just there for… insurance purposes.”

Insurance against what? You’d wondered, but wisely kept your mouth shut.

Then there was Jade. Ever the smooth talker, Jade seemed to be involved in every part of your career—whether it was subtly manipulating the press or somehow making your critics mysteriously disappear from public view. He was polite and terrifyingly efficient, and you were certain he could make entire scandals vanish with a snap of his fingers. He was shady, but he was the PR manager of your dreams.

And then there was Azul himself. The man was shady, no question. Every time he smiled at you, you half expected him to ask you to sign your soul over to him. But strangely enough, you found yourself growing fond of him. Despite the underhanded methods and the vaguely mafia-esque vibes, Azul actually cared about your success. He was invested in making sure you succeeded.

He pulled out all the stops just to make sure you were taken care of. The small, thoughtful gestures that he tried to pass off as “business necessities” but were far too personal to be anything but affection.

One day, you came back from a particularly grueling audition to find a brand-new set of skincare products waiting for you. Attached to the box was a note: “You deserve only the best. – A.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest.

Azul falls first. And he falls hard.

It had been a good day—or at least, it had been a good enough day. You were walking down the corridor towards Azul’s office, ready to talk about your first gig under his management. You’d been feeling a little lighter lately, knowing that things were finally falling into place with your career. Azul had been a lifesaver, despite his rather... unconventional methods.

But as you approached the door, you froze.

Muffled voices were coming from inside. At first, you thought it was just a typical business negotiation. After all, Azul had many clients and was no stranger to... tense conversations. But then, the voices escalated. One, in particular, sounded agitated, bordering on furious.

You tiptoed closer to the door, the actor in you instinctively picking up on the subtext and emotional cues of the conversation. Whoever was in there was pissed off. You strained to listen.

“I don’t care what the contract says,” the voice spat out, dripping with indignation. “I’m the star of this show. Do you think I’ll let some washed-up nerd dictate how I do my job? I’ve got producers eating out of my hand. You’re lucky I even signed on with your pathetic little company.”

Oof. That was... rough.

There was a pause, and you could picture Azul’s composed expression, his steely calm always in place no matter how nasty things got. His voice was cool, detached. “As your manager, it’s my job to ensure you fulfill the obligations outlined in your contract. If you fail to adhere to them, there will be consequences.”

The other voice laughed—a nasty, derisive sound. “Consequences? Please. What are you going to do? Sue me? You’re just a glorified, ugly, little accountant with delusions of grandeur. I’m the star. Without me, your little operation crumbles. I suggest you remember who holds the power here, Ashengrotto.”

You could feel the insult hanging heavy in the air. Your fists clenched. You knew that comment had really hit. It wasn’t just about the power dynamic in the industry; this actor was taking a shot at Azul’s looks.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You weren’t just going to stand there and let some arrogant, entitled actor stomp all over him. You burst through the door.

“Excuse me,” you said, loud and clear, your eyes fixed on the offending party. They turned to you, surprised. “I couldn’t help but overhear your eloquent speech just now. Really, it was breathtaking. Almost Shakespearean in its delusion.”

The actor blinked, caught off-guard by your sudden entrance.

“And I have to say,” you continued, crossing your arms and giving them a once-over, “you must be so proud of yourself. I mean, to have reached such heights in your career despite having the personality of a wet sock? Incredible. Truly. I’m amazed the directors can tolerate you long enough to hand you a script.”

Azul’s eyes widened slightly as you strolled further into the room, all confidence and righteous indignation. He stood frozen, clearly stunned that you had shown up at just the right time.

The actor’s face turned red, their expression twisting into a snarl. “Who do you think you are?”

“Oh, me? I’m just the one who reads contracts before signing them,” you said sweetly, throwing them a sharp smile. “But hey, I get it—reading is hard for some people. That’s why we have professionals like Azul here. You know, people who are smart enough to handle things like legal terms and intellectual property, which are clearly out of your wheelhouse. Not everyone can be as brilliant as you when it comes to... what was it again? Oh, right, throwing tantrums because the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

Azul blinked, still processing what was happening. You were... defending him? Fiercely? His heart did a little stutter-step, but he tried to pull himself together.

The actor sneered at you, puffing up their chest. “I don’t have to stand here and listen to this. I’m the one with the power here!”

You tilted your head, as if you were considering their words. “Oh, you’re so powerful. Look at you! Big, mighty star. But let me tell you something,” you said, stepping closer with an almost predatory grin, “in this industry? Power isn’t just about being on camera. It’s about the people who pull the strings behind the scenes. People like Azul, who are smart enough to navigate contracts, negotiations, and legalities. You know, the things you clearly didn’t understand when you signed your name on that dotted line.”

You turned to Azul, flashing him a grin before looking back at the actor. “And trust me, you wouldn’t last two minutes without someone like him watching your back. So, instead of throwing a tantrum, why don’t you go home, read your contract—assuming you can read—and think about how grateful you should be that someone as capable as Azul is even willing to manage you.”

The actor sputtered, unable to form a coherent response.

Azul, meanwhile, was still trying to catch his breath. He knew you were a talented actor, but this? This was something else. The way you stood up for him with such... confidence, such fire, had him reeling. His mind was spinning in ways he couldn’t quite grasp. You had stood up for him, defended him so fiercely, and made it look effortless. His heart gave another traitorous lurch in his chest. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way—certainly not about a client. But, wow, the way you had just handled that situation was...

The actor stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind them. You just stood there, hands on your hips, victorious. You turned to Azul with a grin.

“Problem solved,” you said with a wink.

Azul blinked, mouth slightly open. “I... What just...”

“You’re welcome,” you said, walking up to him and tapping the stack of contracts in his hand. “You’re too polite sometimes. Let people like me do the talking every once in a while.”

Azul’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. You could practically hear the gears grinding in his head as he tried to process his emotions. All he could think about was how confident you were, how assertive, how... attractive.

Jade and Floyd would never let him live this down.

But right now, Azul couldn’t think about that. All he could think about was how you had defended him so effortlessly and how his heart was racing in a way he’d never quite felt before. Oh no. He was in trouble.

And as you shot him another smile, one of those dazzling, confident grins that made his stomach flip, Azul realized something else: He was falling. Hard.

You’re sitting in the lounge of Mostro Corp’s office, Azul across from you, his usual composed self with a pen in hand as he reviewed some new contracts. Everything felt calm—well, calm for him. You, on the other hand, were fidgeting in your seat. You needed to break the news to him about the offer, and frankly, you had no idea how to approach it.

“So,” you begin, trying to sound as casual as possible, “I got an offer from another agency.”

Azul’s pen screeched to a halt, freezing mid-signature as if someone had just told him that Mostro Lounge had run out of drinks during peak hours. He didn’t look up immediately—no, instead, his glasses slid ever so slightly down his nose, the slight twitch of his fingers giving away the panic brewing underneath his pristine exterior.

“What?” His voice came out strangled, halfway between an octave too high and a choking sound.

You, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in Azul’s brain, continued casually, “Yeah, it’s from one of those top agencies. They think I have a lot of potential and want to sign me on for this big, high-profile drama. Pretty exciting, huh?”

You were practically grinning like a child who’d just found a shiny new toy, but Azul? He was seconds away from a full-blown existential crisis.

Inside Azul’s mind, things were rapidly spiraling out of control. Top agency? High-profile drama? They want to sign you?! He’d invested so much time, so much effort—no, no, this couldn’t be happening. His precious investment… his precious person… stolen away by another agency?! Ridiculous! Outrageous! It was completely… utterly… breaking him.

Azul’s inner monologue was a flurry of despair and denial. He could almost see it now—some slick, rival manager swooping in with promises of red carpets and glamorous roles, tempting you away with glitzy trailers and five-star restaurants. No, this couldn’t be how it ended. He had to keep you with him!

On the outside, however, Azul forced his face into a tight, polite smile that looked more like a man moments from passing out. “I… see. And you’re… considering this offer?” The words left his lips like venom, though you didn’t catch the sheer level of devastation laced into them.

“Yeah, it seems like a good opportunity,” you replied, shrugging casually. “It might be good for my career, right? I mean, that’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

Oh god, Azul thought, his brain short-circuiting as he stared at you. This is it. I’m losing them. They’re going to leave me for some flashy agency, and then—then what? I’ll never see them again!

Azul’s breath came out in small, controlled bursts as he tried to keep himself from visibly panicking. No, calm down, Ashengrotto. You’re a businessman. You can negotiate your way out of this. But a small part of his brain, the part that was definitely not a businessman, was screaming, Please don’t leave me!

“Ah, well… perhaps we should… further discuss your future endeavors?” Azul finally said, his voice tight. He placed his hands on his desk, knuckles white as he forced a smile that looked like it was causing him actual physical pain.

But you, bless your completely oblivious heart, smiled brightly and nodded. “Sure! I mean, I haven’t accepted it yet, so I thought I’d run it by you first.”

Azul nearly choked. Haven’t accepted it yet? His brain did a frantic backflip. Wait—there’s still hope!

His brain quickly switches to damage control mode. He straightened his posture, trying to regain some semblance of his usual composed businessman self. “You… haven’t accepted the offer yet?” he asked, voice carefully neutral.

“Nope,” you replied, reaching for a snack on the table. “I figured I’d talk to you first. You know, weigh my options.” You casually popped a cracker in your mouth, completely unaware that Azul was just about two seconds away from collapsing into a puddle of pure relief.

Azul’s heart soared. Okay, okay, we still have time. I just need to—wait, did they just say they wanted to run it by me? He blinked, his brain spinning in confusion. Why would they…?

He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses in an attempt to regain control of the situation. “I see. I’m… honored that you would consider discussing it with me first.” The relief in his voice was palpable, though he tried his best to maintain his usual air of dignity. “Though… I would like to remind you of the benefits of staying with Mostro Corp. We have always prided ourselves on our… unique approach to talent management.”

He said this with the air of a lawyer arguing a life-or-death case, when in reality, you were just mulling over whether you wanted fancier sushi or Azul’s morally ambiguous but highly effective business tactics.

Meanwhile, Azul’s brain was going a mile a minute. I can’t lose them. I’ve put too much into this. There must be something I can do… His eyes flicked to you, who was munching happily on crackers, completely unaware of the dramatic turmoil unfolding inside his head.

“Well, of course, you know I value everything you’ve done for me,” you said with a smile, patting his hand. “It’s just nice to know that I’ve got other options, you know?”

Options?! Azul’s brain screamed. NO! I AM THE ONLY OPTION! But outwardly, he managed to laugh—albeit a little shakily—and nod. “Yes… options… how delightful…”

You went back to casually munching your snacks, while Azul sat there, mentally spiraling deeper into a pit of doom and gloom, trying to keep a lid on the emotional hurricane swirling inside him.

By the time you finally looked up at him again, his composure had cracked just enough for you to notice the slight tremble in his usually steady hands. “Azul… Are you okay?”

His mind raced, trying to find the words. “I… I just thought that… perhaps you’d prefer to stay with someone who knows you well. Someone who understands your… unique needs.”

You blinked at him. “Wait… Azul, are you jealous?”

Azul sputtered, the words catching in his throat. “I—what? No! Of course not!” His face flushed red, his voice rising in pitch. “Jealousy is for amateurs! I am merely… concerned about your future. As any responsible manager would be!”

“Uh-huh,” you said, a knowing smile spreading across your face. “Right. Of course. Well, just so you know, I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

Azul let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Okay. Okay. We’re still in the game.

“And besides,” you continued, giving him a reassuring smile, “I trust you, Azul. You’ve done more for me than anyone else has. I’m not going anywhere unless it’s something you think is best for me.”

Azul blinked, his brain stalling for a moment. They trust me? They’re not leaving?

The relief that washed over him was almost too much to bear. He slumped back in his chair, feeling as though the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. He smiled—a genuine, warm smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Well then,” he said, his voice softer now, “I suppose we’ll continue as we always have, won’t we?”

You grinned, leaning back in your chair. “Looks like it.”

And for the first time that day, Azul relaxed. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he was already planning how to lock you down even tighter in his company’s grasp… for purely business reasons, of course.

And maybe, just maybe, for something a little more personal.

You were leaning against the wall, sipping on a coffee Azul had bribed Floyd into fetching (after much grumbling and threats about broken kneecaps). Today was a rare break from the constant whirlwind of shoots, and Azul had dragged you along to an event where industry people could network and rub elbows with those who thought they could “make it big.” You were supposed to be schmoozing, but you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care.

From across the room, you watched as a tall, good-looking actor made a beeline for Azul, who was politely chatting with a producer. The actor had that annoying air of confidence, someone who clearly thought they were a big deal, but not quite there yet. They slid right into the conversation, flashing a brilliant smile at Azul, who raised an eyebrow, bemused but ever the businessman. The actor looked at Azul like he was a prize—no, like he was the prize to win.

“Azul Ashengrotto,” the actor began, their tone dripping with charm. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I’ve seen how much of a star you've made of your… client.” They gestured toward you, their eyes briefly flicking in your direction before they focused back on Azul. “I’ve been thinking—I could really use someone with your talents managing my career.”

You snorted into your coffee, nearly choking. Seriously? This guy wants Azul to manage them?

After that dumbass who couldn’t read had pulled that stunt, Azul had delegated all the actors he was managing to his employees, and he was now only managing you, which admittedly made you extremely giddy.

You straightened up from your position against the wall, deciding to interrupt before Azul could even entertain the notion of jumping ship.

With a wide grin and zero hesitation, you strode up to them, placing yourself squarely between the actor and Azul. “Yeah, no. Sorry, but Azul’s my exclusive manager.” You gave them a look that could cut glass, making sure the actor understood the weight of your words. “He’s not taking on any new clients.”

The actor blinked, taken aback by your sudden appearance and directness. “Oh, but—”

“No buts,” you interrupted, standing firm. “Azul is mine. I mean, my manager.” You could feel Azul’s gaze burning into the side of your face, but you kept your focus on the actor. “He’s not available to anyone else. Trust me, he’s busy enough keeping up with all my… uh, brilliance.”

Azul, to his credit, didn’t immediately burst out laughing. Instead, he simply pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What they mean to say,” he said smoothly, “is that I’m currently not looking to expand my roster at this time. But I appreciate the interest.”

The actor, visibly flustered, tried to salvage the situation. “I see… I didn’t mean to intrude, I just thought—”

“No hard feelings,” you said, patting their arm in what you hoped was a reassuring gesture. “But I’d suggest finding someone else. Someone… less exclusive.”

The actor gave a forced smile and mumbled something about needing to talk to someone across the room before scampering off. The moment they were out of earshot, you turned back to Azul, who was eyeing you with a raised brow, lips twitching like he was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing.

“Exclusive manager, huh?” he mused, his voice warm with amusement. “I didn’t realize I’d been promoted to such a prestigious title.”

You shrugged, not even slightly embarrassed. “Hey, I’ve got to protect my manager. I can’t have you getting distracted by someone else.”

Azul chuckled softly, but the laughter wasn’t entirely aimed at the situation. No, it was more for how ridiculously flattered he felt by your words. Exclusive, huh? He’d never thought he’d be the sort of person to get all giddy over being someone’s exclusive anything, but there it was. Something about the way you’d swooped in so quickly to claim him—without hesitation—made his heart do a strange little flutter.

Internally, Azul was practically doing cartwheels. You had no idea how hard it was for him to suppress the grin threatening to take over his face. But, ever the composed businessman, he simply adjusted his cufflinks, a faint laugh escaping his lips. “Well, it seems I’m in high demand,” he teased lightly, trying to mask just how pleased he really was.

“You’ve always been in high demand,” you shot back with a grin. “Just lucky for me that I got to you first.”

Azul's laughter this time was soft but genuine. “Indeed. Very lucky.”

But inside, he was absolutely beaming. Not even the prospect of losing a business opportunity could faze him—because honestly, how could anything compare to the feeling of being yours? Even if you didn’t fully realize it yet.

You’d been roped into having dinner with Azul’s family after a business trip to Coral Sea City went surprisingly well. Somehow, what was supposed to be a brief check-in had escalated into a full-blown family dinner at the Ashengrotto household, with Azul, Floyd, and Jade acting as your escorts (read: babysitters).

Azul, as always, had planned to keep things professional. Just a casual dinner. What could go wrong? Except, as it turned out, quite a lot.

The minute you walked in, you were greeted by the smell of delicious food and spices, courtesy of Mrs. Ashengrotto, who practically beamed when she saw you with Azul. “Oh! Azul! You didn’t tell me you were bringing your partner!” she exclaimed, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

You blinked in surprise. “Oh, no, I’m not—"

Before you could even finish, Floyd swooped in, grinning like cat who just caught the canary “Yup, they’re totally dating, Auntie! Azul’s been so secretive, but we finally got him to spill the beans, heh~”

You shot Azul a panicked glance, but his face had already turned a subtle shade of pink. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. “That’s… not exactly true, Mother. They’re my client.”

“Client? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Mrs. Ashengrotto asked, giving you both a knowing wink.

You were on the verge of correcting her again, but before you could, Jade, ever the schemer, chimed in. “Oh, it’s quite romantic, really. Azul’s always looking after them, making sure they’re taken care of, both in their career and in life. The dedication he shows is quite admirable.”

“That’s because I’m their manager,” Azul muttered, shooting Jade a glare that clearly said please stop helping.

“Manager? Oh, Azul, don’t be so modest,” Mrs. Ashengrotto said, her voice soft with maternal pride. “It’s wonderful that you’re so dedicated to them.”

Floyd, ever the troublemaker, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Did you know that Azul practically handpicks all of their outfits too? He’s got a real eye for detail.”

Azul looked mortified. “I did not—”

“Isn’t that romantic?” Jade sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Choosing clothes for someone, guiding them through their career, always by their side…”

Azul pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting the urge to throttle his eels. “I’m just ensuring they look professional.”

Mrs. Ashengrotto smiled sweetly at the exchange. “That’s so thoughtful of you, Azul. Just like your stepfather—always looking out for the people he cares about.”

You opened your mouth to interject, but before you could get a word in, Azul’s grandmother shuffled in from the next room, her staff clicking against the floor. She was a small, wizened woman with sharp eyes that seemed to peer straight through you.

“Ah,” she said, nodding sagely. “So this is the one who has captured Azul’s heart.”

You felt like you were about to faint. “No, no, no! We’re not—”

“Don’t be shy, dear,” Azul’s grandmother interrupted, giving you a smile that somehow made you feel accepted. “Azul’s always been very particular, but I see why he’s chosen you. Strong-willed, intelligent… It’s a good match.”

Azul’s face was the color of a boiled lobster at this point. “Grandmother, they’re not—"

“Oh, it’s just like a fairy tale,” Floyd sighed dramatically, flinging his arms wide. “The manager and the star, united against the odds! Love blossoming amidst the contracts!”

Jade leaned in, his voice smooth and teasing. “I suppose we’ll have to prepare a speech for the engagement party soon. You wouldn’t want to be caught unprepared, would you, Azul?”

Azul shot Jade a look that could kill. “There will be no engagement because there is nothing to engage.”

You, meanwhile, were torn between laughing and crawling under the table. How had this situation spiraled so completely out of control?

“Ah, young love,” Mrs. Ashengrotto said with a fond sigh. “It’s a beautiful thing. Just like when I met my husband. He was so shy at first too, you know.”

“I am not shy!” Azul protested, but his voice lacked its usual bite. He glanced at you, clearly embarrassed, but you could see the way his lips twitched with a suppressed smile. He was as flustered as you were, even if he was trying not to show it.

You decided to just give up and lean into it. “Well, I guess if everyone’s so sure we’re a couple,” you said, throwing a look at Azul, “then maybe we should start acting like one?”

Azul froze for a second, then gave you a half-amused, half-exasperated look. “You’re absolutely not helping.”

Jade chuckled. “Oh, but they are, Azul. They most certainly are.”

Azul sighed, shaking his head, but there was a faint smile on his face. His family continued to dote on you both throughout dinner, exchanging stories about Azul’s childhood and teasing him endlessly about your “relationship.” And while it was all a little overwhelming, you couldn’t help but find it… oddly heartwarming.

At the end of the night, as you and Azul finally managed to escape his family’s clutches, you caught him glancing at you, a rare softness in his eyes.

“You know,” he said quietly, “they’re never going to stop teasing us about this.”

You laughed, bumping his shoulder lightly. “Well, it could be worse. At least they like me.”

Azul smiled, his expression warm despite the chaos of the evening. “That, they do.”

And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea of them being right.

The role was wild from the start: you’d been cast as a “Hay-Witch.” Yes, you heard that right. A Hay-Witch. The small-time movie was hyped as the next indie darling—a quirky, fantasy-adventure flick where your character used the mystical powers of hay to cure ailments, summon the wind, and fend off demons. It was like a strange blend of Hallmark romance and someone’s fever dream. And of course, you had to research this bizarre profession to get into character.

Where do you even begin? Naturally, with a trip to the village of Elderstraw, home to the world’s last remaining Hay-Witch practitioners. Because yes, apparently, that’s a thing.

You were baffled, Azul was intrigued, and the both of you set off to the countryside, where adventure awaited—and perhaps a bit of weirdness, too.

The village itself was charming in a “smells like cows and fresh grass” kind of way. Everyone was far too friendly, as if they hadn’t seen an outsider in years. You couldn’t walk five steps without someone giving you fresh milk, yogurt, or, unsurprisingly, bundles of hay. It was bizarre but kind of sweet.

It all seemed manageable until one of the village elders, a sprightly old woman with a mischievous glint in her eye, mistook you and Azul for a couple.

“Oh! Look at you two, so in love!” she exclaimed, hands clasped dramatically to her chest. “It warms my heart to see young folks so smitten.”

Azul chuckled, clearly amused. You, however, were mid-sip of water and nearly choked on it.

“No, no, we’re just—” you began, waving your hands wildly.

“Deny it all you want,” she said with a wink, “but love speaks louder than words. It’s in your eyes! And don’t you worry—we’ll make sure you enjoy all the festival activities together as a pair.”

“What festival?” you asked weakly.

“The Hay Festival, of course! Only couples can participate,” she said matter-of-factly, grabbing your face and Azul’s, smushing them together. “There’s no need to be shy! We’re not a judging village!”

Azul, the absolute traitor, merely smiled and shrugged. “When in Elderstraw…”

You shot him a withering look, but it was no use. The village had already decided, and there was no backing out.

The day started innocently enough, with the village’s version of “couple activities.” First up was the “Two-Man Hay Bale Haul,” a ridiculous contest where you and your supposed partner had to lift bales of hay and stack them as high as possible. Azul, ever the perfectionist, approached it like it was an Olympic event. Meanwhile, you were doing your best not to trip over the giant, scratchy bales.

“Careful,” Azul teased, as he hoisted yet another bale. “We wouldn’t want to ruin that professional image of yours.”

“I’m already in a village hauling hay for a Hay-Witch movie,” you grumbled. “My professional image is long gone.”

Next up was the “Lovers’ Hay Ride,” where you were forced to sit in a tiny wooden cart filled with—you guessed it—hay, while the local farmhands pulled you through the fields. The villagers serenaded you with what could only be described as country ballads.

Azul, to your horror, looked positively relaxed. You, on the other hand, felt like you were one step away from a sitcom-level breakdown.

“It’s peaceful here,” Azul remarked, gazing out at the rolling fields. “Don’t you think?”

“Peaceful?” you muttered, shoving a piece of hay out of your sleeve. “I’ve got hay everywhere. I think it’s multiplying.”

But it didn’t stop there. The locals had arranged a series of “intimate couple activities” that only got more ridiculous. From attempting to weave “love charms” out of hay (yours looked like a sad clump of straw), to participating in a “Hay-Witch Fortune Telling,” where the village’s oldest resident peered into a bowl of dried hay and made proclamations about your future.

“You’ll marry before the harvest!” the elderly fortune teller cried, her wrinkled face lighting up with joy. “I see it as clear as day! Your love will thrive like our crops in spring!”

You coughed, feeling a bit light-headed from the sheer absurdity of it all. “Uh, thanks? I think?”

Azul snickered, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “You heard her. Before the harvest.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, elbowing him.

But the straw that broke the hay-witch’s back came when the village elders insisted you both join them in the “Festival of Eternal Union”—which was apparently just a fancy way of saying “giant group picnic where all couples feed each other.”

“I’m going to die here,” you muttered as an elder handed you a basket of homemade cheese and bread. “This is how it ends for me.”

Azul, ever the opportunist, merely handed you a slice of bread with a smirk. “Then I’ll make sure it’s a memorable end.”

And somehow, throughout all of it, you found yourself… softening. The ridiculous activities, the constant teasing, the stolen glances and easy banter—it was all so strange, yet it felt right. Maybe it was the quiet charm of the village, or maybe it was just Azul being… well, Azul.

Your heart started doing funny little flips whenever he smiled at you, or when his hand brushed against yours by accident (or, more likely, on purpose). You were used to his confidence, his calculated demeanor, but here, in the middle of nowhere, he seemed softer. More human.

At some point, as you sat under the shade of a giant oak tree, watching the sunset, you realized with a jolt: Oh no. I’m actually falling for him.

You stared at him as he casually offered you a piece of fruit from the basket, completely unaware of the internal crisis you were having.

I’m falling for Azul Ashengrotto. In a tiny village where they think I’m a Hay-Witch. In the middle of a field. Because of hay. How is this my life?

The universe had a twisted sense of humor, clearly.

Azul glanced over at you, noticing your silence. “Something on your mind?”

You blinked rapidly, trying to compose yourself. “Uh, no! Nope. Just thinking about… hay.”

Azul quirked an eyebrow. “Hay?”

“Yeah,” you said lamely. “Lots of it here.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, hand brushing against yours. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Oh god, you thought, your heart thudding in your chest. I’m really doomed.

You're no coward. You've realized your feelings and you're going to do something about it. You're almost certain he likes you back so all you have to do was confess right?

Oh, you sweet summer child. You wish.

The sun had barely crept up over the horizon, but you were already at work, trying once again to get through Azul’s thick, polished skull that you had a crush on him. It had been weeks—no, months—of subtle hints. Casual touches on the arm. Extra compliments on his outfits. Playfully stealing his pens during meetings. Even dropping lines like, “You know, if you weren’t my manager, you’d make a great boyfriend.” Nothing had worked. Not even a flicker of recognition in those brilliant blue eyes of his.

Across the room, Floyd and Jade were quietly dying. Well, Floyd was barely quiet. His cackling echoed through the office more than once, only to be shushed by a very flustered Azul.

You sighed, watching Azul as he flipped through some papers, oblivious to the chaos happening right in front of him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was intentionally ignoring your advances. But no—this was Azul. The guy who was both brilliant and completely clueless when it came to romance. It was like trying to flirt with a brick wall that had an MBA.

“Alright,” Azul muttered, adjusting his glasses. “Here’s the agenda for today’s meeting. We’ll need to go over the contract for your next project and—”

You weren’t even listening. Not really. You were too busy devising your next plan of attack. Jade caught your eye from across the room, smirking knowingly, while Floyd had his face buried in a pillow, trying not to burst into laughter again. They both knew what was coming. They always knew what was coming. This time, you weren’t going to go subtle. No, subtlety had failed you. This time, you were going to drop a bomb so big, Azul wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“Well,” you began, standing up from your chair with a dramatic flair. “Azul, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Azul barely looked up from his paperwork. “Yes? Is it about the new script?”

“No,” you said, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. “It’s about something... much more important.”

“More important than the script?” Azul raised an eyebrow, finally looking up at you. “Are you feeling alright? Should we reschedule the meeting?”

Jade had already covered his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle his laughter. Floyd had given up any attempt at composure and was sprawled out on the couch, face buried in a pillow, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

“No, no,” you continued, ignoring the fact that your two audience members were on the verge of a breakdown. “I’m perfectly fine. I’ve just... I’ve been trying to tell you something for a while now, and I think it’s time I just come out and say it.”

Azul blinked, looking genuinely concerned now. “If it’s about renegotiating your contract, we can certainly—”

“Oh my god, Azul, stop talking about contracts for five seconds!” you blurted out, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “This isn’t about the contract! It’s about you!”

Azul blinked, confusion settling in. “Me?”

“Yes, you!” You took a deep breath, preparing yourself. This was it. The moment of truth. “I like you. Like, really like you. As in, I’m attracted to you. Romantically.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Azul stared at you, processing your words like you’d just spoken in an ancient, dead language. His eyes darted around the room, looking for some kind of logical explanation, while Jade’s shoulders shook harder with barely-contained laughter. Floyd was now actively biting his pillow to stop from shrieking in delight.

“...What?” Azul finally said, his voice full of disbelief.

“I. Like. You,” you repeated slowly, enunciating every word. “Like, in a romantic way. You know, feelings. Like affection, Azul. I’m saying I have a crush on you.”

Azul’s face flushed pink, and he shook his head rapidly as if trying to clear the fog. “N-no. That... That’s not possible. You must be mistaken.”

Floyd let out a loud snort of laughter, unable to hold back anymore. “Mistaken? About their OWN feelings?” he echoed, half-laughing, half-gasping for air. “Oh, this is too rich!”

Jade was trying to keep his composure, but he was wiping away tears now. “Azul, I do believe they’ve been quite clear.”

But Azul was undeterred. “No, no,” he said, standing up and pacing, hands flying around as he tried to piece together an explanation. “They’re clearly just being friendly. Maybe it’s a... a professional admiration! Yes, that’s it. A-and, perhaps, they’re simply appreciative of my management skills!”

Really? Right in front of your salad? If mental gymnastics was an actual sport, he would be the Olympic gold medalist without breaking a sweat.

Floyd was full-on howling now, tears streaming down his face as he clutched his sides. “Bro, I can’t breathe—what skills are you even talking about?”

“Azul,” you said with as much patience as you could muster, “I’m telling you that I like you in a romantic way. Like... I would very much like to go on a date with you. As in a romantic date.”

Azul stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening. “No,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else. “No, that can’t be right. It’s got to be a misunderstanding. you’ve never shown any romantic interest before. There must be some other explanation.”

“There isn’t,” you said, exasperated. “I’ve been dropping hints for months! I’ve been flirting with you this entire time!”

Azul looked at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, what?”

You rubbed your temples in frustration. “Do you remember when I complimented your outfit every single day for a week?”

Azul blinked. “I thought you were just being polite.”

“And the time I said I’d love to have a boyfriend as organized as you?”

“I assumed you were just making conversation.”

Floyd rolled off the couch, clutching his stomach and wheezing from laughing so hard. “Boss, you’re killing me!”

Jade patted Azul’s shoulder, his face split into a wide grin. “Azul, perhaps it’s time to accept that they may actually like you.”

Azul stared at you, his brain doing backflips to try and comprehend what was happening. “But... why?”

“Because I like you,” you said with a sigh. “You’re smart, charming, and—despite being utterly oblivious—you’re incredibly caring.”

For a moment, Azul just stood there, mouth agape, trying to wrap his mind around the idea. “But... you’re my client. You can’t possibly like me in that way.”

Jade, at this point, was openly laughing. “Oh, Azul. You truly are one of a kind.”

You sighed again, this time with a fond smile. “You know what? Fine. Don’t believe me. I guess I’ll just have to be even more obvious about it.”

Floyd, still trying to catch his breath, managed to rasp out, “Can’t wait to see how that goes.”

Azul stared between you and his cackling friends, his mind still racing as you simply smiled at him, leaving the final blow for later. But little did he know, you had one more trick up your sleeve—the next time you had an interview, you’d make sure the whole world knew exactly how you felt. That should be obvious enough for even him to understand.

...Hopefully.

The interview was going smoothly—or at least, it was supposed to. You were doing your usual promo rounds for your latest movie, fielding questions with ease, and feeling pretty confident. Azul stood off to the side, clipboard in hand, monitoring everything with his usual meticulous care.

Then, the interviewer hit you with the dreaded question. "So, there's been some talk about your personal life. A lot of fans are dying to know... is there someone special in your life right now?"

You didn’t even hesitate. Flashing a coy smile, you leaned forward in your chair, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You could say that, yeah."

Azul, off to the side, blinked. His eyebrows furrowed, immediately sensing danger. Wait. What? They never mentioned this before... His brain immediately started scanning for any missed signs. Were you seeing someone and hadn’t told him?

The interviewer’s grin widened, clearly excited by the scoop. “Oh, really? Someone special, huh? Do we know them?”

"Well," you mused, pretending to think about it as you twirled the water bottle cap in your hand. “I’d say a lot of people know them. They’re... pretty well-known for being supportive, always looking out for me, and just being an all-around amazing person."

Azul swallowed hard. Supportive? Well-known? He tried to stay calm, but his heart rate was rising. Who the hell could they be talking about?

Jade, meanwhile, had the world's biggest grin on his face. He glanced at Azul, enjoying watching him mentally spiral. This was about to get good.

The interviewer pressed on, eyes practically sparkling. “Sounds like someone really special! Care to drop a hint for us?”

You laughed, a sound that made Azul’s pulse spike for entirely different reasons. “I don’t know if I should,” you teased. “But I guess I could say... they’ve been by my side every step of the way.”

Azul nearly dropped his clipboard. Wait, wait, wait. No way. No, it can’t be… Me? His mind was in chaos. There was no possible way, right?

Azul could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. His thoughts were racing at a million miles per hour. No, they’re definitely just being vague for the media. It’s probably all for the image... right?

Jade leaned over and whispered, loud enough for Azul to hear. “Sounds like they’re talking about someone we know, don’t you think?”

Azul shot him a panicked look. “It’s definitely not me,” he hissed. “They’re just... being friendly. It’s purely platonic. Definitely platonic.”

Jade’s smirk deepened. “If you say so.”

But the more confident you looked, the more Azul found himself spiraling. Your calm, collected attitude was doing something to him, stirring something deeper in his chest that he refused to acknowledge. Why were you so relaxed about this? Were you toying with the media for fun, or... were you serious?

Jade was, by now, thoroughly entertained, watching as Azul’s thoughts clearly spiraled. “Azul,” he said with mock seriousness, “I do believe you might need some water. You’re looking a little pale.”

Azul shot him a glare that could’ve frozen a lake. “I’m fine. They’re just being... vague.”

Jade hummed, unconvinced but highly amused.

But before Azul could continue to stew in his confusion, the interviewer asked the golden question. “So, this person... Is it someone from your current circle? Perhaps a certain... manager?”

Your smile widened. “Oh, absolutely. They’re in my circle. In fact... It is my manager.”

Azul’s heart skipped about six beats. He stared at you in complete shock, the world around him tilting slightly. No...

The interviewer gasped dramatically. “Your manager?! Really?”

"Yep," you replied breezily. "They’ve always been there for me, handling my career, keeping me on track... Honestly, I wouldn’t have come this far without them."

Azul's brain short-circuited. They’re talking about me... Wait, no. Maybe they mean it in a purely professional sense. Yeah. That’s got to be it. This is all just... a misunderstanding.

The interviewer was ecstatic. “That’s so sweet! So, you really admire them, huh?”

You met the interviewer’s gaze, your tone softening slightly. “Yeah... I do. A lot.”

Azul was trying very, very hard not to combust. His hands were shaking slightly, and Jade noticed, elbowing him with a wicked grin. “Still think it’s platonic, Azul?”

“I—” Azul stammered. “They... They must mean it... as a friend. Nothing more.”

Jade chuckled. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The interview finally wrapped up, but the damage was done. You were trying not to laugh as you rejoined Azul and Jade, who were both staring at you with very different expressions. Jade looked like he was about to burst from the sheer amusement of it all, while Azul… Azul looked like he was desperately trying to figure out how to delete your entire existence from the timeline.

“Why did you—?” Azul started, but you just patted his arm, snickering.

“Oh, come on, Azul. Don’t worry so much. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?!” he practically screeched. “You just told the world you have feelings for me!”

“Yeah, and?” You shrugged nonchalantly, finding his distress far too entertaining. “Everyone’s gonna find out sooner or later.”

Azul ran his hands through his hair, clearly nearing a full-blown meltdown. “They’re going to think we’re… we’re together! People are going to start making assumptions! What if it affects your career? What if—”

Jade clapped him on the shoulder. “What if you stop panicking and actually consider that maybe… just maybe… they meant what they said?”

Azul was about to protest again when your phone buzzed. You checked it and burst out laughing. “Oh man, Azul, you’ve gotta see this.”

“NOOOO, THEY’RE IN LOVE???” “Who’s Azul and why haven’t we seen them kiss yet??” “Okay, but like… I can’t even be mad, this guy is hot.” “I’m crying… I thought I had a chance 😭” “Azul? More like A-zuuulooooove 🥲” “Wait, isn’t he their manager? Damn, that’s hot.” “I SHIP IT SO HARD!!!” “Okay but let’s be real, they’re glowing lately, so Azul is probably good for them.” “I demand photos of them with this Azul!!! I need to see if he’s worthy!!” “AZUL IS LUCKY AF.” “I thought I was delusional, but NOPE, IT’S REAL!!!” “Lmfao, this is straight out of a K-drama. Is Azul secretly a billionaire?”

Azul just groaned, covering his face again. “I’m going to die.”

You patted his back with a grin. “Nah, you’ll be fine. Just think about all the fans you’re getting now.”

Jade was chuckling beside him. “Oh, I’m sure he’s enjoying this. Internally, he’s probably quite flattered.”

Azul just muttered something incomprehensible, which you chose to interpret as agreement.

All in all, it was probably the most entertaining interview of your life—though for poor Azul, it might have been the most traumatic.

It was supposed to be a routine day on set—a quick shoot, a few lines, and some light action. Nothing out of the ordinary. But of course, that was the day everything went wrong.

You hadn’t even realized anything was amiss at first. Just a small slip while rehearsing a particularly tricky scene. Sure, you scraped your knee, but it wasn’t exactly life-threatening. You shrugged it off as no big deal.

Except it was a big deal to Azul. Because the moment Floyd let slip that you had taken a “gnarly fall,” Azul exploded onto the set like he was auditioning for a telenovela himself.

The door to your dressing room burst open, and there he stood, eyes wide with horror. “You’ve been injured?!”

Before you could even respond, he was at your side, grabbing your hand and scanning you over with frantic intensity. “Where? Where does it hurt? Are you bleeding? Do we need an ambulance?”

“It’s just a scratch—”

“A scratch?! Scratches can get infected! We need antiseptics, bandages—perhaps we should take you to a hospital just in case!” Azul’s voice climbed higher with every word, his panic spiraling out of control.

Floyd, who was leaning against the doorframe, grinned mischievously. “Oh, it was brutal, boss. They were practically airborne, soaring through the air like a majestic seagull—”

“Floyd!” you interrupted, shooting him a glare. “I slipped, and my foot barely left the ground.”

“Details, details,” Floyd said, waving his hand dismissively. “But Azul’s right, you know. Maybe we should call in a medevac.”

Azul’s hands were now fluttering uselessly around your arms, his normally cool demeanor shattered into a thousand frantic pieces. “You could have a concussion! A torn ligament! Internal bleeding! We should get a full-body scan—what if this jeopardizes your career?”

You sighed, feeling both exasperated and oddly touched by his theatrics. “Azul, it’s a scraped knee. I’ll survive.”

But he wasn’t hearing it. “No, no, no. You don’t understand! This industry is cutthroat! We can’t risk even the slightest injury—what if this compromises your ability to walk in heels for a scene? Or worse, what if—"

Finally, you'd had enough. With one swift motion, you grabbed the lapels of his pristine suit and yanked him down to your level. Then, without hesitation, you pressed your lips to his.

Azul froze like someone had just poured a bucket of ice water over his head. His eyes went wide, his hands hovering in the air for a moment before slowly settling on your arms. You held the kiss for a few seconds, long enough for him to stop his rambling.

When you pulled back, Azul blinked, looking dazed and utterly bewildered. “Wha—what was that for?” he stammered, his cheeks flushed pink.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on his face. “To shut you up. Honestly, you’re being ridiculous. It’s just a scratch, and I’m fine.”

“But—” he began, only to stop short when he noticed the faint smile on your face. Slowly, he let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing a little. “I… may have overreacted.”

“You think?” you teased, still holding onto his suit.

Azul cleared his throat, straightening his posture, though he couldn’t quite meet your eyes. “Well, I suppose I was a bit... concerned,” he admitted, his voice softer now, more vulnerable.

You raised an eyebrow. “A bit?”

His lips quirked up in a sheepish smile. “Fine, more than a bit.”

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, Azul still holding you close, his earlier panic replaced by a gentle fondness. “You really scared me,” he said quietly, his fingers brushing against your arm in a rare display of tenderness.

You softened at his words, letting go of his suit and resting your hand on his. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you so much.”

Azul exhaled, the tension finally melting away from his shoulders. “Well,” he said, his usual confidence slowly returning, “I suppose I’ll forgive you. But only if you promise to be more careful.”

You smirked. “I’ll try. But no more medical emergencies, okay?”

Azul gave you a soft smile, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your arm. “Agreed.”

Azul still had a hand resting on your arm when Floyd finally disappeared, but the mood shifted slightly, the weight of the moment sinking in. He glanced at you, and though the frantic energy had dissipated, there was still something lingering in his eyes—a hint of hesitation.

You decided to go for it.

“Azul,” you began, your voice soft yet steady, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

He blinked at you, his brows furrowing in concern. “You’re not seriously injured, are you? I knew we should’ve gotten a doctor—”

“No, Azul, it’s not about that,” you cut him off gently, grabbing his hand again to keep him from spiraling. “It’s… about us.”

That got his attention. His body stiffened, and his eyes widened a fraction. “Us?” he repeated, like he’d never heard the word before.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I didn’t want to say anything at first because I thought you were delibrately ignoring my confession. But I think… I’ve fallen for you.”

For a solid three seconds, Azul just stared at you. Not a blink. Not a twitch. It was like his entire brain had momentarily short-circuited. “Fallen for me?” he echoed slowly, like he was trying to translate a foreign language in his head. “You’re in love with me?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I said,” you teased lightly, though your pulse quickened. “What, is it really so hard to believe?”

Azul swallowed hard, his voice still unusually shaky. “I—well—yes, actually.”

You raised an eyebrow, half-expecting a quip or a deflection. “Why’s that?”

Azul suddenly seemed more flustered than when he thought you needed an ambulance. “I just assumed—well, this whole time I thought… I mean, I thought it was more of a… situationship,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower with each word, like he was embarrassed to even say it. “A temporary thing. Surely you couldn’t actually… love me.”

You let out a small laugh, though it was more affectionate than amused. “You’re really selling yourself short, Azul.”

He stared at you like he was still processing the information, eyes wide and blinking rapidly. “But I’m not… I mean, you could have someone better,” he mumbled, suddenly very interested in the floor.

You rolled your eyes, exasperated and endeared all at once. “Oh my god, Azul. You’re smart, funny, successful, and you care more than you let on. Why do you think I’ve stuck around this long?”

Azul’s cheeks were bright red by now, his lips parting slightly in a way that made him look like a fish out of water. “You… love me.” He repeated again, this time softer, almost like he was afraid to say it too loudly in case it turned out to be a joke.

You couldn’t help but laugh at how flabbergasted he looked. “Yes, Azul. I love you.”

He let out a breath he didn’t seem to realize he was holding, and for a moment, he just stood there, completely silent, his expression one of shock mixed with… something else. Something deeper, like a weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders.

Then, out of nowhere, his hands tightened on your arms, and before you could react, he pulled you into his chest in a sudden, desperate hug. His grip was so tight you were sure he was never going to let go.

“I-I love you, too,” he said, voice muffled against your hair. “I didn’t know how to say it… I thought you’d want something… less complicated than me.”

You smiled, pressing your face into his chest and letting the warmth of his embrace wash over you. “You’re more than worth the complications, Azul.”

His arms loosened just enough to pull back and look at you, eyes glistening just a little, his expression softer than you’d ever seen. “I can’t believe this,” he murmured, almost in disbelief. “I thought—well, I thought you’d tire of me.”

You wiped away a stray tear that had slipped from his eye, your heart swelling. “I don’t think I ever could, even if I tried.”

For a moment, he looked like he might cry again, but he quickly blinked it away, clearing his throat as he attempted to regain some composure. “You’re sure you’re not concussed? Perhaps this is the result of head trauma…”

You laughed, swatting his shoulder playfully. “I’m sure.”

Azul cracked a smile, though he still looked a bit overwhelmed. “Well… I suppose this changes everything.”

Before you could respond, the door creaked open again, and Floyd poked his head in with a devilish grin. “Sooo, I guess I should cancel that medevac, huh?”

Azul groaned, but this time it was more out of exasperated affection than anything else. “Floyd…”

Floyd snickered, winking at you as he sauntered in. “Aww, look at you two, all lovey-dovey. Makes me wanna puke.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Floyd grinned wider. “Nah, I think I’ll stick around. Never know when you might trip and need mouth-to-mouth.”

Azul threw a water bottle at him. “Out!”

Floyd dodged it easily, laughing as he slipped back out the door, leaving the two of you alone again.

Azul sighed, shaking his head, though there was a faint smile on his lips. “He’s never going to let us live this down, is he?”

“Nope, and neither is Jade.” you said, grinning. “But that’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

Azul looked at you, his gaze soft and warm. “Together.”

“So,” you said after a moment, pulling away just enough to look up at him, “now that we’ve got that sorted, how about we go celebrate? Dinner? Something fancy?”

Azul’s eyes gleamed with excitement, the business side of him flickering to life. “I happen to know a very exclusive place. The best seafood in town, I assure you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seafood? After the whole shark tank incident?”

Azul blinked before laughing, realizing the irony. “Alright, maybe something more… neutral.”

And as you glanced at Azul, his hand warm and secure in yours, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, the universe had thrown you into this crazy situation for a reason. After all, who else could say their manager turned out to be the love of their life?

Azul Ashengrotto, the shark in a suit, was all yours.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Masterlist

Okay the azul brainrot was real here, it went from 1k to 2k and i then suddenly was committed to a 10k fic Fun fact: The hay witch thing came from a movie idea that my friends and i came up with while being completely wasted.

[penelopepine]

I love your work so so so so much 🩷☹️‼️

I would absolutely love to see a fic of Graves in the delivery room while his wife is in labor and how he takes care of her in the hospital after their baby has just arrived, I imagine he’d feed her with his own hands and would be so so so over the board with caring for her 🥺🩷

AHHH I love to hear that! Thank you so much!

Delivery Room

You had woken up this morning to a sharp pain in your abdomen and wet sheets below you. At first you embarrassingly thought that you had wet the bed, but when another wave of pain hit you quickly realized what was actually happening. 

Looking towards your left you see your husband, Phillip, still sleeping soundly beside you. Reaching out to him it only took you softly calling his name and a light shake of his shoulder for him to wake up. 

"Wha- What is it? What's wrong?" He asks with concern once he notices how you're clutching your stomach. 

"It's go time!," You hissed in pain, "My water broke and the baby's coming!" 

Without another word Phillip is instantly out of bed, and by your side helping you stand. “I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here. Let’s get you to the car now.” 

“It’s not time yet though; the baby isn’t due for another 2 weeks.” You hold on tight to Phillip’s arm as he leads you out to the car. Realistically you knew that the baby coming 2 weeks early is completely normal, and something your doctor had even brought up as a possibility during an appointment. Your pained and hormone filled brain couldn’t stop thinking about all the negative reasons the baby could be arriving early though. 

"Sweetheart, everything is alright with the baby. We're getting to meet them a little earlier than planned." Phillip says soothingly to you as he helps you inside the vehicle. Once you're fully inside you watch as your husband runs back inside, and grabs the hospital bag before climbing inside as well.  

The entire ride to the hospital Phillip was doing breathing exercises with you, and doing his best to comfort you. You didn't even realize you had arrived until your door was being thrown open by Phillip who was now ushering you to sit in a wheelchair. 

It only takes a few minutes of talking with the nurses for them to lead you both down the hall, and get you set up in the delivery room. You start to feel much better now that you're in the hospital knowing that the professionals are there to help you. 

The doctor comes in almost immediately after you've changed into the hospital gown. They say you're about 2cm dilated right now, and encourage you to try and get some sleep since it's the middle of the night. 

"Well you heard the doctor, sweetheart. Baby's not coming anytime soon, and you need all the energy you can get." Phillip sat beside your bed; one hand in yours and the other on your stomach. 

"So do you," You nod towards the couch in the room, "Get some sleep; I'll be fine laying here."

"That is not how this is going to work. I'll sleep once I know you are." He states, his voice not allowing any arguing of any kind. "I'm here to help you with whatever you need. Now, tell me what can I do to help you sleep?" 

"Just- Just hold my hand." That was all you needed right now. To know that the person you loved most was by your side during one of the biggest and scariest moments of your life. 

And for the next hour or so that is exactly what he did. Phillip didn't leave your side for more than a few seconds at a time getting whatever you needed to feel more comfortable until finally you fell into a sleep. 

You wouldn't say it was deep sleep, but even the few hours of sleep you got did manage to calm your panic from before.  Your head felt more clear, but now the pain was worse - 5cms dilated now, the doctor said. 

For the next 6 hours Phillip did everything in his power to make you comfortable, and help with the contraction pain. He put on music, gave you a massage, and even helped you with your exercises on the birthing ball. Until finally it was time to start pushing. 

"Just keep breathing, sweetheart. You're doing amazing." Phillip whispers to you. He's currently leaning towards you, and his hand is being crushed in yours. He doesn't complain once about you doing so - encourages it even. 

Phillip spends the next hour of you pushing standing by your side. Whispering praises into your ear; wanting you to know just how much he loves you. 

For as long as this whole thing was, it was worth it when you finally heard the shrill cry of your baby taking its first breaths - it's the most beautiful sound you've heard. With the baby now resting on your chest you take this chance to close your eyes and breathe. While you do so Phillip has grabbed a damp rag, and begins wiping your face of all the sweat and tears. 

"She's beautiful!" You stare teary eyed down at the newborn in your arms before lifting  your head to meet Phillip's gaze.

"She is," He instantly agrees with you. His eyes now move from the baby to you. "How did I end up with the two most beautiful girls in the world?"

You give a breathless chuckle before telling him, "I love you so much."

"I love you too, sweetheart. I love you too."

The rest of your time at the hospital was filled with you and Phillip taking in the presence of your new baby. This was something the two of you had wanted for so long, and it felt magical to finally have it. 

[absolutelybifurious]

the thing is im usually allllll for putting eddie in the torture nexus, its actually my favorite favorite thing, but it hits so different when its chris. when its the person eddie has tried so hard for again and again and again. when its this thing he's poured his entire soul and life and being into for YEARS to try and Not Fail His Kid. when its now his kid being merciless in punishing him. now the same kid is ghosting him for this one mistake that also hurt eddie terribly.

and i get it isnt out of place for a teen to do something like this, bc their emotions are so big, but can someone CALL THAT OUT? can someone be like yeah hes taking this a bit far lets maybe put a stop to it??? but eddie's parents are just ignoring eddie and letting this Angry Teenager uproot his entire life and break his dads heart while eddie is powerless to do anything about it because he, once again, so desperately, wants just to be a good father. but he actually kind of isnt being one because he doesnt value himself enough to be like oh hey, wait, you're actually being unfair. we need to discuss this. he can't teach chris that running and being selfish and icing people out is Not Healthy because that would mean prioritizing his own hurt over this months-long temper tantrum christopher is having. and it would be great if this arc ended in a way that addresses THAT.

and if no one's gonna explain this to chris, i just need someone to explain it to eddie, i really desperately need someone to actually comfort EDDIE. i need someone to tell him, or at least acknowledge, that it wasn't completely his fault. that he tried to stop it before it affected chris. that he did the right thing but then got ambushed by kim. or even that the whole kim thing must have Hurt Him Too. like someone just hold him or talk to him or ANYTHING in a way that isn't wow you really hurt christopher huh :(

but i honestly can't tell where they're going with it bc its been one episode. i just know i, like christopher and eddie, am having Big Feelings and DONT KNOW HOW TO PROCESS THEM.

there's so much potential and im tentatively excited but also hahahahasf i would like this particular torture nexus to end immediately. this is a kind of emotional horror that might actually give me heart damage. christopher diaz get over yourself and go home.

im really hoping all this leads to a VERY heartwarming reunion because if it does not then i have beef with a fictional thirteen year old im so serious. (also the diaz parents but i've had beef with them so.)