#the latter to his immediate regret

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (03)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content sexual jokes, rafe being a sweetheart( & an idiot) !

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 02 ¡ 03 ¡ 04

The past week was beyond perfect, you knew something bad was occuring, whether you liked it or not. Unlike what you had in mind, the trip was fun, with you and Sarah attached at the hip, doing everything you missed out on for the past two years.

You partied a decent amount, had a lot of dates and dinners, with Rafe and Ryan third wheeling, of course. And that's besides the beach errands you ran at least twice a day. However, that all came crashing down when you got your period, falling into a state of apathy the moment you discovered you were on it. 

It was bearable at first, you still hung out with the rest, sunbathing while they surfed, sat to the side when they cooked, but your cramps had other plans, ruining your day when you no longer could tolerate the pain, leading to no good. You locked yourself in your room, isolating yourself from everyone else, immediately brushing off their attempts to allure you out.

It was that bad, even Sarah chose to keep her distance, giving you space, fully aware of your mood swings when it came to dealing with your period cramps. The blonde did everything in her power to keep you comfortable, only reaching out to you when it was necessary, and to that, you were grateful, because Ryan on the other hand, was behaving like a total bitch. 

And well, Rafe was sweet. He was clueless, yet, he knew you were feeling under the weather, offering to take over your tasks when Rysn forced you to do chores. You had to keep reminiscing over the fact that this was a mere joke, and that he’s off limits, hence he’s your brother’s best friend. 

But how could you? Rafe was an angel, everything you looked for in a guy, and while it’s only been a bit over a week since you’ve met him, the subtle gazes you exchanged did nothing but create a giddy mess out of you. 

You forced yourself out of bed, body drenched with sweat due to the thick hoodie hugging your figure. You approached the bathroom, with the intent of freshening up, eternally grateful it was connected to your room. 

With a groan, you reached for the wood cabinets, unlatching them with a swift movement. You reached for the container of spare pads you had brought, heart sinking to your stomach when nothing came within your reach, indicating you were out. That only added to your pent up frustration, letting out a cry as you tossed the box in the trash. 

Those were supposed to last you a week, yet, here you were, out on the second day of your period. Usually, your cycle wasn’t on the heavy side, that it completely went past your mind to bring more, just in case it was one of those days. 

Your parents were nowhere in sight when you called out for them, implying that they weren’t home. You had no choice but to reach out to Ryan, contemplating whether it was a good idea with how whiny he was, a good chance he’ll probably refuse.

Therefore, it was no surprise when you knocked and called out his name, receiving no response in return. You rolled your eyes, erupting through the door, instantly regretting the gesture as you came to a halt, spotting none other than Rafe on Ryan’s bed, with your brother nowhere in sight. 

Rafe was accompanied with his phone, laying flat on his chest, his bare back glowing under the sunlight peeking through the window blinds. You grew flustered to the sight, forcing your eyes away from the latter when he perked up, conscious of your presence mere inches away.

A low hum bubbled out of Rafe’s throat, stretching his arms over his head as he tossed his phone to the side, now facing in your direction. He flashed you a tight-lipped smile, seeking his shirt with his gaze, not wanting to put you in an awkward situation with the state he was in. 

Right, he was shirtless, it was rude of you to come in without knocking, especially now, as your gaze burned holes through his skin, too hazed to pull your eyes away from his broad torso. How could you, when his chest was out on display, the view inviting, so there, it left you no choice but to stare?

“Sorry,” you muttered through a breath, clenching the hem of your hoodie in between your fingers. “I didn’t know you’d be in here, I thought Ryan was ignorin’ me.” 

“It’s okay,” Rafe reassured, throwing his shirt over his head. “Ryan’s not here, he’s been gone since this morning.” 

“Right,” you nodded, his absence skipping over your head. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Do you need anything?” Rafe interrupted your plan of exiting, causing your hand to halt around the doorknob. 

“It’s nothing,” you brushed off his concerns with a polite smile, “Jus’ wanted to grab a few things, since the fridge is empty.” 

“Okay,” Rafe shot back, springing out of his seat. “Let’s go.” 

“Wait, what?” Your eyes slightly widened, taken aback by his suggestion. 

“Do you not want to go?” He playfully poked back, strolling past you, your eyes following his figure, landing where he stood against the railing. “I’ll take you.” 

“You don’t have to!” You instantly refused, hands waving in front of your chest. “I’ll just wait until he’s back, it’s no big deal–”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Rafe chimed back, his footsteps echoing through your ears, observing as he walked down the stairs. He looked over his shoulder, merely to glimpse in your direction. “I’ll wait for you downstairs, come down when you’re ready.” 

Rafe left you no choice but to do as he said, throwing on a decent outfit before heading downstaits, and making your way outside. The latter already had the engine started, his door slightly open, with the hum of the radio playing in the background. He perked up when you approached the car, tossing his phone in the cup holder. Rafe watched as you got in, quickly clicking your seatbelt on, so you don’t delay your leave any longer. 

The drive to the grocery store stretched with comfortable silence, atmosphere heavy with tension you both chose not to address, letting it seep through the whole ride. You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding, exiting the car as soon as Rafe was parked. 

Rafe followed in your steps, attempting to catch up with you through the somewhat cramped space. It was a good grocery run, quick yet filled with chaos, as Rafe stacked the cart with unnecessary things that you knew would go unnoticed, only getting acknowledged once they’re past the due date. 

Despite your desperate need for pads; the whole purpose of this errand, your embarrassment took over everytime you circled around the aisle, eyeing it while you tried to come up with a good excuse for you to grab them, feighing the boy’s presence, who was growing suspicious because of how anxious you were. 

Rafe could only handle so much, halting when you hit your third round in the ‘hygiene care aisle’, the gesture earning a puzzled expression out of you. You turned in the boy’s direction, breath knocking out of your chest when you caught him observing the various type of pads displayed on the shelves.

“Which one do you want?” He questioned, hand landing on a random brand, one you’ve never heard of before. “This one?” ‘

He knew. The realization made your cheeks flush with heat, feeling it crawl past your neck, and settle across your face, your bewildered expression failing to hide your embarrassment. Usually, you were very vocal about your needs, you don’t get why it was hard to voice out what you wanted, especially in Rafe’s presence. 

Whether it’s you being nervous, or embarrassed, either way frustrated you, making you even more confused than you already were. 

“What?” You choked out, tensning from where you stood. 

“Do you not use that one?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing with confusion. He clicked his teeth, observing each one, until he pointed at another brand. “How about this one? I heard it’s a good brand.”

“You heard?” You repeated, your voice filled with disbelief. “I– listen, Rafe, I don’t need them, let’s jus’ leave.” 

“Who are you fooling here?” He scoffed, slightly teasing with his tone. “You clearly need them, this is the third time we’ve come through this section, it can’t be for no reason.”

You hated that he was right, his statement making you even more flustered, creating a mess out of you in front of him. You cleared your throat, striving to come up with an excuse that will get you out of this situation, merely to result with nothing in return. 

“It’s not for me,” shit, “Sarah said she needed pads, it’s not something I could bring up, since you insisted on tagging along.”

“Mhm,” Rafe hummed, a knowing smile tugging at his lips, not convinced by your explanation. “Now tell me, which one do you use?” 

“I’m serious!” You exclaimed, abashed by his teasing. 

“Sorry, I mean, which one does Sarah use?” He corrected, chest swelling with pride with his words were getting to you, affecting you whole as you stumbled to mutter a coherent sentence out. “Now hurry, we don’t have all day.” 

“Oh, shush.” You rolled your eyes, suppressing the smile forming on your lips. “Don’t rush me.”

You paused for a second, snorting when you noticed him reaching for his phone, for the mere purpose of searching the brand he has in hand, his curiosity getting the best of him. You snatched it from his hold, placing it back on the shelf, the action earning a puzzled look out of the boy. 

“What was that for?” He started, voice so soft, that you almost felt guilty for interfering. 

“It’s not a good brand,” you reasoned, reaching for the one you always used. “This one is, though.” 

“Yeah?” Rafe questioned, his lips smudging with a cocky grin. “Does Sarah use it?” 

“She does,” you choked out, tossing the box of pads in the cart, completely avoiding Rafe’s gaze. “Let’s leave before it gets dark outside.” 

Rafe made sure to grab a few more boxes from the brand you had chosen, throwing them in the cart along with the other stuff you brought. You both stood in line, having gotten everything you wanted, merely needing to check out, and then you’d be ready to go.

There wasn’t plenty of people in front of you, relieved once you eventually reached your turn. Rafe was kind enough to do all the heavy work, handing the stuff for the cashier to check them out, insisting you let him do it when you offered a helping hand. 

The lady assisting you grinned, catching sight of all the chocolate bars and essentials displayed in front of her, mind travelling elsewhere at the sight of you two. Rafe stood next to you once he was done, flashing the lady a polite smile, one she swiftly returned. 

“You’re quite the gentleman, aren’t you?” She started, her voice earning your attention, as well as Rafe’s, whose knuckles hovered over yours, the fraction sending shivers down your spine. “Taking care of your girlfriend while she’s ill; not a lot of men do that.”

Her words made you stop in your tracks, the assumptions causing your eyes to widen with shock. Your lips parted to speak, striving to correct the lady, action falling short when Rafe beat you to it, the words he mumbled next causing your breath to hitch. 

“Aren’t I the sweetest?” He cooed, slinging his arm around your shoulder, then applying enough pressure to bring you close to his chest, now fully tangled in his hold. “Isn’t that right, girlfriend?” 

“What the hell are you doing?” You whispered through gritted teeth, just loud enough for Rafe to hear you. 

He cocked his head to the side, flashing you a look that almost melted you in the spot, his attempt to get you to go along with the bit totally working, even if it was a low blow. You stiffened under his touch, turning back to the lady, who was admiring you two with so much endearment, you felt guilty confronting her about the situation. 

This is not something your brother’s best friend should do; pretend you’re his girlfriend out in public, well aware Ryan would be against it. Hell, if Ryan was there, Rafe would be knocked out on the floor, as you were painfully aware of how protective your brother truly was, especially when it came to his friends. 

You’ve had a few of his friends hit on you, and that, it didn’t end quite well, with him cutting them off the moment they crossed the line. You didn’t want that to happen with Rafe, knowing how much Ryan cherished their friendship. Therefore, you didn’t wanna come in between them, ruin the last ounce of hope Ryan was holding onto, even if your emotions got in the way. 

The sensation of Rafe’s arm sliding down your waist pulled you out of your head, tensing under the boy when his hand landed just above your hip, his breath fanning over the sliver of skin around your neck not being of much help. And when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did, with the latter leaning forward, and placing a chaste peck to your temple. 

His lips burned against your flesh, skin hot on yours, that the moment he withdrew from the touch, you felt the world stop around you, mind too hazy to comprehend the gesture. You stole a glance over your shoulder, instantly fixing your gaze back on the lady when you caught him already staring at you, not failing to hide the smug smile spread across his face. 

A sigh of relief escaped your throat when Rafe reached for his wallet, the action creating somewhat of a distance between you two, one you desperately seeked. He handed the lady his card, humming to himself as he punched in his code number, clicking his teeth when it went through, verifying he was done. 

“Have a great day.” The lady mumbled, handing Rafe the receipt, with the boy contently accepting it. 

“You too,” He forced a smile across his face, pausing before he continued his sentence. “She’s actually my sister, by the way.” 

The lady was taken aback by his response, pausing in her spot. She watched Rafe strolling away, turning back to you, as you were just as shocked as she was, frozen where you stood. 

“Let’s go, girlfriend.” He tugs your wrist, instantly interwhing your fingers with his. 

The walk to the car was silence, the warmness of Rafe’s hand radiating heat through your flesh, the sensation accompanying your head, along with what just happened, the situation shocking you to your core. You felt guilty for the butterflies seeping through your stomach, aware that Rafe was messing around, and that this was nothing you should contemplate about, as he was nothing more than your brother’s best friend. 

Rafe let go of your hand, walking around the car, and opening the trunk to throw the stuff inside. He handled them with ease, putting the cart back in the parking area, making sure to be quick with his action. By the time he was back, you were already inside the car, holding back until he took your side to speak. 

“What the fuck was that?” You muttered, watching as Rafe started the car, attention fixing on the rearview mirror while he drove out of the parking lot, the hand stretching out to the passenger seat doing things to you. 

“What?” He chuckled, manspreading as he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position. 

“First, you pretend I’m your girlfriend,” you frowned, a look of disbelief displayed on your face. “Then you proceed to tell her I’m your sister?!”

“C’mon,” he stifled out a laugh, grinning from ear to ear. “You have to admit, it was funny.” 

“It wasn’t!” You snorted, rolling your eyes as you relaxed back in your seat, focusing your attention on the road.

“It replaced the frown on your face,” he reasoned, “You can’t tell me it didn’t work.” 

That was alone to have you melting, shutting you up right in the spot. The next few minutes filled with silence, background music echoing through your ears as you leaned your head against the window, enjoying the ride back with the dim darkness seeping through. 

And you were so close to falling asleep, your plan going interrupted when Rafe approached the Airnbnb, parking the car in the drive through once you were there. You sat up, an exhausted sigh bubbling out of your throat as you stretched your arms over your head. 

Rafe grabbed the bags from the trunk, catching up with you once he retrieved everything. You swiftly unlocked the door for him, the gesture earning a grateful smile out of the boy. 

“Did you have fun, girlfriend?” Rafe teased, head turning in your direction. 

“Oh my god, shut up!” Your pupils dilated with disbelief, taken aback by his question. “Can you not? What if someone hears you?” 

“Hear what?” 

A familiar voice erupted through your ears, causing you to freeze in your spot. You leisurely turned in the noise’s direction, immediately catching sight of Ryan, who was seated around the table, with food splattered in front of him. 

Your throat instantly ran dry, caught off guard by your brother’s presence, mere inches away from where you stood. Your gaze shifted to Rafe as he came in view, walking past you to approach Ryan. 

He put the bags on the counter, dabbing Ryan up before he made himself comfortable next to the latter. Ryan whined with complaints, grumbling when Rafe stole a fry from his plate, protesting to the latter eating his food. 

“Guess what,” Rafe muffled, swallowing down the food in his mouth. He pointed in your direction, Ryan’s gaze following his finger, until it landed on you. “I took my girlfriend grocery shopping.” 

Ryan almost choked on the food he stuffed in his mouth, swiftly turning his head in Rafe’s direction, nearly breaking his neck with the gesture. His eyebrows furrowed with annoyance, growing irritated by the smug expression spread across his best friend’s face. 

As for you, you were just as shocked as Ryan was, not expecting Rafe to mention the situation so casually, not in front of Ryan, that’s for sure. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” Ryan barely managed to speak. 

“What?” Rafe tilted his head to the side, gaze shifting back to you. “She’s my girl.” 

“Fuck off, Rafe.” Ryan defensively shot back, “Are you fucking messing with me?” 

“He is,” you beat Rafe to responding, afraid something might break out if the latter continued teasing your brother any further. “The lady assumed he was my boyfriend, and he will not shut up about it.” 

That earns a giggle out of Rafe, far too amused to acknowledge the fuming boy from beside him, slightly less mad at the explanation you offered him.

They spent the next few minutes bickering, with you technically third wheeling on the side. Rolling your eyes, you took your leave, making sure to grab the bag of pads before you strolled up the stairs, with the intentions of approaching Sarah’s room. 

Fortunately, her door was slightly ajjared, the sight of Sarah sprawled across the bed filling the majority of your view. You knocked on the door, peaking your head through to earn the girl’s attention, successfully doing so as she glanced over, gasping when she spotted you. 

“Bug!” She chimed, her excitement a silent invitation for you to enter. 

“Hi,” you flashed  her a smile, instantly embracing the girl in a hug once she was within your reach. “I missed you.” 

“Me too,” she muttered, face nuzzled in the crook of your neck. “Where were you?! ‘Haven’t seen you all day.”

“I went grocery shopping with Rafe.” You casually responded, your answer earning a scuff out of Sarah. 

“I knew it!” She pulled back, rolling her eyes with a hint of annoyance. “Is that why you both randomly disappeared?” 

“I guess,” you pursed your lips into a thin line, suppressing the smile forming on your lips. “It was an emergency, he insisted on taking me, though I was planning on going with Ryan.” 

Sarah nodded with understandment, eyes trailing to the bag in your hand, instantly catching on to what you meant. 

“I did lie, though.” You confessed, nose scrunching with shame. 

“About what?” Sarah chuckled, perking with interest. 

“I said they were for you,” your eyes forced shut, “I’m sorry, okay? He put me in the spot, that was the only thing I could come up with!” 

“No, that’s–” Sarah’s sentence was interrupted by the burst of giggles erupting out of her throat, unable to contain her laughter for any longer. “That’s totally valid.”

“Why are you laughing, then?!” You chimed in on her laughter, lightly slapping her shoulder. 

“I’m telling you Bug,” Sarah started, suppressing her chuckles. “He’s not buying that.” 

“You’re making it worse!” You groaned into your hands, falling back on her bed, now faced with the ceiling. “I can’t even face him, you should see the stunt he pulled on me in the store.” 

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good…” she trailed off, waiting for you to continue. 

“Well, we were checking out, then this cashier said he was a gentleman, blah blah blah, she assumed I was his girlfriend, and he sort of went along with it?” You explained, face flushing with heat as you reminisced back on the memory, recalling the feeling of his lips brushing over your temple. “He was acting like an idiot, going all ‘aren’t I the sweetest, girlfriend?’ The lady totally believed it! And guess what, Sarah?!”

“What?!” Sarah almost gasped, curiosity getting the best of her. 

“He fucking kissed me!”

At that, an audible gasp escaped Sarah’s throat, shock displaying across her face as her hand came up to cover her parted mouth. 

“No fucking way!” She whisper-yelled, repeatedly slapping your arm with excitement. “Was it on like– you know–”

“No!” You clarified, growing flustered due to her assumption. “He kissed my temple, barely even a kiss, but it still happened.”

“You know, I was so invested, I forgot he was my brother.” Sarah mumbled, her statement easing the awkward tension seeping through. “That’s crazy– I mean, not to be weird or anything, but Rafe’s never this touchy with anyone, he sucks at showing affection, especially in public.” 

“Don’t say that,” you started, feeling your pulse quicken over her words. “I’m barely holding back as is.” 

“Shut up!” Sarah scoffed, “But I’m serious, I’ve received a lot of complaints from his past girlfriends about that, I’m surprised he’d pull something like this, with you, of all people.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be against this?!” You rolled your eyes, covering how flustered you were with fake annoyance. “Why are you encouraging it?”

“I mean, it’s not like I can stop you two from liking each other,” she cocked her head to the side, voice tinted with hope. “Besides, I’ll be happy with any decision that you make, as long as you don’t get hurt, of course!” 

“Sarah,” your lips formed into a pout, not expecting her supportive words, though they drove you over the edge, with the forming crush sparkling through your heart. “Stop, why are you so sweet?” 

“Oh, come on, I've always been sweet to you.” She cooed, cupping your face with her hands. “Now stop acting sappy, and go freshen up so we can watch a movie.” 

“Fine!” You mumbled, chuckling when Sarah pecked your forehead, the sensation like feathers on your skin. “That tickles!” 

“It’s a goodbye’s kiss!” She exclaimed, joining in on your giggles. “I know you’ll take long to shower.”

“I’ll be fast.” You replied, getting up from Sarah’s bed, the gesture earning groans of protest from the girl. 

You barely managed to escape Sarah’s grip, walking back to your room. A hint of confusion washed over your voice, noticing the way your door cracked half way through, when you could’ve sworn you shut it before you left. 

The frown on your face was instantly replaced with a smile as you caught sight of the snacks spread across your bed, along with a heating pad on the side, the familiar chocolate bars unveiling the identity of the person who sprawled these out for you. 

Your eyebrows curled at the sight of the cyan pink sticky note just above the heating pad, growing intrigued as you reached out to grab it, the smile on your face spreading into a foolish grin once you read what was written on it. 

I know it’s not much, but I hope you feel better, girlfriend ;) - r

Your heart skipped a beat at the note, feeling heat crawl past your neck, until it settled on your face. It wouldn't hurt to thank him for this, right? It’s not like you were making a move on him, your action a mere return for his act of kindness, nothing more. 

So you did, slightly hesitating as you exited your room, with the purpose of searching for Rafe. You followed the distant voice echoing through your ears, the sound growing louder the closer you approached the narrowed hallway. 

He must’ve been downstairs, along with Ryan, in the same position you left them in, probably still arguing over something absurd. The thought brought a smile to your lips, instantly fading once their words filled the echo of your ears. While you didn't mean to eavesdrop, you were somewhat glad that you did, Rafe’s next statement making your heart sink to your stomach, panic settling through your chest. 

“–Not! Relax Ryan,” Rafe argued, his voice slightly muffled. “I’m not gonna date your sister.” 

Oh. 

Oh.

“Don’t fuck with me, Rafe.” Ryan shot back, pent up frustration visible through his tone. “I told you already, my sister is off limits, don’t make me do something I’ll regret.” 

Rafe nodded, face twisting into something serious, replacing the teasing grin he had on his face. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied, “She’s like Sarah to me, and you know that.” 

Humilation couldn’t describe how you felt in the moment, his statement like a punch to your stomach. A wave of emotions rushed through your insides, ones you couldn’t even concentrate into words. 

That should’ve been expected, however, it hurt hearing it out loud, from Rafe of all people. 

a/n hi!! i hope you enjoyed it heheeh i promise i have soething planned out theyre not going too fast

TAGLIST @greyswaren @slut-4-gojo @depthsofdespairr @littlelamy @lilithblackkk @cnnamongrl @mattyskies @percysley @jaklvbub @inlovewithdob @ilovefiction4lmen @theeternaloptimistt @maybejj @icaqttt @idgasb @purplerose291 @shincidios @laniirackssss @malibuhearts @adulterated-cocaine @bugg06 @murdockcastleslut @drwstarkeys @pretymads @klmaaaoooo @wearemadeofstardust0 @urbrunettebombshell @stylestarkey @riverxsq @louxmcl @totalswag @cl4uus @simpforboys @tearsfromasliverwolf-blog @bilssturns @fandomhopped @strsdoulikedem @congratsloserr @dr3wstarkey @xoxo-ada @stvrligghtt @rafeswhoooreee @kythefangirl25 @chaneydoll @blushmimi @akobx @empath-bunny @flirtism @stopnala @rafecameronswifeyy

[verstappen-cult]

you come home after a girl’s night out to find charles lying on your bed, arms resting behind his head as he watches an action movie in your room.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, amused.

you leave your heels by the foot of the bed, walking to your vanity to take your necklace and earrings off.

charles smiles at you through the mirror. “waiting for you.” he says it so casually, so genuine, like he does not have somewhere to be, at the other side of the world, early in the morning.

“i missed you,” you feel shy admitting it, you saw him just a couple of hours ago, before leaving for the club with your friends. it’s not like you can’t live without him or max, but they have so little free time that all you want to do when they’re home is cuddle together and never leave your home. but your friends begged you to go with them and as much as you wanted to stay with your boyfriends, you also wanted to see your girl friends. “they played that song you like so much. it made me missed you even more.”

charles coos at you, forgetting the movie to, instead, make grabby hands. it makes you giggle but you are immediately sprinting to the bed, climbing carefully onto his lap.

“and what about you?” you play with the collar of his shirt, looking at your boyfriend from beneath your eyelashes. “did you miss me?”

“we missed you very much.” max enters the room making you smile even brighter. he walks to the side of the bed where both of you are and places a cup of tea on your nightstand. you pout at him and he leans to give you a little peck on the lips. “did you have fun? how much did you drink?” there’s genuine concern in his voice that leaves you flustered, feeling small and taken care of.

“oh, just two gin and tonic’s, and i’m definitely sober if that is what you’re asking.” max nods, smile on his face as he retrieves a make-up remover from your vanity. “and it was such a fun night!” you clap your hands, ranting about how one of your friends kept flirting with the bartender even when he said he was gay and definitely not interested.

“and what about you?” charles asks, playing with a strand of your hair. “did someone try to make a move with you?”

“as if someone would dare to try something.” that earns you a disapproving glare from your blonde-haired boyfriend. “everyone in monaco knows who i belong to.” you touch the tip of max’s nose with the pad of your finger. “only you two.”

max climbs on the bed next to charles, and the latter wraps his free arm, the one not on your waist, around max shoulders, hugging him tightly against his side.

you let max wipe the make-up off your face as they listen to you describe everything that happened that night, even the moment a group of girls approached you to say how jealous they were that you are dating two of the most hot and talented (you added that, they didn’t actually say it but you like to point it out every time you can) drivers on the grid.

“i like to know i make girls jealous.” you say without an ounce of regret, looking between your boyfriends. why would you feel ashamed, right? “and i like to know i’m the only one to have you both.”

[nouvxllev]

skill issues

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x G!p!Reader

Summary: in which you got reeled into a bandwagon of a fps game by mindy, anika, and chad.

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: smut. just pure smut.

a/n: i just love the idea of tara carpenter being a clingy partner (also my first time writing just a chapter full of smut.)

masterlist.

The clock ticked midnight. Probably even pass that. Actually, you didn't know anymore. Whatever was on your mind was completely erased and replaced by tiny pixels moving in your screen.

Ever since you've joined Tara's friend group, you've also been reeled into a bunch of activities they do on a daily basis. To binge watching scary movies you've begged them not to drag you in, to playing games they recommended to you.

You regret participating in the latter.

It's not like you were having fun, hell, you were having too much fun with this simple FPS mobile game they pulled you in, but the deep dark circles under your eyes were starting to show and you don't really eat anything except for the meals Tara cooks for you. Which are greatly appreciated by a kiss.

"Y/n, what the fuck!? I told you to cover me!" Mindy yelled over your headphones. Actually, it was Tara's headphones desperately lent over to you after days of quiet shouting that didn't really help.

You crouched in reply, knowing Mindy was spectating your character.

You killed, not one, not two, not even four people, but six at once in a group! 3 headshots and 3 body kills. You were pretty proud of yourself, honestly. You just started the game a few weeks ago and you're only getting better and better, you wanted to brag to Tara but she was fast asleep beside you. She was always beside you whenever you play those games with the group, cuddling you as you hold your phone up in the air, but she always ends up falling asleep when you do.

Chad laughs over his mic, "damn, we should've invited Y/n a long time ago. She's good at this game."

You laugh in response, bringing your voice to a whisper. "Even I didn't know I had this in me."

Ever since you and Tara finally made it official, you packed your things and said good riddance to your home and lived together with Tara. It was unexpected, even she was surprised by the spontaneous decision, but the two of you were happy in paradise. Not until you got dragged into the whole 'gaming with those two dipshits™ (by Tara Carpenter, of course.)'

"Anika—! Anika—Wait, shit Anika!" You scream, regrettably, while shooting the opposing team down. Obviously, the luck you had earlier had worn out and you were now staring down at your dead character, groaning.

"I didn't know they were there!" Anika apologized.

"Skill issue." Mindy chimed, you could tell she was leaning back in her chair, looking smug.

"Definitely." Chad blurted, a huff of air he let out.

You rolled your eyes. "Those who didn't carry the team with their 6-kill streak should actually shut up." You went back to the home screen after gg'ing the other team

"Another round?" You exclaimed, and the others cheerfully agreed in the background.

You forgot, for a split second, you were beside one of the most lightest sleepers in the world; your marvelous girlfriend Tara Carpenter. Someone could breathe in her vicinity and she'd almost immediately wake up. Which is why she's staring you down, burning holes in your neck, unimpressed look on her face.

"Y/n," she groaned, "I thought you'd be done by now."

You turned to look at her, and you could only hope it was the darkness fooling your eyes since Tara looked like she was about to scream if not for her reminding herself that you were her girlfriend.

You muted your mic, "One more round, I promise."

"You always say that." She whispered, her arms wrapping around your waist as you were sitting up and you almost melted in her arms, a sigh you let out.

You let your other hand let go of your phone and let your hand relax on her head, soothing her worries of you being on the verge of being one of those mentally unstable gamers who discarded their whole entire life.

Tara was still awake, you could tell by how she tilted her head slightly to look up at you and back to whatever game it is you were so engrossed in.

It was only a few seconds later before Mindy, Anika, and Chad were screaming into the mic and telling eachother to "defend, defend, defend!" or just curse at eachother.

And you, of course, was just resting in paradise while your girlfriend watches over you with half-lidded eyes. But you could tell she was trying to be awake.

You were getting into that headspace where your luck with getting kills increased, and damn were you so happy you could basically convince yourself you were the next top player at this game.

That was until you fumbled over a sniper shot, your finger slipping and your character dying. Your friends were yelling, laughing, but you couldn't focus. Not when Tara's hand was placed firmly on top of your cock.

You froze in place, your eyes, not focused on the screen anymore, but focused on somewhere in the darkness of your room. Her fingers tracing lazy circles around your clothed bulge, only getting larger the more she teases you.

You muted your mic, your hands clutching your phone as you suck in a moan. "Tara, wait, I'm—"

"—Playing?" She finished, looking up at you with her doe-eyes you knew you could never resist. "I'm sure you can play perfectly fine." She replied, her fingers sliding into the waistband of your shorts. You ultimately regretting, and thanking, that you weren't wearing anything underneath.

You were big, you haven't measured it yourself, but Tara worshipped it like it was (and is) so that was enough for confirmation. The tip of your cock was immediately leaking with pre-cum, and it didn't help when Tara kept stroking it, taking her time to graze her thumb along the head.

"Aren't you going to continue playing?" She looked at you, doe eyes and all as if she wasn't giving you the most perfect and maddening handjob you've ever received.

There was something in her voice, something that made you go fucking insane. And something that made you click that respawn button, playing it off as if nothing was happening down below.

You were desperately trying to get a kill, the amount of times you've pressed that damn respawn button was embarrassing. But how could you focus when the most prettiest girl was wrapping her warm lips around the tip of your dick, her hands taking care of the inches that wasn't in her mouth. Yet.

She removed her mouth away from your cock, a soft whine escaping your lips at the loss of contact, but then she adjusted her position. Her body going in between your thighs as she spreads them apart.

You almost, almost, went to heaven when she immediately reattached her soft lips to your dick and slowly started to go deeper.

It was almost pathetic how your hips bucked and your head was thrown back, your eyes rolling in pleasure.

And only a few seconds passed until she was bobbing her head up and down on your cock, her free hand tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Fuck, that turned you on even more.

You contemplated throwing the game, hell, even your phone, but Tara dug her perfectly manicured nails into your thighs when you were starting to put your phone down.

"Y/n, you're getting out of your game!"

"Noticed."

"I bet 20 bucks she's getting laid by Tara, right now."

The three of them, in order, Chad, Anika, and Mindy all teasing you for getting your dick sucked in the middle of the game. But you didn't care, at all. You didn't have enough trust in yourself to unmute and to deny all sayings, that were 100% true by the way, without having to hold back a moan.

"Fuck, Tara..." You manage to say in a whimper, your hand, which was supposed to be playing the game, was grabbing a handful of Tara's hair. Helping her take in what's left of you, and soon enough, her nose reached your chest, gagging a little bit in the process.

You were going crazy.

It was then you couldn't take it anymore. You grabbed her hair, a bit more forcefully, and started to shove yourself back and forth into her mouth. Your hips bucking and gradually getting speed. You could see how her eyes and jaw widened to take more of you. Spit and pre-cum dripping all over her mouth as she looked at you, tears staining her eyes while she closed them whenever she hit the base, gagging all over your cock.

You can feel your legs begin to shake, your head throwing back and your eyes rolling. But that didn't stop you from absolutely railing Tara's mouth against your dick until you've emptied yourself inside of her, forcing her to swallow all of your load.

A minute passed before you slowed down your movements, pulling an exhausted Tara out of your cock. She looked at you dumb, your own cum smeared all over her lips as a grin adorned her abused lips.

"I guess we can say I'm better than that stupid game you're always playing." She rasped, her voice hoarse.

"You did this because you were... jealous of me playing a game?" You chuckled, clearly out of breath. It was cute if you weren't so turned on by the fact Tara was looking at you like that.

She brought her hand up to her mouth, wiping away the excess cum with her thumb and licking it off. "I just wanted to tease you, baby."

You thought that was the end of it, not until Tara threw your phone and headphones away and started to climb on top of you, your still hardened cock right on top of her clit. You didn't even notice she wasn't wearing anything underneath as well until now.

"I'll get you a new one—" she breathed, "I promise. Just, please." She whimpered, god, fuck, you were going insane. "Just fuck me."

And that was everything you needed you hear.

You immediately flipped her around, "Y/n, what the FUCK!—" she screamed as you drilled your cock into her, your hips pulling out your dick and fully slamming it back into her pussy. A broken moan coming out of her lips.

"Shit... Tara, you're driving me crazy." Was all you could mutter before you went faster, your hands going to her hips to hold her steady, and your eyes were focused on your cock easily sliding in and out of her puffy folds, taking all of you at once while Tara could only moan, a new freshly coat of cum taking over your dick.

The way she squeezed around you, milking your cock for all it's worth, made you dizzy and your head start to spin. But that didn't stop you from completely destroying her bit by bit, aiming to break her down.

You pulled her closer to you, your hands going up to her shoulders and aggressively ramming her body against your shaft as if it wasn't so deep enough already. Tara couldn't say, mutter, or even speak a single sentence at this point.

You were fucking her dumb, and shit you loved it.

Your hands slithered up from her shoulders to her neck, lightly choking her before turning her head to you.

"You're so pretty like this, baby. So gorgeous and perfect." You muttered in her ear, every word coming to a hard thrust as Tara's mouth opened, attempting to say something but only coming out as a pathetic moan. "You wanna be fucked like a slut? Be fucked dumb out of your mind?"

Sliding your hands on her back, you pressed down firmly to create the perfect arch as her head was buried into the soft mattress, her hands curling up into a ball as she sobbed with pleasure. You can hear her moaning your name over and over again, screaming and sobbing muffled by the soft pillow under her.

"Answer me, Tara."

"Yes, please!" She pleaded, "God, oh my god." She gulped, her head falling back as she reached her second orgasm, her walls clamping down on your cock and cum dripping down from her abused and assaulted pussy.

Her legs gave up, but you didn't. You continued to ram into her, without a care that she was near peak exhaustion and her sobs were becoming more frequent. Your freehand that wasn't pressing down on her back going over to her clit, overstimulating her.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you groaned, "Tara..."

"Cum'n me." She said, breathless, "please. Please, please, please, please—"

After that last plead, you came in her. Your body still thrusting into Tara as you lean towards her, "I love you. I love you so much, my favorite girl." You muttered, pressing kisses all over her cheeks and lips as she breathed for air. But that sweet moment didn't stop you from resuming to pound into her as if it was your last day on earth.

You kept your cock inside of her, pistoning it in and out as you stretched her pussy till it's limit. Until it recognized the shape of your dick, which, you succeeded. The both of you continued until Tara reached her actual peak of exhaustion and collapsed.

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

When Tara woke up, she was sore. Sore as fuck. Everything up and down from her head to toe was just relentless pain everywhere. That is, until she turned her head to see you just gazing at her. Softly. As if you didn't ruin her to pieces just hours before.

"Hey," you greeted her, a smile gracing your lips. Tara didn't realize, but you drew her a bath the second she passed out and took care of her yourself. Even changed her to her favorite outfit whenever she just wanted to lay around.

Tara smiled. Despite her sore legs, her sore everything actually, she still managed to cling onto you like a koala. Her arms crushing you as you hugged her back. "Hey." She whispered in your ear, kissing you gently. "Thanks, by the way. For taking care of me." She hugged you even tighter, which you reciprocated.

The two of you sat there for a few minutes, basking in eachothers presence and warmthness. Until you broke the silence. "Tell me the real reason." You pulled back from Tara's tight hug. (You tried to, she was unbudging.)

"I was." She raised an eyebrow, which you also reciprocated.

You chuckled. "I've been your girlfriend and bestfriend for a total of 3 years, Tara. You can't fool me."

She could almost roll her eyes right now if she wouldn't regret it later. "We haven't had sex in a while." She confessed, avoiding your eye contact. "Like, a whole month."

The adorableness there was to Tara Carpenter, the amazing girl you're blessed with, was beyond you. "You could've told me, Tara." You tucked a loose strand between her ear, "you know I like talking with you. Especially about something personal, or maybe something about in our relationship."

"I didn't know how to like," she paused, "really, really, express it." She explained, "also I couldn't since you were on that damn video game for weeks now!"

Yeah, you had to blame yourself for that. Or maybe the crew. "I solemnly swear to not play that game. Well, atleast that often." You held up your pinky, making a pinky promise that you always, always never broken in your life.

Tara chuckled, taking your pinky into hers. "Also your phone has been buzzing like crazy for the last few minutes."

"It's just Mindy bragging about she got rich because she was betting over our sex life."

"What!?" The younger Carpenter screamed.

"Don't worry too much about it." You shrugged it off. "Just a skill issue." You joked.

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

a/n: just needed to get this off my brain. idea popped into my head one random day and i've been thinking about it actually doing something about it, and it's probably something i need to do to take of my writers block!!

[ferrarifinnick]

COLLIDE | DAE-HO (PLAYER 388)

warnings: canon violence, gunshots, blood, death, dead bodies, life or death situation.

dae-ho x fem!reader

dae-ho stood still. the gunshot rippled through the air and just like that, the trembling in his fingers began. dae-ho held his breath. he worried it was enough to disqualify him from the games, that he’d soon follow after the man who fell head first at his feet. dae-ho stared down at his hands but caught the man’s face staring distantly back at him.

the hole in between his eyebrows gushed blood, and dae-ho knew it would already be in the process of cooling down by a few degrees. but you’d never think it, because as it oozed out of his head and pooled at dae-ho’s feet, it was still warm.

he could feel the heat seeping into his socks.

the shaking in his fingers immediately intensified. his eyes flicked up to the doll, and she was still scanning the courtyard, responsible for two more gunshots firing into the crowd.

he needed to hear those two words. to get the all clear to safely stuff his hands under his armpits and hope it’s enough to keep them still. to give him a shot at staying alive.

“green light!”

dae-ho flew forward, trying his best to block out the squelching of his bloody shoes in the gravel. with every step, tiny rocks stuck into the thin soles of his shoes. every bump dug into the bottom of his foot and as he glanced up at the ticking clock, he quickly realised it would be a struggle to make a desperate dash for the finish line if he needed to.

much earlier than the call of the doll, with players flying past him and bumping elbows and shoulders into his sides, he stopped. he sank to his feet and wiped off the sole of his first shoe with his palm. with each stroke, his pale skin grew redder with the blood of the dead man, but he didn’t let the stickiness slow him down.

he kept brushing, until he cleared both shoes and started to rise to his feet.

“red light!”

he froze.

with his legs bent in a deep squat, he was already feeling the ache in his muscles. he glanced up at the clock with just his eyes, immediately regretting it when he saw the numbers were changing slowly. too slowly. this wasn’t sustainable for long. not without his legs shaking him into disqualification.

his eyes widened. he glanced down at his hands and realised that gunshots were imminent, but his hands were free. if his legs didn’t kill him, his hands were about to.

but then he looked up and saw you.

your back was to him. your jacket was off and you stretched your arms down and wide, dangling the material in front of your legs, and in turn, in front of dae-ho. the jacket completely blocked his entire lower body from the giant doll, shielding his shaking hands and legs from detection.

the gunshots started, but this time dae-ho wasn’t worried if he was next.

“green light!”

he lifted himself up out of the deep squat and reached for your shoulder. he wanted to see the face of the girl who had saved his life, but as his fingers grazed your shoulder, you were already flying out of his reach before he could turn you around.

his legs twitched to chase you, but they locked when you glanced over your shoulder and winked at him.

“well, don’t just stand there!” you called after him when you noticed he hadn’t moved, and waved him over with a single flick of your wrist.

dae-ho was already running. his legs moved before his brain has the chance to approve it, and he wondered if this was a survival instinct or if you’d somehow put him in a trance. it must’ve been the latter because there’s no way he would’ve caught up to you so quickly on survival instinct alone.

“oh!” you gasped with surprise as he suddenly appeared by your side. he fell into pace with you, but he nearly tripped over his own feet when you smiled at him. “keep up,” is all you said to him, and obediently he nodded like he was your soldier.

but then came the red light.

only a few steps from the finish line, but suddenly it felt out of reach as you tripped over a dead player’s arm and tumbled to the floor.

but you never found the gravel.

dae-ho made sure of it. his hand bunched in the back of your t-shirt, suspending you in the air with a strength that took your breath away. or maybe it was the suspense of waiting for your bullet that had you holding the air in your lungs. either way, dae-ho had you, and he wasn’t letting you go.

not until he got the green light.

and he did, but only then did he pull you up and set you back onto your feet. he didn’t give you a moment to think or thank him, either, because he stole your hand and dragged you with him to the finish line.

only when you stumbled into safety with him did he let go of your hand. but he regretted it immediately, already missing the warmth of your skin, so he moved his big hands to your shoulders instead. he used the excuse of looking you over for injuries, but really he was just admiring the way your body looked in the tracksuit identical to his. it looked better on how somehow.

he found the number on your t-shirt.

“387,” dae-ho read it aloud, gesturing first to your shirt and then his.

you read his number and realised he was only one above you. “388,” you realised and added, “does that make us soulmates?”

dae-ho’s eyes widened. “yes,” he instinctively replied before he could realise you were joking. the redness creeped up his neck, but it sank back down when you giggled.

you giggled at him. it was only little and far too short for his liking, but he couldn’t fight off the smile that spread across his face. not even gunshots could kill it because he had really made you laugh.

but your smile was long gone when you glanced back at the fallen bodies. you shuddered, arms crossing across your chest uncomfortably. dae-ho wanted to reach out and hide you in the safety of his arms, shield you with his body and promise everything would be okay, but he couldn’t do that when he didn’t even know your name.

so he gave you his.

“dae-ho,” you tested it, voice weak but so warm.

“that’s right,” he said, offering you a smile to focus on instead of dead bodies. “thank you for saving me back there, i owe you.”

you shook your head. “you saved me, too,” you reminded him, that little smile coming back again. “call it even.”

no. dae-ho didn’t want to do that. he wanted to be in your debt, to have a reason to stick around you like an obedient puppy. so when an announcement confirmed the end of the first game and instructions were given to return to the hall, he glanced at the number on your t-shirt again.

“if our numbers are next to each other, maybe our bunks are, too,” dae-ho said, planting the seed of a reason for the both of you to stick together. “shall we go find out?” he asked you, wiggling a brow to pull a smile from you.

his heart swelled when it worked, and then it hammered when your eyes lit up and you excitedly said, “bunk buddies?”

“only one way to find out,” dae-ho grinned. you slipped your arm through his and fell into step with him as you descended the pink stair maze back to the hall.

despite the bloodiness of the games, dae-ho tried to suppress the giddiness bubbling in his tummy. but with every step he took, it only grew stronger, and all he could think of was how lucky he would be if he got to spend the rest of these games as your bunk buddy.

sobbing because i love dae-ho so much. like, comment, reblog. love <3

[lovexdeepspace]

“life without you.”

summary; months after breaking up with them, they come for reconciliation.

warnings; heartbreak, break-ups

note; wowowow the first part to this blew up and i am so beyond thankful for all the love! after this comes more requests :D

!! divider by @cafekitsune !!

first part | angst ending

“we should probably see other people.”

༊*·˚. xavier

it had been a couple of months since you broke things off with xavier and the way his face had contorted into one of subtle shock made you feel, well, better about things. although it had pained you to say the words, knowing that he was instantly hit with something — be it guilt, regret, sadness, whatever — made you feel better knowing it meant he still cared enough about you.

though the months of silence that followed had you second guessing that notion, no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself it was normal for this to happen and that you should take advantage of this time. you would never admit to anyone the many nights you would spend on your couch, waiting around late at night hoping that knock would come on your door and your sleepy hunter would be on the other side.

perhaps you ended up manifesting it one too many times, however, because now you stand pj-clad in your doorway with one hand on your hip and a raised brow as xavier held out a round, marshmallow-looking stuffed bunny to you.

“what’s this?” you deadpanned, knowing exactly what he was doing — you just wanted to hear him say it.

xavier’s lips pressed into a tight line as he avoided your eyes and muttered, “i really screwed up. i didn’t realize how good things were with you until i lost you.”

you stayed silent, motioning for him to continue when he glanced your way.

“i don’t deserve to ask you for forgiveness, let alone should i expect you to take me back,” he said, holding your gaze, “but i’d be even more of a fool not to try. i’m so, so sorry i put you in such a shitty situation.”

xavier pushed the bunny a little closer to you, brightening a bit as you took it into your arms. it was soft and downright adorable, a stuffed reflection of the man in front of you(though, again, something else on the list of things that wouldn’t be admitted by you).

“i don’t expect you to answer me any time soon,” he added quickly, filling the silence, “so i’ll just —“

“xavier.”

the blonde immediately shut his mouth, giving you his rapt attention. with a sigh you look from the bunny to him before extending a hand to him, albeit hesitantly.

“i was in the middle of watching a movie,” you said, earning a confused look. “do you want to finish it with me?”

if your heart wasn’t racing by that point, the way xavier’s face broke out in a grin before he grabbed your hand excitedly and pulled you into your own apartment had it pounding against your rib cage like a drum.

༊*·˚. rafayel

you recieved a torrent of snarky, snappy texts following your brief break-up with rafayel. he switched between gaslighting you that nothing was happening and that you were overreacting to him acting nonchalant about the whole thing; it was so bad that you had to block his number before you even got back to your apartment, which was a few blocks away.

it was weird to not have your phone blowing up all day long but, at the same time, the silence was a sort of reprieve while you dealt with the emotional repercussions of the whole situation. it allowed you some peace of mind and gave you the space needed to cope and, with the months that followed, grow more comfortable with not being in a relationship anymore.

you had finally found yourself at peace once again, keeping yourself busy with things to do like trying out the new restaurant downtown. as you were getting ready to head out, a knock came from your front door.

“just a minute!” you called, adjusting the collar of your blouse in the mirror before heading to the door and opening it. “oh.”

standing in front of you was rafayel and thomas, the latter giving you a sweet smile and a wave.

“nice to see you!” he chirped before giving rafayel a shove on the shoulder and gesturing to you. “i’ll be in the car.”

“good seeing you, too, thomas,” you called as he walked off, then turned to rafayel. “so. it took your manager forcing you for you to come see me?”

rafayel pouted at you and crossed his arms over his chest. “last i checked, you’re the one who blocked my number.”

you barked out a laugh, unsure as to why you’d be surprised about the audacity of this man. “well, maybe it’s because you tried to downplay my feelings!”

“well i’m sorry, okay?” rafayel retorted, matching your raised volume. “there, happy?”

“happy?” you echoed, running a hand down your face. “rafayel, if you really think —”

“you’re right.”

you froze, biting back the rest of your statement and raising a brow. “i’m right?”

rafayel nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “i fucked up. like truly, undoubtedly fucked up. and here i am, thinking i can just say sorry and fix it all but that’s not how it works. i’ve got this whole front to keep up to protect my stupid ego but. . .” he sniffles and you realize there are tears in his eyes but he continues before you can speak up.

“fuck my ego,” he spat, clearly more angry at himself with every word he spoke. “my life has been complete and utter shit without you in it. i thought i knew what i was doing but i was wrong and i can’t even begin to express how sorry i am. i don’t deserve forgiveness or anything from you but gods you deserved an apology and i hope this is at least somewhat sufficient.”

rafayel sniffled again, the tip of his nose reddening as he wiped at his eyes. you were shocked to say the least, rooted to the spot as you watched the man you always thought to be so invulnerable breaking down in front of you.

slowly you reached out and your hands pulled his away from his face. he looked at you with wide, teary eyes as your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing the few remaining tears away. he whispered your name and you sighed, feeling all the hardened feelings towards the artist and your breakup softening to mush.

“i’ve missed you,” he whispered, leaning into your touch, and everything gets thrown out the window as you press a quick kiss to his forehead, then his cheeks, then the corner of his lips.

“i missed you too,” you said quietly. “come inside — i’ll tell thomas that i’ll drive you home later.”

༊*·˚. zayne

his coldness towards you was to be expected but still stung more than you could’ve expected. what made the break-up even worse was that you had to do it at the hospital and she was present for it all. you had tripped over your words and felt like a fool but knew, deep down, it needed to be done to prevent you from spending another sleepless night.

you had accounted for the way you’d feel when you’d find his clothes in your laundry; you’d accounted for the way your heart would surge whenever the rare occurrence came that you’d see him out and about in linkon city; everything was thought out and prepared for to avoid feeling too harshly.

what you had failed to account for, however, was how you’d feel when you came home one day to find zayne sitting on your couch with at least ten different bouquets of flowers surrounding him.

first it was shock — you quite literally dropped all your belongings. zayne raised an eyebrow at your reaction as if it wasn’t incredibly surprising to see him sitting in your apartment after having months of no contact.

second it was realization — you hadn’t taken your spare key back. as soon as it hit you your shock wore off and you groaned, running a hand down your face. after a long day at work this was the last thing you were expecting and needed.

last came the indifference. you gestured to him, then to the door. zayne stood slowly and walked around the bouquets, heading for the door. you were surprised up until he shut the door and headed back to his original spot on the couch.

“zayne,” you deadpanned. “that was a sign for you to leave.”

“do you really want me to leave?” the doctor asked, his steely gaze sending shivers down your spine.

no. “why are you even here?” you asked, defeated, purposely avoiding the question. “months of not talking and you suddenly appear in my apartment? what gives?”

“i need to apologize,” zayne replied bluntly, gesturing to the plethora of flowers surrounding him. “did the flowers not make that obvious? are they not enough? should i have gotten more?”

he looked somewhat distraught as he looked around him and you shook your head with a sigh to cover up the way the corners of your mouth twitched. you’d hardly seen zayne so stressed let alone stressed over flowers and if they were enough for you.

“zayne, the flowers are lovely,” you assured him. “more than i know what to do with, though.”

zayne nodded slowly, a bit more at ease. he stood once more and walked over to you, stopping right in front of you. he took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye, though you noted the way his eyes flitted down to your lips for a split second.

“what i did, how i treated you, all of it was unacceptable,” he said softly and you couldn’t help but already feel him worming his way through your walls. “i don’t know what i was thinking — or if i was even thinking at all. you are the most caring, respectful, and loving partner anyone could ever ask for. i was so lucky to have you by my side and i foolishly messed everything up.”

you wanted to reach out and wrap your arms around him, truly, but he still looked as if he had more to say so you held yourself back for a moment longer.

“you are everything to me,” he said, “and i will do whatever i need to do to regain your trust, your love, everything. however long it takes — days, months, years, nothing else matters to me more than you.”

you were in awe of the man standing before you, so moved by his words and actions that you couldn’t help but wind your arms around him and pull him close to you. you could feel him relax in your embrace, something that nobody else could do no matter what. with your cheek pressed to his chest, you smiled to yourself as you felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head and his arms wrap tightly around you.

“since i went a little overboard with the flowers,” he mumbled, “do you think we should take them down to the hospital and give them out to the patients?”

there he was. your zayne. sweet, compassionate, loving zayne.

taglist; @chim-i @reialbert @circusclownsam @yegrnn @kreishin @xmikanx @frobin4ever @keitthen <3 & all the anons that requested this!

[astralis-ortus]

i'll keep you in a photograph

✱ crush!sm x fem!reader

— it's just a silly little crush.

w.count → 2.5k genre → romance warning → minor cussing, appearances by other 4/8 skz and itzy's ryujin, menace lee know in action, also no use of y/n whatsoever at all a.n → time to celebrate because we're finally debuting a seungmin fic!🎊 i wasn't even planning for the fic to be this long, but i guess it is what it is, lol. also! do let me know if you would like a part 2 to this fic! ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist

you've never been much of a sports fan in the first place.

the burning ambition, loud cheers, and massive crowds—it's just simply not your thing. really, you have nothing against the people who loves sports, but if given the choice between a vip ticket to the next biggest sports match and a week-long, peaceful getaway at the countryside,

you would absolutely chose the latter in a heartbeat.

hence,

with that image of you in mind,

imagine the surprise amongst your group of friends when you told them that in your right mind, with zero drops of alcohol flowing in your blood, you had stepped in to be one of the volunteer game photographer for your campus' next baseball game.

"i don't believe you," felix shook his head, golden locks swaying in unison, "what do you mean you just want to? you don't even like going to popular cafes—how are you supposed to deal with a baseball crowd? do you even know how massive that game would be?"

"pretty sure someone forced her," ryujin sighed, lines between her eyebrows still clearly visible beneath the stray strands of hair as she faced hyunjin on her right, "told you those people at the photography club seemed suspicious. why didn't you listen and joined with her? they won't be able to take advantage of her like this if you're there!"

"guys—"

"why is it my fault?" hyunjin protested, quickly pointing his manicured nails in your direction, "she's the one who signed up to the club without any of us knowing! it's not like i didn't want to join the club too—they already closed the form before i could try signing up!"

"hey—"

"you could've gone earlier!"

"how am i supposed to know?"

"you could've—"

"guys!"

the bickering between the two immediately ceased as the three pair of eyes now locked in your direction, visibly surprised at the tone of your voice. to be fair, you do understand why your friends are acting the way they are, but god, they're starting to sound more like a couple of overprotective parent and a childish sibling at this point.

"no one forced me, i promise," you sighed, quietly fidgeting with your fingers under the cafeteria table. you do admit it's far too weird for you to be doing all this, but you have your reason. "i'll be fine, you don't have to worry about me too much. i'll be okay."

"besides," you quickly continued upon noticing the persisting worry in your friends' eyes, "it's about time i start doing new stuff like this. i don't want to feel like i'm wasting my last years as a student and graduate with regret. okay?"

only then does your friends' eyes seem to soften, worry now replaced by relief.

"if you say so," felix became the first one to smile, hand gently patting your shoulder, "but don't go overboard with it, okay? try to go to the practice sessions first so you could gauge the situation for game day."

"felix's right," both hyunjin and ryujin added at the same time, quickly glaring at each other before focusing back at you.

"i can go with you to the practices," ryujin volunteered, frown lines already replaced with a beaming smile, "i happen to know one of the assistant coach, he'll let us watch if i ask him!"

"pretty sure you just want to see that legendary pitcher—ow!" hyunjin quickly rubbed out the sting from ryujin's slap on his shoulder, and between her glare, hyunjin's protest, and felix's laugh,

no one seemed to notice the faint shade of blush, slowly creeping on your cheeks.

the fresh spring air of seoul eagerly fills your lungs—quietly reminding you of a distant memory when life was nothing more than running around the field of your grandparents' countryside home. you might be a quiet kid, but that never stopped you from exploring every nook and cranny you could find around the vicinity of the well-maintained traditional house.

today, however,

you're planning on making a new memory for yourself.

as it turns out, ryujin does actually know the assistant coach for the campus' baseball team. chris, as he introduced himself, is also a personal trainer at the gym ryujin frequents, explaining the unexpected connection—much to hyunjin's dismay, though, who was really looking forward for a new reason to tease ryujin. both you and felix could only shook your heads, each wondering when (or if) the two will ever stop bickering with each other.

the first few practice session you attended with ryujin was a lot more fun than you had expected it to be. maybe it was ryujin's friendliness that helped lowered the players' guards down around the new faces watching, but everyone seemed very welcoming to the addition of you and your camera around the perimeters of the field.

you, on the other hand, also got to learn about where and when to snap the best pictures, along with the terms to help you understand better about whatever is going on in the field during the game. had felix not popped the idea to watch these practice sessions, you probably won't be able to do your best for the upcoming game day, and you definitely will need to treat your friends to some chicken and beer later as a thank you.

for today's practice round, however,

you're left all alone.

you don't blame ryujin—she has her own class related stuff to tend to, and besides, her coming with you for the first few times were already more than enough. you've grown far more comfortable being around the considerably sized crowd and you know your ways around the place should you need some time away, but all in all, you know you're doing a lot better now, thanks to ryujin's help.

"oh, you're here!" chris were the first one to spot you, waving with his dimpled smile on display, "ryujin told me you'd be on your own today. will you be okay?"

"of course," you mirrored the older's smile, finally standing next to the casually dressed assistant coach at the edge of the field, "she's too worried, but i'll be fine. it's not like i'm the one running around, hitting the balls anyway."

chris cracked a laugh at your joke, relieved that you don't seem to be as tense as you were when he first met you. "well that's great, then," he hummed in content, smiling in your direction, "feel free to walk around the usual space, today's practice won't be as hard the ones before so you should be able to get better shots."

and surely, you did.

like the usual round, chris had to monitor the practice and hence, you're left to explore the media pit on your own. you greeted some of the players you've gotten acquainted with while they wait for their turn, and you also managed to snap some new shots to submit to the campus website and journalist club. it might be a volunteer event, but hey, you have to be strategic with your portfolio, right?

"at this rate, your crush might as well be broadcasted from the speakers, you know."

the sudden voice coming from your left nearly made you drop your camera.

"what crush?" you throw a protest—albeit sounding more like a squeak—at minho, the other assistant coach you've gotten acquainted with through your time at the field. "i'm just doing my job here," you continued, shaking your head before again raising your camera,

while also attempting to mask the rising tempo of your heartbeat.

"you can't fool me like you fool the others," minho chuckled, lips tugged into a lopsided smile while he crossed his arms in amusement, "i can clearly see where your lenses are pointed, so there's really no use in lying to me."

crap.

"you're just saying nonsense to bother me," you huffed, trying to keep your cool behind the camera while attempting your best to hide the flush on your face from minho. even if you're about to get your cover blown, you'd rather not get it done by the menace that minho is.

sure, it hasn't been long since you've been introduced to minho, but for reasons only god and minho himself knows, the guy seems to just weirdly pick on you out of the blue and as it turns out, he's quite a psychic too.

"well then if that's not the case," minho shrugged, quietly extending a palm at you, "can i see the pictures you've taken today?"

"no!"

and only after you saw the maniacal smirk plastered across minho's face as you clutched the camera close to your heart that your realized,

your cover is blown.

[ weeks ago ]

honestly, you don't think you'll be joining any clubs this year.

it's not that you don't want to—you actually do, considering you're the only one of your quartet who still hasn't really decided on anything to do outside of your classes, but nothing seems to be piquing your interest just yet.

staring down at your phone, you're trying to find your last resort—the photography club. to be fair, you're not a major photography geek in the first place. yes, you do like taking pictures and you do go out of your way to learn the basics of photography, but that's about it. despite everyone telling you that you're good at it, you've never viewed photography as something more than just a hobby.

"it should be—ow!"

the sudden force against your shoulder sent your phone straight to the hard surface of your campus building's floor, inviting several gasps to be heard between the decorated walls—including one of your own.

"shit—i'm really sorry, are you okay?"

before you could even react, a hand had reached for your phone and quickly dusted the screen off before offering the device back to you. "i'm really sorry about this, i'm in a bit of a hurry and i wasn't looking. are you okay? is your shoulder alright?"

in all honesty? no, you're not okay.

"yeah, it's okay. i'm at fault too," you grimaced, noting the dull ache on your shoulder while reluctantly grabbing your phone, hoping for the safety of your screen, "i'm so—"

any remaining air left in your lungs seemed to get caught in your throat as soon as your eyes found the pair staring right at yours, catching you off guard. even under the navy ballcap he's wearing, the depth of his eyes had successfully lured the remaining pieces of rationale beyond you.

"look," he continued, snapping you out of your trance, "i'm in a hurry right now, but if by any chance i accidentally broke your phone, you can come find me today at the baseball field at 5pm and i'll take full responsibility. sounds good?"

your head had nodded even before you could even entirely process what just happened to you—were you just bewitched by a guy in a navy ballcap?

"alright, good," the figure finally broke out a smile, already taking his steps to the direction opposite of yours, "thank you! i appreciate it!"

and just as you realized you haven't gotten the mysterious guy's name, you caught a glimpse of the small embroidered name at the back of his jacket before he disappeared at the end of the hallway.

kim seungmin.

[ present day ]

you're so going to kill minho.

after the stunt he pulled off earlier, it didn't take you a second to take off from his crime scene, tightly holding your pandora's box of a camera while you try and find a spot to hide from minho—but most importantly, from seungmin.

you know seungmin probably won't realize that you were gone, but the horror that minho might've spoiled your little secret to seungmin himself made you a little bit nauseous.

in your defense, you weren't expecting anything to happen between you and seungmin. sure, you joined the photography club solely because you've seen their coverage during previous baseball season and were hoping you could be one of the people to document seungmin's journey as a u-league player, but that's it.

it was just a silly little crush—nothing more.

"uh, hey."

the speed it took you to look at the figure standing across nearly got you to pull a muscle—and if it wasn't enough, the fact that seungmin is indeed the owner of the voice calling out to you were ready to be the cherry on top.

"minho hyung told me to give this to you as an apology," he offered a can of coffee, smiling at you depite being visibly unsure about what he's currently doing. "i thought he should've gave this to you himself but, you know, minho hyung is… yeah, he can be kind of weird."

you couldn't help but laugh at seungmin's comment, accepting the surprisingly warm can as you shrugged, "he is weird. thank you, though, for giving me this in his stead. you didn't have to."

"don't mention it," seungmin smiled—and again, your heart skipped a beat. "i'm on my way too, anyway. it's cool."

"on your way?" you questioned, words already rolling off your lips even before you could process your own thoughts. to be fair, the spot you ran away to were exactly the opposite of the baseball fields' exit gate—which doesn't make sense, if seungmin were on his way out.

"sorry—i didn't mean to pry," you quickly backtracked before seungmin could answer, already preparing to leave the shaded bench you've been staying at for the past 40 minutes or so. "i think i better leave. thank you again for—"

"wait!"

your eyes doubled in size when seungmin stepped in your way, preventing you from moving further. it seemed like he's also surprised at himself, judging from the way his eyes had mirrored yours.

"i, uh," clearing his throat, you noticed the hesitance in his face before seungmin then pointed at the phone in your hand, "is your phone working just fine? nothing broke?"

…oh.

oh?

"you… remembered?" you took a step back, nearly tumbling back at the bench had seungmin not grabbed your wrist, equally as surprised as you are. only after you convinced him that you're okay is when seungmin willingly dropped his hold on your arm.

"well, of course i remembered," seungmin nervously chuckled, subconsciously rubbing his nape, "i was the one who sent your phone flying, so… i feel responsible. i mean i was glad you didn't came that day since it meant your phone was okay and i've actually been meaning to ask since i realized it was you who came to take our pictures, but…"

you quietly anticipated between the pause, granting seungmin the time to explain as he shrugged and continued,

"i kind of feel like a creep if you didn't remember me since i realized i didn't actually give you my name that day."

so he did realize…?

frankly, it felt like your brain is short circuiting—so seungmin remembers you? why? was he just curious about your phone? was he waiting for you to come? why would he feel like a creep? what is happening right now?

"and since i didn't get to give you my name that day," seungmin continued, eyes reflecting a newfound determination amidst the persisting worry,

"can i get your number this time?"

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[therobotmonster]

The Fae Thought He Had Her, but She's Had Lots of Practice

Actual Title: "On Foreign Soil."

The fae was having a grand old time with his latest toy. Mortals were easily befuddled with the magic of contract-and-courtesy. He'd taken pretty much all he could from the family: several names, the mother's attention, the son's concept of friendship... Even the life of the father.

He'd taken that one taking just the right moment of his time, the one where he moved just out of the oncoming car's path. That also took out the youngest daughter and making a new neverwas to lurk in the pockets of lost time around the home.

The tricks made him strong. The sense of betrayal and regret humans had when they realized how screwed they truly were was like honey: rich, sweet, and immune to spoilage. If anything, in the last sixty-some-odd years he'd been home the humans had gotten more petulant and even easier to trick.

It was a veritable buffet.

So when the eldest daughter returned home from college, he expected her to be easy pickings. The young were always foolish and prideful, and very often rude. They gave him so many opportunities.

So when she threw open the door, and stared at him with cold green eyes, he immediately laughed in delight. His face took on a distinctively 'David Bowiesq' aspect, a trick he found worked well the last time he'd been to the mortal lands.

"Oh, hello. May I have your name, lass?" He cooed in a cocky-yet-soothing voice.

"My name is Alex, and no." She said.

He raised a brow. She was canny, or at least half-canny. She knew enough to object to him taking it. Still, she had answered, and by the laws of the fae, the latter objection did not override the former offer.

So why wasn't he Alex now?

It was odd, but sometimes mortals were a little resistant to magic. He worried for a moment she was a skeptic, but she couldn't be. Her response meant she knew, or at least suspected, what he was. Moreover, he didn't feel the painful chill and sluggishness empiressence caused, nor the crushing weight of the explicable upon his bird-hollow bones.

No, she was just lucky, or was carrying an iron horseshoe, nothing he couldn't handle in his, or someone else's sleep.

"And what the fuck are you calling yourself, asshole?"

He blinked.

The impudence hit him like a slap. She'd just given him the opening to do anything he wanted, but the raw temerity of the insult, it's artless crudeness, it's utter lack of respect stunned him too much to enjoy it. His rage and petulance rushed into the hole left by his shock, and he sputtered.

"You rude little beast, you have no idea what you've brought upon yourself!"

He raised one pale hand, the flesh fading from it to leave nothing but blackened bone, and he pointed the index finger at her in a silent gesture. He let fly his curse. Not just any curse, but his, the one he had made for just such an occasion.

Alex stared at him. Arms crossed. Her hair was the color of the fae's own rage.

"What's the matter, cat got your brain?"

The fae's confidence wavered and the flesh returned to his hand.

"Where are the spiders?" He said. "There... there ought to be spiders! There should be spiders!"

She rolled her eyes.

"You broke the laws of courtesy and decorum! I can do as I please as a wronged noble! You should be spiders!"

"Whose laws?" It was Alex's turn to smile.

"Why, the only ones that matter, the laws of Faerie, as laid down by Oberon and Tita-"

"And Titsforbrains, yeah. I was five once and I can read. I know your dumb politics. Slight problem. Where are you now?"

"The mortal realm?"

"More specifically?"

"The Earth. The United States."

"Exactly." Alex smiled. "And while you might come the land of the platonic ideal of inbred nepobabies, in the United States of America, no law says I can't call a fuckface a fuckface. Fuckface."

The fae tried a different curse, yet Alex was not being twisted into any sort of goat, ironic or otherwise. "But, that doesn't matter! We're a higher form of being, our laws override yours."

"No they don't." Alex said with a confidence reserved for honey badgers and humans of age three. "Now undo all your bullshit and get out of my house."

"Nuh-uh!" The Fae's cocky smirk returned. With a flourish, he pulled out a deed. "It's my house, I got it off your mother, fair-and-square. She traded it for the heart your little brother so foolishly traded me. So you should get out of MY house."

"Contracts signed under duress are non-enforceable." She said in a bored, dismissive tone.

The Fae started to object, but the contract was already crumbling into dried daffodil petals in his hand. He tried to pretend this wasn't terrifying. Inexplicable happenings were supposed to be caused by him, not happen to him. "Are you a wizard?"

"Don't be stupid. I just know my rights." She said. "I'm betting you didn't disclose the full terms of the contracts either?"

The Fae shook his head, more from fear than as a response to the question. Of course he hadn't. If the mortals didn't do their due diligence and couldn't read Linear-B, that wasn't his fau-

The thirty years he stole from the youngest boy ripped themselves out of his body. A half dozen other deals began popping at the seams.

"How are you doing this?" He gasped.

"I'm not doing it. You are. You're idiot who runs on rules and laws who decided to come scam innocent people for your own profit and amusement."

"But it always worked before-" The Fae ran his mind through all his previous romps. Every single human had whined and begged about how unfair things were. Why was this one different?

He ran through those memories again. They were among his favorites so it was easy for him to see every detail. An old man trying to argue Fae law with him. A shepherd girl trying to use her own word games to trap him. A hippie saying almost the exact same words about non-enforceable contracts.

Almost.

He ran through the memories again and again. Always impressed or terrified or blinded by greed, the mortals always argued on his terms, always went back to his wording of the deal or contract, always appealed to the laws of his people and his own noble position.

None of them had ever argued jurisdiction. Once one of them had, it applied, not just now, not just to these toys, but retroactively, and, from how it felt, with interest.

"Oh." Was all the Fae could say.

"Yes. 'Oh.'" Alex smiled like the cat that ate the proverbial canary. "Children can't sign contracts, either, you know."

Everything the Fae had done to the boy snapped back at once. It felt like every seventh tendon in his body had been snipped simultaneously with tiny scissors.

"Nor can someone sign away the right to kill them to someone else, or sell themselves or others into slavery."

Alex's father reappeared in the living room, looking dazed. In his lap was Alex's youngest sister, now remembered by all present as a person that existed. The return of the father's moment was a minor loss, but there was one less neverwas in the Castle of Paradox, and the Baron would blame him for its unmaking.

"Also, names aren't transferable between people, nor are they the whole and sum of a person's identity in this country. The closest thing we have to that is a social security number. And if you steal one of those, well, identity theft is a crime here."

Mr. Baxter, Mrs. Baxter, Julie and Sam's lights all turned on at once, though they were still groggy and half-asleep and would be for hours to come.

A fortune in names, first, middle, last, with nicknames and pet-names and all between, all vanished from the Fae's purse. He could feel its lightness in his pocket.

The Fae turned on his heels. "I fear I must take my leave, so sorry for the inconvenience!"

He was halfway to the door. The impact on the back of his skull knocked him forward off his feet, sending him slamming into the polished wood floor. The projectile that laid him out bounced and landed by his head.

He'd been right about her having an iron horseshoe.

"You don't get to walk away." She said. He felt her steel-toed boot, soles made of entirely synthetic rubber and cleats of cold steel, press against the base of his spine. His hollow, bird-bone spine. "You don't get to fuck with people, say 'my bad' when you get caught, and run."

"Y-your law!" He gasped. He felt his bones cracking. He wanted to turn into something else but he couldn't focus. She was pressing down harder now, because she was half-kneeling. Her hand picked up the fallen horseshoe. "You have to let me go, or arrest me, turn me over to your police, right? You can't just murder me!"

"What are you?"

"I- I'm a Faerie of Arcadia, a sub-Prince of the House of-"

"So not a human. And not an animal." She kept him pinned.

"No!" He growled. Blood the color of an oil slick on the highway began to fill his mouth. The pain made him forget his fear for a moment, and he bared his true face, something between a bug, a wax store mannequin, and a pug-dog. "We-we're a higher form of life! Far beyond anything this miserable pile of dung you call a planet has to offer! You will pay for this impertinence the moment you break the law that holds me!"

"You're a lot of things. A bully, a pest, a liar. But you're not human. And you're not an animal. In fact, as far as the laws of this land are concerned, you aren't real."

Alex lifted her boot to kick him onto his back, then pinned him again.

"Th-then you can't kill me!" He laughs. "You can't kill something that's not real! You've trapped yourself! You'll have to let me go!"

"You haven't been to our 'pile of dung' in some time have you?" Alex asked. She nodded to a strange white book-shaped object that sat unopened, upright, next to the television, next to a pair of white and black crescent-moon shaped objects studded with small white and black buttons.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

--

Six hours later, a notification popped up on Alex's dorm room computer.

[vivwritesfics]

Interviewers Are Assholes

The world didn't know about their relationship. But, once they find out, they refuse to leave her alone

(AKA I saw a martin brundle grid walk compilation and he asked someone 'who are you?' and i ran with it)

Loscar x reader

F1 Masterlist

"Are we doing Thanksgiving this year?"

This was not the conversation Logan and Oscar expected to hear from their girlfriend as the three of them stood on the grid. It was normally F1 staff, drivers, engineers, mechanics and such, along with celebrities on the grid before a race. But, dating two drivers on different teams meant not being about to sit in both of their garage at once (she was only human, after all).

So, they stood on the grid together before the race, chatting before the national anthem was played.

"It's kinda early to be talking about Thanksgiving, babe," Logan muttered, shaking his head.

She held her hands up, somewhat defensively. "Just trying to be prepared."

They'd been together for four years at this point. For the first two years of their relationship they hadn't had to worried about traditional celebrations from their countries of origin. But when they all moved in together, she insisted on it.

The first year they'd lived together, they'd gone to Florida for Christmas, spent it with Logan's family.

The next year they'd done Thanksgiving before heading to Australia for a traditional Australian Christmas, filled with seafood and everything.

This year, though, they had no idea what they were doing. Of course she was already stressing about it. It didn't surprise Logan and Oscar in the slightest.

Suddenly Logan and Oscar were looking past her. "What?" She asked, readying herself to turn around. But then Logan and Oscar were retreating. "Guys!" She called, readying to follow them.

There was a hand on her shoulder. She turned around, coming face to face with Martin Brundle on his grid walk. "Hello, who are you?" Martin Brundle asked.

It made sense. She clearly wasn't working for any F1 team, and she was surrounded by celebrities. The fact that she was talking to two of the drivers probably made him all the more curious.

"I am..." But she didn't have an answer for him. Who was she? It had been four years already, why were they hiding it. "I am a... wag," she answered, and immediately regretting it.

What she didn't know was that Logan and Oscar didn't get very far. They stood behind her, just out of view of Martin Brundle's camera, giggling as they listened to her struggle.

"Who's wag are you?" Martin Brundle asked, but he already knew. He'd seen them retreating as he walked over.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Good question, Martin," she said. "Who's wag am I?" Did she choose one of the boys? If so, which one? Or did she just come out to the world, tell everyone that she loved Logan Sargeant and Oscar Piastri?

She went with the latter, unaware of how much it would come to affect her. "Sargeant and Piastri," she said, scratching the back of her neck.

This might have been the strangest grid walk Martin Brundle had ever done. She didn't sound entirely happy to be dating the McLaren Driver and the Williams Driver. Don't get me wrong, she was happy to be dating them, but she was ready to kill them. Assholes.

"What kind of result are you expecting from them today?" She asked.

"Well, Martin, I'm always hoping they do well. Every Grand Prix they try their absolute hardest and every week I'm proud of them," she said, the perfect answer.

Lets just say, after the grid walk, the internet kind of blew up. Loscar was a somewhat forgotten ship, replaced by Landoscar. But it had returned and it was real. It was actually real!

As with everything in F1, some fans loved it, some fans didn't. But, most of all, everybody was so curious. Nobody knew this four year long relationship was a thing until a couple of weeks ago. Everybody, especially F1 reporters wanted to know everything.

Media days were completely filled with questions about their relationship. Logan and Oscar rarely got asked about anything else. They didn't mind. They were more than happy to talk about it.

But interviewers took it too far when they pulled her into things. She wasn't media trained in the way they were. She didn't have a PR team that prepared her with every answer for every question. That was how the grid walk had gone so wrong (or so right, if you asked the Loscar boys).

Oscar had gotten through to Q3, Logan hadn't. As always, she was there to comfort him, to hold him close after media duties. Media duties, which were taking ages.

But then the interviewer spotted her standing behind him. "It was recently reviewed to the world that you and Oscar share a girlfriend. How did that come about?"

The camera focused in on her behind him, as she furrowed her brow. It picked up no sound, but watched as her lips moved, forming 'what the fuck?' It was lost on her, and everyone, what this had to do with racing.

"Uhm, well, we've all known each other for our entire lives, it just made sense that we all dated," he said, clearly uncomfortable.

As soon as the interview was over, Logan wrapped his arm around her shoulders and walked her away. "Sorry baby," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"Why is it such a big deal to everyone?" She mumbled, shaking her head.

Most Wags weren't pulled in for interviews. The invasive questions had been a step to far already to the Loscar throuple.

This time, after checking on Oscar in the McLaren garage, kissing him before he went off to to his drivers room. She headed out, meeting the both of them at the car. She never expected to be accosted by an interviewer.

She didn't know his name, she didn't care. He grabbed her arm, pulled her on camera, and shoved a microphone in her face. "So, Y/N, what is it like to be dating to F1 drivers?"

There was a moment before she answered. Her brows were furrowed as she looked between the interviewer and the camera. "Why... why are you interviewing me?"

"The three of you have stunned the world with the announcement of your relationship. When did the three of you meet?"

"Uhm, I-Well... uhm... We've known each other for... sorry, why the hell am I being interviewed? This isn't... I don't want to be interviewed. Please leave me alone."

The interviewer bashfully turned to the camera, trying to recover. As soon as he looked away, she retreated, heading back towards one of her boys drivers room.

Oscar wasn't in his drivers room. He walked towards her, grabbing a hold of her before she had a chance to notice him. "Hey, baby," he said, pulling her close. "Is Logan not ready yet?"

Before answering, she turned back towards the exit, where the interviewer was still waiting. "Let's go get him," she said, pulling Oscar towards the Williams garage.

But Logan, too, was walking towards them. "Logan!" She called, throwing her arms around him. Oscar hung back. When she let go of him, they headed to the exit together. "There's a fucking annoying interviewer up there, and I want to kick his ass," she said, linking her arms through theirs.

"Kick his ass, baby."

They walked to the exit together. Once again, as they walked past the interviewer, he tried to grab their attention. Logan and Oscar were prepared to pull her past, to ignore him, but she stopped. She turned to the interviewer and grabbed his microphone.

"Just a PSA literally everybody," she began. The interviewer and the boys watched on with curiosity. "Our relationship is none of our business. Fuck off."

[wolvietxt]

𝓦INTER’S 𝓔DGE !

pairing : daryl dixon x reader warnings : enemies to lovers, mean!daryl, hurt / comfort, crying, flashbacks, shouting, injury, fluff wc : 3k a/n : sorry if this storyline is weird and incoherent i wrote this super quick and it’s completely unedited 😭

the cold wind cut through your clothes, gnawing at the edges of your body like a thousand little knives. snow swirled, thick and heavy, clouding your vision as you trudged through the freezing wilderness. each breath you took stung your lungs, but the feeling of the storm engulfing you almost made you forget how cold your body had become.

you hadn’t spoken much to daryl. not that you ever did, but today felt different. there was a heaviness between you that made the silence uncomfortable. his posture was stiff, tense, and there was an air about him that made it feel like every word he spoke was wrapped in ice. the usually stoic man was colder than the storm itself, and it left an ache in your chest. but you didn’t let it show, only occasionally, when you thought too hard about it and your eyes pricked and filled with unshed tears. sometimes he did let his guard down, but only after breaking yours into a million pieces.

🌀 one week ago…

daryl stormed into the cabin, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the walls. he was out of breath, his clothes soaked from the harsh winter winds, his face set in a scowl. you weren’t sure whether it was from the cold or something else, but you had a feeling it was the latter.

he turned to you, eyes hard and narrowed, and you immediately knew something was wrong. his voice came out low, tight with anger. "what the hell were you thinkin'?"

you froze, the warmth from the fire doing nothing to ease the chill that had crept into your bones. "i was fine," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "just a quick run, i didn’t think - "

"didn’t think?" he cut you off, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "you could’ve gotten yourself killed, what if they - what if you hadn’t made it back?" his breath was coming in quick bursts now, his face red with frustration.

you swallowed hard, the words stinging more than you expected. "i didn’t - i didn’t mean to - "

"you always do this shit," daryl spat, his voice thick with bitterness. "put yourself at risk like it’s nothin’. you think i don’t care? you think i don’t worry about you every damn time you go off on your own? damn it, why do you gotta be so reckless?"

the tears you’d been holding back started to spill over, your face flushed with a mix of frustration and hurt. "i didn’t mean to - "

"well, you did," daryl shot back, voice sharp as a whip. "you always do." his chest heaved with the intensity of his anger, but there was a flicker of regret crossing his features, just for a moment. you barely had time to register it before his next words hit like a punch. "you think i’m just supposed to sit back and watch you make these stupid decisions? i’m not gonna let you get yourself killed, damn it."

you took a step back, the sting of his words sinking in deep. you wanted to argue, to tell him you could take care of yourself, but the tears kept coming. the anger, the frustration, it all mixed up with the sharp ache in your chest. you couldn’t stop them.

"don’t just stand there crying," daryl muttered, clearly uncomfortable but still angry. "you should know better by now."

you turned away, trying to hide your tears, but daryl’s words had hit harder than you expected. you wanted him to see how hurt you were, but there was no way to make him understand. not when his anger was so much louder than anything else.

the next day, rick had pulled daryl aside, and although you didn’t know exactly what had been said, you were sure that it had made daryl think twice. he came to you later that evening, standing in the doorway, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. his voice was low, rough around the edges, but there was a softness there that hadn’t been in his words before.

"i didn’t mean it," he said, the words almost grudging, like they were a struggle to get out. "i was just... worried. you got no idea how much i fuckin’ hate when you put yourself in danger like that."

you stayed silent, unsure what to say, but his eyes were sincere. it wasn’t a perfect apology, but it was something. "okay, daryl," you whispered, trying to push past the ache in your chest.

daryl nodded, looking down for a second, and you could see the frustration still there, lingering beneath the surface. "i won’t… be like that. i’ll try," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "just... stay safe, alright?"

it wasn’t the grand gesture you had been expecting, but in that moment, you understood. he wasn’t good with words, and he was terrible at handling his emotions, but in his own way, he was trying. and that was enough for now.

🌀 present day…

since then, you had grown used to his silence. used to his gruff exterior. the way he kept most people at arm’s length, especially you. you’d never done anything to him, no reason that he had to treat you as coldly as he often did, but nevertheless it was your reality now. none of the group has understood it, you’d been with them as long as carol had, but daryl acted as if you were a newcomer, not to be trusted. rick often paired you two up to go on runs to fix whatever animosity he held when it came to you, but they did nothing but foster that animosity into sharp responses and drawn out glares. but still, there was something about today. his refusal to speak, to acknowledge you in any real way, made your chest tight and your skin crawl.

"keep up," daryl muttered, his voice low and sharp as he glanced over his shoulder. you hadn’t realised you were lagging behind. maybe it was the storm slowing your steps, or maybe it was just you, lost in your own head. 

you nodded quickly, swallowing back the words that burned your tongue. "’m right here."

daryl didn’t reply. he just turned forward and kept walking. it wasn’t the first time he’d been distant, but something about it today cut deeper than usual. you hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that it had something to do with you. maybe you’d pushed him too far. maybe you had said something or done something that had irritated him.

but whatever it was, it left you feeling small and insignificant.

the storm grew worse. the winds picked up, the snow fell faster, and the trees around you groaned under the weight of the snow. your breath puffed in front of you in heavy clouds, but you kept moving forward, determined to make it through the blizzard, determined to get to the cabin daryl had promised.

it wasn’t long before the first growl of walkers hit your ears. daryl spun around, his hand already on his crossbow, aiming at the group of walkers. you froze, adrenaline rushing through your veins, but before you could really react, a walker lunged forward. its jagged fingernails sank into your arm, pulling you off balance.

your feet slipped on the icy ground, and you tumbled into the river that rushed nearby, the water shockingly cold as it enveloped you. your lungs screamed for air as you gasped and fought against the current, but it was useless. the ice-cold water dragged you further away from the bank.

daryl’s voice was sharp, filled with panic, though he tried to mask it with gritted teeth. "get the fuck outta there!" 

you tried to claw your way to the shore, but your limbs were frozen, heavy, and uncooperative. every time you managed to get a grip on the icy rocks, another wave of the current would knock you back. it felt like the world was closing in on you, the freezing cold, the rushing water, and daryl’s yelling mixing together in a blur. 

then, everything went black.

when you woke, the cold was still there, but you were no longer in the water. you were lying on the ground, drenched and shivering uncontrollably, your body numb from the cold. daryl was kneeling beside you, his rough hands pressing against your chest, trying to warm you up.

"you with me?" he growled, his voice harsh but not unkind.

you blinked up at him, feeling the warmth of his hand against your frozen skin. "yeah," you whispered, teeth chattering. "i'm... i'm fine."

"don’t lie," he muttered, his fingers gently brushing the water from your face. "you’re not fine."

you could see the concern flicker in his eyes for a brief moment, but then it was gone, replaced by that same guarded look he always wore around you. it stung, but you pushed the feeling away. you had known daryl for a while now, and you knew better than to expect anything more from him. 

"i’ll get you warm," he said, his voice firm, like he was ordering himself more than you. 

you tried to sit up, but the moment you shifted, your body went into shock, and you collapsed back to the ground with a quiet gasp.

"damn it," daryl muttered under his breath. he grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you into his lap with surprising gentleness. it wasn’t like him to do something like this, and you felt your chest tighten at the way he cradled you, careful, almost tender.

he muttered something about getting you back to the cabin, but you were barely listening. the cold was overwhelming, and the exhaustion of the past few days - combined with the shock of nearly drowning - had you feeling like your body might give out at any moment.

"stay with me," daryl said quietly, his voice softer than it had been all day. his arms wrapped around you tighter, his rough fingers brushing the hair away from your face as his breath mingled with yours. "i’m not letting you go."

you felt the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, and you realised how desperately you needed this. you needed him. you needed someone to keep you safe. 

you didn’t speak. you just let him hold you, let him warm you, let him be the one thing that kept you grounded in this frozen world.

after what felt like an eternity, daryl shifted beneath you, his hands moving to rub your arms, trying to bring feeling back into your numb limbs. "i don’t know why you do this," he muttered. "act like you’re invincible when you’re not. you’re not some damn hero."

you frowned, confusion and worry swirling in your gut. "what does that mean?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

daryl hesitated. for a moment, he didn’t say anything, but you could feel the tension between you both, like he was fighting himself. finally, he sighed, a deep, heavy sound, and brushed his thumb across your cheek. "i don’t know how to do this," he admitted quietly. "how to be… with you. but damn it, i can’t stand the thought of losing you."

his words hit you like a wave, and your eyes filled with tears. "daryl..." you whispered, but the words caught in your throat as emotion swelled within you. you wanted to say something - anything - but your body trembled too much.

"i don’t need you cryin’ on me, okay?" he snapped, but there was no heat behind the words. instead, he gently wiped the tears from your face, his movements surprisingly soft.

"sorry," you whispered through sniffles, not sure why you were apologizing.

"don’t be, sweetheart" he said, his voice almost gentle. "i’m sorry... i never meant to make you feel like you had to do this alone." 

you didn’t respond. the rawness of his admission hit you hard, and you could feel the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. daryl gripped you tighter, and for the first time, you saw him as something other than the tough, cold man who kept his distance. 

"i need you," he muttered against your hair. "i’ve always needed you."

the words were enough to make your heart race, your body flush with heat despite the cold. you wanted to say something back, but the pressure in your chest wouldn’t allow it. so, instead, you just nodded, your eyes fluttering shut.

he shifted under you again, moving just slightly to get more comfortable, and you could feel his lips hover over yours for a long moment. he hesitated, like he was unsure if he was crossing a line. then, with a soft, almost desperate groan, he kissed you.

it wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t soft either. it was full of pent-up longing, slow, and deep. his lips moved over yours like he was claiming you, like he couldn’t stand being this close to you without making sure you knew how much you meant to him. it was messy, heated, and completely overwhelming.

when he pulled away, his breath was shaky, and his hands held your face gently. "don’t ever do something like that again," he said softly, his voice low and ragged. "you scared the shit outta me."

you smiled through your tears, nodding against him. "i won’t," you promised, your hands gently tracing the rough outline of his jaw. 

he pulled you closer again, his hand on the back of your head as he pressed his forehead against yours, both of you trying to breathe in the same air. in that moment, you knew you’d never be alone again.

🌀 one week later…

the night had been long, and the cabin was quiet except for the crackling fire. the warmth of the room, combined with the exhaustion from the day’s journey, made everything feel a little surreal. daryl was close beside you, his body heat a welcome comfort against the cold, as his hands cupped your face with that familiar gentleness that had slowly become more frequent.

you were both so absorbed in the moment, the world outside seeming distant, when you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. but neither of you moved, too wrapped up in the stolen moments between you.

creak. the door to the cabin slowly opened, and in walked glenn and maggie, chatting amongst themselves. they froze, their conversation cutting off abruptly as they caught sight of the scene in front of them.

the two of you were so close now, lips meeting in a slow, heated kiss, unaware that the group was standing right there. daryl’s hand was on your back, his thumb gently stroking the skin above your waistband. your own hands were gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer, as if there was nothing in the world that mattered more than this.

glenn was the first to react, his eyes wide and his mouth falling open. he let out an almost inaudible, "whoa." maggie, standing next to him, blinked twice, then burst out laughing, her hand over her mouth as she tried to stifle the sound.

daryl didn’t move, didn’t break the kiss, but there was a faint groan of frustration when he realised what had happened. his hands remained where they were, but his eyes flicked to glenn and maggie, the awkward realisation dawning.

you, on the other hand, pulled back quickly, your face flaming with embarrassment as you scrambled to push yourself away from daryl. you couldn’t even look at them, much less speak. the warmth of the cabin felt suffocating now, your whole body burning with the intensity of being caught in such an intimate moment.

"oh my god," maggie said, laughing harder now, unable to control herself. "this is too much, you two." she giggled at glenn, her bright eyes twinkling, tears threatening to form with how hard she was shaking. "glenn, should we leave them alone?"

glenn, still in shock, let out a small, awkward chuckle, looking anywhere but at the two of you. "yeah, uh, we should... probably go... leave them to... uh... their business." he cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable, but also clearly trying to suppress his grin.

you wanted to crawl under the floorboards. why was this happening? why did they  have to walk in on this?

"you guys," daryl muttered, finally breaking his silence. his voice was rough, but there was no denying the awkwardness in it. "just... just get the hell out, alright?" he uttered, remnants of your cherry flavoured lip balm still on his lips, making it very hard for anybody in their right mind to take him seriously, especially with the little grin forming on his face.

maggie barely stifled another laugh as she gave daryl a teasing look. "don’t worry, big guy, we’ll give you two some privacy." she winked, and then, with glenn awkwardly tugging at her arm, the two of them backed out of the cabin.

as the door clicked shut behind them, you could hear their muffled laughter outside, and the heat in your face was unbearable. you slowly turned to daryl, who was trying to keep his composure, but you could see the corner of his lips twitching upward.

"don’t say it," you warned him quietly, looking down at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

but daryl couldn’t help it. "damn," he said with a smirk. "they just had to barge in, huh?"

"you’re not helping," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

daryl chuckled, his usual gruffness softened by the amusement in his voice. "ain’t my fault you’re so damn cute when you’re all flustered," he teased, pulling you back into his arms, cupping your face and tilting your chin up to fuse your mouth with his once again.

the group would never let either of you live this down. but, somehow, as daryl held you close, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

🌀 daryl dixon : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid, @sunnykittyzz

@california-boys-and-sun, @cable-kenobi

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

protector. ( chase davenport x reader )

You bumped into Chase on his first day, and he had stammered countless apologies, swiftly picking up your books and holding them out to you with a smile. And from that moment on, Chase always paid attention to you during classes or in the hallways. Whenever you entered a room, he was immediately drawn to you, and it quickly became common for Leo and Adam to tease him about his attraction.

Bree questioned him months later when you were paired with Chase for a class project, but he never made his feelings known. She knew Adam and Leo's remarks cut deeper than he would admit. So he never asked you out.

You were at your locker when Trent approached you, and you inwardly groaned when he leaned next to you, knowing he would ask you out again. And you would have to turn him down again.

But this time Trent was more persistent.

He took the books from your hand and you glared at him. "Give them back."

"Go out with me."

"No."

"Then I'll hang onto them for a while." He smirked.

"Trent, give them back!" You tried to take them back, but Trent held them out of your reach.

Chase walked out of the cafeteria with Adam and Leo, the latter drawing his attention to the situation. Chase walked over to your locker and stood next to you as he spoke to Trent.

"Give her the books."

Trent laughed, "Aw, the nerd has a soft spot for you. How adorable."

Your glare darkened, "Don't be a jerk."

"She is way out of your league short stack. Why don't you walk away before you get hurt, huh?"

Adam saw Chase's expression change and tightened his hold on his backpack. "Uh oh."

You gasped when Spike took over, grabbed Trents shirt, and pinned him against the lockers.

"No, you are going to get hurt, punk." He barked. "Give her the books or I turn you into a pretzel."

"Here! Here!"

You took the books and held them to your chest, biting the inside of your cheek as you watched Chase, now Spike, shove Trent into the lockers.

"Chase, that's enough." You placed a hand on his bicep, drawing his attention.

For a moment, his grip faltered as if he was breaking through, but Spike wasn't done yet. He looked at Trent, who held his hands up, eyes wide as he glared at him. "If I see you troubling her again, I will hang you from the flagpole."

He shoved him aside, and Trent scrambled away. You watched him flee before looking at Chase who lowered his head, meeting your gaze moments later with regret and embarrassment. You opened your mouth to thank him when he dashed away, with Adam and Leo following close behind.

You had no shared classes after lunch period and you couldn't rest without thanking him for protecting you. So after stopping home, you went to the Davenport house, knocking on the door.

Tasha answered the door and let you inside to wait in the living room while Bree, who had been in the kitchen, headed to the lab to tell Chase you had arrived.

"Oooh, Chase, your girlfriend is here!" She grinned.

Chase immediately began to panic. Since arriving home he had hidden in the lab, trying to get his mind off the incident, while Adam and Leo teased him about you.

"Uh," He paced the floor, trying to think of an excuse. "Tell her I'm not here."

"Tasha already told her you're here," Bree said, pursing her lips when she saw how nervous he was about seeing you again, after avoiding you in the hallways for the rest of the school day. "She probably wants to thank you."

"Or tell me she thinks I'm a freak and never wants to see me again."

"You've shared classes with her for over a year, I think she already knows you're weird." Bree knew that the teasing from Adam, Leo, and herself hadn't helped his confidence and stepped forward to place a hand on his shoulder. "She saw him and didn't freak out. I'd say she passed the test."

Chase thought back to the way he felt Spike weaken when you touched his arm, the look in your eyes taking away his anger, his need to protect you so strong that it was the only reason he couldn't hold him off completely.

Your eyes held no judgment then, and as he approached the sofa, meeting your gaze when you stood up, he couldn't see it now either.

"Hi."

"Hey." He held his hand up awkwardly.

"About today -"

"I'm really sorry for -"

"No, no, don't be." You moved closer, sending him a smile that eased the tension in his shoulders. "I came here to thank you. Trent has been bugging me for a while and I would've let you - what was it? Turn him into a pretzel?" Chase blushed, glancing at his feet. "I didn't want you getting in trouble because of me."

Chase lifted his gaze, your eyes locking, and you hoped he didn't notice the blush on your cheeks. He did. And it gave him the confidence he needed.

"Would you like to go on a date?" He asked, quickly adding, "With me."

Your smile grew as you nodded, "I'd love too."

His toothy grin took your breath away and you looked away before you could faint at the sight, picking up your bag off the sofa.

"I'd better head home. My mom will be expecting me."

Chase walked you to the door, and you stepped outside. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

You sent him a smile, "Definitely." You leaned in to kiss his cheek and he stood frozen, uttering a quiet 'Bye' as you walked away.

His lips slowly formed a large grin as he headed inside, closing the door. Tomorrow couldn't come around soon enough.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Exhibitionism with Aegon

Part of Kinktober 2024

Aegon knows that you're nervous about the bedding ceremony. Perhaps that's why he's doing this. Or maybe it's to make those watching you - several of his family members included - uncomfortable enough that they regret enforcing a public bedding. Though most likely, he's just doing this because it's Aegon.

Whatever the reason, when he proudly strides into your new marital chamber, he is already entirely naked and more than ready to bed you. Not only that, he has oiled his entire body.

Several of the observers groan and look away as Aegon approaches you, his arms stretched wide as he moves to embrace you, ruining your nightgown with oil stains. He doesn't wait long until his mouth is upon yours, kissing you thoroughly and sloppily.

You can't help but wonder if this was how he kissed the many other women you know he's lain with. The thought pulls you away from the kiss.

"Don't be scared," Aegon whispers against your lips. "I'm going to make you feel so good that they won't matter. Right?" He doesn't look away until you smile and nod. "Good girl, go sit on the bed."

When you pull back the sheer curtains surrounding the bed, you find it covered in rose petals of every color, and you can't hold back your laughter. Only Aegon could make you laugh in these circumstances.

But then, he begins to tear the curtains off the bed, tearing away the one protection you had against the prying eyes of the Small Council and Aegon's family.

"What is the meaning of this, Aegon?" Otto Hightower asks. He has the courtesy to not leer at you in your thin nightgown, unlike the Lords Strong and Wylde.

"Well, you wanted to watch, did you not? I'm simply giving you a better view." He smirks as he turns back to the bed, and you swear he's clenching to make his buttocks seem firmer.

His brother, Aemond, walks out without a word.

Aegon leaps on the bed, sending half the rose petals to the floor. before wrapping his hands around your waist and nosing at your neck. "You don't have to take off your nightgown if you do not want to, sweet girl," he whispers. "But I want them to see my arse." When you ask why, he meets your gaze, and his irreverence fades for just a moment. "They wanted a show, so I'm giving them one. Besides, I'm positive one or two of them have always wanted a look at my cock."

You don't ask him which ones. That is a mystery you are more than happy to never solve.

"Are you ready?" he asks. You aren't entirely sure you are, but you nod anyway. Immediately, Aegon raises himself onto his knees, angling to ensure that the assembled audience has a clear view on his front as he begins to stroke his cock, throwing back his head in exaggerated pleasure as he moans loudly and whorishly.

His mother leaves the room, her hand held to her face to block her view of her shameless son.

"Fuck," Aegon groans. "I can't wait any longer." He skillfully re-angles both himself and you so that the observers now have a perfect view of his arse as he lifts you nightgown just enough for him to duck inside and lavish your core with his lips and tongue.

Someone in the crowd grumbles, but you don't care, not when Aegon is making you feel so good. For a moment, you are glad of his history in brothels, if it is why he has such skill at this. He easily brings you to release twice before he extracts himself from beneath your gown.

He is desperate enough to forget any other schemes to irritate your observers before sliding his cock inside you, and you aren't certain that the moan you let out is wholly genuine or if Aegon has somehow looped you in to his showmanship.

It is likely the latter, for as he moves within you faster and faster, you both grow in volume, until you are sure that even the guards at the Gate of the Gods can hear you as you peak once more.

And when Aegon releases inside you, you are sure he could be heard across the Narrow Sea as he shouted, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Then, you fall silent save for your panting breaths. "Are you well?" Aegon asks. All you can do is nod. "Good, I'll be right back, my girl."

He climbs off of you, standing from the bed and approaching the remaining audience. "Well, gentlemen, I think you'll find all the evidence you require right here!" He gestures dramatically to his cock, wet with both your releases and your maiden's blood.

"... Thank you, my prince," Grand Maester Orwyle stutters. "Please, accept my congratulations on your marriage." He hurries out of the room with a haste you've never seen from any Maester.

Aegon turns to Otto Hightower. "Well, are you satisfied?"

The Hand does not answer, he simply looks at those remaining and gestures to the door. "Let us leave the new couple to each other."

With a smirk, Aegon adds, "Quickly please, you were only promised the first fuck of the night, and I have plans for many more.

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND (iii)

THREE - COLOR THEORY

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 11.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, descriptions of violence, smut, oral (m receiving), thigh humping, fingering

You have always wondered if being born from Light and Dark was a blessing, or a curse. On one hand, it has granted you the ability to navigate life’s morally gray areas; to question everything and listen to opposing thoughts and ideologies. But on the other hand, your existence was born from a violent affair—and you can’t help but wonder if that Dark inevitably lives within you, shielded by the Light. 

Right now, more than ever, you believe the latter may be true. 

It’s been three days. Three days since you woke up to an empty bed beneath you and guilt weighing heavy atop. Three days since you self-sabotaged your entire mission. Three days since you reveled in the comfort of your enemy’s arms.

You thought the regret would be at its worst the morning after; you figured it would pass with time. But with each day, each hour, each minute that ticks by, breathing becomes just a little bit harder. You can’t even find peace in sleep; not when you are kept awake by images of Eris’s lust-filled gaze and the inevitable heartbreak on Mor’s face. If your own self-stirred panic isn’t enough, you also have the note that Eris left atop his empty pillow to worry about:

I apologize for leaving so soon, Little Bird, but I have some business to attend to. Do write back when you’d like to take a tour of the library. Don’t miss me too much.

The bastard left the proverbial ball in your court. Typically, you like being in control. But with your current frenzied mental state, the last thing you need is yet another convoluted layer to worry about.

Needless to say, you are about one misstep from exploding.

The crackling embers of the fireplace in your cabin stare back at you tauntingly. You hover your hands over the orange flames, letting the heat tickle your skin until the burning becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. You wait a beat, before raising your shaky hands over the fire once again. Albeit brief, the pain seems to be the only escape from the assault of your traitorous thoughts. Yet, with each retreat of your hands, the empty paper and pen sitting on your bedside table glare at you expectantly. They seem to radiate a cruel impatience—as if Eris is slinking in the shadows, watching you.

Your hands begin to burn again, and you abruptly pull them away. Before you can raise them over the flames once again, you feel the scraping of talons against the cobblestone barrier of your mind.

You want nothing less than to talk to Rhys right now. But you know that if you leave him hanging, he will worry. Reluctantly, you let your walls crumble down, and a shiver runs up your spine as you feel his aura creep in.

Everything okay? His voice sings across your mental connection.

You gnaw on your bottom lip until you wince, swiping your tongue across the droplet of blood.

I don’t know, you relent.

He doesn’t respond immediately. But you can picture the cinch between his brows as he mulls over your answer. Be honest with me. I won’t share with the others, if you don’t want me to. Promise.

Your fingers dance over the flames once more. You can’t possibly divulge what has transpired thus far. But you certainly can’t hold it all in without going mad. The fire burns your skin, and you jolt back before responding.

Promise?

He replies instantly, Yes.

You start talking before you can convince yourself otherwise. I think I may be getting a little too close.

Your response is simple, straight to the point. But something about it feels…heavy. 

What do you mean ‘too close’?

You’re careful not to let your thoughts, your memories of what happened in that cottage, to breach your mental connection with Rhys. You stare into the orange flames, admiring how intertwine, before replying.

The ‘seduction from afar’ plan may need to be revised. I’m in too deep to keep my distance for three weeks.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you wait for his response. You subconsciously twirl the silver ring on your thumb, never peeling your eyes away from the blazing fire. Rhys doesn’t say anything for a while. Just as fear begins to creep in, his voice sounds through your mind.

That’s fine. You jolt at his response, and he continues. Between you and me, I don’t care what you have to do. Make him fall in love with you, break his heart, it doesn’t matter. Once you’re out of there, you’ll never have to see him again.

You physically flinch as the reality of your situation hits you like a truck. Three weeks, and you’ll never see him again. Three weeks, and it’ll all be done—there will be no witness to whatever fling you have, no one left to tell the tale. No one ever has to know. Mor never has to know.

Okay, you finally respond simply.

Just tread carefully, you can hear the strain in his voice.

You nod robotically, even though he can’t see you. With a quick farewell, you put up your mental barriers. You stare into the flames for a few minutes longer, until the mere sight burns your irises.

“Compartmentalization,” you mumble to no one in particular.

Finally, you peel yourself off the dust-covered floor in front of the fire. Your legs are wobbly as you take methodical steps towards your bedside table. The empty paper and pen are quivering in anticipation as you approach. Your hand moves with a mind of its own as you pick up the waiting pen and scribble onto the paper.

Does the offer still stand?

The second you set the pen back down onto the table, the paper vanishes into thin air from your fingertips. You wring your hands together as you sit down on the side of your bed and wait. You’re not sure what you’re waiting for exactly, but you wait. 

“Compartmentalization,” you say it again. And you say it a few more times. Enough to trick your mind into believing it and slow the frantic beat of your heart. Enough to don a mask of apathy as a crack sounds outside the front door followed by a sharp knock. 

You twist the silver ring around your thumb once more before standing, this time on steady legs. Your steps are calm and calculated as you tread towards the door. You take one last deep breath, ridding your body and mind of any residual apprehension. With your lips curled into a beguiling grin, you swing the door open.

Eris’s smile is almost as wicked as yours as he scans you from head to toe, drinking in your appearance.

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, Little Bird,” he smirks.

You pick at your nails nonchalantly, “I’m flattered I’ve been on your mind, but I’m not sure I can say the same.”

His vicious grin only widens, “You wound me, Birdie. But I must admit,” he dips down and lowers his voice to a whisper, “I quite like your bite today.”

You arch a brow and don’t so much as flinch at his proximity, “Are you a masochist, Eris Vanserra? Or does chasing after disinterested females turn you on?”

Your thinly veiled insult only eggs him on. It takes everything in you not to shrink back as he lowers his lips so they graze the shell of your ear.

“Are you sure you want to go down this road? Because last I remembered, you were a whimpering little mess—”

His sentence is abruptly halted by your fingers pinching his lips shut. His eyes widen in incredulity at your childish action, and a giggle bubbles in your throat at the sight. You release him and walk briskly past, leaving him dumbfounded behind you.

“Well, are we going or not?” you snark over your shoulder.

He falls into step beside you, and you jolt as he places his hand on the small of your back. His touch gentle, but commanding. You don’t dare look at him as he warns, “I’ll let this one slide, Little Bird. But don’t forget that my teeth are much sharper than yours,” he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, “And I’m not afraid to use them.”

Your rebuttal is cut short as he pulls you to his chest before winnowing you both out of the woods.

The Forest House is just as remarkable as you remembered it—even more so in the sunlight. The tangles of ivy enveloping the red-brick walls are a vibrant green, and the intricate details of the gate itself seem to glisten underneath the sun’s rays. However, unlike your last visit, this time sentries line nearly every inch of the expansive walls. Their taut faces and intimidating steeds exude a sense of savagery that makes your skin prickle.

Eris’s hand retreats to its spot on the small of your back, and you jump slightly as you are reminded of your purpose for being here. Reluctantly, you peel your eyes away from the curvature of the golden gates and cock your head towards his. The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement, and you can tell he’s holding back a comment from the twitch in his lips.

“Spit it out,” you feign annoyance.

He shakes his head with an airy laugh, “It’s nothing. I just like the way you look at the world—all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, like you’re experiencing life for the first time. It’s cute.”

You frown. 

His comment, while innocent, puts you on edge for two reasons. The first, and the one that really makes your skin crawl, is his incessant ability to unknowingly point out parts of yourself that belong to you, rather than Athena Ellesmere. With each destination he takes you to, you do feel like you’re experiencing the world for the first time. But that’s not Athena—and with each of your quirks he reveals, he’s one step closer to sniffing you out entirely.

The second, well…

“Cute?” you deadpan.

His teeth flash as his grin widens, “Cute.”

You’re not cute. You’re supposed to be sexy, confident, untouchable—a femme fatale. Not fucking cute.

You know your bubbling frustration is futile, so you simply narrow your eyes into a warning glare and march towards the golden gates. You know that the pout on your face isn’t helping your case—but you can’t seem to wipe it off. The sentries shift on their steeds as you approach but return to their stationed positions when Eris falls into step beside you. They don’t so much as look in your direction as you pass through the gates.

“Once you are formally welcomed inside the gates, you are free to come and go as you please,” Eris’s fingers brush yours as he speaks, “So if you are in further need of the library after today, you can return.”

Your ears perk up at this, but you nod coolly. He leads you around the side of the large mansion, away from the front door, and lowers his voice to a murmur, “But I would prefer if you’d let me accompany you, if you should visit again.”

“Why? Want me all to yourself?” you snort.

He wears a playful grin, but his eyes are vapid.

“You know I do,” he teases, “But the beauty of this place is deceptive. Darkness lurks behind these walls, Little Bird.”

A shiver crawls up your spine, but you swiftly retort, “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“I know,” his voice is thick with trepidation.

You bristle at the way he speaks about you like he knows you. Yet again.

His hand returns to the small of your back as he leads you towards a small door, almost completely covered by thick ropes of vine. If he wasn’t guiding you, you would’ve completely missed the hidden entrance. You suck in a breath in anticipation as he pushes it open, wood creaking against rusted hinges. You hide your curiosity as you take in the burgundy carpet lining a hallway so long, you can’t see its end. The walls are built of centuries-old limestone, the darkness illuminated by flame torches.

You peel your eyes away from the hallway as Eris leads you to the left, down a steep, spiral staircase. Just like the hallway, it is built entirely of dark stone which holds a red hue thanks to the flickering flames of torches lining the walls. He steps in front of you, and you follow his lead silently as he leads you down the stairs. The steep wind of the steps is dizzying as you descend downwards, deep into the ground below, and into the heart of the tunnels of the Forest House. With each floor you pass, you picture Azriel’s map of the house. Finally, Eris takes a turn at the ninth floor you’ve descended. You follow closely behind and note the change in architecture. Gone are the limestone walls, and in their place, deep mahogany wood lined with a variety of paintings: family portraits, Autumn Court landscapes, still life’s. This hallway is also dimly lit with torches, but it holds a peculiar warmth unlike the others.

“How big is this place?” you voice echoes down the expansive hallway.

You know exactly how big it is. But you can’t stand the eerie silence. 

Eris’s voice rumbles lowly, “Miles long. It would take you half the morning to walk from one end to the other.”

Your eyes widen in mock astonishment—as if you don’t know that it is exactly 4.2 miles long.

“And you don’t get lost?” you ask.

“You forget I’ve had centuries of practice, darling,” he chuckles.

You open your mouth to fire another question, but a squeal escapes instead as you feel something wet bump against your right hand. You snatch your hand to your chest and look down to find a pair of beady, vermillion eyes staring back at you. You instinctively inch closer to Eris as you stare down at the creature in awe.

You know what smokehounds are. And you know that Eris owns a whopping twelve. But you weren’t quite prepared for the predator standing before you. Its fur is gray and sleek like smoke, and its eyes are the color of blood. Your initial fear fades as you realize, despite their crimson hue, its eyes are not filled with malice—but rather, curiosity. You cautiously lower the hand clutched to your chest back to your side, and slowly stretch your fingers apart. Its wet nose bumps your hand again, and you shiver at the tickling sensation as it sniffs you. A giggle bubbles in your throat as it sticks its tongue out and licks between your fingers. You tentatively stroke the side of its face with your knuckles.

“She likes you,” Eris hums beside you.

The smokehound nuzzles into your side, and you stroke the top of her head with your full hand. You know they are vicious creatures—you’ve read about how they can race as fast as the wind to sniff out any prey. But the creature standing below you seems as harmless as a fly.

“What’s her name?” you ask as you scratch softly between her ears. 

“Sage. She’s my oldest,” his hand joins yours as he strokes the back of her neck.

“I never pictured smokehounds to be so…affectionate,” you wonder aloud, curiosity piqued as she licks your hand again.

Eris laughs softly, “They aren’t. She must be drawn to you—the same way I am.”

You can feel his gaze on you but refuse to look in his direction as you fight the blush crawling up your neck. He withdraws his hand, and you follow suit as you continue your walk down the hallway, this time with Sage by your side. She trots beside you, close enough that your fingertips brush the silken fur on her back and her side rubs against your dress. Even as you continue down the dimly lit hallway, you can’t take your eyes off the elegant creature walking alongside you.

You nearly slam into Eris as he halts abruptly in front of two large oak doors. Just as you regain your footing, you nearly lose it again at the sight before you.

There are seemingly endless rows of books reaching at least fifty feet tall. An ornate rug of red and gold covers the stone floor, and hundreds of flickering candles are suspended in midair. Vibrant green ivy, much like the kind you’ve seen outside, wraps around each shelf. To top it all off, the ceiling is a mosaic of crystalline windows shining golden rays of sunlight down below—some kind of enchantment, you presume, given that you are at nine floors underground.

“Wow,” you breathe. With your mouth agape and your eyes wide with wonder, you know that you are proving Eris’s earlier point. But right now, you couldn’t care less. 

You wander towards the shelves, Sage trailing behind you, and run your fingers gently along the spines of the books. The smell of parchment and wood is intoxicating, and your heart swells with joy as you scan the collection of classics. Some are so old; you presume they must be original prints. Others look brand new, completely untouched. 

One binding in particular catches you attention—well, ‘binding’ is generous, considering the book is barely hanging together by a thread. You carefully pull out the amethyst-colored cover and turn it over. Shattered Realms. 

“Is this an original copy?” you question, unable to peel your eyes away from the novel.

Eris looks over your shoulder, “Yes. It’s been passed down in my family for generations—although it originally belonged to the Night Court.”

Your lips twitch with amusement, but you force down a laugh at the irony. You glance at him over your shoulder, “How did it end up here?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest inches away from pressing up against your back, and runs a finger over the binding of the book in your hands. His scent of sandalwood and nutmeg invades your senses.

“Many centuries ago, my grandfather was in a bit of a tiff with the Night Court High Lord at the time. He stole it during their feud.”

You smile softly and make a mental note to retrieve the book before you return to Velaris as a little souvenir for Rhys. You carefully place the book back in its spot before continuing your exploration. Eris follows closely behind, whereas Sage has found comfort in front of the fireplace. 

“Do you have any favorites?” you wonder aloud as you come to the end of the aisle.

“I have many,” his hand brushes yours.

You hook your pinky finger over his, “Care to share?”

“Any particular genre you’re interested in?” he curls his finger against yours.

You bite your bottom lip in thought as you mull over the options. Asking you to pick a favorite genre is like asking a mother to pick her favorite child. 

“I’ve recently been on a bit of a reading kick of philosophical essays,” you tap a finger to your chin in thought, “Mind-body dualism, introspection, all the good stuff,” you drawl.

Eris’s brows raise in surprise, “I never would’ve thought that philosophy pairs well with filthy little romance novels.”

Your eyes narrow into a glare, and you move to snatch your pinky away from his, but he swiftly intertwines your fingers. He’s dragging you down the aisle before you can protest, and you stumble to keep up with his swift feet. Eris leads you past rows of bookshelves, up a spiral staircase, and past even more rows of books. He doesn’t give you a chance to admire the collection of literature as he tugs you along. Finally, you halt at a small alcove decorated with stained glass windows.

Your eyes widen as you take in the collection of books written by countless ancient philosophers. But you force on a façade of indifference, careful not to fuel his already bursting ego even more. You hold your breath as he leans over you and pulls a book at least six inches out of your reach. The binding is tattered—not as badly as the original copy of Shattered Realms, but enough that you can tell it’s at least a few centuries old. He holds it out expectantly, and you tentatively grab it from his waiting hands. 

“I think you might find this to your liking,” he grins, “A collection of Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. It’s not an original copy, but surely the closest to it.”

He releases your other hand, and you clench your jaw to conceal your excitement. You’ve been searching for a copy of this for years now—ever since you stumbled across the collection of the ancient philosopher Tydeus’s works in the Velaris library. Your mother used to love reading the copy of his correspondences in the Day Court libraries, but that feels like a lifetime ago now.

“Tydeus’s ideologies are a bit archaic for my taste. But I suppose this will do,” you lie through your teeth. Eris chuckles lightly, observing the curious glint in your eyes and the way you hold the book with a delicate reverence.  

“There are wards around the house which prevent these books from leaving the premises, so unfortunately, I cannot loan it to you. And given your past thieving tendencies, I’m not sure I would want to,” he teases as he leans against the shelve of books.

Well, there goes Rhys’s solstice gift.

Your lips dip into a frown, “I know Vanserras are cruel, but I never imagined you’d be this twisted—dangling one-of-a-kind copies of ancient literature over my head only to pull them away.”

“Don’t fret, Little Bird,” he purrs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You can read to your heart’s desire—inside the house, of course. I’ll show you to a place with a bit more…privacy.”

You gulp as his fingers linger against your cheekbone. His touch is electrifying, and you fight the instinct to chase after it as he pulls away.

“Okay,” you whisper, “Is it alright if I pick out a few more?”

His teeth flash as he observes the effect he has over you.

“Take your time. I’ll be keeping Sage company.”

He brushes past you, and you remain frozen in place for a moment. Get it together, you scold yourself internally. You will your mind to empty as you continue your stroll down hundreds of rows of books. You try your very best not to pick up everything that catches your eye—only those which really pique your interest. But even so, you quickly find yourself with a stack of books so high they nearly reach your chin. Your arms tremble underneath the weight, but still, you add a couple of atlases to your stack for good measure. You have no intention of reading them—but Athena Ellesmere would. 

Finally satisfied with your collection, you walk slowly back towards the front of the library. You rest your chin on the top of the stack, careful not to topple the tower of books. The winding staircase proves to be a challenge, and you nearly stumble twice. But by some miracle, you make it down unscathed, and approach the blazing fireplace.

Eris lounges on a couch with Sage on the ground beneath him. He scratches her ears nonchalantly as he flips through his own book. His neck cranes at the sound of your uneven footsteps, and a roaring laugh fills the room when he lays eyes on you.

It’s a sight he wishes will be forever imprinted in his memory—your arms wobbling underneath a stack of books nearly as tall as you, and your flushed cheeks peeking out on top.

“Some help would be appreciated,” you hiss.

He sets his book down and glides over, taking half the stack from your arms. You nearly moan in relief at the literal weight lifted off your shoulders. 

“A few more, huh?” he taunts with a wily smirk.

“A few means a small number. Comparative to your collection, yes. A few,” you grit your teeth.

“Whatever you say, Little Bird. Although I except a thorough review of each,” he sings.

Eris balances his half of the stack in one arm and wraps his other around your waist, pulling you tight to his chest. You save your own stack from nearly tipping over with a stumble. You aren’t afforded a chance to protest as he winnows you both away, leaving Sage sleeping peacefully in front of the fire.   

This time, you aren’t able to save the stack from spilling out of your arms as you land in a new room. Much to your displeasure, Eris’s pile of books is fully intact in his arms. You drop to your knees with a huff and begin collecting the books strewn about a patterned, crimson carpet.

“You’re a clumsy one, aren’t you?” he taunts from above you.

Your head snaps upwards and you open your mouth to retort but pause as you take in the new surroundings. Much like the library, this room holds a golden glow highlighted by swirling patterns of golds and reds along the walls. You can feel another fire blazing behind you, and just past the deep-seated sofa in front of you lies an enormous canopy bed. It suddenly clicks—you are in Eris’s private chambers. 

You cock a brow at the sight and a smirk tugs at your lips, “You know, if you wanted to get me in your bed all you had to do was ask.”

He sets down his stack of books on a small, wooden table in front of the couch and reaches a hand down to you expectantly. You tentatively place your hand in his, and he raises you up from the ground, pulling you to his chest with a sultry smile. 

“Is that an offer, darling?” his breath tickles your neck as he dips down to your ear.

Your cheeks flush as he caresses your jawline with his thumb. You clench your thighs as you are reminded of how his fingers felt inside you, dripping in your arousal. But before you can melt into his touch, you raise your lips to his ear and croon, “I’m not that easy. You’ll have to work harder than that, Fox.”

He presses his nose against your temple and groans, the vibration of it sending a tantalizing chill up your spine. Just as easily as he’s able to get you flustered, so are you able to drive him up the wall. 

You pull away from him, ignoring his whine of protest. He is absolutely shameless in his desire for you, and the thought alone makes your gut churn with delight.

You gather your stack of books from the ground and carefully place them beside the other half on the wooden table. You sift through the titles before finally settling on the Tydeus copy Eris recommended. You don’t so much as glance in his direction as you take a seat on the couch and kick off your heavy boots. The fire is just close enough that the flames warm your skin, and you all but sink into its comfort. You can feel Eris’s eyes on you, but you continue to ignore him as you stretch your legs out across the velvet expanse and open the ancient book. You aren’t even through the first page when you feel Eris’s hands on your calves.

You squeal as he raises your legs, giving himself space to sit beside you, before lowering them again so they are draped over his lap. You glare at him over your book, but he ignores your malice as he leans forward and picks his own book from the pile on the table. He leans back in his seat, his legs spread beneath yours, as he opens the book—a rare biography of one of the original Valkyries. Your own book sits limply in your hands as you study his profile—the plump of his lips, the shift of his jaw. You can’t help but admire the freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose. He is incredibly handsome, which simultaneously makes your job easier, and all the more difficult.

“I know I’m gorgeous but try not to drool on my centuries-old book,” he hums nonchalantly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

You raise your leg to kick him, but he firmly grips your ankle and sets it back onto his lap without so much as a glance in your direction. He doesn’t remove his hand, letting it rest on your leg. With a huff, you return to your book. You are halted, once again, this time by his wandering hand. He teasingly pushes up the skirt of your long dress, just below your knees, so he can rest his hand on your shin. Your breath hitches as he rubs circles into your calf with his thumb, massaging it gently.

Reluctantly, you succumb to the comfort of his touch and return to your book once more. You page through Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. Their letters begin simply enough. But you quickly find yourself immersed in their debate over morality. Whereas the Lady takes a relative stance, Tydeus takes on an absolutist one. As their back-and-forth shifts to the dichotomy of good and evil, you are eerily reminded of your own inner turmoil earlier that morning.

“Anything good so far?” you jump as Eris’s gravelly voice cuts through the comfortable silence.

You meet his inquisitive gaze and note how the flame of the fire reflects in the amber of his eyes.

“My mother would have loved this,” you reply.

She did love it. You remember how she used to read it constantly in the Day Court—you never thought you’d be able to get your hands on a copy of it again. 

“Why is that?” he asks, curiosity laced in his tone.

You lower the book onto your lap, “She loved all of Tydeus’s works. She was a strong believer in the dichotomous division between ‘good’ and ‘evil’.”

Eris sets his own book down and rubs your leg with both of his hands. 

“And what do you think?” he challenges thoughtfully.

You shrug, “I’m not sure. On the one hand, I think morality is relative—that individuals are not uniform, and thus form their own ideas about what is ‘good’ and what is ‘evil’. But then on the other, I used to believe that there are some things we universally categorize as one or the other.”

“You don’t anymore?” he counters

You bite your lip and avert your gaze to the fire. The anxiety you managed to dispel earlier that day starts creeping in. Your gut twists uncomfortably as you reply simply, “I’m not sure.”

His hands slow, noticing your shift in demeanor. He studies the furrow of your brows as you stare into the fire.

“I think it is not morality that dominates the situation, but the situation that dominates morality,” he counters after a few beats of silence.

“A moral relativist?”

“I don’t like labels,” he shrugs.

The vibrancy of the fire is burning your eyes, but you keep them trained on the flames as you reply, “I suppose I agree with that—the problem is, it’s not the answer I’m seeking.”

“And what answer are you seeking?”

You long to reach your hands out over the flames until the heat sears your skin. The déjà vu makes your stomach churn.

“It’s not so much an answer as a direction,” you speak softly to hide the quiver of your voice, “I wish there was some way to know if I’m moving in the right direction.”

He chuckles, “Which brings us back to the question of absolutism versus relativism.”

You peel your eyes away from the flame, and your eyes lock with his. They hold a certain understanding, as if he can see straight through you and into your soul. Your body moves with a mind of its own as you sit up and subconsciously inch closer.

 “I suppose all we can really do is justify our actions for ourselves—and hope that others will agree with our division of morality,” you whisper.

His gaze darkens, and he bows his head towards you, “I think life is full of gray areas, and we can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them.”

His response strikes a chord deep within you. Your eyes flick down to his pink lips, just inches away from yours.

Compartmentalization be damned.

You lurch forward to close the gap, and he meets you halfway. 

The moment your lips meet his, every ounce of worry is swept away from your mind. You barely register the thump of your book hitting the ground as his lips glide against yours. His taste is addictive—a sweet peppermint that you can’t seem to get enough of. Your nose bumps against his as you climb on top of him, your legs straddling his lap. You cup the side of his face with your hands, deepening the kiss. He grips the small of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip: a question. Your mouth parts: an answer. 

You snake one hand behind his neck and run your fingers through his crimson locks, tugging sharply. He groans, and just as he moves to deepen the kiss, you abruptly pull away.

His sounds of protest are silenced by your lips against the sensitive skin of his neck. You move tentatively at first, remembering how it felt to have his lips against your neck, and mimic his maneuvers. He tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of your neck, pushing you closer as a sign of encouragement. You become bolder, alternating between open-mouthed kisses, small nips, and swipes of your tongue. His groan of approval spurs you on, and you fiddle with the bottom of his tunic, pulling it up his chest. You draw back briefly to peel the shirt completely off his body before resuming your work.

“Who taught you how to do that?” Eris hisses as you suck harshly at the apex of his collarbone. 

  You grin at the blossoming purple hue on his pale skin and run your tongue over the spot soothingly, “A wily fox too clever for his own good.”

He pulls you back up, abruptly cutting your abuse of his neck short. You eagerly smash your lips against his once more and trail your hands down the expanse of his chest, dragging your nails lightly along his rigid abdomen. His hands loop around you and he swiftly yanks down the zipper of your dress. You eagerly shed the suffocating material, so it pools at your waist, exposing your bare chest to him. Eris moans at the sight of your peaked nipples and doesn’t hesitate to massage your breasts with his large hands. His lips trail down your neck, but before he has a chance to carry out the same treatment you’d given him, you slip from his grasp entirely.

Eris watches, stunned, as you slip off his lap and sink down onto your knees before him. His lips part as you nudge his knees apart, and lurch forward to trail open-mouthed kisses down his chest, to his abdomen, until you finally reach the waistband of his bottoms. He jolts as you brush your hand over the very obvious, and large, tent in his pants.

“Little Bird,” he mumbles as you palm over him, “You don’t have to do this.”

Your eyes flick up to his and you speak with conviction, “I want to.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps and you all but drool at the sight. He nods once, and you begin fiddling with his belt buckle. His hands move to help you, but you swat them away. You make quick work of the fastenings, and slowly drag the material down his legs, inch by inch. You know he’s growing impatient by the clenching of his abdomen. You flash him a sultry smile as you finally pull the material from his legs, leaving him in his underwear. His hands move to the waistband, but you swat them away again. 

 “Patience is a virtue,” you muse before nipping the skin of his inner thigh. He inhales sharply, and shudders as you run your tongue over the same spot, soothing the ache.

“Using my own moves against me,” he croons, but the strain is evident in his voice, “I’m impressed, Little Bird.”

Your heart thumps in your chest as you graze your hands along the waistband of his underwear. You dip your fingers underneath, and your confidence falters slightly. He runs a hand through your hair soothingly, coaxing you to continue. Your keep your eyes trained on his as you inch the fabric down his thighs. He raises his hips and releases a sigh of relief as his erection slaps up against his stomach, free from the confining material. You toss the garment aside haphazardly and take in the sight of his complete bareness.

The first thing you notice is that he’s big—well, you think so, at least, considering you have nothing to compare him to. His dick is much thicker than you’d imagined, with veins branching upwards towards the tip which is a shade darker than the pink of his lips. You can’t help but wonder how it could possibly fit inside you. A blush paints the apples of your cheeks at the thought.

Eris notices your apprehension, and he curls a finger underneath your chin so your eyes meet his. 

“Would you like me to talk you through it?” his voice is soft.

The amber of his eyes is warm, like honey. You nod shyly.

“Okay, darling. Can you wrap your hand around my cock?” the sweetness of his voice is a stark contrast to the dirtiness of the words tumbling from his lips. 

You rest your left hand on his thigh and raise your right hand, delicately wrapping your fingers around his girth at its base. You hold him loosely, and he releases a pleasured sigh at your tentative touch. 

“You can hold it a bit tighter, love,” he hums while stroking the shell of your ear.

You follow his direction with a nod.

“Now move your hand—”

You don’t give him a chance to finish as you slowly begin moving your hand over his cock, from the base to the tip. His lips part and he shudders at the motion.

“Good,” he rasps, “Now can you spit on it? Get it a little wet for me?”

Your cheeks flare, but you follow his request. You timidly lean forward and dribble over his tip, captivated by the way it mixes with the bead of precum before sliding down. You use your hand to spread it around, and the friction eases as your hand slides more freely. 

“I think you’re a natural, Birdie,” he praises through a gasp, “Can you twist your hand for me a bit?”

You twist your hand in time with your strokes, and admire the way his face scrunches with pleasure. You squeeze a bit harder when you reach his base, and his hips twitch. Testing the waters, you slowly lean forward and stick your tongue out, licking over his tip. Eris grunts at the action, and you feel a bit more confident as you wrap your lips completely around the head. 

A guttural moan escapes his lips as you suckle on the head, your hand continuously pumping his shaft. You pull off his tip, and your gut twists with desire at the string of saliva between the head of his cock and your lips. You lurch forward, flattening your tongue against the base and dragging it upwards, before wrapping your lips around the tip again in a teasing maneuver.  

“Fuck,” he groans, “Can you take me a bit deeper?”

You nod, pupils blown. Your hand resumes its stroking movement as you slowly, tentatively, slide downwards. Your mouth burns from the stretch of his girth, but you breathe through your nose steadily. You take him in, inch by inch, until his tip hits the back of your throat, bringing tears to the corners of your eyes. You keep your hand around the base of his shaft, pumping and twisting the length you can’t fit.

“So good for me, Little Bird,” he moans. His right-hand digs into the fabric of the couch until his knuckles turn white, and his left brushes the hair out of your face. “Can you move your pretty little mouth for me?”

You slowly bob your head up and down, timing the strokes of your hand with the rise and fall of your lips. Tears spring to your eyes each time his tip hits the back of your throat and spit dribbles down the sides of your mouth, but any ounce of insecurity is washed away by the sinful noises tumbling from Eris’s lips.

“Can you use your tongue for me?” his voice is strained.

You flatten your tongue against his length as you bob up and down, swirling it around his length to the best of your ability.

“Look at me, love,” he gasps through an animalistic groan.

Your eyes flick up and you peer at him through your lashes. His pupils are blown and his lips parted, brows scrunched with a vulnerability you never imagined you’d see.

“You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock,” he rasps, “Wish I could keep you like this forever.”

You hum around him, and he shudders at the vibration. He tangles a hand in your hair, guiding your movements but not pushing you, slowly increasing your pace. Tears begin rolling down your cheeks at the delicious burn in your jaw and the back of your throat.

His chest heaves as he pants, “So close. Just a little more.”

You move with a newfound vigor at his words, finding a rhythm that keeps the noises tumbling from his mouth. You raise your unoccupied hand to the base of his cock. Experimentally, you brush over his balls with your thumb, eliciting raucous moan from Eris. He twitches in your mouth, and you do it again while swirling your tongue in a prolonged sweeping motion around his length.

“Fuck, Little Bird. I’m—”

He halts midsentence with an earth-shattering groan as his cock twitches violently in your mouth. You slow your movements as he reaches his high, thick ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. You splutter at the feeling, but continue milking him, swallowing his load. You stroke him gently, your tongue rubbing along him in a coaxing manner, until his thighs jerk, and his length softens in your mouth. You inch off him, stroking a hand over his thigh soothingly, and press one last kiss to his tip before pulling off completely.

You glance shyly up at Eris, and your chest swells with pride as you find his head thrown back in pure bliss. You rake your nails softly against his thighs, peppering feather-like kisses over his abdomen. His head lulls down towards you, and your heart skips a beat at the carnal look in his eyes. His hands are gentle as he wipes away the tears staining your cheeks before swiping over your mouth, collecting the saliva staining your lips. 

“You are an enigma, Little Bird,” he mumbles while intertwining your hands with his and pulling you back up. 

Your dress falls from your waist to the floor as you rise, leaving you completely bare aside from your panties. He pulls you onto his lap and you eagerly straddle him, connecting your lips to his. He groans into your mouth at the taste of his own release on your lips.

“Good?” you breathlessly ask against his mouth.

He pulls away from your lips with a chuckle and trails kisses underneath your ear as he mutters, “I haven’t finished so quickly in centuries.”

Your eyes crinkle with pride.

His lips meet yours once again, and you marvel at the way you slot together like the final two pieces of a puzzle. Mimicking his earlier move, you run your tongue along his bottom lip and he grants you entry, allowing you to deepen the kiss. His hands run down the curve of your back before settling on your ass, exploring your soft skin. Your gut clenches at the arousal pooling in your panties.

“Would you like to try something new?” he murmurs against your lips.

You respond with an affirmative hum, and whine as he pulls away.

He grips your waist, lifting you off his lap as if you weigh nothing at all, before setting you back down so you straddle just his left thigh. You jolt as your clothed arousal presses against the bare skin of his thigh.

Eris rolls his thumb over your swollen lips and whispers tauntingly, “Are you horny, Little Bird? Do you need some release?”

You nod shamelessly.

“Get yourself off, then.”

Your brows pinch with confusion, but realization dawns over you as he digs his fingers into your ass cheeks, grinding your clothed cunt against his leg. Your lips part in a silent gasp at the wave of pleasure that rolls through you. He guides you as you set a steady rhythm, grinding your throbbing clit against his thigh. The friction is electrifying, but you need more. The thin barrier of fabric separating you from him is suffocating. 

You whine pathetically, and he senses your desire. Eris pinches the flesh of your ass, and you lift your hips slightly. He removes his hands from behind you and you watch as they dip down between your thighs. You throb with anticipation as he hooks a finger underneath the fabric. Your arousal sticks to the flimsy material as he peels it aside, exposing your bare cunt.

“You’re dripping for me, darling,” he croons.

A long moan escapes your lips as you settle back down onto his thigh. With nothing separating you from him, you can feel how every ridge of his muscle stimulates your clit. He continues guiding you with his hands on your waist for a few seconds, before abruptly pulling away. 

You pause, mouth agape, as he stretches his arms over the back of the couch. Your cheeks flare in a combination of frustration and embarrassment as he leans back in his seat with a coy smirk on his lips.

He arches a brow expectantly, “Go on.”

You desperately want to wipe the smug look off his face—but your lust, your need for release, is too strong. You brace your hands against his broad shoulders and begin moving again. You groan at the way your clit slides against his bare thigh.

“You like making a mess over my thigh?”

You nod obediently.

He jerks his thigh once underneath you, and you cry out at the sensation.

“I need words, Birdie,” he drawls.

You roll your hips against him desperately and pant between gasps, “I love it.”

He shakes his leg at a steady pace, and the additional stimulation sends you reeling.

“Yeah?” he coos, “Tell me how it feels.”

Your legs tremble as your clit catches against the tensing muscles of his thigh.

“Feels filthy,” you mewl.

He grips your chin firmly, directing your gaze to his, before his arm returns to the back of the couch.

“Fitting for a filthy little girl, getting herself off on my leg,” he purrs, “I’m not even touching you and you’re a whimpering mess for me.”

His degrading words don’t even register, your mind clouded with desire. You can feel the tension building in your gut, and you pant with each roll of your hips. You try to increase your pace as you feel your high approaching, but your legs tremble underneath you, leaving that peak you so desperately desire just out of reach. 

“Please,” your voice trembles.

Eris knows exactly what you want, but he taunts you, “Please what?”

A fat tear escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your flushed cheeks.

Your bottom lip wobbles as you whimper, “Touch me, Eris. Please.”

He swiftly pulls you off his thigh and lays you down on the couch. He crashes his lips against yours, your teeth bumping at the force. Eris doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath as he trails his hand up your inner thigh before sliding his middle finger through your slick, from your entrance to your swollen clit. Unlike last time, he doesn’t waste time teasing as he promptly sinks his middle finger inside of you. 

You cry out at the feeling of his finger deep inside you, and he curls it in response. He doesn’t hold back as he rubs your clit with his thumb while thrusting his finger, curling it against your g-spot with each maneuver. He latches his lips to your neck and sucks harshly while his unoccupied hand flicks over your peaked nipples. 

Your mind whirls at the sensation—the feeling of him all over you. It’s almost too much, having him everywhere. You desperately claw at his back, searching for something to stabilize you. 

Your stomach coils as you feel your high approaching again. He can feel you clench around his finger, and he groans against your skin, “You gonna cum for me, love? Finish all over my hand?”

Another tear rolls down your cheek, “Yes,” you blubber, “’M so close.”

“Let go, Little Bird,” he coaxes while slipping another finger inside of you.

The added stretch sends you over the edge. You all but scream as shockwaves of pleasure roll through your body. Your toes curl and your nails dig into his back as your vision spots. His fingers slow, but he keeps rubbing your clit as you ride through your high. He continues until your hips jerk from the overstimulation, and your hands go limp around his neck. You wince as he pulls his fingers from you and watch through hooded eyes as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking up every last drop of your arousal. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, your mind spinning in a post-orgasmic haze. 

Eris softly strokes your cheek with the back of his hand before dipping down and capturing your lips with his. This time, the kiss is slow—no bumping teeth or clashing tongues. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, relishing in the intimacy of it all, until he pulls away.

An airy laugh passes through your lips as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You’ll be the end of me, Little Bird,” Eris mumbles. He places a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before collapsing on top of you. You grunt at the weight, and he shifts over enough so that he isn’t restricting your breathing, but his bare body remains draped over yours.

 “The end is but a beginning in disguise,” you tease as he nestles his nose against your cheek.

He chuckles, his breath tickling your neck. 

“How were you made so wise?” he muses.

“Wisdom isn’t born, Fox. It’s learned,” you trace your fingers along the arm draped over you, “And I have a lot more living to do before I can even come close to it.”

“Well, I think you’re plenty wise,” he curves a finger underneath your chin and tilts your head towards his.

Your nose is millimeters apart from his as you gaze into his amber eyes. Their golden hue is vibrant, much like his lopsided smile. But suddenly, something inside them dims, and the corners of his lips twitch downwards. Your brows furrow as you note the subtle change.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, brushing back his crimson locks.

Eris shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

You quirk a brow, “Clearly not.”

His hardened stare doesn’t stray from your eyes, but it seems to be searching for something. A chill crawls up your spine at his scrutinizing gaze, as if he’s trying to read your darkest thoughts. You’re suddenly aware of how exposed, how vulnerable you are to him right now—both physically and emotionally.

“Your eyes…” he pauses, as if searching for the right words, before continuing, “Do you remember the first night we met?”

The crinkle between your brows deepens, “How could I forget?”

He wets his lips before replying, “I told you your eyes were familiar.”

Fuck.

You pray that he doesn’t feel the uptick of your heart and continue stroking his arm steadily.

“I just realized,” he continues, “Who they remind me of.”

Panic washes over you, but your expression doesn’t falter, and you maintain your soothing touch.

“Oh?” you hum nonchalantly, “Who may that be?”

Eris shifts his gaze away from the eyes in question, and instead watches the rise and fall of your bare chest.

“A woman I knew a long time ago,” he finally replies.

You continue threading your fingers through his hair as you contemplate your next words. You are breeching unfamiliar territory, and one wrong step could doom you.

“Was she important to you?” you ask cautiously.

He doesn’t respond for a while, and his body is tense over yours. You wait with bated breath for his reply, your curiosity growing with each passing second.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not what you were expecting—but you aren’t sure what you were expecting, exactly.

You mull over his response, nibbling on your bottom lip in thought. Pressing him further feels like a violation—not only of his vulnerability, but of Mor’s. But curiosity is gripping you like a vice. This is the first time in a week you’ve gotten him close to talking about the Night Court, you justify to yourself, don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.

“May I ask what happened?” you inquire tentatively.

 He grunts and rests his head in the crook of your neck, “It’s not exactly a bedtime story, darling.”

You frown, unsure how to press him further without raising suspicion. 

He must notice your disappointment as he sighs, “I can practically hear those gears turning in your head, Little Bird. Would you really like to know?”

You nod. He traces shapes over the expanse of your stomach as he contemplates where to begin.

“Many centuries ago, my father arranged for my marriage to a daughter of the Night Court,” he speaks slowly, “It was purely political—a chance to strengthen the alliance between our courts.”

This is so wrong, you think to yourself. But you make no move to stop him.

“She did not want the union. So, the night before the wedding, she escaped—into the arms of another male, hoping that if she tarnished her…purity, the wedding would be called off.”

Tears prick your eyes as you know exactly what’s coming next, but you blink them away.

“Her father was—is—a cruel man. As cruel as my father,” the steadiness of his voice falters, but he continues, “When he found out what she’d done, he tortured her with a brutality unlike any I’ve witnessed. He left her, stripped naked, at the border of our court, with a sign that she was ours to deal with.”

You’re grateful for his sparing of the details, because you’re not sure you’d be able to hold yourself together.

“I found her that morning, while out with my guards,” he stops, and for a moment you don’t think he will continue. But he releases a deep sigh, and barely speaks above a whisper, “I demanded them not to touch her.”

Anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach, and it takes everything in you not to scream. You feel nauseous, the reality of your predicament suddenly sobering—the reality that you’re lying naked on a couch with a man who left your sister for dead.

 “If I or any of my guards touched her, she would have been stuck in Autumn—doomed to a life she did not want, according to my court’s laws. If I had…” his voice trembles ever so slightly, “If I had touched her, my father would have killed her on the spot. So, I left her there. I knew her…her friends would come save her. But it was not a decision I wanted to make.”

The fury trembling in your bones settles, and your mind reels over his recount of the events. This is not the version of the story you’ve heard from Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel. He could be lying—but what reason would Eris have to lie to you, when he is blissfully unaware of your relation to Mor? More than that, you’re unable to ignore the sincerity, the distress in his voice. 

“Do you regret it?” you whisper so quietly; you’re surprised he can hear you.

“No,” his response is immediate, “Not for a minute. I gave her a chance to live. Even if she doesn’t see it that way. But I’ll never be able to get that image out of my head…of her pleading for help, and me being unable to grant it.”

Your mouth is dry and you’re sure he can feel the thundering of your heart. Your head is a muddled mess, to say the least. 

“Gray areas,” you whisper simply.

We can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them, his earlier words ring through your mind. But not faulting him feels like the gravest betrayal you could commit.

A humorless chuckle tumbles from his lips as he echoes you, “Gray areas.”

His head sinks further into the crook of your neck and he runs his thumb soothingly over your abdomen, unknowingly combatting the pounding of your head as you process the onslaught of new—and unexpected—information. 

“Do you still align with the Night Court?” you change the subject boldly but keep your tone nonchalant.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem fazed by your question. Unfortunately, he doesn’t entertain it either.

“I like to keep my business separate from the bedroom,” he rasps against your neck, and you shudder at the tickle of his breath.

You purse your lips into a humorless smile, “Compartmentalization.”

“Forgive me, darling,” he muses, the seriousness of his tone gone, “But I can’t bring myself to discuss pompous High Lords while lying atop a beautiful, naked female.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” you tease half-heartedly.

He raises his head from your shoulder and looks down at you, the fox-like grin that had momentarily disappeared back, “I don’t think, I know,” he brushes his nose along your jawline, “You are the most delectable little thing I’ve seen in centuries.”

  You feel his groin twitch against your upper thigh, and you roll your eyes, “You are insatiable, Eris Vanserra.”

He laughs and your heart sings at the sound, despite your reeling mind. He presses his chest against yours and stretches his arm out to the floor. You watch curiously as he rolls back into his previous position with your forgotten book in hand.

“I’m not quite sure if Tydeus qualifies as a bedtime story either,” you arch a brow.

He shrugs with a cheeky grin, “Well if you ever plan on getting through that mountain of books, you’d better get started.”

Eris holds it out expectantly, and after a moment of contemplation, you grab it with your free arm. You untangle your other hand from his hair and wrap it around his shoulder so you can balance the book on your stomach with both arms. He squirms over you, and you squeak he accidentally elbows the side of your breast.  

“Careful,” you hiss.

“My apologies, Little Bird,” he coos as he finally finds a comfortable position on his side. One arm rests underneath your neck, while the other remains draped over your stomach behind the book. He drops his head onto your shoulder, so he has a full view of the book in your hands.

“I’ll let you know when to turn the page,” he nods his head against you, encouraging you to begin.

You squint but relent as you see his eyes moving back and forth, reading the text before him. You can feel him smiling below you as you focus your gaze on the page in front of you and pick up where you left off earlier. 

You’re nearing the end of the page when Eris taps the side of your hand with his finger. He waits patiently for you to finish, and both of your heads shift when you flip the page. You fall into a comfortable rhythm. He taps your hand softly each time to indicate when he’s finished, and you alternate between who finishes first with each flip of the page. The rise and fall of your bare chest moves in time with his breath against your skin, and despite your nudity, you don’t feel an ounce of shyness.

As you read, you can’t help but think that this must be what heaven feels like: orange flames warming your skin as you lounge on a couch reading with a gorgeous, and very naked, male on top of you. But there’s just one tiny problem—the gorgeous, and very naked, male in question.

You feel your thoughts slip from the book and urge yourself to focus on Tydeus’s philosophy rather than dwell on your anxiety. You find yourself so immersed in one passage in particular, that you don’t notice the way Eris’s breathing slows, or how his head lulls against your chest. You reach the end of the page and wait patiently for his signal to continue. Your brows cinch as the seconds stretch into minutes. You look down and realize that the heir to the Autumn Court throne, in all his glory, is sleeping like a babe using your breasts as a pillow.

The book lays forgotten in your hands as you observe him. Even in his softest of moments, his features still hold a certain sharpness. But right now, he looks…peaceful. His cheek is pressed up against the flesh of your breast, and with his eyes closed, you notice that his eyelashes are much longer than you imagined. You long to trace your fingers over the freckles splattered across his nose, to feel the curve of his nose. It’s hard to think that the male before you is capable of any cruelty at all.

But he is. 

And you’re gazing at him wide-eyed like a lovestruck teenager.

 You wish you could speak to your sister right now. You’re not sure what you’d say—maybe nothing at all. Maybe looking into her eyes, which are so similar to yours, would reveal some hidden truth, buried deep under centuries of hatred. Or maybe they would hold disdain—disappointment directed at you, for rolling around with a male who hurt her deeply.

Eris snores softly, halting your train of thought. Your chest tightens and the flames of the fire start to burn your skin. You can’t stay here. More importantly, you have a job to do.

You set the book down on the floor beneath you, and cautiously shift your body. He grunts in his sleep, but doesn’t stir, as you carefully slip out from underneath him. You hiss as you tumble onto the ground below and pause to make sure he’s still asleep. His snores don’t falter, and you rise from the ground.

You make quick work of gathering your clothes, cringing at the dried arousal covering your inner thighs and panties. Just as you’re about to slip out of his chambers, you turn back to take one last glance at his sleeping form. You gnaw your lower lip, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. Against your better judgment, you search for a scrap piece of paper and pen to leave him a note, as he had done for you.

‘Till we meet again, Eris Vanserra

Your lips purse—simple, yet effective. You set the note down on the wooden table and drape a throw blanket over the sleeping male in case he has any unexpected visitors. You don’t dare look back as you creep towards the doors.

The creaking of the rusted hinges has you cringing as you ease them open, inch by inch, and peer into the hallway. It’s empty—thank the Mother—with the only movement coming from the flickering flames of torches on the walls. 

You slink into the shadows as you move to your left down the hallway. Assuming Azriel’s map is correct, Eris’s office is two floors above his personal chambers, about one mile to the left. Despite the sizeable distance, you don’t risk winnowing for fear of someone catching you.

As you move along the walls, there’s a heavy weight on your shoulders. You can’t help but feel guilty for playing with his feelings and using them to your advantage—especially following the vulnerability he showed you tonight. But you remind yourself that, even in life’s dimmest gray areas, your loyalty to your family is unwavering.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you scale the winding staircase, keeping an eye out for any guards or lurking Vanserras. As you make your way down the next hallway, identical to the last, you move as swiftly as you can. The sooner you’re gone, the better—but you can’t deny the unease that grows with each step. On one hand, you hope you’ll find something to report back to Rhys. But on the other, you dread finding something that may contradict your image of Eris thus far.

Your steps are featherlight, and by the grace of the Cauldron, you make it to your destination without any setbacks. You press your ear against the door before slowing pushing it open.

The room is much like Eris’s chambers: swirling yellows and reds along the walls, a blazing fireplace, and a deep mahogany rug carpet covering the stone floor. In the middle sits a large, mahogany desk, covered in parchment. You creep forward, careful not to make any noise. You run your fingers along the polished wood of the desk, glancing over the papers. Nothing stands out as you shuffle through them. You search through his cabinets, rifle through the small bookcase in the back, and even check beneath the cushions of the chairs. All you can seem to find is polite, and uninteresting, correspondences with various courts, and menial to-do lists. You check each possible hiding place but come up short once again. There’s absolutely nothing here.

You’re not sure whether to feel relieved or frustrated—or perhaps, both. You glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of the dimly lit room. 3:06. You contemplate redirecting your search to Beron’s office, but you remember from Azriel’s map that it’s six floors down, and approximately two miles away on the opposite side of the house. If you were to go now, there’s a chance the sun would be rising by the time you’re ready to leave, leaving you defenseless without the dark of the shadows. 

With a sigh, you check over the room once more to ensure nothing is out of place before making your exit. You leave just as you came, slinking into the shadows along the hallways as quiet as a mouse. As you navigate the winding tunnels, you wonder if Eris is still sleeping soundly by the fire, or if he’s aware of your absence. And as your thoughts drift to the crimson-haired heir, you find yourself moving faster—as if escaping the walls of the Forest House will erase him from your mind. 

The wind is even more chilling than usual in the dead of night, you realize as you finally make it out through a side door. You make quick work of the courtyard, using the shadows to your advantage to avoid detection by the sentries littered throughout. When you finally make it out, you will the air to twist and fold around you, winnowing you back to your ransack cabin just as the sun begins to peek out from the horizon. Your limbs are tired, but your mind is racing. You know that sleep will not be kind to you. So, you kick off your boots and plop yourself on the dirty floor in front of the fireplace.

You find yourself just as you were before; hovering your hands over the orange embers until the burn becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. Again. Over and over. As if the pain will grant you some sense of clarity. As if nothing has changed since you were last sat here. As if you aren’t falling further into the fox’s trap with no way out.

Being born of Light and Dark can be a difficult thing. But there are far worse evils in the world, some lurking just around the corner. 

taglist:

@lilah-asteria @goldenmagnolias @myromanempiree @i-know-i-can @hannzoaks @olive-main @lilylilyyyyyy @batboygirlie @stuff-i-found-while-crying @moni-cah @6000-fandoms @melsunshine @roseodelle @rcarbo1

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Secret Secret Chapter 7

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

Masterlist |

The Meeting (as you had taken to calling it in your head) was officially set for the end of the week. Specifically, on a Saturday afternoon at Chan’s personal studio, the perfect mix of comfortable and private, while also being somewhat profesional. After all, it wouldn't be good if you were caught out in public with Stray Kids. Too many questions would come your way. So you and Chan planned out The Meeting over text (you had finally gotten his number during their promotions), and now the minutes were ticking down.

You would have postponed it more if you could, nervous and worried about revealing what was essentially the biggest secret you had ever had, but you were already cutting it close as it was. The tour officially kicked off earlier this week with their concert in Seoul, and by Monday afternoon you would be on your way to Japan. If anything happened (and it was a big if, because you trusted Chan, as stupid as it seemed, and he trusted Felix), you would prefer to not be overseas when it happened.

So now you found yourself nervously shaking your leg as the elevator numbers went up, feeling a strange sense of deja vu as you made your way off and down the very same hall you had taken when searching for the distressed omega over a month ago. You never did find out what happened to her. You hoped she was okay.

You reached the same door, the one Chan had told you about through text, and hesitated before knocking. You were early, just by a few minutes, but you imagined that Felix had to be there already right? Surely Chan had already explained what they were doing there.

This was it. Your first leap of faith. Would Felix be okay with your position, your decisions, and even your past involvement with his alpha? Or would one wrong move leave you without a job once again, possibly black listed from the industry entirely.

You took a deep breath, and knocked.

And then immediately regretted it. It felt like your heart was going to explode right out of you chest with how hard it started beating, and you started to feel like your limbs were 3 times heavier and yet disconnected from you all together. You wanted to run, but your legs were frozen. It was only the sight of Chan’s face, the comforting smell of fruits and flowers and ocean breeze, that snapped you out of it enough to force a smile onto your face.

You had a feeling it came out more like a grimace, judging by the sympathetic look he gave you.

“Hey. You ready?”

You weren't given much of a choice as a second later, Felix was shoving himself in between Chan and the door. He was wearing a bright grin that slowly faded as he took you in. He said your name in confusion, and you shot Chan a look.

“You didnt tell him?”

“I wanted to wait until you were here! Felix, I told you to wait.”

“Wait, they're the ome-?!”

Both you and Chan moved in synchronization to hush the blonde, you pressing your hand against his mouth and the latter slapping his own hand over yours, effectively trapping your hand. Wide eyed, Felix seemed to have realized his mistake of screaming out in the middle of the JYP hallways, because he slumped against Chan in defeat.

“Shmy,” he mumbled against your palm.

You gave Chan a look, and he let go quickly, allowing you to remove your hand from Felix's face. Taking a step back your fellow omega let you into the room with sharp eyes, and you could practically see the millions of questions that were forming in his head. Sure enough, it was only after the door was finally closed and you had taken a seat on the worn couch at the back of the room that he continued.

“I thought you were a beta,” was the first thing he said.

You looked away. “Yeah, Im not. I uh … lied, i guess.”

Felix was quiet, slowly walking from one side of the room to the other with a frown. Chan remained at the door with his arms crossed. And you sat stiffly on the couch, back rigid, feeling like you would rather be anywhere else but here.

Why did you agree to this again?

“So you … lied about being a beta,” Felix repeated. You nodded. “Anything else you lied about.”

You shook your head.

“I don't-” He placed his hands on his hips. “I just don't understand. Isn't it illegal to lie to your workplace?”

“It's pretty illegal to not hire someone based on their presentation,” You argued. “And yet it still happens.”

“The company doesn't do that,” Felix tried to argue.

You shot Chan a look, but he was staring down at the ground shaking his head. “Dude. Of course they do. It might not be official, because like you pointed out, its illegal-”

“They hire omegas and alphas all the time!”

“Are you kidding me? When have you ever seen anyone other than betas on your staff?!”

“They hired me!”

You scoffed in disbelief. “That's different.”

“How?”

“You're an idol! They dont give a shit about your presentation, all they care about is whether or not they can make money off you!”

Felix, bless his heart, actually looked shocked at the idea. He turned to Chan, you imagined for support, but the leader was now looking up, his jaw clenched. Felix pursed his lips, crossing his own arms.

Cinnamon burned your nose.

“Okay, fine. Let's say the company does discriminate. Why would you even want to work here if that was the case? Why not go find another job, one where you don't have to lie and hide who you are?” He wondered.

“Because this is my dream, Felix. Working in this industry, being a part of the process, getting to use the languages I busted my ass to learn.” You let out a harsh sigh and flopped back onto the seats behind you. “And even if it wasn't, why should I have to give up an opportunity just because the company refuses to hire anyone who isn't a beta?”

“You wouldn't have to lie,” Felix mumbled.

It felt like an accusation, a dirty shot to your pride, and your metaphorical hackles raised as a defense rested on your lips, ready to be shot back. But a small sound behind you made you pause. You turned back to glance at Chan, and for once, he was looking back.

He looked tired.

You hadn't noticed before, too busy worrying about the meeting. But now, really taking him in for the first time, you could see the circles under his eyes, the way the hoodie on his head was slipping back to reveal messy curls, the slump in his shoulders. Ironically, seeing his exhaustion made you feel tired, almost resigned.

You didn't want to fight with Felix. You had felt attacked, accused of doing something wrong, and had immediately flown into defensive mode. But this wasn't about trying to prove yourself right. You were here to get Felix to understand.

You took a deep breath, calming yourself. “Felix, what would you have done if the company had implemented the no omega rule when you were a trainee?”

Felix frowned. “I would have had to go somewhere else, I guess.”

“What if every company had that rule? What if you were no longer allowed to be an idol, just because you were an omega. How would that make you feel?” You said softly, seeing the understanding slowly grow on his face.

The blond was quiet for at least a full minute, staring intently at the wall as he thought. A range of emotions began to flash across his face, and the way the cinnamon in the air began to ease up assured you he was coming to an understanding. Movement at your side drew your attention to Chan as he sat down next to you, giving you a small smile.

“It doesn't seem fair, but that's how things work out sometimes,” He said. “Believe me, I wasn't thrilled at the idea at first. But I get it.”

Felix nodded his head. “Yeah, I get it too. I don't like it-”

“But you get it,” Chan finished.

“Yeah.”

You patted Chan’s leg. “I don't like it either, but I'm willing to do what I need to stay here. It's important to me.”

Felix let out a sniffle, and then a full on sniff. “I don't understand how you do it, though. You smell like a beta.”

“Dont worry about it,” You told him, shooting Chan a look.

The alpha blatantly ignored it. “It's a ‘Pheromone based perfume.’” He said, with air quotes and all.

Felix raised his eyebrows at that. “You're wearing someone else's scent?”

“I didn't steal it from them, if that's what you're asking,” You said, once again defensive.

Felix raised his hands. “I'm not judging.”

“Sounds kinda judgy,” you muttered.

He bit his lip, eyes flickering to where Chan sat next to you. He walked over to your other side, hesitating at the end of the couch until you let out a sigh, patting the seat. With your permission, Felix settled down next to you.

“I'm not judging you. I promise. I just don't … I dont like the idea of you having to hide yourself. It's not fair.”

Chan reached over from behind you to rest a hand on his omegas shoulder. Feeling the need to reassure him yourself, you grabbed one of Felix's hands with your free one (the other still resting on Chan’s leg, but you felt too awkward to move it now. Guess it was stuck there).

“It's okay,” You tried.

“It's really not.”

And it wasn't, so you didn't bother trying to argue with him about it. Instead, you allowed yourself to melt against the two aussies, warmth flowing into your body from both sides. You almost felt tempted to fall asleep.

“I am kind of curious,” Felix said, breaking the silence. “What you really smell like.”

You turned your head towards him, nose brushing up against his cheek. You mumbled out a sorry, pushing yourself back, subsequently pressing your back to Chan's chest.

“Not in a weird way. Its just that Chan mentioned it before, when he came home that night-” Felix clarified.

“Way to throw me under the bus,” Chan mumbled in english.

“-and I kind of wanted to see if he was right.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Right about what?”

“If you really smell as sweet as he said.”

Felix was giving you a flirtatious look, but you found yourself more amused than anything.

“He said that, huh?”

“Really mate?” Chan was pulling away from you and Felix, and you let out a squeak at the sudden loss of temperature from behind.

And also because your forgotten hand was suddenly remembered by both you and Chan as he tried to get up, your hand slipping from his leg and towards the floor with nothing left to support it. You tilted to the side, and both Chan and Felix moved to grab you. In the rush to catch you, you ended up pulling Felix towards you by your still joined hands, and he reached his own free hand out to catch himself. Your legs flailed as you tilted, and a hand cupped your head seconds before it hit the ground. Chan gave you and Felix panicked looks as the moving bodies settled, bent over at the waist where he was cradling your head, the other raised in Felix's direction as if to catch him.

You were the first one to laugh at the situation, a snort forcing its way through your nose. And then Felix followed, a high pitched cackle escaping as he realized the ridiculousness of your positions. Chan let out his own chuckle, trying to help you up, but his own leg caught on the couch, and he fell to his knees, hand still under your head.

Felix laughed harder.

“Are you okay?” You said, smiling wildly.

Face an inch from yours, Chan grinned. “I'm perfect.”

-0-0-

Sunday morning was the moment you finally managed to get Sooyoung alone. She was home, and she didn't have any classes that day, and you were ready for her.

When she came downstairs that morning, looking sleepy, you sat up on the couch. She glanced at you as she made her way to the kitchen, and you gave her your best puppy-dog eyes, patting the seat next to you.

She paused.

“I understand if you're still mad, but I really would like to talk. Please.”

She blinked slowly at you, mouth pursing, and to your disappointment, she continued on towards the kitchen. You had almost lost hope until you noticed her grab two glasses from the cupboard, filling one up with water and leaving it untouched, downing the other one in one go. She walked back towards the living room with the extra cup.

Straight towards you.

She placed the cup in front of you. “Your face is puffy. You always forget to drink water.”

You didn't bother holding back your smile. “So, not mad?”

Sooyoung let out a sigh, and finally sat down next to you.

“I’m not mad,” She repeated softly, gaze focused away from you. “To be truthful, I regretted snapping at you the minute I left the room.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You were right.”

She snorted. “Of course I was right. But I understand why you didn’t want to listen.”

The both of you were silent for a moment. You could hear heavy footsteps from above, your upstairs neighbor once again proving their feet must have been made out of lead. It was something the two of you had talked about often before, and the sudden reminder of your own little inside joke had both of you glancing at one another with smiles.

It felt like the air was suddenly lighter. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

You didn’t hesitate to throw yourself across the couch, Sooyoung opening up her arms with little resistance to catch you. It made your chest flutter as you soaked in her scent. For the first time in two weeks, you felt like everything was going to be alright between you two.

-0-0-

You should have known that good things don't last. The relief of both talks you had been dreading surprisingly going well lasted all up until Monday morning.

As all things do, the disasters came in three's.

The first inconvenience came in the form of a malfunctioning alarm, which you were positive you had set up the night before, but for some reason never rang. Instead, you were shaken awake by a panicked Sooyoung, telling you that if you didn't leave soon, you would be late for your flight. And so, half asleep, still wearing your pajamas top (you threw a hoodie on in the cab when you realized), and with messy hair, you arrived at the airport 15 minutes late.

You were just lucky you had packed the night before.

But that's when the next disaster struck. Stray Kids manager was waiting for you when you arrived, and he guided you to the check in area. But there was something wrong with the luggage options on your ticket, and the airline wouldn't let you send your suitcase with the rest of the group's luggage unless you paid extra (which you didn't have the money for). Of course, you only had one suitcase, and Soojin was convinced it would be fine for you to just take it with you as a carry on. And normally, you would agree.

But the idea of bringing your luggage with you through security very quickly brought up another problem. You had your pheromone perfume in your bag, more than enough for the trips you'd take on the tour, but more than the allowed amount of liquids that could pass through security. You realized pretty quickly that if they pulled that bottle out in front of everyone, it could very well out your lie to everyone right here, right now.

You panicked.

The rest of the group were gone, having just finished checking in when you arrived. Soojin had only stayed behind to make sure you got through the check in, and he was already on his way towards security. You turned to the lady at the check in desk with wide eyes, pretending like you just remembered something.

“I have a bottle of perfume in my bag. That can't pass security, can it?”

The lady paused. “Oh, no. Sorry, you'll have to leave it behind.”

Yeah, that wasn't happening. 

“Actually, is it okay if I leave it in my friend's suitcase? I'm sure he wouldn't mind,” You said, flashing your best smile.

The lady gave a hesitant look to where Soojin had already disappeared around the corner, and then to the few suitcases still being loaded onto the conveyor belt by workers. After a moment of consideration, she gave you a nod, and you moved.

You grabbed your bag, quickly located the perfume wrapped in a towel (so it wouldn't break), and under the careful eyes of the check in lady you grabbed the only bag you were sure belonged to one of the members. It was a dark black suitcase that Chan had been pulling to the pile of other suitcases when you arrived, and you blindly shoved the towel covered bottle in as quickly as you could.

You got back to your feet fast, and with a quick bow to the lady and the workers, you grabbed your own bag and hurried after the rest of the group.

Soojin gave you a weird look as you finally joined him. “Are you okay? Were there any other problems?”

“Nope,” You said a little too quickly. “Just had a question.”

He didn't get the chance to question it, as the security called him through to the other side at that moment.

Thankfully, everything seemed to go well. There were no red flags, the group made their way to the gate- Maya was thrilled to find out she would be sitting next to you on the plane- and you all settled down in the waiting area. It was only then that you approached the idols cautiously, doing your best to pretend you weren't being watched by the other staff.

It was Minho who spotted you first, raising his head as you approached and giving you a curious look. With his attention pulled, the others followed suit. Felix's face brightened as he spotted you, and Jisung gave you a wave.

“Hey! We almost thought you weren't going to make it,” Chan said from his own seat.

Next to him, Hyunjin gave you a side eye, purposely looking away from you as if you were an inconvenience. You ignored the alphas' behavior in favor of returning Felix's smile, the omega patting the seat next to him with a mischievous look. Chan let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

“Um, I was actually hoping I could talk to you,” You told Chan, gesturing with your head to a part of the waiting area that didn't have a lot of people.

At this, both Hyunjin and Jeongin turned to look at you, and the others were doing a bad job of pretending like they weren't also listening in. Chan gave you a sheepish smile, turning to hand Hyunjin his sweater.

“I'll be right back.”

You gave the others a strained smile, quickly making your way over to a corner you felt was isolated enough that you wouldn't be heard. Just as a precaution, you lowered your voice anyway.

“Sooo,” you began, giving a glance to the group still behind you. There were far too many eyes on you, including Hyunjin's less than friendly look. You grimaced. “What's his problem?” 

Chan glanced back over his shoulder, and Hyunjin immediately looked away. “Ah. That would be … our fault.”

“Come again?”

He sighed. “Felix hasn't stopped talking about you since Saturday. Nothing bad!” He assured you. “He hasn't mentioned … you know.” He gestured to you. “It's just, you know. Bringing you up to the others, trying to see what they think of you.”

“Oh god, is this about the courting?” You groaned, remembering the question he had asked on Saturday.

“When are you planning on courting them,” Felix had said jokingly, nudging Chan on the shoulder.

You had shot the two a look. “Never. It's against the rules.”

Felix raised a brow. “Oh, now you're worried about rules.”

You shot him a look. “I'm serious, Felix. If the company found out I hooked up with Chan, I would be fired on the spot. They can't afford that kind of scandal.”

“I mean-” Chan shut his mouth when you turned your glare to him, raising his hands. “Hey! It's not like either of us knew. You weren't even staff back then.”

“Do you think the company would care? The media? Your fans?”

Felix pursed his lips. “But cant we at least tell the other members?”

“No.”

“Why not? They wouldnt say anything, you can trust them!”

“I wasnt even sure I could trust you,” You told him bluntly. “The only reason I changed my mind was because I didnt want it to affect your relationship with Chan. Dont make me regret that choice.”

Felix had slumped back with a pout. “Okay, okay.”

He had dropped the topic, but you could see he want fully convinced. And now, trying to ignore the harsh judging look you were being given by Hyunjin, you were reassured in your decision against telling them the truth. If thos was how he was acting just at the mention of you …

“He means well,” Chan said softly. “Its just Hyunjin gets jealous, especially when it comes to Felix.”

“Tell Felix to stop talking about me then. I really dont want to have any more issues on this trip,” you groaned.

“Anymore?” Chan's brows pulled down in worry. “Is everything okay?”

“Thats actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I had a slight hiccup at the check in.” You raised your hand to quiet him when he started to speak. “It's okay, everything is sorted out.  But I had to stash something in your suitcase.”

He let out a nervous laugh. “It's not drugs, is it?”

You slapped his arms. “No, it's not drugs.” You both laughed at that. “I gave you my pheromone perfume. It would have been flagged if it went through security.”

Chan scratched the back of his head, looking confused. “I mean, yeah. That makes sense. But how did you know which bag was mine?”

You blinked slowly. “It was the one you handed to the workers, wasn't it?”

He still looked confused.

“Big, black? Wheels on the bottom?” No recognition on his face. Your heart started to beat a little quicker than normal. “Had a silver handle?”

He shook his head. “That doesn't sound like my bag, that sounds like-” He paused, and you had a sinking feeling in your stomach.

You both shared a knowing look.

“Whose bag was it?”

And as if fate itself was controlling your life, pulling the strings on irony, the third disaster reared its head in the shape of a jealous blond dancer.

Chan's head dropped with a bitter laugh.

“It was Hyunjins.”

Fuck.

-0-0-

Taglist: I think I got everyone. If I missed you or you want to be added to the tag list, free free to ask.

@3rachasninja @lilyuwon @brojustfknkillm3 @yukichan67 @mallielovssyou @mintchip17 @iweirdthingsblog @maisyyyyyy @neivivenaj @jc003 @skz-ot8-stay @passionandsuga @ms-flowergirl @kayleefriedchicken @seungmonggg @luvvvash @galaxy4489 @quokkahannie4 @joyofbebbanburg @xxeiraxx @lemonn015 @dazzlingjade @tenshimara @danceonmyheyday @staytinyluv @mamaj-right @dessianna1 @sillyhal @minh0scat @iris-iiridescent

[ode2rin]

MAKE YOU MINE .ೃ

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. best friends to lovers | pining | light angst to fluff

content/warnings. 3.1k+ wc | reader is in a toxic relationship with their boyfriend (not rin lmao the bf is unnamed) | characters are aged up to 18 ! | blue lock happened much much later here | profanity | a bit heavy in narration | minimal proofread

in which: rin was never ready, so he watches you go with your boyfriend, wishfully thinking it was him instead.

💭 thank you for the request @/saetorinrin (unaffectionate)!

best friends are supposed to knock some sense into you, that's what they're for. 

fortunately for you, your best friend of twelve years, itoshi rin, has always been quite good at it. right now, you're hoping he'll at least be kind while doing so.

“i don't know why you keep on going back to him. he looks like a fucking bull reincarnate, and he treats you like what? yeah, like a pup he dogs around.” 

that’s wishful thinking, though. none of rin's words are known for their kindness.

you've known since a tender age of ten that both itoshi brothers have a knack for colorful insults — or rather, they insist it's a form of descriptive artistry. moments like these make you wish you could smack your younger self for befriending your teal-eyed neighbors. you really should have avoided them like the plague from the very first glare they shot your way.

if you did, you wouldn't find yourself sitting on a swing in the park near both of your houses, while rin spends the past few minutes expressing his displeasure about you getting back with your ex.

but what’s done is done. growing up with them wasn't all bad, except for that messy fiasco between sae and rin that left you caught in the middle, trying to mend their broken bond.

in the end, you chose rin’s side. for what reason? that's a reminiscence best saved for another day.

right now, your priority lies in letting rin hear a piece of your mind for his way of describing your ex — or boyfriend? actually, you're not sure anymore.

“you’re being mean, rin.”

“and you’re being stupid, y/n.”

“you won’t get it.”

“won’t get what? that you’re being treated like absolute shit?”

that’s it. he pushed enough buttons now. you stood up from the swing to face the 6-foot tall man in front of you. 

“you won't get it because you’ve never loved anyone before! and you sure as hell have never been fucking loved!”

rin, before this moment, was sure he's accustomed to pain. 

but now, he realized he wasn't.

realizing what you've just said to your best friend, your eyes widen, and you immediately reach out to touch his arm, frustration turning into regret. you didn't mean that — god, you really didn't.

“rin, i... i didn't mean—”

“save it.”

you were right about the latter. but the former? rin wants nothing but to let you know otherwise. if only you goddamn knew. but that's just it for rin too — wishful thinking.

because you're not done loving your boyfriend, and he knows he's merely using that as an excuse. if honesty were to intervene, he wouldn't be ready to let you know.

how many years does one need to be ready to confess to their best friend of more than a decade anyway? he doesn't want to find out.

rin heard your whispered apology, and his heart sank. he watched as you lowered your gaze to the grass beneath your feet, the weight of regret palpable in the air.

“come on, it’s getting dark. let’s go home,” he suggested, voice tinged with concern.

“actually, he’s picking me up here. mom knows already.”

of course. of course, he's picking you up blocks away from your house. is that how things work now? if it were up to rin, he'd personally ask your mom to take you out on a monday evening. you know, like a respectful person would do?

yet again. if it was him. another wishful thinking.

“where the hell is he, then? i am not leaving you here,” rin stated, his frustration once again seeping through his words.

“he's just a little late —”

“or ditching you again?” 

“rin, please. just leave. i don't want to start again,” you pleaded, the exhaustion evident in your voice.

“fine.”

every step rin took away from you felt like chains dragging along, pulling him back with reluctance and impending regret. but he knew he had to leave. 

he didn't have a place to stay here, not in this park, and certainly not in your heart.

it had been a week since you got back together with your ex, and in that time, rin hadn't uttered a single word to you. his silence was a constant presence, weighing heavily on the air between you. in the past, you found solace in his silence, finding comfort in the unspoken understanding that existed between you. but now, it felt suffocating, as if every attempt to say his name would only add to the tension.

you didn't blame rin for giving you the silent treatment. after all, the hurtful words you had spoken had cut deep.

rin had been harsh, yes, but you knew it came from a place of concern. he was your best friend, and looking out for each other was what you do. deep down, you couldn't deny that there was some truth in what he had said about your boyfriend. there had been moments when he treated you poorly, but that was normal, right? every relationship had its ups and downs, and this was just one of them. and perhaps, in rin's eyes, you were being stupid, but when weren't you, in his opinion?

still, you should have known better. you shouldn't have said what you did. not when you know yourself that he’s been loved. even if it was hidden and unspoken, it still counted, didn't it?

but despite the silent treatment, rin never failed to walk you home. even when he was wearing his sweaty jersey after a rigorous practice, he would be there outside your classroom, waiting for you. walking behind you, not saying a word, but his presence was felt. occasionally, he would walk beside you, especially when you were about to reach the busy side of the neighborhood.

every single day of the past week, he had walked you home.

and even back then starting from the days of school, rin never lets you walk alone in the dark.

today, however, you had to tell him that you wouldn't be walking with him. you had a date with your boyfriend, and he was waiting for you outside the school.

grabbing your bag and heading towards the door, you caught a glimpse of rin's duffel bag and his back. he was waiting for you again. rushing over to him, you spoke up.

“rin, i won’t be able to walk with you today. we’re going out. he’s waiting for me outside.”

rin simply looked at you, then nodded. he turned his back to you, but you could swear there was something he wanted to say.

that was the thing with itoshi rin. he never spoke when you needed him to.

rin was right. he had always been right. and you, well, you were just fucking stupid.

as you reminisced about the earlier screaming match with your now ex-boyfriend, tears threatened to well up in your eyes.

i’m such a fucking idiot.

you had known deep down that you had settled, but you never expected him to stoop so low. part of you wanted to say good riddance, but the truth was that time spent with a person would always leave a mark, whether you wanted it or not.

it was past 9 pm, and that prick had the audacity to drop you four blocks away from your own house. you wanted to scream at him, to demand basic human decency, to drop you off at your doorstep. but another part of you, fueled by the remnants of pride, refused to beg for the bare minimum again. so, despite your nervousness about walking alone in the dark, you slammed the car door in his face and decided to walk the rest of the way on your own.

it had only been five minutes of walking when you felt the first raindrops fall on your forehead. the realization of what was about to happen made you want to scream at whoever was watching from above. how dare they make you this unlucky?

great. just great.

the drizzle quickly escalated into a full-blown rain, showing no signs of stopping any time soon. a few blocks ahead, you spotted the park where you and rin used to hang out. 

even in your darkest times, he’s still in your mind. it’s funny as it is ironic.

if only you had stayed content with loving your best friend from afar, maybe you wouldn't be feeling this hurt, right? 

maybe you wouldn't have ended up looking for love in all the wrong places when the only place you truly wanted it to blossom had been right beside you all along.

exactly ten minutes before rin’s usual bedtime, his phone rang, your name shown on the screen. and for some reason, he could feel his heart leap out of his chest from how fast it was beating.

something was wrong.

without wasting a second, rin answered your call on the second ring.

“hello?” he said, anticipation heavy on his heart. he needed to hear your voice.

but anticipation was immediately replaced by seething anger and heightened worry as he heard your sniffs on the other end of the line.

“where are you?” 

“rin... i know you're mad at me, but i didn't know who else to call–”

“it's raining. where the hell are you?” rin's voice grew heavy with indescribable anger, each word dripping with his overwhelming emotions.

“he dropped me off near the school, but i'm here by the park now. i–”

"stay where you are. i'm coming. don't end the call. i need to know you're safe." or else i will fucking lose it. 

it’s these times that rin was glad he’s an athlete. within five minutes, he arrived at the park, his strides quick and determined. he would have reached you even faster if it weren't for the umbrella he was holding and the sound of your sniffs and sobs on the other end of the line, causing his heart to sink and his steps to falter.

he doesn't even let a goddamn mosquito come close to you, but that asshole had the audacity to make you cry? how dare he.

the rain had lessened compared to its earlier downpour, it was now more of a drizzle. but if you had been here before calling him, that meant you had been standing under the rain for almost an hour. with that realization, rin thinks your ex should watch his back from now on; he would never know when a ball might come flying straight at him — accidentally, of course.

as rin reached the park, his eyes scanned the area, searching desperately for you. and there, in one of the benches, he saw you. your head was tucked into your knees, one hand hugging them tightly while the other clutched the phone to your ear.

he swore, he fucking swore, he could feel his heart pounding in his throat at the sight of you.

ever since you entered rin's life, you taught him a lot of things. you taught him everything about how life was better when you had someone to lean on. 

but most of all, everything rin knew about love, he knew from you. 

and when he realized he loved you but couldn't let you know, the love he knew became intertwined with all the pain he learned.

this is hurting him. you, you were hurting him.

maybe you were right all along.

“you're right, y/n,” rin whispered into the phone, his voice barely audible as he stood a few feet away from you, the umbrella slipping from his grasp. he still had his phone pressed to his ear.

rin couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his own heartbeat and the soft pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the ground.

how many damn years does it take to work up the courage to spill your guts to your best friend of more than a decade? rin found out that sometimes, all it takes is one look at them in pain to make you throw caution to the wind. screw all the timing and planning.

“rin…” you called out, looking around to locate him.

locked in a gaze, time seemed to stand still as rin's eyes traced the contours of your face. your eyes, red-rimmed and soaked from the rain, revealed what you had endured. your drenched clothes and disheveled hair painted a picture of you running around in this rain. he couldn't help but think that you looked like a wounded soul, stripped of your own heart.

“you're right,” he repeated once more, and he was certain you could hear him, judging by the look of confusion on your face.

it wasn't a “now or never” moment for rin. 

it was a now or never love another soul ever again moment. because to rin, it will always be you and him in the end. and that’s no wishful thinking, but a promise he made to himself.

there will be no after you, but just you. that was it for itoshi rin. 

so he has to let you know. the hell with what happens next.

“about last week, you’re right about that. i would never get it,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “i would never get how someone could ever treat you this bad by someone who claims to love you. because i have loved you since we were kids, and i would rather die than leave you out here alone in the pouring rain.”

if this was what you called love, then maybe you taught him wrong. 

rin could see how your eyes widened at what he said. and right then and there, he prepared himself for the worst.

it’s happening.

rin ended the call. he couldn't bear to hear your immediate response, fearing the rejection he had long braced himself for. with the umbrella in hand, he made his way towards you, his eyes focused on the wet ground, avoiding direct contact with your gaze.

you can reject him later. he needs to get you home first.

“come on, let’s go,” was the only thing rin said. he placed the umbrella over your head, shielding you from the rain while he stood exposed, allowing the droplets to soak him further.

you gazed up at him, seeking his eyes, “can you look at me, rin?” 

and see the look of pity in your eyes? even at these moments, you’re cruel to him. 

“i don’t want to.”

undeterred, you persisted, “why?”

because i’m about to lose you.

“i made peace with it a long time ago,” rin admitted, “let's just go. you're going to get sick.”

“say it again.”

your gaze held unwavering, demanding more from him. there was a longing in your eyes, a hunger for honesty. you craved his words, his confession – you need rin to speak now or else you will never know peace.

“no.”

“then i’m not going anywhere. say it agai —”

“fine! i have loved you since we were kids and i have loved you ever since i'm yet to even know what it was i was feeling for you! now, please, let’s go!”

silence enveloped the park. but rin could hear his own heart beating in rhythm with the soft pitt patts of the rain.

this was it then? twelve damn years. all those years, now dissipating like raindrops lost in the drain.

the rain continued to pour, serving as a backdrop to the delicate dance of emotions unfolding between you. each droplet seemed to echo the passage of time, washing away the years of looking at you in a lovelorn gaze.

rin knew where this was headed. he may not have watched many romance movies, but confessions like these – he had seen them before. this was yet another addition to the countless stories of shattered dreams lost to the rain.

but then as fate would have it, it will always intervene.

and so, as if a radiant sun had broken through the stormy clouds, a smile bloomed on your face, casting away the shadows of doubt in rin's mind.

“i’ve been waiting for those words my whole life, itoshi rin.”

rainbows really do appear after the pouring rain.

but only for a fleeting grace of moment in the sky.

“but i can’t, rin. not now. i’m too hurt to love you freely.”

the confession escaped your lips, heavy with the weight of past heartbreak and lingering pain. and to rin, it felt as if the rainbows had faded, leaving behind a somber reminder of the scars etched deep within.

it would be a lie not to admit that he was disheartened, but nonetheless, rin understood. 

but rin was no saint; he can be selfish. he wants to be selfish for you. so there he knelt, bringing himself eye to eye with you, his hands gently cupping your cheeks. 

“i’ll wait. i can wait,” it’s not a lie that the younger itoshi had a penchant for being selfish as he is selfless. 

but he has waited for you for as long as he has learned to kick a ball. so what's a little more?

“are you sure?” the question escaped your lips, a plea for reassurance.

if it means it’s you and him in the end after all, then he’s nothing but definite.

rin's hands on your cheeks tightened gently, his voice a gentle murmur that danced along the edges of your heart, “take all the time you need. by the time you're done, i'll make sure to make you mine.”

the raindrops, cascading around you like tears from the heavens, seemed to pause in reverence as rin's words hung in the air.

as the rain began to subside, rin leaned closer, his forehead gently pressing against yours. your eyes closed, feeling his breath mingling with yours, you hear him softly sighed against your lips.

“i’ll treat you so good, y/n. so good. fuck, you have no idea.”

sure, you’re the first person itoshi rin has ever loved. but he can show you. better than your shitty ex ever could.

if there’s anyone who can most definitely show you what love was truly like, it will be him.

for a few precious moments, time seemed to stand still as both of you remained in that intimate embrace, rin's hands tenderly cradling your face, and your gaze locked in the depths of his teal eyes.

“let’s go home?” rin asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“only if you’ll walk with me.”

rin's lips curled into a small, affectionate smile at your hushed response. he reached out, extending his hand toward you, a silent invitation. “i've been doing that for the past years.”

and he’ll continue to do it. 

few years from now, he will make sure he’s the man you’re walking with. be that on the way home, or down the aisle.

because to itoshi rin, it will always be you and him.

note. no thoughts, just pure vibes here. just kidding! here's the first request in my milestone event, and i enjoyed writing this despite it being shitty as an outcome. thanks for reaching this far!

💭 back to: milestone event

[solarmorrigan]

I have a lot of thoughts about Steve who craves physical affection, who thinks of his worth in terms of what he can do for other people, and who got very drunk at high school parties. This is one of them

CW for heavily implied past dubcon (not between Eddie and Steve). Please take care

-

Eddie has never seen Steve drunk.

At least – not up close. There had been a few high school parties back in the day where Eddie had passed by the “Keg Stand King,” but since he’s come to know Steve personally (intimately), Steve has barely touched alcohol.

He’s told Eddie the story of being drugged against his will and how he doesn’t want to repeat the feeling of losing control, and how he doesn’t like not being able to drive if he needs to, and how the hangover would probably just trigger a migraine anyway – and, really, he just doesn’t drink much anymore.

Yet tonight had been a special occasion: Robin’s birthday. She herself isn’t much for alcohol (for at least some reasons that match up with Steve’s), but drinking, she said, feels like a part of the birthday experience. She’d somehow gotten Steve to match her beer for beer, for “emotional support,” and it hadn’t taken long for the both of them to become entirely inebriated.

Time has apparently greatly eroded Steve’s tolerance.

Eddie had distantly expected him to be kind of a bitchy drunk—and he had become a bit cattier, for sure—but mostly he’d just become affectionate. There had been hugs for nearly everyone, and he’d spent the latter half of the party slowly migrating into Eddie’s lap, plying him with constant kisses on the cheek and giggling ridiculously at nearly everything Eddie had said.

It had been sort of adorable (not that Eddie will tell him that; no, he’s going to sit on that information until it benefits him).

It’s a little less fun now that he’s trying to cart Steve up to his room and into bed. Steve is a bit wobbly, and a lot heavy, and is much more interested in trying to cling to Eddie like a koala and bury his face in Eddie’s neck than he is in actually walking anywhere.

“Y’know, we could cuddle to your heart’s content if you’d just let me get you to bed,” Eddie points out when he and Steve have stalled out partway down the hall, leaning against the closed door to the bathroom.

Steve hums vaguely, tightening the grip he has on Eddie’s t-shirt. “But you’re out here,” he mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

A shiver travels down Eddie’s spine at the feeling of Steve’s warm breath ghosting across his throat, but it doesn’t go much further than a gentle, dying flutter in his gut. As affectionate as Steve has been, as hungry for contact as he’s acted all night, there’s been nothing sexual about it. It’s been all hugs and sweet kisses, not heated embraces and sloppy make outs.

Besides– Steve’s drunk. Eddie’s not going to take advantage.

He wedges a hand between himself and Steve and gently pushes Steve back.

“I’m coming to bed with you, you colossal dork,” Eddie says.

Steve blinks at Eddie, slightly unfocused. “Oh.” He finally heaves up and away from the wall, grabbing Eddie’s hand to tug him along as he weaves unsteadily down the hall. “Well why didn’t you say so?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, all affection. “Where else would I be going?”

Steve stops when they get to his room, apparently pondering the answer.

“Away?” he finally volunteers, half-questioning, as if he’s hoping he’s wrong.

“No, baby,” Eddie assures him immediately, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “I’m staying. Gotta make sure you don’t choke on your tongue after you pass out, anyway.”

“’m not that drunk,” Steve says; he rolls his eyes and then immediately seems to regret it, reaching out for Eddie’s shoulder to steady himself.

“Uh huh,” Eddie drawls. “Okay, time for bed, big boy.”

Grumbling, Steve releases Eddie to shuffle over to the bed, where he flops down on his back with a sigh, jeans and all.

“Alright, not exactly what I meant, but I can work with this,” Eddie says, kneeling on the bed by Steve’s hip.

They’d managed to ditch their shoes in the entryway, but they’re otherwise fully dressed, and Steve is going to be uncomfortable if he tries to spend the whole night in his belt and jeans.

Steve squirms a bit when Eddie reaches for his belt buckle, as if he’s not quite sure whether to move away or not.

“Eddie…” he groans – an exasperated sort of groan, rather than the usual way he groans Eddie’s name when he’s squirming on the bed.

“Just hold still,” Eddie shushes him with a quick pat to the hip.

He gets as far as pulling the tongue of the belt through the buckle before Steve’s hands shoot out and grab Eddie by the wrists. His grip is surprisingly strong, considering how uncoordinated he’d been tonight, and Eddie stills immediately.

“Steve?” Eddie looks up to see Steve staring down at him, wide-eyed and apprehensive; hell, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he might say Steve looks… sort of frightened.

“Not– not tonight,” Steve says, enunciating carefully, and Eddie’s confusion only increases.

He doesn’t want his belt off tonight? Is that what he’s worked up about?

In the wake of Eddie’s baffled lack of response, Steve only grows more insistent, tugging Eddie’s hands away from his waist.

“Not while I’m–” Steve breaks off, licking his lips nervously. He shakes his head and adds quietly, “Please.”

Brows furrowed, Eddie stares at Steve a second longer. “Not while you’re…?” Then the penny drops, and Eddie jerks away from Steve so quickly that Steve barely has time to let go. “Oh shit, no. That’s not– no, I’m not– Steve, fuck, no, that’s not what I’m doing.”

Steve stares up at Eddie, the anxiety he’s a little too drunk to mask still lingering in his eyes.

“I promise, I was only trying to get your belt and pants off so you’d be more comfortable. For sleeping!” Eddie says quickly. “But you can keep them on if you want. Hell, put on more layers. Do you want a jacket?”

Distantly, Eddie realizes he’s rambling and tries to stop; it doesn’t seem to be helping.

“I– I know I was kissing you,” Steve says, then glances away with a grimace, seeming a bit more sober now. “Practically throwing myself at you. ’m sorry, I just–”

“Don’t be sorry. Don’t be,” Eddie says firmly. “Even if you were throwing yourself at me—even though you weren’t; like, I can tell the difference between cuddly you and horny you, okay?—but even if you had been, you can still say no. You can always say no. But I swear, Steve, I was only trying to get you comfy, that’s all.”

For a moment, Steve just breathes, processing Eddie’s words as carefully as his sloshed brain will allow.

“Are you still going to stay?” he finally asks. “Even though I don’t want to have sex?”

“Of course,” Eddie blurts, some dizzying combination of baffled, anxious, and incensed. “I’m only gonna leave if you tell me to.”

And even then, he’d only go as far as the couch downstairs (just in case).

Slowly, Steve nods, then reaches for his belt to pull it off in a series of determined, clumsy movements. He drops it on the floor when he’s done but makes no move to remove his jeans.

Eddie, following suit, resigns himself to an uncomfortable night. He strips off his jewelry and his own belt but leaves his pants on.

All the lights go out, save for a small, dim lamp on Steve’s desk, and then Eddie crawls on top of the covers with Steve, pulling the blanket from the end of the bed—a gift from Claudia—up over both of them.

A little of the churning, anxious mess in Eddie’s chest eases when Steve immediately plasters himself to his side, resting his head on Eddie’s chest (and Eddie just knows there’s going to be drool there come morning, but he can’t bear to move him). All the same, even as he hears Steve’s breathing even out into sleep, Eddie can’t get his mind to rest.

What has he done to give Steve the impression that he’d try to fuck him when he’s too drunk to really say yes? What has he done to make him think he’d leave if Steve doesn’t put out?

Nothing.

Genuinely and truly, Eddie can’t think of anything. There have been plenty of times they’ve hung out, even shared a bed, and they haven’t had sex. Sure, they’re active, but they do actually do other things together.

There have been other nights where sex has seemed like a sure thing, only to be halted by an apologetic look from Steve and the start of a migraine. There have been times Eddie’s called it off because his anxiety has reared up and bit him in the ass. There’s never been anger over it.

That leaves two options: it’s either an imagined scenario stirred up by anxiety and insecurity and alcohol, or… it’s based on a different experience, in a different time and place.

All things considered, Eddie has a terrible, sinking feeling that he knows which one it is.

[lilmoonbunny]

Betrayal; Brynjolf

When Karliah appears back at the Thieves Guild after Mercer has informed them of Y/N's death, Brynjolf is quick to see red.

Spoilers for the Thieves Guild questline.

Brynjolf was a thief, there was no doubt about it. Thievery was in his blood, and always had been. Unattached, flirtatious, and talented at what he did, that was how most people would describe him, yet there was always someone who saw him differently.

Y/N, the latest addition to the thieves guild, was recruited by Brynjolf a few months ago now and the pair became fast friends. Having been the one to recruit and train her, Brynjolf knew a lot about the woman, including her distrust of those around her.

It took Y/N a while to open up to Brynjolf, for reasons unbeknownst to him. Naturally, he assumed there was something in her past, a lover, perhaps? Brynjolf didn’t like the way that thought made him feel, so he did what he did best and ignored it. He didn’t have feelings for her, he couldn’t…

So why did he feel so depressed when Mercer told him how Karliah had killed the woman in cold blood? Why did he lock himself away for days on end? Surely it was just a friend thing, right? He totally didn’t regret not telling her how he felt. Why would he?

“You better have a good reason for coming here, Karliah.” Brynjolf spat, being held back from attacking by Rune. “I should kill you where you stand.”

“It was not I who betrayed the guild,” she spoke softly, sensing Brynjolf’s anger.

“That is not what I am talking about,” he raged, freeing himself from Rune’s grasp and flying towards Karliah, only to be grabbed once again.

“She is telling the truth, Bryn,”

That voice…? It can’t be, surely.

“Y/N!?” Brynjolf immediately sprung backwards, holding the speaker at arm’s length. “You’re alive? Mercer said-“

“Mercer tried to kill me, Brynjolf. You’ve been lied to this whole time. Karliah saved my life.” She spoke quietly as she stared into Brynjolf’s erratic eyes.

He couldn’t believe that she was here in front of him. Mercer said that she had been killed, yet here she stood with Karliah, claiming that Mercer – the man who he trusted more than anything – had betrayed them.

There was no doubt that Y/N had been injured, the way she stood was enough proof of that, but by Mercer? That was not possible… So why did he trust her more than Mercer?

A sudden tug on his hand pulled Brynjolf from his thoughts. “Listen to her, Bryn. For me.”

He could never deny her anything.

And so he listened to Karliah. Every single word she spoke angered him and made him resent Mercer. His hand was still in Y/N’s, and he never wanted to let go, squeezing it gently to calm himself, as well as to remind himself that she was alive.

“I’ll kill him,” Brynjolf snarled. He wasn’t entirely sure what angered him more. That he had betrayed the entire guild, or that he had tried to kill Y/N whose hand was still in his own, earning more than a few confused looks from the other guild members, yet a knowing one from Karliah.

A soft squeeze on his hand pulled him from his anger, however, and his gaze fell on the woman beside him as she gave him a comforting smile. He nodded at her, taking a deep breath to completely calm himself.

She is alive and here. Everything is fine, Brynjolf.

Most people had left the Flagon by now - their anger at Mercer’s betrayal fuelling their plans for revenge – leaving only Brynjolf, Y/N, and Karliah, the latter being quick to excuse herself.

“Thank you for trusting me, Brynjolf,” Y/N whispered, as though she was ashamed of what she was saying. “I didn’t know if you would.” Her words had the red-heads eyes widening as he quickly spun to face her with a force that almost sent him flying.

“I’ll always trust you. I’m just… I’m glad you are alive.” He admitted, one hand resting on the table in front of them whilst the other nursed his drink.

Y/N smiled to herself, a blush running up her cheeks as she took his hand in hers again.

“I’m glad to be back here with you.”

Now it was his turn to blush as he cleared his throat, unsure at what to say.

As he glanced over at Y/N, he noticed that she was already staring at him, and for the first time for as long as she had known him, Brynjolf was rendered speechless.

“I think I should be getting some rest,” Y/N said before he could think of something to say. She lifted herself from the seat she occupied, releasing Brynjolf’s hand in the process. “You should too.”

Brynjolf stared at her for a moment as she turned to leave.

“Y/N,” he called out, abruptly standing up.

Y/N turned to face him, confusion on her features. “What is it, Bryn?”

He hesitated.

“Please never leave me again,”