#this chapter is so long and it will be longer

[somehow-progressing]

I’d like to note that this doesn’t work for multi-chapter fics that are posted over a longer period. AO3 will count Hits every time as long as you haven’t visited from that IP address in the last 24 hours, but you can only leave Kudos once. Meaning the hit count will increase as subscribed readers visit each new chapter, but each one can only leave one Kudos, so the Kudos-Hits ratio isn’t proportionate to how good the fic is.

Personally I just read the first paragraph or two to see if the writing style vibes or not. And that’s if the summary has already interested me.

Another AO3 thing I’m curious about, how do yall decide if something is good enough to read? Usually I follow a rule of 1 kudos for every 10 hits. One because it’s easy math and two it’s yet to fail me. Thoughts? Do you just go for it and pray it’s good?

[ohbueckers]

HEART OF A WOMAN. … and she gives me all her trust and i’m abusing it right now.

06, CHAPTER SIX. SOMEBODY ELSE’S GIRL (MINE FIRST).

ju speaks. happy late thanksgiving if you celebrate! this is the quickest i’ve ever finished a chapter and i think it’s because i switched between their views, so it’s also a little long. but let me know your thoughts cauuuuse… it’s all mess from here. pairing. wnba!paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. sexual innuendos, sappy paige.

present day, june 2025.

practice had just ended, a longer one than usual might i add. most of the team had trickled out, grabbed their stuff and hit the showers. i lingered near the bench with maya, who had allegedly been here under some important circumstance, but i just think she wanted to see me. we haven’t hung out much recently.

she’d been talking my ear off about the game tomorrow, but i wasn’t fully listening. my focus? split—like always. out of the corner of my eye, nai walked in, hair tied back, a stack of papers in her hand. she didn’t look over here, probably didn’t even realize i was in the gym. what was she here for?

maya nudged me, temporarily snapping me out of it. “you hear me?” she asked, tilting her head.

“uh, yeah,” i lied, blinking as i turned back to her. “somethin’ about their zone defense, right?”

maya rolled her eyes. “you’re hopeless,” she said, but she was laughing.

i chuckled too, stroking a hand over my chin. my eyes drifted back to nai. she’d settled near the scorer’s table, flipping through the papers like whatever she was working on was life or death. she’s more locked in for the game than i am.

“yo, nai!” i called, my voice echoing through the quiet of the empty gym.

she glanced up, startled, her brows furrowing slightly before she turned her attention toward me. “what?” she asked. her tone was neutral, but not exactly inviting.

“come here for a sec,” i said, leaning back against the bench, spreading my legs out, my arms draped over the sides like i wasn’t hanging on her reaction. maya’s eyes followed over to me, her smirk growing, but she didn’t say a word.

nai hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she exhaled sharply, setting the papers down on the table. she walked over, her sneakers squeaking faintly on the court. she wasn’t in any rush, but the way her eyes stayed locked on me, i knew she was curious.

“what do you need, bueckers?” she asked, stopping just far enough to keep some space between us. her arms crossed over her chest, and i couldn’t help but notice the way her forearms flexed slightly with the movement.

“relax, i ain’t gonna bite,” i teased, tilting my head with a grin. “wanted to ask if you saw the film on the liberty’s screens. got it on my phone—figured you might have some notes since, you know, you’re always prepared.”

her eyes narrowed, but she’s definitely amused, biting back a smile. “you’re only asking me because you didn’t do your homework, huh?”

i shrugged, unbothered. “maybe.”

maya laughed beside me, chiming in, “at least she’s honest.”

nai rolled her eyes but stepped closer, her gaze flicking between me and maya. she held her hand out. “fine. show me the video.”

“thought you’d never ask,” i said, pulling out my phone. my thumb hovered over the screen as i unlocked it, my stomach flipping briefly as the lock screen flashed. thankfully, i’d changed it from the polaroids this morning, though the thought of it, thought of her, still made my chest tighten. in a good way.

i tapped the screen, pulling up the clip, and held it out to her. “here,” i said. “maya and i were just talking about it.” it’s a breakdown of their off-ball movement—mostly betnijah and sabrina setting those high screens.

nai leaned in slightly, her shoulder brushing mine as she took the phone. i parted my lips, forcing my focus onto the video.

“you weren’t talking about this,” she murmured, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she glanced at maya.

maya snickered, leaning forward to watch over nai’s shoulder. “caught us. but it’s relevant.”

i watched them both for a second, my eyes settling over nai longer than i should’ve let it. she was so close, close enough that her shampoo—something clean and floral—filled my nose.

her fingers tapped the screen as she rewound the clip. “see this?” she said, pointing to a sequence where sabrina set a screen to free betnijah for a backdoor cut. “they do this every time the ball swings weak-side. if you’re late, it’s an automatic bucket.”

“makes sense,” maya murmured, nodding along.

the video played on, but it was just noise to me. nai shifted again, and my eyes dropped to the curve of her jaw, the faint flush on her cheeks that was always there, down to the sliver of skin her button-up gave me a show of when she crouched down, her hips—

“paige,” nai said suddenly, snapping me out of my daze. God, i’ve been having a lot of those. it was a stern say of my name, and i blinked, realizing i hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

“huh?” i asked.

she sighed, handing the phone back. “i said, they’re predictable, but you have to be locked in. no gambling—you’ll get caught overplaying on those screens.”

“oh. yeah, for sure,” i replied quickly, slipping my phone back into my pocket. “locked in. got it.” my hands found the hem of my shorts, fidgeting with the fabric just to do something.

maya raised a brow, glancing between us. “you good, paige?”

“always,” i replied, shooting her a grin as i scrunched my face up, like the question was absurd. i caught the knowing (or the i think i know) look she shot nai. i’m terrible at not being obvious.

nai shook her head, muttering something under her breath before heading back to the scorer’s table.

i need to talk to maya.

game day was different. they always started early for me, the arena was quieter than i liked, but now the whole team was here. sneakers squeaked against the polished court, basketballs bounced rhythmically, and the team’s warmup playlist blasted from the speakers. but me? i was posted up at the scorer’s table, laptop open and notes scattered around me, running through every last detail of game day operations.

or trying to, anyway. a slightly sweaty paige in her jersey just a few feet away from me was a very distracting sight.

next to me, maya leaned back in her chair, legs crossed over each other like she didn’t have a care in the world. she’d been going back and forth between scrolling on her phone and making snarky comments about my “game face,” which, according to her, was “way too intense for someone who isn’t even playing.”

“you know it’s not that serious, right?” she teased, snapping me out of my focus as she nudged my half-empty in-n-out cup closer to me.

“it is that serious,” i muttered, grabbing the cup without thinking and taking a sip. the straw gurgled, and i frowned, realizing there was barely a drop of my chocolate milkshake left.

maya grinned. “right. because if the scoreboard malfunctions, the world’s ending.”

i rolled my eyes, setting the cup down and returning to my notes. “not all of us can just show up to work and look pretty, maya.”

“first of all, i do a lot more than look pretty,” she shot back, feigning offense. “i contribute to team morale.”

i snorted, finally glancing her way. “uh-huh. is that what we’re calling it now?”

she kept her smile, leaning back in her chair. “yup. and speaking of morale… i gotta ask you something.”

i paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. maya’s tone had shifted—just slightly—but enough to make me wonder. “what’s up?”

she hesitated for half a second, which was already suspicious. maya didn’t do hesitation. “it’s about paige.”

my throat went dry, and i reached for the cup again, even though i knew it was empty. i needed something to do, anything to buy myself a second to think.

“what about her?”

“i’m just saying,” she starts, sitting up straight now. “you two are tight, right?” she asked, her head tilting as she studied me. “she talks to you a lot.”

tight? not exactly the word i’d use, but i nodded anyway. “yeah, i guess.”

maya leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “she’s just… hard to read sometimes, you know? one minute, she’s all chill, the next, she’s pulling away. i can’t tell if she’s playing hard to get or if she’s just like that.”

shit. of course maya was asking about paige. of course she’d come to me, thinking i had some kind of insight. of course maya was trying to lock her down. she was older, probably didn’t have time for whatever game paige was throwing. she wanted a relationship. i’m sure if she knew what paige and i’s relationship was like, she’d call us childish. i wouldn’t disagree.

i swallowed, nodding slowly as if i was carefully considering her words, but my brain was going a mile a minute. why’s she pulling away from you? probably because she was tangled up in my sheets just last night. i’m pretty sure a good number of her workout clothes are on my floor. the towel she’s been using the past couple of days hanging up in my bathroom. i forced the thought away, along with the guilt that came with it.

“i mean, yeah, she talks to me, but…” my voice trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence without giving myself away. “i think she’s just busy with the season,” i redirect.

maya raised an eyebrow, more to herself. “it seems like she’s got time for everyone else. it’s me she’s dodging.”

everyone else. me? what lies has paige been feeding her?

my stomach churned. i hated this. i hated that she was asking me these questions, hated that i didn’t have an honest answer for her. most of all, i hated that i could feel her suspicion growing with every passing second.

i forced a tight smile, my fingers idly fidgeting with the straw in my cup. “paige isn’t really the relationship type,” i said, hoping that would satisfy her.

maya laughed dryly, shaking her head. “yeah, i’m starting to figure that out. but damn, i like her, nai. she’s just—” she paused, letting out a small sigh. fuck. “she’s different.”

i couldn’t help it—the words slipped out before i could stop them. i wanted to know too. know if she makes her feel the same way. “different how?”

her eyes softened as she smiled a little. i knew she was looking at paige. i follow her eye line, and there she is. stretching while she bites back a laugh at her own joke. “i don’t know. she’s got that… thing. she’s fun, she’s confident, she makes you feel like you’re the only one she’s paying attention to when you’re with her.”

yeah, and that’s exactly the problem, i thought bitterly. because wasn’t just paying attention to maya. she wasn’t just fun and confident with maya.

i nodded again, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything else. “i get it.” and i did. i got it more than she knew.

“do you, though?” maya asked, her tone skeptical as she studied me again. “you’re not acting like someone who gets it.”

i forced a laugh. “i’m just tired,” i lied, standing up and grabbing my laptop. “long morning.”

maya just watched me for a moment, then nodded, leaning back in her chair again. “alright, well, if you hear anything…” she let the sentence hang in the air, her meaning clear.

i just gave her a noncommittal shrug, pretending to focus on packing up my stuff.

paige needs to talk to maya.

it’s our second game against the liberty. the team’s been stressed about it all morning, but i can’t say i feel the same. muffled voices and footsteps echoed in the locker room, but i couldn’t focus on any of it. not the game plan, not the liberty, not even fucking maya for christ’s sake.

the only thing i could focus on was nai, pinned against the row of lockers, her lips pressed feverishly against mine like the game had already started and she was playing to win. my jersey stuck to my skin, damp from warmups, but i didn’t care. my arms flexed as i braced them on either side of her, caging her in, every breath i took mingling with hers in the secluded space near the showers. nobody should be coming back here, catching us. it’s why i chose it.

“you,” i murmured against her lips, one hand sliding down to her hip and gripping it like it was my lifeline. my other hand wrapped gently around her neck, pulling her closer. “you’re drivin’ me crazy, nai. you know that?”

her laugh was breathless, her hands trailing up under the jersey she’d untucked, nails scraping against my stomach and making me shudder. “you started it,” she whispered, her lips brushing over mine, teasing me.

i didn’t answer, couldn’t. i just leaned in and kissed her again, deeper this time, my tongue sliding in her mouth in a way that made me forget we were just minutes away from tip-off. she tasted like the cherry lip balm she always wore, and it was doing something to me, making my heart race faster than the pregame drills ever could.

she pulled back slightly, her breath hot against my cheek. “paige,” she murmured, a warning tone in her voice like we should stop. but her hands stayed right where they were, gripping the waistband of my shorts like she couldn’t let go.

“what?” i asked, furrowing my brows. my lips trailed down her jaw, then lower, brushing against the curve of her neck. “say it.”

“we shouldn’t—” she started, but i cut her off with another kiss, silencing whatever logic she was about to throw my way.

“don’t care,” i said, pulling back just enough to look at her. my thumb brushed against her cheek, over the faint blush forming from the warmth of the room. “i don’t care, nai. you gotta know that by now.”

her eyes searched mine, and for a second, i thought she was about to tell me to stop. but then her lips crashed into mine again, and i grinned cockily.

i couldn’t stop. i didn’t want to. she had this pull on me, always had, and every time we found our way back to each other like this, it only made it harder to let go.

i didn’t want to let go anymore.

i was thinking straight now—for the first time in a minute, actually thinking. she drove me crazy in every way possible, just like i’d said, but it wasn’t just that. it wasn’t just the way she kissed me or the way she looked at me like she’d love me like this in every lifetime. it was her, all of her. the fire, the attitude, the way she cared so much about the smallest things. the way she called me out when i was slacking but never let me fall too far. she wasn’t perfect, but damn, she was perfect for me.

i’d tried moving on, tried ignoring it, tried putting someone else in her place a million times before, but nothing worked. nobody was her. nobody ever could be.

and maybe that made me selfish. maybe it wasn’t fair to her, not when i kept coming back like this, asking for pieces of her without offering anything steady in return. but for once, i didn’t want to pretend.

her breath hitched as i kissed her deeper, tilting my head into it, and i felt my chest tighten. this wasn’t just hooking up. it wasn’t just history or habit or whatever excuse i used to tell myself. “i love you,” i breathed against her lips, my hand tightening around her hip. “i’m serious, nai. i love you. i don’t wanna keep sneakin’ around like this. i wanna be with you—for real.”

her eyes widened. she looked like she might push me away, laugh it off, tell me i was lying. but she didn’t. she just stared at me, her lips parted, her breath shaky.

“paige…” she started, her voice soft, uncertain as she brought her hands up to my shoulders.

i leaned my forehead against hers, my hands moving to cup her face. “nah, don’t ‘paige’ me,” i said, licking my lips, trying to find the right words. “you gotta let me say this. i want you, baby. only you. i’ll figure it out—i’ll make it work. just… let me.”

silence. her hands stayed on me, fingers brushing against the collar of my jersey. i looked into her eyes, and i knew i was laid bare. no bravado, no jokes, no quick quips to deflect. just me, standing there, begging without words. let me. please let me.

the sound of a buzzer echoed through the hallway, signaling it was time to hit the court. i didn’t move, didn’t pull away. not until she gave me an answer. not until i knew.

“you don’t get to do this now.”

“why not?”

“because it’s game day,” she countered, sternly mothering me in the way i loved, and the flash of vulnerability in her eyes nearly knocked the air out of my lungs. she was quiet for a moment too long, like she was wrestling with herself, with me, with us.

finally, she exhaled, her hands smoothing down my sides. “go win it, p. we’ll… talk later.”

the words were a promise and a deflection all at once, and we both knew it. my chest ached, but i nodded, biting back the urge to push for more, to beg for her to meet me where i was.

i stood there for a moment longer, just watching her, memorizing the way she looked at me—like she was caught somewhere between wanting me and pushing me away for the last time.

the sound of footsteps in the hallway broke the moment, and i sighed, dragging a hand over my face. leaning down, i pressed a kiss to her forehead, inhaling the faint scent of her hair like it was enough to carry me through the next two hours.

“later,” i echoed, and i left the locker room without another word.

halftime ends, and the buzzer sounds, pulling me and everyone else back into the game. i’ve been occupied—timing, logistics, making sure everything’s in place for the team. it’s hectic, and i’ve barely had time to focus on the game itself. i catch paige, bouncing on the balls of her feet, all amped up as she waits to get checked in. i stretch my legs out on the bench, trying to shake off the restlessness that’s been following me around all day.

just get through the game. you can think about what this means after.

my thoughts are interrupted when i see maya making her way back from the tunnel. she strolls across the court, looking like she’s had a moment to herself, like she hasn’t been gone for the entire fifteen minutes of halftime. i barely even notice her approach until she’s right next to me, her posture a little different, almost like she’s holding something back.

i look up from my clipboard, following her as she sits down next to me. “hey, how was your half?” i ask.

“good. just needed a minute.”

she’s not making eye contact, and her voice carries this weird undertone, like she’s working through something in her head. i furrow my eyebrows, chuckling. “that’s weirdly ominous.”

she bites her lip. “sorry. i just wanted to apologize for being weird earlier.”

i glance at her, trying to gauge where her head’s at. “uh… it’s cool. you were just concerned.” the way she phrased it—the way she’s acting…

there’s a moment of silence before she speaks. “i just… i thought something was going on with you and paige.” she pauses, looking me dead in the eyes. she’s smiling a bit. “but she assured me there was nothing going on. said she wants to move forward with me.”

i blink, glancing at the court. i can’t look her in the eye. i’m back to busying myself with my clipboard. “she said that?” my voice feels flat, distant, like i’m hearing it through a fog.

this had to have been just now, right? my mind whirls for a second. she told maya that she wants to move forward with her? but then why did she tell me—me—in the locker room that she loved me? was maya just blowing her words out of proportion?

maya fidgets slightly, her fingers tapping against her leg as she looks away, grinning like this is some kind of revelation she’s been waiting for. “yeah,” she replies, eyes flickering back to my occupied ones. “i’m sorry for misreading it. all i needed to do was ask her!”

and then she laughs. she fucking laughs.

i chew on that for a moment. the sound of it feels like a slap to the face. it’s not a real laugh, not one that feels genuine or free. it’s almost… rehearsed, like she’s trying to convince herself—or me—that everything’s fine, that there’s nothing more to this. that paige just straightened it all out.

the frustration bubbles up inside me, but i keep it contained, gripping the edge of my clipboard like it’s the only thing anchoring me to reality. i don’t know what to say to that, or if i even can say anything. all i can think about is what happened in the locker room, how paige looked at me, how she said the words that felt like they meant everything but might have meant nothing at all.

she said she loved me. it was the first time i’d heard it from her in awhile where it felt like she actually meant it. and now maya’s telling me that paige is just moving forward with her? that she’s already decided?

suddenly the loudness of the gym is tuned out, and i can’t focus on anything. i start to open my mouth to excuse myself, but something catches my eye. my gaze trails down, taking in the rest of her appearance—her shirt a little wrinkled, her hair not quite as perfectly styled as usual. it hits me all at once, like a punch to the gut.

i force myself to look back at her face, trying to keep my expression steady. “maya,” i say slowly, voice quiet, “your jeans… are unzipped.”

she freezes, her eyes wide for a split second before she quickly pulls at the zipper, trying to cover it up. but the damage is done.

it was easier to deny before. easier if i hadn’t caught that small detail—the one she didn’t think i’d see.

“i’m gonna head out.”

[joelsrose]

Good Neighbours: Chapter 2

previous chapter

no warnings - slow burn, joel is a major tease and flirt

The kitchen was warm, the smell of melted chocolate lingering in the air as you wiped a bead of sweat from your forehead, glancing down at the recipe in front of you. It was one you’d made a hundred times before—a rich, decadent chocolate cake that had won over countless friends back in Chicago. Even your ex had loved it.

You grimaced at the memory, shaking it off with a shudder before dipping a finger into the bowl for a taste. The sweet, velvety flavor spread across your tongue, momentarily satisfying.

Uncle Ray had mentioned earlier that he’d invited Sarah and Joel over to watch the game. Your heart gave a nervous thud at the thought of Joel being in your house. He had this way of commanding a room with his quiet confidence, and you weren’t sure you were ready to be in such close proximity to him for an entire evening.

Ray had promised to take care of dinner, leaving you in charge of dessert. A fair trade, you supposed, since cooking wasn’t exactly his forte. You focused on the cake, pouring the batter into the pan, when the doorbell rang.

You wiped your hands on a towel and walked to the door, smoothing your hair nervously before opening it.

There he was—Joel. His hair was damp and slicked back, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. His patchy beard was trimmed just enough to keep that rugged edge, and his brown eyes held a quiet warmth, deep and rich like coffee.

The scent of him hit you next—clean and woodsy, mixed with a faint trace of something spiced that made your knees feel a little weaker.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted, his voice warm and familiar, that unmistakable Southern drawl curling around the word and sending a shiver straight through you.

"Hi, Joel," you managed, your voice softer than you intended as you stepped aside, opening the door wider. "Come on in."

He stepped inside, his boots clicking softly against the hardwood floor, the sound grounding you as you tried not to stare too long.

His eyes roamed the hallway, pausing on a framed photo perched on the console table. Reaching out, he picked it up with a curious smile.

"Who's this cutie?" he asked, holding the picture up slightly.

You moved closer, your shoulder nearly brushing his as you glanced at the image. It was an old photo of you as a kid, sandwiched between your dad and Ray.

The memory bubbled up faintly—how you’d been wearing an oversized life jacket, grinning despite being terrified of the fish your dad had caught.

"Oh," you said, a small laugh escaping as you brushed your hair back nervously. "That’s me. My dad and Uncle Ray took me fishing that day. I remember being scared out of my mind when Dad reeled in this huge fish—it was flopping around everywhere."

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked back at the photo, his thumb brushing over the glass as if committing it to memory.

"Damn cute," he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. Then he glanced at you, his smile softening into something deeper, something that made your heart stutter in your chest. "Still are," he added, his eyes holding yours for just a moment longer than necessary.

Your cheeks burned, the compliment settling into your chest like a warm glow. "Thanks," you said, barely above a whisper, unsure of what else to say under the weight of his gaze.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

You weren’t sure how much longer you could stand being alone with Joel.

His presence was magnetic, and every look, every word he said, felt charged—but was it? Was he flirting, or was this just how he was with everyone?

Maybe it was just some Texas charm you weren’t used to. You needed to steady yourself, needed to change the subject.

"So, uh," you said, forcing a casual tone as you cleared your throat. "Where’s Sarah?"

Joel’s lips curved into a faint smirk, like he knew exactly what you were doing, but he let you have the out. "She’s runnin’ late," he said, placing the photo back down on the table with care. "Still finishing up work, but she’ll be here soon."

You nodded, swallowing hard as the reality of the situation hit you—you were alone with Joel. The thought made your pulse quicken, a nervous energy buzzing under your skin. "Uh, well," you said, gesturing toward the living room. "Ray’s out grabbing dinner. You can, um, make yourself comfortable until he gets back."

Joel tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on you for a beat too long. It made your breath hitch, the intensity in his eyes somehow grounding and overwhelming all at once. Then he gave you that crooked smile, the one that made your stomach flip.

"Alright," he said simply, moving toward the couch with an easy confidence that only made the room feel smaller. You watched him settle in, his broad shoulders stretching out as he leaned back, completely at ease while you stood there, feeling anything but.

Joel sat down with a sigh, his broad shoulders sinking into the couch as he leaned back and ran a hand through his damp hair, the motion pulling your attention to the way his shirt clung to him just right.

"It’s damn hot today," he said, his voice low and rough, like the heat had taken the edge off his usual drawl. His legs were spread comfortably, his presence filling the space with an effortless ease that only made you feel more out of place.

"You’d think after all these years, I’d be used to it."

You hovered near the doorway, arms folding across your chest as you tried to decide whether to sit or stay standing. The indecision made you feel awkward, and you cursed yourself for being so flustered around him.

"It’s even worse upstairs," you finally said, forcing a light tone. "The fan in my room stopped working a few days ago—it’s like a sauna in there."

Joel straightened a little, his brows knitting together in concern. "Really? You poor thing." His gaze softened as he looked at you, and the way he said it made something twist low in your stomach. "I could take a look at it for you, if you want."

The offer caught you off guard, your mind scrambling as you processed his words.

Oh, right—Ray had mentioned Joel was in construction. Maybe he knew how to fix a fan.

It made sense—the truck, the boots, the rough calloused hands that had clearly seen their share of hard work. The thought made your throat tighten.

Your mind stumbled at the thought of Joel in your room, his presence alone enough to make your pulse race. "Oh, you don’t have to—" you started, your voice higher than usual, betraying your nerves.

Joel stood, cutting you off with that low, smooth drawl. "Don’t want you spendin’ all night awake, hot and bothered," he said, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The insinuation in his words wasn’t lost on you, and it hit you like a jolt of electricity, your breath catching in your chest. "Not when I could help ya out," he added casually, his tone as warm and rich as molasses.

You felt the heat bloom across your cheeks, spreading down your neck as you stammered, "Uh, sure. It’s upstairs."

You turned, leading him toward the staircase, but the sound of his boots following close behind only made your heart hammer harder. You tried to focus on anything but him—your hand brushing against the banister, the quiet creak of the steps beneath your weight—but you could feel him, warm and solid at your back, his quiet presence filling the space.

Joel’s eyes, however, weren’t on the stairs or the hallway ahead. His gaze drifted lower, lingering on the way your hips swayed naturally with each step, the curve of your ass accentuated by the snug fit of your jeans. He swallowed hard, biting back a low curse.

Lord help me, he thought, dragging his hand through his hair to distract himself.

You reached the top and glanced back over your shoulder, catching the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—something that made the air feel heavier between you. "Here we are," you said softly, pushing open the door to your room and stepping aside to let him in.

Joel brushed past you as he stepped into your room, his presence warm and grounding, sending a faint shiver down your spine. His gaze wandered, slow and deliberate, taking in every detail—the photos of friends and family pinned lovingly to a corkboard, the necklaces and rings strewn across your dresser in a charming, haphazard way.

You were sweet, Joel thought, and that sweetness radiated from the room itself, from the cozy blankets draped over your bed to the faint, familiar scent that was uniquely you.

But then, his eyes caught on the bed—more specifically, on the pile of clothes you’d tossed there earlier. A flimsy thong rested on top of the heap, the delicate lace catching the soft light from the window.

Joel’s throat went dry, and he dragged a hand over his jaw, his mind racing with thoughts he had no right entertaining. He forced himself to look away, jaw tightening as he focused on the fan across the room, pretending he hadn’t seen it.

"Shit," you murmured, suddenly noticing his brief hesitation. Your cheeks flared with heat as you rushed to the bed, scooping up the pile and clutching it against your chest. "Sorry for the mess," you said, your voice tight with embarrassment.

Joel shook his head quickly, schooling his features into something easy and reassuring. "No problem," he said, his voice steady but a little rough around the edges. He let out a small chuckle, hoping to ease your nerves. "You should see Sarah’s room sometimes. I swear that girl keeps it a mess just to piss me off."

You forced a laugh, still mortified, as you hurried to stuff the clothes into your closet. Joel kept his gaze fixed on the fan now, determined to act normal, but his mind was spinning. The image of the lace had seared itself into his thoughts, and he had to fight to push it away, to remind himself to focus.

Clearing his throat, Joel gestured toward the fan. "Alright," he said, rolling his sleeves up further, exposing his strong forearms. "Let’s see if we can get this thing workin’ for ya." His voice was calm, even gentle, but his thoughts were anything but.

Joel crouched by the fan, examining it with a thoughtful furrow in his brow. His calloused fingers brushed over the edges as he fiddled with a few screws, testing the rotation. After a moment, he straightened, wiping his hands on his jeans and glancing over at you.

"Looks like it’s somethin’ electrical," he said, his voice calm but reassuring. "I got a buddy who’s an electrician. I’ll have him come by and take care of it for ya—free of charge."

Your cheeks warmed at the thoughtfulness behind his words, but it was hard to focus with the way the sweat on his brow glistened in the afternoon light, his shirt clinging just a little to his chest and back. "Oh," you managed, nodding dumbly. "That’d be great. Thanks, Joel."

"Anytime, sweetheart," he said, his voice softening. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer before the sound of the front door opening downstairs broke the spell.

"Hey!" Ray called, his voice booming through the house. "You up there?"

You cleared your throat, straightening slightly. "We should head down," you murmured, your voice quieter than you intended.

"Yeah," Joel said, his tone low as he turned back to you. His gaze lingered for just a moment, his eyes flicking to your bed before a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, like he was filing the scene away for later, a thought he wasn’t quite ready to share.

"Let’s go," he said, his voice steady but tinged with something unspoken.

As you led the way downstairs, Joel followed closely, his presence a warm and steady weight just behind you. The quiet tension from upstairs hadn’t dissipated—it still hummed faintly between you, palpable in the air. Every step down felt slower, more deliberate, like the atmosphere itself was thick with the unsaid, pressing you closer to something neither of you was ready to name.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The game was in full swing—football, of course, a local rivalry that had Joel and Ray glued to the screen. Every so often, one of them would groan or cheer, depending on how their team fared, their voices loud enough to rattle the windows.

You and Sarah exchanged amused looks from your spot on the couch, shaking your heads as the two grown men acted like teenagers.

"Do they always get this intense?" you whispered to Sarah, biting back a laugh.

"Every. Single. Time," she replied, rolling her eyes with a grin. "It’s like watching kids at a theme park—if theme parks had beer and yelling."

You giggled, leaning back against the couch as Sarah launched into stories about her dad and Ray’s past football antics, complete with dramatized impressions. But even as you laughed with her, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of Joel’s gaze on you.

Every so often, when the others were too distracted by the game, you caught him sneaking glances your way—subtle, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. He’d quickly turn back to the TV each time, but the ghost of his gaze lingered, making it impossible to ignore.

When the game finally ended, Ray threw up his hands in frustration. "Ridiculous," he grumbled, leaning back on the couch. "They should’ve benched that quarterback weeks ago."

Joel nodded in agreement, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "If they’d just gone for the run in the third, it could’ve turned things around."

"Right?!" Ray added, shaking his head. "Some people just don’t know how to coach."

"Oh, darling," Ray started, his tone fond as he suddenly perked up, pointing a finger in your direction. "You made a cake or somethin’, hey? Just remembered. Don’t tell me you’re hiding it from us!"

You blinked, suddenly remembering the cake you’d carefully baked and iced that morning. "Oh, right! It’s in the fridge," you said, standing up.

"You guys wanna try it?" Ray asked, grinning. "She’s a hell of a baker."

"Um, yes," Sarah replied enthusiastically, already sitting up straighter.

Joel leaned back, his eyes still on you. "Would love to," he said, but the way he said it, low and tender, made your breath hitch. His gaze didn’t leave yours, and the warmth in it sent a flush creeping up your neck.

You nodded quickly, escaping to the kitchen to grab the cake. Balancing it on a stand with a few plates and forks, you returned to the living room, feeling all too aware of Joel’s eyes following you. Placing the cake on the coffee table, you carefully cut everyone a piece, the rich chocolate scent filling the room.

"Hope it’s alright," you said nervously, watching as everyone took a bite.

Sarah’s eyes widened dramatically as she chewed, muffling an enthusiastic, "Oh my god, this is the best cake I’ve ever had!" through a mouthful of chocolate.

Ray nodded in approval, already going in for another bite. "You’ve outdone yourself, kid. This is damn good."

Your eyes flicked to Joel, waiting anxiously for his reaction. He had already finished his piece, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. Then, slowly, he brought his hand up, sucking the remnants of chocolate off two fingers in a deliberate motion that felt… intimate.

"Well done, angel," he said, his voice low and smooth. "That was amazing."

Your thighs squeezed together instinctively and you felt your panties growing wet under the watch of his gaze. He knew exactly what he was doing, the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth a telltale sign of his awareness.

That bastard.

"Th-thanks," you managed, tearing your gaze away and focusing on cutting yourself a piece of cake to distract from the wildfire spreading through you.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

As the evening wound down, you walked with Ray to see Sarah and Joel to the door. The air outside was cooler now, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees as Sarah looped her arm through her dad’s, yawning dramatically.

"Thanks for having us," she said brightly, giving Ray a quick hug. "Dinner was great—and the cake was unreal."

Ray chuckled, patting her back. "Always good to have you two over. Don’t be strangers, now."

Joel lingered a step behind, his eyes on you as you stood quietly to the side. "You’re welcome anytime," Ray said, shaking Joel’s hand firmly. Joel nodded, murmuring his thanks, but his gaze flicked back to you almost immediately, softer now in the dim porch light.

Sarah yawned again, tugging her dad toward the footpath. "C’mon, old man, I’m beat. Let’s go."

"Alright, alright," Joel said, chuckling. But before he followed her, he turned back, his hand brushing lightly against yours in a way so subtle it could’ve been accidental—but it wasn’t. His fingers lingered for the briefest moment, his touch warm and deliberate.

Joel took one step closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Save me another piece of that cake next time," he said, his eyes holding yours. "I’m already thinkin’ about it."

The way he said it made your breath hitch, the words laced with something unspoken. Then, with a small, knowing smile, he turned and headed to his house, leaving you standing on the porch with your heart pounding and your mind racing.

Ray didn’t notice anything, but you did—and so did Joel.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

You and Sarah were halfway through The Longest Ride, laughter bubbling up as you playfully tossed popcorn at each other during one of the slower scenes. She had texted you a few days after the game, asking if you wanted to hang out, and you’d eagerly agreed.

The warm, golden glow of the living room lamps mixed with the soft flicker of the TV, wrapping the room in a cocoon of cozy chaos that muffled the storm’s furious howls outside. The rain lashed against the windows, but you hardly noticed, caught up in the moment. You were so absorbed in the film, neither of you heard the door creak open or the unmistakable sound of boots hitting the floor.

"Fucking hell," a deep voice growled from the hallway as the door slammed shut, caught by the gusting wind.

Both of you turned instinctively, startled, to find Joel standing in the entryway, drenched from head to toe. His hair was plastered to his forehead, stray raindrops tracing along the sharp line of his jaw.

Water trickled in rivulets down his neck, soaking into a shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders in a way that made your breath catch. His boots, caked with mud, squelched audibly as he yanked them off with a sharp, frustrated tug.

"Dad, are you okay?" Sarah asked, sitting up straighter. "I thought you were going to Uncle Tommy’s."

"I was," Joel grumbled, shaking out his jacket and tossing it over a nearby chair. "Got halfway there and had to turn back. It’s like a goddamn monsoon out there."

Joel hadn’t even glanced toward the living room, too preoccupied with muttering under his breath about the weather and hastily mopping up the puddle beneath him with a towel. His broad shoulders tensed as he wrung out the fabric, each motion deliberate and rough.

But when he finally looked up, his movements stilled. His expression shifted, the hard edges of his frustration melting away. His gaze softened as it landed on you, curled up on the couch beside Sarah, a blanket tucked over your lap.

"Hey, darlin’," he said, his voice low and smoother now, the rough edge from moments ago replaced with something calmer. He ran a hand through his soaked hair, pushing it back from his face as droplets fell to the floor. "Didn’t know you were comin’ over," he added.

You managed a small smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, we’re just watching a movie."

Joel’s eyes lingered on you for a second longer before he nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. You didn’t miss the way his gaze flicked briefly to the blanket draped over your legs—the same couch he’d no doubt spent countless nights on.

Something about the thought made your stomach flutter.

Sarah broke the moment, turning to you with a wide grin. "You should just stay over tonight. Ray wouldn’t mind, right?"

You blinked, startled by the sudden suggestion. "Well, I don’t think so, but—"

"Yeah, stay," Joel said before you could finish, his tone leaving little room for argument. "Don’t want you headin’ out in this storm."

You thought again about how your house was literally right next door. But the way Joel said it, his voice firm but edged with quiet concern, left you nodding before you could think better of it.

"You girls eaten?" Joel asked, heading toward the kitchen. The fridge door swung open, giving you a view of his back. His soaked shirt clung to him, highlighting the broad line of his shoulders and the muscles shifting beneath the fabric.

You caught yourself staring, heat rising to your cheeks as you quickly redirected your gaze to Sarah, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

"Yeah, pizza," Sarah said through a mouthful of popcorn, her attention already back on the TV.

Joel glanced back over his shoulder, his damp hair falling into his eyes as he gave you a brief nod. "Good," he said, his voice rumbling softly. "Storm’s supposed to last a while. Y’all need anything, just let me know."

You managed a quiet "thanks" as he closed the fridge and leaned against the counter, running a hand through his wet hair. The domesticity of it all—the three of you here, Joel casually moving around his kitchen—felt oddly intimate.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he noticed the way your eyes kept flicking toward him, if he felt the same quiet pull that had been buzzing between you since the moment you’d met.

As Joel left the kitchen, heading upstairs toward what you assumed was his room to dry off, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The rain outside was relentless, hammering against the windows with a steady rhythm that made the night feel darker, heavier. You lay in Sarah’s bed, her soft snores filling the room, a gentle counterpoint to the chaos of the storm.

You’d texted Uncle Ray during the movie to let him know you were staying over, and his quick response—No worries, kid. I’ll see you in the morning—had put you at ease, but sleep still evaded you.

You turned onto your side again, then your back, cringing at how much noise you were making on the mattress. The last thing you wanted was to wake Sarah, but restlessness clawed at you. The glowing red digits of the alarm clock on her bedside table mocked you: 12:43 a.m.

With a soft sigh, you pushed the blanket aside and stood, the borrowed pajama shorts and singlet clinging to your skin in the stifling warmth of the room. The storm outside raged on, yet the living room felt almost oppressively hot, the flicker of the TV adding to the heavy air.

The house was eerily quiet as you made your way down the hall, the muffled sound of the storm your only company. You hesitated for a moment when you passed a door—the one you assumed was Joel’s.

It was shut, the faint light spilling out from beneath it casting a soft glow on the hardwood floor. You stared at it for a beat longer than necessary, your breath catching at the thought of him just on the other side.

Shaking your head, you tore your gaze away and continued down the stairs, the old wood creaking softly beneath your steps. The kitchen was dimly lit by a single light above the stove, and you found yourself drawn to the soft hum of the refrigerator. Opening it, you grabbed the carton of milk and poured yourself a glass, the cold liquid a small comfort against the heaviness of the storm.

Leaning against the counter, you sipped slowly, letting the chill settle in your chest as you stared out at the rain streaking the darkened windows. The quiet of the house wrapped around you, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the stillness, the way the chaos outside felt so far away.

You turned to put the milk back in the fridge when a shadow moved in the corner of your vision, a figure emerging into the dimly lit kitchen. You squealed, nearly dropping the carton, your heart lurching into your throat.

"Shit!" you gasped, clutching your chest.

Joel lingered in the doorway, his broad frame outlined by the faint glow spilling in from the hallway. His hair was still slightly damp from the earlier rain, tousled in a way that made your heart flutter. He’d changed into a plain t-shirt and sweatpants that clung to him in a way that felt almost unfair, the casual simplicity doing little to downplay his presence.

"You scared me, Joel!"

He raised his hands slightly in mock surrender, a hint of a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his gaze warm and just a little apologetic.

"Sorry ’bout that," he said, his voice rough from the late hour. "Didn’t mean to sneak up on ya. Thought i heard someone down here, you alright?"

"Yeah, sorry I didn't mean to wake you," you said, still a little breathless. "I couldn’t sleep. Thought maybe some milk would help." You gestured toward the glass on the counter, feeling oddly self-conscious under his gaze.

"Don’t apologize," he said, his voice softer now, almost tender. There was a sweetness in the way he said it, unhurried and deliberate. As you leaned against the counter, sipping your milk, you noticed his eyes lingering on you, the shadows of the dimly lit kitchen casting an almost imperceptible veil over his gaze, but you didn’t miss it—the deliberate way he looked at you, slow and assessing.

Your pulse quickened as you suddenly became aware of yourself—the borrowed pajama shorts and singlet you were wearing, the way the hem of the shorts brushed against your thighs, and how the fabric of the singlet clung just a little too snugly in the humid air. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you feel exposed under the quiet intensity of his eyes.

You shifted awkwardly, the cool countertop pressing against your palms as goosebumps prickled along your arms. "Couldn’t sleep either?" you asked, breaking the tense quiet. Your eyes followed Joel as he poured himself a glass of water, his movements unhurried but purposeful.

"Nah," he replied, his voice low, almost distant as he leaned against the counter opposite you, crossing his arms. "Storm’s loud as hell. Plus… hard to turn your brain off sometimes, y’know?"

You nodded, the weight of his words settling over you. "Yeah. I know." And you did—too well, in fact. Your curiosity flickered: what kept him up tonight? What thoughts chased him through the storm?

Joel broke the stillness first, his voice softer now, almost careful. "Glad you stayed over tonight. Safer that way," he said with a small nod, as though reassuring himself as much as you.

There was something in his eyes—concern, perhaps, or something deeper—that made your chest feel impossibly tight.

"Thanks for having me," you murmured, your voice quieter than you’d intended, unsure why the words felt so necessary to say.

Joel shook his head slightly, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. "Anytime," he replied, the simplicity of his tone somehow making it feel more sincere.

His gaze flicked toward the empty glass in your hand, and he nodded toward it. "You think that did the trick?"

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "Nope. Not even close."

Joel’s smile widened slightly, and for a moment, you thought that might be the end of it. But then he glanced toward the dimly lit living room, the faint glow of the TV still visible from where you stood.

"Wanna watch a bit of TV?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "See if that helps?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the offer. There was something about the way he said it—so casual, yet laced with something else—that made your stomach flip.

"Sure," you said softly, setting your glass in the sink before following him into the living room.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Joel grabbed the remote and settled onto the couch, the faint creak of the cushions breaking the quiet. He stretched out, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch, the other resting on his thigh.

When he motioned for you to sit, you hesitated only for a moment before sinking down beside him, careful to leave just enough space between you to keep it comfortable—or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, his presence impossible to ignore. His arm rested along the back of the couch, strong and relaxed, the effortless way he stretched out only drawing more attention to the empty space at his side. The thought crept in unbidden—how easy it would be to slip into that spot, to feel the solid warmth of him against you.

Your gaze drifted downward, almost of its own accord, settling on his thighs. They were spread apart in that effortless way he always seemed to sit, relaxed and confident, the fabric of his sweatpants stretched over them.

You swallowed hard, the sheer size of him suddenly overwhelming, the way his presence filled the space making you acutely aware of how small you felt by comparison. The thought sent a rush of heat to your face, your cheeks burning as your mind betrayed you with images you quickly tried to push away.

You shifted slightly, pressing your palms into your lap as if to ground yourself, but it didn’t help—his casual ease, the way he seemed completely unaware of the effect he had, only made it worse. Your heart thudded unevenly, and you forced your gaze back to the screen, praying he hadn’t noticed your flustered state.

He flipped through the channels before settling on an old movie. The name escaped you, but the grainy black-and-white film felt fitting for the quiet hum of the storm outside.

Joel started explaining something about the movie—how it was one of his favorites growing up, or maybe something about the actor. You nodded along, murmuring the occasional "oh" or "yeah," though your attention was split between his voice and the way his presence seemed to fill the space beside you.

Somehow, over the course of the movie, the space between you and Joel had disappeared. Your knees brushed at first—a light, fleeting touch that neither of you acknowledged. But as the minutes ticked by, your thighs pressed together, the warmth of him seeping into your skin in a way that made it impossible to focus on the screen.

You tried, though—eyes fixed on the TV, even as your heart raced. When you let out a small yawn, Joel’s attention shifted to you. He smirked, tapping your thigh lightly, his touch lingering just a second too long.

"Careful there, sweetheart," he teased, his voice low and warm. "You’re gonna miss the best part."

You blinked your eyes open wider, determined to shake off the haze of sleep. "I’m watching," you murmured, though your voice lacked conviction.

His knee pressed against yours a little more firmly, the gesture subtle but deliberate. The proximity, the teasing, the quiet intimacy of it all—it was enough to make you forget the movie entirely.

Eventually, the warmth of his voice, low and steady, became a gentle lullaby, weaving its way through the room. The steady patter of rain against the windows only added to the softness of the moment, a rhythm that seemed to synchronize with the deep timbre of Joel’s voice.

Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing second, despite your best efforts to fight it. You blinked hard, forcing yourself to stay present, but it was no use.

Joel didn’t even notice at first when your responses faded, replaced by the soft, uneven rhythm of your breathing. It wasn’t until he felt the faint pressure of your head against his side that he froze.

His arm, which had been draped lazily along the back of the couch, went rigid, his fingers curling instinctively as his gaze dropped to you. There you were, nestled against him, your head resting lightly on his side, your face softened in sleep. The sight pulled something taut in him, a mix of tenderness and hesitation that he didn’t quite know how to navigate.

Joel swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he grappled with what to do. The warmth of you against him was inescapable, the steady rise and fall of your chest matching the slow cadence of your breathing. It made him acutely aware of every inch of space between you—or rather, the lack of it.

He flicked his eyes back to the TV, but the movie had long since blurred into the background. His thoughts were consumed by the quiet intimacy of the moment, by the way you’d drifted so trustingly against him, unguarded and close in a way that made his chest ache.

Slowly, carefully, he let his arm relax, resting it just behind you, close enough to shield but not too close to wake you, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

What the hell are you doin’, Joel? he thought, his heartbeat louder than it should’ve been. He could’ve moved you, gently eased you back into your spot—but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Instead, he let himself sit there, unmoving, his body tense with the awareness of you. He told himself it was nothing—that it didn’t mean anything—but the way his gaze lingered on the curve of your face, the way his breath hitched when you shifted slightly against him, betrayed him.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, golden and warm, casting a serene glow over the room. The storm from the night before felt like a distant memory now, the quiet chirping of birds outside replacing the relentless drum of rain. Joel stirred, his body reluctant to wake, comforted by a rare warmth that made him hesitate to open his eyes.

For a moment, he stayed still, his mind caught in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness.

Something felt… different.

His arm was draped across something soft, and the faintest scent of something sweet—was it your shampoo?—lingered in the air. His brow furrowed slightly, his body stiffening as he became aware of the gentle weight pressed against him.

When Joel finally opened his eyes, blinking against the soft morning light, the realization hit him.

There you were, curled into him, your head tucked against his chest, one arm draped across his stomach like it belonged there. His arm, despite his best efforts to keep his distance the night before, had somehow found its way around your back, holding you close. Your legs were tangled with his, the blanket half draped over the both of you.

Joel froze, his heart thudding loudly in his chest as he tried to process the situation. How the hell had this happened?

Christ, he thought, his jaw tightening as he glanced down at you. The sight of you like this—so unguarded, so peaceful—did something to him he couldn’t quite name, something that gnawed at the edges of his carefully constructed walls.

His chest tightened with a mix of emotions he wasn’t ready to face, a part of him feeling uncomfortably exposed in the stillness of the moment.

Guilt crept in, sharp and biting. What the hell are you doing, Joel? he thought bitterly. Here he was, a man two decades older than you, sitting frozen while you rested so trustingly against him. He felt like a damn pervert.

This wasn’t just friendly. He knew that. And it wasn’t about the warmth of your body against his or the way your head fit so perfectly in the curve of his side. It was something deeper, more dangerous, something he couldn’t ignore anymore.

Joel’s gaze lingered on your face for a moment longer than it should have, his throat tightening as he took in the way the morning light danced across your features. He swallowed hard, his hand twitching as if to pull away, but instead, his fingers brushed lightly against your back, a touch so soft it barely registered.

The sound of birds chirping outside pulled him out of his thoughts, and he finally forced himself to shift. The movement was small, careful, but enough to jostle you slightly.

Your brows furrowed, and for a moment, Joel thought he’d woken you. But then you murmured something unintelligible, snuggling closer into him, your hand tightening its hold on his shirt.

Joel let out a quiet breath, his lips pressing into a thin line as he stared up at the ceiling. He was in trouble—he knew that much. Whatever mental line he thought he’d drawn had been obliterated in the span of a single night.

But as the morning light filled the room and your soft breaths continued to lull him, Joel couldn’t bring himself to move. Not yet. Not when the weight of you against him felt like the one thing he didn’t want to let go of.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

You woke on the couch alone, the soft morning light streaming through the curtains and warming the room. Rubbing your face, you reached for your phone on the coffee table and checked the time—8:30 a.m.

You must’ve fallen asleep during the movie. Stretching your legs out, you glanced around.

Joel was nowhere to be seen, and you figured he must’ve gone upstairs sometime during the night. Hell, you thought, I must’ve been a heavier sleeper than I realized.

Footsteps thudded softly on the stairs, and Sarah appeared, her hair tousled and her eyes still heavy with sleep. She yawned as she shuffled into the living room. "Where’d you go last night?" she asked, rubbing at her eyes.

"Couldn’t sleep," you replied with a shrug, stretching your arms above your head. "Ended up watching some TV for a bit."

She nodded, yawning again as she glanced out the window. "Oh, look at that—storm’s gone, and it’s gorgeous out. Feels like it never even happened."

Her gaze shifted toward the stairs. "Where’s Dad? He’s usually run a marathon or something by now. "

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "Haven't see him this morning. Maybe he decided to sleep in."

Sarah snorted, making her way toward the kitchen. "Yeah, right. That man doesn’t know how to sleep in. I bet he’s already up and out doing something."

She walked over to you, balancing a bagel in her mouth while rifling through a cabinet with one hand. "I’m gonna head upstairs to shower," Sarah said, her words muffled around the bite she’d taken. With her free hand, she pulled out a neatly folded set of towels and handed them to you. "Here—so you can use the downstairs one."

"Sounds good," you replied, taking the towels from her with a small smile. She flashed you a quick grin before heading upstairs, the sound of her footsteps disappearing as she retreated to her room.

You lingered for a moment, glancing at the towels in your hands, before stepping into the bathroom. The soft click of the door shutting behind you felt strangely loud, the space quiet except for the faint hum of the water pipes as you turned on the shower.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The hot water cascaded over your body, soothing the restless ache left from the night before. The heat seeped into your muscles, loosening the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Steam curled around you, fogging up the glass as you closed your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of the water drown out everything else. For a moment, it was just you, the warmth, and the faint sound of droplets hitting the tiles.

But your thoughts wouldn’t stay quiet. They wandered back to last night, to Joel, to the way you’d both sat on the couch, your legs pressed against each other in a way that felt so natural, so easy.

The memory of his warmth beside you, the slight weight of his presence, made your chest tighten. You wondered when he’d gone upstairs, and a pang of regret settled in your stomach.

A part of you wished you hadn’t fallen asleep, that you’d stayed awake just a little longer—stolen a few more moments with him.

Those moments with Joel always felt fleeting, precious, as though the world conspired to keep them rare. The thought lingered in your mind until a faint sound jolted you back to reality—the distant buzz of your phone ringing.

"Shit," you muttered, realizing you’d left it on the kitchen counter. The water continued to run over you as you hesitated, your hands hovering mid-air, water dripping from your fingertips as you debated.

Leave it? The logical side of you argued it’d probably stop ringing by the time you turned off the shower, got out, and threw something on. But then again… what if it’s important?

You groaned softly, torn. The steam curled around you, the bathroom growing warmer as your mind raced. Finally, you turned off the water with a decisive twist, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself hurriedly. Better safe than sorry, you reasoned, stepping out of the shower and heading toward the kitchen, water trailing in your wake.

If Joel’s still asleep and Sarah’s upstairs, it’s fine, you told yourself as you cracked the door open, peeking out.

You stepped into the kitchen, your footsteps soft against the cool tiles, and immediately froze.

Joel stood at the stove, his broad frame dominating the small space, one hand gripping a spatula as he expertly flipped something golden and round in the pan. Pancakes. The rich scent of butter and batter filled the air, making your stomach tighten despite the whirlwind of emotions lingering from the night before.

His t-shirt stretched snugly across his shoulders, every shift of his muscles evident beneath the soft fabric. The hem lifted just slightly as he moved, revealing the faintest glimpse of tan skin and the subtle indent of his back dimples. It was such a small, fleeting detail, but it struck you like a lightning bolt, your breath catching as you took in the sight.

Your stomach dropped. Fuck. The phone had already stopped ringing, making your rush utterly pointless. You froze in place, gripping the towel tighter around yourself as your heart hammered in your chest. Just turn around, you told yourself, get back to the bathroom before—

But before you could move, Joel turned.

“Good mornin’—” he started, his voice low and easy, before his words died on his lips as his eyes landed on you.

His eyebrows shot up, his expression faltering for a split second. His gaze dropped, flicking over your body in a way that wasn’t intentional, but you caught it anyway. The towel was just a little too short, revealing more than you would’ve liked, your damp hair clinging to your shoulders.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it, the roughness of the word sent a shiver through you anyway. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the spatula like he was trying to steady himself.

You tightened your hold on the towel, your cheeks burning as you felt his eyes dart back to your face.

Say something, you thought desperately, your voice coming out uneven and breathless.

"I—I thought you were asleep," you stammered, shifting on your feet. "My phone was ringing, and I thought I’d just…" You gestured vaguely toward the counter, the words falling flat under the weight of the moment.

Joel turned back slightly, his movements slow and deliberate as if he was trying not to startle you—or himself. His gaze stayed polite now, carefully fixed on your face, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something dark and unspoken that made the air between you feel heavier, charged.

“Oh, no worries,” he said finally, clearing his throat and reaching to rub the nape of his neck. His fingers lingered there, the movement almost nervous—a rare sight for someone usually so steady. His voice was lower than usual, gravelly, like it took effort to keep it even. "Hope you slept alright last night."

"Yeah," you said quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I did. Thanks."

The silence stretched for a beat too long, the tension thrumming between you like a current you couldn’t escape.

You stepped forward, snatching your phone off the counter as quickly as you could, your hands trembling slightly. "I’ll just… grab this and get out of your way," you murmured, your voice thick with embarrassment.

Joel didn’t move, but you could feel the weight of his eyes on your back as you turned to leave. "Alright," he said softly, almost too softly, his voice carrying something you couldn’t quite place.

You bolted back toward the bathroom, your heart pounding as you shut the door behind you. The steam from your shower still clung to the air, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your chest.

Pressing your phone to your chest, you let out a shaky breath, your mind replaying every detail of the encounter. The way his eyes had lingered, the rough edge to his voice, the tension that had filled the room like a tangible thing. You tried to shake it off, telling yourself it was nothing—but the way your pulse refused to settle betrayed you.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Joel stood in the kitchen, one palm pressed flat against the counter, the other rubbing at his eyes as he let out a slow, measured breath. The room was quiet now, save for the faint sizzle of the pancake batter still cooking in the pan, but his thoughts were anything but calm.

You’re gonna be the death of me, he thought, his jaw tightening as he leaned into the counter.

Joel could still see you, the image burned into his mind no matter how much he tried to focus on the task at hand. Fresh from the shower, the towel clinging to your damp skin, outlining every curve in a way that left very little to the imagination.

The dip of your breast where the fabric didn’t quite meet your skin, the faint sheen of water droplets catching the light as they slid from your shoulders down to your thighs—it was impossible to look away, even as he forced himself to.

And then there was the way you’d stammered, your voice breathless and soft, tinged with embarrassment. It made his cock throb - a mix of guilt and desire that he couldn’t quite shake.

He shouldn’t have looked as long as he had, shouldn’t still be thinking about the way your hair dripped onto your shoulders or how your cheeks flushed pink under his gaze. But damn, it was all he could think about.

Joel had always prided himself on his self-control, on his ability to keep things steady and measured, but you were shaking the foundation he’d built so carefully.

"Christ," he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face, his jaw tight with frustration. He should’ve known better—should’ve stopped his thoughts from spiraling the moment they started.

But here he was, muttering a string of curses under his breath as he strode upstairs to his room, his hand already working at the button of his jeans before the door even clicked shut.

The strain in his pants was unbearable, every ounce of tension caused by you.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

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[back2bluesidex]

Slide - The Vacation - MYG

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: 

"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die" 

Alternatively, 

Yoongi finally finds an answer to all of his questions.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Warnings: Angst, angst and angst

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

Taglist requests are closed for now

A/N: This chapter has both readers and Yoongi's pov.

Read the next chapter

“I want to try being with you. If you’d let me.” Yoongi had said, just less than an hour ago, standing at your dining place. 

If you have ever thought you would be squealing like a schoolgirl when he mistakenly professes his love for you - then you had been wrong. Because those words of his - rang hollow. 

Those words of his had no promise, no meaning, only a tone of experiment - or maybe less than that. 

Your tears have dried up. You have cried much more in the span of a year than you ever had in these twenty eight years of life. 

So you don’t cry. 

Even when you stare at your bathroom mirror, without the sign of another life springing into you - you don’t cry. 

Even when the metallic smell of your own blood-soaked sheets dances around your senses - you don’t cry. 

Even when Yoongi’s voice saying he doesn’t know what he feels for you rings loudly in your head - you don’t cry. 

The woman who is standing at the place of your reflection is you - but emptier. 

Now, truly, you have nothing left in yourself. 

The baby is gone, Yoongi is gone, you - yourself - are gone. 

When Yoongi broke and scattered the broken pieces all over your sanity, you picked those up, put them up in a stack. 

Now that you are at the same place, who is going to do that for you? 

No one? 

Yourself. 

So you decide, you need a vacation. 

Attachment and Expectations are two human behaviors that you have always dreaded. 

You have purposefully stayed away from everyone, whoever you thought would get you attached. And you have always expected the least positive outcome whenever it comes to human connections. 

At the beginning, Yoongi was no exception. 

You admired him but never stepped past the professional boundaries in fear of getting attached, until he broke the norms. 

Even when you realized you fell in love, you expected nothing more than the warmth of his body. But your resolve weakened whenever he looked at you for a little longer than necessary, whenever he shared tales about Holly, whenever he treated you to a meal. 

Now that you are determined to heal yourself - you realize this is the root of the problem. 

You are attached to Yoongi and you have expected Yoongi to have a similar feeling towards you. 

Wrong. So wrong. 

You need to break free. 

So, you try to save what’s left of your sanity and avoid looking at Yoongi as he and Namjoon sit right across from you in the same meeting room where everything went south a month and half ago. 

Your feet bounce under the table, your breath shortens under Namjoon’s scrutinizing eyes. 

“Y/N, tell us what’s wrong? Why suddenly - I mean, I am not saying no your application but you have hardly ever been to such a long holiday? And if I am being honest, then you look quite unwell. Is there something we should know?” Namjoon is concerned, you know that. You are even grateful but you have no energy to answer him, no energy to lie anymore. 

You have no will to spend another minute inside the same room as Yoongi - because no matter what - you love him and you want him to wrap his hands around you and let you cry in his embrace. 

You want him to mourn with you. 

You want him to mourn for you. 

“I was pregnant. I lost the baby two nights ago. I am neither mentally nor physically fit to work for now. Besides, I don’t have any important projects going on.” you reply flatly. 

Saying these words out loud, makes things even more real. 

Pain crawls back inside your heart and fills your eyes to the brim. 

Namjoon has gone quiet. 

Yoongi has always been silent. 

“O-oh.. I- I didn’t know. I’m sorry. It must be tough, Y/N. Please take care of yourself.” Namjoon fumbles with words, a rare sight. 

Funny how your misery has rendered the smart ones dumb. 

He approves your leave in his laptop as you raise your feet to leave. 

“Are you going alone?” His voice interrupts your action. 

Yoongi doesn’t look at you, he stares blankly at the table. 

“Yes.” you reply.

“Stay safe.” he adds. 

And you want nothing more than to scream at him, to tell him that he fucked you up. But in reality you know he is troubled too - that it’s your fault as much as it's his.  

“Sure.” you mutter, as you quietly slip out of the room. 

Two nights ago when you left the bathroom the first thing you did was to look for your phone. When you found it laying idly by your laptop on your desk, you dialed Hoseok’s number for the second time that evening. 

You were incredibly sorry to him. 

He was but a stranger to you and had no responsibility of attending to your troubles but still he showed up when you called him sitting on your bloody bed and came rushing to you despite being busy. 

This time too, he received your call right after two rings. 

“I need a vacation, Hoseok. Do you.. Do you know any wellness retreats that might help me?” you asked.

“That’s a really good thought, Y/N. I will send you a few links, check those out, okay?” he replied. 

And that’s how you ended up packing your bags for a month-long retreat in Thailand. 

Yoongi didn’t come back home that night. 

He went straight to a snack bar and drank seven bottles of distilled Soju all alone. 

However, he didn’t black out this time. He knew there would be no calling you if he passed out on the floor, covered in vomit and mud. 

He knew there would be no kindness from your side - he doesn’t deserve it - he never had. 

While he drank the only thing he could recall is that you were carrying his baby. That you were on the very first step of being a mother and him a father. 

Weird how, if these same words would have come out Gyuri’s mouth, he would have freaked out so bad. 

But it’s you. And whenever he thought of you, he could picture a quiet life. A condo in an upscale neighborhood, floor to ceiling windows where he could enjoy mellow sunlight sitting on the couch with you. 

Where he could cook for you in the kitchen and then serve you food piping hot or maybe feed you upon blowing a little. 

Those thoughts had always shaken him to the core, made him question his feelings towards you but at the end of the day, he always left himself with no answer. 

On the next morning when he woke up with the worst hangover ever, he decided to do what you have asked him to. 

He decided to give himself time and question himself regularly, repeatedly, that what is it that he feels for you? 

And while doing so, he decided to stay away from you - give you time to find your footing and mourn for the loss. 

He decides to mourn too. 

However, he got completely ruined like a damp wall with several cracks when he read your leave application. 

You had applied for a month-long holiday. 

A month without you? Without seeing you for a glance? Without hearing from you, even a word? Without having to watch you pressing the button on the seventh floor on the elevator, without your quiet sitting figure in the meetings, without your habit of writing lyrics on pen and paper rather than using your ipad? 

Can he… can he survive? 

“Y/N..” he finds himself following you after you leave the meeting room. 

You don’t startle, nor do you turn back. You stand in the middle of the corridor and wait for him to finish his sentence. 

“When are you leaving?” he asks from where his feet are stuck on the floor. 

“Tomorrow morning.” you reply briefly. 

“Incheon?” 

“Gimpo” 

“Can I come? To see you off?” 

“You don’t need to.”

“I want to. I want to see you off. I want to know… to know what I- what I feel for you.” 

He confesses to your back. 

You, probably, sigh. 

“Okay.” you say before walking off. 

When he reaches the airport as per the timing you have sent him - he sees you sitting a little far away from the check in counter. 

“Hey.” he approaches you. 

You look up at him with tired, blank eyes. Your eyes want to make him cry. 

“Hi. I was only waiting for you. I gotta go check in.” your voice is just as blank. 

He nods. 

“Bye.” you try to walk away from him. 

But he stops you with a hand on your wrist. 

“I will.. I will be here when you come back.” he whispers, only for you to hear. 

You nod. 

And then something crashes inside Yoongi, the dam of his eyes breaks and tears start falling unbound. He pulls you closer to his body, envelops you in a hug. 

You stay still but he doesn’t mind. 

He relishes your warmth, your smell, your feel for as long as he can. 

When he lets go, his lips find yours. 

He kisses you softly, with everything he has in himself. 

You don’t kiss him back but he doesn’t mind. 

For you, he will wait. 

Because right then, while you part your way from him, Yoongi finds an answer to all his questions. 

Yoongi realizes… He is in love with you.

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[welcometoneverland-98]

Fire of Venus // 𖥸 Chapter 1 𖥸

The gods were not kind. They were ruthless and seemed to only favor those who didn't need them.

My father taught me early on not to anger them. "There is no rage like the gods when angered" he would often tell me. And then the war started and he was called to lead it and bring glory to two emperors who had barely been touched by the sun, let alone the fire of rage that seeped out of angry men whose land had just been taken from them.

My father was said to have been sent by Mars himself. Unbroken and undefeated in battle as he kept bringing good fortune to Rome. But I saw him as he would walk into our home, embracing his wife tightly as if he was afraid she could disappear from his grasp just like my mother had many years ago. I saw the way his eyes looked tired and broken and just done. I merely watched.

I felt an ache in my heart anytime I wanted more. I wanted to see life beyond the walls of my home, to see the parties, hear the music and meet the people that surrounded music father when he was gome, but he kept me inside. Hidden. Safe, as his wife claimed.

The daughter of a previous emperor had caught my father's eye and he had caught her heart. It had hurt at first. A constant reminder that my mother was no longer in this realm and couldn't be held anymore. Their union was painful at first but it wasn't my place to say anything and ruin my father's new found happiness. Then the pain became dull with time as she show me her kindness and told me stories of the world in her youth. My favorites were the ones with the gladiator whose name was Maximus. There was something so appealing about the bravery he had shown, even, if I dared say it out loud, his defiance. My mind couldn't help but form thoughts that couldn't be spoken aloud. About how Rome needed shaping by my small understanding of overheard conversations and whispers.

I had known peace until the invitation came along. There had been talks of my fathers arrival and his latest conquest that had been a success, but this time, when he walked into our home to greet us after a long time, he had something new.

"The emperors wish to invite us all to a feast in honor of their newest conquest" he spoke as he looked down to the ground "we are all to go this time, Anna included".

That night I had asked the gods the unthinkable, I had asked for their kindness.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

There were hands all over me pulling and tugging and almost fighting one another to make me presentable. This was to be my first time being presented to the people of Rome, not only the people but the emperors and those who attended their parties.

I heard only whispers about these places and events. Many from the people who worked for us. They giggled in hiding as they shared tales of their improper affairs with the opposite gender. The first time I had heard about their endeavors I felt like I had stumbled on something I shouldn't know about, but the more I heard the more curious I became and now I stood in my dressing chambers being prepped to be thrown into the unknown.

I had been bathed in the finest oils we owned and my body had already been dropped in my favorite silk that had the perfect sunset hues of purple and blue. It was adorned with golden accents around my waist to tighten the fabric and keep it there and my neck and fingers were filled with golden jewelry that had been gifted to me the many times my father had went abroad.

My hair was almost fone when I found myself lost in through, so lost that I didn't feel the gentle hand on my shoulder that belong to Lucilla.

She had a faint slime on her face and she looked me up and down, drinking me in as if she had never placed her eyes upon my figure until now.

"You are a sight to be seen" she adjusted the fabric on my shoulder, smoothing it out before taking the ring from her finger and holding it out to me "I want you to wear this tonight. May it bring you good fortune".

It was the ring that belonged to her father. I had admired it many times as it shone on her finger. I knew my fathers name had also been engraved inside. My hand reached out to her slowly as I gently grasped the ring in my own hand before slowly placing it on my own finger.

"I feel uneasy about tonight" I let the words slip out of my mouth as I looked up at her.

For a moment there was silence, the only thing that happened was the way her eyes adverted to the people who were still standing in the room. She looked at them, a stoic look on her face and brought up her hand to point them outside. They nodded shortly and left us alone.

There were conversations that needed to be held alone, with no prying ears to share gossip and make up stories of what was the actual truth. We were taught from an early age that opinions were to be kept to ourselves, especially when we were born a woman. We were taught to believe that we were better to be seen and not heard.

"It will be fine" she adjusted the my hair "your father shall accompany us and I shall never leave your side"

I nodded my head but there was still fear etched on my face. After all this time of longing for this moment here I was dreading it as it was finally approaching me.

A/N

Here's a new one to celebrate my new obsession.

First chapters might be smaller but hopefully they will become longer with time. Hope you enjoy it!

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 25 (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

CW: Angst, blood, manipulation, Alastor being a murder baby AN: I hope my fellow Americans survived their Thanksgiving with minimal family fighting and all those who didn't celebrate around the world had a great Thursday. Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

Alastor parked his car at the edge of the park, under the shade of a large tree. It was late and the odds of being seen were minimal. Even so, it was better safe than sorry. The heavy canopy blocked much of the light from the streetlights, few though there were. 

He waited for a few moments, head resting against the back of the seat, eyes looking up and out the windshield. In the distance, the roof of your house peeked up from the treeline, whispering dark promises. For a few moments longer, he sat in the holy silence where late night and early morning danced together. 

The slam of the car door was loud, shattering the fragile silence of the night as he stepped away from the still car. He walked slowly to the small pond as he ran a hand through his hair. Curls spiraled out of the locks, tangled around his fingers as he pulled hairs free with the nervous action. Sweat and time were winning the battle against the effort he had put into pulling the strands straight that morning. 

It was alright. You seemed to like the curls. 

Kneeling at the edge of the pond, he splashed water on his face, scrubbing at the dried blood on his hands and neck blindly. He knew he would miss spots. There wasn’t much he could do about his shirt, but that was alright, too. It would all be alright, soon. 

He just wanted to see you. That was the thought that ran through his mind as he walked casually through the park. That’s all he needed, he told himself as he pushed branches and bushes out of his way. From a distance was fine, he just needed to see that you were alright. 

He could put you down, leave you alone as long as he knew you were alright. He just needed to know you were alright. 

Bark bit into his hands as he lifted his weight from the ground. Climbing the apple tree in the dark while drunk wasn’t as easy as he expected. At times, he nearly fell to the ground. Perhaps he deserved to fall, land on a root wrong, and break his back. 

He would be caught then. You would know what he was, what he really was. The world would know. Perhaps that would only be right, a fitting punishment for the pain you had suffered because of him. 

Eventually, he made it up to that thick horizontal branch he thought of as his. Each breath came out in a huff, labored from the exertion on top of the alcohol. Resting his head against the tree trunk, Alastor ignored the way his hair snagged and was pulled by the rough surface as he took long, slow breaths. 

The house was dark, quiet. Its occupants were asleep, as he should be. He had work tomorrow. Today? Yes, today at this point. There was time still. He could make it home and take a nap. He’d be rough, but he could make it through the night. 

Alastor closed his eyes as he listened to the sounds of the night, resting his eyes as he lounged perched above the rabbit hole stashed with letters he knew you were reading but not responding to. 

His eyes closed with a flutter as he thought of you. Such a sweet soul you were, pulling away from him to protect him. Didn’t you know? It was his job to protect you. That’s what a man does for the woman he loves. 

Love. That was the thought that floated through his rye soaked mind as a light sleep overtook him. 

You poured a mug of coffee for Laurence, setting it on the table where he read the newspaper. It was a rare morning when he didn’t leave early. He was grumpy and the quality of the coffee didn’t help his mood, but you did your best to focus on the way the sun peeked between the clouds and the chirping of the birds. 

“How can you fuck up something as easy as coffee,” he grumbled, and you wished he would have just went to the cafe on his way to the office. 

For a moment, Alastor fluttered across your mind and you wondered if he would think you fucked up the coffee. It was a thought you shot down with a pang of pain. It didn’t matter what Alastor would have thought, Alastor was not your husband.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, turning from the sink and starting to walk back to the table. “I’ll make you another one.” 

You made it halfway across the small kitchen before Laurence picked up the mug and, after a moment of thought, launched the steaming contents at you. Most of the coffee splashed across your front, the apron and dress under helping protect you from the scalding liquid, but pain still cut through nerves where it splashed up onto your neck.

“Laurence!?” you cried out, darting backward and crashing into the sink. 

Your husband spit venomous words at you, lost to the pounding in your ears. He disregarded all the renewed effort you had put into being a good wife for him. 

It wasn’t fair. Tears fell from your eyes as you watched him stand, waiting to see if he would leave or come after you with something far worse than his verbal assault. 

You didn’t know tired eyes watched from the distance. His first real sight of you while he blinked sleep from his mind was that of coffee splashing onto you. While Laurence walked out of the room and you crumpled to the ground in a puddle of coffee, you didn’t know how close Alastor came to climbing from the tree and ending a life in broad daylight.

Instead, as you stood, he watched you grab towels to mop up the liquid. As the car in front of your house roared to life, he slipped down from the tree. His body was stiff, and he was rather thirsty, but that was alright. He was glad to have sobered up, at least mostly sobered up.

He had gotten to see you. That was supposed to be enough. He wanted it to be enough. He needed it to be enough. He had gotten to see you. 

Alastor watched as you disappeared out of the kitchen while he stalked through the back garden. He saw the light in your bedroom illuminate the room still cast in morning shadows. Would you look out the window, Alastor wondered as Laurence’s car drove away? Would you see him? 

You didn’t. He was fairly sure of that as he stepped onto the back porch. The knob failed to turn under his hand, though he hadn’t even been aware of reaching for it. Locked, that was alright.

He was wrong, he had thought he needed to see you but that was alright. He could be wrong, sometimes. He was a humble man. What he actually needed was to hear your voice. 

Alastor smiled as he pulled the pins from his sock. The door was old and the lock simple. He made quick work of opening the door, hardly having to give the task much thought at all. 

It was a good thing you locked the door. There was a serial killer on the run.

Closing the door behind him, he locked it before making his way through the kitchen and into the living room. Laurence had left the front door unlocked, Alastor was dismayed to find. With a flick of his fingers, he locked that door as well.

Laurence was going to get you hurt if he didn’t take better care of you. It was bad enough that he was hurting you himself but to be careless with your safety on top of it? Disgusting. Sloppy. 

The stairs creaked as you walked down them. Alastor moved to the wall, hoping to be out of sight as you turned into the kitchen. You wore a burgundy house dress, and he liked how it looked on you. Much better than the bright sunny yellow you had been wearing before the coffee incident. 

His eyes cut down to the dark bruise above your elbow, on display thanks to the short sleeves of the dress. Surely you’d throw a shawl over your arms if someone knocked on the door to hide it. In the safety of your home, though, you had no need. 

As you stepped into the kitchen, he could see the angry red splotches on your neck, left by the hot coffee. Oh, how he longed to soothe the inflamed skin with soft kisses. 

He followed you, leaning in the doorway as he watched you grab the towels from the ground, sniffling. Were you crying because of the pig’s actions? Didn’t you know it wouldn’t make a difference, shedding tears for him? 

“He’s not worth crying over.” Alastor said, transatlantic accent coloring his words, brightening them with the day. 

You screamed, whipping around with wide eyes to face him. 

“Alastor!” You clutched your hands to your chest, “Mr. Moreau?!” 

Your eyes ran over him, taking in the feral sight. His hair, something wild between curly and straight, was a mess atop his head. Red stained his shirt, smeared his skin and dotted his face. 

“Never that name for you,” he said as he closed the small distance between you.

“What happened to you?” Before you thought it through, you rushed up to him, acting on instinct and impulse, actions doing nothing to reinforce the distance you had insisted on in your last letter. 

Fingers ran over his face, rough stubble scratching the pads before your fingers ghosted down his neck. Your eyes run over bloody sleeves and splotches on his shirt. 

“I went hunting.” He answered honestly, “I’m alright.” 

“Hunting?” you stepped back, coming back to yourself. “It’s early morning yet? And why are you in my house?” 

“I came in the door.” His head cocked to the side. “I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. Went to Mimzy’s and had some drinks. Then went hunting.” 

“At night?!” You stepped back, and he took a step forward as he laughed, that easy free sound you had dreamed about too often since you wrote your last letter. “While drunk?” 

“Probably not my best judgement call,” Alastor admitted. “But it turned out alright.” 

“Did it, now?” You scolded, heart beating in your chest as Alastor continued to advance on you. “You’re covered in blood.” 

“I wanted to see you,” Alastor said.

“You need to leave.” Your back hit the wall. “My husband will be back for lunch.” 

“I needed to see you.” Alastor’s accent wavered, in and out as he looked at you with those warm brown eyes, pleading with you. “Needed to know what I did wrong.” 

“You didn’t- Alastor.” You closed your eyes and let out a breath. “Mr. Moreau,” He groaned at the sound of his surname on your lips. He never wanted to hear you say it until it was yours, as it should be. You continued talking just the same. “Our relationship was improper. I am a married woman. If we continued, it would have ruined us both.” 

“Not Mr. Moreau.” Alastor pressed, his hands coming to rest on the wall on either side of your shoulders. “Please, don’t. Don’t call me that. Don’t you love me?” 

“I do,” you said before you thought twice, pressing your hand against your lips as if you could somehow stuff the words back in. “Don’t you see? If we’re caught, everything you worked for is gone. I- It would be selfish for me to do that to you.”

“Then we don’t get caught. We hide,” Alastor said, elbows buckling as he fell closer to the wall, cutting the distance between you in half. “Ma cherie, I don’t need you to protect me. We are in love, are we not? The risk is worth anything, everything, for but even a moment in your presence.” 

“Alastor, I-” you noticed Laurence’s briefcase sitting by the table, heart thundering somehow louder in your ears. “Laurence is going to be back anytime now. He forgot his bag. You need to go.” 

Reaching up, you braced your hands on Alastor’s chest and attempted to shove him away. He moved less than an inch. When you couldn’t push him away, you stopped trying to, though you knew it was vital that you kept trying. Your hands lingered on his chest, feeling his heart pounding rapidly against his ribs. The rye he had been drinking still tinged his breath as it washed over you. 

“Don’t you love me?” Alastor’s voice was broken, naked.

“That’s why we can’t keep doing this.” Tears spilled down your cheeks. “I love you too much.” 

Outside the house, a car’s engine sounded in the distance. 

“It’s why we must.” Alastor challenged, noting the sound as your body tensed. “I will keep us safe.” 

“You can’t,” you pleaded, heart shattering in your chest. 

“I have so far.” Alastor pressed as the car drew closer. “If not for him. If not for your marriage vows, would you have picked me?” 

“I can’t go back in time.” 

“I’m not asking you to,” Alastor whispered. “If tomorrow you woke up and Laurence was nothing but a memory? Would you pick me? Want me?” 

The car pulled in front of your house, engine idling. “Alastor, he’s back. You need to go.”

“Not until you answer me,” Alastor whispered. “Would you pick me? Would you want me then? If the Shadow Butcher took Laurence tonight?” 

“Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, Alastor. Damnit, you need to go-” The car door opened and then slammed shut. 

“Then kiss me,” Alastor demanded, face hovering just over yours. No part of him touched you, yet you felt suffocated, wrapped up in him. 

“He’s coming.” You could hear Laurence’s footfalls outside on the walkway. It shouldn’t have been possible, but you swore you could. 

“I’m not leaving until you kiss me.” Alastor whispered, blood splattered face so close to yours. “You want me. You pick me. Then kiss me. Prove it. Show me. Please?” Alastor’s words came in a whispered rush, each statement coming faster and faster, naked words tripping and tumbling over one another. 

The doorknob rattled on the front door. Your eyes were wild as they darted away, trying to turn enough to see through walls. It felt like your executioner was getting ready to catch you. 

“Fuckin hell.” You swore you could hear Laurence outside as he tried the knob again. 

“Kiss me.” Alastor pleaded again. “Kiss me and I’ll go. Pick me. Don’t leave me. Please?” 

The keys rattled in Laurence’s hand, scraping against the lock as he tried the wrong key. You launched yourself forward, closing the small distance harshly. Lips against lips as an arm slid up his chest, wrapping around his neck. 

The coppery taste of blood and the stale taste of old rye flooded your senses as his lips parted in a gasp. His hands found your waist as he held you to him, gripping as they wrapped around you. He lifted you off your feet and walked backward as the lock clicked.

His tongue lapped at your lips before working into your mouth. He moaned into the kiss as his eyes fluttered, wanting to close and be in the moment, but needing to be aware of his surroundings. Large steps backward and to the side took them both almost to the back door as the hinges squeaked at the front of the house. 

“Don’t ignore me again?” Alastor whispered as he set you down, reaching behind him to unlock the back door. “Please?”

“Sugar,” Laurence called from the front door. “Where’s my bag?” 

“Alright,” you sighed, fear flooding you as Alastor opened the door. Laurence was in the living room now, coming closer still to the kitchen and back door. 

Alastor leaned down and placed one last kiss against your lips before stepping out the back door, pulling it shut behind him. As the door latched and you turned, Laurence stepped into the kitchen, calling your name. 

“I’m here,” you answered, putting your back to the door quickly. You didn’t dare look outside as you stepped into the kitchen for fear that you’d see Alastor making his great escape. 

“Where were you?” Laurence asked, as he picked up the forgotten bag. “Why didn’t you answer?” 

“I was just checking the weather,” you lied, “I hope to get sheets washed and hung to dry early.” 

Laurence looked at you for moments that stretched on as you tried to will yourself to relax. “Why are you flushed?” 

“The coffee was hot,” you said. “My skin’s still heated from the spill.” 

Outside the house, back resting against the wall, Alastor sat. His head was just under the window. Through the glass, he could hear everything. Carefully, he twisted and peeked up, watching as Laurence turned his back on the window. That was his chance, and he dared not waste it. 

Long legs swiftly carried him in a direct line from the house to the apple tree. He ran, glancing over his shoulder frequently, fearing he would lock eyes with Laurence. The back of the blond head and then an empty kitchen was all he saw as he rounded behind the tree. 

He waited there, chest heaving in gasping breaths. Exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he waited to move until he heard the car roar to life again. Sliding down the tree, he turned and dug for the notebook and pen.

He needed to get home, run a bath and sleep, but first, he wanted to add one more note to the stack. He hoped you’d read it, that you were not just telling him what he needed to hear to save yourself. 

Thinking back to the way you kissed him, he didn’t think that was the case. You kissed him as if you needed this as much as he did. Everything would get back on track, Alastor was sure of it as he walked through the narrow forest, humming. 

Yes, things were going to go back to how they had been. He would keep spending time with you and growing this little flame between you. When Alastor got the chance, he would take Laurence back to his home and they would have a nice long talk before Alastor ended his filthy life. 

Oh, how the thought filled him with almost as much joy as your kiss had. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Alastor, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

Next?

[sun-kissy]

saudade — chapter 1

★ series masterlist

sirius black x reader

Sirius runs his hands through your hair, nails drawing gentle lines down your scalp. He moves his fingers down to your face, tracing every curve and dip contouring your features with all the delicateness he can muster. The tip of his finger brushes over your eyelid, trails down your nose, and presses into the soft skin around your dimple.

He pinches your cheek; you giggle, swatting his hand away. If heaven were a place, he was sure it would be here, with you. These are the days he likes best, he thinks. When the war doesn’t feel so impending, like it’s lurking around the corner with its claws out. When he gets to love on you like he was born to.

He catches your hand in his, threads your fingers together. He can’t help but ponder how beautiful it is that your palm was made to fit his, the back of your hand moulded for him to press his lips to. So he does exactly that, kissing your hand with a soft murmur of, “I’m gonna miss you.”

You laugh softly. It’s a beautiful sound, like everything about you is. You tilt your head towards him slightly from where it rests on his lap, and flatten your palm against his cheek. “I’m gonna miss you too, babe. But I won’t be gone for long, you know?”

“But still —” Sirius mutters, unable to stop himself from curling your fingertips towards his lips to peck them again. “Three weeks —“ another kiss to your arm as he pulls you up and forces a surprised yelp out of you, “is a long time,” the last one to your lips, threading his fingers through the hair on the nape of your neck. His other arm snakes around your waist to hold you up.

You grin into his lips, besottedness palpable. He feels like he’s melting into you, your soft lips and saccharine smile enough to drive the sanest of the sane crazy. He wouldn’t have noticed if the kiss lasted a lifetime. That’s what soft love does to a hardened man.

You finally pull away, wide-eyed and rosy-cheeked. Sirius notes how lovely you look in that moment — swollen lips and strands of hair astray, moonlight from the window dappling your skin. You smile, he’s moonstruck. He commits the image of you in this moment to memory — the softness of your edges and the gentleness of your smile; and tucks it away in a corner of his heart for the nights alone to come.

“Three weeks isn’t that long,” you murmur, sighing indulgently as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Besides, I get to send you those crazy talking patronus things that Albus came up with.”

Sirius pouts, pulling you so your back is snug against his chest. “Even a day without you is long enough. And why can’t I go?”

“Because I’m much better at thinking before I act. That’s why the mission was assigned to me.”

“Yeah, sure,” he snorts, playfully flicking your temple before pecking the spot. “You just got lucky, sweetheart.”

You and Marlene were leaving the next day, with instructions to attempt to find the headquarters of the so-called ‘Death Eaters’. It would take at least three weeks, maybe longer. Dumbledore had mentioned finding the biggest lead yet; hoping it would amount to something. The Order had been coming up empty for weeks now. Voldemort and his army were always two steps ahead, such that every ambush resulted in the loss of your own members, every plan foiled before it could even begin. Fatalities were high, morale was low. This mission had to be a success — one way or another.

Sirius had been trying to hide it behind playful quips and whines of how much he was going to miss you, but he couldn’t deny how anxious he was.

He knew that you could handle yourself, and that Marlene was a damn good witch too. He just couldn’t shake off the fear that maybe the Death Eaters were better.

You notice the subtle dimming of his smile, and turn his face towards yours with a finger on his chin. “Hey,” you press your lips to the corner of his. “I’m gonna be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

He breathes out a heavy sigh, and forces a smile for you. “I know you’re gonna be okay. My girl is one of the brightest witches of her age, isn’t she?”

“Damn right she is,” you grin earnestly, giggling when he pulls you into another kiss. If you noticed his fake smile, you didn’t mention it.

Sirius lets himself get lost in the feeling of you, trying his best to ignore the growing sense of dread gnawing at his heart.

[romanteacism]

A Butterfly and A Dragon’s Flight Chapter Three

Chapter Summary: New members and revelations come to the court, making the prince quite curious. Word Count: 5, 212 Warnings: Jealous Aemond, Bullying, Confusion

It had officially been half a moon since the Tyrells had arrived in the capitol, and all four of them had established a new routine as they resided in the walls of the Red Keep. Elinora had finally returned to spending most of her time in the gardens, often spending the morning with Princess Helaena until she was whisked off to her royal duties, leaving the girl alone. It did not bother her; she was used to being alone with only her butterflies as her companions. Elinora also had not encountered Prince Aemond after their tense conversation in the library, and she was relieved for it. She was starting to fear him if she were being honest. She was not certain how someone could be so cold and callous as he was, which is why his absence made her feel somewhat at ease. 

Aemond, on the other hand, had avoided the gardens as best he could. He finally regained his sensibilities as he realized how ridiculous and foolish he had been for following the girl, who he now remembered was an intruder. His sympathies toward her dissolving. He was being irrational as he avenged Lady Elinora against those court women, only making her more comfortable as he had scared away those who threatened her. If anything, he should have let the ladies continue on with their torment, and he would have been absolved of Lady Elinora altogether, no longer having to worry about the possible threat she posed. Though as he thought of letting her be attacked in the den of vipers, he felt a hint of guilt at his thinking.

Aemond went on his way to his usual routine, going to the tiltyard at first light. However, as he walked the halls of his home, he had the urge to venture into the gardens. Aemond pursed his lips at his urges, his jaw ticking as he willed himself to forgo his ridiculous wants. As the prince stepped foot in the tiltyard, he frowned as he saw who was present. “Brother?” He questioned as he saw the short silver locks of his younger brother, Daeron. “Aemond!” The youngest prince exclaimed, going on to greet his brother with a hug. Aemond accepted it stiffly, as he was never accustomed to being touched. 

“What are you doing here?” Aemond asked, seeing that his uncle, Ser Gwayne, accompanied his brother. “It’s Mother’s Name Day by the week’s end; I thought we should come and surprise her.” The youngest prince smiled and finally let go of his brother, who only stood solidly before him, Prince Aemond turning to his side to give his uncle a knowing nod. “Good to see you, Aemond… I see you still take your training seriously— you make a great knight.” Ser Gwayne commented, and the prince hummed. “I have no wish to be a knight.” He answered, and Ser Gwayned and smirked. 

“Come, I shall escort you to Mother’s chambers,” Aemond stated, turning around as he ventured to return to the royal wing. “I shall join you momentarily; I’d best visit the hand first,” The two princes gave the nod and went on to the direction of their mother’s chambers. Walking along in silence as there was a tension that came when they had not seen each other for so long, or perhaps it was a silent tension that followed Aemond wherever he went. 

Daeron parted his lips to try and speak pleasantries with his brother, but the sight of light green skirts caught his attention. “Elinora?” He called through the hall, making Aemond halt and the lady turn in question towards the familiar voice that called her name. “Daeron!” She said in surprise, and the youngest prince hastily made his way to her, forgetting all customs as he practically ran, picked up, and twirled the girl he had known since childhood. 

Elinora laughed in glee as she was spun off the ground, but as she caught the distant sight of Prince Aemond, she made the mirth in her die quickly and motioned for Daeron to place her back to the ground, clearing her throat as she was caught being entirely informal. 

“I—I thought you weren’t coming to the capitol,” Elinora said, a bit nervous as Prince Aemond stomped his way toward where she and Prince Daeron stood. “Well, we have been set to come for my mother’s name day, we just did not want our surprise to be known.” Prince Daeron exclaimed, and Aemond observed as the lady’s eyes widened. “We? Is Ser Gwayne here?” Elinora asked, looking around the hall, making Aemond curious as he saw and heard the excitement in her eyes and tone. “Well, of course. He is somewhere around the keep; I’m certain he’ll find his way to you,” Prince Daeron smirked knowingly, and a pretty blush was quick to creep up the girl’s cheeks, making Aemond’s curiosity severe. 

Elinora nodded and averted her gaze away from the princes, turning towards the gardens to hide the burning on her cheeks. She must admit, she had fancied Ser Gwayne since she was a young girl. The knight was always so gallant and kind and generous. He always brought the girl sweets whenever he was near Highgarden and entertained her during boring galas. But Elinora was well aware that her attraction towards the knight was and will always be one way, forever upholding his honor, which is ironically what Elinora found the most attractive quality of his— that and his face. 

“Well, I must be going— good morrow, my princes.” Elinora curtsied and tried to return to her way, but Daeron was quick to take hold of the girl’s hand, preventing her, Aemond raising a quizzical brow at his younger brother’s actions. “Nonsense, walk with us, I have not seen you in so long.” Daeron smiled and pulled lightly on the girl’s hand. “It’s only been a fortnight, Daeron,” Prince Aemond finally spoke, and Elinora could only give a sheepish smile in the direction of Prince Daeron. 

“Come now, tell me all your happenings here in court,” Prince Daeron urged and removed his hold from the girl’s hand and instead intertwined their arms as he often does as they stroll along the gardens in Lady Elinora’s home. Aemond walked a few steps behind them, irritation quick to bloom in him as he realized how truly familiar they were. It seemed worse than he thought, not only had Elinora nestled herself to Helaena’s side, but it would seem she had long been connected with Daeron. 

Aemond’s jaw ticked as he heard quiet laughs leaving the girl’s lips. Not once had she moved away from Daeron’s hold— only threading to him closer as his brother lowly whispered something to her, making Elinora’s blush deepen and make her laugh further. 

When they were nearing the royal apartments of the queen, Elinora’s laughs died, but her smile still remained but was only pointed at Prince Daeron, seemingly forgetting the presence of Prince Aemond. “I better go, brother was waiting for me in the gardens.” She informed, and Daeron’s brows raised. “You should have said! Edward is always one for punctuality; I’m certain you would not want another of your brother’s scolding,” The prince remarked, but Elinora smiled and shook her head. “I’m certain he’ll forgive me if he comes to know that you are here,” She smiled, and Aemond wanted to roll his eye. 

“Very well then, perhaps it’d be best if you wait for me then… what is a few more minutes more of tardiness if I am to save you already,” Daeron suggested, and Elinora tried to find a reason to delicately disagree with the prince’s suggestion, but she could not find the words so she could only force a smile and give a small nod. That was a bit of a dilemma for her, she was too shy and timid to disagree with almost everyone, unless in the very rare occurrence where she felt extremely strongly about the subject, like the instances she had with Prince Aemond. But besides that, she would only give a forced smile and agree to things she would rather not do. 

Elinora went to the side as Prince Daeron entered the queen’s chambers, and Elinora waited for Prince Aemond to follow suit, but he only stood outside with her. Elinora blew on her cheeks, not certain if she should speak to the prince that unnerved her. “You are quite… close with my brother,” The prince remarked, his feet once again carrying him closer to the girl. Elinora’s hands were placed on her back and from there, she nervously twiddled with her hair as the prince’s attention was on her once again. 

“Well, I’ve known Dae— Prince Daeron for years… often seeing him every weekend as he flew his dragon near Highgarden,” Elinora explained, and Aemond raised a brow at how truly familiar they were with one another, the lady who was a stickler in holding formalities, letting go as she addressed the younger prince without his royal title. Aemond hummed as he threaded closer to the girl who did not meet his gaze. “So you two are friends,” The prince stated, and Elinora nodded,  “Just… friends? Nothing more?” A confused frown quickly overcame Elinora’s face as the prince uttered the words. 

“Pardon, my prince?” She asked, and Aemond breathed in deeply, the scent of lilac and bergamot finally enveloping his senses. “We’ve heard reports that my brother was calling upon a lady… however, we never came to know her identity or who she was… is it you, my lady?” Aemond asked boldly, making Elinora’s eyes widen. Aemond smirked at the shock on her face. There were no such reports. He only thought of the lie at that moment because he was curious about his brother and Elinora’s closeness. 

“I… I have not heard of anything of the sort, my prince— and if Prince Daeron is courting a lady, I assure you it is not me.” Elinora replied, still shocked by how suddenly and shameless the prince asked her the question. Aemond smirked, thinking of another question to fluster the girl. It was so easy to do it! It was easy for him to put her in shock or surprise, to have a blush creep up her cheeks and have her jade eyes widen. 

“And why is that?” He questioned, still inching closer to her, who was nearing the stone wall. “Pardon?” She asked again, and Aemond’s smirk widened. “Why is my brother not courting you?” Elinora blinked a few times to comprehend the prince’s words, Elinora could sense he was enjoying making her feel unnerved, the smirk on his thin, pink lips only widening with each moment passed. She licked her lips, “Prince Daeron is not courting me because I am already betrothed.” Her answer made the smirk on Aemond’s lips slip away quickly. Aemond was rendered frozen, him now being the one who tried to comprehend the words uttered. 

Elinora stared at him, surprised as he looked quite perplexed. He did not move nor speak, and Elinora was quick to grow concerned and slightly offended. Was she truly that disagreeable in the eye of Prince Aemond that her revealing that she was betrothed had rendered him shocked? Elinora wanted to pout at the thought. She was ready to call for his attention, but the sound of a door opening and Prince Daeron calling her name made her disregard the thought, only curtsying quickly before Prince Aemond and stepping to the side to finally let Prince Daeron accompany her to the gardens. 

“You’re late, sister.” Edward sighed heavily as he heard the familiar footsteps of his sister, his eyes upon the book he read as he waited for Elinora. “Apologies, Edward. I stumbled upon Elinora and urged her to wait for me,” Prince Daeron was the one to reply, and Elinora smiled at the surprise on her brother’s face as Prince Daeron assisted her to her seat. “Dae— Prince Daeron! We did not know you were to come,” The prince greeted and stood, a quick pat on the back between the two was exchanged. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise.” Prince Daeron answered and sat across Lady Elinora, his violet eyes going around the gardens, questioning where his older brother had gone. “Had you come alone?” Lord Edward questioned, and before the prince could reply, a voice that was all too familiar spoke. “Of course not,” Ser Gwayned answered, his eyes catching the large smile that overcame the lips of Lady Elinora. 

Aemond observed from above the gardens as the four of them interacted, watching as Lady Elinora looked completely smitten by his mother’s brother. Was there truth in anything she had said? Was she truly betrothed? And if she was, to whom was she betrothed to? And why would she look so besotted by his uncle? The prince sneered and walked off, now remembering why he had avoided the girl the past days. There was always a weird pattern in his chest when she was near; it was as if he was out of breath and his skin crawled. And worst of all, he could not control his tongue. Aemond was always known for his cold, eerie silence, but whenever the girl was around, he could not pacify himself and stay silent. He always thought of something to say to her. That was quite a troublesome development for the prince. 

“To whom is she betrothed to?” The one-eyed prince was itching to ask his sister as he uncharacteristically joined her for tea the following morning. Two tots ran around the table they sat upon in the gardens, and the chirps of birds were accompanied by the cries of a babe. Helaena had been waiting for their younger brother, wanting to introduce Daeron to her children, though she was surprised as she was suddenly accompanied by Aemond. 

“Sister! Apologies for being tardy,” Daeron finally arrived, and his arm was Lady Elinora, her butterflies trailing the both of them. Aemond doubted further the statement of the girl that she was betrothed, especially as he once again saw firsthand the closeness she and his youngest brother had. Surely, her betrothed would frown upon such intimacy, even if it was only a social intimacy. He certainly would. 

“Good morrow, your Highnesses,” The lady greeted and curtsied before the prince and princess who were already sitting in the gardens. “Good morning, Lady Elinora. I’m glad you could join us,” Princess said softly, with a smile on her face even though the babe in her arms was wailing uncontrollably. 

“Well, this isn’t the welcome I expected from my nephew,” Prince Daeron remarked as he once again assisted Elinora to her seat. “I’m sorry brother… Maelor often has crying fits that we could only hope he could grow out of,” Helaena apologized, and Daeron shook his head. “No need for apologies, sister; I was only jesting.” As the words left the youngest prince’s lips, a butterfly strayed closer to the face of the crying babe— the insect’s fluttering and colorful wings effectively distracting Maelor. His cries died down as he stirred in his mother’s hold. His grubby little hands tried to reach for the butterfly that came with Lady Elinora. 

Elinora smiled fondly as she saw the once-saddened eyes of the babe turn excited as all of his attention was turned to the insect. Aemond, on the other hand, pursed his lips as his sister and brother were quick to commend the lady whose butterflies effectively ceased the cry fits of his nephew. 

As the day progressed, Aemond accompanied his brother in the tiltyard to train just as they often did in childhood. Daeron was speaking of his ventures in Oldtown, and Aemond could no longer restrain himself from asking the question that had been bugging him since yesterday. “So this Lord Redwyne… is he Lady Elinora’s betrothed?” Aemond slyly asked, forcefully making his tone cavalier and uncaring as Daeron shared the dances he partook in Highgarden with Lady Elinora always being present. 

Daeron frowned, “Oh gods no.” He said as his brother raised his brow. “Then who is?” The prince questioned. “I… I actually do not know— neither does she. Only her parents and brother know, but they refrain from revealing the name of the lord until she is of age. They only constantly remind her that she is to be bound to another, which is why she was never allowed to be courted by the lords.” The youngest prince informed, but it only served to confuse Aemond further. 

“I remember a distant cousin of ours was so taken and in love with Elinora that when he came to find that her hand was already promised to another, he vowed never to marry and instead joined the brown brothers. To this day, none has heard him speak again… only hearing distinct mutters of incoherent words as he prayed in the sept.” 

Aemond’s frown deepens. Throughout the past few days, he thought he had come to know all that was there in regard to Lady Elinora. He thought her to be quite simple, just a sheltered, naive lady of a noble house who was too weak with kindness. However, now, he is coming to realize that she is perhaps an enigma— a mystery that she herself cannot answer. 

“I’m glad you have taken well to court,” Aemond heard the voice of his uncle, and he quickly turned just to see Lady Elinora accompanied by Ser Gwayne. Elinora could only force a smile, not wanting to utter the truth of how the court had welcomed her. “And my nephews… have they proven to be genteel and honorable?” Elinora could only blink at the question. 

With the limited interactions he had with Prince Aegon, all she had gathered from it was she did not wish to be in the presence of the eldest prince, who made her skin crawl and her insides filled with uncertainty and dread. Prince Aemond, on the other hand, was… was… Elinora could not even find the words to describe the second-born prince. He was a mystery— a riddle that she could never figure out. 

The lady only smiled further at the knight, who seemed pleased enough to see the grin on the girl’s lips. He always had a soft spot for Lady Elinora, seeing her as less than a noble lady but more like his younger sister, whom he could never bond with as she was taken to court and he had to stay in Old Town. 

“Will you stay to watch me and my nephews train?” The knight softly asked, glancing towards the two silver princes, an eye already observing them. “I— I’m sorry, but I must go; I’m to spend time with my mother.” Elinora said with a sad smile, and Ser Gwayne gave a nod, “Well, let me escort you then; I can—“ Elinora quickly shook her head, “No, you’re already here; I can go by myself.” Elinora insisted, not wanting to inconvenience the knight who had been so kind to her ever since she was a child. “My, look how independent you have become,” Ser Gwayne teased, and Elinora laughed and shook her head. “Good day, Ser Gwayne,” Elinora curtsied before returning inside the castle walls. But before she could enter, she caught the lilac eye of a cold prince who looked upon her calculatedly. 

When Elinora sat with her mother in her chambers, she was made to do her embroidery, a hoop, and a needle in her hands. Her mother was sat across from her, Lady Tyrell’s back turned against the fire, a scripture book in her hands as she read the holy words for her daughter. “Shun all forms of sexual immorality. For every other transgression that a man shall commit is external to the body, but he who indulges in such immoral acts sins against his own flesh. Know that your body is sacred and that you have received it from the gods.” 

Elinora blushed at the particular scripture her mother decided to recite. It was quite scandalous! The girl thought as she awkwardly cleared her throat and readjusted her posture. “You must always bear this in mind, my darling…” Lady Tyrell warned, and Elinora nodded fervently. “Yes, mother, I know. I must guard my virtue for my husband— he shall be the first and only one to have it,” Elinora answered, this particular teaching instilled in her mind ever since she had her first blood. 

“Good,” Her mother smiled, satisfied by her daughter’s words and the embarrassed blush on her cheeks, which sedated her fears that a deviant might have corrupted her precious daughter’s innocent mind. “I must advise you to be wary, Elinora… the court is… is not the most suitable environment for a young lady. Men and their depravity lurks in each corner… I urge you to tell me or your father or brother if any dares to take advantage of your kindness and innocence.” Elinora’s brows furrowed slightly as to what her mother was implying, but Elinora still nodded, though she was not quite certain what Lady Tyrell meant. 

Her mother let out a breath of relief and turned the page of her scriptures, but before she could begin to read aloud another verse, Elinora spoke. “Mother… might ask— it’s just—“ Elinora stuttered, as her mother looked upon her expectantly. “Who is my betrothed? You and father and brother always say that my hand has been already promised, but I am still to know who he is… who am I to marry?” She asked delicately. 

“We have discussed this, my darling. You shall come to know and meet your betrothed when the time is right,” Lady Tyrell stated their mantra to avoid telling Elinora more about her betrothal. “But when is that?” She asked, pulling the needle through the cloth. “Patience, Elinora. We have always taught you that patience is a virtue… why do you forget? You shall come to know all of it in time, but for now, you must exercise patience.” Her mother warned, tone growing harsher and stricter with each word. “Yes, of course, mother, I apologize,” Elinora quickly said, lowering her head as she stepped beyond bounds. Lady Tyrell gave a nod and continued on to recite the scriptures. 

Aemond pursed his lips as it was nearing sundown, and he realized what he had done the whole day. Ever since his training with sword ended at noon, he had been going from maester to maester to question them about a particular betrothal. Each betrothal and union in the kingdom had to gain the blessing of the king or, in recent years, the small council. The maesters had a list of those betrothed, altering them when the couples had been married or if their betrothals had dissolved. 

“Why do I even care?” The prince questioned himself as he held a ladder to stabilize it as a maester tried to retrieve a scroll from a high shelf. “Which house was it again, my prince?” The maester asked, dust cascading down as he pulled up on the neglected scrolls. “Tyrell.” He stated, tapping his foot in impatience. He was past the point of no return now; he had spent half the day invested in the betrothal of a girl that he could not stand. 

“Ah, here we are,” The maester stated and slowly climbed down the ladder, testing further the prince’s patience. As the old man’s feet were firmly placed on the ground, he fidgeted with the scroll, and the prince had to stifle down his urge just to grab the declaration from the wrinkling hands of the man. 

“Lady Elinora of house Tyrell… daughter of Lord Benjamin and Lady Charlotte Tyrell, betrothed three moons after her birth in the ye—“ The prince’s jaw ticked, “To whom, grand maester?” The prince almost bit out. The maester was silent for a moment as he finished reading the scroll. “It does not state whom, my prince. The name has been shaded off.” Aemond frowned and snatched the scroll from his hands. “How is that possible? That is not allowed! It must state to whom she is betrothed; why would the king sign this declaration?” Aemond said in severe irritation. 

“Well, the king did not sign the declaration; it was your grandfather, the lord hand.” The maester informed and pointed towards the seal of his grandfather. “If you wish to know further about the lady Elinora, you must ask the hand, I’m afraid this is as far as I know, my prince.” The maester said, and Aemond stared into his milky eyes to see if he told the truth, he did. Aemond nodded and rolled the scroll once more before hiding it in his pocket. 

The prince walked the halls to return to his chambers and be absolved of his foolishness— to assess and have a talking with himself for his actions. Just as he reached the royal wing, he saw the reason for his ridiculousness. Ironic, wasn’t it? There he was, calling the girl ridiculous for showing love for a mere butterfly, but he just spent a great amount of effort to know who she was betrothed to— she, a girl he completely abhorred. The gull they have to put her, a mere lady, in the royal chambers!

“Good evening, Your Highness,” Elinora quickly curtsied as they passed, her gaze avoiding him as she tried to fasten her steps to return to her chambers quickly. Aemond, on the other hand, paused and thought of just asking her the answer to the question that had been pestering in his mind. But he could not just blatantly ask her the matter of her betrothal. It would make him look like he cared, which he didn’t.

“You lied.” He suddenly stated, his voice echoing through the empty halls. He heard the sound of footsteps seizing, and he watched as Lady Elinora stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to him. “I’m sorry, my prince?” Elinora questioned, “You should be. It is considered treason to lie to a prince,” Aemond said as he threaded closer to the girl. “What? I—I have not lied,” Elinora defended, a deep furrow in her brows as her fingers fiddled with her hair in nervousness. 

The prince scoffed. “There you go once more, another lie.” The prince stated, ticking his tongue in disapproval. “I do not know what you mean, my prince— but I assure you, I— I tell no lies,” Elinora said, trying to make her voice sound firm, but Aemond could still sense nervousness in it. “Good,” He thought. It was always easier to gather information from people who were filled with nerves.

“You said you were betrothed… but there is no truth to that, is there?” Elinora’s lips parted in shock and confusion. “Wh— but I am betrothed, I did not lie… why would I lie about such a matter?” She questioned with a slight tilt of her head, her hair cascading down her shoulders, which momentarily caught the prince’s attention. The way the dark auburn curls swayed with each and every little movement she made. 

“I do not know… perhaps you are embarrassed— desperate. Having to lie to a prince just to fulfill a fantasy in your little head,” Elinora was often confused, but only in the presence of Prince Aemond did she feel utterly clueless. She could never understand what he said, his actions, or his mood. He was unpredictable, and Elinora did not appreciate that. She never liked the unpredictable; it only made her nervous and antsy.

“I do not appreciate your accusations, my prince— what I say is the truth, but very well, believe what you wish,” Elinora said, growing a bit of courage as she was losing patience in trying to be cordial with Prince Aemond. Aemond raised a brow at the sudden change of attitude in the girl. 

“Hm, very well then, try to convince me that you say the truth.” Aemond crossed his arms across his chest as he peered down at Lady Elinora, her scent of lilacs and bergamot surrounding his senses once again. “How?” The prince hummed and shrugged, “Tell me your betrothed’s name, then I shall believe you.” Elinora bit at her cheeks as she looked at the prince’s eye, cruel amusement in his eye. 

“I do not know.” She muttered, and Aemond leaned further. “What? I did not quite hear that. Were you not taught that ladies should not mutter under their breath?” Aemond taunted. Elinora inhaled deeply, spite slowly shining in her eyes. “I do not know, my prince. I was never told his name.” Elinora admitted, now realizing how curious it was that the prince was quite interested in the matter of her betrothal. “I knew it, you lie.” Th prince said cruelly, tormenting the girl he fully knew told the truth but only pestered her further just because… we he didn’t know why, but he could not help himself. 

“I tell no lie! I do not know, only because my family refuses to tell me his name! I was only told that I am betrothed, but never his name.” Elinora explained, voice growing louder as she was starting to fill with annoyance. She hated this! She hated being interrogated for an answer she did not know, and she loathed that she was being called a liar when all her life, she had only told a handful of lies and fibs! 

“And you believe them? You believe that you are betrothed just because they say you are, but they gave you any reason to believe such folly.” 

“Yes! They are my family… they care and love for me, why would they lie?” Elinora wanted to run back to her chambers, hating the way the prince was cruelly trying to plant doubts in her mind. “I do not know… perhaps the same reason why you lie.” The prince challenged, finding no remorse in his actions even when he saw the turmoil in her jade eyes. “But I have told you, I tell no lie! Even if my family lies as you accuse them of doing so, that does not mean I lie because I only repeat what they told!” Aemond only stared at the girl, searching his brain for a response to further continue their conversation, which the girl saw as an interrogation. 

There was a beat of silence, and Elinora sighed heavily to break it. “Why do you even care, my prince? So what if I am betrothed or not? What does it matter to you?” Elinora asked more softly, her irritation quickly calming down. She was never really one to hold grudges or ill feelings for too long. 

Aemond was taken aback by her question. “I—I don’t. I don’t care about you,” he said a bit too quickly, his tone defensive. Elinora nodded in understanding. “Then, it shouldn't matter if I tell a lie or not, now should it?” Elinora questioned, and Aemond was left speechless. Elinora waited for a moment for the prince to reply, but when he made none and only gaped at her, the girl curtsied before him. “Good night, Prince Aemond.” She uttered and turned to finally return inside her chambers.

Tag List: @sapphirevhagar @dahlias-and-marigolds @shygardengalaxy-blog @m-riaa

[paralleljoys]

Leona Thoughts! Big Big Leona Thoughts!

I’m only going off of snippets of the chapter described by others and the one video on youtube that is still in Japanese so this might be inaccurate but for right now this is my opinion on why Leona’s dream played out like it did.

[TLDR: Leona’s pride, loneliness, and self-doubt is so strong that his dream cannot become canon-divergent without risking waking him up.]

We already know that the dreamer’s can only dream when the “reality” of the dream is sustained. And that “reality” bends depending on how imaginative or delusional the dreamer is. Which gets us things like Doodlebob!Floyd and Buff!Epel. We know that the magic of the dream will work to keep the dreamer asleep.

“Leona is the type of person to know when he’s dreaming” was what Idia said and I think that he was right.

When we get a dreamer like Leona, who is so rooted in reality and how he knows the world to work, his wildest and happiest dreams would absolutely bend the dream to the point of waking him. So his dream is reality.

To become king in reality, Leona’s talents would have to be recognized or he’d have to be the only option. If he was recognized then he’d be king already so the reality where he is chosen over his father, Falena, or Cheka doesn’t exist.

So, they get in an accident, his father succumbs to his illness, no other choice is available but Leona. It’s not how he wanted to get there, but in “reality” that is the only option for Leona.

And he stays realistic throughout his dream. He’d be king by circumstance and no one would want him. He’d enact his plans but no one will support him. He’d fail as a king and his people will reject him. Looking at who Leona is, I personally think this wouldn’t be true. The Savanaclaw students trust him as their leader for a reason, why wouldn’t there be people in his country willing to listen to him?

Regardless, in Leona’s wonderfully pessimistic worldview he will continue to be unwanted, even when he has what he wanted most. Leona understands both himself and others to the point that he subconciously recognizes how his pride would be his downfall but he can’t acknowledge it yet. He’d push everyone away until only the hyenas are left.

This understanding pushes itself into the way that the people close to Leona manifested. The people didn’t support him because why would they? He’s a replacement for Falena, not their chosen King. He can keep the hyenas with him, but the moment the food is gone he knows they wouldn’t stick around. The fact that Ruggie appeared as a protestor in the crowd instead of someone at his side shows how transactional Leona views their relationship to be. Then there’s Kifaji, his caretaker who stayed with Leona his whole life and arguably the closest character to Leona. The man will beg and plead for him to be a proper king, no matter how far from it Leona strays, because Kifaji is diligent or better yet, tenacious. Either way a truth is that Kifaji will not abandon the King. Meaning that even at his worst he believes Kifaji would never leave him, so long as he’s King.

But what did Lilia admonish him for in Chapter 2? Not for attacking Diasomnia, but for having a sensitive ego that directs his anger at his retainers. That is what Lilia says makes Leona unfit to rule.

And in his dream he takes the abuse from his people. He takes the rejection and the insults. He is still King. He is still King until he tries to hurt one of his people, Ruggie. That’s when Kifaji stops him. Because he is no longer King when he turns his anger on his people. And that’s when he runs away. That’s when he sinks deeper into his dream.

[Thank you for reading this far but that’s all I have to say! It’s more my delusions but it’s there nonetheless. I wish I had gotten into the Lion Guard because I know there’s themes from that that could explain more aspects of Leona and his dream.]

[brynn-lear]

Paper Canes (Yandere!Capitano/Reader)

Chapter 3 overview: Some people bet on their lives, some bet on their death. Alice of the Hexenzirkel had to learn that in a rather unsettling way.

CW/Tags: slowburn/soft yandere themes, afab!reader, unrequited love/obsession. While this fic isn't "too dark", the reader isn't mentally stable. Please prioritize your health first, you matter.

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2

You're always unhappy around Alice.

Alice is, by every account there is to be counted for, a very whimsical woman and a non-traditional mother— someone who will certainly die unconquered. If there comes a time when there would be no naysayers to disparage her name, then it would be safe to assume you no longer reside in Teyvat. The Tsaritsa duly noted your fervent distaste for her. You've sent infertile insults on her way and turned malicious thoughts into plans once or twice, but that fiery woman is no different from a cockroach. Christening the formula, you were certain you'd molded your schedule perfectly to avoid her mischievous gaze. Alas, you were wrong, and being wrong makes you unhappy—

Unhappy to have yourself wholly examined.

"I'm glad I roped you into a tea party with me! Here I thought I was shooting in the dark when I guessed you'd take the long way back."

This encounter happened on October 20th three years ago.

The year you lost your youth.

"If you're so painfully aware of how much I do not want to be here, why go to such lengths?" You grumbled, less of a question and more of an attitude show.

Alice poured you a cup of tea. In a way, you envied her. The iridescent flecks in her crimson pupils, the silky cream hair that drapes on her shoulder… a woman of her description was worth making a monolith for. What a shame that this was not your flavor.

Capitano's honestly far more gorgeous. But the last time you told him that, he said you shouldn't tease him.

"Isn't it obvious?" She laughed awkwardly, thanking good fortune for crafting an environment wherein you'd stab her with words, not weapons. "I'm not about to let a cute lovelorn woman ruin her chances of romance, you know?"

"Romance?" You scoffed.

Before you were Granny (Y/n), you were that "attention whore" of a harbinger. Your strength lies in forming connections and throwing extravagant social events. Balls, tea parties— you name it. It's what caught the Hexenzirkel's attention in the first place. No discrimination between humble folk and high culture. You were THE woman people seek as a medium for self-expression.

Though, if you were frank to anyone who would be willing to listen, you have got to be the most secretly antisocial host that ever graced public spaces. Outside those play-pretends, you keep to yourself.

So what the hell is she talking about?

"If you were reading your life as a novel, you'd swoon!" Alice grinned. "You know, the most you'll lose is some time and energy, but the most you'll gain is a lifetime with the Captain!"

Unlikely. If you were leafing through the pages of that novel, you'd see clearly how you went from going through life with spontaneous survival tactics before diving headfirst to unplanned survivor's guilt. Not that misery was ever willingly placed in one's schedule, of course.

"Don't care." You glared. "Don't use my life as a basic framework of history to write a cheap and marketable romance. I'm not a damsel in distress."

Alice laughed behind her painted nails. "Can you even defend yourself if I chucked a glove at you?"

"Do you want a show of hands?" You raised an eyebrow, irritated. "If so, there's nothing for me to demonstrate, I'm not—"

"Strong as you used to be." Alice's smile faltered. "Because you're giving up on the greatsword, right?"

She hovered her hand above yours hesitantly, before tenderly circling your palm with her thumb.

"I see through your facade; I know that your strength is dwindling." She sighed. "You're worried that you're falling behind—"

"I am. Mine may have slowed down thanks to the boughkeeper's help and pity, but I'm still rotting. The honor of strength is one I can freely do without. I'm confident I can still obliterate you."

"Indeed." Alice's eyebrows furrowed. "But is that any excuse to allow Pulcinella to plot against your back? To let him sweep that title off your feet and give it to a child who shouldn't be in danger?"

Ah, so this is what this is about. Not your non-existent love life.

Alice wasn't harassing for the sake of shenanigans. She wanted your hold on the 11th seat to remain firm so that a child wouldn't be forced into a life of hardship.

Subjectively neglectful as she may be, she is still a mother.

"Who says I want to continue being a harbinger?"

Alice froze upon hearing that challenging remark.

"Ruffie—"

"Don't call me that." You slammed a hand on the table, making not only those resting on the top jump but Alice as well. The table cracked. "If a kid replaces me, then so be it. Why should I give a damn?!"

What kind of self-absorbed fool would grieve over an empire of dirt?

Alice didn't look at you. Instead, her unsteady gaze was on the pack of cards that nearly fell off the edge.

You picked it up and snapped.

"What? You wish to play?"

Alice cleared her throat. The smile resurfaced on her face, eager to return the momentum she once had. "S-Sure! Why don't we play a game?"

As she was about to reach for the pack, you pulled it back.

"Hmm. I don't want to," you droned. "Let's have a bet."

Alice paled slightly. "A bet?"

"Don't think I haven't heard of your tales. I know you have a penchant for making others' lives infinitely worse." You put the deck down. "So, why not strike a deal."

"I didn't invite you here to make an enemy out of you."

"It's a friendly competition." You remarked. "I believe you'll agree to my terms."

Alice shifted from her seat. "Oh, okay then, I'm listening."

"Since you so badly want me to remain as the 11th, if you win I'll do as you wish. When challenged by that child Ajax, I won't hold back and let him scamper back." You shook the box. "However, if I win…"

You paused.

After scavenging through the shelves of your mind, finding a desire for fulfillment was surprisingly a chore. That isn't to say you have the world in your palms. There was no grand wish to shock her. If anything, what you wished was simple…

"Rest assured, Tsaritsa will say yes to an upcoming babyface." You smiled outwardly. "And you have to create a potion for me in return, witch."

"A potion…?" Alice batted her eyes, and suddenly, her mood lightened. "Could it be… You want a love potion too?!"

…

The room dropped a few degrees.

"Get a grip."

"K-Kidding, kidding!!!"

"And what do you mean by too?" The words slipped past you without a second thought. As you were about to retract them, thinking yourself above mindless gossip, Alice answered:

"Capitano asked if true love potions are possible, but started chickening out because of his morals— or at least something to that effect." Alice giggled. "He was so flustered and oddly ashamed of himself, you should've seen him!"

…

No, you'd rather not. Ignorance is bliss when it comes to your old friend. Whatever excites him is his business, not yours.

…

After a few rounds of silence, you spoke up.

"Wow, Alice." You said. "You are terrible at this."

The woman was set on making Klee shine, but her grasp of Kaeya's card mechanics failed her. She forgot that his burst demands a character switch to trigger its effect— a misstep that voided her melt strategy. Kaeya's card is squandered under her shaky command. Alice was left clinging to a dying Klee and Jean, the game slipping further from her grasp.

But all is fair in love and war.

You're shit at the game too.

Sure, she might have fumbled by leaving her last Jean card unequipped, but at least she wasn't as cursed by bad luck as you were with dice rolls and card draws. Broken Rime's Echo was the only gem in a heap of trash. Simply put, you've lost Columbina and a Pyro agent card.

You're deadset on winning with a terrible hand— she's locked in on having her precious golden child as the claimer of spoils.

Alice has her daughter, while you have…

"Isn't this adorable? You have your knight in shining armor with you!"

"He's not." You rolled your eyes. He knows what he truly is, and it's certainly not "your" knight.

"I could use a couple of astrology readings to check your compatibility~"

"No. Your readings are usually not just comments, but an arm-chair doctor level diagnosis."

"Yet I'm helpful, aren't I? Perhaps I've garnered polarizing reviews, but I was still deemed a wonderful advisor."

You glared.

"I'd give you your flowers; I'm certain you have helped many sort out their… issues. But I don't need your help or perceived pity. I'm rowing life smooth sailing."

You used Capitano's burst.

Jean gracefully exited the battle with a soft murmur about Mondstadt.

"Oh no, Jean!..." Alice looked genuinely upset. "Well, you don't have to say it, I can tell you need friends. One that wouldn't inflict…what does your coworker call it? Ah, right— vicarious trauma."

Getting personal huh? What a sour loser.

You laughed a little too loud, bitter. "Vicarious trauma… That's an even bolder diagnosis."

Once people are done singing praises, anyone can see you've lost more friends to "drowning" than you have in wars.

Alice cooed. "Still, you didn't deny that you need a partner— a soulmate. So why not let the lovesick Captain in?"

…

You quietly took a sip.

It's chamomile tea. Your favorite.

Which so happens to also be Capitano's. That man has a habit of forming his own opinions only after hearing yours.

Does he think having a lot in common means you'd reciprocate his feelings too?

… Surely not, he's smarter than that.

"His goals do not align with mine. He's best suited for a woman who would settle down. If you care so much, why not recommend him to one of your lady friends?"

"Everyone in Teyvat knows who he has eyes for."

"Ugh. Stop boring me with your half-baked drivels."

"Don't you pity him, even just a little bit?" Alice's voice softened. "Considering what he's going through right now?"

You froze.

There was a time… There was a time when he almost had a family of his own. But "his" poor dau—

You shook your head.

"I don't." You insisted.

"You're adorable— and a terrible liar to boot. Did you know that you keep looking up like Celestia would strike you for lying?" Alice sighed.

Upon having that epiphany, you fixed your collar and made a loud mental note to fix that habit.

You drew a card.

…

Seelie and Fatui Conspiracy.

You held back a grin.

Columbina… was she to praise for this dumb luck?

After a few rounds, you've activated both while Alice placed Liben and healed with sweet madame.

Capitano's on the brink of death.

How typical of him. Almost nostalgic.

"You'll lose," Alice said bluntly. "You really should think Capitano over. You're just hurting him and yourself by pretending not to know his feelings…"

You droned out her ramblings. None of that matters. You'd sooner get dressed for this stupid card game than a love confession.

There it is.

The seelie had its 3rd stack.

It gave you Adeptus Temptation.

…

But you don't have enough dice so you had to tune for cryo for now.

Klee had close enough energy for a burst, but Alice decided to play safe and heal.

You laughed, smiling at her without breaking eye contact.

"I was supposed to protect her, Alice. But I chose to host parties. When she lay in the hospital for her first, second, third, the fourth surgery, waiting for me, I sent a letter instead. I made an oath to protect her but what did I do? I sent two lousy paragraphs for some agent to read. And you think I have the heart to play sweet dolly in your game of house?"

You let out a short chuckle, the type only visible when the body slightly moves. Your disbelief is palpable, and your voice cold.

"You're funny, Alice. I'll give you that." You glared. "But you're too distracted."

Neither of you mentioned her name.

Was it out of respect or shame?

Who knows.

You don't want to remember her either way.

You made the last move.

…

…

…

"I… lost?"

"Wow, really, wow I never would've guessed you'd lose." You replied dryly. "It was such a close match too, oh wow."

You shrugged. "It's honestly so disappointingly anticlimactic the way you lost. Aren't you supposed to be a master of all things immature?"

Capitano wouldn't have won if it weren't for the attack boost. The last support card buffed his damage by 3 points… You'd thank him and Columbina after this but they wouldn't understand TCG.

"You mean childlike— oh whatever, that's not the point!" Alice whined. "I demand a rematch!"

"Denied. It's time you honor our deal."

She sighed. Alice slowly knocked her forehead on the table, deflating like a pathetic balloon.

"Fine… What do you want?" Alice pouted. "Is there anything in life you could want anyway?"

Yes.

Yes, there is.

There is something intangible that you wish to grasp for yourself but slips through your fingers.

You loosened up, your harsh stare replaced with a lazy smile.

Before uttering words like a prayer before the crusade.

"From here on out, I'll officially give up on both my title as a harbinger and my greatsword."

Victory was claimed. And maybe it was wishful thinking, but someday you hoped…

"Might as well replace it with a cane."

That this tragedy will be bested by another.

With what else, but Death itself?

Today is October 20th.

It's been a full year since you've taken this conventionally unappealing form. Conventional to Dottore's goals, at least.

"You must be Granny (Y/n)!" A floating fairy approached you, both hands on her back with a curious expression. "You asked the traveler to help you shop right?"

"That's right," you feigned a weak smile. "Would you all be cute little darlings and accompany a grandma for lunch?"

They both saw an elderly woman, covered in small bandages to hide the disgusting rot. You wore a humble peach blouson dress and sandals. Picture the perfect image of an old money retired widow squandering her resources for life's simple joys.

Hook, line, sinker.

"Of course! Leave it to the Traveler and Paimon to help you!" Paimon cheered, tugging Lumine, who smiled in response.

Lumine is a sweet little lady.

Not that she's young, mind you. The lass' lifespan can't be belittled. But just as you'd let her believe you're a grandmother, you'd wrongly treat her like a granddaughter. Conventional wisdom, as Dottore would say. And convenience doesn't mean right.

Watching Lumine's eyes, though dim, feign cheerfulness made you chuckle. You have to admire the girl; her mud-splattered legs and worn-out cape surely signify adventure. She reminds you of her brother. The prince had a knack for finding trouble, too— even though you'd argue Dainsleif is worse than him.

"So, what do you want to eat?"

You smiled and pulled out a ridiculously long list. "My pearl companions just couldn't stop raving about these delightful flavors ever since they got their dentures sorted, so of course, I simply had to try them myself!"

The rest of the conversation flowed smoothly, much to your chagrin. Being a conversationalist has its perks, but you seriously wish aiding Dottore was not one of them. You admitted you don't have enough knowledge to dispense good judgment on what to spend— and Paimon dominated the recommendations with food.

To be honest, sweets no longer excite you. You're used to war rations. Desserts as a pleasure are characteristically superficial in value.

But here you are, licking Natlan's rock candy desserts like a child…

"I was wary about trekking here in Natlan. I've never seen travelers who came from this nation— thought this was a fantasy land when I was a young lass!" You feigned worry. "I've only heard that they enjoy gladiator matches."

"Yeah, kinda!" Paimon spoke. "Paimon thinks they really like to grow strong. It might just be their love language!"

Is that right?… That reminds you of someone.

Someone with an imposingly tall figure and soft ocean gaze.

"The locals might have mythologized tough love as useful trauma." You hummed, amused. "Then again, their archon is a human, not the Tsaritsa. Natlan's ingrained belief to die and be reborn so patriotically is worthy of close inspection. Perhaps I assumed we shared the same values since those are what the nation I hailed from taught."

You rarely explore, so it's not in your best interest to push your own uninformed beliefs onto another's culture when yours also has its flaws. The masses will always be influenced by dogmatic forms of traditions. This is just Natlan's vibrant flavor.

Though Lumine teetered on musing about how Lady Furina is human herself, a witness must remain a witness. Not that Arlecchino didn't report about this months ago.

"Where are you from, Granny?"

You chuckled. "Where else but Snezhnaya, dear?"

"Ooooh that makes sense!" The fairy buzzed excitedly.

Not Snezhnaya. Khaenri'ah. But they don't need to know that yet.

Lumine stared at you. You're certain she's already figured out the truth. With those eyes of yours, you'll have to push that you're a 'descendant'. Only a matter of time before she'd act on her curiosity.

"Oh, how does it make sense, pray tell?" You closed your eyes as you sipped your soda. Too sweet for your aged tastes, but manageable.

"P-Paimon didn't mean anything bad by it!"

"Well, I wasn't assuming that you were going to say a bad thing about my homeland, Paimon. That is, unless, that's what your darling head was mulling over?" You teased.

You're no stranger to the two's estranged relationship with the Fatui. It's all Tartaglia ever talked about in letters addressed to you.

The flustered guide turned to Lumine frantically. "T-Traveler, a little help please!"

Before the traveler could come up with a lousy excuse, the souring dragons had snatched your attention swiftly. The rhythm of their flight made you stare up in awe—

And bittersweet nostalgia.

"Ruffie…" You muttered.

Lumine tilted her head curiously, which snapped you out of your trance.

"W-Where was I? Ah, yes." You cleared your throat. "Natlan's views are so needlessly breathtaking. Each generous ray is no different from the golden strokes of a weathered paintbrush. Even with my poor eyesight, I can still spot the river below us, glittering like powdered azure. The nation moves and rests at once."

You sighed, feigning your happiness enough that it became the truth. "Fascinating, is it not?"

"Huh, Paimon didn't know you can be so poetic."

"One can be poetic when they describe something worth seeing. Though I wouldn't dare say it beats my homeland when I know Snezhnaya is my home." You forced a smile.

"Only a fool would swiftly divorce knowledge; you'd do well to remember that, young ones."

'You are mine in this life, and if there is another life beyond Teyvat, then you are mine in there as well.'

'Yours? Is this yet another vow of loyalty? You shouldn't utter such words carelessly, lest you'll be misunderstood. Do not chain yourself to these ruined bones.'

'… I'm afraid you are the one who misunderstands.'

'Either way, you must learn not to sacrifice so much. A bleeding heart like yours must steel his resolve to be a true Captain.'

Capitano will never forget those bold words he uttered directly in your stunned face one passionate evening. He remembers, now fondly, how hard his grip on his sword was and how white his knuckles were. You, three years ago, stood as the 11th to the 1st— yet the distance in your strength was far from outmatched. Divided only by a mere fraction.

Yet here he was, back on the scenic cliff where you and he had that conversation. Admittedly, that exchange would not have happened if the locals hadn't lent liquid courage. He'd long forgotten what the collaboration mission was, but he'd be damned if he forgot the celebration. When his expedition team grew rowdy with their shenanigans, Capitano groggily asked you to accompany him for a walk. Since you kept mostly to yourself at the time, you gladly took his hand and saw unfitting yourself out of the lively scene.

Today is October 20th.

What a day to reminisce.

Just by standing here on Tetipac Peak, he could almost hear what was from five years past. Sense it, even. Once, you brushed strands of his hair out of his eyes and gazed softly. It was as if it was only you and him- the village and his men nearby ceased existing. Just you, him, and Natlan's gorgeous views.

That simple gesture alone fattened the greedy beast inside him. One that would hastily discard morality for a mere taste.

That simple gesture alone repurposed the prison in his mind into a sanctuary.

'Gorgeous.'

'G… Gorgeous? With this tiring visage?'

That was the first and last time someone called him that.

'You've no idea how much that makes you even more enchanting. Hmm, hmm. You have beautiful blue eyes, Captain. A gaze that pierces through one's soul is a powerful asset. If I were born in your body, I'd certainly elevate my status in one way or another.'

'… A face as scarred as mine? An asset?'

'I adore your scars. Those are marks that tell a hundred tales. I'm jealous of your men who all have the privilege of seeing that face every day.'

'… Then perhaps this is a face I'd only let you see.'

'Haha! And then what? Do you intend to wear a mask or helmet often?'

'... Perhaps. I'm aware that I'm beyond repair—'

"Lord Capitano."

He blinked, turning around. Capitano shouldn't have daydreamed so deeply. It's been a while since he had failed to sense another's presence. One of his people knelt before him, despite her cool demeanor, a good captain could tell that matters plagued her mind.

"Elena. Is there something to report?"

It is far from uncommon for Elena to appear when Capitano is in his lonesome. He has specifically instructed the fatuus for this discreet duty. A trained eye may be misguided in speculating the nature of Elena's loyalty— but the truth is there's nothing beyond the usual master and servant. If masters normally instruct their servants to spy on the object of their desire, that is.

"Yes, sir," Elena spoke. "Granny (Y/– Lady Ruffiana has departed to the restaurant at the People Of The Springs, sir. She is with company."

He hummed. Before, Elena would much rather work on paperwork taller than her stature than assist a grandmother's spine. However, as his blue eyes assessed her sharply, the lines on her forehead tallied more genuine concern than before.

…

"Come… Come again?"

"She has decided to hire someone from the Adventurer's Guild to accompany her to lunch, Lord Capitano."

…

Capitano, ranked first of the Fatui Harbingers, was rendered mute.

Maybe he didn't hear that right.

"A restaurant in the People of the Springs? I believe I have heard about it... Golden Dusk, yes?" Capitano looked away.

...

"Is there something on your mind, my Lord?"

"Golden Dusk... is that not a… place for young adults to court? As a lunch... date... of sorts?" He tensed up slightly. "Why would she? And with who, Elena? I believe you are wise enough to investigate their name."

Elena blinked.

The word date in this context sounds foreign when born out of the strapping Captain's battle-weary lips. Futile as it was, she bit her tongue and made certain no comment about how weak he came across. Worse, he was completely unaware of this. Just replaying the dry despairing sound in her head felt wicked.

Besides, a date is what he first thought of? This is (Y/n) they're talking about. She could just be sizing someone up.

How whipped is he? It's a famous tourist destination. Elena swears it's as if everyone but Capitano knows that his affections for (Y/n) have been broadcast to Teyvat several times. The art of subtlety is lost to him.

… It shouldn't surprise her. Capitano is also rotting, so much worse than your case.

Capitano isn't your knight in shining armor.

He feels his bones erode, mixing with his blood like a sickening fruit juice. The vile dark and metallic liquid that frequently visits his tastebuds reminds him how little time he has.

Capitano's obsession over you is no doubt a public spectacle.

Maybe to him, he's just a loser in a tin foil.

And yet, Elena knows that no matter how much his eyes dim, those piercing blue stares still reflect your visage. Ex-eleventh to everyone but reigns as one in his heart. It's cheesy, it's cliché, it's sickeningly sweet- it's Capitano, a man desperately in love.

Elena was wrong about one thing, though. Capitano suspects you know about his feelings.

She very kindly answered. "She's with the traveler, my Lord. Ruffiana had told us that should you ask, the money you had lent her last night was for commissioning Miss Lumine."

Quickly, the tension disappeared from his shoulders. He pinched his temple. Ah, of course. Befriending Persons of Interests has always been La Ruffiana's modus operandi—

He stilled, eyebrows furrowed.

As much as Capitano loathes to acknowledge this, you are no longer a Fatui Harbinger and therefore have been stripped of that duty.

"...What for?"

Truth be told, he's unsure if he wants the answer. Receiving the straightforward assumption might be akin to seeking his ruin.

Elena looked at him with a face that asked why he was troubled by this. He shot a furtive glance over Elena's shoulder. That shy motion confirmed her suspicion.

Here he goes again. For a split second, Elena hoped his curiosity stemmed from a work-related issue rather than whatever this was.

"... To… spend time with her, sir. That's what she said when Felix asked."

Elena didn't know either; she was running on vague inferences. Before you left, you said you wished to get to know the traveler more. You've even asked Capitano's informant, Ashe, for her preferences, attitude, what she would like to eat, and more…

Shit.

In a sense, it does sound disastrously like a date, doesn't it…

"Elena."

"Yes, Lord Harbinger?"

"Move my plans for a later date, report to the Archon that I have another urgent matter at hand."

"P-Pardon?!" Elena's eyes widened. Is he serious?!

She then saw that glint in his eyes. Though only for a brief moment and an inopportune angle— there was a melancholic and faraway stare from the man who towered over her. He had his lips pursed, distraught like an abandoned puppy.

Grieving for a woman who never wanted him.

'You're the bane of my duties. But without you, my purpose seemingly lacks meaning. You make me whole, (Y/n).'

'Haha, I'm your bane huh? Drunken words sure let out sobering confessions.'

'… Is that crude joke all you've concluded from my loving words?'

'What's that?'

'… It is nothing. Forget that I have wasted a smattering of your time.'

Elena cast her gaze downwards. Better not speak of it out loud.

"Of course. Would you like assistance in—"

"Yes, please, if you would." Capitano cleared his throat. "I assume you know what to do. Let us make haste."

"Understood, Captain."

Taglist: @macaronilovingracoon, @lucienbarkbark, @meimeimeirin, @notthefib987, @meowmeowakutagawa,

@peachymonkgeh, @definitely-asexual-volcano, @brainemptynothoughts, @aenishas, @kapitankarate,

@goldenglow149, @ionkknowhattonamethis, @futuristicprincesscrown, @average-scara-fan, @sleeplessskeleton,

@pix-stuff

A/n: i had to put the author's note at the very bottom because man, once this fic is complete yall will notice how much foreshadowing have already been sprinkled since chap 1 to 3 HAHAHAH-//shot

I had to cut a few more dialogue between Lumine and (Y/n) to the next chapter since it's exceeding the average word count I set up. anyways sneak peak

hehe okay now i'll adios again, I still have to code WhoDrankIt (HSR otome game) :'))

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓣en

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. after dating for several weeks, miguel wants you to meet his military buddies. although you’re thrilled to meet them, you want to push miguel’s buttons a little at the bar.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, teasing, swearing, pet names, smut, shower sex, fingering, breast play, praise kink ( mdni )

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

it’s been a blissful few weeks.

thriving at your job writing top stories for articles, reading that new murder mystery book which recently came out, hanging out with friends, spending time with miguel and having amazing sex.

damn, it’s never been this good in a long time. like a really long time. you feel very grateful.

right now, you’re laying in bed with the man you adore. his muscular arms wrapped around you as he peppers kisses all over your face.

“miguel!” you giggle, trying to block his kisses with your hands, squirming in his arms.

“let me kiss my pretty girl.”

your cheeks warm up at his compliment. “no! i look like a mess.” you cover your face with your hands, hiding from him but mainly to hide your bashful face. “i got morning breath and my hair is all screwed up.”

that makes miguel stop immediately and looks down at you in disbelief. a frown settles on his face. “you’re not a mess, preciosa.” he actually is in disbelief that you think of yourself like that.

he adores you in any way, no matter what. morning breath, messy hair, miguel loves it all.

leaning closer, miguel gently tries pry your hands away from your face but he gets a whine instead. “preciosa… lemme see you, por favor.”

you can feel his breath against your hands. that soft tone makes you weak. god, he’s just so-

“lemme see my pretty girl, please…”

is it possible for your cheeks to burn? because this man is making you a bashful mess. you feel like a teenage girl gushing over the boy you’re crushing on. how can you deny that sweet plead?

very slowly, you move your hands away from your face. just revealing your eyes.

“need to see more, chula.” miguel teases.

you roll your eyes as you continue lowering your hands until they’re completely off your face.

“there she is.” a genuine smile on his face, pleased to see your pretty face completely. “mi niña preciosa.” without warning, he smothers your face with kisses.

“miguel!” you squeal, squirming underneath him.

laughter and squeals fill the room as his kissing attacks continue. miguel gives you one final kiss on the lips but deeper and longer this time. you reciprocate and cup his face with a hand.

“you look pretty wrapped in my sheets.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “of course, and i thought i looked pretty in the sunlight.” much sarcasm.

miguel grins. “you do, you always look pretty.”

another eye roll as you feel heat rise up in your cheeks again. “you look pretty too.” a smirk grows on your face as you watch his eyebrows rise in surprise.

now his cheeks are warm. it’s not often he gets called pretty, mainly handsome or sexy, which isn’t the best compliment. but being called pretty is just different, especially coming from you. his heart flutters.

“you… estas loca.” miguel finally speaks before leaning in and kissing you once again.

you two stay like that for a bit, kissing and embracing each other which feels like eternity. wishing you could remain like this indefinitely.

all of that kissing requires a break for air. parting your lips from each other, you shift positions on the bed where now you and miguel lay on your sides facing one another. one of his arms wrapped around you.

your eyes wander over his features. those plump lips, sharp cheekbones, the curve of his nose, those gorgeous brown eyes, and thick brows. but you notice those brows seem to be furrowed a little. his eyes don’t meet yours, instead off to the side.

he’s thinking.

“what’s up?” you bring on a hand to cup his cheek, bringing his back attention to you.

“nada, i…” he trials off for a moment, thinking. you remain patient, allowing him to take time to think. “well… i’m planning on meeting up with my buddies from the field tomorrow at a bar.” those brown eyes meet your own. “¿quieres venir conmigo?”

he watches your eyes sparkle. a wave of excitement courses through you. miguel has briefly mentioned his military buddies previously. three other men named ben, flash, and kaine. you always wonder about if you’d ever get the opportunity to meet them. perhaps you could with this proposal.

a smile creeps up on your face. “i’d love to.”

your answer makes his heart skip a beat and cause miguel to smile as well. “that’s great because they have been dying to meet you.”

your eyes perk up. “really?”

he chuckles at your cute reaction. “claro, they won’t stop asking me when they’ll get to meet you.”

“ohhh so you’ve been talking about me, huh?” you wiggle your eyebrows teasingly.

“cállete.” miguel chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“well, i’m dying to meet them too.”

miguel is filled with glee, thrilled for you to meet his buddies and for them to meet you to see how incredible you are. they’re gonna love you for sure.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

the day has come for you to meet miguel’s military buddies. you decide to wear a simple mini black dress with matching platform boots. you wanted be a little devious, wear something that would make it hard for miguel to keep his hands to himself and eyes from wandering a little too far. you wanted to push his buttons a little tonight. the mini dress was truly mini since it barely reached over your ass. showing off your thighs and most of your legs. your outfit seems to work it’s magic as miguel’s eyes dilate immensely the minute you step out the door.

his mouth waters at the gorgeous view before him. breath caught up in his throat as he drinks in your appearance. captivated by how the dress hugs and outlines your curves graciously. the man is utterly speechless, mesmerized by your beauty. you always manage to take his breath away effortlessly.

“you look… you look amazing.” his eyes can’t stop from raking over your form.

“gracias, guapo. you too.” you flash him a smirk, wrapping your arm around his after locking the door.

miguel wears a simple navy blue shirt with a bike jacket over it and dark denim jeans. maybe jeans wasn’t a smart choice since he feels them a little tight since he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“puta madre…” he curses at the sight of exactly how short your dress is as you walk in front of him heading towards the bar once you arrived.

barely covers your ass, almost peaks out. the swaying of your hips don’t help either but you definitely do that on purpose, teasing him more.

the tightness in his jeans grows much worse but he seriously can’t afford a boner right now. especially not in front of his friends or in public. but miguel believes this is only gonna get worse. you got something planned for him and he’s scared. miguel takes a deep breath before catching up to you.

entering the bar, there is a group of three men and two women. the men waving a hand in the air, one of them calling out to miguel. you and miguel share a smile before making your way over there.

“well, well, well.” the dirty blonde man with a buzz cut who was waving at you approached with a grin on his face. “el guerrero in sight.”

“nice to see you too, huevón.” the two men chuckle before sharing a quick embrace.

“¿el guerrero?” you smirk.

“my nickname.” miguel confirms.

you recall that nicknames and code names are used in the military. miguel’s nickname seems fitting, he definitely is the warrior type.

the other two got up from their seats and follow suit, greeting miguel with dabbing up and quick hugs. miguel turns to you, a hand on the small of your back, and introduced you to his friends.

the dirty blonde is flash. the blonde, broody one is ben. the brunette with a stubble is kaine, a cousin of peter (for plot sake, calm down comic nerds).

“so this is the girl who you’ve been tripping balls over.” flash teases which earns him a shove to the arm from miguel. “nice to finally to meet you.” he smiles, you say likewise. “this is my wife stacy.” the blonde woman strolls beside him.

“hi! it’s so nice to meet you!” she greets you sweetly, offering her hand to shake which you take.

“you too!”

“this is lena, kaine’s fiancé.” a brunette woman approached with a kind smile, introducing herself.

“it’s nice to have another woman in the group.” she jokes, shaking your hand.

“well, i’m glad. i was worried i was gonna be alone with wild animals tonight.” you joke.

“oh no, honey, we got you. someone has to keep an eye on them.” stacy laughs.

“by the way, you look gorgeous. that dress is amazing.” lena compliments you.

you smile with glee. “oh thank you! got it from cider.”

“no way! i shop there too!” she smiles.

the three of you engage in your girl talk, to invested to notice miguel admiring you from afar. a soft smile on his face as you gossip with your new friends. pleased to see you smiling, happy.

you all finally sit down and continue your conversations. miguel beside you, a hand on your thigh, gently rubbing and groping the soft skin as you engage in your conversation. although, it’s a little difficult to concentrate when miguel would slowly glide his fingers up your inner thigh before moving them away, leaving you a little disappointed. from your peripheral, he has a smirk on his face.

oh he wants to be like that?

well, you have something planned for him tonight.

here in the bar, not at home. why else would you be wearing this short ass dress? to tease him, duh.

after much chitchat, stories about the boys’ adventures and life-and-death situations, funny memories, you decide to play some pool. it starts off as men vs women, which resulted in the women winning. then it was couples vs couples, even though ben was a single pringle, he was still included and teamed up with flash and stacy.

after several rounds and beer, everyone needed to use the restroom. you and miguel stay and continue playing while waiting for them.

perfect, it was you two alone.

now your plan is in effect.

sassy mode is switched on. you feel miguel’s intense gaze as you slowly walk around the pool table, as if not paying attention to him. a smile creeps up to your face once you stand in front of miguel, your back to him, before bending over the table at a slow pace. arching your back more than usual and making sure your ass sticks out. the hem of your dress rises, revealing your black lace panties to his eyes.

“fuck…” he curses quietly at the sight of your exposed panties, your round ass. that boner returns, straining in his jeans that become a bit too tight.

that’s your plan.

it’s worse this time. cock suddenly throbbing in his jeans, desperate to be free of its confinements and slip pass through your probably now slick cunt.

miguel sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth then slowly walks up behind you, brown eyes never leaving your ass. a quiet groan escapes his lips as his clothed erection is pressed against your ass. cock twitching at the sensation. the denim fabric against your skin. his hands instinctively latch onto your hips. you pay no attention to him as you prepare to take your shot. although, you can’t deny the rapid beating of your heart and throbbing pussy.

“ay, hermosa… you’re driving me insane tonight.” miguel whispers, leaning over your smaller figure. “you trying to kill me?”

you shrug, acting oblivious. “i don’t know, i’m just here playing some pool.” oblivious and innocent contrasting the sinfulness of your actions.

“no me jodas, preciosa.” he bites back a groan as your hips wiggle a little, playfully grinding his throbbing erection. the grip on your hips tighten.

“i’m not, hermoso.” you say innocently, continuing wiggling your hips to tease him more. “but you can help me with taking my shot.”

miguel indulges in your game and helps you. leaning over until his firm chest is pressed against your back. his larger hands on top of your smaller ones, holding the stick together. his hot heavy breath beside your ear. hard cock against your throbbing pussy.

part of you wants to flip around, smash your lips on his and let miguel fuck you on the pool table. but the last thing you want is to get kicked out of the bar for eternity and ruined the night.

just gotta maintain patience.

your bodies are synchronized as you take your shot. moving together in harmony like in the bedroom. miguel’s broad muscular figure pressed against your smaller form, swallowing you whole. oh you just love feeling him against you, craving him endlessly.

“thanks for the help.”

“no problem.” his baritone voice against your ear, making your pussy quiver.

god you want him to take you right here, right now. usually you’re a patient person but now it’s biting you in the ass, pun intended. with miguel and sexy moments like this, it’s impossible to be patient. the man drives you crazy as you do him. finally, you turn to the side and lock eyes with him.

oh fuck, you’re done.

the tension intensifies the moment you locked eyes with one another. oh now you really wanna kiss and fuck already. neither of you felt this needy, but that proves the adoration you harbor for each other.

“is it weird to fantasize about being fucked on a pool table?” you whisper jokingly, lashes fluttering.

“no but i don’t think it’s best in public.” miguel whispered back, hot breath fanning your face. his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your hips as his eyes flicker between your eyes and lips.

before you could indulge in that fantasy, your hear footsteps approaching which makes you and miguel immediately pull away from each other. him taking a few steps back, discreetly adjusting his boner in his jeans so no one could notice. you fix the hem of your dress with a hand, covering yourself. your friends return and continue playing. you and miguel pretending as if you weren’t thinking about fucking on the pool table. although the spiciness was ruined, you send a wink at miguel across the room, signaling that the fun will continue later.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

it was a great night. finally got to meet miguel’s friends from the military and their partners. made new friends with the said partners and created a group chat titled ‘the special ops girlies’ which you came up with the name. played some pool and learned a few tricks. successfully managed to give miguel multiple boners. almost gave into your intrusive thoughts about fucking on a pool table.

now you couldn’t wait for the fun at home. but instead of eating each other’s faces off and rushing to the bedroom, you causally enter your apartment without intense eagerness. miguel helping you take off your shoes and taking your hand in his as you enter the bedroom, recapping about tonight’s event.

it was suggested to take a shower together. after stripping off each other’s clothes, miguel helps you step into the shower with a hand then follows you, sliding the glass door shut after him then wrapping his arms around your waist. your body immediately relaxes as the warm water hits your body, leaning against miguel’s solid chest. eyes closed and humming softly as you two relish this peaceful moment in this tiny space.

you begin washing each other. miguel’s thick fingers gently digging and stretching your scalp as he washes your hair with shampoo. you do the same to him, miguel slightly bent down to help you reach his hair. the sight makes you laugh. taking turns scrubbing each other’s bodies. miguel first then you. he crouched down scrubbing the load over your legs, hiking it up to his face and press gentle kisses on your inner thigh. a soft smile emits on your face as you look down admiring your handsome lover.

things briefly spice up as his kisses slowly trail up towards your heated core. your breathing gradually increases the further his lips travel upward. a feeling of disappointment hits you abruptly when his lips move away. opening your eyes, you notice the smug ass smirk on miguel’s face.

“¿que paso, bebita?” he chuckles at your cute glare.

you raise a brow, unamused. “hilarious, man.”

that elicits another chuckle from him. “just showing affection.” his calloused hands find your hips and gently tug you closer towards him.

“riiiight.” much sarcasm in your tone, giving him a skeptical look which he grins in return.

“also payback for early.”

“ah, but you enjoyed it though.” you say teasingly, placing your hands on his chest.

those bulky shoulders shrug. “sí pero…” he leans closer, making you crane your neck up ever more. “doesn’t justify the several boners you gave me.”

you knew he was gonna mention that. addressing the elephant in the room, or bathroom more accurately.

it was your turn to shrug. “don’t blame me for your body problems.” turning around, you face the shower nozzle and bask in the warm water, ignoring the slightly tight grip on your hips.

you can’t hold back the smile forming on your face as you feel pulled back more firmly against miguel’s chest. not to mention his boner against your back.

“but you are to blame, preciosa…” his tone lowered an octave, deep and seductive, making your core quiver. “bending over that table and flashing those pretty panties where anyone can see…”

you suddenly feel a hand slowly reaching towards your inner thigh, making you shiver. you pretend to not be phased by his touch but it’s impossible when he inches closer towards your now heated core. throbbing terribly with want and desperation.

“but that’s what you wanted, huh preciosa? wanted my buddies to walk in and see your panties?” he smirks when your body jerks slightly as his fingers tease your slick folds mixed with the water.

you bite back a soft whimper and close your eyes as miguel continues teasing your folds torturously.

“show them what’s mine?” his smirk widens as his middle finger rubs your little clit in sinful circles, making you moan out. watching your back arch against his chest. admiring how responsive you are to his touch makes his cock twitch terribly.

you figured this would happen yet you still become a whimpering mess for him. the slow, sinful circles on your sensitive pearl drives you fucking crazy. his fingers sliding up and down, side to side. a moan falls from your lips as miguel slides in two fingers through your silk folds and cups a breast with his other hand.

miguel fondles with your tit while plunging his two digits in and out of your tight pussy at a slow pace. “so you are to blame, bebtia.” he chuckles when your walls flutter around his fingers.

the slow pace of his fingers pumping into you was lowkey annoying you but you know it’s payback for earlier. his other hand continues fondling with your tit. squeezing the squishy fat, fingers gently tugging and twisting your nipple. your whole body feels like on fire. your body jerks at the sudden sensation of miguel’s fingers curling up and hitting that sweet spot inside. making you latch onto his forearm.

“miguel~” you moan softly.

“¿que quieres, bebé? dime.” his tone deep, laced with seductiveness as he continues pumping his digits in your tight pussy, keeping that slow pace.

“tú…”

“¿qué?…”

“i’m gonna kill you.” you softly groan.

he chuckles at your cute grumpiness and silences you with a flick to your clit with his thumb, making you gasp. “dime, bebé.”

“you, miguel…”

disappointments hits you when his fingers slip out of you but immediately vanishes as miguel turns you around and hoists you up in his arms by grabbing the back of your thighs, gently pressing you against the shower walls. your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and arms around his bulky shoulders. his large bulky shielding you from the water, hitting his back instead. your lips collide in a heated kiss, tongues intertwined exploring each other’s mouths. your fingers digging through his wet hair as you makeout.

your makeout sessions progresses as miguel aligns himself with your entrance, the tip of his cock gazing your wet folds. a shared moan mingles in the steamy air as he slowly slides through your tight cunt. no matter how many times you’ve taken him, the stretch always stings a little but feels so good. your grip on his shoulders tightens as he bottoms out.

“shit… you’re so tight, amor.” miguel groans in between words as he begins thrusting himself in your tight warm walls, welcoming him home.

moans and groans mix with the hot steamy air of the bathroom. hands intertwined pressed against the tile wall and the others gripping onto each other as miguel continues pumping into your tight pussy. thick meaty cock stuffed inside you, hitting all those sensitive spots perfectly. lips smashed together, sallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure.

the harsh, deep thrusts makes you dig your nails into his muscular back, adding indents and scratch marks like a canvas. you moan out his name beautifully like a mantra, full of bliss and desire. miguel marks your delicate neck with kisses as he continues making love to you under the hot stream of water.

“ah~ miguel!” your grip on his back tightens, making the tall brunette groan in slight pain and pleasure.

“you’re so— fuck— so beautiful, amor.”

“ah~ ah~ oh!—”

his hips wind against yours rapidly, cock pounding into your sweet tight cunt. your body bouncing against the wall with each thrust. the glass shower doors fog up. steam over-floods the shower, leaking into the rest of bathroom. the mirror fogs up as well.

miguel is literally drunk off of you. that warm, tight pussy of yours squeezing the life out of his cock. your sweet sounds of ecstasy. your whimpers, whines, strangled cries, moans of his name. it was all music to his ears. fueling his motivation to plunge deeper, overflow you with tons and tons of ecstasy.

“you’re so perfect.” he admires your blissful expressions through hooded eyes filled. drinking in those furrowed brows, rolled back eyes and mouth agape, all simply because of him.

his praise went straight to your pussy, making you clench around him which elicits a groan from him. those sweet words makes your mind putty.

“ah!~ asi, asi!” you chant as his cock repeatedly hits that sensitive spot on inside. that warm, joyful feeling in your belly beginning to boil up.

miguel obliges and pumps into you like there’s no tomorrow. his groans turning into breathy moans. both hands gripping tightly onto your body. chasing for your high so you can cum beautifully on his cock.

that joyful feeling boils up faster as miguel’s cock pumps into you at a brutal pace. it approaches so fast that you’re overwhelmed with pleasure. before you even know it, the fireworks exploded. a loud moan of his name erupts throughout the bathroom as you gush all over his cock, coating it in your sweetness. miguel soon follows with sloppy thrusts before coming deep inside, filling you completely.

damn, that was the most intense shower sex you’ve ever had. it was so fucking amazing that you feel so breathless, exhausted but luckily miguel’s strong ass is still holding you in his arms.

you share one final kiss before miguel pulls out of your now sensitive pussy, causing you to whimper softly. very slowly and carefully, he plants you down on your feet but keeps his hold on you so you don’t tremble. he’s aware he did a number on you.

“you okay?” a hint of concern in his tone.

you nod weakly, too exhausted. “yeah, just… had mind blowing shower sex.”

“i did went a bit intense.” he admits with a chuckle.

“a bit? my legs say otherwise.”

laughter echos in the room, a major contrast to the obscure noises from a few seconds ago. after rinsing off and wrapping yourselves in towels, you finally step out of the shower with miguel carrying you in his arms. his excuse is you’re too sore to walk and honestly you don’t mind. miguel sets you on the counter and dries you off with your towel. he helps rubbing lotion on you, calloused hands among your soft skin. a few kisses here and there.

after helping you put on fresh panties and a nightgown, you give him the same treatment, applying lotion and leave soft kisses on his body. though it was hard to concentrate while he stands in front of you like a fucking god. the silver dog tags around his thick neck. wet hair, a few strands sticking to his forehead. towel around his waist that hangs a little too low, happy trail on display perfectly. damn he looks so fucking handsome, you just wanna—

no! you have to give your body, specifically your legs, a break no matter how much you want to pounce on him for looking so fucking delicious.

once he’s finally dressed and do your nightly routine, which miguel let you lather him in your skincare products, you head over to the kitchen for a late snack. you settle on leftover pizza from the other night when you had a movie night.

bodies snuggled up together in fuzzy blankets. microwaved pizza and drinks on the coffee table. terminator playing on the tv. the low lighting of your table lamp coating the living room in a warm hue. luna laying in between you and miguel, sleeping peacefully. your head resting on miguel’s chest, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. his fingers caressing the exposed skin of your shoulder.

mostly sit in silence, a few moments of commentary while watching the movie. simply enjoying each other’s presence peacefully in your own little world. nothing else matters, only each other.

while your eyes focus on the movie, miguel’s eyes focus on you, admiring you in silence. how perfect you look in his arms as if you’re meant to be. the sight emits a soft smile on his face, causing him to plant a kiss on the top of your head. he can tell you smiled by the way you snuggle closer.

a perfect way to end the night.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @zayai @espressopatronum454

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 104)

Uzi came back online slowly, her systems sluggish and uncomfortably warm. Every limb felt like lead, and her head was filled with radio static.

“Mm?” Was the noise she made as her eyelights blinked open, she was covered in a thin blanket but her chassis was bare from the shirt she was wearing previously.

“She's awake.” She heard V say, startlingly close to her audials, making her confused for a moment, even more so when the wall she was leaning against moved.

Oh. The wall was V.

Uzi weakly started falling backwards with the support, but V caught her again, and brought her right were she was before, leaning back against V's chest.

“You're overheating, here.” V brought something sweet smelling up to her lips, it made her mouth water and stomach ache in hunger, so she lent forward without thinking, sinking her teeth in what felt like somebody's arm.

She found herself not caring as she both sucked up the lingering oil and chewed on the metal casing, feeling her temperature begin to tick down and her body become more responsive.

Memories that had been foggy due to her overheating slowly came back. The pain, the happiness, the fear and adrenaline.

“W-where’s…?” She asked, voice shot after screaming for so long.

“I'm right here honey.” She felt pressure resting on her leg move, her vision became more clear as more systems came online.

N was hovering over her, smiling, Bishop curled up asleep in one arm, Tera in the other. “Hey… welcome back.”

Uzi smiled back, shifting her leg only for pain to shoot through her again. “Nngh!”

“Yeah. Don't move too much, you're taking a long while to regenerate ” V said from behind her, her legs either side of Uzi.

“Why the hell am I in your lap?”

“Because we had to clean you up and you kept moving.” V said nonchalantly. “I was the restraints.”

Uzi looked down at herself and her surroundings. She'd been moved out of the now rather gross center of the nest where she'd been before. All three of them were against the wall, her oil and blood stained clothes thrown to the side including her beanie.

“How are you feeling?” N asked, squeezing her leg gently.

“Lighter?” She quipped, making V snort out a genuine laugh and Uzi to join, until her laugher turned into coughing and both dissasembly drones became concerned.

“Fine! I'm fine.” Uzi quickly assured. “Just… weak.”

“Bet you hate that.” V chuckled, though it lacked any kind of aggression, and Uzi felt her tail wrapped around her other leg get tighter.

“Bite me.” She mumbled, smiling as her gaze returned to her mate. “How long was I out?”

“Only a couple hours. If you're still tired we can stay with you a little longer…” N suggested, his expression endlessly soft.

“Liz is on her way, Thad too. I let them know.” V hummed, it was still strange to hear her voice so… kind.

“N-no it's okay… I kinda wanna… not be naked when they get here?”

V snorted again and N lit up in an embarrassed smile. “Whoops. Yeah that's fair.”

“You all look the same? What's it matter?”

“Says the one who runs around half naked all the time?” Uzi bit back.

“Have you tried to find clothes that fit this body shape?”

N let the girls have their playful argument, setting down his kits gently into the nest while he fumbled to the other side where they had stored some spare clothes.

He pulled out a purple top with black straps instead of sleeves to hold it up and smiled, bringing it back over.

“Here, this'll work.”

Uzi nodded, about to emerge from underneath the blanket before looking up at V and glaring.

“Oh for- fine!” V backed up and turned away with her arms crossed; not really seeing the point but doing it anyway.

Uzi tried to put on the top… but found she was simply too weak to do it by herself. N just lifted her arms for her and helped her along, fixing the straps and smoothing it out.

He ran his fingers through her hair to work out some tangles before resting his hand on her cheek, she nuzzled into it immediately, closing her eyes and purring.

“Still beautiful…” He smiled, giving her visor a kiss.

“Ew.” Said V, still turned away.

Uzi just laughed and leaned in to properly kiss him, melting under his warm touch.

It was only about ten minutes later that V dove out of the nest to pick up Thad and Lizzy from the base of the building, bringing them up to the entrance.

By that time, Bishop was already onto his first ever feed, done by Uzi, now propped up on pillows instead of V.

He kicked his little legs as he sucked from the bottle, his tail going everywhere without rhyme or reason.

“I don't think he has any control over his tail.” N laughed as he and Uzi leaned on each other's shoulders, watching thier son in her arms. Tera watched from her own perch in N's other arm, similarly fascinated.

“Like his dad.” She laughed, burying the top of her head underneath his chin.

Thad was the first one in front of them, his eyes hollow as he stared, almost transfixed. “He's a tiny N!”

N wagged his tail proudly “Yeah! He is!”

“Are you okay Zi?” He asked, and she nodded in return. “As I can be.”

Lizzy was next, coming next to Thad.

She smiles at the tiny baby, eyelights softening before her and Uzi meet in the middle.

Uzi smiles back, and a tear comes into Lizzy's eyelight before she quickly turns away to look at anything else. V comes to her side and hugs her tight.

N and Uzi embrace again, their emotion being unable to contain and-

There's the sound of leathery wings outside, and a thud of someone landing. Immediately, N's in front of his family, growling threateningly.

V's doing the same for Thad and Lizzy, her girlfriend gripping onto her shoulder and Thad peeking around her side.

Purple eyelights and purple hair tied in a ponytail hanging from the side emerged from outside, faded purple wings and a tail with many eyes.

She laughs, it sounds so painfully familiar.

“Room for one more?” The stranger asks, amusement in her tone.

“M-mom?”

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

part iii (part i + part ii)

(due to sims doing everything but what i wanted them to, this extended into night and the screencaps were terrible - i apologise)

“Avery, I feel like our potential isn’t necessarily reflected by your score, and much of that was my doing. You just seemed to catch me when I was in the middle of a Moment and was not exactly feeling receptive towards anyone. And among those who did… less well, you were one of the few who actually initiated flirting with me and who seemed to really try. So let’s take this as an opportunity to refresh and maybe have a second shot at things. I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

“Jayla, you’re clearly having a ball and I enjoyed being in a household with you. But so far you haven’t seemed all that drawn to me, and I feel that at least in terms of romance, I’m the one putting in all the work. You are one of eighteen, and it seems like you’re not sure why you’re here. Let me know whether you want this - or not - but let me know. See you for Round Two.”

the final four...

“You know how it goes. I have only one of my strawberries left, and I am not splitting it four - just who the plum comes up with these things…”

“Forest - considering your strong start, this is a long way to fall. We have potential and you’ve shown hints of sweetness, but you keep on pushing me away - and your autonomous mean interactions? Not okay. It wasn’t cute when boys did that in grade school, and it’s far from cute now. If your aim is to sabotage yourself, then you’re succeeding spectacularly.” (Forest: nervously sweating...)

“Lee - much like Forest, yet worse. While I get the sense that Forest has the potential - and maybe even the want - to be something better than his past behaviour, you on the other hand seem perfectly happy with just how you present yourself. Well, I’m not. I like the version of you who is friends with Tiago and who has some moments of vulnerability, not whatever this is.” (Lee: unbothered, totally convinced this is all a ruse...)

(Araminta: hoping to the old Watchers and the new that Forest is going home...)

“Piper - if only we had even a little romance, my dear. But at least with me - or perhaps even with life in general - that just doesn’t seem to be what you’re looking for, and that’s okay. You stepped out of your comfort zone to try something that doesn’t come naturally to you, and for that you’ll have my eternal admiration. But I’m afraid that this chapter of your story ends here.”

“Aubrey - you’re here for a good time, but sadly not a long time. One of the most gorgeous sims I’ve ever laid eyes upon, and I really enjoyed your sense of fun, your mischief and your creativity. As there’s no spark between us, however, let’s just say it’s been real and move on. You were a delight to get to know - I hope we can catch up again after the show.”

“Forest, something is telling me not to let you go just yet. And if I’m wrong, then more fool me. This is a second chance for… whatever you need it to be, I guess. Those don’t come around often, or at all. Make the most of it. And if there’s any more mean behaviour - I may no longer be a werewolf but I’m not completely without bite. Man up and grow up, or get out.”

“Lee, here’s your fifteen minutes. Best of luck in building on them. And as the autonomy settings are driving the Watcher crazy - Araminta, you absolutely don’t need to talk to your horse Every Five Seconds - we’ll say our proper farewells tomorrow.  Sorry for the lack of decent screencaps, everyone, but you only have your pixel selves to blame.”

“Hey beautiful, so I totally know this is all a stunt. You have to leave the audience on a cliffhanger, right? Don’t worry, I’ll play along. I am a supremely talented actor after all - I can even cry on command!” “Mhmm…” (reflects on how that’s only a Level 2 interaction in the ACTING skill)

how scores were calculated

Ooof, I really wanted to take more of the bottom three in particular, but I was also this close to ejecting my EA folder into the sun. They will however each get a proper farewell from Lilac (and a thank you from me to their watchers) and their very own shiny post in broad daylight when hopefully the in-game lighting is better cooperating.

Also now we know just what Forest was up to that very last day. That little so-and-so realised that he was on thin ice and thus was skillbuilding like there was no tomorrow - which for him was almost the case! I will be including Aubrey's, Piper's and Lee's score details in their farewell posts and you will see just how close it all was.

@x-digitaldollhouse-x @tipsy-clouds @riverofjazzsims

@plasmafruittree @sleepyselkiesims @fl0pera

[fandom-free-bingo]

Fandom Free Bingo - Gingerbread Edition

Note: From the end of December, we will no longer be reblogging fills from Flight Edition Cards. The AO3 collection will remain open indefinitely, however, and any Tumblr post that fills Flight prompts and any prompt from a later edition will still be reblogged on those grounds. This means that posts covering exclusively Frosty and/or Flight Edition prompts will no longer be reblogged <3 Now, on to December!

- Turnaround time is hopefully no longer than a week. If you've been waiting longer than this, please feel free to reach out! - Feel free to interpret the prompts however you wish - the world is your oyster! <3 Note: Terms with a stereotypically applied gender (e.g 'Princess', 'king') are not gender-restricted! Some things are just hard to make gender-neutral, especially in limited space. Gimmie those boy princesses and nb kings to your hearts content. <3  - No restriction to one prompt per fic/chapter.  - You can merge this event with others, so long as the other event permits this.  - Please mark rating clearly, and use CW where applicable. Posts not adequately marked will not be reblogged. We love you folks, and all the work you produce, but we get a lot of reblogs and have lives outside the event - we don't always have the time to be chasing down ratings or fandoms ;-; - Use the tags #FandomFreeBingo and #Fandom Free Bingo: Gingerbread Edition, and tag @fandom-free-bingo on tumblr for a reblog - don't forget to also add in the pairing/characters, rating, the fandom and the warnings in the tags please <3  - The eleventh event (Gingerbread Edition) sign ups will run until December 31st, 2024. Feel free to post after this date, however - works will be reblogged until November 30th, 2025, and the Ao3 collection will be open indefinitely.  - A maximum of FOUR cards per participant. - This season we are offering BOTH 5x5 and 3x3 cards - please let us know which you would like!    - All media forms, fandoms and original works are welcome!  - You can request square changes twice (of any number), for up to a week after the card is issued.  - Be respectful to other participants.  - Be kind to us!  - Ao3 collection can be found here!

Sign up here!

@thebigbangblogproject

[onthewaytosomewhere]

oh oh oh - thanks @typicalopposite for the early tag 💚

so first since this snip will have no smut - which feels a lil weird for me i posted a fic on friday that does if ur interested in a lil pip had alex first firstprince fic - gonna need you to tell me what you want to happen here

okay peeps it's time - today will be the first day of this lil fic (48k-ish) i wrote and will be posting throughout the month - it's gonna be a "baker's dozen 12 days of winter/holiday" thing - so 13 days lolz

here's a snip from the first chapter (under a cut with some tags cuz well it's longer than i thought and i don't wanna pick another snip lolz) OPEN TAG TO ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS TO PLAY ALONG

On his bed, Nora lounges like a queen surveying her domain. She’s lying on her stomach, one leg lazily kicking in the air, her other hand clutching a burrito the size of her head. The remnants of her lunch are scattered on the nightstand—a crumpled foil wrapper, a soda can tipped precariously, and a few stray tortilla chips that she occasionally crunches between her teeth. With her free hand, Nora rifles through a pile of Alex’s belongings next to her, occasionally plucking an item and tossing it into his suitcase without so much as a glance. A bottle of holiday-flavored lube arcs through the air, landing in the chaos with a soft thud. It’s swiftly followed by a couple of brightly colored dildos, one of which bounces off the edge and rolls onto the carpet. Alex freezes mid-step, his hand clutching a stack of folded shirts. He raises an eyebrow, his tone caught somewhere between incredulous amusement and sheer exasperation. “Really?” “What?” Nora doesn’t even bother looking up, taking another indulgent bite of her burrito. “You never know what kind of emergencies you might face, dude.” Alex closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a long, steadying breath before setting the shirts on a nearby chair. “This is a legitimate acting gig, Nora. Not that kind of movie.” “Still,” she says, her voice laced with mischief as she finally looks up, her hand now brandishing one of his neon dildos like it’s a trophy, “better safe than sorry. Besides, you still need to make some content for your Presidential Boudoir account; you don’t want to leave your plethora of subscribers in the lurch.”

okay tag ur it (in a no-pressure all that jazz way) @adreamareads @basil-bird @bitbybitwrites @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517

@stnichols @caterpills @cha-melodius @cricketnationrise @dragonflylady77

@dreamtigress @emmalostinwonderland @england-would-fall @eusuntgratie @everwitch-magiks

@firenati0n @firstprincehornyramblings @firstsprinces @forever-fixating @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

@iboatedhere @inexplicablymine @jmagnabo92 @judasofsuburbia @kiwiana-writes

@lizzie-bennetdarcy @mikibwrites @myheartalivewrites @ninzied @nocoastposts

@orchidscript @piratefalls @porcelainmortal @priincebutt @royal-chandler

@seths-rogens @softboynick @sophie1973 @sparklepocalypse @stellarmeadow

@stratocumulusperlucidus @suseagull5914 @tailsbeth-writes @thedramasummer @thinkof-england

@thesleepyskipper @thighzp @tinyarmedtrex @zwiazdziarka

SOME DAY I WILL DO ONE OF THESE W/O SO MUCH RAMBLING AND WITH SNIPS ACTUALLY 6-7 SENTENCES BUT TODAY IS NOT THAT DAY 💚💚

[insert-something-funy-here]

PHIGHT OR PHLIGHT

CHAT, IT'S DONE!!! CHAPTER 3 IS HERE!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIO!!! YOUR PRESENT??? THE BIG SAD!!!! YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYA!!!!!!

ANYWAY, chat I think this chapter genuinely has some of my best writing so uh, praying this gets popular lol- CLICK ON THE IMAGES FOR BETTER QUALITY 🙏

AND WITH THAT, ENJOY!!! >:D!!!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 4

"I did what was right."

"You did what benefited you and only you."

Could the warden have been right?

Medkit sits there, staring at Biograft as he recovers from overheating and attempts at saving battery for the rest of the trip. The two are on their way to the Church of the True Eye, Medkit has to report back about what happened no matter what. However, the pair are currently resting at Sword's. Biograft lays in Sword's hammock, "sleeping," though he can't actually recharge without Subspace’s crystal.

I can't do anything.

I can't do anything but watch as his newly grooved existence runs along the iron rails laid before him by my own. There’s no lever, no other track, and I could close my eyes, but watching is the least I owe him. From the rifled frozen heart of the mountains to the ineludible sand of the desert he now erringly rushes forward. He’s smart; but there’s intelligence which lies with woe or that which lies with insanity. In some souls are the wings of the swords who hegemonize this world which allows them to dive into the darkest gorges, soar out of them again and again, and become impervious to the wills of many. Such that even if they were to fly forever in those georges, they’re in the mountains, making even their lowest swoop higher than that of any plain bird’s soar. He’s just now growing, with so much potential and light. Do I have it in me to watch if he falls the same as I?

Biograft’s awakening quickly stole Medkit’s attention from his thoughts. “I am no longer overheating and believe I have deleted a sufficient amount of data, my remaining battery should now last a week."

“The church isn’t that far, which should leave us most of that time to figure out a battery for you,” he’s cut off by Sword entering the room.

“Hey Med, how’s Bio- Oh, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” He stepped forward and rested his arm on Medkit’s shoulder. He wasn’t all that sure about hosting a murderous robot, but Medkit’s adamance, and offering to charge him less from then on, ment this was important. Medkit didn’t give many details of what happened, but he did mention this Biograft being sentient and that the two just escaped from Subspace.

He met Sword with silence. He’s never felt before, how would he even be able to describe it? He has the vocabulary, but words are too subjective and feelings don’t always follow their denotation. It’s too complex. That’s without the added burden of asking if it’s even real. All experiences of life are different, but is his even valid? He can’t even articulate how he’s doing in this present moment. This is a train of thought best saved for later. He won’t lie, but he doesn’t know the truth. He simply says, “That is an overwhelming question,” and leaves it there.

“I should’ve thought about that, hah! Sorry, let me ask something different then, hmm,” Biograft wanted to interrupt and say the apology was unnecessary, but Sword spoke before he got the chance. “Still think my techniques are outdated?”

Biograft stares at him for a moment before speaking, “Incredibly so.” He pauses, “However, there is merit to it, age often brings either value or irrelevance. I believe you’re making a good attempt at having it be the first option of the two.” His words surprise Sword, but it seems to convince him that this Biograft is different from the ones he’s fought before.

Sword smiles at Biograft, it confuses him, but at least Sword seems pleased with his response. Medkit speaks up, “We should get going.”

“Leaving already? Dang! You sure you two are good to leave?” He knows they have to leave for the cult eventually, but he wouldn’t mind their company for a bit longer.

“As ready as we can be.”

“So not at all?”

“Correct.”

As Medkit had predicted, it did not take them long to arrive at the church. The two are greeted by Scythe, “Aw there ya are ‘Kit! Why if I didn't know any better I woulda thought you were tryna run,” she steps forward, looking Biograft up and down, “I see you brought a new toy with ya.”

“I can explain.” Biograft notices a new hesitancy in Medkit’s voice.

“Well of course ya are! Let’s go find some place else to talk.” There’s been some sort of underlying threat lacing itself in her words, but Biograft can’t grasp what. Medkit, however, knows it all too well. Scythe begins to walk and motions for the pair to follow behind. Medkit’s hands tense, something makes Biografts shake.

The two stick close as they follow Scythe, eventually making it to an office like room with a large round table. She motions for them to sit at one end while she walks to the other. “Now then! Explain before I disassemble yer lil friend here.” The way her tone didn’t match her words reminded Biograft of Subspace, but this felt different. This felt different. He should be used to violence aimed his way, being in phights, having been part of Blackrock’s security force, being close to his creator, but this wasn’t the same. There are stakes, this existence is now the only one he has, there’s no coming back now if he’s killed. He won’t claim to be alive, but he will fight for this life with every part of himself.

Medkit knew she would probably rip Biograft apart regardless, “This Biograft, he’s sentient, we got away from Subspace-”

“Hold your horses there Doc, ain’t we supposed to be keepin’ ya safe from that scientist?”

“That is the deal we have but-”

“Now how exactly are we gonna keep ya safe from him if yer actively bringin’ his lil experiments ‘round the place, mm?

“He’s different!”

“Ya say that but all I see here is a security risk.”

Biograft stood up, “I can prove it.” he pauses for a moment to rephrase his words, “let me prove myself.” Medkit looks at him, clearly shocked, wanting to stop him.

Surprise managed to slip through Scythe’s expression. Oh, this was gonna be fun, “Well, well, well~ it can speak fer itself. Hmmm, you know what, yeah, I’ll give ya one shot,” she walks to the door and holds it open, “Come along now~” Medkit goes to follow behind Biograft, but Scythe raises her hand and shoots him a look, “You’re stayin’ here, Broker will be here to talk to ya in a bit. You can give him yer full report.” Medkit goes to say something, but flinches back, a pain shooting through his eye as Scythe’s glass one temporarily gains a teal tint. He sits back down and crosses his arms, refusing to look at her.

Her smirk grows as she turns to Biograft, “Now then, shall we?

Scythe led him to one one of the canyons near the church, as the two walked she asked, “I assume yer lookin to stay here? With him?”

“Yes.” For the first time since all of this had started, he could answer without hesitation. Staying by Medkit’s side, he wasn’t sure what made him seek such a thing so desperately, but he knew he had to do whatever it took.

“And how exactly ya think this’ll work hm?” Scythe stopped and turned to look at him.

Confused, he asked, “In what regard?”

“Well I need some,” She paused, “Reassurance. I could put in a good word for you to the Father, but how do we know this ain’t a long con for you and yer creator?” She began to step closer, “Or that yer any different from the tons of you I’ve dismantled before?” Standing face to face, inches apart, “How do we know yer a good fit for the family?”

“I’ve abandoned all of my connection to Blackrock-”

She puts her hand up to cut him off, “I don’t mean for you to tell me," She yanks him forward, "I want you to show me.”

The two exchange blows for a while. After, Scythe takes a seat on a nearby cliff edge and motions for him to sit next to her, “A’ight, that’s good enough, I get the point yer different, but I still got some things I wanna ask.” He sits next to her, “Why did you leave?”

He immediately goes to excuse his actions, “I had to-”

“No. Listen kid, I’ve fought…” she vaguely gestures at him, “you, before. I know you do insane amounts of calculatin’ and figurin’ out the ‘most optimal actions’ to take for yer directives n all that. So out of every choice you coulda made in that moment, what made leavin’ the best?” She observed him, even if he wasn’t a demon, there’s something in him. Something that can be used.

He froze. He didn’t know? No, he did know, he just didn’t want to admit it. He could’ve just gotten Medkit out of there and returned to Blackrock. He could have returned to Subspace’s side and just held him back until Medkit got away. He didn’t have to be here. He didn’t have to be here, but something inside him needed him to. Needed Medkit. Medkit’s absence hurt him, and now he had a chance to be by his side again. This is one shot at it. Biograft gave up every part of his previous identity for this. It won’t be like what it was before Medkit left, far from it, but that didn’t matter. Whether he was sentient, or not, didn’t matter. Medkit would be here, and that’s all he needed. “He did.”

Scythe smiles, seeming more than pleased with his answer. “Say, you need a battery right? Er, well, some way of chagrin? I hear ‘Kits crystal aint work for you, I might have somethin’ that will.”

He looks at her surprised, “Really?”

She nods, “It comes with conditions of course, but you’ll join the family, I’ll vouch for ya, and you’ll get to work alongside our dear medic. You gotta … earn the power you’ll be using from the father, but I think you’ll make a fine vessel for it.” She reaches into a pocket and pulls out a glass eye, “Here, it’s even the one ‘Kit was s’ppossed to have! His eye was sewn shut before he joined, which is why he’s allowed to have an eyepatch.”

He takes the glass eye, “I assume you’ll want me to change my display?”

She nods, “You’ll be required to yeah, I know you don’t have proper eyes, so something to show only one ‘ll work fine,” she thinks for a moment, “Maybe you change one to a flower!”

The three meet again in the workshop. It was nowhere near what he used to have in Blackrock, but it was functional, and Subspace was nowhere to be seen. Medkit steps up to Biograft, putting his hands on his shoulders, before giving him a tight embrace. Biograft was quick to reciprocate. Medkit whispered to him, “You’re still a weapon in everyone else's eyes, just in someone else's hands now, and it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

The two pull apart and Biograft lays on the rooms center workbench, "I didn't leave for freedom, I left for you."