#this chapter really did fight me though and i have no idea how it turned out

[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ CHAPTER ONE: SHUT UP AND KISS ME

violet; 4,711 words; fluff, enemies to lovers, fake dating, hockey!vi, figure skater!reader, wlw, the gays can't communicate, college parties, toxic ex!cait, impulsive!reader, drama as all living fuck, no "y/n"

summary: in which you decide to go to yet another party vi's going to be at. consequences ensue.

a/n: i know its late but its still the 30th in cali!!! enjoy the ENEMIES part of enemies to lovers!!!! <3

< table of contents

─── Ⅵ IT TURNS OUT THAT Vi does, in fact, remember you. And, it also seems like she’s the type to hold a grudge.

Because three days later, when you’re running through a few off-ice warmups while the hockey team finishes up their morning practice, you distinctly hear her challenging one of her teammates to a race even as everyone else is clearing off the ice.

You groan, dropping back onto the bench and frowning as you start to lace up your skates.

“Great, now I’ve gotta skate on fucked up ice before the mid-day zamboni — really fucking great —”

“Got something you wanna say to my face, princess?”

Your eyes jerk up, and there’s Vi, standing not even a foot from you, her helmet tucked under one arm, her stick in the other, her hair a sweat-slicked mess that somehow still looks infuriatingly attractive. You narrow your eyes.

“Nope. Just… talking to myself.”

“I… don’t think so, sweetcheeks,” she says, taking a few steps forward even as you stand up. Like this, your eyes are barely level, your own skates giving you a solid few inches, but she still manages to look down at you as a smirk twists her lips.

You puff out a breath, feeling a wild thumping curling up your throat as you stare up at her, your fingertips going cold even as heat rushes into your cheeks.

“Fine,” you say, “you’re really that curious?”

Vi shrugs, “I mean, you seem to like dolling out unsolicited opinions so,” she pins you with a harsh look, “What’s another one to add to the collection, huh?”

You stiffen, and for a second, something breaks in Vi’s expression before it melds back into one of caustic curiosity. She looks like a beartrap sprung on a hair-pin trigger, her jaw clenched, her eyes hard.

“Huh, never thought you’d be such a glutton for punishment,” you say, the words dripping from you, slow as poison, and somewhere in the back of your mind, your fight or flight response is telling you that this is a bad, bad idea, but you can’t seem to stop yourself from taking half a step closer, even though Vi’s probably twice your size and can bench three times your body weight — “But then again, you did stay in a relationship with an emotionally manipulative bitch who swapped you out the second she could get her hands on someone better —”

“Shut the fuck up, you don’t know anything —!”

“Hey, hey!” A pair of large hands yanks Vi back just as she’s about to lunge towards you; another thinner pair of arms loops through yours, tugging you back a few steps.

“You stay the fuck out of this, Jayce!”

“Darling, what on earth is going on?” you turn to find Mel, her cheeks dusted in gold, her hands firm on your arms, as Jayce forcibly wrangles Vi back.

You swallow around the vitriol threatening your lips and shake your head, turning away from Vi.

“Nothing, just… I was annoyed that the hockey team always fucks up the ice after their practices —”

“Oh, you think we fuck up the ice?” Vi’s voice cracks like a gunshot in the vast rink, and several of the other girls from the hockey team have come jogging back, placing their hands on Vi’s shoulders to keep her from steamrollering into you. “You know how much precious practice time we’ve wasted filling up those massive holes you guys leave with your stupid little toe-pick jumps?”

You roll your eyes, anger flaring hot and high in the pit of your stomach.

“Oh, so sorry, didn’t know you guys could still see with the sustained brain damage you all must have from slamming into each other all the time.”

“Fuck you.”

You scoff, twisting back with a viperous smirk.

“In your wildest dreams, six.”

Vi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh… didn’t know you knew my number, princess.”

“It’s written on your face — or have all your previous hookups been so stupid they can’t even read —”

“And what kind of tomfoolery is this?”

Everyone freezes at the sound of Amara’s voice. You bite down on your lips and take a step back as the small, gray-haired woman strides through, her hands behind her back, her chin held high.

“Sorry, Amara — it’s nothing,” Jayce says, jerking Vi behind him as she tries to open her mouth to speak.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing to me,” Amara says, her words smooth as a river in spring thaw, and nearly just as frigid.

Guilt creeps up your spine as she scans over the hockey team with marked distaste.

“Perhaps I ought to let Vander know that his girls are once again causing a —”

“Don’t, Amara. It was — it was my fault.” You shake off Mel’s hands and slot yourself between Jayce and Amara, ignoring the the disbelieving snort from Vi.

Amara’s eyes land on you, and for a second, they soften. Still, she tilts her head, eyes sharp as a hawks as you twist your fingers behind your back.

“Your fault, darling?”

You nod, “Yeah, I — I was annoyed that they were carving up the ice, so I — I picked a fight —”

Amara sighs, “Yes… well, I can’t blame you, but you know it’s not good rink etiquette.”

“I know,” you say, hanging your head.

Amara tuts, “As long as you know,” she reaches up to pat your cheek before marching off towards the rink-side boxes to set up the music. Behind you, Jayce releases Vi’s arms with a sigh.

“Martyr,” Vi coughs as she shoulders passed you, flanked by a few of the hockey girls, casting dirty looks over their shoulders before disappearing into the locker rooms.

You close your eyes, take three deep breaths, and then step onto the ice.

“It was an ass thing to say.”

“As long as you know —”

“But I feel like she took it way too seriously, y’know?”

Jayce sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he slumps down into the booth in the dining commons, shoving half an entire banana into his mouth as he pins you with a look.

“Or maybe, you can just apologize —”

You crinkle your nose, prodding at your yogurt bowl, toying with a spoonful of blueberry flavored granola.

“Can’t you just… like tell her I’m sorry or something?” you ask, pushing out your bottom lip in a signature pout. Jayce only swallows the rest of the banana before digging into a truly dauntingly sized ham and cheese sandwich.

“’m not doing your dirty work for you,” he says, his expression lighting up as Mel slides gracefully into the booth next to you, pressing a napkin into her lap.

“And what’s this about dirty work?” she asks, a teasing grin on her lips.

You sigh, “I’m asking very nicely —”

Jayce holds up a hand, “No, you’re trying to get me to apologize to Vi for you — which basically defeats the whole point of an apology.”

“No! It’s because I know you guys are like… platonic gym soulmates or — whatever —” you wave your hands through the air even as Mel laughs into her salad.

Jayce huffs, “Or,” he catches Mel’s eye, and you feel a distinct spate of unease work it’s way down your spine at the way Mel’s lips split into a devious grin.

“Or?” you prompt, setting down your spoon and sitting back, looking between the pair of them with mounting apprehension.

Mel gently places a hand on your arm, “You could just apologize to her yourself —”

“At the party this Saturday —”

“No — no way —” you put up both hands, “the last time I went to a party with you guys —”

“You got to make out with the hottest girl on the entire hockey team,” Mel soothes.

You bite your lips, eyes cutting down to your lap. You hadn’t told her. You hadn’t told anyone. So far as she and Jayce knew, the only slight against Vi you’d made is calling her ex a ‘manipulative bitch’, which — well.

“Right, and now she hates me.”

Mel sniffs, “You can’t be that bad at kissing. I refuse to believe it.”

Jayce snickers; Mel shoots him a glare. He reaches for the bag of free chips and pops it open with one hand.

“C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? You offer her another kiss to make up for your little tantrum the other day?” Mel asks, flicking a thin, gold-laced braid over her shoulder.

You groan, sinking into your seat as you fold your arms over your chest, weighing the options.

You did feel bad for what you’d said. But you also tried to shield her from what you’re sure would’ve been much worse than what she’d gotten given Amara’s track record of tattling to Vander.

And then, unbidden, comes the memory of Vi’s sultry grin as she’d pinned you against the frat house door, her mouth inches from yours, the solid muscles of her torso pushing against yours as she’d leaned in and —

“— at a sorority house, so the space’ll be much nicer,” Mel promises, turning towards you again, her eyes expectant.

You blink, your mind catching up to her words a second later as you sigh.

“I — sure, fine — but I can’t stay too long. I’ve got Skate America in two weeks —”

Jayce ruffles your hair, “Yeah, so do we.”

You shove his massive arm off you with a half-hearted glare, “Yeah, but I’m not made like you guys. I can’t just literally skate into a podium. I actually have to practice.”

“Oh don’t get all shy now, little miss triple axel.”

“I’ve only landed it twice in practice, and I’m pretty sure one of them was underrotated —”

Mel shakes her head, “And there she goes again —”

“Always so humble —” Jayce adds.

You groan and bury your face in your arms, “Will you leave me alone?”

Mel laughs, “We will if you come to the party on Saturday,” she sing-songs, nudging you with her elbow.

Jayce slings an arm around your shoulders, shaking you slightly.

“And Vi’s for sure going.”

You peak up at him, “How… do you know?”

Jayce smirks, “Cause. Her ex is gonna be there.

You blink.

“Oh.”

Mel pillows her cheek on her palm, tapping her perfectly manicured nails along the table, a Cheshire-grin spread across her lips like warm butter.

“With her new girlfriend.”

You whip around towards her.

“Oh.”

This was a terrible idea, you think, as you step into the sorority house, tugging on the edge of your dress, the hem of which barely skims your mid-thigh, the modest, high-necked front contrasted with the plunging back line that settles in a graceful slope of material just above the curve of your ass.

“Quit fidgeting,” Mel says, slapping at your hand as you try once again to readjust the bottom of the dress.

“I can’t — I feel like I’m gonna flash the world — and it’s a tossup if it’s the front of the back!” you hiss, jerking the hemline of the dress down as it slowly starts to ride up your thigh again.

Mel tuts, “Please, as if this is anywhere near as short as the performance outfits that we have to wear —”

“That’s different!” you insist, reaching out to grab two cups of something and shoving one at Mel, “We’ve got tights on under those!”

Mel rolls her eyes, sniffing at the drink before making a face and dropping it off on a random surface. You take an absent sip of your own drink, gagging immediately at the taste.

“Eugh, oh god what do they put in those?” you ask, dropping your own solo cup on a table as Mel drags you through the shifting crowd.

The party’s already going in full swing, but she’d been right, the space is nicer — wider and less cramped, the ceilings high and the music less abrasive.

“Where’re we going?” you ask, even as Mel guides you towards the heart of the party and somehow manages to conjure up two glasses of what looks like champagne, handing one to you, and taking a sip of the other one herself.

“Finding Vi,” she says, to which you balk, shaking your head.

“Mel!”

She turns with an exasperated sigh, “What?”

“C-can’t we just —” you motion towards the party, “try to have a good time? I mean — maybe she’s not here — maybe she wanted to have a quiet night in —”

“Speak of the devil —” Mel’s face breaks into a grin as she spots someone over your shoulder and you whip around to see —

Caitlyn Kiramman, the veritable goddess of track and field, all dark hair and endless long legs, standing there with her new girlfriend Maddie Nolen, a cute, if slightly awkward girl, with strawberry blond hair cropped in a truly abominable bob-cut.

The room seems to part for them, Caitlyn tugging Maddie forward with their fingers laced, looking not so unlike the Queen of England, followed by her loyal procession of ginger-backed corgis.

You take a few steps back, watching them with raised brows, wondering what on earth Caitlyn might’ve seen in Maddie, given that she’d had Vi seemingly wrapped around her pinky finger just months before.

But then, you see Vi — her expression caught somewhere between hurt and barely scraped together bravado, her fists at her sides as Caitlyn also spots her, approaching with Maddie half a step behind.

“Fancy seeing you here, Violet,” Caitlyn says, her voice carrying over the crowd even as everyone tries to avert their gaze or pretend like they aren’t listening in.

Vi puffs out her chest, “Sure, yeah. Super fancy. What, d’you think I’d be banned from the sorority house or something?”

Caitlyn shrugs, “Something like that.”

Vi narrows her eyes, her knuckles going white, “Sorry cupcake, ‘fraid not even you can keep me from havin’ a good time.”

“So I see,” Caitlyn says. Maddie peers around her shoulder with wide eyes and a shy smile.

“Name’s Maddie, it’s nice to meet —”

“See you’ve already replaced me,” Vi says, folding her arms over her chest, her biceps bulging, the vein in her jaw ticking dangerously as she looks Maddie over.

Caitlyn smirks, “See you haven’t.”

Vi seems to deflate slightly at that, her arms coming loose, “Actually I —”

You find yourself moving before you can stop yourself, pushing through the gathering crowd till you can throw your arms around Vi’s neck, bowling into her with a simpering squeal of —

“Vi! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Vi’s expression morphs from one of shock to a momentary flash of suspicion as you meet her eyes and bat your lashes in what you hope is an inconspicuous way before turning towards Caitlyn and Maddie, a 100-watt smile hitched over your lips.

“Oh! And who’s this?”

Caitlyn narrows her eyes, looking you over with an imperialistic eye.

“Caitlyn — Kiramman… pleasure.”

“Oh wow! You’re the — the girl who’s really good at hurdles, right?” you say, even as Vi stifles a laugh at your side, her hand settling around your waist.

Caitlyn’s eyes harden as her lips thin into a pale line. Anyone who knows her would know that hurdles are her worst discipline, and that she’d dropped nearly every single one on her last major competition.

“And I’m Maddie… Nolen. So you must be —” Maddie reaches out, but not before Caitlyn takes your hand instead.

“The Ice Princess — our very own Olympic hopeful. Best of luck to you in the Grand Prix series this year. I heard you had something of a nasty fall early in your season last time… you oughtta be more careful this time around,” Caitlyn says, looking you up and down, even as you smile up at her, blissfully sweet and unbothered. Your cheeks are starting to hurt.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you flap your hand, crinkling your nose as you lean forward, using the motion to reach down and give Vi’s hand a soft squeeze, your eyes pinned on Caitlyn’s as you say —

“I never make the same mistake twice.”

And before she has the chance to respond, her jaw dropping open, you turn towards Vi with a bright grin, placing a palm against her chest, leaning right into her space.

“C’mon, let’s go get a drink, hm?”

“Y-yeah, princess — sure —”

You tug her away before the facade crumbles entirely, the pair of you dodging around curious eyes till you end up in the thankfully empty kitchen. Her hand pulls from yours the second you close the door behind you.

“What the hell —”

You hold up both your hands, falling back three steps to put some distance between you and her.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It — it just looked like…” you shrug, casting your eyes around the kitchen even as Vi huffs, folding her arms across her chest to lean back against the door, “It looked like you could use a hand, that’s all.”

“I didn’t need anyone to rescue me,” she snipes, her voice hardening around the edges.

You nod, “Yeah, I know. But…”

“But what?”

You swallow, turning your back to Vi as you pace around the large, marble-tiled kitchen, “I — I felt bad for — for what I said last time… so…”

You turn around just in time to catch Vi’s incredulous expression, seconds before she breaks into a sharp bark of laughter.

“Wow, my hero — my very own white-knight. Really, who needs Prince Charming when you’ve got —”

“Okay! I get it — you didn’t need saving — holy shit you don’t have to rub it in.”

You sigh, leaning up against the kitchen island, glaring down at a half-empty bottle of vodka sitting in the sink before reaching out to grab it and rummaging around for two empty shot glasses.

Vi watches you with an amused grin twitching at her lips.

Finally, you manage to find a few shot glasses tucked into the far corner of a cupboard. You stand on your tiptoes, but your fingers don’t quite reach. And a second later, a body presses solid and warm to your back as Vi’s hand reaches in to pull two of the glasses out, placing them squarely on the counter.

She shoots you a lopsided grin as you watch her expertly pull two shots from the vodka bottle and slide one towards you.

“Mazel,” she smirks, tossing it back and smacking her lips.

You eye your own shot for a second longer before squeezing your eyes shut and tossing it back as well, immediately coughing, fighting to keep your gag reflex from taking over, pressing the back of your hand to your lips.

Vi’s laughter is loud, but not unkind as she reaches out to tug the shot glass from you, setting everything back into the sink.

“So. You’re felt bad, did you?”

You groan, dropping your head into your arms.

“I mean — yeah — it was —” you take a deep breath, bracing your palms against the kitchen island, eyes fixed on where your fingertips are slowly going white, “It was a shitty thing to say.”

“Mm. Which one? Mentioning my breakup right before I was about to kiss you? Or calling my ex a manipulative bitch?”

You wince, chewing on the inside of your cheek, though when you look up, it’s to find Vi smiling.

“Either? Both? Ugh… alcohol makes me —” you gesture at your head, wiggling your fingers as Vi watches, her smile sliding from amused into indulgent, “misplace the brain-mouth barrier a bit.”

“Yeah? And uh… do you skate drunk a lot? Or was that little exposition special just for me?”

You swallow, feeling the heat of the vodka creeping back up your throat as your cheeks prickle.

“That was…” you trail off, crinkling your nose as you cast about for a plausible response, but coming up empty, you sag against the kitchen counter, throwing up your hands, “I just — I’m not the best with impulsivity, okay?”

Vi chuckles, nodding, “So… I can see — I mean, even without the shouting match at the rink, that stunt you pulled back there with Cait —” she lets out a low whistle, shaking her head, “Gotta say, princess, I’m impressed. Pretending to be my new girlfriend in front of her new girlfriend? That’s… that’s ballsy.”

You let out another groan, sliding down the side of the kitchen island to sit on the floor, pulling your knees into your chest and glaring half-heartedly at the bottom of the fridge. A second later, Vi flops down to join you, an arm propped on her knee, her eyes caught on the shape of you, your pouty lips and the slope of your nose.

“Seriously though, when you made that hurdles comment — I almost lost it —”

You break into a bright peal of laughter, head thumping back against the cupboards as Vi allows herself a chuckle.

“Yes, yes — I’m kind of bitch. Point made,” you say, casting her a sidelong glance.

She shrugs, “Then I guess I’ve got a type, so…”

You bite down on your bottom lip, mulling over her words.

“So?” you ask.

She sighs, “So. What’s next?”

You frown, “Next?”

She fixes you with an incredulous look, “Yeah. Like — what comes after you so gallantly rescuing me from my oh-so-wicked ex by announcing that we’re dating in front of half our graduating class?”

You open your mouth, gaping at her.

A second passes. Then another.

Vi stares. Then, she bangs her head so loudly against the cupboards behind you you almost jump out of your skin.

“Come on! Are you kidding?! You’re telling me you did all this without any kind of plan?” She pushes to her feet seconds before you scramble up onto yours, frowning defensively in her direction.

“I told you! I’m — I’ve got an impulse problem and impulsivity doesn’t exactly lend itself to perfect foreplaning —”

But the pair of you break off as the unmistakable sounds of voices echoes down the hallway leading towards the kitchen. And in particular one voice — low and pitched and accented.

“Fuck —” Vi swears, looking suddenly stunned, her eyes wide, her whole body going rigid, “We’ve — we’ve gotta hide or something —”

You blink at her for a brief second before huffing out a breath and reaching up to jerk her down towards you. She barely catches herself against the counter, her hands braced on either side of your hips as you hiss against her lips —

“Oh c’mon — don’t be stupid —”

“What the hell are you —”

“Just shut up and kiss me —”

The door swings open behind you and laughter pours in, though it abruptly cuts off as Caitlyn freezes in the doorway, Maddie nearly smashing into her, and Mel behind her as everyone else jostles to try and see what the hold up is.

“Oh… whoops,” Maddie says, letting out an embarrassed chuckle as she tries to turn away from the sight of Vi and you caught in the throes of what looks like an intense make out session, Vi’s fingers digging divots into the skin of your hips, your fingers curling in her hair.

You let out a tiny whimper as Vi hoists you up onto the kitchen island, slotting herself between your legs, even as Caitlyn makes an affronted noise behind you, folding her arms.

“I see this room’s taken,” she says, voice flat and dangerous.

But Vi’s only response is to trail a hand up to your jaw, cupping it in her palm so she can slot her lips more comfortably against yours, letting out a satisfied hum at the way you soften into her as she sinks her teeth into you bottom lip.

Caitlyn scoffs, rolling her eyes even as Maddie tugs her back down the hallway. Everyone else jostles back into the main room as well, giggling and gossiping about this exciting new development.

Mel, though, clears her throat as she and Jayce share a look before closing the kitchen door behind them.

“Right, that’s enough you two —” she says, to very little avail.

Because somewhere between one breath and the next, you’d lost yourself to the feeling of Vi’s lips on yours, the heady, pulsing friction of her body as she cradles you against her, the way you can still taste the remnants of that vodka shot on her tongue as she licks into your mouth.

Faintly, you wonder if this might’ve turned out differently if you’d just kept quiet on that first night and let her kiss you in that dirty frat room.

But the thought is quickly dashed by a deep groan thrumming from Vi’s chest to yours as you lean back into the kiss, running your thumb down along her neck, pressing into the fluttering pulse point just below her jaw.

A whine curls up your throat as Vi’s fingers work beneath the hem of your little black dress, teasing at the skin of your thigh.

“Hey! Earth to horny lesbians!”

You pull back with a gasp, and Vi resurfaces as well, the both of you panting, your lips separating with a sound not unlike a plunger being released from a recently blocked sink. You feel your head spin, the room pressing in around you before expanding back out, even as Vi drags the back of her hand across her mouth, stumbling back a few steps.

“W-what?”

Jayce lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Really? That’s what got you?”

Mel sighs, rolling her eyes, “I think it’s time you explain yourselves.”

You lick your lips, hopping off the kitchen island even as Vi runs a hand over her face, her eyes strangely fractured, her cheeks dusted high with color.

“Well you were the one that said I should offer her another kiss to make up for — Vi? Where are you going?”

But Vi’s already making for the door, her shoulders hunched, her fists clenched at her sides. You take a few steps towards her but stop dead as she runs a hand through her hair.

“Sorry — I — I gotta go —” her voice is hoarse, and the look on her face when she glances over her shoulders at you — that more than anything convinces you to let her go.

You like to think that you’d seen experienced a good number of human emotions on the broad spectrum. Skating forces you to tap into a lot of them — anger, excitement, joy, sorrow, jealousy, vindication, passion.

But you’d never seen someone look so utterly broken.

“Wait, Vi —” Jayce tries to stop her but Mel places a hand on his arm, and Vi brushes passed them both, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway beyond without another word.

You sag against the kitchen island as both Mel and Jayce turn their eyes back onto you.

“Right.” Mel rounds on you even as you shrink back against the fridge, chewing on your lips.

Jayce groans, looking between you and Mel before marching over to the table and pulling up a few chairs.

“Everyone sit. If we’re gonna talk about this, we might as well be comfortable.”

You eye the chairs for a few seconds before sliding over and dropping into one of them.

Mel perches on the edge of another as Jayce leans himself against the dining table, arms folded loosely across his chest.

“So?” Mel prods.

You take a deep breath.

“So… at that frat party… when me and Vi were… supposed to kiss? Yeah, well… we… kinda, sorta… didn’t.”

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[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 27

To the 🔱 anon I SAW YOUR ASK I'M WORKING ON IT I PROMISEEEE (I like the idea very much, thank you for putting it into my head)

My mother(and family doctor) has decided she wants to make me go see multiple doctors for various reasons- so that's why I've been late, and will be late for a bit. Nothing life-threatening, but it's been a lot of testing and running from here to there and I'll cry if I have to take another blood test🥹 Ch 28 may get another draft before it gets published, it's quite short but we'll see ig 🫠

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 27 >>next

“The Jokerized Fries are the only good thing that came from the fu- ugh…” Your eyes met Oliver’s doe orbs. “… clown…” Jason snorted, kicking your shin under the table. “Nice save.” You just kicked his shin right back, which started an under-the-table fight. “Kids, please stop it.” Nolan grumbled as he fed the toddler.

The man was stuck at the kiddie table with you, Jason, and Mark. Nolan would say it’s because he wanted to give Debbie and April a break from Oliver, but really, he was excommunicated as soon as the Sirens showed up. “Take care of your kids, actually take care of them.” Were Ivy’s words before Harley and Selina nudged Debbie and April to the closest table.

“Why was he given so many chances anyway? Why not lock him and throw away the key?” Jason’s muscles tensed at Mark’s question- the clown was still a sensitive subject. Your eyes met Jason’s before you turned to your other brother. “I wish it were that simple. But the prison gets a breakout at least once a month, no matter how much the security raises, it's really out of anybody's hands. Batman was there when The Joker, well, became The Joker. Bats thought he was the original Red Hood, so when the clown was cornered against a railing, it broke and he fell into a vat of chemical solutions.”

Jason continued where you left off. “B has been feeling guilty about it since. He won’t say so, but the way he just let the clown get away with shit when he’d otherwise be more strict had guilt written all over it.” The crime lord huffed. “Batman likes to think he’s logical. That he’s a good detective because he doesn’t let emotions sway him, but he’s only lying to himself. He is all emotions. And most of the time, he doesn’t know when to act on those emotions, so he deludes himself into thinking that it’s the logical part of his brain speaking.”

“It’s why he fucked up with me, and it’s why he puts on the Brucie persona with you.” Jason looked at you. “Everybody likes Brucie. It’s a fact. So, you must like Brucie too, even though you know that’s not him. He’s impulsive about it, thinking that just because he’s sweet now, what he did, or didn’t do, will be forgotten.”

“That’s- surprisingly sound of you, Jay.” You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks, I’m going to therapy.” He smiled, and Mark looked back at you. “Maybe you should try it.” Your head slowly turned to the young man. “I’ll go. If you go for the trauma Nolan gave you.” The named man looked at his son, eyes remorseful and ashamed. Mark looked back at his meal. “These fries are really good-“

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Wayne Enterprise was losing stockholders, he should have put out a statement. Or whatever Lucius said. Bruce wasn’t really listening, he wasn’t really doing much of anything since you actually punched him. Dick would call it depression, and maybe he was, but he was also planning… What he wasn’t sure of. Whatever he came up with ended up being erratic, theoretical, fantasies of finally getting you back, and fixing what he nurtured into destruction.

It was delusion, and some part of him knew. He wasn’t completely crazy… not yet. But that was a part he was deliberately burying. After all, there must be a way- you were still his kid, you wanted his attention. The six to seven years old version of you did, at least. At that time, you had found a camera that the chubby-cheeked version of you had used to film childish recreations of fairy tales, he couldn’t even tell if they were your favorites, or if those were just the ones you had similar enough clothes for. Ileana Simziana, Alice in Wonderland, Little Red Riding Hood.

All because you wanted him to see what your mom did, because he missed those, and he liked going to Dick’s school recitals. They were terrible, stuttering and fumbling with the change of clothes was most of the play- and yet, at the end of it all, you were all smiles and hopeful eyes. And then it stopped, picking up again about two years later, not with videos, but photos.

He tried to rack his brain for any information on this, trying to find a memory of you shyly approaching him to show these. He couldn’t find any. Bruce didn’t know what hurt more, the possibility that you gave up on even trying or that you did try, and he simply didn’t care enough to remember it. Either way, something made you stop from even touching the camera.

The photo right after the last video wasn’t done by you, it was actually of you. Of you specifically on Harvey’s shoulders, both sides of his dual-toned hair braided, and you putting sparkly hair clips in a random pattern as both faces of the man seemed to smile unbothered. Most photos were similar, you and a rogue doing something he should have done with you- The Penguin and you having tea parties, Killer Croc looking dead as he napped with you on top of his chest, Harley doing your nails as her hyenas tried to eat your forgotten sandwich, Selina smushing your face as she pressed a kiss to your cheek, face riddled with her lip marks even Music Meister seemed to have had time for you, the photo being of you two doing some sort of karaoke to some musical.

And yet the first photo of you, looking straight at the camera for once, all he saw was… saddening. You were giving a strained smile, eyes full of confusion about why whoever was behind the camera would want a photo of you. You weren’t used to those who you deemed family wanting photos of you, that was clear the more he carried on. Bruce remembers taking photos of Dick. Of Jason and Tim, of everyone. Alfred was the same. Every time he could, he would take a photo of the kids' achievements. There were no photos of you taken by either one, and you weren’t in any family group photos. Not theirs anyway. The rogues seemed to have taken more than enough of them.

It all angered him, the guilt only fueled the emotion. His fear of pulling you into the vigilante life, of suffocating you, his want to lock you away like a precious stone, was what threw you right into heroism, and not only that, it also tricked his mind into thinking that whatever drops of attention he gave were enough. You didn’t need your anger redirected, you didn’t crave to be the next Robin, you just wanted a dad. And he couldn’t give you that because he fooled himself that you didn’t need a father when you just lost a mother.

But you needed that. You always talked about your mom, you missed her, you wanted him to act like a dad, to be there for you, to console and love you, but all he saw was himself, and when he lost his parents, all he wanted was to be alone. You weren’t him. You weren’t like him. You needed support and affection, and he didn’t see it. “But Nolan Grayson did,” something hissed at the back of his head.

Bruce’s hands clenched as his blank stare was replaced by a deep frown. The rogues saw it. Nolan Grayson saw it. Nolan fucking Grayson. The man who beat the shit out of his son, ran away and had a whole another kid with a bug alien. You deemed him a better father. That hurt more than your punch.

He got up from his office chair, his direction set in his mind like it was the only answer, the family library. He hasn’t been near it in quite a while, his paranoia and guilt were playing tricks on his mind, he was sure of it.

The family portraits in there, since you left, had felt like they’ve been staring at him, following his every move. Books kept falling at his feet, furniture kept moving and hitting him, making him trip- all, he was sure, was his subconscious fumbling the distance in space from things due to stress and a pushed sense that one of his birds was missing.

Bruce folded the round carpet that was in the middle of the room, revealing a demon trap etched into the ground. He stepped into the middle of it, and as he bent down, his lip couldn’t help but twitch. You two were more similar than either of you thought. His nails caught onto a loose plank, and lifting it up moved several others.

His hand grabbed book after book. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he was sure these books will have the answer he’s looking for. The answer he wants.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The Sirens insisted on having some girl time, and when Roy showed up with Lian, it was set in stone. So, they pulled you, Debbie, April, and the unsuspecting girl to your room, insisting on doing some self-care and pampering, which ended up with you braiding Lian’s hair while Selina braids yours. Pamela, April, and your mom were doing an avocado mask, and Harley was happily humming as she painted Lian’s nails. “Isn’t this too many colors?” Harley laughed at the teen's question as she switched to the sixth bottle of nail polish. “There ain’t ever too many colors, honey.”

“Art would argue with that.” You huffed, tying the final French braid. “I don’t know,” Debbie muses, “Mark’s costume is… something.” Selina giggled at that. “The robin costumes are worse.” And she was immediately followed by an agreement from Harley and a snort from you.

Lian looked at the women all giggling at the pantless robin specifically, the girl smiling softly and leaning into your touch as you gently ran a hand across her back. This was nice. She loved when her dad did her hair, and with time, he has gotten better, but she wanted that with her mom. She knows Jade loves her, in her own way- and many would say that’s her only redeemable quality, not willing to give her the grace they give others- but her priorities lie somewhere else.

“Are you really not dating Deathstroke and Luthor?” Lian couldn’t help but ask for confirmation, relaxing completely when you smiled at her. “I’m not dating them, they’re just doing me a favor because Jason and I thought it’ll make the bats go crazy- which it did.”  Your smile grew into a prideful smirk, remembering the stories of Dick completely breaking down. “You say that, but you should see the way those two look at you when you’re not paying attention.” Debbie teased.

“Oh, so, every time?” Ivy couldn’t help but join. “Hey now- I pay attention-“ Selina raises an eyebrow as she quickly cuts in. “You almost walked into a pole because you saw a cat in a handbag.” Your mouth closed, argument dying in your throat as your cheeks flushed with heat. “Dad’s a real nice guy.” At Lian’s offhand comment, you turned your attention back on her, your finger gently pinching at her cheek. “I’m sure he is a great guy who doesn’t need his stellar daughter to wingman for him.”

“I said he’s a nice guy… he’s kind of hopeless when it comes to romance.” The teen’s comment got a laugh out of the older women. “Aren’t they all?” Harley jests. “Our sorceress is kind of hopeless to it too, isn’t she?” April spoke up, teasing smile on her lips. “I have no idea what you’re talking about-“ You sniff. “She’s right, gals, we’re starting to bully her-“ Selina purred. “Oh, by the way, my beloved kit, how is your crush on Wonder Woman going?” Your hand went over your heart as your mouth dropped open. “Just because I have one poster- this is Nolan all over… Lian- back me up here-“

“You’re right, you’re right-“ The teen pats your thigh. “Oh- I always wanted to know more about your relationship with Giganta.” Your other hand went over your heart as Lian just fluttered her eyelashes up at you, the other women starting to snicker. “Traitors… I’m surrounded by traitors.”

A knock at the door made everyone look at it, and when it opened, Two-Face got a mixed reaction of confusion and annoyance. “Switch time, come on, paternal figure and kid time.” He waved his hand for you to follow.

“Switch time? Y’all made a schedule?” You ask while getting up. “Yeah… we’ve learned to be buddies and share and all of that.” Harley rolled her eyes as she finished Lian’s nails. “Don’t worry, we’ll still be here when you get back.” Pamela reassured, redirecting Debbie worried look to the alien plant, asking what it eats.

You took the chance to follow Harvey, hooking your arm with his. He smiled as he led you downstairs to where Nolan and Mark were dressed in their nice suits, and even Oliver had his own little tux on while strapped to your dad’s chest. “Aww, look at my little man all prim and proper. So you're taking us to a nice place?” You cooed as the little guy grabbed at your fingers, nuzzling into your hand.

“Yes. And then we’ll visit Waylon and Bundy since they can’t come.” His eyebrow raised at the green light that engulfed your body and changed the pajamas to a long black dress, one similar to what he’d seen Morticia Addams wear in the many movies you were once obsessed with. “Cobblepot is waiting for us there.”

“We’re going to The Lounge?” Harvey smiled at Mark’s hidden excitement. “No. It’s not a place for babies, maybe we’ll go before you lot have to return.” Mark’s shoulders slumped as he fought a pout. “I’m still mad I can’t come-“ Jason whined, not even trying to hide his pout as Roy snickered. “If you come, the bats will for sure show up. Without you there, we get a fifty-fifty chance they won’t- no I won’t flip a coin for it, have a nice day, we’ll be back late.”

Jason’s frown deepened as he watched Two-Face usher the Graysons to the door. “Please don’t go after them. Do you really want to be blamed if Bruce does show up?” Roy nudged his friend, smiling as Jason groaned out a no.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your laugh filled the otherwise empty restaurant as John Constantine shimmied himself and a chair between you and Nolan, despite having enough space anywhere else at the table. “Can’t believe I wasn’t invited-“ The blond man was cut by Mark’s snort, immediately followed by Nolan’s voice. “You’re more of a drunk uncle who only shows up when he wants something. Cecil has more of a right to your seat.” John just gave the man a look before turning his head back to you. “So- when you get home, there’s a gift waiting for you- no, not a hell hound, I’m not getting you a hell hound- it’s grimoires and other magic books, you’ll enjoy them.”

“And it was a must for you to interrupt our outing-“ John quickly interrupts Oswald, ignoring your whining about how you deserve a hellhound. “Nah, Bruce is about to show up any moment now- want to see the shit show for myself.” As the man stole Harvey’s whiskey, the doors opened, and in walked the bat himself.

“Can’t I take a break-“ You whined, your hand immediately covering your face as your elbows rested on the table. “Bruce-“ Harvey got up from his chair as both his faces showed the displeasure of seeing the bat brought. “I'm not looking for a fight-“ Bruce raised his hands in a surrendering manner before his eyes drifted back to you. “I do just want to talk.” You took the whiskey glass from John and downed it.

Oliver looked between you and Bruce as you slammed the glass down. His eyes remained on the older man’s tired face. Bruce, sensing eyes on him, turns his attention from your whining form to the toddler sitting in his highchair. As the man gives the kid a small smile, Oliver isn’t having any of it, his little face scrunching up as he points at Bruce. “Ugly.”

It takes a while for everyone to process what Oliver called the bat, but when it registers in everyone’s brain, the reactions are immediate. Bruce’s shoulders slump with defeat as you, John, and Mark completely lose it, laughing like hyenas. “Well-“ Whatever little jab Nolan wanted to give was interrupted when Oliver grabbed at his mustache. “Dada ugly too.”

The laughter only got louder. John went down, clutching his stomach while slamming his fist into the ground- you weren’t far behind, the only thing keeping you upwards was Mark shaking you as he laughed soundlessly, his face turning red. “Are you two done?” Nolan’s grumble was met with nonsensical babble, neither of his kids being able to form comprehensible sentences.

Bruce, deciding it’s a good enough time to get a distracted you to listen, gently taps your back, resulting in your hand in his as he gently pulls you away from the table. The men wanted to stop him, but knowing his history of digging his own hole, they let him take you away for a bit. “The mustache is quite ugly.” The Penguin mutters, and as Harvey hides his laugh with a cough, John lets out a sound similar to a dying cat.

You were stumbling, hitting Bruce’s arm with no real bite while your laughter left you lightheaded. “Oh, sweet Gelos-“ You sniffed, hand wiping away tears as you finally let go of the man to rest against a wall, body still shaking with giggles. And Bruce just smiled, the exhaustion fading away the more you mumbled and the more your shoulders shook with cackles and shaky breaths. He just wishes it didn’t take this long to hear you so happy. That you were laughing at something he said.

“I have so many explanations of why I did what I did.” His voice made you take in a sharp breath, any amusement dying down faster than Constantine can smoke a pack of cigarettes. “But that’s not an apology, and it doesn’t matter what I wanted to accomplish when all I did was hurt you.”  Bruce moved closer, and you pressed your back into the wall. “… I am sorry-“

“I don’t believe you.” Your tone was even, face blank, and shoulders tense. “You weren’t sorry back then, you're only sorry now, because the public and JL members found out and it started affecting you.” Bruce didn’t expect this to be easy, to be forgiven on the spot- this isn’t a Disney movie where the toxic grandmother is forgiven with a hug. “I know… And I understand why you’d believe that. But I won’t give up. Whether or not you like it, you’re still my daughter.”

“I may as well have been an orphan. The only good thing you’ve ever done was give me access to your money.” Despite the jab and you walking away, Bruce took this as a small win- after all, he didn’t get punched or cake smashed. Small steps, he was a patient man.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“-and I definitely wanted to punch him again.” You finished telling Waylon what happened at dinner, your eyes drifting to Bundy, who has been frozen since Oliver decided he wanted the zombie to hold him and cuddle. “You should have,” Two-Face growled. “Have to agree. I don’t like the courage he and his birds are getting.” Nolan grumbled, his arms crossed. “He hasn’t been this sloppy since Jason died.” Waylon’s tail tapped the ground as he spoke, lost in thought.

 John couldn’t agree more, the bug the man tried to plant was the most obvious thing. Too obvious. John frowned as he got up from the old armchair, walking past Mark, who was busy reading a The Walking Dead comic, straight to you. “Sorry, love.” He mumbled as he moved behind you, ignoring the conversation going on, while his hands went for your hair.

His eyes carefully moved down your strands of hair as he muttered spells, down the back of your neck, and stopping where your shoulders started. Two fingers went from the left to the right shoulder, his eyebrows furrowing while his eyes watched the tracking sigil disappear.  Seems like he’ll have to talk to the bat himself.

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[capuccinodoll]

The boyfriend act, part 3: "The one with the birthday party" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader SERIES MASTERIST

Chapter Summary: At Frankie’s mom’s birthday party, you aim to keep a low profile, doing just enough to blend in. But the night takes an unexpected turn—his family pulls you in more than you anticipated, catching you off guard with their warmth. And then, just when you think you’ve made it through unscathed, the pavement has a surprise for you too. WC: 18.8k (CAREFUL, THIS BABY IS LOOOONG LOL)

A/N: Alright, it's here at last! You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to sharing this chapter. For some reason, life kept getting in the way and I couldn’t finish it sooner, but NOW IT’S FINALLY DONE! I’d love to know what you think—your feedback always helps me improve, and I really enjoy reading your comments! <3 LOVE YOU YOU ALL, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! If you want to be in the tag list, let me know. Don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifs!

Friday, August 9th. 

“Hey,” you said as you opened the door, stepping aside to let Frankie in. You barely glanced at him before turning toward the other room. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”

He walked in without a word, shutting the door with a soft click. His silence felt heavier than it should have, like an unspoken critique. You gestured toward the door on the right, in front of the stairs that led to the second floor and to your apartment.

You went into the bookshop, and he followed you, his shoes heavy against the floor.

Inside, Frankie lingered by the doorway, his eyes darting around the room as though assessing it for structural integrity. You ignored him, sliding behind the counter to finish typing something on the computer.

“What are you doing?” he asked, leaning on the edge of the counter with the practiced impatience of someone who believes they’re above waiting. His tone had a sharp edge, as if the concept of you having a to-do list offended him. “Can’t this wait?”

You exhaled, a soft, deliberate sigh that was barely audible over the quiet clatter of the keys.

“Just finishing an order. If you’re going to stand there and criticize, at least try to look useful.” A few more taps, and you turned the screen toward him with a mock flourish. “There. Done. Satisfied?”

Frankie didn’t bother responding, his attention shifting to you instead. His gaze dragged up and down, his expression a mix of scrutiny and reluctant approval.

You stepped around to the other side of the counter, reaching for the bookshop keys. With them in hand, you paused in front of him, your gaze drifting down the length of his body.

“Well, this is… unexpected,” you said, letting your eyes linger pointedly on his polished black coat, white buttoned shirt and neatly pressed pants. “You look decent.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said dryly, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smirk. “And you look…” His eyes trailed to your dress, narrowing. “Half-dressed.”

“Excuse me?”

Frankie crossed his arms, tilting his head as though giving your outfit a second appraisal.

“I’m not joking. Did you forget part of your dress? Or is it supposed to look like that?”

Confused, you glanced down at yourself. You were wearing one of your favorite dresses—a white one with delicate straps and a fit that was snug but not tight, elegant in its simplicity. It was modest enough: the neckline wasn’t too low, the hem rested just above your knees. Perfectly normal. Perfectly appropriate.

“There’s nothing wrong with my dress. You’re just being annoying and mean.”

“Your back,” he said flatly, gesturing with his hand.

Your fingers flew to the back of the dress, and sure enough, they met the unzipped fabric.

“Oh,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I… I was going to zip it upstairs. I have this little hook thing for it—”

“For god’s sake,” Frankie cut in, pinching the bridge of his nose like this was the single most inconvenient thing anyone had ever asked of him. “Turn around. I’ll do it.”

You stared at him like he’d just suggested performing open-heart surgery.

“You don’t have to—”

“It’s a zipper, not a marriage proposal. Turn around.”

Reluctantly, you turned, feeling his presence close behind you. His fingers were quick but precise as he tugged the zipper up, the movement so mundane yet strangely charged. The warmth of his breath hit the back of your neck, and you froze for a second, hyperaware of the proximity.

“There,” he said gruffly, stepping back as if the contact had been nothing more than a chore. “Happy now? Let's go.”

You turned to face him, adjusting the straps with an exaggerated shake of your shoulders.

“Ecstatic,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Truly life-changing.”

Frankie rolled his eyes and made a beeline for the door, opening it with a sharp glance over his shoulder.

“Are you done with the dramatics?”

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you followed him outside, muttering under your breath just loud enough for him to hear.

“You’re lucky I didn’t ask you to tie my heels.”

The party was being held in the gilded elegance of the Golden Room at Hotel Le Grand. Frankie had mentioned, in passing, that he and his sisters had been planning the event for months—though it was clear Luna had been the one to shoulder the real burden. Frankie didn’t strike you as someone who knew how to color-coordinate table linens or confirm catering orders. Luna, on the other hand, sounded like the kind of woman who thrived on spreadsheets and perfectly executed itineraries.

You walked down the wide, carpeted hallway toward the entrance, feeling an unfamiliar kind of nervousness bloom in your chest. It wasn’t fear exactly, nor excitement—it was something in between, something that lived in the pit of your stomach and coiled tighter the closer you got. You could hear the faint hum of voices, glasses clinking, the muffled thrum of music filtering out from the room ahead. Frankie’s pace slowed beside you, his polished shoes scuffing lightly against the floor.

When you turned to look at him, his expression was hard to read. He was studying you, eyes narrowing slightly as if you’d done something suspicious, though you couldn’t imagine what.

“Wait,” he said abruptly, stepping closer and grabbing your arm—not roughly, but firmly enough that you stumbled slightly.

“What—”

He didn’t answer, just pulled you along a few steps before opening a nearby door and tugging you inside.

“What the hell are you doing, Francisco?” you hissed, glancing around the dim, utilitarian room. It smelled faintly of dust and lemon cleaner, the air heavy with the static quiet of spaces not meant to be used by guests. Stacks of chairs loomed in uneven piles against the walls, making the room feel even smaller.

Frankie shut the door behind you with an exhale.

“Let’s go over it one more time,” he said, his voice low and edged with impatience.

“You’re kidding.”

“Just—humor me, okay?” He glanced at you, his dark eyes darting quickly over your face before he looked away again, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” he replied, too fast. He planted his hands on his hips, his expression careful. “Santi introduced us. We’ve been dating for two months. We kept it private because we wanted to talk to him first. It’s… fine. Normal. Our relationship is easy.”

“Easy?” 

“Yes, easy. It just happened. The usual.”

“You’re so nervous,” you said, fighting the urge to laugh. “Look at you.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“You’re definitely nervous.”

“I just need you to promise me that you’re not going to do anything to ruin this. Okay? Can you promise me that?”

You scoffed, clicking your tongue in mock offense.

“Why do you automatically assume I’m the one who’s going to ruin it? If you want my honest opinion, you’re way more likely to mess this up. Look at you—you’re sweating.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. You look like a dog with its tail between its legs,” you said, lightly poking his shoulder with two fingers.

“You are going to make me fucking nervous if you keep talking like that,” he said, pushing your shoulder with two fingers, a perfect imitation of your earlier gesture.

You exaggerated the movement, stumbling back as though his touch had been far more forceful than it was.

“Deny it all you want, but I’m not the nervous one, and I’m not going to ruin this. I still need you for the wedding, remember? Or has that slipped your mind?”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation.

“I guess so. What a ridiculous plan,” he said, his voice dripping with faux superiority. When his gaze found yours again, it was sharp. “And I’m not nervous.”

Frankie didn’t seem to realize how obvious his nerves were. His eyes darted around like they were chasing his thoughts, moving too quickly for comfort. Every so often, his eyebrows would twitch in a way that betrayed the tight control he thought he had over himself. And you’d noticed it earlier, too, during the car ride—his restlessness, the way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel, harder and faster than usual. It was almost endearing, if not for the fact that he refused to admit it. Instead, he was blaming you.  

A thought sparked in your mind and you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into it. Your eyes brightened as you tilted your head, feigning an exaggerated air of curiosity.  

“Well, if you say so,” you sighed, looking away for just a beat before locking eyes with him again. “So, where can I touch you?”  

Frankie froze, his entire body going rigid.  

“What?” 

“Where can I touch you?” you repeated, slowly, as if he might need help processing the question. “Like, can I hold your hand? Touch your face? Your arms? Anywhere that’s off-limits? I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”  

You could feel the corners of your mouth twitching, fighting the urge to fully smile. God, this was too easy. He looked equal parts horrified and confused, his eyebrows knitting together as his eyes widened slightly.  

“Stick to the basics,” he said, his tone clipped and no-nonsense. He was trying to regain control, though the way he crossed his arms over his chest only made him look more defensive. 

“And what exactly are the basics, Francisco?”  

“It doesn’t matter. This is a family event. Just don’t—don’t overdo it.”  

“Well, that’s a start,” you said, nodding like you were taking mental notes. “So, can I hold your hand? Or is that too intimate for you? If I make you nervous, you can just say so.”

Your voice had softened into something almost saccharine, a honeyed sweetness that didn’t belong to you. 

Frankie stared at you in silence, his dark, intense eyes fixed on your face like they were trying to strip you down to your core. You could almost feel him siphoning your energy, leaving you lighter, emptier.

“Yes, you can hold my fucking hand.”

“Great,” you said brightly, nodding as if you were in complete agreement. “And what about kissing?”

“There’s no need.”

“No need? That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” You paused, letting the silence settle just long enough to be deliberate. “Now I’ll tell you what I’ll allow.”

Frankie frowned, his head tilting slightly in irritation.

“There’s no need. I don’t plan to—”

“You can hold my hand, my shoulders, and my waist. My waist, but no lower—understood?” You raised your index finger for emphasis, looking up at him with mock authority.

Frankie blinked, caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement. He stifled a laugh, though you caught the way his mouth twitched at the corners.

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest like a disappointed teacher.

“What? Are you seriously planning to convince your family that you’re head over heels for me without even touching my shoulders? That’s ambitious, Francisco. And, honestly, not very convincing. You’re out of your depth here. And nervous,” you added, tilting your head to one side with a knowing smirk. “But I get it. You’re not exactly the picture of confidence, are you? In fact, you strike me as one of those guys who find it really difficult to socialize with women. You know the type.”

Frankie’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might actually snap. But instead, he nodded slowly, biting the inside of his cheek as a bitter, humorless smile spread across his face.

“I’m very sociable with women, sweetheart,” he said, his voice smooth and edged with something sharp. “The thing is, I have to like them first.”

You raised your eyebrows, disbelief etched across your face.

“Well, I think that makes you a bad actor. You’re not cut out for the job.”  

Frankie leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze, steady and unflinching, fixed on you like he was deciding whether you were worth responding to.

“Oh, no?”  

“Yeah, you know, for the act,” you said, tilting your head.  

“You’re ridiculous.”  

“And you’re a nervous coward.”  

Frankie didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stared at you, his silence stretching long enough to make you shift under the weight of his gaze. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and for a brief, panicked moment, you thought he might just open the door, leave you standing there alone, and abandon the whole charade.  

But then, his face shifted. A smug expression slid into place, slow and calculated, accompanied by that crooked smile that always made your stomach tighten—not in a pleasant way, but in a way that felt like a warning.  

“And what about you, Meryl Streep?” he asked, his tone light but laced with an edge. “You want to talk about bad acting, but yesterday, after I kissed you, you looked completely out of place.”  

You sighed, a deliberate move to buy yourself a second to think.

“Sorry,” you said finally, tilting your head like you were truly apologetic. “I guess that happens when I get the most unpleasant kiss in the world.”  

Frankie laughed under his breath, shaking his head.

“Then it shouldn’t bother you that this party is kiss-free, should it? Little physical contact, just the necessary effort.”  

For a moment, you felt the wind knocked out of you—not by his words, but by the realization that he had managed to flip the conversation so seamlessly, deflating your earlier momentum. But you recovered quickly, letting a slow, understanding smile spread across your face.

You leaned in slightly, your hand lifting toward his face. Frankie, ever cautious, instinctively moved his head back, but you didn’t stop. Your fingers found his cheek, warm under your touch, and your thumb rested lightly at the corner of his mouth.

“You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy it when you come begging for a kiss or a small demonstration of affection, Francisco,” you said softly, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “Because even though I know how much you hate this whole thing, I also know that your need to make this convincing is even stronger.”

You dropped your hand and stepped back, feeling a delicious sense of control settle over you like a second skin.

Frankie’s jaw tightened as he turned toward the door, his hand gripping the handle tightly, knuckles faintly white. He paused just before opening it fully, glancing over his shoulder at you, his eyes sharp and impatient.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” you said lightly, brushing past him as you moved toward the door.

Already in the hallway, Frankie fell into step beside you, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours. Without warning, his fingers found yours, intertwining them in a quiet, deliberate motion. His steps were slow, measured, as you both neared the doorway leading back to the crowded hall.

You turned to him, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“I thought that—”

“No way,” a voice cut in from behind, smooth and teasing. “Sneaking off to a closet during Mom’s birthday party? That’s risky, Frankie.”

Frankie froze, his grip on your hand loosening for a second. He turned, his face momentarily pale, but when he saw her, something shifted. The tension in his jaw melted away, replaced by a warm, easy smile. You followed his gaze.

The woman approached, a grin already forming, arms outstretched. She pulled Frankie into a tight embrace, her dark eyes bright.

He kissed her cheek before pulling back.

“How are you?” he asked, his voice lighter than before. “How’s Mom? Is she happy?”

“She’s great, so so happy. She wants to see you,” the woman said, and then her attention flicked to you. Curiosity glimmered in her gaze. “Aren’t you going to... introduce me to your girl?”

Frankie hesitated, like the thought had only just occurred to him. Then, his hand slid to your waist, his grip warm and steady as he pulled you closer.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, and your name slipped from his lips with an unfamiliar sweetness. “My girlfriend.” He paused, like he was testing the words, then smiled. “And baby, this is my sister, Maia.”

The way he said it caught you off guard. There was a natural ease to it, like he’d said it a hundred times before. Like it wasn’t the first time he was calling you that in front of someone else. Baby.

Your mind went back to what Frankie had told you the night before. Maia, of all his sisters, was the most perceptive. She’ll figure us out if we’re not careful.

You turned to her with a genuine smile. She was beautiful—big brown eyes framed by long lashes, dark hair swept back effortlessly. There was something about her features, the sharp cheekbones, the knowing glint in her eyes, that reminded you of Frankie. 

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” you said, meaning it. “Your brother’s told me so much about you. You look gorgeous.”

Maia’s grin widened, a pink flush rising to her cheeks.

“Oh, stop, really? You’re gorgeous.” She reached out, touching your arm lightly. Her hands were soft. “I wish I could say the same, but this idiot kept you a secret. He’s told us next to nothing.”

“Maia,” Frankie started, already formulating an excuse.

"It’s my fault," you cut in, glancing at him briefly before turning back to her. "I asked him to keep it private, at least until we told my brother."

Maia's brows lifted. "Oh? And why—"

Frankie exhaled. “She’s Santi’s sister.”

Maia’s mouth fell open slightly, then curved into an amused, knowing smile.

“Shut up,” she said, her tone laced with delight. “You’re dating your best friend’s little sister?”

A small laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

“Can you believe it?” you said, glancing at Frankie before turning back to her. “And I’m dating my brother’s best friend. Talk about a cliché.”

“Unbelievable,” Maia echoed, her laughter bright and infectious. “And what did he say when you told him?”

“Oh, Santi thought it was a little ridiculous at first,” you admitted, glancing at Frankie, amusement dancing in your expression. “But he got over it pretty fast.”

Your eyes met his then, full of plastic love.

Maia smirked knowingly.

“Well,” she said, tilting her head, “this just got interesting.”

Frankie cut the conversation short, brushing off Maia’s questions with the kind of firm, practiced ease that suggested he’d been doing it his whole life. She rolled her eyes but didn’t press further, leading the two of you deeper into the party.

His hand found your waist again as you stepped inside the hall. The space was vast and elegant, bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights strung overhead. White tablecloths stretched across the tables, each adorned with delicate centerpieces of white lilies—his mother’s favorite, according to Frankie. The scent was soft, fresh.

Maia wove through the gathering guests with the effortless familiarity of someone who had done this a thousand times. You, however, were hyper-aware of every step, every shift of movement. The closer you got to the main table, where the rest of his family sat in easy conversation, the more your nerves crept up, curling around your ribs like vines. Without thinking, your fingers sought Frankie’s again, gripping them tighter than necessary.

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice a quiet reassurance meant only for you. “I’ve got you.”

You nodded, even if you weren’t entirely convinced.

Then Helena spotted Frankie, and everything else in the room faded.

Her eyes went wide, bright with unfiltered joy. “Francisco!”

She pushed back her chair in an instant, standing with her arms already outstretched. Frankie barely had time to let go of your hand before she pulled him into a tight embrace, holding him the way only a mother could—like she needed to be sure he was still whole. She kissed both his cheeks, then held his face between her hands, searching it, memorizing him.

“Esta fiesta es increible, mi amor (this party is incredible, my love),” she told him, eyes still shining. “The best gift of all. Just having everyone together, that’s all I wanted. All my babies with me.”

Frankie smiled, a real one, the kind that made his entire face look younger, lighter.

“Feliz cumpleaños, ma, te mereces esto y mucho más. Una fiesta increible para una mujer increible, ¿o no?. (Happy birthday, Mom, you deserve this and much more. An incredible party for an incredible woman, right?)” 

You felt something swell in your chest at the way he said it, at the way his voice sounded softer in spanish—his voice warm with love.

Helena beamed, then turned toward you.

The shift was subtle, but sharp. Her gaze landed on you with something keen behind it, something appraising. 

“Mom,” he said, his fingers brushing your back again, “I want you to meet someone.” He pulled you closer, and when he said your name, it was softer than usual, careful. “She’s my... She's my girlfriend.”

The word hit the air, and you felt Frankie tense beside you, just for a second.

Helena didn’t react right away. She simply looked at you, studying, deciding. And then—she smiled. Broadly, like she’d decided something in your favor.

She repeated your name, and up close, you saw it now—how much of her was in Frankie. The same warm brown eyes, the same mischievous pull at the corner of the mouth, like they were both always half a second away from teasing you.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” she said, reaching for your hands. “What a lovely surprise, sweetheart.”

Your face warmed immediately, heat spreading down to your chest, and you knew you were blushing. Next to you, Frankie smirked, clearly amused by your reaction.

“Thank you so much,” you managed, shifting slightly closer to him for balance. “And happy birthday. It’s really wonderful to finally meet you, Helena. Francisco has told me nothing but amazing things about you.”

“Oh, thank God,” she teased, tossing her son a look before giving his arm a gentle pat. “And I do hope you’ll fill in the gaps. I’ve been waiting so long for this one to bring someone home, you have no idea. If you only knew!” She clasped her hands together in mock prayer. “Now, come—come! Come meet the rest of our family.”

Before you could react, she had already taken your arm, gently pulling you away from Frankie. You barely had time to glance back at him, your expression somewhere between help and save me, before you saw the exact same look mirrored on his face. He could do nothing but follow as Helena paraded you toward the table.

Introductions unfolded in a series of warm, overlapping voices.

Luna was stunning, exactly as you’d imagined. Her dark hair was swept back, save for a few loose strands that framed her delicate features. Her green eyes carried a quiet curiosity as she hugged you gently, greeting you with the kind of reserved kindness that made you think she was someone who observed before she spoke.

Next to her was Henry, her husband, who greeted you with a polite nod and a brief kiss on the cheek. Jamie, their son, waved shyly from his seat, his big brown eyes round with something close to awe. His curls bounced slightly when he moved, making him look like some kind of cherub from a Renaissance painting.

Then came Grace, Frankie’s niece, who stood just long enough to kiss your cheek before shyly murmuring, “I like your dress.” She had the kind of effortless sweetness that made you instantly want to protect her.

Her mother, Sofia, was beside her. Of all the sisters, she resembled Helena the most. Her dark curls fell over her shoulders, her smile was warm and knowing, and something about her presence felt effortlessly welcoming.

And then Maia, despite having already met you, stood again to press another kiss to your cheek, like she simply had to.

Once everyone was settled, Helena guided you to the empty chair beside her, which you realized—only as Frankie moved toward it—was the seat he had been planning to take. He hesitated for half a second, then shifted to the free chair on your right instead.

You exhaled, trying to ignore the way your nerves still buzzed under your skin. But when you turned your head, Frankie was already watching you.

He leaned in, his breath just barely grazing your ear.

“Calm down,” he murmured, his voice low, easy. “Just do the minimum.”

You huffed a quiet laugh.

“Like you?” you whispered back.

Frankie gave you a crooked smile, his eyes gleaming with the urge to fire something back at you. But he held it in.

“So, how did you two meet?” Grace asked, her voice sweet, playful. She turned to Frankie with a teasing grin. “I didn’t know you had it in you to charm such a pretty girl.”

Frankie let out a low chuckle. You felt heat creep up your neck.

“Oh, you’re going to love this,” Maia said, eyebrows arching in anticipation.

“Frankie was a total heartbreaker when we were kids, baby,” Luna added, her tone rich with amusement. “The girls loved the whole brooding, shy boy act.”

“I was shy,” Frankie defended, frowning slightly, as if the memory still perplexed him. “I think that was just my secret weapon.” He shrugged, then winked.

Helena shook her head, smiling.

“And how did this happen?” She turned to you, her gaze warm, almost knowing. “Francisco hasn’t told me a thing, no matter how much I insisted on it. I can’t believe he kept it a secret—especially with someone as lovely as you.”

“I thought he was about to take a vow of celibacy,” Sofia chimed in dryly, swirling her wine before taking a sip. “After he turned down that date with Genevieve’s daughter, we were convinced. She’s very pretty.”

“What’s celibacy?” Jamie piped up.

Henry, sitting next to him, burst out laughing.

Frankie exhaled through his nose, then leaned in, his arm draping over the back of your chair. The shift in posture was subtle but intentional. You felt the warmth of him at your side.

“Yeah, well, did you ever think that maybe you all just wore me out with that?” His voice was even, but his eyes moved slowly across the table.

“Ay, sweetheart, we were just worried,” Helena said, her concern soft and painfully genuine. “We just want you to be happy, genuinely happy. And after everything that’s happened…” She hesitated, her gaze lingering on her son.

Frankie stiffened, his jaw tight. His eyes flicked to hers, a silent warning: Don’t say it.

Helena caught it instantly. She inhaled, then softened her expression. “I’m just happy to hear you say that you’re happy with someone great.”

You turned to look at Frankie. He was still close, his face unreadable, his body warm next to yours.

What exactly had he told them? That he was happy? That he was in love? How intense was it all according to him?

“How did you two meet?” Sofía asked, her voice light but perceptive, her gaze flickering between you and Frankie. She had noticed his discomfort—of course, she had.

“It’s a funny story, actually.” His eyes found yours, holding them for a fraction too long, something unspoken passing between you. A silent negotiation. A mutual recognition. “Do you remember Santi?”

Everyone nodded. Even Henry, who had never met your brother but had certainly heard his name before.

“Well,” Frankie said, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world, “she’s his sister.”

For a second, there was silence, the air thick with realization. Then—

Helena, Luna, and Sofía all widened their eyes in synchronized surprise. Grace, on the other hand, grinned like she had just won something.

“You’re Santiago’s sister?” Helena asked, reaching out and taking your arm gently, warmth in her touch. She looked genuinely delighted, like this was some grand revelation that connected dots she hadn’t even known were unconnected.

You nodded, already feeling heat crawl up your neck.

“Oh my God, Francisco, why didn’t you tell me?” She asked her son, her tone accusatory.

Frankie shrugged, but before he could speak, you jumped in.

“Oh, that was because of me,” you admitted, smiling at her. “I asked Frankie to keep it private until I had the chance to talk to Santi. I… I wanted to tell him first.”

Luna, who had been watching with her chin propped on her palm, suddenly straightened, her lips curving into something sharp and entertained.

“Wait, but how?” she demanded, eyes glinting. “Was it sudden? Was it a secret? Please tell me everything.”

Frankie clicked his tongue.

“Jesus, relax.”

“Hey, we want to know!” Maia chimed in, twisting in her seat to get a better angle on you both. Grace nodded eagerly beside her, practically vibrating with interest.

Frankie glanced at you then, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—caution, amusement, curiosity. A silent question.

You held his gaze, then gave the smallest nod. Permission granted.

He turned back to them, exhaling like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“It just happened,” Frankie said, his tone edged with impatience, like he was eager to get it over with. “We’d known each other for years, but we never really talked. Not much, anyway. Then Santi asked me to pick her up in Dallas because he couldn’t go, and he’d already promised. So I did.” He paused, tilting his head slightly, like he was considering the weight of his own words. “It was the longest trip of my life.” He glanced at you then, a slow, almost taunting smile curving his lips. “But I think something changed there. Don’t you?”

You held his gaze, matching his expression, refusing to break first.

For his family, this was a love story. For you, it was the beginning of a nightmare in a roadside diner, the longest meal of your life.

“Oh, of course it did,” you said, letting your hand fall onto his knee without warning. You felt him tense under your touch—so subtle no one else would have noticed. But you did. The corners of your mouth lifted, amusement flickering in your eyes as you smoothed it over with something softer, something that could be mistaken for affection.

“Actually,” you continued, turning toward Helena, who was watching you with quiet curiosity, “we never got along too well. The few times we saw each other, we ended up arguing, or worse.” You flicked your gaze back to Frankie, like you were measuring his reaction. “I always thought he disliked me. He always seemed uncomfortable, like he was disgusted by me.” You let the words hang in the air for a second longer than necessary before adding, lightly, “Apparently, not at all.”

“He liked you,” Grace said, beaming as if this was the best news she’d heard all night. “It’s so obvious.”

“Ah, typical,” Maia chimed in, crossing her arms, as if she had seen this exact scenario unfold a hundred times before.

Helena, still completely engrossed, leaned in slightly. “So what happened then?”

Frankie exhaled, his voice smoothing into something more deliberate, as if the story was forming in real-time.

“She left something in my car. I went to drop it off at her place a few days later. We talked for a while and—”

“And he kissed me,” you cut in, turning to look at him, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Frankie’s expression barely changed, but you caught the flicker of irritation in his eyes, the way his jaw tensed for half a second. He had been telling the story clean, simple, effortless. And now, suddenly, you had made it romantic. More than it needed to be.

Helena squeezed your arm gently, as if this moment—this entire fabricated story—was something to be treasured.

“Oh, who would have imagined it!” she said, delighted. “And what did your brother say? Was he angry? Did he approve?”

You tilted your head, considering. “Well, at first, he was just… shocked.” You smiled, remembering the way Santiago had looked at you when you told him your plan the day before, like he genuinely thought he had misheard. “I don’t think he was angry, exactly. More like—‘of all the people in the world, you and Francisco?’” You mimicked your brother’s voice, shaking your head. “His exact words: You two couldn’t even be in the same room without arguing.” Okay. That was fake, he never said that, but was it a lie?

Helena laughed, eyes warm.

Frankie sighed beside you, and when you glanced at him, his gaze was already on you—steady, unreadable. A story told a little too well. 

“Well,” he said finally, his voice dry. “I guess people change.”

“Well, actually, I don’t find it strange at all,” Helena said suddenly, glancing at her daughters as if they should have known this already. “When I met your father, I didn’t like him. Not even a little. I thought he was insufferable, so arrogant. He asked me out five times, and I turned him down every single time. I was convinced he was conceited.” She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “In reality, he was just… shy and a little bit awkward.”

You smiled, genuinely this time. Maybe that had been true for Frankie's father, but not for his son. With you, Frankie hadn’t been misunderstood—he had been downright mean. What had he called you once? Ah, yes, “little insufferable brat.” 

The memory made you tighten your grip around your glass.

Luckily, the party had started to fill with more guests, and Helena excused herself to greet them. Frankie’s sisters kept you in their orbit a little longer, but their questions were harmless. You answered lightly, intentionally keeping your responses vague, avoiding any personal detail that might reveal too much.

By the time dinner was served, the conversation had shifted entirely, now centered on Helena’s upcoming trip. She was going to Maui with her two sisters.

“Maybe I’ll just stay and live there,” she mused at one point, raising an eyebrow as she sipped her wine. “If the sand convinces me.”

“I think you’re going to love it,” Luna said. “Honestly, I think it’s the best thing you can do. Travel. Go to all those places you always told us about.”

Helena smiled at her daughter, but there was something behind it. A flicker of sadness, a private grief.

“Oh, yes,” she said, exhaling softly. “I just wish I could have had my Gabriel with me.” She smiled as she said it, but the words landed heavier than anything else had all evening.

You glanced at Frankie without meaning to, and that’s when you noticed how he was looking at his mother. Not just listening, watching, the way someone does when they know exactly what’s behind a statement like that. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The same quiet ache was there, in his eyes, in the way his fingers curled loosely around the stem of his glass. Then he caught you looking and dropped his gaze to his plate.

After dinner, Luna and Sofía stood under the spotlights, microphones in hand, offering heartfelt words to their mother. Helena sat at the center of it all, her expression soft, her eyes shining as she listened. Friends and family followed, sharing anecdotes—some sentimental, others ridiculous.

You found yourself genuinely enjoying the evening. Frankie's family was incredible—funny, loud, and full of life. The stories they told about Helena were the kind of stories that made you want to listen forever. 

At one point, Eli, one of her oldest friends, recounted a story about the time she and Helena had snuck into David Bowie’s hotel as teenagers, only to steal a pair of underwear that—to this day—they weren’t entirely sure had belonged to Bowie himself or just some unfortunate member of his team. Either way, they still had them, tucked away somewhere.

The entire room erupted into laughter.

You were still caught in the story, your attention fully on the speaker, when you felt the weight of Frankie’s arm settle lightly against your back. He leaned in, his mouth near your ear, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“You didn’t have to say all that,” he murmured. 

It took a second for you to register what he meant.

“Huh?” You turned slightly over your shoulder, catching the sharpness in his expression.

“This doesn’t have to be romantic.”

You blinked at him. Then scoffed.

“There’s no way it’s not romantic,” you whispered back, exasperated. “I’m your best friend’s sister. It just happened. How do you expect people not to romanticize it?”

Frankie exhaled, his hand briefly flexing against your back before he pulled it away.

“Just… just leave it to me from now on, okay?”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the spotlight, where Helena’s friend was still mid-story.

“Fine,” you muttered.

The party carried on the way these gatherings always did—laughter spilling into the air, the clinking of glasses as a few heartfelt toasts were made, voices overlapping in lively conversation. At the center of it all stood the towering delicious cake, drawing admiration before being sliced and passed around on small plates. Cameras flashed as family members huddled together for pictures, arms wrapped around shoulders, cheeks pressed close, and after a few more anecdotes and a couple more glasses of wine, Frankie leaned in, his breath warm against your shoulder as he murmured that he needed to find the bathroom. You nodded, barely looking up, stretching your legs as you stood. The air inside had started to feel thick, a little too warm, a little too full of laughter and clinking glasses.

You wandered toward the courtyard at the heart of the hall, a quiet oasis strung with soft lights, vines curling around wrought iron railings. The hotel was stunning, all old-world charm and careful elegance, the kind of place you’d never had a reason to visit before tonight.

Sinking onto a small stone bench, you exhaled slowly, watching the golden glow of the party through the enormous windows. Inside, the music throbbed, rich and nostalgic—ABBA, because of course it was. Guests twirled and swayed, arms flung around each other, faces flushed with wine and joy.

You lifted your glass to your lips, the white wine still pleasantly cool, still sweet. For a moment, you stared down at your shoes, tracing patterns on the stone floor with the tip of your toe. This was ridiculous. All of it.

What the hell were you doing here, at Frankie’s mother’s party? How had you let yourself get talked into this? His family was lovely, yes. His mother, especially. But did you really need to be here, sitting among strangers, smiling politely at old stories that weren’t yours? And Harry’s wedding—did you really want to go to that, after everything?

“Enjoying the peace and quiet?”

The voice startled you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Helena stepping into the courtyard, lifting the hem of her dress as she walked. Her cheeks were flushed, her dark hair slightly undone from all the dancing.

You smiled despite yourself, tilting your head.

“It’s beautiful out here,” you said, glancing around as she lowered herself onto the bench beside you. “It’s a beautiful place.”

She hummed in agreement, smoothing the fabric of her dress. “Yes, it is. My kids did a good job.”

“It’s a wonderful party. You have so many people who love you.” You hesitated, then laughed lightly. “The stories were funny.”

Helena smiled, and for a split second, you saw Frankie in her—the dimple that appeared when she laughed, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners.

“I really liked them,” you added.

“Yeah?” she asked, turning to you, her expression open, curious.

You nodded.

“Good,” she said. “Me too.” Her gaze drifted toward the party, toward the window where music and voices poured through. “The years go by, and sometimes I forget just how much has happened to me. It’s strange. Sometimes it feels like my life after Gabriel passed away is… something separate. Like a different life entirely, like I became another woman without even realizing it.”

She looked down at her hands, twisting her ring absentmindedly.

Frankie had never talked to you about his father, but you knew. He had died suddenly two years ago. Santi had mentioned it in passing on the day of the funeral, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place—grief, exhaustion, maybe both. You had called him that morning, not knowing what had happened, and when he told you, it felt like the air had changed. Gabriel. You remembered the name, the way Santi had said it so carefully, like it was something fragile. He loved him, that much was clear. Like a second father, he said.

Helena’s words pressed against something in you, something raw. You and Santi had lost your own father a couple of years ago, when you were twenty-three. It had been sudden, too—death always seemed to be, no matter how much warning you had. Your mother had taken it the hardest. She couldn’t bear to stay in the house they had shared for nearly thirty-five years. The grief sat too thick in the walls, in the corners of every room, in the quiet that used to be filled with his voice. So she left. Packed her things and moved to New York to live with your aunt. Sometimes, when she called, she sounded lighter. Other times, she just sounded far away.

You glanced at Helena, something warm and unspoken passing between you.

“As if you had been torn in two,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “As if there was the version of you that knew him, and a new one that spends every day missing him.”

Helena turned toward you, studying you in the dim light. Then she nodded, her gaze drifting back to the party, to the golden glow of the room beyond the window.

“That’s right,” she murmured. “But I’m very lucky, aren’t I? To have a family like this?” She turned back to you, a small smile playing at the edges of her mouth. “Tell me, do you like us?”

You let out a breath of laughter, shaking your head slightly.

“Oh, of course I do,” you said, meaning it. “You have a beautiful family.”

Helena studied you for a long moment, her smile still in place but something shifting behind her eyes. A quiet kind of consideration.

“Can I ask you something?”

You hesitated, then nodded, suddenly unsure of yourself, worried you weren’t as good an actress as you had hoped.

“How is he?” she asked, her voice warm, gentle. There was no interrogation in it, only concern, the careful curiosity of a mother trying not to overstep but unable to help herself. “I don’t want to be that kind of mother, but… I think I am.” She smiled, a little self-deprecating. “Of all my children, he’s always been the most sensitive. Did you know that?”

You swallowed, your fingers tightening slightly around your glass. You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? You didn’t know Frankie. Not really. Not in any way that mattered. Your impression of him had been built on a handful of unfortunate encounters, on snide comments exchanged in passing, on the way he always seemed to carry himself like he had something to prove.

She watched you hesitate, and before you could scramble for an answer, she reached out, her hand landing gently on your leg, a mother’s touch—steadying, reassuring.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I don’t mean to pry—”

“Oh, no,” you cut in quickly, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I…” You let out a breath, deciding there was no point in pretending. “He’s fine. Maybe a little nervous about tonight.”

It wasn’t a lie.

Helena sighed, nodding knowingly.

“Oh, yeah. I noticed that. That boy isn’t very good at hiding things, dear.” She smiled again, her expression fond. “He’s always been like that. Very transparent with his feelings. From the moment he arrived, I could tell—he looked as nervous as a cat backed into a corner.”

You laughed, unable to help it.

“Oh, yes,” you agreed. “On the way here, he was humming this song, and I swear, it was the funniest thing. And before we even walked in, he gave me this whole speech—like, a full-on monologue.”

Helena let out a laugh, shaking her head.

“But you have nothing to worry about,” she said softly. “I already like you very much.”

Her hand came up, brushing against your cheek for the briefest moment, warm and gentle. You felt yourself smile, unthinking, almost reflexive.

“And I’m really sorry about what I said at the table,” she continued, her voice quiet, careful. “I am happy that he’s happy. It’s just… when he told me the other day that he was seeing someone, I really thought he was lying. I hate to admit that, but I did.” She sighed, shaking her head lightly. “My daughters and I have been… a little difficult with him. And I know he wouldn’t want me to talk about this, but I feel like I have to.”

You nodded.

“Of course,” you murmured, your brows pulling together.

She looked at you then, as if weighing something, as if considering whether or not she should say the thing already forming on her tongue.

“I worry about him,” she admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “After Rachel…” She hesitated. “Did he ever talk to you about her?”

You nodded once.

“Well,” she exhaled, leaning back slightly. “I had never seen him like that before.” She glanced away, her fingers smoothing over the fabric of her dress. “Of course, it wasn’t just her. It was everything. His father’s death shattered him, and Rachel… well, she only made it worse. And Francisco has always been strong, but underneath all that, there’s his enormous heart, and he tucks everything away in there. He carries it all.”

Her eyes softened, as if remembering something.

“And when he finally started to come back to himself, I noticed he was… lonely,” she admitted. “I know I can be overbearing, and I know he’s probably told you all about the blind dates.”

She raised her eyebrows, smiling a little.

You laughed, nodding. “Oh, yes. Absolutely.”

Helena let out a small chuckle, shaking her head, but the warmth in her expression didn’t fade. She studied you for a long moment, as if trying to piece something together, as if she had already made up her mind about you and was simply waiting for you to realize it, too.

“I think you’re a good person,” she said at last. “No, I know you are. My intuition is rarely wrong about these things.” She tilted her head slightly, considering you. “And you’re Santiago’s sister. I know no one of his blood could have a bad heart.”

She leaned forward then. “Can I trust you?”

Your breath caught for a second.

You stared at her, your smile slowly slipping away, your expression shifting into something more uncertain. Could she trust you?

No.

She couldn’t.

You were nothing more than a woman her son had convinced to pretend. A stranger caught up in a performance. And yet, here she was, speaking to you with nothing but honesty, with nothing but trust. Her words settled into you, heavy and warm, and you felt something tighten in your chest, something uncomfortable, something that almost hurt.

“Hey. There you are.”

The voice cut through the quiet, startling you. You turned instinctively, your body tensing before your eyes even landed on him.

Frankie.

He stood in the doorway, framed by the soft glow of the garden lights, his expression pulled into something that looked like a smile, but wasn’t. His eyes gave him away—something sharp, something unsettled lurking just beneath the surface.

Helena moved first. She stood, smoothing out the skirt of her dress as if shaking off the weight of your conversation. By the time she reached her son, any trace of emotion had been neatly tucked away.

“I’ll leave you two,” she said lightly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t abandon my own party just yet.”

Frankie barely glanced at her, his gaze still fixed on you. Helena disappeared through the doorway, her presence vanishing as quickly as it had arrived.

You stayed where you were, fingers pressed against the fabric of your dress, trying to ignore the way your pulse had picked up.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low, edged with something you didn’t like. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

He moved toward you, sinking onto the bench beside you. Too close.

“What the hell were you doing talking to my mom?”

You exhaled sharply, already exhausted by the conversation before it had even properly begun.

“I just needed air,” you said, leveling him with a look. “She just… showed up.”

“Well, no. Don’t.”

You blinked at him. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t talk to her.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head.

“What did you want me to do, Francisco? Turn my back on her?”

He didn’t answer right away, just studied you, his jaw tight.

“What did you say to her?” 

The accusatory edge in his tone made something twist inside you—something hot, something unpleasant. Your heart kicked up a little, the way it had when you were younger and had done something wrong, when an adult’s disappointment settled over you like a heavy weight. But this wasn’t that. You weren’t a child, and Frankie sure as hell wasn’t some authority figure.

Still, something about this—his sharp words, his narrowed eyes—made you feel small. And maybe, just maybe, that conversation with Helena had already set something loose inside you. Had already made you feel like the fraud you were.

“I didn’t say anything,” you said firmly. “Seriously.”

Frankie let out a harsh breath, rubbing a hand over his face before gesturing sharply with his hands.

“You already ruined it,” he said, his voice low but forceful. “What was that at dinner, huh?”

“What?”

“Everything. I thought we’d been clear. Nothing too personal. Nothing too over the top.”

You inhaled, slow and steady, trying to keep your irritation in check. But it was creeping in, needling its way under your skin.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, I just acted how we agreed—”

“No,” he interrupted, turning to fully face you. His expression had hardened, frustration and something else—something darker—etched into the lines of his face. “You went too far. You did it wrong.”

Your stomach twisted.

“I did exactly what we agreed on,” you repeated, your voice sharper now. “It’s not my fault your mom wanted to talk to me—”

“You said too much—”

“No, I was just being myself but a little—”

“Exactly,” he cut in, his voice a little louder, a little rougher. “You shouldn’t have been you!”

You felt it like a slap.

Your breath hitched, your throat tightening, heat rising to your face before you could stop it. The burn started behind your nose, your vision blurring slightly at the edges.

Frankie’s expression shifted just the slightest bit, his mouth pressing into a tight line, as if he had only just realized what he’d said. As if he could see it—the way you were gripping your empty wine glass too tightly, the way your whole body had gone rigid.

But he didn’t have time to take it back.

Because you stood so quickly the bench wobbled slightly beneath you. And then you were moving—away from him, away from the awful heat crawling up your neck, away from the sharp edge of his words.

“Hey—” Frankie started, standing just as fast, his voice breaking through the air. But it was useless.

The music swelled, drowning him out, swallowing whatever poor attempt at damage control he was about to make.

You didn’t stop.

Didn’t look back.

Couldn’t.

The farther you walked into the party, the harder your heart pounded, the sound of it loud in your ears, almost drowning out the music. The heat in your face hadn’t faded. Neither had the sharp, lingering sting of Frankie’s words, pressing like a bruise against your ribs.

You exhaled, slow and deliberate, eyes scanning the room. The dim lighting worked in your favor—candles flickering on the tables, the dance floor bathed in a shifting wash of blues and reds, everything softened by the haze of too much champagne and conversation. You doubted anyone would notice you slipping away.

For a brief second, you considered heading straight for the door. Walking out, stepping into the night, inhaling air that wasn’t thick with perfume and laughter and the weight of everything that had just happened.

But instead, you turned on your heel and went to the bar.

You weren’t going to leave. Not yet.

You were angry, and there was an open bar. It would be stupid not to take advantage.

You slid onto a stool, pressing your elbows onto the smooth wood, and ordered a margarita.

The bartender nodded, reaching for a bottle of tequila, his movements fluid, practiced. You watched him pour, shake, pour again. The salt rim sparkled under the low lights. When he finally set the drink in front of you, you didn’t hesitate—lifting the glass to your lips and taking a long, slow pull. The cold hit your tongue first, followed by the sharpness of the lime, the bite of the alcohol. You drank like you had something to prove, and by the time you set the glass back down, it was already halfway empty.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement.

Frankie.

He slid onto the stool next to you, his presence shifting the air before you even fully registered him. He didn’t say anything. Just sat there, his body angled toward you, his forearm resting on the bar, his fingers absently grazing his mouth like he was considering his next words. Or maybe biting them back.

Your jaw tightened.

Then he ordered a whiskey, and you rolled your eyes—not at the drink itself, but at the sound of his voice, at the way it cut through the music and curled under your skin.

Still, he didn’t speak. Just watched you, his gaze flicking toward you every few seconds, charged with something unreadable. You refused to meet it, keeping your attention locked onto anything else—the melting ice in your glass, the vodka label in front of you, the way the bartender’s hands moved as he made another round of drinks.

And so it went.

You started your second margarita. He started his second whiskey.

Minutes passed.

Then, finally, you turned to look at him for the first time since the courtyard.

He was already looking at you.

“I know you’re nervous, but that doesn’t give you the right to talk to me like that.”

Frankie opened his mouth, but you cut him off before he could get a word out.

“You’re not going to talk to me like that,” you repeated, quieter this time, sharper.

His eyes flickered—something hesitant, something almost guilty.

“I’m—”

“Look at me,” you murmured, leaning in just enough that your words landed between you, closer than they needed to be. “I spent hours getting ready for this. Hours making sure I looked perfect for this stupid charade. Do you have any idea how long it took me to fix my hair? No, you don’t. Because you’re a complete idiot. An idiot who treats me like shit when I’m the one standing here, at your mother’s party, pretending to be someone I’m not—for you. And do you know why I'm doing this, Frankie?” Your voice wavered, not with weakness but with the sheer force of your anger. “Because I chose to. Not because you deserve it or I need you for another stupid lie. Because let’s be honest—” you tilted your head, smiling coldly, “—we’re not even fucking friends.”

His gaze hardened, but he didn’t look away.

“You owed me,” he said simply, like that was supposed to mean something.

You let out a quiet scoff, your eyes flicking to the dance floor, where Maia was watching the two of you from a distance, her expression unreadable.

When you turned back to Frankie, something had shifted in your eyes—something lighter, something amused. A slow, deliberate smile tugged at your lips as you lifted a hand, resting it against his cheek.

His brows knit together in confusion.

“Your sister is watching,” you murmured.

His shoulders relaxed, his expression softening just slightly. Your thumb brushed over his cheek, slow and calculated.

“Forget about the wedding,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. You tilted your head, your smile still sweet, still deceptive. “Because after tonight, I don’t want to spend another fucking second with you.”

Frankie let out a low breath, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“I’m useful to you,” he said, his voice smooth, certain.

“You’re useless to me.”

He leaned in just enough that your knees touched. “I don’t think so, shortcake.”

"Huh?" You let out an incredulous laugh, letting your eyes flick across his face—his mouth, his jaw, the slight smugness settled into his features. Beneath your hand, you could feel the warmth of his skin, the steady pulse beneath your palm.

Your fingers slid from his cheek to his neck, and you squeezed, just enough to make a point.

“To me,” you whispered, your breath brushing against his skin, “you’re nothing but a pathetic, desperate little loser trying to convince his mommy he’s something he’s not.”

Frankie let out a quiet, bitter laugh, the kind that barely curled the edges of his mouth but darkened his eyes in a way that made your stomach twist. He lifted a hand and wrapped his fingers around yours, prying them gently from his neck. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he laced his fingers with yours, lowering your joined hands to his chest.  

His body shifted forward, closing the already dangerous space between you. If you leaned in even slightly, your nose would brush against his.  

Your breath hitched, the heat pooling in your cheeks betraying every emotion you were trying to suppress. Anger, frustration, something sharper beneath the surface.  

Frankie studied you for a second, his expression unreadable. Then he spoke, his voice low, edged with amusement.  

“You sound a little too confident for someone who might be a pathetic, desperate loser herself,” he murmured. 

You swallowed, your pulse a steady, insistent beat against your ribs.  

“Can I ask you a question?” he continued, his fingers flexing against yours.  

“No.”  

He ignored you, tilting his head slightly, considering something. And then—  

“Which came first,” he asked, voice almost teasing, “the moon or the sun? I thought you were afraid of needles.”

You stared at him in silence, the smug smile on his lips igniting something hot and restless inside you. It wasn’t just anger—it was something stranger, something you didn’t want to name.

Your tattoo.

He must have seen it earlier, when he helped you with your dress. A small moon and sun, delicately inked on your lower back—a reckless decision from a night out drinking with Emma. She was the sun, you were the moon. At the time, in your drunken haze, it had seemed like an aesthetically brilliant idea. Sober, you weren’t so sure.

A quiet laugh slipped from your lips, amusement curling at the edges of your mouth. Your fingers tightened slightly, gripping the fabric of his shirt beneath his hand.

“Look at you, a regular voyeur,” you murmured, tilting your head. “Why do you ask, Francisco? Is it you talking, or the whiskey? And how many glasses of wine had you had before this? Three? Four? ”

His grin didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened, his gaze trailing over your face like he was enjoying something about this moment, about you.

“I really didn't think of you as the type of person who would wear a tattoo like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a half-smile.

“Ah, funny. So, you spend a lot of time thinking about me and what I wear? Or is it only when you’re bored, staring at the walls of your sad, monotonous life?”

“Said the woman who spends her nights with a cat and an imaginary boyfriend,” Frankie said, grinning as he watched you roll your eyes. The dim bar light caught the edge of his smile, sharpening it. He lifted his glass—dark amber, expensive—and took a slow sip. You followed the movement of his throat, the way the muscles shifted beneath his skin.

“Mr. Darcy’s excellent company. And at least I have a cat. What do you have?”

Frankie made a show of looking around, scanning the crowded room like the answer might be hidden somewhere between the swaying bodies on the dance floor or in the clinking glasses behind the bar. Then his gaze settled back on you, steady, assessing.

“What do I have?” He hummed as if considering it, then leaned in just slightly. “I think I really want to have another drink to make being around you more bearable.”

You pressed your lips together, biting back a retort. The warmth of alcohol sat low in your stomach, and the room was just a little too bright, a little too soft at the edges.

Across the room, Frankie’s sisters were dancing, their hair spilling over their shoulders, their laughter rising above the music. Maia caught your eye, her face flushed, and raised her eyebrows in an invitation. Without a second thought, you hopped off your stool, smoothing the fabric of your dress.

Frankie watched you, something unreadable flickering in his expression. He parted his lips like he was about to say something, but before he could, you turned and walked away. His mouth actually dropped open when he saw where you were going.

Maia pulled you in by the arm, and just like that, you were dancing, your body falling easily into the rhythm of the music. The moment felt expansive, electric. A kind of joy buzzed beneath your skin—the kind that only came from being a little tipsy and surrounded by people who knew how to have fun. You let it take you, the laughter, the music, the hands brushing against yours as you moved.

And yet—his words clung to you like the aftertaste of something bitter. You need to seem... normal. Forgettable, even. Like he was the authority on that. Like it was his job to keep you contained, manageable.

Well, if he wanted you to behave, maybe you should do something to really piss him off.

You turned to find him, just to check. Luna leaned in, murmured something nice about your dress, but you barely registered it. Frankie was still at the bar, one arm draped lazily against the counter, the other wrapped around his glass. His expression was unreadable—neutral, detached—but you knew better. You knew him. And if you had to guess, he was furious.

A song passed, then another. Your cheeks were flushed, your hair a little wild. Helena was dancing beside you, swaying Jamie from side to side, both of them beaming. The kind of easy happiness you never saw at parties in your own family. Frankie was still there, but his eyes weren’t on you anymore. He was looking at his phone.

Two songs later, you weren’t thinking about him at all.

You were laughing, lost in the pulse of the music, your head tipped back as you let it all go. Then—fingers wrapped around your arm. Warm. Familiar. Frankie.

Helena appeared beside him, her voice bright and teasing. “Finally! A girl shouldn’t dance alone when her boyfriend’s around.”

Frankie didn’t answer. He just smiled at his mother—an easy, charming kind of smile that didn’t fool you at all—before tugging you toward him. You stumbled a little, your hands catching against his chest as he turned you, pulled you in close.

Your breath hitched, but your smile didn’t falter. You tilted your chin up at him, your fingers settling on his shoulders.

“Are you going to dance with me now, honey?” you asked, your voice syrupy sweet, thick with amusement.

His hand tightened around yours.

Yeah, he was mad.

And you were having the best time.

Frankie licked his teeth, a slow, deliberate motion, like he was holding something back. A smile curved at the corner of his mouth, tight and humorless. He leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"I see what you're doing," he murmured, his voice slurring slightly, softened by alcohol. "I think you should stop."

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you lifted your chin, closing the space between you until your lips were just beside his ear.

"I'm just having fun," you said, your voice light, teasing. "Completely harmless."

He exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. Amusement flickered across his face, but his eyes told another story—sharp, dark, frustrated. Like enduring this moment, enduring you, required every ounce of patience he had left.

Then, without warning, his hands slid to your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to make you aware of them. Before you could react, he pulled you closer, the movement rough, unhesitating. Your chest bumped against his, knocking the air from your lungs in a quiet, startled gasp.

Your eyes met, and something flickered in the space between you.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, a nervous smile pulling at your lips.

Frankie tilted his head, his expression unreadable, his gaze steady on yours.

"I’m playing your game, didn’t you want to dance?"

You could smell the whiskey on him, the faint traces of something else—lavender, salt, the remnants of the night on his skin. Your hands were still on his shoulders, fingertips pressing into the fabric of his shirt, and for a brief, unsteady second, you let yourself feel it. The warmth of him. The way his body fit against yours.

You flicked a glance around the room, searching for familiar faces—Maia, Sofía, Helena, someone who might be watching. But no. Everyone was lost in their own drunken happiness, in laughter, in swaying bodies and half-empty glasses.

Then Frankie moved.

He stepped forward, hands firm at your waist, steering you with him. The crowd swallowed you both, the music vibrating through the floor, through your ribs, through him.

"This isn't a good idea," you murmured, but you didn't pull away.

Frankie barely reacted. His hand traced up your arm, fingers curling around yours, guiding them into place, his movements seamless, practiced. He looked down at you, his mouth twitching at the corner, like he was already enjoying whatever this was more than he should.

"Oh no? Why not?"

His face was close. Too close.

Then, before you could register it, his cheek brushed against yours, a fleeting touch, just enough to make your breath hitch. The warmth of his skin, the slow, deliberate way he moved to the rhythm of the music—it was too much, all of it. Your fingers tightened around his without thinking.

You exhaled, a slow, shuddering sigh, and with it came the scent of him—warm skin, whiskey, and something else. Something deeper. Was it cologne? Was he wearing fucking cologne?

Whatever it was, he smelled fucking good.

Your eyes fluttered shut, as if that might help erase the fact that Francisco Morales, of all people, smelled good, and that his body was pressed against yours, and—worst of all—that none of it felt bad. In fact, your feet lifted slightly onto your toes, seeking some fraction of closeness, your body betraying you in real time.

It was the alcohol.

It was absolutely, one hundred percent the alcohol. That, and the undeniable, frustrating fact that you were touch-starved. When was the last time a man had held you like this? You couldn’t remember. Your mind was too foggy, too wrapped up in the moment, in the warmth of him, in the firm weight of his hands.

But then it hit you.

It was Frankie. Frankie was the one holding you.

Your eyes snapped open, the realization jolting through you like a slap. Without thinking, you yanked yourself away, stumbling backward. It was clumsy, too sudden, and your own body felt unsteady, like it hadn’t caught up with your decision yet. Your pulse roared in your ears.

Frankie just watched you, an amused, almost devilish grin tugging at his lips. And then, slowly, that amusement shifted into something else—confusion, curiosity—as he took in your wide eyes, your rapid breath, your entire mess of a reaction.

You didn’t wait to see what he would do next. You turned and bolted, and didn’t stop moving until you were outside, back in the courtyard.

The air was crisp and cool, a sharp contrast to the heat burning beneath your skin. You stepped into the garden, tilting your head back, letting the night air kiss your cheeks. It helped, a little. It grounded you, just enough to breathe, just enough to press your hands against your ribs like you could steady your own heartbeat.

"Hey, you okay?"

You stiffened at the sound of his voice.

Of course he followed you.

You didn’t turn around. You heard his footsteps approach, felt him standing just a little too close beside you. He was silent for a moment, and for some reason, that was worse than if he’d said something right away.

"You should drink some water," he said finally, his voice quieter now, less sharp around the edges. You caught the sound of his palm scraping over the back of his neck. "And so should I, honestly. I think I drank—"

“Stop pretending to care,” you snapped, cutting him off. Your voice was sharper than you meant it to be, your arms folding tightly across your chest. And why were you angry? You weren’t even sure. You just were.

Frankie let out a soft, amused breath. He clicked his tongue, then shifted his weight, considering you.

“I’m not pretending anything. I promised Santi I’d look after you.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, finally turning to face him.

“What, like you’re my fucking babysitter or something?” You shook your head, your words dripping with frustration. “I’m twenty-nine, Francisco. I can take care of myself.”

Frankie’s jaw tightened. His hands went to his hips, his eyes dropping to your feet like he was biting back whatever he actually wanted to say.

“Fine,” he muttered.

The silence between you stretched, thin but not fragile, the kind that neither of you felt the need to break. You both stood still, eyes moving across the garden as though searching for something worth commenting on. The music inside thrummed against the walls of the house, muffled but insistent, the bass vibrating faintly under your skin.

And then you became aware of your body—every muscle, every inch of discomfort. The dull ache in your feet flared as if your nerves had only just remembered to complain.

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back, exposing your throat to the cool night air.

“My feet are killing me,” you murmured, shifting your weight, closing your eyes for just a second. 

Frankie snorted. You cracked an eye open in time to see him glance down at your heels—six inches of poor decision-making, glossy under the dim garden lights. His gaze moved up your legs, thoughtful. Then he scratched his chin, eyes narrowing slightly, as if making a decision.

“Sit down,” he said after a pause, nodding toward the bench you’d been perched on earlier, next to Helena. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Before you could ask where he was going, he was already walking off, disappearing through the door.

You hesitated, then lowered yourself onto the seat—not because he told you to, obviously, just because you wanted to. You stretched your legs out, rolling your ankles, relishing the brief relief.

A couple of minutes passed. The music shifted to something softer, slower. You had just started to wonder if Frankie had left you out here for good when the door creaked open again.

He stepped back outside, a crease between his brows and—

You blinked.

“What are you doing?” Your voice carried an edge of suspicion. “What are those?”

Frankie knelt in front of you, setting a pair of slippers at your feet. His expression was flat, unimpressed.

He sighed, already irritated, already prepared for your resistance.

“They’re new, don't worry,” he said, like it was nothing, like this was something he did all the time. His fingers curled around your ankle before you could flinch away. Warm, certain. “Sofia gave them to me, but they’re too small and... not my style anyway. I left them in the car to exchange them, but I never got around to it.” He shot you a pointed look, as if to say, So really, I’m doing us both a favor. “Might as well put them to use.”

Before you could argue, before you could come up with something clever to deflect the strange weight of this moment, he unclipped your heel and slid it off with practiced ease.

You swallowed. Watched him. Felt a strange, unwelcome awareness creep up your spine.

The pads of his fingers brushed over your ankle as he repeated the motion with the other shoe. His focus stayed on the task, entirely unbothered. Meanwhile, something in your chest wound too tight, a tension that hadn’t been there moments ago.

You didn’t like it.

Frankie slid the slippers onto your feet, adjusting them slightly before leaning back on his heels with a groan. He pushed himself up, exhaling through his nose, then dropped onto the bench beside you. A hand scrubbed over his face, rubbing at his eyes, and a yawn slipped past his lips.

You looked down at your feet, flexing your toes experimentally against the soft fabric. You weren’t sure what to say.

But, despite yourself, it did feel better.

“Thanks,” you murmured, voice flat, almost absent.

Frankie nodded, his gaze flicking to your feet, now resting comfortably on the floor.

“You’re welcome.”

And then, silence. The kind that stretched and settled, filling the space between you like heavy fog. Through the glass windows, the muffled thrum of music hummed in the background, but all you could really hear was your own breathing, steady but uneven. Would it be rude if you told him you were ready to go home?

“You okay?” he asked suddenly, pulling you from the thought.

“Yeah,” you said, shifting slightly in your seat. “My feet don’t hurt anymore.”

Frankie leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head tipped down between his shoulders. He exhaled, like he was bracing himself.

“I meant before,” he said, glancing up at you. “I—”

“Ah. Yeah.” 

His fingers brushed idly over the seam of his pants, and when he spoke again, it was barely above a murmur.

“I’m sorry I was an asshole to you.” He hesitated, as if deciding whether to keep going. “You just... you... you get under my skin sometimes, but—anyway. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

You blinked at him.

“It’s okay.”

His lips twitched, like he wanted to say something else but changed his mind. Instead, he let out a short, breathy laugh and leaned back in his chair.

“This was a fucking terrible idea,” he admitted, shaking his head, his eyes glinting with something light, something almost fond. “What the hell were we thinking?”

A laugh bubbled up from your throat before you could stop it. “I have no idea.”

Frankie grinned, pushing to his feet, rubbing a hand over his face as if that might somehow wipe away the flush of warmth creeping up his neck. When he looked back at you, his expression was softer.

“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand. “Let’s stay a little longer, and then I’ll take you home. Deal?”

You eyed his hand, hesitating. There was something about the gesture—about the unspoken truce it implied—that made your chest tighten. But still, after a beat, you placed your palm against his.

Frankie pulled you to your feet, steadying you before letting go.

“You’re drunk,” you observed. “Are you seriously going to drive like that?”

“I’ll call a cab,” he said immediately, as if he’d already made up his mind. 

You nodded, about to say something else when the door creaked open.

A man stepped inside, his movements sluggish, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. Frankie shifted closer to you, his body angling slightly in your direction.

“Hey, it's our little pilot,” the man drawled, his words slurring together as his eyes flicked lazily between the two of you. A smirk played on his lips. “How’s it going?”

Frankie’s expression barely changed.

“Ian,” he said, his voice unreadable. “Didn’t see you earlier.”

“Nah, I was running late,” Ian replied with a slow shrug. “You know how it is—time moves like shit when you wanna leave work early.” He clicked his tongue, his gaze dragging over you with undisguised interest. “So, this your new girl?”

Frankie didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah,” he said smoothly. “We were actually just heading out—”

“You still having those problems?” Ian interrupted, tilting his head.

Frankie exhaled sharply. “Not really any of your business.” A beat. “You still avoiding your ex-wife?”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing between them. Ian laughed, shaking his head.

“Tell me,” he mused, voice laced with something cruel. “Does your dick even work with all those antidepressants? Must be a fucking nightmare trying to keep up with something as sweet as this one.” He gestured vaguely in your direction, his smirk widening.

Your stomach twisted in revulsion.

Frankie went still beside you, his jaw locking, his shoulders tight. His gaze was fixed on Ian, his expression eerily blank, but you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. You thought of Helena’s words about her son and felt something sharp and bitter curdle in your chest.

Ian chuckled to himself, clearly entertained, clearly drunk beyond reason. Frankie was about to say something—you could see it in the way his mouth parted slightly, the way his fingers flexed at his sides—but before he could, before he even had the chance, the anger—and maybe the alcohol—made the decision for you.

“Oh, not that it’s any of your business, Ian,” you said, tilting your head slightly, voice light, almost sweet. “But since you’re so curious…”

You let out a soft chuckle, flicking your gaze to Frankie for the briefest moment before returning your attention to the man in front of you.

“I suppose I could tell you that... yeah, it works. Before we came here, this man had me seeing stars. Multiple times, actually.” You paused, just long enough to watch the words land, to see the flicker of surprise cross Ian’s face. “So really, I guess that answers your question, doesn’t it?”

You reached out then, the movement slow, deliberate, brushing your fingers along Frankie’s cheek, letting your thumb rest lightly against his lips. His breath caught, just for a second, and his eyes darted to yours, startled but composed, like he wasn’t entirely sure what you were doing but was curious enough to let it happen.

Ian scoffed, recovering quickly.

“Sure,” he said, dragging the word out, his expression shifting into something vaguely amused, vaguely condescending. “I doubt that, gorgeous.”

Your gaze flicked over him, head to toe, as if you were appraising something unimpressive on display. You didn’t bother hiding the disdain curling at the corners of your mouth.

Still, your hand remained on Frankie’s face, still at your side. Turning back to him, you found him already watching you, his lips twitching like he was barely resisting a smile. He didn’t care about Ian’s words, about his tone—he was far more interested in whatever it was you were doing.

And then, without really thinking, without hesitating, you pushed up onto your toes and cradled his face in both hands.

You kissed him.

Not a tentative, testing-the-waters kind of kiss. No, this was different. Your lips pressed against his like you’d been wanting to all night, like you didn’t particularly care if Ian was still standing there, gaping at you. Frankie made a sound in the back of his throat, one of surprise that melted quickly into something else. His hands found your waist, firm and steady, pulling you closer as he angled his head, deepening it.

Your tongue traced the seam of his lips, and he let you in, meeting you there, matching you effortlessly. When you finally broke apart, the sound between you was wet and sharp, but you barely had a second to take a breath before you kissed him again.

Your hands slid to the back of his neck, your fingers curling there as you smiled against his lips.

Frankie exhaled a quiet laugh, his thumb brushing your hip.

And then, just because you could, because it felt like the right thing to do, you nipped lightly at his bottom lip before pulling back completely. When you finally turned to Ian, his face was frozen in something close to shock, his eyebrows nearly at his hairline, his mouth slightly open like he wasn’t sure if he should speak or just accept his defeat.

You bit your lip, suppressing a laugh, and turned to Frankie again. He was staring at you now, serious, a little dazed, his hands still resting on your waist.

“Now take me home, baby,” you murmured, your voice just loud enough for Ian to hear.

Frankie blinked, as if snapping back into himself.

“I—” His lips parted, then curved into something lopsided, something close to a smirk. “Of course, baby.”

His hand found yours easily, fingers curling around yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You turned, stepping past Ian with a saccharine smile.

“Bye, Ian,” you said, not bothering to hide the smirk in your voice.

Frankie pushed open the door, and the pulse of the music hit you instantly—deep bass reverberating through your chest, the sharp hum of laughter and voices filling the gaps between beats. You stepped inside, weaving through the press of bodies until you reached the edge of the dance floor. The lights were dim, warm, shifting in color. The air smelled like spilled beer, expensive perfume, and something sweet you couldn’t quite place.  

You turned to Frankie, amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth.  

“Who the fuck was that?” you asked, voice teasing as you lifted onto your toes, your hands finding their way to his shoulders.  

Frankie dipped his head slightly, his breath warm against your ear.  

“My cousin,” he murmured. “He’s an asshole.”  

You huffed out a laugh. “Oh, yeah? I hadn’t noticed.”  

His gaze locked onto yours, something flickering behind his eyes—amusement, maybe, or something else entirely. For two long seconds, neither of you spoke. Then, his focus shifted over your shoulder.  

“They’re watching,” he said, low enough that only you could hear. “Don’t turn around.”  

Your brows lifted slightly. “Who?”  

“Mai and Sofía,” he said. “They’re having fun with us.”  

The adrenaline still buzzed under your skin, your pulse quick from everything that had just unfolded. You laughed, looping your arms around his neck without thinking, and his hands found their place at your waist like it was second nature.  

Frankie exhaled, a sound that was almost a sigh but not quite. His fingers flexed slightly against your hips, like he wasn’t sure whether to hold you tighter or let go.

“I think you should kiss me again,” he said suddenly, like the thought had slipped out before he could catch it, voice rougher than before.

You tilted your head, studying him, letting him sit with what he’d just said.  

A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at your lips. “See? What did I tell you, Francisco? Begging for a little kiss. It was only a matter of time.”  

Frankie’s throat worked around a swallowed laugh. His grip on your waist tightened for just a second.  

“I’m not begging for anything,” he muttered.  

“Sure.”  

You lifted your chin slightly, and he didn’t waste a second—he ducked his head, his mouth finding yours with an easy sort of urgency.

This time, the kiss was different—less urgent, less about spectacle. His lips found yours with a quiet kind of certainty, warm and unhurried, like something unfolding naturally rather than something being taken. His palm slid up, fingertips brushing your jaw before settling against your cheek, his skin rough but his touch impossibly gentle. His thumb moved absently over your cheekbone, a slow, soothing motion, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.  

When his tongue met yours, it wasn’t demanding, just deliberate—like he was tasting the moment, like he was letting it settle between you before deciding what to do with it.  

And then, before it could tip into something deeper, he pulled back. His lips lingered for a second longer, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go, before he pressed one last, fleeting kiss against your mouth—light, almost absentminded. Then his hand slipped from your cheek, leaving behind the ghost of his touch.

A small smile played at your lips.

“I thought this was supposed to be a kiss-free party.”

“You started it.”

“And you were the one asking for another,” you countered, tilting your head.

He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t take much asking.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, smacking his arm lightly.

“Oh, by the way—you’re welcome.”

His brows knitted together, head tilting slightly, a stray curl slipping over his forehead. “For what?”

“For what?” you echoed. “I don’t know, Francisco, maybe for showing up to your mom’s party? For saving you a second ago out there?”

“Right. Yes. Thank you. You know that.”

“Do I?” You raised an eyebrow. “How would I know?”

He leaned back a little, his hands slipping away from your waist.

“I thought witches just… knew things like that.”

Your mouth fell open in mock offense as you crossed your arms. Then, without another word, you turned toward the bar, fully aware of him following you, just a step behind.

“You’re not going to the wedding, then?” he asked, leaning his forearms on the bar, watching you carefully.

You shook your head, meeting his gaze. “Why would I?”

He pursed his lips, tilting his head like he was considering something.

“I thought you wanted to prove a point. Show him you were happy. And, I mean… do you even know what kind of food they’re serving?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You sound very invested in this wedding all of a sudden. If you want to go, Francisco, just go. You don’t need me.”

“Maybe I will,” he mused. “Might even steal a bottle or two of champagne while I’m at it.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, light and unguarded.

Your gaze drifted across the bar, unfocused, catching on the row of glass bottles lined up neatly on the shelves. Their labels were intricate, embossed with gold filigree and elegant cursive, the kind of lettering that—under normal circumstances—you might have found charming. Right now, though, your brain, pleasantly fogged from alcohol, couldn’t make sense of them. The letters blurred together, swirling into something abstract and unreadable.

You exhaled, rolling your shoulder as if shaking off the evening itself. The sound of a cork popping somewhere behind the bar made you flinch slightly, and you let your hand drift absently over your opposite arm.

“Ready to go home?”

Frankie’s voice was low, steady, just beside you.

You nodded but didn’t look at him, your eyes lingering instead on the dance floor. Helena was still out there, her laughter bright and careless, her arms thrown around one of her friends. Of Frankie’s sisters, only Luna remained, swaying easily to the music with Henry, her movements fluid, like she could keep going for hours.

Frankie pulled out his phone and stepped away to call an Uber. You tracked his movements for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, a light touch on your arm pulled your focus back.

Maia had appeared on the stool next to you, her cheeks flushed, her hair loose and a little wild. She was smiling, the kind of grin that promised trouble.

“My brother’s a pain in the ass,” she announced. “Dragged you off the dance floor, didn’t he?”

You smirked, amused but not denying it.

“He’s afraid we’ll scare you off,” she continued, lifting an eyebrow in mock seriousness. “But it’s too late for that now. You’ve already witnessed my mom shaking her ass—so, what do you say? One last drink?”

You hesitated for all of three seconds before shrugging and settling back onto the stool. One more wouldn’t kill you. Probably.

Maia was quick with her order—tequila, no hesitation. When the bartender set up the shot glasses in front of you, you eyed them warily, unsure if your stomach was on board with this decision. Was it irresponsible to drink this much at your boyfriend’s mother’s birthday party? Absolutely. But then again, Frankie wasn’t your boyfriend. So, really, what did it matter?

Ten minutes later, the tequila had done its job, blurring the edges of the evening, making everything feel a little looser, a little funnier. Maia had leaned in close, her voice low and conspiratorial, her hands gesturing dramatically as she spoke.

“I mean, she wasn’t explicitly awful,” she said, dragging out the word like she was still weighing it. “But she had… this energy. Something off. You know what I mean? Like, no matter how hard I tried, I could never figure her out. And she could never blend in with the family, like something was repelling her. I know—no, I know—she hated me.”

You shook your head, appalled, as if this was the greatest injustice you had ever heard.

“But you’re so cute,” you blurted, voice thick and slow, your eyes shining with conviction.

“Right?” Maia snorted. “That’s what I’ve been saying. But Frankie didn’t get it. She was nothing like him. Too cold, too shallow. And every time she treated him like an idiot, I swear I—”

“What are you two talking about?”

A new voice cut through the moment, clear and direct, and you turned just in time to see Frankie standing there with Helena at his side. His eyes flicked between you and Maia, suspicion creeping into his expression.

“Maia, shut your mouth,” he said, more exhausted than angry.

Maia made a dismissive sound. “Oh, please, we’re having girl talk.”

“Well, our cab’s here in five,” Frankie said. His voice was flat, final.

You felt a small pang of disappointment. The conversation had been just getting interesting.

Helena stepped forward, her smile soft and radiant, her cheeks flushed from dancing and champagne. She reached for your arm, her touch warm, familiar, like she’d known you for years instead of just a few hours.

“It was so lovely to meet you, sweetheart,” she said, her voice brimming with sincerity. “You have to come over for dinner one of these nights so we can actually sit down and talk properly. How about it?”

Frankie was watching you. Not just watching—staring, as if he was trying to telepathically send you some urgent message. But you weren’t looking at him. You were too busy giggling, too charmed by Helena’s smile, too caught up in the easy, affectionate way she spoke to you.

“I’d love to!” you said, too eagerly, too enthusiastically.

Helena clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! How about next week?”

Before you could answer, Frankie’s hand landed on your lower back, grounding, insistent. His voice was tight when he spoke.

“I think we should go.”

Maia let out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head.

“Don’t be rude, Frankie.” Then she turned back to you, her grin conspiratorial. “So? Next week?”

You blinked, suddenly feeling like a deer caught in headlights. But Maia and Helena were both looking at you with those eyes—hopeful, expectant, impossible to refuse.

“Yes,” you murmured, stepping off the stool, your smile a little uncertain.

The car door shut with a muted thud. Frankie exhaled, pressing himself into the seat beside you, saying something to the driver in a voice that was trying very hard to sound composed. It didn’t quite land.

You slumped against the seat, your arms folded over your chest, your head feeling heavy on your shoulders. He had practically dragged you out of there. You hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to the rest of his family.

Outside, the city blurred past in streaks of streetlights and neon, and the radio hummed something soft and familiar—an ‘80s ballad, the kind that lived permanently in the background of cab rides at ungodly hours. The dashboard clock read 4:03 a.m.

After a few minutes, he turned his head toward you.

“You okay?”

“Mmhmm,” you murmured, eyes closed.

“Good.”

A silence settled between you, neither comfortable nor tense, just thick with something unspoken.

After a while, he exhaled sharply.

You cracked one eye open. “What’s your problem?”

“Nothing,” he said, staring ahead. “I’m just tired.”

“Me too.”

Another beat of silence. Then he said, “Why did you accepted? Now I have to come up with some excuse to get you out of dinner.”

You turned your head lazily toward him, your eyebrows knitting together.

“I felt cornered, okay? They were both looking at me with those eyes…” You trailed off, searching for the right words before finally landing on him, blinking slowly. “Those eyes. Exactly.”

His expression didn’t change. “They’re just my eyes.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem.”

His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

“I don’t know. They’re kind of… intense.”

“Is that an insult?”

You sighed dramatically, letting your head fall back against the seat.

“I don’t even know anymore. I’m too drunk for your dumb questions.”

Frankie let out a short, derisive snort, shifting his gaze toward the window, his thoughts scattering in odd, untraceable directions.

“You left your car at the hotel,” you murmured after a beat, your voice quiet beneath the steady hum of the radio. Maneater by Daryl Hall played, tinny through the car speakers.

He turned his head toward you with an excruciating slowness, like he already knew you’d be looking at him. And you were. Your head tilted back against the seat, arms curled tightly around yourself, fingers bunched into the fabric of your dress.

“I’ll get it tomorrow,” he muttered, as though your comment had somehow irritated him.

“Do what you want.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “What’s with you and that attitude?”

You exhaled, your shoulders rising and falling as you turned toward the window, the passing streetlights slicing gold ribbons across the glass.

“What’s wrong with my attitude?”

“A lot of things.”

Your eyes flicked back to his, the darkness between you not quite enough to make out his expression, but enough to catch the sharp glint of his gaze. The passing lights reflected off them like tiny, fractured stars.

“You look just like your mom,” you said, the words slipping out, direct and unfiltered. “Same eyes. Same dimples.” Your hand moved before you could think better of it, the tip of your finger pressing into the crease of his mouth. “But she’s nice.”

Frankie huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, my mom’s nice.”

You nodded, shifting back against the seat. “Yeah. Not like you, Francisco.”

He didn’t say anything to that, but you caught the faint twitch of his lips as he turned away, like he was suppressing a smirk. He was pretending to be less drunk than he was. But so were you.

A few minutes later, the Uber rolled to a stop in front of your house. You sighed, pushing the door open, but before stepping out, you turned back, fixing Frankie with a long, unfocused look.

“See ya,” you mumbled, dragging your feet out of the car, your gaze still locked onto his. “I hope this never happens again—oh, fuck—”

The next second, the world tilted sharply. There was no time to react, no time to process the way gravity wrenched you down. Just the sudden, violent awareness of pavement rushing toward your face.

Somewhere behind you, the driver made a startled sound. But Frankie’s reaction was immediate. The car door slammed, quick footsteps on asphalt. Then his hands—warm, steady, bracing under your arms, lifting you before you had time to register the impact.

“Jesus—Are you okay? Fuck—fuck—are you bleeding?” His voice was strained, almost frantic, his palm finding your chin, tilting your face up.

There was a sharp, metallic tang on your tongue. Something wet trickled past your lips. You blinked down at your hands, lifted them into the glow of the streetlamp. Blood.

“Oh, shit.” Your breath caught. Your stomach lurched. “Oh my God, how bad is it? How bad is it?”

Frankie didn’t let go of your face. His fingers pressed lightly beneath your jaw, guiding your head back.

“You’re fine. It’s fine. Just a nosebleed—stop moving, Jesus—hold still.”

You let out a noise somewhere between a whimper and a cry, your hands still hovering uselessly in front of your face.

“It was the slippers,” you muttered, voice thick, your fingers pressing beneath your nose as Frankie tilted your head back. “They’re too big. I tripped.”

Frankie exhaled, a short, sharp breath.

“It wasn’t my fault, if that’s what you’re implying.” Then, when you tried to look at him, he clicked his tongue and pressed his palm against your forehead, forcing your head back again. “No, keep it back. Jesus.”

You made a weak sound of protest but obeyed.

“Where are your keys?”

You blinked at him for a second like you had to remember what keys were. Then, with exaggerated effort, you fumbled through your bag, fingers clumsy as they scraped against receipts and loose change. When you finally found them, you thrust them toward him, and Frankie took them without comment, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

The door wasn’t hard to unlock. He nudged it open, watching as you hesitated on the threshold, swaying slightly. He helped you inside, his hand warm around your wrist as he guided you up the stairs.

Halfway up, you mumbled, “They’re moving.”

Frankie frowned. “What?”

“The stairs.” You squinted. “They’re moving.”

Frankie huffed out a laugh. “No, you’re drunk.”

Then, without thinking, he tightened his grip on your arm, steadying you as you wobbled again.

As soon as the door of your apartment clicked shut, a small, sleepy meow filled the quiet. Mr. Darcy stirred from his spot on the couch, stretching lazily before trotting toward you, his tail curling high in greeting.

“My child,” you said dramatically, bending down as if to scoop him up, only to pause when you caught sight of your own hand, still slick with blood. “Oh—no. Later, my love. Later.”

Frankie crouched down with far less hesitation, rubbing the cat’s head in that familiar, absentminded way. Darcy pushed into his touch, purring loudly, winding between his legs like he belonged to him instead of you.

You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t know why he likes you so much.”

Frankie shrugged, still scratching behind the cat’s ears.

You snorted, wincing as the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through your nose. Frankie caught it immediately. He stood, his expression shifting into something more serious, brows drawn together.

“Oh,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “You look awful.”

“Huh?”

“No, I mean—really bad.” His hand found your jaw, holding it lightly between his fingers as he turned your face toward the light. He made a thoughtful noise. “I don’t think you’re gonna recover. Honestly, I think it’s permanent.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

Frankie’s lips twitched, but before he could say anything else, you swatted his hand away and shoved past him, making a beeline for the bathroom. The second you flicked on the light and caught your reflection, your mouth fell open.

Your face, usually warm and flushed, was pale beneath the streaks of dried blood smeared across your cheeks, your mouth, your chin. Your nose was red and swollen. Your hair was a mess. You looked—

“Oh my God.”

Frankie leaned against the doorway, watching you with amused curiosity.

“I look like Carrie,” you whispered, horrified.

You turned on the faucet and bent over the sink, splashing cold water onto your face with frantic urgency. Beneath you, pink-tinted water ran down the white porcelain, swirling toward the drain.

“Hey,” Frankie said, stepping closer. His voice had softened slightly. “I was kidding.”

You didn’t answer, just scrubbed harder.

Frankie sighed, then reached out, gathering your hair in his hands and pulling it back, holding it away from your face. His grip was gentle, careful, his fingers brushing against the nape of your neck.

“It hurts,” you blurted, voice uneven, breaking on the last syllable.

Your upper lip throbbed—hot, swollen, like it was pulsing with its own heartbeat. Your nose ached with a sharp, stinging pain that settled deep in the bridge, radiating outward. The tears welled without permission, collecting on your lashes, blurring the edges of the bathroom light.

Frankie’s eyes flickered with something close to panic. He shifted on his feet, glancing around the room like the answer to fixing you was written somewhere on the walls.

“Okay, okay,” he said, voice slightly unsteady. “I—uh—come on, sit down. Sit on the toilet.”

He guided you gently, hands pressing into your shoulders until you sank onto the closed lid. Your body was sluggish, your movements heavy. You let your head tip back, exhaling sharply as a fresh wave of discomfort spread across your face.

Most of the blood was gone now, wiped away in streaks of pink-tinted water, revealing the damage beneath. The split in your upper lip was small but deep, the skin torn at the center, already swelling around it. Your lower lip, though unbroken, was puffy. And your nose—God, your nose.

Frankie crouched in front of you, his knees pressing into the tile. “Show me your teeth.”

You parted your lips obediently, and he leaned in, squinting like he was searching for something. After a second, he sat back, exhaling through his nose. “Okay. They’re fine.”

You blinked at him, still dazed, then let your gaze drop to his shirt. A dark red smear stretched across the fabric, half-dried, stark against the soft white cotton.

“You have blood on you,” you mumbled.

Frankie looked down, as if just now noticing.

“Yeah,” he muttered, then turned abruptly, yanking open the nearest drawer and shuffling through it.

You watched, brow furrowing, as he fumbled through an assortment of things that had nothing to do with first aid—spare toothbrushes, old makeup, boxes of tampons, a crumpled tube of moisturizer. His hands moved too fast, fingers twitching as he knocked things over, searching for something useful.

You let out a small huff. “Not there.”

“I know that now,” he grumbled, slamming it shut and pulling open another one.

Finally, he found a bottle of antiseptic and a pack of cotton pads, exhaling like he’d just won a small battle. He turned back to you, unscrewing the cap with his thumb.

“Hold still,” he said.

You did as you were told, though every so often a soft, involuntary whimper escaped you, the pain still sharp enough to make your breath catch. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was enough to make everything feel worse—amplified by exhaustion, by alcohol, by the surreal absurdity of it all.

Frankie moved carefully, dabbing the antiseptic along your lip, then your nose, pausing when fresh blood welled up from the split skin. He wiped it away, slow and methodical, before moving on to your knees, gently cleaning the scraped skin there too. You had forgotten about them, but the second the cotton touched the raw, stinging patches, you inhaled sharply.

“Oh, my God,” you muttered under your breath.

Frankie huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Scraped knees suck.”

A few minutes later, he tossed the stained cotton into the small trash can and started putting things back where he found them.

When you stood, Frankie’s gaze snapped to your nose, scanning for any new blood. You caught the movement and narrowed your eyes at him.

“What?”

“Just making sure you’re not gonna start gushing again.”

You turned to the mirror, taking in your reflection with a fresh wave of despair. Your skin was still damp, your nose and cheeks flushed from scrubbing and crying. Your lip looked even worse now, swollen and bruising at the edges. And your dress—your favorite dress—was ruined. White satin, now streaked with dark, rust-colored stains.

Your throat tightened. “I look awful.”

Frankie sighed. “You don’t—”

“My dress is ruined.” You turned to face him, your expression nothing short of tragic. “I love this dress, Francisco.”

“We’ll fix it,” he assured you, nodding quickly. “We’ll take it to the laundry—”

“It’s white.”

“I know.” He waved his hands, exasperated. “But they know how to get these stains out, don’t they?”

You frowned. “I think so. I’m not sure.”

“They do,” he said, nodding like it was law. Then, after a beat—“Do you have any anti-inflammatories?”

“In the kitchen.”

Frankie waited, then lifted his eyebrows. “Where?”

“In the kitchen,” you repeated.

He rolled his eyes. “I know in the kitchen, where in the kitchen?”

You thought for a second. “Oh. Over the fridge.”

Frankie shifted, his body tilting toward the door, ready to leave. But before he could get too far, your fingers curled around his wrist.

He stopped. Turned. His frown was immediate, brow creased like he was bracing for whatever was coming next.

“Can you—” you hesitated, suddenly too aware of the weight of your own request. “Can you help me with the zipper?”

You were already turning before he could answer, offering him your back like you were giving him no real choice in the matter. Your hand ghosted over the clasp, fingertips brushing the delicate fabric, then dropping to your side in silent surrender.

Behind you, Frankie let out a long, tired sigh. Then, a moment later, the unmistakable sound of the zipper being drawn down, slow and careful. The fabric parted beneath his touch, cool air rushing in where warmth had been. His knuckles skimmed the length of your spine, steady and impersonal, but still—

A few hours ago, you might have been embarrassed.

Now, not so much.

The man had seen your bloodied face. Your tampons. Your secret tattoo, the one no one was supposed to know about. What was left to be embarrassed about? Any lingering self-consciousness had evaporated somewhere between the pavement and the bathroom floor. Or maybe it was just the alcohol, stripping you of inhibition, loosening things that might have otherwise remained tightly wound. Maybe.

The zipper reached its end. Frankie’s hand fell away. He left the bathroom without another word, and you didn’t wait to see him go.

You hurried to your room, pushing the door shut behind you.

The dress slid from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. Your slippers followed, discarded without care. You unclasped your strapless bra with an exhausted groan and tossed it somewhere—where, exactly, didn’t matter.

The closet door creaked as you pulled it open, grabbing the first thing within reach: a worn-out T-shirt, oversized enough to swallow you whole. You pulled it over your head, wincing as soreness pulsed through your body, a dull and aching reminder of the fall.

Then, just as you were tucking the fabric against your thighs, a knock at the door.

A dull thud, careful but firm.

“Don’t come in!” you called instinctively.

Frankie’s voice filtered through the wood, low and steady.

“You okay? I brought you some aspirin.”

You exhaled, raking a hand through your tangled hair.

“Wait,” you warned, shifting on your feet, making sure the shirt was long enough, that everything was—decent. Or as decent as it could be at this point.

Once satisfied, you reached for the doorknob and cracked the door open.

Frankie stood there, quiet, holding a glass of water in one hand and a small white pill in the other. His gaze flickered briefly—to the dress on the floor, then back up—but he didn’t let his eyes stray from your face.

He held out the aspirin. You took it without a word, placing it on your tongue before chasing it down with a sip of water. He watched you carefully, noting how your swollen lip pressed against the rim of the glass, how you winced slightly, the tenderness in your face growing more pronounced with every passing minute.

Something twisted in his chest. A strange, unnameable thing.

He swallowed.

“You feeling okay?” His voice had softened.

You nodded, then immediately regretted it as your lip pulled in protest. Grimacing, you wordlessly handed him back the empty glass.

Frankie hesitated before taking it from you, his brow still creased with that same look—something tight and unreadable, like watching an injured animal struggle to stand. Like witnessing something fragile and knowing there was nothing he could do to fix it.

"I'm sleepy, I..."

Your voice trailed off as you turned toward your bed, your gaze settling on the smooth, undisturbed surface of the sheets. They looked impossibly soft, the kind of soft that could swallow you whole, erase the sting in your knees, the throbbing in your mouth, the hazy weight of the night pressing on your shoulders.

Frankie nodded, shifting his weight. "Yeah. You need rest. Get some sleep."

He took a small step back, like he was giving you space, but not too much. 

Without much thought, you turned and walked toward your bed, your limbs heavy with exhaustion. The second you reached it, you collapsed onto the mattress, sinking in, the cool fabric pressing against your skin. You didn’t even bother with the quilt.

"Good night," you mumbled, already curling into yourself, your back to him.

Frankie hesitated. He stood there for a moment, watching you, feeling strangely uncertain, though he wasn’t sure why.

"I'll call an Uber," he said after a beat, voice quiet, as if he wasn’t sure if you were still awake enough to hear him. "Head home."

"Okay." Your response was barely above a whisper, thick with sleep.

"Okay." A pause. "Good night."

He waited a second longer, then turned and made his way out of the room, walking slowly into the dimly lit living room. The air was cooler here, quieter. Mr. Darcy was waiting for him, perched on the coffee table like some kind of tiny, judgmental sentry. The cat’s tail flicked, his green eyes tracking Frankie’s every move.

Frankie exhaled, running a hand down his face before stepping toward him. He reached out, dragging his fingers gently over soft fur. Mr. Darcy purred instantly, pressing into the touch, rubbing his face against Frankie’s hand like he’d been waiting for this all night.

Frankie huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He sat down on the couch, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the Uber app. His body was too heavy, too worn out, but he forced himself to go through the motions—searching for a ride, entering the address, preparing to leave.

But then—

A small weight landed on his lap.

Mr. Darcy, stretching out comfortably, his tiny paws kneading into Frankie’s thigh before settling completely, purring so loudly it was practically vibrating through him.

Frankie sighed, phone slipping from his hand onto the cushion beside him.

It was only for a second, just to close his eyes, just to let his body sink into something solid. Just until the exhaustion stopped weighing so heavily on his limbs.

The next thing he knew, he was lying flat on his back, his arm draped over his stomach, the cat now curled up on his chest. Frankie’s breathing slowed, deepened, and before he could fight it, his eyes shut completely.

His body gave in.

And then—sleep.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Taglis: @paleidiot @gothcsz @everyth1ngfan @katw474 @mellymbee @pedritosgirl2000 @tsunamistorm123 @jokesonthem @sunnytuliptime @greenwitchfromthewoods @ashleyfilm @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti @daybleedsintonightfa11 @mys2425 @pigeonmama @speaktothehandpeasants @pez3639 (some tags aren't working apparently sorry!)

[sibillascribbles08]

Big Ol' Rottmnt Fic Rec List

Hi, I've needed to do this for a while, so here's a big bundle of fic recs from me !

I've broken it down between one shots, chaptered fics, and series. I'll try to mention what the character focus is along with a brief summary and some personal thoughts. If you need more details I encourage you to check the fics summary and tags for yourself! I will only include an author's tumblr account if it's easy for me to find haha

One Shots

Mama's Boy - ashtreelane: Technically two chapters but it feels like a one shot. Casey Jr. angst, involving him finding out that maybe you can fix kraang infections and that he failed to save his mother. I love when people really pile the grief on Junior after all the fighting is over and the fic does it so well.

Forget-Me-Nots - GibbousLunation (AKA @klunkcat ): Hi, oh my god??? Leo and Mikey centric angst, in which saving Leo from the prison dimension has an insane ripple effect. Mikey dying? Nah he's going to start getting erased from every timeline and Leo slowly watches it happen (and refuses to do nothing about it). I utterly adore how this fic handles this concept. You see almost all of it from Leo's POV, noticing the little changes but writing them off as memory failures, because of how subtle some of it is.

Fight or Flight - pickledcarrotsandradish: Leo centric, post movie, Leo keeps waiting for his family to start lecturing him about all the dumb stuff he did during the invasion, and they aren't, so it's getting to him. A very neat narrative about how self loathing can warp our perception of how others see us. A++++

The Friend Zone Sounds Pretty Good, Actually - Cryptvokeeper: Eating this, eating this. You probably already know I love aroace Leo and this fic is an INCREDIBLE exploration of that. Even as just an ace person it hit SO many notes where I was just like "Oh god... I've been there buddy". And as a bonus the dynamic between Leo and Yuichi is v sweet. Love this a lot I've read it like five times.

Pink in The Night - unnamedmystery: Incredible April/Sunita fic. Like seriously this author wrote April's crush so well I think I was starting to fall in love with Sunita. Just incredibly cute all the way through, and great April writing, adore it.

《 until then, matriarch 》 - chiangyorange: HI OH MY GOD A nice chunky oneshot about Karai, about her being a leader, and it's phenomenal. It hits and hits and does not miss, really going in depth about her emotions involving her father turning into something wicked and having to destroy him, and how it ruins all of her good memories.

The Kindness of Collision - SpoonerizedSwiftness (AKA @splickedylit ): Hi I still remember the fic and the art suddenly showing up in the tag and then I was thinking about it for the next like five weeks aslkdjf A very interesting idea that when the turtles reach the age they were in the doomed timeline before things got reset, all the memories of their other life more or less hit them like a train. All of them have to comb through that information and it's a wonderful and emotional ride.

Chaptered Fics

Hamartia - Punable (in progress): Hi this is one of my all time favorite rise fics, mainly because in a way, it helped me come to terms with my chronic pain. It's Donnie centric and smack full of angst in all the best ways. Shorthand summary, an explosion in Donnie's lab almost takes him out (or kind of DOES take him out) and the recovery is not only long and agonizing, it may only go so far, and Donnie doesn't cope well with that.

Kick It Up a Notch - Brokenpitchpipe (completed): Hi this is my other all time fav rise fic. Donnie centric separated AU in which Donnie is raised by Draxum. My love for it stems a lot from the characterization of Donnie though, and even Draxum in this case. Not to mention that in a lot of cases it matches the vibes of the show. And in spite of all the humor, there's a few really gut wrenching moments. 10/10 will re-read.

Lightning in Our Fingertips Today - DaFlangsLairde (AKA @daflangstlairde-art) (completed): Leo and Donnie centric, mostly angst, with body swapping between the twins which results in Donnie finding out that Leo's ninpo hurts him. Love love love the character writing in this, and also how the swap is written.

Under Pressure - ParvumAutomaton (completed): Not sure this is a single character focused fic, but basically April goes cave diving and is out for a while, and the turtles get worried and go looking for her. This might be personal bias but as someone who gets really into caving stories, this fic hits the spot for so many reasons. A really great emotional ride, and if you wanna see April go through it then I super recommend it.

Nothing Haunts Us (like the things we don't say) - mad_and_thick_as_theives (completed): A lot of great fics by this author btw, but this one personally stood out to me. It starts of silly and light only to sweep in with the emotional weight. Turtles are all cursed with a truth spell, basically, but I think my favorite bit is who gets out of it first (and why). V sweet.

Creation of a Philospher's Stone - IgnisCanis (completed): Whoooo boy, if you want some Draxum centric character exploration this is a great one. It really fleshes him out as a morally grey character and also does a fantastic job at writing Mikey when he finds out.

The Ol Switcheroo - radishhqueen (AKA @radishhqueen) (completed): Haha not going to lie I have a few by this author (so I'll only tag them once) but MAN. Hands down my favorite take on future leo coming to the past, and maybe I'm biased because I like when those fics actually explore Junior's character in the process buuuuut I love it. Junior's already struggling to adapt himself to the present, and after getting caught up in a foot clan spell which summons his sensei to the present too it really doesn't get any easier.

Vigilantism for Fun and Profit - radishhqueen (completed): The Cassandra Jones fic ever. Zero contest. If you're uncertain about writing Cassandra because she had so little development in the show I encourage you to read this for inspiration (I know it inspired me a lot). It does such a great deep dive into her character post show and a bit of the movie too. Honestly anytime radishh has a Cassandra fic I am clicking.

Tried to Grow Up Good - Sroloc_Elbisivni (AKA @sroloc--elbisivni )(completed): The Casey Jr. fic ever. CRAZY in love with this post movie take on him. It's messy, it's fun, it's so so real and you get a good chunk of Casey Sr. in here too. Adore it.

Hold On (Or Three Times Donatello's Soft Shell Almost Killed Him, and One Time it Saved His Life) - dunk_on_em (AKA @spockazilla )(completed): If you ever want a bit of angst involving Donnie's shell this is my go to. Every chapter has an emotional swing, even the positive ones. And shows something most people might see as a disadvantage as a good thing, actually.

Atlas, My Brother - swampcryptid (AKA @the-name-is-rizzotherat)(in progress): Get your Raph angst, specifically involving him always shielding his siblings, this time via a curse. My guy is already going through it and I think it'll get worse if a solution isn't found.

I've Got You Under My Skin - Cass_Phoenix (in progress): More Raph angst, and some Donnie, a truly chilling exploration of the possible consequences to connecting with the kraang. This fic constantly has me on the edge of my seat, and constantly stressing for Raph.

What We Leave Behind (How We Start Anew) - iam57311 (AKA @iam-57311)(in progress): Any Baronjitsu fans here? An alternate take on canon in which Draxum and Splinter co-parent the kids since they're first born (made?) Hilariously while I love the Baronjitsu content in here, I think some of my favorite parts are actually with the sisters, Big Mama, and Draxum's sister who is so so cool I love her.

Proof of Redemption - iam57311 (complete): Another one of theirs! A short and sweet lil close to canon fic about Draxum steadily gaining the trust and affection of the Hamatos, with each chapter focused on a different character. I love how they're all paced out from each other, really hits how some are much slower than others to trust Draxum hehe.

No Crime* Only Brooches - OllieTheScribe (AKA @olliethescribe) (in progress): Well I have to get THE HypnoWarren fic in here. Such a fun take on these characters, I love love love the backstory they built up for Warren too, plus the dynamic between these two and the turtles after (eventually) become friends haha.

Minor Interference - bambiraptorx (AKA @bambiraptorx) (in progress): What can I say? This fic is delightful. Between the hilarity of the turtles going with Draxum just to mess with him, the lore additions for yokai and the Hidden City, HoH Donnie, and their slowly building dynamic, always eager for a new chapter with this one.

Series

A Butterfly with a Mechanical Wing - Amethyst_Goldenwind (AKA @amethystgoldenwind ): Donnie centric series about being a non-verbal autistic. I'm always fond of non-verbal/mute explorations of characters, and so far I really like how, because his family has grown up with it, all of it is very normal for them. The various forms of communication are delightful. Excited to see further entries.

Analogous Hues - alwerakoo (AKA @alwerakoo): It's a separated AU with similar titling themes as my own, needed to check it out. The titles are just about all they have in common though! This AU focuses a lot on the turtles (Raph and Leo with Splinter and Donnie and Mikey with Draxum). I love how this explores not only the dynamics of the two groups and how different they are, but also the dynamics between each of the siblings, also how some magic sibling connections can influence that. Not to mention the different home life in more ways than one. If you're into separated AUs that really dig into the turtles dynamics try this one out !

[rainbow-neko-artblog]

Poppy Playtime chapter 4 truly was on another level. Being that Poppy wasn’t lying when she said it was hell. Unlike anything that was seen in the previous chapters. I feel that the prison is going to flip Angel’s world upside down. Angel truly is a pacifist, wanting to save everyone. But I don’t think any of the new experiments that were introduced can be saved.

Nightmare Critters : They’re irrelevant.

Pianosaurus : Mob did do him dirty, but even then in his canon lore, or at least the lore we were given about him, he was a massive failure. In its own prisoner profile it’s stated, “…temperament is like that of a rabid animal. It snaps at perceived motion, eats whatever fits in its mouth regardless of appetite, combats the conditioning staff, and it CANNOT even play its insipid piano rhythms in TUNE.” Plus, it’s does serve a function. Part of Doey’s introduction and showing us just how dangerous Doey can be.

Yarnaby : we have a lot of information on him, specifically from the ARG. Yarnaby is very strong physically, but he is very weak mentally. He seems fine emotionally though, being that he can form attachments to people. However, it was his emotional state that Dr. Sawyer took advantage of. Dr. Sawyer is Yarnaby’s entire world, with Yarnaby being Sawyer’s guard dog.

The prototype was Catnap’s entire world, however the difference between Catnap and Yarnaby is that Catnap does have a “head on his shoulders”, though it did take 50 tries to find the right words and right course of action to change his mind. But so far, from what I’ve seen, if Sawyer instructed Yarnaby to kill himself, he would do it in a heart beat, without a second thought.

The Doctor : Dr. Harley Sawyer is an evil man. Plain and simple. He deeply believes that his creations, everything he has ever worked on since working for playtime and becoming an experiment himself, will give humanity salvation. Nothing Angel says or does is going to change his mind.

Doey the Doegh Man : Doey with three minds in one body is very unstable. Jack, the youngest of the three, is absolutely terrified and just wants to go home with his mommy and daddy, I don’t even think Jack has processed that he killed his parents. Kevin, the most violent of the three, very quick to anger and refuses to listen to reason. Matthew, the eldest, is desperately trying to keep everything under control, trying to hold everyone and everything together. It was stated many times that one stray emotion can send Doey over the edge, turning on and lashing out on even those he trusts. During his boss fight, Doey is filled with nothing but regret, hatred, and sorrow. And Angel, just won’t be able to calm him down.

This idea of not being able to save the toys from the prison comes from the saying, “Anyone can change, but not everyone wants to.” And I feel that prison is really to take Angel by storm.

But of course these are just my thoughts.

I'll just say this: This is a fix it AU man. If you're not expecting me to bend the story to save ANYONE in chapter 4 you aren't going to enjoy the AU.

One nightmare critter will be saved, Pianosaurus isn't going to be permanent feature to the group but he's not going to die, Yarnaby is going to be saved, Doey is going to be saved, Sawyer is going to be forcefully removed from his position of power and "saved". (Really excited for that one.)

[yourownutopia]

Shadowborn ( a jin woo x reader story)

When the Shadow Monarch adds you to his ranks, he has no idea what he's in for. Not only are you uncontrollable, but you also harbor a secret that even the System keeps hidden from him. As he searches for a way to bring you under control, it becomes clear that your existence exposes a flaw in the perfect structure of the shadows—one that no one could have foreseen. Why don’t you yield to his will, and more importantly, why doesn’t the System want you to remember? [Jin Woo x fem! shadow! reader]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Chapter Index :

[Prologue], [1ʰᵉʳᵉ] [2] [3]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Song: Shadowborn - Hiroyuki Sawano

Calm before the storm - It's me they all are coming for Be my shadowborn

We're back to take the pain - My soul is indestructible

I steal you from the grave - So cursed to be a slave

»»———-»--•--«———-««

Make sure to read the [Prologue] before diving into the Story! :)

Notes: I want to clarify that English is not my first language. I’m sorry if there are any mistakes or if I sometimes use incorrect words.

Chapter 1: Distortion

Aside from the echo of [Y/N]'s footsteps reverberating against the stone walls of the narrow corridor, there was an oppressive silence. Jin-Woo’s own steps were so light they were drowned out by hers.

The quiet was unsettling, pressing down on her like an invisible shroud of unease. Whenever the pitch darkness eased slightly, her gaze would wander, trying to take in her surroundings. Most of the time, though, her eyes fixated on the back of the Shadow Monarch’s head. He clearly noticed the piercing stare of his newest shadow—yet chose to ignore it in silence.

Jin-Woo appeared calm on the outside, but inside, a storm of questions and frustration raged.

Who was she? Why was she so different from every other shadow he'd summoned? Why could she speak?

How had she died? What had killed her? Why did she refuse to obey him? And why, of all things, did he even care?

Alongside his irritation, another emotion simmered just beneath the surface: anger. But it wasn’t directed at her—not in the slightest. This realization only fueled his frustration further. Was he angry because he hadn’t followed through on his own resolve? Because he hesitated? Or was it something else?

Perhaps his rage stemmed from having to confront his own helplessness. Or worse—from the faint glimmer of pity he felt for her. Did he pity her? Wasn’t he stronger than this, past such weaknesses?

Hadn’t he grown beyond such emotions?

Yet, here she was, standing as a constant reminder of his internal contradictions. Why had he brought her along despite her defiance? Was it really just because he sought a strong shadow? Or was it something deeper? Perhaps it was the lost, fractured look in her eyes—peculiar for someone who was supposed to be dead.

Even in her silence, he could hear it—the quiet lament of her restless soul, the faint whispers of unspoken pain. He hadn’t understood the words, but the meaning was crystal clear.

To be fair, Jin-Woo couldn’t imagine what being a shadow truly felt like. After all, every shadow he’d ever summoned had willingly joined his ranks—or so he thought.

Byung-Gu was the only one he knew of who hadn’t wanted to keep fighting but had done so purely to save Cha’s life. Jin-Woo had assumed he could only recruit shadows who were, in some way, willing to serve him. Yet she had made it unmistakably clear that she had no such intention.

They entered a wider chamber, and Jin-Woo abruptly came to a stop. [Y/N] halted as well, more out of instinct than choice.

Had he truly forced her to his side? Or did she have her own reason for being here?

The thought compelled him to glance back at her for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

[Y/N] flinched, almost imperceptibly, as Jin-Woo suddenly turned his head to meet her gaze. His piercing gray eyes cut through her, sending a chill down her spine. For a brief moment, she feared she’d angered him simply by existing.

Where had her courage gone?

She wanted to say something, anything, but her throat was so dry that the words refused to come. Jin-Woo’s lips twitched slightly—an almost-smile—before he opened his inventory.

“We’ll rest here,” he announced, scrolling through his items.

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow, surprised.

Rest? Why? Does he need it? He didn’t look remotely tired, but she wasn’t about to complain.

She took a moment to scan the room. It was small, dimly lit by a few flickering torches that cast long, dancing shadows on the cold stone walls. They hadn’t encountered any monsters yet—a bit unusual for a dungeon of this size. Still, Jin-Woo clearly wanted to get through this place quickly.

He’d already spent several days here, and his shadows had cleared out countless monsters. But at some point, even he wanted to go home.

Jin-Woo sat down on the floor, pulling out some of the food Jinha had prepared for him. The growling of his stomach was a reminder of how long he’d been in this dungeon. Time tended to blur here, but it had to have been over two days.

The rustling of plastic caught [Y/N]’s attention. She opened her eyes to see Jin-Woo unwrapping a neatly packed sandwich.

He looks almost innocent like that, she thought, watching him take a bite while scrolling through his translucent interface.

Her unrelenting gaze didn’t go unnoticed, even though Jin-Woo gave no outward reaction.

“Want some?” he asked suddenly, glancing up.

[Y/N] blinked, tilting her head as though she hadn’t understood the question.

“Huh?”

With an irritated grunt, Jin-Woo held up another sandwich, his expression impatient. It was clear he wasn’t used to his shadows needing food, but she wasn’t exactly like the others.

[Y/N] hesitated. She was dead, wasn’t she? There was no reason for her to eat. She didn’t even feel hungry. Yet, the gesture surprised her—it was unexpectedly kind. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she thought.

Shaking her head, she waved the offer away. “I don’t think I need it,” she replied calmly.

Jin-Woo shrugged, returning to his interface. Meanwhile, [Y/N] stared at the faintly glowing panel before him. She couldn’t read it—everything was backward from her perspective—but something about it felt familiar. Slowly, fragments of memory surfaced.

A dark void. A golden window. Words forming before her eyes, their meaning sinking deep into her consciousness.

[The System congratulates the user on receiving a new title: “Shadow Warden.” User Sung Jin-Woo has recruited you as his shadow servant.]

Her lips moved before she realized it. “Jin-Woo.”

Hearing his name spoken by her, Jin-Woo froze. There was something about the way she said it, almost like she was testing the sound, trying it on her tongue.

Unlike his other shadows, she didn’t address him with reverence or titles. Just his name.

“What?” he asked, swallowing his last bite.

“Your name,” she murmured, as though it held some hidden meaning she was determined to uncover.

Something about her strange demeanor got under his skin. “My shadows usually address me by my title,” he said, his tone cool.

Her sharp eyes locked onto his, unflinching. “Don’t they feel ridiculous doing that?” she asked bluntly.

“…”

Jin Woo didn’t answer her question. No, damn it—why should they? They were his shadows, he was their ruler, and they were grateful to serve someone like him. So why her? What was her problem?

"Then why did you come along? Why didn’t you want me to me send you back?" Jin Woo finally asked, genuinely curious about the answer.

[Y/N] stayed silent for a moment before responding.

"I didn’t want to," she muttered.

"That’s nonsense," the black-haired man said, standing up again. His movement made the [H/C]-haired woman look up at him once more.

His voice was firm, almost cutting. He had seen the relief flicker across her face when he had let her go earlier.

"Maybe you’re different from the other shadows, but don’t think for a second that you can fool me," he added, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"I cannot force shadows ranked higher than me. So, I’ll ask you again: why are you here?"

His question seemed to strike a chord within her. For once, there was no sharp or sarcastic comeback. Instead, she turned her head away, her silence prompting the Shadow Monarch to raise a brow. For the first time, her expression revealed something other than smugness.

Discomfort.

She didn’t want to answer. The question clearly made her uneasy, which only confirmed his suspicions. Her earlier words were a lie—she definitely had a reason.

"I..." she started after a few moments of silence, taking a deep breath.

"Honestly, I didn’t have much time to think about it," she finally said, looking up at the young Shadow Monarch.

His expression was incredulous, as if to say, “Are you serious right now?”

"H-Hey, I know how that sounds! You’d think I had all the time in the world—there’s not exactly much to do when you’re dead," she added defensively, her tone almost pleading as if trying to justify herself. This earned a faint smirk from the black-haired man.

"But that’s not how it is..." she murmured, her voice quieter now.

The contrast between her sarcasm and her current embarrassment was, frankly, quite entertaining to him. None of his shadows would ever behave this way.

This was something Jin Woo had noticed more and more during his time as the Shadow Monarch—the lack of true human interaction in his life. His shadows were loyal, but their emotional intelligence was limited.

Beru was the only one who could speak, yet even he stayed silent unless directly addressed. Their relationship was one-sided: Jin Woo commanded, and they obeyed. Whenever he sought advice, he never received an honest, thoughtful response—only the answers they believed he wanted to hear. Like the others, Beru’s sole concern was to keep him satisfied. Unpleasant truths? They were never spoken.

Shadows, after all, weren’t human. They lacked complex thoughts and true free will. It was only now, in moments like this, that Jin Woo fully realized just how far removed he’d become from social interaction.

Before his solo leveling journey, he had never been particularly outgoing. But back then, he’d at least been forced to engage with people. Now, it was just him and his shadows.

His gaze lingered on her, studying her features intently.

Her mere presence created a strange tension. He wasn’t used to not being alone—not like this. His shadows were always there, of course, but they didn’t cast judgmental glances. His actions didn’t need to make sense to them; they never questioned him. His rule was absolute, and that meant he never had to worry about missteps or what anyone thought of him.

But with her...

His eyes drifted over her slight, almost delicate form once more. With her, it was different. Her eyes were sharp, observant, filled with thoughts she had no problem voicing—unlike Beru.

But why on earth was she so reluctant now?

The resurrection had been both a rescue from eternal darkness and a curse of the shadows.

[Y/N] could not truly remember the time she had been dead—only the weight in her chest and the endless void surrounding her. That was until the moment a deep voice threatened to wake her from her slumber.

The first time it spoke, it was gentle, but [Y/N] hadn’t even been able to open her eyes. The second time, her eyes had fluttered open briefly as warmth slowly spread through her body, but it still hadn’t been enough to rouse her. It was... peaceful. Why should she leave this calm? There was no reason...

Then, silence—before the commanding voice asked if she truly wished for her end to come here.

The voice of the man seemed to shake something deep within her. A longing? No... it felt more like a desire buried within her soul, clawing its way to the surface.

Her spirit yearned for life, fighting against the crushing weight that tried to hold her down.

She struggled against the heaviness of her eyelids, her vision blurred as the silhouette of a young man materialized before her.

"Arise."

Her eyes snapped open—this time, the voice was not gentle but threatening. It did not sound like the previous two times. Instead, it was layered with a second voice, one that sent a shiver down her spine.

Her vision was still restricted, her body frozen in place, kneeling before Jin Woo. His form might have appeared human, but [Y/N] could clearly see the second heart beating in his chest, as well as the outline of the colossal ruler of the shadows looming behind him. That presence demanded reverence. His violet eyes burned like flames behind the black-haired man.

She wanted to rise, to flee—to get away from the dangerous, dark figure towering over her.

"Kneel," the loud voice of the Shadow Monarch—no, not the man in front of her—echoed in her ears. It was as though an invisible force pressed her down.

Her body trembled with fear, aching to obey, but her soul refused to yield. Words formed in her mouth, though it felt as if her throat were constricting.

"..."

"N-"

"No," she said.

The shadowed creature's eyes widened, and for the first time in an eternity, the Shadow Monarch was taken aback. No one had ever dared—or even managed—to defy his orders.

"You..." he hissed, his presence growing even more oppressive. Yet, because the human body was not entirely his to command, he could not touch her.

"How dare you," he growled.

This confrontation played out on a level Jin Woo could not yet perceive. A plane between space and time, one he could not enter.

One last time, with all his strength, he tried to bend her to his will, but [Y/N] resisted with equal intensity. Her eyes flickered briefly, and the Monarch's expression shifted slightly in shock.

"This can't be—" he began, but the voice of the shadow interrupted him.

"No!"

The resoluteness in her voice caused his absolute authority to falter. Her form began to manifest fully, and the invisible, crushing grip of the Shadow Monarch ceased immediately. His looming presence disappeared as quickly as it had come, and the oppressive force evaporated.

But it was clear she wasn’t entirely free. Instead, she was now bound to the black-haired man whose piercing gray eyes still bore into her.

Her mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out. Her silence seemed to satisfy some base desire Jin Woo must have held—after all she had done so far.

But his moment of triumph was short-lived. She bit her lip, and he could sense her frustration building.

"Why do you even ask me that? You only care about yourself anyway," she snarled.

Slowly but surely, his patience was wearing thin. He had genuinely hoped they could go at least half an hour without wanting to throttle each other—but she made it impossible.

What the hell did she know about him? What did she know about the world he lived in, the sacrifices he had made just to save his family? She knew nothing at all.

"What do you know?" he retorted mockingly. To him, she was just another monster created by the System to torment humans. Why should he listen to anything she had to say?

"I know you think you have the right to use us," she said, her [E/C] eyes locking onto his with defiance as she threw the words at him. Us? She clearly meant the shadows.

"You think you can walk through the world, using us for your purposes. Have you ever thought that maybe we feel things too?" she asked, her voice growing louder.

What was she talking about? Feelings in monsters?

"Of course you didn’t," she continued with dripping sarcasm. "You’re special, so you get to do whatever you want, without thinking about the consequences right? Take whatever you want, however you want. Sure, I get it."

Her shadowed voice was sharp with cynicism.

This time, Jin Woo’s anger wasn’t rooted in his pride as the Shadow Monarch—her words struck him as a person.

She had no idea what he had endured, what he had suffered to get to this point. The times he had barely escaped death, and the sacrifices he had made—all for others, never for himself. And now, here she was, mocking him and calling him a selfish tyrant. Her audacity made his blood boil.

"You don’t know anything. I do this to protect the people I love. I’d go even further if I had to," he growled, his attempt to restrain his anger only partially successful.

"Ah, I see. And that’s why you force your will on others. Makes total sense. My bad," she shot back, her voice dripping with mock understanding.

"YOU want to lecture me about fairness? You’re a monster. You have no right to say anything, especially when your existence is only meant for destruction and chaos. Don’t talk to me about feelings," he snapped, his voice tinged with disdain.

Her breathing grew shallow, rage coursing through her veins.

"I do know something about feelings! I understand pain and fear, but that doesn’t give you the right to use my soul for your purposes! And stop calling me a monster. I was a Hunter, damn it—I know what that feels like!"

Jin Woo’s eyes widened in shock. His anger gave way to confusion.

"A... Hunter?" he echoed.

Her furious expression turned to one of disbelief and confusion. What had she just said? She was a Hunter? That was impossible... he had found her in a Solo Dungeon.

[Y/N] stared blankly at a distant point, her mind in turmoil. What had she said, and why was she so certain it was true?

Images flickered through her mind—brief, static-like distortions, too fleeting to grasp.

"I... was..." she began, her voice trembling.

"A Hunter?" she repeated, more to herself than to Jin Woo, who continued to stare at her, dumbfounded.

Before she could process the thought, searing pain shot through her temples, and she gasped.

Instinctively, she clutched her head as fragmented, flickering images filled her mind.

Flowers.

A hand holding hers.

The static distortions resembled a flickering television.

"What’s wrong?" Jin Woo asked, his irritation replaced by genuine concern.

"Something’s... wrong," [Y/N] managed to say through gritted teeth, digging her fingers into her hair.

Her pained, unfocused eyes darted briefly to Jin Woo, who had pushed himself off the wall. What was happening to her?

To the searing pain, a piercing, high-pitched tone in her ears added itself, drowning out everything else. Her hands pressed against her ears, desperate to block it out—but it was no use. The sound was inside her head.

Panicked, she shook her head. She just wanted it to stop.

Jin Woo felt helpless, unable to understand what was happening to her. But he could see the fear in her eyes. Was this like what happened with Esil? Was the System trying to prevent her from revealing something?

Before he could react, he saw her body falter—unable to withstand the pressure any longer.

Before she could hit the ground, he moved swiftly, catching her in his arms.

Her body had gone completely limp, and beads of sweat glistened on her forehead.

He had already noticed he could touch her, but the fact that her body resembled that of a human caught him off guard. Every living being, whether human or monster, had its own mana flow, but with her? There was nothing.

Carefully, he laid her on the ground, the shadows cast by the flickering torchlight dancing over her face. The gust of wind from Jin Woo’s swift movement had set them in motion.

The Shadow Monarch’s expression softened as he removed his mantle, rolled it up, and gently placed it under her head as a makeshift pillow.

Clearly, there were far more mysteries to her existence than he had initially realized.

Her face had relaxed, the pained grimace replaced by something softer.

"Beru," he said quietly. Before he could finish, the large ant emerged from his shadow.

"Yes, my king?" Beru asked, his antennae twitching as Jin Woo shot him a brief glance.

"What’s wrong with her?" he asked, hoping the shadow might understand one of his own better than he could.

"I can sense that she is one of us—but there is something else," Beru replied, his mandibles clicking as he spoke.

"What?"

"There is an unusual aura surrounding her. Her soul is far stronger than her body," Beru said, his gaze fixed on her still form. He could see it clearly: the aura enveloping her like a shield, glowing faintly and keeping the shadows at bay.

"What do you mean?"

"I fear... I am not authorized to share that information," Beru replied cautiously, sensing his master’s piercing glare.

Not authorized?

For Jin Woo, that could only mean one thing.

His gaze shifted from the nervous Beru, who was already anticipating consequences, to the unconscious [Y/N].

The System didn’t want him to find out.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ꨄ︎ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ Thank you for all your support! likes, reblogs & commentsor just reading <3 .'*•.¸♡ I really appreciate it <3 ♡¸.•*'

♡¸.•*' ˋ°•*⁀✎ 𝑢𝑡𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑎·˚

[eldritch-nightmare]

Can you make a scenario about how the pastas would react after an argument? Like, if the reader left to get some fresh air? (I crave angst)

-💫Anon

a/n: indeed i can my friend here's a healthy amount of (very mild) angst just for you. i'm so totally gonna use this idea in a future chapter for the silly lil scenarios book as well because uh angst. maybe the prompt got away from me just a little bit i won't lie.

how do they react after an argument?

includes: jeff the killer, laughing jack, slenderman, nina the killer, eyeless jack, jane the killer, candy pop, clockwork, ticci toby, nurse ann, x virus, kagekao, jason the toymaker, the puppeteer, homicidal liu, sully, the bloody painter, the doll maker, zalgo, and hobo heart.

warnings: the aftermath of an argument, relationship disputes, some of these are healthy and some of these are not, inconsistent length.

JEFF THE KILLER would honestly be more upset if you walked out after an argument. he's already upset enough as it is, so you turning your back to him and storming out just makes his blood boil. he won't follow after you, but he'll definitely disappear for the next few days. he really isn't the best at resolving arguments, no matter how small they are. and unless he really fucks up, then he isn't going to apologize even if he is in the wrong. he's jeff the fucking killer, what the hell does he have to feel sorry about? you should consider yourself lucky that he didn't gut you for pissing him off.

if you want to have any form of resolve to this argument, you'll have to force the conversation because he will actively try to shut you down. he can't. he literally can't. resolution is not something he is good at, and unless you're the one to apologize, even if you aren't the one who is at fault, he's just not going to let any of this resolve. does that make him an asshole? yeah, it does. does he feel guilty? just a little. does that change anything? no, not really.

LAUGHING JACK, similar to jeff, would feel more upset over you walking away from the fight rather than the fight itself. he can come off as pretty scary during an argument, especially if it's one where he feels like he's in the right. he gets frustrated easily, and he's just overall a very expressive person, so. and he can get pretty fucking mean if he wants to, so yeah honestly you needing to walk away makes complete and total sense and he knows that it makes sense but that doesn't make him any less upset.

he'll just blame it on his abandonment issues or something because seeing you leave just to go and calm down should not have hurt as much as it did. and he debates going after you but he ultimately decides it would be best if he didn't. he wants to resolve this though, and he'll try but it'll be painfully awkward because, i mean, yeah.

SLENDERMAN is, by default, a pretty scary being the begin with so i imagine an argument with it would be pretty unnerving. it isn't used to people arguing with it, that's for sure. i think it would be more amused than upset, seeing such a small being stare up at it as if trying to intimidate it... it's a cute sight to see, that's for sure. it'll keep that thought to itself, of course. it imagines that saying such a thing out loud may only make things worse.

slender won't be upset when you walk away. it understands that you're just going to cool off. it'll take this time to clear its own thoughts until the two of you are ready to talk again and clear up the tension.

NINA THE KILLER would be immensely frustrated seeing you walk away. she'll probably let out a groan and tell you to come back, but she won't follow after you. she understands that if the two of you kept arguing any longer, things would only get worse. she knows that, so she'll use this as a chance to calm down herself. nina gets over things easier than you would think, and if this argument wasn't over anything major then the next time you see her, she'll most likely be back to her usual self.

she'll probably be the first to apologize as well, even if she feels as if she's not the one at fault. she can't stand when you're upset at her, so just accept her apology so the two of you can move on, yeah?

EYELESS JACK is always viewed as mature and in control of his emotions. and he is. a little too in control if we're being honest here. for most arguments you guys may have, he'll keep his cool and will try to understand your point of view and where you're coming from. there are times, however, when the control he has over his emotions slips, and you get reminded that oh. your boyfriend is a cannibalistic demon that can literally kill you in the blink of an eye. he really doesn't mean to scare you, but it's definitely a good thing you choose that moment to walk away to cool off because he has to physically force himself to not go after you.

and once he calms down, he will apologize. it's a genuine apology, one written all over his face. he never wants to or means to invalidate you and your emotions, and he never wants to make you scared of him.

JANE THE KILLER would probably be the first to walk away from an argument, if we're being fairly honest. if this is richardson we're talking about, then she's definitely more mature about it and politely suggests that you both take fifteen minutes to cool off before continuing the conversation. she does it because it's one, a healthy thing to do for your relationship, and two, while she is heavily in control of her emotions, the liquid hate running through her veins enhances her anger and it would be really bad if she genuinely got angry.

if this is arkensaw, i think she'll be a little less mature than she would like. she portrays herself as someone in control of her emotions, but her emotions and her hatred are what drive her. she does her best to her burning-hot anger in check but if you two have an argument, then it's fairly difficult. if you walk away first, then it'll only serve to upset her more, but she won't go after you. honestly, she'll probably even avoid you in the coming days because her anger lingers. it always lingers.

CANDY POP thinks it's cute that this little argument of yours got you so worked up that you had to walk away from him. honestly hell yeah if i were you i'd walk away from him as well because there is simply no winning with this guy. worst man you could ever argue with, to be honest.

but as we all know, his mood can change in an instant with no warning so. one moment, he thinks you walking away from him is cute and adorable. the next, he's getting frustrated and following after you because you don't get to walk away from him, silly. haven't you realized that he owns you?

CLOCKWORK, while she has her own anger issues and tends to get easily frustrated by the smallest of things, does try her best to keep her emotions in check if you two ever have an argument. it's not easy, and there have been times when she's snapped at you, but she always apologizes immediately after.

you walking away would make sense. she understands, she knows that you both need to take time to calm down before things get too heated. she gets it. but depending on what you two are arguing about, doing so could only serve to make her more angry. it's... frustrating, really. she won't follow after you though, because she knows it's what is best.

TOBY would want you to walk away. he needs it, to be honest. he tries to avoid getting into arguments with you for various different reasons. arguing with you stresses him out more than he would like it to, and it reminds him of the hold you have on him. you walking away from the argument would give him time to clear his head and cool off.

once you've both calmed down, he'll probably be the first to approach you because he cannot stand the awkward tension that always lingers after arguments with people. he wants to clear the air so this can all just be water under the bridge. it'll be a painfully awkward conversation though. he's not good at... resolving arguments. never had a positive example, to be honest.

NURSE ANN struggles to speak, so i think she would try to avoid getting into an argument because she feels as if she won't be able to properly get her point across. but arguments are bound to happen sooner or later, even in the healthiest relationships. and ann, to put it simply, is a very angry person. she keeps that anger in check when you're around, but it's literally impossible to not slip up a few times.

since ann rarely ever vocally speaks, her anger is typically conveyed in her stares and her jerky gestures as she signs. you walking away is the smartest thing you could do in that moment, leaving her alone to stew in her always-burning anger that she'll choose to take out on any nearby destructible objects or some sad poor soul that just so happens to trespass at her hospital in the coming hours.

X-VIRUS seems like the type of guy who has never really been in any arguments, to be honest. maybe when he was at the orphanage he got into a few petty arguments between the other kids, but nothing that would warrant needing to walk away, y'know? and i definitely don't think he'd treat the argument seriously, brushing off your words and whatnot.

he only realizes that you were genuinely angry with him when you walked away. it's definitely like... a slap in the face that oh. i'm a fucking asshole. he's not really sure what to do in this moment, and he waits until you come back on your own to try and apologize. but he's not the best at apologies.

KAGEKAO wouldn't treat the argument seriously at all. at least, not at first. honestly, he'd probably purposefully get you even more upset just to get a reaction out of you. does that make him an asshole? oh, most certainly. he just likes seeing you feel anything towards him, even if it's anger. he likes getting a reaction out of you because it's him you're reacting to. and it's entertaining as well, though you don't need to know that.

when you walk away, he'll feel a little frustrated at not being able to see you but he won't follow after you. he knows when to stop his antics. shocking, i know. and, if you're lucky, he may even hold you in his arms once you calm down. it's his way of an apology, i suppose.

JASON THE TOYMAKER fucking hates arguing with you. you're his other half, so arguing with you makes him feel sick to his stomach because what if... what if you aren't the one? he likes you too much to lose you, so you have to be the one. he definitely seems like he'd try to keep the argument short, and he'll be relieved when you walk away to cool off.

you don't try to leave him afterward, even if he was at fault for whatever you two may have been bickering over. that's good, really. that means you want to stay with him, even if you two have arguments like this. that's... that's so good.

THE PUPPETEER can't stand when anyone argues with him, so yeah, any argument you may have with him will be horrible and tense and it will not be pretty. he has to be the one to get the final word. he has to be the one in the right, even if he isn't. you must be aware of this, right? i mean, you're (hopefully, i assume) willingly sticking around this guy, right? so you should know that there's no winning with him.

and you walking away is simply not something he'll take kindly to. it's something that'll more than likely get a how dare you reaction out of him. you're a fool if you think he's just going to let you walk away. no, he'll either follow after you, or he'll pull you back with his strings. the conversation isn't over until he says that it's over.

HOMICIDAL LIU definitely does try to avoid any potential arguments with you. to be honest, most of your arguments with him will more than likely stem from his almost blatant disregard for his health and safety when he's injured as well as his almost suffocating habit of needing to protect you and keep you safe. it's inevitable, even if it's something he tries so desperately to avoid. that desperation is what tends to lead to arguments as well, if we're being honest.

he's not upset when you walk away. honestly, he's glad that you do. he always feels pretty damn awful whenever you two fight, and he patiently waits until you're ready to pick things back up so you two can resolve things and move on.

SULLY listens to everything you say with rapt attention. the only thing that matters to him at that moment is whatever you two are arguing about. hell, he doesn't give a shit about the argument itself rather than what you say, the expressions you make, and your tone of voice. every little gesture or movement you make catches his attention. honestly, if you asked him what you two were arguing about, he'd just look at you with a slightly confused expression because he's already forgotten.

and when you walk away to cool off and get some air, he has to restrain himself from following after you. he forces himself to sit down and he bites his fist as his mind hyper-focuses on every word you said and the way you looked at him and just... yeah, he's already moved on from the argument he just wants to see your face and hear your voice again.

THE BLOODY PAINTER is definitely not someone you want to have an argument with, honestly. not because he's an angry person or scary to get into an argument with or anything like that, no. he's just... very apathetic. it'll feel like you're arguing with a brick wall rather than a person, and you'll maybe even feel as if he doesn't care about you or your feelings. he just stares at you, blank-faced and monotoned.

once you realize that this argument is going literally nowhere, you leave to calm yourself down and he stays behind. it's not that he doesn't care about you and your feelings, he does, truly, he just... well... i could go into heavy heavy detail about his apathy when it comes to arguments but to spare you the length of that, just know that he does care, he's just absolutely horrific at showing it. once you come back, he will apologize for not better expressing himself and for unintentionally invalidating you and your feelings. he'll be better, though it will take time for him to become expressive.

THE DOLL MAKER seems like the type of person who wouldn't handle arguments well, i think. he's a fairly closed-off person and has some trouble conveying his thoughts and feelings sometimes, so i think it would stress him out a bunch if he got into a fight with you. depending on how bad the argument is, he'll either try to diffuse the situation or he may get angry and make things worse.

the moment you walk off, vine will be throwing himself into work to both calm himself down and distract himself from any potentially needless thoughts. he'll certainly try his best to resolve the conflict with you once you've both taken time to calm down but it'll definitely be stiff.

ZALGO would be very amused if you try arguing with him over something. you, a silly little mortal that somehow managed to catch his interest, are trying to argue with him, an eldritch horror beyond human comprehension that literally creates chaos for shits and giggles? how adorable. he's not going to take you seriously at all, i hope you know that.

and even if you walk away, you won't exactly be alone. zalgo is always there with you, even if not physically. a part of him is stuck with you, so he's always able to watch you, to talk to you. he thinks you're being dramatic for getting upset over something that he deems to be so utterly insignificant. there won't be any form of conflict resolution with him, so don't expect any form of apology or empathy or anything of that sort.

HOBO HEART you gotta be careful with, i think. the last time he felt as if he'd been wronged by the person he loved, he tore her heart out. not to say he'd tear your heart out over a minor argument or anything like that, no, that would be pretty petty and... he doesn't really think he's a terrible enough person to do that. maybe. depending on how serious the argument is.

he'll be a little disheartened when you walk away because he would rather clear up the air and tension immediately rather than wait but he understood, somewhat, that it'd be better if you both took time to cool off before either of you tried to resolve the conflict hanging in the air.

[tsuvvy]

Oh Sister of Mine - Chapter 5

Poison Constriction

Cassandra explores her feelings of having a new little sibling while the others work to get information on where the seemingly invisible father might be. Instead, they find someone heavily involved in this situation and discover a disgusting truth.

Warning: Talk of a controlling serum being put into y/ns blood, mentions of bruising and blood, the poison serum has been an idea cultivating in my mind for awhile, pls just let it cook 😥

Word Count: 3.4k

“Miss Cassandra,” Said woman turned around, seeing Alfred with a tray of little sandwiches. No doubt for you. “While I have you here, Master Bruce asked to see you. He is paying the garden a visit, he asked that if I should see you I should invite you for him.”

“Oh..” Cassandra’s lips parted in a small surprise. Bruce wanted to see her? Why? “Okay, thank you Alfred.” She gave the man a soft thankful smile.

Alfred returned the smile with a gentle one of his own. But before he could walk away, Cassandra spoke up.

“He didn’t say why, did he?” She asked abruptly.

“I am afraid not,” His soft smile turned a bit apologetic.

“Alright, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Thank you again.” Alfred gave her a nod before walking away.

Cassandra stayed where she was for a moment, watching as Alfred walked down the hall with the tray still in hand. She might have needed a moment to build up the courage to go speak to Bruce, or maybe she needed to come up with what she would say to the man. Either way, her nerves were aflame before and while she made her way to the garden where Alfred said Bruce was.

She spotted him on a bench. He was calmly sitting still, almost mistakable for a statue.

Bruce looked at Cassandra, an uncharacteristic subtle smile reaching his lips at the sight of her. It was odd, even if it was common. Bruce saved that smile for only those he cared for deeply. His adoptive children and Alfred getting it most often. Though it was still rare, especially for someone like Jason who made it his own part time job annoying and angering the man. Dying and coming back to life sure didn’t change that habit, if anything it made it worse.

“Cass,” Bruce called out, pulling her out of her thoughts, “Sit.” He didn’t need to gesture to the empty spot next to him.

Cassandra listened. She moved to sit next to the man.

The two sat in silence for a while; silently watching over the flowers and listening to the soft wind and how it would shake the branches of the trees.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked abruptly. Cassandra looked at him, staying silent for a second.

“I’m okay..” Her voice was soft as she looked to the ground.

Bruce nodded slightly at her comment. “But that isn’t true, is it?” He looked down at her, his subtle smile gone now. It was never a luxury anyone close to him could ever witness for a very long time. You had to savor it for the small amount of time it was there.

Cassandra didn’t say anything to his comment. He already knew her lies were just that, lies.

“How are you feeling about everything?” He asked instead.

Cassandra thought about his question for a second. “I don’t really know how to feel.”

“Understandable.” Bruce responded.

The two sat in silence for a little while.

“Y/n,” She looked up at him, and he looked back, confusion written subtly on his stoic face, “Their name.” Cassandra clarified. She saw his eyes widen slightly, “Their name is Y/n.”

“When did they tell you this?” He asked.

“They got out of the room, they picked the lock when Damian wasn’t there,” She told him while turning back to look out at the flowers and delicately crafted and cut bushes. “They weren’t looking for a fight, pretty much all we did was.. Talk,” She shrugged her shoulders lightly, “They asked why I’d left David, and…” She paused.

Bruce gave her a second before pressing her to continue, “and?”

“And they.. I told them they were safe. They didn’t know what it meant. So I. I taught them what the word safe means. And they told me their name.

Bruce nodded his head lightly, turning to look at the flowers and bushes himself.

“That's a start, they’re starting to trust you and Damian a bit, however surprising it may be.” Bruce said. He lifted up a hand and gently placed it on Cassandra’s head. “You did good, Cassandra.”

Her eyes widened at the contact and the praise. In a sense, she was still a lot like you. No matter how long she’s been with Bruce and the Batfamily, she might not ever get truly used to being in a healthy environment. Not fully, anyway.

“Bruce…” Her voice was soft. He didn’t do anything to tell her he acknowledged his name slipping from her lips, but she knew he was listening. “I don’t..” She hesitated, “I don’t know how to be a big sister..”

Silence overtook the two, apart from the gentle wind rustling the nature around them.

“It’s not something you can just know, Cassandra.” He told her. Cassandra didn’t respond to that.

A silence once again overtook the two.

“There's this feeling in my gut, like a weed growing in it.” Cassandra abruptly spoke through the silence.

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen him for a year!?” Jason yelled.

“Red Hood calm down!” Kate yelled at him.

The two were at Ace Chemicals in their vigilante suits. They hadn’t expected to find someone that has been involved with David in the past.

“I mean exactly that!” The guy yelled, a desperation in his voice as the Red Hood shook him by the collar of his shirt. After his statement, the vigilante dropped him and he fell to the ground.

The man rubbed his neck, trying to soothe the pain of how his shirt was so tightly held.

“Do you know what happened to him?” Kate, or Batwoman, asked him.

“No, he just straight up vanished,” the guy said.

Batwoman looked to Red Hood who had taken a few steps back.

“Mind if we look around?” Batwoman looked back at the man.

“N-No! Go ahead!” He quickly answered, almost fearful of what either vigilante might do to him if he said he did actually mind.

“Great,” Batwoman answered, “Glad you don’t.” She commented, an amused smirk on her face as she moved past him.

She started looking around; not that she had anywhere to specifically start.

And for the first about 14 minutes, nothing was found by either vigilante.

“This place has nothing,” Jason said, making sure to keep the man he was once interrogating in his view.

“It’s gotta have something,” Batwoman sighed, looking behind a few tubs of chemicals. She hadn’t met you yet. All she knew about you was pretty much the extent of what everyone else minus Cass knew.

Red Hood crossed his arms, huffing in annoyance as he looked at a few jars on some random desk. They looked poisonous. Probably gas too. One wiff would probably kill you.

“I’m gonna check further in,” Batwoman said, coming back out from behind the tubs of chemicals she had found nothing out of the ordinary behind. “Stay with him,” She told Red Hood.

“Yeah, alright,” He said.

Batwoman began walking into a back area of Ace Chemicals. There was a door into one room and then stairs leading upward to a few more rooms that were all next to each other.

She decided to go into the room on the bottom first.

Batwoman cautiously turned the rusty old knob, keeping her guard up. Ace Chemicals is known for criminal activity, I mean, it’s quite literally the birth place of Harley Quinn. It’s where Joker had pushed her into that vatt of chemicals all those years ago. You had to expect anything in this place.

“Ugh,” Batwoman cringed, bringing a hand to her nose, “Jeez, it smells like three month old eggs in here.”

She stepped into the room, keeping a hand over her nose as she began to look around.

There was really nothing to note in the room. It was obviously some type of hang out area no one had been in in probably years. A lounging couch that stank of rat poop and an assortment of other things that were just rotting under the cusions. Then there was a counter with a sink. One that had piles of dirty dishes in it. She had found a few rats licking off the plates; she didn’t bother them, but she did cringe. Then the fridge. She didn’t even want to open the thing. She could already tell that’s where the smell was coming from. And sure enough, inside the fridge was a variety of disgusting, old, moldy, and rotted food inside.

“Don’t think Kelsey is gonna want this muffin anymore,” Batwoman commented, looking at the container with a chocolate chip muffin inside and branded with the name Kelsey on the lid of the container. It was all moldy and gross.

“Blegh,” Batwoman gagged, closing the fridge with her foot.

She looked in the old wooden cabinets, behind and under the tables. Everywhere she looked, nothing but rats and their feces and disgusting bugs were found.

“Well that was a waste,” She grumbled as she walked out of that room, closing the door behind her. Now it was time to look in the two rooms upstairs.

Batwoman walked up the stairs, deciding to go to the first room. She read the plate next to the door that read, ‘lab room.’

“This should be fun,” She sighed, opening the door and cautiously peeking in and looking around. From first glance, there didn’t look to be anything in here of note. “This better not be a waste of time,” She grumbled as she stepped in.

“Alright, I brought a new kind of food this time.” Damian said as he entered the room.

You hadn't turned to look at him from where you sat kneeled on the floor, your head resting on your arms that rested on the window sill.

Damian didn't move, you knew he didn't. There weren't any footsteps coming farther into the room.

“What are you doing?” He asked, and you finally heard him start walking, and soon you heard something being placed on the nightstand.

“Out.” You said, finally turning to look at the boy and raising one of your hands to tap on the window. He was standing staring at you near your nightstand, his hands in his pockets.

“Outside?” He questioned as he finally started moving throughout the room closer to you.

You had turned back to look out the window once more once he was standing at your side.

Damian's gaze rested downward on you. You looked so calm staring out the windows. Though your blank face looked as if you were displeased, he knew you weren't. He was the same way with his own blank face.

“What that?” He was pulled out of his thoughts by your voice. He looked at what you were looking out the window at.

Your pointer finger which rested against the window pointed towards two creatures in the air, gracefully maneuvering through the gentle breeze.

“Birds,” Damian said bluntly. “They’re birds.”

You looked up at the boy, “Bi..” You paused, unsure of if you were going to say it correctly or not.

“Birds.” He said one more time. “They’re flying.”

“Bird.” You finally attempted.

“Mhm,” he nodded.

You looked out the window once more. Watching the birds fly through the air. “Want that.” You said.

“Want that?” Damian repeated in the form of a question.

You nodded, “Want that.” You pointed to the bird.

Damian wasn’t quite sure if you meant you wanted a bird or if you wanted what the birds had. Freedom.

“Bird is…” You paused, watching the bird in awe.

“Pretty?” Damian questioned after a few seconds of silence. You nodded.

“Yeah..” He agreed softly, looking away from you and out the window at the birds again. “They are.”

“Dami.” His eyes widened a bit and he looked down at you again. Dami? Dami..? You were looking up at him, your face a blank one like his.

“Yeah..?” He managed to ask.

You pointed to the free spot on the floor next to you. “Sit.” You told him. Not in a commanding way like most would hear from your tone. He knew you didn’t mean it like that.

He listened and sat down on the floor next to you.

For you to actually invite him to sit next to you, and so close, was honestly a big step. He noticed you’d opened up a bit quickly with him, but he assumed it was because of the age difference between the two of you. There wasn’t really a big one.

“Dad..” You said softly. He looked to you, waiting to see where you would go with this, “You hate him.” It was more of a statement than a question. You didn’t look at him. You had rested your chin back down on your arms that rested on the window sill.

Damian stayed quiet, keeping his gaze on you for a moment before letting it drop down to the surface of the window sill and then out the window. “Yeah.” He answered. Though he knew you already knew that. “I do.”

A quiet fell over the room. The two of you staring out the window.

“He scares me…” You admitted.

He looked at you. Your expression, still blank, had grown a bit more solemn. Like a little puppy that had just been yelled at or hit for just trying to get love or have a bit of fun. It broke him to see you like this. So young and yet already so broken and wounded.

“Ugh,” Batwoman groaned as she walked out of the room she had just been looking in. “Theres nothing in this disgusting dump..” She grumbled, looking down at all of the chemical pits and barrels that Ace Chemicals held. “I doubt there’s anything actually here all these chemicals haven’t hidden.” She sighed, now making her way down the stares and back the way she came.

“Oh, don’t give me that crap!” Red Hood exclaimed. Batwoman started walking a bit faster, hoping to get there before he would probably kill the guy the two found.

“Please, please,” The man cried desperately, “The guy is going to kill me!”

Batwoman was met with a familiar scene. Red Hood holding the man in the air the collar of his shirt. But this time, the man’s face was bloodied. Blood ran down from his nose, he had a busted lip that was bleeding, and an array of cuts on his face.

“Red Hood!” Batwoman yelled, “What the hell are you doing!?”

“Tell me!” Red Hood yelled, shaking the man within the air. Tears were bubbling in the guy’s eyes.

“He.. He’ll kill me!” The man repeated. Red Hood scoffed.

“And if you don’t tell me what the hell you know, I’ll kill you!” He told the man, his red helmet growing an eary and angry sense to it.

“Fine! Fine!” The man screamed, his legs flailing around in the air, “Please, I’ll tell you! Just put me down!”

“Red Hood put him down!” Batwoman demanded.

Jason dropped the man, letting him fall to floor with a thud.

“Well,” Red Hood demanded himself, looking down at the man on the floor, “Go on!”

The man winced at his commanding and angry tone, “The guy you’re looking for. Cain or whatever.” His voice was shaking in fear, and he was looking down at the floor in shame. Of himself, or maybe something else. “He came here a few months ago after his disappearance. Vanished for about 3 months, came to me. He had some..” He sounded unsure. “He was asking for some weird stuff,” he shrugged his shoulders lightly, “Said he needed it for some project, I didn’t ask what. But he did have this weird sense of pride to him. One he never usually had.”

“Can you get to the damn point!” Red Hood demanded.

“Hey,” Batwoman said sternly, “Let him speak.”

The man recieved a nod from Batwoman, telling him to go on. “Cain wanted some type of like.. Serum. Said it needed to enhance and quicken the development of metahuman abilities. Then he had a thought to make another serum that would make someone more…” The man paused and sighed loudly, “Hell, I’ll just say it. More easily manipulable.”

Batwoman and Red Hood stood silent for a moment. Batwoman’s lips parted as she took in the information, and her eyes widened behind her domino mask. The two vigilante’s exchanged a glance.

“Hey,” Batwoman started, looking towards the man.

“Y-Yeah?” He looked back, a bit nervous of what might happen to him.

“Do you have any samples or spares of that?” She asked.

The man sat for a second.

“Well!” Jason exclaimed, making the man jump.

“Yes! Yes, I do!” The man scrambled to his feet, walking to a station a little ways away behind some tubs of chemicals with the two vigilantes close behind him.

“Damnit..” The man muttered as he scrounged around in the desk, throwing papers and gadgets sloppily in his hunt for the serum. “Here!” He announced, pulling out a green liquid serum in a small tube. He handed it to Batwoman.

“Not a lot, huh.” She commented, swishing the liquid around in the enclosed tube.

“Sorry,” He apologized, his expression growing a bit solemn, “I tried to save at least a bit, but. The recipe was tricky.” He began to scrounge through the desk once more before pulling out a paper with sloppy handwriting on it. “The ingredients were hard and illegal to get, then the only perfected batch he took immediately. It was hard to even steal that tiny bit out of it.” He handed the paper to Batwoman as well. “That’s the recipe for it.”

“Alright.” She nodded, turning on her heel and beginning to walk away with Red Hood next to her.

Batwoman stopped however, turning to look at the man and Red Hood went ahead, “C’mon (nickname).” She said, gesturing her head for him to follow and speaking like it was the obvious that he come along.

“Huh..?” His brows furrowed.

“Hurry it up!” Batwoman called. “You have vital information about this stupid serum and we can’t have you getting caught by the wrong people.” The man was startled into pace. He began to catch up with the vigilantes, still confused and quite bewildered by what the hell is happening.

“Damn, this just keeps getting messier and messier..” TIm groaned, running a hand along his face and moving it up to run through his hair. He was tired, anyone could tell at a glance. “Alright, give it here.” He spoke, putting a hand out to take the serum from Batwoman. “Who’s the straggler?” He asked as he got up and walked towards a machine.

“Hm,” Batwoman turned to look over her shoulder at the man.

“Um.. My name is Sullivan Bishop.” He answered her unsaid question.

“He’s got connections with Cain. Helped him make the serum.” She said as she crossed her arms, watching Tim carefully pour the bit of serum into a compartment of the machine and clicking a few buttons. Soon, it started up and started analyzing the liquid.

“Do you know what he used the serum for?” Sullivan asked. Everyone was silent. Sullivan visibly curled in on himself in defeat. He was terrified. He was in the batcave, surely not going to be let out anytime soon. And he was so lost. He had no clue what was happening. He’d never wanted to get involved with Cain to begin with. He knew he was shady, knew that Cain would get him in trouble. But this? This serum that was testing positive for countless things on the Batcomputer. This serum that could be considered a poison.

This was beyond anything shady he’d heard or expected from Cain. Whatever he used this serum for was downright psychotic.

Tim stared up at the computer, honestly at a loss for words.

“What the hell did you use?” Tim’s voice was breathless. But the look he gave to Sullivan sent chills down the man’s spine. “Toluene, lead..” His voice trailed off. “No wonder the kid was so set in killing Cassandra. This serum makes it so she can’t think for herself.”

“What the hell..” Red Hood’s voice trailed off.

“We can only imagine how long this was being administered into her blood stream.” Tim finished.

“I..” Sullivan’s eyes bubbled with tears, his voice breaking. “I didn’t know.. I… I didn’t know what he would use it for. I… Please I. I didn’t know..” He was rambling.

“You didn’t know?” Jason questioned, his tone growing angry and threatening.

“N.. No. No I didn’t I promise!!” Sullivan’s waorks were jumblings up as they tumbled from his mouth in fear of what Red Hood might do.

“Red Hood!” Batwoman stopped him from walking toward the shaking man with a hand on his chest, “Take a walk.” She made eye contact with him through his helmet when she ordered him.

<- Chapter 4 Chapter 6 ->

@redh00dsbf @02006 @shikanosn @rainnyydaysworld @notsaelty

[xenyasplacex]

Baby Trapped— Chapter 3

Summary: Another Sacrifice has to be made

Warnings: Physical abuse, emotional Abuse, Chris having a horrible partner, Swearing, crying

i think that’s it, if i’ve missed anything please let me know

A/N: HEYYYYYYY….so urm…this is really late. I apologise. Pls don’t murder me xx

chapter 2 — Chapter 4

Chris sat in the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. His chest ached, and his vision blurred from the tears he tried so desperately to hold back. Adriana babbled softly in the backseat, completely unaware that her father had just cut ties with the only family he had ever truly known.

He felt hollow. Numb. The weight of Aaliyah’s words echoed in his mind

“You don’t need them, Chris. You need me.”

Then why did it feel like a part of him had just died?

The car ride home was quiet, except for the occasional sniffle that escaped Chris. He couldn’t let Adriana see him break down, even though it felt inevitable. As he pulled into the driveway of their home, he exhaled shakily, trying to gather himself before stepping inside.

He had no idea what version of Aaliyah would be waiting for him.

Would it be the woman who smiled sweetly and kissed him like he was the only person in the world? Or would it be the tyrant who left him with bruises and a fractured body… and soul?

As he stepped through the front door, Aaliyah was already sitting on the couch, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone like nothing had happened. When she heard him enter, she turned to face him with an expectant look.

“Well?” she asked.

Chris swallowed the lump in his throat. “It’s done,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Aaliyah grinned, standing up and walking towards him. She cupped his face, her thumbs brushing over the faint remains of his bruises. “See?” she cooed. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Chris didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

She sighed, rolling her eyes before taking Adriana out of his arms. “Dinner’s in the fridge if you’re hungry,” she said nonchalantly before heading upstairs.

Chris stood frozen in the entryway, feeling like a stranger in his own home. The walls felt like they were closing in, suffocating him. His mind screamed at him to leave, to run, to take his daughter and never look back. But his body refused to move.

Instead, he found himself walking to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto his face. He gripped the edges of the sink, staring at his reflection. His eyes were bloodshot, his face hollow, his skin paler than usual. He barely recognized himself anymore.

“You’re pathetic.” Aaliyah’s voice echoed in his mind. “A coward.”

Chris let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was a coward. If he wasn’t, why hadn’t he left? Why had he let her strip away every piece of his identity until all that remained was… this?

A shell of the person he used to be.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. His heart leapt as he pulled it out, praying it wasn’t Aaliyah checking in to make sure he wasn’t talking to his brothers. But when he looked at the screen, his stomach dropped.

Nick: I know you’re not gonna answer, but when you finally realize the truth, we’ll be here. We’re never gonna stop fighting for you.

Chris’s breath hitched, his thumb hovering over the message. He wanted so badly to respond, to tell his brothers how much he missed them already, how much he hated himself for what he’d done. But he knew if Aaliyah ever found out, she’d make good on her threat. She’d take Adriana away from him.

And that? That was something he couldn’t survive.

So with a deep, shuddering breath, Chris deleted the message. And with it, the last remaining piece of himself.

 He started at himself in the mirror, really started at himself. Then he let out a low sob… then another… then he completely and utterly broke down.

The house in San Diego was big. Bigger than Chris expected. The high ceilings and massive windows made it feel cold and empty, despite the expensive furniture Aaliyah had picked out. The dark brown wood floors— the ones he’d been punished for having an opinion on— creaked slightly under his feet as he carried the last of the moving boxes inside.

“Be careful with that,” Aaliyah snapped from the kitchen. “It’s fragile.”

Chris didn’t even respond. He just set the box down and exhaled, his hands resting on his hips as he took in his new reality. This was it. His new home. His new life. No brothers just a short drive away, no safe place to run when things got bad.

Just him, Aaliyah, and the daughter he was trying so hard to protect.

Adriana was in the living room, playing with the few toys Chris had unpacked for her. She was giggling to herself, stacking blocks and knocking them over, completely oblivious to the tension in the air. She didn’t have a care in the world, didn’t seem to understand the danger she was in. Chris envied her.

“Chris, are you even listening to me?” Aaliyah’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” He turned to face her.

Aaliyah sighed, rolling her eyes. “I said, we need to start setting up Adriana’s room today. I don’t want her sleeping in our bed anymore. She’s getting too old for that.”

Chris hesitated. Back home, whenever Adriana had nightmares, she’d crawl into bed with him, curling up against his chest as he stroked her hair until she fell asleep. It was the only time he ever really felt at peace.

“I don’t know if she’s ready—”

“She is ready.” Aaliyah cut him off sharply. “You baby her too much. She needs to learn independence, Chris.”

Chris clenched his jaw, but he nodded anyway. There was no point in arguing. There never was.

Hours passed as they unpacked more boxes. Aaliyah gave orders, and Chris followed them like a well-trained soldier. He barely registered what he was doing anymore— just moving, organizing, doing whatever he could to keep the peace.

By the time Adriana’s room was set up, the sky outside had turned dark. She was curled up in her new bed, hugging her stuffed elephant, her little chest rising and falling peacefully. Chris sat beside her, brushing her curls away from her face.

“I love you, Adi,” he whispered.

She stirred slightly, blinking up at him with sleepy eyes. “Love you too, Daddy,” she mumbled before drifting off again.

Chris stayed there for a moment, just watching her. He wished he could freeze time— stay right here, just him and his daughter, where everything was safe. But reality was waiting for him just outside that bedroom door.

And sure enough, when he finally stepped into the hallway, Aaliyah was there.

“Chris, come to bed,” she said, her voice softer than usual.

He hesitated. A part of him wanted to tell her no, that he wanted to sleep on the couch, that he needed space. But that part of him had no fight left. So he nodded and followed her to their bedroom.

As he lay in bed beside her, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, Aaliyah rested her head on his chest, tracing lazy patterns on his skin. To anyone else, they might look like a couple in love. But Chris knew better.

“You made the right choice, you know,” she murmured against his skin. “Cutting them off. It’s just us now, the way it should be.”

Chris didn’t say anything. He just kept staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his choices suffocate him.

He had done what she asked. He had sacrificed everything.

So why did he feel more trapped than ever?

The next morning 

Nick sat in the passenger seat of Matt’s car, gripping his phone as the little blue dot on the screen slowly moved south.

“I knew he wouldn’t get rid of the car,” Nick muttered. “She probably forced him to block us, delete our numbers, cut off every possible contact, but she forgot about the one thing Apple never fails at— AirTags.”

Matt, gripping the steering wheel, squinted at the road. “Are we really sure about this?” he asked. “Like, really sure? Because I feel like we’re two seconds away from committing an actual crime.”

Nick scoffed. “Since when do you care about crime?”

“I don’t know, Nick, maybe since we’re literally tracking our brother like two psychopaths in a rental car.”

Nick waved him off. “Relax, we’re just checking in. We don’t have to do anything, we just… need to make sure he’s okay. Besides, if we were actually criminals, would we have stopped for snacks?” He pointed to the open bag of Doritos in Matt’s lap.

Matt sighed. “Fair point.”

They had planted the AirTag under the backseat of Chris’s car, i was a long shot— they weren’t even sure he still had the car after moving— but the moment they saw his location pop up, they knew they had to go.

The problem? He was four hours away.

“Okay, okay,” Matt said, refocusing. “We’ve been driving for, what, 3 hours now? Where’s he at?”

Nick zoomed in on the map. “Still in San Diego… looks like he’s at… oh, great. A HomeGoods…that one” He said, pointing to a huge furniture store.

Matt blinked. “HomeGoods?”

Nick groaned, tossing his phone onto the dashboard. “She’s got him furniture shopping, Matt. Chris hates furniture shopping. remember when he refused to furnish his room because he didn’t want to go to a furniture store until he was old and saggy?…She’s broken him.”

Matt gasped dramatically, making fun on Nick. “Oh my God. Do you think he’s picking out decorative pillows right now?”

“Worse. I bet he’s debating curtain patterns.”

Matt shook his head. “Nah. Not my brother. Not Christopher Sturniolo. This is worse than I thought. We need a plan.”

Nick crossed his arms, going back to the actual matter at hand. “Okay, obviously we can’t just storm into HomeGoods and rescue him—”

Matt smirked. “Can’t we?”

Nick gave him a look. “No, Matt, we can’t. That’s how we end up on national news. What we can do is wait outside, see if he’s alone, and—”

Before he could finish, the AirTag location updated. Chris’s car was moving again.

“Shit! He’s leaving!” Nick shouted. “We gotta go, we gotta go!”

Matt threw the car into drive so fast that Nick nearly slammed into the dashboard. “Follow them!” he yelled.

For the next fifteen minutes, they tailed Chris’s car through the streets of San Diego, keeping a safe distance like they were undercover FBI agents.

“Dude, he drives so slow,” Matt muttered.

“He’s got a kid in the car,” Nick reminded him.

Chris’s car eventually pulled into a quiet neighborhood. They watched from a few houses down as he got out, lifting Adriana from her car seat while Aaliyah walked ahead into the house.

There he was. Their little brother. Right in front of them.

Nick and Matt sat in silence for a moment, watching Chris disappear into the house.

“…So now what?” Matt asked.

Nick sighed, rubbing his face. “I have no idea.”

They had tracked him down. But getting him back? That was going to take more than an AirTag. Nick and Matt sat in the car, staring at Chris’s new house like two FBI agents on a stakeout.

“We should just go knock on the door,” Matt said.

Nick turned to him with the most are-you-stupid expression he could muster. “Yeah, great idea, Matt. And then Aaliyah calls the cops, we get arrested for trespassing, and Chris has even more of a reason to cut us off.”

Matt groaned, slumping in his seat. “Then what do we do, genius?”

Nick drummed his fingers on the dashboard, thinking. “We need a plan.”

“You need a plan,” Matt corrected. “I was ready to storm HomeGoods.”

Nick ignored him, watching the house. Chris had gone inside, but his car was still parked in the driveway. That meant he wasn’t planning on going anywhere soon.

“I say we wait a little,” Nick suggested. “Maybe catch him when he takes the trash out or something.”

Matt scoffed. “You really think Aaliyah lets Chris take out the trash?”

“…Good point.”

The two sat in silence for another minute, watching the house like professional spies. Then, Matt suddenly perked up. “Wait! I got it.”

Nick sighed. “Oh God.”

“No, seriously, listen,” Matt said, eyes lighting up. “What if we order him a pizza?”

Nick blinked. “What?”

“Think about it,” Matt said excitedly. “We send a pizza to his house, but when the delivery guy shows up, we’re the delivery guys.”

Nick stared at him for a long moment. “You want us… to pretend to be Domino’s?”

Matt grinned. “Exactly.”

“…That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, what’s your great idea?”

Nick thought about it for a second. “…I can’t believe you’re going to make me do this..”

Matt smiled. “I mean, what’s he gonna do? Not open the door for a pizza?”

Twenty Minutes Later

Nick and Matt stood outside Chris’s front door, decked out in their very professional pizza delivery disguises— which consisted of the sweats they were already wearing, baseball caps and sunglasses they found in the car.

“This is so stupid… we don’t even look like delivery guys, and when have you ever seen 2 people deliver 1 pizza.,” Nick muttered.

Matt knocked on the door. “Too late now.”

Footsteps. The door cracked open.

Chris stood there. His face was unreadable, just… staring at them.

Nick cleared his throat. “Uh. Pizza delivery?”

Chris blinked.

Matt held up the box. “Large pepperoni?”

Still nothing. Chris just stared. His expression unreadable, like he couldn’t decide if this was actually happening or if he was hallucinating from stress.

Then— footsteps.

Aaliyah’s voice, getting closer. “Chris? Who’s at the door?”

Chris’s eyes widened. Without hesitation, he snatched the pizza box out of Matt’s hands, shoved a crumpled twenty-dollar bill at them, and slammed the door shut.

Nick and Matt stood there, frozen.

“…Did he just—”

“—Yeah.”

A long silence.

Matt sniffled. “At least he paid for the pizza.”

Nick and Matt stood there in stunned silence, staring at the closed door like it had just personally betrayed them.

“…Did he seriously just take the pizza and shut the door in our faces?” Nick finally asked, his voice full of disbelief.

Matt sniffed dramatically. “Not even a ‘Hey guys, I miss you’ or ‘Wow, thanks for risking your dignity to bring me pizza.’ Just boom— door in the face.”

Nick crossed his arms. “Unbelievable. We raised him better than this.”

Matt turned to him. “We didn’t raise him.”

“We basically did,” Nick argued. “I mean, we share DNA. That’s like— I don’t know, a third of parenting.”

Matt rubbed his temples. “Okay, genius, what now? Because our brilliant plan just ended with us getting paid like actual pizza delivery guys.”

Nick thought for a second, then smirked. “We spy.”

Matt groaned. “Nick, we can’t just spy on him.”

Nick pointed at him. “That’s exactly what we can do.”

Inside the House

Chris stood in his living room, holding the pizza box like it was a bomb about to go off. Across from him, Aaliyah was eyeing him suspiciously.

“Who was that?” she asked, arms crossed.

Chris forced a laugh. “Uh… just the pizza guy.”

Aaliyah narrowed her eyes. “They looked weirdly familiar.”

Chris shrugged, opening the box as casually as possible. “Yeah, I dunno. Maybe you’ve just seen too many pizza guys.”

She didn’t look convinced, but before she could question him further, their daughter Adriana toddled in, saw the pizza, and gasped dramatically. “PIZZA!”

Chris immediately seized the distraction. “Yes! Pizza! Let’s eat!”

Aaliyah shot him one last suspicious look but let it go, sitting down at the table. Chris let out a quiet breath of relief.

He had barely gotten away with that.

Meanwhile…

Nick and Matt were crouched in the bushes outside like two of the worst spies in history.

Nick held up his phone, zooming in on Chris’s window. “I can see him. He’s eating our pizza like we’re just some random Uber Eats drivers.”

Matt sighed, adjusting his position. “Do you think he’s actually okay? I mean… the dude flinched when we showed up.”

Nick’s face hardened. “No. He’s not okay.”

Matt looked at him. “Then what do we do?”

Nick exhaled, watching through the window as Chris laughed at something Adriana said. It was forced. Fake.

Nick shook his head. “We get him back.”

Chris sat at the dining table, picking at his slice of pizza while Aaliyah scrolled through her phone across from him. Adriana was happily munching on a piece of crust, humming some tune she made up. The moment should have felt normal, domestic even, but Chris couldn’t shake the tension in his chest.

Aaliyah had barely said a word to him since he sat down. That was never a good sign.

Finally, she set her phone down with a sigh and looked at him. “So, who was really at the door?”

Chris froze mid-bite. “I told you. The pizza guy.”

Aaliyah leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Chris. I’m not stupid.”

Chris swallowed hard, feeling the familiar dread creep up his spine. He kept his tone even. “Ali, it was just the pizza guy.”

She stared at him, unblinking. “Then why did you look like you saw a ghost when you opened the door?”

Chris’s grip on his crust tightened. “I—” He scrambled for an excuse. “I wasn’t expecting the food to come that fast.”

Aaliyah scoffed. “Bullshit.”

Adriana looked up at the word. “Bullshit!” she repeated cheerfully.

Chris and Aaliyah both whipped their heads toward her.

“Adi, no,” Chris said quickly, eyes wide. “That’s a bad word.”

Adriana just giggled and went back to eating, completely unbothered.

Aaliyah sighed in frustration and pushed her plate away. “Look, I don’t know what you’re hiding, but if I find out you went behind my back, Chris…” She trailed off, letting the weight of her words hang in the air.

Chris forced himself to meet her gaze, nodding as if he wasn’t completely unraveling inside. “I swear, I’m not hiding anything.”

Aaliyah studied him for another long moment before finally leaning back in her chair. “Good. Because I’m so sick of feeling like I can’t trust you.”

Chris nodded again, chewing his food mechanically, pretending her words didn’t feel like a slow knife to the gut.

Lying to Aaliyah never ended well.

But telling the truth?

That could be even worse.

Chris lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing. He could still feel the weight of Aaliyah’s stare from dinner, like she had burned her suspicion into his skin. He knew her too well—she wasn’t going to drop it. She was going to watch him, wait for him to slip up.

And if she found out Nick and Matt had been here?

He didn’t even want to think about what would happen.

Aaliyah shifted beside him, scrolling on her phone, the brightness illuminating her face in the dim room.

“Chris,” she said suddenly, not looking away from the screen.

His whole body tensed. “Yeah?”

“You changed your passcode.”

Chris’s heart nearly stopped.

“What?” he asked, forcing confusion into his voice.

Aaliyah turned her phone off and looked at him. “I tried to check something earlier, and it was different.”

Chris swallowed. He had changed it—just last week. He had told himself it was just to have a little privacy, just in case. But now, hearing Aaliyah say it out loud, it felt like he had committed a crime.

“I—I must’ve forgotten to tell you,” he said quickly. “I can change it back.”

Aaliyah didn’t blink. “Why’d you change it in the first place?”

Chris felt the mattress beneath him turn into quicksand. “I don’t know. Just… thought I should.”

Aaliyah sat up slightly, tilting her head. “You don’t know?” she repeated, voice sharp.

Chris exhaled, rubbing his face. “Ali, it’s not a big deal. You can have the new one.”

“That’s not the point, Chris,” she snapped. “The point is you didn’t tell me. You hid it. What else are you hiding?”

Chris clenched his jaw. This was how it always went—she would dig and dig until he had nothing left to give. Until she backed him into a corner so tight he couldn’t breathe.

“You know what? Forget it,” she said bitterly, throwing the blanket off her legs as she got up.

Chris sat up. “Ali—”

“I’m taking a shower,” she cut him off, grabbing a towel and heading to the bathroom.

The second the door shut, Chris let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He rubbed his hands over his face, heart pounding.

This wasn’t going to end here.

She wasn’t going to let it go.

And if she kept pushing—if she really figured out what he was hiding—he was screwed.

The night had settled into a deep silence, the kind that made every creak in the house sound louder than it should. Chris stood in his bedroom, staring out the window, watching the headlights of a car parked at the end of the driveway. Matt and Nick had been sitting out there for what felt like forever, looking like they had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

Chris swallowed hard. He knew what this meant—they weren’t giving up. They were here, outside his house, waiting for him to make a decision. Waiting for him to tell them what was really going on.

But he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

He took a deep breath, leaning against the window frame. His pulse quickened as he saw Matt and Nick talking, their heads close together, probably strategizing, probably trying to figure out how they were going to get him to crack.

They weren’t going to leave without a fight.

Chris glanced around the room, his mind racing. He knew he had to get out there, but not yet—not yet.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he quietly opened his bedroom door, trying not to make a sound. The last thing he needed was Aaliyah hearing him sneak out.

He tiptoed down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached the front door, he peeked out through the blinds and saw Matt and Nick standing by the car, looking up at the house like they were expecting him.

Come on, Chris, he thought. Just tell them to go.

He reached for the door handle and quietly stepped outside, the cool air hitting him like a shock to his system. He carefully closed the door behind him, not wanting to alert Aaliyah to his movements.

“Matt. Nick,” he called out in a low voice, his heart pounding in his ears.

They both turned, surprised, but their faces softened when they saw it was him. Nick’s eyes widened, and Matt’s face immediately lit up.

“There you are, man!” Nick said, his voice a mix of relief and frustration. “We’ve been waiting for hours. What the hell, dude?”

Chris held up a hand, glancing around nervously. “What are you doing here?” he whispered. “You need to go. Now.”

Matt leaned forward. “Chris, you’re not fooling anyone. We know something’s going on. You’re not okay, and we can see it.”

Chris shook his head, taking a step back toward the house. “I can’t do this right now. Aaliyah’s in there. If she finds out, it’s over.”

Nick crossed his arms. “What’s over? I mean, seriously Chris, you really think you can just cut us off like this and act like nothing’s wrong?”

Chris clenched his fists at his sides. “I don’t have a choice. You need to leave.”

Matt took another step closer. “Chris—”

Chris cut him off, his voice harder now. “Listen to me! You need to go.”

There was a long silence as Nick and Matt exchanged glances, both of them looking like they were weighing their options. Chris could see the concern in their eyes, but he also saw the frustration, the hurt… and the fact that they weren’t going to leave without something…anything from him.

“Fine,” Chris muttered, his voice quieter now. “Meet me tomorrow. Denny’s. Midnight.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Denny’s?”

“Yeah, Denny’s,” Chris snapped, not having the energy to argue. “I’ll meet you there, but right now, I need you to leave.”

Matt looked like he wanted to say something, but Chris didn’t give him the chance.

“Just go,” he urged, his tone softer. “Please.”

Nick let out a frustrated sigh but nodded. “Fine. We’ll be there.”

With that, Chris turned and walked quickly back toward the house, not daring to look back. He could hear them talking in hushed voices behind him, but he didn’t want to hear it.

When he closed the door behind him, his heart was still racing. He stood there for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. He couldn’t believe he had agreed to meet them.

But he knew he had no choice. They were his brothers, and no matter what he had to do to protect his daughter, they had to know the truth.

He had to face it sooner or later.

He just hoped tomorrow didn’t come too soon.

Chris barely slept that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Matt and Nick standing outside, their faces full of concern, their words echoing in his head. We know something’s wrong.

He knew they wouldn’t let this go.

By the time morning rolled around, Chris felt like a zombie. Aaliyah barely looked at him as she got ready for the day, which, honestly, was a blessing. The last thing he needed was her picking up on his nerves.

“Don’t forget, we have a meeting with the interior designer at three,” she reminded him flatly as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

Chris simply nodded, staring at the steam rising from her mug, pretending to care.

“Also,” Aaliyah continued, scrolling through her phone, “I want to start looking at preschools for Adriana soon. Somewhere nice, not one of those basic-ass ones where they just let the kids finger paint all day.”

Chris blinked, forcing himself to engage. “Yeah… makes sense.”

Aaliyah side-eyed him. “You good? You look like shit.”

Chris forced a laugh. “Didn’t sleep well.”

Aaliyah just hummed in response, clearly uninterested in further conversation. Good.

Chris kept his routine as normal as possible. He helped Adriana with breakfast, took a shower, and went through the motions of his day. But the whole time, his mind was stuck on one thing—midnight at Denny’s.

The hours dragged. Every minute felt like an eternity. He spent the day dodging Aaliyah’s mood swings, pretending to care about kitchen backsplash colors, and making sure he didn’t say the wrong thing. By the time night rolled around, he was exhausted.

Adriana was asleep by ten. Aaliyah crashed not long after, but Chris waited. He had to be sure she was fully out before he made a move.

By 11:30, the house was dead silent.

Chris sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the clock, his leg bouncing anxiously. He knew sneaking out was a risk, but he had to do it.

Carefully, he stood up, tiptoeing to the dresser where he had left his keys earlier. He held his breath as he picked them up, terrified that the small clink of metal would wake her.

Nothing.

He exhaled slowly and moved toward the bedroom door.

One step.

Two steps.

Aaliyah stirred slightly in bed, shifting onto her side. Chris froze, barely breathing, waiting to see if she would wake up.

After a few long seconds, she was still.

Chris pushed forward.

He slipped out of the bedroom and down the hall, avoiding the floorboards he knew would creak. His heart was pounding so hard he swore it would wake the whole damn house.

By the time he made it to the front door, his hands were shaking. He slowly twisted the doorknob, wincing at the faint click as it unlocked.

The night air hit him like a wave.

He did it. He was out.

Chris didn’t waste a second. He jogged to his car, started the engine as quietly as possible, and rolled out of the driveway. As soon as he was a few blocks away, he finally let out the breath he had been holding.

Almost there.

—

The Denny’s parking lot was nearly empty when he pulled in. The neon lights buzzed softly, casting a yellow glow over the pavement.

Inside, at a booth near the window, sat Matt and Nick.

Chris parked and took a second to compose himself. He checked his phone.

11:58 PM.

Perfect timing.

He stepped out of the car and made his way inside.

As soon as Matt and Nick saw him, they both sat up straighter.

Chris slid into the booth across from them.

Nobody said anything at first.

Nick was the first to break the silence. “You actually came.”

Chris let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Guess I did.”

Matt leaned forward. “Chris… what the hell is going on?”

Chris stared down at the table. His fingers traced the edge of the menu, his mind scrambling for the right words.

He had been avoiding this conversation for so long.

But sitting here, across from his brothers—the two people who had been with him since birth—he realized something.

He didn’t have to do this alone.

Chris swallowed hard, finally looking up at them.

“I need help.”

Chapter 4

A/N:

[mochinomnoms]

The Private (not) Thoughts of a Moray Chapter 5: I wanna go on walks with you, I wanna have long talks with you

Gender Neutral Reader x Jade Leech

Chapter 5 preview:

The fall was much shorter than you anticipated, as you felt yourself fall against a soft body. You opened your eyes, but found that the room was dark. Or a tunnel? Hole? Whatever it was, it was a tight fit as you shifted around to get back on your feet. You dug your elbows against the soft floor to get up, which subsequently moved and grunted.  “Ow. That was my rib.” Jade's voice grunted against your ear, his hold around loosening as he also moved to stand.  “Jade? What—oh my god!” You tried to scramble off of Jade, harder said than done in the space you two had found yourselves. Shifting around, you were sure that you’d just made the situation worse, as Jade lit a light with his wand. How in the world you managed to find yourself straddling Jade’s waist in the dark was a mystery. Though, with the flush look on his face, you weren’t sure he minded. Oh…by the Abyss itself… you’re such a pretty sight.

[wc} - 9,838

[notes] - let's gooooo! My editors still need a chance to comb through but I really wanted this out, so I will update with their feedback later so they don't have to stress! Anyway pls gimme your thoughts! I'd love to hear them!!

[tag list] - @simpingforbelphegor @myteacupisempty

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Chapter 5: I wanna go on walks with you, I wanna have long talks with you)

It had been roughly two months since the year started and you’d been housewarden. You’d like to say that it had been smooth sailing, and it mostly was. Mostly.

Epel had taken you to the Mostro Lounge of all places to get you to relax after a fight broke out between a few of the Ramshackle students over how they should decorate it for Halloween. A Diasomnia student that had managed to sneak into your roster a month ago had wanted to turn the dorm into Malleus’s usual haunted house, but Wynfred and the others wanted to do something new. 

Then it turned into another argument over what that new idea would be, which caused a fight to break out between the different students. If it hadn’t been for Wynfred bluntly calling them all whiny and suggesting that they just drew written suggestions from a hat. While most of them bristled at the remark, they’d agreed to follow his lead. After Albert had so kindly offered his hat, the winning idea was a screampark with clowns.

You’d thanked Wynfred for managing to wrangle them in, as you’d been out at a housewarden meeting at the time and did NOT feel like returning to a warring dorm. The redhead has flushed and beamed at your praise, something he’d been doing for a while you’d notice. At first, you thought it was just him being happy at being recognized for his efforts. 

“You know, Wynfred talks a lot ‘bout you, calls you all sorts of sweet names.” Epel had a gleeful smirk as he teased you. “Sounding like someone’s got a little secret admirer!”

Now you know why Wynfred had been so keen to seek your praise.

“Shut up Epel, you know I still have Vil on speed-dial, and I’ll tell him about you cussing out Yev, again.”

Epel wrinkled his nose and stuck his nose out at you, which you returned in kind. 

“Mmmeeh! Don’t worry about it, Yev has snitched on me plenty of times. Vil tells him to get it together and wrangle me in.”

The small man sipped on his smoothie before continuing, “Vil knew how to fight at least, I respect that. Yev’s a big ol’ wuss. He’s like a peacock. Or a chihuahua.”

Both of you giggled, you particularly at the image in Epel’s head of Yev’s head on a brown shaking chihuahua. Your fit of laughter was interrupted by a familiar presence and the thoughts of a familiar twin. 

Hehe, little shrimpy~

“Hi Floyd, what’s up?”

You craned your head to look up at Floyd, who was peering over the booth with a grin, his gold eye glinting at you. 

“Boo!” Floyd pouted, resting his chin on the top of the booth and draping his arms over to essentially trap you between them.

“Was tryin’ to scare Shrimpy, not fair!” 

You giggled at the whiny tone, though Epel looked a bit off put by Floyd, which wasn’t surprising. 

It’s like Shrimpy can tell when I’m nearby, totally not fair!

“Did you need something, Floyd?” Epel was still polite even after Vil left, so you suppose some of the habits instilled in him now came second nature. 

“Nah, just wanted to bother ya. Hey Shrimpy, Tony said you guys are doing scary clowns for Halloween? Never seen that, are clowns really that scary to humans?”

“Oh yeah,” You responded while Epel nodded along. “I don’t know about here, but back home it was a whole deal, we had like a whole scary movie franchise based on a scary clown that stole and ate children.”

Epel added, “Yeah, and we had a whole thing like two years ago where people were sighting killer clowns on the street! Like, just randomly in the middle of the night!”

“You guys had that too? Oh, that’s weird.”

Floyd made a disturbed face at your comments. Humans are weird. He hummed, moving to further shove his body over your booth. You wouldn’t be surprised though if his feet were still on the ground. 

“Killer clowns? Just beat them up, I don’t know, humans get scared of the weirdest things.” 

The twin perked up as he held up a finger to shush you as you opened your mouth to rebuke. 

“Wait a sec, I got something for ya!” Floyd brought his hand up to his mouth and shrilly whistled a small tune. “Hey Aspen!”

Watching with mild curiosity, you watched as the pink-haired man froze at Floyd calling for him. Staring at Floyd with wide eyes, he briefly darted his gaze to you, and back to Floyd.

“Bring the calamari over for lil’ Shrimpy!”

Aspen made a face, scrunching up his nose as he did what he was told as he internally complained. 

I can’t believe you’re making me touch this stuff, I just—I can’t with you! How can you have Jade’s sweet face, and yet be such an ass, Floyd.

Placing the plate before you, Aspen gave you and Epel a polite nod. “Here you are, please enjoy.”

“Yeah, Aspen’s reeeal fond of squid, ain’t ya?” Floyd giggled as Aspen took a deep breath, glowering at him as he turned his cheek and trotted off. 

Stupid, it’s no wonder you can’t court your mate, you brute.

“I believe my shift has ended. I’ll be setting off, I’ll see you at Ramshackle, Housewarden.”

You watched from the corner of your eye as Floyd grinned wryly at Aspen’s retreating form, looking back at you and Epel to pout and mockingly sniffle. 

“He’s always been so mean to poor ol’ Floydie!” He giggled again, tilting his head as you rolled your eyes. “He ignores me all the time, even when I’m trying to have fun with him! It was just a joke!”

You gave a light-hearted scoff, as did Epel who froze at Floyd squinting a golden eye at him. 

“Right, a joke. Like when you ‘accidentally’ served Azul your takoyaki. Didn’t he smack you hard enough to bruise you?”

Floyd blew a raspberry, cocking his hip as he leaned further against your booth. At the angle you had to crane your head to look at him, he almost looked like his brother. 

“Yeah, he was so mean for that! It’s fine, though, he kept serving me unagi for like a week after that to get back at me.”

His eyes dulling a bit, you could tell Floyd was getting bored now that his ‘fun’ had left. Though, he seemed to perk up as you popped a calamari ring into your mouth, studying your reaction as you chewed. It got a bit awkward as you made eye contact with Epel, who shrugged. 

I wonder if he’s waiting for the Prefect to say something about the food. Maybe he made it and wants praise?

You swallowed and cheerily told Floyd, “Hey, this is really good! Tastes great, did you cook it, Floyd?”

Floyd held his chin in his hands, grinning again as he watched you take another ring. 

Waiting until you were mid-chew, he purred out in a teasing tone, “Oh, no I didn’t make that. Jade made it. For you.”

So sappy, an’ such a basic courting gift too!

You choked on the calamari, coughing and frantically hitting your chest. Epel yelped as he nearly jumped over the table to shove your glass of water in your face, which you accepted. 

“Oh? You good Shrimpy?” Floyd, unbothered as ever, grinned as he watched you chug your water. “Something got you all flustered?”

“Floyd! Don’t make jokes, they’re chokin’!” Epel scolded Floyd as you finally took a heaving breath, waving your hands to cool off your burning cheeks.

“It’s fine, just went down the wrong throat. Um,” You shakily smiled at Floyd as you replied, “Thanks for letting me know, I’ll be sure to thank him later.”

As if, I don’t need him getting the wrong idea. 

“Oh good, Jade wanted to talk to ya ‘bout something anyway. Can’t remember about what.” Floyd gave you a lazy smirk. “He was gonna visit ya at your dorm, but what if I pop you in his room as a surprise? It’ll be reeeal funny!”

“Nope!” You popped your lips, blanching at the thought of Jade finding you alone in his bedroom.

“Kayyy!” Floyd shrugged, sliding his upper body against the top of the booth as he sauntered away. “I’m sure Jade will be back soon anyway. I’ll have someone come top off your waters while you wait.”

An exhausted sigh left your mouth as you rested your head against the cool table while Epel did the same, in solidarity you think. 

“Ya good? I’ve heard that Jade has been hovering around you lately. You don’t like, owe him anything, do you?”

You slid your head up to meet Epel’s gaze, who was currently giving you a curious look. 

Ace mentioned he’s been around you a lot lately. 

“Ah, no he’s just been, ummm—” you hummed as you considered how to word your circumstances without telling him about your telepathy.

Maybe I should tell him anyway…

“If it helps, I don’t think it’s anything bad!” Epel tried to reassure you with a small smile. “You two walk together after your potions class, right?”

You blinked in surprise, raising a brow. “Yeah? How’d you know?”

“Oh, he’s in the remedial second-year flight class with some other mermen. And I see you two walking when I’m coming from astronomy, it’s on the way.”

Every day too, without fail. 

Epel waited for you to take a sip of water before giving you a wry grin. “It’s cute, you guys look like a couple.”

Choking on your water, you coughed as Epel giggled at your flustered reaction. Unfazed by your glare, Epel happily continued. 

“Ha! I thought Ace was joking, but you really do get all embarrassed talking about Jade. What? You got a crush on him?”

“NO!” You shouted, nearly flying out of your seat. The dining room got quiet as you did, several eyes staring at you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Floyd smirking at you. Like he knew what you were talking about. 

Oh, geez. Epel was leaning back against his seat, eyeing you up and down. Dramatic much?

“I mean, uh, no.” You hastily mumbled as you settled back in your booth, wishing you could just sink into the cushions. 

“Sure, yeah.” Epel scoffed, and relaxed, smirking at you again. “You know, he’s real happy during flight class, even though he can barely make it off the ground. Might have something to do with a certain someone, you think?”

You laughed and dryly responded, “I wouldn’t know.” Liar. “Besides, it’s not like I ask for him to hover over me all the time. It gets annoying sometimes”

Epel now looked at you puzzled. “Ace didn’t mention anythin’ like that. He’s not like…stalking you or anything, right?”

I’ll beat him up if he is. He might got a foot over me, but I can take him!

The sentiment was sweet, but the thought of Epel confronting Jade made you uneasy. With how intense his feelings were for you, you couldn’t imagine Jade willingly backing down just from a few harsh words or threats from Epel of all people. 

“It’s nothing to worry about. Promise!” You straightened and frantically waved your hands at the doubtful look he gave you. “Jade’s been nothing but helpful! He’s probably just being nice.”

“Jade, being nice? Sure, yeah right.” He snorted, amused again. “He’s as nice as a bull seein’ red. He’s like his brother, nothing but a big and mean bully.”

You clicked your tongue, now annoyed. “That’s not fair, Jade can be nice! Like I said, he’s been nothing but helpful to me since the year started.” You weren’t sure why you were so defensive. Jade had been as much of a nuisance as he was helpful since the year started. 

Though, if I couldn’t read his mind, he probably wouldn’t actually be such a nuisance to me. I guess he hasn’t actually done anything to make him annoying. 

“Hmm, awfully defensive, Prefect.” Leaning in, like he was sharing a secret, Epel slyly whispered, “You sure he’s actually annoying, or are you just pretending? Cause you’ve been getting redder since we’ve started talking ‘bout him.”

You smacked your hands against your heated cheeks, scowling at the cackling Epel. 

“I’ve not! Liar!”

“Ha! Look at you!” Epel teased, stealing a piece of calamari as he continued making fun of you. “Why you all red, then?”

“Oh, shut up!” You pouted, sticking your tongue out at your friend before sighing. “Look, there’s more to it, I’ll tell you about it later, just stop making fun of me!” 

Epel nodded in understanding, popping one of the calamari rings in his mouth.

“I’ll hold ya to it! Oh, I almost forgot to tell you about one of the guys in my class almost eating a poisonous plant in botany!”

You spent the next half hour listening to Epel recount the stories about the guys in his botany class. You liked being around Epel, even though he wasn’t aware of your telepathy. The way he spoke out loud and in his head were different, since he still spoke to himself internally with his normal accent. 

“And then, he cut the bloom off, which made the entire glasshouse fill up with this pink gas!”

It smelt so awful, I'd rather have my face shoved in a cow's hind end!

“It smelled reeaaally bad!” Epel barked a laugh as you two got up from your seats, your waiter had finally given you your receipts. “It was a whole deal, Professor Kallpa was sooo mad!”

“Oh, really?” You laughed alongside Epel as you two walked out of the dining room. “I’ve never seen him mad, it must’ve been really bad!”

As you two turned the corner of the hall leading to the door of the Mostro Lounge, Jade was just exiting his bubble, too preoccupied by the small notebook in his hand to take notice of you. 

“Oh shit—Epel hide me!” You spun back around and plastered your back against the wall, freezing like a deer in headlights. Epel yelped as you snatched the back of his collar. He followed suit, crouching against the wall under your arms as he looked up at you with an amused look. 

“Seriously, what—” you smacked a hand over his mouth, listening for movement or thoughts.

Hmm? Interesting, is there a little guppy hiding from me? I hope they’re aware I can smell them.

You tried to make out Jade’s footsteps as you could hear his thoughts come closer and closer. You looked at Epel mouthed out, ‘He’s coming.’ Epel blinked rapidly in confusion, shrugging as he waved his hands in front of him. 

‘What do you want me to do?’ He mouthed back, standing and holding his hands up still in confusion. 

Though am I mistaken, that familiar scent of lavender…is that you, my love?

You stopped breathing, shoulders hunched up as your brain rapidly ran through various escape plans before finally settling on one. 

“Sorry, Epel,” you whispered, giving him a nervous smile. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

Just as Jade was turning the corner, you shoved Epel into the tall man, the force causing the two to barrel into the ground with a loud ‘thump’ and groans. 

While they, and most importantly Jade, were down, you swiftly and sneakily sped past them. 

Ow! You ASS!

You turned as you opened the lounge entrance, pushing your back against the forming bubble as Epel looked up at you from the ground, glaring at you as if he could form a hole into your skull.��

Ugh, is that Epel? Gah, I hit my head against the wall…

Jade looked up from his place on the ground, following Epel’s gaze as the bubble lifted you from view. He looked surprised, if a bit sad to see you go, opening his mouth to call out to you.

“Pearl?”

You sighed, feeling a bit guilty as you let the bubble take you to the mirror. It was just a few minutes to get to it, but that was enough to let you stew in your own thoughts for once. 

Aw, he looked kinda sad. Maybe I should’ve just sucked it up and let him say hello. 

You leaned against the cool wall of the bubble, watching as a small school of fish swam by. If you’re being honest with yourself, if it wasn’t for the fact you knew about how Jade felt for you, you probably wouldn’t have such a hard time interacting with him. You’d be blissfully unaware, making your way through life without a concern in the world.

Probably. Maybe. What if he tried confessing then? Would I still be avoiding him if I didn’t know what he thought of me? Ugh, but they’re such weird thoughts! Is it too much to ask for him to be normal?

From the distance you could see another bubble form from the Mostro Lounge, no doubt Epel following. As you turned to press through the mirror into the Hall of Mirrors. You sighed again.

What am I talking about, no one at this school is normal. 

Stepping aside to wait for Epel, you took your phone out to check your texts. You blanched at the sight of several missed Magicam messages, mostly from Wynfred and Silas.

winniethewitch: Hi Prefect! Just a suggestion, can we invest in pest control? I think it would be really beneficial for us all :) sysalson: ignore my brother, there are no issues with bugs. The bugs are fine, the bugs are my friends :D winniethewitch: Hi again, Prefect! Please ignore Silas. The bugs are very much NOT fine. The bugs are not our friends. The bugs must go. winniethewitch: Hi Prefect, this is Wynfred, your unofficial Vice Housewarden. Please ignore my previous messages. Silas is right, the bugs are our friends and I made a haS42q vhq0[p;’M  winniethewitch: That was not me. Please as the Headmage for pest conlk10vg n  319jioqajn13pn

You read through a few more messages, each harder to decipher than the last, as Wynfred and Silas evidently fought over the phone. You noticed that the last messages were actually readable.

winniethewitch: Prefect! I have taken care of the problem, there is no need for pest control now. Evidently, please ignore the smell when returning. It turns out that Aspen can make quite the strong pest repellent, it just happens to smell very strongly of garlic.

“Oh god, are you kidding me?” You chuckled to yourself, the sound of the Octavinelle mirror shimmering catching your attention. Turning to greet Epel, you noticed a smug look on his face instead of the annoyed one you expected.

“Heyyy, you know I didn’t mean to shove you so hard, right?”

“Mm-hm.” Epel hummed, walking past you and out the building. You followed, if a bit confused. 

“I just panicked, and wanted to get out of there.”

Epel replied, “Away from Jade, right?”

“Right! You heard me earlier, it’s been a little weird being around him a bunch, so I just wanted to—”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I made sure to tell him that you weren’t trying to be rude or anything.” 

You stopped rambling, now silent as Epel continued to offhandedly comment. 

“Yeah! He seemed real worried that you were in such a rush to get away from him. So I let him know that you were just being shy, that you’d been getting all red and flustered when talking about him earlier—”

“WHAT!” You screeched, running ahead of him to stop Epel in his tracks, by now Ramshackle was in view and there were a few students on the porch staring after you yelled. 

“Yeah, he didn’t say anythin’, but I could tell he was reeeal happy to hear that. I mean, he nearly, tripped over himself trying to follow you out, but Azul came over for him.”

Scoffing, you tapped your food as you angrily placed your hands on your hips. Epel looked at you, still smug. 

That’s what you get for leaving me behind. Trying to sacrifice me, hmph!

“By the way, he asked me to remind you that your potionology group is still meeting at 3 later today. He said Yev was throwing a fit over you not texting him back, and he wanted to get work done.”

“Oh shit, I forgot!” You groaned, rubbing the palms of your hands against your eyes. “Ugh, I gotta get dressed in my lab uniform.”

Epel laughed, nudging you with his shoulder to push you towards Ramshackle. He cooed in mock sympathy, “Oh, too bad, so sad, better hurry up then.”

You ran, Epel laughing as you made a panicked screech, to Ramshackle. You zoomed past the group of freshmen on the porches they greeted you, stumbling into the foyer. You notice Grim in the living room, standing on the table as he told some sort of story about fighting an overblot monster in the mines. No doubt overinflating his part in the story. 

“And then it raised its pickaxe to my hench-human while the other two ran for their hides! But, as the brave and mighty Grim, I used my most powerful spell—”

“GRIM!” You slid on the hardwood floors, huffing and pointing at the gray familiar. “Was laundry done yet!? I need my lab pants!”

“Nyah! Uh.” Grim jumped as his ears pinned down, and he sheepishly mumbled, “Nooo, I forgot. But I was telling these guys about the mines and—”

“GAAAAH!”  

You ran up the steps and flew into your room, slamming the door behind you as you shuffled through your clean clothes to find your oversized lab coat, goggles, and pants. You managed to find the first two, but the third was indeed still in your dirty clothes hamper. 

Damn it! Ugh, where are my tights?

Crewel had often chastised you when you wore your skirts to lab classes, as it didn’t follow lab safety protocols. Vil had helped you make outfits with opaque black tights to help cover your skin for lab, though you’d stopped after the last class when you spilled a potion over your legs, causing your favorite tights to bleach an ugly white, splotchy pattern. 

You learned the hard way why none of your other classmates wore their skirts to lab either. Now you had a dedicated pair of pants for all labs, also bleached but comfortable. Unfortunately, they were still buried under a pile of dirty clothes. 

Groaning, you slipped off your shoes and socks as you pulled out a pair of black tights, slipping them on, along with your lab coat and goggles around your neck. You had to fold your sleeves up to prevent them from engulfing your hands, easier said than done as you tried to smoothly slip on your shoes again. 

Stumbling back out of your bedroom, and tripping a bit over the stairs, you managed to make it to the main hallway before being interrupted mid-walk. 

“Prefect!” Perfect, they’ve still here! You looked up at Aspen, who looked strangely happy to see you. Behind him was Wynfred, who was blushing and staring down at his feet. 

“Prefect,” Aspen chirped, gesturing to Wynfred with a flourishing wave. “Wynfred has something very important to tell you—”

“Sorry! Can’t talk! Ask Grim if you have any dorm related questions!”

“But, wait!” You ignored Aspen’s calls and him cursing you out in his head, while Wynfred also called out. 

“Prefect, I—”

“Can’t talk! Bye, bye, bye, bye!”

You ignored their shouts as you leaped over the Ramshackle steps and ran as fast as you could to the castle. Maybe Vargas had a point trying to recruit you to the track team, as you managed to make it to the hallway that Yev’s lab was in just five minutes shy of three o’clock. You nearly rammed into Riddle’s back as you slid across the floor. 

“Oh my!” Riddle stumbled forward, his goggles falling lopsided over his head, turning as he heard the trample of your steps. He stumbled backwards as you keened over, hands on your knees as you heaved for air.

“Prefect! Mind where you’re going!  You nearly trampled me over!”

“Sorry! I just didn’t want to be late.” You took a final deep breath as you smiled up to Riddle. “Just 5 minutes to spare!”

Riddle chuckled as he lent a helping hand to get you back up, pulling you along to the classroom Yev had instructed your group to meet at.

“Very good Prefect, let’s not hurt ourselves, though. I already checked in, it’s just Jade. No sign of Yev quite yet.”

“Wasn’t he the one who insisted that we meet at this specific time? I’d thought he’d been here already.”

Riddle chuckled as you two made your way into the classroom. As Riddle had said, Jade was sitting at the end of the classroom in a desk closest to the wall. He’d been studying the stones that made up the wall rather intently before notice you and Riddle enter. 

“Why hello Riddle. And Prefect, we’d bumped into each other earlier and didn’t even manage to say hello.”

Gave Jade a polite wave and a sheepish smile as Riddle greeted him. 

“Still no sign of Yev, Jade?”

“Oh, no. How strange, especially since he insisted on us meeting at this time.”

Jade’s eyes briefly locked on your form, eyes drawing up and down. 

There you are! My darling! My pearl, you’re wearing a skirt again! I can’t believe I didn’t notice earlier! And you’re acting all shy! Your little friend was right! Cute, cute, cute!!

“Hey, Riddle, what if I jumped off a bridge? For fun?”

Riddle sharply inhaled, slowly turning his head to give you an unamused glare. 

“What if I tied a leash to your neck? For fun?”  He scoffed, pulling at your cheek like a mother to her child. “Honestly, you worry me at times, I may have to anyway.”

Hmm, not a bad idea Riddle…

Jade’s mind conjured up an image of you on your knees, in the maid outfit again, a leash tied to your neck leading up to his hand as he cooed over you. 

You made a low-pitch whine as the two of you made your way to where Jade was waiting at the end of the classroom.

“No, I’m fine actually, no leashes here. Hate them.” You made an ‘X’ with your hands as you turned and walked backwards, puffing your cheeks. “Not something I want on my person, at all!” 

Really? You heard Jade shift in his seat, standing to approach you and Riddle. Hmm.

You smiled to yourself for effectively shutting down the latest dirty thought. 

At least, until Jade conjured up another image of you straddling him in bed, using his tie as a leash to pull his face to yours. 

“Jade, you’ve been naughty~” You giggled, pulling on his tie, further tightening it as his own hand clasped yours. “Maybe I ought to collar you up? Tie a leash and drag you around like a pet?” Jade gasped, pupils blown wide, as he let out an uncharacteristically high-pitched whine. A sound reserved just for you.  “Anything you want, just for you, my love.” Jade groaned as you licked a stripe up his throat to meet his lips in a messy, wet kiss.  His words muffled as he spoke against your moving lips, “I’ll be your pet. I’ll let you use me. Please—” Grasping the ends of your shirt, tugging at them like a lifeline, Jade started muttering nonsense as he ground his hips against yours.  “Please, please, please, I’ll be so good to you! I’ll fuck you so good, I’ll make you feel good if you’ll just let me. Let me love you, please, please, please—”

A sharp pain flew up your neck to your head as you collided with the stone wall, tripping over a table leg while walking backwards. Your face was burning, as was the heat in your gut. Riddle and Jade both made noises of concern as you clenched the back of your head. You were glad that they assumed your red face was due to your embarrassment, as Jade’s last rambles were still echoing in your head. 

“Oh my, Prefect! Are you alright?” Riddle's voice was full of concern, but also slight amusement as he grabbed your left arm, Jade the right, to pull you up. 

“Yes, that looked like it hurt quite a bit.” Jade murmured, moving his hands to gently move your head. “Allow me to check your head.”

“No, I’m—ow!” His hand brushed on a tender spot on your crown, making you wince. ”Ooooh, that hurt!”

Ah, I’m so sorry, my pearl, but you make the cutest sounds sometimes! You heard Jade tut as he leaned down to closely inspect your head. I just wonder what kinds I could pull from you.

You cringed, leaning away from his hand and shooing both boys away. “I’m fine, guys, it’s just a bump.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay? It does none of us any good if you’re hurt and can’t focus, you can go to the nurse.” Riddle replied, pushing you towards the door.

“Yes.” Jade chirped in agreement, ignoring Riddle’s side eye at his abnormally happy tone. “Allow me to take you—”

“Oh no! I don’t think so!” Yev came barreling through the classroom door, looking rather disheveled. Compared to his rather clean, prim appearance, he looked as if he’d been run through the wringer. 

Oh my, I would have never seen Vil in such a state. You heard Riddle stifle a chuckle as he eyed Yev fixing his messy hair. Said man was huffing, no doubt from running. 

“Ugh my hair! Look,” Yev said, eyeing you in particular, “It took forever for us to find a spare day to meet up. I won't go through the effort of rescheduling it when one of you just happened to bump your head.”

Besides, I have a potion in my lab you can take anyways. 

“I really must insist that the Prefect get checked up.” Jade argued, giving Yev a polite smile. Though, his eyes were quite firm. 

“And I must insist that we get started.” Yev scoffed as he pushed past the three of you pressing against the stones in the wall as he continued talking. “I have pain medicine in my lab, just…ugh. Where’s that damn button!”

Your group shared looks at Yev’s muttering, moving closer to huddle around Yev as he pressed hidden buttons along the stone wall. He pressed one, the lights flickered off and back on as he pressed it again. 

Riddle yelped as the bookshelf next to him spun into the wall, turning around to reveal its other side blended into the wall. He jumped back as it spun again, nearly hitting him. 

“Yev! Be careful!.” Riddle yelled, cheeks turning red. “I thought this was your secret lab, how do you not know how to get in it?”

Yev yelled back, “I know! I’m just having trouble—you know, I didn’t have to let us use my lab for our project!”

As the two started arguing, now the blackboard and teacher’s desk shaking as Yev pressed more stone buttons, Jade shuffled closer to you. 

“You know…” Jade leaned down to softly speak to you. “I can still take you to the infirmary, if you’d prefer?”

You looked up at Jade, surprised at the tender look in his eyes.

I really shouldn’t be, though. 

“I, uh—” You turned away shyly, reaching up to touch the still throbbing spot on your head. “Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea—”

“Wait! Don’t press that one, it’s the wrong—”

Your stomach dropped as the floor beneath your feet disappeared. Specifically the square panel you and Jade had been incidentally standing on, the trap door opening as you two started falling down the dark pit. A scream left your mouth, arms reaching around your midsection as you clutched onto them and shut your eyes. 

The fall was much shorter than you anticipated, as you felt yourself fall against a soft body. You opened your eyes, but found that the room was dark. Or a tunnel? Hole? Whatever it was, it was a tight fit as you shifted around to get back on your feet. You dug your elbows against the soft floor to get up, which subsequently moved and grunted. 

“Ow. That was my rib.” Jade's voice grunted against your ear, his hold around loosening as he also moved to stand. 

“Jade? What—oh my god!” You tried to scramble off of Jade, harder said than done in the space you two had found yourselves. Shifting around, you were sure that you’d just made the situation worse, as Jade lit a light with his wand. How in the world you managed to find yourself straddling Jade’s waist in the dark was a mystery. Though, with the flush look on his face, you weren’t sure he minded.

Oh…by the Abyss itself… you’re such a pretty sight.

“You say that often, ‘my god’, what does that mean if you don’t mind me asking.” Jade pushed himself up by his free elbow, the other arm busy holding up your only source of light. “It’s an expression, yes?”

“Y-yeah, it’s like when you guys say things li-like ‘by the Seven’ or—I’m sorry. Let me try to get off you!”

You started rambling, looking around for a way to put some distance between you and Jade. However, you only saw black walls around you. Looking up, whatever panel had been above you was closed off, black stone closing you in. 

“Well, there’s not much space for you to move.” Unless you want to keep moving those hips against me… “Perhaps relax, there’s hardly any space between the two of us.”

“Right! Of course, but I think I can…” Carefully, you managed to stand in the small space, trying to avoid moving against him. Harder said than done, but you managed, reaching down to lend a hand to him. “Here.”

Jade smiled, something soft and sweet, as he took your hand and awkwardly shuffled against the wall as he slid up. 

Though, this is just as nice as well. 

“I think I can hear them shuffling on top of us. Do you think one of them noticed us falling?”

“Ha, with the way you screamed? Without a doubt.” Jade managed to stand straight, a good chunk of space between the tops of your heads and the trap door panel. 

He attempted to reach up to knock the top of the panel. Despite his height his fingerprints barely brushed it. Luckily, you could hear Riddle and Yev’s panicked footsteps stumble around. 

Riddle’s voice came through the floor, muffled and frantic.

“Prefect? Jade? Prefect!? Yev what in the world was that!? Where did it send them? Prefect! (Name)!!”

“We’re here!” You called out, smacking the wall in an attempt to make more noise. “We’re fine!”

“Oh good!” You heard Yev laugh, then yelp as you heard a smack. “What?! Usually it would send them down to the lake! They got stuck in the trap hole since you pressed the button twice, usually it would’ve sent them to a nice midafternoon bath!”

You heard another smack and yelp, then some scratching against the wood.

“Prefect, we’re going to get you and Jade out! Let me just figure out how to get the panel open.” 

Listening to some more footsteps, Jade leaned down to murmur, “There goes our plans then. You don’t suppose they’ll get us out of here before 3, do you?”

You snorted, stifling a laugh, failing to do so at the sound of more clamoring and arguing above you. 

“Give Riddle some faith at least. He’s always been smart. And resourceful! You should’ve seen him over the summer, he got through every training simulation thrown at us.”

“Ah, I never did learn about what happened at that camp the headmage had you all attend.” Jade leaned down, studying your features. 

Oh, such a wonderful smile! I wished you’d do that more often around me.

“Azul’s been tight-lipped about it as well, perhaps you’d be willing to share with me?”

You blinked up at him, shuffling a bit as he leaned down to whisper against your ear. 

“You can trust me, you know.” His smooth voice drew a shiver down your spine. You think that he noticed your blushing face, based on the way he took a sharp breath. 

Please, please, please! Don’t be nervous, there’s no need to be shy with me! I know you are, but you don’t need to my love!

You really wanted to wring Epel’s neck for that comment, though it was hard to focus. Especially with the lack of space between you two. 

“I’m happy to lead an ear. There’s no need to be shy.”

You shuffled against the wall to place some distance between you two, squinting at his smile. You half expected him to cage you in with his long arms, though he seemed more amused at seeing you try and escape him. 

Ah! Look at you being shy! So cute, cute, cute! 

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, more annoyed now than anything, even with your blush. 

“I’m fine, thank you. I can handle myself just fine.”

Jade chuckled, “Ah, I forget how spirited you can be.”

Before you could retort back, a bit of light from the opening panel shone through. Both you and Jade looked up to see Riddle’s gray eyes peering through the small gap he made. 

“Prefect!” shouted in relief, looking at the twin. “And Jade. You’re there too.”

“Oh, Riddle. Your concern is most kind.” 

Ignoring Jade’s thinly veiled sarcasm, you smiled and reached up with both hands to wave at Riddle. 

“Hey! Let’s go! Can you open it more to get us out?”

“Yes, but I can’t reach you. Yev has to stand by the button that opens this panel up. He’s using a spell to hold the button so that it won’t open the panels beneath you while I pry this one open.”

Riddle briefly disappeared, the panel moving slightly more as he pushed it into its slot. The floor beneath your feet also shifted, vibrating as if it too wanted to slide away and disappear. 

“Ah! Careful, the panel here is moving!” 

You stumbled, Jade catching you by your waist to help steady you as he also called out. 

“Riddle! I’d rather that we don’t plunge into the lake! I heard it’s quite slimy!”

“Ew what? Riddle!” You panicked, shouting for Riddle and jumping on your toes. “Get us out!”

Riddle huffed, crawling back to poke his head through the now large hole. 

“I’m trying! Jade, can you lift the Prefect on your shoulders.” Riddle ignored your protest and continued to speak. “Just lift them, so I can pull them up, then the two of us can try to reach for you.” 

You blinked in confusion, processing Riddle words before paling. 

“Wait, what—AH!” You felt Jade’s hands grab your knees, looking down to see the back of Jade’s head settle between your thighs as he lifted you on his shoulders. A small shriek slipped your slips as you grasped at Jade’s hair, pulling hard enough to make him wince, so that you could steady yourself. 

Oh, fuck. Their hands, their thighs, it’s better than anything I could imagine…

You panicked at another one of Jade’s daydreams. This one of Jade between your legs, thighs squeezing the sides of his head and hands pulling the teal strands in his head as you arched your back and cried out his name. You tightened your thighs instinctually, regretting it as you felt Jade’s breath shudder. You felt it, even with the tights blocking your bare skin. 

“RIDDLE! GET ME OUT!! NOW!” You launched your hands and body up, making Jade stumble forward as you tried reaching for the ledge that was still out of your grasp.

“I’m going! Do not yell at me like you’re me!” Riddle’s hands were now within your reach, the tips of your fingers brushing against each other. “Jade, push them up higher or something. I can’t reach!”

You felt Jade move his hands to cradle beneath your thighs, lifting you as you nearly made it to freedom’s grasp. 

“Riddle, have you managed to get—Aye, hijo de puta!” 

You felt yourself dropping again, Riddle’s hands now quickly fading away while Jade’s grasp tightened against your legs. 

You heard your scream echo against the stone walls as you two fell through the tunnel. At some point, Jade had let go of you to grab at your waist again, tucking you against his chest as he curled around you and braced. 

It certainly helped, as he took the brunt of the fall against the cold waters of the lake underneath the school castle. 

Chill seeped through your bones, hair and lab coat billowing around you as you finally opened your eyes to see nothing but dark, green murky water. Below you was more darkness, the tops of a seaweed forest underneath your feet. You think you could make out a few fish, even one of those giant catfish Vargas made his camp attendees fish for. 

However, you missed the large, silver large-toothed fish darting between the seaweed, only noticing it as it was charging at you. Bubbles flew out of your mouth as you screamed, shutting your mouth again, and attempting to swim quickly to the surface. Luckily for you, you made it rather quick as a familiar webbed, green hand snatched your hand as Jade bolted to the surface. 

Breaking the water, you gasped for a deep breath, brushing your bangs from your face and blinking away water from your eyelashes. You frantically whipped your head around, searching for Jade, as you called out his name in a panic. 

“Jade? Jade! Where are you? Jade!” You yelped as he breached the water, brushing his hair back. He had a scrape on his arm that he was studying with mild irritation.

“What an annoying creature—oh!” Jade grunted in surprise as you threw your hands over him, clutching at his shoulders. 

“Jade! Are you hurt? What was that? Is it gonna get us?! Oh my god, JADE IT’S GONNA GET US, WE GOTTA GO!” You babbled on and on, hyper focused on looking at the water below you for signs of the aggressive fish. Which proved meaningless, as you couldn’t see anything besides the dark green water. 

You paused at Jade’s sudden laughter, growing louder as his chest shook, and his eyes squinted in mirth. Looking at him with furrowed brows, you tilted your head as he reached over to cup your cheeks. He squeezed them together, making you pucker your lips as his laughter died down. 

He’s…laughing! Like, fully laughing! I’ve…ever seen him laugh! Woah!

“My dear, relax!” Jade managed to stifle his laughter, now softly chuckling. Something more characteristic of him. 

He has a nice laugh, actually. Not like Floyd’s, it’s just more… Jade. I guess…it suits him!

“I can assure you, I am just about the scariest thing in this lake at this moment. Nothing is going to come for us as long as I remain in my merform. But your concern for me is delightful.” 

So sweet. 

Jade looked at you fondly, eyes darting down to your lips, making your breath catch in your chest. 

Is he gonna…?

“We should head to the shore and start heading back up. I imagine Riddle is quite worried about you.” 

Jade suddenly let go of your cheeks, instead moving to swim on his stomach, gesturing for you to grab his back. 

“Here, allow me to help you to shore.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you carefully maneuvered around his dorsal fin. You were reminded of the time you got trapped in the Scarabia desert and had to swim through the river Kalim made. Though this time you had a different twin to be your ride. 

“Heh, kinda familiar, huh? Though you had Grim and Azul with you back then, right?” 

Jade started wading through the water, one of his own hands reaching up to hold yours on his chest. 

“Yes, you were with Floyd last time. That was quite the time, wasn’t it? You found yourself in trouble more often than the average person.”

“It’s not like I mean to! It just sorta happens!” You pouted, debating on pinching Jade, as he chuckled at your offended response. 

You decided to look up at the shore Jade swam to, noticing two figures walking along the coliseum pathway. 

“Hey, I think that’s them! Hey! Riddle! Yev!” You called out to the two figures, drawing their attention. You waved a free hand, squealing as Jade sped up, making you fall against his back and clasp onto him again. 

“Jade! Careful!”

“Now, now, my pearl.” This was the first time he’d ever refer to you as ‘pearl’ outside his thoughts. Though, he was more focused on your arms around him rather than the words coming out of his mouth. 

“Have faith. I would never let you get hurt under my care.”

Jade sped back up, and despite yourself, you let out small screams of glee as adrenaline ran through your veins as you rode on Jade like a rollercoaster at a water park. 

It took but a minute to make it to the shore, much sooner than the pair of students who were still making their way over. You crawled off Jade and up the sandy shore, grabbing your hair and wringing the water out. You hear the shimmering sound you’d associated with the twins and Azul’s transformation, turning to see Jade dusting himself off, perfectly dry in his lab uniform. 

“…Are you kidding?”

Jade looked up, looking at you with confusion. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re dry! You literally were just a merman, in the water, and now you’re just dry!?”

Jade looked taken aback, before laughing at your angry face. 

Oh, my! How cute! You’re almost never angry, what a delightful view!

“My apologies for not being courteous enough to suffer alongside you.” Jade walked over to you as you started working getting the water out of your goggles. He was still chuckling at you.

“It’s a perk of our transformation potions. Quite convenient, yes. Oh, but you poor thing. All soaked.”

Jade stopped, a blush filling his cheeks as he stared at your torso. He turned away, clearing his throat.

“I do believe that the water soaked through…ah…your shirt.”

A gasp left your mouth, looking down to quickly snatch your lab coat closed and button it up. It didn’t really matter, though, as Jade’s mind was filled with the image of your wet, seek through shirt and the view of your chest. 

Today…has…been so, so wonderful~

You sighed, looking over to the students walking over. 

“I’ll ask Riddle to help dry me off with a spell or something. Though…that’s not him.”

You squinted at the pair, now within a reasonable view, realizing it was Aspen and Wynfred. 

Did you? Did they follow me here?!

“Prefect, there you are—why are you wet?” Aspen stopped, looking your sopping form up and down with a raised brow. “And Jade too—ugh, never mind.”

“Wynfred here has something he’d like to tell you, but you left before he could. It’s something incredibly important! Go on Wynfred, tell them!”

Aspen turned around and pushed Wynfred, who was digging his feet into the ground, towards you and Jade as you wring water out of your clothes. A small trench was forming as Aspen continued to push the frozen ginger closer to you, who was currently clenching his fists to his sides. Staring at you wide-eyed, Wynfred’s eyes darted between you and Aspen, who was smiling and gesturing to you. 

“Go on…” Do it, you idiot!

“Uh, is everything alright? Wynfred, are you okay? Did something happen? Did you get hurt or—”

“PLEASE GO OUT WITH ME!” With a sudden burst of confidence, Wynfred ran forward to grasp your hands with his. “I think you’re a wonderful housewarden! And I am equally great, so we’d make a great pair!!”

His sparkling eyes would be cute, if it wasn’t for how tightly he clenched your hands. And Aspen, of course. 

Yes! Go out with him, so I can get you off of Jade’s back! Come on! Say something! Do you know how hard it was to convince him to ask you out?! Say something!

Wynfred’s very sudden confession, which you're doubting was a real confession and not just a misguided push from Aspen, shut you and the surrounding area up. The silence was deafening. Even the birds and the breeze stopped, as if mocking your predicament. Minus the scandalous gasp from your left, no one spoke. 

Wait, who the hell gasped?

You turned to look at Riddle and Yev, who had run down the castle to meet you and Jade. Though, Riddle looked like he just swallowed a lemon, while Yev was clutching a hand to his chest as he looked at your group with an open mouth. 

“Oh my—WYNFRED SALSON!” Yev marched over with a furious look, snatching Wynfred by the ear to scold him. “What in the world makes you think you can just go up to a housewarden and demand a date from them! That is not how a proper Pomefiore student acts!”

You backed away as Yev continued scolding Wynfred, pitying him. Riddle walked over to you and leaned down to inspect your face and arms, prodding at you and checking for any wounds.  

“Well, that is certainly awkward. Are you alright? You didn’t get hurt, did you?” 

“Ah, no.” You shook your head, smiling as you turned to look at Jade. “Jade actually…”

You froze, as did Riddle, upon noticing Jade’s expression. Or, more accurately, the lack thereof. Instead of his usual smile, or even the sweet ones he’d been giving you earlier, Jade’s face was a blank slate, eyes focused solely on Wynfred’s form. 

I will drag you into the deepest depths known to man until the pressure pops your eyes out of your sockets, your heart bursts, and your lungs fill with the bitter cold of the sea. I will watch your body turn into bloody, liquified mush you stupid, arrogant, waste of space! Stay away from my mate! Mine! Mine! Mine! MINE!

Jade's expression quickly changed back to his usual smile, though he was still emanating an aura that could be best described as “bloodthirsty”. Murderous even! Sanguinary, if you wanted to be poetic. Riddle at least had noticed it, as he leaned close to whisper. 

“Did something happen with Jade? I figured he would be annoyed that he fell into the lake, but he seems…rather….”

“Homicidal?”

“I was going to be nice and say ‘furious,’ but yes. Homicidal fits quite well.”

“Ugh!” Wynfred started shoving against Yev, who was still rambling angrily at Wynfred for his ‘lack of etiquette’ apparently. 

“Look, Prefect! I would quite like to go out with you on a date! I think you’re very nice to everyone in the dorm, and I am also nice!” 

You think Wynfred chose to ignore Aspen’s snort, green eyes darting to him and back to you. 

“Besides, I’ve been told that we’d make a great match! Just ask Aspen! He’s the one who suggested that I—MmmPh!”

Aspen ran over to slap his hand over Wynfred’s mouth, laughing nervously as he glanced at Jade. Said man was now squinting at Aspen with annoyance and distaste. 

Really, Aspen? I expected better from you, little squid. 

“I was just, uh, supporting my fellow roommate!” The pink haired boy continued to nervously laugh. “You know how it is! I’m just being benevolent, l-like the Sea Witch!”

Jade let out a small chuckle, tilting his head. “Is that so?”

“Yes!”  Wynfred managed to shove Aspen’s hands away, reaching for yours again, though his smile faltered as you stumbled back. “Sorry! I don’t mean to be so forward. But I know how busy you’ll be getting as Halloween comes up, and I wanted to ask you on a date during the celebration so that—”

“Oh no. I’m afraid that simply won’t work.” Jade finally stepped forward, wrapping a hand around your shoulders and bringing you close.

Riddle made a noise, and from the corner of your eye you could see him give Jade a disapproving glare. 

“W-what? Why!” Wynfred thinned his lips, glaring at Jade and his hold around you.

I’d make for a great date! My siblings say so! Aspen says so too!

Jade titled his head, giving Wynfred a mock sympathetic look. 

“Well, the Prefect will simply be too busy with helping me with selling products for Octavinelle during Halloween. After all, Ramshackle’s haunted amusement park makes for the perfect environment to sell food and drinks, especially at the prices Azul places.”

I’m sure I can convince him to do so easily enough.

“What?” Aspen scoffed, blinking at Jade incredulously. “Azul never mentioned that!” 

“Oh, we were still figuring out the details. Our lovely Prefect here was going to help us.” Jade cooed as he leaned down to rest his cheek against the top of your head. 

Mine. 

“But we can discuss more once Azul has the finer details figured out. Now, if you two don’t mind, we all need to be heading back to Yev’s lab and get started on our project. We’ve lost valuable time with this trap door fiasco, haven’t we?”

“Right…” You slowly answered, looking at Riddle who nodded, still eyeing Jade. Yev perked up, wiping imaginary dust off his lab uniform as he too agreed.

“Right, you are Jade. I’m not done with you, Wynfred. I will be speaking to you about your manners later this week.” 

Yev sneered at Wynfred, who scoffed in return, as he turned his heel and waved for your group to follow. Jade did so, giving Wynfred another blank stare before turning to you and smiling. 

“Shall we?” Let’s go, my pearl.

“Uh, give me a sec. Riddle, can you help me with a drying spell?”

“Oh, of course. Excuse me.” Riddle walked around Jade as he took out his wand, shooing Jade and the two freshmen still lingering. “Go, we will meet you there. And you two.”

Both of the younger students froze under Riddle’s gaze. The redhead’s reputation and strict gaze followed him everywhere it seemed. 

“You’ve made the day excitable enough, off you go. Perhaps think about learning more tact, especially around your upperclassmen. Go”

 The stern end of his sentence spooked the two to run off to Ramshackle, you presume. Riddle cleared his throat, drawing your attention as the tip of his wand glowed a soft red. 

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on with you and Jade?” Riddle asked, showing you the pattern he waved his wand in for you to copy and use on your legs. Your friend focused on your arms and back. 

“Nothing! I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You quickly replied, focusing on keeping the spell up.

“Oh? So he wasn’t all over you when that fresh tried asking you out? He didn’t shut him down and stare him down like he wanted to tear him apart with his teeth? (Name), please. Don’t take me for a fool.”

“I’m not! It’s not what you think.”

“And what do you think I think?” That I’m a dullard?

“I don’t think you’re a dullard, or whatever, it’s just complicated!”

Riddle huffed, giving you a once over as he hooked his arm with yours and dragged you up to the castle steps. 

“I didn’t say that part out loud, you know.”

…Huh?

“What are you talking about?”

Riddle scoffed, reaching over to adjust your tie. Something he’d often do for you. 

“I noticed pretty early on. It’s quite easy to tell when someone is reading your mind when they react to each and everything you say and think.”

“What! How do you—”

“That, and also Ace is known for his loud mouth.”

You tossed your head back, groaning as you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“That dumbass.”

A small laugh left Riddle’s lips, smiling as you glared at him. “Don’t worry. I gave him a stern talking to. If it helps, he was only discussing it with Deuce, who I assume you also told?”

Nodding in affirming, Riddle continued, “I guessed. It certainly explains your strange behavior at times. Though I do have one question.”

“Shoot.”

“How long have you known about Jade’s feelings for you?”

“WHAT—oof!” You tripped over the castle steps, just barely catching yourself with Riddle grabbing your arm. “What are we talking about?”

“Floyd cornered me a few weeks ago. Both of our clubs got off at the same time, and he chased me around until he cornered me in one of the stables. He was complaining about how Jade got to be around his ‘mate’ all the time for class, but he barely saw his own.” 

Annoying eel he is. Why would I care about his damn love life? 

Riddle rolled his eyes at the mention of Floyd, though he continued. 

“It didn’t click until earlier, when I saw how…hmm…handsy he was with you.” 

You sighed, “It’s that noticeable?” 

“Only sometimes.” Riddle shrugged, patting your shoulder consolingly. “Especially when that poor freshman tried asking you out. Speaking of that, what are you going to tell him?”

You blinked at Riddle, confused. “What do you mean?”

Oh dear, catch up, Prefect. 

Riddle sighed, “Well, it’s not always appropriate for a housewarden to date one of their students. You’ll turn him down, yes? Besides, with how your admirer was looking at him, it would most likely be better for Wynfred’s well-being anyway.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re right…” 

You let out a tired sigh. Most likely, you’d have to take an extra long bath tonight to get the stress out of your bones.

“I’ll let him down gently later. Apparently, I have to talk to Azul about being a food vendor for the dorm’s haunted house.”

When you finally made it back to the classroom, a panel in the wall revealed a staircase, which Yev and Jade were waiting by. Jade’s eyes lit up at the sight of you, though he physically remained poised and proper. 

Welcome back, my darling! I hope that nasty little barnacle didn’t ruin your mood!

You chose to ignore Jade and called out to Yev, “So you said you had an idea for our final project. What kind of potion were you thinking?”

Yev perked up, proudly puffing his chest. “Oh yes, you two should love this! We will be making a blot preventative! I bet you two wished you had that last year, hm? I know, I’m brilliant!”

Both you and Riddle stared blankly at Yev, who was still standing proud, as Jade eyed him disapprovingly. 

“Hey, Riddle, what if I jumped out the window? For fun?”

“I’d still put a leash on you.”

“Damn.”

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[toxicrelief]

Crawling Back to You

Chapter seven

Synopsis: Rex and Rudy have come together to theorize about your real reason for joining the team. But none of that matters, because now you're standing in Rex's room, alone, with a bottle, asking for forgiveness.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Chapter: 7/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: Alcohol, Mild Description of Wounds

Note: I have a love-hate relationship with Rex chapters. But they are good for plot and I love seeing a man confused.

“What is that?” Rudy’s gaze sweeps over Rex’s torso.

“The new kid just did this to me. One punch.” Rex admitted sourly, his eyes following Rudy as he walked over to his robot counterpart.

“Is that the only hit she landed?”

“…no,” Rex responded slowly. How incompetent was he coming across right now? It was suddenly very apparent to him that he just got his ass beat by the newbie.

“Interesting.” Rudy put a hand to his chin, turning as one of his robots began to scan Rex. “So, she can control it. Whatever it is.”

“Do you think it is enough?” Re questioned, lowering his shirt with delicate precision. The shock was wearing off and all he could think about was the heavy throbbing and how every move hurt like hell.

“No.”

“Seriously?”

“Killdeer landing that hard of a hit after admitting to having minimal practice is good evidence that she is capable of something beyond healing, but it is nowhere near concrete enough substantiation to bring up to the team.” Rudy began to type furiously on the computer that resided nearby. Pictures of Rex’s wound flash by on the screen, leaving Rex with a weird feeling after not seeing the camera. He eyed the motionless robot exoskeleton but stood up to read over Rudy’s shoulder.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Rex finally said, he was more than happy to spy on and report findings about the girl, but to what end? The wound he was sporting already felt like plenty of evidence to get her kicked to him. But the more time he spent with her the less passion he managed to evoke at the idea of her absence. He didn’t like her when she first arrived, but he didn’t like Monster Girl either. She ended up being a pretty good addition and he even respected her. Why was he having such a hard time swallowing that Killdeer might be just as worthy as the rest of them?

He scoffed to himself at the intrusion of the thought. She had never even been in combat before yesterday. There was no way she was nearly as prepared as anyone on this team. Minus Shapesmith, but no one really knew what was going on there. Is no one looking further into that whole situation still? Now that Rex thought about it, maybe he was getting too distracted by you to think about someone who was just as much of a threat and much more prominent on the team.

“I’m not sure.” Rudy shrugged. “I am close to getting access of footage that I think should reveal something. So far all I have been able to find out is that she has excessive records related to hospital visits, but she never stays more than a day. Hypochondriac maybe.”

“She doesn’t seem like the kind.” Rex stated flatly even though he was by no means an expert in this area.

“It is a long shot, but my running theory right now is that she can both heal new injuries and bring back old ones.” Rudy turned to Rex, his computer dimming as soon as he did so. “Have you ever been injured that badly in a fight in that exact region?”

Rex thought for a moment. He had been in a lot of fights, and it was very difficult to say. In fact, Rex was not sure there was a single part of his body that had gone untouched through all his years of combat. So…probably?

“I think so?” Rex pursed his lips trying to think about it more fully.

“It is just a running theory.” Rudy reiterated.

Rex could hardly focus on the conversation at this point. The pain was only amplifying and with every moment he spent upright he was starting to convince himself he was going to retch.

“Well let me know if you learn anymore… I’m going to go lay down or…some shit.” Rex did not wait for a response before trudging towards the exit of the room. His feet dragging slightly on the hard metal floor.

It was a blur. He could hardly remember making it up the elevator and into his room. But now he was lying down, his back straight against the mattress and his gaze on the ceiling. As long as he did not move it was not so bad. The biggest problem, at the moment, was he had to move to breathe. So, with every breath, a sharp pain ran through his chest.

He should have let her heal it. He sighed lightly, sending another stabbing pain through him. This shouldn’t take too long to heal right? The look on her face once she saw it kept playing through his mind. Either she was a phenomenal actress, or she really was completely dumbfounded at what she had done.

He laid for a minute just running over secret intentions she might have. Theories coursing through his pain-addled mind. But no matter how much rationalizing he did he still came back to her shock. The genuine apology she attempted to give him. It just all didn’t make sense.

__

If he thought he was in pain last night, then he must be in a living hell today. Upon sitting up he immediately knew he was not doing anything today. Rudy must have informed someone Rex was going to be out of commission today because it was at least four hours after when he was meant to be in the training room, and no one was coming to collect him. That was until he heard the first knock.

Rest time’s over. Rex sat up, scooting to the edge of his bed, with full intentions of pretending he had been up for hours to whoever was at the door.

Probably Immortal.

He groaned in annoyance, the end of it forced out of his lungs as a ripple of hurt ran through him. He put his head in his hands for a moment, now very aware of a headache forming behind his eyes.

Another knock.

Oh god.

“One day off dickhead!” So much for pretending to have been up. Either way, he hoped Immortal would just fuck off. Go hide in some backroom with Kate like a bunch of horny teenagers. Gross.

The door opened and he didn’t immediately look up. His thumbs digging lightly into his eyelids, trying to relieve a bit of the pressure from the oncoming migraine. Usually by now Immortal would have started to lecture him for not taking the Guardians seriously, fooling around when he had a ‘God-given duty’ or something like that. That sounds like something he’d say.

Rex didn’t really listen when the Immortal spoke.

But it was quiet, with no lecture and no feeling of judgment. The silence felt loaded, tense.

“I said-!” Rex started to snarl, turning his gaze directly towards the perpetrator but the words died in his mouth. “Oh shit.”

“Hi.” She said with an awkward smile.

Rex’s mind went completely blank, he was so prepared for an argument over failing to fulfill his daily tasks that he was now not sure now what to say. His eyes trailed over her body down to her hands that were holding a bottle in front of her.

A better view than he would have had if it had been Immortal.

“Hi.” Hi!? That it!? He squinted slightly at his nonresponse. Why was she here?

“I feel really bad about yesterday and I don’t want it to be a whole thing.” Ouch. Glad she’s so broken up about it. Guess she wasn’t as shocked as he had thought she was. If he was feeling more himself maybe he would tell her to get out. Leave. Begone. All tempting, but she was holding liquor. And maybe he wanted to see her. He was still convinced this might be a side effect of her powers. Maybe a kind of mind control.

“A whole thing?” He raises an eyebrow and leans back. She rolls her eyes but closes the door behind her. Was she making a move on him? He sits up a little taller, his mind running once again.

No… Right?

Girl comes to your room alone. With drinks. And a very awkward demeanor about her.

“That’s not what I meant.” She says to his previous question, holding out the bottle to him.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” He smirks, looking her right in the eye. Her slight smile immediately dries up. Damn it. Not getting laid.

“I’m saying sorry.”

“You said that already.” He tilts his head slightly, still analyzing her face.

“I know.”

“Multiple times.”

“I know.”

“I said to leave it be.”

“I know.”

He swept his gaze over his room for a second as if checking it was indeed just the two of them.

“Yet here you are, alone in my room, offering me a drink?” He grins, very obviously trying to drop hints.

“Don’t let it go to your head, it’s cheap.” She says dryly, practically dropping the bottle in his hands. He sighed while turning it over in his hand. Disappointing. Kate folded fairly quickly to his charms, why did it seem to have close to no effect here? The brand he recognized though, and it was not that cheap. Promising. Maybe she was secretly interested. Or he was making a complete ass of himself, either way. There was a crinkled yellow bow tied to it, it was fraying at the ends and looked extremely manhandled.

“Nice bow.”

“Thanks, it cost extra.”

Rex looked up from the sad-looking ribbon and watched her as she quickly took an interest in different things around the room. Maybe he should have cleaned up a little. She stopped in front of pictures he had haphazardly taped to the wall. Eve had sent them to him after their breakup and one night after drinking a bit too much he decided the walls were too empty.

She paused looking at a picture of him and Eve. A drink sounds pretty good right now, and that migraine was really starting to set in. After getting the bottle open, he took a long swig. “So… was there anything else you wanted?”

She briskly turned around, her eyes immediately landing on the bottle. He felt a little uncomfortable now, what time was it? Too early to drink?

“I-”

Rex straightened up slightly and immediately felt the searing pain in his chest he had been able to forget about for a few minutes.

“I want to fix that.” Oh, fuck off.

“No.”

“Why?”

How about I don’t need your damn sympathy! He gave her an annoyed glance, but he was already considering it.

“How do I know you’re not going to make it worse? You did the fuckin’ thing in the first place.” He grumbled, knowing it was a pretty weak argument, but he felt the need to put up a fight. Pride motivated probably.

She takes a few steps forward, obvious annoyance radiating off of her. “Rex, be serious for five seconds, I was brought on as a healer. Why not let me do my one purpose huh?”

“One purpose my balls.” Probably shouldn’t have said that. Rudy wouldn’t be happy to know he was being overtly suspicious of her. Or maybe it would be more suspicious to not act suspicious of her?

“Very mature.”

“Look, I just don’t want it okay? Back off.” He grits his teeth, but his resolve is quickly giving.

“It obviously hurts; you’ve been in your room all day-”

“No I haven’t who said that?” He all of a sudden felt very self-conscious at what her perception of him must be.

“Rae.”

“Ugh.” They seemed to be getting very buddy-buddy…

Suddenly she’s right in front of him, a look of determination on her face. She’s very close and he must look up to maintain eye contact.

His mind is blank again.

“Let me help you and I’ll leave, you won’t have to hear from me until the next time Cecil makes me come to Headquarters. Don’t let me help you and I’ll be back every day, and I’m taking that with me.”

Dilemma. If she came every day, then she might do something that Rex could relay back to Rudy. And…he’d get to see her every day. Not that that is something he wants. Definitely not.

But it also really hurts, and if it’s healed then he can get back into actual work.

“Every day?” He says with a sigh, not looking her in the eyes.

She nods and he looks away completely. Even just turning his head sent a shiver down his spine. Yeah, this needed to go.

“Will it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Are you lying?” He turns back to look at her again, examining her eyes.

“A little.” Of course.

He groans in annoyance and nods, but his expression completely turns to confusion as she starts to pull up a chair. Immediately he’s trying to stop her.

“Woah, can’t you just heal it from over there or some shit?”

“No.”

“No, you can’t or no you won’t?”

“I have to have direct contact with the skin.” Naturally. He bites at the inside of his lip, thinking. This was bound to be very uncomfortable. Sitting directly in front of him, after rejecting several advances. Maybe he could deal with the pain.

But to another point, if she can only heal with direct contact. Does that work the same way with the retrieval of old wounds? If Rudy’s theory was correct, then she was lying about needing direct contact. She had not needed it when bestowing the bruise on him yesterday. She had definitely landed the blow against his shirt, not directly to his skin. But if she was telling the truth, Rudy was wrong. It would be impossible for her to have enough connection.

“Are you just trying to get me to take my shirt off?” Last ditch effort. The look she is giving him immediately shuts that down and he sighs. Hopefully this doesn’t take long. “Fine. Jeez”

She positions the chair right between his legs, and he takes another swig of the bottle before setting it down. If she was anyone else, he’d probably find this hot. After managing to get the tank off, Killdeer moved closer, he didn’t even know she could scoot the chair any closer. Her eyes were focused, determined on the bruise. He could admit this did not happen often, even when he was sleeping with someone, they were not looking at him with this much scrutiny. Rex leaned back on his arms, trying to make a bit of space between them. Their eyes met for a moment and then she was immediately back to work. Her hand gingerly pressed against his chest.

His nerve endings were not working optimally from the injury, but he could feel her.

Her hand was cool, soothing, distracting. Then the healing process actually started. It felt like she was trying to pull his heart through his chest. It was a duller pain.

“The fuck?” There’s no way she is actually pulling his heart out right? That was fairly unlikely?

“I warned you.”

“Hardly!” He snapped back.

“You should feel what it’s like with a broken bone, it’s so much weirder.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Why are you assuming I’m trying to make you feel better?”

She has a small smile on her face. So, to some extent she must have been enjoying this, which filled Rex with indignance. But he was immediately distracted, after a few moments the pain was no longer as intense. There were sharp pains here and there, but it was nothing compared to what he had just felt. It felt like his senses were elevated almost. He felt…relief. That layer of exhaustion, the migraine, random aches from various injuries over the years, he couldn’t feel any of it. All he could feel was the cool of her hand splayed across his chest.

That feeling he felt the other night during drinks was back again to haunt him. He suddenly found he didn’t want to do anything but watch her. The way her brow pinched in concentration, the way her eyes moved slightly as she was obviously deep in thought. For a moment Rex feels like the biggest piece of shit. Was he really content trying to get her removed from the Guardians? She hadn’t done anything to him. Well, nothing she could control.

“Why do you hate me?”

She didn���t even look up, just kept her focus on her work.

“Who said I hated you, Joy?” He said it softly, he knew why she thought he hated her. And maybe he did sometimes.

“You’ve been rude to me since the day we met. You don’t even call me by my real name.” She glanced up but Rex didn’t look away immediately. She looked genuinely hurt.

Rudy’s suspicions flashed in his mind, grounding him for a moment. He tore his gaze away, reaching down to grab the bottle and take another drink.

“You don’t deserve to be on the Guardians.” Every time he said it, he meant it less, but at this point, he did not know what else to say.

“And that’s it?” She says with a tone of incredulity in her voice. “Something completely out of my control and you use that to hate me?”

“You could tell Cecil you don’t want to be a part of it-” He doesn’t finish, her gaze snapped back to her hand. A look of anger ghosting over her features rather than the semi-peaceful look of concentration.

Several moments pass in silence and Rex debates what to say. He doesn’t owe her anything. He really doesn’t. At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

“I don’t hate you.” He couldn’t believe he said it as soon as it left his lips. But it didn’t seem to matter. If she heard she showed no sign of it. All his mind could concentrate on was the fact she was touching him. And how much he didn’t want her to leave. She could yell at him, bruise him again, he didn’t care. For some reason, he didn’t want her to leave.

And then she was done. He could feel it. Even still, she hesitated. Her hand did not immediately leave his skin, slowly tracing a small line. Rex blinked a few times, letting out a quiet exhale. In what felt like an instant she was standing and putting the chair back.

As soon as her hand was gone the exhaustion returned. He ran a hand over his chest, noting how it was back to normal.

“I don’t hate you.” He repeats again, suddenly desperate for her to know.

She pauses at the door, an unreadable look on her face. As she’s closing it she says:

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

__

Rex is in the training area, it’s very late. But after a day of laying in bed he suddenly has a lot of energy. With each punch he is landing on the boxing bag his frustration is rising. He wasn’t sure when Killdeer would be back, but it was bound to be a few days at least.

The sound of the door opening broke his concentration, and he turned his head suddenly to the source.

“Oh god.” He muttered grabbing his towel to dry his face.

“You don’t own the place. Stop making it weird.” Kate said with annoyance, making her way over to a different machine.

“I’ll stop making it weird when it stops being weird. Which it won’t, ‘cause Immortal is like a million years old.” He retorts.

She rolls her eyes, as one of her duplicates grabs her weights to put on the barbell bar. “Oh please, because you’re so hurt about it. I saw the new girl waiting outside your door with that wine bottle or whatever it was. You obviously didn’t have much trouble finding someone else so let me be.”

“What?” Rex bristled, maybe a little more than he should have. “Nothing was happening.”

“Sure, Rex. Just like nothing was happening when Eve found us in the showers.” She gave him an incredulous look. “I’m honestly not surprised though. You can’t see anyone without trying to get in their pants.”

Rex glared at her but didn’t say anything, returning his attention back to the punching bag.

“I’m just surprised she’s so easy. Didn’t quite peg her as the type but I guess you can never really know huh.”

“Knock it off, Kate. We didn’t do anything.” Usually, he would take this opportunity to pretend he just had that good of game. But it was irking him that Kate felt so comfortable as to say something like this. At least he said shit about Killdeer to her face.

“Then why was she at your door?”

“You ever think she might just be being friendly?”

“You don’t do friendly Rex. You’re only nice to something if you think you can fuck it.”

“Fuck you.” Rex grits his teeth.

“You did.” She sighs before flashing him an unimpressed look. She then lays back to begin lifting weights, effectively ending the ‘conversation’.

Rex looked at the bag in front of him, he was angry, but suddenly there was no longer any appeal. He grabbed his towel and simply walked out. He didn’t need to fuck the new girl; they could just coexist, right? All while he was trying to get rid of her… nothing abnormal there.

Either way, he knew that what he had been thinking today while she was in his room couldn’t happen again. He was letting her distract him, and he was in pain. He didn’t like her. He just had to coexist. At least until she was off the team.

Author's Note: I kept trying to come up with reasons why pre-arc Rex wouldn't try to sleep with the reader. I really needed to channel his distaste just enough to keep the conflict but also keep him questioning. Show Rex I fear doesn't think anything through enough and so Kate ended up being useful for once in her entire life.

divider credit: @/ saradika

Chapter eight

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 20

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: you go back to school early to attend a new year’s eve party.

word count: 3.5k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: the last chapter!!! screaming crying throwing up fr. i’ll definitely post an epilogue though, and maybe some other short drabbles because i’m gonna miss them :// i also wanna thank everyone who reads this fic, i appreciate it so much!!! anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: a hint of smut, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ only!

Two long weeks later, it’s finally time for you and Evan to go back to school. You continued to sneak into Evan’s room each night, and had managed not to get caught each time his hands started to wander, innocent touches becoming something entirely different.

While you did tease him about keeping his hands to himself the first night, you were a little surprised when his hands traveled down your soft tummy and traced the waistband of your panties. You almost stopped him; the fear of getting caught clear in your mind, but your words were cut short when his hand dipped under the fabric and ghosted over your clit. His lips were on yours before you could make a sound, and when he finally pushed his cock into your dripping cunt, his lips were replaced with his hand as he whispered how good you were being into your ear.

This morning is no different. You wake up early; earlier than either of your parents, Evan’s bare chest against your back warming you up immensely.

“Are you sad to be leaving?” he whispers, his hot breath hitting the back of your neck. You hum softly, shrugging as you think about it. You turn in his grip before you answer, unable to fight back a smile as Evan’s face studies yours with a lovesick expression.

“I love my parents, but I think I get along with them better when we’re apart. Spending some time with them is nice, but I’m glad I’m not living here all the time.” you tell him in the same hushed tone. He nods, seeming to understand where you’re coming from. When he’s at school, sometimes his parents call to catch up, and he can almost pretend that he’s close with his parents when that happens.

“I’m glad. Because now we can go to the New Year’s party at Delta Phi.” he says in a teasing tone. You roll your eyes, laughing softly. He practically begged you to leave a couple of days early so you’d be back for the party once he found out that the theme of the party was to celebrate the university’s sports teams. “Now I can see you in my jersey again. Like old times.” is how he put it when he asked, and you couldn’t say no.

It had been a while since you were able to wear his jersey, and the last time you had, he ended up in the hospital, so a part of you was eager to get some better memories of wearing it.

“You really do like to party, don’t you?” you tease, laughing as he scoffs.

“Come on, they’re fun. You can’t tell me you didn’t like the parties I brought you to, other than the first one.” he says, his jaw clenching when he speaks about the first party you went to a party with him. He still has to see Jared at practice, but for the most part, Jared tries to steer clear of him, and he’s thankful. As much as he wants to fucking kill him for what he did, he knows that wouldn’t be the best idea.

“Alright, they’re not as bad as I thought they’d be. But that doesn’t mean I’d pick going to a party over, like, a movie night. But I like when you get all protective.” you tease, leaning in to kiss him softly. You can feel his fist clenching at your side, where he was holding your hip, and you know what he’s thinking about. You’ve stuck close to Evan at every party since then, and he always has to have a hand on you. Either an arm around your shoulder, or his hand in yours, or on the small of your back. He won’t let you leave his sight.

“Gotta protect my girl. Always.” he tells you earnestly, his hand unclenching as he lets out a breath. He knows he’s more upset about the situation than you are, even though it happened to you, but he can’t help it. He still feels a little guilty for even losing you in the first place.

“And you always do. From people and from the dark.” you tease, and he chuckles. Then in an instant, he moves to pin you to the bed, his body positioning itself between your legs, making you squeal softly in surprise as you giggle. He shushes you softly, lowering his face to the crook of your neck as his hands pin your wrists to the bed beside your head.

“Gotta be quiet, baby. I’ve gotten through two weeks without your dad hating my guts. Can’t start now.” he murmurs against your neck before beginning to trail kisses across your skin. You bite your lip as you tilt your head back, reveling in the feeling of his lips on you. Truth be told, your mom has caught you a couple of times in his room, not that either of you have been awake to notice. She stands near the door with a smile on her face each time, seeing you cuddled up together. She thinks it’s sweet, and she’d never tell your dad, anyway. This is not one of those mornings, evidently.

“We can’t have that.” you whisper, meeting his gaze as he pulls away from your neck. He smirks, moving your wrists up above your head and grabbing them with one hand, then his other moves down to push your shirt up over your plush tummy and chest.

Once your shirt is bunched up above your tits, his eyes trail down your body as he licks his lips. He’s so glad you only ever sleep with an oversized shirt and panties, like you’re just begging him to take care of you.

He leans down and gives you a short, but passionate, kiss, then moves down to your neck again. You bite your lip as his kisses move further down your neck, and he moves his face away for just long enough to move below your shirt, then begins to kiss down the valley of your breasts to your round tummy. He hums softly as he presses featherlight kisses to the skin littered with stretch marks, nipping and sucking softly as he goes.

He loves marking your tummy; he loves seeing the marks that are for his eyes only, and he likes the way it makes you squirm, but he also loves it seems to make you feel more confident. He loves your soft belly, and he’ll keep leaving marks across it until you love it completely, too.

His hands move down to your hips, grabbing and harshly pulling your panties down your legs with a low grunt, now leaning back on his knees to look at all of you.

“God, I love you.” he whispers once you’re left in nothing but your bunched up shirt, his fingers moving up your inner thighs.

You inhale a shaky breath as he leans down until his face is directly in front of your core. He smirks as he keeps eye contact with you, and the last thing he says before his tongue makes contact with your slick folds is “My gorgeous girl. I’m gonna ruin you.”

You get back to your apartment at around 6, which is still much earlier than when you have to go to the party, but after waking up early and driving all day, you feel like you need a nap before you get ready. Buck dropped you off, and after insisting on carrying your bags up for you, he gave you a sweet kiss and told you he’d be back around 10:00 before he went back to his place.

Your eyelids flutter open an hour or so later, and since you showered this morning, and you know you’ll probably get some form of alcohol spilled on you tonight, you don’t bother showering. Since you now have some time before Evan picks you up, you drag yourself out of bed and into the living room, flopping down onto the couch your roommate isn’t currently sprawled out on.

“How was your break?” she asks innocently, although her expression is anything but. She knows you brought Evan to meet your parents, and she has been patiently waiting since you left for any little detail of your visit. You didn’t want to tell her over text, so you kept telling her you’d update her when you got back. And since she got back four days before you did, she had begged you to tell her, claiming she was too bored and lonely all alone to wait.

“Well, my dad doesn’t hate him.” you tell her with a smile. She laughs, rolling onto her side to face you with a smirk.

“Tell me everything right now.” she urges, and you roll your eyes. She watches you intently as you begin to tell her, leaving out the parts about you sneaking into his bed every night, for the most part.

Just like promised, Evan buzzes your apartment intercom at 10pm, and your roommate lets him in, as you’re still finishing up your makeup. It’s nothing crazy, just some mascara and lip gloss, but you waited a little too long before you started to get ready; instead spending your time catching up with your roommate.

He walks into the bathroom, eyes trailing down your figure as you bend over the counter to touch up your lip gloss. You’re wearing your favourite pair of jeans and a white long sleeve shirt, knowing you’ll get cold in just Evan’s jersey on the walk to and from the party. You jump slightly in surprise as Evan lets out a low whistle, turning to see him leaning in the doorway. He’s wearing a white hoodie under his own jersey, and you can’t help your eyes traveling down to his broad chest. God, how did you get so lucky?

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asks in a teasing tone, closing the distance between you and dropping your jersey onto the counter before he pulls your hips against his. He meets your lips in a kiss, and you whine softly as you pull back, frowning.

“I just put on lip gloss.” you say, fighting back a smile as you look up at his lips, now shiny and glittery. You reach up and wipe it off with your thumb, and he chuckles softly once you pull your hand away.

“And you can put on some more. I wanna kiss you.” he tells you sternly, then leans in for another kiss.

“Your teammates are gonna make fun of you if you keep doing that. You’re gonna walk into the party with lip gloss all over your face.” you tease once you lean back again, but letting him kiss you for longer this time. You wipe off the lip gloss again, then push him away by putting your hands on his chest. He rolls his eyes, but lets you push him back, then watches you intently as you turn back to the mirror and fix your makeup.

Once you’re finished, you grab the jersey off the counter and throw it on, tucking one side into your jeans so it doesn’t look so awkwardly long.

“You ready, princess?” he asks once you turn to face him. You smile, nodding as you grab his hand and maneuver around him to lead him out of the bathroom. You meet your roommate near the door, ready to walk over with both of them. She’s going to the party anyway, and you’d rather her walk with you and Evan than walk over alone, even if she’s meeting some of her other friends there.

It’s a quick walk over, as your roommate is already a little drunk, and cannot seem to keep her mouth shut. You walk hand in hand with Evan as she walks in front of you, barely even paying attention as she rants on and on about the party.

“Is she gonna be okay once we get there? I kinda don’t want to leave her alone.” Evan whispers to you as she keeps talking. You look up at him, your heart swelling in your chest. You know he’s protective of you, but him being protective of your friend as well makes your heartbeat quicken.

“She’s meeting a few friends there; she should be fine. One of them is staying sober too, so she can keep an eye on her.” you tell him, and he nods slowly. Although this calms him, he still feels a little nervous about it.

“And, her friend’s boyfriend is on the lacrosse team. He said he’d keep an eye on them.” you tell him, and he nods, letting out a breath. That makes him feel a lot better.

“Yeah! He’s gonna set me up with a hot lacrosse player! It’s a sports party, and I don’t have a jersey. Gotta get one somewhere.” your roommate tells you as she turns her head to look over her shoulder at you two. You both let out laughs as she smirks and raises her brows a few times.

“I have faith in you.” Evan responds, and you roll your eyes, shaking your head. You watch as she turns on her heel and walks up to him, forcing you both to stop in your tracks. She raises a hand and puts it on his shoulder, looking up at him with a serious expression.

“You don’t know how much that means to me.” she says, swaying gently side to side. Evan furrows his brows as he lets out a confused laugh while you laugh loudly. Her head snaps to you as you laugh, then takes her hand off of Evan’s shoulder and puts it on yours.

“You’re so lucky you already have a jersey. I love you guys.” she tells you, then throws herself at you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. You stumble back, shaking your head as you wrap your arms around her torso, hugging her back.

“Alright, let’s go get you that jersey.” Evan says in a teasing tone, making eye contact with you over your roommate’s shoulder. He winks at you as she finally pulls away, mumbling a quiet “good idea” as she turns and starts walking towards the party again.

The party is in full swing once you drop your roommate off with her friends and Evan says hi to a bunch of his teammates throughout the party. You’re staying close to Evan, getting jostled around as people sway to the music and shove their way through the crowd around you. He keeps his arm firmly wrapped around your shoulder, only letting you go when he grabs both of you a beer. You aren’t a huge fan of the taste, but you take it with a smile, figuring that you’d rather be a little buzzed and deal with the taste than have to endure the lights and noise around you sober.

Just like clockwork, Evan starts to get more handsy when he’s a few drinks in, keeping his front pressed against your back as he holds you close to him. His arms are firmly wrapped around your waist, and his chin is resting on your shoulder as he sways you back and forth with the music.

“Have I told you how good you look in my jersey?” he says in your ear, practically having to yell in order for you to hear him over the music. You laugh softly, rolling your eyes. You’ve had a few drinks, but you’re nowhere near drunk, not as drunk as him, and his clinginess makes your face heat up.

“Yeah, a couple times.” you respond in a teasing tone, turning in his grip to angle your face towards his. He grins, then leans down and gives you a sloppy kiss on your neck, mumbling a “good” as he does. You tilt your head to the side as he kisses you, grinning as you shake your head.

You continue to dance with him until it’s almost midnight, and you only stop when the party around you starts to feel even more chaotic, if at all possible. You turn in Evan’s grip, wrapping your arms around his neck once you’re face to face with him.

“Hi, baby.” he says over the music, and you giggle softly.

“Hi, my love. It’s almost midnight.” you reply, tilting your head to the side as he continues to sway you both back and forth.

“Yeah? What’s that thing people usually do at midnight, again?” he asks in a slightly teasing tone, then gives you a wink. You roll your eyes, shaking your head.

“I’m not sure, why?” you tease back, laughing more when he scoffs.

“I’m gonna kiss you so hard.” he says with a cocky tone, smirking. You rest your forehead on his chest as you laugh, closing your eyes. He’s such a dork when he gets like this, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Whatever you say, baby.” you tell him once you look up at him again, a smile spreading across your face. He’s about to reply when everyone begins to countdown, and he grins, moving one hand up to your jaw, tilting your head up further.

“I love you.” he whispers right as the clock strikes midnight, and then he meets your lips in a searing kiss. You smile against his lips, hands gripping the front of his jersey as you rise onto your toes, momentarily forgetting that you’re in a room full of people, not that anyone notices, or cares.

You keep one arm around his torso as you both walk up the walkway to his house, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he leans against you. You fish his keys out of his pocket and unlock the door, which proves difficult as Buck leans against you from behind, hands and lips attached to you, and finally get him to his room. You push him back onto the bed, and he falls back with a low grunt, then smirks as he sits up on his elbows.

“I like where this is going.” he says, licking his lips as he eyes your soft figure. You roll your eyes, then walk over to the edge of the bed, urging him to sit up. You pull his jersey and hoodie over his head in one go, and he raises his arms to help you as you do. You then grab his hands and pull him to stand in front of you, telling him to take off his pants so he can change into sweats to go to bed.

“What are you doing to me? I am not that kind of girl.” he tells you sternly, but his hands move to make quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans. You giggle, watching him pull his pants down and then lay down to let you pull them off of him completely.

“No? Not even for me?” you ask in a sweet voice, a smirk on your face. He shrugs, pursing his lips as he studies your face, then after a moment, a smile erupts on his face.

“Alright. Maybe for you.” he murmurs. You hum softly, then grab a pair of his sweatpants from his closet and toss them at him. He puts them on haphazardly, then stands up and reaches for the hem of the jersey across your chest. “Your turn.” he mumbles as he begins to pull your jersey and your long sleeve shirt up and over your head.

Once your shirts are off, his hands move to your jeans, tugging them down. He watches as you step out of them, and then he grabs your jersey off the bed and puts it back on over your head, humming softly as it falls down your body.

“Perfect.” he murmurs, then cups your cheeks with his hands and kisses you sloppily. You kiss him back, hands resting on his chest as you part your lips, and he eagerily pushes his tongue into your mouth. Once his hands start to wander, grabbing your ass and pushing you against him, you break the kiss, looking up at his puffy lips and blown pupils.

You push him away, muttering a soft “lets go to bed.” He exhales a loud sigh, but obliges, laying down on his back on the bed, and holding his hand out for you to take. You grab it and let him pull you down onto him, resting your cheek against his chest. Once you’re comfortably laying on him, and your leg is thrown over his legs, he sighs in contentment.

“I think I’m gonna keep you forever.” he drawls, his eyelids beginning to grow heavy as he feels his body sinking into the bed and his sheets enveloping him in warmth. You smile, humming softly.

“You better.” you whisper, and he squeezes your thigh softly in response. You can hear his breathing becoming more steady, and you can tell he’s almost asleep, but you speak once more before he falls asleep.

“I love you.” you whisper.

“You know I love you, princess.” he mumbles before sleep finally overcomes him.

next chapter

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[alexanderlightweight]

Bit specific so no worries if not sparking the plot bunnies, but I loved your Addams style story where Alex jumped in the rift to make an impression on Magnus - Can I prompt another delibrate meet-cute where either Alec set up things to impressive for a 'first' meeting, or accidental meet-cute where Alec is mentally bemoaning not being a good first impression while Magnus is like 'raised eyebrow - my, my/might need to fan myself, bit hot in here, can I strip off HIS clothes' ^-^

so I sat on this prompt for a little while to think about how to go somewhere new with it and then decided to just, fuck canon and expectation and roll with whatever I landed on in my brain and just started writing and I have no idea how I ended up here. with a bunch of lore i'd never even considered based on a thought I added to a fic years ago.

also if you don't like cursing/swearing or if you can't consume it because of religious or personal views please let me know and i'll write you a different fic. while I sometimes swear in fics this has more swearing which is explained in the notes. it's a Shadowhunters being ridiculous thing and you better believe Magnus takes advantage of it wholeheartedly once he figures it out. Magnus is living his best life in this fic. he really is. like he's enjoying every single moment of this first chapter despite Alec feeling very miserable about it (there is no angst, Alec is just sulking because his first impression wasn't impressive like he'd hoped and doesn't know Magnus is completely charmed).

and I hope you don't mind one of my main nephilim oc's Mirai Lakecastle being a large part of this.

um yes, so the title is supposed to make no sense. I just thought it was punny. it's a slightly different style than i've written lately but ^_^ I hope you enjoy and like I said, if this is not your thing send me a new prompt <3

~ lumine

to swear upon a curse

Alec is preparing to head back to the Institute when the ring his comm is connected to heats up.   It’s uncommon for him to be contacted after he’s already confirmed completion of a mission but he knows Yosef sent Mirai a picture of something.  

Which somehow leads to Mirai’s furious voice cussing him out through the main comm when she couldn’t reach him privately.

The amount of mundane swears that his second-in-command knows is almost as creative as how she uses them against him.

Which could be considered insubordination except it’s Mirai and everyone in his Institute is well aware that this a warriors banter between Alec and his second.

It was also all her idea, and her mother’s, Alec didn’t stand a chance against one Lakecastle, let alone two.

Alec still isn’t sure why Mirai gets that pleased, smug smirk on her face every time he calls her a bitch when he’s going to take her instructions and just wants to complain about it.

But, it is what it is and after five years of working with Mirai, he now knows enough mundane swears in enough languages that even Hirune Lakecastle has commended him.

Not for his fighting — even though he has satisfied her expectations there as well — but for his ability to curse and be cursed out.

It did mean that at some point in his life, his parents telling him he was a disappointment turned into something he didn’t really know what to do with.  

At that point, being called a disappointment was the least offensive thing he’d been called and Mirai may be his second now but even then she’d been someone he’d looked up to. Even now that he looks down at her — something she has never forgiven him for is his height and her lack thereof — he still respects her.

And she respects him.

Which is why when he was nineteen and his parents were berating him for what ended up being the last time, Alec decided he was done.

After all, he had a friend who had his back and called him all manner of terrible things that didn’t actually mean anything and she only ever wanted the best for him.  Mirai had never had anything but respect for him and even when she was disappointed in him, she never held it against him in the end.

So Alec had calmly told his parents that he didn’t mind them being disappointed in him, because he doubted it compared to how disappointed he was in turn, with them.

Circle members, of all things.

That little tidbit Hirune had leaked to him had changed things.  For him and his Institute and Mirai. 

It means that Alec finds himself here now, trying desperately to hear exactly what Mirai’s saying in the comms before it goes dead.

The last thing he clearly heard was static.

So it’s with confusion and a reactivation of his speed rune that he heads back to the Institute, faster than he’d planned, and hoped he hasn’t missed Magnus’ Bane’s arrival.

—

Magnus has never met such an adorably bedraggled giant of a well-defined mess before.

Alexander Gideon Lightwood, HOTI and Commander... came rushing into his own Institute so fast he’d nearly slipped on his own ichor-slick boots. He’s tall, well built with solid muscle and he also looks like a half-drowned cat, if cats could survive also being doused in ichor and mud from demon ash.

His dark hair is plastered across his face, ichor, blood and unholy mud tracking his steps through the hall and Magnus is pretty sure he’s only got half of a shirt left on. Though it’s hard to tell with how much muck he has on him.

Which gives Magnus the potential to a very lovely view, one he wouldn’t mind seeing fully unclothed.

Alas, duty calls and instead he’s treated to the sight of Mirai Lakecastle — the surprisingly down-to-earth shadowhunter who greeted him upon arrival — practically attacking her commander with a towel.

Magnus had wondered why there had been a stack of them and despite not asking, she’d clearly caught his gaze and had told him, “it’s just in case.” Which was less helpful than if she’d said nothing at all, as Magnus wasn’t sure what she was preparing for.

It turned out to be her commander, clearly as she also douses him with a potion that Magnus hadn’t even noticed.

She’s muttering under her breath too quietly to actually hear and with a twitch of his pinky, Magnus heightens his hearing and then uses all his centuries of experience to not burst out laughing.

“Why did you come back like this, you bedraggled moose? Why would you come back even faster? And why are you so fucking tall I can’t even reach your hair—” and watches as she elbows her commander so quickly that if Magnus wasn’t watching closely he’d miss it, just so Alec Lightwood flinches down low enough for her to reach. “What kind of an impression are you trying to make? Raziel strike me down for failing you so badly, you think a powerful warlock so handsome you tripped over a picture wants anything to do with a puddle of ichor?”

It’s such an absurd spiel of words that Magnus nearly titters, only controlling himself by pure force of will.  The kind forged from eight centuries of being continually surprised by things, even when you think it impossible.

It’s very rare that any shadowhunter worries about their impression, unless it is to try and make it a worse one. 

And Magnus has certainly never been treated to the sight of a second-in-command furiously trying to clean a puddle with muscles in leather pretending to be a shadowhunter... simply because that shadowhunter wants something to do with Magnus.

It’s almost as delightful a realization as the glimpses he got of large hazel eyes and a full mouth, pink beneath the ichor.

—

Alec is never living this down.

He’s fully aware of it.  

He even deserves it, from his own perspective and Mirai’s own clipped admonishment as she tries to salvage things.

At this point he’s pretty certain that the picture Yosef took was of him.  It makes sense now that he’s had a moment to think about it.

Because Alec doesn’t normally have to worry about his appearance and he realizes now that perhaps that was a mistake considering just how bad the storm he fought in was.

Mirai certainly thinks so and since Mirai has done this before, Alec feels that it is probably better to trust her opinion.

“I didn’t think it was that bad.” He mutters, finally ducking fully to allow her to actually tackle the blood he still has on the back of his neck. He’s certainly come back from worse missions and been ushered straight into meetings before but he supposes he should have considered this should be treated differently.

He also owes Mirai because the cleansing potion is taking effect, easing the burn of ichor on his skin and eating away at the remains in his hair. Alec really didn’t know how bad it was until the burn started to fade.

“You look like our trainees after hell night and ichor duty, Alec. But so help me I will not let you fully fuck this up.” And Alec winces because he really does not want to fuck this up either and Mirai has been amazing about not teasing him for tripping over his own chair when she pulled Magnus Bane photos up on the projector the week before.  

This is actually only the second time she’s mentioned it at all.

Which lessens his anxiety.  Alec’s been looking forward to this meeting for days, of course Mirai is going to try to protect him, even from himself.

“Just take the shirt off, it's useless at this point. I’ll have someone bring you a vest. I doubt this is the worst he’s seen from a shadowhunter so we’ll just roll with it.  Wipe your face off one more time and then smile at him like you smiled at his picture yesterday.” Alec coughs, shushing her under his breath.  There’s no evidence that Magnus Bane has any warlock marks that enhances hearing but Alec’s not going to risk this chance by trusting Clave information. Actually, he really hopes Magnus does not have enhanced hearing, because then he would have heard about the tripping and that is infinitely worse.

And fuck Edom of all things, but this is not how he had planned for this to go at all.

—

AN:

How do my notes sometimes end up longer or almost longer than the fill? Please send help.

Also I hope to fuck this doesn’t have to be said but please do not call people bad things to desensitize them. This is literally a joke between mirai and alec (she’s not actually calling him a bunch of disgusting things, it’s just they have different views compared to mundanes)  and learned mostly from bunch of old unhinged shadowhunters who aren’t really tied to reality very well but like using mundane swears. 

Alec is also just using it to help him compartmentalize things. Because he’s the kind of person who needs a reason or an excuse to do something for himself, rather than just because its better for him. Though magnus will work on that.

I don’t use this particular fact in every verse because honestly, it only fits in a few of them because there are fics where alec is not going to call mirai a bitch. No matter how funny she thinks it is. And she’s also not going to think it’s funny in every fic like she does here. 

In this verse, Mirai was sent to NYI to help train Alec and also train to be his second (she doesn’t want to be in charge of a whole institute and deal with politics, she wants to do the basework, let me be clear Mirai could have her own damn institute she’s that talented). She’s 21 when she arrives and he’s 17 and they just click really well with their efficiency and teamwork and have never looked back once they realize their goals are pretty much aligned.  Also with Mirai, Alec isn’t as overwhelmed with having the position (normally shared by two) on just his shoulders.

Mirai grew up in an Idris colony of Elder Hunters (shadowhunters who reach retirement age without retiring for politics) and uh who don’t like being in Alicante a lot. They like cursing each other out because they think mundane swears are hilarious and so like, Alec calling her bitch and her calling him bastard and a bunch of other variations she’s learned since childhood is a dream of baby!shadowhunter mirai. Like this mirai was raised with grizzled, greying and scarred shadowhunters who lived for the fight and only retired when they became liabilities on the field rather than hunters.

It’s not a very big dream or her biggest but you better believe she’s out here living her best life. Texting her mom: i got alec-raised-by-circle-fanatics to call me mundane swears in comradery.  I am now officially, the BEST Bitch of the New York Institute. My legacy is already securing itself.

Hirune Lakecastle who is just as feral as her daughter: don’t forget to teach him mundane swears in other languages or you’ll just hinder yourself with a small pool. Dont forget that insulting sentences regarding intelligence also counts. the best hunters call each other the foulest things in every language alive and die for each other with honor while complaining about it being necessary. Like train more you weak limbed stoat.

Mirai: yup, plus Maryse’s straightlaced soldier boy calling me a bitch with confusion is too amazing to miss. The amount of double-takes we get when we plan is hilarious. Everyone has taken to giving us a wide berth and interrupt far less. I still don’t think he realizes the power we hold.

(nephilim are freaked out by mundanes swears. They dont understands them, think they’re vulgar and don’t understand how alec and mirai teasingly (in clear good humor) call each other such things. It terrifies their delicate little nephilim sensibilities and let me tell you, alec did not handle mirai telling him what a bitch was and then to call her that well. He also had some delicate sensibilities that mirai ruthlessly stamped out. Also no one thinks that mirai and alec don’t respect each other. You don’t trust someone to have your back like alec does mirai without respect and you don’t swear to fall first for someone you don’t respect like mirai did. Like alec trusts mirai enough to let down his guard to only focus on the fight or giving commands. It’s rare he needs to do that but in situations where he has to focus on ordering teams or archery or something, anything besides his own protection.  He trusts her 100% and will stop protecting himself to prioritize other things, trusting her completely. And mirai is 100% willing and excited to be in that position and her job is to ensure that every one else dies first until she and alec are last in the battlefield.  Which is a really hard position to put on someone but she thrives in it and alec trusts her to do it in the best most efficient way possible. So other shadowhunters just think they’re equally terrifying and that something is wrong with them both. But also, it only works in very specific verses. Ones more like dressed to kill, your heart is made of jewels, kind of vibe etc). The ones that aren’t crack but have a less serious vibe to the world if that makes sense. Some of the verses are too intense for this to be reality to be honest. This is a more relaxed world.)

Anyways.

Alec was like: but you’re my second? Why would i call you a bitch? I respect you, i even am starting to like you and consider you a friend??

Mirai: because 1) i’m a bad bitch — i’ll explain that later — and also because i’m going to call you so much worse but i’m being nice and letting you use baby steps. Also this is the way, Alec. this is the way to traumatize the pampered kind of nephilim we both despise.

Alec: tell me more.... Bitch?

Mirai: we’ll work on your enthusiasm later but i’ll take it. My fucknugget of a commander.

Alec: fuck... nugget?

Mirai: this is the best experience of my life. Maryse is never going to be able to live this down.

Alec: will i be able to live this down?

Mirai: you and i are going to be living this up, my deadly bastard of a superior 

Alec: ... i’m just going to leave you in charge of everything and go read over the reports. Okay. bye.

— Cut to several years later and this is what was supposed to happen but alec’s comms cut out and mirai didn’t get a chance to lie to him — 

Alec to mirai: you’re a bitch. And not the best bitch. The worst bitch. How could you lie and tell me that magnus bane canceled visiting the institute? I took your advice to stay and finish patrolling with the rest of the teams instead of coming back and missed him!!!

Mirai: because you look like a wet-cat that got hit by a lightning demon and then drowned in a puddle of ichor. Yosef sent me a picture of your scrawny meatless ass. You look fucking disgusting alec. You look like a sculpture that was hit by a rockslide. You think i’m letting my commander meet the high warlock like this? You idiotic puddle of ichor, are you trying to ruin your chances before you even begin?

Alec: i’m feeling very attacked right now

Mirai: good, now get your ass up and into decontamination and go eat and sleep and i’ll create a problem with the security system so he has to come back. After you’ve rested, because he’s even better looking in person and you deserve an actual chance at getting him to look at you twice.  Not this self-sabotage you’re going for.

Alec: do you want a monument? I will make it for you by hand because you’re amazing. I regret my words of anger. You are the BEST Bitch.

Mirai: *in about ten different languages* you bet your fucking ass i am, noodlebrain. (so also i should mention that despite her best efforts, mirai doesn’t actually always know what counts as a swear so she also just goes off of what she finds when she looks up things on the mundane web for new data. So she actually thinks this is a really offensive swear. Telling someone they’re less intelligent than a meal that isn’t even made from a living being with a brain? Wow. sucker punched).

Alec is just: how dare, wow i do not deserve this bullshit. 

Magnus when he eventually figures out whats going on: omg i can never tell them, Cat, Ragnor help me come up with the most ridiculous things mundanes have said. I have a trap to set.

Alec a week later and grinning viciously: you’re a fucking pigeon, Mirai

Mirai: what?

Alec: you know those mundane birds all over? Apparently mundanes also call them rats-with-wings and death-birds-of-disease.  I overhead Magnus talking to Catarina and being called a pigeon is one of the worst thing you can do. Mundanes hate pigeons. It’s even worse than bastard and bitch.

Mirai: pigeon... rats with wings... unholy death plague birds i love it. We should feed them from now on, death birds should be treated well. also i can work with this. Oh holy Raziel’s wings i can work with this. Promise me you will spy on magnus for more?

-

Magnus: i have never felt so accomplished in my life.

Ragnor and Catarina who haven’t stopped laughing since Magnus showed them a memory of watching Alexander and Mirai mercilessly call their trainees pigeons while training them: we need to do more, Magnus.  This will be the legacy we leave behind. The world needs this.

Also Alec no braincells Lightwood just wanting to meet magnus so badly he doesn’t even consider the fact he had to half dive into demon guts to pull out a trainee who tripped. He doesn’t even remember doing that, it was a reflex at this point.

-

It’s not the pigeons faults that they were domesticated and abandoned but i still dont like 90% of them and will 100% let nightshade chase them out of the yard. I am evil like that.

[paulyenvol6]

Bound by Flame (Chapter 17)

Contains: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, angst

Wordcount: ~2.41k

Masterlist of this story

Daemon was just walking back from the dragon pit when he heard heard a noise from behind.

He had had a good time flying above King's Landing on Caraxes to finally give him some attention again but now he was starving and wished for the quietness of his chambers. But then someone called his name and the prince turned around.

"Brother," he said when he saw Viserys walking towards him.

"Daemon. Good to see you. Do you have a minute?"

He mentally rolled his eyes but nodded graciously and the brothers started to stroll side by side back to the red keep.

"What is it?" Daemon began and the king was clearly uncomfortable bringing the topic forward as he nervously chewed on his lower lip.

"Well. I was speaking with daughter earlier. And although she said she didn't want me to talk to you about it I felt the need to discuss it with you as well."

Daemon arched his eyebrow having a strong idea what this was about but he listened to what his brother had to say.

"I'm simply wondering if you might be a little too hard on Maera. You know, in the way you talk to her or order her around or… treat her."

"Is that it?" he scoffed. "Is that what you wanted to bring forward?"

Viserys sighed.

"Daemon. I'm just a little worried. I saw the bruises on her neck and I can't help but feel concerned about her well-being. I just don't want you to hurt her or something."

Daemon entangled his hands behind his back and a smirk played around his lips.

"I don't think you need to be concerned about this, dear brother. I know what she needs and what she wants. I'm her husband."

Viserys looked like he was thinking for a moment and then grabbed his brother's shoulder.

"I know. And I believe you. All I wanted is to reassure myself that she's fine."

"She is. Everything I do to her is for her own well-being."

Daemon sounded a lot colder now which made the king eventually change the subject. He simply didn't want to cause another fight so he dropped the topic. And then the brothers already arrived at the keep and their ways parted again. Daemon decided to go to his chambers to see if Maera had already returned but he didn't even get to the gate.

"Daemon!" a voice shouted and when he turned around his niece ran towards him with a wide smile on her face. Her joy immediately transferred to him and he chuckled when Maera jumped in his arms.

"It was so amazing at the market, Daemon," she said against his hair.

He kissed her head and then held her away a little.

"That's good to hear. Did you buy anything?"

The girl nodded and reached into the pocket of her dress.

"Lavendar oil. And a necklace."

"Let me see it."

Maera showed him both items which he examined closely and then he took the piece of jewelery in his hand.

"Turn around."

She smiled at him and turned her body until her back faced him. Daemon gently removed her hair so he had access to her neck and then gently ran his thumb over her soft skin. His hands reached around to put the necklace on and Maera slightly flinched when the cold metal touched her skin. Then all there was left to do was close the clasp and Daemon grabbed her waist once he was done.

"My pretty girl. Let me see you."

He turned his niece's body around and bit his lip proudly when he watched the pendant on her marked skin. She was his and though he had known that for years now everyone could. Everyone who laid their eyes on Maera would immediately realize what had happened to her pretty neck. He really couldn't wait to show her off at the small gathering tonight in the throne room.

"Let's get you inside now. You need to eat something."

~~~~~~~~~~

Later that day Daemon guided his niece down into the hall just like he had done the other night. Maera wore a purple gown now that looked lovely on her pale skin and made her silver hair shine brightly. He was smug about how well her bruises showed thanks to the low neckline and he couldn't wait to make all these pathetic lords see them.

Maera to his right seemed content and at peace as the smile on her face didn't vanish for a second while her husband led her into the throne room. That was when he slightly leaned down to her to speak into her ear while making sure that she had her eyes on the people in front of them.

"Do you see them, little doll? Do you see all those lords lusting after you?"

He lightly ran his hand over the back of her neck.

"I want them to see you like this. Covered in my marks. They will know that it was me who did it and they will know that they will never have you. Because you're mine until your very last breath."

He noticed how she shivered slightly and he smirked at how responsive his little niece was to his voice and words.

"You're not so innocent, mhm? Perhaps these lords think that the king's young and pure daughter wouldn't let a man claim and sully her like that. Well… now they will learn the truth. They will learn what a greedy little slut you are at night… that you enjoy the pain and that you love nothing more than when I degrade and humiliate you."

Her breathing fastened and Maera's hand came down to grab his arm.

"Daemon…," she hummed clearly having problems to stand properly.

"Tsk tsk," he made sounding amused. "Can't behave for one evening."

With these words he pulled her with him to their seats next to the king. The short walk gave Maera enough time to collect herself again and when the couple stood before Viserys she was able to form a smile.

"Good evening, father."

The king still looked a little suspicious but seeing his daughter's sparkling eyes as well as the genuine smile on her face made his face relax and he nodded.

"Good evening. How was your day, daughter?"

Maera touched the pendant of her new necklace that she had put on and lifted it slightly to show it to him.

"It was beautiful. I bought a necklace on the market. And septa Julvra took me to see a theatre play on the town square."

"That sounds good, my dear."

Soon Maera and her uncle sat down next to him and Daemon filled their cups with wine.

"I hate wine," she whispered to him with a frown.

"It's fine, I'll drink it if you don't like it."

"I know that I don't like it."

Daemon chuckled and soothinly placed his hand on her thigh.

"Give it a try. It's dornish wine."

Soon the music was playing louder and the first people made their way to the dance floor so the rogue prince looked at her questioningly, knowing that his wife had a great love for music.

"Do you want to dance?"

But Maera thoughtfully tilted her head. "No, I'm not in the mood, I think."

He arched his eyebrow. "Really?"

She moved closer to her husband and gave him a smile.

"I wanna be with you."

"Well, if we go dancing you'll be with me as well. I'm not gonna let you dance with anyone who's not me tonight."

She took his hand and interwined their fingers.

"I know. But I wanna sit here with you. With no one interrupting us."

That made Daemon smile and he kissed her forehead.

"Then we're gonna stay here."

They sat like this for a while merely enjoying each other's presence and now and then expressing their thoughts when Maera noticed her brother entering the throne room. She was a bit nervous as they hadn't talked a lot after Aegon had shown his displeasure about her marriage the day before so she anxiously toyed with her rings when the crown prince walked across the room heading to the king. Once he stood in front of his father Aegon bowed.

"Father. Good evening."

Viserys smiled but Maera sensed that his mouth was tense. Then he turned to his sister and she could see something like a childish stubbornness in his eyes.

"Maera," he hissed but then his gaze wandered down to where Daemon had taken his wife's hand to fiddle with her rings in her place.

He gulped loudly. "Uncle."

Maera gave him a reassuring smile. "Good evening brother."

Aegon replied with a nod and for the first time she felt like it was an honest and respectful gesture. Perhaps her brother had finally accepted that this union was what made her happy, she thought. Of course he hadn't expressed his opinion but the simple bow with his head had given her hope. Aegon walked to his seat to the left of Viserys and sank down on his chair. Maera exhaled loudly feeling a weight drop off her heart and she felt her uncle squeeze her hand lightly.

"It's alright, love."

The rest of the night went on calmly and when Daemon and Maera made their way back to their chamber she was so tired and sleepy that she was happy about her uncle's arm around her waist.

"We'll be back in our chambers soon, sweetling," Daemon said quietly against her ear.

She nodded and when she finally found herself in the midst of their room Maera quite literally fell on the bed which made the rogue prince chuckle.

"Why are you so tired, love?"

"I don't know…," she mumbled and turned her head to the side.

Daemon sighed amused and observed her and then took off his clothes to join her in bed.

"Don't you wanna take off your gown?" he asked once he had climbed on the bed and Maera nodded.

The girl slowly sat up and with the help of her husband she unlaced the dress and then slipped out of it. She now only wore her white undergarments but she was definitely too tired to change into something else so Maera just crawled back onto the bed and with a loving smile Daemon covered her with the blanket.

"I love you, my sweet girl," he whispered and for a second he believed that she had already fallen asleep but then she lifted the corners of her mouth and pressed herself closer to Daemon's body now lying next to her.

"I love you too."

~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue

His thrusts were deep and forceful, so deep that they made her eyes roll back every time he slammed back in. Maera didn't hold back with her moans and whines and it was exactly what Daemon wanted. She sounded so angelic and delicate when she uncontrollably whimpered his name or pleaded him to do something without actually knowing what she wanted herself.

She had her legs spread open for him to let him do whatever he wanted and Daemon really took advantage of it. While his cock pounded into her cunt he toyed with her little nub and now and then delivered a soft slap to it as well. Not because she had misbehaved and he was punishing her for it to be precise. He did it for his mere pleasure if he was honest to himself. He loved it too dearly how her muscles and face tensed when his hand came down to her cunt and he always made sure that it wasn't very hard. Because he didn't want to hurt her after all.

"Oh fuck…," she whimpered in his arms and her fingernails buried in his flesh left a sharp sting.

He growled out and rubbed her pearl in circles just that way he knew she liked it. But then suddenly there was a knock on the door and Maera gasped in surprise. She slapped her hand in front of her mouth and stared up to her husband with wide eyes but he just chuckled quietly.

"Not right now."

"Mommy? Daddy?"

Daemon rolled his eyes and smugly grinned down to Maera who looked so terrified it was almost funny.

"No, no, no, no. We have to – Let's get dressed, he can't see us like this."

Maera gently tried to push him off her by pressing her hands against his naked chest but in response he smirked, grabbed her wrists and pinned them down over her head. Then he leaned down to kiss her mouth.

"Daemon… no... Baelon is right there, he will catch us," she mumbled against his mouth and shifted her head to escape his lips. The rogue prince chuckled again but then cleared his throat.

"Baelon? Mommy and daddy need a little longer. We'll come to you afterwards."

There was a moment of silence and Maera's uncle used it to pull out of her a little only to thrust back in with so much intensity that her eyes rolled back.

"D-Daemon… Please wait."

He looked amused but actually stopped to await their son's answer.

"But I can't sleep."

"We will be there soon, son. Until then go to Vysah. But please don't wake her up, she needs her sleep."

Their second born child Vysah was a wild and lively girl that spent the days running around and chasing the other children rather than being able to sit still like her brother. That was why Daemon and Maera always wanted to make sure that she was resting at night and not frolicking around with her brother or her cats, which she had a special affection for.

Maera would've wanted to add something to it as well but she was scared that her words would be turned into a whimper once she opened her mouth and so she kept quiet while the couple waited for an answer.

"Fine…," they heard him mumble. "I'll go to her. But please come soon."

"We will, Baelon."

And then they heard him walk away and Maera exhaled loudly. She had been frightened and her heart still beat loudly in her chest. Now Daemon loosened his grip on her wrists but didn't waste any further time and started to fuck her again.

"You need to relax a little more," he whispered against her ear while his hand traveled down to her core again.

"Shut up," she breathed and her husband smirked.

"You're gonna come for me now?"

~~~~~~~~~~

The End

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

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[a99jazzybean]

Why do we Keep Playing These Games?

Chapter 5: Queen of Hearts

Ch.1/ Ch2./ Ch.3/ Ch.4/ Ch.5/ Ch.6/ Ch.7/ Ch.8/ Ch.9/ Ch.10/ Ch.11

synop: College TA au

Jayce Talis... He's your unrequited sworn enemy. You are the object of his obsessive affections. After discovering your disdain toward him, He decides to win your heart... Through playing games. Winner gets to make the loser do whatever they want. You'll take him up on the bet, but what will happen if he wins?

words: 5.7K

includes: jaycexfem!reader, angst, fluff, kissing, yearning, betting, massages

a/n: I think I have a better idea of where I'm wanting this story to go. Hope you enjoy a bit of angst.

As your eyes glazed over while reading a textbook, you heard groaning and shuffling by your side. Glancing in your peripheral, you saw Viktor shift uncomfortably in his seat. Occasionally he would huff out in frustration or pain, wincing at the feeling. You softly shut the book and turned to him.

“Are you doing alright?” You asked, concern laced in your eyes

The man beside you paused, taking in the worry on your face. While he wasn’t one to enjoy pity, it was clear you were genuinely concerned for him. He sighed, as he attempted to move his leg into a comfortable position. As he did, another sting of pain shot through the limb, causing the man to hiss and grind his teeth. Normally he would be able to fight through the discomfort, but today was quite the unpleasant flare up. Feeling like a pinched nerve somewhere, though he couldn’t figure out where. 

“It’s nothing. Just a bad flare up.” He huffed as he pressed his fingers into his thigh, attempting to find the source of the sharp pains. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Again, no pity laced in your voice. Though he wasn’t surprised. You never treated him as someone to be pitied. 

“Not really, I left my pain meds back at the apartment. And Jayce is really the only one that can help massage it out.” That had you raising your brow. Viktor chuckled lightly at your questioning gaze.

“He’s a very sweet man.” He returned his leg to the most comfortable position he could with a groan. “You would know if you ever listened to me about his positive traits.” He gave you a pointed look. 

You huffed in annoyance. Viktor and Mel had both attempted to make you see reason when it came to Jayce. The two always pointing out his acts of kindness. Though you knew of his kind ways, it was something that added to your annoyance. Since you were unable to truly rationalize your disdain for a man that was totally selfless in his actions. True altruism seemed like an impossible feat, yet Jayce managed to be the one person to prove you wrong. 

“During the summer between our sophomore and junior years he took massage therapy courses at a community college.” Viktor said.

“Really? Why?” That was a silly question. As Viktor continued to shuffle uncomfortably, you understood why.

“Because he wanted to help me.” Viktor stated, a soft smile on his face. “He knows I’m not one to ask for assistance, but he’s still always there when I do need help. He just wanted to add more to his arsenal of aid.” 

“You’re not one to particularly enjoy people going out of their way for you…” You had witnessed Viktor’s sneers of irritation when others had attempted to “assist” him when it came to his disability. It was a bit of a surprise how willing Viktor was to accept Jayce’s help.

“He didn’t do it because he felt sorry for me. He did it because he cares. Again, something you would know if you actually listen to me about Jayce.” Viktor sighed, as if it was exhausting to continually reiterate this point to you. “That man is breaking his back, bending over for other’s needs. Including yours.” His amber eyes gave you a pointed look. 

Avoiding his gaze, you grumbled to yourself. Sure, Jayce probably was a sweet person. Scratch that, you knew he was, but there was some damned prideful part of you that didn’t want to acknowledge it. In hopes that if you pretended you weren’t privy to that information, you could feel better being a jerk to the man. It didn’t work, especially now when you knew how he felt about you. Now there was a bitter taste of bile in your throat as you thought of the man’s unending kindness that you continually rejected. 

Viktor’s eyes continued to watch you. Studying your response to his statements. It was cute, how frustrated you got about this situation with Jayce. Viktor didn’t really know the full reason why you despised his partner. This whole “enemy” thing was definitely a facade hiding your true feelings. If you truly hated Jayce in the ways that you claimed, then you should have hated Viktor as well. Instead, you had befriended the man. A curious thing, the way your mind justified your feelings. 

“Well, that’s very kind of him.” You said, conceding to the truth. Yes, Jayce was in fact a caring person. 

“It is.” Viktor left it at that. 

You returned to your textbook, unsure of the energy in the air. Somewhat tense, yet comfortable as you allowed yourself to accept new truths. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next Monday had arrived. The first day of the school week where you helped aid Heimerdinger with Jayce and when you and Jayce would play your next game.

Fall was slowly taking over the summer heat. Cool breezes were more common than the stale humidity. Leaves had just begun turning yellow and orange. A pleasant change as you no longer sweated on your way to the physics building every morning. 

As you enjoyed the cooler air on your walk, someone sidled up to you. Though you didn’t turn to him, from the size of their frame you could tell it was Jayce. Sandalwood scented cologne wafted in your direction as the man moved as close to you as he could. With his closer proximity, you turned to look up at the man by your side.

“Good morning!” He said cheerily.

“Morning.” You replied. “You’re too happy to be up for an 8 am.” 

“That’s why I got you this!” He held out a coffee cup. The scent, catching your attention.

You reached for it, breathing in the smell of the fresh brew with a sigh and content smile. The action made Jayce’s heart flutter. He enjoyed the way you enjoyed simple pleasures. 

“Thanks. How much do I owe you?” You went to reach around for your wallet.

The man waved you off.

“It’s all good. It’s on me.” He gave you a bright smile. 

“You sure?” 

It wasn’t unusual for Jayce to go on coffee runs for your TA group. You would pitch in funds, but it seemed like more often than not, Jayce would find a way to cover the tab. While it was a nice gesture, you didn’t particularly enjoy feeling as though you owed someone something.

“You’ve bought like the last five coffees I’ve had.” You gave him a questioning look.

“Have I now?” Jayce feigned ignorance. “I never counted. Just wanted to do something nice for a friend.”

“Right.” You continue to hold his gaze with your own suspicious one. Turning away first to sip at your coffee. Of course, it’s perfect. Just the way you liked. You glanced at the man again, a glint of anticipation in his eyes. 

“Thank you, Jayce. It’s pretty good.” You swear you hear him release a sigh at you saying his name. Gaze softening as he continued to look at you. 

A pang of hurt struck your chest. You avoided his gaze, instead focusing on the coffee cup in your hands. Why? Why? Why was he always so nice? When you were acting like an ass to him. Your fucked up attempts to push away someone who just wanted a connection with you were coming to bite you in the ass. It was beginning to hurt.

Viktor and Mel were fine as your friends, but why not Jayce? 

In frustration, you gripped your coffee cup a bit hard. The lid popping off, spraying a splash of steaming hot coffee onto your hand. 

“Shit.” You hissed. 

Thankfully the only victim of your mishap was your hand. Jayce had managed to catch the lid before it hit the ground. He reached for your coffee cup to put it back on, then placed it in your hand once more.

“Is your hand okay?” He asked, a look of concern furrowing his brows.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You let out a sigh. The pinging tightness remained in your chest. “Sorry, I’m such a clutz.” 

The worried look remained on his face. He reached for the hand that you had slightly burned. Hesitantly, you allowed him to look over the backside. His fingers lightly brushing over your skin, making your face hot. There wasn’t any damage, just a small red splotch. 

“Might sting a bit, but nothing too bad.” He lightly patted your hand and let it go. Again, another pang hit your chest. 

“Yeah.” You croaked. A waver in your voice making Jayce pause.

“Are you okay?” There it is, a moment, one that you could allow yourself to embrace for once. To maybe let him see some vulnerable part of you. One outside of the games you play. 

“I-I’m fine. Thanks for asking though.” Alas, you weren’t ready. Not yet, not when there was that damned prideful part of you that didn’t want to concede. 

At the very least you could thank him for caring. Perhaps it wasn’t enough, but it was what you were willing to give. 

“Okay. Well, I’m here if you want to talk.” He gave you a soft smile. One that added to the ever growing pain in your chest.

Instead of answering, you nodded. A small smile of your own on your lips. 

During Heimerdinger’s first period you felt Jayce’s eyes on you the entire time. He was trying to get a read on you. It was obvious that you were lying about how you were feeling. Both of you knew you were a shit liar. He wondered why you still tried to lie though. Despite your obviousness, you did your best to conceal parts of yourself. Parts that he desperately wished to learn more about, to understand.  

The heat of his hazel eyes never left you. Even when students came to him with questions, his eyes kept flitting to you. To see if any part of you would crack and reveal an opening. But none showed up. You managed to keep up your mask for the period. 

It was obvious that you were desperate to get out of the class. Twitching hands and shuffling feet giving away your need to run. You did your best to avoid catching Jayce’s gaze. He didn’t hide his intense staring, concern still deeply etched onto his face. You pretended not to notice, but it wasn’t working very well. He knew it, you knew it. Despite just getting to know you recently, the man could read you exceptionally well. 

It was fine though. Again, Jayce was patient. So far his patience seemed to assist him. Ever so slowly you had allowed him in. While he wished for more, he was willing to wait. Of course he was, it was you after all.

The rest of the day trudged on. Before you were about to head to your office hours, Heimerdinger asked for your assistance. 

“Would you be able to come to the library with me? I have to pick up some textbooks for the next two weeks of class.”

Ah, that was right. There was a specific text that the professor only used a section of and didn’t feel it necessary to have students purchase it. In order to ensure students actually received it, he took it upon himself to reserve the library’s copies.

“Sure Professor, I do have my office hours in about thirty minutes though.” You warned.

“Oh, we’ll surely be done sooner than that. Besides, I believe Mr. Talis shares the same time slot, so a little tardiness shouldn’t be an issue.” He gave his classic twinkling giggles that had you smiling. The Professor was certainly quite the character. 

You followed the shorter man to the library. He waved and greeted students and faculty on the way there, red cheeks pulled into a bright smile. Trailing behind him, you nodded at the passing people with a polite smile of your own. 

Heimerdinger had managed to reserve around 200 books, and you happened to be his packing mule apparently. While he did aid you in stacking the books on a cart, you did most of the bulk. As you wished to move the job along faster, you grabbed as large of stacks as you could. One particularly large stack would be your undoing. The weight sending a shock up your spine as you lifted with your back instead of your legs. Thankfully you managed to grit your teeth through the pain to avoid dropping the texts. Through the sharp pains in your back, you continued to pile books onto a cart. Sighing with relief, you plopped the final stack down. Attempting to stretch out your back to no avail. Groaning, you grabbed the cart and began pushing it to the physics building. Heimerdinger cheerily following behind you. 

Each step toward the building sent more pain up your back. It was going to be a long night. You groaned at the realization that you weren’t going to be able to lie down for at least three hours. Just the thought of you sitting hunched over a table helping a student sent more pain up your spine. 

“Is everything alright?” The professor’s high voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah. Just pulled my back.” You grunted, pushing the heavy cart forward.

The man tutted.

“You know what they say, ‘always lift with your legs!’”

“Thanks, Professor…” 

After dropping off the textbooks at Heimerdinger’s office, you made your way to your own office. Dreading the next few hours as your back continued to grow more and more sore. The heavy weight of your backpack doing nothing to relieve the pain. 

Groaning, you trudged into the office. Jayce looking away from the student he was working with as you walked inside. The look on your face indicating the discomfort you were feeling. The man found himself furrowing his brow in worry once again. 

“You’re late.” He tried to lighten the mood with a bright tone.

“I was helping Heimerdinger.” You sighed as you sat down, attempting to warp your back into a comfortable position.

“A likely story.” He teased. 

“Save the interrogation, Talis. You have a student that needs assistance.” You sighed again. 

Jayce grew more concerned. Normally you would gladly partake in banter with the man. Something must truly be wrong if you were shrugging off the chance to be snarky. The man decided to table that discussion till he was done aiding the student with him. 

To the his dismay, he didn’t get an opportunity to speak with you till after your office hours. A steady stream of students had kept you both busy for the entire time. Jayce had kept his eye on you though, his concern growing as he saw your demeanor grow more frustrated. 

The pain in your back had you a bit grumpy and short tempered with students. Many times you found yourself holding back a snarky comment when they would mess up a problem on a practice test. You had to continually remind yourself to be kind despite how irritated you were feeling. 

When the final student left the room, you let out a sigh of relief. The action making Jayce raise his brow. You never behaved this way with students before, he was slightly concerned. Still, he had something to look forward to. 

The man locked the office door, catching your attention. Right, it’s game night. This time it was Jayce’s turn to pick the game. Based on your mood, he decided to go easy on you. From his backpack he pulled out a deck of cards. With deft hands, he began to shuffle them. Your eyes watched as he expertly maneuvered the cards. Enjoying the way he showed off small tricks with his fingers. 

“Enjoying the show?” He asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Mhmm.” You decided to be honest. It really was impressive. “What are we playing?” 

“Old Maid.” The light smile that was on your face dropped into a look of annoyance.

“Old Maid? Seriously?” It felt almost insulting, his game of choice. 

“You look like you needed an easier game today.” He said pointedly.

He was right. Anything that involved true strategy would have you floundering. The pain in your back seemed to be the only thing you could pay attention to. Fine, you’d accept the children’s game. 

“The game doesn’t last that long though.” You attempted to stretch out your back with a groan. It did nothing to help.

Jayce paused his shuffling.

“Are you doing alright? You’ve been off all night.”

“I’m fine.” You lied. 

“Please stop.” He sighed.

“Stop what?” You wondered where this was going. 

“Stop lying to me. I’ve told you before, you’re a shit liar.”

“My back just hurts. That’s all.” You said. Though it was clear it was bothering you more than you let on. 

“We’ll do best two out of three. How’s that sound?” The man changed the subject for you. It was obvious you didn’t want him to pry.

“That sounds great.” You said, attempting to be cheery. 

Jayce picked out three queens from the deck and set them to the side, then he began to deal out the cards. You picked up your hand, meticulously grabbing the few pairs you had managed to get. Jayce laid down his pairs in front of him in neat stacks. He had four and you had three. You didn’t have the queen though, so you at least had that going for you. Hopefully Jayce wouldn’t keep the poker face he was currently wearing. 

“You go first.” He said, motioning you forward.

Hovering over the cards your hand slightly shook. You couldn’t lose again. As your fingers trailed over his spread out hand, you watched Jayce’s eyes. Aha! You caught the slight shift as you reached the second to last card on the right. Instead, you pulled one from the middle. Breathing a sigh of relief as you grabbed a seven of clubs. Perfect, you had the seven of spades. With a cocky smile, you set the pair down in front of you.

Jayce chuckled at your competitiveness. Even with a game of chance, you still wanted to be seen as a fierce opponent. 

The two of you continued to pick at each other’s hands. Jayce hadn’t realized you had caught his tell and was growing more anxious as the majority of your cards were paired up in front of you. He held seven in his hands. The old maid he kept shuffling around, hoping you would slip up and grab it. Alas, to his disappointment you had managed to avoid the card. When it was over he was left with the queen of hearts. It felt as if the card was taunting him. No matter, there were still two games left. 

This time you shuffled the deck. While you weren’t as dexterous as Jayce, you still caught him staring at your hands. A small smirk danced on your lips as he continued to watch you. A comfortable silence had rested in the room. It was nice, you found yourself liking these game nights a bit more than you expected. Sure, the last two times you’ve lost, but playing with Jayce was kind of fun. 

“You ready to get creamed, Talis?” You asked smugly. 

“You wish.” Jayce said, trying to hide his nervousness. 

If you won, he was toast. He had no idea what you had planned for your wager. It could be something nice, maybe. But he wasn’t holding his breath on that. 

You dealt out the cards and repeated the process of picking out pairs. Despite your thorough shuffling, you found you had managed to gather seven pairs. 

“Oh no, absolutely not.” Jayce practically growled. “There’s no way you didn’t cheat.” 

“Jayce, you’ve been sitting in front of me this entire time. Staring at my hands, might I add. When would I have cheated?” It was almost cute, his anxious demeanor about the prospects of you winning. 

“Besides, you know I have the old maid. Doesn’t really matter how many pairs I get if you don’t grab her.” 

Grumbling, he conceded. You motioned for him to pick a card, doing your best to keep your face emotionless. Though you were a terrible liar when speaking, you had managed to secure a decent poker face. Something that very much bothered the man in front of you. He reached for the middle card and sucked in a breath. It was a three of hearts. He sighed with relief as he paired it with his diamond card. 

“You seem a bit tense.” You chuckled.

“You’ve already got a win in, I can’t have that happen again.”

“And here I thought I was the competitive one.” His clear frustration had you wondering about his wager. “I wonder what’s on the table for you to be so persistent to win.” 

Hazel eyes grew dark as they peered over the cards at you. The look was enough to have you shivering and clenching your thighs. Surely he was planning something that would wreck you. You didn’t know if that frightened or excited you. 

It was clear to you that your last game night had impacted you. Something new stirred in your belly when it came to Jayce. Something you didn’t know if you wanted to explore or not. If he won you had a feeling you wouldn’t have much of a choice. So, you obviously had to win.

You were so close. Just two more pairs and getting rid of the old maid. 

As Jayce reached toward your hand, you held your breath. His fingers twitching above his card of choice with hesitancy. This was it, the moment of his downfall. You didn’t let your face betray you. The man plucked the card out.

“Shit.” Again, the queen was taunting him. 

His eyes narrowed at you as a smug smile was on your face again. He shuffled the maid into his remaining few cards. There was still a chance he could win. 

Reaching for Jayce’s hand, you bit your lip. Doing your best to read his face without him noticing. And there it was again, the flitting of his eyes as you reached for the old maid. Instead you snatched a different card, making the man groan in frustration. 

You placed your final pair in front of you, feeling somewhat accomplished. Finally, you had beaten Jayce Talis. The man stared at the queen in his hand in shock.

How? How did you beat him at a children’s game?

“You have a shit poker face.” You teased. 

“What?” He swore he kept himself perfectly composed.

“You’ve got an easy tell.”

“And what exactly is it?” He pried.

“Nuh uh, I gotta make sure I keep the advantage. Especially if we play more card games.” You smiled. 

While he was upset at the loss, he couldn’t help but smile back. He loved when you genuinely smiled. The way your eyes crinkled and shined with enthusiasm. The way your lips pulled at your cheeks, looking oh-so kissable.

“So, what were you betting on?” He asked. 

It was then you realized you hadn’t actually thought on it. You were sure he was going to win again, so you didn’t put much thought into what you wanted. Then, it hit you. The pain in your back returning as your distraction had ended. You recalled the recent conversation you had with Viktor. 

“Viktor says you took massage therapy courses, is that true?” You ask, eyes looking at his hands. 

“Um, yeah. They had a specific course to aid in relieving nerve pain.” He raised a questioning brow at you.

“I know what I would like.” Another strike of pain made you groan. “You have to give me a thorough massage.”

That had both of Jayce’s brows raised. He thought you were going to make him take your workload from Heimerdinger's classes, instead you were offering him the chance to touch you again. If anything, this was an opportunity that Jayce wouldn’t pass up. 

“You sure that’s what you want?” His voice buzzed with excitement. 

“Don’t be so happy about it.” You groaned in pain again. “I just pulled my back really bad and need some relief.” 

“I will gladly provide that relief.” Jayce’s eyes were practically sparkling with anticipation. Then they grew dark. “And I can provide other forms of relief too.”

You scoffed at the man’s forwardness.

“Don’t push it, Talis.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

He raised his hands in a surrender, then placed them on the table to push himself up. You took that as your cue to pack up your bag. Before you could grab it, Jayce had snatched it up from the floor.

“I don’t want you hurting your back even more.” He shoved the pack over one of his shoulders and carried his own bag in his hand. The muscles in his arms flexed. The action distracting you for a moment. Sometimes you forget how impressive the man’s physique was. 

Jayce smirked, catching you staring. A red blush dusted your cheeks. God, he wanted to kiss you again. 

“C’mon, let’s get you home.” Jayce nudged his head toward the door. 

The walk back to your apartment was completed in silence. Crickets chirped and cicadas whirred in a symphony of nighttime. It was quite a pleasant trek, minus the occasional pang in your back. Jayce noticed how stiff you were walking. 

“Do you want me to give you that massage tonight?” His brow furrowed with concern. A look you were growing used to seeing on his face. 

“Nah. I’ll take it tomorrow evening though.” You yawned. It was getting pretty late, and you didn’t think you could stay up much longer. 

“There’s nothing I can do?” Jayce pushed lightly. He really hoped you’d let him help at least a little bit. 

Sighing, you conceded. It would probably be a good thing for him to at least decrease the ache somewhat. You weren’t sure how much you would be able to take tomorrow. 

“You can at least start, I suppose. Get the knot out, or whatever.” 

Jayce nodded enthusiastically, making you let out an amused huff. The man was never subtle. 

When you reached your apartment you paused. Jayce had never been in your home before. You didn’t know how you felt about that. While you weren’t messy, the place could do with some TLC. Though why did you care about what he thought? 

“Everything okay?” Jayce waited patiently for you to unlock the door.

“Uh, yeah.” You shook off your embarrassment, and opened the door. 

The first thing the man noticed was the smell of your apartment. It was so… very you. You had decorated the space almost perfectly to the way he had imagined it. A mishmash of cozy items and eclectic art on the walls. Potted plants near windows and the sliding door to the balcony. Fairy lights strung on the ceiling leaving a warm glow in your living room. 

Jayce toed his shoes off and placed both the bags he was holding down. Sighing with content as he looked around your little home. It felt wrong, allowing him into such an intimate space. 

From between his legs, Jayce felt soft fur pass through. He watched as a small cat sauntered over to you. Mewling for you to pick it up. Despite the pain in your back, you obliged in your furry friend’s request. Grabbing her and giving her a kiss on the head, her eyes slowly blinking in content. The sweet action making Jayce’s heart melt. 

“I didn’t know you had a cat.” He said.

“Really?” She’s my phone screen.” You lifted your phone to show him a picture of your cat playing with a bell toy. 

Jayce walked over, hand lightly stretched out for her to sniff. The cat in your arms tentatively sniffed, then nuzzled her head into his palm. He took the opportunity to scritch behind her ears, eliciting a gentle purr.

“What’s her name?” He had just noticed the close proximity to you. A blush creeped to his cheeks as he realized that you weren’t making any attempts to distance yourself from him.

“Sedona. It’s a town in Arizona. Has the most gorgeous sunsets. My mom took me there when I was young. She always said that she thought the name would be fitting for a pet.” You smiled down at the sleepy cat. “So I decided for my first pet, that’s what I would choose for a name.”

“It fits her.” He said. 

“Yeah, I think it does.” You looked up at him. His soft gaze on you making your heart stutter. 

This wasn’t right. Allowing him in so easily. Yet… you didn’t want to stop. 

Glancing at the microwave clock you realized you needed to get ready for bed soon. You let Sedona down with a groan, reminding Jayce of the reason why he had been invited in in the first place. 

“Right, massage.” He said. 

“Since we’ll make it quick, does the couch work?” You asked. 

“Uh yeah. I do have a massage table back at my place. I can bring it when we do the full thing.” 

“You just have one of those on hand?” You chuckled.

“It was required for the course, and folds easily enough so I kept it.” He shrugged his shoulders then motioned for you to lay down on the couch. 

You laid down on your stomach, wincing as the pain in your back flared. 

“Is it alright if I move up your shirt?” He asked, voice gentle. 

“Yeah. Do what you need to.” You said. 

Although you couldn’t see him, he nodded. 

He pushed up the back of your shirt, then placed his palms on your back. They were pleasantly warm. 

“Where exactly is the pain?” He asked. 

You did your best to blindly point to where it was. Jayce followed the direction of your index finger, tracing along your back. The movement making you shiver. 

“Right here?” He asked, adding a little pressure.

“Yes.” You groaned.

He added more pressure and hummed. 

“Yeah you’re real tight.” He said, unfazed at the double meaning. 

You were glad your face was pressed into the cushion, or he would see it bloom bright red. 

Jayce methodically worked out the deep knot in your back. Careful not to hurt you with too much pressure. It felt really good. He clearly took his studies seriously, and you were enjoying it greatly. A bit too much it seemed, when you let out a moan as he loosened up a tight area. 

Your hand clamped over your mouth. From above you Jayce chuckled, reaching for your hand. Moving it away from your lips. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. You should hear what Viktor sounds like.” Though you couldn’t see him, you could hear the smile in his voice. 

Jayce continued to work out the knots he could in the short amount of time that he had. When he was done, your back was already feeling better. While it wasn’t back to 100%, it was at least something. 

Before ushering him out of your apartment you stopped him with a hand on his chest. Feeling his heartbeat speed up at your touch. Biting your lip, you tried to find something to say before he left. 

“Um, thank you.” Was all you could manage.

He smiled softly. Your eyes kept shifting, you didn’t know if you could look at him. Afraid of what you would feel if you did. A warm hand lightly grabbed your chin, moving your face up to look at him. There was that look of concern on his face again. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” His voice was soft, as if he was afraid a louder tone would make you scurry away. It probably would, as you were filled with a crushing fear. You didn’t know why, but you felt wrong, this felt wrong. So why weren’t you stopping? 

“Is that okay?” He tried to keep your attention on him. 

The frazzled look in your eyes was making him more concerned. It looked as if you were beginning to spiral. 

Sighing out a long breath you closed your eyes. Allowing yourself to collapse onto his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you. Keeping you grounded. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, though you didn’t know what you were apologizing for.

Jayce tightened his embrace around you, laying his head on top of yours. He didn’t know what to make of this. While part of him was ecstatic that you were showing him more trust, a different part of him continued to grow more worried for you. For now he could provide you some comfort.

A soft hand caressed up and down your back, reminding you to breathe. As you gulped down deep breaths, you began to slowly pull away from him. Avoiding his gaze, you lightly pushed off of his chest. The lack of contact making Jayce’s heart ache, but he didn’t want to distress you further. 

“S-sorry.” You mumbled again.

“What for?” He asked, voice still soft. 

“I don’t know. For something, everything.” You couldn’t stand to look at him. “I don’t know.” 

Jayce reached for your face again. Coaxing you to look at him. Your heart jolting as you locked your eyes with his. The smile on his face making you soften. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He leaned towards you, making you stiffen. 

Soft lips placed a chaste kiss on your cheek, leaving your face hot. But you realized that wasn’t what you wanted. 

In a moment of impulsiveness, you gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled him back toward you. Pressing your lips against his. Making his eyes widen as yours fluttered shut. He allowed himself to give in, returning the kiss. Your lips molding easily with his. Tongue swiping at his bottom lip. A light gasp from the man opening his mouth enough for you to trail your tongue inside. A groan rumbled in his chest. 

As soon as it had started, you made it stop. Quickly pulling away from the man with a gasp. Why did you do that?

Jayce didn’t know what to make of it, so he just allowed himself to enjoy your impulsivity. 

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” This time he leaned forward, lightly kissing you. And you let him, savoring the way his lips felt on yours. 

After Jayce left you stood at the entrance of your apartment in shock, fingers tracing over your lips. Replaying his kiss over and over. 

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Word Count: 1588

Chapter 10:

You approached Jen, who was trying to think.

"What ingredients do you need?"

You had not been around a lot of Potion Witches but you knew Jen would need certain things to start making the potion.

You merely prayed you would find them soon enough in this huge house, for enough time had already been wasted.

Jen thought carefully for a moment. "I need frankincense and the gut of a eusocial insect."

Alice extended her hand, grabbing Teen's lower arm. "We'll handle that first part." She said and, along with the boy, rushed to find the two ingredients.

Jen took a deep breath, trying not to overthink or let the ticking sound of the clock distract her. She needed to be concentrated, for there was no room for error.

"I need a corpse that's been decaying for at least 30 million years."

Your eyebrows went up, not expecting that such a thing could actually be part of an antidote. It was in those times you really hated potions and was reminded how complicated they were.

"Is that something that's available? Cause I don't know what you're talking about." Agatha commented, anxiously waiting for the swelling to go away.

"Why do I have to translate? It's zooplankton." Jen explained, but that did not seem to ring a bell to any of you. "It's in petroleum products."

Suddenly, Lilia seemed to get an idea. "That we maybe can do."

Agatha nodded. "Lilia, let's go."

You watched the two women go and you glanced at Jen, feeling odd to be left with her.

"You help me find a cauldron or something to use!"

You could only nod as you both started to search the kitchenware, but nothing seemed fitting enough or your cause or big for that matter.

Your eyes went to the square sink, and a crazy idea popped into your mind. It was crazy. It was perhaps wrong, but right now, you were literally fighting for your life.

"The sink!" You pointed out, earning her attention.

"Huh?" Jen exclaimed.

"The sink is big enough, and we can clog it, so the water remains."

Jen looked at you for a moment, wondering if you had gone mad, but then she looked at the sink, and she could somehow imagine it that it could work.

"Okay... I can work with this," she agreed and once again focused on you. "I need one more ingredient. Eye of Newt, " she explained, but you only ended up staring at her for a little longer, blinking slowly. In the end, she gave up. "You fill the sink, I will go get it"

"Sounds like a good plan" you agreed.

You would not really point out that potions was your weak spot, though by now it might have been obvious enough.

Choosing not to comment, you watched her leave in search of a spice pantry while you placed the tab in the sink and let the warm water flow.

The clock next to you kept counting down, making your heart race faster due to the poison but also due to worry. A constant reminder that your chances of survival kept getting smaller was not helping keep you calm.

You placed your hands on the kitchen bench and leaned slightly forward, head hung low. As you felt the hot steam coming from the pooling water, you closed your eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths.

You sure did not remember the trials being that stressful the last time, yet centuries had passed ever since.

The sound of the clock seemed to slowly go away, blending with the background noises until it was a deep but weak echo at the very back.

The sudden change made you open your eyes, wondering what was going on. To your surprise, the house seemed dark and with barely any light present.

The faint sound of multiple steps came from a door to the very left, and you found yourself slowly walking towards it, leaving behind the kitchen and the sink that was halfway full.

As you kept walking, the sound of steps grew louder, and as you took a turn to the left; you could not help but gasp silently.

The hallway or room or whatever was meant to be there seemed to have expanded and was covered in darkness. The only thing visible was the light of torches, casting shadows on the faces of some familiar men.

"Get the witch!" One shouted, lifting a heavy object with both hands.

"Grab her!"

"Demon!"

"Kill her"

Your instincts told you to run away, to get as far away as possible but sudden fear clouded your mind; paralysing you.

You could only stare as the angry men kept shouting, the sound of chains triggering dark memories within you.

"No... no, no...no..." You repeated again and again as you brought your hands in front of you, forming an X in a futile attempts to protect yourself from the hits that were about to come.

Your white magic glowed in your palms and around your fingers, your instincts about to use it to protect you against the old enemy that had been brought back.

Before it could, however, it was stopped.

A strong pair of arms grabbed your wrist and shook you faintly as a muffled voice barely reached your eyes.

Gathering the courage, you dared to open your eyes only to see yourself with one knee against the wooden floor.

The angry men from before were gone, the lights were back to normal, and Agatha was holding your wrists; having almost gotten hit by your magic.

"You are with me, sugar?" She asked, bending slightly as if trying to ensure you would not fall; her grip on your wrists strong.

When Agatha was coming back with Lilia, she felt triumphant. She knew she found the ingredients into Jen's products, and she would use that as a chance to expose her dirty secret about her "natural" products.

However, before she could; Lilia seemed to get trapped into some sort of illusion or nightmare; one that actually worried Agatha, mostly on what the old witch had seen to terrify her that much.

Once this was over, she had made her way towards the kitchen when she saw you; staring at nothing. She called your name but her smile had disappeared once she realised you were also fighting an illusion, one to make you beg.

Her instincts kicked in and she handed all of the products she had right into Lilia's hands, not caring if the older witch would be able to handle the new load and quantity.

She rushed towards you, worry evident in her eyes. Your white magic seemed to flare when she approached but she managed to grab your wrist and shake you slightly, hoping this would help you snap out of it.

When you opened your eyes, she could barely find the strength to stare into your pained and terrified gaze. She had never seen that look on you, and it worried her of what could have taken place while she was away from you.

When you finally calmed down, a deep breath left your lips, and you could finally answer her. "I... I am, " you replied as you stood up with her help.

She did not seem to truly believe you, but as the sound of a ticking clock reached you, you were reminded there was not a lot of time for small moments.

You moved back to the kitchen just in time to meet the others, seeing them almost all as terrified and shaken as you; with the exception of Teen, who had not drank the wine.

Wasting no time, you cleaned the bench of any unnecessary items and placed all the ingredients on the marble top. When Jen had seen her products, she parted her lips to argue but chose not to; and only instructed you to add the ingredients in the proper turn.

Then, another obstacle showed up.

"Any bright ideas on how to set this sink to boil?" Jen asked, since the warm water you had filled the sink with was mot enough.

Agatha looked at her. "You didn't think of this before?"

Jen held back the need to snap at the former dark witch. "In the middle of a traumatic hallucination? No, Agatha, I did not!"

She took a deep breath as she tried to ignore the sound of running water. Because if it wasn't enough the poison and the timer, the Road had chosen to flood everything outside.

And thanks to the crack Agatha made before, saltwater was entering and you all feared when the time was up; that crack would stop holding resistance.

Thankfully, Teen seemed to know of something.

"Is there a sous vide?" He asked, and Jen smiled, a passive congratulation in his quick thinking.

Agatha arched an eyebrow and looked at you and Lilia, the ones standing closer together.

"That's something people know about?" She asked, and you only shrugged your shoulders, as clueless as the others on the topic.

Potions were never your strong suit, and neither was cooking, pastry, or anything having to do with a kitchen. You were a descent gardener, but your talents, unfortunately, laid elsewhere.

"It's a super fancy cooking tool. It heats water to a specific temperature, so you can cook your meat evenly." Teen explained, coming back with a weird object in his hand.

The clock let ouf a louder ticking noise, a reminder that you were almost down to the last minutes.

Chapter 11