#this ended up way longer than i anticipated!

[satori-runa]

—SOLACE

Summary: Your life with your boyfriend goes into the next level.

Tags: Established Relationship, Female Reader, Fluff, Romance, Angst

Words: 8,9k

MDNI IT CONTAINS NSFW ELEMENTS

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“Guess who.” A familiar, teasing voice whispers close to your ear, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. The words are followed by a warm body pressing into your back, enveloping you in an embrace. Gentle hands cover your eyes, playfully robbing you of your vision as you stand at the counter, finishing the last touches on dinner.

You can already smell the distinct, savory aroma of Sebastian’s favorite meal wafting through the kitchen—a hint of garlic, herbs, and roasted flavors blending into a comforting scent. The anticipation hangs in the air, the food waiting to be served, but now there’s something much more important occupying your attention.

“Hm, perhaps my wonderful boyfriend?” you hum back, leaning into the touch and making no attempt to pull away. There’s a soft giggle from behind you, the kind that melts away any lingering stress from the day. It’s a sound you’ve come to love, filled with genuine affection and a trace of mischief. His hands slide slowly from your eyes, drifting down to rest on your hips. You can feel the way his fingers trace small, lazy circles through the fabric of your clothes, a comforting and familiar touch that sends warmth spreading through your chest. He’s not in a rush, savoring the contact as he pulls you a little closer.

“Right on the first try, good job,” Sebastian murmurs against your ear, his voice low and playful. You can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, and the way he tilts his head, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His hair brushes against your cheek as he lingers there, pressing a gentle kiss just below your ear.

You’d never expected to find yourself in a relationship like this, one that seemed ripped straight from the pages of a corny romance novel or, as you and Sebastian liked to joke, a scene from a Korean drama. It had all started so randomly, in a way that neither of you could have planned even if you tried.

It was a late summer evening, the kind where the air still clung with warmth from the day, and the sky painted itself in deep shades of purple and pink. You were making your way home after a night out with friends, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your veins. The streets were filled with the sounds of distant laughter and cars passing by, but all you could think about was how much your feet hurt and how desperately you needed an Uber to take you home. You fumbled with your phone, trying to order a ride while your vision swam a little from the drinks.

At the same time, nearby, Sebastian was also looking to get home. He’d spent the evening crammed into a quiet coffee shop, buried under textbooks and highlighters, his study session running longer than he’d planned. By the time he packed up and stepped outside, the sky was already dark, and he sighed, knowing the buses had stopped running. He pulled out his phone, searching for a ride back.

Unbeknownst to you both, fate—or maybe just the Uber app—decided to pull you together that night. The two of you ended up standing at the same corner, eyes glued to the little car icon on your screens as it approached. When you noticed him, you raised an eyebrow, confusion muddling your half-drunken state.

“Uh, are you waiting for this one too?” You asked, swaying slightly on your feet. The alcohol made everything a bit fuzzy, your usual filter dulled by the night’s drinks.

Sebastian looked at you, equally confused, but then a smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, I am… seems like we ordered the same ride.”

You blinked, staring at him as if you were processing the situation in slow motion. Then, without much thought, you shrugged. “Well, there’s room for two. You wanna share?”

He chuckled softly, nodding. “Sure, why not? Looks like the universe wanted us to meet tonight.”

You slid into the backseat together, and as the car started moving, you leaned back, letting out a content sigh. The city lights blurred by outside the window, casting a soft glow on Sebastian’s face. He looked relaxed, his hair slightly messy from running his hand through it too many times while studying. You, on the other hand, felt talkative and loose-lipped from the drinks you’d had earlier. Before you knew it, you were rambling about anything and everything—your favorite movies, a funny story from the night out, even some existential musings on the universe that made him stifle a laugh.

“You’re really something.” He said, amused. His eyes sparkled with a kind of genuine interest that you weren’t used to seeing in strangers.

“I’m not something,” you replied, dramatic and slurring your words a bit. “I’m everything.” You pointed at him with a sloppy grin. “And so are you. We’re all stardust, you know?”

Sebastian gave a playful sigh, shaking his head. “Yeah, stardust… sure.” But there was something about the way you spoke, the unabashed honesty in your drunken state, that made an impression on him. You were a mess, but a charming mess, and it was enough to spark something in him.

When the car finally pulled up in front of his place, you were half-asleep, your head lolling to the side. He glanced at you, contemplating whether to wake you or let you rest. In the end, he gently nudged your shoulder. “Hey, this is where I get off. You alright?”

You blinked awake, rubbing your eyes like a sleepy child. “I’m fine,” you mumbled, even though you clearly weren’t. Before he could say anything more, you leaned closer, squinting at him. “You have really nice eyes, did you know that?”

He laughed softly, cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. “You’re definitely not going home like this.”

You didn’t remember much after that. The next thing you knew, you were waking up in an unfamiliar bed, the sunlight streaming in through pale curtains. Your head throbbed, the telltale sign of a hangover, and as you blinked the sleep from your eyes, you realized you were fully dressed, shoes neatly placed by the door. There was a folded note on the bedside table, written in neat, slanted handwriting.

Good morning! You looked too tired (and drunk) to make it home safely, so I brought you here. Don’t worry, you were a perfect angel. There’s water and aspirin on the nightstand. I’ll be back soon with breakfast—Sebastian.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sweetness of the note, even through the pounding in your head. It felt like a scene straight out of a drama—the handsome stranger, the shared ride, the note left behind. When Sebastian returned with a coffee and a bag of pastries, you were sitting up, still clutching the note.

“You’re awake,” he said, smiling as he stepped inside. “Feeling alright?”

You gave him a look, holding up the note like a piece of evidence. “Alright and not drunk, you're really a gentleman for leaving a note.“

He laughed, setting the coffee down in front of you. “What can I say? I aim to impress.”

From that morning on, it became a running joke between the two of you, how you met in such a cliché way. But as weeks turned into months, the jokes turned into real feelings. What started as a funny story to tell your friends became the foundation of something genuine. And now, here you were, dating Sebastian—the boy who shared an Uber with a tipsy, rambling stranger and decided to keep them around.

“Spacing out again?” Sebastian’s voice pulls you back into the present, his nose brushing against your ear as he nudges you gently. He’s still holding you close, his hands tracing idle patterns along your hips, almost as if he can’t bear to let you go just yet. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been standing there, lost in your thoughts and the warmth of his embrace.

“Hmm, maybe.” You reply, leaning back into him with a soft smile. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your back, and you feel the way his chest rises and falls as he breathes. “Lucky, huh? I was about to say the same thing.”

He presses a kiss to your temple before finally releasing you, letting his hands slide away reluctantly. You turn to face him, catching the playful glint in his eyes as he takes in the sight of you, still standing by the stove with a dreamy look on your face.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you say, gesturing toward the simmering pots on the stove. “But if you keep distracting me like that, we’re going to end up with burnt food.”

“Oh no, we can’t let that happen,” he teases, raising his hands in mock surrender. “After all, it’s my favorite. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

You roll your eyes fondly and turn back to stir the pot, feeling Sebastian’s presence lingering close by. He watches you for a moment, then reaches around you to grab a spoon, sneaking a taste of the sauce simmering in front of you. He hums appreciatively, savoring the flavor.

“Mmm, perfect.” he says with a satisfied smile. “But it needs one more thing.”

Before you can ask what, he’s leaning in again, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, soft and sweet. It’s barely a peck, but it sends a shiver down your spine nonetheless. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you as you swat at him playfully.

“Sebastian!” you scold lightly, trying to hide your smile. “You’re impossible.”

He grins, unrepentant. “Impossible? Or irresistibly charming?”

“A little of both,” you admit, shaking your head as you reach for the plates. “Alright, Mr. Charming, if you’re going to be here, at least help me set the table.”

Sebastian nods, slipping easily into a domestic rhythm that the two of you have fallen into over the past few months. He takes the plates from your hands, setting them down on the small table in the corner of the kitchen. It’s a cozy spot, just big enough for the two of you, illuminated by the warm light of the pendant lamp above. He lights a small candle in the center, the flame flickering softly, casting a golden glow that bathes the room in a romantic light.

You bring over the food, setting the dishes down as Sebastian pulls out a chair for you with a flourish, bowing dramatically. “Your seat, my dear.”

“Why, thank you, good sir,” you reply, playing along with a grin as you take your seat.

He settles down across from you, and for a moment, the two of you just look at each other, a soft silence settling between you. It’s the kind of silence that feels full, not empty—a shared moment where words aren’t necessary.

“You really outdid yourself,” Sebastian says after taking his first bite. His eyes light up with genuine delight, and it makes your heart swell with pride. “This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, watching him enjoy the meal you prepared. You can’t help but feel a rush of affection for him in this moment—seeing him so relaxed, savoring the food with that boyish smile you love so much.

The two of you fall into an easy conversation, talking about your day and sharing little stories. At one point, Sebastian leans back in his chair, looking at you with an expression so soft it almost takes your breath away.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week since there's barely time with work and studies,” he admits quietly, his voice tinged with a kind of vulnerability he doesn’t show often. “Just… having dinner with you, like this. It feels like home.”

You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours. His fingers curl around yours, warm and secure. “Me too,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s the best part of my day.”

For a while, you just hold hands, the candlelight flickering between you as you finish your meal. There’s a sense of contentment that wraps around you both like a blanket—cozy, intimate, and full of love.

After dinner, Sebastian insists on helping with the dishes, despite your protests. You end up standing side by side at the sink, elbows bumping playfully as you wash and dry. He steals kisses every chance he gets, brushing his lips against your cheek, your temple, the tip of your nose, making you laugh.

“You’re going to make me drop a plate,” you warn, though you’re smiling so much it’s hard to sound serious.

“Then I’ll catch it,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your temple.

By the time the kitchen is cleaned up, you’re both a little breathless from laughing, your cheeks warm from the shared closeness.

After the dishes are done, you’re both standing side by side, your hands still damp from the soapy water. The kitchen is quiet now, the only light coming from the small candle still flickering on the table, casting a warm, golden glow that dances across Sebastian’s face.

He turns toward you, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger there, brushing against your skin, and when you meet his gaze, there’s a different kind of warmth in his eyes—something deeper, a tenderness that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You’ve been amazing tonight.” He says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for this.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. “You don’t have to thank me, Sebastian. I loved doing this with you.”

There’s a beat of silence, where neither of you moves, just holding each other’s gaze. Then, in a single, smooth motion, he steps closer, his hands sliding to your waist. He pulls you against him, the sudden press of his body igniting a spark of heat between you. You can feel the way his fingers tighten on your hips, firm yet gentle, as if he’s anchoring himself to you.

You tilt your head up, your breath catching in your throat as he leans in, his nose brushing against yours. He’s so close now that you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips, and when he finally kisses you, it’s slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the taste of you. It starts sweet, almost tentative, but quickly deepens as the hunger between you both grows.

Sebastian’s hands roam up your sides, tracing the curve of your waist before sliding under your shirt. His touch is warm against your skin, sending a shiver through you. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide with a desire that mirrors your own. “Is this okay?” he asks, his voice husky, almost breathless.

You nod, your own hands slipping under the hem of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his stomach. “More than okay.” you murmur, and that’s all the permission he needs.

He kisses you again, deeper this time, his tongue parting your lips as he presses you back against the counter. The edge digs into your hips, but you barely notice, too caught up in the feel of his mouth on yours, the way he’s holding you like you’re the only thing in the world. You gasp against his lips when he grips your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter with surprising ease.

“Sebastian.” You whisper, your voice breaking with a breathy moan as his lips trail down your jaw, nipping gently at the sensitive spot just below your ear. He hums in response, his hands squeezing your thighs as he settles between them, the hard press of his body making your heart race.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and he groans, the sound vibrating against your skin. His kisses grow more heated, almost desperate, as if he can’t get enough of you. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with lust. His forehead rests against yours, and you can feel his breath coming out in short, uneven puffs.

“You drive me crazy,” he admits, his voice rough and raw. His hands slide up your thighs, fingers dipping under your skirt, hooking on the waistband of your underwear. He pauses there, teasing, the pads of his fingers tracing small circles just beneath the fabric. He’s taking his time, savoring the anticipation and the shared intimacy of the moment.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you manage to tease, though your voice is shaky with desire. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he lets out a low chuckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“It’s definitely not a bad thing,” he murmurs, capturing your lips again in a kiss that leaves you breathless. He presses himself harder against you, grinding his hips into yours, and the friction sends a wave of heat coursing through your body. You could feel his growing errection between his legs, pressing between your legs and you had to hold back not to rush it. It’s overwhelming in the best way, the feeling of his firm body fitting perfectly against yours.

His other hand slips further under your shirt, fingertips brushing over your bare skin as he tried to unclip your bra under your clothes and he certainly enjoyed it way too much the way he teased you with his slow delicate movements. He then cups the side of your waist, his thumb grazing just beneath your ribs, tracing gentle patterns. When he looks at you, it’s with an intensity that takes your breath away.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his voice filled with a raw, unfiltered honesty that makes your chest ache. He lowers his head, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your throat. His hands move with purpose now, sliding down to push your skirt up. He glances up at you, silently asking for permission, his expression almost reverent.

You nod, your breath hitching as he kneels in front of you. The sight of him on his knees, his hands gently spreading your legs appart, is enough to make your head spin. He takes his time, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s something worshipful in the way he looks at you, like he’s savoring every moment, every inch of your skin. Before you knew it, he took the piece of fabric of your lace panties between his teeth, pulling them down your legs, putting them in his own pockets.

“Sebastian��” Your voice is barely a whisper, your fingers tangling in his hair as he hooks your legs over his shoulders, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. He grins up at you, a teasing, almost playful smile, before lowering his head.

The first touch of his lips against your most sensitive spot makes you gasp, your back arching involuntarily. He’s slow and deliberate, tasting you with gentle licks that have your entire body trembling. It’s a different kind of intimacy—one that’s both intense and tender, filled with an unspoken love that takes your breath away.

He takes his time, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes, savoring the way your body responds to him. He holds your hips firmly, anchoring you in place as he explores every inch of you, finding the spots that make you shudder and moan his name. You can feel his hot breath against you, the soft hum of pleasure that escapes him as he loses himself in the moment.

Your fingers curl tighter in his hair, tugging him closer as you struggle to keep your voice steady. “Sebastian… please.”

He groans against you, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. He pulls back slightly, just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening, eyes heavy with desire. “I love it when you say my name like that,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with need. „Keep your eyes on me, darling.“

You’re panting now, your entire body trembling as he dives back in, his tongue moving faster, more insistently. The pleasure builds steadily, a wave of heat coiling low in your belly, making you feel like you’re on the edge of something wonderful. He watches your face as he works, taking in every gasp, every moan, as if it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

You can’t hold back any longer. Your body tenses, your thighs clamping around his head as you reach your peak, crying out his name. He doesn’t stop, riding out your release, his tongue gentle now, coaxing you through the aftershocks.

When you finally come back down, your chest heaving, he presses one last soft kiss against your thigh before standing up. He looks at you with a boyish grin, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Was that okay?” he asks, though his smirk tells you he knows exactly how good it was.

You let out a breathless laugh, pulling him into a kiss that’s sweet and grateful, tasting yourself on his lips. “More than okay,” you murmur against his mouth. “You’re incredible.”

He wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly, his nose nuzzling into your neck as he plants a soft kiss there. “I love you,” he whispers, the words like a quiet promise against your skin.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his temple, your fingers gently stroking through his hair. “I love you too.”

Without another word, he scoops you up effortlessly, his hands strong and sure as he lifts you off the counter. You let out a surprised laugh, clinging to him, your arms looping around his neck as he cradles you against his chest.

“Taking this somewhere more comfortable,” he murmurs, pressing a quick, teasing kiss to your forehead. The look in his eyes is smoldering, filled with an unspoken promise of what’s to come. He carries you through the dimly lit hallway, each step deliberate, the anticipation building between you both. Your heart races, beating in time with his, the air thick with the shared desire that crackles like electricity.

As you reach the bedroom, he nudges the door open with his foot, the soft light from the hallway spilling in and casting a golden glow over the bed. He sets you down gently, his hands lingering on your hips as he leans down to kiss you again. It’s slower this time, a lazy, lingering kiss that’s filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

“You’re too good to me,” you whisper against his lips, your hands already slipping under the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He chuckles, low and sweet, as he pulls back just enough to tug his shirt over his head. “I’m exactly as good as you deserve,” he replies, his voice husky. He tosses the shirt aside carelessly, and your eyes roam over his exposed chest, the play of light and shadow accentuating the muscles there. He looks at you like he’s drinking you in, savoring every detail, every expression on your face.

Your fingers find the button of his jeans, working it open as he watches you with a hooded gaze. He helps you, shrugging out of his pants and kicking them aside, leaving him in just his boxers. The sight of him—flushed, breathing heavily, and looking at you with a mixture of adoration and want—makes a wave of heat wash over you.

You lean back against the pillows, propping yourself up as he climbs onto the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress. He’s on you in an instant, his hands gently prying your shirt off, his lips trailing soft kisses down your collarbone as he peels the fabric away. When you’re bare before him, he pauses, taking a moment just to look at you. The way his eyes drink you in makes you feel cherished, like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

“Perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your sternum, then another lower, right over your heart. You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the press of his lips sending shivers through your body.

His hands trail down your sides, fingers close between your legs. He raises his eyes to yours, silently asking for permission once again. When you give a small, eager nod, he pushes them in, toying with you, his gaze never leaving yours.

He presses closer, his bare chest flush against yours now, skin against skin. The warmth of him seeps into you, grounding you even as your heart feels like it might burst from the intensity of the moment. You can feel every hard line of his body, the way he fits so perfectly against you, like you were made for each other.

“Sebastian.” you whisper, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You reach up, cupping his cheek in your hand, and he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm.

“I’ve got you.” He murmurs, his voice filled with love and a gentle promise. He dips his head down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow and deep, his hand, pulled out of you, sliding down your side to grip your thigh, pulling you closer. His other hand roams up your body, fingers splaying out on your chest as he squeezed the skin.

You shiver as he shifts, settling between your legs, the press of his body sending a wave of warmth through you. He grinds against you slowly, the friction delicious, and you gasp into his mouth, your nails digging into his back. He groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates through his chest, and you can feel the restrained need in the way he moves.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes against your lips, his forehead resting against yours as he gazes down at you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“You,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper. “I want you.”

He kisses you again, hard and fervent, his hips pressing into yours in a slow, rolling motion that has you arching up against him, seeking more. You can feel his smile against your lips, a soft, tender curve that’s full of love.

“I’m all yours,” he whispers back, his words like a promise. “Tonight and always.”

He moves slowly, unhurried, taking his time to explore every inch of your body with his lips and hands, like he’s memorizing every curve, every shiver. The room is filled with the sound of your shared breaths, the soft sighs and gasps as he touches you, holds you, loves you.

„Promise I always will.“ Those where his last words before you were able to feel him close to your entrance, his tip stroking you gently before he pushed in.

The next morning came in silence, but it wasn’t the kind you loved. It wasn’t the quiet murmur of the world still asleep, or the gentle hum of life waking up slowly. It was the kind of silence that felt heavy, almost suffocating. The kind that made you realize something was missing before you even opened your eyes.

You shifted, reaching out instinctively to the other side of the bed, expecting the familiar warmth of Sebastian’s body curled up against yours. Instead, your fingers met cold, empty sheets. Your heart sank a little, the small knot of disappointment tightening in your chest.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Mornings were your favorite time together, the one part of the day where you could both be unguarded, lazy, and wrapped up in each other without any of life’s distractions pulling you apart. You loved waking up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the sound of the kettle whistling in the kitchen as Sebastian made you breakfast, or the soft kiss he’d press to your forehead before you were even fully awake. It was the sweetest part of your life—those quiet, precious moments that belonged only to the two of you.

But today, there was none of that. Just an empty bed and a lingering chill where his warmth should have been. You opened your eyes, blinking at the soft light filtering through the curtains, half expecting to see him standing there, smiling at you like he always did. But the room was empty.

You sat up slowly, the sheets pooling around your waist, and glanced around as if he might suddenly appear. The pillow next to you was still dented from where he’d slept, but it was cool to the touch now, the scent of him fading away. You pressed your face into it anyway, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply, trying to hold on to that small piece of him for a moment longer.

„Sebastian?“ You called out, hoping for any kind of reaction, your voice filling the room.

It didn’t make sense. He hadn’t mentioned leaving early. He hadn’t said anything about having plans today. Your mind raced with possibilities, each one leaving a hollow ache in its wake. Maybe he’d just stepped out for a bit, you told yourself. He’d be back any minute, you were sure of it.

But as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the cold floor beneath your feet seemed to echo the emptiness inside you. You wrapped the blanket tighter around your shoulders, trying to chase away the chill. It wasn’t just the cold of the room—it was the cold that came from waking up alone when you’d gotten so used to waking up together. This felt oddly strange.

You couldn’t help but remember the way it usually was. How he’d pull you closer, mumbling half-asleep compliments against your neck. How his fingers would trace lazy patterns on your skin, making you feel like you were the only person in the world. How you’d both lie there for as long as you could, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, talking softly or just sharing comfortable silence.

You glanced at the clock on the nightstand, hoping you were wrong. Hoping maybe you’d just woken up before him, and he’d be back any second, slipping into bed beside you with a sheepish smile and a kiss on your cheek. But the clock told a different story. It was already late—later than he’d ever leave without saying something.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stand up, your legs feeling shaky beneath you. The house felt colder without him here, and the empty quiet of it pressed in on you. You padded out into the hallway, calling his name softly once more, half expecting him to pop his head out from the kitchen, teasing you for being so worried.

But there was no answer. No kettle boiling, no clink of mugs, no smell of coffee in the air. Just the empty echo of your voice.

You leaned against the doorframe, closing your eyes and letting the silence wash over you. The ache in your chest felt heavier now, settling like a stone. It was a small thing, really—waking up alone just once—but it felt like a shadow of something bigger. A reminder of how much you needed him, of how much his presence had become a part of your mornings, your days, your everything.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, rubbing your hands over your arms in a vain attempt to warm up. He’d be back soon, you told yourself again. He had to be. He wouldn’t just leave like this, not without a word. He wouldn’t take away the part of the morning you loved the most—the part where you woke up next to him and felt like everything was right in the world.

But as you stood there, staring at the empty hallway, you couldn’t help the small, creeping worry that maybe today was different. Maybe today was the start of a morning you’d have to face alone, a morning without him to hold you and make you feel whole.

And that thought made the quiet feel so much colder.

The quiet stretched longer than it should have, and with each passing second, the doubt in your mind grew. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, but you tried to brush it off. You told yourself it was nothing—Sebastian had probably just gone out to grab breakfast or coffee. It was a Saturday, after all, and the world outside was just starting to wake up. But as you moved through the house, something felt off.

You made your way to the entryway, half-expecting to see him standing there, pulling on his shoes or grabbing his coat. But the spot where his jacket usually hung was empty. The shoes he always left by the door were gone too. You frowned, the empty space making your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe he had left early, maybe to pick up something for breakfast, or maybe to run an errand.

You convinced yourself that’s what had happened. He’d just stepped out. He’d be back soon. You had to believe that. You turned away from the door and walked back through the house, glancing around for any sign of him. The stillness pressed against you like a heavy blanket, and despite your best efforts to remain calm, you couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at you.

As you entered the living room, you caught sight of the bookshelf against the wall. Your eyes narrowed, and your heart began to race. The shelf was slightly askew, the way it was when Sebastian had been messing around with it. But it wasn’t just the shelf that caught your attention—it was the hidden compartment behind it. Your safe. It was slightly open.

You had always hidden it carefully, knowing it was the one place where you kept the money that had become so important to Sebastian and you over the past few months. But now, standing there, you felt a cold shiver race down your spine. You walked over to it, and as you opened the compartment fully, your stomach dropped. The safe was empty. Your heart skipped a beat, and panic surged through you. The money—everything you had been so careful to keep safe—was gone. The only explanation you could think of was that Sebastian had taken it. He had taken everything. Your mind screamed at you, but your body felt frozen, unable to move.

Your breath quickened, and the room around you began to spin. A knot twisted in your chest, suffocating you, and your mind started to race with the worst possible thoughts. Had he really done this? Had he taken everything and left me? Your hands shook as you backed away from the shelf, your mind still desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. You had trusted him, believed in him, and now all you could think of was how everything had felt too perfect—like it had all been a lie. Any kind of trust was lost as you couldn't come up with a single good reason why he should take the money and disappear.

You moved quickly, heart pounding in your chest, darting around the house as if searching for something, anything that would prove you were wrong. You tore through the living room, the kitchen, even the bathroom. But there was nothing—no sign of him, no explanation for what had happened. The silence pressed down harder, and the walls around you seemed to close in, suffocating you with the weight of your thoughts.

Suddenly, the house felt too big, too empty. Every sound, every small creak, seemed amplified in the stillness. You felt like you were drowning in your own panic. Your chest tightened, and your breathing became shallow, erratic. Your vision blurred as the tears began to well up in your eyes. It was all happening too fast, too overwhelming.

You collapsed to your knees on the floor, hands gripping your hair as your mind spiraled. No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. The thought that Sebastian had taken the money, that he had left you with nothing but confusion and betrayal, shattered something inside you. Everything you had shared—the late-night talks, the laughter, the mornings together—it all felt like a cruel joke now.

"Sebastian!" you screamed, the word ripping from your throat, raw and desperate. "Where are you?"

But there was no answer. Just the emptiness, the silence stretching longer and longer, pulling you further into a dark pit of fear and confusion. You curled in on yourself, hands over your face, tears streaming freely as the weight of it all pressed down on you. How could you have been so wrong? How could you have let yourself trust him so completely, only for him to take everything away in one cruel moment?

The house felt like a prison. Every corner, every empty space reminded you of what you had lost, what had been stolen from you. And as the panic surged, all you could think was that he had left, and you were alone, with nothing but the aching hollow in your chest to show for it.

You cried, helplessly, uncontrollably, the sobs shaking your entire body. Nothing made sense. Nothing could bring you the comfort you craved. And all you could do was scream, hoping for some kind of answer that would never come.

Sebastian woke up first, the quiet morning light filtering through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. His gaze immediately landed on you—peacefully asleep beside him. The sight of you, tangled in the sheets with your hair messy from the night, made his heart skip a beat. There was something about you, something that made everything else in the world fade away when he was with you.

He could still feel the warmth of your body against his, the weight of your presence next to him, and the quiet intimacy that seemed to wrap around both of you. The night had been perfect, full of laughter and closeness, but in that moment, as he watched you sleep, something more profound settled in him.

He realized, with a clarity that shocked him, that he didn’t just want this—this closeness, this joy, this love—he wanted all of it. Forever. It was like a light bulb turning on in his head, and it was undeniable. He wanted to spend his life with you. The idea of waking up to this—waking up to *you*—for every day to come filled him with a warmth that he couldn’t ignore.

Sebastian’s chest tightened with a mix of excitement and nerves, the weight of the realization both exhilarating and humbling. He knew, deep down, that this wasn’t just a fleeting thought or a momentary rush of emotion. It was real. He wanted to build a life with you. He wanted to promise you forever, no matter what.

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb you. The sheets rustled gently as he moved, and he paused, watching you for a moment longer, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He admired how peaceful you looked, how safe and content, lost in dreams. He didn’t want to wake you yet. This moment, this quiet, was just for him.

Sebastian stood, stretching his limbs and glancing around the room. His heart still pounded with the weight of what he was about to do. He knew he had to do it. He had to show you that he wasn’t just saying the words when he said he loved you. He was going to prove it.

Moving quietly to the dresser, he pulled on his clothes, careful not to make any noise. His hands trembled slightly, the excitement of the decision making his heart race. He knew what he had to do, and nothing was going to stop him.

His eyes flicked toward the shelf where you kept your safe, his heart skipping. He had always known about it—he respected it, and he knew it was important to you. But today, today was different. He didn’t hesitate for a second as he opened the shelf, taking out the safe. The contents of the small box—money that had been saved for a future you’d both been dreaming of—meant something far more than just savings now. It was a way for him to take the first step toward that future. The life he wanted to build with you.

Sebastian swallowed hard as he pulled the money out, placing it carefully in his pocket. His chest tightened, but it wasn’t from nerves about what he was doing—it was from the overwhelming realization that he was making the choice to move forward, to ask for forever. He knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with you, and that thought was everything.

He turned, quietly making his way out of the room and into the hallway. The city outside was just beginning to wake up, the soft hum of the early morning a comforting backdrop to his racing thoughts. His mind was focused on one thing now: making sure the ring was perfect, making sure it was everything you deserved. He’d save the money for the rest of your life together later.

But today, today was the start of everything.

Sebastian made his way to the jewelry store, each step feeling more like a confirmation of what he had known all along. He was doing the right thing, and no matter how many details needed to be perfect, all that mattered was the love he felt for you. He had to make sure that the ring was just as unforgettable as the way you made him feel every single day.

As he stepped into the shop, his eyes immediately scanned the selection, his mind fixed solely on one goal. He didn’t need to search for long. The moment his eyes landed on a beautiful, delicate ring, a diamond set against a simple gold band, he knew it was the one. He imagined the way it would look on your finger, how it would symbolize everything he wanted to say but didn’t always have the words for.

With a deep breath, he picked it up, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the box. He paid, his hands shaking slightly with anticipation, excitement thrumming through his veins.

All he had to do now was get home to you. To show you how much you meant to him, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

The entire time he was gone, his mind was consumed with thoughts of you. He knew when he returned, it wouldn’t just be another ordinary morning. It would be the start of a new chapter. A chapter that began with love, and ended with forever.

But he never returned.

The metallic scent of the Hadal Blacksite hung thick in the air, its sterile walls casting a cold, lifeless atmosphere around you. The labyrinth of vents you crawled through felt like a maze, twisting and turning with no end in sight. Your knees scraped against the jagged metal, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Every inch of your body screamed in exhaustion, but your mission kept you moving. The crystal—the one thing you needed to find—was somewhere within this forsaken facility. But you had to survive long enough to retrieve it.

The deeper you went, the darker it became. The vents barely let any light in, and the only sound you could hear was the echo of your own breathing, shallow and frantic. You couldn’t afford to think about how you got here, how everything had spiraled out of control, or the faces you had once known. All you could focus on was the present, the objective. The crystal.

Your life had been shattered after Sebastian’s betrayal. You had fallen so far, so fast, that it felt like the very ground beneath you had disappeared. Now, here you were, crawling through the grim, unforgiving halls of the Blacksite—nothing more than a shadow, a criminal. Desperate. The crushing weight of debt and hunger had driven you beyond what you once thought possible.

Money had been the catalyst for your descent into this hellish place. The lack of it, the constant struggle to survive, had broken you down piece by piece until you were willing to do anything—anything—to escape the suffocating grasp of poverty. Your morals, your dignity, everything you once held dear, faded into the background as you scraped together whatever scraps of hope you could find.

And then you crossed the line.

It was never supposed to come to this. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t risk it all, but desperation had a way of warping your sense of reason. You had stepped into the Blacksite’s underbelly, risking your life, hoping the payoff would be enough to turn everything around. But all you had now were regrets, each one more suffocating than the last.

You had never imagined it would end like this.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed when you finally reached an access hatch, a simple vent. You didn’t hesitate, swinging it open and slipping through into the dimly lit room. Your eyes scanned the space, still disoriented from the crawl, but something stopped you dead in your tracks.

It was a shop.

A small, oddly shop tucked away in the heart of the Blacksite. The walls were lined with shelves—an assortment of strange, vintage devices, dusty trinkets, and knick-knacks. In the corner, a glass display case held a collection of unmarked items, their importance completely unknown to you. It was surreal, this oasis in the middle of a place so cold and hostile.

But what made your breath catch in your throat wasn’t the strange setting or the items on the shelves.

You froze, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes locked onto him. Sebastian. But he wasn’t the man you had once known—he wasn’t even close. His appearance was twisted, distorted, as though the years had been unkind, carving deep lines of pain into his face. His eyes, once warm and familiar, now held a cold emptiness, an unrecognizable void inbetween the fluorescent glow. His skin was pale gray, unnatural, like something out of a nightmare, and his presence felt wrong, as though he had been reshaped by something dark and uncontrollable. The shock hit you like a physical blow, your stomach churning as you tried to pull back, your legs shaking with the instinct to flee. You didn't even dared to comment the rest of his body. This wasn’t the man you loved: this wasn’t even someone you could recognize. A wave of disgust washed over you, mingling with the terror that gripped your throat. You couldn’t even process it—your mind couldn't make sense of the grotesque transformation. All you could do was stumble backward, every inch of your body telling you to get away, to escape this horrible, unrecognizable figure before you.

You took a slow, cautious step backward, your breath shallow and erratic. Every movement felt like an eternity as you tried to distance yourself from the nightmare standing in front of you. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, the twisted version of Sebastian, but at the same time, you couldn’t look at him. The terror in your chest made your limbs heavy, your mind clouded with panic, and your heart ached in a way that made it hard to breathe.

You moved quietly, silently, as though retreating would give you the space to think, to make sense of this madness. Your feet stumbled awkwardly, barely making any sound against the cold floor—until they didn’t. Your foot caught on something—an object, a piece of debris that you hadn’t noticed before—and in a split second, your body was crashing to the ground.

The impact sent a sharp pain through your limbs, and before you could even react, you froze, utterly paralyzed by the noise. The sound of your fall echoed through the room, and in an instant, you felt his presence shift. His breathing grew louder, and then he turned.

For a moment, everything stopped. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. Every muscle in your body locked up as you lay there, immobilized by fear.

And then he saw you.

His eyes, once hollow, suddenly flickered with recognition. His face—so alien just moments before—shifted into something you could hardly process. A look of utter shock and joy crossed his features, his mouth parting in disbelief, displaying his sharp teeth. He moved toward you cautiously, his voice hoarse but filled with an overwhelming sense of relief.

“Y-You...?” His voice trembled, almost in awe. His eyes darted over your face, his expression softening as the pieces of recognition fell into place. “No way… is it really you?”

A rush of emotion flooded through him—something you hadn’t seen in a long time, something raw and vulnerable. His face broke into an unrestrained, radiant smile, and for the first time, you saw the man you once knew beneath all the horror. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered joy that made your stomach twist in confusion and disbelief.

You could barely move, still too stunned to comprehend the sight before you, but his reaction was enough to make your chest tighten, a jolt of emotion hitting you like a wave, not in a good way.

He was happy to see you. And somehow, in this strange, twisted reality, that felt even more terrifying.

Sebastian moved closer, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the pocket of his coat, pulling something out with an eager grin. The object glinted in his hand, and for a moment, the sight of the small box made your heart skip with fear. But you couldn’t process it, couldn’t make sense of the words he was about to speak.

“I—I can’t believe this… I’ve missed you so much,” he rambled, his voice a mix of relief and confusion. His gaze never left you, his eyes soft but filled with an almost frantic urgency, as though he couldn’t believe you were really here. “I thought I’d never see you again, after everything—after how much I messed up. I don’t know how you ended up down here, I don’t understand, but… I don’t care.”

His words poured out, faster than he could catch them, like he had been waiting for this moment, this reunion, for so long. He seemed out of breath, his chest heaving slightly as he spoke, the joy barely contained in his voice. His behaviour felt so off on so many different levels, not lovingly like you knew him back then, but obsessive in the worst way.

“I’ve been waiting for this… for you,” he continued, a wild light in his eyes. “I told myself I’d come back to you, no matter what. No matter what happened or what I had to go through… you were always on my mind. I never stopped thinking about you. I—" His voice caught, almost as if the words were too much to handle.

He paused for a moment, his face suddenly serious, as if weighing something. Then, with a flourish, he opened the small box in his hand, revealing the engagement ring nestled inside, covered in some dry blood and dirt. His smile stretched wide, a mix of pride and happiness in his eyes. “I was going to ask you... I wanted to ask you... I’ve been saving for so long. I—” He glanced at you, his expression filled with an almost childlike excitement. “I wanted to give you this. I wanted to promise you everything. I know things were messed up, but you *are* everything to me. And I—I need you to know that.”

But you couldn’t hear his words anymore. They were distant, muffled, as if the world around you was closing in. Your chest felt hollow, and despite the tears that had begun to fall silently down your face, your body felt numb. The shock of seeing him again, the confusion, the betrayal—it was too much to handle. You didn’t know whether to scream or to run, but your body refused to move.

His words—so full of joy, so hopeful—made everything worse. The engagement ring, the smiles, the words of love—they all felt like knives in your chest. Your throat tightened, and the tears came harder, spilling down your cheeks in a silent torrent as you stared at him, completely incapable of responding.

He kept talking, his words becoming a blur. He didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care, that you weren’t saying anything back, that you weren’t moving. His smile remained wide and genuine, as if he was living some dream he had longed for. But for you? It was a nightmare that you couldn’t escape, not even if you tried.

You were deadly terrified of him.

You don't know who was standing in front of you anymore.

„GET AWAY FROM ME!“

[nervocat]

“Gargoyle Watching.” (no cws - wc: 586, platonic/fluff, male reader) FEM ALIGNED DNI WITH THIS POST OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

[name] Draconia, the Malleus Draconia's little brother. They both had the same reputation of being the feared and revered Draconia's, and they weren't very different either (though not as scary as people say).

Wandering Night Raven College's campus, the rain pattering on Malleus’ umbrella the two were under, [name] listened to his elder brother ramble on about the different gargoyles on campus with a fascinated look in his eyes.

Pointing to one on a building, Malleus explains the detail to it and his own guesses on the gargoyle, his brother listening intently. He was about the only one who could listen to him talk on about these things.

“It's been there for seemingly a very long time, I wonder what it's seen..” Malleus comments, putting his hand back to his side. You nodded in reply as you kept your eyes on the gargoyle.

“It does.. but it still seems to be staying up just fine,” you comment, looking back up at Malleus. “I like walking out in the rain.. we should do it more, perhaps.”

“Perhaps we should.. I find it quite nice as well,” he says, a smile forming on his face as he looks down at you. “Should we go see more?”

You smile back and nod eagerly. “Of course, brother, I would be delighted to walk around more if you should invite me to.”

Following close behind Malleus to stay under his umbrella, you walk along the paths before he points to another, one with water falling from its open mouth.

“Do you see that one, dear brother?”

“I do, Malleus, it's very intriguing,” you say as you watch the water fall from its mouth. Malleus watches with you, before looking over to you.

“Do you wish to see it up close?” you look over to him, a slightly confused look in your eyes.

“See it up close..?” seeing how Malleus' eyes narrowed with his smile, fangs peeking out, you knew he was up to something.

“Of course — follow me,” quickly following him, having to take more rapid steps to keep up, you end up on the roof of said building with the gargoyle, able to now look at it up close.

“Are you sure we're able to do this, brother?”

“No one's out while it's raining, and now we can see this gargoyle up close,” he says, sitting down with you having to follow suit, though not sitting down and staying on your feet, hands on your knees.

Malleus seemed to be enjoying watching the water coming from the gargoyle, leaning forwards almost all the way to see the face of it. Feeling the rain starting to hit you a bit, your lips pull down into a slight frown.

“Malleus, you're leaving me in the rain,” he just laughed.

“The rain is nice anyways, dear [name]. It's nice whether you're dry or not,” was all he said, teasing smile still on his face as his legs dangled off the building, free hand on his lap and glancing back at you. You huffed, just looking back at the gargoyle, Malleus following suit.

You noticed how the teeth of the gargoyle broke the steady stream of water, making it split ways from the rest of itself. Huddling as close as you could to Malleus, you just look at it with him, the only noise being the flowing water and the pitter-patter of the rain against your brother's umbrella.

You should definitely go gargoyle watching with him more, even if you weren't in his club.

[ ★ notes: a little indulgent fic for Malleus based off his clubwear card :33 I actually love sm how this turned out and it is longer than I anticipated it to be but that's ok. Hoping I didn't mischaraterize Malleus throughout the fic.. and I would so make more posts abt Malleus and a biological little brother specifically but I will wait until I catch up to book 7 (<- is currently still stuck on book 6) ]

★ — © nervocat || I appreciate any reblogs made, and pls don't repost or translate my works anywhere, ty — ✦

[nausicaamusiclover20]

hey I hope you’re having a good day

Can I request a shot about current James x reader, cozy evening and it ends with smut shower?

Hello, thank you, I'm having a good day. I hope you're having a good day too❤ Sorry, I know you requested a smut story, but I wanted to make it more on the intimate side rather than too explicit. I hope you still like it!

----

Warnings: mature themes, intimate scenes, physical intimacy

Under the Shower's Touch

The soft, golden glow of the lamp in the corner of the living room bathed the space in warmth, making everything feel incredibly cozy. The flicker of the fire in the fireplace added a gentle crackling sound to the background, creating a peaceful ambiance that felt perfect for a quiet evening. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the comforting smell of the soft blanket draped over the couch. I let out a contented sigh as I nestled closer to James, the fabric of the blanket pulling around us both like a cocoon.

His arm naturally draped over my shoulders, pulling me a little closer, and I couldn’t help but smile as I felt the familiar warmth of his touch. My legs were tangled beneath the blanket with his, and I let my head rest on his chest. It was one of those simple moments, quiet and peaceful, but it made me feel like the world was perfect just as it was.

"Long day?" His voice was low, the kind of voice that always soothed me, but there was something more in his tone tonight—a hint of something deeper. His fingers traced slow circles on my arm, but the touch lingered just a little longer than usual, sending an unexpected heat to the pit of my stomach.

I nodded, feeling the weight of the day’s stress slowly melt away in his presence. "Nothing compared to this," I replied softly, lifting my gaze to meet his. His eyes were warm, but there was something darker in them now—something hungry, something that made my pulse race.

James’ smile turned into something more suggestive, his lips curling at the edges. "Come on," he murmured, his voice a little rougher. "Let’s take a shower. You’ve earned it."

My heart skipped at the way he said it, the promise of his words thick with intention. I stood, almost pulling him toward the bathroom as my hand slipped into his, my fingers tightening around his. The way he held me, the way he pulled me in, told me everything I needed to know. I was his, completely, and he wasn’t letting go.

As we reached the bathroom, James paused, his fingers brushing down the sides of my body. I felt a twinge of excitement as he gently cupped my face, tilting my head up so our eyes locked. His gaze was soft but intense, full of desire that made my heart beat faster. Slowly, he reached for the hem of my shirt, his fingers grazing the fabric as he pulled it upward.

The moment was slow, deliberate—his touch gentle, like he was savoring the sensation of undressing me, as though he wanted to take in every inch of my skin. My breath hitched as his hands slid beneath the fabric, brushing lightly over my ribs. The feeling was electrifying, the way he moved, the way he looked at me, made everything else in the world fade away.

He took his time, slipping my shirt off over my head, his eyes tracing every exposed part of my skin. His fingers then moved to the clasp of my bra, undoing it with practiced ease, as though it was second nature to him. I shivered slightly, the anticipation building between us. Each movement felt slow, drawn out, like he was trying to memorize the feel of me, inch by inch.

When my bra was gone, his eyes lingered on my bare chest for a moment before his hands moved to my pants. He undid the button with a steady, almost reverent touch, pulling the fabric down slowly. My body responded instinctively, lifting slightly so he could slide them off, and I couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement as his fingers brushed over the smooth skin of my hips.

Once I was completely undressed, James stepped back, his eyes scanning over me, dark and full of admiration. "You’re beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. The way he looked at me, as though I was the only thing in the world that mattered, made my heart race even faster.

He kissed me then, a slow, deep kiss that left me breathless. His hands roamed over my body as if memorizing every curve, every dip, every inch of skin. The kiss deepened as he pulled me closer, pressing his body against mine, and I felt the heat building between us, like a fire that couldn’t be contained.

When the kiss finally broke, I could barely catch my breath. James’ hand slid down my back, and he led me to the shower. The warm water already flowed from the showerhead, filling the space with the gentle sound of water hitting tile. We stepped under the spray together, and I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the heat of the water wash over us both.

But James wasn’t finished yet.

He took his time, his fingers trailing down my sides, as he guided me beneath the spray. The water felt like it was pouring over us, but his touch was what really made me shiver. He kissed my neck, his lips pressing lightly against my skin before moving lower, slowly exploring me, each touch so deliberate, so careful.

I let out a breathy sigh, closing my eyes as I melted into his touch. "James..." I whispered, my voice thick with the emotions swirling inside me.

"Do you want it?" he murmured, his lips brushing over my shoulder. His voice was soft, but there was a quiet intensity in it that made my heart race. "I need to hear you say it."

My pulse quickened, and I nodded, my hands sliding up to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. "I want it," I whispered, my voice breathless and full of longing. "I want you."

The words hung in the air for a moment, charged with the weight of everything between us. His lips found mine again, this kiss more urgent, more intense. His hands moved over me, touching me with such tenderness that it almost hurt, yet every movement felt like it was pulling me closer to the edge.

"Let me take care of you," he whispered against my lips, his voice full of promise. His hands roamed lower, and I responded instinctively, pressing my body closer to his. The connection between us deepened, our movements becoming more synchronized, every inch of our skin touching as if we were made for this moment.

The intimacy between us deepened, the way we moved together, each kiss and touch more urgent than the last. He held me tightly, his hands gently guiding me, making sure we were completely connected, in sync with each other. I could feel the connection between us growing, something raw and powerful.

 Finally, when the intensity of the moment softened, James held me close, his hands brushing through my wet hair as he kissed my forehead gently. His arms tightened around me, pulling me against him. "Are you okay?" he asked again, his voice low and filled with quiet affection.

I nodded, my head resting against his chest, the warmth of the water washing over us. "I’m perfect," I whispered, my voice soft but steady.

He sighed, his hand gently tracing along my back, his fingers soothing against my skin. "I want to stay like this forever," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

I closed my eyes, feeling his words sink into me, and whispered back, "Me too."

We stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the warmth of the water surround us, both of us feeling the weight of the moment. No words were needed. The quiet understanding between us said everything. We were content, lost in the calm, knowing this was the one thing we both wanted: just this. Together.

[legendary-69420]

Chapter 20: Between Fame and Feelings (Part 1) Underneath the Spotlight

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 2) Part 1 : Underneath the Spotlight Song : "Espresso - Sabrina Carpenter"

The air was electric as fans filled the venue, their excited chatter echoing off the walls. Charles stood at the entrance, his heart pounding—not from anticipation for the concert but from the simmering tension within him. Over the past few weeks, rumors had spread like wildfire, and Charles found himself caught in a storm of jealousy and confusion. Mark, his best friend, the guy he couldn't stop thinking about, had been seen everywhere with Sabrina Carpenter. Cafes, parks, and now a concert—an image burned into Charles’s mind.

He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the frustration bubbling inside. Why does this bother me so much? He should have been happy for Mark, but the sight of them together twisted something deep within him. He had not voiced his feelings, choosing instead to keep his thoughts bottled up.

“Hey, Charles! You okay?” Lorenzo's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Yeah, just… thinking,” Charles muttered, glancing at his friends. Arthur stood nearby, scrolling through his phone, oblivious to the turmoil swirling in Charles's mind.

As the concert started, excitement filled the air, yet Charles felt isolated, as if there was an invisible barrier between him and the festivities. Mark had invited him and the rest of their group, but the absence of his friend was palpable. Where is he?

The opening act blared through the speakers, and the crowd cheered, but Charles’s heart wasn’t in it. His eyes scanned the stage, searching for a glimpse of Mark. Finally, as the beat dropped and the lights shifted, the moment Charles had been waiting for arrived.

“ESPRESSO!” Sabrina's voice rang through the venue, and with it, Mark appeared, looking effortlessly stunning. He was dressed in a sleek costume that hugged his body, revealing his toned abs and muscles. The way he moved on stage was mesmerizing; he and Sabrina danced with a chemistry that sent a jolt of jealousy through Charles. They were close, practically entwined, every move perfectly choreographed, yet it felt too intimate for Charles's comfort.

As the song progressed, Mark glanced over at Charles, and their eyes locked. Mark winked at him, a playful gesture that sent a thrill down Charles's spine. Charles's heart raced, but the flutter of excitement was quickly overshadowed by a surge of frustration. Why was he with her?

When the concert ended and the crowd began to disperse, Charles lingered, anxiously waiting for Mark. He felt an overwhelming urge to confront him about everything—the rumors, the dancing, the closeness. But when Mark finally made his way through the throngs of fans, he wore a bright smile that only deepened Charles’s inner conflict.

“Hey! Did you enjoy the show?” Mark beamed, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Yeah, it was great. You were amazing up there,” Charles replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Thanks! I had a lot of fun,” Mark said, oblivious to the tension in the air. “Want to drop me off? I could use a ride home.”

“Sure,” Charles muttered, feeling the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between them as they walked to the car.

The drive home was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Charles focused on the road, but his mind was racing. “So… Sabrina, huh?” he finally blurted out, unable to hold back any longer.

Mark shifted in his seat, his expression turning serious. “Yeah, we’ve been hanging out a bit. She’s really nice. We’re just friends, though.”

“Just friends?” Charles echoed, trying to keep his voice neutral despite the sting of jealousy. “It looked like more than that up on stage.”

Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not what you think, Charles. I have to do this for my career. The publicity, the exposure… It’s all part of it.”

“I get that, but it just seems like…” Charles hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’re spending a lot of time with her.”

“I know it looks bad,” Mark said softly, his tone turning serious. “But you know I care about you, right? You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.” ...

(Dividers by @thecutestgrotto and @enchanthings)

[magebunkshelf]

We are so back!

I'm sorry it's been so long. The next audio will go live around this weekend! Quick update on things;

The next audio will be the previously teased Vampire Hunter 5! It's been a while so you may want to catch back up at least with part 4! In addition to the new audio, this will also be the start of a rebrand to the visual style on the channel! It'll still be pretty familiar, I'm not changing the channel name or anything as drastic, but pretty much every audio on this channel will be getting shiny new thumbnails very soon. I've already updated the thumbnails for the Vampire Hunter series if you'd like a teaser for what's in store! This is something we've been cooking for a while and I'm super excited to show what we've been working on - more on that soon! The visuals for all my audios haven't changed at all since the very first video other than the addition of series banners, it's functional but not at all interesting, so this change has been a long time coming.

I did give myself more to do all at once with both the audios and the rebrand, and getting everything done at the same time ended up taking way longer than I'd anticipated, so for that I'm very sorry for delay. With all this out the way I'll be able to return to making audios at a more regular pace - I've still been working on scripts and the next audio after this has already been recorded!

In the meantime I've been streaming a little more frequently over at twitch.tv/mitchtheraccoon! We'll be running a Halo co-op birthday stream tomorrow night, come join us if you're interested!

More info on the rebrand stuff when it all goes live, and I really hope you enjoy the upcoming audio! Sorry again for being gone for so long, I really hope you'll find it worth it! ^ ^

-Mage

Here's part 4 if anyone would like a refresher!

[bookloover35]

Shanks- Beneath the crimson tide.

The sea was calm tonight, its surface shimmering like black silk beneath the crescent moon. In the depths, hidden among the coral reefs, you—[Y/N], a mermaid—swam quietly, the cool water a familiar embrace. The open ocean had always been your home, far away from the clamor and chaos of the human world. But sometimes, even the deep blue brought its own surprises.

Tonight, the scent of blood drifted through the water.

Curiosity piqued, you glided towards the source. It wasn't uncommon for ships to clash on the seas above, but the aftermath often led to debris—and sometimes bodies—floating down to your realm. As you broke the surface, you squinted to see a wooden wreckage drifting in the moonlight. Among the shattered beams and broken barrels was a lone figure, barely clinging to a piece of flotsam.

Red hair gleamed under the silver light.

Your heart skipped. You recognized him: Shanks, the infamous pirate captain. Stories of him had spread even beneath the waves, tales of his laughter, his daring exploits, and the way he carried himself with that relaxed yet dangerous aura. But right now, he was no more than a wounded man lost to the sea.

Without hesitation, you swam closer, your iridescent tail cutting smoothly through the water. His eyes fluttered open as your face came into view, his usual confident smirk replaced with a dazed expression.

"A... mermaid?" he whispered hoarsely, eyes widening slightly.

You simply nodded. "Hold on," you murmured softly, your voice carrying a melodic quality that had always fascinated the surface dwellers. With a swift flick of your tail, you maneuvered beneath him, guiding his weight onto your back. Despite his injuries, he was surprisingly heavy, but you pressed on, propelling the both of you towards the closest island.

The journey took longer than you'd anticipated. Shanks drifted in and out of consciousness, his grip on you weak but determined. Occasionally, he murmured something—fragments of dreams or memories. Each word was a glimpse into a life you could never fully understand.

When you finally reached the shore, you carefully laid him on the sand, the waves gently lapping at his feet. His eyes cracked open, and he let out a low groan. Kneeling beside him, you pressed your fingers to his forehead, feeling the heat radiate from his skin.

"Why... did you save me?" he asked, his voice barely more than a rasp.

You tilted your head, considering the question. "The sea may be harsh, but it is not merciless," you replied softly. "Besides, I've heard enough stories about you. It would be a shame if they ended too soon."

He chuckled weakly, a shadow of the vibrant laugh that was said to echo through pirate taverns. "A mermaid with a sense of humor. I must be dreaming."

"You're not," you replied, flicking your tail playfully. You leaned down, inspecting the wound on his side—a jagged gash, likely from a sword. Without another word, you retrieved a pouch of seaweed from a hidden satchel around your waist and pressed it to the wound.

A hiss of pain escaped Shanks' lips, but he didn't pull away. "You're full of surprises," he said through gritted teeth.

"You haven't seen the half of it," you teased, your fingers deftly working to wrap the makeshift bandage. As you finished, your eyes met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade into the gentle whisper of the waves. His gaze was intense, a mixture of curiosity and something else—something that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Thank you," he said, his voice softer now, more sincere. "Not everyone would've bothered."

You shrugged, trying to play it off casually, but his gratitude warmed you in a way the sun never could. "The ocean has its ways," you said, flicking your gaze to the horizon. "It brought me to you."

Shanks chuckled again, this time with more strength. "I'll have to repay you someday," he said, attempting to sit up but grimacing in pain. "What's your name, mermaid?"

You hesitated. Names held power among your kind, but something about this man, this pirate who stared at you with those sharp, warm eyes, made you feel... safe. "Call me [Y/N]," you finally answered.

"[Y/N]," he repeated, testing it on his tongue like a sailor tasting a fine rum. "I won't forget it."

You offered him a small smile, a rare gift in itself. "You better not, pirate," you teased, flicking your tail playfully. "I'll be watching you."

As dawn began to break, you knew it was time to return to the sea. But before you could slip back into the waves, Shanks caught your hand, his grip surprisingly strong despite his injuries.

"Will I see you again?" he asked, his voice low, almost vulnerable.

You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "Perhaps... if the tides are kind."

With that, you slipped beneath the surface, leaving only a ripple behind. Shanks watched the spot where you disappeared, his grin slowly returning.

He would recover, of that you were certain. And perhaps, one day, the sea would bring him back to you.

For now, you would swim beneath the waves, carrying with you the memory of a crimson-haired pirate and a promise made beneath the moonlight.

[argent-rex]

After N recovers from his mini breakdown at Pokédonald's he flies to Kanto seeking the BW trainer. He spots a tall tower and makes a stop quickly, landing in a quaint but erie town. The air is thick and heavy, and as night is approaching a heavy fog rolls in. Residents warn him to stay inside, but he doesn't need to, not when he has the Dragon of Legend with him. He begins to ascend the tower with the Dragon following him, who is cautious and keeping a watchful eye on Harmonia. N continues to ascend, looking at the graves solemnly, speaking with the ghost pokémon as he reaches the final flight of stairs. He senses someone waiting up ahead. But how? How did someone know he was here? Could it be... his friend?

N ascends the final staircase.

Anxious, sweating beading on his brow. What would his friend say? How would they greet each other? There is a lump in his throat, his chest thuds with the rhythm of trepidation as his eyes dance towards the figure.

It's an old man. Smiling at him with such warmth and compassion. N is confused, who could this man be? His aura is radiant, reminiscent of a sophisticated calm similar to that of Anthea and Concdoria, when they used to watch over him when he was young.

"Ah, young man. You're up late. The Pokémon were beginning to become restless. They're not used to visitors at this time!" The old man chuckled, his wrinkled features briefly illuminated in the dim light.

N gathered himself. "This... this is a graveyard. I thought they would be sad, all the Pokémon... but- they're happy."

The old man smiled, warmth radiating from him. His old eyes spoke with a kindness that kept N's gaze toward the fellow. "I have been attending to the Pokémon here and paying my respects for many decades now. It's the least I owe to them and the people of this town. Young man, you can understand them... correct?"

"How did you-" N began in haste, but bit his tongue. This man posed no threat, there was no need to suspect him as untrustworthy. "Yes, I can speak with Pokémon. The others at the Pokémon House were all talking about you, Mr. Fuji." N bowed respectfully now understanding who he spoke with. "Cubone is worried about you."

Mr. Fuji's smile brimmed with mirth as he let out another light chuckle. "That Cubone worries more about me than it does itself sometimes! Perhaps it is time to head home for the night. Come young man, won't you stay with us until the morrow?"

N nodded in agreement, motioning for the Dragon of Legend to follow as he descended Pokémon Tower with Mr.Fuji, talking more about the nature of Pokémon and the ones the old man cared for. It was near midnight when the two arrived back at Pokémon House, turning in until the sun rose in the morning.

N had barely slept.

The sun had just kissed the horizon, shades of purple bleeding into hues of orange as the blue of day began to wash over the clouds when N climbed onto the back of the Dragon of Legend, only to be stopped by Mr. Fuji before taking off.

"Pardon my intrusion young man, but I have seen that expression on your face countless times in my life. You are searching for something, or someone. I mean not to pry, but may I offer some advice?" The old man took N's silence as affirmation and continued. "There was a young boy, some time ago- who came to this town and helped our people and Pokémon in a time of great need. Without hesitation and without barely a word, he ascended the tower and freed a restless spirit... and he freed me from the clutches of the wicked Team Rocket. This young man then went on his way, much like you are about to. In that young man I saw a strength, a determination and desire to change things for the better. He knew what he wanted to achieve, what the end of his goal was and how he was going to achieve it. Through that determination, he saved this region. It wasn't until two years after that, he visited me... he had changed. He was still the young man I had met before but... he did not speak. Not to any of my helpers, but to me... and to Cubone."

N's eyes narrowed. Another Pokémon trainer who understood Pokémon like his friend did? A trainer with such strength to thwart an evil clouding the region? "Where do I find this trainer?"

Mr. Fuji's smile was small and his expression flashed briefly with regret. He let out a sigh. "Beyond the Indigo Plateua, a mountain sits. A system of caves weave and wind their way through to the mountain top, where you will find him at its very peak."

"You weren't meant to reveal his location, were you?"

"No, young man. I was not."

"You trusted me with this information. Why?"

"He may lead you to who you seek."

N's pupil's dialated and he felt the Dragon of Legend begin to power up, ready for flight. They were both ready, for whoever this trainer was. "Tell me, Mr. Fuji... what is this trainer's name?"

"His name, is Red."

[babygirlwolverine]

cas had texted and said he’d be back at the bunker that night, and dean had stayed up until almost 3am waiting for the angel. when cas hadn’t walked through the bunker door, dean had to drag himself to bed before he passed out on the war table.

he didn’t sleep for long though, waking up just after 6am to check his phone. no messages from cas. was it too soon to start worrying?

making his way to the kitchen for a very strong cup of black coffee, dean shuffled past the bag in hallway while he rubbed blearily at his eyes. it took several long seconds before dean realized he’d almost tripped over cas’ overnight bag and he quickly backtracked and made a beeline for cas’ room.

the room was empty, no sign of cas’ current trenchcoat or of the angel anywhere.

frowning, dean wandered the hallways, searching for any signs of cas. but there was nothing. the bunker was quiet. empty. not even sam was awake yet.

convincing himself that the overnight bag had always been there and he’d just forgotten because he was tired, dean trudged back towards the kitchen by cutting through the library.

and he froze, mid-step.

slumped, lying curled up between two of the chairs at the table, was a sleeping angel using his trenchcoat as a pillow against the hard wooden seats.

a sleeping angel who was bundled up under dean’s old hoodie; the clothing item which usually held a permanent place in the backseat of the impala. the same hoodie that had gone missing a week ago.

dean’s heart stuttered in his chest.

his feet carried him gently across the library and he found himself reaching out and brushing a lock of hair off of cas’ forehead. the hood of the jacket was tucked up under cas’ chin, almost as if the angel had been burying his face in the cotton material, but the rest of it was slipping off and threatening to fall onto the floor.

breath catching in his throat, dean softly readjusted the hoodie and wrapped it around cas’ shoulders. cas let out a content sigh in his sleep, and dean suddenly felt weak in the knees.

cas had taken dean’s jacket with him when he’d left the bunker last week. and now, cas was using his hoodie as a blanket. a concept that years ago dean would’ve sworn up and down that cas would never understand because angels didn’t have feelings. yet, here cas was, carrying around dean’s old clothes, wearing his heart on dean’s worn sleeves.

smiling to himself, dean quietly made his way back to the kitchen to make honey tea for cas and a pot of coffee. he was going to need the caffeine courage to show cas that this was mutual.

as the coffee brewed and the tea steeped, dean snuck back into cas’ room and collected the one thing he was missing. wrapping one of cas’ old trenchcoats around his shoulders, dean was finally ready to put his own heart onto cas’ sleeve.

[cerealboxlore]

Billy Batson related question, as always! How do you think the League would react to Black Adam knowing who the Captain is, especially when they don’t even know? (The relationship between Billy and Teth doesn’t matter, they could be allies or enemies).

Billy Batson related questions are my personal favorites!

The idea of the Justice League not knowing who Captain Marvel's secret identity is always makes me giggle :D it's the layer of mystery and unknown danger that presents itself behind not knowing who the Big Red Cheese is that keeps them on edge sometimes. They admire their friend, but sometimes they do wonder, are they his friend? What is he? An alien? A human? A monster beneath the disguise of a man? Three kobolds in a trenchcoat? Nobody knows... They do wish to get to know their friend better.

Normally, most league members have their secret identities kept, you know, a secret. With the exception that Batman knows, of course. However, even he remains stumped on this mystery. He doesn't enjoy not knowing who Captain Marvel is behind the boy scout smile he often shines, but Batman is determined to find out one day. There's almost some respect for how well the Captain manages to hide his identity and tracks.

Meanwhile, Billy is surprised he's lasted this long with a secret identity. He's working with a braincell, half an oreo cookie, and a dream.

I got sidetracked, ack! Okay, so the relationship (depending on which version of Captain Marvel and Black Adam you are familiar with) is almost always going to be personal. There's their shared relationship with the wizard Shazam, but the one I'm most familiar with and enjoy is Black Adam being the one to have killed Billy's parents. (Also, I appreciate you separating the identity of Black Adam and Teth!)

It would be absolutely amazing and gutwrenching to see Captain Marvel shake hands with a "reformed" Black Adam, possibly during a public setting with the JL in attendance, fully knowing the truth behind his parents murders and still going through with the painful decision to let him go unpunished.

For Billy, this hurts. On a deep level that scars his heart and soul for allowing his parents deaths to go unavenged. For the years of pain, he spent alone on the streets homeless and separated from his twin sister, none of it can be fully healed no matter how hard he tries to forget. Scars fade over time, but to Billy, time is eternity. This pain will follow him for eternity.

However, as Captain Marvel, he understands that there's more to the situation that he can't control, and fighting Black Adam would only make things worse. With the wisdom of Solomon, he knows he can't justify a fight against the ruler of a nation, no matter what. So he just smiles for the camera and shakes the hand of the man who orphaned him.

It is through holding Black Adam's hand that the thought passes through his mind: the hand he's holding right now was once stained with the blood of his parents.

Then, the heroes are given a moment of privacy to be around each other without the public's eyes or ears to interfere, and that's when **** hits the fan.

Captain Marvel is avoiding Black Adam, understandably, but when Black Adam loudly calls out his name among the other heroes, Billy can't help but feel rage boil inside his divine blood.

"William. I thought you knew better than to ignore others when they're trying to talk to you. Such rudeness, I am most glad your parents were not the ones to raise such behavior in you."

Whispers among the league ensues. Was that the Captain's name? Did Black Adam know Captain Marvel on a personal level rather than just a regular hero and nemesis level? Despite the eyes watching them, waiting and prepared to step in case of a fight, the Captain grits his teeth and, through miserable eyes of a broken man, chooses to smile.

"Yeah, they really were good people, Adam. I may not live up to their expectations, but I do live for them. Every day. I suppose I have you to thank for that."

"Your gratitude is most welcome, William. May one day come where you live for Mary and Frederick, as well. They would appreciate you honoring them."

Through a wicked smile, Black Adam chuckles, turning his back to take his leave back to Khandak. Leaving Captain Marvel still smiling all alone, his fists at his side curled with rage, drawing his own divine blood from the intensity of his own strength.

After that, the league would be in all rumors and whispers about Captain Marvel. From the past, they knew that Black Adam was fond of taunting the Captain with strange and mean words during their harrowing battles, but had it all been a personal dig at him all this time? Did Black Adam have a hand in accidentally giving Captain Marvel the motivation to become a hero?

Superheroes like Batman would immediately be looking into any information they learned from this and try to decipher what is the truth behind the Captain. Or should he say, "William," now having a name to the face of the hero of Fawcett. He would also be investigating Black Adam far more closely now, should the reformed man ever step out of line. If he heard right and Black Adam had indeed killed the Captain's parents, then he needed to keep an eye on Captain Marvel, too. In case of a breakdown or instability in emotions.

On the other hand, heroes like the Flash and Superman would take the time to visit the Captain in his city and check on him. They'd be concerned after seeing how pained Captain Marvel was. If a villain like Black Adam knew who the Captain was and specifically chose not to reveal his true identity to the public and just the Justice League, then perhaps there was more to it. Superman knew as well how painful it was to let a guilty man go free because he was deemed "reformed" in the eyes of the public (Lex Luthor, ew).

Overall, there would be a whole range of emotions after finding out Black Adam knows who Captain Marvel is. And I am here for it!

[anzuhan]

[doctorwhoarchive]

as someone who absolutely adored Sam/Melissa in Scream 5 while most everyone else was hating on her and her acting, I’ve been thinking about this for a while and can honestly write a whole dissertation on this SO

Melissa was never a bad actress in 5. I’d argue it all comes down to how Sam was written and that she was intentionally a little more stoic. And then, as soon as Melissa had more input on the character and fought to give Sam more complexity in 6, suddenly everyone loved her and was praising her for “getting acing lessons”. Someone doesn’t just improve their acting that much in the few months timespan between when 5 came out and 6 was filmed, she was always that good!

The real reason I’m writing this though is because there’s a certain subtle aspect of Melissa’s acting that I’ve never seen anyone talk about before, but it might just be my favorite thing about her portrayal of Sam. MELISSA’S BODY LANGUAGE ACTING IS INCREDIBLE AND IT’S TIME WE SPEAK ABOUT IT!!

Maybe it’s just the mental illness in me that sees the same things I do in her, but a lot of little things she does/the way she carries herself stick out to me and I love it so much. The way she crosses her arms like she’s closed off whenever something particularly bad or uncomfortable is happening (she does this in shrine scene when Tara catches her talking to Billy, at the police station after Gale is attacked, and in 5 when she begins to tell Tara about finding the diary), the way her leg bounces when she’s nervous/anxious (like when she’s talking to Danny after the ladder scene), the way she fiddles with her hands (like in the scene right after she’s attacked in the hospital in 5), it all really catches my attention and it’s so subtle but perfect.

Melissa’s crushing it as Sam, and was way before everyone finally started appreciating her performance in 6. When I see her do those things I’m like!! I do those exact things too! It may not be a big deal to anybody else and they may not even notice it, but I notice it and absolutely love it and feel seen by it. It just feels like Melissa really put the time, effort, and thought into Sam and her mannerisms to make her a more well-rounded character, and I just think we all need to talk about it more.

[itsalwaysforyou]

the black sky and all those lights

a silly little something i wrote for jalentines!!

When Mal opens the dormitory door, Jay is standing in the hallway in his workout gear, hair tied up in a bun. He’s already grinning in that way he does when he wins a fight. Mal rolls her eyes at him. Grabbing her bag, she says bye to Evie, and joins Jay in the corridor. 

She scowls as they walk, her workout clothes tight on her skin. Jay had insisted they’d do things properly, and not in their usual leather. 

The hallways are decorated for Valentine’s Day, making Auradon Prep even more gaudy and colourful as usual. Pink and red hearts plastered across the walls, boasting the abundance of love here in Auradon. Jay’s had a thousand notes in his locker. Mal’s had none. Every morning, she watches Jay approach his locker like he would a target on the Isle. Weight forward, shoulders squared; ready to fight if needs be. And the paper falls to the floor like blood, only sickly pastel. Scrawled glittery gel pen. Words confessing passionate love, or asking him on dates, or doodles of hearts. Jay smiles the whole time. Greets and winks at girls. Scrunches those notes up in a fist. 

“Everywhere looks disgusting,” Mal says as they approach the sports hall. Heart-shaped bunting crests the doors.

Jay holds the door open for her. “It’s fun.”

“You would think that.”

The sports hall is mercifully free of décor. They drop their bags in the corner and begin to warm up, another stupid practice Jay insists on. His top rides up as he side-stretches. Isle rule: never show skin, especially to the enemy. Except, Jay loved to parade around in those stupid sleeveless vests. She’s yelled at him plenty of times about it—Are you insane? You’re a walking target. He would just grin and say, they’ll have to catch me first.

Jay laughs as he grabs the practice swords from their stands. “Here.” 

He throws it, and Mal catches. The weight in her hand is familiar. Already, her pulse is thrumming faster, and maybe if she closes her eyes she’ll be back on the docks, with the wind ripping at her hair, and the salt stinging her nose, and half a dozen of Uma’s crew jeering over the clanging of swords. 

Jay chucks her a mask too, before attaching one to his own face. The mesh turns her vision slightly hazy.

“Ready?” Jay asks.

Mal’s watched fencing practise a few times, mostly as an excuse not to do homework and instead watch her boys wipe the floor with all those prissy Auradon princes. Coach Jenkins appointed Jay captain of the team a few months ago, a role he takes more seriously than she’s ever seen him take anything. 

“Rassembler! Salute! Lower the point. Masks down. En guarde!”

Mal lunges first, which Jay clearly anticipates, parrying her blow. He circles. Strikes. Mal blocks it. He’s quick. Reflexes honed to a sword’s point; learned by practise and theory. Mal lashes out again, just catching his free arm before he jerks away. She grins underneath her mask. Her breath comes quicker. Jay’s blade arcs down, hitting her chest. Mal swats his blade away. She hears him laugh. She growls. Strike. Parry. Strike. Block. Strike. Jay lands another hit. Their shoes squeak against the linoleum floor. 

“Come on, Mal,” Jay teases. 

Mal lunges like a cat on its prey. Jay’s blade grates against hers like steel against flint. Jay may be quick but Mal’s smaller, and she weaves her way through Jay’s blade until they both have the sword’s point angled at each other’s chests. 

They’re both panting. Jay lowers his sword first. Takes off his mask. 

“You came in clutch at the end,” he says. 

Mal huffs, wiggling the mask off her face and wiping her forehead with a sleeve. “You actually get training.”

“And now I’m training you!” 

His hair has loosened during the sparring, spilling out at the seams. He unties the bun; flips his hair down and shakes it out. In this late-afternoon light, his hair could be made of gold. Hair longer than Mal’s ever had. 

He pulls his hair back into its bun, deft fingers making quick work. When he straightens back up again, his face is slightly flushed from the match. 

And Mal looks at this boy she’s known most of her life; this face and these hands; a boy that has held her at the end of the world and the start of a new one. And she snatches back down her mask. 

“Again,” she says, lifting up her sword. 

She’s swinging before Jay’s even had the chance to pull his own mask back down. Her blade slices against his chest, and she hears the breath escape from his lungs. 

“Fuck!’

Jay’s blocking her hits in no time. Mal grits her teeth. A boy who’s inhabited every place she’s ever been. The shadow along the street; a fixed point on the rooftops. Those long, quick fingers that know their way around bandage; around open flesh; around her own hands. Like a comet to Earth. Like an eclipse. Totally consuming. 

And here, where the sun shines brighter than they could have ever dreamed, she is left blistering. Those girls that fawn over Jay, professing their love with the same ease that Mal can hold a dagger to a throat. Jay’s clicking tongue, and that low fry to his voice when he’s chatting someone up. Everything is always so easy to him. He can wrap anyone around his finger with a wink. 

His blade slams into her stomach. Mal pants, the budding pain in her side clearing her head. Jay’s standing above her like some heavenly deity. 

“Best of four?” he offers.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“C’mon. Let’s take a break.”

Jay drops his sword and grabs his water bottle from his bag. Mal joins him, still gripping her sword, gulping down her water like a man in a desert. 

“We should do this again soon,” Jay says. 

“Tomorrow?”

“It’s the Valentine’s Ball tomorrow.”

Mal snorts. “Yeah, and?”

“I was gonna go.”

His words are coming too slow; too considered. Like when he used to talk about his dad, or a particularly bad Barge Day. Rehearsed. A guard dog who’s smelled danger, prowling at the sidelines. 

Mal presents her blade. “En guarde!” she shouts, and Jay ducks her swing before scrambling over to his own sword. 

“Really, Mal? Another sneak attack?”

“I’m keeping you on your toes.”

They waltz around the sports hall, the blades clashing and slicing and singing.

“We all agreed we weren’t going to go to the Ball,” Mal says, jabbing at Jay.

“We never agreed anything.”

Jay lands a blow. They are at the dockyard, with its rotting wooden pier and dead fish stench. The screeching of metal; the shouting; Mal’s heart hammering like the tide. Blood, and life. The roar in her ears. A dragon’s call. Body moving without a thought, as quick as a lightning strike. Not having to look behind her because she knows Jay is there.

“Exactly!” she says. “Why would we want to go to some stuffy Auradon ball?” Jay tries to say something but she ignores him. “Why would we care about Valentine’s Day? It’s corny, and over-commercialised, and a stupid excuse to make everything about love.”

Jay has her backed up against a wall. With no time to mount his mask, his lips are slightly parted, and his hair is escaping from his bun again. He looks just like he did on the Isle; none of his perfect prince act that fools Auradon. His sword hovers above her throat. 

“Do you yield?” His voice is low.

Mal stares at him. Those eyes that have seen every part of her. All the blood; every smile; her pale skin in the dark Isle nights. The boy that has beheld her every action; weighed it all against his own understanding of the world, and decided that they slot together as easily as a bullet in a pistol.

“Who are you going with to the Ball?” Mal asks. She’s still clutching her sword. She could claim the upper hand, if she really wanted.

A grin creeps across Jay’s face. All those notes and heart-shaped lollipops. The giggling girls at his locker. He could pick any one of them. All of them so beautiful, in their sunset-coloured dresses. He could have anything he wanted.

“Well,” Jay says. “I was going to ask you.”

The sword’s point makes sure they keep their distance. Never too close. All touches so light; so fleeting, as if you could’ve mistaken them for a dream. As if you could’ve imagined the whole thing. All those nights in the hideout where the barrier of the body seemed thin, and the world became so small: just two kids who wouldn’t even dare knock knees. 

So Mal shakes it all away with a laugh. “I’m not going to the Valentine’s Ball.”

Jay lowers his blade. Neither of them move. “Not even with me?” 

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of other girls who actually want to go with you.”

“I want to go with you.”

His words echo through the empty hall. His word is as steadfast as ever, the only opinion Mal will ever trust. Compass, anchor: Jay does it all. 

Heralded here, Mal as real as the vast sky outside. Here, in his gaze, held aloft by trust where there shouldn’t be and compassion where there shouldn’t be and understanding where there shouldn’t be. A home for all her broken bones. 

Mal’s lips unfurl into a smile. This ache in her chest. In her throat. Jay always being able to disarm her. Jay in every place she’s ever been. Jay as her shadow; her skin; her second self. A reflection in the mirror. The line of separation is nonexistent. Like the sun, like the moon: one cannot exist without the other.

[science-lings]

For a possible prompt: Twilight showing a cat and her kittens to those of the chain who've never seen a cat before like Wild and Wind?

All that knew him, knew that Wild was impossible to keep stationary. He loved to wander and climb things, even when he wasn't traveling he tended to pace or at the very least fidget restlessly in place. Sleeping was always a battle, no matter how exhausted he was, he simply refused to settle down. Usually it took an equally stubborn wolf to pin him down for him to even attempt a nap.

It was a quiet morning in Lon Lon Ranch when Twilight was finally able to find a temporary solution. The day before, he had become friends with the ranch's incredibly friendly farm cat. Once he had gained her trust, she led him directly to a warm corner of the horse stables, where a litter of her tiny kittens awaited their arrival. They were too small to do more than stumble around on their own while crying for their mother, but just on the edge of being too large for her to carry them around by the scruff of their necks.

Needless to say, Twilight was MIA for a while after that.

However, the momma cat gave him an idea. Wild had awoken before the sun had fully risen, despite the fact that they had paused their travels and there was no conceivable reason for him not to take advantage of one of the rare safe mornings to sleep in. Twilight refused to consider that it was hypocritical that he was also awake this early for no reason.

The champion had settled sitting with his back against a tree, seemingly relishing the gentle quiet of the pre-waking world, breathing in the cool morning breeze, but posed in such a way that would suggest that any moment he was going to stand up and wander around. Twilight had to act before the kid had the chance to do so.

Wild was startled out of his thoughts by a sudden weight leaning against his side, he really didn't expect anyone else to be awake. He was about to utter a greeting when he saw what was in his mentor's grasp.

A tiny but strong squeaking noise that reminded him of a fox escaped the mouth of the palm-sized creature. He couldn't help but let out a gasp at the sheer smallness of the animal. His wide eyes snapped up to Twilight in a silent question that was delightfully answered when the baby... whatever it was, was handed over to him. He grinned when he realized that its fur was just as soft as it looked.

"I remembered that you don't really have cats in your time, which is incredibly tragic, so I decided that this is the perfect opportunity to educate you on something very important. This is a kitten."

"Its face kind of reminds me of a Lynel, but cute." Wild let the kitten curl up on his lap using his hand as a blanket.

"I guess a Lynel might be the closest thing you have to a cat..." Twilight muttered with a bit of horror in his voice. Wild merely laughed.

At this point, the mother cat had found them and her stolen baby, though she didn't seem very bothered. She sniffed Wild's bent elbow and rubbed up against him with a surprising aggressiveness. He patted her head, which she really seemed to enjoy. Despite this, she quickly left, seemingly satisfied with the care her child was left in.

Wild was disappointed in her disappearance but it was only for a minute, as she returned soon after with another kitten, placing it beside the first one on a confused champion's tunic.

"What is it doing?" He asked the Rancher nervously.

"She likes you. So much so that she wants you to babysit." He replied proudly.

"I just learned what a cat was, I don't think I'm qualified for this."

The cat left again, and she came back again with another kitten. At this point, Wild had started to get nervous, he wasn't sure he was ready for such responsibility.

"You're doing fine, just keep them warm." Twi raised an eyebrow at how seriously the kid was taking this.

The cat left, and she returned with a kitten. She did it again, and again, and again, until the kittens had all been transferred to their new babysitter.

Once all the kittens were accounted for, Twilight stood up again with a stretch.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Back to bed," he responded as if it were obvious, starting to stroll back to the house.

"You can't just leave me here! Twi! I'm not ready to be a mother!" His voice raised in volume as his brother got further and further away.

The mother cat curled up at his side, and he accepted the fact that he was stuck and wouldn't dare move, in fear of bothering the kittens. With a sigh, he patted the larger cat beside him, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be stuck like this.

Send me prompts?

[a-lesbianshadowinthenight]

there’s something about how jess and lupe gravitate towards each other immediately and understand each other with so little words exchanged. something about how they balance each other out. how they use their different worldview’s and perspective to strengthen their relationship rather than drive them apart that’s so so dear to me

jess immediately clocking lupe and not getting offended when lupe thinks it’s a dumb question

lupe not knowing where moosejaw is and jess begrudgingly amending it to canada

that could have easily become a situation where two people would have written off the other person

but they saw something in the other that they recognise in themselves that made them decide that they wanted to stick together

the way jess goes straight to lupe when beverley is explaining the house rules and lupe immediately complains to jess about the no pants rule

the way lupe’s voice goes from angry to soft in the locker room when she notices jess is upset about having to wear a dress, lupe comforting them because she knows

lupe not finding jess’ ‘sinking boat’ analogy weird and instead asking her to give specific details, the way you can tell she finds jess interesting

jess being the only one to second lupe when the rest of the team wrote her off as a bad fit to be coach

jess being happy to see lupe having confidence again (let’s not forget them biting their lip about it too, um okay loverboy)

jess taking the piss out of lupe to try and break her out of her bad mood (‘did that help?’ ‘…..yeah’) (ps also made lupe wanna kiss her. this is canon idc)

the fact that you can see they still seem to be seen near each other even after the fight incident, jess is behind lupe when carson is trying to be a stricter coach, when they’re still mad at lupe

the way they can disagree, get angry over things they don’t understand, and they hear each other out. jess starts out ripping into lupe about fighting amongst the team, only to realise they hadn’t seen it from lupe’s perspective

jess not needing an apology from lupe about the black eye (idk if lupe caused it directly or indirectly, but jess arguably blames her for it at first) because she now sees it from lupe’s side

jess understanding and then apologising in their own way, getting the whole team toasting lupe when they know she’d felt excluded in the past, showing lupe that they have her back in doing so

lupe knowing jess is sorry without them having to say it, understanding the implied meaning of jess’ toast. you can see by her reaction that she appreciates it (also loverboy over here blushing about it, i see you lupe)

arguably, the little nod lupe does after she thanks jess for the toast could be interpreted as her telling jess she understands it and they’re cool

the way they move past it and it’s water under the bridge, they’re back to being ‘brothers’

jess not being afraid to call lupe out on being hard on esti, challenging her when she pretends not to care that esti has run away. jess sees right through lupe’s facade, and witnessing that plus esti’s conversation with lupe in the car (even though she doesn’t know what esti is saying) knows that lupe needs to sort her shit out with esti, and orchestrates a situation where they can do it, without forcing lupe

lupe knowing exactly what jess did and instead of being angry is actually lowkey impressed (and a little turned on let’s not lie)

the fact that they both automatically run towards each other on the pitch when they get a home run or win and run into each others’ arms (lupe’s dorky grin is so adorable and sorry not platonic at all, that’s a smile you give someone when ur in loveeeee)

just the whole bar scene. they’re so in sync with each other, finishing each others’ sentences, teaching carson about gay culture together, the easy camaraderie of the arm wrestling (the kisses on the cheek!!!!!!!! twice!!!!! the second one where they’re both smiling!!!!!!) both of them automatically leaning towards saying no to carson when she asks if they’ve been with women here

i also think they very openly talk about their hookups together based off lupe showing jess her hickeys, and lupe telling jess veronica is a biter. i also think they would be each others wingmen (also think if/when they fuck each other they would have threesomes lmao)

(i also think they would tease each other for their very poor flirting skills)

them talking about sticking together on the off season and going to new york together (although i still can’t decide how their conversation indicates that, or the scene i’m thinking of isn’t the right one idk)

anyways tldr: they became unlikely but also inevitably each others person and challenge each other to be better, they’re a good team, they have great chemistry that draws them together. they are soulmates

[crystalbeastsquidney]

Bi-Han and Sareena talk about their names (word count: ~2.2k)

[just something I wanted to write for my 3-year t anniversary :0)]

[Don’t tag as ship]

“So, why ‘Bi-Han?”

The question caught him off guard. It wasn’t completely out of the blue, but a little forward for what they’d been talking about.

“What’s wrong with it? It’s just my name,” he answered. They were sitting on the stairs leading into one of the temple courtyards, the one with the statue of a large seated figure holding two lit braziers, one set in each palm. It was nighttime, but strong flames and the light of the full moon reflecting off the snow gave them more than enough to see. They’d gone out to get away from the bustle and noise inside for a spell, and had spent the past few minutes casually talking about their lives—the events that they’d gone through, the choices they’d made, and how that shaped them into the people they were now. Talking just to talk, and well, that was what she had ended up asking him.

Sareena laughed and playfully jabbed him in the side, “I mean why did you pick it. ‘Cold Wall’ isn’t exactly a common name, y’know—not one I’ve ever heard before.”

“Well, you’ve spent most of your life in hell, not exactly prime ground for hearing ‘common’ names, no?” Bi-Han quipped.

“Fair enough, I was just wondering.”

He looked out towards the horizon, idly watching the stars, and the clouds rolling across them shimmering under the moonlight. He knew full well what she’d meant, they had always talked freely about such things. Even if they didn’t, her and Ashrah had spent weeks—months even—reconstructing and restoring his body from death and corruption. It was doubtful she wouldn’t have noticed the scars just beneath his chest during all that time.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she added at his silence.

“No, it’s just… sort of long-winded, is all.”

Shrugging, Sareena leaned back resting her elbows on the steps behind her, “I’ve got nowhere else to be,” she smiled.

Bi-Han thought a moment, then smirked, “Then why don’t you go first? Why did you pick ‘Sareena?”

“I didn’t,” she answered plainly, “It’s always been my name—at least as far as I can remember.”

That gave Bi-Han pause, and he looked at her to ask, “You’ve never thought about changing it?”

She shrugged again, the pointed studs on the shoulders of her jacket glittering with reflected light. “No, it’s never really bothered me. It’s like…” she took her turn in gazing up at the sky as she spoke. The cold Arctika wind blew gently over the mountains—over Earthrealm—sweeping her hair into her face. She pushed that lock of white back behind her ear, feeling the heat of her face despite the cold as her hand brushed against her cheek. She still bore the evidence of her past, the hellfire that coursed through her veins, the very heat keeping her comfortable in a simple jacket left open in the front while Bi-Han sat bundled up beside her. And yet here she was, away from the Netherrealm, free from Quan Chi… To think those dreams that had once seemed so far off and fleeting had come true so long ago already. It was…

“Serenity; the state of being calm, peaceful, and untroubled,” she said, staring at the moon.

“In that case, it doesn’t sound like it fit you that well when we first met,” Bi-Han commented.

“No, no it didn’t.” She laughed and continued looking upward, admiring the lunar halo shining above, tranquil against the dark night sky. “But it does now.”

Bi-Han smiled for her and watched the moon as well, until he felt her eyes move to him half-expectantly.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, “…This is probably going to sound unrelated at first, but bear with me.”

Sareena gave him an understanding nod, and waited, eyes alight listening intently.

Rubbing his hands together to chase away the late night chill, Bi-Han began. “You know well enough that being a cryomancer is a big deal in the Lin Kuei, and our titles are no different. They’re like our second names. I don’t really know if Kuai Liang’s kept it around or not, but we used to have this tradition where, in order to receive your title, you had to first prove your cryomancy—“

He paused when Sareena made a face. It was subtle, but apparent enough in how her brow scrunched.

“Prove?’ What, did they line everyone up to make sure they could actually shoot little snowflakes from their fingertips?” she joked, even waggling her own in his face.

Being a demon, her breath condensed thick and foggy between them given the extra heat. Bi-Han laughed, lightly smacking her hands away. “It wasn’t that simple, just having cryomancy wasn’t the point,” he clarified, “It was about having purpose and precision. It’s one thing to blindly shoot ice from your hands—knowing how to use it is another thing entirely.”

“Gosh, it must have been a lot then,” her demeanor quickly shifted, knowing what she knew of the Lin Kuei before Kuai Liang had taken the helm.

“Eh, not really—maybe back when the clan was only cryomancers it was more involved, but by mine and Kuai Liang’s time, it was a formality; a rite of passage for the cryomancers we did have. I got my title when I was about… six or seven I think.”

Sareena’s eyes were full and bright with curiosity at this point. Bi-Han couldn’t tell if it were the fire reflecting in them, or if her retinas produced a natural eyeshine. Either way, her pupils were lost in the sharp red of her irises. “Then what did you have to do?” she asked.

He brought the memory to his mind’s forefront and carefully recounted it so as to not miss any of the details. “How it went was… you’d sit across from a fellow cryomancer, typically your oldest male relative—since, traditionally, he was who picked your name. For Kuai Liang and myself, it was our Grandfather. We both would create a ball of ice in our hands and—” he paused as he mimed the motion, one hand above the other, fingers slightly hooked pointing to the opposite wrist, as if caressing the empty space between. He had hardly realized he was doing it, but the resulting melancholy came with the reminder of what he’d lost. No ice formed as he continued the motion, no matter how hard he focused, or visualized.

A soft noise stirred him, and he looked up to see Saibot had emerged from wherever they’d been hidden away in the shadows. They sat in the snow a short distance in front of him and Sareena, listening with similar intrigue. His cryomancy was gone, likely never to return, but it had been replaced by something he could never imagine giving up.

He continued, “At the Grandmaster’s prompting, we would cause the ice to dissipate and reform in tandem. We did this six times, and if he thought you had displayed proper control over your cryomancy, you were allowed to receive your title.”

“Why six times?” Sareena asked, ever the inquirer.

Bi-Han shrugged, “probably because it’s a lucky number, or maybe it was something to do with how snowflakes always have six points.”

“Wow, okay, so your Grandfather named you Sub-Zero?” she looked to him with soft wonder.

He bit back a laugh, “You’re getting ahead of me. Sub-Zero was his title, I only inherited it… later.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” Sareena deflated, a little embarrassed at herself.

“It’s alright.” He looked out at the skyline again, thinking about that same memory still, and the nights when his dear Yéye took him and Kuai Liang out on nights just like this to tell them the stories written in the stars. He remembered the cold hands that had pinned his medallion bearing the Lin Kuei’s insignia to his robes—how it hung with a notable weight from his small frame—and the hug that had followed. His arms might have been chilly, but his heart was not.

“He named me… Glacier; Bīngchuān.”

Sareena sat quietly for a moment, taking it all in, and then said, “And he named your brother ‘Tundra’, right?”

“Mmhm, he actually had a reason for that. Apparently, when glaciers move they tend to erode everything in their path into a flat, open plain. I guess his idea was that as a glacier travels, it paves the way for a tundra to form.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” Sareena beamed. “Your grandfather sounds like an intelligent man.”

Bi-Han chuckled, “I’m sure he’d be happy to know you think that kindly of him.”

They both went quiet for a few seconds, just existing in the moment, until Sareena finally asked, “So how did you get ‘Bi-Han’ from ‘Bīngchuān?”

He shuffled where he was seated, the frigid stone starting to numb his legs, “Well, I guess we’re alike in that regard—I didn’t.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly when Sareena whipped her head around to stare at him, “it’s honestly kind of embarrassing thinking about how it’s the reason I have my name and all…”

“Okay, now you have to tell me,” her face erupted into a devilish grin. Saibot likewise prodded him, wanting to know as well.

“Alright, alright,” he sighed, shooing them both away. He knew full well they would force the issue if he resisted, and figured it didn’t really matter anyway. His name was his name, and nothing would ever change that. “See the thing is, ‘Bīngchuān’ does mean ‘glacier’, but when you look at the hanzi it’s literally ‘ice river,” he began to explain, “which isn’t wrong, but it’s not really how most people think about them either, I would say.”

Saibot and Sareena just kept looking at him, waiting for the rest.

“The thing is, I was pretty young when I got my title, and Kuai Liang’s almost three years younger than me… so he understood that my title was ‘Bīngchuān’, but he didn’t know that it meant glacier, or even what one was…”

They kept staring, only now Sareena was struggling to hide a wide grin plastered across her face.

He continued, averting his eyes, “Anyway, one day I took him out to part of the inner wall of the temple ramparts and tried to explain it by covering a section in ice. I was hoping he’d realize glaciers are like walls of ice, but…” and then he sighed again, “instead, he said it was like a—”

“Bi-Han? Oh, there you three are,” Kuai Liang’s voice came from the temple doors behind them. Soft light poured out from inside, silhouetting him in its glow. He stopped after a second, standing in the open archway, “…Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope! Sounds like you’re right on queue,” Sareena quipped. She turned to Bi-Han and added, “You shouldn’t be embarrassed, that’s actually super cute. I wish my name could’ve had a basis like that.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re talking about,” Kuai Liang realized, coming down the steps to join them for a minute. He sat between them, wrapping an arm around his brother as he had noticeably begun to shiver beneath the many coats he was wearing. “You never wanted me to call you anything else.”

“I know,” Bi-Han said, soft and sentimental, hugging him back. He loved his name and the fact that Kuai Liang was who had given it to him. The details just felt a little overtly childish and silly, was all. He hadn’t even needed to choose it either, eventually he just preferred it over his birth name, and the rest followed suit.

Another voice came from the temple, cutting through the moment, “Did you find him yet?”

They all looked to see Johnny as he peered through the doorway, already shivering from the cold. “Oh, hey—get back in here man, we all wanna do cake already,” he said to Bi-Han.

“Why do you need me for that?”

Everyone gave him a look before Johnny said, “Dude, it’s literally your birthday.”

“I’m kidding,” Bi-Han grumbled after they continued to stare, “I thought out of everyone, you were supposed to be the expert of picking up on jokes.”

Sipping from whatever drink he had in hand, Johnny turned back into the temple’s warmth, back to the small party they were throwing, “I am. You’re just bad at telling ‘em,” he said nonchalantly, and laughed while walking away.

Kuai Liang laughed as well, and urged both his brother and Sareena to their feet. Bi-Han took a moment first to fashion a cane out of shadows to help in standing, and kept it firm in hand as he walked.

Sareena trailed behind beside him, trudging up the temple steps. “Y’know, I think it’s nice that you were able to have your family name you like that,” she smiled.

“Yeah? I guess it is.” He thought as they walked, about how she wished her own name’s meaning were a little deeper. “…Hey, um, would you want to be called ‘Serenity?” he asked simply.

“That’s okay, I’m happy with ‘Sareena’. But thanks.”

He smiled and nodded. Together they filed back into the temple after Kuai Liang, with Saibot returning to Bi-Han’s shade in the gentle light. Back to the warmth, kindness, friends and family that a life renewed had bestowed him with.

[ftmcollective]

i had a little essay/zine planned for halloween which i of course missed the date for so prepare for a spooky mid november post