#seething with barely contained attraction

[contact-guy]

A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA part 1 - the opening to this story is SO MUCH and almost all of these lines are directly pulled from it. I truly cannot fathom a heterosexual explanation for being this weird and tense with your best friend because he got married.

I based the King of Bohemia's design directly on Sidney Paget's goofy ass drawing of him:

This is in the Watson's Sketchbook series!

[glitteringdust]

The first time Davrin realized he was in love was in the heat of battle— covered head to toe in muck and gore as wave after wave of darkspawn poured through the flooded parts of Lavendel. He swings his sword and downs the hurlock throwing spears, turning on his heel just in time to see Rook surrounded by a seething mob.

He stands knee-deep in stagnant water, lightning trailing from his fingertips, dancing up and along his arms as he coats his entire form in glimmering purple sparks. Bending his knees into a crouch, he waits for the exact moment to unleash the storm.

It's brief, the hint of delight that crosses Rook's expression. He had been waiting to try this move out, practiced it at least a dozen times at this point but without the payoff. He'd always let the magic die out.

The darkspawn slashes forward, claws connecting at the same time he jumps up. The lightning forks itself outward, pouncing eagerly upon the dampened darkspawn. Rook fade-steps out of the fray, watching the calamity of his work fry every last darkspawn into ash.

Davrin can't help the words that leave his mouth, "Damn, Rook."

He's panting, but grins all the same, "A bit more lively on the follow through than I expected. My fingers are stinging."

All Davrin can see is explosive strength in a tightly packed form, a force of nature. It was… entirely the wrong time to be thinking of Rook's beauty, but the fact that the elf could take down just about anything in his way was more than attractive.

They push deeper into the overrun fort, the last of the horde contained to the boarded up entryway. This time, Rook replaces lightning with fire, the puddles of blight glistening as the flames ignite the entire area into an inferno. The darkspawn all but melt, and any stragglers are easily put down by Harding's arrows.

The whirlwind of flames releases Rook, "Fire is… that needs a bit of work." He coughs little puffs of smoke, "Mission successful, though."

He never thought Rook could look any hotter than he did already, until he'd seen him coated in flames one moment and completely fine the next.

"That was beyond impressive Rook." He says the words intentionally, hoping the other would blush in response.

He doesn't disappoint, running a hand through his hair as he looks away, cheeks flushed, "Still needs tweaking, but you can watch me any time you'd like."

"Any time I'd like, huh?"

"I'm told I put on quite the show."

"I bet you do—"

Harding clears her throat, "If you guys are done flirting now, we should probably go let Evka and Antoine know the good news."

"What? We weren’t… that’s not…" Rook begins to protest, Davrin doing the same. Harding looks unconvinced, but shrugs her shoulders as she starts to head back, the two wardens following behind.

—

He didn't think about the consequences of doing too much too fast, and it wasn't until he was back at the Lighthouse that he knew what those consequences were.

Every muscle fiber stings, pins and needles in his fingers slowly traveling up his arms. Other parts of him feel as though flames still licked at tender flesh, searing hot and almost numb in some spots.

Almost, but not quite, the pain reminds him.

The bath house is full of steam, but Rook can barely relax enough to remove his clothes. He should just give up, crawl back to bed and hope the worst of it fades by morning.

"Looks like we had the same idea." Davrin says from behind him.

"After Lavendel, you kind of have to," He carefully looks over his shoulder, but ends up wincing anyway.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Eyes like an eagle, Davrin never seemed to miss anything he did, "I'm fine. Just… sore."

"Kal, come on. You're a terrible liar."

His name coming from Davrin’s mouth always sent his heart fluttering. It was good, when he said it. It felt right.

"Sometimes, trying new magic comes back to bite you in the ass. I can barely move my arms."

"I see. I guess that explains why you were about to take a bath fully dressed."

"You're funny."

"You know, I think I might have just the thing to help."

"Yeah? Let's hear it."

"Well," Davrin moves closer until he's just behind him, voice like velvet in his ear, "First, we need to get rid of these clothes."

The smooth rustle of fabric behind him, Davrin's shirt tossed to the floor. Rook clumsily fingers the hem of his tunic, attempting to follow suit but Davrin is quicker. Gentle, careful movements as his shirt joins the other.

Hands on his waistband tug downwards, and although he's gotten undressed in front of Davrin more than a few times, he's nervous. This time was different.

This was an intimacy not born of lust, but of intention. This was devotion. Raw and vulnerable.

Davrin takes Rook's hand and steps down into the pool, gesturing for him to sit on the side, "We'll work your way in."

He hisses in pain as he sits on the edge, feet resting on the step and completely submerged in the warm water. Davrin takes one foot in his hand and squeezes, starting near his toes, then along the arch, back to the heel. He massages right where they hurt most, and Rook can't help but groan with pleasure.

When both feet have been tended to, Davrin works his way up Rook's legs. He sucks in a sharp breath when his calf seizes up, but Davrin is there kneading out the knot immediately, murmuring softly to him as he soothes the pain.

Soon, he's being pulled further into the steaming water, humming his approval as both heat and hands reach his thighs. He exhales through his nose, having to consciously calm his thoughts and keep his body from reacting like it usually did when Davrin was naked and this close to him.

"You doing okay, Kal?"

"Mmmm, more than okay."

Davrin sinks himself lower, water just below his pecs as he settles on the last step. Rook sits himself between his legs, and Davrin begins massaging all around his shoulders, then down his back, along his arms. He takes great care to go slowly, leaving no part of him aching. His thumbs run circles along tensed muscles, working them loose inch by inch. The pins and needles retreat from the combination of Davrin's strong hands, and the steady warmth of the bath. He melts into the water around him, closing his eyes briefly as he lets himself fade into nothing.

Nothing but him and Davrin, bodies close.

Davrin, who saw right through the walls he hid behind and saw him for who he was, not what he could be. Who cared deeply for the things he loved, and wanted nothing more but to mean something to this world.

Well, he certainly means the world to me.

"Kal? How do you feel?" The other's breath on his ear sends a shiver down his spine.

He feels completely unwound, the worst of the symptoms fading into the water. He leans back against Davrin's chest, "You have your own set of magic hands. I feel like a new man."

Davrin rests his chin on Rook's shoulder, "As breathtaking as you are when in your element, Kal, I don't enjoy seeing you in pain. So I’ve got you, anytime you need me."

Rook finds the hand resting on his thigh, entwining his fingers with Davrin's, "You know I've got you, too, right? The feeling is mutual."

They stay sitting like that for a while, Davrin's arm around his waist and Rook's hand in his. Neither one wanting to pull away from the other, even if the water was growing cool.

"Stay with me tonight, Kal. We'll both sleep better if you do."

"Trying to get me into bed, are you?" Rook teases.

"Oh, I don't really have to try. I know you'll come."

He shakes his head, stifling a laugh, "And you say my puns are bad."

Later, with Davrin sleeping soundly beneath him, it hits him with total and complete clarity.

He's falling in love.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 9 - His Angel | ‘Act II’

word count - 12k

One evening, while at a friend’s party, things boiled over. Jude was already on edge, his emotions raw and barely contained. Toby had been trying to talk him down, saying it wasn’t worth getting upset over, but it only fueled Jude’s frustration. 

“She was probably just waiting till you filled her wardrobe up,” Toby said casually, taking a swig of his drink, not fully understanding the depth of Jude’s turmoil. Jude froze, the words striking a nerve he hadn’t even realized was so exposed. He narrowed his eyes, the anger building inside him. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.Toby shrugged, not sensing the shift in Jude’s mood. 

“I mean, come on, mate. You think she’s ignoring you because she’s heartbroken? Girls like that move on fast. She’s probably prepping for the next season—new baller, new clothes, new Instagram posts. You know how it is.” Toby chuckled a little like this was obvious. 

“Are you serious right now?” he growled, stepping toward Toby. “You think she was just some girl using me? Using me for fucking social media clout?” Jude snapped. His fist clenched, the frustration of everything—the uncertainty, the silence, the way you left—pushed him over the edge. Toby looked taken aback by Jude’s sudden aggression.

“Hey, relax, mate. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying...the whole thing’s been, what, a holiday fling? You’re just trying to make yourself feel better because you’re finally realizing what this was. You’ll be fine, bro. Take a breath and move on. You said yourself you’re still the same lad… before and after Y/N.” The words hit Jude like a punch to the gut. The idea that this was just a fling, something temporary, something you’d move on from, sent him into a blind rage. He shoved Toby back, his voice rising as his emotions bubbled over. 

“You don’t know anything about her or what we have!” Jude shouted, his face twisted in anger. “It’s not some fling, yeah? I fucking love her!” The room went silent. Toby stared at Jude, wide-eyed and speechless. He had never seen Jude like this—so raw, so vulnerable. It was clear this wasn’t just some casual relationship for Jude. His feelings for you ran deeper than anyone had realized, maybe even deeper than Jude himself had admitted before.

“You...you love her? Wow.” He asked, his voice soft, the shock evident in his tone. Toby blinked, trying to process what Jude had just said Jude, still seething, ran a hand over his face, realizing what he had just admitted in the heat of the moment. His chest heaved, the intensity of his emotions crashing over him like a wave. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, quieter now, almost like he couldn’t believe it himself. “I love her.” For a moment, neither of them said anything. Toby, still stunned, finally nodded, understanding dawning on him. 

“I didn’t know, mate,” he said softly. “I didn’t realize it was like that.” Jude slumped down on the couch, his anger subsiding into a heavy, aching feeling in his chest. 

“Yeah, well...I fucked it up so now the girl I love left.” His voice cracked slightly, the weight of his own words settling in. He had messed up. He had pushed you away, and now you were gone. And for the first time, he was admitting—out loud—that he was in love with you, and he might have lost you for good. Jude got up and left the room, his heart racing and his mind spinning. He found an empty bedroom down the hall, pushed open the door, and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. His hands raked over his hair, pulling at the roots as if that would somehow release the pent-up frustration. Everything inside him was burning—anger, regret, sadness, but more than anything, pain. Moments later, the door creaked open. Toby hesitated for a moment before stepping in, the awkward tension filling the air. He cleared his throat. 

"Do you... do you really love her, mate?" He asked. Jude didn’t look up, his shoulders hunched as he stared at the floor. Toby, trying to lighten the mood, let out a small, nervous laugh. "I mean, I never thought we’d get past having school crushes. You know? Didn’t think you’d actually—"

"Shut up, Toby," Jude snapped, his voice thick with emotion. The lightheartedness grated against the rawness he felt. This wasn’t a joke. Not to him.

"Sorry, man. I didn’t mean—" Toby's smile faded. 

"It’s not funny." Jude’s voice cracked. His chest heaved as he tried to gather the words, his hands gripping the edge of the bed tightly. "You don’t get it. You don’t understand how much it hurts being apart from her. It’s like...it’s like breathing is harder when she’s not around. Everything is harder." His voice broke, the vulnerability he had tried to suppress for so long spilling out now that the dam had burst. Toby stood in stunned silence, his eyes widening as he watched his usually composed friend unravel. He had never seen Jude like this—so utterly broken. He wasn’t sure what to say. Jude continued, his voice softer but filled with despair. "When she’s around, everything feels lighter, man. She... she’s this perfect angel, and when she’s there, she makes everything easier. I didn’t realize how much I relied on her until she left." His fists clenched, and he let out a shaky breath. "I pushed her away. I hurt her, and now she’s gone, and I don’t know how to fix it." Toby took a cautious step closer, seeing the tears welling in Jude’s eyes. He had always known Jude to be strong, unshakable, but now? Now he was witnessing the depths of Jude’s emotions, the sheer gravity of what this relationship meant to him. Jude blinked rapidly, fighting to keep the tears from falling, but they slipped down his cheeks anyway. "You don’t know what it feels like. My heart... it’s in so much pain, and it’s my fault. I did this." His voice cracked again, the weight of his guilt crushing him. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, but the tears kept coming. Toby finally sat down next to him, completely out of his depth but trying to be there. He placed a hesitant hand on Jude’s shoulder. 

"I had no idea it was like this, man. I’m sorry, bro. I didn’t realize she meant so much to you." Toby spoke. Jude shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"I knew. I knew and I ignored it... until it was too late." He let out a deep, shuddering breath. "I’m in love with her, and I pushed her away. Now, I don’t know if she’ll ever come back." Toby sat there, unsure of what to say, but knowing that this was the most serious, the most real, he had ever seen Jude. The magnitude of what had just unfolded between them was undeniable. Jude wasn’t just heartbroken—he was devastated, and it was clear that losing you was his worst fear coming true. Jude sat on the edge of the bed, his emotions swirling like a storm. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, but the weight of it all was too much. His hands gripped the duvet beneath him, knuckles white with frustration and sadness. Toby wasn’t sure if he should stay or leave. Jude—the cool, calm guy who always had it together—was now unraveling in front of him, and Toby had no clue how to help.

"So… love her? You sure? Maybe you’re just.. I don’t know, mate. Just take a breath here, yeah?”  Toby spoke, this time softer, without the nervous laugh from earlier. He thought maybe Jude was stressed, maybe he had drinks Toby didn’t see, he wasn’t sure. This felt foreign.  Jude didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the floor, eyes glassy with unshed tears. 

"You don’t know her, Toby." Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, but every word was loaded with meaning. 

“What do you mean? I’ve met her. She seems nice. But you know, maybe—" Toby frowned, confused by the response

"No." Jude cut him off, looking up at Toby for the first time, his eyes blazing with emotion. "You don’t know her." He wiped his face roughly, trying to rein in the tears that kept threatening to fall. "She’s...she’s not what you think. Not just some girl I picked up while on holiday, not some girl after my lifestyle. You have no idea." Toby stayed quiet, realizing Jude wasn’t just venting. He was confessing something very real. Jude shook his head, his voice thick with emotion. "She’s so much more. She’s strong, yeah, but... behind that strength, behind this thick wall she puts up, she’s soft, man. So soft. It’s like... like there’s this glass around her, and you’d never know how delicate she is unless you’re lucky enough to be let in. And I was." His voice cracked again, but he kept going. "I was the lucky one. She let me in, and I didn’t even realize how much of a privilege that was. I took it all for granted." Toby was silent, his earlier casual attitude completely gone. He could see now that this wasn’t just about a girl or a fling. This was something deep, something Jude had been hiding, maybe even from himself. Jude rubbed his temples, frustration clear in his every movement. "She’s... she’s perfect, Tobs. I mean, not in the way you’re thinking. Of course, she’s fit but she’s perfect in all the little ways that matter. The way she smiles when she thinks I’m not looking, the way she laughs at my dumb jokes, even when they’re not funny. And when she talks about something she loves, it’s like the whole world disappears. I’d be lucky to even have a chance to hear her talk about a painting for hours." Toby shifted, unsure of what to say, but Jude wasn’t done. His voice grew more intense as he continued. "You don’t know what it’s like to have someone like that. Someone who makes you feel like... like you’re not just another guy, like you’re special and not special in the way the whole world perceives you to be. Special in a way because of everything but that. And I messed it up. I pushed her away because I was scared. Scared of how much she means to me." Jude’s fists clenched, his breathing ragged as the emotion took hold again. "You don’t get it, Toby. When she’s not around, when she’s not there to lighten the load. She’s... she’s my angel, man. And I don’t know if I’ve lost her for good."Toby’s eyes narrowed at the weight of Jude’s words sinking in. Jude wasn’t just in love—he was consumed by it.

"Mate..." Toby started, trying to find the right words. "I really had no idea. You should’ve said something. I’m sorry I piled on. You’re Jude though, girl stuff always works out for you.” He gave him a sympathetic smile. Jude shook his head in disagreement. You were not another girl and he should’ve told you that because he knew it. Toby could feel his despair radiating off him. “I know I give you shit but you should’ve told me. I would’ve listened, I… I would’ve… I don’t know maybe treated her a bit differently knowing she wasn’t just passing through. I didn’t know you two were like that… honest.” Toby sighed a bit consumer by guilt that he hadn’t seen it.  

"Of course you didn’t," Jude muttered, shaking his head. "No one did. I kept it hidden because I didn’t want to seem weak. But now? Now, it’s all crashing down, and I don’t know what to do. I’ve hurt her, Toby. I’ve hurt the one person I’d do anything for." Jude’s eyes filled with tears again as he confessed, "I’ve never felt like this before. It’s not just about her being beautiful or smart or whatever. It’s about who she is when no one’s watching. How she holds everything together, how she let me in when she didn’t have to. And now… fuck." Toby couldn't wrap his head around this. A big part of it being that Jude had been playing two roles. One for everyone else and one for you. He sat next to Jude listening as his friend poured his heart out. Jude wiped at his eyes again, trying to stop the tears from falling. "I love her, Tobs," Jude said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I love her so much that it hurts. And now she’s gone. I really fucking love her." Toby squeezed Jude’s shoulder gently, realizing that this was more than just a rough patch. Jude had found something rare, something deep, and in his mind, he had lost it all.

The stillness of the gallery felt almost oppressive as you sat there, staring at a message from Aurelian. The silence that had once been comforting now seemed suffocating. The familiar hum of the city outside didn’t reach you here, not in this moment. The world outside carried on, but in this space, in this moment, everything felt frozen. You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath. Your hand trembled as you clutched your phone, reading and rereading the message.

‘Hey, chérie. Haven’t seen you around lately. Thought you disappeared or finally wised up and left Jude xx’

The words played on a loop in your mind. What was meant to be a lighthearted joke carried the weight of something far heavier. The irony, the bitter truth woven into those casual words, twisted something inside you. It wasn’t the joke itself—it was the reality behind it. You had left Jude. You had wised up, hadn’t you? You’d finally done what was necessary to protect yourself, hadn’t you? But why did it feel like anything but wisdom? You leaned back in your chair, staring blankly at the paintings in front of you. The half-finished piece seemed to mock you, its vibrant colors dulling in the dim light of the gallery. Your mind wandered back to Madrid, to the moment you stormed out of Jude’s house, his voice ringing in your head, the anger, the hurt, the finality of it all. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet the pain was still fresh, still raw. Your phone buzzed again, pulling you from the spiral of thoughts. Another message from Aurelian.

'Jude never said anything, so I wasn’t sure if you two were still a thing. I just wanted to let you know I’m having a party for my birthday. You should come. Jude’s invited too, but I figured you’re your own person, right? No pressure, just thought I’d throw it out there.'

You read the words once, twice, then a third time. It felt strange—foreign, almost—that Aurelian would reach out. You barely knew him beyond the surface level. He was Jude’s teammate, someone who existed in Jude’s world, not yours. Yet here he was, extending an invitation like none of that mattered. Like you mattered outside of Jude. A strange mix of emotions churned inside you—nausea, confusion, a flicker of something resembling hope, but mostly a gnawing emptiness. You weren’t sure why, but something about Aurelian’s message made your chest feel heavy. Maybe it was the idea that people already saw you and Jude as over, as if the relationship had never really meant anything. As if it was nothing but a fleeting moment in time. But it wasn’t fleeting for you. You hadn’t moved on. You couldn’t. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw his face—those dark, cheeky, expressive eyes that told you more than his words ever could. You saw the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he said your name like it was something sacred. And now, all you had left was this void—a gaping hole where he used to be. You glanced back down at the screen, your finger hovering over the reply button. What could you even say? Did you even want to respond? Aurelian’s message, innocent as it was, brought everything crashing down on you all over again. You thought you were coping, thought you were getting through the pain, but the reality was you had simply buried it deep enough to pretend you were okay. And now, it was all bubbling back to the surface. You stood up, pacing the small gallery space, the echo of your footsteps the only sound in the room. Aurelian’s words replayed in your mind. 'Finally wised up and left Jude.' Was that how it looked to everyone else? Like you had made the smart, rational choice? Like leaving him was the right thing to do? But it didn’t feel right. It felt like a mistake—a colossal, gut-wrenching mistake. And now, here you were, standing alone in New York, trying to figure out where everything had gone so horribly wrong. You sank back into the chair, a wave of exhaustion crashing over you. Your hand moved instinctively to your phone, pulling up Jude’s Instagram. He hadn’t posted much since you left. Just a few cryptic photos—training shots, some scenic views of Madrid. Nothing personal, nothing that gave you any insight into how he was feeling.  You clicked back to Aurelian’s message, staring at the text. Your finger hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to say or if you should even say anything at all. But then, almost without thinking, you typed a response.

'Hey, thanks for the invite. I’ve been back in New York for a while now… just needed some space from the fun in Madrid. Have had a lot of work to do.'

You stared at the message, fingers trembling. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was enough. You hit send, heart racing as you watched the message deliver. It was a small step, but it felt monumental. 

'I hadn’t heard about the party from Jude…'

You carefully added, hoping the implication was clear enough for Aurelian to realize that you weren’t in touch with Jude. That you weren’t even in Spain. You made sure to emphasize you were definitely your own person now. The reminder, more to yourself than to Aurelian, stung. You had almost let Jude take that from you—your independence, your sense of self, your confidence.You didn’t know about the party from Jude. In fact, you didn’t know what Jude had been doing at all. You had been intentionally distancing yourself from him, avoiding his social media and keeping your phone at arm’s length. But it was impossible not to indulge in the pain of checking his match results. You still couldn’t help it—typing and deleting messages to congratulate him on an assist or a goal, as if some part of you was still tethered to him, as if a simple 'good game' might somehow fix what was broken. When Aurelian had messaged you about his birthday party, you felt a sudden pang of confusion mixed with something else—an ache, maybe, or a resentment toward the situation you were in. The sting of realizing that Jude hadn’t told you anything about it cut deep, but you quickly reminded yourself that you weren’t in Madrid anymore. You weren’t part of that world, part of his world. Not anymore. When Aurelian responded again, the message caught you off guard. The tone was familiar, comfortable, but there was something about it that made you pause. Flirty? Maybe. Or maybe you just wanted it to be. 

'City's not as fun without you around. You’re your own person so just wanted to extend the invite to you but it was a stretch. I’ve always known you were in a league of your own.'

It was a compliment, for sure, and your heart fluttered a little. You weren’t sure how to feel about it—how you should feel about it. There was a part of you that felt guilty, as if entertaining the idea of anyone else, even casually, was some kind of betrayal to what you had with Jude. But there was also a part of you that felt validated, like you needed to hear that someone—anyone—still saw you as more than just the girl Jude had left behind.

'If you find yourself in Madrid for my birthday, it’d be the best present if you came through.'

You stared at the message, unsure whether to laugh or feel conflicted. He was obviously joking—at least, that’s what you told yourself. But the words lingered, hanging in the air, teasing the idea that maybe you weren’t just a footnote in Jude’s life. Maybe you could still be seen, desired, wanted, even in this limbo you were living in. What really stopped you in your tracks, though, were the last few lines. Aurelian switched to French, and the words hit you in a way that English never could. 

'J’espère que tu vas bien. Tu me manques, ton accent, tes blagues, nos conversations.' [I hope you are well. I miss you, your accent, your jokes, our conversations.]

Even though French was spoken around the world, it still felt like a secret code between the two of you.You reread the message, your heart twisting in your chest. French had always been a part of you—a piece of your identity that grounded you, that reminded you of home, of your family, of everything that existed before Madrid, before Jude. And now, here was Aurelian, using it to reach out to you in a way that felt intimate, like he understood more than you thought. You closed your eyes, letting the words wash over you, the familiarity of the language wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. There was something nostalgic and bittersweet about it, like you were being pulled back into a part of yourself that you had forgotten. Or maybe, a part of yourself that you had abandoned.

'Tu me manques.' [I miss you.]

You missed him, too. Not in the way you missed Jude, but you missed the life you had in Madrid—the conversations, the lightheartedness, the easy camaraderie with people like Aurelian, who didn’t make things so complicated. It felt simple, effortless. And right now, you were craving simplicity. You stared at your phone for what felt like hours, the cursor blinking in the empty text box. What could you even say? The idea of going back to Madrid seemed impossible, a fantasy. The thought of running into Jude again—of reopening those wounds—was too much to bear. And yet, the thought of staying away, of cutting yourself off completely, left you feeling hollow. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of how to respond. You wanted to tell Aurelian that you missed the conversations too, that you missed speaking French, missed feeling like yourself. But the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, you typed something simple, something safe.

'Thank you for the invite. I’m not sure if I’ll make it back to Madrid anytime soon, but I appreciate it. Hope your birthday’s a good one. Joyeux anniversaire, beau garçon.' [Happy birthday, handsome boy.]

You sent the message before you could overthink it, and then you sat back, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The weight of everything—Madrid, Jude, the mess you left behind—settled back into your chest. You didn’t know what was next, didn’t know how you were supposed to move forward. But for the first time in a long time, you realized that you didn’t have to have all the answers. Maybe it was okay to just exist for a little while, to find your footing again before diving back into the chaos.  As you sat there, your phone buzzed with another message from Aurelian. You didn’t open it right away. Instead, you allowed yourself to breathe, to sit in the stillness, to think about what you really wanted. Not what Jude wanted, or what Aurelian wanted, but what you wanted  Because in the end, you were your own person. And no one could take that from you.

When Whitney called to tell you she was going to see Jude this week, you felt a sharp pang in your chest. It wasn’t unexpected—after all, he was still part of her circle, somehow—but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. Your heart hurt, caught somewhere between jealousy and sadness, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the right words to respond.

“I just didn’t want you to be caught off guard,” she explained, her tone filled with concern. Whitney’s voice was careful, measured. You appreciated the gesture—her honesty, her care in telling you ahead of time—but that didn’t stop the dull ache from creeping up on you. You swallowed it down, trying to muster a neutral response.

“It’s fine,” you said, forcing the words out. “He’s your friend too, right?” There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Whitney’s voice came through, more insistent this time. 

“No, he became my friend by proxy,” she clarified quickly, almost urgently. “You’ve always been my best friend. My loyalty is with you.”  That small distinction—her reassurance—eased the tightness in your chest, if only just a little. Whitney had always been your person, the one who knew your heart inside and out, and hearing her reinforce that was a reminder that you weren’t alone, even in the aftermath of everything. You sighed, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“Thank you,” you managed, but your voice wavered, the emotions rising up again. Before you could stop yourself, you stuttered, your words spilling out in a quiet, vulnerable rush. “Just… could you tell me if he’s okay? When you see him?” There was silence on the other end, but you knew Whitney. You knew she was processing the weight behind your words, the lingering feelings you had been trying so hard to suppress. You could practically feel her heart breaking for you, even across the ocean.

“I promise I will…” she said softly, her voice filled with the kind of empathy only a best friend could offer. You could hear the unspoken wish in her tone, the way she wished she could be there, in person, to wrap her arms around you and hold you through it all. “I hope he isn’t.” She sympathetically giggled. You smiled but bit your lip, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over.

 “I wish you were here,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability of the moment caught you off guard, the way everything felt raw and exposed. Since Whitney moved it had been hard. You didn’t fault her any, in fact you encouraged her move to England but you missed her.

“I wish I could hug you right now,” Whitney said, her voice cracking just enough to reveal her own emotion. “But I’m here, okay? I’m always here, even if it’s over the phone.” You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you, and let the quiet between you settle like a balm on your aching heart. She offered to come be with you but you had work and she had Teddy. When you needed her you’d tell her.

When Whitney saw Jude, it was after an England international team friendly. Jude and Trent had gone out with some other friends for dinner, but eventually returned to Whitney’s house, where a group of footballers filled her living room. Despite the chaos, Jude slipped away from the group, finding Whitney alone in the kitchen. 

“Have you talked to her?” Jude hesitated for a second before he spoke.She was rinsing out a glass when he walked in, his presence behind her unmistakable.  Whitney turned off the sink, exhaling softly as she faced him. 

“Obviously, I have. You know I have,” she replied, her tone firmer than usual. There was no room for pleasantries. She had always been fiercely loyal to you, and this moment wasn’t any different.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, the weight of the words heavy. Jude stood there, not knowing what to say. His hands fidgeted at his sides, his eyes a little lost. 

“You should be,” she told him, the anger she felt for you evident in her voice. “You really fucked her over, Jude.” Whitney didn’t hold back, meeting his apology with the kind of brutal honesty only a best friend could deliver. The kitchen fell quiet, and while the silence felt tense, it was also thick with a shared understanding. Whitney had every reason to be mad. She had seen you through the worst of it, the heartbreak, the silence, the ache that wouldn’t go away. Jude felt the weight of her words sinking deeper into him. Despite her frustration, Whitney’s naturally nurturing side softened her posture after a while. She had always been a mix of fire and warmth, too kind for her own good at times. So, after the silence had stretched on, she rounded the kitchen island and sat next to him. Jude’s hands clenched into fists on his lap as he looked down, clearly torn.

“How is she?” he asked meekly, as if he was afraid of the answer. Whitney looked at him for a moment, her expression softening. She could see how broken he was, but her loyalty to you came first.  Your heart came first. 

“I’m supposed to tell you she’s fine without you…” She bit her lip and shook her head gently, her voice dropping. Jude’s face contorted in a grimace at those words, the thought of you being okay, of you not caring about him anymore, striking something deep in him. His jaw tightened as if he was fighting back something raw. “Jude… she’s hurt,” she finally admitted, her voice tender despite the situation. “You didn’t just treat her poorly. You led her on and you left her with questions she didn’t deserve.” Whitney saw the pain flash across his face and sighed. Whitney sighed, her frustration palpable as she tried to find the right words. She wasn’t the type to sugarcoat things, but she also didn’t want to completely crush Jude. Still, this wasn’t a situation where being nice felt easy or right. “She’s upset, Jude. You hurt her. You hurt someone who has never even put herself in a position to get hurt before. It was a massive deal that she was opening up to you. She was willing to hurt and you promised her you wouldn’t and yet here we are.” Whitney said, her voice carrying a heaviness that had been building since this whole mess began. Her eyes locked on him, trying to gauge how much he really understood. “Do you even know how much she liked you?” The question hung in the air, and Whitney’s stomach twisted as she waited for his response. She wasn’t just asking for you. She needed to know if Jude had even an inkling of what he’d lost, of how deep your feelings had been, and if he was capable of feeling anything in return.

“Subconsciously, I felt like I knew… but it scared me,” he admitted, his voice quiet, almost ashamed. “Because I think—I know—that I might’ve had even stronger feelings for her. But I didn’t know what to do with that. It scared me, Whit. Telling her, admitting it, would’ve meant growing up… leaving behind this life I knew I was good at.” Jude ran his hands over his face, frustration and regret etched across his features.  He looked down at the floor, almost as if he couldn’t bear to face the truth of his own words. “I don’t know anything about real relationships, and I know she doesn’t deserve anything less,” he added, the words almost a whisper. Whitney sighed again, softer this time, and reached out, picking up his hand.

“Every relationship is different, Jude, so I can’t speak for yours but none of us know what we’re doing at first. We’re all going in blind.” Her fingers tightened around his, a gesture more sisterly than anything, as she looked him square in the eyes. She paused, trying to give him space to let her words sink in. “But eventually,” she continued, “things get crystal clear. You figure it out. But you’ve got to be brave enough to take that step, to risk it. You’ve hurt her so much by not even trying. You’ve been playing it safe because you think you’re good at the life you had before her, but… you’re not that guy anymore, are you?” Jude shook his head. He had told Toby he was but he knew he wasn't. He wasn’t the guy he was ahead of that Greece holiday. His expression twisted, the words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. He did feel stupid. 

“I’m an idiot,” he muttered. He felt reckless for how he handled things with you, for not being able to face his feelings, for choosing a fleeting life of surface-level connections over something real, something lasting.

“Yeah, but we like you…” Whitney took a deep breath. “Jude… She really really likes you.” Whitney paused. She wasn’t going to say something for you but she knew you loved him.

"I bet she told you to kick me out." His voice was quieter. Jude shifted uncomfortably, his hands still fidgeting as he looked at Whitney.  Whitney glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the tension in the air. 

"I offered," she said with a playful edge, trying to cut through the heavy mood, knowing he needed something lighter for a moment. Jude’s lips curved into a genuine smile, the first one he had managed in what felt like forever. "But you know her. She’s not like that... especially with you."  Whitney quickly clarified, her smile fading into something more serious. 

"Yeah," he murmured. "I know." Jude nodded, the weight of those words sinking in. Whitney hesitated for a beat.

"Y/N… she asked me to make sure you were okay." She explained. Jude’s heart clenched, his chest tightening at the thought that, after everything, you still cared enough to ask about him. The sound of your name, even in passing, nearly undid him. His throat felt thick, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak.

"She… she asked about me?" Jude’s voice broke slightly, his face a mask of conflicted emotions—relief, guilt, regret. He wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse. He couldn’t say your name though it hurt too much and it pinged in his brain that this could’ve all been avoided if he had just grown up and said it. 

"Yeah. As much as you’ve hurt her, she still wants to know you’re alright." Whitney nodded slowly. Jude let out a long, shaky breath. He was crumbling from the inside, the realization of just how much he had messed up crashing down on him like a tidal wave. 

"What do I do, Whit?" he asked, his voice full of desperation. Whitney sighed deeply, walking around the counter and enveloping him in a hug. He felt like a lost kid in that moment, someone who had made a mess but wasn’t sure how to clean it up. She rubbed his back and let out a breath of her own before she stepped back and met his eyes.

"I want to help you, Jude. I really do," she said, her voice laced with compassion but also firm. "If I tell you what to do… well then I should be the one seeing her.” Whitney smiled. “But you’ve got to make a decision for yourself. Take action, real action, on your own." Jude swallowed hard, sensing there was more she wanted to say. And there was. "If you can’t put in the effort on your own merit…" Whitney hesitated, hating that she even had to say it, but she knew it was the truth you needed to hear. "Maybe it’s not right for her. Maybe you don’t deserve her." Jude’s face fell, his eyes shutting tightly against the sting of her words. They were brutal, but he knew deep down they were right. Every step he had taken up until now had been half-hearted, marked by insecurity and fear. But those steps had led him to lose you.

"I know," he whispered, the admission feeling like the hardest thing he’d ever said. He opened his eyes, filled with determination but clouded by regret. "I’m going to fix it. I have to fix it all." Whitney watched him, hoping against hope that this time he meant it—not in the shallow, fleeting way he’d tried to patch things up before, but genuinely. She could see the fight in him, but she had seen it before, and it had never been enough. Jude was always good at grand gestures, but this time, she needed him to be good at the small, meaningful actions too.

"You better mean it this time," Whitney said, though her voice was softer now, more gentle than before. She wanted to believe him. Jude stood up straighter, his fists unclenching as he let out a long breath. 

"I do. I swear, I’ll do it right." He pulled Whitney into a hug, one filled with unspoken gratitude. When they pulled apart, Jude asked, "But will you help? With the… you know, the finer details. The stuff that isn’t make-or-break, but would… I don’t know, make it all feel special. Like, a nice gloss over the top?" Whitney smiled softly, shaking her head at his typical Jude manner of wanting things to be perfect, even in chaos. 

"Of course, of course," she said, her voice warmer now, filled with the hope she had buried earlier. "You know I’m a sucker for a good love story." Jude chuckled lightly, though the gravity of the situation never really left. 

"Thanks, Whit. I’ll figure out the rest. I have to. For her." Whitney gave him one last encouraging squeeze on the shoulder, her voice soft. 

"Make sure it’s not just about fixing things, Jude. Make sure it’s about growing up. Loving her for real. You owe her that." Jude nodded, his eyes serious, carrying the weight of everything he had lost and everything he still had to prove. Whitney stood there, watching as he steeled himself, silently praying that this time, he’d really be the man you deserved.The air in the kitchen was still thick with uncertainty, Whitney hoped more than anything that this wasn’t just another fleeting attempt. You deserved more than that. As Jude stood there, lost in the weight of his thoughts, Trent strolled into the kitchen with his usual easygoing smile. Without missing a beat, he threw his arms around Jude in a goofy hug. 

"Wow baby, really been bulking up, huh?" Trent teased, pulling back and laughing at his own dad joke.

"You’re hilarious." Jude let out a small, tired chuckle, shaking Trent off him along with a disapproving kiss of his teeth.  Whitney, standing nearby, smiled, rolling her eyes at Trent’s antics. She could always count on him to bring lightness to the room, even when things felt heavy. Trent playfully shoved Jude in the shoulder before turning to wrap his arms around Whitney, kissing her cheek in that affectionate, natural way of his.

“You know, mate, it’ll be alright. If you work at it." As he pulled away, he turned back to Jude, his expression softening, but still carrying that calm confidence Trent always had. Jude glanced at him, taking in his words. There was something comforting in how Trent said it, like a quiet reminder that not everything was lost. But it was the way Trent looked at Whitney when he spoke that made Jude stop and really listen. Trent kissed Whitney on the cheek again, grinning as she rolled her eyes but smiled at him all the same. "Good ones," Trent added, his eyes still on Whitney, "take work." Jude's chest tightened, his eyes flickering between the two of them. There was an undeniable truth in Trent’s words, something simple but powerful. He could see it in the way Trent looked at Whitney, the ease of their relationship, built on years of effort, love, and mutual care. It wasn’t easy, but it was real. Jude swallowed hard, nodding slowly as the realization sank deeper. He had to work for it. He had to fight for it. You were worth that, more than worth it.

"Yeah," Jude murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "I know." Trent clapped him on the back, a supportive gesture that said more than words could. Jude gave him a faint smile, appreciating the quiet wisdom in the moment. It wasn’t going to be easy, but nothing worth having ever was. As Trent and Whitney shared a look, both of them hoping Jude would finally figure out what he needed to do, Jude stood there, taking in the moment. He felt a spark of something he hadn’t in a while—hope. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start fixing things.

Your apartment was quiet, too quiet. It felt suffocating in the silence that followed your final goodbye to Jude. The words had spilled from your lips before you could stop them, before you could even fully comprehend them. 'I’m done,' you had said, your voice cold, detached. But when you returned home, the weight of it all came crashing down. You hadn’t meant it— maybe not entirely, a part of you knew very well that you wouldn’t ever be ‘done’ with Jude. But your heart was bleeding beneath all the bandages you were trying to wrap it in, and you didn’t know how to stop the pain. Jude had hurt you, over and over, and now it felt like the only thing you could do was push him away before he could break you further. The worst part was that when you told him you were done, you broke your own heart even more. Sitting on your bed, you buried your face in your hands, trying to hold back the sobs that were already clawing their way up your throat. You never cried before you had met Jude. You were always the strong one, always the one to hold it together. But Jude had shattered that, broken down every wall you’d spent years building. Since you met him, it felt like you’d done nothing but cry. Your chest heaved as the tears came anyway, silent and unstoppable. You wanted the world to swallow you up, to take the pain away because it was too much to bear. You were drowning in the ache, in the loss, in the thought that maybe, just maybe, you had lost the one person who made you feel like you were truly seen.

On the other side of the Atlantic, Jude sat in his own room, staring blankly at the floor. His phone was in his hand, the screen dark now, but your voice—your words—echoed in his head. 'I’m done.' He hadn’t believed it, not at first. But the longer he sat there, the more it sank in. You were really gone. He felt like the world had shifted beneath him, like he was untethered, drifting in a void. Everything was harder without you. Breathing, moving, thinking—everything felt like a monumental effort. You had become a part of him, and now that part was ripped away, leaving him raw and exposed. Jude ran a hand over his hair, frustration and despair mixing in a sickening cocktail of emotions. He’d tried to make you understand how much you meant to him, but he’d failed. Words weren’t nearly enough. He had pushed you away without even realizing it, and now he was paying the price. You were his everything, and he had let you slip through his fingers.

In your apartment, you curled up on the bed, pulling the covers around you as if they could shield you from the emptiness that was swallowing you whole. Your heart ached, every beat a reminder of what you had lost—or rather, what you had forced yourself to lose. Jude was still there, in the back of your mind, in every corner of your soul, but you had pushed him away. You had to. It was the only way to protect yourself. It felt like you were dying inside. You had never loved anyone the way you loved Jude. It hit you like a tidal wave, the realization slamming into you with full force. This was love. This was what all the poets and songwriters and dreamers talked about. The kind of love that took everything from you and gave you everything in return. The kind of love that tore you apart and put you back together, all at once. And you were pushing it away.

Jude stayed sat, tears burning in his eyes as he stared at the floor. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted you. But now, the distance between you felt insurmountable. The silence was deafening, the space between you growing with every minute that passed. It was as if you were moving in parallel, both of you hurting, both of you broken, but never able to meet in the middle. That was the cruelest thing about parallel lines—they never intersect. No matter how close they run, they remain apart.

You sobbed into your pillow, your chest tight with the weight of it all. You had found love—real, heart-wrenching, soul-deep love—and now, like a masochist, you were destroying it because you couldn’t bear his idiodic behavior. You were so mad that Jude had made it so hard. You had pushed him away, told him you were done, when the truth was you were anything but. You loved him more than you had ever thought possible, and it terrified you.  And now you were alone, both of you suffering, both of you desperate for the other, but too afraid, too hurt to bridge the gap. The world outside moved on, oblivious to the two souls shattered in their separate spaces, each aching, each lost. And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you would ever find your way back to each other.

Jude and Aurelian were running through a drill at training, side by side, both focused on the task at hand but equally caught in conversation. 

"So, when's she coming back to Madrid?" Aurelian casually asked. Jude, distracted by the passing drill, shot him a quick glance. 

"Who?" He knew exactly who Aurelian was talking about, but his chest tightened at the thought of you.

"You know, her. I mentioned the party, but it seemed like she hadn’t heard about it." Aurelian’s voice was light, but there was something behind it, like he wasn’t just asking casually. Jude’s brow furrowed as he made another pass.

“What party?” Jude’s voice was sharp, unable to mask the frustration brewing inside him. Aurelian shrugged, chasing after the ball. 

"My birthday, bro. I invited her. She said she was working a lot lately, though, seemed busy." His words were clipped between breaths as he jogged alongside Jude, unaware of the storm building. Jude’s steps faltered for a second. He missed a beat, his mind racing. 

"How do you know that?" His voice came out more demanding than he meant. Aurelian gave him a side glance. 

"I told you. I invited her to my birthday. She's her own person, no? Inviting you wouldn't mean I invited her." He tossed the comment lightly, but Jude could feel the weight of it sinking into him. With minimal thought, Jude rocketed the ball towards the goal, but it went flying high, way over the post, disappearing into the stands. Aurelian noticed the change in Jude’s demeanor immediately—his body stiffened, and his expression darkened. Aurelian felt the shift, sensing the tension wasn’t really aimed at him but at something much bigger. The ball wasn't the only thing that had skyrocketed—Jude’s emotions had clearly spun out of control. Jude’s jealousy was practically radiating off him. "You alright?" Aurelian asked, trying to gauge how deep this ran. He could feel the heat of Jude’s anger simmering under the surface. Jude clenched his fists, trying to ground himself, but his thoughts were spinning. You were talking to everyone—Whitney, Trent, Winnie—but not him. And now, Aurelian? The fact that you were having conversations with someone he trained with daily, sharing things about your life, things that Jude felt he should know, made his blood boil.

"Yeah, I’m fine," Jude muttered, but his face was hard, his jaw tight. He wasn’t fine. Far from it. Aurelian nodded but didn’t push. He could feel the jealousy rolling off Jude in waves, and while he didn’t want to be the source of it, he understood. After all, it was clear Jude still had feelings for you. Jude’s mind raced as they continued their drills, his body on autopilot while his thoughts spun out of control. You hadn’t mentioned the party to him. You hadn’t mentioned anything. It felt like everyone in his life knew more about you than he did, and it stung.  Aurelian’s words echoed in his head: ‘She's her own person after all.’ That statement rattled him more than anything else. Jude, feeling the heat of jealousy and confusion, was quick to blurt out, "So, are you trying to pursue something with her?" His voice cracked slightly as he tried to maintain a calm exterior, but it was evident that his emotions were getting the best of him. Aurelian stopped mid-drill, looking at Jude like he’d lost his mind. 

“What? No, bro. I mean, yeah, she’s sexy.” Jude winced. “She’s really attractive but… you were with her, weren’t you? Or at least, you were.” He shrugged, baffled at the insinuation. But Jude, unable to stop himself, continued to ramble. His words came out fast, almost panicked, as if saying them out loud would somehow justify his own feelings or even ease the burning jealousy coursing through him.

"I get it, you both speak French and all, but do you even know what she’s like? She’s way too good for—" He stopped, realizing what he was about to say. Aurelian raised an eyebrow, intrigued but letting Jude continue. Jude, realizing he’d opened Pandora’s box, kept talking, listing all the reasons why you were amazing, how intelligent you were, how thoughtful and creative. He rambled about your quirks, how you liked your coffee with just the right amount of cream, how you’d stay up late sketching, your laugh, your ridiculous but charming wit. His voice cracked as he started talking about how you deserved someone who would pay attention to all of that, someone who would cherish every part of you, never take you for granted. And then it hit him—he was describing all the ways he should have taken care of you. The way he should have been with you from the start. The way you deserved to be treated. He froze, mid-sentence, the weight of it all crashing down on him. The image of you floated in his mind, standing there with that duffel bag your dad had gifted you, and how you’d once described it with such admiration. You’d talked about how it was made with so much care, each detail meticulously thought out, each stitch precise. Jude realized, in that moment, that the way he should’ve treated you was the same way you described that duffel bag. With reverence. With attention to detail. With care. And he hadn’t. Before Jude could even process the revelation, Aurelian laughed, stepping up to the ball and striking it with precision. It sailed smoothly into the goal, perfectly nestled into the net. At the same time, Jude's shot, born from frustration and confusion, clanged hard off the crossbar, echoing through the empty training ground. The sound hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving. Call it irony.

"You know, Jude," he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead, "clearly, she is too good for you."  Aurelian turned back to Jude, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jude's eyes snapped to Aurelian’s, his chest tightening. Aurelian continued, his voice calm but pointed, "You had a wide-open goal, mate, and all you’ve done is hit the post." The metaphor hit Jude harder than the ball hitting the crossbar. He stood there, speechless, the truth of Aurelian’s words sinking in. You were too good for him. You were always too good for him, and in his insecurity, he’d let you slip through his fingers. Jude's hands clenched into fists by his sides once more, frustration burning in his chest. Aurelian was right. Jude had the perfect opportunity, the perfect person, and he fumbled it. Now, you were talking to other people—Aurelian, Whitney, Trent—and he was stuck watching from the sidelines, knowing he had no one to blame but himself. Aurelian watched Jude’s face, the conflict playing out in his features. With a more serious tone, he added, “Look, bro, it’s not about me. It never was. But if you don’t get your head on straight, someone’s going to step up and treat her right. Maybe not me, but someone will. You’ve got to figure out if you're gonna be that person—or keep missing the goal.” Jude swallowed hard, the weight of the realization crashing down on him like a tidal wave. He had to fix this. But for the first time, he wasn’t sure if it was even possible. You deserved more than he’d given, and if he didn’t act soon, you’d find someone who would.

You had ignored Jude for ages but he continually checked in with Whitney to at least make sure you had a pulse. He had thought about calling or texting a million times but he just couldn’t do it. It felt too menial.  In a haze of exhaustion and heartbreak Jude decided to send you a gift. Jude had never bought art before, but this time, he knew it had to be different. Jewelry or a purse wouldn’t cut it; they were too shallow, too ordinary. He needed something that spoke to you, something that communicated how he felt in a way words never could. That’s how he found himself diving into the unfamiliar world of art, navigating galleries, and dealers, determined to find something that would reflect the depth of his feelings for you. 

So when a large package arrived at your door, the deliveryman insisting on a signature, you were understandably confused. The box was massive, covered in bold warning labels about careful handling. Your heart raced with a mix of curiosity and confusion as you brought it inside. It was no ordinary package. As you carefully unboxed it, peeling away layer after layer, you finally revealed the painting. It was large, vibrant, alive with a serene energy that filled the room. Jules Olitski’s 'Beauty of Angels'. Your jaw dropped. For a moment, you wondered if it had been sent to the wrong address, maybe meant for your gallery. But even then, it was impossible to fathom—it was priceless.  You stood there, staring at the painting. It was contemporary, beautiful, and yet, somehow serene. The way the colors seemed to dance across the canvas, soft and yet striking—it felt like it was holding something deeper, something that called out to your soul.  And then, you noticed the card. A small, simple envelope tucked beside the frame. Your fingers trembled as you opened it reading the title of the work, Beauty of Angels. Your heart shattered. Jude. He had sent this. The title of the painting felt like a punch to the chest. You weren’t supposed to be his angel. Not after everything. Not after the hurt and betrayal that still clung to the edges of your relationship. And yet, here you were, standing before this breathtaking piece of art that he had chosen for you. You held the card in your hand, staring down at it, feeling a wave of emotions rush through you—pain, longing, confusion, and an ache that you hadn’t let yourself feel in weeks. It was a grand gesture, yes, but it was more than that. It was his way of trying to communicate, to reach you in a way that words had failed. But the irony of it all was almost too much to bear. You didn’t feel like anyone’s angel. If anything, you felt further from it than you ever had before. The cracks in your heart, the jagged edges of your hurt, made you feel anything but angelic. And yet, here was Jude, sending you something so personal, so profound. It was like he had seen something in you that you couldn’t see in yourself anymore. You stood there, your heart aching as you looked at the painting again. It was beautiful, yes. But it also felt like a reminder of everything you had lost. Of everything that had once been and everything that could never be again. The room felt heavy with the weight of it all, and you had to sit down, the card still clutched in your hand. The painting stared back at you, a testament to how Jude saw you—even now, even after everything. But was it enough? Could it ever be enough to heal the wounds, to fix what had been broken? You weren’t sure. But for the first time in a long while, you let yourself feel the sadness, the longing, and the love you still had for him. The painting was beautiful, but the emotions it stirred in you were even more powerful.  And despite everything, a part of you couldn’t help but wish you were still his angel. Even though you knew you weren’t.

You stared at the painting for what felt like an eternity pacing around it and your apartment for what felt like hours, the walls feeling like they were closing in on you. The city buzzed outside, cars honking, people shouting, but you were lost in the quiet chaos of your thoughts. Jude's name glowed on your phone screen, your thumb hovering over the call button. Every second that passed felt like another nail in the coffin of whatever this had been between you two.  Weeks had gone by since you left Madrid, and the memories still cut deep. That night. The arguments. The coldness in his eyes when he couldn't even say your name. You hadn't intended to call him today; you told yourself that the space was necessary, that you needed to move on. But the ache in your chest never went away, and you couldn’t hold back any longer. You wanted closure. No—you needed it. You needed to hear him admit that it had all been for nothing, that you hadn’t meant what you thought you did. Finally, your thumb pressed down, and the phone rang. Each ring was like a countdown to the moment you weren’t sure you could handle. The silence between you was about to be broken at last. When he finally answered, his voice came through soft, tentative. 

“Y/N,” Jude’s voice was soft, full of emotion that he had been hiding from you until now. “I’ve missed you… so much.” Just hearing his voice made your heart skip. For a brief moment, all the hurt and anger melted away, and it felt like home. Like all those nights lying beside him, talking about nothing, just listening to the sound of his breath as he slept next to you. But that feeling was fleeting, replaced quickly by the cold reality that had driven you both apart.

"Hi," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but you could hear the waver in it. You had told yourself this was going to be a calm conversation, a way to smooth things over, to leave on good terms. But the minute you heard him, all the old wounds felt fresh again. “I’m sorry I left the way I did.”  Your own voice catching slightly. A part of you raged that you just apologized to him. Another part of you wondered if he had slept with someone else to relieve the blue balls you had left him with. 

“I’m sorry I gave you a reason to leave,” Jude replied, his sincerity evident. “I should’ve told you what you mean to me, but I was scared. I still am, but I can’t stand not talking to you.” You felt your heart swell with a mix of emotions—relief, sadness, hope. 

“I was scared too, Jude. I didn’t want to get hurt but you’ve hurt me anyway though.” You sighed. This conversation almost felt like it was too quick for you though. Jude was too eager to fix it all. 

“There’s been a lot of hurt lately…” Jude began and that planted a seed. “ I don’t want to hurt you,” Jude said, his voice firm despite the vulnerability behind it. “I want to make things right. I want to be the man you need, Y/N.” There was a pause, both of you taking in the weight of what had been said. This wasn’t an easy fix, but it was a start—a chance to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

“I don’t know what happens next,” you finally said, your voice steady.

“I’m not letting go of this,” Jude replied, determination in his voice. “I’m not letting go of you.” And with that, the silence between you was broken, the first steps toward something new, something real, finally being taken. As the phone call continued, the initial relief you felt from hearing Jude’s voice began to dissipate. Jude’s voice, which had always been so steady, so confident, now carried a different tone—one you weren't prepared for. “Y/N,” Jude began, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “I’ve been thinking… a lot, actually. I don’t want to lose you. I want to give this a real shot. I like you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever liked anyone.” You felt your heart shrivel up in that moment. You wanted an 'I love you.' Those words hung in the air, and instead of bringing comfort, they sent a cold rush through your veins. Suddenly, everything felt too real, too fast. Your mind snapped back to all the things you’d been trying to ignore—the doubts, the fears, the reasons you’d tried to keep Jude at arm’s length.

“No,” you blurted out, your voice sharper than you intended. “I can’t do this, Jude. Look, I appreciate the painting, it’s amazing and so thoughtful but I just can’t.” It was like the walls Jude had broken down, the ones that you were currently working on building back up were encased in steel buried deep in the ground now.

“What do you mean?” Jude asked, confusion and hurt beginning to seep into his voice. “Why not?”

“It’s just… it’s all stupid, Jude,” you said, your voice cracking with a mix of frustration and fear. “This whole thing—it’s just been stupid sex.” Jude felt like the ground had been pulled out from under him. You didn’t believe that in totality but you needed to pull the plug. 

“Stupid sex? Y/N, you know it’s more than that.” Jude was so offended. He knew he was in the wrong but god did it hurt to hear you say that.  Why did you call then? When he saw your name appear on his phone he thought the chasm had begun to yield. 

“Is it?” You shot back, your emotions spiraling out of control. “Or am I just another one of your conquests? Another girl you’ll get bored of and move on from? Another girl you treat like shit. It took you no time at all really to find another one of me.” You snapped.

“That’s not true,” Jude insisted, desperation creeping into his tone. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. You’re different.” He felt sick to his stomach. 

“Different?” You echoed, your voice rising. “How am I different, Jude? You think I don’t know what you’re really like? I know about all the women before me, the playboy lifestyle. You’re just saying this now because you’re used to getting what you want, and you can’t stand the idea of someone saying no to you.” Jude was reeling, struggling to keep up with the barrage of accusations. 

“Y/N, that’s not fair. I know I’ve made mistakes, but it’s different with you. I’m not trying to play games. I want to be with you—really be with you.” He mused in panic. His voice was shaking.  But you couldn’t hear him over the roar of her own insecurities. You felt tears burning in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You wouldn’t let yourself be vulnerable, not now, not anymore.

“No, Jude,” you said, your voice trembling with the effort of holding yourself together. “It’s too much. I don’t want this—I don’t want you.” You cried, your heart breaking for the millionth time.  It hurt saying something you didn't entirely believe. You did want Jude.

“Y/N, don’t do this,” Jude pleaded, his heart breaking alongside yours with every word you spoke. “Please, don’t push me away.” But it was too late. The walls you had built around your heart were snapping back into place, and you couldn’t let yourself break them down again.

“All I do is cry not. You shouldn’t make me cry!” you said, your voice breaking as tears began to stream down your face. “I never cry. This isn’t what I want, Jude. I’m sorry.” You apologized and you weren’t sure why. Jude was silent, the weight of your words settling like a stone on his chest. He wanted to fight for you, to convince you that you could make this work, but the pain in your voice was too much to bear.

“I don't want to make you cry. I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m really glad you called though," Jude said, his voice quieter now, as if he were afraid to say too much. He was trying to revert the conversation back on course. "I’ve been thinking about you. About… us though." The way he said "us" made your stomach churn. Us. Was there ever really an us? Or had it just been you, constantly trying to be enough, constantly trying to get him to see you? All you ever wanted was for him to acknowledge what you were to him, but he never could. And now, hearing him say those words, that he had been thinking about us, it made your anger flare.

"Jude," you began, taking a deep breath, "what are we even doing?" There was tension in your tone. There had been a momentary lull but you were about to kick off in a way Jude probably wasn’t prepared for. 

"What do you mean?" His voice tightened, like he already knew where this was headed but was hoping to stall the inevitable.

"I mean, what is this? What have we been doing all this time?" Your voice rose slightly, the frustration that had been building for weeks spilling over. "I’ve been here, waiting for you to tell me something, anything. And you’ve given me nothing. Nothing that I can hold on to... And today, I mean the painting is gorgeous. You already knew I’d like it but…." You sighed. You genuinely loved the painting but you were avoiding the word love at all costs at the moment. You felt embarrassed that you did love him at the minute but should the circumstances be different you would’ve swooned over someone buying you art like this. 

"I’ve told you, you mean something to me," he said, his voice pleading now, as if that was supposed to be enough. But that was the problem. That had always been the problem. You weren’t just something. You were so much more, and he never saw it. Or if he did, he was too afraid to admit it.

"That’s not enough," you snapped, your voice cracking. "Do you hear yourself? ‘You mean something to me’? That’s what you’ve been saying for months. Do you even know what that means? Because to me, it feels like nothing." You quipped. He was quiet on the other end, and you could feel your heart racing, your emotions boiling over. You had held back for so long, tried to be patient, tried to understand where he was coming from. But now, it was all crashing down, and you couldn’t stop yourself. "I’ve been waiting for you, Jude," you continued, your voice shaking. "I’ve been waiting for you to tell me how you really feel, to be brave for once and just say it. I’ve given up so much for you. I left New York. I stayed in Madrid. And for what? For you to keep stringing me along with vague promises that I mean something to you?"

"I never wanted to hurt you," Jude said, his voice strained, like he was trying to hold it together. "I just… I don’t know how to say it." The tears were gathering on his water line. This felt very much like the beginning of the end.  Jude really hoped that this wasn’t the way this conversation would go but a part of him also wasn’t all that surprised. He knew he had wronged you. 

"That’s the problem!" you shouted, unable to hold back the tears that were now threatening to spill over. "You never know how to say it. You never know how to tell me what I mean to you. I’ve been bending over backwards for you, trying to be patient, trying to be enough, but it’s never enough for you, is it? Never enough for you to tell me." Jude’s breath hitched on the other end, and for a moment, you thought he might say it. That he might finally say the words you’d been aching to hear for so long. 

 "I… I’m trying to show you that I care. I don’t want to lose you." But instead, he stammered. Your heart clenched painfully at his words, and the tears finally spilled over again. 

"But you already have." You bluntly told him. The silence that followed was suffocating. You could hear your own breathing, heavy and ragged, and you knew that he was on the other end, feeling just as broken as you. Jude had to mute his phone for a moment for the sob that he felt ready to escape him. He couldn’t breathe properly. But he still couldn’t say it. He couldn’t give you the one thing you needed.

"I…" he started again, but the words faltered. You felt like he was never going to say it. He never would. Why couldn't he say it? Jude was wondered the same thing. It would feel unfair to say now. You almost worried he would say it in a last ditch effort and you didn't want it that way.

"I don’t think I can do this anymore," you whispered, your voice barely audible as the tears continued to fall. "I can’t keep waiting for you to figure out how you feel about me. I can’t keep holding onto something that’s never going to be what I need." Jude was silent again, and you could feel the finality of it all sinking in. This was it. Whatever had been between you, whether it was a relationship or some undefined situationship, it was over. The love you both refused to name had shattered into pieces, and there was no going back now.

“Y/N, angel. Please. Can we… Please it hurts me to think that I'll only got to know you this long. I want more. I’ll give you a lifetime of me, please.” Jude muttered terribly upset and terribly aware this was it. 

“Jude, please know that for the past few weeks I have imagined you imagining me. It's been the only thing that would soothes me. Dreaming you’d want more but… I know now that it’s just been a dream. You have been my favorite almost… really” You whimpered, tears running.  "I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. "I’m so sorry, Jude." And before he could say anything, before you could hear the regret in his voice or the words he couldn’t find, you hung up. You stood there in the middle of your apartment, phone in hand, tears streaming down your face, knowing that it was done. Whatever you had with Jude, whatever it had been, was gone. You loved him. You had loved him with everything you had, and now you had to let him go.  Jude sat in his room, the emptiness around him mirrored in the ache inside his chest.  He loved you and never told you. The ache in your own chest was unbearable, but you knew it was the only way. The relationship—or whatever it was—had ended, not with a grand declaration of love, but with silence. The silence that had always been between you, unspoken and unresolved.

And now, you had to learn how to live without it. Without him. 

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 10 - A Little Lost xx

[waevrs]

​ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇ

Pairings: Athlete!Shin Ryujin x Athlete! ShinRyujin

Tags: SMUT, kind of dub-con, rough sex

Summary: You guys have been rivals for ages...what happens when it finally boils over?

The track team's practice had ended, leaving the athletes drenched in sweat and the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the field. Among the runners, there were two fierce competitors whose rivalry had been a burning undercurrent for as long as anyone could remember. You, with your intense determination, stood at one end of the track. Your opponent, Ryujin, a tall and graceful sprinter known for her speed, occupied the other end.

Your rivalry was not just about who could run faster or jump higher; it was something far more complicated. An electrifying, unspoken sexual tension crackled between you two, a tension that had drawn the attention and curiosity of your teammates. You often found yourselves in a strange dance of competition and attraction, neither of you willing to admit the truth.

Today, the competition had been fierce, but you had emerged victorious once again, crossing the finish line with a triumphant grin. Ryujin, her chest heaving and her legs trembling with exhaustion, could barely contain her frustration. She had lost to you too many times, and every defeat stung like a wound to her pride.

After practice, you two rivals found yourselves in the cramped, dimly lit locker room, a silence hanging heavily between you. You took your time changing, relishing in your victory, while Ryujin seethed with anger, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't bear to lose to you again, and this time, her anger boiled over.

With a sudden, explosive outburst, Ryujin slammed her locker shut, making you jump in surprise. "This isn't fair!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with anger and frustration.

You turned to her, a bemused smirk playing on her lips. "What's not fair, Ryujin?" you asked, your tone teasing.

"You always win, even when I train so hard! You must be cheating, somehow."

You laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Are you really that sore about losing? Get over yourself, Ryujin."

Ryujin glared at you, her eyes flashing with anger. "I won't get over it, because you don't deserve to win!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the empty locker room.

"Oh yeah? What makes you think that?"

"You're always flirting with the coach, giving her those sexy smiles and batting your eyelashes. She's probably letting you win, just because you're such a slut!"

Your eyes widened in surprise, and your heart began to race. You had never expected Ryujin to be so direct about her jealousy, and her words ignited a flame of desire within you. You decided to take a bold risk, and you moved closer to her, your eyes locked on hers.

"So what if I am a slut? Are you jealous, Ryujin?" you asked, your voice low and husky.

"I'm not jealous, you're just a cheater!" Ryujin spat back, her cheeks flushing.

You could feel the sexual tension crackling between you, and you knew that you needed to act before the moment slipped away. You took another step towards her, closing the distance between you. "I don't think you're telling the truth," you whispered, your lips just inches from hers. "I think you're jealous because I get to fuck the coach and you don't."

You haven't fucked the coach and you never will but you wanted to see the depths of Ryujin's jealousy.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Ryujin breathed, her voice coming out harsh through her gritted teeth.

You were both fully aware of the sexual tension simmering between you, and it was impossible to deny any longer. Ryujin made the first move though, slamming you hard against the locker. You were caught off guard and gasped as her hands grabbed your hips. "I know what I'm talking about," she hissed, her eyes blazing with lust and jealousy. You struggled against her grip, but her strength was overwhelming.

She pinned you against the locker, her hands digging into your skin. "What do you think you're doing, Ryujin?" you gasped, your heart racing with anticipation.

"You've teased me long enough," Ryujin growled, her voice thick with desire. "It's time for you to learn what happens to sluts like you."

Her words sent a thrill through you, and you knew you were about to experience the most intense pleasure of your life. You didn't resist as she tugged at the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down to expose your soaked pussy.

"Look at you, so wet already," Ryujin sneered, her fingers sliding along your slick folds. "You're such a fucking slut, you'd probably let anyone fuck you."

"Is that what you want, Ryujin?" you taunted, arching your back and pushing your hips against her hand. "Do you want to fuck me?" "Not yet," Ryujin replied, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

You whimpered as she plunged two fingers deep inside you, curling them and hitting the sensitive spot that drove you wild. She was merciless, fucking you with her fingers, her thumb rubbing against your swollen clit. You writhed against her, your body begging for release.

"Beg me," she demanded, her breath hot against your neck.

"Fuck you," you groaned, refusing to give in.

"Beg me or I'll stop."

The threat of being left unsatisfied was too much for you to bear.

"Please," you gasped, your hips bucking against her hand. "Please fuck me, Ryujin."

With a satisfied grin, she pulled her fingers out and shoved you to the floor. You landed hard on your knees, and Ryujin immediately stripped off her clothes. You looked up at her, and she smirked down at you, her hand wrapping around the base of her strap-on.

"Y-You planned this?" You sputtered out incredulously, unable to take your eyes off of the size of her strap-on.

She ignored you, pushing her cock into your mouth. You gasped around her, taking as much of her into your mouth as you could. She was relentless, thrusting into your mouth and throat. Your body tensed as you struggled to take her, your eyes watering. She didn't slow, fucking your mouth until your lips were raw and your throat was aching.

"Now get up," she commanded, pulling out of your mouth. You rose unsteadily to your feet, your knees trembling. You turned to face the locker, your cheek pressed against the cool metal. Ryujin was behind you in an instant, her cock pressing against your entrance. You gasped as she slowly slid into you, your pussy stretching around her.

"F-Fuck," you moaned, your breath fogging up the metal. She began to move, thrusting into you with long, slow strokes. You could feel every inch of her sliding in and out of you, and it was driving you wild. You were completely at her mercy, and she knew it. She fucked you hard and fast, her hips slapping against your ass. Your moans echoed through the locker room, and you knew there was no going back now. Ryujin was going to fuck you senseless, and there was nothing you could do to stop her. Not that you wanted to. The pleasure was building inside you, threatening to explode. You pushed your hips back, desperate for more.

"Ryujin," you moaned, your body trembling. "I'm going to cum." "Not yet," she growled, reaching around and pressing her fingers against your clit. "Cum when I tell you to, slut."

You tried to hold on, but it was impossible. The pleasure was too much, and you came hard, screaming her name. Your body trembled, and your legs gave out. She held you up, fucking you relentlessly through your orgasm.

"Ryujin, please," you gasped, the pleasure bordering on pain. "I can't take anymore."

"I'll tell you when you've had enough," she growled, her voice dripping with lust.

She kept fucking you, her cock slamming into you. You were lost in a haze of pleasure and pain, and you could barely breathe. You were overwhelmed, and you could feel another orgasm building. "Cum again," she ordered, her voice harsh. "Cum for me, slut." You couldn't hold back, and you came again, your pussy clenching around her cock. Your juices came squirting out and all over her strap, thighs, and locker room floor. Your body shook and then went slack in her arms.

Ryujin didn't let up, her hips slamming into you. Your body was limp, and she held you up as she fucked you. Her cock was buried deep inside you, and the feeling of her strap-on dragging against your over-sensitive walls was too much. You could barely stand, your legs trembling.

"Cum again," she hissed, her fingers digging into your hips. "I can't," you gasped, the pleasure too intense. "Do it."

You were helpless to resist, and you squirted again. You screamed her name, your body spasming. Your orgasm was more intense than anything you'd ever felt before, and you could barely think straight. "Ryujin," you cried, your voice hoarse. "Please, I can't take any more." She finally slowed, her cock sliding out of you. Your legs gave out, and she lowered you gently to the ground. You lay there, spent and exhausted, your heart pounding.

"Holy shit," you breathed, unable to believe what had just happened. "Yeah," Ryujin replied, her voice thick with satisfaction. "That was pretty fucking intense."

You slowly sat up, your muscles aching. "How long have you wanted to do that?"

"A long time," Ryujin admitted, a smile playing on her lips.

"Me too," you confessed, your heart swelling with emotion. "But I never thought you felt the same way."

"I do," Ryujin said, leaning down and kissing you softly. You melted into her kiss, and you knew that things had changed between you. The rivalry had turned into something else, something more intimate and real. You didn't care who won anymore, and neither did she.

All you cared about was each other.

[luvrodite]

SUNSHINE, BABY JASON TODD

↳ beach day with roommate!jason ft. older brother dickothy grayson

The sun beats down on the pavement and Jason grumbles as the both of you pile into the car. Behind you, his older brother follows, chatting a mile a minute excitedly. You catch Jason’s eye in the rear mirror, and bite back a laugh. Your roommate does very little to hide the disgust he feels at his brother’s ‘beach fit’–an obscenely printed button up he leaves open, and board shorts that clash terribly. The rubber floaty he packs into the boot squeaks when he closes the trunk and you think Jason might burst a blood vessel.

“Dickwad,” he seethes. “We are not bringing that to the beach.”

You settle comfortably into the backseat of Jason’s car, digging out the paperback in your bag and your headphones. It’s still early in the morning, and the beach is a bit of a drive away. You don’t plan to have any part in their squabble. When Dick begins to needle him, you’re glad to have thought ahead. 

On first meeting Dick, you had thought it extremely unfair that your annoyingly attractive roommate had an equally attractive older brother–who was in charge of this? Seriously. The man had smiled a megawatt grin at you, and you’d mumbled out your name pathetically. 

Jason hadn’t been impressed. He’d been even less impressed when you’d struck up a friendship with his older brother. 

“Consider this payback for Roy,” the older man had said, slinging an arm around your shoulder in a move that was probably too familiar for only having met you moments prior, but you hadn’t minded too much, especially when you’d caught a look at Jason’s quickly reddening face. 

In the end, Jason wins and the floatie does not make the trip to the beach on pain of being deflated with a sharp object that he definitely should not have in his car. You keep that observation to yourself, but privately share an incredulous look with his brother.

An hour or so later, you’re glad to push yourself out of the car. The smell of brine hits your nose first, the heat on your skin following close behind. Dick and Jason, still in the front seat, have not shut up for a moment since you’d left the city, and you lean down to peer through the open passenger seat window.

“No, you–hello there, sweetheart,” Dick cuts himself off, smiling prettily at you. You raise your brows at him, sweeping your gaze to Jason who sits in the driver’s seat, frowning at his brother. 

“Are you guys going to sit the car the entire time?” you ask. “If you wanted to bicker I could’ve come by myself.”

Jason raises his eyebrows at your tone, leaning over the console to retort, “You wouldn’t have come by yourself. You refused to go to the store yesterday because I didn’t want to come.”

You scowl at him when Dick snickers at the comment. “Shut up and get out.”

Jason holds his hands up defensively, but gets out nonetheless and you move away. “So touchy.”

Dick takes off for the water the moment you get your things set up, leaving you with your roommate. You have to avert your eyes when Jason pulls his shirt off, rooting through the icebox distractedly so he doesn’t see your expression. 

“Did you pack the watermelon slices?” you ask, and almost jump ten feet high when Jason’s bare shoulder brushes against your side, warm and soft. He smells like sunscreen, and you stiffen when he doesn’t pull away, either uncaring or ignorant to his skin touching yours.

“Yeah,” he rumbles. “Should be in there, lemme look–here.”

He pulls out the container, buried under ice and several bottles of water, and passes it to you. You brighten, opening the lid and picking out a slice, passing one to Jason before reaching for one yourself. 

The juice rolls down your wrist, sweet against your tongue. You settle against your totebag, the makeshift pillow supporting your back. The sun is hot against your skin, but a light breeze flutters through the air, skittering along your arms and legs pleasantly. 

The beach isn’t too crowded, and you’re glad for the lack of screaming families, dozing in and out of sleep to the sound of the waves, warm and sleepy. When you open your eyes, you’re not sure how much time has passed but Jason is still next to you. He lays on his stomach, your paperback laid before him.

He looks over, and laughs.

“Have a nice nap?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, sitting up and stretching. His eyes follow your movements. “Have you been here this whole time? Where’s Dick?”

A quick glance at the shoreline shows no sight of the older man.

“Chill, it’s only been a few minutes. He went to go get ice cream from that store a few minutes away, should be back soon,” Jason informs you, attention back on the book and turning the page. There’s a grin stretching across his face that you don’t like the look of, cocksure and mischievous. “Didn’t know this was the kind of stuff you were into.”

You lunge for the book, suddenly recalling its contents, but Jason holds you back easily with one arm.

“It’s not bad,” he says, but you can see a cheshire cat grin on his face.

“You are such an ass,” you hiss, pinching his arm. “Get a hobby.”

“Reading is a hobby, sweetness,” he laughs. 

“Loser,” you mutter, shoving him once more for good measure before turning away. “I’m going to go swim.”

“Not without putting on sunscreen you’re not,” he says, not even looking up from your book. He reaches into his bag and pulls out the tube, passing it over to you. You roll your eyes even as you accept it. 

Dick approaches as you’re slathering the lotion on your face, a rapidly melting ice-cream in his hands, and Jason looks up. He screws his nose up at the green sticking to his hands, mint chocolate chip pitifully sliding under the weight of the sun.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Dick says cheerfully, throwing himself down onto the blanket and you can’t help but laugh when his treat threatens to spill over the side of his cone. 

“Gag me now,” Jason mutters, and you roll your eyes when they begin to bicker once more–this time on the merits of different ice cream flavours. When chocolate chip and strawberry prove to be too volatile of a conversation subject, you smack Jason’s leg, drawing his attention away from strangling his older brother.

“You both are so juvenile,” you say, adding before Jason can retort, “Help me with this sunscreen.”

He pulls a face at your demanding tone, scowling but accepting the bottle you hand him, gesturing for you to come closer. You shuffle forward until you’re sat in front of him.

“You’ve got no manners, you know that?” he tells you crossly, and you crack a grin at Dick, whose eyebrows have flown into his hairline. The sunscreen is cold against your back, but his hands are warm as he smooths it in, and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You wanna do this yourself?” he demands and you sigh.

“You’re such an asshole, man,” Dick laughs and you nod your head.

“Hey–shut up, dickhead,” Jason snaps and your eyes widen, craning your head over your shoulder to look at him. 

“What is wrong with you both?” you exclaim. “Like, seriously.”

“Would you chill out?” Jason’s thumbs dig into your spine and you bite back the urge to let out a sigh when he works out a knot. Dick’s miffed face changes, grinning at something over your shoulder. You can’t see Jason’s expression, but his smile is unnerving, and you shift in your seat uncomfortably. “You’re worse than Bruce.”

“No offence to your dad,” you bite back, reaching behind to pinch the skin of Jason’s knee. “But there’s no way I’m worse than him.”

You’ve met the man before. Bruce Wayne has, on multiple occasions, offered to outfit your entire apartment in state of the art security technology, and you’re not so sure he hasn’t succeeded, despite both your and Jason’s declinations.

Dick tilts his head thoughtfully, and nods. “Yeah,” he lets out a breath. “He freaks out if we breathe wrong.”

“I wonder why,” you mutter.

“‘M done,” Jason announces, patting your back–though he could be lighter about it, you fall forward under the weight of his blow. He’s grinning when you look over your shoulder with a scowl, but you decide the weather is all too pleasant to let your dickhead roommate get to you. You settle for flipping him off childishly, and scramble up from the blanket.

Despite the warmth, the water is cold, and your breath hitches as it rushes over your feet. It takes some getting used to, and by the time you’ve waded knee deep, you hear Jason’s voice from behind you.

“What are you waiting for?”

“It’s cold,” you reply, eyes on the water even as he comes up by your side. He snickers, shoulder bumping into yours.

“Wuss.”

There’s something in his tone you can’t quite place and then, before you know it, the ground is falling away from you as you’re picked up. A scream startles out of your throat when Jason gathers you in his arms and wades further into the water, laughing despite the hits you’ve begun to land on him. 

“Put me down, you idiot! You’re gonna get us both drowned!” 

“You sure you want me to do that?” he asks, and you slap his shoulder, clutching him tighter when he pretends to drop you.

“I’m going to kill you,” you grit out, but you can’t deny the way your face flushes, adrenaline spiking at the press of his warm skin against yours, water rushing around the both of you. 

The afternoon bleeds away in a slow, thick haze, saltwater soaking your limbs and the sun beating down against the sand, clinging to you in flecks. Jason lets go of you eventually, Dick wades back in and you laugh yourself hoarse fending off the waves they send your way. 

The water you’d packed is sweeter somehow, you’re convinced, cold and spilling from the lip of the bottle as you tip it towards your mouth. The beach towels are warm beneath your skin, and you shiver a little as a breeze skitters through the sand, cooling against your still damp skin. Next to you, Jason makes his way through the container of fruit, periodically handing you a cherry, or a slice of watermelon. Dick lies next to you, dozing off under the sun. You think you spot a suspiciously reddening strip of skin on the back of his neck, and move the sun shade so he’s covered.

When you let out a yawn, Jason looks over, mouth quirking.

“Time to go?”

“Think so,” you affirm, stifling another yawn. The sun leaves you drowsy, and by the time you all manage to get everything packed up and trudge back up to where the car is–Jason kicking Dick awake, much to the latter’s chagrin–your limbs feel leaden. 

You’re barely turning out of the beach road before your eyes are slipping closed, skin flushed and pleasantly warmed. With Jason’s hoodie strewn over your lap as a makeshift blanket, the air conditioning whirs quietly and you’re lulled into sleep.

[heesopretty]

pairings : ex!wonbin x gn!reader

warnings : angst, chronic cheater wonbin, toxic wonbin, pathetically down bad wonbin

notes : i know this isn’t the best, but i hope it’s still fun to read because i had fun writing this 🫡

after cheating on you, wonbin thought that that’d be it.

never in his life did he envision himself offering his commitment to you after you moved on (in theory).

“…did you seriously cheat on me while i was sleeping?”

you squinted, observing the enigmatic creature in front of you. the two of you were seated comfortably on your bed, facing one another fiercely with contrasting expressions. wonbin’s expression was nonchalant.

like cheating on his partner was a completely normal and reasonable thing to do. you could immediately tell that he didn’t care, and that made you sick to your stomach—not with sadness, but with pure malice.

“last night? yeah.”

you were seething with rage.

your expression was calm with a poisonous gaze as you observed him in all his slyness.

“what do you mean by that..?”

you inquired, leaning in ever so slightly to let his words flow through your mind and settle.

“including you, i’ve taken like, seven people’s virginities since we’ve started dating.”

he admitted, appearing indifferent—to a chilling degree—at his direct assertion.

wonbin really didn’t care, did he?

you thought back to all the times in your relationship with wonbin. you remembered every date you had, every post, every text, and you could feel it all fall apart.

you could feel all of this land on you.

“ok, so can you get out of my fucking house now?”

the corner of wonbin’s lips twitched upwards.

you hated it. you hated that you weren’t sure if you felt like crying because you wanted to strangle him or because he didn’t look like he cared at all about you.

about all that time you’d spent together.

it was all thrown away, all those memories and emotions being a bunch of bullshit.

“yeah.”

wonbin got up, taking his things and casually walking to his car. as you watched his back get more and more distant, you fought everything in you to push down the lump in your throat and the tears welling up in your eyes. as you heard your breath stutter, faint sniffling, and wonbin’s car fading away, you felt your face heat up and your cheeks dampen with your tears.

just how much of your time did he waste..?

it hadn’t taken you and wonbin very long to find other people—though, saying the feelings were genuine would be anything but accurate.

while wonbin was insistent on asserting his love life (mostly the sex part) on his public story, you opted for the alternative, instead, posting cheesy posts about your new lover.

whether it was real or not was hard to discern, though, you were adamant on making it seem realistic.

just to piss wonbin off.

needless to say, it’d worked.

it irked wonbin, it really did. he didn’t like that you pretended like you never blushed when he’d enter the room you were in, he didn’t like that you acted like you never loved him, he hated how quickly you’d moved onto someone who was so subpar compared to him.

obviously, he was better, but it irked him that you didn’t see that. it was as if wonbin, the man who caught everyone’s eye was not attractive enough for you to miss.

and it pissed him off.

wonbin’s relationship was flawed too. this, he knew. by technical standards, it barely counted as one, moreso fitting a haphazard (at best) attempt at a committed friends with benefits relationship. clearly, his moral footing had been compromised, considering that even in this sort of relationship, where they were both okay with sleeping with others, he still couldn’t contain the urges to cheat.

it was pathetic too, like he was falling right into the palms of your hands even though it was supposed to be the other way around.

he hated the way you were making him feel.

wonbin stared blankly at his phone screen, thinking less than deeply about the consequences of his actions.

he wished he could say he felt bad, but he’d be lying. not when he was this desperate for your attention.

it only took so long before you broke up with your rebound, the guilt of playing with someone like that eating at you.

you were better than this; you weren’t like wonbin.

eventually, the news had reached wonbin (rather quickly). a brow of yours furrowed, irritated that wonbin still refused to leave you alone. when you saw the notification he’d sent, you audibly gasped, evidently not prepared for what he’d said.

your eyes widened, mildly shocked that he was willing to let go of his unapologetic and arrogant demeanor to sleep with you. it was a first, which was an honor, but it sounded rather silly to think that wonbin ever had a chance of getting you back after what he did.

besides, those feelings for wonbin weren’t real, why would you waste your time on him?

he’d never learn to actually love you.

you set your phone down, laying back down on your couch and staring blankly at the ceiling. you fidgeted with your hands, sighing quietly.

all you could think about?

… unfortunately, life with loyal wonbin.

[sea-and-storm]

EXILE -- Reed Stoneshore

“You deserve to feel safe,” his sister sighed as she tossed the small purse of gil in Reed’s direction. “And happy.”

His hand shot out to catch it, but the sudden movement caused a flare of pain in his barely-healed gut that contorted his face into a grimace. Seeing the reaction, Lyra's expression turned apologetic.

She seemed so sincere that Reed might have actually believed it.. but he’d known ever since they were young that his elder sister was nothing if not the spitting image of the father he so deeply resented. That she was still trying to convince him - of all people - of how much she cared for him while simultaneously exiling him from their shared home was proof enough of that.

“Piss off,” he hissed as he shoved the purse into his pack along with the meager few belongings he owned. That she had been the one to have to retrieve them for him while he was abed, all because he was being nursed back to health by her as well, made his temper flare hotter than the forges at Naldiq and Vymelli’s.

“I mean it, Reed,” she insisted, though impatience was beginning to worm its way in through the cracks of her act. Lyra never could stand it that Reed could so plainly see through her chocobo-shite when the rest of the bloody world seemed to fall for it hook, line, and sinker.

“Do you now?” he challenged, starting forward down the pier towards the awaiting ship and physically pushing past her as he did - and bit back another grimace as his weakened body protested at the shove. “No, what you’re meanin’ is that Mother, our sisters, and you deserve to feel safe an’ happy – and you think that I’m goin’ to ruin it for all of you ‘less you ship me off to the bloody New World.”

He bit back an annoyed groan at the sharp, clipped sound of the heel of her boots against the dock as she followed hot on his heels - clearly incensed by his provocation. Though she might’ve been a far sight better at suppressing her temper than he, his Dutiful Sister still had her tells for those that knew where to look.

For a mercy, at least, she at least had the kindness - faked or not - to refrain from wrenching him around to face her as she grabbed his arm and forced him to a stop.

“Gods damn it all, Reed!” she hissed, her voice low to keep from attracting attention from the porters and deckhands coming and going along the busy pier. The ship she’d booked passage for him on would be disembarking for Tuliyollal soon, and fortunately for her, all were too busy with their final preparations to stop and listen to the heated bickering of two siblings. 

“Everything I’ve ever done for you, I’ve done because I love you - despite your best efforts to dissuade me from it - because I want you to be part of this family again! But I don’t know how to bloody help you anymore because you won’t let me!” Her fists curled at her sides to stop the trembling in her fingers. “So if I’ve got to make you get a fresh start halfway around the damned world so that you can get your head straight and get over hating Father for–”

There it was.

He would’ve laughed at the predictability of it - of her inability to keep their father out of any argument the two of them ever had - if he wasn’t already seething.

“I’ll get on your fuckin’ ship–” Reed cut her off with a snarl, roughly shoving her back and away from him. Though between having yet to see his strength fully return and Lyra’s fancy new training from the Dutiful Sisters of the Edelweiss, she didn’t so much as sway before steadying herself. “--and I’ll go to the New World if it’ll get you to quit your bloody sham of givin' a damn about me.” 

His voice dropped to a low growl, quiet enough to pass only between the two of them. “But you’d best believe that if I find that sorry sack of chocobo-shite that threw in with the Garleans and left his ‘precious family’ to rot, I’ll relish every gods-be-damned moment of openin’ his throat myself!”

Lyra’s face twisted in barely contained fury, freckled cheeks bright red from the effort it took to bite back the truth she so stubbornly held tight to her chest from escaping. What Reed wouldn’t give to hear her - just once - admit that she hated him.

Yet as always, it seemed he would be denied the satisfaction.

“You are the most incorrigible bastard ever born, you know that?” she hissed, stepping back and throwing her hands up in frustrated surrender. That, at least, caused a flicker of smug satisfaction within him. “Go on, then! Go and ruin your life all over again, if that’s what you really want! Gods know you’re sure as shite good at that!”

Reed had nothing more to say. Nothing that would’ve made any difference, anyroad. Wordlessly, he turned, stalking off towards the merchant ship that would be carrying him to this ‘new life’.

This time, his sister didn’t pursue him. Only a soft, colorful curse escaped her before he could hear her turning, the fast staccato of her steps growing fainter as she stormed away.

But the irony of the moment didn’t escape him as he made his way to the ship at dock’s end. It had only taken about twenty years, but finally, the two eldest Stoneshore siblings had agreed on something.

Without a doubt, Lyra was right.. Reed knew he’d likely find a way to ruin this fresh start, too.

[chaotic-vibes-only-please]

Hii! I read your freshest works and they were so awesome as always! You are so talented. I know your requests are closed but may i ask if you can do yan! EJ comforting his s/o if you open requests 💖

The Heart Wants What It Wants(Yandere Eyeless Jack x Reader)

A/N: Thank you! You’re very sweet anon 🥺💕 Here you go! I know it's late, but I hope you end up liking it🍵 I made a little scenario if that's okay!

Warnings: Gaslighting, manipulation, toxic relationships, Yandere themes, hurt/comfort, mentions of cheating, fluff,

You can't breathe, your vision is blurred by tears that sting your eyes. Your entire body is trembling. How could your boyfriend do this to you?! You sit on the edge of your bed and burry your face in your hands. Three years down the drain. He said he loved you, and yet you found him in bed, with some other person! The pain in your heart is almost excruciating. You're so caught up in your emotions that you don't even hear the knocking at your window, nor do you see the man crouched by it.

A blue mask peers inside of your room, seeing and hearing you sobbing by yourself. Jack tugs the window open and squeezes his figure through the gap with some difficulty. You quickly wipe your eyes after hearing him rustle inside and take deep breaths, fingers still shaking. The friendship the two of you built was an unlikely one. You found him by the nearby ally of your house bloodied and injured, he whispered to you no hospital before passing out, and you patched him up in that same alleyway after running home to grab a first aid kit.

From there on he became curious about the human who had shown him kindness and Jack started following you around like a lost puppy in his free time. Oh, if only things were that innocent and simple.

"Y/N?" He frowns from behind his mask. You try to smile at him, only for your lips to begin to quiver and a few more stray tears cascade down your face. The first emotion Jack feels is simple worry. Especially when you run over to him and wrap your arms around his waist, crying into his chest. His own arms hover above you for a moment before slowly returning the hug, his heart beginning to palpitate against his ribcage. Heat rises underneath his skin. "What's wrong Little One?" He murmurs, chin coming down to rest on the top of your head.

"He-He’s been cheating this entire time! I-I cant- it hurts so much. I trusted him!" Oh, that's what's wrong. He sneers in disgust at the mention of that terrible human being that had the privilege of holding your heart before him.

"I'm very sorry about that, what a horrible thing to find out" He feigns sympathy. A growl emerges from his vocal chords. You can feel the vibrations against your skin. Jack himself is seething with barely contained rage. The only thing keeping him in check is the fact that you aren't emotionally stable at the moment. He doesn't want to frighten you.

"Am I not enough? Was I never enough? Am I not pretty? Attractive? Am I annoying? What was so wrong with me that he would...do that?" You whimper and grip at his back, fabric from his hoodie bunched in your hands. Jack strokes your head, squeezing you in a firm yet comforting way. You melt into his touch. He hopes you cannot hear how fast his heart is racing.

"Shhhh, you are more than enough" He reassures and slightly pulls away. You tilt your chin up to stare at his mask, eyes still glossy. "Pretty? Don’t be silly, you're beautiful. Attractive? More so than any human I've ever met. Annoying? Sometimes-" Your nose scrunches up at that last comment. Before you can chew him out, he cuts you off "Let me finish, but you are compassionate, loving, entertaining, and much more" His hands cup your cheeks, swiping away any remaining tears. It would be so easy to lean down and kiss you right now if it weren't for the mask. You don't know what he looks like underneath it though. He thinks your beautiful? Your lips slightly part in awe.

"You said I'm beautiful" You slowly grin before cuddling your face against his palm. The fact that you're accepting his touch so willingly, the way you're staring at him, it makes Jack want to take you away from this world and hide you so that only he can see this side of you.

"There is nothing wrong with you, you're perfect. The problem is him, not you" Jack had been planning to get rid of your boyfriend for a while now. This is the perfect opportunity. His mouth curls into a smirk. Now you can be his, forever. He'll make sure that the human will be hung up on one of his meat hooks. Jack, is practically giddy with excitement. Adrenaline thrums through his blood and through his viens as he begins imagining all the lovely tools he can use on his future meal.

"Thank you, Jack" You hug him again, pulling his body against yours. He pats the top of your head, encircling your waist with his strong free arm to hold you.

"No need to thank me, I'll always be right here for you" If you knew how true that statement was, you'd run for the hills. If you knew that each night he lurks by your window, watching you sleep, change, study, you wouldn't have let him into your life. But it's too late. Jack has plans for you, and the more you rely on him, the easier it is to complete his goals.

[gwynrielendgame]

Smut

18+ smut. Tbh I guess I just write whatever the fuck I wanna write and that mainly includes chaos. Please read all the way to the end lol.

Feyre moaned as he licked her. He was always so good at this. He lifted his head up from its position, only to get an angry groan from Feyre.

“I was close!” She bunched up the sheets as she felt the euphoric feeling slipping away from her.

“I know.” He smirked at her for another second before getting back to work. He licked her like his life depended on it and she was glad of that. She felt it building up again, but tried to regain her emotions so that he would not stop again. An uncontrollable moan left her which had him lifting his head once again.

“Lucien!” She screamed at him. Only to receive a chuckle in return. Once the feeling died off again, he returned to his dutiful licking. This had been going on for more than thirty minutes and Feyre was seething at this point. If he did not let her finish, she was going to lose her mind. Some of his hair fell forward to tickle her thighs, adding to the wonderful sensations. She felt it building again. Higher, higher, higher.

“Lucien, I swear to god if you stop, I will kill you.”

He chuckled but did not stop what he was doing. Finally, she was coming. She moaned louder than she ever had before and was rewarded with a smack to the side of her ass. It was so intense that she wanted to pull away, but Lucien pulled her hips even further into his face. She thought he would stop once the feeling died down, but he kept going. He usually was not satisfied until she had come at least twice. The euphoria built up again. Feyre thought she would die from all the games Lucien was playing. She worried he would pull away, but all he did was smoothly flip their position. Feyre was now sitting on his face as he tightly gripped her ass. It took her a second to get comfortable in the new position, but once she was, she had to grip the headboard.

“Feyre,” he muttered against her. “Stop fucking hovering.”

The vibrations of his voice felt good down there, but she always worried he would not be able to breathe if she completely sat on him. Lucien moved his hands from her ass to her hips and shoved her hips down hard. He moaned into it which only made the situation hotter. Every flick of his tongue had her hips bucking. He was so good at this that Feyre thought she might cry from the intensity of it all. She started to lift her hips to give him time to breathe. Lucien grunted in disapproval.

“Feyre, I am going to suffocate on your pussy. And you are going to let me.”

The words should not have sent a thrill through her spine, but they did. Shoving her down on his face once again, Lucien went straight for the kill. He was licking right on the spot she loved. She screamed out Lucien’s name as she finished for the second time. Feyre did not think she could handle a third intense Lucien driven orgasm. Luckily for her, he pushed her down towards his cock. She was sinking onto him so quickly that even Lucien lost control for a second, shouting out her name.

It hit Feyre that maybe they should not be doing this. She suddenly felt nervous about how loud they were being and self-consciously looked at the door as Lucien continued to pump up inside her. He sat up while still inside her and roughly grasped her hair. He brought her ear to his mouth.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s gone for the afternoon and I locked the door.”

That should not have made Feyre even hotter but it did. She realized then that she liked the idea of potentially getting caught. Of course, she did not want to. There would be hell to pay if he found them like this, but there was a bit of a thrill to their secret rendezvous. All thoughts of him left her mind, when Lucien flipped them and started pounding her from above. He was hitting a spot that only he could ever seem to hit making her come for the third time.

“Oh my god.” Feyre muttered. She lifted her hips to meet his. Over and over again, he hit that same spot. She watched his face as she finished again. It was such a handsome face especially when it was as focused as it was now. A sheen of sweat covered his face as he finally concentrated on his own release. She could admit that she liked to watch his face as he finished. It was his most attractive face, but she was normally so distracted by his cock that she did not get to watch. She did not mean for the words to slip out, she would blame him for all the orgasms he was giving her.

“I love you.”

His pace did not falter. If anything, he went even harder, forcing another moan from her. He was close and she knew it. She continued to lift her hips to meet his and just as he was about to finish, the door started to open.

Feyre startled awake as Tamlin rushed into her room.

“Feyre, are you okay?” He rushed to her side to grab her face. The anxiety on his face fell away as he realized at the same time as her that it had only been a dream.

“I am fine. Just a nightmare.” He chest was heaving from the intensity of the dream. Feyre was startled by the contents of the dream. She had never thought of Lucien as anything more than a friend. Now though, that may be harder to accomplish.

“I heard you say Lucien’s name. Are you sure your okay?” His face was so concerned that Feyre felt guilty even though she shouldn’t. It’s not like she can control her dreams. She was glad it was still dark in the room though that way Tamlin could not see how flaming red her face was.

“Yeah he was in the nightmare. I am fine though. No need to worry.” As bad as it was, Feyre just wanted him to leave. She was too overwhelmed with the guilt from her dream and Tamlin being so worried about her.

“I will stay with you tonight.” He slipped into bed with her. She barely contained a groan. She could not very easily tell him to go away though, so she accepted it. She tried to fall back asleep, but every time she closed her eyes, Lucien was waiting for her with that wicked mouth and brilliant cock. Feyre was stiff in Tamlin’s arms until he fell asleep. She did not know what this meant, but she planned on ignoring it.

Safe to say, Feyre could not meet Lucien’s eye all breakfast without turning beet red and shamefully feeling a little hot and bothered. She did not think Tamlin noticed, but Lucien definitely did. Luckily for her, she managed to avoid both of them all day after that.

[cultgambles]

Is Your Boyfriend Jealous Yet?

Hawks likes putting on a show, can you blame him?

I was on GWA and this girl had a nice fun plot and audio and I was really feeling it in the moment hehe...so largely inspired by that!

Contains: nsfw, car sex, reader cheats, cunnilingus, exhibition, fandom hawks behavior

Also: wrap it before you tap it

Word Count: 2118

Masterlist | Requests? open

“So there I was, staring this villain down at the end of the street, and then he just appeared! My idol!”

“Endeavor? What did he do?”

“Of course he didn’t waste any time taking em down, it was cool and all to see it but he really took the spotlight, ya know?”

“Oh please, as if you need to be loved by the public anymore.”

“I do! That’s who I am!”

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Who’s that chick staring at you?”

Hawks turns, looking over his shoulder, “I dunno, a fan maybe? She’s coming over!”

“Act natural!”

“I am a natural. All nat-ur-ral.” He smooths down his silky burgundy button up shirt. 

“Hey! Hawks?” 

“The one and only!” Hawks gives a dazzling style, saluting towards you.

“I just wanted to say how cool you are, every time you employ your Quirk I’m amazed! And you’re not too bad to look at either!” you giggle.

“Thanks, kid,” he smiles, a real one. “People like you are the ones that make hero work worth it.”

“Yeah? Do you have time to chat? My name’s [Y/N], by the way. Are your wings okay? They look a little sparse.”

“‘Course I have time to chat. You wanna drink? Hey! One Lemon Drop for the lady, if you will!”

“Coming right up!”

“My most recent showdown against a villain. No biggie, they’ll grow back in a couple days.” Hawks turns a little so you can see the appendages where his feathers would usually be. There’s little small ones beginning to peek through. 

“Wow! I don’t think I saw that fight on the news or anything,” you murmur.

“I’m okay with doin’ it in silence, as long as it gets done, you know? 

It’s nice knowing people are safe and that there’s one less piece of shit on the street. But it’s also hard work” he continued. 

“The man who’s just a bit too fast, huh? You ever get tired?” you query. “Thanks for the drink, by the way.”

“No problem! And yeah, it’s hard to slow down, and I know I need to; but I always feel like I’m bein’ too lazy when I could be out there in the field.” 

Hawks is surprised, he’s never been this forward and vulnerable. Especially to a complete stranger. Maybe it was that gin and tonic he had earlier.

Your mouth opens, but before you can say anything, a booming voice cuts through the crowd.

“[Y/N] What the hell are you doing! Get over here!” Your face falls slightly, and Hawks notices with a curious, but watchful gaze. 

“I just saw Hawks here! I’ve never been this close to a pro hero before, and I wanted to say my thanks,” you mumble.

“Well I don’t like my girlfriend wandering off and talking to other guys, regardless if they’re a hero or not. Come on, we’re leaving!”

“But we just got here!” you protest.

“Now, [Y/N],” he growls, shoving you away from the pro hero, and towards the door.

“Hey, buddy,” Hawks clamps a hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder, holding him in place. “Don’t go pushing women around.” 

“This isn’t even your problem, man.”

“I’m going to make it my problem.” Hawks is deadly, intimidating. Even though you’re a little scared, you’re a bit turned on, to be honest. He’s got this air of danger around him, his eyes slit to pinpricks.

Before your boyfriend can get another word out, one of the club bouncers steps up, towering over the three of you. “Problem here? Or am I going to have to escort you out?”

“Nah, man, we’ll take it outside. Don’t worry about us,” Hawks shrugs. Your boyfriend tugs you along, seething behind Hawks.

“This isn’t over, Hawks. And you, don’t you EVER cause a scene like that, you hear?” 

You sniff. “I just wanted to say my thanks…”

“She was doin’ nothin’, that was all you man.” Hawks shakes his head. “I’d even say she was more into me than she has been in a while. I mean, the way you shouted at her was pretty scary,” he says, popping the ‘p.’

You look at Hawks under your lashes.

“No she wasn’t!” your boyfriend drops your arm, marching right up to the pro hero.

 Hawks leans around him and nods his head at you. “Why don’t we show him a thing or two?” You give him a puzzled look. “My car’s right there if you know what I mean.”

“Hold on, you have a car? How would you even fit your wings in.”

“Baby, you’re ruining the moment,” Hawks laughs, stepping in next to you. “I just take my car for a spin when I can’t fly. Not a walking type of guy, really.”

“So let me get this straight, you wanna fuck me? In your car? For why?”

“Give a little show to your asshole of a boyfriend. So he can see how to really treat a woman, hm?”

“Don’t you go with him, [Y/N]! I will literally kill you.”

“Is that really the smartest thing to say right next to a pro hero? Okay, Hawks, what that tongue do?” You purr.

“I’ll show you,” Hawks’ car’s doors unlock with a click. “Get in the back.”

Your boyfriend outside looks right mad, shouting and screaming at you. You swear a crowd has formed.

Hawks lays down and motions a finger for you. You shut the door behind you, and it’s just you two in this moment, boyfriend be damned. 

“Hold onto the headrests, okay, baby?” Hawks asks as you situate yourself above his mouth. 

“Lucky for me, you’re just wearing that cute little skirt and skimpy top. What, did you want every guy to turn heads for you?” Hawks grips your plush thighs, digging his nose to your panties. “All that from earlier really got you goin’, huh? Look how wet you are for me.” He kisses your clothed sex before pulling your underwear to the side. A long, languid lick all the way up to your clit has you shivering with pleasure, begging for more.

You’re grinding down on Hawks’ tongue, he’s just that fucking good. You briefly wonder how many other people have experienced this ecstasy. At least you have him for this moment. 

Breathy squeaks leave your mouth as his mouth catches on particular spots. 

“Let it out, I wanna hear you. I want him to hear what I’m doing to you.” Locking eyes with your boyfriend outside the car sends you over the edge, his face as bright as the heels on your feet. His eyes dim slightly just as yours slip closed, mouth agape. Hawks continues to pleasure you as you come down from your high. 

Carefully, he lifts you up to sit you on his lap. A little cramped, but worth it. Your wetness glistens along Hawks’ jawline, and you lean in to kiss him, tasting yourself and him. 

“That’s cute,” he whispers, bringing his hands up to knead at your breasts slightly. His gold eyes shimmer as you rub against his cock. 

“Gonna show me your cute dick next?” you ask.

“It’s cute, like, big, not cute as in small. Just so you know. How about you lay down, baby,” he turns towards you slightly, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his black trousers. His cock is nice. As nice as one can be. It’s a little thicker, curved to the left a bit. He’s trimmed. He strokes it a couple times, dragging his precum along the shaft. You flick your panties off and they land on his head.

“Impatient, are we?” he grins. 

“Just a bit,” you smile, reaching between your legs to spread yourself open a bit for him to see. 

“Pretty pussy for a pretty girl,” he leans over, hand guiding to your quivering sex. He pushes in slowly, letting out a deep moan be swallowed up by your kiss. “You’re so tight around me.”

He lets you adjust, and not long after, you’re clawing at him to start moving. “Feels so good, you fill me up so good, Hawks.”

“They’re all watching us now, hummingbird. I bet they’re jealous at how good I’m fucking you,” he says over his grunts.

You’re bleary-eyed and blissed out, barely registering his words. “Who...Who’re they?”

“Seems like your little boyfriend’s screaming match has attracted quite a crowd.”

“O-oh? How big?”

“Enough.”

“You wanna get out, don’t you.”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah okay, whatever you want, Hawks. Who am I to deny a pro hero what he wants? Just keep fucking me, please.”

Hawks’ eyes flash, hand scrambling for the door handle and pulling you out into the brisk air. “Really? Whatever I want? How about I just bend you over the trunk of my car and rail you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow?” 

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me for a lil while longer.” Hawks pushes your head down almost gently as he presses into you against the cool metal. You sigh as he slips back inside of you. Then he’s pulling your top down to your waist, your breasts squishing against the dirt and dust. A few people whoop. Somehow, you don’t care that everyone can see, or that camera flashes are blinding your vision. The way he drills into you makes you even forget how you even got into this situation to begin with. 

“What about the--” you moan “--press?” 

“Don’t give a fuck about them, none at all. My PR team could probably cover it up, I don’t know. Don’t wanna think about that. Y’all see this? Her nasty ass boyfriend was fuckin’ rippin’ on her, treating her like shit on a stick. No one should treat a woman like that, ya hear?” he’s loud, addressing the people around you. “Well, I guess ex boyfriend would be appropriate. What do you think, [Y/N]?”

“Y-yeah You’re right! Oh! OH! Hawks.”

“C’mon songbird, sing me that song,” he says right next to your ear, sucking a hickey into your neck.

“[Y/N], baby, how could you do this to me?” your boyfriend pleads. Ex-boyfriend, you mean.

“That’s what you get for being a shit. And you’re not even that mad, you’re enjoying yourself too,” you moan to him. “Hawks is technically police, you don’t want him to throw you in jail, now do you?”

“He wouldn’t, he can’t! I didn’t really do anything.”

“I can and I will,” Hawks growls.

“You’re just using your privilege!”

“Yeah,” Hawks agrees. “But then again, I’m sure I could find some dirt on you.”

“Haw--”

“Yes baby?” his attention snaps to you.

Your ex was never this attentive. It gave you butterflies. You swallowed them to let him know you were close. 

If he had his feathers, they would surely flush out. 

“Come on, birdie, cream on my cock, I know you can do it.” He reaches around your waist to swipe at your clit. 

“Nnnggft,” you moan, your cunt seizing up, the pressure building. It explodes, sending a chill down your spine. 

“Yes baby, keep up for me, I’m right behind ya...” Hawks thrusts impossibly faster, chasing his own climax, loving the way your sex flutters around him.  

“[Y/N] I’m--” Hawks’ voice dies out as he shoots thick ropes of cum in you, white seed painting your insides. 

The both of you struggle to catch your breaths. Hawks leans over you, massaging your hips. “Why don’t we take this back to your place and finish up?”

“Why not yours?” You laugh, running a hand over his sweat sheened forehead and into his unruly blonde hair.

“Security? At least take me on a date,” he laughs.

You sigh with contempt. “Okay, Hawks. Okay.” He nuzzles your neck slightly, pulling out of you. 

Hawks tucks himself back in his trousers and pulls up your top. “Let’s get outta here, then. Hey! I got it, don’t worry,” he says, pulling the passenger door open.

“Where’s my underwear?”

“Dunno.”

“I’m gonna leave a wet spot.”

“I don’t mind,” he says nonchalantly before hopping into the driver’s seat next to you. The ignition rolls over and Hawks backs out of the parking space. His hand rests on the inside of your thigh, rubbing in slow circles. 

You notice his nails are black, and curved a bit like talons. 

Pretty.

“Okay hummingbird, lead the way,” he says, giving you a soft smile.

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Forget me? Forget us. - B. Hargrove

Inspired by ‘Forget me too’ by MGK and Halsey. I love this song and it has been stuck in my head all day and I couldn’t think of anything but a toxic relationship with billy. This isn’t a happy story, but it is a sad reality of some relationships. Some people are so bad for each other yet their love is too intense. “I love you so much that I hate you” describes this perfectly.

Gif is not mine, nor are the lyrics used within the song or Billy Hargrove. Hope you enjoy!

Let me know if you want to join the Billy taglist, or my general tag list!

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

TW: This story contains an intense description of a very toxic relationship. In no way do I condone this kind of relationship and I recommend seeking help if you are in a relationship like this and you fear for your safety or that of another.

Billy was dangerous. So was Y/N. She was cold, he was burning hot. They were powerful separate, a raging storm together.

They were made to love one another, but not made to be in love with one another. They were furious, passionate, loving, angry, fearful, high on possibility.

They were inseparable, but couldn’t bare to be with one another.

They were purely paradoxical, and they loved every heart aching second of it.

They had broken up once again, their love blowing up in a fury of broken objects and obscenities. One of their distant friends from high school decided to throw a party, despite her status as post-high school adults. Billy was in attendance, obviously.

Y/N had yet to show up. Her absence elated him, and disappointed him. He loved her. He loved her so much that he couldn’t stand to be around her, for he was too scared to lose it.

Their love was temporary, yet the temporary was permanent.

They were always going to fall apart. They were always going to become one again. They would fall apart soon after. It was a viscous cycle of heartbreak and hopeless love.

He waited for her, drink in hand, clad in tight jeans and a white tank top. His staple denim jacket was missing.

Another woman - Bethany, Billy thought her name was - stood awfully close to him, her bony hand resting on his arm as she spoke. He had no idea what she was saying, he had zoned out almost as soon as she approached him. He had little care to listen to her prattle on. His mind was waiting for one person.

Bethany kept chattering and Billy fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was showing zero interest, yet the woman would not shut up.

Well, she hadn’t, until a hand grabbed her hair and yanked her entire body backwards, until she fell flat on her behind.

Y/N stood behind her, Billy’s jacket draped over her shoulders and a look of pure fury in her eyes.

I saw you walk in the room and I tried my best
Not to panic while I'm lookin' for the back door,

I smelled the perfume and it's obvious, i'm gonna stay and put my key in the bag more.

She wasn’t directing it towards Bethany, no. She was locked and loaded right on Billy.

Flight or fight kicked in, and Billy panicked, but only for a minute.

She looked divine. Wearing his jacket, marks on her neck from their last positive encounter on show for everybody to see.

She smelled like perfection, her chocolate scented perfume drawing him in, filling his senses with her.

She drove him crazy, made him more furious than he could comprehend. They would fight, they would love, they would fall apart.

Her hand connected with his face, yet he wasn’t angry. No. He connected his lips with hers, feeling her fingers slide through his hair. All eyes were on them, yet everybody had seen this scene before.

They were possessive, they were horrible to one another and others, but god help anybody who messed with their relationship. Only they could crumble the walls that they build.

She pulled back from him, smirking, watching as he bit his lip with temptation.

“Missed me baby?” She winked at him, allowing his body to pull hers along as he grabbed her hand and started leading her outside.

She may be the reason that his small apartment had a broken window and multiple holes in the wall, but he sure as hell didn’t hesitate to follow her to wherever she led.

The alcohol wore off by the time he woke, his head pounding and his vision spinning.

Her leg was stung over his own, both of them as bare as the day they were born. He rose carefully, moving her body from his as gently as he could.

However, in his efforts to make it out without waking her, he dropped his belt, and the clatter of the buckle on the hardwood floor caused her to snap awake.

It escalated quickly.

You want me to forget you? Okay, forget me too.

You tell me you hate me, baby, yeah, I bet you do

“You’re such a fucking asshole, Hargrove!” She shoved at his shoulder, trying to get past him so she could get to the bathroom. He was blocking her way.

“Oh, of course. I’m the asshole.” He snarled, a smile on his face. You’re the one who starts screaming at me, but I’m the one in the wrong!”

“You’re in the wrong because you ducking broke up with me, then tried to skip out before I woke up.” Her hands were in her hair, grasping at the roots. “You’re so fucking selfish. I’m waiting around constantly for you, but I make you wait one fucking time and you’re throwing a tantrum!”

“You left me waiting for an hour, Y/N! What, were you out with Tommy? What about Stevie? You always had a soft spot for him.” They were malicious. They knew how to hurt one another and they both knew it.

“God, you’re such a joke.” She laughed in his face, shoving her shoulder against his so she could grab her stuff from the bathroom. “Sometimes I wish I could forget I ever fucking met you, Billy.”

“You wouldn’t survive without me holding your hand, princess.” He snarled, perfect lips turning up to show perfect teeth.

They connected once again, pulling at one another, crashing into the wall, the door frame, the bed.

“I hate your fucking guts,” she growled, pulling his shirt over his head.

“I know you do, baby.” He flipped them over so his body was covering her own and connecting his lips to hers once again.

I've wasted so much time waitin' around for your phone calls every night

She would sit by the phone every night, waiting for his call. She would excuse some night, knowing if his terrible home life, but when he got his own place, he rarely called, rarely picked up the phone.

She spent so many days, so many nights, waiting up on him.

She got her own back at him.

He was taking her to see a new movie, planning to meet her at the arcade next to the theatre at 6 o’clock. He had to drop the bratty step-sister off, so he figured two birds.

He waited there until an hour later, the movie already beginning. He was seething. He hated being stood up, and she knew it.

Y/N arrived at the theatre 15 minutes later, but there was no Billy in sight, nor his sleek camaro.

She drove to his apartment, furious yet also proud. She gave him a taste of his own medicine, and she couldn’t wait to see how frustrated he was. She hated hurting him, but he hurt her just as bad.

We'd both be better off alone.

Still think I'd get you on the phone with one last breath in me.

I'd die before I let you leave

He had already downed five beers by the time she got there. It was rare for her to see him sober, and it was rare for him to see her while he was sober.

It escalated as soon as she walked in the door, slamming the heavy wood behind her.

“I was waiting for you and you didn’t bother to fucking show up!” He took a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke in her direction. She hated when he smoked, she despised the smell of nicotine on his breath but found the sight of him smoking to be incredibly attractive.

She fell for his bad boy side, and found home in his caring heart and troubled personality. It was a broken home but she couldn’t bare to leave.

The argument grew more and more, she threw a phone book at him, sending it through the window in his living room.

“I’m done. I’m sick of the bullshit, Y/N. We’re fucking better off alone!” He slammed his hand on the table, silencing her shouts of obscenities at him.

She laughed, slumping down onto the beat up couch. They had been saving money every paycheck to get him some new furniture. Y/N had also been putting money away to get her own apartment, despite Billy’s offer for her to live with him.

Such a volatile and temporary relationship couldn’t withstand constantly being in the presence of one another.

“We would die before we ever give up on one another, Billy.”

Tell me why you do the things that make me hate you,

It's an emotional kaleidoscope when I face you,

Permanent calligraphy, I just tattooed your name on me forever, fuck

Y/N and Billy love each other intensely, but they also know exactly how to make the other hate them.

It was a horrible cycle, yet nobody could make them happier than the person they hated the most.

Even if they wanted to forget one another, they could never forget the love they shared.

Tag List: @snookiebrookie (because you’re always so kind)

Let me know if you want to join the billy taglist!

[xplrerdolan]

I mean since u asked👀what abt if you acted out in public and the twins were mad and so at home u get a punishment and it’s just a bunch of them teasing and denying u😗I’m sorry I’m horny😔

ofc the first thing i write on this account for the twins (obviously excluding hate fuck, that was written before) WOULD be a threesome 😭 never apologize for being horny, anon. i am ALWAYS horny. also this is the second thing in a row that i’m writing about edging 🥴 i see we’re in the mood for that

WARNINGS: smut, rough sex, edging, teasing, overstimulation, slight bondage, degradation kink [including derogatory language] , threesome (MMF), aftercare & slight fluff at the end

—

It was petty. You knew it was petty, but honestly, you didn’t care. Petty, childish, immature—you’d readily plea guilty as charged.

In your defense, they were practically asking for it to happen. I mean, did they really expect you to act like a loyal, good girl to them when they continue to claim they’re single and can do what they want? If that was the case, so could you. And you decided to do exactly that. Right in front of them. In front of a lot of people, actually.

There were several men in the audience cheering you on as you seductively twirled around the column supporting the spandrels around the bar, though they were not among them. While they weren’t cheering, you could practically hear them seething with rage. But what did you care? If they didn’t want to at least be exclusive with you, they had no right to complain about your behavior.

They especially shouldn’t be upset when you grabbed the most attractive guy you see—besides them, of course—and pulled him on top of the bar with you. Because, you’re single, and you can do whatever you want. So, being single and free to do whatever you want, you turned so your back was to his front and danced on him.

Okay, let’s not sugarcoat. You were practically fucking this guy, merely separated by clothes. A full-on dry hump in front of an entire nightclub’s worth of sleazy men. You continued to perform for their pleasure, feeding into the catcalls and vile behavior just to go the extra mile of proving just how single and able to do whatever you want you were.

With your point amply proven, you removed the stranger’s hands from around you and jumped off the bar top into the sea of men fantasizing about you. You ignored them all, happy with the example you’d made out of them, and didn’t even spare a glance in the direction of the two massive men who were likely to be shaking with rage. Instead, you walked out of the nightclub with your head high and more arrogance than they both had combined.

You walked to a lamppost a few feet away from the exit, leaning against it nonchalantly while you waited. You knew they would follow you. And not even two minutes later, two of the most intimidating men you’d ever met in your life moved into your line of vision. You feigned a look of innocence, smiling at them as though you radiated purity, wearing the mask of a virgin.

But they knew so much better than to buy it for even a second. You were, by far, the furthest thing from an innocent virgin they’d ever encountered. The fact that you’d even managed to warm the space between them was proof enough of your irresistible, devilish nature.

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?” spoke the twin on the right, the one bearing a birthmark on his left cheek.

“And funny, and sexy, and smart, and charming,” you smirked, counting each of the adjectives on your fingers as you listed them. “Among other things.”

The twin on the left scoffed at you, shaking his head. “You’re a slut, [Y/N].”

“That’s very observant of you, Grayson! Like I said, ‘among other things.’ I’m very versatile.”

He looked ten seconds away from breaking the lamppost behind you in half. And with the body hidden under his Gucci shirt...he definitely could.

“E, get the car,” Grayson said, his nostrils flaring as be barely kept his voice below shouting level.

You bit your lip and eyed Grayson tauntingly, more excited than afraid for them to take their anger out on your body. This would be the greatest punishment you’d ever received, without a doubt. You felt your pussy ache in anticipation, unable to contain a giggle and devious smile under Grayson’s furious gaze.

Ethan pulled up in Grayson’s Porsche a minute later. Grayson pulled the door to the backseat open, his aggression present in his movements. He didn’t even order you to get in; he just looked at you with those menacing eyes. You felt a thrill run through you as your mind raced with possibilities of what punishment awaited you. You scooted into the backseat, leaving room for Grayson to follow after you. As the younger twin slammed his door shut, the older one sped off in the direction of their LA home.

Grayson wasted no time with you. He unbuckled his jeans and freed his cock from his boxers, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you down to his lap.

“You see how hard my cock is?” he asked you, keeping your head in place as he smacked it against your cheek mercilessly. “Do you see what you did?”

“Yes, sir,” you answered sweetly, loving the way he degraded you.

“Good. Time for you to take care of it.”

He didn’t hesitate as grabbed you by the cheeks and forced your mouth open for him before pushing your head down on his shaft. He made you take him all the way, something he knew you could handle perfectly. He sighed in pleasure, almost sounding relieved now that he had you where he needed you.

He fucked himself up into your mouth, not holding back at all. He knew you’d stop him if you needed to, but he knew even better than that that you could take it. More than that—you wanted to take it.

“This is how I should keep you, slut. With that disrespectful, pathetic mouth of yours full of my cock,” he spat out through gritted teeth.

You moaned around his cock in response, taking him even further back into your throat to let him fuck it deeper. Your mind was now clouded with lust, your vile thoughts agreeing with him completely, begging him to say more.

Whether he could read your mind or if your thoughts simply screamed loud enough for him to hear, he continued his verbal assault on you. “That’s right, filthy whore. Take daddy nice and deep. You don’t need to breathe, you only need my cock.”

Your eyes practically rolled back into your head, your pussy clenching tight in anticipation and desire. Feeling the vibration of your moan while his dick was being squeezed so well by your throat had Grayson throwing his head back and stilling as he reached his peak. He kept his cock nestled deep in your throat, the hot cum nearly choking you.

Grayson held your head in place still, his grip on your hair more intense. “Swallow it,” he growled, his eyes fixated on your pretty lips nearly kissing his hips with his cock buried in your throat.

You screwed your eyes up tight as you focused on swallowing around his dick, but after a second you managed to do it. Grayson’s moans were pure sin, his cock twitching as he felt your throat move around him.

When he was done using you, he pulled you off him and pushed you carelessly to the side. You gasped for air, your entire chin and chest covered in your own saliva (and probably a bit of cum, too). You didn’t get much of a break, because as soon as Grayson pushed you away from him, Ethan pulled into their driveway.

He parked hastily and practically jumped out of the car as soon as he turned the ignition off. He yanked the back door open, managing to be even more aggressive than Grayson had been. Driving here was pure torture for him. He had already been hard when you’d put on that show at the bar, but hearing you take Grayson into your throat and knowing how velvety you would feel around him had made him nearly dizzy with lust.

“Meet us inside,” he mumbled to his brother, grabbing you ruthlessly by the arm and pulling you out of the car.

You stumbled after him, whining as his fingers dug into your skin—which only made him grip you harder. Not even ten steps past the door, he had you bent over the back of his couch and your pants and underwear were discarded haphazardly on the floor. He rubbed his cock teasingly between your ass cheeks, moaning at the feeling of your body against him.

He angled his cock down slightly to line himself up with your entrance before thrusting into you in one swift motion. You screamed at the suddenness of his movement, your pussy clenching tightly around him as he stretched it.

He moaned in ecstasy, his grip on your hips holding you tightly in place. “Fuck, [Y/N], you took that so well,” Ethan praised, leaning forward to grab your hair the same way Grayson had. He pulled your head back while keeping one hand on your hip, making you arch your back toward him. “The question is, are you that wet? Or...” he leaned in closer to you, hunching his body over yours, “are you just that much of a whore?”

You let out a high-pitched moan, delighted by his grip on you and how deep inside you he was. “I’m a whore, sir,” you answered him, your voice coming out more whiny and needy than before.

The change in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by Ethan. “You’re not so versatile right now, are you, [Y/N]?”

You shook your head as best you could with his fist still full of your hair. “No, sir. I’m just a whore. Just a filthy, slutty whore.”

Ethan hummed contentedly at your response, finally moving his hips. He stood back up to his full height, pounding into you with brute force. With each snap of his hips, you cried out, almost involuntarily. The power behind his thrusts was enough to force sounds out of you, though his dominance and control had you screaming in pleasure.

After a few brutal minutes, Ethan pushed himself completely in you and stilled his movements, his deep moans and twitching cock telling you he’d just reached his peak. He finished inside you, pulling out as soon as he was done. He let go of you, your body falling limply against the couch.

You leaned on the furniture for support, your legs completely spent. You were completely exhausted from being used so brutally, but at the same time, you’d loved every second of it.

Grayson, who had come in and simply sat on a nearby chair to watch the show, now stood and walked towards you. You looked up at him from your awkward position, being slightly bent over the couch. You were taken aback by a sudden and harsh slap to your ass, the force behind it enough to make you fall to your knees.

“Crawl to my room,” he said coldly, indicating that your punishment was far from over.

You crawled along the hardwood floors as you were told to, fighting the fatigue that was threatening to settle in your muscles. By the time you reached Grayson’s room, your knees were aching terribly. You waited for his command to stand up, and when it came and you stood, you saw towels laid out on his bed. You already knew the night would only get terribly longer.

With an impatient shove, Grayson urged you to get on the bed. He moved around you to tie you to his headboard to stop you from fighting against your next punishment. As always, you could always tell them to stop, and they would—though you couldn’t imagine wanting to.

Your wrists pulled on your restraints, testing them—they were secure, and you were helplessly bound. You already knew the sweet torture that awaited you. This was a punishment they reserved for the most extreme acts of disobedience—and, to be fair, you would definitely class your behavior tonight as falling under that category.

Grayson sat on the bed next to you, clad only in his underwear, eyeing you with animosity in his stare. You’d honestly never seen either of them so angry before. And if you had pushed them to this point, there was no telling what point they’d be pushing you to.

Ethan walked into Grayson’s room a moment later, also dressed in only his boxers. Since Ethan had thrown your pants and underwear to the side before, you were left in your top and your bra—but Grayson was quick to tear them off your body with the effortlessness of a god.

Ethan approached you with an object in his hand you were all too familiar with: the Magic Wand vibrator. Your heart rate spiked as you anticipated your punishment, your eyes wide and alert.

“You know your actions have consequences, [Y/N]. Don’t act all innocent now. You certainly weren’t acting innocently while you were trying to get an entire bar of men to fuck you,” Ethan spat, sitting on your other side and settling next to you.

I was trying to get two guys there to actually want me, you thought spitefully. You bit your tongue to save the conversation for later, during your aftercare.

Instead of mouthing off and getting in more trouble, you simply responded, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now lay there and take it,” Grayson said, his eyes glued to where your thighs met.

With that, Ethan turned on the vibrator and pressed it against your clit. The vibrations built you up to your orgasm quickly, but per your punishment, Ethan removed the vibrator before you could cum. The first few times weren’t so bad; it was almost nice. You walked the edge of release, your womb tightening and your walls flexing in desperation as you were denied release again and again.

After that point, though, was the reason your wrists were bound and you had one of the twins on both your sides. You quickly crumbled from the intensity of the teasing, your pussy practically aching for release. You were pushed to desperation and sensitivity quickly, your legs shaking and eventually trying to kick them away. They held your legs in place, preventing you from escaping your punishment.

After a short while, Ethan could barely even touch you with the vibrator from how close you were. You were sweating profusely, on the verge of tears from how desperate you were, whining wantonly and begging for release. This was only the first half of your punishment.

You’d regret begging to cum within ten minutes. Finally, after being edged for nearly twenty minutes, Ethan pressed the vibrator against you and let you cum. Your body jolted and shivered as you reached your sweet release, squirting from the intensity of your pleasure.

The pleasure was short lived. Ethan kept the vibrator pressed against your hypersensitive clit, your body convulsing through another two orgasms before the pain of overstimulation crashed over you. You were screaming so loud Grayson had to reach a hand up to cover your mouth. You were reduced to hysteric sobs before they decided that you’d probably learned your lesson.

As soon as Ethan turned off the vibrator, they both began to take care of you, showing you gentleness that you almost forgot they were capable of. Grayson worked to untie you from the headboard, massaging your wrists and placing kisses along your forearms.

Ethan went to Grayson’s closet and picked out a shirt for you to sleep in, leaving it with Gray to help you get dressed as he got some water for you. Grayson removed the towels soaked in your cum from his bed, treating you as though you were a precious flower in his garden.

You reached your arms out to him, craving his gentle touch, and he obliged you immediately. He wrapped you up in his secure embrace, and the feeling of his arms around you brought a twinge of sadness to you as you remembered why this had all started in the first place.

When Ethan brought you your water, you drank it down quickly before handing him the empty glass. You reached out for him as well, and like his brother, he was quick to comply to your request.

You were wrapped up between them, feeling safer than you’d ever felt anywhere else. You tried not to cry, but in your vulnerable state, the effort was futile. They both cooed at you softly, wondering with heavy hearts if they’d pushed you too far.

But that was far from the truth. “I just—I ju—hmph—I just want to be yours,” you finally got out between sobs.

Ethan and Grayson shared a look, and in the space between them—where, of course, you were lain—they seemed to decide it was only right for them to be exclusive with you. Sure, it was strange and could lead to a lot of complications in the future, but they’d worry about those when they got there. For the moment, you belonged exactly where you were, between them.

“[Y/N], baby,” Grayson started.

“You are ours,” Ethan finished, pressing his lips softly to your cheek. “You’re all ours.”

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter XX: Epilogue (FINAL)

BONUS TRACK - BRYAN ADAMS AND SARAH MCLACHLAN, DON’T LET GO

Previous Chapter (XIX: Rosa)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): drama, fluff

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“i won’t let go.”

the first day you met lee hyunjae, he was dubbed one of the cutest boys in school. 

dark hair that draped over his forehead, fringe slightly in the way of his eyes which were bright, intelligent, scheming. 

girls in the school would swoon over his smile, the way he was so laid back with his friends, not to mention that brain he’s got stored up in his skull.

if you calculated the duration of ten years, counting from the day you first met him, it would’ve been 3650 days. 

then the day came that both of you tied for highest score in class in a quiz, and lee hyunjae thought that you, a girl, wouldn’t kick up a fuss when he scribbles all over your worksheet with zero remorse. 

but lee hyunjae underestimates you and he watches in seething anger while you throw his stationery out the window and yank on his hair. 

it was from that day forth, the both of you were known as ‘ares and ares’.

standing on stage with him barely five feet away was both degrading and prideful. scoring the highest possible scores in the national exam was a feat not many has achieved, yet having lee hyunjae accomplishing this alongside you leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.

they don’t release marks for national exams, so maybe, just maybe, had you gotten a few more marks higher than him, you’d beat him out.

at this point of time, four years of fighting was enough to drill the desire to defeat lee hyunjae right through you. a large, gaping hole in your chest where your heart was supposed to be, replaced by a block that dispenses irresistible hatred for him. 

then the prince you never knew you needed entered your life. he was tall, gorgeous, kind, though soft-spoken and sometimes a little dense, a little unwilling, but he cares, and it was enough for you.

younghoon was your route for escape on days you wanted to stop fighting with lee hyunjae. you lost count the number of times you felt like you were drinking the words off your textbooks and notes like alcohol for the sole sake of winning. winning a game nearly impossible to win.

who were you and who were you doing this for? maybe it was your parents, the fact that you came from a long line of medical practitioners. 

you didn’t want to disappoint anybody, no. 

but would you have gone so far if lee hyunjae was lazy? if he was unmotivated? if he didn’t contain the same fiery need to beat you at this game that had no end?

you will come to realise that his undying need to destroy you is as vehement as yours, maybe even stronger, you may never find out. and this realisation comes in the form of your chemicals sputtering out across the lab table, garnering you the one and only F grade you will ever have in your life.

but in the days that you enjoy seeing him smile, and having his hands on your cheeks with his lips on yours to tell you he loves you, you will find out that there was more mistake in your own hands than he put in place for you.

he didn’t make many changes to your experiment set up besides dilute just one of your chemicals. 

if you did the math correctly, you were the one who poured twice as much sodium chloride into the experiment than needed, causing the rampant spitting of gut-wrenching scented chemicals all over the desk. 

he was happy to see that he has pissed you off, but you remember the photo someone took of him when he was in a club, pressing his lips onto another girl despite the whole school knowing he was dating minhee. 

but in the seconds you wished could last longer when he was making love to you, there will always be that pang of guilt in the back of your head eating you away, no matter how many times he said he has forgiven you.

the girl in the picture was a friend he met in the club while with his friends from another school. lee juyeon, was it?

she had been dumped mercilessly by her jackass boyfriend and hyunjae was simply being a kind soul so as to chat her up, make sure she was sober enough to go home. 

of course, granted he was speaking the truth when he said this to you. 

the alcohol must’ve taken control of her nerves, her thoughts, her muscles, and the girl’s want for affection drove her forwards, crashing her lips onto hyunjae.

he was stunned, he was in shock, and he doesn’t recover fast enough for him to remove himself from her, giving your friend adequate seconds to snap a picture and send it to you. 

“lee hyunjae is cheating on choi minhee.”

hatred becomes infinite, and he hates you even more when you show minhee the picture after he barely ruined your experiment. 

losing minhee was comparable to ares stealing his sun, his moon, his stars. 

he decided he would steal yours too. 

but in the eyes that he uses to steal your love and your affection for him, you will find out that he feels terrible for investing time and effort into editing and posting that picture online. 

the four years abroad gives you time to think, gives you space to be your own winner, gives you enough to feel like yourself again.

that you were studying medicine because you wanted to help people. you wanted to save lives. 

you wanted to be someone’s light, for you’ve spent the last seven years being someone’s death match.

so it would never be enough for when you were dumped back into the same space as hyunjae again after ten years. 

you’ve run one gigantic round, only to end up in the same spot.

he is taller now, physically larger. his hair is dark brown compared to his black hair when you first met him at thirteen. he is cockier, more arrogant, more confident. 

he has that signature smirk on his face you’ve spent days plotting some kind of strategic idea to remove. 

but he is as beautiful as a rival could ever come, you will just never admit it until he confesses his love for you first.

for the first time in four years, you speak to him without driving your forearm into his neck and shoving him into a locker somewhere. the urge to stick a pen up his nose was jumping around inside you like a ping pong ball on a table, but you hold yourself together, bracing yourself for another painful, torturous period of your life. 

but time will tell you that despite spending so much time hating him and staying a safe distance away from him, you will grow to need him in your life. he is your driving force; he is your push to excel in life. 

then that kiss happened. all because he couldn’t shut his mouth. he snaps you into two like a twig after you remove his report. he makes you beg and apologise about something you don’t regret doing, because you know he would do the same.

he makes you watch how much your body was enjoying it, against your will. in all your years, there has not been a single soul who could break you. 

but he did, and he will remain the only person who can break you. 

then that intern came along despite the markings on your neck, despite the lack of balance your legs could offer you. 

eric was the sun after an eclipse. he was the rainbow after a storm, and he was the water you drink after a run. 

eric is who you wanted.

eric lips taste like a strange mixture of beer and blueberries, and he smells like the beach. 

how nice would it be to dig your toes into the sand, let the sun kiss your skin into a shade of honey, and listen to eric talk about why he loved doing what he’s doing?

but phtonos, the god of jealousy, will puppeteer hyunjae like a wooden doll, to remind you that he is the only one who can make you suffer a crack in your hardened, protective skin, where your hatred and intense emotions will spew out like blood from a cut. 

you should’ve known that there has been a shift in your dynamics, a shift that was immeasurable. 

not just because it was huge, but because it no longer involved who wanted to win. because it now involved the matters of the heart, the mind and the soul.

you were feeling it when he has his hand on your thighs infront of eric.

‘kitten’ becomes his spell for you. he who has you wrapped around his finger like a ring, not because he made you one, but because you chose to let him claim you. 

it should’ve been more obvious, given that the both of you were qualified, supposedly intelligent people. 

but it’s not. 

not until you fall for all his little moves and gestures. the way he knows how attracted you are to his physique, the way his muscles shift under his skin and the way you love to feast your eyes on his build. 

it becomes dangerously glaring to you that your relationship with hyunjae was getting more complicated by the second. when you have him buried inside you and you use eric to push him over his edge. when he rams into you the way you will never know how eric would. 

when you wake up in his bed the next morning and he’s right there next to you.

but it was like the universe was telling you to wake up and see your reality, and they send a reminder in the form of an old flame your way.

younghoon reminds you that the person you want isn’t the person you need, and you refuse to accept that they aren’t the same person. 

younghoon also tells you he still loves you, but that doesn’t leave a mark on your heart, not the same way it would when you would ditch eric and run off into someone else’s arms. 

but you would have to endure days of loss. it’s the feeling in your bones when you lose a loved one, it’s the feeling in your gut when you remember how younghoon broke up with you. he was not yours, and you were not his, so why did it hurt so much? why did it hurt to watch him hurt, and you didn’t know why?

there wasn’t enough gratitude in the world you could hold in your hands and pour it all over eric when you chose to leave him, your sun, for hyunjae, your toxic motivation.

that hug eric provides you reminds you that people cannot function without other people. it reminds you that you have a tumor in your heart you couldn’t diagnose. it reminds you that you can have the cure, and it was a choice of whether you wanted to embrace it, or save your pride and let it grow.

“i love you” was the last thing you’d ever expect to say to lee hyunjae, much less say it while he is kissing you, while he has his arms wrapped around you, while he is saying the exact same thing with tears rolling over his lower lids. 

choi minhee becomes a reminder that you don’t want anybody else involved between the two of you. mrs kang becomes a reminder that he loves you in ways he hates it, and the best part of it was that you knew exactly how he felt.

seeing his mother for the first time in ten years puts a look of pleasant surprise on her face. 

but her kind soul will impart the knowledge to the both of you that both families were just waiting for this to happen. it was just a matter of time.

eric’s last day has ended, and the friendship you have forged with him becomes so important, you could not be anymore grateful that the kiss at the party happened. 

had you not found out how eric would’ve tasted like, every other block of domino wouldn’t have tipped over the same way it eventually did. 

hyunjae has eric wrapped in his arms and eric’s cheeks turn red at the lack of oxygen in his system. 

“uh-- hyung-- i can’t--”

“oh, sorry!” 

eric clears his throat and adjusts his collar. you just had dinner with hyunjae and eric, and now you were standing before the building eric was residing in, with hyunjae’s car parked right opposite the road. 

“if i didn’t know better, i’d think you’re still mad at me for almost taking y/n from you.”

a light giggle runs across your lips and you raise a brow at eric. 

“ten points for wit, eric.”

hyunjae rolls his eyes and wraps his arm around your shoulder. 

“i would say i am... but it doesn’t matter. she’s here now, and she’s mine, not yours.”

eric raises both his palms up into the air, surrendering. he breaks out into small chuckles when hyunjae gives him a gentle punch to his shoulder.

then hyunjae releases you and holds out his hand, inviting eric to take it and they do one of those bro-hugs or shoulder bumps only guys would do.

“thank you, eric.”

but the strength of your friendship with eric will be proven unbreakable when he calls you up every month, inviting both you and hyunjae to a meal where you were supposed to eat with him on your date with him.

it is one year later that time comes hand in hand with your profession to teach you the value of life, for one of your patients flatlines in the middle of the night.

you were safely wrapped in hyunjae’s arms, souls wandering in each other’s hearts. 

doctor choi said it was unnecessary, but both you and hyunjae still run off to the car under the bright moon where wolves would be running and owls hooting, dressed in nothing more besides shirts and pants when you meet the elder doctor in the ward. 

mrs kang passed away in her sleep at 3.48am. 

it was her birthday. 

watching hyunjae break into a million pieces without physically resigning to his tears crushes you. 

you couldn’t help the one or two tears that managed to escape your eyes, and you were ready to bawl once you got back home, or to his place.

but hyunjae breaks down in the car without even starting it up. it’s horrible that it comforts you to know that he cries more over the death of someone than you, but nonetheless, he bares his soul to you, and you embrace it like it was a thin sheet of glass waiting to shatter in the wind.

life and time is relentless because it doesn’t stop for anybody. by the time mrs kang’s body was cremated and her ashes scattered into the ocean, there was already someone else in that bed, in need of your care. 

hyunjae bounces back to reality within a week. though you know his heart was still hurting, you remember he was a professional, and professional doctors try never to let their feelings take hold of their work.

the both of you make it a point to sit by the shore of the waters they scattered mrs kang’s ashes in every now and then. 

she must be so happy that the advice she gave hyunjae was true, that love will always find a way.

so you are choking in denial when you find yourself in the hallways of the school you first met hyunjae in, where you yanked on his hair and he scribbled all over your worksheets.

you were both invited back to the school to talk about pursuing medicine as a career, and the principal (who was no longer the greasy old man) lets the both of you roam about the compound.

“oh, wow,” you peer out the windows of the classroom where you threw his stationery out eleven years ago. “i wonder if anybody actually found your--”

you were turned around, ready to tease hyunjae for being the childish kid he was, only to see him on one knee just feet away from you. 

“pens...”

his eyes don’t leave yours while his hands fumble in his blazer, and he pulls out a red velvet box with the brand name engraved into it on the top. 

“i can only hope that one year has been enough for you to hate me a little less, because i know you still do. it’s the same for me.”

“but i know enough that i love you more than i hate you. you are stronger than i ever thought you were, you are smarter than i assume you are, and you are kinder than people expect doctors to be.”

the box opens, and the ring inside forces tears into your eyes. your heart is thumping against your chest and your hands fly up to your face to cover your mouth and nose.

“i’m sorry that i’ve given you so much pain and resentment, and i wish i could’ve earned your love without doing whatever i did. it is the last thing i want to see... seeing you hurt.”

“and i promise you that you’ll never have to hurt ever again. well -- if you get butthurt over my possible promotion--”

“hyunjae!”

“okay, okay,” he laughs and his smile was so bright, it finally pushes tears over your lower lids.

“i wish mrs kang was here to see this. to see that she was right.”

“we’ll fight everyday if it means you’ll fall more in love with me. because that’s what happened last year, and i didn’t know it. now i know i do, and i love you a little more every time you get upset when i win you in a game or everytime you rub it in my face when i lose. it means that you are worthy of being one half of ares, and now i want you to be my half of an ares.”

“so marry me, and don’t ever let go. i don’t know where i will find this -- you -- anywhere else.”

it feels like the sun was pouring itself all over you when the words run through your nerves and lay themselves all over you like a warm blanket. it feels like flowers blooming in spring after winter.

it feels like love.

it really does.

“will you marry me?”

the nod shakes your head first, and more tears billow out down your cheeks.

“yes, yes... yes, yes.”

hyunjae’s eyes were light and loving when he removes the ring from the box and slides it up your finger. your hands were trembling in his when he stands up, and you pull his face into yours to kiss him.

every puzzle piece in your life falls into place. that was such a cliche thought, but you now know what it really means to be half of a whole. 

all this while, you were one of two, so becoming half of one feels more intimate. it tastes sweet on your tongue and it feels warm on your body.

he is smiling when he pulls away, fingers stroking your cheek so gently like he was afraid to break you. 

you laugh under your breath while you close your fist, feeling the ring around your finger and letting the reality set into your existence.

then you look up into his eyes and you see not stars, but fire in them. and you decide that fire was all you needed.

your arms wrap around his neck this time, already pulling him in towards your lips while his arms snake around your waist.

“i won’t let go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ END ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@vxstarlightxv​ asked to be tagged so i did :”) she is the author of 17.5 in case you guys didn’t know.

A/N: i am SAD this is over. like... it feels weird to know that i don’t have to wake up and worry about how to fuck these two up even more as if they already aren’t fucked up on their own kdsjdksd.

this has been my first e2l fic i think, and it was such a ride. i’m not a fan of the e2l trope because i found it unrealistic, so when i started out on hostis, i had to make a conscious effort to make sure it is believable, that their dynamics is buyable, and that their story isn’t cringey or shallow.

i’ll best be honest i am sad this isn’t an eric fic ujfsod, #teameric :(

anyway, personally i hate BOTH y/n and hyunjae. but their dynamics definitely get more endearing after their confession (“but dana what’s the fun of that??”) yes i know i’m boring welps. 

it has been such a crazy ride with hostis, i have headaches every now and then writing for these two fktards bec they are so ANNOYING but i’m SOOOO grateful that you guys love them so much :”)

once again, i thank you all for finding joy and comfort in reading my work. it will ALWAYS mean alot for a writer to have readers. 

with this, we come to the end of hostis, and may you find your very own dr. hyunjae ;)

i’ll see you soon with a juyeon one shot :”) lets all die together cause ik i will LMAO

- love, dana

[nearlymanaged]

11. Silver Hoops and Purple Bisous

Sirius could barely contain his annoyance on the way back from the Muggle town, and yet, he couldn’t decide which was the bigger source of it - the pompous arse who was flirting with Remus, or the fact that Remus had reciprocated.

Up until now, Sirius could take solace in the benefit of doubt. Maybe Moony didn’t realise that Sirius had been flirting with him for months somehow? Maybe he was helplessly inept at picking up all the signs? Maybe he was bad at flirting back? Or maybe he wasn’t interested in boys altogether?.. Now, however, Sirius had to face the fact that Remus most definitely understood when someone was flirting with him, and that he seemed to rather enjoy the attention of this obnoxious French bloke. 

Moony seemed so pleased the whole way back; so cheerful and playful, that it made Sirius’ brooding even worse - all he wanted to do was grab that happy, smiling face and kiss some sense into it. Make him understand. Instead, he seethed silently at the prospect of perhaps never getting to do that at all.

“Oh, stop sulking, will you?” Remus held the door open for Sirius when they finally reached the Potters’ house. “We can go back there next week and you can browse through the records - using your human fingers - to your heart’s fullest content.”

“I don’t think I want to go back, it smelled weird in there.”

“Hey,” Remus’ voice dropped as his fingers wrapped around Sirius’ wrist, stopping him in his track in the doorway. “Did I do something?”

“What?” Sirius met those green eyes staring at him and saw a shadow of gloom in them now. “N-no, Moony, no. Of course you didn’t do anything.”

“Why do you two look like a pair of stuffed frogs?” Peter cast them a curious glance once they finally made their way into the house and up the stairs, where they stopped in the doorway of James’ bedroom.

Sirius didn’t feel like answering, and he didn’t have to either - Remus stole a quick glance at him and then turned to Peter with a smile and a shrug. “The shop was closed. Has anyone seen my striped brown jumper?”

“Er, the one you’re wearing?” James pointed at him.

“No, this is clearly more yellow than it is brown.” Remus mumbled, walking in the direction of Sirius' room. “I swear I saw it yesterday…”

Black’s eyes slid behind the boy while he himself stayed rooted to the spot, a slight crease appearing between his eyebrows, his mind replaying the scene at the record shop.

“Do you smell that, Peter?” James spoke quietly.

“What is it?” He asked, sniffing the air.

“That’s the smell of sexual tension.”

Peter laughed, then took a couple of sharp inhales. “Actually, that’s the smell of Christmas tea! Let’s go!” He jumped off the bed and darted past Sirius, out of the room. 

James got up as well, but Sirius remained immobile. “Not hungry?”

Sirius quickly looked down the hallway, then stepped into James’ room and swung the door almost all the way shut. “This crusty little bloke was flirting with Remus at the record shop.”

“With… Wh-- I thought it was closed?..”

“It was. And there he was, being all chivalrous and letting Remus in and chatting him up.”

“Letting Remus in? Where were you?” James’ voice got ever so slightly higher with confusion.

“I was there, I was just er, temporarily stuck being a dog…”

“Oh. Ohh… So...he was flirting with Moony?..”

“They were flirting with each other,” Sirius folded his arms over his chest and started nudging a stray sock that was lying on the floor with his toes.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“And you’re sure Moony was flirting with this bloke? For some reason, I can hardly picture him flirting...at all, really...”

“Would I be making such a ruckus about it if I wasn’t sure?” Sirius whispered heatedly.

“Well,” James was obviously steeling himself.  

Sirius breathed a loud, dramatic gasp. “Don’t bother answering.”

“So Moony’s into boys?.. But that’s good!”

“How exactly is that a good thing? Pardon my ignorance, but I don’t find the idea of Remus liking another boy particularly exciting.”

“Well-- But why wouldn’t he tell us?” James perked up suddenly. “Maybe he’s not into boys after all?”

“James,” Sirius put his hands on his friend’s shoulders, “what is the point of me talking to you if you’re just going to make me feel worse with every new thing you say?”

“Look, I would love nothing more than for you to be happy, because honestly, all this pining and whining is getting a little old-- ouch!” James rubbed a spot on his shoulder where Sirius had just pinched him. “But,” he continued pointedly, “you won’t get anywhere until you talk to Moony and tell him how you feel. I don’t see this ever ending any other way.”

It proved to be more difficult to be annoyed with a stomach full of delicious food, so Sirius (after him, Peter, Remus, and the Potters ate and moved to lounge lazily around the sitting room) resigned himself to moving on from the memory of that morning. He even managed to find some consolation in the fact that Remus didn’t mention the shop or the boy at all for the rest of the day. And with some luck, he thought, they were going to go back to Hogwarts without ever seeing him again. 

Unfortunately, it turned out to be nothing more than wishful thinking… A couple of days after Christmas, James’ parents rounded everyone up for a family outing to the same Muggle town. To Mr. and Mrs. Potters, the main attraction was a small bakery that they absolutely loved and could not figure out how anyone managed to make pastries so wonderful without magic. James and Peter were keen on getting their hands on some Muggle fireworks for New Year’s Eve celebrations ever since they’d learnt about such a thing, so they wholeheartedly approved of this plan as well. 

“Yeah, I think I want that,” Sirius found himself standing in front of a tattoo parlour window on that chilly December morning, pointing at a sign advertising piercing services. 

Mr. and Mrs. Potter exchanged amused looks behind his back, while Peter expressed his lack of interest in getting stabbed with needles. 

“Really?” James looked over at Sirius.

“Yeah. Why not?”

“I don’t know, I’m with Peter on this.”

“There’s probably too many of us to fit in there. How about we’ll go on and meet you boys at the bakery?” James’ mum suggested, but her son immediately shook his head.

“Peter and I will come with you, he’s been dreaming about those Cornish pasties, haven’t you?”

“I have? Yes, I have!” Peter flashed everyone a strangely manic grin and nodded vigorously.

The Potters and Peter started down the street. Sirius was about to turn to Moony and ask if he would hold his hand while getting pierced, but he never got around to it.

“Remus!” 

Sirius almost cringed at the sound of the nasal voice and he didn’t have to turn around to know that he was going to see the French boy standing on the other side of the street.

“I’ll be right there,” Remus assured Sirius quickly and crossed the road in a few big strides.

Sirius’ eyes lingered on the French git for a moment, as if searching him for a glimmer of hope, for some kind of giveaway that this Vincent bloke wasn’t really interested in Remus. In his Remus. But of course, Sirius had been there when they met, he had heard the way the boy looked at Moony and witnessed the way he looked at him. And, Sirius was sure, Remus was just as aware of it. 

He turned around and went into the parlour to get his ears pierced. Somehow, he thought with a bitter smile, getting stabbed with needles matched his mood exactly in that moment. He decided to get silver hoops in both of his earlobes, completely unfazed by the piercers remark about that being ‘more of a lassies’ style’.

Unfortunately, from where he was asked to sit, he couldn’t see out the window, but his mind was still with Moony. The piercer was taking his time setting up, wiping his instruments and surfaces down, putting gloves on. He dotted Sirius’ lobes with a pen some five minutes later, to let him see where the earrings would go, and Remus was still nowhere to be seen. The piercer drove a needle through the first lobe, causing a hot, prickling sensation to blossom in the exact spot. He paused to remind Sirius that men usually went for just one lobe, then continued with the other. Finally, almost twenty minutes later, Sirius walked outside to find Remus still talking to the French boy.

His freshly pierced ears stung a little in the cold wind, almost as if egging him on, and without another thought, Sirius crossed the street.

“I did it,” he beamed at Moony, pushing his hair back to show off his new accessories. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

Remus started at him blankly for a second before mirroring his expression. “I do. Er, this is Vincent, Sirius,” still smiling, he gestured at the boy and looked at him next. “Vincent, Sirius.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the Frenchie cooed.

“Cool,” Sirius barely paid him a glance, focusing more on snaking his arm around Moony’s shoulders. “Should we go find the others?”

“Er, right.”

“Please. Don’t forget this,” Vincent thrust a folded piece of paper into Remus’ hand before planting light kisses on both of his cheeks.

Sirius’ instincts urged him to keep his arm around Moony, to take his hand, stroke his face, touch him any way he could, as if claiming him for himself. But the more sensible side of Black, one that was less emotional and more calculating, knew that he hadn’t deserved it. He had had plenty of opportunities to make a move, to tell Remus how he felt, but he never did. So could he really blame this poor French bastard for having the guts to be honest and straightforward about what he wanted?

And besides, it seemed like Moony had made his choice. Sirius wasn’t going to try and compromise that, no matter how much he would have liked to.

That evening, he got to see what the folded piece of paper bore inside it - Remus had placed it on the bedside table and Sirius couldn’t resist taking a peek. It was a note written in purple pen. It had the Frenchie’s address and phone number, by the looks of it. It also said ‘Remember what I told you. Bisous, Vincent’ in slanted handwriting. Sirius couldn’t stop himself from snorting with a roll of his eyes.

[pixelatedrose]

Can you do 39 with prinxiety? Sorry if I'm being a burden - 🌯

Prompt 39 Prinxiety

“Listen it’s not really my fault i fell in love with him!! HE WAS SHIRTLESS!!”

Word Count: 3,799 (I got a bit carried away with this one)

Warnings: uncensored swearing, mention of a dead animal (Skip from “It wasn’t that he had never wanted to go before,” to “The memory left a pretty solidly foul taste in his mouth and made him shudder.”)

Camping

  It was early August and Roman’s friends had finally convinced him to tag along with them to go camping.

  “But there are bugs!!” Roman complained.

  “So? Bugs are cool.” Virgil said, looking up briefly from his phone.

  “Oh yeah?” Roman continued to whine. “Well I hardly took you as one who enjoyed camping in the middle of nowhere with zero cell service, Dr. Gloom!” Roman antagonized the emo boy.

  Virgil stuck out his tongue at the sassy drama queen. “You’re just pouty cause we never asked you to come before because we thought you hated the outdoors.”

  “I do not hate the outdoors!!” Roman scoffed. “I just don’t really find the idea of bugs and sap and burnt food and bugs very appealing.”

  “Aw, Roman! Is this your first time camping?” Patton asked, calling from where he was placing an overfilled bag into the bed of Logan’s truck.

  Roman flushed and turned away haughtily. “Well it’s not my fault my moms never wanted to go and sleep on the ground!!”

  Patton clapped his tall friend on the back, smiling from ear to ear. “Oh, you’re going to have so much FUN!!”

  Soon the truck was packed, with Logan helping Roman make sure that he had everything necessary. (“No, Roman, you won’t be needing your fantasy elf cloak.” “BUT WHAT IF THE DWARVES COME FOR ME?!”)

  The car ride was long, Roman and Virgil sitting in the back with Patton sitting up front and Logan driving. Roman ended up falling asleep, his head resting against a drowsy Virgil’s shoulder. Patton, thinking this was the cutest thing ever, snapped a picture with the camera he brought along.

  “Logan, look!!”

  “Patton, dear, I am incapable of looking at whatever you wish to show me if I am to drive safely on this road.”

  “Oh, right, sorry! Virgil and Roman fell asleep on top of each other, that’s all!”

  “Oh. How lovely.”

  “Logan why are you pulling over?”

  “Revenge.”

  Roman and Virgil woke up in different positions, Roman’s face pressed up against the window and Virgil having adjusted to leaning against his seatbelt. They also awoke to marker coating their faces.

  “That’s for the cookies you two baked me last week.” Logan said when they had started freaking out.

  “But it was funny!!” Virgil protested, rubbing at the marker hearts doodled on his cheeks.

  “Cookies should not contain any- especially that much- pepper in it!! Consider us even, Ruiners of Sweets.” Logan seethed dramatically.

  The ride from then on was filled with karaoke, Disney, and laughter.

  When they arrived at the campsite, they tried to divide the work up. However, it became very clear that Roman had no idea what he was doing when he mistakenly snapped one of the tent poles clean in half.

  “Whoops…”

  Virgil sighed. “Great! At least I know how to fix it once I get home. I guess I’m sleeping under the stars tonight…”

  Patton shook his head. “Nonsense!! There’s plenty of room in Roman’s tent for you to sleep in there!”

  Roman nearly choked. “What?!”

  Virgil just shrugged. “'Ight. But I’m setting up tents from now on. Roman can make the fire.”

  “I do not trust that Roman will know an adequate way of starting a fire. Perhaps he can prepare food instead? It is probably something he should have been doing from the start seeing as I am not the best in the culinary arts.” Logan offered.

  Roman nodded, trying to keep his head up. It was just his first time camping after all. He was a little upset by the fact that he was going to be sharing a tent with Virgil. Why? He wasn’t 100% sure. But it made his chest flare up and his face burn. The fact of the matter was that he was incredibly nervous about sleeping in very tight quarters with his very attractive friend of whom he’d subconsciously had a crush on since they’d met in high school. But he would never admit such a thing. Especially when it was still so subtle.

  Dinner was finished, Roman figuring out how to cook over the fire after a few attempts, and with that, Patton took out his guitar and played songs that Roman hadn’t heard before, but the others seemed to know by heart. Stories were told and laughs were exchanged as well as shrieks in terror followed by evil giggles of delight. The sun was long put to rest by the time the fire simmered out.

  The friends parted to their separate tents and the lanterns were put out.

  Virgil unzipped the tent’s door, holding it open as if he were any semblance of a gentleman. “Just don’t you go falling for me because of this, Princey.” Virgil smirked, pushing Roman into the tent face first.

  Roman fell and from the ground mumbled sarcastically. “Trust me, not a problem.”

  Roman pulled a loose tank top over his head and turned to Virgil, expecting something similar. Except he found the pale boy, completely bare chested, reading a book in a position that had no right looking as attractive as it did.

  “Finally done getting ready, Princey?” He asked, sparing a glance up at the now red faced boy.

  Roman prayed that his colored face was hidden by the god-awful lighting in the now much too small tent. “Y-yep!!” Roman faked a nonchalant tone, trying not to stare so openly.

  “Great.” Virgil said, his casual tone was only what Roman dreamed he had sounded like. “I’m going to finish this chapter and then I’ll turn lights out. Don’t wait for me.”

  Roman tucked himself into his sleeping bag and turned away from Virgil, trying desperately to get the image of his friend’s surprisingly toned chest out of his mind. Did Virgil work out? He always looked so thin and stringy under his hoodie…

  “Night, Vee.” Roman wrestled the words from his throat, his voice cracking, making him want to die a little bit more.

  Virgil didn’t say anything and Roman, for the next twenty minutes, listened to the sound of quietly turning pages, all the while panicking at their closeness and, for the millionth time, trying not to think about Virgil’s lack of a shirt.

  Finally, Vrigil put his book down and stretched. He panicked even more when Virgil seemed to lean over to Roman and he shut his eyes, years of practice in pretending to be asleep finally paying off.

  Virgil leaned back and if Roman had his eyes open and had been facing the pale boy, he would have seen Virgil smile ever so fondly and sweetly, a light pink adorning his pale cheeks. “…Cute…” Virgil whispered quietly, not aware that Roman could hear him quite clearly in the silence of the night. Virgil flicked off the lights and, in a single line, probably made Roman fall irreversibly deep into the boiling pool of love. “Goodnight, my prince. I’ll love you tomorrow…”

  In the dead of the night, Roman heard Virgil’s breath even out next to him.

  Roman, red faced, turned to try and look at his sleeping friend, just to make sure, only to be met with a cute face not six inches away from his own. Even in the dark, Roman began to take notice of things he’d seemingly never seen before. Like how his dark hair faded perfectly into purple at the tips, making it look like purple flames. It made Roman want to reach out and fluff it about. Or the way his pale cheeks were impossibly cute and round, devoid of their usual makeup and beautiful. It made Roman want to hold his perfect face in his own imperfect hands. Or the way his lips curved so exquisitely, a soft beautiful thing. It made Roman want to lean forward and capture such flawless lips with his own.

  “We have a big fucking problem.” Roman whispered to himself.

~~•~~

  The next morning Roman woke up to the sound of pots banging.

  “WAKE UP SLEEPING BEAUTY, WE’RE GOING TO THE LAKE TODAY!!!” Virgil’s voice had momentarily made Roman forget everything last night as it was, at the moment, the most annoying thing on the goddamn planet.

  Virgil threw the tent door open, somehow letting more light into the small area. Roman tossed the edge of his sleeping bag up over his face in dismay. “Nooo….What time is it even…?”

  Virgil stopped banging his pots for a half second. “About 8:45. When you’re camping, the sun’s your alarm, Princey!!” He trilled out in a sing-song voice.

  “Why,” Roman complained, poking his head out of his cocoon. “Is the one time you’re cheery the one time I wish you weren’t?”

  Roman opened his eyes and was met face to face with a sinisterly smirking Virgil, his figure framed in splashing golden light as he leaned in to get a view of Roman. “Because I live to be the bane of your existence, Princey!” He smiled all too brightly, and Roman was reminded of his ever growing problem as he felt his face heat up.

  Patton poked his head in through the doorway, ruining the picture perfect scene Roman had before him. It wasn’t that he minded, though. No of course not. He wasn’t upset at all that the picture of Virgil with perfect golden light shining around him in a perfect, sunny corona was thrown off by a smiling Patton. He would never be upset.

  “C’mon, Ro! It’s time to wake up!! Logan and me made campfire pancakes!!” Patton smiled. Virgil’s eyes lit up like Roman had never seen them light up before. A childish sparkle, like when a kid gets told they’re allowed to have two cookies instead of one.

  Logan’s voice called from outside the tent. “It’s ’Logan and I’ Patton.”

  ”Yeah, yeah, whatever, Honey. I’m just excited for campfire pancakes!!”

  ”We all are, Pat! Campfire pancakes are the only thing Logan can make edible, and of all the things I’ve eaten, it would be the one that should be considered fucking gourmet!!”

  Roman listened to his friends chatter as he got ready, suddenly upset he’d declined Patton’s offers for so long. It wasn’t that he had never wanted to go before, but he’d never been in the woods alone since his brother had forced him into the woods near their old house as children to show him a dead and rotting fox corpse. The memory left a pretty solidly foul taste in his mouth and made him shudder.

  He’d complain about bugs and charred food for as long as he needed to. He wasn’t about to let slip that he’d been scared to go back into a place that reminded him so vividly of something so distasteful.

  ”And he rises!!” Virgil said theatrically when Roman emerged from the tent. Now that he could see better, Roman looked Virgil over. His hair was slightly tousled from sleep and he was wearing a plain, dark t-shirt. His pale face bore practically no makeup, save for the remnants of his eyeshadow that seemed to never go away. His smile was bright and happy, excited in a way Roman had never seen before now. It was at this time that Roman realized this was one of a very select few times that he’d seen Virgil without a hoodie or jacket on. He was pretty. Honestly, Roman thought he should have noticed how charming the tall man was before now.

  Roman smiled coolly. ”Now where are those campfire pancakes I keep hear you guys yapping about?”

~~•~~

  The pancakes were amazing. And after hiking to a lake, Roman was starting to think camping really wasn’t all too bad. The trail had ended, coming out to the view of a crisp lake with a sandy bank, driftwood strewn about the shore. A wooden dock with a rope swing attached to the end adorned the right side of the picture and a picnic bench decorated a small grassy patch a short distance away from the shore, save from potentially splashing children.

  However the picturesque lake was absent of any and all people, leaving the entire lake to themselves.

  ”Wow…” Roman breathed out as the lake came into view.

  Virgil smiled fondly at the starry-eyed man next to him, not that Roman had noticed. ”Yeah. It’s pretty sweet, isn’t it?” Virgil said, walking with Roman to towards the shore as Patton gleefully ran ahead to the dock and Logan crossed over to the picnic table to place the bag containing their lunches. ”This place was actually pretty abandoned when me and Lo first found it.”

  Roman glanced at Virgil, who was smiling wistfully out at the clear water. ”Really?”

  Virgil nodded, sitting down on a large piece of driftwood. ”Yeah. Our families would go camping together all the time when we were kids. One day we came to this old, near abandoned campsite and found this lake after hiking an all but completely overgrown trail. It was my mom that convinced my dad to buy up the site. It was fairly cheap, but my parents made it their passion project. I was about 15 years old when they finally finished it all.” Virgil looked over to Roman, his eyes filled with a gentle excitement. “It’s been our own little retreat ever since then! I can’t count how many times me and Logan came here to help work or even after it was done. This place means a lot to me.” He clapped Roman on the back, smiling delightfully. “I’m glad you came, Princey!” Virgil then pushed him over into the warm sand. “That’s enough cheese for today I think!! Race ya to the rope swing, theater dork!!” Virgil took off toward the dock and Roman, for once, was glad he had pushed him over and ran away. 

  Roman’s face and chest was ablaze. The way that Virgil seemed to treasure this place, wanting to share it with Roman, it made him unbelievably happy. The way the pale boy’s eyes sparkled and the way his usually lazy smile was bright and bold, it sent his heart aflutter.

  “You fiend!!” Roman accused, scrambling up to his feet. “That’s not fair!!” He charged after Virgil’s dark hair, hoping to leave his dangerously growing adoration behind in the sand.

  They took turns swinging off the rope swing and shoving one another into the water, splashing about in it’s cool waves a welcome sensation against the heat of the sun. Lunch finally came and they chatted and joked and told swapped stories until Logan declared that it was time they all headed back.

  “Actually, Logan? Can I talk to you for a bit?” Virgil asked as they were packing up.

  Logan raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Of course. Patton, Roman, you two can go on ahead of us. We will catch up to you later.”

  “Sure thing, honey!!” Patton said cheerily, wrapping his arm around Roman’s shoulders, though because of the height difference, mistakenly pulled Roman down a bit in the process.

  They chatted a bit until the subject of Virgil managed to come up.

  “Virgil?” Roman asked, the thought of the green eyed man making him flush. When had that started happening? “I mean he’s great of course…I mean more than great honestly. Have you ever noticed how perfect his hair always looks, Pat? Or like how pretty he is just…everywhere? It’s infuriating!!” Roman looked over to his short friend. “Right, Pat….? Uhh…”

  Patton wore a shiteating grin on his face as he smirked smugly at Roman. “I knew it!” Patton declared. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!!”

  Roman’s face flared and his heart started to beat. “Knew w-what?! What did you know?!”

  Patton jabbed a finger at Roman’s chest. “You’re in love with Virgil!!” He announced, his grin growing more and more excited and mischievous by the second, his golden eyes sparkling more and more from under his wide, round frames. “Aren’t you?!”

  Had Roman been a balloon, he would have burst. His face was undoubtedly the color of a rose and his heart was beating far too loud for Patton not to hear it, he thought. Roman finally caved, giving a sigh. “Listen, it’s not really my fault I fell in love with him!! HE WAS SHIRTLESS!!”

  Patton danced around the path way, spinning and chanting, “YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH VIRGIL!! YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH VIRGIL!!”

  “Okay okay!! I’m in love with Virgil!! Now will you quiet down! What if they’re about to catch up?!” Roman said, mild panic pricking his heart.

  “So what if they hear us?!” Patton stopped his dancing, facing Roman. “I mean Virgil’s already been in love with you for years now!!” Patton said excitedly, waving his hand as if it was common knowledge.

  Roman’s life could have ended then and there. “He what-?”

  Patton’s smiling face didn’t falter as extreme panic set his eyes ablaze. “Shit!!” He said in the most cheery tone a person has ever used to say shit. In fact, Roman could only count on two other times he’d even heard Patton curse. “You were not supposed to know that!!” Patton continued with his cheery voice.

  Roman grabbed Patton by the shoulders, emotions swirling violently within him. “Virgil’s been in love with me for years?!” He asked, ecstatic panic dripping from his voice and flooding his eyes.

  Patton’s smile did falter this time as he looked away, bashful at what he’d let slip. “Well, yeah…He never-”

  Roman picked up the small boy and spun him around, laughing splendidly. “Patton!! You’re an angel from heaven!!” He bubbled. He set Patton down and hugged him tightly. A thought struck him and he separated from the small boy, not even having heard the blonde’s shouts announcing he couldn’t breath. “Oh god! I have to tell Virgil! I have to go find him!!” 

  Roman started to run away, but Patton grabbed his sleeve. “But what should I do?! We were supposed to get the fire going and dinner started! It’s beginning to get dark!”

  Roman looked at Patton with desperate eyes. “I just realized how I feel about Virgil. I don’t want this to turn into a pining competition! I have to find him right now!”

  Something in Roman’s voice must have convinced Patton because he let go. “Alright.” He lightly tapped his fist against his taller friend’s shoulder. “Go sweep him off his feet, Ro!”

  And with that, Roman was off sprinting back down the trail.

  He caught sight of Virgil and Logan walking down the path as the trail was beginning to darken with purple under the canopy of trees in the soon to be dying sunlight. Roman smiled and waved to them down the trail.

  “Roman?” Virgil asked, a concerned and mildly frightened look glazing his eyes over. “Is everything okay? Did something happen? Where’s Patton? Is he alright? Is-”

  Roman swooped Virgil into a spinning hug, not letting the boy finish his anxious rambling. “Oh, everything is more than just alright, my dark and stormy knight!” Roam laughed, holding on to his heart from around his waist, grasping him close.

  Virgil’s face lit up with splashes of red and pink. “Uhm…?”

  Logan looked between the two and smiled. “I’ll go on ahead and make sure Patton has some company.” He said, picking up Virgil’s discarded bag and turning to walk down the darkening trail.

  Roman stopped spinning Virgil and let the green eyed man down, only just loosening his hold on him.

  But to Roman’s utter dismay, as soon as Logan was out of sight, Virgil pushed out from Roman’s grasp. “What the hell, Ro? What was that?” He snapped, turning away from the taller boy.

  Roman’s hopes sunk. Had Patton lied to him? No…Patton said he wasn’t even supposed to tell. It had to be true.

  But Roman had to be sure. “Virgil, do you love me?” Fireflies were starting to swirl around them, lighting up like stray stars.

  “What…?” Virgil stopped, looking back at Roman.

  Roman stepped closer, beginning to realize how desperately he wanted Virgil to love him. “Are you in love with me, Virgil?”

  Virgil looked away, crossing his arms over themselves.

  The sounds of the forest settled between them.

  Finally Virgil spoke, his voice shaky and choked. “S-so what if I am? I mean- I didn’t mean to- I don’t-” Virgil turned back to face Roman, his hands embedded in his head of thick, messy hair, his eyes shimmering with tears. “I assume Patton spilled…And I just didn’t want to tell you cause I didn’t want to lose you as a friend! I know you don’t feel the same way, so I was trying to be a good friend…I’m sorry if-”

  “Goodnight my prince. I’ll love you tomorrow.” Roman quoted.

  “W-what?”

  “Last night. That’s what you said before you went to sleep. Can I ask why?” Roman stepped closer, the sun beginning to descend beyond view.

  Virgil was caught between paling and flushing harder. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s the stupidest thing ever…” He started, though smiling. “Anytime we ever had a sleepover, or you fell asleep studying at my place or during a movie night, I’d say that. It was supposed to be this stupid ‘I can’t love you now, so I’ll love you tomorrow’ thing…Hella cheesy, I know…”

  Roman stepped closer again and brushed Virgil’s hand, though the pale boy flinched it back. “Well remember when you said not to fall for you and I said it wouldn’t be a problem?” he stepped closer still, bringing his hand up to Virgil’s chin.

  “Yeah…?” Virgil didn’t pull away this time, though his eyes remained glued to Roman’s chest.

  Roman tilted his chin upward, looking into the gorgeous green eyes Roman never knew he’d fallen for. “Well I think I have a problem…” He leaned in even closer, and he swear he could almost hear Virgil’s heart. 

  Before Roman could try and capture his lips with his own, Virgil leaned forward and closed the distance himself.

  Roman melted into the kiss and could have sworn he tasted raspberries on Virgil’s breath. Virgil’s arms found themselves draped over Roman’s shoulders and his fingers played in his hair as Roman drew Virgil closer still, never wanting to let go of the person he’d loved so dearly for years, blind to it as denial had taken hold of him.

  And it was all over much too quickly as Virgil pulled apart just enough to speak. “I think it’s finally tomorrow…” He said, breathlessly, his eyes traveling from Roman’s chest up to his golden brown eyes.

  Roman smiled and rested his forehead against Virgil’s. “I think I like tomorrow…!” He caught Virgil up in another kiss and the two blissfully fell into one another.

  And Roman decided he quite liked camping, after all.

To my anon, you are never ever ever a burden!! I love writing! And as you can see, got a little carried away with this one! I really hope it’s something you like!!

[max-is-tired]

You Got Me Hypnotized (So Mesmerized)

Pairing: Remile

Characters: Remy Sanders, Emile Picani, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Words: 4.458

Warnings: homophobic parents, misgendering, teen pregnancy, getting kicked out, medical drugs, labor mentions plus its aftermath, swearing, freaking out, mentions of death (just Remy being their dramatic self), alcohol mention (two characters get tipsy), past & internalized aphobia -this is mostly fluff I promise

Notes: First of all, an enormous thank you to @adultmorelikeadolt for commissioning this big boi, I fell in love with the prompt almost immediately and I’m super proud of how it turned out. Genderqueer Remy and asexual Emile? How could I refuse?

Writing this was so fun, there are points in this fic where I legit had to stop typing because I was too busy laughing to make any sense. I hope you guys like it at least as much as I enjoyed working on it!!

Commission me!!   Buy me a coffee!!

Join my Discord server!! 

Of all the things Remy thought they would end up as they'd never considered becoming a single parent at 18.

Their parents had not been happy about it, obviously -when had they ever been when it came to them? They had been furious, shouting and screaming as they’d never done before.

"How could you ever do this to us?" their father had roared, "we already put up with all that genderqueer crap of yours, even when heavens only knows we didn't need to do that. But this? This is outrageous!"

"Get out," had seethed their mother, "no daughter of mine will be such a disappointment -so get out of my sight, and don't you dare come back."

Remy had simply gotten up, biting the inside of their cheek until the taste of iron filled their mouth.

"I was never your daughter," they had said as they threw the door open.

"Glad we agree on something, then," their mother had answered before shutting the door behind them.

After that, with their parents and the kid's father out of the equation, Remy had had quite a hard time figuring out what to do.

Thankfully, they were not as alone as they had previously thought. As soon as Virgil heard of what had gone down, he and his mothers basically adopted them on the spot, giving them a home and all the support they had needed.

Fast forward eight and a half months later, they found themselves hunched on a hospital bed, screaming profanities at the top of their lungs as they pushed and pushed and pushed and tried with all of themselves to not punch the nurse if she said "breathe, you're almost there!" one more goddamn time-

Remy doesn’t remember much of the actual labor, aside from the pain of the contractions and the doctor and nurses telling them what to do. They remember the cry of a child suddenly filling the air, piercing and full of life as they slumped tiredly on the bed, exhaustion hitting them full force.

They remember a solid, warm weight being gently laid in their arms, the doctor's voice barely making its way through the metaphorical cotton that seemed to have filled their ears as they looked at the little human squirming in their arms -their child, the distantly thought, something warm and fuzzy taking residence in their heart.

"Congratulations," the doctor was saying, Remy's brain barely registering his words, "he's a very healthy boy."

Now, normally it would have been pretty clear the doctor was talking about the baby and not the parent. However, Remy was exhausted, 10 hours of labor weighing on their shoulders as they fought valiantly to keep their eyes open just a little bit longer.

So yeah, sue them if they slightly misinterpreted the doctor's words.

“Actually-” they slurred, attracting on themselves the gazes of everyone present as they pointed and accusing finger towards said doctor- “actually doc, you could not be more wrong. Because you see, I may be very healthy but I’m sure as hell not a boy, and if you call me one one more time I will take that folder in your arms and slap you with it. We clear?”

Remy nodded to themselves and closed their eyes, cuddling their child close to their chest with a contented sigh.

“Well, that’s very nice to know,” the doctor said after a moment of silence, making Remy open their eyes once again to glare -why was he smiling like that? And why was Virgil laughing his ass off on the chair?

“However, I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding,” the doctor continued, barely containing a chuckle himself as he watched Remy’s expression become more confused by the second, “because, you see, with that statement I was, in fact, referring to your son.”

Remy blinked, the gears turning sluggishly in his head as the last minute or so replayed in their head. “Oh.”

Virgil -who until that moment had more or less managed to get his laughter under control- broke down again, falling from his chair as he merrily cackled his lungs out on the hospital room’s floor.

“Oh, heck off,” Remy grumbled.

“I’m sor- I’m sorry-” Virgil wheezed between fits of laughter, not looking apologetic at all- “oh my god Rems I’m never letting you live this down-”

Remy rolled their eyes, opting to ignore their best friend as their gaze moved on their son's little face. Bright blue eyes stared back at them, wide and curious, and Remy felt the warmth in their heart grow and grow until they felt like there wasn’t a place for anything else.

“So… he’s okay? No complications?” they asked, unable to tear their gaze away from the little bundle in their arms.

“Everything went as smoothly as it could’ve,” the doctor assured them, “your child is the epitome of healthy and I’m sure you’ll be able to-”

“Patton,” Remy piped up, wiggling his finger in front of his son’s face and smiling as he let out a happy gurgle, “his name is Patton.”

The doctor hummed, nodding. “Very well,” he said with a smile of his own, “as I was saying, I’m sure you’ll be cleared to bring Patton home very soon.”

“Mhm, sounds perfect,” Remy answered, clearly distracted.

The doctor chuckled, scribbling something in the folder in his arms before turning towards the door. “I’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” he said before heading out, “congratulations on the successful birth, Mx. Astoreth. Now get some rest -you both deserve it.”

A comfortable silence fell into the room, broken only by Virgil’s wheezing breath and Patton’s occasional happy gurgle.

“So-” Virgil said when he’d finally managed to calm down enough to formulate a coherent sentence- “Patton, uh?”

“I think it fits him, don’t you agree?” Remy hums, a tired grin stretching on their face as Patton let out a particularly loud squeal.

“Hello, Patton,” they said, kissing their son’s head, “welcome to the world.”

+++

Remy yawned, sliding the last batch of freshly-baked pancakes on a plate as they idly hummed along with whatever song was now playing on the radio. They padded out of the kitchen and finished setting the table, before moving towards the stairs and cupping their hands around their mouth.

“Patton!” They called out, hoping their son hadn’t fallen asleep while washing his face again, “breakfast is ready!”

Almost immediately they heard a muffled thump coming from the upstairs bathroom, followed by all-too-familiar quick steps sprinting down the corridor.

“Breakfast!!” Patton cried happily as soon as he reached the top of the stairs, throwing himself down into his ren’s arms.

Remy -who had since gotten used to their son’s antics- simply smiled and easily caught the little boy, swinging him around a little as Patton giggled his little heart out.

“Here is my little Pattycake!” they exclaimed, giving him a big kiss on his cheek, “what incredible adventures did my favorite son in the world have tonight?”

“Ren!” Patton squealed, barely keeping his giggles at bay, “I’m your only son!”

“More of a reason to love you!” Remy grinned, relishing in their son’s delighted laugh as they set him down at the kitchen table “now sit down and eat your pancakes, you don’t wanna be late for school.”

“Can uncle Virgil come to pick me up today?” Patton said between mouthfuls of pancakes.

“Wow, you choose him over your own parent?” Remy asked, putting a hand on their chest in mock-offense, “I’m hurt, Pattycake, really.”

“He promised me ice cream!”

“Oh okay then,” Remy snickered in their coffee, “nothing can beat ice cream.”

“Exactly!” Patton agreed, dutifully nodding with his mouth full of food. He almost looked like a hamster, Remy mused while trying with all of their might to not squeal out loud and reach for their phone to take a photo.

“Well, sorry to disappoint-” they finally said, grabbing the dirty dishes from the table and putting them in the sink for later- “but today you’ll have to make do with little old me.”

“Aww, but I wanted ice cream,” Patton pouted, crossing his arms as he glared at the floor.

“I know, honey,” Remy said, carding their hand between Patton’s wild curls and crouching down in front of him, “but there’s a parent-teacher conference today, and I’ve gotta be there for that."

Patton still didn't look up, gaze stubbornly fixed downward. Remy sighed, tapping their chin in thought.

"How about this?" They finally said, nodding to themselves, "I come to pick you up, and after I've talked with your teacher we call uncle Virgil and we all go to that ice cream parlor you like so much."

Patton gave them a furtive glance, and Remy could see their son's pout already start to melt away.

"The one near the dog park?" Patton asked tentatively.

"The one and only," Remy nodded, grinning.

"Can I go play with some puppies too?"

"After you've eaten your ice cream, and if it's not too late, then I don't see why not."

"Yes!!" Patton exclaimed, his previous pouting session completely forgotten as he happily jumped into his ren's arms, "I love puppies!!"

"I know you do, bud," Remy laughed, spinning their son around for a few seconds before gently putting him down, "now go get ready, you don't wanna be late for school!"

"Okay!" Patton said with a big smile, before sprinting up the stairs towards his room.

Remy sighed, shaking their head with an amused smile on their face.

Patton sure was a handful, but god if they didn't love that little ball of sunshine.

+++

After dropping Patton off, Remy got back home and officially started their own day.

They turned on the speakers and connected their phone, their favorite playlist immediately filling the house. Whistling happily along with the music, Remy set to cleaning around a little, washing the dishes and collecting some clutter from the floor with a pep in their step -they may not have been that much of a morning person and have the habit to curse their alarm to hell and back almost every single morning, but there was something calming in their routine that they wouldn’t trade for anything else in the whole world.

After their little spring cleaning was done, they grabbed their sketchpad, laptop, and tablet and half-sprawled themselves on the couch, letting the music wash over them as they set to work on their most recent commission.

When they got up again, it was way past noon and their stomach was very much protesting the lack of lunch. Groaning, Remy put aside their work and stood up, stretching their arms into the air and sighing when some very satisfying popping sounds came from their back. Humming, they moved to the kitchen, enjoying a quick lunch as they idly scrolled down their phone -and sent a quick message to Virgil, telling him to keep his afternoon free for an ice cream trip.

Panic!AtTheEmo: will do, can’t wait to see my favorite person in the whole world

Panic!AtTheEmo: oh and you too ig

Remy let out a snort, typing out a response as they moved to fill their third cup of coffee for the day -they were trying to cut their caffeine intake, but it was a work in progress.

SassyBitch: how very much dare you

Then, they put down their phone and got back to work, setting an alarm to alert them after another two hours -it would do no good to have promised their son ice cream only to completely miss the parent-teacher conference, after all.

+++

Emile sighed, slouching back on his chair as another mother filed out of the classroom with her child in tow. He loved his job, he really did -interacting with the children, even the rowdiest ones, almost always brought a smile to his face and fondness in his eyes- but dealing with the parents was always more tiring that he would like it to be.

Set on enjoying the few minutes of peace before the next parent came in, Emile stood up and stretched his arms upwards, letting out a satisfied hum when some popping sounds reached his ears.

Then, he heard the door open again.

“Mr. Picani!” someone squealed, Patton’s very familiar voice his only warning before a blue blur tackled his leg with an excited squeal.

“Patton!” Emile laughed, before registering someone else’s calling the kid’s name at the same time -one of Patton’s parents, he presumed.

“Patton, you can’t tackle people like that, we’ve talked about this!”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Emile said, kneeling down to give Patton’s nose a little boop - he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face when Patton let out a delighted giggle. The kid was just too adorable not to. “I could never refuse one of Patton’s pattoned hugs.”

“Fair enough,” came a chuckle from over them, making Emile finally look up to greet the newcomer -only to feel himself freeze on the spot, eyes widening slightly as he felt his heart make a little jump in his chest.

“Oh fuck they’re hot,” was the only coherent thought inside Emile’s head as he took in the black leather jacket, black hair framing a very, very handsome face and a pair of gorgeous, deep brown eyes staring back at him from behind a pair of sunglasses.

Yes. Sunglasses. Inside. Emile was too busy having a mini gay crisis to care too much right now.

“Uh-” he said, very eloquently, before scrambling to stand and try to get back some of his composure as he worked very hard on fighting down the blush currently threatening to take over his face -if because of embarrassment or a gayness overload, he was still too busy panicking to figure it out.

“Hello!” Emile said, voice jumping an octave higher as he threw a hand forward to shake, “I’m Emile Picani, Patton’s teacher -How do you do?”

“Nice to meet you,” the other grinned, “Remy Astoreth, I’m-”

“They’re my ren!!” Patton interjected, eyes sparkling as his grin seemed to widen even more.

“That I am,” his ren -Remy- chuckled, briefly kneeling down to scoop Patton in their arms, “so, I hope Patton has been behaving in class?”

“Oh, he’s a literal angel,” Emile sighs, a smile stretching automatically on his face, “he’s always so kind and sweet, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen him helping his classmates. Your son is a joy to work with, Mx. Astoreth, there’s nothing bad I could say about him if I tried.”

“That’s very good to hear,” Remy said, grinning as their son giggled at the praise, “and please, none of that “Mx. Astoreth” thing -it makes me feel old. A cutie like you can absolutely call me Remy.”

Emile squeaked, cheeks burning as he froze like a deer caught in the headlights -not that Remy was much better, the confident expression they had been wearing until that moment melting away in barely-concealed panic as what had just come out of their mouth started to set in.

“Shoot, sorry!” they exclaimed, trying not to jolt the kid in their arms too much in their panic, “I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable, oh my gosh, that was totally uncalled for, I usually have a much better filter-”

“No, no!” Emile interrupted their rant, clearing his throat as he gave the other a tentative smile, “it’s okay, really. I, um, didn’t mind, Mx. Ast- Remy.”

“oh- oh!” Remy grinned, before looking away, cheeks aflame, “great, that’s, uh, great.”

Too caught up in their own embarrassment, none of them noticed the little stars quite literally dancing in Patton’s eyes, hands pressed on his mouth to stop a squeal from coming out.

+++

Remy managed to keep their composure up until their scheduled meet-up with Virgil. They managed to keep themselves together -even if only barely, if Virgil concerned glances were anything to go by - all throughout their usual greetings, the quick ice-cream trip and letting Patton roam around to pet dogs, with the promise to not stray too far off.

Then -when their son was finally out of earshot- they finally lost it.

“Holy shit I’m so fucking gay-” they shouted-whispered as they hid their reddening face in their hands. Beside them, Virgil startled, sending his ice cream flying and splattering on the ground.

“A warning next time would be nice, thanks,” he grumbled, throwing a mourning look to his now inedible ice cream.

“Sorry,” Remy said, not looking very apologetic as they peeked at him from between their fingers, “I’ll buy you another one when I’m done having a crisis.”

“You’re an absolute disaster of a person,” Virgil sighed, slouching back on the bench they were sitting on as he ignored the withering glare Remy sent his way, “anyway, care to elaborate? All I know is that you got out of that parent-teacher thing looking like you had just seen a fucking ghost or something.”

“Seen an angel, more like,” Remy muttered.

“... Remy, did you get the hots for your son’s teacher?” Virgil asked in disbelief, barely fighting down a snicker as Remy whipped their head out of their hands to glare at him full force -which would have maybe been intimidating, had it not been for the raging blush covering their cheeks and ears.

“Oh my god, you do!” Virgil grinned, obviously delighted by the sudden turn of events. “Spill. Now.”

“V, I don’t even know where to fucking start,” Remy said “he was just so sweet and polite -Patton introduced me as his ren and he didn’t even blink? Like, immediately used the right pronouns, nothing of that misgendering bullshit.”

“I already like him.”

“I know, right?!” Remy grinned, pushing on with their story -they were not gushing, no ma’am, Remy Asthoreth does not gush, what are you on about. “And he’s so cute?? Like, pastel hair and sweater cute, and he had freckles!! Freckles, V, and also apparently he adores the shit out of Patton which is even worse because I’m way too gay for this! I’m gonna die of gay overload and I’m not even angry about that.”

Virgil raised his eyebrows, blinking. “Oh wow, you really are smitten.”

“Shut your fuck,” Remy grumbled.

“You wish,” Virgil snickered, “so got any plans on how to woo this sweet angel of yours? What’s his name, by the way?”

“Emile,” Remy answered, slumping, “and I don’t know if I even want to pursue this, honestly -he’s my son’s teacher, for crying out loud!”

Virgil hummed. “Well, at least you already know Patton likes him. That’s one less thing to worry about, don’t you think?”

“I guess, but still-”

“You could invite him for dinner at our house!” Patton’s voice piped up from behind the bench, startling the both of them and sending Remy almost with their ass on the ground.

“Patton!” Remy squeaked, blush returning full force as they looked at their son’s innocent grin, “honey, what are you talking about?”

“You should invite Mr. Picani over for dinner!” the boy repeated, grin widening even more, “and then you can kiss and be in love and get married and then he’ll become my papa!”

Silence fell on the little group.

Then, Virgil rolled out of the bench onto the ground, wheezing in laughter as Remy let out a strangled noise, cheeks flushing with a blush so vibrant it could probably be spotted even in pitch darkness.

Patton tilted his head to the side, clearly confused, before shrugging bouncing back towards a little group of dogs to pet them. “Adults are weird.”

+++

Remy knew their son had inherited some of their stubbornness. They’d just never realized just how much, until the kid decided that his only goal for the school year would be to set his ren and his favorite teacher together.

It was almost cute, really, to see him continuously drop some not-so-subtle hints about them going to lunch together -that is, if the simple thought of a lunch date actually happening didn’t reduce Emile to a stuttering mess and Remy to the best imitation of a red tomato the world had ever seen.

(Virgil found the entire thing hilarious, of course. Watching his best friend struggle with their hopeless crush on the cute teacher was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes -getting systematically pushed down from the couch by said best friend was a price he was more than willing to pay if it meant he could keep his front seat for the whole she-bang.)

This all went on for literal months, with Patton trying to “subtly” push two of his favorite adults together while said two adults seemed to lose any apparent braincell in their possession as soon as they were in proximity of each other.

Then, tired of playing nice, Patton got out the big guns.

“Ren?” he said one day, not looking up from his coloring book, “if you don’t stop being silly and go to lunch with Mr. Picani, I’ll tell him about the Doctor Incident.”

From the kitchen, Remy let out a startled sputter, fumbling with the pan in their hands as a now-familiar heat started spreading on their cheeks.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Would I?” Patton asked, blinking his big blue eyes at his ren.

Remy groaned, pinching the bridge of their nose. “You’re spending too much time with uncle Virgil.”

Patton simply gave them a dazzling grin, going back to coloring.

+++

Remy -who wanted to keep some of their dignity, thank you very much- did end up asking Emile to lunch the following day, much to Patton’s delight. And you know what? It went even better than they could’ve ever imagined. They talked, they laughed, enjoying the meal and each other’s company with smiles on their faces and warmth in their hearts.

That afternoon, Remy bought their son an ice cream to celebrate -and to silently thank him, since they knew that, without Patton’s constant meddling, they would’ve never gathered the courage to actually ask Emile out.

Fast forward one month -and many other cute dates- later, the two were still going strong, and Emile had grown to become a beloved constant in the Astoreth household.

Like right now, for example.

Remy and Emile were sprawled on the couch, a bottle of wine and two empty plates sitting on the coffee table in front of them. They were enjoying a quiet night in, with Patton spending the night at his uncle Virgil’s place.

Emile let out a contented hum, his head resting on Remy’s legs as his partner gently cradled a hand through his hair. He could feel the four or five glasses of wine buzzing in his blood, leaving him feeling tipsy in the best way. He felt relaxed, at ease, and for the first time, Emile couldn’t feel an ounce of anxiety about being alone at home with someone he was undergoing a romantic relationship with.

For the first time since he could remember, there was no pressure, no expectations, no voices in the back of his head sounding so much like his parents telling him to just stop being such a prude, that he was just leading Remy on and that if he didn’t get over it already then they would leave him for sure, just like everyone else did.

Just like Aaron did.

Emile couldn’t help the little pang of hurt in his chest even after all these years, a tiny, dejected sigh leaving his lips without him even noticing. In some ways, Remy reminded him a lot of Aaron, with their witty humor and flirty, sweet advances -he probably had somewhat of a type, Emile mused as a tiny smile tugged at his lips.

He just hoped Remy wouldn’t walk away too when they finally learned the truth about him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Remy suddenly piped up, startling the man in their lap.

“Uh?” Emile answered, much eloquently.

Remy snickered, and Emile felt a dopey smile form on his lips at the sound. “You were looking pretty deep in thought, babe. Wanna share with the class?”

“I was just, uh, thinking about some things,”  Emile said, looking to the side.

“Good things or bad things?”

“... yes?”

Remy snorted, shaking their head with a fond smile. “Fair enough. But please remember that if you need to talk I’m here, okay?”

Emile nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak -he felt as if there was a lump in his throat, his feelings and thoughts running wild in his head and making him feel dizzy as his heart beat wildly in his chest.

Emile was not stupid, he knew very well he had fallen hard and fast for Remy. And how could he have not? They were always so sweet and considerate, showering him with compliments and affection and never raising a single eyebrow at Emile’s quirkier habits and enthusiastic personality.

Emile didn’t regret it, not one bit. He loved Remy, and that was not something he could -or was willing to- change.

Which made the prospect of sharing his secret much more terrifying.

Unfortunately for him though, tipsy-Emile seemed to have even less of a filter than sober-Emile, and his mouth opened before his brain could properly register what he was about to say.

“I’m ace,” Emile blurted out, slapping a hand on his mouth immediately after.

Oh my gosh what the heck did I just say?!, he mentally yelled, bracing himself for whatever Remy would say.

He did not expect the soft laugh that reached his ears, the hand carding his hair not stopping its ministration as Remy didn’t even look up from their phone.

“Nice,” they said, leaving their boyfriend completely dumbfounded.

Emile stared, feeling his already-sluggish brain metaphorically break in his head as he tried to make sense to Remy’s nonchalant attitude. “What?”

Remy glanced down at him, a teasing smile dancing on their lips. “Hun, do you know what happened last time I slept with someone?”

Emil cocked his head to the side, clearly confused. “No?”

“Patton happened.”

Emile blinked. And blinked some more. And then-

“Wait, do you mean-” he suddenly said, eyes widening in realization as he shot up from Remy’s lap, “you gave birth to Patton?!”

“...Yes?”

“Oh,” Emile said, flopping back down, “alright, a lot of things make more sense now, okay.”

Remy snorted, shaking their head as their shoulders shook in time with their laugh. “You’re really something else, Mr. Picani.”

Emile hummed, feeling as if he’d gotten a huge weight off of his shoulders as he cuddled closer to his partner.

A comfortable silence fell over the two, interrupted only by the occasional car driving through the neighborhood as they simply enjoyed each other’s presence.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”