#its just a matter of who can out wait who

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello!! If you’re still taking requests I’d love to see a Nanami x Reader fic where the reader is pregnant but doesn’t realize yet but I’d like showing OBVIOUS symptoms and for Nanami to start to catch on to them, I don’t know if that’s like weird? 😭 Also I hope you’re doing good!!

THIS. IS. EVERYTHING.

Yeah, we're doing this right now

Nanami realizing you're pregnant before you do

Pairing: Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,2k

Synopsis: well, basically the request above hehe

Warnings: I mean, reader is pregnant lol, fluff fluff fluff, Nanami is just the greenest flag I can't, please tell me you enjoy this as much as I do, I LOVE THAT MAN

Lately, everything feels… off.

It's subtle at first. Mornings are harder than they used to be, a strange kind of sluggishness that lingers in your limbs no matter how much coffee you drink after waking up. Your back aches at the most random times. And don't even get started on the nausea that strikes out of nowhere, leaving you clutching the bathroom sink with trembling hands.

But, still, it doesn’t cross your mind - not at first.

Nanami’s been noticing though. He’s always been perceptive, sharp in the way he observes the world, but lately, his focus seems to rest more on you. It starts with the small things: a subtle glance as you push your breakfast away with a grimace, the way his brow furrows when you wince, pressing a hand to your lower back. He doesn’t ask you about it immediately, and you’re grateful for that. Nanami doesn’t rush things, never has. He knows you well enough to wait until the right moment.

Today, however, something is different.

It’s a quiet Saturday morning. You’re both in the kitchen, sunlight streaming through the curtains in soft beams. Nanami’s making coffee, his movements precise as always, while you sit at the kitchen table with your hands wrapped around a cup of ginger tea. You’ve been craving that instead of coffee these days, the rich scent of the brew turning your stomach in a way it never used to. To be honest, you’ve never been a tea drinker your whole life.

He’s noticed that too.

You yawn, stifling the sound behind your hand as you stretch in your chair. There’s a strange heaviness in your body, and the thought of going back to bed, even after a full night’s sleep, is oddly tempting. It’s the third time this week that the idea of a nap has crossed your mind before noon. You blink hard, forcing your eyes to focus, and turn to Nanami, who’s watching you over the rim of his cup.

“Are you feeling alright?” he questions, his tone neutral but his eyes searching.

“Yeah, why?” you respond, but your voice lacks its usual energy.

Even to your own ears, it sounds tired. You clear your throat and offer a small smile, hoping to brush off the question as well as the wave of concern that starts bubbling up your chest all over again.

“I’ve just been a little out of it lately, that’s all.”

Nanami places his cup down on the counter, his gaze never leaving your face.

“You’ve been ‘a little out of it’ for a while now, darling.”

There’s a weight to his words, a quiet concern that has your defenses rising instinctively. You sit up straighter, forcing a more convincing smile this time.

“I’m fine, really. Just tired. It’s probably work.”

It’s true, to some extent. Work has been stressful, the usual demands piling up, but this exhaustion feels… different. It’s deeper, sinking into your bones in a way that no amount of rest seems to fix.

Nanami doesn’t say anything right away, but you can feel him assessing you. His silence is almost louder than words. You know he won’t push you to talk, but his patience, the way he waits for you to come to your own conclusion, can be just as insistent.

You sigh, leaning back in your chair and rubbing at your eyes. There’s no way you’ll get out of this situation, not when your beloved boyfriend sits opposite of you with his calm but demanding orbs staring straight through your soul.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m coming down with something?”

It’s a flimsy excuse, and you both know it. But before you can think of anything else to say, a wave of nausea hits you hard and fast, making you lurch forward. You press a hand to your mouth, eyes wide as the world tilts just slightly. Oh god, not again.

Nanami is at your side in an instant, his hand on your back, warm and grounding.

“Hey, hey… breathe,” he murmurs gently, his thumb rubbing small circles against your spine.

“It’s okay. Just breathe.”

You close your eyes and focus on the rhythm of your breathing, counting each inhale and exhale until the nausea begins to subside. Slowly, you sit back, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. The embarrassment is hot on your face, and you can’t quite meet Nanami’s eyes.

“I’m fine, Kento”, you mutter, though you can tell it sounds unconvincing.

Nanami’s hand is still on your back, his touch firm yet gentle. He doesn’t say anything, not yet. You know he’s waiting, giving you space to figure out what’s going on. But even through your haze of denial, a part of you knows the truth is starting to unravel.

“Does this happen often?”

His voice is calm, but there’s an undercurrent of something more. Something you can’t quite place.

You swallow hard, not sure how to answer.

“It’s just been the past couple of weeks,” you admit quietly.

“I think it’s stress. Maybe some kind of stomach bug?”

Nanami’s brow furrows slightly, and he crouches down beside your chair, his eyes searching your face with that same quiet intensity.

“Are there any other symptoms?”

Your mouth opens to say no, but then you stop, thinking back over the past few weeks. The tiredness, the nausea, the strange sensitivity to smells, your shifting moods - small things you’d brushed off or tried to ignore. But now, all at once, it feels like they’re adding up, slotting together in a way that you hadn’t considered before.

You glance down at your hand, the one resting on your stomach, and something inside you clicks.

Oh.

Oh.

Nanami must notice the shift in your expression because his hand stills on your back.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice low and steady.

You swallow hard, the words catching in your throat before you finally manage to speak.

“I think… I might be pregnant.”

There. You’ve said it. And the weight of those words hangs heavy in the air between you, a truth you hadn’t been ready to acknowledge until now.

Kento doesn’t react immediately. His expression stays calm, though you can see the flicker of something in his eyes - surprise, perhaps, or maybe something more. Did he already suspect this? Is this why he pushed you to think about your symptoms further? Slowly, he straightens up, standing in front of you now as he takes a deep breath.

“Are you sure?”

You shake your head, feeling a little lost.

“I’m not. I… I hadn’t really thought about it until just now.”

The truth is, you hadn’t considered the possibility at all. With everything going on - work, life, the general busyness of existing, it hadn’t crossed your mind that this could be the reason behind everything you’ve been feeling.

But now that it’s out in the open, you can’t help but wonder how you missed the signs.

Nanami’s hand gently cups your chin, tilting your face up so that you’re looking at him. His gaze is steady, calm in a way that grounds you, just like always.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions yet,” he says quietly.

“But if you think there’s a chance…”

You nod, your throat suddenly tight.

“Yeah. There might be.”

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The air between you feels thick with unspoken emotions, a quiet understanding settling between you. Nanami steps closer, his hand moving from your chin to cup your cheek instead, his thumb brushing against your skin.

“We’ll figure this out,” he murmurs, his voice soft.

“Together.”

The sincerity in his words washes over you, bringing with it a flood of emotions you hadn’t realized you were holding back. You blink, your vision blurring slightly as you reach up to cover his hand with yours.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nanami’s expression softens, and he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I know. But whatever happens, we’ll face it together. I promise” he mutters against your skin.

You nod, your heart swelling with a mix of fear, uncertainty, and something else, something warmer, softer. You aren’t alone in this. No matter what happens, you have your boyfriend by your side, steady and unshakable.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours again.

“Do you want to take a test?” he asks, his voice careful, as if he’s gauging your readiness.

You hesitate, biting your lip.

“I… I don’t know. Maybe? I mean, I guess I should, right?”

Nanami nods, but he doesn’t push.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

The idea of taking a test feels overwhelming, like it would make everything real in a way you’re not sure you’re prepared for. But at the same time, the uncertainty is starting to weigh on you, the not knowing gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you try to gather yourself. When you open them again, Nanami is still there, watching you with that quiet patience you’ve come to rely on so much.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice trembling just a little.

“Okay. I’ll take a test.”

Nanami squeezes your hand gently, a reassuring presence beside you.

“I’ll go get one,” he offers, his tone calm and matter-of-fact, like he’s suggesting something as simple as picking up groceries.

You nod, feeling a little more settled now that a decision has been made.

“Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

He leans down, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back.

“I’ll be back soon.”

With that, he grabs his keys and heads for the door, casting one last glance over his shoulder before he slips out into the hallway.

Once he’s gone, the quiet of the apartment feels almost too loud. You sit there for a long moment, staring at the cup of tea in front of you, your mind racing with thoughts you can’t quite hold onto.

Pregnant. You might be pregnant.

The idea feels too big, too surreal to grasp, and yet it’s there, lingering just at the edge of your awareness. A part of you is scared, terrified of the changes this could bring. But another part, a part you’re only just beginning to acknowledge, feels something else. Hope, maybe? Excitement? It’s hard to tell.

All you know for sure is that everything feels different now, that your whole life will be turned upside down if this test comes out positive.

When Nanami returns a short while later, test in hand, you take it from him with trembling fingers. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a small, reassuring nod as you disappear into the bathroom.

The minutes that follow are some of the longest of your life. You pace back and forth in front of the sink, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for the results. The silence feels deafening, and all you can do is focus on your breathing, trying to keep yourself calm.

Finally, the time is up. You glance down at the test, your breath catching in your throat as you read the result.

Positive.

You stare at it for a long moment, your mind struggling to process what you’re seeing. And then, slowly, the reality starts to sink in.

You’re pregnant.

With shaking hands, you open the bathroom door to find Nanami standing just outside, waiting. He looks up at you, his expression calm but expectant.

“Well?” he asks quietly.

You swallow hard, your voice catching in your throat as you hold up the test.

“It’s positive.”

For a moment, Nanami doesn’t say anything. His eyes flicker to the test in your hand, and then back to your face, his expression unreadable. And then, slowly, he steps forward, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle, grounding embrace.

“We’re going to be okay,” he murmurs against your hair.

“You’re going to be okay.”

And somehow, with his arms around you, you really believe him. Maybe you will be able to work this out. After all, you have none other than Kento Nanami by your side, right?

“Kento…”, you begin, the flood of sniffs and wild emotions now slowly but surely calming down.

“What is it, darling?”

“Did you…did you know?”

He sends a small smile your way while gently stroking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I couldn’t be sure. But after seeing you like this for a couple of weeks now, I had some suspicions”, he admits quietly.

You let out a huff.

“I can’t believe you realized it earlier than I did.”

“You are my life, (y/n). I notice every little thin about you.”

“And now you’ll be the father of a child”, you breathe out.

The words still feel strange while rolling off your tongue. Kento Nanami will be a father – the father of your child.

You are pregnant.

This is real.

“And I couldn’t ask for a better mother for my child.”

Tags:

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[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Vox Kink Headcanons

Personal kink headcanons for my beloved tv man Vox. Not doing the more obvious/universally accepted kinks. Instead I'm writing about some of my more... niche takes.

WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader, but is AFAB for the last section; all the kinky shit obviously; Valentino mention (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Domestic Kink ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

For those who don't know, a domestic kink is being turned on by doing everyday couple things. Things like cooking, cleaning, that type of thing. Vox basically gets turned on by you two being a couple and taking care of each other. The man is so love starved he just gets sent to another planet by those simple everyday shows of affection.

If you start helping Vox get dressed in the mornings, he will melt into a puddle. Every. Time.

It started simple enough, Vox was in a rush so you thought to help him put on his coat. Sliding it onto him, adjusting the collar, straightening his bowtie... You didn't notice how still he went until you went to fix his sleeves and you looked up into his wide, almost feral eyes.

Vox desperately crashed his lips against yours as he pulled your bodies flush together causing you to squeak. Only then did you feel how hard you had made him as he grinded into you... Needless to say, Vox had to reschedule his entire morning.

Vox will come home to you cooking dinner and just bend you over the counter. Whispering in your ear, 'Your so sweet doing this for me, Sugar. Now let me take care of you."

I have had the scenario floating around of you making Vox breakfast in bed one morning just as something nice to do for him. You dont think too much of it, he has been so tired and overworked lately so you figure any extra sleep he can get would do wonders for him

Vox however, absolutely fucking loses it. When you wake him up with tray in hand, he... just kind of stares at you. What do you mean you already made breakfast? Wait you have breakfast? For him? For him in bed?

You actually thought the man might have bluescreened. It takes you setting the tray down and grabbing his hand before he starts moving again.

Vox pulls you into his lap and starts peppering kisses all over you. He just cant believe that this is actually happening; that your here with him, that you did such a sweet thing, and oh god does he love you so much.

He actually is daydreaming about it the rest of the day and bragging about it whenever he can.

Comes home early that evening just to surprise you and spend a romantic evening together (totally not because he accidentally pent himself up gushing over you all day ABSOLUTELY NOT).

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Recording/Being Recorded ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

(This one might not be a niche take but I'm putting it here anyway cause I want to yap about it)

I wasn't quite sure if there was a specific name for this kink. But what I mean by this is Vox loves to specifically record you two having sex. Like an amateur porn thing. However. These videos are meant for his eyes only.

Vox would murder anyone who so much as tried to get their hands on these videos. God help them if they actually saw one. Its not even a matter of honor or anything, its a matter of only Vox is allowed to see you come apart like that. Vox is the only one allowed to hear you make those sounds.

Vox honestly isnt going to even bring this whole 'recording you two' thing up unless he trusts you completely. Even then he is super sheepish the first time he asks about it. Vox knows your going to be suspicious and, yeah, you rightfully are due to his association with the porn moth.

It takes a bit of prodding for you to get out of Vox that he sees it as a different way to enjoy you. To experience you. He will get to see your beautiful body at angles he never could while he plows into you. He can finally see the look of pure ecstasy on your face as he eats you out, diving his tongue as far into you as it can go.

Vox is over the moon when you finally agree to let him place a camcorder in your shared bedroom.

You viscerally notice how much more relaxed and strangely content Vox seems to be next time you two have sex. Vox always had this certain tension to him and its just... gone now.

What you don't realize is that 'tension' was Vox's underlying fear of how transient you were. He was always trying to absorb as much of you as he could, to memorize every part of you. But now he felt like he could truly let himself enjoy the moment knowing that he will be able to listen to your heavenly sounds on repeat, analyze every little twitch he causes, and fully see every expression you make.

A deep, deep, dark part of Vox want to tell Valentino to cancel every shoot he has for a day. To reserve the studio just for you two. To spend an entire day taking you in every way imaginable. Bringing you to bliss in every messy way he possibly can. Getting you to make every obscene noise that beautiful voice of yours can make.

But Vox knows that he could never trust Valentino to not make a copy of you two for himself. So he will stick to his amateur recordings. Anything to keep you safe and to himself.

Whenever Vox is missing you at work (or whenever he gets a free moment honestly), he starts watching back one of your now countless sex tapes. He will let the odd feeling of comfort wash over him as he sees the adoring looks you give him and hears you two exchange words of love. God, he can't wait to get back home to you.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Cock Warming ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

OKAY. I think I've gotten the point across that Vox is a certified lover boy™ who basically wants to imbibe your very being. Whelp. This is just more of that.

Don't get me wrong, Vox loves sex. Sex is great. But having you on his lap, his cock inside you, the two of you as close as two beings can physically get, and just- enjoying that... It hits differently you know?

Say its due to his mechanical nature all you want, (insert joke about 'plugging in' here) but Vox loves to feel like you two are truly connected. When your bodies actually become one like this, he is just that much closer to perfect.

As stated previously, will let you sit on his lap and cockwarm him anytime you please. Vox's absolute favorite times are when he has to do work ironically. He can never stop the blissful smile he makes as he has you in his lap. Vox will gently hold you with one arm while the other tries to get work done. You always end up giggling whenever you kiss up the side of his neck or monitor and Vox lets out the most contented sighs.

Honestly, just start going to work with him, becoming his personal cocksleeve whenever he is in his monitor room. A blanket draped over the two of you to hide what's actually going on.

Since the poor guy has no choice but to sleep on his back; you can easily do the same thing for bedtime. Climb on top of him and delicately slide him inside of you. Vox will just look up at you with the most lovedrunk expression as you bend over him and nuzzle into his neck, your body draping over his, and Vox pulling you impossibly close as you both fall asleep.

Its times like this that Vox questions why anyone would even need heaven.

[lee-laurent]

All Wrong - Luke Hughes

Summary: Jack needs some help from Sadie, but Sadie finds another Hughes brother much more interesting.

content: fluff, angst, fake dating, kissing, making out, teasing, dirty jokes, underage drinking

wc: 11.6k

notes: HERE IT IS! MY LONGEST FIC EVER!!!! enjoy!!

"Sadie, it's not like I'm asking you to marry me. It's just for the summer so she leaves me alone," Jack pleaded from his spot on the girl's couch.

"Just tell her you're not interested or that you have a girlfriend. This seems overboard."

"That won't stop her. Trust me."

"Then why would me being there change that?"

"You're intimidating, Sadie. You'll look at her once and she'll run home like a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs."

"Jack..."

"Sadie, please! Didn't you say your parents had been on your ass about having a boyfriend? See this could benefit both of us."

"I-"

"Sadie!" Jack's tone had shifted from being teasing to almost desperate. "You don't get it! This girl... she doesn't take 'no' for an answer. Trust me... I've tried."

Sadie crossed her arms over her chest, settling further into the couch. "So your brilliant plan involves be pretending to be madly in love with you instead? Egotistical much."

"Shut up. If you're there, she'll see we're serious and she'll back off."

"And you don't think this is going to backfire? Or, I don't know, create a whole mess of awkwardness between us?" Sadie tilted her head, waiting for his response.

"It'll be fine. We're friends, right? We've kissed when we were drunk. We can handle a little fake dating for a few weeks. Plus, the thing with your parents... win-win?"

She sighed, feeling like she was fighting a battle she was gonna lose no matter what. She had mentioned it in passing--how her parents were always asking why she wasn't dating anyone. But this? Fake dating Jack? It sounded like the plot of a rom-com gone wrong.

"I don't know, Jack."

"Look, we'll just keep it simple. I won't make it weird, I promise. We'll hang at the lake house, do the whole 'couple' thing, and by the end of the summer, it's done. You're free. I'm free. And maybe we can get a few laughs out of it."

It sounded insane. Jack was her friend--her close friend--and she could see in his eyes how desperately he wanted her to say yes.

"You really think this will work?"

"Trust me. She'll be running away by the end of the first week."

With a heavy sigh, she finally nodded. "Fine. I'll do it. But you owe me."

"Deal! I owe you big time! But you won't regret this, Sades. It's going to be great!"

She wasn't so sure. It felt so much more complicated than Jack was letting on.

~~

A couple weeks later, Sadie found herself standing on the driveway of the Hughes' lake house. She was standing next to Jack, picking at the chipped nail polish on her fingers. She genuinely felt like she could puke.

"Relax, Sadie," Jack grinned, holding their suitcases. "It's gonna be great."

She narrowed her eyes, but didn't respond. His grin didn't falter, and he motioned with his head for her to walk toward the house. The second her foot hit the first step, the door flew open and Ellen came out with a smile on her face. A smile scarily similar to Jack's.

"You must be Sadie! It's so nice to meet you," she said warmly, wrapping the 21-year-old in a tight hug.

"Oh, uh, yeah. That's me," Sadie stammered, trying to return the hug without looking too awkward. It was one thing to pretend around Jack and whoever this scary neighbour girl was, but in front of his family was a whole other can of worms. It felt so much more real.

"We're so excited to have you here! Jack never stops talking about you."

"Doesn't he?" Sadie smirked, turning around to glance at her 'boyfriend' who was pretending he couldn't hear the conversation.

Before she could ask anymore, Ellen was leading her into the home with a hand on her back. "Come in! I'm just finishing getting dinner ready, and the rest of the family should be here soon. Quinn and Jim were picking Luke up from school, so the three of them will be here around 9."

"Moose's coming?" Jack piped up, dropping their bags on the floor. "I thought he wasn't gonna make it this year."

"Changed his mind last minute. We'll all be together," Ellen grinned, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"I'm gonna show Sadie around upstairs, we'll be back down for dinner in like ten minutes."

"Sounds good. I left some fresh towels for you on Jack's bed."

"Oh. Thank you."

"No worries. You two go get settled."

Sadie followed Jack up the creaky wooden stairs, her mind still spinning from meeting Ellen. Everything about the situation felt real. Too real. Way, way too real.

"Your mom is... intense," she muttered, walking into the hallway as Jack pushed open the door to the room they'd be sharing for the summer.

"Yeah, well, that's Mom for you. She loves you already," Jack grinned, throwing himself onto the bed. He stretched out, folding his arms behind his head as if he was relaxed as ever. Like they weren't lying to his entire family.

Sadie sat awkwardly on the foot of the bed, scanning the room. It was cozy. A few posters on the walls, hockey-themed of course, and an old wooden dresser in the corner. The window overlooked the lake and Sadie thought she could fall in love with the idea of living here for the summer pretty quickly.

"So, we're sharing this bed, I take it?" she raised an eyebrow.

Jack chuckled, patting the matress next to him. "Come on, Sades. We're dating, remember? Gotta sell it."

She rolled her eyes, scooting up to sit next to Jack. "Just remember this is fake. No funny business, Hughes."

"I know, I know. Jeez. I already told you, I'm not gonna make it weird. Just for the summer. Then we're free."

She shook her head, already regretting everything. She had agreed to the plan, but now that she was there, standing in their home, sharing a bed--it all felt too close for comfort.

"Speaking of Luke. You didn't mention that your brothers were gonna be here."

"They're chill. Don't stress. Moose has been busy with shit at Umich and Quinn in Vancouver. They'll just be happy to relax. Plus, they don't usually care about talking girls and stuff. So they won't grill you. If anything, they'll give me shit for dating someone so out of my league."

"I'll believe it when I see it, Jack."

Jack snickered, standing up and walking over to the side of the bed she was on. He leaned down, his tone teasing. "Come on, Sades. Let's go down and eat dinner like a happy couple."

"You're so fucking annoying."

~~

Dinner went surprisingly smoothly. Ellen had a special way of making everything seem casual and lighthearted. Jack, of course, had been his usual... charming self, playing the role of the perfect doting boyfriend. He was good at it, touching her back lightly, pulling her chair out for her, and even dropping the occasional kiss on the top of her head.

It should've made her cringe, but instead she found it... comforting?

Ellen had asked the usual 'parent' questions--how they met, what Sadie was studying, if she liked hockey (which of course she had to answer yes to, knowing full well the consequences of not liking hockey in the Hughes household). Sadie played along, forcing herself to laugh at Jack's shit jokes and add details to the story they'd created on the drive up.

"Jack, why don't you take Sadie down to the dock and watch the sunset over the lake" Ellen suggested, clearing the table of plates. "It's beautiful tonight."

"Good idea, Mom," Jack agreed, standing up and taking Sadie's hand with a grin.

"Sure, sounds nice," Sadie forced a smile, trying not to feel awkward holding Jack's hand in front of his mother.

They walked out towards the dock, the cool air helping lift the weight of the day away. The lake stretched out before them, the water reflecting the orange and pink hues of the sunset. Sadie loved scenes like that. They brought her so much peace.

"You're doing great, by the way, Sadie."

She snorted, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I feel like I'm in some weird improv exercise. Just waiting for someone to figure out I don't belong here."

"They're not going to figure anything out," he whispered. "You've got this."

Lying to his family felt wrong, even if it was supposed to be for a good cause. Or at least a cause that Jack thought was good.

"This is going to be a very draining summer," she sighed.

"You wanna go to bed?"

"No, I need to stay up and meet your brothers and your dad."

"They'll still be here in the morning, Sades. If you want to go to sleep, nobody is gonna stop you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, come on. Let's get you some sleep."

~~

"Who's shoes are those?" Luke asked, closing the front door behind him.

"Jack's girlfriend's! You just missed her, she went to sleep about half an hour ago," Ellen smiled, pulling her youngest son into a hug.

"His girlfriend?"

"Yes! Sadie is her name. Such a nice girl. Very pretty too."

Luke looked back down at the shoes again, his mind still trying to catch up with what his mom was saying. Jack's girlfriend? The words felt so unfamiliar. Jack didn't talk about dating much, at least not in a serious way, so hearing about Sadie--a girl he apparently cared enough about to bring home--caught him so off guard.

"Yeah. Jack didn't mention much about her."

"He didn't? Oh, well, you'll meet her in the morning," she reached up to ruffle his hair, like he was still a little kid playing chase around the house with his brothers. "She's lovely. A little shy at first, but I'll sure she'll warm up to everyone. Probably just worried about making a good first impression."

Luke nodded, but inside his curiousity was growing. Shy? He hadn't heard Jack describe anyone as shy in, well, ever. Jack's type was the total opposite--bold, confident, the kind of girl that could hang with his rowdy ass friends without missing a beat. This Sadie girl was starting to sound a lot different than that.

"Well, let's get you boys fed before we all call it a night," Jim said, patting Luke's shoulder as he passed. "Your mom saved us some leftovers from dinner."

Luke followed his dad and Quinn into the kitchen, but his thoughts were still on the mysterious girl that had apparently stolen his brother's heart. Jack had never even mentioned a Sadie before and suddenly she was at the lake house. It all felt off.

~~

Sadie woke up feeling as sweaty as ever. The house had AC but Jack was like a personal heater and somehow they'd ended up spooning at some point in the night. There was a thin layer of sweat between her back and Jack's chest and she felt disgusting.

Groaning quietly, she pulled herself out of his grip, using her shirt to wipe her back. Jack was still fast asleep, the duvet kicked around his feet. Typical. Jack could sleep through a fucking earthquake.

She swung her legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom, hoping a splash of cold water would make her feel more like herself. She thought about what Jack had said last night--about how nobody would figure them out. But staring at herself in the mirror, she felt like it was written all over her face.

She didn't belong here.

She threw on the first clothes she could find, a pair of jean shorts and one of Jack's many Devils t-shirts. By the time she made her way downstairs, the kitchen was already bustling. Ellen was preparing breakfast while Jim sat at the table sipping a cup of coffee.

"Morning, Sadie! Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, thanks," she forced a smile.

"Jack still asleep?"

"Out cold."

Ellen chuckled, shaking her head. "Sounds about right."

Sadie smiled, but before she could respond, the sound of footsteps behind her caught her attention. She turned just as Luke appeared in the doorway, fresh from a morning run, judging the sweat on his forehead and the way his grey shirt clung to his torso.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Luke's eyes landed on her, sharp and curious. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her feel like he was sizing her up--not in a rude way, but in a way that made her stomach flip uncomfortably.

"You must be Sadie," he made his way further into the kitchen. "I'm Luke."

"Yeah," she extended her hand to him. "Nice to meet you."

Luke shook her head, his grip firm but brief. His blue eyes lingered on hers for a second longer than she expected before he pulled away, glancing towards the coffeemaker.

"You're the one who got Jack all domestic?" he teased, grabbing a mug. "Didn't see that coming."

She laughed softly, "I don't know about 'domestic,' but... I guess I'm the one who convinced him to bring me here."

Luke smirked, like he wasn't entirely buying it. "Yeah. I guess."

Sadie got cut off again, but this time by Quinn entering the room. "Ah, so this is the famous Sadie! Nice to finally put a face to the name."

Thank God for Quinn.

~~

Sadie sat on the dock, her feet dangling over the water, her book open on her lap. Jack and Quinn had gone to get the boat from the marina and Sadie had taken the opportunity to relax a bit.

She had laid a towel under her, Jack's t-shirt removed because she was not about to get a farmer's tan. She was basking in the sun, feeling the gentle warmth of the sun on her extremely pale skin. The world around her disappearing as she flipped through the novel. She was really enjoying it until she came to a parapgraph about suspicion. It took her right back to her interaction with Luke that morning. It was like he saw right through her, could sense all the cracks in her story. She had to be careful, maybe Luke was smarter than he seemed.

But footsteps on the dock behind her broke her train of thought. She glanced over her should, expecting to see that either Jack or Quinn had returned with the car from the marina, but it was Luke. He wasn't in the workout clothes he'd been wearing earlier, now dressed in a white t-shirt and board shorts, clearly ready for a swim.

"You mind if I join?" Luke asked, the same playful charm in his voice that Jack carried.

"Sure, it's your family's dock after all."

Luke smirked, dropping a towel beside her before sitting down, his legs also hanging over the water. He didn't say anything for awhile, just stared out over the water. Sadie went back to reading, well now she was pretending to read, her main focus being on how closely he was sitting next to her.

"So," he broke the silence. "How'd you and Jack meet?"

There it was--more lying about her and Jack. Sadie knew Luke was already suspicious of her, so she had to play her cards right. She looked up from her book, trying to keep her body language calm. "Friends. Some of his, uh, his friends go to school with me. So..."

"Friends, huh?" He was testing her, waiting for her to trip up.

"Yeah, like slow burn," she shrugged. "We hung out with a big group of friends first. You know how it goes."

Luke was silent for a moment, staring down at the waves lapping the dock. "Yeah, I guess, I do. Jack's never mentioned you before."

Sadie felt her stomach lurch, but she forced a smile. "Well, we kept things on the down-low for a while. Just us. It's still... kinda new."

"Makes sense," Luke's tone made it clear he wasn't entirely convinced. He shifted, resting his elbows on his knees, staring out at the lake again. "Just seems strange, I guess. Jack never brings girls here. And then... suddenly, you."

"I guess I'm just lucky," she swallowed harshly.

For a moment, she thought he might say something else--might press her further--but instead, he stood up and grabbed his towel.

"I'll leave you to it. Nice talking, Sadie," he walked off, completely disregarding the fact that he had clearly come out to swim. She just watched him retreat. It was clear he didn't trust her, hopefully Jack could fix that. She didn't need him figuring anything out before the trip was over. That was certain.

~~

The sound of the boat engine humming across the water was the perfect background noise on a sunny afternoon. Sadie sat on the edge, occasionally letting her fingers trail through the lake below. Jack was steering them out to the centre of the water, Quinn sat up front basking in the sun, and Luke leaned casually against the small railing on the side.

"You ever driven one of these?" Luke asked, nodding towards the steering wheel.

Sadie looked over to Jack, who was too busy concentrating on his driving to respond. She smirked, "Jack never lets anyone take the wheel. He likes to be in control."

Quinn laughed, "Sounds about right. Captain Jack, over here. Watch out Sadie or he might start asking you to call him that."

"Don't give him any ideas," she groaned, flicking her gaze back to Jack. She really hoped that the banter seemed real and not forced.

"You love it, Sades! You're just mad because you can't even drive a car for shit."

"Hey! You've never given me a chance on a boat," she shot back, standing up and making her way to Jack.

"I think I have a good reason."

Sadie placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning in closer as she laughed. It felt so strange to have to be so physically close to Jack on purpose, but she was learning to fake it well. "Maybe I'll surprise you one day."

Quinn chuckled, "Honestly, Rowdy, give her a shot. What's the worst that could happen?"

"She crashes into the dock?" Jack raised an eyebrow, still smirking, one of his hands casually finding it's way around Sadie's bare waist. She stiffened slightly at first, but relaxed quickly after reminding herself to play the part.

"I'm more worried about you crashing into the dock," Sadie shot back.

Luke, who had been silently observing the whole ordeal, cracked a grin. "She's probably better at steering than you think, Jack. You're just a control freak."

Sadie stole a glance, glad to see Luke was no longer sending any weird looks her way.

"Alright, fine," Jack sighed, turning the wheel just slightly to change course. "Maybe I'll let you drive next time. If you're lucky."

Quinn snorted, "If she's lucky? You mean if she gives you head?"

Sadie's jaw dropped, but all three Hughes brothers started laughing like it was the funniest joke she'd ever heard. God, she'd never understand men.

~~

The boat had been anchored and Sadie sat with Jack near the edge. Luke and Quinn were busy talking about who could pull off a better dive, leaving the 'couple' alone.

Sadie lowered her voice, looking around to see if the other boys were listening. "Jack, I think Luke is catching on."

"Catching on? What're you talking about?"

Sadie sighed. "Earlier today, he was asking me all these questions. It felt like he was suspicious. Like he knows this whole thing is all an act."

Jack chuckled, knocking his shoulder with hers. "Sades, he's just messing with you. Trust me, he's not suspicious of anything. That's just how he is. He's probably giving you a hard time because he knows it'll get under your skin."

She bit her lip, not fully convinced. "I don't know... I don't want him to say something to your parents or--"

"Relax," he softly grabbed her hand. "It's going fine. They all like you, and no one is doubting anything. Promise."

Sadie looked around again, but Quinn and Luke were now splashing each other in the water. "I guess you're right. I'm probably just overthinking shit."

"Exactly. Now, where's the Sadie I know? I'm not a fan of this anxious, worrywart. Where's the flirty, confident, almost scary Sadie that I became friends with?"

She just shook her head, a real smile making its way across her face. Jack leaned back, stretching his arms behind him. "Come on, Sades. Let's make the most of this. Summer is supposed to be funnnn."

"Okay," she giggled. "Let's have some fun."

She quickly stood up and cannon-balled into the lake. Luke and Quinn cheered her on, as Jack shook his head and laughed. "There's my girl!"

~~

Sadie, Jack, Luke, and Quinn sat on deck chairs around the firepit, drinks in hand. It had been a long day spent out on the water, but the fun wasn't over just yet. The laughter was now coming even easier than before with the addition of alcohol.

Sadie leaned heavily into Jack's side, his arm draped over her shoulders, her head resting on him. She finally felt like herself, carefree. Jack's closeness didn't feel awkward anymore; it felt natural, or maybe that was just the alcohol.

"Alright, Sadie," Quinn said, his speech slurred slightly. "I gotta know what it's like dating Jack? He's gotta be a pain in the ass."

"Oh, you have no idea," she teased. "He thinks he's funny. Most of the time, he's just annoying."

Jack gasped dramatically, clutching his chest with his free hand. "Wow. You wound me, Sades. I'm hilarious."

"Debatable," she quipped, running her fingers along the seam of his shirt as she settled against him more comfortably.

"Okay, but for real," Luke piped up, "how'd you two even get together? I don't think Jack has ever brought a girl here."

She glanced at Jack, who winked at her before answering.

"It just happened, I guess. We were hanging out with a group of friends, like I told you guys, and then one day... I just knew she was the one for me."

"Oh, you knew, huh? That's not how I remember it," Sadie giggled.

"What's your version, Sadie?" Luke raised an eyebrow.

"Well... Jack was chasing after me for months, trying to get me to go out with him. I was playing hard to get."

Jack cackled, "That's not how it went."

"It's exactly how it went," she shot back, her voice full of confidence. "He practically begged me to go on a date with him."

Luke and Quinn were in stitches, the banter between her and Jack clearly entertaining them. Sadie felt so much more like herself. The earlier tension she felt from Luke's questions had melted away with the first sip of vodka.

Just as Sadie was about to make another joke at Jack's expense, the sound of footsteps cruncing against gravel caught her attention. She glanced over her shoulder to see a figure making their toward them. Sadie tensed.

It had to be that neighbour girl that Jack had warned her about. The whole reason this shit was happening.

The girl strutted up to the firepit, her eyes locking on Jack like he was the only person there. She didn't even acknowledge Sadie's presence, instead giving Jack a flirtatious smile as she drew closer.

"Well, well," her tone was sugary sweet. "Didn't know you were back in town, Jack."

Sadie felt Jack also tense beside her, but he didn't move his arm from her shoulders. He smiled politely, but there was no mistaking the discomfort in his eyes. "Yes, Natalie, we're here every summer."

The girl, Natalie, flicked her bleach blonde hair over her shoulder. "It's been a while. You should come over sometime. We could... catch up."

Sadie could tell from the girl's body language that she wasn't taking no for an answer. Natalie's obvious attempt to flirt with Jack was so blatant, it was almost laughable. It would've been laughable if it wasn't so goddamn irritating.

Luke and Quinn exchanged amused glances.

Sadie straightened up, pushing her body closer to Jack's. "He's a little busy right now," Sadie's voice was low but firm.

"Oh, I'm sure Jack can make time. Can't you, Jacky?"

Sadie's blood boiled. Natalie wasn't getting the message. She glanced at Jack, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there, then made a quick decision. Without hesitation, Sadie reached up, grabbed Jack's face in both hands, and pulled him into a kiss. Not a soft, delicate one, but a full-on, heated make out session that left no room for misinterpretation. She was making sure that everyone knew who Jack belonged to.

Jack responded immediately, his hands moving to rest on her waist as he kicked her back, clearly caught up in the moment. It was all part of the act, but Sadie could feel the passion in it, the alcohol blurring the line between fake and real.

When she pulled away, breathless and bright red, she didn't even look at Jack. She instead kept her gaze locked on Natalie, who was staring at them in stunned silence.

"Like I said," Sadie's voice was full of cool confidence, "he's busy."

Natalie's face twisted into a scowl, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She shot Jack and Sadie one last frustrated look before scoffing and turning on her heel, storming off into the night like a child throwing a tantrum.

Quinn let out a low whistle. "Damn, Sadie. Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"That was brutal," Luke agreed.

She shrugged, playing it off like it was nothing, even though her heart was pounding in her chest. "She wasn't getting it. Had to make it clear."

Jack, still recovering from the intensity of the kiss, grinned down at her. "You sure did."

~~

The room spun slightly as Sadie fumbled with the zipper on her shorts, still giggling about how the night had unfolded. Jack leaned against the door, watching her with a lazy grin, the alcohol still buzzing in his system.

"That kiss though," Jack teased, his voice slurred as he kicked off his shoes. "You really sold it, Sades. I think you scared Natalie away for life."

"Good," she smirked, peeling off her shorts and tossing them aside, not bothering with modesty. She started tugging her t-shirt over her head. "She wasn't getting the hint. Had to go for the kill."

Jack's eyes flickered to her as she changed, the casualness of it all catching him off guard. He swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry as he tried not to stare. Sadie, half-naked, standing there like it was nothing--it was making his head spin even more than it already was.

He blinked, knowing he shouldn't have been distracted like that, especially when they were just playing pretend. But Sadie didn't seem to notice nor care. She was sat on the bed, running her hands through her hair, her laughter replaced by a serious expression.

"Jack. I was actually really nervous... earlier. With meeting your parents, then Luke asking all those questions, and then fucking Natalie showed up."

Jack shook off his drunken haze. He sat down beside her, trying to focus on her words and the fact that her skin was glowing under the light in the room. "Nervous? You seemed to have it under control out there."

"I was faking. Well, partly. Thought maybe Luke's questions about us were to find holes or that Quinn was part of his plan."

"Sades, I'm not sure how many times I have to tell you. Nobody is suspicious."

"I just didn't want to mess this up for you. The whole fake dating thing--it's for you, and I didn't want to fuck it all up by being... weird."

"You weren't weird. You were amazing. And that kiss? I think you might have convinced me we're really dating."

"So... no one's doubting?"

Jack shook his head, his hand brushing gently against her back. "Nope. That kiss probably wiped away any doubts that Quinn or Luke might've had. You sold it. Hell, I think Luke might've been jealous."

She smirked at the thought, "Yeah? Jealous, huh?"

Jack grinned, leaning his forehead against hers. "Definitely. You've got nothing to worry about now. We've got this."

There was a quiet moment between them. The alcohol buzz still hanging in the air, but it was softer now, replaced by something warmer, more intimate. Jack's hand slid up to her shoulder, his touch gentle as he pulled her closer.

"I'm really glad you're here."

She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. "Me too."

They lay back on the bed, neither bothering to change further. Jack's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his side as she snuggled against him. The steady rise and fall of Jack's chest beneath her cheek, lulling her to sleep.

~~

Jack and Quinn were gone for the day, some sort of offseason training session by some bigshot NHL personal trainer. The guy hadn't invited Luke, so he was stuck at the house with Sadie and his parents.

Sadie was stretched out on a towel in the backyard, basking in the sunshine, her earbuds playing some soft country music. She was enjoying her peaceful solitude.

Or so she thought.

When she turned her head slightly to adjust her sunglasses, she caught a glimpse of Luke standing on the back porch. He was leaning against the railing, looking right at her. His eyes flickered away as soon as she spotted him, but it was too late. Sadie had seen him staring.

A mischievous grin tugged at her lips.

Caught you.

Deciding to have a little fun with it, Sadie flipped onto her front, resting her chin on her folded arms. Then, with a playful smirk, she reached behind her and undid the knot on her bikini top, letting it fall loose against the towel beneath her. Luke couldn't actually see shit, but she thought it was hilarious to tease him.

After a few beats of silence, Sadie couldn't help but sneak a peek in his direction. Luke was still on the porch, but his posture was tense, clearly flustered. His eyes darted between her and the lake, like he wasn't sure where to look.

She bit her lip to hold back a laugh. Oh, this is too good.

Satisfied with the teasing, she casually rolled back onto her back and retyed her top like nothing had happened. Then she stood up, grabbing her book and towel, she sauntered back inside with a smirk tugging at her lips. She didn't need to look back to know there were still a set of blue eyes staring at her.

~~

Luke wandered into the living room, hesitating briefly at the door before walking to Sadie on the couch. His hair was still slightly damp from a dip in the lake, and he seemed almost more relaxed without Jack and Quinn there.

"Hey, mind if I sit here?"

"Go for it," she replied, looking up from her book. She shifted over to make space for him.

Luke sat down and stretched his legs out in front of him as he leaned back in an attempt to look casual. It didn't work and Sadie could still feel the tension in the air. She knew Luke was flustered about the whole backyard situation and she found it fucking hilarious.

"You're always reading," he remarked, nodding towards the book in her hands. "What is it this time?"

She raised an eyebrow and flipped the book around so he could see the cover. "I'm not 'always' reading. You've caught me reading twice. And it's just something to kill time. You know, since your brother is off pretending he's a celebrity."

"Yeah, Jack's like that. Always pretending he's the best," Luke chose to ignore her remark about him only seeing her reading twice.

"Must've been annoying growing up with him," Sadie teased.

"Oh, it was. But he's alright. Could've been worse."

The conversation continued easily from there, their voices filling the silent house with stories about their childhoods, embarrassing moments, and life in general. Luke found himself relaxing more and more as Sadie talked. She was sharp, funny, and this special energy that drew him in. The confident, teasing girl from the backyard was showing her soft side and he could see why Jack was head over heels in love with her,

Sadie yapped about her life in university, the friends she had back home in Jersey, and even some wild stories from a girls' trip to New York. Luke listened, hanging off of every word. She was cool, and not in a superficial way, but genuinely cool. She wasn't just Jack's girlfriend. She was Sadie. And she was amazing.

But with that realization came guilt.

He watched her laugh as she told a funny story, and Luke felt the pull growing inside him. He was really starting to like her. Maybe too much.

This was Jack's girlfriend. He shouldn't feel that way about Jack's girlfriend.

He knew it was wrong, but he made no effort to distance himself from her. Instead, he found himself drawn to her more and more, wanting to sit there with her, to hear her laugh again, to see the smirk that covered her face when she teased him.

"So, how about you?" she asked, snapping him from this thoughts. "What's it like being the baby? Bet Jack gave you hell."

"They both did. But especially Jack. He never, ever let me forget I was the youngest. Always had to one-up me."

"Sounds like Jack," she grinned, and Luke's smile faltered at the lovestruck look on her face at the meer mention of Jack. "Bet you're giving it right back now."

"I try." There was a brief lull in conversation and the silence that followed felt like it was charged with electricity.

Sadie held his gaze a beat longer than she should have before breaking the eye contact with a playful smile. "Well, if you ever need any tips on how to outsmart Jack, I've got plenty."

"I might just have to take you up on that."

~~

The sun lay low in the late afternoon sky making the lake look like it was sparkling. Sadie and Luke stood by the water's edge, still filling in the quiet hours without Jack and Quinn.

Sadie grinned, nudging Luke with her elbow. "Bet you can't beat me in a water fight."

"You're on."

Without warning, Sadie walked off into the water, her laugh echoing as she turned around to splash Luke. He barely had time to react before a wave of water was hitting his lower legs.

"Oh, it's like that?" Luke laughed, taking off after her.

It didn't take long before they were having a full-on war, splashing each other mercilessly. Sadie couldn't stop laughing as Luke chased her through the water. After on particularly good splash, she tried to swim away, but Luke caught up to her, his hands gripping her waist as he tried to dunk her. Sadie squealed in protest, kicking her legs.

"Let go, you cheater!" she giggled, twisting in his grip.

Luke grinned, he really liked how infectous her laugh was. But as they wrestled in the water, something shifted. His hands lingered on her waist longer than they should have. Her skin was riddled in goosebumps from the cold water, but still felt smooth under this touch, and suddenly the playful moment didn't seem quite as innocent.

Shit.

Sadie, still in the middle of laughing and trying to escape his hold, didn't seem to notice the change in him. She was completely carefree, seeing the moment for what it was--a game. But Luke wasn't feeling it anymore. His throat felt tight and pulse picked up.

His hands were still on her waist.

Luke's breath hitched, and before she could turn around and see the look on his face, he let go, stumbling backward in the water.

"You good? You're not giving up already, are you?"

Luke forced a chuckle, but it came out sounding way more like a cough. "Uh, yeah, I--uh, I think I've had enough."

Without waiting for her response, he quickly waded out of the water and back onto the shore. The evening breeze did nothing to cool his flustered state.

Sadie was still in the water, floating on her back with a smile on her face. "Aw, come on!"

He just mumbled something incoherent, grabbed his towel, and hurried back into the house without even looking her way.

~~

Luke rushed past his parents in the kitchen, heading straight for his room. He slammed the door shut behind him and flopped down onto the bed, shoving his face in a pillow. He wanted to scream, but even the pillow wouldn't muffle the sound enough from anyone downstairs.

I'm attracted to her.

The thought hit him like a freight train, the words echoing over and over again like a prayer. It wasn't just some innocent crush. He was undeniably, painfully attracted to Sadie--his brother's girlfriend.

How had he let it get this far? She was dating Jack. She was Jack's girlfriend. And yet, anytime she laughed or smiled at him, Luke felt like a fucking high schooler.

He couldn't stop it, couldn't ignore it anymore.

He hadn't meant to hold her like that in the water. It was meant to be just a harmless game, but he had taken it too far in his mind. Sadie, however, hadn't even seemed to notice. Maybe she did and she was just ignoring it. Surely that was it.

"You're such a fucking idiot, Luke," he cursed himself, but every time he closed his eyes all he could see was how perfect she had looked in that moment.

The worst part of all? He didn't want to stop feeling that way.

Even as the guilt knawed at him, he couldn't bring himself to want to distance from her. Being around Sadie felt good. It felt natural. And that scared him even more.

Suddenly, he heard laughter from the hallway outside his door. Luke froze, listening as Jack's voice joined in, low and teasing, followed by Sadie's giggles.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the guilt. But then there was a pause in the laughter. He could picture what was happening. The way that Jack was looking at Sadie. The that Sadie was looking back up at Jack with a smile on her face, maybe teasing him.

Then... the sound of a kiss broke the silence. It was soft, but it might as well have been the loudest thing that Luke had ever heard. His stomach twisted, and he tried to shove his face further into the pillow, but it was no use the couple was back to laughing.

This is wrong. It's all wrong. But as wrong as he knew it was, he couldn't deny the truth.

He was falling for Sadie. And he was falling for Sadie... hard.

~~

The whole family and Sadie were gathered around the pool table, Jim and Ellen watching from the corner, while the "kids" took their turns at the competetive game that had started.

Sadie was standing next to Jack, leaning against the wall with a gin and tonic, that her "boyfriend" had made her, in her hand. She was watching Quinn line up his shot, her eyes crinkling as she laughed about whatever it was that Jack was whispering to her about. Jack had his arm draped over her shoulders, pulling her closer as she laughed. They looked so comfortable. So perfect.

Luke stood across from them, gripping his pool cue so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Every laugh that Jack and Sadie shared, every playful nudge, felt like a stab to his gut.

"Alright, Sades, your go," Jack kissed her cheek before handing her a cue.

She leaned over the table, lining up her shot with Jack standing behind her, offering a few "helpful" tips. His hand rested on her lower back, guiding her aim. Quinn looked over at Luke, raising his eyebrows as if to say "look how suggestive he's being."

Luke just shook his head, trying to focus on the game. But all he could think about was how close and touchy they were being. And how it made his stomach churn with something that he could only guess was jealousy.

Fuck, it was so messed up.

"Luke, it's your turn," Quinn called.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, right," he blinked, shaking his head. He stepped up to the table, trying to compose himself as he lined up his shot. He missed it by a mile, the ball ricocheting off the side with a loud thunk.

"Wow, nice one, Rusty," Jack teased.

His jaw was clenched, "Guess I'm just off tonight."

Sadie didn't even notice, giggling as Jack asked for her opinion on their next move. Why were they acting like they were the only ones in the room? Was nobody else finding it annoying? Luke glanced at his mom. She was smiling at the young couple, a lovestruck look on her face. Maybe he was the only one that found it annoying.

~~

Sadie lay sprawled across Jack's bed, her phone held loosely in her hand as she scrolled through texts from her friends back home. Jack was in the shower, insisting he wash the lake water off his body. She had some time to kill and her friends, that weren't her friend group with Jack, were ready to gossip.

The Hottest Girls in Jersey Sadie, Alex, and Carly

Carly: Soooo, how's it going with Mr. NHL?? Alex: yeah, girl. spill. is he, like, actually boyfriend material or are you just having a hot ass summer fling??

Sadie rolled her eyes at their messages, biting her lip as she thought of her reply.

Sadie: it's... complicated Carly: Ugh, isn't it always lol Alex: we need details, sades. what's complicated? the sex? the family? Sadie: family's cool. his mom is like super sweet. and his brothers are... yeah Carly: Oh, brothers, huh? Now you like reallyyyyy need to spill

Sadie hesitated, glancing towards the bathroom door. She could still hear Jack humming to himself while the water ran. No way he was gonna come out and read her messages any time soon.

Sadie: okay, fine. it's not really jack. it's luke Carly: LUKE?! Alex: WAIT. WHAT. HIS BROTHER LUKE?! Sadie: yep. younger brother, but soooooo much more my type Carly: Girllllll, you're bad Alex: hold the fucking phone. is this the guy we're talking about here? what's wrong with jack, then? isn't he like the only reason you're there?

She chuckled to herself, it did kinda sound insane when she typed it all out.

Sadie: jack's great. don't get me wrong. but, luke... he's like more quiet. jack's more playful and sassy, but idk... plus i love a boy with curly hair Carly: You're catching feelings for his brother??? Holy shit, girl Alex: lmao this is legit some CW ass drama

She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Maybe it was a little ridiculous, but it was true. Luke was more her type. He was tall, not that Jack wasn't tall, but Luke was tall. He had the cutest nose and the best curls she'd ever seen. Jack was fun. Jack was easy. But Luke...

Sadie: it's not that deep. but yeah, ig i'm more into luke than jack Carly: Oooo Alex: you're fake dating jack tho, right? like what's the plan here?? Sadie: i don't fucking know!!! nothing's happened with luke, obviously. but like next time we're alone? i might see what happens ;) Carly: You are fucking INSANE, Sadie!!! Alex: if you're that desperate, you've got Jack right there...

She laughed out loud at Alex's message. She was definitely not desperate, but she still glanced to the bathroom door. The water had stopped. Jack would be out any second.

Sadie: trust me, i'm not desperate. luke's gonna be the move

Just as she hit send, Jack emerged from the bathroom, towel hung low on his hips.

"Texting the girls?" he ran a hand through his wet hair.

She slipped her phone under the pillow, a playful smile on her face. "Yeah, they were asking about you."

Jack raised an eyebrow, falling down onto the bed next to her. "All good things, I hope?"

She snorted, "Guess you'll never know."

He rolled his eyes, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. "Whatever. You were probably telling them how much of a stud I am."

Sadie smirked, though her mind was still buzzing with the excitement of what she'd just admitted to her friends. Jack had no idea, and honestly? That just made it even more thrilling.

~~

Jack bounded into the living room, his backpack slung over one of his shoulders. Sadie was sat on the couch, scrolling passively through Instagram, while Luke stood in the kitchen chugging a glass of water.

"I'm headed to the rink for a few hours," Jack announced, slapping his hand on the back of the couch, full of energy. "Got a little off-season workout with Q and some of the guys."

"A workout?" Sadie quirked an eyebrow. "You never stop, do you?

"That's what makes me so irrresistible, babe." He shot her a wink before turning to Luke. "You busy?"

Luke wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, setting down his glass. "Not really."

"Why don't you keep her company? You guys should hang out. Show her around town or something."

Luke flushed, his eyes flickering to Sadie, who was sat with an amused smile on her face. "Uh, yeah, sure."

"Perfect!" Jack leaned down and kissed Sadie's cheek. "Don't miss me too much while I'm gone, okay?"

"I'll try," she giggled, leaning into his touch but keeping her eyes on Luke.

"See you later! Have fun!"

And just like that Jack was gone.

"Well, looks like it's just us again," Sadie said, stretching dramatically.

"Yeah, guess so."

Sadie stood from the couch, tapping her finger against her lips as if she was thinking. "You know what we should do?"

"What?"

"Go for a swim! It's hot out, and the lake looks amazing."

Luke hesitated. He wasn't sure he could handle that again. But before he could come up with an excuse, Sadie was heading toward the back door.

"Come on! Don't make me swim alone. I might drown."

By the time he made it down to the dock, Sadie was standing at the edge, her back to him as she looked out over the water. She had stripped down to her bikini--a simple black one that fit her like a glove.

Luke shook his head. He had no right to stare. Jack's girlfriend, not his. Get a grip.

"Took you long enough, Luke. Thought you were going to bail on me."

"Just... taking my time." He managed a weak laugh.

"Uh-huh." She dipped her toe in the lake, testing the temperature. "Water feels amazing. Bet I can beat you in."

She dove in without even waiting for an answer. She resurfced a few feet out, shaking the water from her hair and grinning at him. "What're you waiting for?"

Luke hesitated for just a second longer before diving in after her. The shock of the cool water cleared his head. That was until he surfaced and saw Sadie floating nearby, her hair splayed around her like a halo.

"See? Told you it feels amazing."

He swam a bit closer, but decided to keep his distance. "Yeah, guess you were right."

Sadie flipped onto her stomach, treading water as she swam to him. "Relax." She nudged her shoulder with his. "You look so tense."

Her tone was light, but the promixity of them felt almost dangerous. "I am relaxed."

"Bullshit. You look like the tensest motherfucker ever," she splashed him, the water hitting him square in the face. "Come on. Loosen up."

Luke sputtered, wiping the water from his eyes. "Oh, it's gonna be like that, huh?"

"Just sayin'... life's too short to be serious all the time," her hand brushed his arm as she floated by, leaving goosebumps in her wake.

Her touch was light, casual, but it still made it so he couldn't think straight. He wanted to keep his distance, but she wasn't making it easy in the slightest.

"You and I should do this more often," she mused.

"What? Swim?"

She scoffed, "No. Hang out."

Was she messing with him? Or was she being serious? He couldn't tell with her. Her teasing had been light and innocent until now. Now every word that left her mouth felt like it had a second meaning.

"I... I don't know."

What kind of shit response was that? God, he looked like an idiot.

She swam closer to him, stopping when she was right in front of his face. "You don't know? I think you do, Luke."

He could feel her leg brushing against his and his whole body felt like it was one fire despite the cool water. He should've pulled back, but he couldn't. He was frozen.

"Ha! You're cute when you're flustered."

For a moment, he felt himself lean in, as if there was an invisible force pulling him to her. But just as quickly, Sadie pulled away, climbing back onto the dock and swaying her hips as she headed back to the house, leaving the boy completely flabbergasted.

~~

Jim and Ellen had left for a special dinner out and Jack had quickly suggested a game night, complete with alcohol and whatever games they could find in the basement. Luke had agreed, only because he knew he could drink, and that might make being in the same room as Sadie more bearable.

"Alright, team," Jack tossed a can of beer to Luke, who caught it without looking "Game night is on. Hope you're ready to lose, Qball."

"Yeah, yeah. You always say that, but I'm the one who wins."

"You guys don't stand a chance. Right, babe?" Sadie grinned up at Jack.

"You bet. Dream team right here."

Luke looked at them, all snuggled up together. He blinked a few times before chugging the rest of his beer. Jack laughed, "Alright, Lukey." He tossed him another one, getting ready to explain the rules of the game.

By the third round, Jack had pulled Sadie into his lap, his arms wrapped around her waist like a seatbelt. They were laughing, whispering inside jokes, and exchanging kisses, acting like they were the only people in the room.

Luke tried to focus on the game, but he found himself looking up to see Sadie running her fingers through Jack's hair, her other hand squeezing his thigh.

He wanted to believe that she had meant something by the little act she'd put on at the lake. But seeing her all over Jack made him feel like he'd never been so wrong. She was clearly into Jack. She didn't mean anything by it. She's just... being friendly.

So why did it feel like more?

"Can you guys like chill?" Quinn spoke up. "We're trying to play a game, not watch you two make out."

"Oh, come on, Quinn. We're just having fun," Sadie giggled.

"Yeah, don't be a buzzkill," Jack added, pressing kisses to her neck.

"There's having fun, and then there's..." Quinn paused, his voice laced with annoyance. "You're practically having sex in front of us."

"Jealous?"

"No, Luke and I just don't wanna see that."

"Whatever."

"Your turn, Luke."

"Right," he muttered, grabbing the dice and rolling it halfheartedly. The alcohol wasn't helping, dulling his senses and making everything worse. He kept glancing at Sadie, hoping for some sign that she was aware of what she was doing to him, but she didn't even look his way.

The final straw came when Jack, clearly tipsy, pulled Sadie in for a long, slow kiss right in the middle of Quinn's turn. Jack and Sadie were known by their friends for their drunk kisses, but his brothers really didn't want to see it.

"I'm done. You two aren't even playing!" Quinn threw his hands up.

"Fine, fine. We'll stop! Happy now?"

"No. I'm going to bed before I see something even worse."

"Uh, yeah, me too. Night guys," Luke nodded, following his oldest brother.

"Bedtime?" Jack laughed.

"Yeah, bedtime, I guess."

~~

Luke hadn't gone to bed. He couldn't sleep. His brain wouldn't shut up. It had been a couple hours since game night had ended and he felt more sober than he was before he started drinking. Maybe he was insane. Maybe Sadie had driven him to his breaking point. She was so goddamn confusing. And--

"Hey."

"What're you doing out here? Shouldn't you be with Jack?"

She shrugged, closing the sliding door behind her. "He's passed out. I wanted to come find you."

"Sadie, you really shouldn't--"

"I know what you're going to say. But I think you're wrong."

"Wrong?"

Sadie moved in, her hand reaching for his, her fingers tracing along his wrist. "You're overthinking things, Luke."

His breath hitched as she leaned in, her face inches from his, her lips so close he could feel her breath. He should've pulled away. He should've told her to stop.

But he didn't. He couldn't.

Instead, Luke closed the gap between them, his lips crashing against hers in a desperate, longing kiss.

She kissed him back, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. Her touch sent sparks through his body. But those sparks made reality set in.

He pulled away, his chest heaving. "No. This is wrong."

"What?"

"You need to stop," he stood up suddenly, almost making Sadie fall over. His voice was full of anger. "This... this whole thing is fucked up, Sadie. You're Jack's girlfriend."

She stared at him for a second or two before, to Luke's surprise, she started laughing.

"What the hell is so funny?" Luke snapped. "I'm going to tell him. I'm going to tell Jack everything. He needs to know what you've been doing."

"You don't get it, do you?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Jack and I aren't really together."

"What... what do you mean?"

Sadie sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's fake. The whole thing--it's just an act."

"An act? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Jack needed me to play the part of his girlfriend for the summer," Sadie explained, her tone casual as if everything she was saying was normal. "Natalie, the neighbour girl. She's obsessed with Jack. And she won't take no for answer. So he asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend so she'd leave him alone."

"So... this is all fake?"

"Yep. We've just been playing the part, that's all."

"But... you guys... you were kissing. You're all over each other."

Sadie shrugged, her smile turning sheepish. "That... that's just something that happens when we drink. No big deal."

"No big deal? You guys were making out in front of us, and you're saying it doesn't mean anything?"

"Exactly. Jack and I are close friends. That's all it is. No feelings involved," her tone was so matter-of-fact it made Luke's stomach churn. "All for show. We figured the more real it looks, the less people will question it."

"So... you don't have feelings for him?"

"For Jack? No. We're friends. Nothing more. We've been friends since he joined the Devils. And yeah, we get a bit... affectionate when we drink. But it's never been serious."

"Then why... why were you flirting with me?"

"Because, Luke... you're the definition of my type." She reached out and brushed her hand against his cheek. "Didn't think it was that hard to figure out."

"But Jack..."

"Jack doesn't care," she cut him off. "He's the one that suggested I hang out with you more. He's clueless. He only cares that I keep Natalie away from him."

"So this whole time, you've been..."

"I've been flirting with you. And you've been trying soooo hard to resist. It's kinda cute."

He had been so sure that what he felt was wong--so convinced that he was betraying Jack. Now... now he didn't know what to think.

"This is... this is insane."

"Maybe. But it's also kinda fun. Don't ya think?"

Luke didn't know how the hell he was supposed to respond to that. Everything he thought he understood had just been flipped upside down, and now he was standing there with Sadie--Jack's not-so-girlfriend--who had just admitted she'd been flirting with him for days. Part of him wanted to kiss her again. The other part was screaming at him to stop because even if they weren't dating, it still felt like he was lying to his brother.

"I... I don't know what to do."

"Don't have to do anything. Just think about it, I guess. I'm not going anywhere. Jack's got me stuck here for a while."

She winked, turning toward the door, leaving Luke alone with his thoughts once again.

~~

Jack was up, chatting with his parents over breakfast, Sadie sat next to him looking as carefree as ever. Luke was watching her silently from across the room, his mug of coffee in his grip.

She glanced over at him and smiled like nothing had changed. But everything had changed. And Luke knew he needed to talk to her. He hated pretending things were normal when they weren't. His mind was playing the kiss on repeat and the way she'd admitted her relationship with Jack was just for show.

It all felt like a weird dream.

When Jack got up to grab some more cereal, Luke saw his chance.

"Sadie," he whispered, "can we talk? Alone?"

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jack who was now rummaging through the fridge for some milk. "Sure. Lead the way."

Once they were inside Luke's room, Sadie leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. "What's up? I see Mr. Serious is back."

"I just... I need to understand how this is supposed to work. The whole thing with Jack. You and me. All of it."

"What's there to understand? Jack's clueless. He doesn't know anything. Not that he'd care anyway."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Because it is," she shrugged. "You're overcomplicating it."

"I don't know if I can keep this up. It's driving me crazy."

"Is it? Because it didn't seem like you were too hard of a time last night on the porch."

"Fuck it," he muttered.

He grabbed Sadie by the waist, before he could second-guess himself, crashing his lips against hers in a kiss full of pent-up frustration and desire.

Sadie definitely didn't second-guess anything, kissing him back as her hands ran up to his hair. Any boundaries that Luke had tried to build had been torn down, but he didn't care. He couldn't stop.

They stumbled backward, his hands sliding down a bit to her hips. The kiss deepened, becoming more heated with every passing second. The rest of the world melted away, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing as they broke apart just to kiss again.

The bed hit the back of Luke's knees and they collapsed onto it, lips still locked. For one of the first times since Luke had met Sadie, he wasn't busy thinking about right or wrong. He wasn't thinking about Jack or the consequences of his actions. All that mattered was Sadie, the taste of her lips, and how tight her fingers were gripping his hair.

Just as things were about to heat up further, Jack's voice echoed from the bottom of the stairs.

"Sadie? You up there?"

She pulled back instantly, her lips swollen from the kiss. "Shit," she whispered. "I should... I should go."

Luke didn't say anything, his eyes half-lidded. Sadie stood up, adjusting her shirt and hair as she shot him a smile "Sorry, Luke. Duty calls."

She looked back at him one last time as she opened the door. "This isn't over."

What had he gotten himself into?

~~

It had been a couple days since Sadie and Luke had shared their first kiss, and they'd been sneaking around ever since. Little touches when no one was looking, stolen kisses behind closed doors. The more they got away with, the more daring they became.

That afternoon, Jack had been outside messing around with Quinn by the dock, while Sadie had slipped away, telling Jack she needed to grab something from inside. Luke had been alone in the house, trying to clear his head. But the second Sadie entered the living room, everything went out the window.

And suddenly, they were tangled together on the couch, lips locked. Sadie gripped the front of his t-shirt, tugging gently. It was just them in that moment, tension building higher and higher, and Luke couldn't stop himself from enjoying it.

Then the door slammed.

They pulled apart just in time to see Jack standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with shock. The expression on his face was confused, almost dazed as he stared at them.

"Uh... what the fuck?" His tone was sharp, but not angry--more like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Luke's hands fell away from Sadie as he shot up from the couch, his face flushed. "Jack, I--"

Jack cut him off, pacing the room, his eyes shooting between them as he tried to piece everything together. "How long... how long has this been going on?"

Sadie just waited for Luke to speak.

"Luke, how long?" Jack repeated.

"A couple days. It just... happened."

"A couple days? And you just didn't think to say anything?"

Luke opened his mouth to respond, but Jack's attention shifted to Sadie. "Does he know? About us?"

"Yes, Jack. I told him. He knows it's all fake."

"So... you knew? You knew it was fake, so you decided..." Jack gestured wildly between them, pacing again, his hands tugging at his hair. "I don't get it. I don't fucking get it."

"Jack, I didn't mean for any of this to happen--"

"Didn't mean for what to happen? You didn't mean to start sneaking around with my fake girlfriend? Or you didn't mean to fall for her?"

Jack wasn't yelling. He wasn't angry. He just looked... confused. Hurt, maybe? And that just made it all so much worse.

"J, listen. This whole thing--it got out of hand. Luke and I... we didn't plan this. Just happened."

"But you two... were just... you were just making out on the couch! How does that 'just happen?'"

Sadie rolled her eyes, "Just does."

"Clearly! I mean, I thought everything was fine. I thought everyone was just hanging out, and meanwhile, you two are making out on the couch?"

"I'm sorry, Jack. I..."

"I'm not mad. Just... what the hell, guys? I don't understand."

"J, it's not like that. You and I--we're just friends. You know that. This shit with Luke... it's different."

"Different how?"

"Dunno. Just is."

Finally, Jack let out a long sigh, running a hand down his face. "Okay. Okay, fine. You two... you do whatever. I just... I need a minute to process all this."

Sadie opened her mouth to respond, but Jack held up a hand, stopping her. "Seriously, just... gimme a minute. I'll be outside if you need me."

Luke collapsed onto the couch, his head in his hands as Jack retreated outside. Could this get any worse?

~~

The rest of the day had been weird and silent. Sadie had spent it journaling and reading, giving both brothers the space that they needed. But as they got ready for bed, things were the most awkward they'd ever been between Jack and Sadie. Jack moved around the room, grabbing his phone charger and tossing it onto his nightstand, while Sadie stood by the dresser, pulling a t-shirt over her head. Neither of them spoke, both waiting for the other to break the silence.

"So... are we going to talk about this?" Sadie finally gave in.

"Talk about what?"

"You know what," she gave him a look. "About you walking in on me and Luke today."

"What's there to talk about? I mean... I get it. You guys--"

"Are you jealous?" she interrupted, her voice timid. "Like, even a little bit?"

Jack blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Jealous?" He furrowed his brow. "No. I don't think so."

"Not even like... deep down?"

"Honestly?"

She nodded, urging him to continue.

"No. I don't feel jealous. I mean, maybe if I did... I'd be way more upset about it all. But.. I dunno. I've only ever seen you as a friend. Same way you see me. A close one, sure, but still... just a friend. You know that."

"Yeah, I do. But you were really thrown off earlier, Jack. You seemed so... I dunno.... confused?"

"Yeah. I think it was more just the shock of it, ya know? Didn't expect to walk in and see my brother making out with my fake girlfriend."

She let out a small laugh. "So it's not weird for you? At all?"

"I guess it's weird in the sense that... I knew that you and Luke would get along. I just didn't think you'd get along this well."

"Yeah, I didn't exactly see it coming either."

"But no, I'm not mad or anything. Honestly, I think you and Luke fit each other way better than you and me ever could. I'm just surprised... I guess."

"Surprised how?"

Jack sighed, leaning back against the headboard. "I just never thought that... bringing you here would lead to you two... doing whatever this is."

"We haven't really figured it out," she rubbed at her arm.

Sadie climbed into bed first, pulling the covers over herself. Jack followed suit, but as they lay there side by side, for the first time since Sadie had arrived, he made no move to cuddle. No arm draped over her waist. He just laid there, staring at the ceiling.

"You don't want to cuddle tonight?"

Jack hesitated, then sighed for the millionth time that day. "It's just... it feels weird now, I guess. Knowing you've been doing... stuff with Luke. It's different."

Sadie bit her lip, and for the first time she felt that guilt that Luke had been feeling. "Jack... I'm sorry. I didn't mean for things to get so complicated."

"Nah, don't worry about it. It's not like you did anything wrong... really. Things are just different now... that's all."

Jack rolled over, facing the other side of the bed, leaving a noticeable gap between them. Sadie stared at the back of his head for a moment, feelings like she should reach out and say something. But it was too late, Jack was already asleep.

~~

Sadie and Luke sat at the end of the dock. The whole day had been awkward and Sadie felt even more out of place than she had when she first arrived.

"I don't want to make this weird," Sadie said, her voice soft, but her eyes locked with Luke's. "I really like you, but if it's gonna screw up my friendship with Jack... we should stop. We have to."

"I like you too. More than I thought I would. But yeah, this whole thing with Jack... it's too complicated. I don't wanna hurt my brother. I'd feel so guilty."

"We have to end things. It's not fair to him. Or us."

"I don't want to end things though," Luke admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "This... it's not just about the physical stuff to me. I feel something with you, Sadie. Something real."

"I feel it too. But I can't mess up things with Jack, so maybe it's better if we end things now before they get more complicated."

Jack, who had been on his way back inside, had walked past and heard his friend and brother talking. He leaned against a tree, piecing together everything they were saying. His stomach turned. But it wasn't anger. Or jealousy. He wasn't upset. It was relief. Luke and Sadie really liked each other. It wasn't just some sneaky hookup. It wasn't fair to make them feel guilty for something that wasn't even real to begin with.

"Hey."

Sadie and Luke both jumped, practically leaping out of their skin.

"Jack, I--"

"You don't have to explain anything. I heard what you guys were saying. And look, it's fine. You don't have to end whatever this is."

Sadie blinked in surprise. "You're not upset?"

Jack shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. "No. I'm not. I'm actually happy for you guys."

"Happy for who?" Ellen's voice joined the conversation.

"Jesus, is everyone listening to us?" Luke whispered to Sadie.

Jim and Quinn were close behind Ellen, also curious to what was happening on the dock.

"Luke and Sadie."

"Luke and Sadie?"

"Yeah, they're in love."

"We're not in--"

"Luke's in love with your girlfriend?" Quinn asked.

"About that..." Sadie rubbed her arm awkwardly.

"Sadie and I aren't really dating. We're friends. Close friends. She was just trying to help me get Natalie off my back. And I was helping her get her parents off her back," Jack admitted.

The family stared at him for a beat, then burst into laughter.

"Are you serious? All this was just to keep Natalie away?"

"Pretty much."

Ellen, still smiling, looked at Sadie and Luke, then back to Jack. "You know, Jack... I thought from the start that Sadie was a better fit for Luke anyway."

"Looks like you this turned out well for everyone," Quinn laughed.

Luke turned to Sadie, sliding his fingers between hers. "So... now that the truth's out... what do you think?"

"I think we've got time to figure it out," she giggled, leaning her head on his shoulder. And finally after weeks of being there, Sadie felt like she belonged.

[sehaedazokla]

he that dares

part two

premise: Cregan Stark's arrival in King's Landing has brought a new type of chaos to the capital. Lady Tyrell is determined to use the Northern lord to her advantage, but the task might not be as straightforward as it seems. 

tags: slowburn, tension, angst, comfort, eventual smut, court politics

word count: 8k

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Cregan Stark finds himself with much waiting to be done. Waiting for different ravens to be sent, and then for the replies to return. Waiting for the arrival of lords whom had been summoned to King’s Landing, and for the answer of whether or not the war will continue. He seeks justice to be distributed to all those whom it should fall upon: whether they had been allies of Rhaenyra or Aegon, all parties who acted dishonorably within the conflict ought to face their rightful punishment. But what the Lord of Winterfell does not find himself waiting upon is the Lady Tyrell.

The very morning after their conversation in the gardens, Cregan pushes open the door of what had once been the small council’s meeting chambers. It has been turned into a temporary headquarters for the Northern lords who are holding court, and for the additional powers at play. While the other lords file out, discussing in hushed and heavy whispers amongst themselves about the political matters that weighed their minds, Cregan pauses.

He is the last to leave the room, pulling the heavy wooden door behind him, and his eyes drift to the girl lingering in the corner of the hall. She curtsies to a pair of lords who look up to see her, and the two men pause their conversation briefly as their eyes rest upon her, hastily bowing in return. But when her eyes meet Cregan’s, they remind him more of a hawk’s than a girl’s. As if they have landed on a mouse she intends to hunt for supper.

But just as it had been the day before, Cregan wonders if he imagined it. As she walks up to him, the expression on her face is nothing short of saccharine. She folds her hands delicately across the front of her gown – today she wears a shade of blue similar to the sky on the clearest day, with white lace at her collar and around her sleeves. There is gold silk embroidered about her waist in twisting florals, with small pink rosettes weaved in between. The dress is reminiscent of others Cregan has seen her wear, but perhaps he thinks so because of its signature plunging neckline.

“A moment of your time, Lord Stark?” Lady Tyrell’s voice floats in the air between them as clear and bright as a morning bell as she approaches. Birds can be heard chirping from a nearby open window. The sun has only just settled in the sky, hanging lazily after its absence the day before due to the storm that had washed in overnight.

Cregan is in a rather poor mood after the lack of developments from the morning meeting, but offers her a dip of his head. He stands before her, chin downturned to look her in the eyes, his own eyes narrowing a moment.

“Of course, my lady.” His tone is gruff yet not altogether unfriendly. It has that detached Northern politeness that she has come to associate with him. There is the ghost of tension about his shoulders, but she cannot discern whether it is from the conversation Cregan had just taken part in, or if he simply lived his entire life like there were rocks upon him.

“It is the court, my lord,” Lady Tyrell begins, sighing quite deeply in a breath that uses her entire upper body. She clasps her hands together tighter, shaking her head gingerly. A few of her loose curls bounce at the movement, and Cregan’s eyes drift to the sides of her face as they do. She takes a step forward softly, clearing intending Cregan to begin walking alongside her.

Cregan has been starving for the last hour. He wants to return to his chambers to break his fast with sausage and poached eggs and whatever else could be found.

He follows her.

The castle is alive and bustling at the early hour, maids rushing about with baskets of fresh linen and pages scurrying off with errands from their lords. A few of them cast their eyes to Lady Tyrell, who smiles at them sweetly. Most return the look with soft smiles of their own. Cregan wonders how many of them she knows personally.

“As I was saying, the state of the court has been weighing heavily upon my thoughts,” She continues, a look of concern once again settling upon her features. Her skirts rustle softly as she walks, and her heels click on the cold stone floor of the hall. Daylight streams in through the open courtyard that they walk past. “You see, the lords and ladies grow restless. What with their being confined to the capital.”

The girl presents the matter of concern slowly, tenderly. As if she wishes to plead her case yet not offend. She gazes up at Cregan after she speaks, meeting his stern look with a flutter of her wispy lashes. Her lips seem to form the perfect subtle pout as she finishes her sentence, and her eyebrows have knitted together to express gentle worry.

Cregan’s jaw tenses the tiniest bit as he hears her words. He is not ignorant enough to think that the nobles enjoy being forced to remain at King’s Landing, but there is not that he can do to remedy it until it is decided whether or not the war will continue, and justice is dispensed.

“Until the investigations and trials are concluded, no one can be permitted to leave.” There is a sense of stoic absoluteness to his tone, as if the matter being up for debate is not even a fathomable thought. His eyes narrow as he peers into hers, searching for a hint of annoyance or frustration. Cregan finds only a gentle amiableness that he believes better suits a deer than a girl.

“A prudent choice, my lord,” Lady Tyrell acquiesces with a dip of her head, her eyes falling to the floor in front of her demurely. Her hands are still folded over top of her lower stomach as the two make their way through the castle. “It is only…discontent often takes root in the gardens of boredom.”

Her eyebrows raise as the words float between them, remaining higher as she casts her gaze still to the stone floor beneath them. To make her words seem like a sad yet true observation. Cregan’s eyebrows draw lower, twitching a bit at her resigned wisdom.

The Lord of Winterfell stops, the last of his heavy steps echoing in the hall. The girl turns around after a moment, facing him. When her eyes lift to meet his, they hold that same softness she has been offering him since she arrived. They observe each other for a moment, before Cregan opens his lips to speak. Warning is dense in his tone as his gaze darkens, the serious look on his face becoming impossibly sterner.

“You take issue with the way I hold this court, then?” It is a quiet phrase yet so heavy when wrapped in his thick Northern pronunciation. Cregan does not need this girl commenting upon the way he has taken and managed the court since arriving; he has more important matters to worry about than a few discontent lords and ladies who whisper scathing things behind open fans and palms.

With the grace of a dancer, she takes the sides of her skirts in between her forefingers and thumbs and draws them upward. Her chin lowers gently, her gaze dropping so Cregan can only see her lashes. She lowers herself into a curtsy, her center of balance remaining perfectly overtop her left leg as her right one slides outward elegantly. Her back is as straight and tight as a drawn bow. 

“I would never presume to, Lord Stark,” Mellifluous and humble, the words drip from her lips as drops of honey from a hive. “I would only suggest, as someone who believes in your cause, that there might be a better alternative that would keep them amused and lift some of the weight from your shoulders.” 

As Lady Tyrell draws herself upright, Cregan feels a dry swallow in his throat at the slow, sensual motion. She does not miss it. Her humble expression melts into a candied smile.

“Of course, should my lord not wish to hear it, I will hardly take offense.” The girl tells him with a sheepish, almost embarrassed cadence, her head tilting down as her shoulders lower. She releases her skirts, the embroidered fabrics flowing down to the floor in waves of silks and satins.

Cregan looks to the side for a moment, his eyes falling to the open courtyard next to the hall. When he turns his head back to face her, his eyes downcast as he finds the words, the softest sound of breath can be heard before he speaks and raises his gaze.

“You have spent much time here at court, Lady Tyrell. You understand it much better than I. I will not be too prideful to hear your counsel.” Cregan retains the gruff quality of his speech, but there is a note of wary respect in the words. He lowers his chin to look at her directly, his head moving slightly as he speaks.

She does her best to not glow with the amusement of such a small yet important victory. Instead, she lowers her gaze again, nodding elegantly. 

“I am honored by your ear, my lord.” There is a pleased rhythm to her words. She does, however, make the mistake of looking up again to note the way the sunlight from the open courtyard next to the grey hall has filtered in just enough that the edges of Cregan’s red hair have caught the light and appear as gold as the embroidery on her dress. It additionally falls upon his broad shoulders and his left arm, which her eyes do, regrettably, land upon for a heartbeat.

One of the maids hurries by, giving both Cregan and Lady Tyrell a rushed curtsy. As the maid’s steps echo down the hall, she gestures for Cregan to continue to walk with her. They maintain a distance of expected propriety between them as they continue, making it rather hard to communicate in a softer tone.

“You have a great many problems that have fallen into your lap, Lord Stark,” She points out with a languid gesture of her arm, her hand hanging elegantly before them for a brief moment. “Least important of all the boredom of the nobles. And yet,” A deep breath is taken from her chest. “It is still an issue, no matter how miniscule.” Her head moves with each fragment of her words, indicating how seriously she takes the problem.

Cregan’s strides beside her are long and heavy, but slower than they had been the day before, in the garden. As if he had noticed that she had been taking larger steps to try and match him. 

Lady Tyrell’s hair bounces enticingly with each phrase and movement, the loose curls and waves that had escaped being swept up into the pinned arrangement that adorned the top of her head free to move about as they pleased. Cregan’s eyes have once again begun wandering. 

“But you are quite fortunate in that it is rather easy to provide them with entertainment.” Her reassurance is offered quite gently, with a sage nod. “Why, anything as simple as a feast serves the purpose quite well. Give them an opportunity to bring out their finest silks and jewels, with the promise of wine and meats and what they crave most: gossip.” 

They turn a corner, Cregan nearly running into a squire who is unable to see due to the amount of armor he is carrying in his arms. He wonders with a flash of irritation just how many people are employed in the castle; there is no shortage of servants running about even at this early hour of the day.

At Lady Tyrell’s words, a dry look wrenches its way onto Cregan’s face while he considers her proposal. The last thing he wants to do at this moment is to oversee the planning of any sort of event, nor did he have the time to spare for it. With a heavy sigh, his brows draw closer.

“I haven’t the time to spare for organizing a feast, my lady.” His words are curt, but he does attempt to soften them, not wanting to offend her.

Lady Tyrell is not offended by him. She simply thinks him rather foolish. There is not a hint of this on her face as she quickly gazes up at him with shock, her loose curls flying as she shakes her head with quick worry.

“Oh, no, my lord, that was not the implication at all,” The correction comes with a soft, apologetic smile and lift of her shoulders, causing her collarbone to catch the light from a nearby window. She holds his gaze steadily. “It was an offer of my services. I have seen many a feast organized here; I could have it arranged by nightfall this very evening.”

When they reach the large main staircase of the castle, they come to another pause. Cregan looks down at her with thinly veiled disbelief as she blinks up at him.

“You would do that?” He cannot help the suspicion sneaking into the corners of his voice. She is volunteering her time to assist Cregan with an issue that did not truly concern her, no matter how worriedly she had acted when she’d raised the matter to his attention. Yet he could not discern any malicious intent, save for her using this an as opportunity to vie for his favor. This, she seems to want greatly, yet Cregan still does not know to what end.

“If it should be of assistance to you, it would be my honor.” Lady Tyrell speaks with gracious acceptance, delicate and poised as she stands before him. Closer, this time, than she had been when they’d stopped before. Cregan can smell the lingering of rose water and some other floral oils. He considers her words, thoughts rolling over them like marbles in a hand.

“Do as you wish, Lady Tyrell. If you can ease the daggers in their eyes, I will be all the more grateful for it.” Cregan’s sigh is weary with exhaustion, and the pressures that only seemed to be added each and every day that is spent at King’s Landing. 

A sparkle glimmers in her eyes.

“I will see to it at once then.” She bids him farewell with a soft smile, and the scent of her perfume drifts over to him as her hair and skirts fan out in a delicate cloud with her turn when she hurries off. His eyes close briefly as he inhales it.

It is with great haste that Lady Tyrell begins her planning for the feast that evening. She gathers all her handmaidens and maids to assist with various messages she needs sent to those who are to be involved in the preparations, as well as to contact other staff to invite all of the lords and ladies who ought to be there. The information mill that is comprised of servants proves quite useful in this instance, and while she would usually take it upon herself to handwrite every invitation, the girl wishes her involvement in this endeavor to be kept quiet yet not secret for now. 

House Tyrell had not spent too much gold during the war, which resulted in her having quite a large resource pool to dip into to convince florists and musicians to cancel their previously scheduled arrangements for that evening and offer their presence in The Queen's Ballroom. Although smaller in size than the two large halls, the room need only host the nobles currently being restricted to the castle. She prefers it, anyhow; the way the candlelight catches against the large mirrors that comprise the walls of the room provides a magical quality to the ambience of any gathering. It makes the overseeing of the decoration a much more manageable task, which would reflect positively on her in the end.

She begins with a visit to the Kitchen Keep, discussing with the chefs and pâtissiers as to what dishes could be made and served on such short notice. They whisper in low, worried tones amongst each other, deep frowns and nods as they page through thick tomes of recipes. Lady Tyrell waits with her hands folded in front of her and a pleasant smile on her face, willing her eye not to twitch at the irritation of having to stand so long in the kitchens when there are other matters to be attending to.

The kitchen staff propose a few different options to her, and after providing a gentle suggestion of her own and more gold to run to the markets with, a menu is agreed upon for the night. When the kitchen door swings closed behind her, she pinches the bridge of her nose and lets out a sharp sigh that she has been holding back for some time.

Her next stop is to ensure that the correct dinnerware is being brought out to the ballroom – her head whips around with an unladylike speed as she watches in horror as a maid begins bringing the plateware with the green decorative motifs down the hall. As Lady Tyrell rushes back down the hall to catch the girl, another brief flash of frustration at the foolishness of the choice flits through her mind but there is nothing but sweet concern in her eyes as she recommends gingerly that the plates of a more well-associated color are brought out. 

The maid gasps and nods quickly, as Lady Tyrell squeezes her arm comfortingly and rushes off to find the florists. This she would have to stay and observe during the entirety of the arrangements. Her mother would be beside herself if a daughter of House Tyrell allowed for flowers of improper meaning to be presented at an event she hosted. Even if her mother will not be present that night, the girl smiles with exasperated fondness as her mother’s words ring bright and clear in her head, no different than if the woman was standing right in front of her. 

She guides the florists about the hall, nodding with a pleased glint in her eyes as the flowers stream in through the doors in the arms of boys and girls. Her decision has come together nicely; the apple blossoms, honeysuckles, and white lilies form a delicate and demure profession of innocent devotion and pure intent. Still, she must have her fun.

As a page rushes by with a bouquet of flowers in his arms, she plucks a single snapdragon and inhales the scent gently with softly closed eyes. They would be placed throughout the hall scarcely, likely not to be noticed by too many of the guests. 

It is a lovely flower, brought into the ballroom in colors that reflected those around it. Their heavy association with the concept of truth often leads many to interpret their presence as a promise of honesty. 

Those from House Tyrell recognize the bundles of fragile petals as a warning of deceit.

Her eyes open as she runs the stem between her fingers delicately, gazing down it at fondly. Lady Tyrell presses it to her chest as she leaves the ballroom, her shoes echoing amongst the voices of those finishing up the floral and plateware arrangements. There is still much to be done.

Despite the chaos that stems from such late preparations, the Lady Tyrell manages to both finish the arrangements and ready herself for the feast that evening. The Lord of Winterfell had not been expecting much when she had offered to organize an event that night, but the opulence on display within the hall is nothing short of wonderous. Decadent, but not obnoxiously so, and a clear testament to an effective and practiced hostess despite her young age.

As she glides into the Queen’s Ballroom, Cregan’s eyes land upon her.

She has entered the room slightly later than most of the guests, leading to the turning of many a head as the doors are opened for her. The blue gown she had been wearing that morning has been discarded in favor of a dress of baby pink, with a neckline reminiscent of a heart that plunges low as the two curves meet in the center. There is her signature golden embroidery at the top of the bodice, as well as up the side of the puffs at the top of her sleeves and down her corset. Stitched roses and vines snake down her arms, overtop of fabric of that same pastel color. There are more layers beneath the gown, fanning out in an elegant circle about her when she walks.

Cregan hears the whispers and sighs from some of his men around him as they shake their heads at her beauty, but he can scarcely judge them in good faith when finds his eyes are drawn to her and cannot be torn away. He has never noticed so much about a gown before; he takes note of the thorn detailing amongst the vines at the cuffs, of the pearls stitched into the bottom of the skirt that brushes against the floor, of the way the fabric creases at her elbows when she curtsies to one of the ladies she greets. 

So little of her figure can be seen and yet Cregan is left with a slow inhaling of breath and the flicker of the low candlelight dancing in his half-lidded eyes, his tongue briefly wetting his drying lips.

Lady Tyrell does her utmost to not look too self-pleased as she surveys the room. It is a beautiful, elegant scene. The musicians play string instruments in bright yet slow melodies from the gallery above the ballroom, and the expansive trestle tables have been covered in delicate fabrics. Upon their surfaces rest heaps and piles of meats, fruits, and pies. Their scents waft deliciously though the air, and vases overflowing with flowers are nestled in between the mountains of food. The warm candlelight from the candelabras reflects in the mirrors of the walls in the dreamy way that she loves so.

She makes her way about the room, making polite conversation with various lords and ladies. Asking after their children, husbands, wives, and siblings. The nobles light up and rest a hand on her shoulder gently when she recalls little details they had mentioned when last they spoke, of various illnesses or injuries or marriages or pregnancies.

Many of the guests have already sat down, reaching for thick cuts of meat and having their cups filled with the finest Arbor reds as hearty, half-drunken laughter echoes through the hall. She turns her head the slightest bit, intending to scan the room for the Lord of Winterfell, but discovers his eyes are already on her when she spots him.

His gaze is intense and does not waver when she catches him staring. He is leaning forward in his chair, his heavy brows low, his jaw tight, his mouth pressed together in a thin line. Lady Tyrell feels the remainder of the room dim for a moment, the voices and laughter and candlelight fading slightly in her senses.

She does her best to not show any surprise on her face: she has been seeking to capture his attention after all. It is only that she did not realize how heavily that attention would be placed upon her. It makes her eyes narrow a moment, her nature to challenge such a forceful look. 

Her hand closes into a ginger fist, the pressure of her fingertips in the soft skin of her palm drawing her mind back to civility. She blinks, her eyes soft and wide again, and she offers Cregan a smile before she turns back to greet others. 

One such conversation with one of the Northern lords leads Lady Tyrell to the head of the table, nearer to where Cregan is sat. He watches with an unreadable expression as the lord pulls out her chair, and she thanks him sweetly with the utmost grace and gratitude. Wine is immediately poured into her cup, and the golden goblet is raised to her lips as the lord speaks animatedly in regards to their conversation topic, to which she leans over to whisper something that sets the lord off with a hearty laugh.

The man leans over to Cregan, eyes drooping slightly with the effects of drink, and Cregan lends his ear a moment, watching the Lady Tyrell raise the glass to her rosy lips yet again.

“Here my lord,” The Northern man speaks to Cregan with a deep nod, swaying slightly in his ornate wooden chair. “Lady Tyrell was just telling me of this incident with the –“ His eyebrows knit together with confusion as he loses his train of thought. He gazes down into his goblet, as if to find the answer floating about in his burgundy liquid. When the glass fails to produce the response to his pondering, he turns his head to her.

“The boar, my lord.” Lady Tyrell supplies gently, raising her glass a little, swishing the contents around with a languid motion of her wrist.

“Yes, the boar!” The lord repeats with great enthusiasm, looking to Cregan as he laughs once more. The girl’s gaze settles upon Cregan, and there is a sparkle of knowing in her eyes as the other man drones on. “We shall have to hunt in the King’s Wood ourselves if the events are as amusing as she says…”

Cregan lets the rest of what the man is talking about fade out to a distant murmur, as well as much of the additional conversation in the bustling ballroom. The musicians have switched to a slower piece that floats elegantly throughout the room, and the laughter has grown loud. One can spot ladies cooling their flushed faces with their fans, and swaying lords eyeing the serving girls who rush to refill their quickly draining cups. The candlelight seems to have grown warmer and lower, flickering delicately throughout the ambient room. The wine has been flowing for quite some time, and the effects are evident in abundance.

But when he steals a glimpse of Lady Tyrell’s glass, he pauses as small flecks of golden light swim in the red liquor. Despite having witnessed her lift the goblet to her mouth a few times, the wine is no lower than when she had sat down. 

She has turned to participate in yet another animated conversation with a Northern lord seated to her right, and Cregan cannot help but observe the ease at which she slides from one topic to the next, even with his bannermen. He thought her to be skilled at engaging with Southerners, but her charms do not seem to be hindered by differences in homeland. A soft exhale of breath leaves his mouth as he returns to eating the food on his plate. The edges of the plates are decorated with tiny red flowers.

Later in the evening, the high sound of a fork tapping a metal glass can be heard echoing tinnily throughout the hall. One of the lords stands up from his seat, red-cheeked and grinning, to offer a toast to the Lord of Winterfell for his kind hospitality and planning of the event. Cregan pauses as many sets of eyes find their way to him, and he realizes there is an expectation that he say something in kind.

He rises, dropping his heavy shoulders and lifting his glass. It is a duty he is used to completing at the head of the hall in Winterfell, and it feels odd to do so in this foreign ballroom, with these strange faces staring back at him. Many of whom dislike him, or at least the way he is demanding they remain in King’s Landing until justice has been carried out. They watch like vultures, the easy and amiable air from earlier all but gone as they remember the presence of the Northern lord. But fortunately, Cregan need not keep the attention on himself for long.

“Your kind words are appreciated, my lord,” Cregan begins, his voice low and gruff. His eyes flicker to Lady Tyrell for a moment, perhaps to give her a second of warning with which she can prepare herself. But when their eyes meet, she is already gazing up at him as if she knows what he is going to say. Her hand resting gently on her goblet of wine, ready to lift it. He should not be surprised. “But in truth, I cannot take any credit. It was only thanks to the efforts of Lady Tyrell that this came to be.”

As the pairs of beady eyes drift over to Lady Tyrell, she rises up with a poised posture. Her chin is lowered, her eyes wide and almost shy as she holds the stem of her golden goblet between her fingers. The pairs of eyes that had beheld Cregan so coldly, soften. Here is one of their own, someone they know and can truthfully give gratitude to. She gives a soft dip of her head, the golden jewelry at her collarbones shining when it draws the glint of firelight.

“It is the least I can do, and hardly enough still,” The words ring out softly through the ballroom with the bright clarity of one used to speaking to a crowd. A girlish smile splashes to her lips and brings rosy color to her cheeks as she lifts her glass with her right hand, her left hand resting gently overtop the lacing of her corset. “So here is to you, for gracing my little party with your presence. It is with your laughter that these halls feel like home again, and I am ever so grateful to you for it.”

The hall erupts with whistles and clapping and cheers. Sounds of glasses clashing together in hearty toasts and the bringing out of the dessert at that very moment makes the scene bright and jovial, so much so that an outsider who had no knowledge of what had occurred in the recent past could not guess that the capital had just been plagued with a bloody succession war.

And in the center of it all, akin to the sun in the sky and glowing as such, is the Lady Tyrell. Cregan can bring no glass to his mouth as he watches her, coy and sweet as she once again raises her cup. He knows she is not drinking from it. But her face has the softest glow as she stands above the rest of the nobles seated at the long trestle tables, many of whom are still gazing towards her fondly, murmuring their approvals for the young lady and her gift to them this night. The candlelight dances across her figure, illuminating the lace of her gown, the expanse of her skin above her neckline, the pearls that hang from her ears. 

She shines like she is made to. Dazzling as any star in the heavens, radiant as any fire in the night.

If she were any other woman, Cregan might approach her when the moment presented itself, asking her to meet him as he had that time in the gardens. To walk with her, to learn more about her, to know her. To see if her heart is as lovely as her appearance. But he knows well that this would be more difficult than it seemed: perhaps even impossible. Even as she lowers herself back into her chair, smoothing down her skirts as she settles herself to dine on some of the pastries that have been piled onto the table with whipped creams and fresh fruits, he does not believe he is seeing anything of truth.

Lady Tyrell excuses herself as many of the other nobles begin to trickle out the thick oak doors, off to their beds or to some form of intoxicated debauchery. She wishes to avoid the strong yet firm grasp of a few of the elder ladies, who take her hands into their aging ones and remind her poignantly of the eligibility of their bachelor sons. Now that she is not betrothed, she has felt the hungry eyes of nobles as those of carrion birds circling overhead. Eyeing her body and her title and her family’s gold. It makes her blood hot with irritation and her nerves fraught and spiked. 

There are only so many excuses she can offer as she tries to slip out of the conversation topic with an apologetic smile.

And as the night grows to an end, so does her ever-thinning patience. One more ask upon whether or not her mother has read their proposals sent by raven, and she might simply hurl her still-full glass at the wall to cause a scene and be done with it. To the end of being shipped off to live as a Septa, but she doubts she would be graced with that. No, she is too young and too eligible; even in the face of abhorrent behavior she imagines excuses will be made by ambitious lords and ladies to still have her married to their sons.

The reminder fills her throat with a bitter acid that stings. She pushes it from her mind. The show is still ongoing, and there is one last act she must perform in to consider this day a success. And she takes pride in her thoughtful scripting. 

As she begins to walk towards the doors, she hears the scraping of a wooden chair on the cold stone floor as another starts to leave as well. She folds her hands in front of her lower corset, her arms straight and her palms gripping each other only the slightest bit too tightly. The tilting of her chin down allows for the hiding of the small, wry smile that has wrenched its way onto her lips at the sound of heavy footsteps behind her.

Her hand raises gingerly as she catches her handmaiden following her out of the corner of her eye, signaling for her to wait. The girl, Adelin, takes note of the gesture and nods delicately, giving her lady room with which to carry out her schemes. Instead, she slips out the side of the room to prepare Lady Tyrell’s bath for that evening.

The music has faded to a lazily played waltz, bidding farewell to the guests. The tables are covered with the crumbs and other remnants of the feast, and the flowers have sank lower into their vases. She walks gracefully out of the ballroom, leaving the rest of the nobles who remain to the questionable indulgences that are promised by lingering about.

The halls of the Red Keep are lined with the warm glow of torches, and yet they are never overly bright. She passes stone pillars and wooden doors and knights guarding different rooms before she hears the clearing of a throat behind her. 

So he has given them ample space to speak in private, yet he did not choose to follow her to her chambers.

While she would not have allowed him inside, she had been curious as to where he would initiate the conversation. She wishes it to feel like it is on his terms, after all.

Lady Tyrell turns quickly, the baby pink skirt of her gown billowing out around her as she does. She brings a hand to her chest in a rush, fingers pressed to the exposed skin between her collarbone and the neckline of her dress. A quiet inhale of breath hurries past her lips and she lets her eyebrows raise.

“Oh – Lord Stark.” The words have a quality of breathiness to them, as if she had been startled by the noise behind her but is relieved to see it is only him. She gives him a smile, her hand lowering to her side. It smooths over her breasts before it drops to rest elegantly. Her brows furrow slightly, with good-natured expectation, as she waits for him to speak.

Cregan does not know entirely why he followed her. He wishes to speak with her, but upon which manner? To thank her for the effort she had imbued into the feast that evening? To ask if she truly enjoys speaking with his bannermen, or if she hates the Northern presence in the capital as others do?

His stance is solid and heavy, his wideset shoulders lowered as he casts his gaze to the torch nearest to him on the wall, and then down to the grey floor beneath his dark boots. The stern expression on his face does not waver, as he searches with noble patience for the words he wants to say.

She takes the time free of his piercing eyes to observe him with a neutral expression, roaming over the way a few strands of red hair fall across his face when he tilts his chin down. It looks soft, despite the rugged nature of the rest of his figure, even more so as his hair is tinged with orange and gold in the torchlight.

Cregan has felt an indisputable pull towards her since the moment they first saw each other when he had arrived at the Red Keep. But the more he saw of her, the more unsettled he became. Is he so foolish as to lust after a woman whose character is so inclined towards deception and manipulation? It is as if he is a lad, with an inclination to being blinded at the sight of doe-like eyes and soft lips. 

But no, even as he stands there in front of her, her beauty clear as can be, Cregan knows he is not that susceptible to womanly charms. It is that flash of something in her eyes that he has seen that continues to draw him back. The frustration of want in the face of illusion; of yearning for knowledge that is kept purposefully yet barely out of his reach.

He pushes down the flames of frustration deep into his chest and looks up at Lady Tyrell with a serious yet neutral gaze. 

“What game do you play at, Lady Tyrell?”  There is a rumbling quality to his voice, yet it is not unpleasant on her ears. And despite the forward nature of the question, it is not asked roughly, nor brashly. It is posed with a stern politeness, reminding her once again that he has, the few times they have spoken, acted the perfect gentlemen if she could overlook his Northern tendencies. 

She finds herself pleased. It is rare she is met head on, and still with his maintaining all the expectations of civil discussion. Yet, she will not give Cregan Stark what he desires. “I beg your pardon, my lord?”

Her lashes flutter with gentle confusion when she tilts her head gingerly, as if trying to discern what he is referring to. Cregan beholds her visage, his own features still serious as he studies her.

“If you wish something of me, tell it to me plainly,” Cregan’s frustration is not altogether dispersed, simply pressed down. The low tone of his voice echoes deeply between them. His eyes narrow a fraction. “There is no need to put on any sort of act.”

Lady Tyrell blinks at him again, before she casts her gaze downwards. She reaches up to move a strand of hair from her face daintily, her nails brushing against the skin of her forehead. The sigh that leaves her parted lips is reserved and almost ashamed. When she meets his eyes again, Cregan sees the sweet shine of apologetic embarrassment.

“…I had no intention to be dishonest with you, my lord,” Lady Tyrell lowers her voice to a gentler tone. She draws closer towards him, lessening the distance between them as if she is letting him in on a secret. Her steps are gentle, heels clicking on the floor, the sound muffled beneath the heavy skirts of her gown. Cregan feels himself stiffen as she stops in front of him.

She is close, but not overly so. He can smell warm scents of vanilla and amber drifting up from her soft skin. Cregan holds her gaze steadily but his eyes narrow further, his head drawing back subtlety, involuntarily. It is not the reaction he would normally have to a beautiful woman, but one of wary confusion of her intention.

“And yet I am met with your dishonesty each time I speak with you.” It is not an accusation but an observation, one he offers to her with the expectation of her explaining herself.

It pains her to be this near to a man she does not know, with no one else in sight. She steadies her mind, reminding herself of the unique opportunity that has been presented to her in the form of the Lord of Winterfell. Her mother’s wishes flash before her eyes in the form of a parchment scroll and dried black ink. 

Her lips part before she speaks, a rose opening in the flickering torchlight. The storms of his eyes lower to them, a heavy breath in his lungs. There is a shift in the air, a heavier, charged atmosphere in the empty hall. For all of her acting, all of her schemes: she knows there is no falsehood in the way she reacts to him. It is a maddening truth, one that Lord Stark seems to be wrestling with through equal frustration.

Perhaps it brings her comfort to know that he does not wish for this want either.

“I hope you will not condemn a lady for what she does in the face of interest.” Her eyelashes lower over her eyes, and she swallows softly, her lips rolling over each other. Hands are brought together nervously, pressing together in front of her, her thumbs rubbing apprehensively on her palms. An almost imperceptible inhaling of breath sends Cregan’s stomach twisting into a pulsing knot he wishes to undo. 

It is almost inconceivable to him, how deeply she excels at this.

Still, Cregan has come here with the intention of figuring her out at least partially, and if he has to do so through a twisting forest of more lies and manipulation, so be it.

“Is that what this is?” Cregan asks lowly, eyes heavy and lidded when they fall across her face. Across her demurely lowered eyes and cheeks flushed with faux embarrassment and pink lips. The tug in his chest is low and getting lower, his blood hot. “Interest?”

A thick breath of a question. He steps towards her slowly, trying to gauge her reaction. Her eyes dart up as he brings their bodies closer, the heat from his own nearly perceptible now. The wideness of his shoulders and his imposing height are not lost on her then. If one were to stumble upon Cregan from behind him in the hall, his figure would completely conceal her own. 

Cregan catches it then, while his eyes are searching hers. An emotion, raw and pulsing. Lady Tyrell’s lashes flutter as her eyes quickly flick up and down his face, and her breath catches rather violently in her chest. Sharp enough that Cregan can hear it and see the way her ribcage stutters with the force of it. Her eyebrows twitch, raising and then lowering at the intrusion to her space.

And there, for the first time, the Lord of Winterfell thinks to himself that there is truth in front of him.

Her shoulders pull back, like she means to draw away from him. The left one raises slightly as she angles her torso to at least retreat with her right side, her arms coming together in front of the bodice upon her chest. Cregan looks down in the space between them to see the way the nail of her right thumb has pressed so deeply into her pointer finger that the skin is turning a ghostly white.

“Forgive me, my lord,” Her eyebrows raise upwards as she tries to wrestle with her sweet tone, but it is less sure than it had been before. The smile upon her lips is not as pronounced as is typical of her, but rather tight. “I did not mean to offend, I only…”

Her lips open once more after she trails off, but no sound escapes them. It brings Cregan pause.

“You desire me, that is what you are telling me?” Cregan feels the need to lower his voice, to take some of the gruff edge from it. He does not understand why.

It takes all that Lady Tyrell has to not jerk back. She takes a slow breath, eyes still not able to meet Cregan’s directly as she settles to stare at the dark fabric of his clothing. It takes her a heartbeat to pull the words out. “I only wished to express my favoring of you.”

It is a quiet phrase, and it does not seem to want to come out of her mouth. Like she had reached into her throat and pulled it out reluctantly with her fingers. Finally, her eyes slowly gaze up to meet his again.

“If you do not want it, I will take no offense, Lord Stark.” There is a silence that falls between them, in which Cregan should very well tell her that he wants no part in her scheming and manipulating and court games. But he finds his throat rather dry and instead says nothing. 

Taking this as the end to their exchange, Lady Tyrell presents him a curtsy that is not as precise as her last had been, and takes her leave from his presence. 

She knows that her steps are slightly too fast, echoing in rapid succession of each other as her shoes click down the halls. The fabric of her dress has been gripped in her hands so that she can move with greater ease, her knuckles almost white. 

Cregan stares after her for a moment, left with far too much to think upon. He had seen a fragment of something genuine, although he could not discern its nature, and he imagines she is leading him slowly towards the thing that she wants. And if she is feigning desire, aside from whatever instinctive and primal tension that drips from their every exchange, then Cregan feels with almost certainty that it is marriage she seeks. To be the Lady of Winterfell and secure an alliance between the Reach and the North. 

Ambitious, he can acknowledge that. He turns, retreating back down the hall towards his own chambers. Yet something unnamable tugs at the back of his mind.

As soon as her door closes behind her, Lady Tyrell lets out a strangled gasp, the sound clawing its way up her throat viciously. Her hands bring themselves to push down on her chest, but to her frustration, she finds them trembling. Shaking, her fingers pale, and she balls them into fists before ripping them forcefully through her hair, yanking out some pearls as she does so. They clatter to the floor and roll about beneath her feet.

The pacing that she begins is with the intention of calming her racing heart, and she bites at her lip deeply as she strides back and forth before the fireplace, opening and closing her hands. 

It had been some time since she had needed to charm a man like that alone. It was necessary, she knows this, as she wants his favor and now does not have the added hindrance of her honor and betrothal as a shield. She can no longer murmur reminders of her royal intended when a man draws too close to her space.

It is a shield she misses dearly, guilty at the thought of missing her late betrothed’s imposing shadow more than the boy himself.

And this is a dangerous game. She knows its nature well, which is why she does not like to play it. She has seen many women do it, and the consequences of when it goes awry. Cregan Stark is a stranger to her. 

A stranger of great importance, a stranger she is attracted to, but a stranger nonetheless. Her eyes remain downcast to the fire, lost in the warm depths. There is no light in her eyes.

[novaursa]

https://youtu.be/qillYsPzEs0?si=zWRzrkWUSQ-jRaTA

Can you do this just with the Targaryens and Lannister? Sister!reader Targaryen vs Cersie Lannister 🫣🙏🏼

Fire and Gold

- Summary: Rhaegar chooses you over her. And Ceresi never forgives you for it.

- Paring: sister!reader/Rhaegar Targaryen

- Note: In this AU Robert's Rebellion never happened. Rhaegar marries the reader, Ceresi still marries Robert after Lyanna dies in childbirth along with their child.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: 2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: I hope this was what you had in mind, dear anon. The story is fresh from the oven.

You and Rhaegar have always known how to draw a crowd. The smallfolk line the roads, banners flapping in the breeze as cheers follow your every step. Rhaegar’s hand rests at the small of your back, his touch familiar and comforting. The two of you move through the throng with practiced grace, your smiles reflecting the adoration in the eyes of those gathered. The royal tour has been a triumphant journey so far, a celebration of unity and strength. Yet, beneath the surface, tensions simmer, particularly when it comes to the Lannisters.

It’s no surprise that Cersei Lannister would try to disrupt your journey. Tywin’s golden daughter has never hidden her disdain for you. You, the sister who Rhaegar chose over her, who embodies all that she desired but could never possess. Her presence is almost expected as you approach the encampment set up for the royal party. When you step inside the tent, the air is thick with unspoken tension. Rhaegar’s jaw tightens beside you, and you can feel the shift in the atmosphere like a gathering storm.

Inside, Robert Baratheon looms, his massive form imposing even in stillness. Cersei stands at his side, her face twisted in fury, her eyes burning with a hatred you’ve known since you were both young girls at court. The very air seems to crackle between you. But your attention is drawn to your children and theirs, lined up in a tense, volatile standoff. Your eldest son, Aelor, stands tall, his eyes a mirror of Rhaegar’s determination. Blood stains the edge of his blade, and a long, angry gash mars Joffrey’s cheek. The boy’s face is contorted with pain and rage, his hand pressed against the wound.

“What in the name of the gods happened here?” Rhaegar’s voice is a sharp, commanding presence in the room. The knights and guards around you tense, sensing the gravity of the situation.

Robert spits, his voice dripping with contempt. “Your damn spawn attacked my son. Maimed him, Targaryen. That’s what happened.”

Aelor’s voice rings out, clear and unwavering. “He insulted us first. He insulted me, my brothers and sisters. He insulted you, Father, and you, Mother. When he drew his blade, I defended us.”

Joffrey, clutching his wounded cheek, shrieks in a high, grating voice. “Lies! He called me a Lannister bastard, and then he—”

You narrow your eyes, your gaze locking onto Cersei. It is an open secret in the court that her children bear none of the Baratheon traits, their golden hair and green eyes a reflection of the Lannister line. You’ve never spoken of it openly, but now, the accusation lingers in the air, unspoken but heavy. Cersei’s lips press into a thin line, her fury palpable.

“How dare you,” she hisses, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “Your vile little whelps—”

“Enough.” Rhaegar’s voice cuts through the tumult like a blade. “They are children, Cersei. This matter is settled.”

“Settled?” Cersei’s face flushes crimson. She turns to Robert, desperation sharpening her tone. “You will let this stand, my lord? He has harmed our son!”

Robert’s eyes flicker between Rhaegar, your children, and his wife. His face is flushed, whether from drink or anger, you cannot tell. For a moment, the entire tent holds its breath, waiting for the King’s decree.

But Rhaegar steps forward, his presence filling the space. “This is over. Children quarrel. It will not be escalated further.”

Cersei’s expression is a mask of fury, her body taut with indignation. Her eyes meet yours across the tent, and for a heartbeat, it’s as if the world narrows to just the two of you. There, in her gaze, you see the depth of her resentment, the wound to her pride that will never heal. You hold her stare, your silence as cutting as any word you could utter.

Cersei’s movements that soon follow are a blur, her hand snatching the dagger from Robert’s belt with a ferocity that sends a jolt of shock through the tent. She lunges at you, the blade aimed with a deadly precision that could only be born from hate. Instinct takes over, and you reach out, catching the weapon with your bare hand before it can pierce your heart.

The sharp steel bites deep into your palm, the pain immediate and excruciating. Blood wells up, spilling over your fingers and dripping onto the ground. Gasps echo through the tent, but no one dares to intervene. Robert’s roar reverberates around you, filled with anger and disbelief. “Cersei, what are you doing?!”

Your children’s cries pierce the air, frantic and terrified. Their small voices, shrill with fear, tear at your heart. The sight of their mother locked in a deadly struggle, blood pouring from your hand, is too much for them to bear. But you can’t look away from Cersei, can’t afford a single moment of distraction.

Her face is contorted with fury, a rage so intense it seems to consume her. “You ruined everything!” she screams, her voice raw. “You were supposed to be nothing more than a bargaining chip, another mad Targaryen girl! But instead, you took him—took the life that should have been mine! And now I’m shackled to this brute, trapped in a prison of my own making because of you!”

“You chose this,” you retort, your voice low, steady, despite the pain searing through your arm. “You and your father wanted too much. You thought you could seize the crown, twist the realm to your liking. But it was never yours to take.”

Her eyes flash, and with a snarl, she presses down, driving the blade further into your grip. The pain is blinding, but you refuse to let go, even as the dagger slices across your forearm in a brutal arc. You cry out, the sound sharp and involuntary, as the blade carves a deep, angry line from wrist to elbow. Warm blood streams down your arm, pooling at your feet.

The lords and ladies around you recoil, horrified, but none move to intervene. Fear holds them frozen in place, their eyes wide, their faces pale. The tent, filled with the sound of your children’s desperate sobs, seems to close in around you.

“Look at you,” Cersei hisses, her voice dripping with venom. “Bleeding for a throne you think you’re owed, just like your father. You’re no different from him. Mad, arrogant, and dangerous.”

“And you,” you bite back, your voice shaking with pain and fury, “are nothing but a bitter, power-hungry fool. You think you can cut me down? You think you can break me? I am not my father, and I will not be cowed by you.”

With a furious cry, she shoves the blade again, but you twist, forcing the weapon away. The dagger slips from her grasp, falling to the ground with a dull thud. You stumble back, clutching your bleeding arm, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Pain throbs through every nerve, but you stand your ground, refusing to show weakness.

Rhaegar is at your side in an instant, his face ashen with worry. “Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice tight with concern, his hands gentle as he examines your injured arm. “Gods, what has she done to you?”

Robert steps forward, his face a mask of barely restrained fury. “Have you lost your senses, woman?” he growls, rounding on Cersei. “You draw a blade on the Princess of the Realm, on your king’s daughter? Are you so eager to invite Aerys’ wrath upon us all?”

Cersei glares back at him, her chest heaving, her hands shaking. “I don’t care!” she cries, her voice breaking. “All my life, I’ve been promised things that were taken away. I was promised Rhaegar, promised a crown, and now I’m nothing! Stuck here, with you, and this—this farce of a marriage. I’m trapped, and it’s all her fault!”

“Enough.” Robert’s voice is like a hammer striking stone, his eyes blazing with anger. “You’ve gone too far. This is beyond foolish, beyond dangerous. You think Aerys will turn a blind eye when he hears of this? His daughter bleeding at your hands?”

The name of your father seems to cut through her fury, a flicker of fear passing over her face. The threat is real—everyone knows the Mad King’s unpredictable wrath, his unquenchable thirst for vengeance. And you, his beloved daughter, lying wounded at her feet? The consequences could be catastrophic.

Rhaegar’s arms wrap around you, his touch gentle as he guides you away from the scene. “We need to get you to the maester,” he says softly, his voice tight with worry.

You nod, the pain throbbing with each heartbeat, but you keep your gaze on Cersei, refusing to look away. “Remember this, Cersei,” you say, your voice steady despite the agony. “You brought this on yourself. You chose your path, just as I chose mine. And you’ll find that you’ve made an enemy you can’t afford to have.”

With that, Rhaegar leads you out of the tent, your children trailing behind, their faces pale and tear-streaked. The lords and ladies part before you, their whispers already spreading like wildfire through the camp.

This skirmish is over, but the repercussions are only beginning.

[cheeseceli]

That must be right

Pairing: Min Yoongi × Gn!reader

Genre: fluff, f2l, drabble

Request: can i request a yoongi idolbf! x reader and its just like a fluffy date, they're just dating and didnt really actually confess their feeling yet and like at the end of the date he or reader confesses

Warnings: tzuyu (twice) makes a cameo, suga overthinks a bit, y/n was delulu for a second here, not proofread.

A/n: don't you just love when he smiles | daily click

Yoongi doesn't know what to feel right now.

He should be happy, because oh my God this is happening. But he should also be anxious, because what is he supposed to do now that this is happening? And on top of it, he should be scared, because is this even supposed to be happening?

The way you saved his number as "my love" is a fact that has been spiraling in his head for hours now, since he discovered it. And it is just a silly little detail about your every day life. He wasn't even supposed to know about that. But he does. And now he can't stop thinking about that.

It's also about how you told Tzuyu (who definitely shouldn't have told Suga) you couldn't go out with her since you were having a date with your boyfriend. The boyfriend being Yoongi. And the date being the place you guys should go to in a few hours.

And there's nothing wrong with that, right? Except for the fact that you called him your boyfriend when he is... not your boyfriend. He would love to be, of course! But he is not. Unless he got lost in translation, which he highly doubts, considering how he is always replaying everything you say and do in his mind.

But you called him that. And, in some type of way, you called him your love as well. Never to his face, but you did. And Yoongi has no idea on how much of that he should consider. It could be just a not very funny joke. But you wouldn't joke about it, would you? So maybe he should just behave like nothing happened. Yeah, that's right. He shouldn't even know about those things at all.

So for the rest of the day, he pretends that he didn't discover anything. Everything is exactly as it was. But he can't bring himself to actually forget those. "My boyfriend". "My love". Those sentences were quite harsh to forget about.

You guys are on a date, so why can't you be actually dating? Do you even know that this is a romantic date? Does Yoongi know that? When did the line between friends who are secretly in love and actual lovers blurry itself so hard? It's getting ridiculous at this point. So many questions and very few answers.

He watches as you hold the huge popcorn bucket, trying your best not to drop anything. You were just waiting in line with him, waiting for the movie session to start, but you were so happy. Even when just standing still, your eyes were undeniably full of joy.

Yoongi also didn't miss how you never failed at being close to him. Not on a way to overwhelm him, just to be there. Like you just wanted his company, even if you weren't touching each other. Even if you were in complete silence, even if you didn't even look at each other just yet. You were both there. And that was all that mattered.

Useless to say that he paid absolutely no attention to the movie on the silver screen. He had no idea of who was staring in it, or what it was about. He barely looked at it to be honest. He was looking at you all the time. My boyfriend. My love. You surely acted like there was truth to those words.

For the first time in the past hour or so he looked away from you. He focused his gaze on the movie playing instead, but only because he wanted to reach to hold your hand, and he wouldn't be able to do it if he looked at you while doing so. That was proven particularly correct as he felt you turning your head just to look at him the moment you felt his touch.

He should've looked though. Maybe then he would see how your eyes proved that Yoongi was indeed your love. Maybe just not your boyfriend. Yet. That was soon to be solved, as he was already planning on how to confess the moment the two of you got out of the movie theater.

You were, after all, calling him your boyfriend for a while now. However, now it was time for him to call you his partner. Oh, and he so would do it. It felt right to do so.

And if it feels right, it must be right.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: shut me up

Reminder that this is all fiction! This does not represent the members in real life!

Taglist: @yuyubeans @butnotmontana

Dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics | credits for images 1, 2 and 3

[eyelambspider]

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐫 || 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : While Price catches himself staring at you again, a particular memory of his 'would-be-wedding day' pops into his head. What a horrible fucking day that was. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.1k 𝐚/𝐧 : don't cheat kids bc i will find you + would y'all consider this price x reader? 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : mentions of cheating/adultery, angst, fluff at the end(?)

𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄. In fact, he despised it once. A long fucking time ago.

The thought elicits a soft chuckle from the Captain, who was propped up on a green crate, watching through a huff of smoke as you fiddled with a gun in your lap.

Oh, that's right, he remembers then, tapping the ash from the end of his smoke. Anna, hated him smoking.

"John! Fucking put that shit out," she scolded, swatting furiously at the Marlboro Red in his hand.

She was a pretty thing. Young and dumb, maybe a bit too immature at the time... then again, he was too.

Twenty-one years stupid and on the cusp of marrying the 'love of his life'.

"Sorry love, nerves-"

"Its our wedding day," she sighed, eating up the rest of the words he had in his mouth. "Can you just quit it for a day?" she pouted, her red lip jutting out cutely.

John smiled, his brown eyes skirting over the shape of her frown. She was beautiful. And gods willing, in a few hours she'd be Mrs. Anna Price.

He flicked the cigarette away, blowing the rest of the smoke away from his brides face, unable to stop the smile that cracked over his handsome face.

"What?" She asked him, suddenly softening under that adoring look in his eyes.

He shook his head, gently cupping her thin hands in his. The tip of his thumb running over the diamond engagement ring on her left hand. Studded, sparkly and new. "You just- You look amazing love," he admitted, unable to tear his soft gaze from her blushing face.

Anna laughed, her head craning back a little. Red lipstick against her sparkling teeth, hazel eyes crinkled softly. He knew he loved her, he trusted it better than any god that would wed them. He loved her.

"Baby," she started, the smile still lingering on her face until it fell altogether from her complexion.

He waited for what she had to say, watching as her eyes flickered down to his chest before she squeezed his hands back. "I forgot the rings at home," she admitted quietly, suddenly unable to look at him.

There was plenty of time until the ceremony.

"I'll go get them," he stated, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her before her hand came up. Cold against his lips and pushed him away.

"It's bad luck to kiss me before the wedding," she said sheepishly, and he sighed, the pang in his chest as insignificant as forgetting the rings.

"It's also bad luck to see you in your wedding dress," he chuckled, a sound like the richest whiskeys, pulling her close by her small waist. The silk fabric of her white dress like the heavens against his skin.

She laughed too, swatting him away with a playful laugh, throwing her head back a bit like she always did.

The rings weren't a problem.

He drove the ten minutes through little traffic, a fine Tuesday where no one would bother them or their ceremony much. They had the only people that mattered there, a handful of friends to bear witness to the occasion. Mostly from Anna's side. Price, he had her, and it was enough.

He pulled out another Marlboro while he drove, rolling the window down and letting the noon sun bore down on him. The smoke fading into the breeze.

The rings were in plain sight, just on the kitchen table, and back he went to the chapel. The rings, gold and silver, stuffed into his chest pocket with the pack of reds.

Everyone was outside for a moment, chatting and glancing at him as he walked by, smiling friendly enough to the man who would marry their beloved friend. Congratulations, chatter and a few pats on the back. "A bachelor still before the vows were spoken," they teased.

"Gotta go find my wife," he assured with a charismatic smile. A fine man. Upstanding, hard-working, and full of life. Working towards his military career not only for him, but the family he hoped to start one day.

And this felt like the first step towards all that.

He headed inside the large wooden doors of the chapel. An old stone one, refurbished inside, but still had those stained glass windows Anna liked.

The son of Christ and Mary looking down in their holy light, filtering a kaleidoscope of soft color onto the wooden pews and altar.

In a few moments, less than an hour he imagined, he'd be standing up there with her, promising forever.

Then, a hushed whisper caught his ear. A sound he could never forget, even all these years later. Louder in his dreams than bombshells and firefights.

His feet carried him towards the sound, a tucked away room for a choir, the door slightly ajar.

In an instant, his suit felt like lead on his body. The rings burning a hole into his chest as the sight played before him in slow motion.

Her dress hiked up above her milky thighs, the hands of another man caressing all that he could feel. Her neck exposed for him in the heat of the moment, his lips on her pulse, careful not to suck a mark onto her perfection. His beautiful wife heaved softly in his hands, pressed passionately against the wall, her red lipstick smeared all over his face...

Price audibly grumbled to himself, the memory striking a decaying nerve in him, and it caught your attention.

The Captain seemed... grumpy.

"Price," you called out, putting your gun down for a moment, not receiving a response.

You watched as his jaw clenched, a vein more apparent by his temple, under his cap. For a moment, it worried you to watch him stare at the ground with those hard eyes of his. Probably lost in his head again.

"Price," you stretched his name out, trying to gain his attention to no avail. It was then that you decided to softly discard your gun and walk over.

Wherever he was. He was in deep.

"Captain."

The combination of you 'suddenly' standing in front of him and addressing him finally does it. His attention snapped towards you in a fierce scowl. On the verge of lashing out before his cigar burns out against his hand. The long forgotten smoke kissing his skin with a searing heat.

"For fucks sake!" he shouts, hand recoiling. The ash from his cigar flittering to the ground like flower petals.

[subway-boss-jericho]

Fossil Ingo meets a new friend.

Writing + bonus art beneath the cut:

Little Pearl

TWs: Mentions of Former Death/Revival ~1200 Words (4-5 minutes)

Amidst the chaos of all the other events his Sinnoh "vacation" has thrown at him, Emmet receives a call.

The mines where Ingo was initially 'recovered' had been sectioned off since the day he sat up on the table. (Not that Emmet had any intention of going back.) The archeologists and historians of the region were concerned there may be a burial site nearby or some other location of cultural significance and so mining in that area was closed off. However, they've found something else important while they were excavating the site. Very near to where the rock was first disturbed, they uncovered a fossil- a proper fossil this time. A dome fossil.

No one has been able to confirm it yet, however, because of its proximity to where Ingo's remains had been unearthed... It's very likely that this Kabuto is the one he now shares DNA with.

Emmet brings Ingo with him to the Oreburgh museum- Although, it is more like Ingo is dragging him along for the ride. He is far more enthusiastic about this than Emmet is- In fact, he'd really like to be anywhere else. He would really like to go home, but they can't do that until they find a safe and comfortable way to help Ingo travel long distances. And also, he needs to wait for the investigation on him to close. Preferably with an innocent verdict. Which is probably the more pressing matter of the two.

They're allowed to take a look at the fossil before its revival. Without a doubt, and with proper steps taken to verify this time, this is a Dome fossil. There are a few pearls, likely the same from Ingo's burial, that have become embedded in the surface of the rock around it. A familiar thought crosses his mind. This could be verrry special. Even the minor influence caused by the rare mineral could potentially shape this pokemon's future- Ingo had been changed just because of the spare stuff that happened to be in the earth with him.

The wait in the lobby is excruciatingly long, for Ingo. Emmet can tell he would be pacing if he were any younger; his spines are constantly twitching, betraying some kind of emotion that Emmet hasn't puzzled out yet. The correct answer is Excitement. Ingo is positively thrilled at the prospect of getting to meet the pokemon with which his fate has intertwined.

Moreover, he can raise it himself! They can start this new life together, two strange beings out of place in this time, no one else quite like they are. Ingo isn't alone anymore, not with Emmet by his side. This little pokemon won't need to be alone either. Never has the prospect of a fresh start sounded more bright.

The moment the scientist returns from the back to give them the good news, Ingo lifts himself to his feet. He'd like to be the first to welcome back this new life. He turns the corner to find a little rock-type on a nearby countertop. It's barely been moved from the machine that restored it, frozen stiff. If it was any more still, Ingo would mistake it for the rock it use to be minutes before.

The various kind folks in charge of the operation give him a bit of space to approach the little pokemon, coming closer at a gentle pace to keep the tension low. Joints bidding, he kneels down at the counter to reduce his height as a factor. Up close, he can see it trembling oh-so-slightly.

"Welcome back, little one... How do you feel..?" He keeps his hands on his knees, only observing as it subtly shrinks back before poking forward again curiously. He can just barely see the tips of its claws peeking from under its shell. He chuckles softly, turning to the kind folks nearby. "Remind me, what did you say was the name of this species?" "Kabuto, the Shellfish Pokemon." Respecting his careful handling of the situation, they answer quietly.

"Thank you very much." He returns his attention to the Kabuto, who has slowly inched closer to him on the table. There are pearls encrusted along its shell, reflecting the afternoon light brilliantly. It's claws are less hidden now, revealing a gorgeous iridescent luster.

"I imagine you are quite confused... Perhaps, overwhelmed." "However, you need not fear," Ingo's knees protest as he picks himself back up again, bending to keep himself lower than his full height. He offers a grateful whisper to Mighty Sinnoh for whatever was done to him having eased a lot of the aches that came with his age.

Softly and slowly, he sets his rougher, rockier left hand on the table a few inches away from his shelled friend, letting it lay loosely on the smooth countertop. "You see, little one... Our lives are quite interconnected." He smiles as it curiously shuffles forward to investigate. "Our chance encounter through an accident of unlikely proportions has tied us together. I was returned to life, just as you have been."

It pokes a claw at his hand, and he slowly picks up his fingers to offer forward. "Through whatever happenstance caused us to share the earth between us, through however the burial rights of my clan have affected the fabric of your being, regardless... Our cabs now share many traits, you and I."

"I feel a closeness to you, silly though it may sound." The Kabuto repeatedly taps its pearlescent claw against his thumb in quick succession, as though swatting him away. It doesn't hurt even slightly.

"I will keep you safe. We can explore this grand world together, no matter what changes may await us." "...Would you like to join me on this new frontier?"

It taps its shell against the tough exterior of his hand a few times, continuing to poke around at anything that appears to catch its attention.

After a minute or so, Ingo can feel positively itty pin-pricks over his skin as it uses its hooked claws to crawl over his hand. He can't help but laugh, rewarding its curiosity and trust by bringing his less armored hand to pet it softly. "Excellent!" It seems ticklish around its underbelly, he notes with delight as he scratches the edges its shell. "I look forward to exploring the new tracks ahead of us! I'd best study up on how to use these merits of yours, especially now that I have one to teach... Or perhaps I've gained a teacher?"

He reflects on the journey ahead of him and the life he left behind as he views the world through the reflection of the largest pearl along its spine. The sensation of its claws along his hand is the same as that from the darling kits of his Lady. The pearls were bestowed to him in his passing, a demonstration of the pride and honor felt by his clan for his service as her warden. The lives of many loved ones have been closed to him, now, but the lives of those he had forgotten have opened to him once again.

He will draw comfort from the past, and bring their strength ever onward into the future. An easy smile graces his lips as he lifts his new partner higher, supporting it firmly but with great care. Mirth fills his old soul under the gaze of four beady eyes. In his renewed beating heart, compassion burns warmer than the sun.

"...I cannot wait to grow alongside you, Little Pearl."

Fossil AU Masterpost

[avonne-writes]

Happy birthday! I just wanted to tell you that you're the best fan fiction writer I've come across in 20+ years ♥️

Can I ask for the [coffee] prompt? Gale manages to get hold of some coffee beans in the stalag and makes a cup of real coffee for John. Even better if he has to hide it from all the other inmates ☺️

My dear, this has been in my inbox for months, waiting for me to finally get to it! I'm sorry that it took me this long, especially because this was an original prompt. Thank you so much for your sweet message, I appreciate it so much! 🩷❤️ The drabble I'm posting below is part of a longer fic which will be posted on AO3 when it’s finished. It’s set in my a/b/o au (core idea here, drabble here).

The last fading rays of summer warmth are pushed away by the deepening chill of the night when the sun sets. It’s only September, but the walls of their prison seem to grow colder with each night, and the barbed wire fence looks taller every miserable morning. How long can a bird stay alive with its wings clipped, locked inside a cage that only lets it see the light, never feel it? And is it life at all?

It's been almost a year, and there's no end in sight. Only the mindless, final darkness, the one that beckons Bucky persistently every time the pains of his body and soul grow too heavy to bear without howling. If he and Gale hadn't bonded before their capture, he would've given in to that call already.

But they had, so here Bucky is. Still hungry, still cold, curled up in his bunk because Gale fussed the whole night and pushed him away every time Bucky touched him. Not even his own mate wants Bucky anymore.

“John.” He hears Gale's voice, quiet and warm, close to his ear as Gale leans over him. A hand shakes Bucky's shoulder, then slides down to his elbow in a caress. “The weather is so nice outside.”

“So what?” Bucky grunts, fed up with the morning sunshine that streams in through the flimsy curtains. How dare it tempt him with joy when he can’t even take a breath deep enough to remember freedom.

Gale shakes him again. His scent is so sweet that if Bucky closes his eyes, he can imagine that this is just another morning at Thorpe, and his mate is in a good mood. “Come, walk with me.”

Illusion shattered, Bucky shrugs Gale's grip off. “I'm not your dog.”

There's a pause, then a sigh. Gale squeezes Bucky's arm, then Bucky hears the thud of his boots as he walks away. The door opens and closes with a click.

“You should get it together, man. You're still mates, are you not?” Jefferson's voice rings from behind him, and it pisses Bucky off. What fucking business of his is it if he and Gale are still mates or not? He shouldn't say shit about things he doesn’t understand.

His irritation is enough fire to make Bucky turn around and rise from the bed, but Jefferson is already halfway out the door, scoffing at him, and Bucky isn’t quite angry enough to chase after him. He growls and drops into a chair at their small table, dealing a pack of cards to play imaginary poker against himself. From the corner of his eye, he notices the stares Crank and DeMarco shoot him, but they also go out after a few minutes, leaving him blessedly alone in silence.

For a while, it feels good. Time is beyond his perception, has been for who knows how long now. It's just one of those things that doesn’t seem to matter anymore. He plays and loses against himself, always loses, then just drops the cards and stares at the strip of light crawling across the wooden floorboards. Guilt starts to tickle at the corners of his eyes and throbs at his temples like a headache. He didn’t mean to be so rude to Gale, but last night left him in a mood even worse than usual. He should probably find the strength to go out, join the others and apologize to him. Touch the mark on Gale’s neck if he's still willing to let him. 

Bucky's just about to push himself to his feet when the door swings open and Gale comes back inside. He looks frazzled and pale as a sheet, although it's hard to tell if that's the general effect of the stalag or something new. He puts his hands on his hips and paces around a bit, shooting Bucky quick glances as if gearing himself up to speak.

“What happened?” Bucky asks, frowning.

“Nothing.” Gale licks his lips, then stills for a moment before he walks over to the table with confident steps, all of that sudden unsettled energy swallowed up by his self-control. Maybe, he’s nervous that Bucky will gnash his teeth at him like a feral animal again. When he sits down and meets Bucky's eyes, Bucky sighs.

“Look.” Bucky starts, leaning forward and holding his hand out. He leaves it there even though Gale doesn’t take it. “I'm sorry for this morning. Didn’t mean to lash out like that.”

Gale considers him for a beat of silence, then nods, somber. “Apology accepted.”

He glances down at his lap, then pulls something out of the pocket of his trousers. When he looks at Bucky again, his eyes are soft and loving like they used to be before they learned how fragile the good things in life are. “Do you know what day it is?”

Bucky puffs his cheeks out, his eyebrows quirking up in a way that clearly amuses Gale. “Haven't a clue, doll. I'm wearing my Sunday best though, just in case.”

Gale huffs, shaking his head with a fond twist to his mouth. Something about the movement makes him wince, but he composes himself quickly. “It’s the 8th, John.”

Oh.

A dull pain starts in Bucky's chest and radiates out into the rest of his body. He can’t believe he forgot. He can’t believe that this moment came. The first time he spends 8 September as a prisoner of war, instead of laughing and celebrating with the love of his life.

Gale puts the small package he pulled out of pocket on the table between them. “I couldn’t get you any whiskey.” He says with wry humor that pulls a joyless smile out of Bucky. “But I got you this.”

When Bucky opens the package, the scent of ground coffee hits him like the sweet promise of heaven. It’s the real stuff, he can tell instantly, not the sand and ash concoction they mix up for them on most days. If they brew this, one sip of it will give Bucky enough life for a week. Oh, just the mere thought of its taste, the faint memories still not overwritten by the bland, permeating monotone of the stalag… 

The grin pulling at Bucky’s lips isn’t tainted by manic delusions for once. It’s purely happy, devoid of the shadows that have been haunting Bucky's mind lately, and it seems to make Gale flush in an echo of joy. This small bag of coffee must have cost Gale a lot of rations, but it’s such a perfect gift that Bucky doesn’t have the heart to ruin it by asking to know its price. 

"Happy birthday." Gale says with a small smile, but when Bucky reaches for his hand, he flinches.

It's a telltale reaction that they both know well. Bucky pauses, breathes in deep, takes stock of Gale's wide pupils and the clamminess of his fingers when he touches them. There’s sweat gathering at Gale’s hairline and his cheeks look blotchy. Bucky sees him pulling his other hand back into the sleeve of his fraying sweater, one of the few comforts he has in this wretched place. The gesture makes Bucky's chest go tight.

"Are you in heat?”

The muscles around Gale's jaw clench. He doesn’t need to say a word. The look in his eyes tells Bucky everything.

“Shit.” Bucky says, his voice like a ghost’s. Departing his body as dread creeps down his throat, cold and slimy fear around his heart. His brain, the last to admit defeat, still tries to deny it. It's impossible. God can’t curse them with this now. Their fate can’t be this cruel. “But you haven't had one in a year.”

“I know.” Gale's nostrils flare.

“But -”

“You know I've run out of the goddamn pills.” He snaps, harsh and aggressive in a way he wouldn’t be in his right mind.

There's no denying it any longer. It can't be just a cold or the bitterness of captivity. They have to face this here, now, and somehow make it through.

Bucky lowers his voice placatingly. “I know, Buck, I know.” He squeezes Gale's hand. It’s a relief when Gale squeezes back. “But that was six months ago.”

Tucked inside his sleeve, Gale’s fingers clench around the fabric. His eyes stare at his boots, and he looks so frail and small that Bucky has to look away to compose himself. They're both at the end of their ropes.

“Better weather, more food…” Gale mutters, pulling his shoulders up in a helpless gesture. “I guess my body figured it was enough.”

Bucky strokes the back of Gale's hand with his thumb, feels Gale’s racing pulse at his wrist. “We're gonna get through this.”

Gale nods, but he stares at the far wall. After a moment, Bucky realizes that he’s holding his breath, as if to keep himself forcefully calm and grounded. 

“Promise me -” He starts quietly. “- that if the guards find out, you won’t get yourself killed.”

Bucky's chest tightens. He hears the fear Gale is stomping down on with all his iron willpower. “I can’t.”

Bucky’s hand is yanked forward so suddenly and with such force that Bucky hisses. Gale fists his other hand in Bucky's shirt and snarls at him from an inch away. “Promise.”

The nasty, instinctual part of Bucky aches to fight, to force Gale to back down using his alpha nature to his advantage. But, even with all the things chipping at his sanity, Bucky doesn’t want to do that to him. It wouldn’t work anyway. Not with Gale, especially not when he's in heat.

“They won't find out.” He tells Gale, cupping his scarred cheek and giving him a firm look. “I promise I'll keep you safe.”

The scent in the air turns cloyingly sweet as gratitude washes over Gale, but then he shudders, and the sweetness turns into sour fear. Gale lets go of Bucky's shirt and stands up, gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turn white. When he speaks, the calm tone of his voice is frightening. 

“Don’t worry about me, John. Whatever happens, I can take it.”

[bomber-grl]

Peter Parker Dating hc 🕸️

Pairing(s):Peter Parker (Tom hollands)x Gn!Reader (both civilian and superhero included)

As a civilian you were probably unaware of his secret identity for a good awhile

Until you inevitably found out and began dating

How you found out well, well let’s just say it wasn’t ideal

You had been friends for awhile and the only way Peter would ever let you near him or his room (while having a crush on you) would be if he forgot something at your house or something

So you knocked and May let you know he wasn’t there but still let you in

I mean she wasn’t just gonna let you stand outside waiting for him, if anything he was to blame for not being responsible about the time you two established for meeting up

Queue you walking into his room and he’s half suited up and the both of you are just staring at eachother

That interaction led to some discourse, obviously

But after the initial shock you (surprisingly) moved on

Now if you’re a superhero working for stark for some reason then you met that way and there’s no secret identity reveal

Tbh the two of you have to have something in common

Whether its interests in comics or “nerd” stuff

something had to have led to the two of you getting together

Or maybe you’re just into easily flustered, needy men, who knows 🤷‍♀️

Like if you’re a hero then you met that way and share that in common (including tech if you’re into that)

So just imagine Peter, whose very nervous/ excited, just absolutely rambling about some interest that was briefly mentioned and that you both shared

The thing is, you’re on a date right now and he’s absolutely embarrassing himself (in his opinion)

He’d try to plan everything to perfection and gift you what he can even if he feels it might pale to what you’re used to (if you’re wealthy)

Your first date was especially memorable since not only did he display his nervousness so obviously but it was as if the universe couldn’t let his plan run smoothly

He had tripped, stuttered, made too many mistakes to count, just a piece of work all in all

To you though? It was endearing

He had wanted your first date to be the upmost perfection, even if it wasn’t an average persons “ideal” by the end-

It didn’t matter because you could tell the genuine affection he had for you so much so that he had planned this all, and unfortunately (for him) embarrassed himself beyond return in front of you

“Kill me now”

- Peter probably

He doesn’t really seem like it, if anything he seems pretty self actualized but there’s obviously moments where he feels a bit sorry (?) for the lack of a better word

He’s just always clumsy, and getting flustered easily

Especially around you

So although he might think that you probably think less than ideally of him, he couldn’t be more wrong

If anything it adds to his charm and anything he does is pretty endearing

So when you decide to share such words with Peter while you’re chilling in his room

Well, he’s floored

He thanks you but then that spirals into him stuttering and tripping over himself

Despite the fact that you complimented him to not only ease his worries but also to just let him know-

He’s groveling (exaggeration) and apologizing for, again, being himself…

Blud needs to chill out…

Usually after missions or whatever they’re called- Peter usually has minor injuries or cuts

How do you know this? You’re his main source of comfort so he’s sneak in through your window into your room as often as he can

A particular moment was when you both decided to have a sleep over at your house

It was definitely a huge progress in your relationship but you should’ve known better

While you were asleep, he snuck off and att the end of his little escapade, he snuck back in

Only thing is that he returned back through the window he snuck out from just to be met with the lights on

He visibly sunk at your disappointed gaze once he noticed you up

He isn’t in the best state so you take it easy on him and just go rummaging through your cabinets- you hoped to have something for his wounds around there somewhere

As you’re searching, Peter has taken it upon himself to convince you his injuries are nothing, just go back to bed, and is just overall downplaying his condition

You pause and just stare at him

Obviously he’s taken by surprise but he realizes he can’t do anything to stop you and just lets you continue

Even while your cleaning his wounds or bandaging him up he’s making jokes about the situation

Well maybe not jokes but we all know how rambly he gets when he’s nervous

Somehow digging himself a grave right there

On that same page

We’re all aware of how difficult it is for Peter to balance his civilian and superhero life

I’m not up for debate- it might as well be canon

He’s always having to leave school for superhero work in which it has consequences or he leaves superhero work and still has consequences in the franchise so respectfully: 🤫🤐)

Peter tries super hard to be there and include you in what’s going on but sometimes he needs to cancel or leave hang outs abruptly

You understand this obviously but it’s still upsetting, not as much if you’re a superhero id imagine

But yknow

Still annoying asf

You don’t give him hell for it even if you want to because either 1. You do the same thing (superhero) 2. He can’t help it and he already gets enough shit

He’s also super protective

Especially if you’re a civilian

It’s sort of endearing/ annoying- somehow both simultaneously

Now if you’re a hero/ avenger then you both understand things about your secret identities

Particularly about hiding them

Yknow how Ned would always help Peter out? Well you and Peter do that for eachother

If u have family or others who aren’t aware like friends- Peter has your back and vice versa

It’s just the price you need to pay

Especially since it’s not easy balancing lives

[critter-wizard]

ep 43 had me tearing up in a fucking shopping centre ‼️‼️

b+w alt version that I truly couldn't decide if I liked it more . Also I included a lot of thoughts in the tags but they're somewhat incoherent<3

[statementlou]

https://www.tumblr.com/louisupdates/754934426217152513/goodbye-faith-in-the-future-world-tour-272024?source=share

did he or did he not lose fans then?

I will answer this because this anon actually brings a concrete question to the table rather than just "hurhur but you're a larrie??" (tell me you can't actually refute any of our points…). Anyway this post shows the decrease in Louis instagram followers between the screenshots taken directly after the release of Faith in the Future in Nov '22, when he changed his bio to promote that album and the tour tickets, and now, when he changed it again to mention the current release. But I'm putting that response under a cut because I'm tired of the actual POINT of all this nonsense getting lost in a sea of made up things people insist are important:

There is no rational argument you can make to say that Louis has less fans now than he did 2, 4, or 6 years ago. You don't need a spreadsheet of details you need to USE YOUR EYES! He has gone from filling theaters to filling arenas and stadiums. His second album made a higher chart position than his first album. His festival has doubled in size EVERY year of its existence. And for that matter: his insta post engagement numbers remain about the same (despite the fact that older posts should have way MORE likes due to having been there longer, even aside from follower counts.) SO WHO FUCKING CARES ABOUT HIS INSTA FOLLOWER NUMBER???? Serious question: what does the word "fans" mean if these things aren't what matters? ALL of this quibbling about what he should do to make things better and people can't even see that THINGS AREN'T BAD.

Anyway to address the specific question- (con't......)

NO- HE DID NOT LOSE FANS. HE LOST SOME INSTA FOLLOWERS. THESE ARE NOT THE SAME THING. As I said above, literally what does it mean to lose fans if that number change coincides with him having higher sales, more audience members, and higher engagement than ever before? Whatever he lost ISN'T FANS. I wouldn't be surprised if a significant factor was something like a bot purge, but also yes: I'm sure a lot of casuals followed him around the time of his big album release and later unfollowed him. That's extremely normal because that's how casual engagement works, and why the definition of fan really matters. Louis and his team understand this and have referenced it repeatedly, talking about how lucky he is to have *us* specifically, to have the kind of dedicated fanbase he has, to have the KIND of fans he does who will allow him to do what HE wants. @dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram named the issue of depth vs breadth with regard to fans a long time ago, and pointed out why having DEPTH is so much more important. It's like this- artists who are on top 40 radio have more numbers on things like insta follows, and for a time on sales and tickets. But those aren't FANS- they're people with a casual interest. And as soon as that person isn't being forced in their ears 10x a day, those people lose interest and stop supporting them, stop buying stuff and unfollow, and those artists end up doing the 'opener on the jingle ball' circuit rather than their own tours. One Direction as a whole, and Louis maybe most of all or near to at this point, have something MUCH MORE VALUABLE than that- DEPTH FANS. Louis has fans who will support him even if he takes years to release music, or stops parading around with a pretend girlfriend to stay in the headlines at least once a month, or completely changes his image and genre, and that is UNHEARD OF. It's ASTONISHING and worth SO MUCH MORE. And they get that! THAT is why he always bragging about us, why industry people he works with are always so agog about us, why he will do anything for US- not for randos. He is also growing his breadth- and it's OBVIOUSLY WORKING whatever his follower counts are, but that is always going to be secondary to doing things for THE FANDOM because that is his sustainable business model. That is what keeps him onstage and reaching number one. And not coincidentally, the things they do are also working to grow that- much more valuable- commodity. So the fact that that's exactly what these chuckleheads complain about- that he does things that are just fandom facing or serving rather than everything being aimed at recruiting casual fans- does nothing but betray how completely they, unlike Louis and his team, misunderstand the actual drivers of his (actual, existing, happening) success. Luckily for Louis, he and his team rely on their own data harvesting (they do a LOT of it) and growth metrics (they're off the charts) rather than the smug assumptions of random (mostly quite new to this) fans and the few bitter people leading the complaining about everything Louis does.

[triglycercule]

triglycercule..

STOP I HAVENT FINISHED MY THANK YOU ART FOR THE FIRST BUNDLE OF JK AU DRAWINGS YOU SENT ME AND NOW YOURE GIVING ME THE FULL VERSION OF THE FOURTH ON E??? 🙁🙁‼️⁉️⁉️⁉️🙏🙏😭😭😭😭 THEH LOOK SO CUTE AND ADORABLE ANS PERFECT YOU DRAW THEM SO WELL I LOVE THE GRAYSCALE LOOK AND SEEINF THEM WITH LEGS THIS TIME IS SOOO CUTE I LOVE SEEING LEGWARMERS I M GENUINELY TEEKING GEEKING DYING IM SO THANKFUL FOR THIS‼️‼️‼️!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU'RE A LEDGEND YIUR A GOD YOUR EVERYTHING THST THE WORLD NEEDED IM SO HAOPY SOMEONE DREW THE JK MTT I DIDN'T EVEN PUT THST MUCH EFFORT INTO IT.,,,,,.... theyre so happy they make ME so happy AND ASIDE FROM THST YOURE ACTUALLY SO GOOD AT ART THOUGH THIS IS JUST A sketch PROBABLY. clothing folds 🤤🤤🤤🤤 expressions 🤤🤤🤤🤤 hahhnds 🤤🤤🤤🤤 why do i feel like i shouldve see this artstyle from someone before. who are you gshaewru. what type of name is thatHUH??? NTBE TYPE OF NAMR AN AMAZING PERSON WOULD HAVE FOR THEIR UMBLR ACCOUNT YOURE SO AMAZING PLEASE DON'T DIE. ok but again thank you so much for the jk!mtt art i've never been more overjoyed in my life this is like a blessing from the gods themselves for me. NOBODY KNOWS HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME

[bunnihearted]

🧸♡ ⋆｡˚

[devilsskettle]

i hate that this website has location based ads now like it's one thing to promote the local grocery store chain to me but i am seeing ads for my workplace now :/