#maybe the soundtrack could even help make your day better one day too

[iguessitsjustme]

I need everyone to watch Rainbow Prince. Is it good? No. Is it enjoyable? Immensely.

But I was having a lousy day and just a general bad brain day and I’ve been listening to the soundtrack and it has significantly improved my day. So if you like cheesy musicals and aren’t looking for something groundbreaking but is still just a lot of fun, watch Rainbow Prince.

[biteyoubiteme]

melon float

yeonjun x fem!reader

synopsis: a picnic in the park is always fun with your boyfriend

warnings: 🔞!!! semipublic/public sex, oral (f!rec), no protection, creampie, breeding kink if you squint kinda, Yeonjun calls reader baby once or twice, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.9k

an: feedback is appreciated!! this is apart of my float event! check out the other members fics [float m.list]

[m.list]

Yeonjun had been so excited this morning, for over a week he had been planning your next date, picking out every detail. He had gotten up early to get all your food ready, making sure to keep you out of the kitchen to keep the surprise up. “you should get ready I have this handled, maybe you could wear that pretty white dress you just got,” so you complied dressing up and after he was ready you hopped into the car asking him to reveal where you were going.

“to eat out,” was all he gave you to work with, hand on your thigh as he drove.

when you got to the park you knew he was taking you on a picnic. The past couple of days were too unbearable to be outside in the sun but the forecast had shown a few days of cooler mornings with partly cloudy skies. the two of you had been locked up in your apartment sticking to waiting until it was late to go out even when it still felt hot without the sun. you had complained about the heat and not being able to really enjoy the summertime. Now he's gone and found the perfect spot for a picnic, a little secluded patch of grass, the hanging trees giving peaks of the little stream they rest next to. you can hear the twittering birds, and the rambel of water, all of it the perfect soundtrack to summer.

everything had started innocently enough, Yeonjun set up the blanket for the two of you and unpacked his little basket of prepped foods. he had taken the time to cut all the fruit up into cute little shapes, some of them rough around the edges but his clumsiness only ever made the effort so thoughtful. he set up all the little things around to make them look put together to take a photo. “smile,” his little happy grin behind the camera making you blush. “look at how pretty you are,” he flipped his phone towards you to look at, “I'm going to make it my lockscreen,”

“Wait, you can see my underwear in this photo,” you laugh, zooming in on your panties to prove your point. your legs had been up, knees closed as you leaned back on your hands showing your cute outfit. you hadn't noticed how your dress had slipped down your thigh, low enough to show the lacy fabric.

“My favorite ones too,” he states, “they look so good on you, even better off,” the little grin he has is wicked enough to know exactly where his mind is going.

“you can wait until we get home to give me flirty looks like that,”

“I really can’t do that at all,” he looks around at the empty space we are in, “No one really comes around here anyways and we are blocked by all the trees…”

even just the idea of doing anything out in public was a little bit hot to you. Yeonjun was fully into pda, he loved to show you off, hand in the back pocket of your jeans, making out at the club like you'll never get the chance to kiss again, nay excuses to put his hands on you to let people know you were his and his alone. he wasn't shy when it came to people watching the two of you, if you let him he would stick his hand up your skirt in the back of a cab so this wasn't so different for you two. so he didn’t even have to ask for you to know what he wanted now.

“you don’t think anyone will catch us?” you ask but you don’t need to answer because even if there was a possibility of getting caught Yeonjun wouldn't admit it outright but he wouldn't let the two of you go far enough without caution. you stand up and trying not to lift your dress too much you hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties pulling them down. Yeonjun is fast to lean over so that he can help take them off fully, balling them up and tossing them over to the basket half-open behind him.

he slides his hands up the back of your thighs, sitting criss cross in front of you looking up like he found everything he's been missing. he's grinning as he cups your ass, pulling you closer to him, chin on your thigh. “I thought those were your favorite?” you brush his hair behind his ears.

“On the list of my favorite things, they come second to what's standing in front of me. no need to admire them when I could admire you,”

you roll your eyes but even if he was cheesy it always got you. He was rubbing up and down the back of your legs, fingers slipping to your inner thighs making you shiver. every drag of his fingers getting closer and closer to your center. “you know what?”

“hum?” you hummed the tips of his fingers only just grazing over your folds.

“I think I’m starving,” he pulls you back down to the blanket, your laugh cut off by his kiss. hands moving to your waist, body pressing you into the blanket. when he pulls away he keeps his mouth on you, lips down your jaw, down your neck. “and I just happened to bring my favorite meal,”

he lays himself down between your legs lifting the hem of your skirt peeking under to see how wet you've gotten for him. Since you’ve gotten together it was so easy to get wet from a few kisses, for him to look at you the right way and he would just know if he reached down to check he could slip in without any prep.

“You said earlier we were going to eat out, not this,” you’re sitting up on your elbows watching and Yeonjun is giving you a cocky smile, tongue running along the inside of his lip as he shrugs. “You must have misheard me, I was trying to say I wanted to eat you out,” pushing your dress up and bunching it at your hips he leans down blowing over your clit, your knees pulling in at the cool air.

“don’t tease me,” you whine but you don’t expect him to listen, he was always a tease, drawing out your pleasure like it was a test he knew he would pass with flying colors. but there was no time when someone could walk by secluded as the spot was or not Yeonjun didn’t need anyone else to see you falling apart on his tongue namely because he didn’t want to be interrupted. he licked up your wetness, circling your clit before giving precise controlled flicks of his tongue. your head rolls back and you bite your lip to keep quiet only it's harder than you thought when he starts to suck on your clit.

your knees try to pull together and he has to push them back apart, ravaging your cunt, swirling his tongue over and over. He had full control over your body pulling your orgasm from you slowly until you were combusting. hips sinking, hands fisting the blanket, your moans were not silent anymore as you fluttered around nothing, Yeonjun pulling away to let you calm down from your high. but you didn’t feel satiated, not when you felt so empty, it was almost painful. “please jjunie,” you whined sitting up.

“hum? Does my pretty girl need to be stuffed,” knowing exactly what you wanted. he was hard as he sat up, unbuttoning his jeans, “come here,”

you didn’t need to be told twice, crawling over to him before straddling his waist, sensitive clit rubbing over his bulge making the both of you moan. you didn’t even hold yourself back as you started to grind down on him, your arms wrapping around his neck and fingers tangling into his hair. He grabbed your waist trying to still you, “Hold on baby I won't last like that,” he pulled his cock free from his last layer of fabric. you were already clenching at the sight, watching as he gave two slow pumps, thumb running over the tip collecting his precum to spread around the veiny shaft.

you sat up on your knees lifting as he used one hand to guide himself in and the other to hold your dress up. your soft whine turned into a throaty moan as he sank into you, slow to inch as he stretched you open. when you were fully seated the both of you caught your breath, your dress falling from his hands before he pushed your hair away from your face. “you’re so pretty when you sit so well on my cock,” he could feel you pulse around him at his praise, gummy walls warm enough to make him weak. he pulls you in for a kiss on hand at the base of your neck, the other on your hip helping you rock forward on him.

finding a rhyme the both of you melt together, your drawn-out movements deepening your kiss. pressed so deep inside you, you swear you can feel him in your throat, every movement brushing him against your g-spot, knees weak from the feeling. tugging on your hair he leans your head back to expose more of your neck, kissing down the column of your throat and to your exposed cleavage he nips over your skin.

you can feel your second orgasm build aided by the way your clit is rubbing against him but you’re restless, needing more than every slow drag. “I want more,” you breathe trying to pick up the pace but failing to when you’re this close, “please I need more,”

he doesn't even pull out as he flips the two of you, pushing you down on your back and wrapping his arms around you before he starts to pick up the pace on his thrusts. “better baby?”

you can’t even speak as he frantically pumps into you, hips knocking into yours. his mouth at your ear he's moaning, “You feel so good- fuck- I'm gonna fill you up- I-“ he cut himself off on a whimper, “I wanna fill you up so bad, I can’t take it, I need to please,” he presses his face into your neck as he begs. “please,”

he twitched inside you, thrusts turning sloppy as you wrap your legs around his waist. his soft mewls sending you over the edge, your back arching as you came, dots forming in your vision. you’re clenching so much that he can hardly move anymore, hips pressed flush against yours as he stills, warm cum filling you.

Yeonjun pressed a messy kiss to your lips, going back to his slow thrusts to feel how slick you were with both of your cum. every other thrust he pressed into your womb feeling the way your pussy fluttered for him. He gave a lazy smile into your kiss before pulling out. you gave a shaky breath from the loss, your legs falling from around his waist as he leaned back to look at the mess he had made of you. “my pretty girl looking her absolute best,” you could feel the cum slipping out of you and he scooped it up with his thumb to push it back in, “stuffed full of my cum just as she should be,”

[legitalicat]

"Maybe I Could Learn to Love You" - Aemond Targaryen x Redwyne!Reader

Grabbed the gif from sabrinaacarpenters

AN: To be real with y'all, We Become We from the Journey to Bethlehem soundtrack totally inspired this. I've not seen the movie but this song is blowing up on my tiktok.

Masterlist here!

Summary: Aemond could never choose to love another. Maybe you could learn to love him too.

CW: tooth rotting fluff, arranged marriage, I tried to be as neutral as possible for reader description, did use daughter 1 time and dear girl 1 time so presumably AFAB daughter, no other descriptors for reader, talks of wine

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Redwyne!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

When you were ten, your father was named to King Viserys’ small council. As the younger brother of Lord Redwyne, nobody had anticipated the idea that he would have much more influence than a prominent land owner. So when King Viserys asked him to come to King’s Landing and serve in a new position dedicated to agriculture, he accepted immediately and brought you in hopes of securing your future.

That is how you met the young Prince Aemond. He was not much older than you, a year at most. At the time, he was still recovering from the Driftmark Incident as the servants in the castle called it. There had been no hope for saving his eye, and so he was relearning to do everything.

Aemond Targaryen was smitten with you from the beginning. His mother had originally had to argue with him to meet you, as he was the closest person in age to you and perhaps in you he would find a friend. He had never been too fond of people, losing his eye doing nothing to help that. Yet, he had never been more grateful for his mother’s insistence than when he saw you.

It was only you and your father, your mother having died a few years prior. And Aemond’s singular eye focused on you exiting the carriage, much too distracted by discussing a book with your father to notice the Royal Family had come to greet you. When you finally did, your eyes widened, stuttering and stammering apologies about your rudeness.

“Please never apologize for your passions,” he spoke quickly. A bit too quickly, perhaps, as he thought about how that may have been the place of his father or even his mother. But already you had enraptured him and he would not make any apologies for that.

In the days and months following, his mother had arranged with your father that you and Aemond become companions. Unbeknownst to you, a promise had been made. Your father allow her son to be by your side and you would marry a prince.

All you cared about was having a friend. You had expected King’s Landing to feel rather lonely. You left behind cousins and friends in The Arbor. And while knowing that the King and Queen had four children, you had been under the assumption you would be kept separate. So, when your lessons with the Septa were held with Aemond, you were equally surprised and grateful.

Over the years, Aemond’s affections for you only grew. He loved spending time with you, requiring his every waking moment be spent with you. As you grew older and the need for propriety became an issue, he was more than happy to have Ser Criston or even one of the Cargyll twins to accompany the two of you. It didn’t matter to him what you did or who was around. If he had you, he was happy.

You had been in King’s Landing for six years when you were formally betrothed to Aemond, to be married within a moon of your eighteenth birthday. It took you by complete surprise. It made sense, you supposed. If you looked back on the years, you could see how your friendship with Aemond was considered a courtship. He was ecstatic at the news, you were neutral.

It wasn’t a bad idea. Aemond seemed to truly care for you. You knew if your marriage had to be political, better it be to a man such as Aemond. He was good and kind to you, handsome if you were asked to give your opinion. You did not mind his scar or the eyepatch he wore.

Aemond was only slightly disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm at your impending marriage. He figured it was nerves. Coming from a noble house but not being the daughter of its Lord may have caused them when you were presented with such an advantageous marriage. Or perhaps you were so overcome with joy that you were merely struck speechless. He did not mind either way.

It was on your eighteenth birthday that he learned the love he bore you was one sided. He had overheard you speaking to his mother as she gave you a gift. It was a piece of jewelry her mother had once owned, given to you as a way to welcome you. You attempted to deny it. And at her insistence, you confessed why.

“Aemond will be a good husband, but I do not love him. It would feel wrong to accept such a beautiful heirloom as such,” you had explained shyly.

“Dear girl, you marriage may not be one of love, but you are still joining my family. And you are someone familiar with my home, the home my children may never get to see. Perhaps in this, you can feel connected to our home and teach your children of it,” she explained, placing the necklace around your neck.

Despite the ache in his chest that you did not feel for him what he felt for you, he was not any less determined. He loved you. That would not change.

The day before your wedding, he approached you. You had been so busy in the last week, making final preparations for the day. You were nervous now. It was obvious when he saw you. And despite the fact you did not love him, he knew you still considered him your friend.

“Come with me, my love,” he said softly to you, a book in hand.

Since your betrothal, little pet names are all he called you. You never minded. In fact, you quite enjoyed it. You enjoyed the knowledge that every member of court who thought Aemond was cold could see that he adored you. It may have been wrong, but you felt so powerful in knowing a man such as he could be weak only for you. Perhaps that was why you never made a fuss. You were lucky, luckier than most, in having your intended so dedicated and devoted to you.

“Where are we going?” you asked him as he began to lead you down the corridor.

He brought you to the weirwood tree. It was often a good place for the two of you to catch a moment of peace. A guardsman would stand at the entrance to the gardens and pay little mind to the small touches Aemond let linger over you. Here, you felt safe and connected to your roots. Here, you felt as though you and Aemond truly were friends.

He sat on the ground, offering you a hand for assistance for sitting gracefully. He knew you were not one of grace, but he thought it cute that you were as coordinated as a newborn lamb. And you were ever so grateful for that fact.

“Lay your head in my lap and I shall read to you,” he told you quietly.

You were relieved to have this small moment of reprieve from the stresses of planning an event as grand as this. You had been coordinating with your uncle for the wine for the wedding, with Lord Tyrell for extra grains so that you may have your sweets, with many bards throughout the kingdoms to find one to play their music. The Queen and your father took some of the organizing off your shoulders, of course, but you needed this to be perfect.

And so, you laid your head in his lap. He stroked your hair with one hand as he held the book with the other, his deep voice reading the words of a love story to you. You looked up at him. He was truly handsome. The angles of his jawline and his prominent nose made goose pimples rise across your skin. His lilac eye was focused on the page and not you, but it soothed you nonetheless. And his hair…you could not wait until you were married so as to be able to openly touch it.

“You are staring awfully hard, darling. Do I have something on my face?” he asked, his eye flickering from the page to you.

“Remove it,” you whispered.

“We have been over this,” he said quietly. This conversation was the only time he ever seemed cross with you. His jaw clenched every time.

“Yes, I am aware you stated not before we were wed. But it is tomorrow. And I wait to gaze upon the entirety of my husband before I am bound to him before the gods,” you told him, offering a coy smirk.

“If you wish to gaze upon the entirety of me, might I suggest we move to my chambers?” he asked with his own smirk.

You could not help but laugh. He felt comfortable enough with you to laugh, joke, and tease. You were grateful that you could grant him this existence.

“Please, Aemond. How can you expect me to marry you and partake in what is to come if you do not trust me enough to show me you?” you asked him quietly. He knew you spoke of the wedding ceremony that was to be held, and how you feared it, but you had assured him you would do it for him.

You could see how jaw clench again, his nostrils flaring slightly. You had always felt the liberty to argue against him. It was one of the things he loved about you, how you forgot what was expected of you to speak your mind.

But finally, his hand withdrew from your hair as he placed the book aside. Perhaps you had spoken too freely and finally he was getting angry with you. Instead, his hands reached behind his own head.

He had the strap unfastened yet did not remove it. He looked to you. A genuine fear could be seen on his face.

“And if you decide it is too disgusting to gaze upon? What shall I be expected to do then?” he asked you in a quiet voice.

“It would not dissuade me from marrying you,” she told him. It was true, in equal parts because you knew there was no chance of that changing now and the fact you knew you were lucky to be marrying a man such as this. “Though I suppose I would order a bag be kept over your head. Or perhaps only approach you in dark rooms.”

It was a tease, you both knew it. But he was still worried about how much truth hung in your words. He didn’t want you to be disgusted by him.

Seeing how uneasy Aemond still was, you reached up and placed your hand on his. “You love me?” you asked him quietly.

“I could never choose to love another,” Aemond said quickly to you, confirming to you what you already knew.

“Then have faith in me that I will not turn or cower. Have faith in me that I want this marriage, this life, with you,” you told him gently as you began to slowly pull your hand away, bringing his along.

He allowed his hands to be removed, holding the eyepatch in them. The piece of leather had made its indention in his skin from being fastened too tightly. Your eyes then focused on the dazzling blue sapphire that had been secured in the socket.

Aemond noticed how your gaze softened, your entire body going lax. He began to quickly attempt to hide himself, feeling flustered as his pale skin flooded red. A panic built up in him.

“No,” you whispered, taking hold of his hands again. “Please. Do not hide this beauty from me. If you wish to wear it in public, I will stand by that decision. But it would do me a great disservice if you hid away such art when we are alone.”

Your wedding was perfect, if Aemond had any opinion on it. Your hard work had paid off tenfold. Every guest had enjoyed the feast after you were bound to Aemond. It felt like your greatest accomplishment, proving you were up to this insurmountable task of marrying a prince.

When all the Lords were too overtaken by their food and drink to notice, Aemond took your hand and led you away from the main hall. For a moment, you worried about how it would look if you were to be seen alone together. Then you remembered you were now married and felt relieved, albeit a little stupid.

“Where are we going? We will be missed,” you said, giggling a bit as you followed close behind him.

“Most are too drunk to remember they have toes, I doubt we will be missed too much,” he assured you.

You followed him in silence. It was sweet, you thought, that he was eager to finally have a true moment alone with him. He allowed himself to be soft with you, something you adored. It allowed an ease to be felt between the two of you.

The two of you trekked through the entirety of the Keep. Upstairs, downstairs, around corners, and through doorways you didn’t know existed. Then he brought you through a last doorway that lead into one of the apartments that you had never before been in.

It was a room almost too grand to imagine. It was filled with an inexplicable warmth you had missed since first coming to King’s Landing. The furniture was the standard styles of all the Keep’s furniture, being obviously expensive and well crafted. What caught your eye was the subtleties of it.

Grape vines had been made to grow so that they hung over the windows. You could smell the salty sea water of Blackwater Bay with every small gust of wind. A bowl of peaches laid on the bedside table. The duvet on the bed was a deep burgundy as though it were made from the sweetest wine.

“It occurred to me that you have not returned home since you arrived,” Aemond’s voice entered your ears.

You had been too busy looking over everything to remember his existence. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were keeping and tears flooded to your eyes. The room felt exactly like how you remembered The Arbor.

He lead you to the windows, holding your waist with one hand. He kept you on his right side, his good side, as he did so. He looked down at you as you looked up to him.

“Part of your wedding gift is that I have ensured there will be no bedding ceremony,” he whispered while placing his hand on your chin.

“Aemond, I…there are no words,” you stammered out, as your eyes widened. There was no way you could imagine how it was possible. It was expected of royalty.

“Your other part, is this,” he told you. With a gentle grip, he turned your face outwards before removing his touch.

It was beautiful. The night sky littered with stars, the Bay extending into the horizon, forgetting the existence of the land that it was meant to wash away. Lights flickering had dotted the landscape.

“I fear I do not understand,” you whispered, looking to him confused. You realized he had taken his eyepatch off while you weren’t paying attention. Once again your breath was taken from you.

He looked from the beauty of the night to you. You were his own private beauty, one that he would get to keep for his entire life.

“I know you do not love me,” he told you, shaking his head when you began to say something. “No, no, I understand. And it does not deter me from loving you every moment of my life.”

“I want to love you,” you whispered breathlessly.

“It is okay if you do not. But my gift to you is a promise,” he said, his fingers running along your jawline. “I am the second son of a king who cannot remember how to chew his food, let alone care for his family. I have never held any lands, nor have I ever proved myself in battle. But my heart and soul are yours. We can go wherever you wish. I will build you a castle from the ground to the stars with nothing but my hands if you asked me to. I promise you I will spend every breath giving you every star. I will give you my entirety.”

You didn’t look away from him. Your heart was pounding against your chest, every moment feeling like you were seconds away from crying. Whenever you thought of love and devotion, this was what you thought of. He was willing to set the world on fire for you even without the promise of love.

“Maybe I could learn to love you, too.”

[choppeddreamworm]

Can I get something where fem reader/(Y/N) is in the school musical/play and they are secretly dating James Hook and his crew don't want to go to the show cause it's "stupid" or something and James sneaks into the musical/play and sits in the back just to watch his secret gf.

Musicals have a special place in my heart so I loved when I got your request! I feel like my writing fell a bit flat towards the end but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

-nini 𓄿

One Act play

Pairing: Captain hook x fem! reader

Warnings: none, just hook being rude :] not to you though Word count: 2.2 k (not proofread apologies for grammar/writing mistakes! )

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Song used:

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       "15 minutes till opening!" your directors loud voice notified the cast. The people below you conversed amongst each-other as they tried to fix the bottom of your dress. You held your arms up subconsciously trying not to block them, the puffy shoulders not helping. Before the director had come in and interrupted your train of thought you were running over your lines even mouthing some out loud if needed to fix your pitch. But now you could feel how overbearing your quick pulse and butterflies in your stomach fluttered enough to feel them in your throat. were.

This was the day you'd actually perform the musical you and your classmates had been working on for weeks. You put your heart soul into the auditioning process and your effort paid off because you got the lead role! To add to the overwhelming pressure you had invited your pirate boyfriend to come watch. Which gave you a whole new reason to take this play seriously. He had assured you to not over stress your little head about it but you wanted it to be perfect. No one knew the love you shared with the villain and this was the closest it would come to both of you seen in the same room without suspicion arising.

"Come on Uli it won't be so terrible," hook wasn't one to actually beg with the sea witch but he was trying to keep true to the promise he made you that he'd be there. It would be less weird if him and the Vk's arrived maybe cause some havoc afterward his leader would just have to agree to it. Uliana had other plans though she was too focused on fixing her appearance. It was fitting her room having a big mirror just for her. "I don't want little royals in my ears, singing songs about sappy true love or happy endings!" She puts her hands close to here face as she purposefully makes her voice whinny, mocking the overdone perfect fairy tale stories told. Hades and Maleficent can't help but chuckle at Ulianas   Sarcasm from across the room. Both laying on Mals bed since Uliana and Maleficent shared a room. Hook tries to not seem tense over the unknowing  jab Ursula's sister had taken on his royal girlfriend. Uliana rolls her eyes seeing that hook didn't bite back and goes back to her reflection instead. Hooks eyebrows lift, trying to give Mal a knowing look of "help me out" since she was the only one who knew of you being his lover. To which she ultimately just shrugs her shoulders at him going back to making heart eyes at hades. He looks towards Morgie knowing he'd jump on the bandwagon but for once he was actually focused on doing his biology homework. Something about different dog breeds...

He sighs, opening his mouth before Uliana cuts him off. "-While all of you are blinded by futile ... desires," she turns back around taking in Morgie actually doing homework like some good student at Mekong Academy and the two love birds doing nothing but gazing into each others eyes. She immediately belittles them in her head, "I have better things to tend to". Her tentacles push Hook as she stomps towards the front door. He bites back a snarl,not helping but at-least let a snarky remark leave his lips before she leaves, "don't let your tentacles get caught on your way out!". Which only earns him a little shut up from Uli. He laughs to himself mumbling how good the joke was only to be met with defeating silence now taking over the room. His other friends so caught up in their own personal "adventures".

"Yeah.. I'll just be going as-well, I love all of you too!" He whispers to himself as he follows Ulianas actions by walking out of the room. If he'd have to go alone then so be it.

"Giselle! you're up in five" One of the backstage managers gave you a smile along with small nudge as she called you by your characters stage name. You could only give a pitiful excuse for a grin back. A few tremors going through your body, clammy hands playing with the stage curtains. The people playing narrators were already on stage giving the intro to the audience. From your nervousness you couldn't help but peep in behind the curtains. A theatre half full, with many faces you recognized from classes except one... 

Your eyes desperately scanned each row staring with hope but ending in disappointment. While your heart seemed to try to beat out of your chest and eyes trying to start streaming like a faucet you stated to focus on evening your breath. It would be a shame if you had to force the makeup team to give you a last minute touch up. So instead of focusing on the missing villain in the crowd you started playing with your fingers. He would surely show up soon.

"ticket please," the female student located behind the table declared to a stumped Hook. "admissions should be free this is a school event,"  he answered back in frustration. The ability to afford the entrance fee was not of question it was the fact his valuables would not match school accepted currency. "yes should be, but tonights the opening night for the play though," she sticks her hand out more obviously. He shouldn't have used you as an excuse but he was grasping onto last resorts here plus he didn't tell the complete truth so your relationship was safe, "look lass my... friends in the play, main lead actually-". His words were cut short by the girls obnoxious snort, "your girlfriend- the main lead?" yeah sure!". She jeered looking him up and down not believing a pirate let alone a villain was associated with any person in the musical cast. "maybe you're just mistaken so I'll say this once, your holding up the line.. move" her demeanor changed from taunting to serious, hand no longer stretched out instead now holding a firm position down on the table. Hook leaned down, trying to see if he could intimidate his way in, but he remembered it wouldn't look so good on his part, dulling your staring moment and not seeing you act. "That hair looks awful on you darling maybe ask Fay to bippity bopitty fix that for you yeah?," he let the hook drag on the table a little too hard, ripping the table cloth just a good amount till deciding it was enough. While he strides away from the table towards the outside of the building the ticket girl that had attend him cant help but grab at her hair starting to doubt her own appearance.

He was trying to do things right and the universe seemed to be throwing it back in his face. Many scenarios played out in his head, his love distraught and hurt. There was no way he'd let that happen, he was sure there were other entrances not just so openly disclosed to the public. Presented perfectly to him while walking outside near the backside of the building was a door labeled 'storage', slightly opened, letting only a wisp of light out many people would probably miss but, not him.

The audiences claps brought you back to reality along the narrators walking off the stage towards you giving you a small 'break your leg'. Your breath caressed your teeth watching the lights dim exponentially, being able to conjure only the light silhouette of the props crew setting your scene up. A cozy forest with a castle far in the background. Last thing they did was talk into their mic, giving a thumbs up before leaving the stage. The darkness only teased you with going back in your head the blasting music with the violins and drums made you tense back into your senses. Your feet walked forward in airplane mode until reaching next to the prop mannequin created by you. A few thumps followed behind you, turning towards the dark audience you were met with the other cast kneeling in front of you dressed as animals. Lights slowly coming alive.

Hook was traveling through a dark room quietly before the loud music spooked him making him run into something. He was left cringing more as the objects falling caused a commotion. A few muffled voices made him sprint to the other end of the room where another door was. His eyes deprived of light were blinded when instantly met by the harsh bulbs. As he tried to recuperate people passed by him some dressed in office work clothes, others as animals and one specifically as a squirrel. He tried regain his posture realizing he was backstage. One passer by not helping but say, "I thought pirates weren't supposed to happen till the last act?". Deciding against asking for help since he must've already attracted attention dressed as he was, he tried finding his way cutting across many corners. Until he heard your voice traveling through the walls. He immediately grabbed some unsuspecting victim immediately, "you! where the door to the theatre seats?!". Too afraid to even speak they pointed to a door directly in his sight. He let them go without another thought dashing to the entrance.

"when you meet the someone, who was meant for you" you perked with a bit of faultiness, still struggling with getting into character. "Before two can become one theres something you must do...." your eyes were stuck on the audience still searching for hook. The character was gleeful and confident not unsure and meek.

"do you pull each others tails?" one of the cast members dressed as a bunny pulled on your arms while delivering their line. Which wasn't part of the act but it successfully made you remember your next steps. "Do you feed each other seeds?". You gently took their hand off you, your response along with your next words made it seem intentional. A small chuckle fought your lips , "No, there is something sweeter, Every-body-needs". With every jingle you touched each actors nose. A little sadness lingered in your heart when you looked up to the mannequin with dark hair dressed in red and a fork in his hand per your request.  "Ive been dreamin' of a true loves kiss, and a prince I'm hoping comes with this," the longing in your eyes as you looked at the inanimate object were real and . "Thats what brings ever-aftering, so happy," you gave fork a light touch with the tips of your fingers. Your head went back towards the "animals" who were supposed to be learning from you,"thats the reason we need lips so much". You made small motions with both your fingers connecting them, "for lips are the only things that touch".

"So to spend life of endless bliss.. just find who you love through true love's kiss,-" towards the middle of the singing you looked up with closed eyes feeling the words in your heart. Then with the last few words you looked up onto the crowd, hands out, a small figure towards the back side of the theatre cutting your last note short. You could recognize the frame of your lover anywhere even when you had blasting white lights rendering you blind. He raised his arm, dismissing any doubt in your mind was a shadow of a hook. When James had first laid eyes on you while singing your third verse he had to do a double take. The dress was so dramatic yet you looked so beautiful like A true princess indeed. Even more heartwarming was the fact he came in when you were singing those romantic words to a mannequin that suspiciously resembled him. 

Finally having his eyes on you made you miss your queue to riff, too focused on the way your pulse skipped and how embarrassing your wardrobe must've looked. Big, puffy and white to imitate the wedding taking place in the act. A big true grin now on your face played perfectly into the next sequence, the animals singing about you, repeating your own words. "She's been dreamin' of a true love's kiss," they start circling you. "And a prince she's hoping comes with this," you follow their gestures to the dummy next to you, making your advancements towards it. "Thats what brings ever-afterings, so happy,"  once they finished the verse and onto the next you started swaying with them, "and thats the reason we need lips so much For lips are the only things that touch".  

You gave a wonderful spin letting the artistry of the fabric be shown while your cast members last note rang out. A foot in-front of the other you step closer towards the edge of stage, hands clasping each other  on your chest. " So to spend a life of endless bliss," you cheeks puff, eyes finding the pirate in the audience once again as if singing to him you let passion flow out of you. " just find who you love through true loves kiss"

James didn't hide the big mushy look on his face, he spent every moment in public hiding his feelings for you but the darkness in the auditorium offered him hide out. Where even in everyones eyes you were just acting only two hearts shared their emotions out in public with no one having a clue just them. Ulianas words did make him want to laugh though, this play had just been "little royals in my ears, singing songs about sappy true love or happy endings". Except it was like a dedicated love letter to him and only to him by his theatre loving girlfriend. He would cherish it till his death bed, "embarrassing" parts and all.

———————————————————————

[sukirichi]

𝐂𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊.

you never expected to like tea, or fall for the barista with a charming smile. but life has its way of surprising you, and your summer job just might be the best thing to happen to you.

→ barista! suo x waitress! reader. fluff fluff fluff! hand holding. suo is touchy and flirty. unedited. just suo being his usual charming self <3 reader is implied to be working before they enter university/college, but no age is mentioned. this is my first suo fic aaah i enjoyed writing him sm!! 2.6k wc

→ part of the help wanted collab hosted by @interstellar-inn !! divider from @cafekitsune thank you remi <3

You remembered your first day working at the quaint little café like it was yesterday.

It’d been your first day as a waitress, your first job since you’d graduated high school, too. Now that you were a summer break away from entering university, what better way to spend it than save up? So you’d sent in your application on the neighborhood café, popular amongst people your age, and began your first day at work.

The summer sun was high in the sky, its heat causing you to sweat under your clothes. The cicadas sang around you, a beautiful chorus from the trees, and their buzzing a welcomed soundtrack for the summer. The streets were lined with cherry blossom trees, their leaves a vibrant green, providing patches of dappled shade along the sidewalks. From where you stood, you could see the distant mountains, their massive silhouettes softened by the heat haze as they stood tall against the clear, azure sky.

Reaching the café, you pushed open the door, the bell above jingling softly. The café was known for its cozy atmosphere and exceptional tea selection, the place already bustling with customers. Your eyes darted around, taking in the sight of people sipping on steaming cups and enjoying pastries. Your heart raced as you approached the counter, a few of your co-workers already occupied and moving about.

“Hi,” you smiled, “I’m the new hire.”

A tall figure turned around, and your breath hitched. You’d seen him in the café countless times before, and begrudgingly admitted that he was the reason your friends loved visiting here so much. His name was Suo, the café’s infamous barista. He was pretty in the sense that you’d stop and give a double look when you first saw him, his voice smooth and his words effortlessly charming. But standing before him now? He was just so much prettier. His red hair caught the light, the auburn of it brighter and like burning fire.

“Ah, I’d heard you were coming today. Welcome,” he says warmly, “Follow me. Let’s get you started.”

Safe to say, your first day had been terrible. Throughout the morning, you fumbled with trays and mixed up orders, your clumsiness earning a few scowls from the customers. You apologized profusely each time, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. But Suo was always there, stepping in to smooth things over with a gentle smile and a reassuring smile. It worked like a charm, too. The moment he’d apologized for you, the customers leant back – smiling and reassuring him that it was not a bother at all.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said after one particularly harsh customer left. “Everyone makes mistakes when they’re starting out.”

“Did you?”

His eye lit up with mischief. “Maybe.”

Suo’s kindness only made your crush on him grow. You admired how he handled every situation with such grace and ease, his smooth voice calming even the most irritable patrons. You found yourself watching him whenever you could, entranced by the way he moved, the way his smile lit up the room.

One afternoon, the café had been unusually quiet. The summer head had driven most customers indoors, leaving you and Suo with some rare free time. He approached you then, a twinkle in his eye. “How about I teach you a bit about tea?” he suggested, “It’ll help with your knowledge, and it’s always fun to learn something new.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I’d love that,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. And there’s this silly voice at the back of your mind hoping – praying – that Suo was just making excuses to hang out with you.

He leads you to a small table at the back of the café, where a variety of tea leaves were laid out. He began to explain the differences between green tea, black tea, oolong, and white tea, his voice like a soothing melody. You hung on his every word, captivated by his passion and expertise. “Tea is an art,” he begins, his lithe fingers delicately handling the leaves. “Each type has its own unique characteristics and requires different brewing methods. It’s all about finding the perfect balance.”

You couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the way he spoke, his love for tea evident in every word. You watched him closely, noticing the way his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, the gentle way he handled the tea leaves. Biting the insides of your cheek to fight back a smile, your gaze travelled to his eyepatch.

“Do you mind if I ask… about your eyepatch?”

Suo smiles, his expression softening. “It’s a long story, but I don’t mind sharing it with you sometime. For now, let’s focus on the tea.”

You nodded, feeling warmth spread through your chest. You appreciated how he didn’t shy away from your questions, and it only deepened your fascination with him. He’d always been such a mysterious enigma. He knew everything about everyone, and joked enough with everybody to put them at ease with him. But it’s only now you realized that you knew very little about him at all – an issue you were determined to change.

As you continued with your tea lessons, Suo made you laugh with anecdotes and trivia, his smooth voice wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

Days turned into weeks, and your confidence grew under Suo’s gentle guidance. You still had your clumsy moments, of course, but Suo was always there to lend a hand – his calm presence a constant source of reassurance. And the more time you spent together, the more your feelings for him grew.

One particularly hot summer day, the café was slow, and your coworkers happily shooed Suo away to take his break. Surprisingly, he’d asked you to join him, leading you out into the small garden behind the café. You sat on a bench under the shade of a large tree, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves. Suo handed you a cup of iced tea, his smile as warm as the sun.

“You’re doing really well,” he said. “I can see how hard you’re trying, and it’s paying off.”

You grow flustered, and look down at your tea – the one he’d made just for you. “Thank you, Suo, but really, I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

Suo’s chuckles are soft, tender. “You’re too modest, you know that? You’ve got a natural charm that customers appreciate, and you’re always eager to learn. Those are pretty great qualities if you ask me.”

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping tea and enjoying the tranquility of the garden. You stole glances at him every now and then, your heart swelling with affection. Suddenly, you wanted to tell him how you felt, but fear held you back. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if it made things awkward between you? You couldn’t risk that. You still had a few weeks in this summer job, and you couldn’t quit now. Suo was most definitely not leaving anytime soon, either. Everyone knew this café was practically nothing without him.

Just then, Suo turned to you, his expression thoughtful and lacking his usual carefree smile. “Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” you say, though your voice was barely above a whisper.

Suo hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I… I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past few weeks. You’re kind, hardworking, and you have a wonderful spirit. Before I knew it, I found myself looking forward to our next shifts together.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? You looked into his eyes, trying to gauge for the answers.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…” Suo continued, his voice steady but soft, “I’d like to keep doing this – getting to know you better. If that’s okay with you, at least.”

Your heart soared. “I’d love that, Suo,” you admit, unable to stop yourself from breaking out into a full wide-mouthed grin.

Suo’s smile widened, his eyes lighting up. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “I was kinda worried you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of joy. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been so kind and patient. I’ve always admired you from the start so hearing you say that… well, you sure do know how to make a girl happy…” you trailed off, hiding your smile from behind your glass.

With his own bashful smile, Suo tentatively extended his hand, his movements slow and deliberate. He hesitated, his longer fingers hovering inches away from hers. You could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and your pulse quickened. You could tell he didn’t want to rush you, didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so he’d paused, giving you the opportunity to pull away if you wished.

You didn’t.

You glanced down at his hand, your heart fluttering with anticipation. You didn’t move, didn’t pull away. You let your hand remain where it was, hoping it’d be enough to give him the permission he’d been asking for.

Suo’s fingers brushed against yours – a light, tentative touch that sent a shiver up your spine. Slowly, gently, he closed the distance, his hand enveloping yours in a warm, reassuring grip. A bout of giddiness crashes over you, a bubbling happiness that made your skin feel warm and your heart race a mile a minute.

Neither of you spoke, but none needed to be said. Suo’s thumb gently stroked the back of your hand, a small comforting gesture that told a million words. You sat there, hand in hand, the summer sun warming you from the neck down.

As the summer days passed, you spent more time hanging out with Suo.

You spent your breaks together, sharing stories and dreams (mostly on your part, since Suo liked to keep his air of mystery, promising that you’d learn everything ‘one day.’) He continued to teach you about tea, and you found yourself falling more in love with both him and the art he was so fond of. Now, whenever you returned home, you’d fix yourself a cup of tea the way Suo taught you, inhaling its scent – simply because it reminded you of him.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the skies were painted in hues of pink and orange, you and Suo stood outside the café, sans the aprons and uniform. The air around you was warm, the gentle breeze making Suo’s bangs flutter to reveal a sliver of his forehead.

Suo turned to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Would you like to go out with me sometime? Outside of work, I mean.”

“I’d love to.”

“Great,” his smile widens, his hand finding yours. You recently found that Suo loved to touch, even in just the smallest of manners. At work, he’d occasionally brush his shoulders against yours, or have his fingers graze your knuckles whenever he walked by. It’s always subtle, not enough to catch the attention of your co-workers, but enough to have your heart fluttering each time he did. “How about tomorrow? There’s a lovely park nearby that I think you’d enjoy.”

“I don’t know,” you pretended to think about, “Will you finally tell me more about yourself if I go out with you? Because I’m pretty sure we said we’d get to know each other. And last time I checked, you know everything about me, while I know so little about you.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes, gazing at you so tenderly. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know then.”

When he promised things like that, you were impatient. The next day simply couldn’t come by faster.

That next day, the café was buzzing with its usual afternoon crowd, the soft clinking of cups and the hum of conversations filling the air. You moved through the tables, balancing trays and refilling cups, but your mind was elsewhere. Every time you glanced toward the counter, your heart skipped a beat. Suo was stationed there, his calm, confident demeanor as steady as always, but today, there was something different – his smiles were bigger, paired with a playful spark in his eyes that was meant just for you.

Each time your eyes would meet across the room, Suo would give you a small, knowing smile.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks each time he did, unable to suppress the grin that spread across your face. He was subtle, but you noticed that every time he brushed past you, his hand would graze your arm or the small of your back, a brief touch that sent shivers down your spine. His presence was magnetic, his smiles addicting, and you were inexplicably drawn to him, your thoughts circling around your first date with him once your shift ended.

And that shift dragged on.

Later, Suo made his way over to you as you carefully balanced a tray of tea, his hand brushing yours just as you set the tray down on the table. It was such a fleeting touch, one that made your pulse quicken. He leaned slightly closer, his shoulder almost brushing yours. When you glanced up at him, he winked, a playful glint in his eye.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your excitement in check, but it was impossible not to feel giddy with the way he was flirting with you – silently, without a single word.

Every time you looked up from your work, Suo would already be watching you, his smile warm and affectionate. The anticipation between you built with each passing minute, your shared secret adding a thrill to the ordinary tasks of the day. You both moved in sync, as if dancing around the café, each little interaction a tantalizing tease of what was about to come.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the sun dipped low in the sky as the last customers trickled out. You wiped down the tables with a speed that shocked you and your co-workers, too eager to get everything done and over with. The café was closing, and soon, your date with Suo would begin.

You couldn’t remember having a day that had felt this long, the hours stretching out with each longing glance and fleeting touch.

As the final chair was stacked and the last teacup washed, Suo appeared at your side, a wide grin on his face. “That,” he says, breathless with excitement, “was the longest day of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted my shift to end as I did today.”

You laughed, feeling the last of your nerves melt away under the warmth of his gaze. “I was just thinking the same thing!”

Suo reached out, taking your hand in his, his thumb gently stroking the pads of your knuckles. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready all day.”

“All right,” he chuckles, though you don’t miss the way his cheeks flush red. “You don’t have to be so excited; it’s just me you’re going out with.”

“That’s exactly why I’m excited!”

You had always been a coffee person – someone who relied on the bitter, strong brew to kickstart your mornings. Tea had seemed too delicate, too nuanced for your taste, something to be enjoyed only on rare occasions. But then Suo had come into your life. He’d introduced you to a world you hadn’t ever been interested in – his world, the art of tea, the subtle differences between each variety, the rituals and traditions that made every cup an experience in itself.

As you walked side by side, you couldn’t stop yourself from marveling at how unexpected this summer had turned out to be.

You had taken the job at the café thinking it would be just another seasonal position, a way to pass the time and earn a bit of money.

You never imagined that it would lead to this, to him. To a summer filled with new experiences, to meeting a red-haired boy whose smile put the sun’s brightness to shame, to falling in love with Hayato Suo.

[dstryvampres]

Come On Baby(Light My Fire) - Neil Lewis x Reader

MINORS DNI !!!!!

inspired by this song.(Light my fire by the doors)

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: weed use, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, sex while high, reader likes the doors sorry I forced that on you

Summary: Neil always comes after his shift to visit you on your late night shift, today he decides to bite the bullet and finally buy a CD from the store, and also ask you out I guess.

A/N: I've been on a huge doors kick recently and I really just wanted to force it onto you guys, and also neil because I love him. love my two male wives neil lewis and Jim Morrison xoxo

Exactly on time, 9:06pm, is when Neil Lewis prances into your store. The ding of the bell on top of the store’s door, every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, close to the exact same time of 9:00pm to 9:10pm, was always Neil Lewis. He got off earlier on those days, having one of his friends and co-workers able to cover the last three hours until midnight that Gumshoe was open. You, unfortunately, were stuck until past midnight at your family owned music store, which Neil seemed to take advantage of as much as possible.

“Hello,” Neil greeted you coyly, walking up to the cash register where you stationed yourself for the night.

“Can I help you with anything?” You ask Neil, knowing you absolutely cannot.

“Nope.” Same answer as always.

Neil seemed to have no interest in music at all. Possibly only ever coming in here for a brief chat with you, then a quick stop by the soundtrack area of the store, then the discount area, all while still trying to hold a conversation with you. He would leave around 10 to 10:30pm, only to be back again the next day he could. Sometimes, you enjoyed his company, the jokes he cracked were funny, and he understood your struggles of working at a very niche sector of business. Other times, you wanted to beg him to get out of the store as soon as he came in. Possibly the latter is the case tonight, his big ass head is blocking your view of The Doors: Live at the Bowl ‘68 currently playing on the TV.

“How’s work been going for you?” Neil asks.

“Slow.” Tonight you’ll entertain his presence.

“Really? It was quite busy for a Monday at Gumshoe,” Neil gloats, smiling to himself, far too pleased that his store was doing better than yours.

“Oh yeah? All five of the movie nerds in the city came over today?” You tease, rolling your eyes at Neil’s gloating.

“Actually, it was mostly new people today,” Neil says, turning around to look at the TV now.

“Oh great, just what this world needs, more Gumshoe regulars.”

“You say that like anyone who frequents this store is any better. All that TV plays is music for pretentious losers, like yourself.” Neil glares at you from the corner of his eye, annoyed, but the smile on his face makes his expression more teasing.

“Atleast people know The Doors. Everytime I walk into your store the TV’s always playing something no one’s heard about,” you retort, going back to focusing on the performance instead of Neil.

“I’ll have you know every movie I play at Gumshoe holds importance, and is something everyone should know, even if they don’t,” Neil sighs, “I’m looking to educate the public.”

“How noble.”

Neil scoffs at your comment before walking off to the discount section of the store, leaving you to watch the TV alone. Even on your busier days the store seemed to slow down at this time. Usually it is just you and Neil when he comes in, maybe an additional straggler present who came into the store knowing what they wanted already. Now that Neil’s at the discount section, you know he’ll be busy for a little bit and decide to step out from the cash register to do some cleaning for the night. Mindless work to help you go home quicker when the store finally closes its doors to the public at 12am. Your boots thump on the concrete floor as you walk around the store to put everything back to normal. Letting Neil do his rounds around the store.

Ding.

Turning around to the noise, you find Neil smiling in front of the cash register. Tonight, he’s finally buying something. You never thought the day would come. Neil, a paying customer, and not just a window shopper. You rush over to the cash register to ring him up, excited to see what he finally thought was good enough to buy here.

“Woah! Slow down, you’re acting like I’m robbing you instead of buying from you,” Neil laughs, putting the CD down onto the counter.

It’s The Doors self titled album. You look at him with a quirked eyebrow.

“The performance on the TV persuaded me,” he smiles, looking away from your gaze.

“You always striked me as a vinyl guy,” you take the CD in your hands and open it, making sure the CD isn’t scratched before scanning it.

“I am, I just wanted to listen to it in my car. I was actually hoping that – uh – you’d come listen to it with me after your shift ends,” Neil gulps, wringing his hands out.

“Sure. Why not?” You hand him the CD, “That’ll be 20 dollars and 65 cents by the way.”

“Really? I mean– great. What time do you get off?” Neil slides you the money, you can feel how sweaty his palms are just from the money.

“12:30am, sorry for the wait,” you respond, now leaving the change on the counter to avoid another sweaty palmed encounter with Neil.

“No problem at all! I’ll see you at 12:30 then!” Neil exclaimed, waving a quick goodbye to you, CD and change in hand, before exiting with a huge smile on his face.

୨ৎ

The last three hours of your shift went quite smoothly, a lack of customers allowing you to do most of your closing tasks before the store actually closed and at your own pace. You couldn’t tell if you it was because closing was so easy today or because you were seeing Neil after your shift, but your body felt weirdly tingly with excitement. Neil’s car was parked right outside of the front door of the shop, it was hard to miss because of this, and also because Neil rolled down his window and as soon as you stepped out of the shop he yelled your name and then motioned over. Quickly you lock the door to the shop and open the door to Neil’s car, sliding into the front passenger seat.

“Thanks again for coming out tonight,” Neil said, giving you a soft smile. He then reaches over to the glove box to pull out the CD he just bought and hands it to you. “Will you do the honours?”

“Of course,” you open up the CD’s jewel case and carefully slide the CD into the cars slot.

Neil started driving as the CD whirled around without any noise, before finally the sound of the soft percussion started the album off. You let the song settle into the car staring out the window as Neil drives around, seeming to drive around aimlessly.

“You want to go anywhere in specific?” Neil asks. He had let it get to the second song of the album before saying anything.

“Not really no…” you muse, biting your lip in thought for a couple seconds, “you know for my first time experiencing this album fully, I was high. If you’re not into that it’s no big deal, but, if you are, I have some pot back at home.”

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Neil sighs out, “Lead me there.”

You lead Neil through a stream of winding roads and suburb strips until you guys reach your apartment complex. Allowing Neil to park in a guest spot, he pops out the CD and puts it back into the jewel case. You lead him into the building, and up the elevator. Fiddling around with your keys at your door, before pushing it into the lock and letting the both of you in.

“It’s a little messy, didn’t know I’d have a visiter tonight,” you apologized, closing the front door behind you with your foot and putting the keys on the wall.

“Oh, it’s no worries. You should see my place,” Neil jokes, kickings off his shoes waiting for you to lead the way.

After working off your shoes you lead Neil to your kitchen. Squating down and rummaging through the back of a bottom cupboard until you find your stash in an air tight container. You pull it out of the cupboard, a couple prerolls and some edibles sit in the clear container. Good enough for tonight.

“Shall we?” you ask, standing up and grabbing your lighter.

“Take me away,” Neil says, you take his hand and lead him out to your small balcony.

Your CD player is still out here from last night, you were in a rush to get to the store after sleeping in and forgot to put it back inside. Luckily it didn’t rain and the player is in the same condition it was as before. Neil hands you the CD and you pop it into the player, in return you hand him a joint.

“Let me tell you, this album is amazing sober, but I dare say it’s even better high.” You light his blunt before lighting your own.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Neil says, settling into the lawn chair.

The album starts up once again, ringing out between the two nof you. This time, you feel ths silence is less awkward.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while,” Neil admits, out of the blue.

“Really? How long?” You look over at him, a blunt in his hand as he stares out into the city.

“Yeah, about half a year now. I don’t come into that store because I like music, y’know?” Neil looks at you now, only you.

The lighting from inside your apartment behind him lights up his beautiful bone structure, the light of the fire of the blunt lights up his eyes, and the brief light from the city allows you to catch all the high points of his face. You didn’t realise just how beautiful Neil was until now.

“I mean I could tell you didn’t care for the music, but I just thought you were bored,” you take another hit.

“I mean the first couple of times sure, but I don’t know, there was just something about you that intrigued me. You’re funny, and hot, and so unique,” Neil admits, his eyes not leaving yours.

“Thank you.”

“I mean it,” he blinks slowly and then looks bacl out at the city, continuing, “What don you like about this album?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, laughing, “I had a weird Doors phase at some point in highschool and, I guess, the album stuck through even afterwards. What, do you not like it?”

“No, it’s great. I just want to get to know you better,” Neil says, shaking his head.

“Well, what music do you like?” you ask.

“Soundtracks, but you know that one. I really liked grunge in high school, I guess that stuck with me too a little bit,” Neil purses his lips together, coughing a little.

“Never pegged you as a grunge fan,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m full of surprises,” Neil jokes, sending you both into a fit of laughter. Something like that usually wouldn’t set you off like that, but for some reason, it was the funniest thing tonight.

The winding chords to Light My Fire started to hit when you both calmed down from the laughter, and when you’ve both started to reach the end of the rolls.

Neil reaches out his hand to you, “Want to dance?”

You nod and take his hand, putting out your blunt as you stand. You both push the chairs off to the side, before setting off into a weird unnatural dance together. It was barely together, the only thing connecting you is the brief stints in which you guys hold hands, maybe Neil spins you around when your hands come together. At some point you guys get so close that when you look up to Neil your face to face with him. He looks at you for a couple seconds before slowly kissing you on the lips, it’s soft and welcoming, allowing for you to reciprocate. Both of you break away quite quickly, another beat, your lips are pressed together again with his. This time the kiss is hungrier, you bite at his lips softly, and he slips his tongue into your mouth. 

“Do you, uh– Want to take this further?” Neil asks, breaking away from the kiss. His pupils are huge, and his hair is messy.

“Yeah,” you respond, before going back into the kiss.

Both of you stumble through the apartment and into your bedroom while kissing. You feel the back of your knees hit your mattress before Neil gently pushes you backwards onto the bed. You look up at him, he’s breathing heavily, blue eyes scanning over your body hungerily. His lips are on yours again, tongue searching your mouth, he fondles your breasts through your shirt. You could feel wetness pool in your panties as Neil started to drag his kisses down to your neck. His fingers grazed your clothed stomach before coming to toy with the hem of your shirt teasing pushing it up slowly, fingers ghosting over your stomach making you whine out. You lightly grab at his hair, tugging it to edge him on to take off your shirt already. Neil takes the hint and pushes you shirt upwards exposing your breasts to him.

Neil smiles looking up at you before taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking the bud and rolling his tongue over it. You moan out at the sensation, staring up at the ceiling, focusing on the pleasure Neil is providing you at the moment. Your body is hot, you want him to hurry up and fuck you. Alas, Neil takes his time with your breasts, toying with both of them using his mouth and fingers. It’s both agonizing and feels so good. He watches you the whole time, taking pleasure in watching your face contort in pleasure and frustration. 

Finally, Neil captures you in a heated kiss again, before breaking off and taking his own shirt off. He places your hands on his chest, allowing you to feel his body’s heat as well as his heartbeat. His heartbeat is fast, mimicking the rise and fall of his chest. You run your hands over his chest and down his arms to his hands, placing them at the top of your jeans, basically begging him to take them off. He unbuttons your jeans, slowly, like he’s done almost everything tonight. Pulling them down with your help to expose your panties, soiled with you wetness. He stares at the wet patch on your panties for a second. Grinning the whole time.

“You flatter me,” Neil says, sliding his own pants down his legs, erection glaringly present. He lets them fall into the pool of pants at the edge of them bed.

Sliding a finger up and down your clothed heat, Neil climbs back into bed with you. Diving back in to kiss you. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms are his neck. His erection presses up against your heat, and he grinds against you. He only lasts about a minute teasing you this way before he’s discarding your panties and positioning his fingers outside your cunt.

“Please,” you whimper out, and within the same breathe his fingers have entered you.

It’s slow at first, a rhythmic in and out pace, stretching you out as best and he can, but your moans fuel him to move his fingers faster. Soon enough your gripping the sheets just at his fingers as they push on your gummy walls deliciously and feverishly. His other hand rubs up and down your thigh, watching as you twitch and moan on his fingers, watching as your pussy takes his fingers in so easily. You clench around his fingers, back arching at his work, and all the sudde his fingers are gone. You look at him with a look of betrayal, which is quickly settled when you see him slide his underwear off, exposing his cock.

“Can I fuck you?” Neil asks, like his swollen tip isn’t already pressed against your entrance.

“Yes please.”

It’s all Neil needs before he’s sliding into you, stretching you out so nicely as he pushes in. When he bottoms out he’s pressed up against that sweet spot inside of you, almost like his cock is made just for you. Both of you sigh of as Neil stays still for a few seconds before pulling out of you slowly. 

“Oh baby, your pussy ‘s so good,” Neil slurs, pushing back into you.

His hands find your waist as he pushes in and out of your pussy. With each thrust Neil’s speed increases, his once calculated and rhythmic thrusts becoming wild and irregular as he continues to fuck you. You scratch his back as he fucks into, moaning as your eyes roll back.

Who knew movie nerds were such good fucks?

“Can I flip you around baby?” Neil pants out, his grip on your waist tightened.

You nod and he slips out of you, allowing you to get on all fours before pushing back into you. He’s hitting further back in this position, stretching out and reaching parts of you that you forgot felt so good.

“Fuck, baby, you look so good, you feel so good,” Neil babbles as he resumes his pace.

You don’t think you can last much longer in this position, with Neil fucking a specific spot in you consistently. He reaches over a hand and starts toying with your nipple again, and thats when you feel the slip happening.

“I’m gon’ cum, Neil, gonna cum,” you whine, arms giving out and face getting shoved into a pillow by Neil’s thrusts.

“Oh– fuck, me neither, cum all over my cock for me, fuck please baby, god please, cum all over my cock,” Neil speeds up his thrusts, reaching his hand down from your boob to your clit.

Neil rubs quick fast circles into your clit. Steadily, but roughly fucking you into your own mattress.

For a moment everything goes black as all you can feel is the knot in your stomach come undone and a shiver run up your body. 

When you return Neil is slumped over beside you, both of you laying down beside eachother. He strokes your hair softly before kissing your forehead.

“Thank you,” Neil whispers, bringing you into his chest.

You decide to stay like this for the night, too tired to move. Neil covers up the both of you letting you fall asleep in his arms.

[kaylasficrecs]

stupidly yours | miguel o'hara

you found your roommate stupidly annoying, from the girls he brought home, to the way he never cleans up. so why, all of a sudden, was he trying to get into your good graces? (this is a horrible summary, i didn’t really know how to explain this one.)

college roommate!miguel au. he could still be spider-man 2099 in this, but it doesn’t pertain to the plot of the fic. 

note: this was technically a request, but i think i deleted it before i knew i was going to start posting fics. sorry anon! this one's for you! also i didn't use too much spanish except for a couple of words because i hardly know any of the language (i know waaayy more french).

tw: talks of Miguel’s toxic family, language (pls let me know if there are others) 

wc: 2k 

It’s not that you didn’t mind your roommate Miguel, but you thought about throttling him regularly. 

Between the girls he brought home and his sometimes too-brutal of honesty, you’ve thought about packing your stuff and sleeping under a bridge (not that there were many bridges in Neuvea York) instead of dealing with O’Hara on a daily. 

But instead, you got your shit together and just retaliated in other ways. 

You stopped cleaning up his shit, because sometimes he was indeed a college guy, and you were tired of being that nice of a person to do his dishes, vacuum, dust, and clean his stuff. You stopped buying groceries and making meals for both of you. Whenever he brought a girl over to his room while you were in the apartment, you blasted the High School Musical soundtracks. Yes, all three of them. You had heard doors and slam and groans of frustration in lieu of this, but Miguel never argued with you about it. 

Because that was the thing, he knew he was being a prick, but it didn’t ever seem to occur to him that it would affect the people in his life. Or that he should apologize for it. 

The last part of your ‘Miguel must be put in his place’ plan was if he was ever extra rude to you during a conversation, you would just stop talking to him. At first, it annoyed the hell out of him, he couldn’t seem to figure out why you had simply stopped talking to him at the moment. He would get even more frustrated, his brown eyes seemly burning red. But he was smart (smarter than you probably) and put it all together pretty fast. So now when those moments happen, he would apologize softly. Which in turn, surprised you. You never thought you would hear a “sorry” muttered from his lips. 

After enough apologies from O’Hara, you decided to let up on some of the parts of your plan. You stopped playing music loudly unless they were being extra loud during sex. You started cleaning up again because honestly, it was starting to bother you too. But what surprised you the most, was that Miguel met you halfway: brought over fewer girls, - and when he did, he kept it quiet - helped you with dishes, and started taking out the trash all of the time. Miguel even started cooking for the both of you. When both of you were home for dinner, you would sit on the floor in front of the small living room TV, and eat and watch a show together. 

More time spent together meant getting to know each other better. You told him about your family, and he told you about his fucked up one. You discussed likes and dislikes, learning that he couldn’t stand trashy Mexican food from fast-food places; making you swear you would never bring home Taco Bell again. 

You started to maybe feel things for him after you fell asleep on him during one of your dinner-and-a-movie nights. And it wasn't the fact that you fell asleep that made butterflies form in your gut, but that you woke up in your bed the following day. It had taken you a few minutes to piece it together through the drowsiness, but you realized he had carried you from the couch to your bed. You had been pouring yourself coffee when you came to that realization. Let’s just say most of the coffee didn’t go into the mug. 

The next time you started to blush after thoughts of Miguel was when he came from work to drive you home in the rain. After living together for so long, you got used to each other schedules, even before you started spending all this time together. So when it was raining Wednesday night after coming from the library, you weren’t nervous about Miguel knowing where you were, more just shocked. The library on campus wasn’t too far from where you guys lived, so you always walked. But you would have at least brought an umbrella if you were expecting rain. The downpour opening the doors outside made you face the fact that you would likely catch a cold. 

To the left of the doors though was Miguel's fancy sports car; rolling down a window, yelling at you to get in. 

As you shut the door, setting your backpack on the floor, you asked, “How… Why are you here?” 

“I got off work a little early. And seeing it rain, I decided picking you up on my way home was way easier than dealing with you with a cold for the next few days.” 

You looked at him aghast. Of course, he was a bit of a jerk about it, but the actual gesture made you pause. A few months ago, you would have never thought he would do this. Even now, you had never known Miguel to be this generous to anyone. 

You tried to hide your small smile as he started the drive home, but you don’t think it worked because you saw one on his face too.  

But the worst part for you was that he kept on picking you up. Week after week, Miguel would text you after he was done with work and pick you up to take you home from the library on campus (even though it really wasn’t that far of a walk). Soon after, he started dropping you off on his way to work too. 

Miguel kept up the niceties till Christmas: carrying all the groceries (now that you were back to paying for them since he cooked for you both now almost on a daily), letting you fall asleep on him, not bringing girls around, buying you coffees, opening doors, and letting you pick movies for your dinner nights. 

He made it really hard not to fall for him. 

Then Christmas time rolled around. You knew it was hard for everyone that didn’t have the best family relationships, especially in Miguel’s case where he didn’t really have anyone left that was a good human being. Finals must have also rubbed off on him, he was snappy and rude to you for the weeks leading up to the holiday. He didn’t cook and barely ate for himself. 

You gave him a pass this time, mostly because you owed it to him for being so nice to you, but also because maybe you liked him. Just a little bit. 

So you tried to cook, were patient with him, let him pick the movie, and hopefully cheered him up some days with one of your sarcastic jokes. You didn’t want to leave him alone. But come December 23rd, and you had to go home for the holidays. 

You had your suitcase all packed for the coming week, ready to say goodbye to Miguel, when he hugged you. He hugged you. He was a massive person but felt so small wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your shoulder. It felt like an atonement for all the bad things he has said or done the past few days. You wrapped your arms around his neck in gratitude, threading a hand through his hair, whispering in his ear, “Please call me. If you need anything.” 

When he finally let go, Miguel’s arms still slung loosely around your waist, you met his eyes, and reached up to smooth out the worry lines on his forehead. He leaned into your touch, so you pushed a little further and kissed his jaw, “I’ll be back after New Year’s.” 

His hands tightened around you, eyes closed, and let out a shaky breath. You couldn’t think of what more to say in the moment and didn’t want to ruin the soft glow that surrounded you both. You slowly pulled away, taking quiet breaths as you left the apartment. You desperately tried to forget about him while you were home. 

But that wasn’t going to happen, as Miguel showed up at your parents’ front door three days later. Thank goodness it was you who answered the knocking late one night, as your parents were getting ready for bed, your siblings nowhere near the door. 

“Miguel, what-” you backtracked, “are you okay?” 

“I was going to call bella. Prometo. But I just needed to see your eyes. Just for a few seconds.” 

You didn’t know what to do with that. You bit your lip and twiddled your fingers, wanting to help Miguel, truly, but you were nervous about how your parents would react to you bringing a 6’ 6” man into the home randomly. And at night. 

“I-”

He didn’t even let you get a word in, “I apologize bella, I should not have sprung upon you like this. I will just see you at the apartment in a few days.”

Before he could fully turn around, you grabbed his wrist, caressing his hand as you slotted your fingers in between. Yes, it would be hell to talk to your parents about Miguel staying, but you knew you didn’t want him to leave. “Wait just… come inside.” You pulled him in, staring up into his eyes as you reached around to close and lock the door, “Stay right here and let me…  uhh… discuss with my parents, okay? But please, don’t leave, we’ll figure something out.” You gave him your best reassuring smile as you gently slid your hand from his, walking toward the back of the house where your parents were. 

Though it was one of the most awkward conversations of your life, your parents agreed to let Miguel stay the night, they could all discuss details in the morning, and formally meet him when they were wide awake. 

You were going to let Miguel sleep on your bed and you take the couch, as your house didn’t have a guest room, and he was too big for said couch, but he insisted you could share your full-sized bed, and you really didn’t want to upset him more by arguing with him at this time of night. 

You asked no questions about why he showed up at your house, just got ready for bed. He already showed up in more relaxed clothes so he could just hop right into bed. He was sound asleep by the time you got done with your shower and face care routine. Slowly slipping under the covers, you studied his face; still seeing the grimace he always wore, even in his sleep. It made you worry and smile at the same time, you wished you could ease whatever pain had caused him to come to see you in such a state. Clearly needing comfort, you brushed some hair back from his face, “Sweet dreams, Miguel.” 

Sometime during the night, you swore you felt that same softness again, his arms cradling you, his breath softly blowing your hair. But when you woke up, the side he slept on was only faintly warm, a sign that he had been gone for just only a little while; a note laid on your nightstand:

Thank you for everything last night. I just needed to escape to you from these past few days. I can explain everything when you come home. I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful I’m sorry I left. Tell your parents I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to meet them, but thank them for letting me stay in their home with their precious daughter. Happy New Year bella,

Miguel

If it weren’t for your stupid family you would rush to the apartment, or home, as Miguel had put it. 

With those words, he had confirmed it, you were stupidly in love with him. His stupidly warm eyes, his stupidly thoughtful actions, stupid full lips, stupid words (stupidly round ass), and most of all, his stupidly wonderful soul. He could pretend to be a hardass, mean, rude man to everyone but you. 

And January 2nd couldn’t come soon enough, for your stupid brain could only think about Miguel’s arms holding you tightly once again. 

©kaylaficrecs 2023

thanks for reading <3 

note: i think i might do a sequel to this one, let me know if you are interested! 

[astarionfreak]

You'll hate me (make love)

// Astarion (Ascended) / Fem!Reader

You left Astarion after he completed the ritual. You lost the love of your life. You mourned him. Now, a year later, you return to him in a moment of desperation. Astarion grants you one last night with the man you lost.

or: Ascended Astarion pretends to be his spawn self as Tav's dying wish and they fuck on his grave. Why? Because I felt like it.

18+ • NSFW • 5.3K words (1/1) | Read on AO3 (a teaser is available below)

Tags: About to Die, Porn With Plot, Smut, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Gentle Sex, Gentle Kissing, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Blood, Sad, Sad and Sweet, Angst, Bittersweet

Writing soundtrack: Shameful Company | Nothing Matters | Heavy In Your Arms | it is what it is

This is the last place you should be.

He’s not the man you fell in love with. Not anymore. The Rite of Profane Ascension corrupted him — of course it did.

Seven thousand souls were sacrificed. Astarion gained all that power. Something like that doesn’t come without a price. His price was losing you.

You left him. You swore that he’d never see you again after the brain was defeated. And, yet, here you are merely a year later. Standing inside his palace. Waiting to lay your eyes on him one final time.

You were told to sit in a chair at the vast table that fills the middle of the room. You do not sit. Instead, you pace while you wait. You don’t keep track of the time. You don’t want to know how long it’s been since you arrived — how long you have left.

What you do know is that he’s here. He’s messing with your head, even now. This, the making you wait. It’s all part of a game.

That’s all anything is to him anymore. That’s all anyone is, just playthings to keep him entertained.

You’ve just about convinced yourself to leave when his voice stops you. Not his footsteps. His voice. You never even heard him approach, but he’s in the room.

“Well, look who came crawling back after all this time. Have a change of heart, my dear?” His voice has a pleasant lilt, but there’s a touch of vitriol just beneath the surface.

You spin on your heels. Your breath catches in your throat when you finally see him. His sharp features. Those familiar, but distant eyes. The smug look that mocks you now.

“No,” you say.

There was no change of heart. Even if you did want him to take you back, it wouldn’t matter. It’s far too late for that.

“If you’re here to beg for my help, I am more than delighted to tell you the answer is no.” Astarion takes a few strong strides toward you — then he pauses.

His body stiffens, just momentarily, before he slips back into a comfortable stance.

“Astarion . . .”

You forget what you were going to say. You’re too distracted by the way he’s staring at you now. There’s something in his eyes that you could mistake for concern if you didn’t know him better.

“What’s going on, Tav?” he asks.

Not a pet name. No more mocking tone. Just him. Your name coming from his lips sounds like home.

You don’t know what you expected. But it wasn’t this. You have to remind yourself that this isn’t him. This is the thing that stole his face. 

But does it even matter? Do you even care? You came all this way, after all. You know what you came for. You came for him.

One last rotten night.

Your voice shakes when you speak, “You can tell, can’t you?”

He nods stiffly and finally closes the distance between you. His eyes never leave your face. He’s searching for something there that you know he won’t find.

You didn’t want to tell him, not really. You didn’t want this hanging between you, but maybe this is better. Maybe this will make the inevitable easier to swallow.

“How long?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” You watch the muscles in his jaw work through your obvious lie. He is holding back his anger, and his frustration with you.

“Tell me how long you have left, Tav.”

“A day, maybe,” you say. “Maybe less.”

He reaches for you, a warm, gentle hand cupping your face. Warm. Another reminder of the man he isn’t.

You lean into his touch. You crave him. Despite everything, you are happy just to be near the visage of the man you loved. The man who, though he never said it, you know loved you.

You hold your breath.

Astarion seems to be holding his breath too. He’s warm. His heart beats. Everything has changed. The pad of his thumb gently brushes over your cheek. “I’ll fix this.”

You laugh. For the first time in a long time, you laugh and it’s genuine. “There is no fixing this, Astarion. I’m going to die.”

His hand moves down, fingers feather-light as they dance across your neck. Until he finds the place where he bit you the first time he fed.

There are no scars. There is nothing to remind either of you other than the memory alone.

“I’ll turn you,” he says.

There was a time when such words would have sent a chill up your spine. Not anymore. It’s too late for you. Even undeath won’t unwind your fate.

Continue reading on AO3.

[firefly--bright]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧!

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern smau.

⁀➷ episode two ; the news !

➷ episode soundtrack.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

jean swiped his hands on the fabric of his jeans, wiping off the sweat that was on them. it happened everytime he got even slightly nervous, but in truth, there really was no need for him to be this nervous. maybe he was just nervous for his now new room mate. living with strangers - jean Connie and marco, at that - would certainly not be easy. maybe he was just thinking about all the things that could go wrong.

he clears his throat, raking a hand through his hair as he presses the call button next to your contact. it rings two times before you pick up.

jean makes out the background noise behind you. it sounds busy, wherever you are, and your little "hey," is barely heard. you repeat it again, a little louder as the voices in the back get quieter.

"hey. this is jean," he says. He’s pacing around in the kitchen, one hand in his pocket and the other gripping his phone.

there's a small breath of laugh on the other end. "i know, I have your number saved."

"right, right." he says, cursing himself inwardly.

there's a slight pause as neither of you say anything, and he tries to figure out why his heart is beating so fast, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck instead of laying still in his pocket - another nervous habit. it's either a scratch on the bridge of his nose or rubbing the back of his neck.

"uhm, you wanted to talk to me about something?" you ask from the other end, bringing him back to reality. he breathes in just enough to calm down.

"right, so... i wanted to tell you that. that, well, you're in. you're gonna be our new room mate." he says, face scrunching up in regret. he was going to chew marco out for telling jean to call you instead of texting. who says it like that? why'd he have to say 'youre in' as if it was a college acceptance lette-

"yay, I'm in!" you exclaim from the other line, and jeans shoulders relax after hearing it. he was being worried for no reason, really, judging by how excited you are. you continue, "thank you so much!"

he clears his throat. "yeah, no problem. i mean, you don't have to thank me. it was..a group decision, anyway, when can you move in?"

there's another pause as you him thoughtfully. "the latest I can do is probably next week. I'll have to find cheap movers and stuff, so-"

"we can help you." jean says almost instantly.

fuck. wait. was that too forward. maybe you wouldn't want three random people touching your stuff? they're going to be your room mates anyway, but maybe that was too fa-

"yeah, actually, that'd be great! if you guys don't mind, of course." you say, silencing Jean's downward spiral once more.

"great." he says. there's another pause. jean wonders what you're thinking about. he hears someone call your name in the background and then a muffled, "just a sec," comes from your voice.

"hey, yeah, sorry for that."

"no problem. are you busy right now? we can text out the details if that's easier," he suggests, leaning his weight against the kitchen counter, his free hand resting beside him.

"that would be better, yep. I'm really sorry I'm..kinda in the middle of my shift, but I'll get back to you as soon as I get home." you say. jean picks up on the breath you let out after the sentence.

"no problem, really. it was nice talking to you. bye."

"bye! thanks, again." you say, the call cutting with a small beep.

jean sighs in relief. his heart beat had gone back to normal, thankfully, and he tried not to think about why he was so nervous in the first place. all that mattered was that you seemed excited and that you'd text him the details of your move-in day.

➷ Saturday, 7:19 p.m.

"so we help her? no rewards?" Connie asks on the Saturday before they were to help you move, and jean curses when he drops his phone flat on his face. Connie snickers.

"why do you want rewards, con?" marco asks, taking a sip of his -  fourth? seventh? honestly, he had lost count - cup of coffee for the day, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

Connie shrugs. "i just wanna know what the end game is here," jean groans in response, shifting from his comfortable spot on the couch to accommodate for marco.

"end game is having someone pay the rent." jean mumbles, stretching his neck.

marco sighs. "how long have you been working on that project for?" he asks, taking his now fogged up glasses off of his face. jean admired his friend's lack of temperature sensitivity as he watched him take another sip of boiling hot coffee without even flinching. jean blinks, noting how his eyes burn when he does so.

"five hours, I think." Connie says, counting on his fingers.

"without a break?" marco asks. his brows are furrowed. jean wants to scoff and point out that he's in the same boat as him, more or less, but he's too tired to start a fight, opting to shake his head instead.

“you need to fix your schedule, jean.” He says, but jean only nods. Marco’s sure he’s not even listening at this point, knowing jean’s ears stopped working as he reads the email open infront of him.

Connie throws the wrapper of the granola bar he ate in a surpringly short amount of time, still chewing on the remnants of his snack as he talked, something that marco reprimanded him for. Jean barely heard a word.

Replying to the email, he stared at the almost blinding screen infront of him as his hands hover the keyboard, feeling them cramping up a bit, distracted with thoughts for tomorrow. He had never been good with new people – opening up to some random stranger never felt appealing to him. Somedays, he felt like all of his friends were made reluctantly, even if he was incredibly glad to have them, he had never wanted it in the first place, how all of them had somehow wiggled their way into his heart and decided to stay there. It was scary, terrifying, really, how he’d be inviting nothing less than a stranger into his house the next day after not knowing anything about you. seeing you across campus multiple times wasn’t enough, even though it was comforting.

He knew you had looked familiar when he had opened the door to you. he knew your smile seemed similar to the stranger he kept noticing – on the bus, in the graphic studio, across campus, walking to class with a cup of coffee in your hand. he was no better than connie in the sense that he instantly thought you were pretty, with your pretty eyes (even though he’d never seen them upclose before the last time he saw you; he thought they were pretty then too), and your voice that he had heard only once before, when you were talking into the phone softly in the graphics studio as he worked on his project, keeping your volume low until it became almost a hum. But just the descriptors of you weren’t enough. Sure, they were enough to know that you weren’t a criminal on the loose or someone that would murder and eat jean and his friends (he didn’t know exactly why the thought crossed his mind, but he did indulge in it a little, thinking about how this new room mate would choose to kill the three of them. He’d settled on connie injesting poison because he’s too trusting with strangers holding his drinks, marco being suspicious but ultimately being stabbed in the back, and jean dying by choking with signs of struggle. Maybe he’s watched too much news, too many crime documentaries, he thinks before sleeping that night.) regardless, jean sums up that he’s too cautious about the whole ordeal.

Unlike his friends, it takes a while to get to know him. Being his friend requires patience, a hell of a lot of it, which is also probably why he hasn’t been in a serious relationship for longer than six months to a year. Marco is gentle – even while in middle school, when the two first met, he was nice to jean, a stark contrast from his other friends that were too keen on making him feel the worst about himself. Connie is a born comedian, even if he has his issues with intimacy, he has the ability to draw people in enough to stay. Sasha is charismatic and kind, something jean admires about her. Connie and sasha were inseperable in high school, which made jean a little suspicious to get to know them, because how could anyone be friends for so long and still stand eachother? How could neither of them see the worst in eachother or get bored? Maybe that was just his trauma talking, but his suspicions dissapiated when he was paired up with them for a group project. They turned out to be really good friends even after the class ended, and when marco moved back in in sophomore year, the four became really close; going to parties, having fun, having long talks about how scared they were for their future and the majors they were choosing.

these three idiots were really the only ones that jean had connected with in his life, and he still wonders why they stuck around for so long.

In his mind, his hesitancy is valid. He doesn’t know what kind of person you are and who you’d be. In his mind youre the worst person in the world because assuming the worst in people was always easier than expecting them to be the best and then getting disappointed because of it. Sure, you were pretty. Beautiful, really, with the sun setting behind you through the windows, lighting up the side of your face in the bus as jean listened to music after a long day, but he didn’t know you. if anything, it made it harder for him to actually talk to you. a bad habit, he realised long ago, that everytime he found anyone attractive, he’d choke up and have no idea what to say, his compliments coming out in broken sentences. Again, being with him was a game that required a lot of patience.

So when Sunday rolled around, he didn’t try to spend too much time in interacting with you.

➷ Sunday, 12:03 p.m.

“everything’s packed. mostly.” You say, pacing around the room, making a mental note of all the boxes you had.

“god, you have so many trinkets. Why do you need this rock?” noor asks, exasperated, sitting on the floor with her legs crossed and a marker in her hand. you had asked her to come over last night, panicked, after not starting on packing everything up the whole week. In you defence, it wasn’t really your fault. You’d been too busy with your shifts at work and your assignments to even remember that you were moving.

“do you remember that day we went by the lake because we were sad that highschool was ending? And then we tried to throw rocks in the bouncy-bouncy way but we failed?” you asked, still pacing around and picking up a notebook off of your very naked and very vulnerable looking bed, “well, that’s one of the rocks from near the lake. I wanted to remember the day, so.” You said, checking off the items that you had packed.

Noor hummed. “I remember that. We made taylor swift folklore references.”

Noor laughed as well, tugging her legs infront of her chest. “now look at us. You got home at what? Twelve at night day before?” she asked, resting her chin on her knees. You took a seat on your mattress, leaning your weight on the palms of your hands behind you.

You breathed out a laugh. “and then went to get ice cream. Dude my mom was so mad I stayed out for so long,”

Noor had always been pretty, you thought. There was a certain point in highschool when you had started getting closer to her, where you had the briefest crush on her. With long eyelashes, pretty dark brown eyes that always shone whenever she talked about something she was excited about, it really wasn’t hard to love her. The apples of her cheek were prominent when she smiles as she’s doing right now, the mole near the inner corner of her right eye almost disappearing while the mile on the left side of the crease of her chin made itself more prominent. Even if her hair was tied up into a bun, some of her dark waves that escaped from it falling onto her shoulders and her bangs – though currently a little untidy - framing her face, she looked pretty. She always did.

You tilted your chin up, closing your eyes. “im so glad im moving closer to college. No more one and a half hour transport, thank god.”

“travelling with you was always nice.” She said as you looked back at her. “back when we used to do it in highschool. The times you were absent I would have to stop myself from crying when I got on the bus alone,”

You laughed again. “im sorry about my weak body. I had so many fevers,”

“you should be. I was so scared because I’d have to go to school alone, without you. do you know how much trauma that gave me?”

“I’ll pay for your therapy-“

“I need more than that. You need to fund my red bull addiction.”

“you need rehab for that, I will not be helping your unhealthy coping mechanisms.” You say, hearing her laugh in the way that brought you comfort. You were glad you had her. You were glad that despite the apartment you were currently in never felt like home, she did. Everytime she came over with takeout that had gotten cold because of the journey, she made the place feel more like your own as you forced her to watch bad shows and scary movies with you, making her laugh even if the scene was terrifying for her to watch.

You glanced at the screen on your phone, reading the time out loud.

“when are they getting here?” she asked, taking a sip of the aforementioned red bull that she had kept beside her on the ground.

You sighed, stretching. “twelve ten.”

“they’re late.” She says. “what if they’re, like, not the best people?”

“im sure they’re not the worst. Besides, I’ll remind myself that what I had before that was an hour and a half of commute and the tiniest bathroom known to man.”

“and you’ll have me,” she says, shrugging.

“and I’ll have you.” you parrot, opening your mouth to say something else but being cut off by three loud knocks.

Noor give you a knowing look, the both of you getting up from your seats as she adjust her hair. Taking a deep breath in, you open the door with a smile.

“hey guys!” you say, being greeted by marco’s smiling freckled face, his hair swooping over his forehead just like the day he showed you around the apartment.

“hi,” he speaks, his voice getting drowned out by connies loud one.

“hey roomie! We almost got lost while coming here. place is like a maze.” He says, slinging his arm over marcos shoulder. You breath out a laugh, “right? Crazy ass town planners,” you say, opening the door wider to let them in. as usual, jean doesn’t talk much, nodding at your as greeting as you wave back.

Pretty stranger. In your house. Or, your ex- house. And he looked good today, too, a brown hoodie with light blue loose fitting jeans, his hair covered by a hat so that you could only see the tips of them through it. His keys hung off of one of his belt loops, his fingers accessorized with silver rings. He smelled nice, too, you noted.

“woah,” you heard connie say. Looking back at him, you saw him looking at noor with a small smile on his face. Noor, on the other hand, had the expression she always wore when men approached her.

Mild disgust.

You cleared your throat, “right, guys, this is noor. My best friend since highschool. That’s jean, marco and connie.”

“so youre the baldy,” she said, tilting her head towards connie, and in usual settings, this would be a slightly passive comment. But to connie, somehow, it translated as a challenge as he smirked, crossing his arms infront of his chest, trying to make himself bigger. Jean groaned from behind you, and marco, again, looked at you apologetically.

“the hair was a choice. People went too insane seeing how good I looked with longer hair so,” he waves a hand over his buzzed hair, “I shaved it all off as mercy.”

You grimace. Noor’s expression gets stronger as she sighs in annoyance. “yeah, I’d also go insane trying not to kill you.”

“do you guys… know eachother?” marco asks. you pick up the notebook from your bed again, rechecking the list of things you had. Jean leans on the wall next to you.

“she was my-“ “we were just in a group project together, don’t get it over your bald head.”

Jean snorted beside you as you gasped at the recollection. “oh my god youre the guy that gatekept all the information for the presentation!” marco joined in with jeans growing amusement, as connie’s face turned red in embarrassment.

His hands flew up in the air in defense. “hey, I was a freshman, I was…growing-“

“growing from being a complete piece of trash?” noor said.

“yes. No, I mean, like, I was trying to not be-“ “blah blah blah, you made us almost fail.” She said. “if only you could stop flirting with everyone in the group and actually do your work.” “it’s called charisma,” “charisma my ass.” She mumbled in response. You cleared your throat.

“alright, lets get to work before someone gets murdered in this place. Im sure it wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened here.” you say, picking up a relatively smaller box of all of your academic supplies.

Jean followed you, grabbing the box from your hand. marco agrees with you and heads to another, whereas connie sticks around noor, much to her dismay.

Marco speaks up as you keep the door open with your foot, standing near the doorway with a box of some of your clothes. “has…someone actually been murdered here?”

You shrugged. “a lot has happened here, apparently. Someone almost died because a pipe fell on their head. One day I came home late at night to police sirens-“

“oh yeah, what happened with that?” noor asks, finally being able to separate herself from connie who you glanced at. He seemed to be playing eeny-meeny-miney-moe with which box to pick up. “the left one is the lightest,” you tell him, and he shoots you a wide smile and two thumbs up.

Going back to the topic at hand, you catch noor – and marco – up on the…subtle crime that had occurred in the building. The infrastructure was extremely poor, making you confused between the creaking of pipes and the sounds of unwanted footsteps in the corridors late at night. It was kind of scary, living in such a cramped space with nowhere to hide while also not knowing if the noises you heard were simply because you were paranoid or because they were creaks of the weak building. But you didn’t mention any of that, focusing instead on the girl that moved out. You remembered her being really nice, even though you didn’t know her name, just her bright blue doe eyes and blonde hair. She always smiled at you when you saw her on the stairs or in the dingy elevator. She had an encounter with an almost criminal which made her call the cops, but apparently the guy was just her dad that she didn’t recognize. She had told you briefly in the lift that the two had a complicated relationship, so she was just surprised and scared after you asked her how she was doing. She soon mentioned she was moving out and living with her girlfriend and her roommate instead.

Marco let out a whistle when you reached the car, jean standing near the trunk and making space in it to accommodate for your stuff. “sounds very scary.”

“I survived,” you said, placing a box in the space jean had made, muttering a small thanks to him with a smile, earning a nod with a thin lipped smile – if you could even call it that.

“that’s insane lore from your friend,” connie says, haphazardly stuffing a box into the trunk, to which noor groans and rolls her eyes before having to readjust it herself. “yeah. I hope she’s doing well with her girlfriend.” You say.

“you kno-“ marco starts, but it’s cut off by his phone ringing with the tune of that really annoying sound on every social media platform, the one that repeatedly had the phrase ‘oh no, oh no’ with an incredibly annoying beat, making marco groan out connies name before picking it up.

“hey sash,” he spoke into the mic, talking to who you presumed to be the same sasha from your work.

“so, who’s coming in the car with you?” you ask jean while connie and noor continue their vehement words and insults thrown onto eachother, even though it was mostly connie trying to impress noor and the latter not having any of it.

Jean looks at you, squinting against the strong sunlight. His eyes are really pretty, you note, and he sighs before speaking. “well, we haven’t decided that yet. There probably wont be that much space in the car, considering all of… that.” He says, glancing at half your boxes that had already filled up the trunk. You nod, “right.”

This is the first time you’ve heard him speak for so long. You breathed in an awkward breath. Carrying a conversation with an uninterested person wasn’t new to you, and in normal circumstances, you’d have given up and opened your phone as distraction, but you were supposed to live with this guy. You couldn’t just live with someone you’d have to give awkward tight lipped smiles to everyday. no, you were more resilient than a couple dry sentences. Maybe he was just shy.

You opened your mouth to speak again, but were cut of by marco calling out your name, his hand outstretched with his phone in his palm. The screen flashed what you assumed to be sasha’s name, though it was named as ‘ice cream inhaler DO NOT CALL WHEN SHE…” the other part cut off because of it’s length.

“sasha wants to speak to you,” he said with an apologetic smile which you were sure was his resting face, as you smiled and took the phone from his hand.

“hey, sasha-“ you tried, but she had already cut you off with a sentence of her own. You hadn’t spoken to sasha other than for the few friendly exchanges you’d had with her when she was assigned a rare shift with you. she’d compliment you, you’d have to hold her back from eating all the send-backs. It was 50/50.

“hi! We’re going to be step-roommates!” she says, and you can hear the smile in her voice, forcing you to smile as well. “we are,” you reply.

“since obviously these idiots are going to tell you the best places to get takeout from, here’s the- oh, hold on. I’m getting called for an order. Give me, like, two seconds.” She says, the line going silent. You pulled the phone off of your ear, confused. Jean sighed from beside you, rolling his eyes and closing the trunk with a loud thud.

“she always does this-“ he steps next to you, holding his hand out for the phone. You hand it to him without question. “calls us when she’s in the middle of something and leaves the phone open. its dangerous-“ he says, taking the phone and placing it near his mouth, now loudly talking into the microphone. “Gordon Ramsey is the greatest chef in the universe,” he says loud enough for you to flinch with a smile as he mimicked your expression of slight amusement, smirking. This was the first time you were engaging in a longer conversation with him. Granted, he wasn’t actually speaking to you.

“she hates Gordon Ramsey. Doesn’t like how he always shouts instead of enjoying his amazing job. Her words, not mine.” He speaks, shifting the mic away from his mouth. Going back to the mic, he continues, “do you remember that fanfiction you made us read of him giving bi-“

“hi! Im back, new roomie-in-law!” she says before jean finishes his sentence. He clears his throat loud enough for sasha to hear. You can practically hear her roll her eyes, “and you, horseface.”

“hey!”

“I need a follow-up on the Gordon ramsay story. And the horseface name.” you say, taking the phone from jean’s hand and holding it like a mic.

“oh, you have a lot to catch up on if you’re gonna live with them, but don’t worry, I’ll tell you everything you need to know. Its going to take about three business days and three large pizzas, though.”

“deal,” you tell her with a smile, and jean scoffs as he walks away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I have to go now, though, but have fun until I get there! And try not to lose your mind too much, jean and connie can do that to people.”

“I’ll try my best, sash.”

“I believe in you! bye!”

“buh-bye.”  

➷ Sunday, 1:24 p.m.

The group is divided into an imperfect two-to-three, with you, noor and marco opting for the bus and jean and connie travelling by jean’s car, which you assume is like travelling with a married couple that dislikes eachother.

Marco agrees. Theres barely any seats left on the bus despite the fact that it’s a Sunday morning with not a lot of work rush, and you have to cling onto the poles for support. Noor leans her shoulder on the same pole your hand grips, and marco’s head is supported by his arm which was raised and rested by the handles.

“they’ve always been like that,” he says with an adoring smile playing on his lips. Its only now that you notice how pretty marco is, and his eyes are soft as he talks about his friends. “you haven’t been in the same room as jean, connie and sasha. That’s the true test.”

You laugh. “how bad is it?”

He inhales, thinking, “one time, connie climbed on top of the fridge and jean was trying to get him out with a broom. Sasha was on the kitchen counter with her arms up, trying to get him down.” He says. “to this day, none of them know why he got up there in the first place but he just…did, and they weren't even drunk. fully sober.” he says with a smile and a shrug, shaking his head in disbelief. “so, that’s how bad it is,”

You smiled. Noor rolled her eyes, murmuring, "of course connie did that.”

“oh, yeah, you guys know each other, right?” marco asks, turning his head towards her a little, his smile unwavering. Now that you thought about it, it was hard to make his smile waver. The only time you had seen anything but a small smile on his face was when youo were describing you now past living situation to him. Noor groaned from beside you.

“overstatement. i was…acquainted with him, if anything. Only because I was forced to. The entire time, all he tried to do was flex his non-existent abs at me and make me laugh. I just…hate his guts.” She says, shaking her head and pursing her lips as if just the mention of connie’s name was making her mood turn sour. Maybe it was.

“I didn’t know that this connie was the same guy you told me about,” you said. She shook her head again. “nah, its okay. You couldn’t have known, anyway.”

Marco hums, “connie can be a bit… desperate. He sees someone pretty and immediately makes himself… dispensable?”

There was a slight pause before you spoke, tilting your head at his sentence. “did you just call him a slut?”

“that’s the most eloquent way of calling someone a fuckboy.” She says, still laughing.

Marco chuckles as noor bursts into her bright laughter. You count this as permission for your own laugh to bubble up.

The bus came to a stop with you and noor catching marco up to speed on your collective history and highschool lives, marco adding his own stories and laughter. you got off the bus kind of dreading the end of the ride, even though you were going to live with him, you hoped you’d get to talk to him a lot more. Marco seemed warm and inviting, and he had told the both of you – who were technically strangers to him – about how he’d grown up with four younger siblings and how he’d had to take care of them a lot, how jean kind of helped him with his familial life, how marco felt less like he had a role to play when he was with jean, connie and sasha. His open confession of admiration warmed you from the inside, and you hoped, selfishly and maybe a little too soon, that you’d fit into their house. It wasn’t just an apartment they’d shared as friends, but a place for them to be comfortable in. you felt like you were intruding.

And you felt it even more so as noor got a call from her classmate. You’d only overheard a bit of the call on the sidewalk as the three of you walked to the building, marco telling you about the time jean used to try to flirt with people and miserably failing, and somewhere in the middle of you trying to control your laughter and marco now fully making fun of his best friend, noor had stopped walking.

you looked behind you. her brows were scrunched up in confusion, a noticeable scowl growing on her face.

“no, wasn’t that…..yeah, I thought it was on Friday. He cant just change it like that! God, okay. I’ll come over, im not that far. Yep. Oh, and the presentation, too. We can give that work to lucy. Mhm, yeah. Yep, see you.” she said, hanging up and looking at you apologetically.

“I’m so sorry, guys, I have to leave. Apparently the professor who had assigned a project to us pushed the deadline to Tuesday instead of Friday.” She said.

“woah, what? They can do that?” marco asks. she nods, sighing frustratingly. “the guy teaching us is very old. He does this all the time, im pretty sure he’s a corpse already.” You laugh a little.

She says your name softly, “Im so sorry I cant-“

“it’s okay, noor. Ive got it covered. You’ve helped a lot as is.” You said, stepping forward and engulfing her in your arms. she fit there perfectly, squeezing your shoulders before letting go.

You smiled at her, “best of luck. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

She nods, “you call me too, after you’re settled.” Turning to marco, she continues, “it was so good meeting you! we have to meet again. I mean, I guess we will,”

Marco smiles, his eyes squinting. “of course, im glad I go to meet you as well. Best of luck on the assignment.”

Noor leaves, walking with double the speed. You watched her leave, her hair flowing slightly with the wind.

you sighed with a smile, turning back to marco, “so, where were we?”

Marco’s conversation capabilities served as a distraction from your own almost all-consuming thoughts. He continued telling you, in vivid detail, how jean had asked him to help with his promposal. He had gotten down on one knee for a girl he didn’t even know infront of almost the whole school, not heeding marco’s advice of getting to know her first before doing something large and irrational. Apparently, somehow, it had worked and despite facing some amount of embarrassment even years later, atleast he got the girl to go out with him for prom.

“Strangely uplifting and wholesome,” you said, stopping infront of the door as marco fished for his keys in his pockets.

“that’s jean for you,” he slipped the key into the slot, turning to you before opening the door. “oh, and just so you don’t step on a minefield – never call jean horseface. He’ll loose his mind.” He said. Before you could ask why, he had opened the door and you were bombarded with bickering once again.

“I told you, I don’t know-“ jean voice said. You presumed it was coming from the kitchen. Connie cut him off with a smirk you knew was present on his face without even having to see it, “oh, really? And you just hid this information from us, conveniently-“

Marco cleared his throat loudly. You shed your coat and hung it up on the rack, smiling at the two of them, waving.

Connie smiled widely, waving at you with his fingers. Jean gave you a tight lipped smile.

“uhm-  your boxes are kept in your room,” jean said, a cup of coffee in his hand. you could read the big, bold black letters from where you were standing – “HOTTEST MILF IN TOWN”. You nodded with a smile, opening your mouth to say something before he cut you off again. Only then did you notice a slight blush covering his cheeks.

“if you need any help and stuff, I c- we can help, or whatever.” He said, shrugging before taking a sip of his coffee. Connie looked like he was going to burst out laughing, and you couldn’t tell why. It wasn’t unusual for you to feel out of place with people, but you were just made aware of the fact as you scanned them briefly.

“thank you. really, thank you guys for everything.” You say, looking at all of them. Marco smiled at you openly, jean refused to make eye contact with you, covering the bottom half of his face with the mug (how long was he going to take a sip?), and connie only nodded slowly, his eyes watering, his hand coming up to his mouth to hold in his laughter. your eyes went to jean’s. you pointed to his hand, “nice mug.” You said.

As soon as you turned around, though, he did not hold back. His laughter was only interrupted by small “you” and “thought” “she” and then an “oh my go-“  jean groaned and you didn’t hear him defend himself, or marco laughing along with connie, as you opened the door to your room.

Your room.

You were never good with change. You sighed, looking at all the boxes – some scattered and some stacked. You guessed the stacked ones were jean’s work. The heavier boxes were on the bottom while the lighter ones balanced on top of them. The scattered boxes had to be a job done by connie. You appreciated it nonetheless, sitting down on the one patch that wasn’t occupied, scanning the room, making notes on how you’d change it. Connie was still laughing outside, only that jean was defending himself with horrible tactics. You leaned back, stealing a glance at the scene – his hands were plugging his ears, eyes shut tight as he sang loudly and terribly “baby you light up my world like nobody else-“ marco covering his mouth with a fist, his shoulders shaking as he laughed silently. You smiled.

Sure, you’d feel like an intruder. But you could try hard not to be. You refused to sink into the same cycle that you had been in in highschool, but you also refused to be alone. Taking a deep breath in, you shouted, all with a smile still present on your face.

“hey!”

The three looked at you. jean’s voice was still singing (again, terribly), and marco had to elbow him to shut him up. “I saw a pizza place down the corner. Edo you guys wanna order and try it out?”

Marco agreed instantly, and connie was immediately hopping off of his seat, opening the cabinets and taking out some mugs. Jean only looked at you. you took that as a win.

“we can drink cheap wine-“ connie said, which seemed to snap jean out of his stupor. “its not cheap, I paid a whole eight dollars for it!”

Marco cleared his throat as you made your way to the kitchen counter again, slipping onto one of the barstools. “you mean five dollars.”

“when are you going to stop treating us like common whores?” connie asks, turning around with his arms full of mugs, all with different writings on them.

Jean scoffed, “when you stop treating me like your provider.”

“provider? I hardly know he-“

“I will KILL YOU CONSTANCE.” Jean says. You laugh, marco joins, connie flinches at jeans voice, ducking under the table to shield himself.

You’d try. You’d try hard to not be an intruder.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

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⁀➷ a/n ➷ shes a big one. sorry for the wait, i can finally sit down to write stuff since i have summer break. i was struggling HARD with this one, though, the dialogues were Not Easy considering the fact that im not funny at all (as you can tell probably). some of the dialogues are taken by conversations between me and my friends and some are taken from sticoms ive watched hehe. hope yall liked it!! as always constructive criticisms are open! also requests are open, too, since i have more time to write now!

⁀➷ comments, likes, reblogs are always appreciated!

line dividers by @peachesofteal

[pyromegalomaniac]

…hi there! I love your writing style neighbor! I was wondering if you could write a welcome home fic for me!! Wally x a gn reader that Uses music to express emotion, like they always have headphones on and communicate with signals and when others don’t understand they get frustrated? Maybe Wally witnesses them and the reader FINALLY takes off their headphones and talks?

-⭐️star anon ⭐️

This is such a cute idea star anon!! Thanks for saying you like my style!! I wouldn't say I have them on quite to this degree, but I do have my headphones in pretty often!! I know at least one person (*cough cough* mother-) that would consider it a genuine problem, heh. I hope I can use my experience to write this fic for you!! Enjoy!!

(♡˙︶˙♡)

Sing me to Sleep🍎🎧🎵

☆°•☆°•☆°•☆

It was such a nice day out, I just had to have the perfect music to match. Something cheery and bouncy, that made me want to swing my legs on the park bench I was sitting on.

I took a deep breath in and tasted the fresh air, clean and sweet. The picture perfect day with the perfect soundtrack. I wondered if I took off my headphones if I'd hear birdsong.

But before I could entertain that thought any further, I spotted a figure on the sidewalk opposite me.

It was Julie in front of her house, practicing jump rope. I hopped off the bench and made my way over. She waved as I approached, smiling, and I waved back.

"What's the game today, y/n?" She asked.

I didn't respond, but I picked up a spare jump rope off the ground.

"Oh, sure, we can jump together! Bet you can't beat my best score! 47," she said smugly as she started jumping.

I jumped too, keeping in time with the beat of my music. I jumped until the song was over, and the next and the next...

I hadn't even realized until she was shouting and shaking my shoulder a bit that Julie was trying to talk to me. I turned around to see two hula-hoops in her arm.

After a moment of attempted communication I understood that she was offering me a hoop, and I took it. We hooped for a while, me with my eyes closed.

Eventually the weather turned sour somehow while I wasn't looking, because I felt a raindrop on my arm. I looked up, and sure enough there were clouds covering the sky. Julie was picking up her things and putting them away, and after I helped her get everything out of the rain I waved goodbye and started for my house.

I thought to myself that I could've helped her better. I knew it wasn't her fault, but if she could've understood that I would've stopped what I was doing to help her...

The rain had picked up to a drizzle, and I hoped I could make it. The song playing seemed to spur me on, with its fast tempo urging my feet to speed from a walk to a jog.

I heard something that wasn't my music, though. I slowed and turned my head to see one of my neighbors, Wally, struggling with a painter's easel in his front yard. He heard me approaching, apparently, because he turned to face me.

"Oh, y/n. You wouldn't mind kindly helping me get my masterpiece out of the rain, would you? It's not finished, and it would be such a shame if it got spoiled now..." He turned to face it and put his hand on his chin.

"I don't think I can carry it inside on my own and not smudge the paint. The canvas is just too big."

I put my hands on one side and looked across at him, and he turned to me and looked me in the eyes. I smiled at him, and he seemed to understand.

"Okay, I'll lift this side, and you get that one. Ready?"

We picked it up effortlessly, perfectly in sync. We took his painting inside and then all his supplies, and though we managed to save his artwork, his hairdo which he had clearly worked so hard to maintain had fallen from its pompador-like shape into something floppy and sad, covering over half his face.

"Well," he sighed. "I do very much appreciate it, neighbor. Thanks a lot for your help. Say," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"You're probably cold and wet. Would you like to come inside and I could make warm drinks?"

I nodded, and we headed inside to do just that. When I was seated at the table with my mug in my hand and Wally at the other end of the table, he smiled and thanked me again for helping him.

"How's your... oh, well, I suppose you're not one for conversation, are you y/n..."

I slid my headphones off my head, leaving them around my neck.

"It's delicious. Thank you very much."

Wally looked dumbfounded, his mouth open wide.

"Why... why, y/n! I'm very glad you like it! But... if you don't mind me asking... what made you decide to finally take those off?"

...

"I like the sound of the rain."

...

"And... if I may say, you have a very lovely voice."

"As do you, Wally."

I smiled.

☆°•☆°•☆°•☆

Here it is, star anon!! I was a bit stuck at the beginning but I think I found it at the end!! I think it turned out pretty cute, at least with Wally and the reader!! I tried to show that he was able to connect with them right away! I hope you liked it, I'd like to say thanks for requesting it!! I look forward to doing more in the future!! Much love!!

ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ

[xalygatorx]

Unbound | Chapter 1, "Too-Interesting Times"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: Áine has pulled herself from the wreckage of the Nautiloid with little more than a worm in her head and some miscellany in her pack. She picks up some equally infested companions along the way—a cleric with an odd artefact, a portal-stuck wizard, and a haughty pale elf. They get acquainted and seek to stock up on supplies while figuring out what their next steps should be.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of fantasy violence; lightly proofread; will not operate on a posting schedule (this is a for-fun project for me)

Word Count: 6.8k

Listening to: It Will Come Back - Hozier, Harpy Song from the BG3 soundtrack

For perhaps the fourth time already that day, Áine Ts’sambra was recanting every time she had ever wished for her life to be different. It seemed that the accumulation of all the time she’d wished for better or hoped for more or even prayed in rare instances for less had all balled up into the atrocity that had befallen her and countless others in being scooped into a Nautiloid ship and having an illithid tadpole implanted in her eye socket.

Even now, she could feel the little thing twitch and occasionally give a wriggle, and it was all she could do to not to be sick on the dirt she trod, which would make for a nasty bit of path for the few companions she’d already scavenged around the wreckage. She wasn't sure why they were following her—she knew as little as, if not even less, they did about what they were in for with these horrible little crawlers. But she did remember what that githyanki woman on the ship had said just before they’d sawed through some imps—that if these parasites were left to bake, they’d become the very things that had abducted them in the first place.

She shuddered. She couldn’t help it. But the half-elf cleric at her side was immediately wary at even the faintest twitch of Áine’s lavender flesh.

“You’re not turning, are you?” Shadowheart asked. Áine noticed one of her hands had wrapped around the hilt of her mace, but rested there. A precaution.

“No, I’m fine,” Áine reassured her, scoffing at her own choice of words immediately after. “Well, that’s a stretch, but I’m just as ‘fine’ as I was a few moments ago. Don’t worry, if I start to go, I’ll try to say something. I’d rather die than turn.”

“No one is going to turn,” the wizard tailing along behind them hastened to reassure either her, himself, or the universe at large. “We will find a more than capable healer, get the wrigglers gone, and then, I don’t know, find a tavern or something to celebrate.”

“If you’re seeing anywhere around these parts reminiscent of somewhere that would have a tavern, I’m beginning to worry about your brain too, wizard,” Shadowheart remarked.

“Again, just Gale is fine,” Gale insisted. “And fair… I’m not having ale-based hallucinations. If that were a symptom, maybe ceremorphosis would be a more pleasant sendoff, but I hasten to reaffirm, that it is not.”

“I prefer a dry red, myself,” their most recent party member remarked. Even hearing Astarion’s distinguished voice at the present moment made Áine’s head smart. She’d not headbutted anyone in, well, quite a while, and there was an art to it. An art she’d needed to abandon as soon as he had her pinned in the dirt with a dagger to her throat and she didn’t have a good angle. 

“You know, I heartily agree with you there,” Gale said with feeling, sounding devastated now that there was no drink to be had. “Especially after the day we’ve all had, I’d wager we could all use a stiff beverage.”

“You can say that again,” Shadowheart sighed in step with Áine, who was now more focused than ever on finding them a safe spot to camp. “Do you have a drink of choice, Áine?”

“You’re going to call me unoriginal, but I also enjoy a wine,” Áine admitted. “Or a bit of brandy in some tea. That’s special for colder nights though.”

“Mm, that sounds divine,” Gale commented. “Although I’d guess it doesn’t get too cold around here, even at night. I’m sweating through my robes back here, a sight you ladies certainly do not need to behold.”

“Seconded,” Astarion said. “That there’s an unpleasantly moist Gale back here, not that I’m breaking a sweat, mind.”

“Oi, thanks,” Gale snapped.

“Only a little further, you lot,” Áine raised her voice to hush the whiners in the back. “We can set up on that bit of plateau if everyone agrees to that.”

“It’s an ‘aye’ from me,” Gale commented. “Anything to get off my feet for a few moments. Had I known we were to be abducted, I may have picked to wear some walking shoes.”

“Indeed,” Astarion murmured, wincing as the dress shoes he was wearing continued to wear a sore on the back of his heel. Of all the ironic things to take him down, why did it have to be aesthetic? Not that he had much else to choose from in regards to what to wear, but these strange folk didn’t need to know that.

Áine and Shadowheart shared a private, humored glance at their adopted companions’ comments. Given Shadowheart was mid-journey when she was captured and Áine had been mid-journey for who knew how long now, they both had appropriate footwear to be wandering these sparse foothills. “Okay, okay, let’s get a fire going,” Áine said as they reached the spot she’d indicated, setting down the supply pack that she and Shadowheart had procured from a corpse before finding themselves in a spat with some intellect devourers within the ship’s shattered hull.

“I’ve got it, go sit,” Áine reassured Gale as he started to try and make himself useful by gathering some nearby branches from the ground. 

“Are you quite sure?” Gale asked.

“No need to tell me twice,” Astarion commented, finding a flat rock to lounge across and gaze at the sky as it turned to a milky, purplish dusk. His brow creased as he glanced between the sky and then at their newly appointed “leader”—the sky mirrored the hues of her half-drow complexion, the bare beginnings of sundown. It was just in her skin and pearlescent hair that her elven traits made themselves known, however. 

Save her pointy ears, she was a notable mix of her human heritage as well, down to the very human eyes that caught his and gave him a withering look at his indolence. He snorted softly and rolled his eyes back up to the sky, slowly darkening to reveal the stars. Poor dear had eyes the color of dirt. Ruination to an otherwise perfectly good elven face, drow as it may be.

Between Shadowheart and Áine, a stable campfire had formed between their makeshift tents, happily crackling wayward embers surfing the night air. Astarion remained on his perch while Gale, Shadowheart, and Áine circled the fire, splitting the small rations of stale bread and cheese they’d looted earlier and finding that the coast did get surprisingly chilly come sundown. “So what was that about tea and brandy, Áine?” Gale remarked, earning a tiny laugh from both Áine and Shadowheart. 

“I’ll keep an eye out for a bottle while we’re supply-hunting tomorrow,” Áine promised, chaffing her hands together and holding her palms toward the flames. “The tea might be a little tougher, but who knows? This isn’t an area I’m familiar with, so whatever old shipments we find might have some surprises.” The idea seemed to mollify her some about their situation as a whole. 

The truth was, she was doing everything she could to put the parasite at the back of her mind. Figuratively, of course. Doing so literally might hinder her chances of finding someone to yank the awful thing out. And back to existential dread, she thought with a barely stifled groan.

“You’re sure you don’t want something to eat, Astarion?” Áine offered.

“As, uh, appetizing as near-molding bread and cheese sound,” Astarion mused, sitting up from where he’d languidly laid against the sun-warmed rock until its heat had faded with its source, and making his way toward one of the tents Shadowheart and Áine had pitched nearby. “I’m more inclined to rest than eat at the moment. I just have this awful headache…”

Áine smirked a little to herself and rolled her eyes. “I do, too. He’s milling around my camp at the moment, and not to mention my head hurts to boot.”

Gale snorted and Shadowheart’s lips pursed into a line to withhold a laugh of her own. Astarion smirked, dropping his head forward to conceal it as he replied, “Touché, my dear.” At least he wasn’t short some banter for whatever road lay ahead of them with the company he currently kept. He retreated to the tent, setting up on one of the bedrolls inside for his nightly reverie. “Is there a reason I’m expected to share lodgings?”

“Because we only found two tents in all the bags we looted on the beach,” Áine said patiently, even as Shadowheart rolled her eyes and Gale sighed toward the fire. “If we’re lucky, it’ll just be for tonight.”

She was met with a hmph from the direction of the tents and decided to find humor in the decidedly stuck-up behavior of the high elf they’d adopted roadside despite his attempt on her life. Áine supposed it showed her for trying to be indiscriminately helpful in these newly trying times. Not that it hadn’t always been, in her experience, a risk to stick one’s neck out for a stranger, but the stakes were higher now. She could take it as a reminder, seeing as nothing had really happened but some head trauma, and move on. 

Her forgiveness had surprised Shadowheart and endeared her to Gale, but it seemed like an expectation from the subject of her excusal, Astarion. Even so, it was difficult to parse between what was a genuine reaction from him and something edging toward rehearsed. It would either get easier with time, she imagined, or the mask would drop as he got to know them all and felt a little more at ease. Áine was grateful at least that Gale and Shadowheart, despite her secrets, were more open books in that regard. All she wanted from every aspect of her current situation was more transparency and some answers.

“So you’re a bard then, Áine?” Gale asked, bringing her attention back to the present.

Áine followed his gaze toward her bag set near the other of their two pitched tents, out of which poked a very basic wooden flute. “I am, indeed,” she said with a little puff of pride in her chest. “You mentioned you’re a wizard? How did you come into that?”

That was enough to consume conversation for the evening and Áine was glad. She wasn’t quite in a headspace to talk about herself or ruminate on their predicament, but she could most certainly listen and Gale was more than happy to talk and regale (no pun intended) his life in Waterdeep and discuss his favorite tomes on countless subjects of his studies. The three still at the fireside eventually felt the day’s events sink its claws into their bodies and minds and retired to the remaining bedrolls until morning broke anew.

Astarion was up with the sun and, very much like a sleepy cat, tailed its rays to where they spread across the edge of their little plateau, settling himself in and feeling the pleasant heat begin to permeate his clothes. The concept was still so novel, that he could just exist in the sun again without disintegrating into ash finer than even that settled around the base of their extinguished campfire. He still had the barest instinct against traipsing into the light, but the pull was even stronger to enjoy whatever this was while it lasted. It simply had to be the parasite, he’d decided, and despite its constant threat of ceremorphosis initiation, it made him loath to get rid of the little bugger. Maybe there was a way to control it instead… After all, it perhaps was also the only thing keeping him from being swept back under Cazador’s thumb.

No, the parasite was indispensable for the moment. There were more pros than cons for him and it might be his only avenue at breaking free of the Szarr estate for good.

Voices from below were enough excuse to shelve his thoughts for the moment, thoughts dangerously bordering on reflection that would dredge up the most painful, humiliating memories he’d accrued over the past 200 years, and there was stiff competition for what could be considered most painful or most humiliating. Swallowing against the acrid taste of bile that rose in the back of his throat, he focused on the voices, which seemed to be coming down from the crypt entrance they’d passed on their way up the hill.

He scented her before he heard her, and even more so before he saw her. Áine had to appear in his peripheral on her own, as he actively didn’t turn his head to regard her, even as she asked, “Spot anything of interest down there?” 

The fresh scent he’d caught upon her arrival originated from a sprig of mint she absentmindedly crushed between her back molars, the herb’s strong sting of flavor doing well to both help wake her and focus her mind. It was strong, but a pleasant way to force one’s self awake.

“To be determined,” Astarion sighed, stretching back to rest his weight on his hands. “They don’t seem to be from the ship from what I could tell. Probably just run-of-the-mill graverobbers.”

Áine frowned and observed the stonework below, her eyes catching on movement whenever one of the persons in question came into view. “Bit of an odd hit, isn’t it?” she asked. “That place looks old as the dust that’s settled on it. Can’t be anything of use still in there.”

“You’d be surprised, darling,” Astarion mused. “Things often get missed by quicker digs. Takes someone who knows where to look.”

Áine looked at him, her eyes finding his as he continued to gaze down toward the crypt. He had the most vivid crimson eyes she’d ever seen, even on her fully Lolth-sworn drow cousins. She’d initially wondered if he had a little drow blood in him too to cause such a shocking pigmentation for his eyes, but nothing else about him looked remotely drow.

“You’re staring at me,” he accused her lazily, his gaze finally parting from the crypt to level with hers. “Why?”

Áine shook her head, giving him an embarrassed smile. “I honestly just got lost in my thoughts. I meant to ask if you were someone who knows where to look. If that’s how you know that.”

Astarion smirked but believed that she truly had just been staring through him rather than at him. He’d mostly just wanted to see how she’d recover from his blunt question. With grace, it seems, he thought, a mental note taken. “My prime skillset is knowing where to look, my dear,” he informed her in low, silken tones. “Second only to knowing what to do with what I see.”

Áine’s eyes narrowed at the turn the conversation had taken. She sighed. “Right, lot of help that was,” she murmured as she stood up and brushed herself off. The chuckle she heard issue from the pale elf at her feet just amplified her growing exasperation. Normally she would think that this was the result of someone’s mask falling off, but she had a strong feeling this was just his mask more firmly fastened. 

This particular mask wouldn’t work on her, however—she didn’t fall for this sort of thing, to a point that the minimal love interests she’d run through over the years had called her things like “heartless” or “broken” or a “tease.” Her body didn’t bend to a touch alone, her knees didn’t shake for a whispered word. She needed all of it or none. She needed to care for someone to want them. Whether that was a product of her innate identity or a byproduct of past trauma, she was yet to understand. Her hunch was that it was both, a deeply unique-to-her set of preferences and desires exacerbated by a learned need to shield herself and keep advancing parties at arm’s length. 

She’d dealt with feeling inconvenient, incorrect, and “needlessly picky” for the entirety of the romantic portion of her life, from the time she’d had her first crushes as a girl, usually undone before they could begin. She’d felt siloed, like everyone else was either mad or in on information that had passed her by in its entirety. But as she’d grown, she’d made peace with the fact that this was simply how she was, and there was no changing that. Her heart and all the strings it attached to existed in a gray area she was still coming to understand, herself—she couldn’t blame others for not understanding it when she still didn’t fully herself, but she could also readily protect and validate it while she learned.     

And a high elf with a pretty face and a purr of a voice when he wasn’t outright whining wasn’t quite enough to break her. Were he not so haughty, cynical, and short-tempered, she may be a little more concerned for herself.

Áine made her way back to the campfire, setting to work at reigniting the bit of tinder so she could put together something for their breakfast. Shadowheart and Gale were rousing nearby and she figured Astarion would have to be half-starved after skipping over eating anything the night before. Gale joined her fireside as she poured some water from her canteen into a metal pan over some oats that she began to heat over the fire into some porridge. “Good morning! Can I help with anything?”

She reflexively began to politely refuse any help, but paused, glancing down the hillside toward a crate she and Shadowheart had passed over the day before when it had only contained some cutlery and dishes. “Actually, that would be grand. Do you see that crate down there, by the…well, by the dead intellect devourer?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Gale said with a chipperness that made her laugh. “Need something from it?”

“It’ll have some bowls and silverware for us to portion this out. Shadowheart and I passed it by at the time not realizing we’d have quite a group by daybreak.”

“Say no more, I’ll return momentarily.” Gale set off in the direction of the crate and Áine kept her eye on the path he trod, more or less to make sure the brain creature she’d pointed out to him as a landmark was, in fact, as dead as it looked.

“Eying up Gale already, are we?” Shadowheart teased Áine as she settled in next to her. The cleric pulled her long ebony locks over her shoulder and began replaiting them with practiced nimble fingers. “I can’t blame you, I suppose, he does have a certain light about him when he’s chatting books.”

“I’m mostly making sure that awful creature doesn’t spring up and attack him since it’s my fault he’s out there in the first place,” Áine explained, not biting down on the offered bait. Satisfied that the intellect devourer was certainly dead if it hadn’t attacked him yet, she looked at Shadowheart. “I told him about the dishes we found yesterday and he’s collecting them so we’re not all hunched over one pot eating hot porridge with our hands.”

Shadowheart smirked at the mental image Áine painted as she tied off her braid. While Áine stirred the porridge in the boiling pot, Shadowheart nodded toward her starlight tresses. “Would you like me to do yours as well?”

Áine usually made do with winding her hair into a bun at her nape, but she recognized a gesture of friendship when she saw it, so she said, “That would be nice, thank you,” and let Shadowheart plait her hair while she cooked.

“Well isn’t this cute,” Astarion commented when he returned to their immediate campsite and took in the sight of the two half-elves by the fire. “One would think we’re on a holiday rather than counting down the seconds until the worms in our brains decide to turn us into tentacled monstrosities. Maybe you two could braid those as well.”

“Are you always so personable in the morning or are we just having a lucky one today?” Shadowheart quipped with an annoyed look his way, still working diligently even as her gaze averted. Nonplussed, Áine passed Shadowheart her leather hairband over her shoulder so she could fasten her work. Gale arrived back with the bowls then and traded spots with Shadowheart to help Áine portion out their breakfast. 

“Darling, any morning that starts with my presence is damn lucky,” Astarion retorted, his dulcet tones saccharine and dripping with sarcasm.

When Shadowheart rose to her feet, Áine passed her up a bowl of porridge and a spoon. “Well let’s hope it’s not our only streak of luck today,” Áine commented before warning Shadowheart, “It’s quite hot, be careful. It’s also likely quite bad, but we need something if we’re to keep ourselves moving today.”

“You’re right. And I’ve had far worse regardless, I promise,” Shadowheart reassured her. “I thank you for it.”

“It looks atrocious,” Astarion commented as he peeked into Shadowheart’s bowl.

“Oh don’t worry, there’s plenty for you too,” Áine said, ignoring his ungrateful griping.

“I’ll pass,” he said. “But I appreciate the thought, my dear. I think.”

“You need to eat something, you spoilt brat,” Shadowheart groused after she swallowed a bite of her breakfast. “It may not be you were used to back in the city or on a silver spoon to boot, but you’ll collapse mid-battle if you don’t eat at all.”

He scoffed at her words. “Silver spoon? Do I strike you as a spoiled little rich boy?”

“Yes, actually,” Shadowheart said. “Perhaps not rich per se, but certainly spoiled.”

Something dark passed through his eyes, noticed only by Áine, who thought that just might be the first genuine bit of feeling she’d yet seen on his pointed, handsome features.

“What did you do back in the city, Astarion?” Gale asked conversationally as he put down his own bowl of porridge. Relaxing some now that the tension had been broken, or at least shelved, Áine began to eat as well. It wasn’t bad, but it was unbelievably bland. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do about that though, she didn’t even have salt. If Shadowheart and Gale were choking on her creation at least, they were being very polite to contain it.

“Oh, I was a magistrate,” Astarion said, startled out of his souring mood. “It’s all rather tedious.”

“I dread to think of the rulings you may have passed down,” Shadowheart commented as she scraped her bowl clean with the edge of her spoon. The grating noise clearly bothered Astarion and Áine had to wonder if Shadowheart was doing it because of that. “Bad hair day? 10 years in the barracks.”

“I’ll have you know I endeavored to keep the peace as well as I could in that despicable city,” Astarion snapped. “That alone was a full-time job.”

“Well, I certainly know who to come to for any future legal advice,” Gale commented before turning his attention to Áine. “So, fearless leader, where to today? It may behoove us to get a move on, at the very least to find someone else to fight before our little camp turns on itself.”

Shadowheart at least had the decency to flush with some measure of chagrin at the way she was acting being highlighted by Gale’s words. “Apologies, you’re right, Gale. There’s no need for that.” Astarion huffed but didn’t press the issue.

Áine pursed her lips against a laugh and instead said, “Astarion spotted some activity this morning down in that crypt we passed last night. Might be a good bid for some more supplies. More tents, even.”

“Finally someone speaking sense,” Astarion sighed theatrically.

“What if they’re survivors of the crash? Like us?” Gale asked as he collected empty bowls from Shadowheart and Áine and wrapped them up in a cloth to wash out at their next opportunity. “What if they’re more potential allies?”

“Then we’ll still need more tents,” Áine said, drawing a chuckle from all parties, Gale included. “We can just see what they have to say when we go down there, of course. But just…be equally ready for the possibility that they’ll be territorial looters.”

“Fair enough,” Gale said, straightening and looking toward their tents. “Should we leave these up then? Will we camp up here another night?”

Áine looked at their little spot with some consideration. “I suppose so. I don’t see why not anyway,” she said. “Especially if this doesn’t turn out to be a quick trip, it’ll be nice knowing we can come straight back here. Just take anything you don’t want potentially pilfered with you.”

“Ah, right. Of course,” Gale said and set to work organizing his pack.

“Thank you for breakfast, by the way,” Shadowheart said, meeting Áine’s eyes as the half-drow stood up, leaving the cooking pot in the fire to burn the bit of remnant porridge from its basin while they explored. “I know you were anxious about how it turned out, but it’ll stick to our ribs effectively and it was kind of you to make it.”

Áine smiled at her. “Very kind. And thank you for this,” she said, smoothing the glistening white braid Shadowheart had made of her hair over her shoulder. “I can’t remember the last time I had a plait in my hair.” She could actually, she realized. She was just relieved to have a different connotation for the style now.

Shadowheart beamed at her. “Well, it suits you very nicely.” The group parsed out what they decided to take along with them on their run down to the crypt, obscuring anything else of importance however they could. When they all appeared ready, Shadowheart suggested, “Right, shall we go see what new horrors await us?”  

As it turned out, the folks down by the crypt were, in fact, graverobbers and looters interested in both the crypt and the crash site wreckage and not anyone infected and interested in partying up. Upon insulting their “fearless leader” by calling her a cur, Áine had heaved a tired sigh and angled her crossbow up at a precariously hanging slab of rock, and then loosed the bolt that would bring it crashing into the offending two members of the looting party. 

And that, it would seem, was just the beginning of a ludicrous dive into an ancient forgotten crypt. Shadowheart and Áine were already somewhat acquainted with the other’s fighting style and fell into a rhythm with ease, Shadowheart primarily delivering heals to the party as they fought their way through the looters on the exterior of the crypt and then a new group they met further in. 

Astarion picked off their enemies, in full or at least staggering them, with arrows loosed from his shortbow, hanging back with Shadowheart to let the heavy hitters take the frontlines. Or at least that had been the plan until it was in this fight that Gale realized just how many of his magical abilities the parasite had rendered useless. While Shadowheart had focused her healing magic on Gale after he’d hit the floor within an inch of his life, Áine and Astarion had been left to clear the room.

Truly she fought like no bard he’d ever seen. The moment Gale went down and it became a game of defending two members of her party while one healed the other, something had changed in the way she handled herself. She maintained a certain grace while she fought, but she hit harder and struck with a certainty that may normally belong to someone twice her size and perhaps in more of a melee-focused formation. It was impressive and Astarion knew he was kidding himself in full if he didn’t admit he found it as such. It was an admittance he’d be keeping to himself, however.

The little hellion was somehow winning, despite four armed grown men coming at her from all sides. He shot one through the throat as he went for her left flank and the gurgle caused her to look back, first at the fallen barbarian and then following the trajectory of the arrow back to Astarion. His lip curled slightly in a smile when their eyes met and she gave him something akin to a quick nod of gratitude. 

She whirled back in time to dodge the one remaining looter as he swung a shortsword at her, cutting the air next to her forearm. She reached back for what she expected to be a dagger in her pack, gripped it, and plunged the weapon into the man’s eye socket, through to his brain. When he crumpled to the ground, she realized she’d stabbed him with her flute instead.

Shocked, Áine regarded the instrument sticking out of the fresh corpse’s face, her shoulder slackening with defeat as she mourned the loss of her only instrument. 

Astarion, behind her, had found the killing blow very amusing and sidled up to stand next to her and get a better look. “Poetic, considering your calling,” he remarked. He could’ve laughed aloud at how exasperated her expression had become.  

“I can’t believe I did that,” she groaned. “I used to keep a dagger in that sheathe and I just… Habit. Godsdammit.”

“For what it’s worth, it does paint you as a bard to be reckoned with,” Astarion pointed out, his nose wrinkling a little at the macabre state of the corpse’s eye socket. “But I highly doubt even if you could get it out that it would still be usable. Just in case you’re considering it.”

“It’s a lost cause, I know,” she said, sighing. He found it amusing that she was more bothered by the loss of her instrument than at the act of stabbing a man in the brain with the equivalent of a fancy wooden stick. Much less amusing was the other sort of wooden stabbing weapon that could kill him with a quick thrust into his ribs.

Astarion glanced back toward Shadowheart and Gale, who was looking more stable now and just in a state of deep self-deprecation. He looked back down at Áine and dropped a hand on her shoulder to steer her back toward the others. “Come now, darling girl, there’s far more in this world for instruments than that little flute,” he said. 

Áine smiled, knowing she was being silly. The flute had little to no sentimental value for her, and this was unfortunately not the first time she’d lost a flute to a fight, all because she was notorious for reorganizing her bag and then forgetting where she’d put things in the heat of the moment. “Thank you, by the way,” she said as they walked.

“Hm? What for?”

“For saving my neck from that barbarian when you did,” she said. “Shadowheart would likely have more work had you not.”

Astarion smirked. “It’s simply too pretty a neck to waste, dearest.”

“You two were magnificent!” Gale exclaimed as Áine and Astarion approached. Only when Astarion dropped his hand from her shoulder did Áine realize two things—that he’d kept his hand on her shoulder that whole time and also how cold his hand was. “I only wish I could say the same of myself. I swear everything I told you about being an Archmage is true, it must be the parasite interfering with my connection to the Weave…”

“It’s a team effort,” Áine said kindly before he could start beating himself up too much about discovering his new magical hindrances in the thick of battle. “We all made it through, I see that as a win from all angles.”

Gale sighed but smiled all the same. “You are too forgiving, my friend. And you, too generous,” he said to Shadowheart, who helped him to his feet. “I feel better than I have in years under your care.”

Shadowheart preened just a little. “Happy to. Helped that the both of you did well to buy me time,” she said earnestly to Áine and Astarion both. In Áine’s peripheral vision, she saw Astarion wordlessly incline his head to the cleric, which she took as an official truce from their earlier scrap in the camp.

“Right, let’s see what these charlatans have in their pockets,” Áine said. “And, um, if anyone happens to find a flute that’s preferably not stuffed with ocular viscera… Well, I’m interested.”

In all the barrels, crates, pockets, and bags that the group pawed through, they managed to scavenge quite a haul, including three more tents, a larger variety of foodstuffs, a healthy sum of gold, and a few bottles of ithbank. And while another flute wasn’t found, even further along in the crypt, Gale did find a lyre that he brought to Áine for inspection. 

“It looks a bit damaged, but it might prove a nice project,” he suggested.

Áine was fascinated by the new instrument and, while she wasn’t yet sure how to play it, the opportunity to try something new was even more enrapturing than finding a new flute. “No, this is lovely. Thank you, Gale!”

Astarion had never seen anyone so lovestruck by the sight of a dusty old slab of wood and some strings. The lyre was nothing special at all, but she held it like it was made of glass. A quiet hmph passed his lips as he went back to scouting the area, finding a promising-looking chest in one of the adjacent chambers. He gave it an experimental press of his fingers, but it was not unexpectedly locked tight. He crouched down and retrieved his picks from his bag, beginning to work them within the keyhole and comfortably losing himself in the little focus project. 

Distantly, he heard Gale remark upon some of the books on the dusty old shelves within the room and heard Shadowheart say that she’d found a strange button on the far wall, inquiring if she should push it or not. Astarion only realized he was being watched after the lock gave a familiar, particularly satisfying click of surrender and slid open like a slacked jaw. “Enjoying the show?” he asked, watching Áine from the corner of his eye.

She stood leaned against the stonework of the doorway, just watching his hands work and then succeed in freeing the lock. “I am,” she admitted. “You made that look very easy.”

Astarion sneered and straightened to flip the chest lid open. “It is easy.”

Áine rolled her eyes, but the smile remained on her lips even so. “Right.” She heard her name pealed from further in and she responded, “Coming,” as she moved off the wall and walked deeper into the room. Astarion, mildly disgruntled at the interruption, glanced over to watch her go before returning to his looting.

Shadowheart’s discovery of the button on the far wall led them to a previously sealed door that swung open with a heavy thud the moment they agitated the mechanism. They found themselves in a somehow even more ancient temple room riddled with indecipherable plaques and dead, armed scribes amidst a sunlit statue at its center.

“What could have possibly been so subversive about their teachings that these scribes would be armed in their daily work?” Shadowheart wondered as they made their way inside, cocking a bewildered brow at the giant statue. “And whom was it for?”

“Call me crazy,” Áine said, also looking at the statue. “But I think that might be Jergal.”

“You’re crazy,” Gale took her up on her offer. “I’ve not heard tell of or seen his name worshipped for…centuries at best.”

“Does this look like a new crypt to you?” Áine asked.

“No, but it doesn’t look old enough for that to make sense,” he suggested, adding, “I don’t think you’re crazy, by the way, that was a joke.”

Áine had to stifle a laugh, but at his concern rather than his joke. “I know, I set you up for it.”

“I’ve found another button,” Shadowheart announced from across the crypt. “Shall I?”

“Do it, you won’t,” Áine threw out and she heard the click as the button was depressed into the wall. She turned around to see what it did and saw the wall slide open beside Shadowheart. 

When the cleric looked back to the group, however, she paled and pulled her shield off her back. “Look alive,” she warned them and Áine turned to see one of the skeletal scribes shudder to life under Astarion’s loot-hungry hands, all the bones they’d bypassed on their way in rising to meet their uninvited guests.

“Now that’s quite unfair,” Astarion commented in response to Shadowheart’s words, which Áine could only take as a sly joke to the undead they now faced.

The scribes were dispatched fairly quickly, and their persistent silencing gave Gale some practice in shelving his magic during a fight, which could only benefit him, Áine figured. He still had his power, but it seemed he was unfamiliar with its bounds again, and more than anything she wanted to ensure each member of their party could defend themselves should the need arise. And, given their situation, arise it may.

When all necromanced parties were but a pile of bones once more, Áine led the way into the opened chamber, wary of any obscured traps that could activate on entry. It seemed they were in the clear though, at least for now. As Gale parsed through an old book, Shadowheart and Astarion checked through the different vases and chests in the room, and Áine regarded the sarcophagus snugly set against the far wall. 

“All that to protect some dusty old baubles,” Shadowheart commented when she saw Áine hesitate before the casket. “Hardly seems an astute use of their power.” 

Áine whispered an apology to whoever’s grave she was about to disturb and placed her hands against the heavy lid, giving it a proper push. What she didn’t anticipate was having help.

Not from her companions, oh no. No, from the bony hand that emerged from the gap between the lid and the casket, skin stretched thin across pointed knuckles. Áine stumbled back from the lid straight into Astarion and Shadowheart mid-pilfering. Shadowheart dropped the small jug she was inspecting to reach for her mace and Astarion simply froze with his arm halfway inside a vase, caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

The lid pulled back in full and up rose a veritable mummy of a figure cloaked in ancient cloth robes and a layer of dust. The being’s eyes opened and accusatorily fastened upon Áine as he settled back to the ground, stepping forward as he regarded them. 

“What a curious way to awaken,” the mummified figure said, his voice deep and gravelly with echoes of the ages.

“I said I was sorry,” Áine said, half-delivered as a joke. She really needed to find coping mechanisms that didn’t hinge on humor.

“Indeed,” the figure said dismissively. “Tell me. What is the worth of a single mortal life?”

Áine glanced toward the others, but it seemed he was most interested in asking her. “Um… If I answer incorrectly, are you going to attack us?”

“I would see little point in that. ‘Tis not a riddle, ‘tis but a question,” the figure said, a thread of impatience just beneath the surface. “Wilt thou answer my question?”

Áine let out the breath she’d been holding and said, “Erm, sure… The worth of a single mortal life…”

“Pennies, at best, no?” Astarion suggested unhelpfully behind her. She put an elbow in his ribs.

“He doesn’t speak for me,” she quickly asserted to the mummy as Astarion made an unbecoming oof noise behind her. She gave the question genuine thought before answering with a small helpless lift of her hands, “I suppose I can’t truly say. How do you put a cost on something like a life?”

Something about her statement seemed to amuse the undead man, but he returned to a neutral expression. “Very well. I am satisfied.” He took another step closer and Áine felt Astarion and Shadowheart both tense behind her. “We have met and I know thy face. We will see each other again at the proper time and place. Farewell.”

Without another word or glance, the mummy turned and left the room and the gaggle of bewildered adventurers behind him. No one moved for a solid minute, waiting for the inevitable heel turn or unsprung trap to take them out. When nothing happened, Áine relaxed her stance and stepped away from the two behind her, warily peeking around the corner of the chamber door. As far as she could tell he was gone, but she could hear distant footsteps that may imply he was just in a different part of the crypt. In any case, he didn’t seem to mean them harm.

“What a nice mummy,” she commented offhand, although her voice was still a little hitched by nerves. “Let’s finish up and get out of here.” Áine peeked into the sarcophagus and scooped out a bit of gold and an amulet while the rest of her crew tidied up their own searches behind her. 

Under her breath, she said with palpable exasperation, “Shouldn’t have wished to live in more interesting times…”

Next chapter: Chapter 2, "A Strange Sort of Bard"

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

Steddie Flower Shop / Tattoo Parlour AU

I literally just finished my first fic ever and I’ve already started on my next. The Steddie brainrot is real. I low key became obsessed with the idea of Eddie accidentally becoming a florist after high school after this tik tok: https://www.tiktok.com/@wbznewsradio/video/7195608049468312874

The idea isn’t original and there’s probably already a bunch of these AUs but I couldn’t help but through my hat in the ring! Enjoy the beginnings -- I’m working on a longer fic (maybe a valentine’s day plot?)

Also available on AO3!

                                                          ***

Eddie hadn’t meant to become a florist. He’d taken the gig originally as a part time delivery boy in exchange for using said delivery van when his high school band had a show and whatever tips he got. Five years and a high school diploma later, Eddie had ended up running the shop when the original owners, the De Lucas, were getting too old to manage on their own. Another five years and Mr. and Mrs. De Luca had retired and given Eddie the shop so they could move somewhere warmer. Eddie didn’t blame them. Chicago winters were almost unbearable even as a twenty-something. 

If anyone asked, Eddie wouldn’t say he loved his job but he did love the De Lucas and owning a flower shop was a little better than your standard nine to five. Eddie certainly hadn’t dreamed of being a florist. He’d spent high school dreaming of making it big in the metal scene but after high school his bandmates had started becoming productive members of society and coupled with the early mornings at the flower market his rockstar days had slowed considerably. Every once in a while the gang would get together and practice or play a gig for old times sake but corralling Corroded Coffin’s busy schedules got complicated. Eddie still kept up appearances and resolutely dressed like a metalhead even when 4 am meant waking up to barter with Mr. Lee instead of getting home from a gig. He continued to show off his stick and poke tattoos and the closest thing he got to a uniform was band tees and ripped jeans. De Lucas’ Flowers wasn’t in the snazziest neighborhood in Chicago but was starting to get more expensive as more people flooded into the city. Eddie was eternally grateful that the small flower shop included an equally small apartment directly above the stall. 

Eddie had taken after the original owners and kept his staff fairly small. After the De Lucases well and truly retired, Eddie had hired Chrissy Cunningham to manage the books and keep the lights on. Chrissy was an old high school acquaintance who was looking for a job to pay the bills while she wrote the next great american novel. They had run in different circles in high school but had bonded when Chrissy had shown up to one of Eddie’s shows at the Hideout. It turned out Chrissy had decent taste in music even though she spent most of her time with the other cheerleaders and their jock boyfriends who thought Journey was hard rock. Luckily for Eddie this also meant that he didn’t have to change the shop’s soundtrack when Chrissy started working. Metal wasn’t usually what people associated with flower shops but Eddie got most of his orders over the phone or online so it didn’t detract from their client base. He still did most of the deliveries in the old De Lucas’ Flowers van that he had driven in high school even though it was definitely nearing the end of its life. Eddie put more work into keeping the van rolling than he did most of his past relationships and wasn’t ready to give up on the old girl just yet.

“If I have to explain to a winter bride one more time that peonies and dahlias are summer flowers, I am quitting, Chrissy,” Eddie said as he came barreling down the stairs from his apartment.

“Eddie, why don’t you just let me take bridal orders?” Chrissy reasoned.

“Because, Chrissy, last time we did that you didn’t realize there was a difference between a king and queen protea and almost lost us a client.”

“Hey! I’ve been practicing. I made flashcards!” Chrissy pulled out a stack of index cards with colorful printouts of flowers on one side and their common and scientific names on the back.

“And I appreciate it. But I think your talents lie with cooking the books,” Eddie joked.

“Don’t say shit like that. One day someone will overhear you and think we’re money launderers,” Chrissy was kidding but Eddie’s general vibe didn’t always inspire confidence that the flower shop was indeed just a flower shop.

“That’s why I have you, babe,” Eddie said as he blew a kiss Chrissy’s way.

“Gross.”

“Rude, Cunningham.”

Eddie found a hair tie nestled between his garden shears and pulled his hair into a messy bun to get started on the day’s orders.

“Did you see that place across the street got rented out?” Chrissy asked as Eddie was putting the finishing touches on an apology bouquet for what had to be one hell of a mistake.

“Ew. New neighbors. Any idea what it’s gonna be?” Eddie scoffed.

“No clue. Just saw they took down the for lease sign yesterday,” Chrissy added.

“Boo. I liked our quiet street.”

“I don’t think anyone would call this street quiet what with the racket you put on the radio,” Chrissy chided.

Eddie didn’t respond except to turn up the speaker a couple notches.

After finishing up the morning’s orders, Eddie started loading the van to go on his delivery route. It was pretty formulaic, a few big skyscraper lobbies nearby, some office deliveries, and the big apology bouquet that was going to a house in Lakeview. Out of the corner of his eye he caught two people carrying a comically large velvet couch into the empty space across the street.

“Chrissy,” Eddie groaned. “It’s going to be one of those fucking hipster places. They have a pretentious couch.”

“You can’t possibly know what kind of place it’ll be from one furniture piece,” Chrissy shot back.

“Look outside, Chris.”

Chrissy went over to the shop window as the giant green monstrosity was being lifted onto the stoop of the building across the way.

“Okay, fine. That’s an asshole couch,” Chrissy agreed.

“See! We’re going to have to move. The neighborhood is going to hell.”

Chrissy shooed Eddie out to start his deliveries. Eddie flipped her off as he made his way to the driver’s side of the van. He looked back over to the shop across the street and scoffed again. At least whatever hipster nonsense was moving in across the way had picked a moving guy with a hot ass.

Eddie settled into the monotony of his deliveries and the familiarity of his Dio cassette and mostly put the new neighbors out of his mind. He gave them six months before the new business moved out.

Part Two

[olivyh]

Test Flight

A/N: Idk why I've been on a Mammon kick lately?? I feel bad bc my go-to is normally Beel but I struggle to write him ;;;;;;;

Tw: Talks of death, slight gore from the fall and transformation

It started out with a simple comment.

One offhanded mumble under their breath, followed by a dreamy sigh as they rested their cheek further into their palm, elbow propped up on the arm of the couch. With the noise of his brothers and the movie that was blaring on the speakers of his large, rather expensive television- a human movie- one would think he couldn't hear anything. One the human told him they grew up watching, about a boy and a dragon and how the two would soon change their small world forever with one small friendship.

Mammon had turned it down with a scoff, claiming that he had much cooler movies to watch than that weird human kid's movie (the truth is, he would watch anything they told him to, the heartstruck fool he was). He was actually enjoying it, the soundtrack was something he made a mental note to add to his playlist, and the small scenes were heartwarming.

To make it even better, he had stolen the seat right next to his human with very little fighting involved. Maybe it was pure luck, or his brothers finally understanding what was his (they, in fact, did not understand what was his still). But, he considered it fate that he could sit next to them and hear that small sigh, the way their eyes drifted into that dreamy haze of theirs.

"I wish I could fly," Barely a whisper, a soft breath against the cushion of the couch.

Mammon never thought too much about his abilities, aside from the fact that he was one of the lucky few of his brothers to keep the gift of flight after their fall. Sure, it was an easy way to get around and his wings did prove useful when it came to scoring more modeling gigs (though, he really hated when they draped all those fabrics over them. He swore they itched for days afterward and didn't sit right for at least a week).

To be human, to never know the freedom of the clouds, the frozen sting of the wind against your face? He couldn't imagine it.

He could barely sit still the rest of the movie, their comment playing on repeat in his mind as it spun and wove until, before he knew it, the credits were rolling and Lucifer was ushering everyone else to their rooms. He could try to convince the human to stay, however... he had other things to do. Sudden plans he told them (surely they'd assume he was going for a late-night run at the casino and would be none the wiser).

Mammon wanted to wait, he swore that he would find the right time, but he couldn't help himself. He blames his sin, berating it in his mind as he finds himself at their door late into the night. The wood groans as he shuffles his feet, the door in front of him much more imposing in the darkness of the candle-lit hallway than it seemed hours ago when he appeared to drag them to his room for the movie. He can't seem to stifle the way his shoulders jump as the door creaks open.

"Mmn... why are you here so late?" The human, his human, in their pajamas rubbing their eye with the back of their knuckle. He resisted the urge to fix their loose collar, but...

"Get dressed!" He hears them groan and can't bite back the grin that stretches across his face. "'less you wanna go outside lookin' like that," he can't help but wince internally at the sound of his own voice, at the tone of which that phrase was spat out harsher than he meant.

You're beautiful, he wanted to say, to suddenly correct himself, no matter what you're wearing.

"Why are we going outside?"

"Enough questions! C'mon!" he shoves them gently back inside their room, waiting outside and trying to ignore his heart hammering inside his chest. A part of him was anxious about the whole event- what if they hated it? Or if they thought he was creepy for taking that comment so seriously? They weren't... scared of heights, were they?

Shit, he should have waited. It's only been two hours since the movie ended- he could have planned this so much better. He taps his foot nervously, worrying his lip with his golden tooth as he fiddles with one of the rings on his hand, feeling the soothing curve of the metal against his heated skin.

"Mams?"

"Yep!" He tries to hide the way his voice came out as a high shriek, quickly casting a glance around the hallway to make sure Lucifer wasn't on one of his patrols. "I-I mean yeah, yep, let's go-" he places his hands on their shoulders, turning them to the stairs and pushing them forward, constantly moving his head to ensure that nobody was awake to see their escape. "C'mon! Hurry!"

"I'm going!" They whisper back, a quiet shout that makes him sigh as they jump down the stairs. Once on the landing, Mammon feels as though he can finally catch his breath. The air isn't too cold, which is a good thing, considering how cold it gets in the air. He shrugs off his leather jacket, handing it to them.

"Wear this-" He gulps as he watches them shrug it on, his stomach doing flips as he takes a breath and stretches, ridding himself of the magical veil that allows them to look human (or human enough, the demonic glint in their eye or the pointed ears never quite go away. They were lucky enough that humans started dying their hair and wearing colorful contacts in recent years, as most of them were unable to walk around inconspicuously. It was mainly Levi who fell victim to this, drawing attention whenever he made his way to the human world what with his bright purple hair).

The discomfort of the transformation was one that took him some time to get used to, so often that he felt uncomfortable shifting back into a demon (that, and the grim reminder of why the limbs on his back were an inky black rather than the pristine white he was so used to seeing). His skin shifted to make room for the extremities. The tugging at his skull as his horns curled and twisted out of the skin never failed to make him sigh as the pressure built within his head seemed to lessen completely. The wings broke free from his back with a flap of leather, the skin healing over as quickly as it tore as his normal clothes were replaced with the heavy leather he was a little too used to, the pressure from the belts on his chest a welcomed tension- a way to ground himself.

The only thing he couldn't get used to was the burning of the scars on his torso and arms- now a blinding white against his dark skin- as they crept to the surface and made themselves known.

The pressure that hold all his demonic features back lessened as he let out a short sigh, turning to the human.

"You said you wanted to fly, right?" He mumbles as heat creeps up his neck. "C'mon."

"...Seriously?" Mammon gulps, regretting the choices he'd made up to this point as he turns his sapphire gaze to the ground, shoving his hands in his pockets and huffing.

"Listen, it's not every day that you'll get a free ride outta me, got it?"

"Free ride?" Mammon feels his heart sink as his breath catches in his throat, leaving him a blushing, stuttering mess. Shit.

"Not like that! Ya damn pervert! Spendin' too much time with Asmo- I fuckin' swear he's influencing ya-" Their amused chuckle breaks him free of the thought (though, the sound never fails to send butterflies to the pit of his stomach, making him squirm in place).

"I meant like, are you serious? As in... that's a really kind thing for you to do, Mammoney," Oh heavens above, they were going to be the death of him. Biting his lip and swallowing back a giddy chuckle, he straightens his shoulders.

"W-well yeah! Duh," Mammon's voice dips low as he shuffles his feet, listening to the soft scraping of his boots against the stone. "So you uh, wanna go?"

"Of course! How..." They approach him, tilting their head. "Are we going to do this? I can't climb on your back, can I?"

"Nope!" The demon grins, scooping them up in his arms and chuckling at their surprised yelp. They smack his chest with their palms. "Oh, c'mon, that was funny."

"Warn me next time!"

"Next time I'm chargin' ya!" He does a few test flaps (more for show than anything, he could wake up from a sleep as deep as Belphie's and the next second be at Diavolo's castle). They grip a leather strap and pull it, making him freeze for a moment. "Is everythin' alright?"

"...Can you support both our weight?"

"...Are you kidding?" He scoffs. "I can carry Beel like this!" He supports their weight with one arm, dramatically throwing the other onto his forehead and tossing his head back. "You wound me!"

"Dork!" They laugh. "...Have you really carried Beel?"

"'Course," Mammon scoffs. "Ya think he can't get wasted like the rest of us? Just 'cause he's so massive doesn't mean a little demonus can knock him out." Out of the corner of his eye he can see the corners of their lips perk up.

"Ready?" He asks, grabbing them more firmly against his torso and hoping that they couldn't hear the thumping of his heart against his ribcage. They nod and he ducks down a bit, spreading his wings as wide as they could go and sending the two off with a quick start.

He thought maybe he had gotten ahead of himself, that the whipping of the wind as it bit at their faces and tore at their clothing wouldn't be something the human in his arms was used to, that they would need a slower start. He could hear their frightened yelp as their arms jump around his neck, holding themselves as close to him as possible. He quickly tightens his grip on them, rubbing his thumb into their hip until they're both at a height where he could safely soar. "You okay?"

The shaking of their shoulders and quick puffs of breath against the nape of his neck makes his heart jump to his throat as a pit opens in his stomach, making his grip on them even firmer as he ducks his head down to theirs. "We can always go back down, got it?"

Mammon feels the way they relax for a moment, finally tearing their face away from his neck to look around. Their shaking shoulders still as they adjust from the height. He could see the glittering of their eyes, the reflections from both the stars and the lights of the city below trapped within their wide, blown-out pupils.

"Wow..." They mutter breathlessly, relaxing their grip as they gaze below. "This is..."

"Yeah," He murmurs, looking out in the same direction they were. The view of the Devildom held so many memories for him- good and bad. From the moment they fell, the agonizing feeling of his feathers burning to a crisp and falling off in chunks, the holy golden jewelry that he'd always donned scalding his skin as he plummeted to the ground, grappling for whichever brother he could get a hold of (it was Levi, he remembered, how could he forget the man's blood-curdling screams as his wings were torn from his back?). From that moment, for thousands of years, he'd seen this same view. The city below, the glimmer of the stars reflecting off the lakes and rivers, the deep darkness of the forest, the imposing view of the castle standing proudly amogst the buildings scattered.

However, this time, he felt as though he was seeing it for the first time, though their eyes. The wind against his skin was a chill that cooled his heated face, the lights brighter than he remembered them being. Mammon was filled with a deep awe, a childlike innocence he wasn't sure he'd ever felt, even as an angel.

"Amzaing, huh?" He can't help the chuckle that bubbles within his chest, breathless as he stares down at them, face breaking out in a wide grin. "Wanna see something cool?"

"Please don't do anything stupid," He laughs at that, adjusting his grip to be tighter on his partner's waist.

Pouting, he looks down at them. "It's like ya don't even know me!" Taking a deep breath, he shoots up above the clouds, sending the chrystalline droplets scattering as they leave a trail behind them. Once he reaches a high point, he pauses, laughing.

"Mammoney!" The human gasps, shaking the droplets off their face. "Seriously?"

"Oh come on!" He beams. "We didn't even get to the fun part yet!" The man barely catches their surprised gasp as he suddenly stops the movement of his wings, opening them as wide as possible and sending them soaring, weaving in between the clouds and streaking through the night sky.

"Hold your arm out!" He shouts over the rushing of the wind around them.

"Hell no!"

"Just do it! Trust me!"

"I do trust you!" They screech back.

"Then let go! I'll hold onto ya! Promise!" He dips below the clouds, wincing as the ice and water lands on his face. He keeps a wide eye out, searching for an opening in the trees. Once he finally spotted it, a slim pathway guarded by trees arranged in a delicate arch, he held the human close, diving down and following the path for a few seconds until they reached the lake.

"Now!" He shouts, watching as they extend their arm and graze their fingertips along the surface of the water, warping the stars above in delicate ripples. He lands them both atop the gazebo, perching on the roof and giving them a moment to catch their breath between airy giggles.

"That was so much fun!" They cheer, gasping and laughing, moving to sit beside him. Mammon's heart races in his chest, a warm feeling bubbling within him followed by the same strange sense of peace he got whenever he was with them. It was as though they calmed every nerve within him, all the parts of his brain that were normally firing full-corce suddenly silenced. He wouldn't- no, he couldn't- think of anything other than them.

They shift their hand to sit atop his own, their warmth seeping into the back of his palm (his hands were normally cold, something they always teased him about). He can feel their fingertips toying with his rings, grazing over every bump and ridge until theylanded on the ones that sat on his thumb before repeating the process (again, something they did often when the two were alone together).

"Thank you for this," They murmur, leaning their head against his shoulder. He gulps, nervously running his pierced tongue against the back of his teeth.

"Y-yep, yeah, totally," The demon takes a deep breath, careful not to disturb them too much. "I mean-ya mentioned wantin' to fly, and I couldn't help myself." He can feel their cheeks warm through the leather of his jacket (could he even call it that?), their fingers coming to a stop on his hand.

"You listened," They say, hushed.

"Why wouldn't I?" The human stays silent for a second, unresponsive.

"It was fun," Giggling, they turn to him. "So, so much fun. I can'tbelieve you can do that whenever you want."

"'Never thought about it that way," He hums. "Y'know, livin' up in the Celestial Realm where everyone has wings, it ain't really that special. It's like walkin' and talkin' for angels."

"Demons too?"

"Some of us, yeah," He rests his head atop theirs. "But it was a little tricky transitioning from that feathery shit to these bad boys-" He throws a thumb over his shoulder, wrapping his wing around their shoulder and earning an amused chuckle. "Ya shoulda seen Asmo, he couldn't figure out how to use four to save his life-"

"Really?"

"Yep-" He makes sure to make the 'p' pop, sighing. "Man, he was covered in scrapes from the number of times he fell."

"He must've been heartbroken," Mammon laughs.

"Nah, heartbroken doesn't begin to describe it. Devastated, more like."

"...I wanna be able to fly like you some day," Mammon's breath catches in his throat and he could swear his heart stopped beating for a moment as the thought hung i the air, carried by the thrumming of the wind and the chirping of insects around them, a cacophony of sounds that should've lessened the blow and served as a distraction.

"When you...?"

"I mean, yeah."

"Ya ain't gonna be a demon," He grunts. "I won't let that happen to ya."

"But if I become an angel I can't stay here with you and your brothers," They sigh. "I can't live like that."

"You're too good to be a demon," Mammon grins. " If ya did come back as a demon-" I'd be the happiest man alive, he wanted to say, the words stuck in the back of his throat. "I'd force ya to go up there myself. 'Sides, wouldn't you rather eat Luke's pastries every day?"

"Not if it means I can't do this."

"Listen," He reaches his hand to their own, intertwining their fingers and rubbing his thumb over their knuckles. "Even if you're an angel after you... go... I'll find ya, yeah? Just wait at those gates for me, and I'll hop 'em, and all those holy bastards can kiss my ass if they think I won't come get ya!"

They laugh, burying their face in the crook of his neck. "Can you say that about angels?"

"Listen, I know it's true. I wasn't there that long ago!"

"...Simeon and Luke are excluded from that, right?"

"Yeah, they'll be helping me plan your escape," He grins. The thought of them leaving him broke his heart more than anyone could ever imagine, but speaking with them about it, joking with them, picturing their eventual immortal life where he wouldn't have to live in fear of something trivial ending their already short life...

"You're thinking too much about it, Mammoney."

"Ya make me worry too much, Dummy."

They sit in silence, isolated from the world with only the bright stars above as company. Below, the water ripples as small insects bounce on the surface, their iridescent wings reflecting off the moonlight above as they danced and spun. Somewhere on the edge of the pond a frog croaked out a broken song, a broken record deep in the forest joined by the rustling of the trees.

"I love you, Mammon, really," They whisper against his neck, sending a chill down his spine. The man takes a breath, forcing his lungs to push air up and out his open mouth. He turns quickly, pressing his lips to their own warm ones, pressing his hand to the back of their neck to pull them closer.

"Say it again," He gasps, finally parting from their warmth. "All of it."

"I love you, Mammon," The demon grins, pulling them back in for another kiss, a gentle one, barely a brush of their lips before pulling away, taking their quick breaths with him (a small price to pay, he thinks, when he'd give them much more than the breath from his lungs).

"I love ya too."

[the1975attheirverybest]

Real Life— Chapter 4: The Songwriter

Read chapter 3 here. warnings: off page smut referenced.

Matty blew on the hot drink, hissing when the coffee touched his lips, before placing it back on to the nightstand. He shuffled out of bed, dragging himself around the room, looking around for his shirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her eyes on him. “You’re staring.��� He said, smug. 

Haddie rolled her eyes playfully, hiding her smile, “please. You stare at me when I’m getting dressed, too.”

“Can’t help it.” He walked over to her, leaning in for a kiss. “You’re beautiful.”

The kiss made her breathless but she played it cool. “Speaking of,” she reached for the same cup of coffee, tracing the rim with her finger as she spoke. “Come to Paris with me.”

Matty checked the state of his hair in the mirror, running his fingers through it.  “Well,” he began, distracted by a strand  of hair that just won’t settle. “when’re you going? I’ve got this meeting later in the week….”

“Oh, for the band you’re producing?”

“No,” he grabbed a hair brush, touching it to his hair with precision, “no, that’s next week. It’s actually for the film thing.”

“Oh! You’ve been working really hard on that one.” Haddie recalled his conversations with George on FaceTime at odd hours. He wanted it to be great and he wanted it to be his first public attempt at solo work. Not having George in the studio with him had thrown him off for a while, but she told him she was certain he’d figure it out. “I hope they like your demo.”

“hope so.” He whispered. “But yeah, those two meetings aside, could probably make Paris work.” Finally satisfied with the look of his hair, he turned around. “If it’s a quick trip.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Haddie handed him last night’s clothes and reached into her closet to pick out an outfit of her own. “Just photographing  a makeup campaign. Two , maybe three, days tops. They’re aiming for an early holiday launch. So it needs to happen quick.” She pulled out a black mini dress “what do you think?”

Matty wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him, “you, me,  a hotel room,” he brushed his nose against hers, smiling “I think I’d like that.”

“No, I meant the dress.” She giggled. 

Matty pressed his lips to hers. “Gorgeous.” The clothes were coming off again. “But you’d look even better without it.”

***

Claire heard the door knock and glanced down at the schedule that her publicist’s assistant had made to remind herself who was behind that door. 

“Please, come in.” She called out, looking around for her notes. “Swear I had them here just a moment ago.” She mumbled to herself. Her head whipped around as soon as the door swung open and her next meeting walked in. 

Matty Healy stood in front of her; sunglasses in hand, hair perfectly pushed back. His smile “erm, hi.” He started, a bit unsure, “Good to see you again, Claire.”

“N-no.” She frowned, looking down at her schedule again. “What’re you doing here…who let you in?”

“That’s not a nice thing to say-“

I’m — i have a meeting with—“

“Me.”

“No,” She shook her head. “No. Not you, umm-Jamie something”

“Oborne. Jamie oborne. That’s my manager.”

The details began to clear in her head. “Wait, what? So— you’re….the soundtrack…. You made that?”

Matty nodded, enthusiastic, a smile dancing on his lips. 

“And you put down your managers name— to…what? Trick me?”

Though she hadn’t offered him a seat, Matty decided to shut the door and make himself comfortable, anyway. 

“I just….i figured you wouldn’t give the demo a chance if you knew that it was me.”

She stared right through him, shaking her head, exasperated. 

“Give me a chance, okay? I— read your book. Books, actually. All of them. And….i really think I can do this. The way you write about— well, everything. Your characters are so- real. And, their circumstances serve as commentary. But not in a — a… spoon feeding the audience kind of way. I like that.” Her silence accentuated the nervousness in his voice. He began to ramble. “I think I can do this. And…I mean, you clearly think that as well…otherwise I wouldn’t be here. You liked my demo.” He asserted. “Please— give me a chance. I— I’ve got other demos, too, if you’d like to hear them? I can- try something else.”

Once the momentary surprise —and irritation—had fizzled out, Claire began to see the sincerity in his face. He really meant what he was saying. And, she hated to admit it, but he was right. She asked to meet with him because she liked what he’d sent in for the film. 

“Fine.” She finally said. “But you’re one of many. I’m still meeting with artists. I don’t know who we’ll pick. I mean, it’s not just me. Other film producers will get involved….”

Matty nodded. “But I’m sure your word matters to them.” 

She couldn’t look into his earnest eyes any longer without memories of their past encounters rushing through her head. She tore her eyes away, clearing her throat, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.and looking down at her desk, “Shall we get into the notes? I did have some feedback.”

***

Claire plopped down on to her bed and stared up at the ceiling, watching the chandelier flicker. 

“This his band?” Jaz asked about the song playing in the background. 

“Mhm. Been listening to them all day. They’re really good, actually.” She felt herself smile as she spoke. “He has this….style. Like, everything sounds off the cuff and conversational. But when you stop to think about the lyrics….its thoughtful.”

“Sounds like you like his work!” Jazz noted, carefully. 

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“So? What’s the problem?”

Claire bit her lip, nipping at it a bit too hard. “I slept with him.”

“What?!!” Jaz nearly jumped from her seat. “When? Wow. You do not waste any time—“

“No! Not today.” Claire rolled her eyes. “God. How horny do you think I am? He and I have met before….”

Oh!”

“Well, besides, everyone else has submitted perfectly good demos. And—“

“we’re not at your house listening to anyone else’s music, though. I mean if you can manage not to sleep with him again, I think you should be fine.”

“Well— he, submitted his work under a fake name.”

“His managers name.” Jazz corrected. “People put down their label name sometimes…”

“Yes, but!” Claire sat up. “He did it because he knew I’d have a certain response if he’d put his own name down—“

“Claire.” Jazz interrupted. “He’s not Tom.”

“Don’t bring Tom into this! This isn’t—“

“You’re bringing Tom into this. You’re doing it. Not everyone is going to—“

“7 years!!!” She yelled, her hand slapping the throw pillow next to her. “7 years of my life! He lied to me. This whole time he was…. Spying on me. For my father.” Claire seldom raised her voice; but it was hard not to when talking about Tom. 

“I know; I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s…despicable. It’s…”

“You’re right.” Jazz sighed. “I’m not saying what he did wasn’t absolutely disgusting. But I am saying that not everyone is going to do the same. From what you’ve said— Matty just really likes your work. And….i mean, to be fair to him, you are having a reaction to him right now.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “It’s because he tricked me. If he hadn’t done that….” She fell into a silent moment of contemplation, then, she relented. “Fine.”

“Hmm?”

“Fine. You can….reach out to his people. Let them know I’ll recommend that the executive producer use his song.”

It only took Matty a few moments to respond to the email himself. Cc’ing everyone. 

Fuck yeahhhhh!!!!! It’s gonna be GREAT 😎 I CANNOT wait!

“Claire, he uses emojis unironically.” Jaz had noted. 

“You haven’t seen him in person; he’s really hot.”

***

Claire was startled by the burst of sound that hit her face as soon as she walked into the studio. Matty had his headphones on, the song blaring, he bobbed his head along to the music, and fiddled with the keys in front of him. She couldn’t think of any way to alert him to her presence. He nearly jumped out of his chair when he felt her tap his shoulder. 

“Jesus — fuck—ing Christ.” his expression faded from terror into a smile as recognition set in. “You’re here!” He hit a  random button on his keyboard to pause the music and jumped to his feet. 

“Thanks for inviting me. I don’t think musicians usually do that sort of thing.” 

“Well, it’s your film, isn’t it?” He looked around and realized that he had been using the extra chair near him as a catch-all placeholder for all sorts of items: Books, guitar picks, hoodies, cigarette packets. He began to unload it quickly. So-sorry. Here, erm, have a seat, please.”

“It’s not technically my film. I’m just a producer. To keep them from fucking it up.”

“Well— it’s your book. So, it’s your film.” Matty said matter-of-factly without looking at her. “Would you like anything to drink? A coffee…erm…Coke, maybe? I’ve got a mini fridge. Or I can call the front desk for some—“

“I’m good with just water for now, thanks.”  Claire chuckled, amused. “So,” she scanned her surroundings. “This is what the inside of a studio looks like.”

It dawned on Matty that this was a new experience for her. He grinned with joy at the realization that he’d get to introduce it all to her. “Would you like a little tour?” He was already out of his chair before she’d even responded. “So, let’s start at the door.” He pretended to walk into the room for the first time. “See this light over here? It flashes red when someone’s recording. To stop anyone coming in.“

Claire nodded, trailing behind him. 

“this is the big machine operation.” He pointed towards the corner of the room where he’d been sitting earlier,  a giant console and a desk drew most of the visual attention. Claire recognized some of switches and dials from her limited studio experience as a narrator of her own audiobooks.  What she had been used to was a lot less intricate, though. 

Matty, to his credit, had started off slow, talking her through the various functions of the equipment that lay before her. Despite his best efforts, however, he’d gotten carried away. He had lost her somewhere around the ‘analog to digital converter.’ She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she could no longer follow what he was saying. It seemed to bring him a lot of excitement  to explain why certain things were “fuckin cool” or “the best invention ever.” So she let him carry on. 

“This one’s obvious, but” Matty stood behind the desk and pointed to the recording booth across the room, “that’s where I’ll record the vocals.” He shrugged. “Obviously.” 

Claire’s attention was elsewhere though, out of the corner of her eye, in the heaping pile of things that used to be on her chair, she noticed her own book. Instantly, she picked it up to flip through it, and, just as instantly, Matty’s chest bubbled with dread. “Well, that— erm— you know….” He threw himself back in his chair, his feet tapping the floor as he watched her read —and giggle— through his marginal scribbles and annotations. 

“Don’t— it’s not….its for the song, alright?” He felt the need to clarify. 

“Sure,” Claire shook her head, making no effort to hide her smile. “Whatever you say.”

“No! I’m being serious! The song does actually reference some lines from the book. You wanna see?” He handed her his phone, where he appeared to have typed up the lyrics haphazardly. 

“Did you just come up with it this morning?” She handed the phone back to him “This is actually good, you know.”

***

Outside the windowless studio, the sun was setting on the city when Matty finally looked up from his screen. “I’m hungry. You hungry? We should get something to eat.”

“I could eat.”

“Right. Let’s do another round.” He wheeled his chair away from the console. “Then we’ll eat.” Yawning, he stretched his legs out before standing up eventually. “Come take my seat. Let me show you something.” 

Before she knew it, Claire was letting him put the headphones over her ears and guide her hands around the mixing board. 

“I’m gonna do the vocals and let you play around with how you want it to sound.”

She nodded. 

“I still think less is more in this case. But since you won’t listen to me, I’ll let you be in control.” He paused dramatically, looking directly into her eyes and speaking slowly. “Know how much you like to be in control.” 

He saw her reflection in the computer screen. She’s rolled her eyes. 

“Alright then.” He finished the rest of his sentence from the booth, his voice directly in her ears. “Don’t be shy. Make as many different iterations as you’d like to hear. We’ll pick a favorite later.”

***

“Well. That was an honest days work, wasn’t it?” Matty set his plastic fork down and reached for his Coke can. “I’m pretty happy with what we’ve got so far.”

“You know, for such an unserious human being, you’re pretty serious about your work.” Claire leaned forward, her arms resting on the table. “I like that.” She smiled. “And…as much as I hate to admit it, you’re right.”

“I am?”

“About the stripped back, bare version being most suitable for the film.”

“Oh! That. Well, of course I am. I’m not even gonna edit out that vocal fumble moment. I think we leave it as it is. Imperfections and all.”

Her eyes followed him as he walked out of his seat and headed for the mini fridge. He pulled out another can of coke. “I’m gonna have another one. You want one?” 

“Do you ever think …. having a hundred of those a day’s gonna kill you?”

“So, that’s a no, then? Suit yourself.”

Claire waited for him to be back in his seat before speaking again. “I’m a writer. We don’t usually collaborate much. And, even when we do…it’s with editors and stuff. So, a lot of it happens after we’ve gotten at least some writing done.” Matty lostened intently, hanging on her every word, nodding along. “I hate people. By nature and trade.” She paused, realizing how obnoxious she’d sounded. “I’m trying to say that I didn’t think this would be fun. But I had fun today. Thank you.”

“I hate people, too.” Matty smiled. “That’s why I only work with my friends.”

“does that mean that we’re friends now?”

“I suppose so, yeah.”

***

Matty’s eyes squinted to read the time on the screen. Haddie made him say it out loud. “It’s 2 in the morning, I know. I know. I’m sorry. Lost track of time— and—“

“You smell like a fuckin bar”

“Well, we went for drinks after dinner. Swapped drafts and talked about writing.  I really think we’re gonna be friends so it seemed—“

“I didn’t know writers could outdrink rockstars. This guy better watch his liver.”

“Babe, have you heard of….fuck … Hemingway, Burroughs, Parker…..or literally any writer ever?? Alcholics! The lot of them!“ Matty’s tipsy, sleep-deprived brain finally registered what she’s said. “It’s not a guy. It’s…she’s a she. Her names Claire.”

“Oh. A girl.” Haddie somehow felt like that should’ve come up at some prior moment. “Are you…like…fucking her?” She gave it her best causal tone. 

“What? No.” Matty shook his head. “Just friends. Promise. Can we go to sleep now? Please? I’m tired.”

***

Matty let his fingers slip out of Haddie’s hand, pulling away and walking in the opposite direction. “Just gonna go get some weed. Meet you inside? Go on. Go try on some dresses. I’ll come find you.”

He stood outside of the store, smoking a blunt, and watching as passersby shuffled past him. If he was being honest with himself, that clothing store was just about the last place that he’d wanted to be. So, he’d better not be honest with himself. He needed to get really stoned. 

***

A few days later, deep in the trenches of  a Fortnite Battle Royale, cigarette smoke hovering over him, Matty got the text message that the film producers had, indeed, decided to go with his song. Of course, the first person he thought to tell was Claire. He suggested they go out for drinks, to celebrate. It seemed like a good idea in that moment, but as Matty stood in front of his mirror, trying on what felt like his fifteenth shirt, he was beginning to regret it. He wanted to look good, but also effortless. The last thing he’d want is for Claire to know that he was trying. That he had thought about this for a long time. That he was picturing himself next to her and imaging how they’d look as a pair, to the outside world, trying his best to be mistaken for her boyfriend to untrained eyes of the masses. 

At the bar, Claire had bought the first round. She looked gorgeous. As gorgeous as she’d been, that one night, tangled up in his bedsheets. He couldn’t shake that memory no matter how hard he’d tried. Perhaps he could ask her out again? Maybe she’d changed her mind now that she’d gotten to know him a little bit better. Not only did they undeniably have chemistry, they were good at making songs together. What could possibly go wrong?

“A toast?” She proposed as she brought the drinks over to their table. 

“How about….to us, to our new friendship, and our clearly winning creative partnership.”

“That’s…quite the toast.” She chuckled. “Cheers.”

“Speaking of us, and of partnerships.” Matty had spoken after chugging down his drink. Fuck, he wasn’t nearly as buzzed as he needed to be for this to seem like a good idea. He could feel the sweat down his back. “I— erm, I’ve been wondering if—“

“Matty, don’t.” Claire placed her hand on top of his. “Don’t say it. Please.”

“Well— I— why not?”

“I think we’re good as friends. Really. There’s no reason to complicate all that by taking a risk on  something that—“

“For your information,” sometimes, Matty’s mouth had a mind of its own. “I was simply going to ask if you’d like to come to this Charli XCX thing tomorrow night.”

Claire’s face went blank.

“When we were talking the other day, you mentioned that you love her, so….”

“Oh my god, I do! I love her!”

“Plus, i think you and George would get along really well.”

[elisysd]

44. Can you keep me close? Can you love me most?

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Someone to Stay - Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Two weeks into the summer break and she was still struggling with everything. Ferrari had just dropped a few days prior the announcement that she was joining the team and since then Julia had tried her best to avoid looking at what people were saying. Instead, she was trying to take it easy and keep herself busy to not think too much about Ethan. She had to admit that she was failing miserably. Thanks to Romy she knew he had been back home and more than once she had wanted to come to him, to talk and to better explain her position. She had never wanted a break up but she feared that it was what it had come to. All because she got scared and she preferred to run away instead of facing him and having a talk like adults do. She crumpled the piece of paper she was scribbling on or at least tried to as it was not easy with one hand and the one she was never using.

She let out a scream out of frustration that attracted the attention of her mom who rushed in her room, scared she might have hurt herself.

“Ju’, is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine! I’m fine! Can you stop being all over me, it’s making me feel worse.” she replied a bit harshly.

“I… I just want to help you..”

“Well, you don’t. I don’t need you, I don’t need anyone, I want to be left alone! Why is that so hard to understand?”

It hurt her mom, she could see it and it made her feel bad.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re trying your best with me, it’s just…”

“You’re going through a break up, having a bunch of mixed up emotions is normal…”

“I didn’t even want a break up mom! But I feel like I forced it on us and now… I just want to explain to him but I’m not even sure he will want to talk to me or to see me. I wouldn’t if I were him.”

“Maybe you should. It would give you some closure.”

“I don’t want closure. I want to know if there is a chance for us to get back together when we will both be better people and ready for a relationship.” said Julia as she felt tears coming up. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath trying to keep them away.

“You do whatever feels right for you, I just don’t like seeing you like this. You’ve barely eaten and left your room since you came back from the hospital.”

“I’m preparing to go with dad to the factory in two days, I have many things to look over and to register and…”

“You’re keeping yourself busy to avoid thinking about your feelings.” said her mom, running a hand through her daughter’s hair.

Julia stayed silent but couldn’t avoid a tear to stream down her face.

“Why does it hurt so much, mom?”

“It’s normal. It means you care. I would be worried if you were saying you were all good.”

“I dream of him at night mom… I try to escape him during the day but it’s like the night is playing a cruel joke on me and I wake up so freaking exhausted and almost sick. And I’m tired of all these casts! It’s a perpetual reminder of how much I broke him and I hate it. The way he looked at me haunts me, mom. I feel like shit.”

Lyanna didn’t hesitate to take her in his arms as Julia let go of all the tears she was trying to refrain.

“I’m not going to repeat myself… You know what you have to do.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

“It’s not. It never is.”

That’s how she found herself in front of Ethan’s door, in the afternoon. She didn’t want to knock, she was scared to. What if he was closing the door on her? What if when she was going to see him, all her resolutions were falling and she was rushing into his arms? Or at least as much as she could rush in a wheelchair. But worse, what if he hated her? She could handle him mad, she couldn’t handle him hating her. But she had to move now, she couldn’t stay there indefinitely. So, she knocked and she heard sounds coming from the inside, reassuring and terrifying her at the same time. When the door unlocked, she saw Ethan freeze, clearly not expecting her.

“Joolsie…” he breathed, looking at her up and down and frowning when he saw her leg and wrist in a cast.

“Hey…”

“Come in, don’t stay like that.” he finally said, making way for her to enter.

She felt out of place which was stupid, she knew the flat like the back of her hand by now. But she felt like a stranger, like she didn’t belong there anymore and that thought made her gulp.

“Here, let me help you.” He placed his hand on the hanldles of her wheelchair, guiding her to the couch and putting some pillow so she could get at ease. “Water? Orange juice? Ice tea? Beer…” he added.

“Water is fine. Don’t worry.” she replied gettng out of the chair to sit on the sofa.

Ethan rushed to the kitchen as she took her environment in. It felt a bit more homely than the first time she had been there. There were now pictures on the wall of Ethan and his family, Ethan and his friends, Ethan on the tracks, Ethan with Louis… This last picture made her pause. She didn’t know why and she knew she shouldn’t, but she expected to see a picture of her and Ethan. It pained her to see her absence on the wall that was clearly dedicated to the most important people in his life. A place she had lost.

“I wanted to put you on it.” said his voice behind her. “But it hurt too much.”

He gave her the glass of water before sitting in front of her. He looked tired and it seemed that his hair had grown a little. But the bags under his eyes were what scared her the most.

“How are you doing?” she asked, the silence making her anxious.

“Not good. But I should be the one asking you that… I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you when you had your accident. I swear I would have known I would have been by your side. I wouldn’t have cared about what you told me, I would have showed up.”

“I know. I wanted you there, I asked for you… and I know I had no right to. Ethan…”

“I’m sorry.” he cut her.

“For what? I should be the one saying that.”

“I shouldn’t have let you go like that. I should have known something was about to happen, I should have…”

“Stop. Please, you’re not responsible. I’m not mad or whatever. And I’m okay. That’s the most important thing.”

The silence came back and Julia took a sip of her water, trying to disguise her awkwardness.

“You don’t know how many times I wanted to reach out. Just to hear your voice and hoping you would tell me it was just a dream. A very long fucking nightmare.” he confessed, looking at the floor.

“I came here to talk about that… I was hoping you wouldn’t hate me totally and we could have a discussion between adults.”

“As if I could ever hate you. If you really think that it means that you don’t understand how serious I am when I say that I love you Joolsie. My feelings won’t disappear like that.”

“That’s the thing… I don’t want you to think that I didn’t love you, because I did… I do.” she added quickly.

“Don’t say that now, Julia. That’s cruel.”

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry. But I think… I’m not ready to let you love me and I’m not ready to love you because I could only offer you half of me when I know you would give your all. And you don’t deserve half of me. We would only destroy ourselves in the process and I don’t want that. I don’t want us suffering. So, I need to take a step back, to take time for myself and to be selfish for once so I can know who is the Julia who is ready to jump one hundred percent in a relationship. I need to stop being scared of my feelings and I need to stop being scared to be loved. And what we have is too intense, it’s too passionate, it’s too much. I’m not ready for that, not yet. But, I want to be ready. One day. But I can’t ask you to wait for me. I want to but I know I can’t do that. You deserve better than that.”

It was Ethan’s turn to be speechless. He had tried to find reasons for why she had decided to reject him. He had thought a lot about what she had said, in Italy. Wanting to take time for her, focus on her career. He had guessed there were more to that, he had seen it in her eyes. But to hear it from her, it healed a little bit his heart.

“I didn’t want a break up Ethan… just a break. But I understand that now, it’s more like a break up. I screwed up. And I’m sorry.” She was trying her best not to cry.

“I…There won’t be another girl for me, Julia. Just so you know. I’ll wait for you. No matter how long it will take. But you’re right, we are not good for each other. I’ll work on myself, you work on yourself and when we are done, we’ll meet again.”

“But I don’t want you to wait for me… if you meet someone else and if you want to explore whatever it could become, please do.”

“It kills me to say it, but if someone can make you feel safe and loved like I’ve never been able to… I want you to try.” he said, a lump in his throat.

“I don’t want it to hurt you…”

“It will, for sure. I won’t like it. At all. I probably will want to throw something against a wall but, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, I love you. I want you to be happy. Even if it’s not with me. Preferably with me, but if it’s not with me… I don’t want to think about it, it’s painful.”

“After all, we are able to have an adult conversation…” she said, in a bittersweet tone.

“Sad that it took us to break up to have it…” he completed, as he could feel tears in his eyes.

“I’ll always support you. A part of me will keep on cheering for you. Even if I’m wearing red. I’ll always spot the car number 32 on the tracks.”

Ethan couldn’t stay away anymore. He stood up and came on the couch to take her in his arms, careful to not hurt her. He felt her burying her head in his shirt, and her tears soaking the material as he kissed her forehead, feeling her slightly stiffen. He reluctantly let go of her and went to his room to collect the box he had made with the things she had left in the flat.

“How did you come here?” he asked.

“My mom drove me. She is waiting outside to be honest…”

“I come with you… You can’t carry that, anyway.”

In silence he escorted her outside and put the box in the trunk of the car, nodding as he saw Lyanna looking at him with sad eyes. He helped Julia get in the car and took a long look at her before finally closing the door and watching the car drive away, his hands in his pockets.

When Julia came back home, she didn’t feel about talking to anyone. She wanted some time for herself to collect her thoughts and to process the discussion. She sat on her bed, as her mom was putting the box next to her and kissed the top of her head before leaving her alone. Slowly, Julia started to take the items that were carefully placed inside. A bottle of shampoo, a toothpaste, a jumper she had left in his drawer, her pencil case that she didn’t even notice was missing among other things. But what drew her attention was a bright red bra that definitely didn’t belong to her. She never wore colorful underwear, only black or white ones. She grimaced. She discarded it on the side with the tip of her fingers as if she was repulsed by it before laying down to scroll on her phone. Her mind went to Ethan almost immediately and she couldn’t help herself but to take a look at his fan accounts who often posted what he was up to. It was stupid she knew it, she didn’t need to know at what time he had gone to the gym or in what supermarket he had gone to buy chicken breasts. But a bit of stalking had never hurt anyone… or so she thought.

She didn’t expect that the first video she would see of him was at a nightclub, downtown Monte-Carlo, partying hard and doing a series of shots surrounded by beautiful girls. He was laughing, seemed happy and was far away from the sad and tired guy she had met a few hours ago. But when she saw a video of him kissing a brunette in the middle of the crowd and later on leaving with her hand in hand, she felt her heart sinking in her chest. She had no right to be mad or sad or jealous. He was single and free to do whatever he wanted. She wasn’t mad, she wasn’t sad, she wasn’t even jealous of seeing him with another girl. She felt numb. And she wondered if what he told her was somewhat true? It made her doubt. Not about him but about her. Because she knew he was sincere about what he told her, that he didn’t try to lie to her or to play her. And that’s when she truly knew she was not ready for a relationship. She was not ready to love him. To love him like he deserved to be loved. And that was hurting her the most.

Of course, the comments were all mentioning her, saying that now old Ethan was free and out of the leash she had put on him. Other hurtful things were written and she had to block everything to not see anything, anymore.

She wanted to love him fiercely, freely. To not care about the world. She wanted the world he painted her. She wanted a life with him. But she didn’t know how to love him properly, she didn’t know how to love him without hurting him. So if moving on to find herself and to find how she had to love him was what she needed to do, so be it. But deep down she knew she would always come back to him.

In his therapist’s office, Ethan was pacing back and forth. He had so many things to say, so many things that had happened in the course of a few weeks that he didn’t know where to start. Doctor Sullivan was looking at him, her big blue eyes unreadable until he finally plopped down on an armchair.

“Last time we saw each other I asked you to do something for you and only you.”

“And I did. I joined a charity that takes care of kids who had a trauma linked to a car crash. I was there this morning actually with Jackie, the woman who is responsible for everything.”

“Car crashes? Interesting. Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I want you to walk me through your thought process.”

“Well… With what I’ve done in Canada. Causing the crash and all. I could have killed or seriously injured Martin and I don’t know… the ad came to me, like quite literally and I thought that maybe life was trying to send me a message. I decided to follow it and I don’t regret it. I never thought I would say that one day but I only saw the kids twice and I’m already growing attached to them. I’m going to organize a karting day initiation at the end of the week with them. So they can learn to not be scared of a car.”

“Fighting their fears with what they fear the most.”

“Exactly!” he nodded enthusiastically.

Thinking about the events and planning it with Jackie, trying to persuade her and then having her agreeing to it made Ethan happy for the first time in two weeks. It was a good opportunity to take his mind off his own suffering and to jump into a project that only belonged to him. He had called the karting track a few kilometers away from Monaco, asked if he could privatize it and Jackie had told him she would take care of the rest. When he had explained it to the kids he was actually quite surprised to see them a little excited and curious to try. Livie, a kid who had been amputated of a leg, had been sad to not be able to participate to which Ethan had told her she would go with him. It was out of the question that the kids that were disabled could not participate. He would find a way for them to have fun. And the smile on Livie’s face had been worth everything.

“What about you? How do you fight what you fear the most?” asked Doctor Sullivan, a half-smile on her face and Ethan immediately dropped his.

“ I don’t fear anything.” he shrugged.

“Not even your feelings?”

“I don’t have feelings.” he sarcastically answered.

“Downplaying the question by sarcastic remarks or by using humor seems to be your coping mechanism. Not the healthiest.”

“ I told Julia I loved her a few weeks ago.” he ended up saying, eyes glued to his shoes.

“And?”

“We broke up. And it’s not because she doesn’t love me, it’s because she is scared of what she feels for me. Something like that. Come to think of it, I should send her to you. Are you too busy for another patient, doc?”

“How do you feel about the break-up?”

“Heartbroken. Hurt. Angry. Stupid. But I still love her. Despite everything, I still love her. And I’m trying to forget her, I’m trying to see other women but…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t start dating so soon after a break up and give yourself the time to heal.”

“I’m not dating. Oh god, no. Never again. I’m talking about having sex. But the fact is that no matter how many girls I take back home I’m always thinking about Julia. I can’t help but compare them to her. It’s pathetic.”

“Because of your feelings for her.”

“I don’t want those feelings! She can take them back! They are too painful. I don’t want to be hurt anymore.”

“What was Julia for you, exactly?”

“Is. Julia is everything. She is the most unexpected thing that happened to me and the only thing I thought I would keep forever. I know we are not perfect. I know that I made it hard for her to trust me because I’m so unpredictable in my reactions and because I’m jealous and sometimes selfish and that I made her feel like she had to be perfect for me when I’ve never wanted that. I acted like a controlling jerk at the beginning because I don’t know how to be in a relationship. But I wanted to learn. But we have communications issues. Also, I didn’t fully trust her even if I knew that she was with me and that she had chosen me. I always had the fear she would leave me for someone better, someone more perfect than me. Maybe I pressured her and she felt that I was too much.

“Why do you have this fear?”

“You know what I’m going to say.”

“I know but I want to hear it from you.”

“My dad.”

“Have you ever tried to tell him all the pressure he put you under?”

“I screamed at him a few times, yes.”

“I mean, a real conversation, without screams involved. To calmly tell him what you had to go through because of him.”

“I don’t want him to feel bad. And I don’t even know where to start.”

“Maybe we could do that here? I could help you, guide you through it. If you want to, of course. I think it would bring you some closure.”

“I… I think I would like that.”

“Let’s schedule it then…” she said, taking her agenda.

“Wait.. doctor Sullivan… I wanted to ask you a question.” Ethan interrupted her, suddenly shy.

“Tell me.”

“Well… I was wondering… you're specialized in therapy for athletes and… the second part of the season is going to be tough for me, mentally. I.. I don’t trust myself. I wanted to offer you a job as my own mental coach. You would follow me on the tracks and help me go through whatever I have in my mind. I know you have your office but… I can pay you twice what you make here. Or more. I’m ready to negotiate.”

“Oh… that’s unexpected to say the least. I mean… you are a very interesting person to work with and I would love to go through a more detailed therapeutic plan with you, for sure. I need to think it through… I’ll let you  know what I’ll decide.”

“Thanks doctor…”

“If we happen to work together, please Ethan, call me Sofia.”

Author's note: It's Christmas time and I have the pleasure to say that I also upload a chapter on saturday and sunday. See that as my Christmas present for you. What do you think will happen next? Let me know your theories, I love to read them.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Taglist:

@herondalism @aundercover @musingsbyshreya @karmabyfernando @reengard @mycenterfold @smoooothoperator

[missorigamimk]

Chishiya Headcanons

A Day in the Life Of A Doctor but also a Man

The Soundtrack on This ( While texting)

Morning Routine

He isn't really a morning person . If he could have a choice he'd stay in bed till late . He'd curl into his warm sheets and he would hold you in his arms till the sense of extreme hunger hit you both

He usually wakes up earlier than you , thus he is making his breakfast alone . He never complains , he knows you're such a lazy kitty . But he brings you , coffee and a butter croissant every morning.

He will open the window in the bedroom to help him wake up better and he loves the warm sunlight.

He always loved when the Golden rays of sun warms the room and flushing onto your sweet sleepy face.

Before leaving for work, he will always leave ya a tender note into the fridge door , letting you know about the time he finally left, and if he's going to be late or not, some details of that day

"There's some pastry left 4 you in the oven. Shopping list done. 07.45" Not Gonna be late . I Love U"

"Ur Bunny"

Days off / Vacations

When he has a day off it's usually on Wensday's or Fridays so you give him the space to do whatever he wants in your house.

He will cook his favourite meal ( he is very good in some recipes he learned a lot how taking care of himself when he was studying in Medical School as a student)

He is in love with Pastry Sweets and Cheesecake so he loves it to bake it for you to enjoy.

He always eat with full of joy and excitment and dinning for him is the absolute "cozy situation-feels home" moment.

He likes to feed you small bites by his own plate, he never steal yours though. He never drinks alcohol. If he feels like party he only drinks some glass of the finest wine .

He likes to organize your vacations , the place he'll spent 2-3 days with you , and he loves the hotels with a huge pool , luxury suites and elegance spaces. He's so unique and a money spender when comes to hotels. The last day before your departure he will have you the most special gift.

His favourites are either a diamont ring or an expensive pair of high heels. ( He's even imagining you wearing them in your private moments)

Bad Days/Headache

Somedays he's coming home with a bad headache because the stress of his work is something you knew it since the first dates but you are so trained to them.

He will relax inside your arms when he's resting his head in your hug. Maybe he feels pain but he never refuses your pain reliefing kisses and caresses. He will take some pain killer only if the pain is strong enough-and that only if makes him not able to sleep.-

In any other case-softer pain- he prefers a hot cup of relaxing tea with matcha and enough cinammon.

He often asks you if you can bath him because he likes to be treated as a cute -defencless- baby. He depends on you , and that is something makes you falling in love with him more.

Making Love

His love making is beyond tenderness and caring.

He likes to undress you in slow motion , as if he had an erotic scene playing in his head while doing it.

He never hurry , he never wants to "Cum and Go"

Making you feel special , is something he told you straight from the first night you were together in that hotel room in Italy.

His eyes is always nailed in yours during his love game.

He likes to whisper things in your earlobe , tender things, hot words, anything kinky but never too much dirty unless you ask for it.

When you want him to talk you dirty , he will do it with lust.

His voice will change , from his calming soothing voice , to the most husky hoarse tone you have ever heard.

His tongue is his specialty. When he's scanning your body with his wet tip , you are 100% sure that he's going to give you pleasure and only pleasure.

He never stops licking you , actually he can spent so much time in tasting your flesh , that makes you wonder if he ever has an erection.....he's so patient.

Αfter Care

Chishiya and cuddling after sex , is something that comes ONE.

You know him for 5 years and not even a night , he will roll over his side without give you his cuddle .

Even if it's only for some time. That is so unheard , like earth will stop moving. His skin after love , is still warm and he needs time to calm down at it;s normal temprature. He's hot like a puppy with fluff. That's so comfy for the winter's cold nights.

His smell is something you cannot live without. Even his breath smells so fine when he kiss you you can smell him and feel safe

He curls his fingers inside yours he will stay in that position all night. His right side of the bed is usually halph empty cause the most of the time he just sleeps on your lap.