#you have no idea how hard i was laughing writing this

[seventeenpins]

new rules

pairing: ex!Worst!Logan Howlett x f!reader word count: 2.7k summary: You've been broken up for long enough. It shouldn't be this hard to stay away. content/warnings: smut, angst, Logan's a disaster alcoholic, suicidal ideation, unhealthy relationships, big dick a/n: I didn't expect the Logan bug to bite me, but here I am, horny for this old man, writing a songfic in the year of our lord two thousand twenty four. Dua Lipa's "New Rules" came on shuffle and I needed to make it about our big boy. Thank you to the loml @ozarkthedog for being the best human alive and also for hyping me up, reading it thru, and telling me "it made me actually want to try to fix him" 😅

You’re in your pajamas, toothbrush in hand and moisturizer shining on your face, when the screen of your phone lights up. You wince when you see the contact name.

DO NOT PICK UP

You watch as it rings out, and you exhale when the comfort of the black screen returns.

And then it lights up again.

Just ignore it. Just ignore it.

As you’re spitting your toothpaste into the sink, the screen lights up again, DO NOT PICK UP flashing across.

It’s a bad idea. It’s always a bad idea. 

But as it lights up a fourth time, you hit accept. As you bring the phone to your ear, you already know what you’re going to say; you need to stop calling like this; have you been drinking?; this isn’t going to happen again–

And then you hear his voice. It’s just a single word, and comes out more as a croak than anything else.

“Hi, baby-”

Just like the first time. The third. The five hundredth. It makes you fucking melt, makes your body heat and your stomach flip.

“Hi Logan.”

—

“It’s been too long, sweetheart-” 

“Yeah, well-” you sigh. You know how this always goes. “I told you not to call.”

“But you answered.” 

Even over the line he sounds smug. You wish you could punch him, god, if only. But you knew from past experience that his adamantium bones and entirely unfair regenerative powers would leave him perfectly unblemished, while you nursed a broken hand.

“Sooo-,” you venture, “Is there something you need?”

It was better to play clueless, you reasoned; You weren’t gonna jump the gun. You would make him spell it out.

"Just you, hon,” his voice is low and dangerous and you think you might really hate him this time.

“You know it’s nearly midnight, don’t you? Are you ever gonna call me when you’re sober?”

You hear a noncommittal grunt on the other end.

“What do you want, Logan?”

He takes a deep breath.

“Can I come over? I’ve just been missing you. Been a rough day.”

“No.”

“Please, baby? I need you. Please?”

You close your eyes and exhale. Ten calls ago, you might have tried to hide the frustration, but you’re well beyond that now.

It’s always a bad idea. Always makes you remember the bits of him you miss desperately. Your nights together. How you still fucking love him.

“Can take care of you, princess-“ he pleads.

“I hate when you call me that. And no, you can’t. You can’t even take care of yourself, Howlett.”

He huffs a laugh. “Been doin’ alright a couple hundred years. Keepin’ myself alive.”

You don’t want to say the question neither of you will acknowledge.

Is this really living?

“Fine. You can come over.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

“Motherfucker-! Have you been on your way this whole time, Lo?”

With a snort, he ends the call.

He’s on you before you can even get the door closed behind you. His hands are cradling your head as he kisses you deeply. You were right; he tastes like cheap whiskey. And cigarettes, you realize. Fucking cigarettes. And then you remember– he’s all but abandoned his cigars, as though the pain of losing a vice was part of his penance. 

With an awkward foot you try to hook the bridge of your foot along the edge of the door, pull at it, but instead of closing it you just overbalance, tumbling further into him.

He catches you as if it was nothing, as if he were so innately steady he’d always be there to break your fall.

When he has you back on your feet, he gets right back to it, tearing at your clothing and his, pulling your top over your head, fumbling with the drawstring of your bottoms. He cups your breasts, pinching and teasing, and walks you backwards till the backs of your knees hit the foot of your bed and you tumble. 

Logan tumbles with you, his hold on you never ceasing, and now you can feel how hard he is against you.

It sends a shiver down your spine.

You’ve missed this. Fuck you’ve missed this. What kind of self-destructive dumbass judgment were you letting rule you? 

You need to gain some control back.

“Condom,” you tell him. 

He rolls his eyes.

“I’m not joking, Logan. Should still be in the top drawer.”

He exhales with a chuckle, but pulls his beater over his head and lets you get an eyeful of his toned chest before leaning over and sliding the drawer open.

Then, he rummages around, pulling back with a shit-eating grin. 

In his hand is a roll of condoms, classic fit.

“You got a little boyfriend?” he asks, and you feel your face heat.

“Shut the fuck up, Logan.”

“Now I’m not seeing the Magnum’s in here. You sure you still have them? Or are you so busy fucking dumbass boys with little pricks that you can’t even bother to pick up the phone?”

“The condoms are just in case– better to be prepared– and besides it’s none of your fucking business if I’m sleeping with anyone else!”

“You know I can’t get STIs, right?”

You do know. You remember that first conversation years ago. You grit your teeth.

“And if you’re so worried,” he continues, “I’ll buy you Plan B.”

“Move,” you tell him, and he scoots back so you can look in the drawer yourself. Much to your chagrin, he’s right. Not a single gold packet in sight.

You groan, and he laughs.

You should tell him no. Should tell him that if he wants to fuck you, he needs to go out and get some. Because it’s not even the risk of any sort of transmission, or even the risk of pregnancy that gives you pause. It’s the intimacy. The way you can hardly bear it when you can feel him dripping out of you. The love you still have for him, even after everything. 

The way you know he still needs you, too. More than you need him. But after everything he’s done, everything he’s been through, everything he’s lost– you can’t bear to be another thing he loses, not fully.

But now he’s straddling you, scooting you backwards towards the head of the bed. His cock presses heavy against your thigh, and you’re so overwhelmed by the way he’s pressing kisses along your jaw and nibbling behind your ear, you barely notice as he lifts your hips to pull your panties down. His nails scrape down your back and the angry scratches start to bloom with heat. 

You don’t realize you’re both fully naked until you feel the heat from him press against you, the slick of his weeping cockhead dragging a trail just below your navel, down down down-

He strokes himself twice and lines himself up, pressing against your opening. You wait for the feeling, for the way he always slams inside you, but he surprises you. Presses the tip in and rocks himself gently, easing you open.

After a moment (and hardly a single inch) he pulls out and sits up.

For a gut-wrenching second, you think he’s changed his mind, and how fucking dare him? He’s not the one who gets to back out of this. Fuck.

But then his cock is replaced with his hand, and he pumps himself with his left, while pressing inside of you with his right, scissoring his fingers open, pulling whine and moan and gasp out of you, coaxing you along with his filthy mouth the whole way.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs, letting out a groan when you squirm against him, “You’re tight as the first time I fucked you. Clearly no one’s been takin’ care of this pussy, huh?”

Two fingers become three, and you’re overwhelmed with sensation, pleasure taking over any rational thought.

“That’s it, honey, open up for me. Such a shame no one’s been fuckin’ you right. Would make you feel good every damn day if you’d let me.”

He rubs against your clit in unyielding circles and pulls you right to the edge. You feel yourself dripping, thighs trembling, and tears rolling down your face, but just as you’re about to cum he stops. He guides your arms upwards and pins you down by the wrists with one rough hand and leans over, caging you against the bed. In a second beat, he knocks your legs wide, baring you fully, and he presses himself in. You’re beyond slick and the glide is exquisite. The feeling of his bare cock pressing into you makes you shudder with arousal. The wiry hairs at the base of his cock grind against you, making you shake. 

He fucks you deep and slow. The drag is exquisite. He pulls almost the whole way out, before rocking back in again, his foreskin adding to the delicious glide. With every thrust he’s burying himself so deeply you’d swear you could feel him in your belly.

“You’re openin’ up so nice, takin’ it so good,” he growls, and you feel a thrill of pleasure bloom through your body at the praise. “Been missin’ this. Miss how soft you feel around me. Have you been missin’ your old man, too?”

You don’t even register he’s asked a question till his palm is swatting your jaw. It’s not painful, it doesn’t even sting. And it does exactly what he’d hoped; it refocuses you on him.

“Wha- What?” you ask, coming back to him, whilst feeling your peak build and build and build-

“Have you been missin’ your old man, princess? 

“Fuck you, Logan.”

“Use your words.”

“Yes-”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes I’ve been missing you. Stop looking at me like that, Lo. C’mon now, fuck me like you mean it.”

You can’t deal with him being sincere right now. You need it rough and you need it mean.

It takes him a moment to pull himself away but then he does, obliging as if he can read your thoughts. He pulls out, leans back, hooks your legs over his shoulders, and makes you moan as he folds you in half. He’s pressing so much deeper now than he had only a moment ago. Any gentleness that had been there disappears immediately.

He’s panting, letting out heavy grunts as he slams into you and sweat drips down his temple. 

As he fucks you, he drives into you cruelly but you match each thrust. Every time he knocks you back, you press against him harder and heavier. Make sure it hurts, for both of you.

He’s never been a selfish lover and makes you scream on his cock, cumming three times in rapid succession, each peak that little bit higher. Each peak is a little bit harder. 

You’re boneless and spent. When he cums inside you, his claws shoot out, angrily splintering existing notches on your headboard. Blood trickles down between his knuckles. One drop lands on your lips, the perfect kiss from this mess of a man. Another drop lands on your new linen pillowcase.

At least you got those tide pens. 

You want to tell him off about the headboard–the splintered edges are ugly and ragged. But the fact you hadn’t gotten a new headboard is kind of on you. It may as well be an invitation.

You add a note to your shopping list. Plan B.

—-

You wake up alone in a dark room. The first thing you see is your bedside alarm clock, red blinking numbers telling you it’s 3:12 AM. Then, you hear a rustling in your living room.

You step out to investigate, bleary-eyed, to find Logan silhouetted in front of your liquor cabinet, bottle of amber liquid in hand. He raises the bottle and takes a swig.

Back to this-

"Go home, Logan.” You tell him, and he startles at your voice.

"Baby- I been havin’ bad dreams-” 

You cut him off. "I’ll call you a cab. You’re not staying here, trying to drink yourself to death on my sofa-”

"Sweetheart,” he cuts in, “You know it never sticks-“ 

He says it with a grin like it means nothing, and it’s mean. Makes your stomach flip.

This is the closest either of you had ever gotten to the depths of it all. You’d both been pretending for so long.

You leave the room.

A minute later, you’re back, and Logan has emptied the bottle.

"Get dressed.” You toss his shirt at him. It smacks him in the face and falls unceremoniously to the floor. “Cab’s on its way. You owe me for the whiskey.”

He nods. His movement is loose, and you can see the booze is finally affecting him. More than just making him gutsy, it’s making him sloppy. Every movement is sluggish as he redresses.

"You wanna know why?” He asks, and it comes out slurred.

You ignore him. “I’ll walk you down. Get home safe, okay?”

He nods again. Looks like he’s trying to put on a show to prove just how sincere he is.

You kick his shoes towards him, and help him with his jacket when he struggles.

A horn honks outside, and you both look to the window. When you turn your head back, though, he’s only inches away from you, whiskey-breath across your cheek, and a wearier frown than he’s ever let you see before.

"When I drink I don’t dream-,“ he tells you, “Claws don’t come out.”

Then he kisses you on the cheek, turns on his heel with an unsteady sway, and leaves your home.

You struggle for hours to fall back asleep, the bed suddenly much too big.

You ignore his calls for a week. They come through later and later. Nine PM, ten. Midnight. Two.

And then one night you get a text. 

He’s rarely one for texting, so to see the notification makes your heart speed up and your stomach flip.

DO NOT PICK UP - Attachment: 1 Video

With a single, hesitant tap, you open it.

You’re not sure what you expected. Something dramatic, maybe? Something miserable? You hope to god he’s not figured out some way to make himself an adamantium bullet. It’s a fear that’s bounced around in your head for a while now, but you’d never ask just in case he hasn’t thought of it yet himself.

Whatever it is, though, it has to be something that will make your heart ache and your head spin and–

It’s anticlimactic. Kind of.

It’s just a video of him, phone angled to show him in his steamed-up mirror.

There are dark shadows beneath his red-rimmed eyes, but besides that, he looks as perfect as ever. You can’t see below his hips, but you know Logan and you know he’s fully naked. His body hair is slick, his skin glowing from being freshly showered.

This fucking asshole knows exactly how to get you.

You hit play. 

At first, you can barely tell it’s a video. And then you see the way his arm is moving. He’s holding his phone with one hand, his other casually stroking himself just below the frame of the video.

“You gonna stop ignoring me?” he asks, his voice a throaty purr. “Quit playing games. Get your ass over here and let me take care of you.”

AND, you realize with a twinge, you text with him so rarely, you never turned off read receipts.

Three dots appear and you know that he knows you’ve seen it. 

A moment later, the text comes through.

“Ready for you, princess.”

God, if only it would take more than that.

As if overtaken by a horny ghost, you’re already slipping your panties off and putting on your favorite skirt. 

You’re at his house an hour later. 

You let him guide you. Taste you. Fuck you. Fight with you. 

You let him devour you, and let yourself fall in with him, in with the guilt and the anger and the hate and self-pity.

And fuck, it’s the love, too. It never went away.

[classypauli]

Hello! Can you make a one shot of Jenna x Fem!reader inspired by the song "Why did you invite me to your wedding?" By Kevin Atwater

jenna ortega x fem!reader

an: heyy long time no see haha *rubbing neck* I wanted to spoil you with something for not writing in such a long time. I have some requests in my Inbox so Imma do them! Also if you are interested in something or got a idea for some one shot-text me. I missed you all.

Dear Anonymous, hope you like it and sorry for making it after such a long time! Thank you for request. Enjoy.

Sorry for mistakes…

I got your message last night around 1:00

You're getting married and you want me to come

You and Jenna have known each other for a long time. You remember how her child-like smile was the first thing you saw on a set. That was far in the past when the both of you were filming for Disney Channel.

Your paths crossed a couple of times at the casting of the movies or some events. Besides that, you didn´t forget to text each other prayers and congrats on the achievements in your lives.

Good friends. That´s what you would call it. But you knew there was something more, just a little bit different than friends. Or maybe you just really wanted it to be like that.

It was hard for you to find the right path in your life and let people in your life. But Jenna no, she was like a family, like a person that should be with you like she needed to be with you.

And you got a feeling she knew that. But only got the feeling.

You miss me a lot and the wedding's next month

I think you were drunk, you spelled "wedding" wrong

You stared at the text like someone just spilled dead water over you. Jenna didn´t like sharing her private life, she enjoyed keeping it to herself and her family. It was no one's business what was happening in her life and she felt more safe that way. The actress told you that a couple of times already, also telling you that you are one of them with stars in her eyes.

I used to break wishbones and pray that you liked me

And went to away games to pretend I liked fighting

You remember how her face was the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes or how she was instantly in your head when you blew out candles on your birthday cakes. How your cheeks have hurt from all of the smiling when she was by your side.

You'd scan the crowd for my face with your eyes

Maybe I was in love or you were just nice

And how could you not when all the things that she did were giving you hope? Like when you were invited to her family dinner and how she was covering her face every time one of her family members said something embarrassing. Or like when every time she saw you she gave you her biggest hug.

How every time you were with your friends and you all laughed both of your eyes met. How she was sending you new songs that were reminding her of you. Or like when you dropped her off at her house and she squeezed your hand two times with a small smile on her face.

Mmm a rush kinda like the old times

After all of these years, I still cross your mind

With the upcoming work and movies, Jenna slowly drowns herself. You were worried about her mental and physical health. You knew she was a strong person but you also knew what does this job with people.

And slowly the both of you got away from each other. Suddenly you knew nothing about her. You didn´t know how she was how she felt or how is her family and if is everything okay at work. If she gets along with her co-stars or if she eats how she should be. What she´s doing through the day or if she found someone she loves.

Or maybe you thought you'd reach out to be nice

But why'd you invitе me in the middle of the night?

You don't know how much time passed since you last saw her and you didn´t know if you wanted to know it. It would only hurt you more than it should. You closed your heart and gave your soul to work. You were fully focused on your professional life and making a good name for yourself. That´s what you were telling yourself but somewhere deep down you knew where the truth lies.

Do you remember when you thought your dad was dying?

I ran to your house in the middle of the night.

You closed your eyes at the memory of when Jenna called you about her being scared something serious happened. You ran to her hotel room still in your pajamas only a hoodie over you and with phone in your hand.

The rush you felt caused you to forget the card in your room inside. You were holding her tight in your arms trying to calm her nerves down.

The second she got a text from her mom her face changed. All of her muscles got soft and her head fell on your shoulder. You looked down at her and found her gently looking up at you.

Was that the right time? You didn´t know but at that time it felt like it.

So you kissed her.

When you found out he wasn't, caught in the moment

I kissed you and then you got quiet

You never talked about that. You acted like it never happened. You were glad that didn´t change but on the other side, you suffered from not knowing how she felt about it and what was in her mind.

You could've hurt me, it would've been easy

We were at that age where boys started being mean to be mean

Kind. That´s the word you would describe her as. And maybe that´s why you loved her. Jenna was the sweetest and the most humble person you know and you felt proud that you were close to her.

You knew you could rely on her and that she would be by your side in whatever situation you would be put into.

But you took my hand and asked me to dance

To nothing and never brought it up again

Jenna gave you her full attention every time you were in the same room. The second you stepped into the room you felt her eyes, you weren´t paranoid. You knew how hot her gaze was when your eyes met like your whole body was on fire.

But then again, why did she choose the road that would separate you?

Mmm if I saw you what would I say?

Would we act like we can't see that nothing's the same?

You remember that one time when you talked about the far future. Laughing about how many kids you would be able to raise or where you would live. Jenna told you that her wedding would be private. Just for her family and close friends. She wouldn´t want the whole world to know about it.

Jenna didn´t need everyone´s attention, she just wanted to live in her ľlittle world. And you wanted to be in it so bad.

We used to make fun of kids marrying young

But it's not as funny when it's someone you loved

Your hand kept holding your phone tight as if you were trying to make sure it wasn´t just your imagination.

How bad you wanted it to be a nightmare right now. How bad do you want her to text you right after that she´s joking and she misses you like you do. It never came.

Your mind became numb and the phone fell from your hand. You fell back onto your bed and just stared into the darkness. Until you close your eyes and your first tear slides down your cheek.

Mmm I wanna call you with a hand in my pants

And let you say drunk little things you'll regret

The thoughts about who she found and how she met them were running through your head. Were they better than you? Will they love her more than you?

You didn´t know if you wanted the answer to that.

You wanted to text her back so much that it didn´t matter what was the point of that text. If that was the thing that would bring her to you, just for a second, you would sacrifice. You would pretend that you feel happy for her just to talk to her a bit more.

But I'd just be the reason that somebody cries

But then why'd you invite me in the middle of the night?

What would it feel like? Sitting there waiting for bride to come with a wide smile and a hard beating heart. With nice clothes on tears in your eyes, with happiness running inside your chest. Waiting for her with nerves all around the place, excited about how she will look.

Only for her to come from behind the corner with the biggest smile and happy eyes just not to stand next to you.

I'll never know why

Cause I'll never reply

So you can just stay nice

In the back of my mind.

You never texted her back.

[bitterbutblue]

our times

turns out, you're the fortune i want to keep most ☆ multi x reader

~ this is a multi x reader!! hatssun was talking about writing angst and i really said omg my turn! sorry hatssun ur idea was so good and it works so well w yukong and feixiao... ill credit u so hard bro i swear. WVERYONE BE PREPARED FOR WHEN THINK FAST DROPS🙏🙏🙏

UMM ALSO THE FEIXIAO ONE IS SOLONG FOR NO REASON LOTS OF DIALOGUE SORRYYYYY

characters: feixiao, yukong, ruan mei

 song: 小幸運 - Hebe Tian ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

i was too busy chasing shooting stars in the sky ☆ feixiao

The day Saran ran away, something in you ran with her. The day Saran ran away, you didn't know if you would ever see her face break into a smile again, or if you would see her hanging the next day. The trace of her slowly faded with time, but even when you finally had the guts to bolt for it she was still the only thing on your mind. That day, you didn't mind if you died running, because it would've been better than staying there but alive. You didn't mind if you died running, because you died with her on your mind.

God knows how many decades had passed since the Luofu took you in. You only count days in how much your heart ached for her. Eventually it dulls down, it goes from a sharp thud to a muted nudge every time you see a dash of silver hair in the crowd or a sharp but soft smile on Jing Yuan's lips. You've heard of how far she had gotten, and you wished it didn't hurt so much to hear about it. You forced yourself to forget about her, because you couldn't keep living every day haunted by her. You were finally able to live your days how you wanted to, even if it meant without her by your side.

"Yukong, can you run these by the general for me?"

You were absentmindedly sitting at your desk, filling in whatever forms the general had sent to you about all the legality things they had to sort out for the Wardance. You spin your pen, signing your name down and ticking the last of the boxes. You huffed at the lack of response from the woman who should be sitting across from you.

"Yukong?"

"She's not here."

You look up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, and the world decides to take a break for a moment. In that small fraction of a second you feel yourself going back in time for decades until you are standing face to face with the young foxian, bruised and battered with an undying flame in her eyes. She is now much taller, her face pale but not the sickly kind that she harboured before. Her eyebags faded, hair flowing as if it had been just washed- a sight you never saw before in those camps.

She looked healthy, she had everything she wanted.

So why did she look like she was about to break down in front of you?

It wasn't fair.

"Saran?"

She only nods, standing with her arms by her side like a fool who doesn't know how to speak. She clears her throat, moving to cross her arms so she looked less awkward standing in front of you.

She wears clean clothes, she smells of petals.

Her scent of blood long faded, but you feel the pain behind her stance.

"How have you been?" Is all she asks as she eyes your desk warily, as if not knowing how to approach the conversation.

"Well. You?"

"Good enough."

Your old banter had long faded now, your previous ability to make each other laugh despite knowing the imminent death that looms over you two every day.

"Neergul died."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

It's like talking to a wall, or to just a mirrored version of yourself with how either of you refuse to look at each other.

"I never knew if you died or not until I came here."

Your shaky voice finally cuts the tension that has been simmering for far too long. She swallows, looking up and you know she is holding back tears because she has only ever looked up when the night sky is open and she can see the stars that granted her hope.

"I found out you became general. I was happy for you."

She says nothing.

"Why didn't you reach out?"

The edge to your voice has her breath knocked out of her lungs for a second as she tries to formulate an answer. She tries to weave incoherent thoughts and jumbles of emotions into a sentence and it's much harder to be done than she realised.

"I couldn't."

Of course she couldn't. Why would she admit to you how much of a coward she was? Knowing she had abandoned you after kissing you goodnight that evening.

"Why?"

But you want answers. It's not every day your presumed dead lover comes back to see you after years and years of crying yourself to sleep and hoping that in another future you could be in her arms without having to fear for your life.

"I was scared."

The general cannot be scared, or show any signs of fear in any situation- especially emotional situations where they need to stay calm so that people can feel secure around her but right now it all falls apart.

"Of who?"

"You."

"Why?"

You really did not like to raise your voice but you couldn't help it- she infuriates you. From the moment she flooded your heart you realised why love and hate go hand in hand because you hate that you love her.

"Why now?"

"I don't know."

Is all she manages to stutter out after an incredulous minute of silence and you just sigh.

"Why didn't you come find me?"

Her question has you going speechless now.

You were a hypocrite.

"I don't know."

She just nods with an unreadable expression on her face.

"I don't regret what I did that night."

You squeeze your now-fisted hand tight, taking a deep breath in to try to not only steady your voice but calm your racing heart that threatens to beat so hard it shatters in your chest.

"But why? Why make me love you for decades if you never planned to return?"

"I wanted to return. I always did."

Her words come out much more rushed than she intended it to come out. You feel your world shatter in that moment as you speak your next words.

"You never moved on?"

She steps closer.

"I dreamt about you every night. Under the sea of the shooting stars."

You shake your head, quickly wiping away at your own tears and she has to take a sharp breath in so her tears don't fall.

"Don't say that." You whisper "We can't. Please."

She looks at you, more intensely than ever as her voice quivers.

"Why?"

You shake your head.

"It'll only hold us back."

You still adorn matching scars from the torture you both had gone through in those camps. You love her, but she also left you.

"We can't." Is all you say.

She turns around and you want to pull her into your arms, you want her to be able to look at you but from that moment on, the look on her face as you showed her your soulmate would be the face you see every night you close your eyes.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

somewhere in the sky i could not see, was you ☆ yukong

The evening Caiyi died in her arms, Yukong vowed to never see the skies again. That was the same evening you went missing, the same evening she breaks down because how can she lose two of what she loved most in her life within the blink of an eye? The reason for her to wake up every morning, the reason she smiled even through the roughest of the days- now faded into nothing but memory and a distant bitter taste in her mouth.

You were not presumed dead, only missing. The false sense of hope had Yukong staying at her desk for hours every day, going through files and files, records upon records to try and maybe find some trace of you somewhere but after years of searching she finally gave up. She had to care for Qingni for Caiyi, she had to keep loving you because if she doesn't then she feels like she's lost herself.

It was the day Qingni flew to the skies when she finally looked up once more. She looks to the planes to see her daughter flying the same path that doomed her from wanting to live but the sky was the reason she had the two people who made life worth living. It was that day a plane crashed and Yukong felt the familiar, sickening feeling from decades ago as she runs to the sight. She's panicked, flustered, heart racing and feeling like throwing up as she pushes past crowds amongst crowds-

She doesn't know if she should scream or sigh in relief when they pull the lifeless-looking figure out of the starskiff. The model was old, the same she used in the war where she lost....

You. The figure they pulled out was you and she feels like she's going to be sick. She runs up to them, asking if you're okay and the medics are telling her to back off but she needs to know. She puts her head down, ear against your chest and almost sobs when she hears your heart thud weakly. It's so soft she really could've missed it but she hears it.

"Oh baby..."

She whispers as she cradles your head on her lap.

She sits by your side in the hospital until you wake up. She doesn't move, doesn't eat or drink or anything unless Qingni drags her to the bathroom or to the cafeteria. She holds your hand weakly, squeezing it every once in a while to see if you'd respond.

A cough jolts her awake and she quickly scans the dark, dimly lit room to find you- blinking weakly as you scan the room wearily.

"Oh, oh my god."

She quickly gets off her chair, rushing by your side.

"Are you okay? How are you feeling? Nurse-"

"Yukong."

She never thought she'd hear her name fall from your lips, to hear her name mumbled out so softly and hoarsely again.

"I'm here, I'm right here."

You don't say anything as you close your eyes, taking in a deep but pained breath as you close your eyes. She can feel her hands go cold, trembling violently as she tries to calm herself down. Her fingertips feel like they've been dipped in ice water and her throat feels like its closing up violently.

"You're here."

Yukong couldn't help the sob that escapes her lips at your words.

"Yes, yes baby. I'm right here."

The tears are already falling before she can even bother trying to control them, and she can already feel herself slipping away when you smile softly at her because she had always been a fool for you. She put the whole world down for you and she would lift it up for you if you needed it to be lifted again.

"I- I came back."

"You did, you did baby, you're back." She whispers, finally moving to take your hand in hers. You feel so much smaller, your hand much rougher than it used to be and when she finally takes in how scarred you are she feels like breaking down.

"Wanted to see you..." you whisper weakly, voice shaking as you look directly into her eyes.

Your eyes were nothing like the eyes she used to look at every night before she drifted off to sleep. Now they were hollow, every trace of who you once were has faded into the past that only resides through her dreams.

You were back, but you'd never really be back.

She just squeezes your hand gently as she tells herself it's okay, telling herself that you're physically here and you were somehow still alive and that's all she's been praying for since the day you fell.

So why does it hurt so much?

If all she's ever wanted was to have you back in her arms, why does it hurt so much to have you back now? Looking at her with a smile that no longer meets your eyes and a sense of coldness washing over her like a suffocating blanket every time she sees you.

She still loves you.

She still loves you and it hurts that her lover has died, reincarnated into a broken version of who she once loved. But she doesn't care. She will learn to live with the cold if it means being able to hold you once more. She would spend as long as she needs, puzzling every piece of you back together until you are able to smile at her without the history of all that happened haunting your every waking move.

She vowed, from that moment on, she'd start looking at the sky again because the sky brought you back. Every evening she stares up at the moon, watching it dim the lights to another day, and whisper her gratefulness to have her lover back. Every evening, she brings you out to look at the moon, the same moon you looked at during the two decades apart where the only thing you had together was the moon draped in the sky that she was too scared to look at.

"I love you."

You just lean your head against her chest.

You just listen to her heartbeat, and with each thud the cracks in your body begin to renew themselves- you would never be who you were, but you would always love her.

"I love you too."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

every scene was you ☆ ruan mei

The day she left, she vanished. No note, no text, nothing. Ruan Mei had become nothing but a shadow on earth when she decided to leave your house and you questioned if it was even worth searching for her at that point.

She had always been obsessed with aeonhood, aeons, power- whatever. You knew she was. Yet you still loved her for it, and she always promised you that one day you two would be able to love each other for eternity, for as long as you wanted to and until time itself faded into nothing but what was a mere idea of the past. She held you close that evening when she promised you, your head resting on her chest as she wrapped her arms around you.

A week later, she vanishes.

Lab empty, notes packed away, it was like as if your house had gone back in time to before you met her with how empty it all was. You called her number, texted her phone, contacted everyone she knew which was not a lot but you still tried because you loved her.

The day she revealed herself as the 81st member of the genius society, you felt your entire being shatter into pieces of who it once was. That was why she left you. Ultimately, Ruan Mei was selfish, and she had always been a selfish person.

You were foolish for loving her.

But you couldn't stop.

By the time you finally encountered her again, your history had become just a speck of dust in her mind but it was still your reason for hurt. It was still the reason why getting out of bed was a bit harder and why looking in the mirror hurt just a bit more than it should.

"Oh, it's you."

Her monotonous voice has you wanting to squeeze her throat, strangle her until she can't speak but you don't move. You stare at her, her lack of reaction, her poker face and you just swallow.

"How are you?"

That was the only sentence you could manage out and if you looked closely enough, you could see her eye twitch slightly as her throat tightens- her composure begins breaking at the sound of your voice.

"Well." She nods. She sounds too composed to you despite all the pain she is desperately trying to hide. She hates you for making her feel this way. She hates how weak she feels when you make that face at her, when your eyes widen and your mouth tightens into a line, body tense and breathing shallow. "You?"

She notices how your body tenses even more at that question, how your eyebrows begin to furrow as your face grows pink from anger.

"Not very good."

"Oh."

Her response had you fuming even more. How she was so careless and thoughtless towards you and how you felt drove you off the walls. She doesn't give a shit about you, why would she even ask?

Because you don't see the guilt that eats away at her heart every night as she stares at the photo of you that she has on her bedside table.

"Congratulations. You did it. Genius society."

It came out bitter and harsh, and Ruan Mei doesn't flinch but she feels this twist in her gut that's too unfamiliar and too painful for her to fully register. She doesn't understand this feeling. She wants to, because she wants to know how to stop it.

"Thank you."

You scoff at her response, physically unable to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you stepped closer to her, jabbing a finger into her chest.

"You're a fucking bitch."

She hates how her heart leapt at the feeling of your touch, she hates how your words actually manage to hurt her when it really shouldn't be affecting her at all. She's been called so much worse, so why does this, coming from you, hurt so much?

"Is this because I left?"

How can she be so dense?

"You left without saying a word! You just disappeared off the face of the earth, I don't hear from you saying where you are. I don't know what happened, I thought I did something wrong, but no- I remember who you are. A narcissistic bitch who only cares about herself."

The last part hurt more than it should've.

"I don't only care about myself."

You can't help but falter at how soft her voice suddenly goes as she looks down, not making eye contact as she shifts her bodyweight from foot to foot.

"I really cared for you."

Those words shouldn't affect you. You should've moved on from what happened almost twenty years ago now but you can't. You just stare at her and you hate how you feel tears start to form in your eyes as you blink violently, trying to hold it back.

"Don't say that to me."

She goes silent.

"I hate you."

She looks down and you don't see the tears that well up in her eyes.

"I really hope you succeed. I hope you get everything you've ever wanted."

She doesn't even get to see your face for the last time, because by the time she finally gets the courage to look up you were already gone. Your last words to her haunt her every time she begins her studies, or every time she tries to focus on figuring out creating a new life species. She knows you didn't mean it, yet she can't help but want you to notice her just one last time.

Maybe this time, she could fulfil her long broken promise to you.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

@44rtem idk ifthis is the ruan mei content u wanted... but here u go <3

[sugurugetofavoritemonkey]

Fons vitae caritas - Love is the fountain of life

Summary : What if Ethan Landry survived the theater attack at the shrine ? You didn’t know he was one of the Ghostfaces and when you found him all bloody and whimpering on the floor, of course you helped him. Or in other words, you tend to the wounds of Ethan Landry, a killer but also the boy you always loved… and maybe it wasn’t an unrequited love after all. In all honesty, Ethan was enamored with you and never wanted you to be involved in all of this…

Pairing : Ethan Landry x Gn! Reader.

Word Count : 3.900 words.

Warnings : Hurt/Comfort, fluff, mention of blood, wounds and stitches.

Author’s Note : This was entirely written based on this lovely anon’s request. Tell me if I’ve missed anything and please don’t hesitate to give me feedback, it’s always greatly appreciated to know if I did good ! I also had a blast with this request (and writing for my lovely Ethan) so if you have requests for him, I’ll be excited to hear about your ideas.

You had been separated from the group at the subway station. There were way too many people at this time in the subway and you had been stuck in the middle of people walking in and out of the subway. However, what disconcerted you was the fact that Ethan, your dearest « friend », if you could really call him that with how much the two of you were close, let go of your hand in the middle of running to the subway. Maybe it was just a coincidence, you thought, without really believing it. Ethan always held your hand when you were outside, always, and he never let go of you, especially when there were that many people around, and with a killer on the loose on top of that. Ethan knew that you could get a bit scared outdoors when he wasn’t there to hold your hand and reassure you that everything was okay. He always looked back to see exactly where you were to look after you, but strangely… this time, when Ethan let go of your hand, he didn’t even make an attempt to walk back to get you, as he continued walking straight ahead like nothing happened… and it definitely wasn’t like him to do something like that. 

Everyone was ahead of you as you made your best to catch up on them after you had finally reached your stop. Luckily you knew the city by heart and it was easy for you to quickly arrive at the theater, where everyone had planned to trap the Ghostface killer inside his own shrine. Unfortunately, because you got to the theater way after the others, it was hard for you to find them as you walked inside the giant building. At some time, you heard screams of pain, you believed it was Chad as you started to walk faster in order to help him but when you thought you had finally reached him, you got further separated from your friends as not one but two Ghostfaces cornered you in a small room during the attack.

The hooded killers laughed as they closed the door behind them before removing their masks. You gasped in shock as you realized with widened eyes that the Ghostfaces were Detective Wayne Bailey and his - actually alive - daughter, Quinn. You tried to run past them but that was just futile as they laughed even louder at you, mocking you as Wayne didn’t even bother to make useless moves, barely lifting his arm up to shoot you in the right shoulder as he ordered his daughter to finish you off. Quinn stabbed you in the stomach as you groaned in pain and coughed a bit of blood when she harshly removed the knife from you, making you almost instantly fall to the ground in a silent cry, your vision slowly becoming dark and blurry as they both thought they had you dead and closed the door behind them like nothing happened.

Honestly, you should have been dead with all the blood that you lost but it seemed that fate had been by your side this time. When you woke up from your loss of consciousness, you got up with excruciating pain in your right side and shoulder. When you clenched your hand over your wounds, you could feel the blood staining your clothes and decided to tear a part of your long skirt to make rudimentary bandages that you wrapped around your shoulder and waist in hope that it will stop the bleeding at least until you get home. When you started walking to find the exit where you came from, it almost seemed that everything was over with how silent the theater had become. Moving your body was making your head dizzy as you winced in pain but you kept walking while avoiding the debris that were now obstructing some part of the silent shrine. Among them, two bodies particularly caught your attention… Quinn and her father were laying on the ground with fresh blood surrounding them… they had what they deserved, you thought without remorse as you quickly averted your gaze from them. After a few minutes, you finally found the exit that wasn’t too far away from you, making a smile appear on your face with the promise of safety that you could almost grasp. 

But when you were about to finally escape, you heard silent whimpers of pain coming from a corner. As you got closer, you could see Ethan laying on the ground on his stomach, almost covered in blood as a TV was crushing his right side : the edge of his face and a whole part of his shoulder. You gasped in shock and ran over to him, quickly removing the TV from him by pushing on it with your foot, gathering all the strength you could gather to rescue him. His safety being the only thing on your mind right now. 

Once you could finally see Ethan better, the state he was in was more than alarming : the right side of his face was all bruised, both of his shoulders seemed to have bigger opened wounds as blood was gushing out and he had small cuts all around his mouth as Ethan coughed up blood, making you panic even more as you carefully lifted Ethan in your arms, making his head rest on your lap as you gently caressed his hair. Your eyes watered when you had to imagine the pain he was in at the moment as your heart started to pound violently against your chest, anxiety controlling you as it was almost impossible for you to breathe.

You always had a soft spot for Ethan… or even more than that if you were honest with yourself and it broke your heart to see your poor Ethan that way. You tried ever so gently to caress the left side of his face in a way to reassure Ethan with your presence, miraculously making him stir awake little by little. Ethan only succeeded in fluttering his eyes open as his breath was ragged. When his eyes spotted your face looking down at him as tears rolled down your cheeks just to fall on his eyelashes, Ethan almost thought he was in heaven. He immediately wanted to talk to you but because he was stabbed in the mouth, Ethan struggled to talk and articulate his words at first but after a moment he managed to whisper your name in a silent weep. It was hard for him to even look at you, let alone breathe properly as his eyes watered at the sight of you all bloody in front of him. But what made his heart really flutter was the way you were looking at him, with such gentle eyes as you were holding his broken body in your arms.

Ethan didn’t want all of this to happen that way as his eyes briefly noticed that you were wounded somewhere, anger and frustration submerging him as he realized that his plan didn’t work the way he expected. 

Ethan had made sure you would not come here today. You couldn't be hurt in any way, he had repeated in his head a hundred times after his father had explained his plan to him a few days ago… the slaughter that will happen. 

You had to stay stuck in the subway, Ethan had planned on his own… and that’s exactly what he did earlier as he had let go of your hand on purpose, exactly when a lot of people gathered around, to be sure that you had no chance to go with them, even though it broke his heart to imagine how anxious this situation would be for you. But Ethan had to make sure you were the only one safe, far away from all this violence. Yet, fate had played with him and you apparently were still able to get here anyway…

When you noticed the way Ethan’s eyes started to get foggy with tears, you were half happy to see that his body and mind were reacting, meaning that he had a chance to live. However, you also tried your best to contain your sobs at his distress… even though you actually didn’t know the real reason behind it… Ethan couldn’t care less about his own injuries, his mind was plagued with one thing only… you.

Ethan needed to get his hands on his father and sister to make them pay for what they did to you. They didn’t have the right to touch you, let alone harm you in any shape or form whatsoever, he had been very clear with them, but he also painfully knew that he could never make any decisions in his father’s plan. 

When Ethan bit his bottom lip with a frown on his face, your hand drew more soothing circles on his unharmed cheek as you spoke to him with such a soft and gentle voice, smiling to Ethan to reassure him, though your voice betrayed your emotions.

« It’s a-alright Ethan… the Ghostfaces are all dead… all of them… you’re s-safe now… I promise, no one will ever h-hurt you again… I’m here, w-with y-you… »

When you remembered that Detective Bailey was Ghostface, you didn’t want to stay here any longer in case he had accomplices in the police when they would get here. Who knows ? Maybe they will finish the job he couldn’t and kill the both of you… you and Ethan are currently easy targets, you realize as your heart quickened in fear.

Hurriedly, you helped Ethan on his feet with difficulties as your own shoulder was starting to bleed again with the force you were applying on it. You maneuvered his left arm around your shoulder to support his weight. Ethan whimpered in pain as you helped him walk, due to the pressure applied on his stabbing wounds, even though he tried his hardest to stay strong for you. You blurt out excuses with an anxious voice as you quicken your pace to go back to your place. 

« We c-can’t stay here Ethan… I’m sorry but we’ll have to be quick. I’ll take care of you when we're safe. »

Some tears escaped Ethan’s eyes in silence with all the emotions he was going through. He couldn’t care less that his father died. After all, the man never cared for him nor even loved him as a son. He was just a tool for him. Nevertheless, Ethan could not deny the thrill he always felt when he acted as Ghostface, it was more than true and he accepted it without feeling even an ounce of remorse at those he had killed… but not you. Ethan couldn’t even envision hurting you… never. 

Ethan had tried at the last moment to avert the attention of his father and sister from you, almost begging them to kill someone else in your place… that you were the only one innocent in his eyes, but it didn’t work. Just like his plan to save you from any harm. And now you were the one helping him… a killer… He was right all along, Ethan thought with a smile, as the two of you were almost home… you were definitely an angel. 

When you were finally both safe, you let out a sigh of relief as you made Ethan sit down on the floor of your room with his head resting against the edge of your bed to keep his back straight. You ran over to your bathroom where you had everything you needed to take care of Ethan : disinfectant, needle, thread, bandages…etc. Luckily, you had some notions in medicine and had the right equipment for today’s case. When you come back into your room, you notice how Ethan struggles to keep his eyes open, his mind dizzy from the blood loss as he rests his head on the side of your bed. You hurriedly sit on his lap without fully putting your weight on his legs and set down all your medical tools on the bed beside you. You worriedly look at Ethan’s face as you gently yet firmly hold his cheeks in your palms, rubbing both of your thumbs on his cheekbones as you call his name to make him regain consciousness.

« Hey, Hey, Ethan, look at me… Stay with me please… I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry. » 

When Ethan’s eyes flutter open to look at you, a sigh of relief comes out of your mouth, smiling at him as your fingers now move in a softer way over his cheekbones, soothing his senses with your loving gestures. After a small tender moment between the two of you where Ethan looked up at you with puppy eyes while your hands were holding his face with so much love, one of his hand coming to cover your right one as Ethan leaned into your touch, you reluctantly removed your hand from him in order to begin taking care of him. When Ethan took note of that, his hand immediately stopped yours by softly grabbing your wrist as his gaze locked with yours. 

« No way you’re taking care of me first. », Ethan stated with difficulty. 

Ethan almost fought against the fact that you would heal him before yourself, your wounds were also gushing too much blood for his liking, as he explained to you with a worried gaze, yet you refused to let Ethan wait for your care. He would be the first one to be treated and that was your final word, you affirmed to him with a kiss on his forehead. 

Perhaps giving Ethan a kiss worked as a magic trick on him because it effectively hushed him, making Ethan’s cheeks turn slightly red at the gesture as he looked the other way and lightly bit the inside of his cheek nervously. 

Still straddling Ethan’s lap, you started taking care of him by firstly removing the black robe that Ethan was wearing, it was easy enough with how loose it had gotten. When you put the black material aside, letting your eyes linger on it for a bit, all the thoughts that you kept buried since you discovered Ethan at the theater came rushing back to you. You had to ignore these thoughts once again as you didn’t have time to think about such things nor didn’t you want to. Yes he was wearing this very particular costume but… Ethan couldn’t be… No he’s not, you convinced yourself even when you perfectly knew that it wasn’t a coincidence. But still, you trusted Ethan more than anyone else and knew that he would never hurt you, ever. And that’s all that mattered to you right now, when taking care of his wounds was the only thing your whole mind was focused on, him and only him. 

Afterwards, your hands came back on him as you held the hem of his shirt between your fingers, looking back at Ethan to silently ask for permission to also remove his shirt in order to give you better access to his wounds. Ethan shyly nodded before you slowly removed his shirt, being careful not to be too rough with your movements as to prevent aggravating his injuries. 

Your cold hands started to search for any patch of skin that seemed wounded and needed care as you let your fingers gently slide along his body, making Ethan slightly tremble under your touch as he felt way too exposed in front of you. After checking his body, your gaze saddened when you realized that Ethan had way more injuries than you would have thought, it was even surprising that he was still alive at this point or that he wasn’t complaining about the excruciating pain that he was without a doubt experiencing right now.

Ethan must have been hit on the back of the head as a bit of blood was making his hair stick there, you also noticed that he was stabbed in the mouth and that’s why it was hard for him to talk even though he managed, as small cuts could also be seen around his mouth. But the worst injuries were on his shoulders. Ethan was stabbed in the front left shoulder 5 times as blood was still gushing a bit out of the open wounds, while the TV that you saw earlier had crushed a part of his right shoulder and side of his face, where you could see lots of bruises and cuts covering his poor skin.

You sigh shakily when you feel the stress you’re putting on yourself at the amount of stitches you’re gonna have to do on Ethan, surely more stitches than you ever did in your entire life combined. When Ethan noticed the way your hands started shaking a bit, he instinctively intertwined his fingers with yours, knowing full well how it always appeased your mind. And he’s right, Ethan always is when it’s about you, as your racing mind slows down at the feeling of Ethan’s hand, helping you decide to only treat his most urgent wounds first as you make priorities in your mind.

You’ll disinfect all his wounds but clean even more the cuts around his mouth to prevent any infections, do stitches on all of his open wounds of his left and right shoulder but also on the deeper cuts Ethan got on the right side of his face that worries you a little, and cover his shoulders with bandages to help them heal faster. 

Ethan tried his best to be strong while you took care of him, he wanted to act tough in front of you, to make you feel proud of him that he wasn’t complaining, but he still couldn’t control everything as the little grunts and whimpers of pain Ethan let out were breaking your heart in little pieces. His jaw was tightly clenched as his eyes were filled with tears of pain that rolled over his face from time to time.

You were the only thing that was helping him get through this as Ethan noticed how gentle you were with him, while he tried his best to keep his eyes open in order to engrave all the little details in his memory. Like your face that was focusing on your task, a frown appearing on it when you were putting all your attention on a particular stitch. Or the way your hands controlled themselves from trembling even though it was hard for you at this moment, Ethan noticed with dreamy eyes. He also remarked the way your chest was heaving up and down at a fast pace, as Ethan’s hands were grabbing your thighs during the entire time. His fingers ever so gently danced across your skin as his thumbs occasionally rubbed over your thighs with soothing circles absentmindedly. His hands never left you as your position on his lap was making it easy for him to access your thighs, the comforting and loving caresses soothing you and Ethan at the same time.

When it was your turn to take care of your own wounds in front of Ethan, still in the same comfortable position, he was now the one to bring you the reassurance and love you desperately craved, in order to make this painful moment go by as quickly as he could. Ethan held your hand when he could and when it wasn’t possible with your movements, he gently let his hand rest on the unharmed side of your waist, drawing reassuring and affectionate caresses on your skin as Ethan looked at you with saddened but soft eyes, reminding you that he was here for you even though he couldn’t do much at the moment.

After you were both patched up, your hands naturally returned to cup Ethan’s face lovingly, caressing the bruised and stitched side of his skin softly as you covered his entire face in kisses. Ethan automatically did the exact same thing to you as his bigger hands went to cup your jaw protectively, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks tenderly as he made you bend down a little to press kisses on your nose, forehead, cheeks and corner of your mouth. You were both bringing the other one the reassuring presence you needed from each other and the love that you both should have fully shared much earlier if you two weren’t the most bashful people on earth. 

Now fully sitting on Ethan’s lap as exhaustion took over you, Ethan caressed in a feather light touch your now stitched up wounds, a touch that you almost could not feel with how gentle and careful he was. Ethan looked at your injuries with anger, sadness and frustration that he wasn’t there to protect you and prevent them from happening.

Ethan quietly sobbed at that as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, careful not to touch your stitches as he hoarsely muttered excuses with a muffled and trembling voice, « I’m s-sorry… so s-sorry, baby… »

You didn’t understand why he would say that… well not completely. He didn’t have anything to do with your wounds and he would never hurt you in any shape or form. Seeing your sweet Ethan sob in your arms was shattering your soul as you just wanted to hold him closer to your heart, softly enough as to not aggravate his injuries. 

You both hugged each other during a moment that felt out of time, Ethan firmly clinging to your body, as you calmly caressed his hair while massaging his scalp soothingly. Ethan’s figure being much larger than you, it was like you were hiding in a cocoon where nothing could harm you anymore, as you felt at peace in his protective arms.

Ethan broke the hug at one point to look at you and got closer to your face as he pressed a chaste kiss on your lips that you mirrored almost instantly. Ethan giggled between kisses as you were both eagerly pressing as many kisses as possible to the other’s mouth. 

With your mouth still lingering on his, you reassured him with a beautiful smile that Ethan cherished, as he peacefully listened to the words that you whispered against his lips.

« Together, everything will be okay… I know I’ll be safe with you Ethan. And… you’ll always have me, b-because… I care for you more than you could ever imagine. »

Ethan’s gaze widened with affection at your honest declaration as his eyes looked down at your lips, pressing his mouth to yours as he deepened the kiss by cupping your cheeks, not wanting to let you go too far from him. After breaking the kiss, Ethan bashfully intertwined his fingers with yours as he looked down to observe with attention the way he was fidgeting with your hand.

« Can I say that I love you ? », he asked while looking back into your eyes. Ethan felt awkward while saying that, it was the first time for him after all. Though, the pretty boy quickly changed his mind when he felt your lips whisper close to his ear how much you loved him back, making Ethan smile in the most adorable way possible. 

💗 Ethan Landry Masterlist 💗

[sweet-villain]

Finish the Song~ Eddie Munson ~

Author's Note : I am just writing here, and have no idea where I going honestly. But it flows and hope you like it!

Angst

Eddie stood frozen on the fringe of the living room, his gaze riveted on you and Steve. Laughter erupted between you two, a sound that twisted like a knife in his gut. He squinted, just in time to see Steve lean in, his arm draping casually over your shoulders.

“What the hell?” Eddie muttered, his grip on the red cup tightening to the point of crumpling it.

With a decisive huff, he glanced around the room and spotted Chrissy Cunningham. Why not, right? “Hey, Chrissy!” he called, waving her over.

“What’s up, Eddie?” she chimed, her smile bright as fairy lights hanging from the ceiling.

“Wanna hang out?” He slipped his arm around her waist, the gesture feeling foreign yet strangely exhilarating. Just as his eyes caught yours, he saluted you with a smirk.

You caught the smile—flirting, no doubt. And just like that, the pang in his chest blossomed into a challenge.

“Stop worrying over him,” Steve said, his voice cutting through the noise.

“I’m not,” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

Steve snorted, amusement flickering across his face. “You should tell him how you feel. The breakup was a mistake.”

“He will never forgive me,” you murmured, wiping your mouth with the sleeve of your sweater, the din of the party swirling around, amplifying your discomfort.

Eddie’s heart sank. So she still cared. The game was just getting started.

Quiet laughter bubbled up from a nearby group of partygoers, their revelry casting a haze over the room. Eddie levered closer to Chrissy, every chuckle and cheer echoing like thunder in his ears, competing with the pitiful thud of his heart.

“C’mon,” he said to Chrissy, holding his cup aloft. “Let’s grab a drink. Nothing like a party to take your mind off things, right?”

“Sure!” she chirped, her enthusiasm infectious as she beamed up at him.

As they walked towards the makeshift bar in the corner, Eddie couldn’t help but glance back at you.

You stood there, leaning slightly against the wall, your laughter ming ling with the pulsating beats of the music, but your eyes had a distant look—hope tinged with uncertainty.

“Here you go,” Eddie said, pouring himself another cup from a bottle of cheap beer. It fizzed and bubb led over the rim—a tiny explosion in his hand. He didn’t care; he was on a mission.

Turning back to Chrissy, he leaned in closer, the warmth of her body against his side igniting something reckless within him. “So , how’s it going with the cheer squad?”

“Oh, you know,” Chrissy said, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder, her smile bright and unfiltered. “Just the usual—lots of practices, but I’m pretty sure we are going to win this year’s championship.”

Eddie chuckled, the sound coming easily as he studied her. “You’ve always been a champ. I bet it’s hard to keep all those stuck-up girls in line, huh?”

Cocking her head, Chrissy laughed, a melodic tinkle that made his pulse quicken. “It’s a challenge, for sure, but they mean well. Besides, it’s nice to have you around as a fan.” She shot him a playful wink, which only fueled his bravado.

“Always your biggest fan, Chrissy,” he said, leaning in with feigned seriousness. “In fact, I think I might need an exclusive meet-and-greet after all those championships. “Fancy,” she teased, nudging him with her elbow. “I’ll hold you to that, Munson.”

Eddie barely registered the laughter and chatter around him, too focused on the way her smile lit up against the chaotic backdrop of the party. But once again, he felt the weight of your gaze. You were standing with Steve, a bubble of conversation that felt too intimate, too careless for his liking.

“Hey, you okay?” Chrissy asked, her voice interrupted by a laugh from the group, pulling his attention back to her. She’d cocked her head, concern etching her delicate features.

“Just fine,” Eddie reassured, forcing a grin that felt unsteady on his lips. “Just keeping busy with you, right?”

You were leaning against the wall, half-turned toward Steve, and he caught a glimpse of the way your eyes sparkled, even while your mouth quirked into a frown as you caught another glimpse of him and Chrissy together. He felt a strange thrill at the thought—if you were watching, then this game was far from over.

“Eddie! Come on!” one of his friends shouted from the other side of the room, interrupting his thoughts. They waved him over, their voices blurring into an unrecognizable haze of excitement and alcohol. He momentarily considered the risk of abandoning Chrissy, but the challenge of holding your attention drew him back to the edge of the chaos.

“Hey, it looks like they need you!” Chrissy said, her voice bright with encouragement. “Go on, I’ll be right here.”

Eddie hesitated, his gaze flickering back to you and Steve. You were mid-conversation, but his mind fixated on the laughter you shared—was it genuine? Or was it simply a façade?

“Yeah, I just—” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at Chr issy, who was watching him with curious eyes. “I’ll just be a second.”

“Go,” she urged, laughter still in her voice.

With a nod, he pushed away from her side, weaving through the crowd. His heart raced as he navigated the throng of bodies until he stood across from you and Steve. Your laughter danced on the air, sweet yet taunting. Eddie’s jaw tightened, his fingers itching to grab your attention.

Instead, he tried to focus on Steve.

“Hey!” Eddie called out, forcing a grin. “Harrington! You still winning at this whole... pretty boy act?”

Steve’s brow quirked, clearly amused.

“Always, Munson. Just keeping the charm alive, you know? Unlike you, who seems desperate for attention.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips, and Eddie felt the warmth of jealousy briefly flicker into something nearer to rage. “Yeah, because you’re the poster boy for relationship advice,” he shot back, nodding sarcastically at Steve. “What did you do? Read ‘How to Sweep a Girl Off Her Feet’ this morning?”

Steve smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Funny how you’re the one talking about relationships, Eddie. Last I checked, you were throwing yours away.”

Eddie’s heart raced; the jab cut deeper than intended. He turned to you, hoping to catch a flicker of annoyance or disbelief in your eyes, but instead, you faced Steve with playful defiance written across your expression. 

Well, Eddie's fingers drummed against the plastic cup, his heart racing at the sight of your unwavering confidence. It only stoked his frustration.

"Whatever," you shot back, tossing your hair over your shoulder, eyes narrowing.

"My decisions are mine, and I'll figure out what I want."

Eddie clenched his jaw, his next words caught in his throat. After a moment, he managed to say, "Sure, if you want to keep pretending to be okay."

“Pretending?” You shot back, eyes flashing. “How about you stop playing games for once? You’re the one bouncing from one party to another while I’m—” “—trying to move on?” Eddie interrupted, frustration bubbling over as he stepped closer. “Or maybe you’re just trying to make me jealous?”

Your eyes narrowed, reflecting the dim light like shards of glass. 

“Jealous? You think this is about you?” You stepped back, arms crossing defensively.

“Every move you make seems like a jab at me,” Eddie shot back, his voice low yet laced with intensity. “Just to prove what? That you can bounce back?”

“Yeah, because it’s so easy for me,” you snapped, sarcasm cutting through your voice as you glared at him. “I’m just here pretending like it doesn’t hurt.”

Eddie clenched his jaw, the air thick with tension. 

"I'm not the one pretending," Eddie countered, eyes narrowing, a storm brewing behind them. “You think I’m out here enjoying myself when all I see is you moving on without a second thought?”

A beat of silence stretched between you, heavy and taut, like a wire ready to snap. 

“Moving on?” you echoed, incredulity lacing your words. “Eddie, you’re the one who decided this was better!"

Eddie’s heart raced as the weight of your accusation settled between you like a loaded gun. 

“Yeah, because you couldn’t stand to put up with my chaos,” he spat, each word dripping with bitterness.

“Chaos? Is that what you call it?” Your voice rose, each syllable sharp as glass. “You think it was just about you jamming with your band or selling that crap? It felt like I was living in the shadows.”

Eddie's shoulders dropped, and the heat in his chest flared. “Living in the shadows?” He stepped closer, the edge in his voice sharp. “You had a front row seat to the whole damn thing. “Your front row was the last row, Eddie,” you shot back, your voice steady but your breath quickening. “You don’t get to play the victim here when you constantly chose everything over us.”

“Everything over us?” Eddie echoed, incredulity twisting in his gut. He felt the heat of the party around him, the pulsating music fading into a dull hum. “You think I wanted things to end like this? Between us?"

Your expression wavered for just a moment before solidifying into determination. “You made your choices, Eddie. I was there, waiting on the sidelines when you were out working on your campaigns, jamming until dawn, or getting high? "

“Getting high, playing the role,” he shot back, frustration pounding in his ears. “That’s all I ever was to you?”

“Hardly,” you snapped, eyes glimmering with fierce defiance. “You weren’t just a role; you were a promise, Eddie. A promise that never quite made it past the smoke and mirrors.”

he crowd swirled aroundyou, bodies moving in chaotic rhythm, but the world reduced to the two of you, locked in a battle of hurt and anger. 

“Smoke and mirrors?” Eddie’s voice cracked, a palpable mix of disbelief and sorrow hanging in the air.

"Yeah," you said, breathless, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. "You sold me the dream, Eddie, but you left it unfinished. Always running, always too busy for anything real."

His expression darkened,a storm brewing behind the intensity of his gaze. “You think I chose this? Those nights, those laughs—they were real, and I thought you knew it!”

“Then what was it?” you challenged, your tone faltering for only a moment. “Do you even know what we had? Or were those moments just a game to you?” 

Eddie stepped closer, fists trembling at his sides. The tension crackled between you, palpable and raw. He shook his head slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion and frustration.

“Damn it, you think it was just a game? How could you even say that?” He ran a handthrough his tangled hair, the gesture a mix of desperation and helplessness. 

“Because you played all the right notes but left the melody hanging,” you replied, your voice raw yet steady. “I was a verse in your song, and you never finished the chorus.”

Eddie’s breath caught, the truth of your words slammed against him like a wave crashing onto shore. He swallowed hard, the silence stretching taut between you, filled with everything unsaid. The music thumped in the background, a heart pulsing irregularly, while the weight of your gaze pressed against his chest, forcing the air from his lungs. 

Eddie clenched his fists, resisting the urge to turn away. Instead, he held your stare, wrestling with the plethora of emotions crashing like waves within him

“Eddie,” you whispered, the softness in your voice surprising him, shattering the tension. “All I wanted was for you to meet me halfway. To not feel like I was chasing shadows.”

Eddie’s breath caught, the words hanging in the air like smoke, mingling with the remnants of heartbreak and anger. He hesitated, searching your eyes for understanding, a flicker of the connection he longed to reclaim.

“This... this isn’t what I wanted,” Eddie finally murmured, his voice barely audible over the music, thick with vulnerability. “I thought you’d—”

“That I’d what?” You crossed your arms again, clearly bracing for more. “Stick around like a trophy?” 

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “No! I thought you’d understand. I thought—”

“Thought what,you could keep juggling everything while I waited in the sidelines?” Your voice shook, a tremor betraying the strength you tried to project. “You don’t get to play that card when you’ve left me in the dark for so long.”

Eddie’s fists unclenched, the realization cutting deeper than any rebuke. The silence stretched again, the crowded room buzzing at the edges, the laughter of others swirling into an indistinguishable backdrop. He resisted the urge to look away,staring you down, determination flickering in his chest. 

“Look, I was caught up,” he finally replied, the words rushed. “You think I enjoyed being away? You think I meant to leave you behind?”

You took a step back, eyes narrowing. “You had a choice, Eddie. You could’ve shifted your priorities. But you didn’t,” you fired back, anger pooling in your belly. Each word felt like a spark igniting the already simmering tension. 

A moment hung between you, thick with unspoken truths and the hurt buried beneath the surface. Eddie’s heart hammered against his ribcage, the rapid tempo matching the chaotic beat of the party surrounding you.

“Fine!” heshouted, frustration erupting from him like a burst of fireworks. “I messed up! I was too wrapped up in everything—campaigns, the band, trying to chase some dream! I thought you’d stick around. I thought I’dget it together before I lost you.”

Your expression shifted—a flicker of hurt before the walls went back up. “And look where that got us. This... whatever this is,” you gestured wildly, frustration etched in every line of your face, “it’s a mess, Eddie. A portrait of missed chances and empty promises.”

Eddie clenched his jaw, the anger curling in his chest like smoke. It burned, a persistent ache layered beneath layers of hurt and betrayal. 

“Just because it's a mess doesn’t mean we can’t try to fix it,” Eddie said, his voice raw but filled with urgency. Each word felt both heavy and electric, a desperate plea rising from somewhere deep within him.

You shook your headboth heavy and electric, a desperate plea rising from somewhere deep within him.

You shook your head. “Fix it? Eddie, that’s just it. How many times do we keep going in circles, trying to bandage something that's torn?” 

Eddie’s chest tightened, the truth behind your words heavy like a weight around his heart. “I’ll do better. I can be better. Just—just give me a chance,” he pleaded, his voice trembling with a desperation he seldom allowed to surface, vulnerability clawing at his throat.

You lowered your gaze, the flickering lights casting shadows across your features. The room buzzed around you, a distorted carnival of laughter and music that felt miles away from the intimate confrontation. 

Your silence hung between you like a thick fog, stifling, almost suffocating. Eddie shifted his weight, desperate to study your face, to catch a glimpse of that flicker of hope he thought he’d seen earlier. “Say something“Say something,” he urged, his voice now quiet, almost a plea. “Please.”

Your silence deepened, a chasm forming between what was once filled with laughter and warmth.

You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, and fora moment, he thought you might just shift your gaze back to him. But the weight of those unspoken words hung heavier than the tension in the air, more suffocating than the swirling party crowd around you.

“I don’t know, Eddie“I don’t know, Eddie.” Your voice trembled, thick with the weight of uncertainty. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this. Keep hoping for something that feels more like a dream than reality.”

His heart sank, every beatfeeling like a drum echoing in the hollow space between you. 

“Maybe… maybe I don’t deserve what I want. It just feels so far away.” Eddie’s voice cracked, raw and open, bared before you like a wound that refused to heal.

“It shouldn’t have to be this way,” you whispered, a tremor in your voice reflecting the unease that pooled like quicksand. “We could have made it work. Could have fought for something real instead of floatingin the limbo of what-ifs.”

The words clung to the air, heavy with regret and longing, as Eddie’s gaze dropped to the floor. The pulsating thud of music faded into a dull thrum behind the silence that enveloped the two of you.

“I wanted it to be real,” Eddie finally said, his voice steady yet fragile, a whisper that hung between the chaos of the party. He met your eyes, the raw honesty shimmering in the depths of his gaze.

“I wanted it to be real,” Eddie finally said, his voice steady yet fragile, a whisper that hung between the chaos of the party. He met your eyes, the raw honesty shimmering in the depths of his gaze.

You searched his face, a storm of emotions cascading through you. The pain of the past coiled tightly around your heart, while a flicker of something unnameable sparked in the depths of his brown eyes.

“Then finish the song, Eddie,” you whispered your voicebarely audible, yet it echoed in his chest like the last note of a cherished melody. 

Eddie stepped forward, the distance between you almost vanishing. “I can’t do this without you,” he admitted, a thread of vulnerability weaving through his words, raw and unguarded. The air shimmered with tension, every beat of his heart loud and clear against the weight of your silence. 

“You don’t get to put that on me,” you said, shaking your head slowly as if each denial cracked a little louder against the backdrop of the party’s cacophony. 

“Why not?” Eddie pressed, desperation clawing at his throat. “I’m here, aren’t I? Wanting to make things right.”

Your eyes flickered between anger and vulnerability, the turmoil beneath the surface evident. "Wanting to make things right?" you scoffed, your voice dripping with incredulity. "You only want that now when you see me slipping away."

Eddie's chest tightened, each word you uttered hitting him like a punch to the gut. “No! That’s not fair. I didn’t realize what you meant to me until it started to slip through my fingers."

"That's not fair,” Eddie said, desperation clawing at the edge of his voice. “I didn’t realize what you meant to me until it started to slip through my fingers.”

“Please,” Eddie murmured, every syllable soaked in urgency. “I was caught up in everything, convinced that juggling all of it would prove something—like I could have it all, but I can’t. Not without you.”

“This isn’t just about you, Eddie. It’s about us. It always was,” you replied, your voice quiet, yet the intensity radiated like a beacon in

Your breath hitched at his words, the air between you thick with unshed tears and so many moments lost. “And I waited,” you replied, your voice trembling as you tried to keep the edge of emotion at bay. “I waited, thinking you’d wake up one day and see that I was still here, still wanting you.”

Eddie’s throat tightened, his heart aching at the vulnerabilityof your voice. Each syllable pulled at him, echoing in the silence of the moment.

“I thought you’d understand,” he whispered, each word a confession, laden with regret. “I thought I had more time.”

“Time?” youstared at him, disbelief flooding your features. “You think we have an endless supply of time? Every moment felt like you were slipping away, and I was holding my breath, waiting for you to decide I mattered.”

Eddie’s heart sunkas the weight of your words settled in the space between you. He could almost feel the ground shifting beneath his feet.

“I never meant for you to feel insignificant,” he said, the earnestness in his voice struggling to rise above the chaos of the party that raged on around you. 

“Then prove it,” you challenged, resolve hardening in your tone. Your eyes locked on his, a silent demand hanging heavy in the air. “Show me you can be there—actually be there for me.”

The weight of your words crushed him. Eddie searched for the right response, the one that would spill from his heart with sincerity. But all he found were fragments of regret, scattered like shattered glass across the moment.

“I can be there,” he insisted, uncertainty threading through his voice yet anchoring it in truth. “But you have to believe me. Just let me show you.” 

Your gaze held him captive, a fierce determination mingling with doubt. “Your gaze held him captive, a fierce determination mingling with doubt. 

“Show me,” you finally said, your voice steady yet sharp. “Let me see you put in the work. Otherwise, it’s just another empty promise.” 

Eddie’s heart raced, the challenge igniting a defiance within him that he didn’t know he still possessed. 

“Then I’ll make it a real promise,” he declared, each word steadying him against the storm of uncertainty swirling around them. 

“Don’t just say it, prove it,” you challenged, your gaze unwavering, determined yet fractured. “Words are meaningless without actions.” 

He felt the appeal of your challenge ignite a fire in his chest, a pang of purpose that surged through him. Eddie drew a deep breath, drowning out the raucous laughter beyond the bathroom door, honing in on you standing before him—vulnerable, yet fierce.

“Then give me a chance,” Eddie said, voice steady, the words hanging in the air like an open invitation. 

Your eyes, fierce with determination, softened slightly, but the edge remained. “A chance at what? Another cycle of waiting

for something that may never come?”

Eddie instinctively stepped closer, closing the gap as uncertainty danced like a shadow between you. “No. Not waiting, but moving forward.” The sincerity in his voice demanded trust, a fragile bridge over a chasm of uncertainty.

Your gaze flickered, wavering between skepticism and a glint of hope. “Moving forward? What does that mean for us?” 

Eddie clenched his fists, desperate to gather the right words. “I don’t know yet, but I do know that I want to figure it out together. Nothing can change if we're not in this as a team, if we’re not willing to let go of the hurt and build something back.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, still cautious, but Eddie thought he detected a hint of something more in their depths—perhaps curiosity, maybe a flicker of that old warmth. 

“Build what back?” you asked, voice steady but probing, like you

were assessing the strength of the steel in his resolve.

“Build us back.” Eddie’s voice trembled with urgency, each word a fragile thread reaching across the abyss. “A real connection, where it’s not just you waiting for me to show up when I had time or felt like it.” 

Your expression softened just a fraction, allowing a glimmer of vulnerability to breach the walls you had built around yourself. 

“God, Eddie,” you said, your voice almost a whisper, ““God, Eddie,” you said, your voice almost a whisper, the weight of the moment settling around you both like a thick fog. “It’s not just about the time. It's about trust. It's about believing that you want this just as much as I do.”

Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest, the gravity of your words resonating deeply. “I want this,” he breathed, the intensity of his gaze unwavering, searching yours for a sign that you could see his sincerity burning into the hollow spaces between you. 

“I want you to believe me,” he continued, his heart pounding in rhythm with the party’s pulse that thrummed around you. “It’s not just words this time. I’m done pretending everything is okay."

“Then show me,” you replied, your voice firm yet gentle, courage weaving through the hesitation. “Show me you really want this—no more empty promises or half-measures.”

Eddie nodded, hearthammering against his ribs. 

“Okay,” he whispered, each word carved with fresh intent. “I’ll show you. But it’s going to take time.” 

“Time,” you echoed, a flicker of skepticism crossing your face.

Time,” you echoed, a flicker of skepticism crossing your face. 

“Time,” he repeated, a vow wrapped in sincerity. “But I won’t waste it. I’ll prove—I can prove that you mean more than all those distractions

that consumed me.”

Your eyes softened, the tension still crackling but laced now with a tentative hope. “Eddie, actions matter. I need to see that you mean it.”

He took a step closer, his pulse racing. “Then let’s start now,” he said, urgency lacing his voice. “I want to make things right, even if it’s just a single step.”

You hesitated, the weight of your own uncertainty reflected in your eyes. “What does that look like?” you asked, vulnerability creeping into your voice. The moment felt fragile, as if a single misplaced word could shatter everything you’d just built together.

Eddie took a breath, grounding himself in the moment. “It starts with honesty and vulnerability. I won’t hide in the shadows anymore. You deserve better than that.”

You studied him, weighing his resolve in the light of your own doubts. “Honesty?” you replied, one brow arched. “How do I know you won’t slide back into the game again, Eddie? How do I know you’ll actually mean it this time?”

The air between you hummed with an intensity that thrummed against your skin. Eddie swallowed hard, a raw tangle of emotions reeling within him. He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms to ground himself in the moment.

“I’ll show you,” he stated, the words falling from his lips like a promise. “No more hiding, no more games or distractions. Just me. Just us.”

You inhaled deeply, the tension still wrapped tightly around you both, yet something in your gaze softened. “Words won’t mean a thing if they don’t come with action, Eddie,” you replied,

your voice steady. “I need to see you confront the chaos. Not just with promises but with your choices.”

Eddie felt the weight of your words settle deep within him, an anchor in turbulent waters. “Then I’ll show you,” he declared, his resolve hardening with each pulse of uncertainty that rippled through the air. He took a step closer, the tension between you charging the space like static electricity.

The thudding bass from the music faded into the background as his gaze locked onto yours, the world around you blurring into a whirl. Eddie leaned in, trembling with anticipation, and let himself be vulnerable, the chaos seeming to still in the air

“I’m done wandering. You’re right; I’ve been too caught up in everything else. All the noise, the distractions. I want to tune in to what matters, and that’s you.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words wrapping around you like a soft embrace. The flickering lights of the room blurred as Eddie’s sincerity sank in, resonating deeply in the quiet corners of your heart. You searched his eyes for any hint of deception, any sign that this was just another play in his game, but all you found were unguarded vulnerability and an aching desire for connection. 

“You’ll really do this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The throbbing music faded, distant and dim compared to the storm building in your chest.

Eddie nodded, sincerityradiating from him like heat waves. “I will,” he insisted, voice steady. “No more hiding. No more pretending. Just... us. The way it should be.”

For a fleeting moment, the buzz of the party dissolved, leavingboth of you suspended in a world that felt untouched by the chaos around. Time seemed to fold in upon itself—every heartbeat loud as a drum, echoing loudly in the cavernous silence you created.

“Okay.” A breathless whisper slipped from your lips, the word barely above a sigh. For a brief moment, all the noise of the party faded into the background, leaving only the two of you, tethered together by a fragile thread of hope.

The moment lingered, heavy and electric, as you both stood just inches apart. Eddie’s heart pounded loud enough to drown out the muffled music, each beat a reminder of what lay before you both—a potential rekindling of connection fragile yet vibrant, like a spark in the darkness of your tangled past.

Eddie broke the silence first, his voice a low murmur, laden with sincerity. “I just need time to prove it to you. But I will. No

Your heart raced at his words, each syllable threading through the air like a lifeline, pulling you back from the precipice of loss. You hesitated, allowing the moment to settle, weighing the weight of what this commitment might mean.

““Time,” you repeated, the word resting like a fragile bird in your chest. “It’s a powerful thing. But what if that time slips away again?” The vulnerability lay bare in your eyes, each flicker a question yet to be answered Eddie leaned in, the distance between you closing into a mere breath. “Then I’ll chase it down,” he asserted, the strength of his conviction shaking off remnants of doubt. “Every second, I’ll show up for you, for us I’ll fight for every moment, every chance to make it right.”

Your breath caught, a flicker of hope igniting within you, tempered by the shadows of uncertainty that still lurked in the corners of your heart. “And what if...the fight isn’t enough?” you breathed, the gravity of the question hanging between you. Doubt clung to your voice, but beneath it lay a flicker of longing, a desperate yearning for something real.

Eddie’s expression softened,as if he could sense the storm brewing within you. “Then I’ll fight harder,” he vowed, the weight of his sincerity pressing against the air like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

that I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that you matter more than any of it.” 

The sincerity in his eyes swelled the space between you, yet the lingering uncertainty remained, clinging like a shadow. You searched his gaze for the truth—a flicker of hope nestled deep within, just waiting for the right moment to shine. 

“Eddie,” you breathed, narrowing your eyes slightly as if trying to peel back the layers he shielded. “This isn’t just about promises.It’s about trust. You can’t just say the words; you have to show me that you mean every single one. Actions. That’s what I need.”

Eddie nodded, determination hardening his features. “I get it. You need proof.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself against the weight of your gaze, which felt like a spotlight dissecting every shadow within him. “Then let me start now.”

You narrowed your eyes, testing the conviction in his voice. “Prove it, Eddie. Show me you’re willing to be present, not just in words, but in actions.”

Eddie’s heart raced, pulse thuddingin his ears as he searched for the right response. The room around them pulsed with energy, but all he could focus on was you, the intensity of your gaze unwavering and fierce. 

“Okay,” he said, his voice steady. “Okay,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ll start by being here. Right now. I won’t brush this off like it’s another party trick.”

You narrowed your eyes, gauging the determination etched on his face. “Being here is one thing, Eddie. But I need more than just your body in the room. I need your heart in it, too.”

Eddie took a step closer “Then I’m all in,” he declared, his voice unwavering as he closed the distance between you. “No more half-hearted attempts. Just me—fully here, fully yours.”

[sarah-bear706318]

Summary: When Tyler's baby sister joins him and his team for a season she seems to catch the eye of a certain StormPar member much to her brothers dismay... will she listen listen to her big brother or follow her heart?

Pairing: Scott Miller X fem!reader, Tyler Owens x sister!reader

Warnings: Sneaking around, Pissed off Tyler, Love Struck Scott, ALOTS of kissing, A little age gap, Cussing, Drinking, Storms(duh), Falling in love, Slow burn

A/N: This is my first series so any feedback would be amazing! There isn't much Scott in this chapter but there will be plenty of him in future chapters. I'm writing this with the help of @nikkicloudie she save me the idea for it! Go check out her stories there are amazing!!!

You loved storms just as much if not more then your older brother Tyler. You were 10 years younger then him but you were one in the same. You even followed in his foot steps and majored in Meteorology but, you took it a step further and got your PhD in it at UT Austin. You had just graduated early and your brother was proud so as your graduation gift your brother invited you to join him and the wranglers for the season. It took you all of .5 seconds to say yes.

You still weren't sure what you were gonna do with your degree you had a few job offers from different places but joining your brother could hopefully help you figure it all out. Hey you may even follow in your brothers foot steps even more and become a storm chaser who's knows your life was just starting and anything was a possibility!

It was early evening when your plane landed. After getting your suitcases from baggage claim you're off to find your brother. While looking around you all of a sudden feel 2 arms from behind left you in the air.

"Baby sister" you hear from behind you. You turn around and see your brother's big smiling face. You wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze as hard as you can. "I'm so happy you're here" "I am too I miss you big brother" he hugs you back and give you a kiss on your temple "I've missed you too sis, come one let's get your stuff in the truck the rest of the crew are waiting for you they can't wait to see you"

You couldn't wait to see the crew you loved them almost as much as your brother.

The ride to the hotel was 45 minutes away from the airport and the ride was filled with stories about about chases the crew have done and some new research they have and things you've been up to since graduation. You haven't seen your brother since Thanksgiving so it was nice to be spending time with him for the next few months.

Once you pull into the hotel parking lot you saw a lot of other storm chasing teams and of course you see the wranglers. When Tyler parks the truck you barley have time to get out before you have a pair of arms around your waist and your feet lifted off the ground. "Dr.Owens you're finally here"

"Boone oh my God put me down before you drop me" you say as you kick your feet

"Boone don't break my sister she just got here" Tyler says shaking his head making his way around the truck.

"I'd never drop my favorite Owens" Boone says with a big smile.

Boone finally puts you back on your feet so you can hug and greet the others. You all decide to hang around, have a few beers and catch up. Everyone is just how you remembered and you know its gonna be a great time. You are about 3 beers in and laughing at some story Boone was telling but unbeknownst to you your laughter had got the attention of another storm chaser and he couldn't take his eyes off you.

Across the parking lot Scott is standing by one of StormPars trucks uploading data to his laptop when he hears a beautiful laugh. His head shots up and sees not only is the laugh beautiful but it's coming from the more beautiful girl he's ever seen and he can't help but stare.

"Hey man you get that data in the system yet" Javi asks as he walks up to the truck. Scott snaps out of the trance he's in and looks to Javi "oh just about done" he says looking back at his laptop.

"Hey who's the new girl over there with Owens" Scott ask eyes still looking down tapping away "she a new hillbilly member?" Javi looks over to Tyler and and his crew to see who Scott is talking about.

"Nah dude that's Y/N Owens Tyler's little sister, she just graduated from UT Austin with her PhD in Meteorology. She's hella smart not to mention drop dead gorgeous don't ya think" Javi says "She's ok i guess". Scott says with a shug, he couldn't let Javi think he had a thing for Tyler's sister could he it would ruin his hard ass imagine.

Back over across the lot the wranglers are still having their reunion with Y/N. "As much fun as this all has been we gotta get to bed got a long day of chasing tomorrow ahead of us radar looking really promising" Tyler says to his crew and sister.

"Hopefully I get to get up close and inside a tornado tomorrow" you say beaming with the biggest smile. "More like your big brother everyday" Tyler says with a laugh pulling you into a hug.

As the crew is putting all their equipment away you and Tyler grab your bags from the bed of his truck. "You think you packed enough stuff Y/N, you know we are chasing tornados not trying out for that modeling show" Tyler says as he grabs 2 of your bags and looking at the other 2 smaller ones still laying in the back of the truck.

"One that show is Americas next top model and 2 I came straight from school so I had to bring everything that was in my dorm, I'll sort it all out and send the rest to mom and dads" you say rolling your eyes. "Plus you there are some pretty cute storm chasers in this lot never know when ill need a sexy outfit" you say throwing a wink to the crew who bust out laughing knowing how protective Tyler is of you.

"No that's not happening " Tyler says looking at you while handing you one of your smaller bags. You look at him and rolls your eyes while taking the bag from him " Yeah ok" is the only thing you say with a smirk.

"You ok with sharing a room with your big brother tonight? They only had 3 rooms left when we got here" Tyler ask while making you way to the stairs. "Yeah that's fine use to do it when we were kids". You make your way up the stairs to the room you and your brother were sharing carrying the 2 smaller bags. When you got to the door Tyler is looking for the key, he finally finds the card and goes to unlock the door but instead of a green light on the handle its red. "Shit stay here I need to go get a new card".

Tyler leaves you on the second floor while he goes to get a new key. You walk over to the railing cross your arms over it and look out at all the other storm chasing teams. As you're looking over the rail you spot a group of chasers looking way more professional then anyone else in the parking lot. Along with the group you a tall muscular guy in a ballcap catches you eye and all you can think of is how insanely good looking he is. Your focus on the cute guy is broken by your brothers voice.

"Got a new key" Tyler says. "Bless you big brother I'm so ready for a shower, food, and sleep in that order". As Tyler opens the door you peak over your shoulder and you swear you see the cute guy looking at you with a smirk.

Tyler orders pizza for the 2 of you while you get in the shower. It was nice to wash away your day of travel. You stayed in the shower longer then you normally would have but the hot water felt amazing you couldn't help it. You get out and start to dry yourself off when your brother yells to you the pizza was delivered.

The rest of the night spent eating pizza, watching tv, and doing more catching up with your brother. "Thank you for inviting me Ty it means a lot. I still don't know what I'm gonna do my new fancy degree I'm hoping being here and chasing will help me figure it out" you say looking at your brother. "I'm happy to help you figure it out sis" Tyler says with a smile.

When the pizza is on gone and you have cleaned up the mess you crawl into your bed with a loud sigh. Tyler laughs and shakes his head. "I've stayed in this hotel before the beds are not that good" "They so when you've been traveling all day and had a 3 hour delay in Austin" You say as you close your eyes. "Ok well I'm going to take a shower you need to get some sleep got a long day of storm chasing ahead, and with any luck you will be inside your first tornado" your brother says while grabbing his shower things and clothes.

"Can't wait" you mumble not able to keep your eyes open any longer. You couldn't wait for your first real chase and with any luck you would see the cute tall guy with the ballcap.

[hyunebunx]

💝 with jisung 🤭

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💝- 'a sudden kiss to catch the partner off guard'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: manaa <33 i hope you enjoy this as much as i loved writing it <3 thank you sm for requesting!

It wasn’t a rare occurrence to drop by and find your boyfriend creating, brainstorming for another song while strumming his guitar or tapping a pen on the table to the rhythm created in his head. Inspiration struck at the oddest of times, not giving him a break no matter how spent or exhausted he was. And you had to understand – when the creative juices were flowing and he was in the zone, nothing and absolutely nobody mattered until he finished the song.

You find yourself in his room, sitting across from each other on the floor as you’re listening to your boyfriend go on and on about this new idea of his, strumming random chords on his guitar as he struggled to find a note he was satisfied with.

His fluffy brown hair bounces everywhere as he talks, glasses dropping a little too low on the bridge of his nose as he hasn’t raised his head from the instrument since you came in, half an hour ago.

“I’ve had this melody stuck in my head since yesterday but I can’t seem to get it out.” He hums, in hopes you might recognize it or help him somehow. He’s out of luck because truth be told, you stopped listening ten minutes ago.

You loved his creativity and passion but sometimes, like right now, you just needed his love and affection and Jisung has been too busy to notice.

“How about a snack?” You ask, standing up to which your joints thank you joyfully.

Jisung mumbles a quick ‘yes’, granting you his attention for a split second before he’s back to his guitar, hunched over in concentration.

The house is empty except for you two, with Jisung’s roommate, Minho, away on a family trip. You’d never thought you’d miss his loud and over the top laughter but now, when your boyfriend was barely paying you any attention, its absence pains you. You never realized how lively Minho kept things around here – you need to show your appreciation when he returns.

You linger longer than necessary in the kitchen, preparing snacks and drinks for the both of you before shuffling back to Jisung’s room, thankful the door was left ajar with how full your hands have gotten.

The moment you step inside, Jisung’s head snaps up with the most endearing smile stretched across his face, glasses a little bit crooked. “Baby! I got it! Hear me out, please!”

His happiness lights up the room in such a way that almost blinds you, his smile contagious and making it hard to resist the urge to smother him with your love. Jisung has never given you a warning, for if you got one, you might’ve prepared yourself better before falling head over heels in love with him. Though, you can never prepare for these things. Love sneaks up on you the moment it finds an opening, when your guard is down and the last thing you expect is being hit by cupid’s arrow, right in the heart.

Looking back, you don’t think you ever stood a chance. You were doomed from the start, when Han Jisung walked in the room you were in, a few years ago, laughing loudly with the previously mentioned roommate. Your heart has been his ever since, the sound reeling it in and never releasing it.

He’s babbling on, excited, as you set the plates down on his dresses, making your way towards him with a newfound purpose. When you lean down to get his attention, he tilts his head up with a dazzling smile, still talking and oh so unsuspecting of your next move.

Without warning, you peck his lips, causing the words to die on his tongue as he freezes, reflexively kissing back the second time your lips meet even if his brain hasn’t caught up yet.

“Sorry,” you whisper against his lips, his mouth agape in surprise as you stare right into his hazy eyes, “you looked too adorable, I couldn’t help myself.”

The loud sound of the guitar tumbling out of his grasp startles you, and you look down in concern while Jisung doesn’t even seem to notice, too enthralled to care. Your kisses always had that effect on him, and he’s sure they’ll continue to do so no matter how many years pass. You had him wrapped around your little finger after all, the victim of the spell your love cast on him the moment he set eyes on you.

“Ji?” You shake his shoulder lightly before crouching down to return his guitar. “The song, baby?”

“What song?” Is the first thing he manages to let out, clearing his throat as he finally comes to.

You giggle, and that’s all it takes Jisung to set the guitar aside and pull you to him by your waist, cushioning your fall as you collapse onto him before his lips are on yours again, kissing you passionately.

For a moment there, he forgot his own name. How was he supposed to remember whatever song he came up with when you used your evil powers to steal all of his attention? Though, he supposes you can’t steal something that’s always been rightfully yours…

[mithrifer]

My thoughts on Flipside

Class of 09 Flipside was hilarious, but I don't think it approaches the original or reup in quality.

I don't think it's because the main character is Jecka, or anything. Honestly, Jecka is the best part of the game, she's consistently good whether it be in jokes or likeability. The side characters just don't... live up to her though. Aside from her it's just Nicole, Jeffery, her dad and Kelly. I don't think Nicole is very good in this game, Jeffery and her dad are rather one note as expected and Kelly... unfortunately stars in the weakest route by far and does not much even there. Barely any Emily and Ari, no Kylar, no Karen. No Kyle. Jecka's great and carries herself quite well throughout the game, but she feels really alone narratively. This could be a conscious choice, as she goes through most of her troubles as a lonely girl without anyone to rely on, but I think they could've made that point without sacrificing the interest that comes with everyone surrounding her. Most of her interactions either use the other characters as jokes or to elevate her story, which wasn't how 09 or reup felt. Nicole got to try out new things thanks to all the weirdos she was surrounded with giving her new ways to have fun, whereas Jecka only really has Jeffery and her dad in that way, and she feels trapped no matter what she does. She didn't seem that way in the first twk games, but I suppose you could say those were not about her. I think the fact that you can't see her mom even on the school routes speaks volumes though.

Every ending is there just to shock you, and I'm not saying this because there's no happy endings or anything, the first two barely had those. It's more like... the endings feel like they barely have anything to do with the routes they come from? Why does the foot route end with... that? It's just out of nowhere. Not to mention the deal with the whole FYE route. I don't think there's anything redeeming about that one, it doesn't even feel like it belongs to the same world. And the way the game cheapens one of the best endings in the original by just, inserting Jecka. Which is something people have wanted for a while now, but I don't think the idea was done justice. It feels like a cheap "here you go" moment to me. It's really upsetting because I feel like the game could have gone in a ton of great places, but there's barely any choices or routes and the abrupt, weird endings just feel like a slap on the face even to the ones that were given. I think the best route was the one about drinking because it felt honest to Jecka's character and the ending was something I could've actually foreseen in one of the earlier games. After that it's the one with Jeffery, but I'm kind of iffy on that because I don't think Nicole would do that. Not for any moral reasons but more due overall disgust. Feels inconsistent with her presently given character.

The writing feels overall different imo. It's hard to put a finger on it, because it definitely relies on the same formula it had in the previous entries, but nothing in Flipside packs the same emotional punch. The humor is fairly good, but it's not spectacular like the first two games were for me. I still laughed out a few times though, since this is right up my alley.

I'm still happy I saw it, because it was quite fun... But it wasn't really more than that. It just felt like a humor piece. I don't know what spoke out to me in the first two VN's, but I don't think Flipside has it. And honestly, considering it true to these two (canon, ig?) lessens their value for me due to the shift in the thematics and I guess writing, so I think I'll ignore it when I think about the series in general. Which is such a shame, because I want to love it, it's just... not there.

It's definitely worth the time to check it out either way though. Again, pretty funny. This is what I felt about it, and I wanted to get my thoughts out. Since it's so early in its release, I've tried to avoid putting any spoilers in the post. Maybe someone will read it and appreciate, idk. Drunk driving rules.

[orcelito]

Thinking about using the journal I got for writing my dad's eulogy for trying to process my grief with it. The letter from me I found in his lockbox is still in that front sleeve, along with one of the memorial folders they had at the funeral.

I think I don't want to write it all on here. I think I've talked about my emotions too much as of late.

[crybabydraws]

Doodles of my Dreamtale AU (first mentioned here but I have lots more updated art posted) because it has a hold on me again and I just scrapped practically the entire story lol.

Also here's a possible adult Papyrus design. If Sans gets extra appendages and a fucked up eye, so does Papyrus. I don't make the rules lmao.

This au's story got so big and so messy and I really haven't been able to find a way to put it all together in a way I'm satisfied with, so the story is going to be much closer to the og undertale story with a lot of stuff reworked in the setting and with certain characters' stories and whatnot.

[floorpancakes]

now that i think about it this kind of counts for lore too. i love stuff where character and world lore is REALLY heavy and detailed, or its more stripped down but has all of the 'guiding points' where you can come up with those things yourself

i like creating that gap for myself or playing in the depths that were already created. my mind likes thinking of the making stuff up variety and it really bonds you to a piece of media

sometimes if the media is rly bad it can bond you to it out of spite by making you create an alternate timeline totally for yourself LOL but im more talking about the really good stuff

[another-cliche-title]

everyone on the internet when a artstyle exists: OMG i HATE this ARTSTYLE it's fucking EVERYWHERe it's always THE FUCKING SAME I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT FUUUUCJKK

everyone on the internet when the entire animation industry of an entire country (Japan) has been basically using the same artstyle for years (Anime): this is good actually :3 (Gains ability to complain about the western (read: american) industry but not the japanese one because weeb)

[awkwardexxodus]

the way some people fandomfy percabeth is so funny to me theyre like 90s yaoi

[yuujispinkhair]

Hockey player! Sukuna headcanons

Inspired by this lovely ask by @subarusuguru. You made my head spin with the idea of hockey player Sukuna!! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me! I had to write a little something 💗

Pairing: Hockey player!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut Word Count: 700 Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of injuries, but nothing bad. All characters are of age. Divider by @/benkeibear

Hockey player!Sukuna, who is a devil on the ice. The rival teams always know they will have several injured players after each match against Sukuna. He has a very aggressive playstyle, and his speed and strength, combined with his quick mind, make him unstoppable.

Hockey player!Sukuna, whose maroon eyes always find you when he enters the ice. He winks at you and makes a kissy face, laughing when you blow him a kiss back. The whole hockey arena can know that you are his, and he is yours. And anyone who dares make a rude comment about him being so soft for his girl will receive a brutal body check that sends them facefirst onto the ice or into the boards.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who has a mad glint in his eyes during the whole match. He is ambitious and confident, and he always plays to win. He loves being an asshole and taunt his opponents, laughing when he can get under their skin with his snide comments. But no matter how much Sukuna riles them up, they still aren't able to stop him because he always puts his whole anger and strength into his game.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who is a completely different man when he goes on the ice with his princess. Treating you with so much care and being such a gentleman. He holds your hand to make sure you don't fall when he teaches you how to ice skate. And once he can see you are ready for the next step, he lets go of you and tells you to skate toward him to get a kiss.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who has so much fun when showing you how to play hockey. Your time on the ice is filled with playful fights and good-natured teasing comments that are so flirty that you get butterflies the whole time. His laugh sounds different too, happy and free, and he only uses his strength to pick you up and pin you against the boards so he can kiss you until you are breathless.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who grins that charming grin when he lets you score and praises you for being such a natural talent, even though you know you suck. Of course, Sukuna also has to show off a little in front of his girl, and he steals the puck from you easily, making you gasp at his speed and watch with wide eyes and a smitten expression on your face as your boyfriend skates across the ice and shoots the puck into the goal with so much force it almost rips the net.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who feels a proud buzz running through his veins anytime he sees you in his jersey. Somehow it drives him crazy to see you walking around with his last name on your back. It spurs him on to play even better and show you that he is worthy to be your man. Maybe he should buy a ring and give you his last name on your ID too, and not just on a jersey.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who loves to fuck you in the locker room after every match when his teammates have left. A victory fuck to celebrate when he is still pumped full of adrenaline and euphoria, pulling you onto his lap and bouncing you on his thick cock while groaning in your ear and telling you that it is all thanks to your love and support that makes him play so damn good. Or an angry fuck after a loss to make him feel ok again, lifting you up and slamming you against the shower wall, snapping his hips fast, fucking you hard and deep, growling your name when he cums in you and finds sweet relief in your warm cunt.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who can't stop smiling when you dote on him when he is injured after a rough match. He has a high pain tolerance and doesn't really worry all that much about the injuries, but he loves it when you take care of him and look at him with so much worry in your eyes. It makes him feel so warm, and so he happily plays along and lets you change his bandages, pet his hair, and cuddle him.

Hockey player!Sukuna, who loves to win, but who thinks his biggest victory was winning your heart.

I am so in love with him!! Thank you so much for sending me that prompt!! I hope you liked my little headcanons ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[peachysunrize]

Labyrinth ⥃ Aemond Targaryen

Summary: falling in love is easy for most people, but not for Aemond Targaryen. How can a broken cold-hearted man be able to love the most gentle human Westeros has ever seen?

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, very very gentle, angst angst angst angst!!!, humiliation, reader is Daemon & Laena’s oldest daughter, no description for reader (besides white hair) you can imagine her however you like, Aemond is a vulnerable & insecure baby girl, like he is really really insecure, mentions of murder, fluff, nightmares, chronic pain, mentions of Aemond’s injury, anxiety attack, babes are in looooove, English isn’t my first language<3 it’s very heavily plotted and the smut is at the end of the story.

Word count: 11.5k (she's so long but worth it)

a/n: I’ve always wanted to write something with this kind of trope, especially when it’s from the man’s pov, and there’re so little fics that get into the depths of Aemond’s pain and suffering so I needed to try and write something that says his part of the story as well! Please please tell me your opinions and favorite lines of this piece! I’ve worked sooo hard for this fic and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Reblogs and comments are appreciated<3🩷

A very special thank you to my babies, @namelesslosers & @neptuneiris for beta-ing and supporting my ideas😭🫂✨

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?”

Aemond watches the scene unfold in front of him; his mother seeking justice for him, slashing Rhaenyra’s forearm with the dagger in her hand, spilling her blood in fury.

He looks around the room, finding you scared behind your grandfather, looking at him with wide teary eyes. He scowls when he sees how you look at him with pity, thinking he is a deformed monster in your eyes, to his best friend’s eyes.

You leave the hall in a rush, and he scoffs at how unbearable he must look for you to go in such haste, allowing this injustice to wreck his world and him to cope with the aftermath alone. How could you leave him like that? What happened to all the hours he helped you build that stupid sandcastle next to where Vhagar lays? Did you forget every moment, every laughter you had together?

He stands up and walks to his mother, telling her that Vhagar is worth it. But is it true? It might be worth gaining the largest dragon alive, but in the back of his mind, he thinks about how he has lost you.

No, you left him, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He is the one with his eye in a tray, he is the one who needs tending to for the first time, and you left him while he and his mother were humiliated by Rhaenyra and her bastards.

The morning comes sooner than expected, the milk of the poppy knocked him out immediately last night. He walks down the stairs where his family is gathering to leave, his mother holding Helaena’s hand while god knows where his father is, probably saying his goodbyes to his daughter and Princess Rhaenys. 

Aemond moves toward the hill that Vhagar is sleeping on, catching the sight of you waiting for him next to the sandcastles he helped you build yesterday after your mother’s funeral.

“What do you want?” he asks, standing in front of you, trying not to frown too much to loosen his stitches.

“I-I wanted to ask how you were doing…”

“After leaving me all alone? You were my friend! I needed you and you left me! And you ask how I am after I got my eye cut out?” He shouts at you, waking up Vhagar from her drowsy nap.

“I-I don’t have any excuses, but Aemond, please—” “No, I hate you! I hate your stupid hair, your eyes, your laugh, even-even your sandcastles! They are so childish and-and ugly!” “I know you are upset with me, and I’m so sorry for what happened to you, but please let me—” “No!” he yells at you again, marching toward the castle next to your feet before he stomps all over it, screaming and crying while he ruins the perfect sculpture he himself has made for you.

“Aemond…” the sob that wrecks through you makes him stop, but you are not looking at his feet, you are looking at his face, crying for him. He doesn’t spare a glance at you when he walks to climb Vhagar’s saddle, but guilt overwhelms his emotions and dread fills him.

You just wanted to talk, and he treated you so poorly even if his anger was justified.

Oblivious to him, as soon as he and his family were gone, you ran to your grandmother, crying in her arms and begging her to allow you to study with Maesters, in hopes that someday you may help your childhood friend with the pain he will carry for the rest of his life.

•••••••••••

Jacaerys’ name day, another pathetic excuse to have his sister and her pups in the capital under the same roof, drinking and wasting the crown’s money. He can’t blame them though, they’re desperate to get on the lords’ good sides by showing off their heritage, going with songs and praises for the heir after his mother.

Unnecessary, stupid… 

Aemond groans, running his hand over his face as he wakes up with the sounds of banging in the hallway. He knows that they’re arriving today, and he’s aware that the royal chambers should be ready when his sister makes a face, but to wake him up at such an early hour after the rough night he had should have severe consequences.

With another deep groan, he sits up on his bed, looking at the sea from between the sheer curtains of his room, watching the sunlight shine bright on the surface of the water, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already taking turns in the sky over the city.

He stands up, looking down at the soaked undershirt he had on during sleep, exhaling deeply as he pulls the fabric off, slamming it down on the couch as he walks to the balcony to get some fresh air. The morning breeze hits his sweat-covered chest, stinging the empty socket of his eye.

He knows he should go back inside, to cover his scar and avoid pain from the cold wind, but the contrast of the coldness of it on his heated skin is soothing his mind, calming his beating heart. He will regret it during the day, but for now, after experiencing yet another nightmare, he needs to feel alive again.

As soon as the sharp pain starts from the depths of his skull, he moves back, shutting the door and pulling the curtains closed. He stands straight, his nails digging inside his palms as he controls, or tries to control his breathing. 

It always starts like this; a sting, then another one but sharper, then a minimal pain that surrounds his scar, and finally, the stabbing pain all over his face followed by the worst headache someone can ever endure.

He reaches for the nearest surface he can lean on, knuckles turning white as he keeps his weight up, trying not to fall on his knees just yet.

He can do it, he has done it countless times.

Aemond steadies himself on his feet before he sighs shakily, walking towards the clothes his mother’s servants laid down for him yesterday. It is a simple outfit; a leather tunic with black pants and a fresh beige undershirt. Nothing too fancy, and nothing less regal that a prince should wear.

He takes his time while getting ready, allowing the phantom pain of his eye to fade away slowly. Before he can button up his tunic, his chamber servants come running in, putting a bowl of water with a warm towel on the side desk while they prepare his breakfast. He covers the left side of his face with his hand so as to not scare them with the unbearable sight of the empty space in his face.

He watches them with a sleepy gaze as they clear the room, slamming the door behind them. Aemond sits in front of his mirror, taking the brush in his hand to untangle his unruly hair.

There are no thoughts in his head as he stares blankly at his reflection; he hates his scar with a passion that could set the realm on fire. There is no gentleness in his features, everything is sharp, angular, and rough. There is no trace left of the boy he was before his nephew took out his eye.

Doomed before he could even try to become someone worthy.

He ties his hair, revealing more of the healed wound and the dark empty socket on his face. Sometimes he gets stuck inside the labyrinth of his head, running and running until he reaches the middle, but it’s never enough. At the end of the maze, someone drops dead; whether he kills them or they kill him. There is no escape from these dreams, from these self-destructive thoughts that haunt him day and night.

He reaches for a box on the vanity, pulling out the sapphire gem before reaching for an ointment Maester has given him to help the gem fill his eye socket without pain.

He looks at himself again; he looks less like a brute, the gem adds to his beauty but in his mind, it’s not enough, it’ll never be. He sees his brothers, healthy and handsome, being subjected to women’s attention all the time, and sometimes he wishes desperately to be in their place, to be able to talk to a lady without frightening her. But he has learned that a maimed man is less worthy than a whore in Streets of Silk, so he exercises and trains daily to become worthy again, to live up to his Targaryen name. There are deep yet little scars adorning all over the skin of his hands and arms — a reminder of how he has become the man he is.

He eats his breakfast in silence, tension rising in his shoulders as the smoke of the candles on his desk reaches his eye. He drops his spoon on the table, blowing the candles out before he reaches for his eyepatch.

He has told everyone that there shouldn’t be any scented candles in his rooms, but as it seems no one ever pays attention to what he has to say, not even to help with the pain of his eye.

He stands up, knocking a few plates on the table to the floor, smearing fresh fruits on his carpet. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, but he can’t care less about anything other than the fact that he needs to join his family in the throne room — and he does after he grabs his dagger and secures it in his belt.

“Ser,” Aemond nods at his appointed guard, earning a ‘good morning, my prince’ from him. Aemond walks down the stairs with his head held high, scoffing at the servants who make a path for him hurriedly, trying to avoid being seen by him or see him.

The bustling of the castle is irritating; everyone is running from one corner to another and decorating the keep for their princess’ arrival. He is not annoyed that he has to reunite with his sister and nephews, but because he has to endure their presence for longer than necessary, to look them in the eye and act civil as if the pain he copes with already isn’t enough torment from them.

He nods at Ser Cole, who follows him into the crowded hall, eying everyone who is waiting for the Realm’s delight. Aegon and Helaena are standing side by side, his sister is clutching Aegon’s arm tightly as the crowd makes her feel small under its gaze. His mother looks at the throne silently, and he can see the hesitation in her eyes — how are they going to go through these weeks of celebration, they have no idea.

“Good morrow, Mother,” he whispers as he stands behind her, his eye softening at the small smile she gives him, “you look radiant this morning.”

“Hush you, sweet talker,” she chuckles lowly, rubbing his arms lovingly, “have you heard about the Velaryons’ arrival?”

“Lord Corlys is coming as well?” he asks, shifting on his feet nervously, his fingers tightening slightly on Alicent’s elbows, “I did not know…” “Neither did I, darling. They shall arrive at the same time as Rhaenyra, at least I know Daemon’s eldest will.”

“Driving on dragonback, obviously,” he mutters, sighing shakily. 

Alicent notices his hesitancy, she gently cups his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eyes, “Do not project your anger on her, she was but a child.”

“Yet she kept silent that night. She was supposed to be my friend,” he says, looking away from his mother, lowering his head in shame, beating himself for letting his emotions take hold of him.

“Give your courtesy and leave if you wish not to talk to her,” Alicent smiles sadly at Aemond, patting his cheek before they both look at the doors of the hall.

Something in his guts drops when he sees Rhaenyra entering, her family walking towards them, all smiling and laughing as if they aren’t going to experience the most dreadful weeks of their lives. 

“Your grace,” Rhaenyra says, trying to break the visible tension between the families. The crowd goes silent, and the only thing they can hear is the soft exhales of the people close to them, everyone waiting with bated breath to see what happens in a few seconds.

“Princess,” Alicent smiles, “welcome back to your home,” she replies politely, giving Daemon a half courtesy before she congratulates Jacaerys for his eight-and-ten name day.

“Aegon…”

Aemond looks away from his sister as she acknowledges them all, instead his eye finds Daemon’s who is staring back at him with a smirk on his face. Aemond’s gaze doesn’t waver, and Daemon chuckles at that, giving him a challenging look.

He looks back at Rhaenyra who says his name, giving him a forced smile before she turns around quickly and asks for the King.

“He is quite unwell, he shall join us in the evening,” Alicent explains, telling the maids to make haste and set the garden ready to start the celebrations; nothing too fancy for the noon, a tea gathering in the garden to reunite everyone, or at least to make sure the court has something to gossip about.

Aemond follows them slowly, taking time to observe each and every one of them. He can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in his chest as his eye finds Lucerys Velaryon, laughing and looping his arm with Rhaena. He looks away immediately, lips forming into a sneer as he walks with his hands behind him, grinding his teeth while he thinks about how he was robbed of everything good because of that bastard, because of the hideous scar he gave him.

The garden is filled with new bushes; roses, lilacs, daisies, and surprisingly winter roses. The sight would have been quite beautiful if all this fuss wasn’t for his nephew. He walks away from the crowd, making his way toward his siblings who are trying to appeal content with the events. Helaena is in her own world, lifting a worm from the ground as she counts its feet. Aegon is gulping down his wine while he listens to Daeron telling him about whatever book he has read these past few days, or at least he seems like he is paying attention.

Aemond sighs, grabbing a goblet of wine himself to nurse on it as he tries to distract himself from the chilly wind that hits his face. Luckily the eyepatch covers his eye socket fully and doesn’t let the cold breeze hit his scar, but the tension in his bones has remained from the morning rush of pain he experienced earlier. It’d be best if he left this pointless gathering earlier anyway.

“How are you faring this beautiful morning, brother?” Aegon asks him, grinning sarcastically. Daeron groans in response, even though the question wasn’t meant for him. Everyone can tell he is fed up with Aegon’s constant teasing of Rhaenyra’s family coming back to Red Keep.  

“Well enough to know I will be leaving in a few minutes,” Aemond replies, sipping on his wine as he catches Luke stealing glances at him. Pathetic, he is too scared to even look at him properly, he is glad though, it gives him a sense of comfort to know the mark he has left on his face scares him enough to keep him away from him.

“Can’t do that! It’d be rude if you left without saying hi to our favorite Velaryons.” Aegon smirks, tipping his head back as he laughs at Aemond’s sneer.

“As much as I hate to say this, but the idiot is right; you can’t give them more reasons to resent us,” Daeron says, looking at his older brother with kind eyes, “besides, they are here anyway.” he points at the passageway leading to the garden, catching the sight of Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys walking side by side toward the crowd.

Aemond’s heart stops for a second when his good eye lays upon you, following your grandparents with a gentle smile grazing your lips. You are a sight to behold; silver hair falling around your shoulders like curtains of moonlight that shine bright like a diamond beneath the morning rays of sunshine. Your gown the bluest of blue that shows your devotion to your mother’s house, and your lips painted pink in the most alluring way… 

Aemond’s eye sees a sight his mind can not comprehend, too unreal and beautiful that makes him doubt if he is seeing you with his sapphire eye through the patch.

His face is blank, but his heart is beating so fast he can hear his pulse in his ears. His eye follows you, watching you bow before his mother and sister, looking away immediately to find your sisters already giddy to hug you. Rhaena is the first to run to you, wrapping her arms around you while Baela approaches you slowly, letting her twin have her moment with you.

He doesn’t move from his spot, he can’t move even if he wants to; he’s struck between shock and something he can’t pinpoint; he can only say for sure that he hopes it’s a rush of adrenaline of not seeing you for so long.

The only time he looks away from you is when Daeron pats his back and encourages him to join everyone to say hello and welcome your family to the Keep. He doesn’t need to say a word, just a nod at both Corlys and Rhaenys is enough, but when you turn around to greet him and his siblings, his breath gets stuck in his lungs. 

You look at him from beneath your lashes, beaming so radiantly at him that he almost forgets the pain in his eye or the pain he has caused you the last time he saw you. The world around him fades away, the noises become distance as his sky-blue eye finds yours easily, and he has to swallow sharply while he desperately tries to keep his face stoic and serious and not show you how he is panicking from inside, palms sweaty and lips drying while he gazes at you, his childhood friend who… suddenly the bubble around you breaks and he remembers how you abandoned him that night at Driftmark.

“My lady,” he says in a hushed tone, watching your reaction closely.

“My prince, it’s so good to see you again,” you grin at him, “I hope you are doing well.”

“As well as a half-blinded man can do,” averting his eye from you, he regrets the words he said immediately, flushing a bit in embarrassment, but when he looks back at you, your smile hasn’t left your face, if anything you look at him with empathy and much kindness that he has a hard time believing you are real; it’s been too long since anyone has looked at him with such sincerity.

“Darling,” Daemon steps closer to them, ruining the moment for Aemond to say something, anything to take back what he said earlier.

He watches your smile wavering a little when you look at your father, hands fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. He notices how you try to ignore your father and Rhaenyra as they approach you, a tense smile on his sister’s lips while she tightens her grip on her husband’s arm.

“We have missed you, the girls, and I,” Daemon says, reaching to caress your hair as gently as the Rogue prince can, “you did not visit us at Dragonstone.” “I don’t like it there, the castle unnerves me,” You reply softly, “I rather enjoy the silence of grandsire’s castle.” “You are a Targaryen, you should visit your ancestor’s sit,” Rhaenyra tries her best to persuade you to think about coming back with them, leaving your lovely grandparents alone.

“I’m a Velaryon just as much as I’m a Targaryen, but ‘tis not a matter we should discuss at such a joyous day, don’t you think, princess?” you say, and Aemond sees it in your eyes how desperately you wish for the conversation to end. Aemond watches his sister’s words falter, her confidence crumbling with each word that you utter. Your statement is not rude, not even filled with malicious intent, but the mention of your Mother’s side of the family makes the Targaryen couple uncomfortable.

“I would have loved to stay and talk with you, Father, but I’m afraid the journey on dragonback has left me starving. Please, excuse me,” you nod at them before walking past them to the corner where Aemond and his siblings were sitting minutes ago, reaching for a glass of wine to gulp down.

Aemond doesn’t spare a glance at the couple, following you closely so he can sit in silence and out of the sun, truly not wishing for another fit of agony that consumes his skull.

“You have grown, Aemond,” you sit beside him, turning your head to look at his side profile, “no longer the child who used to build sandcastles with me when I would visit the Keep.”

“Yes, no longer a child with friends. Spending years apart without any contact, surely you are not that surprised how I have turned out to be,” he scoffs at your words, frowning when he turns around and finds you chuckling gently, “Did I jest about something I’m not aware of?”

“No, no, I just remembered how we promised to never let anyone break us apart, but you were the first who did so; you stomped your feet on my sandcastles the morning after my Mother’s funeral. You are right though, no ravens were exchanged, but I do hope you’re still the sweet prince who helped me study.” your lips twist into a small smile.

You are not angry with him, how can you not be angry with him? You had spent hours after they freed your Mother’s soul into the sea to find the perfect place to build your sandcastles and he ruined them the morning he was about to leave.

Your teary eyes have haunted him from that moment to this day.

“I apologize, I did not wish to remind you of that night,”

“I’m reminded every time I look into a mirror, do not concern yourself.” his reply is curt as he gazes at you, your eyes full of sadness and sympathy for a man you no longer know. Or maybe you know him too much, he thinks.

“I look forward to spending time with you, my prince. I hope we can catch up on each other's lives.” “Perhaps we can,” he sounds unsure of himself, Getting to know you again while you have turned into a woman grown — the most beautiful woman he has ever seen at that — is going to be a challenge he does not know he welcomes or fears greatly.

•••••••••••

He leaves sooner than he should, hiding in his room with a warm towel on his face as he soothes the pain of his eye, the headache he had since morning finally fading away. There are so many thoughts lingering in his head, and ironically, they are all filled by you; your gown, bright smile, and gentle personality.

He groans, so frustrated that he has met you a few hours prior yet you have consumed his every thought. If he focuses hard enough, he can see the labyrinth of his nightmares, the hedges are covered in ivy, suffocating as they reach for air — he thinks of him as the hedge, and how easily he has let you wrap yourself around his thoughts this quickly.

Weak, he thinks to himself, he’s weak.

He sits up, dropping the towel in the bowl on his nightstand, breathing deeply as he looks around his dark room, spotting a lit candle on his desk in the corner.

Sometimes it baffles him how his room represents his inner self so openly; it’s not messy, no, but if you squint you can see the abandoned book in the foot of his chair, ink dripping from his pot on the carpet, the candle illuminating the trail of black paint on his desk. It seems as if his room is showing the ugly part of itself to his eye, and for a second he thinks about how he sees himself — an ugly monster with an unsightly scar.

Aemond leaves his room a few minutes after fixing his eyepatch and hair, walking to the king’s solar to join his family for dinner. He walks with his hands clasped together behind him, looking straight to avoid eye contact with anyone who sees him on his way up the stairs. He doesn't expect to see you of all people, heading out of your room to take the same path as him.

“Aemond!” You say his name with such enthusiasm that has his heart racing again, beaming at him as if you are excited to see him. How could you be this giddy to meet him? No one has expressed to be happy to spend time with him, let alone smile at him the way you do. Is this an act of modesty? It has to be, he thinks, or else it does not make sense at all.

“My lady,” he bows his head politely, “How come you are late for such an interesting gathering?”

You giggle a little, walking side by side with him, “I was spending some time with Helaena’s children. Oh, they are such sweet babes!”

“Indeed they are,” he replies quietly, watching you curiously as you round him to stand on his good side, “what are you doing, My Lady?”

“I did not realize I was on your blind side, Aemond, forgive me,” “There is nothing to forgive,” he sucks in a harsh breath, pondering over your response for the rest of the way til King’s solar. The silence is oddly comfortable even though he gets a bit nervous when you keep glancing at him. 

There’s an unusual warmth spreading through his chest, he can’t understand it — it can be his heart since it’s beating too hard and fast, or perhaps even his lungs! He can’t even breathe properly, but at the same time, he feels… right, much better than before. He blames you for the conflicted emotions, it’s all your doings, he is sure. Because whenever he looks at you, he feels as if his clothes are suffocating him, his ears ring while the world fades around him, and the center of his world becomes you.

Weak, worthless, he has just met you, yet all these years apart seem blurry to him, as if he has known you since the age of the Firstmen; so familiar and comforting, even though you left him alone the night he needed you the most.

The guards open the door to the solar, and Aemond follows you inside, his eye wandering all over the room, taking his surroundings in. His mother and Rhaenyra are sitting at the table, his nephews are standing on their mother’s side while Aegon is trying to listen to whatever lecture Otto is giving him.

He watches you walk to your sisters, wrapping your arms around Baela and Rhaena as they both start talking to you about the things they have done during the past years you’ve been Lord Corlys’ ward in Driftmark.

“You’re staring,” Daeron says out of nowhere, pulling Aemond out of his thoughts but he doesn’t look away, he keeps his eye trailing on you until you turn around and catch his eye as well, smiling broadly at him.

“I am merely observing,” he replies, but knows his brother is right. It’s only the first dinner but he can already feel his eye itching to be on you again.

“Whatever makes you happy,” Daeron shrugs, leading him to Aegon and Helaena to sit down.

He finds an empty seat next to him, thinking Daeron is the one who’d sit beside him, but when he sees it’s you who reaches for the chair, his heart leaps to his throat before he composes himself quickly, pulling it out like the prince he is.

You give a smile that is worth countless gold dragons, and for the second time today, he questions if the sapphire is a magical eye, because the world turns a bit brighter and less dull when he looks at you. He sits next to you, his eyebrows twisting into a deep frown when he sees Lucerys at the other side of the table engaged in a deep conversation with Rhaena, playing the role of the happy family quite well.

Everyone stands up when the guards bring in the King, everyone except for Helaena but neither she nor Aemond pays any attention to others. One is busy playing with her hairpin, and he is busy admiring your ethereal face as you kiss the king, your uncle’s cheek, thanking him for having you and your grandparents in his home after so many years. As soon as Viserys sits behind the table, you take your place next to him again, giving him a small smile before you turn your head to listen to what his father has to say. 

He knows what his father is about to say; first, he thanks them all for coming, paying special attention to his grandsons and Rhaenyra while he lies over and over again about how much he loves them all, how they should never let the House of the Dragon fall into ruins, oblivious to the fact that not Rhaenyra nor Alicent were the ones who broke the family into different agendas, but it was him who started the flame.

Tonight, Aemond doesn’t look at his sister to attend to her. His eye is solely on you, taking in the shape of your lashes kissing your cheekbones, carving the silhouette of your nose and lips in his memories. He looks at the way your lips curve into a grin, cheeks forming into the most beautiful shape he has ever witnessed.

You turn your head a little to glance at him, catching him red-handed while he tries to play it cool, but he finds that he is not powerful enough to look away from your blown-out pupils and the orange hue that’s cast on your irises softly.

He breaks the eye contact, a scowl forming on his face as he reaches for his goblet of wine, nearly throwing the goblet across the table when he hears Lucerys laughing at the two of you.

You beat him to it before he could open his mouth, “Is there something funny, Prince Lucerys?” your voice is so soft and slow, almost humiliatingly sweet, and funnily, it terrifies Luke. 

Aemond smirks as he watches his nephew stuttering over his words while everyone around the table sits in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the young prince to say something, anything.

“I was surprised by how fast Uncle Aemond took a liking to you, given his looks and all,”  he explains, sarcasm dripping like honey from each of his words.

Fucking bastard, Aemond thinks to himself as an ugly sneer sits on his face. As much as he wants to leap toward him and cut off his tongue, he can’t — not when you put your hand on his over the hilt of his dagger.

Your skin is so smooth atop his calloused one. The way your fingers wrap around his wrist sets his body on fire, burning the skin in a way unknown to any man, but this is no ordinary burn; there’s no trace of fire, no long-forgotten ashes of his bones are visible, instead his fingers twitch for more, begging for more skin to skin contact, but he pulls his hand away from you without looking away from Luke’s blushing face.

“Your words are mean for no reason, Lucerys, given how it’s been your doing that has caused Aemond his scar,” you say, “I find him quite handsome actually. He was my beloved friend when we were younger. There are, of course, many feelings between us. Nothing has happened out of the blue for you to mock him for.”

“I-I apologize, good sister, I wasn’t…”

“It is not me who you should apologize to, it’s Aemond. I have taken no offense on my behalf but I do believe you owe him an apology.” You explain, sipping from your glass slowly while keeping your eyes on Lucerys.

No one, not even the King has the strength to intrude into the situation, maybe in doubt of saying something to hurt you, or perhaps you’re just speaking the truth, and for once, everyone fears your gentle mannerisms.

“I apologize, uncle,” 

Aemond’s stare is blank as he looks at Luke who’s chewing the inside of his cheek in embarrassment. He nods, not bothering to reply to him; he will never forgive nor forget what he has done to him, crushing his hopes and ruining his worth for a lifetime.

“Let us put our differences aside, and become a family again,” the king says, coughing before he reaches to drink from his cup. 

The dinner goes smoothly from there and to Aemond’s surprise, he engages in more conversations with you. He does not talk too much, he’d rather listen to your giggles and stories rather than talk about his boring and miserable life.

His eye always lingers on you for far longer than it should, not in an inappropriate way, but more in a sense of intrigue and curiosity, trying to understand you from his perspective. He simply can’t though; you are worlds apart. He is a cold-hearted, broken, and worthless man when it comes to your bright and beautiful personality. Even if he gets to know you again after so many years, he would never think himself worthy enough to be in your presence.

“Aemond…?” you call his name oh so sweetly, making him feel as if he is on top of Vhagar, flying atop the city while the wind blows in his hair; it makes him feel alive.

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Are you alright? You look quite flushed,” You smile sweetly, reaching to put the back of your hand on his cheek, flustering him even more than he already is.

“Yes, yes, I might have had too much wine,” he doesn’t know who he is trying to convince; you or him? By the sound of it, it’s him who needs to be convinced that it’s the wine in his blood and not the same unknown feeling he gets when you look at him. No, it is definitely the wine. It has to be.

“Oh, well then, I wish to spend more time with you if you are not against it,”

“Why would I be?” he asks almost too quickly, making you chuckle at his… enthusiasm. If he can even call it that.

“Then I’d be overjoyed if we could rebound what we had as children.”

•••••••••••

After the dinner, something between you and Aemond shifted; he spent more time outside his room, he was calmer and less serious, and the pain in his skull was almost gone. You joined him in the library a few times in the next few days, meeting each other at your door to attend the meals side by side, and almost everyone could feel how he was changing the longer he had you close, almost turning into the little boy he once was.

Both of you forget your last interactions as an act of mercy for the other.

With your insistence, he agreed to miss the tourney being held for Jace’s nameday to sneak out of the castle and take you to the beach. He did not need much convincing, but when you gave him those doe eyes with a little pout on your lips, he felt weaker than he ever did and gave in immediately.

Aemond helps you down the rocks near the shoreline with your small hands in his, taking cautious steps down to not trip over and hurt yourself. He keeps his eye on your feet instead of his, worrying more about you than himself even though he is stepping down with his good eye on you, not looking where he is going.

That seems to be a bad decision, because the next second, not only does his foot miss a small rock, but yours slips on one too, tumbling into his arms as the two of you fall on the soft sand, Aemond’s arms wrapping tightly around your back to keep you steady.

He looks at you, panting as his eye widens at the closeness; your faces are inches away from each other, and he can feel your soft rushed exhales on his lips. You look like a goddess atop him, the sun illuminating your silver hair, reminding him of the last sennight when you arrived and your hair made your face shine even brighter.

He has never seen such a beauty before, sure he has seen the ladies of the court, but your Valyrian beauty combined with sunlight and the blue hue of the sky has him mesmerized, not realizing how his hands are gripping your waist while he stares at you.

You giggle at first, then break into a fit of laughter while you lean more into him, dropping your forehead on his shoulder as you laugh wholeheartedly.

He chuckles lowly at first, then matches your laughter and throws his head back, holding you on him by one arm while the other comes to run over his face. 

“I have never heard you laugh so freely before,” you say after you have calmed down, putting your palms on either side of his face while you hover over him.

“I don’t remember having a reason to do so,” he replies, smiling up at you.

“I’m glad that I’m able to bring joy to your life, you deserve it.” leaning down, you press a gentle kiss on his cheek before standing up, smoothing down your skirt.

He is at loss of words, speechless to his core. He deserves it, he thinks, do you truly think a monster like him deserves any chance of happiness?  How are you not disgusted by him, his scar, his sour and mean tongue? How can you ever leave a butterfly kiss on someone as unworthy as him? 

He looks at you from where he is staying lying on the sand, watching as you extend your hand to him, rocking on your heels in anticipation so you can go and wander on the beach and reunite with the sea.

He grabs your hand, standing up on his feet as well. There is sand in both of your clothes, but you have just begun your venture and won’t stop until you are satisfied.

You don’t let go of his hand when you start jogging, pulling him with you as you giggle in delight. And he observes you as he always does; wind in your hair, waves crashing against the shore while your laughter fills the air around him. He doesn’t realize his smile has widened and he is following you just as excited, letting the sand and the sea separate you from the outer world.

“You promised you would make a sandcastle for me!” you say, pulling him behind you to the spot where you would sneak away as children, sitting down to get to work.

“I did not,” he replies, unbuttoning his tunic so he can stay under the sun without being bothered by the heat.

“Fine, you did not. But you ruined the one we built together at Driftmark so you owe me one!”

He chuckles at you, his dimples on display as he shakes his head, “Alright, I will make one for you.”

It took you a good few hours to finish the sandcastle; it could have finished much sooner if you hadn’t thrown wet sand at him, cleaning your dirty hands with his white cotton undershirt just to annoy him — and it worked. In a second, he was chasing you around the beach with hands full of wet sand curved into balls, throwing them at you.

And here you are now, fingers laced together, shoes in one hand as you both walk on the shoreline, letting the waves cool your feet. You point at the sunset, leaning on his side when you come to a stop to watch the sky change color as the sun goes down.

Aemond on the other hand, looks at your calm face that is glowing under the pink and orange sunlight. How did he get so lucky to be blessed by such a beauty to lay his eye upon? Maybe he truly deserves this unknown feeling that spreads through him like fire and makes his fingers tingle and his heart beat in happiness. Maybe he deserves to be loved by you and love you unconditionally in return.

You turn around, dropping your shoes before you reach up to cup his cheeks. He closes his eye and basks in the attention you give him; so unique and pure. He drops his boots as well, arms circling your waist to pull you closer.

Aemond doesn’t dare to open his eye, fearing that he might ruin this perfect moment as you trace the lines of his lips, his cheekbones, and his jaw. You are so gentle with him, something he is not quite used to. It has always been him, alone in a cold room, but now and here with you, he feels as if he can breathe again, and forget every pain he has endured to reach this moment of his life.

“Open your eye, My Prince,” you whisper before you peck the corner of his lips, pulling him in so you can rest your forehead on his.

He obligates, sighing shakily when he finds you already looking at him. Your gaze is so genuine that somehow scares him, a rush of destructive thoughts comes into his head, but you seem to notice it from how his hands shake on your waist.

“Don’t think about anything, just… just focus on me.” 

He does as you say, his brain shutting those annoying voices at the back of his head down as soon as your nose brushes against his, your soft lips brushing over his so endearingly. He is hesitant at first but when you peck him again, he moves forward as well, meeting you halfway until his lips are locked with yours.

You taste as sweet as the strawberry cakes you had this morning, if not sweeter. The way your lips move together makes his head hazy. You are kissing his breath away, leaving him begging for more. His chest moves up and down quickly when you break the kiss, and you caress his thin swollen lips, bruised by your kisses and lack of air, while he admires you from head to toe.

The sun has set, but the glimmer of love has risen inside of Aemond’s broken heart.

•••••••••••

A kiss here and there, more sneaking around the castle and to the beach until the main event for Jace’s birthday arrives. He is in his mother’s solar, listening to her talk about how lovely you are and how much of a wonderful couple you would make with him if only you weren’t Daemon’s daughter.

“Mother—”

“You should dance with her tonight, my darling!” Alicent says, running her hands over his arms when he stands up and approaches her, “I have heard Daemon has plans of betrothing her. Obviously, he has yet to find someone suitable, but he is thinking about it.”

Aemond’s heart drops when Alicent says your father is looking for a suiter, fortunately, Alicent sees his surprise, shock, and fear. She reaches to cup his cheek, forcing him to maintain eye contact while she talks, “Don’t let her go if you truly wish to have her. I know that she would stand strong against her father and Rhaenyra, but she would need your support and love as well to feel brave enough to turn down a good match.”

“They would make her happier than I can ever do, Mother,” he replies, his voice breaking slightly. Losing you terrifies him, and he is aware that his mother can read him like an open book, shushing him while he inhales sharply.

“I have never seen her happier than I have with you, and I have never seen you this happy and lively, darling. Be selfish for once, choose your happiness this time.”

“How can I choose my happiness over her life?!” he asks harshly, frowning at his mother.

A knock interrupts Alicent before she can respond, and the guards open the door for you to step inside the queen’s room.

“Oh, I apologize, it was not my intention to interrupt you.”

Aemond seems to be struck by your beauty; your body is wrapped in a teal-colored gown with a low neckline that leaves your shoulders and collarbones on display. Your silver hair is braided with some parts of it pinned up, some strands framing your bare neck.

“You look so beautiful, my darling,” Alicent says, nudging Aemond a bit forward when she sees how he is looking at you.

“Thank you, my queen. You look very beautiful as well,” you look away from the queen, smiling when he approaches you slowly, “you said you were going to wear something close to this color and I decided it would look quite good to match. How do I look?”

“Enchanting,” he breathes out, reaching to hold your hand, pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “You look breathtaking, My Lady.”

“So do you, My Prince.”

“Shall we then?” he offers you his arm and you accept without hesitation, looking back to see if the queen will come with you and she assures you she will come with the King.

“You said you were going to retrieve me from my chambers for the party,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you walk toward the great hall.

“I am deeply sorry. Mother wanted to have a word with me,” he explains, dropping a quick kiss on the crown of your head.

“Is everything alright, Aemond?” you ask him, and he chuckles at how adorably your brows twist into a frown in worry. “Yes, darling, she merely wished to remind me to make sure you have a great time tonight. You are our special guest.”

“Does that mean you will dance with me?” you ask, holding his hands in yours before you reach the hall.

“We shall see,” he brings your hands to his lips again, leading you toward the hall, bowing and nodding at the ladies and lords who take it upon themselves to greet you.

You come to a stop in front of the table, Rhaena coming to hug you and twirl you around, gasping at the sight of your beautiful gown, gasping even louder when she sees how your dress matches Aemond’s tunic.

A ghost of a smile finds its way on Aemond’s face as he watches you get flustered at your sister’s attention to details, but soon, his eye hardens when he finds his uncle glaring at the two of you. Tonight will change the course of so many lives.

He watches you laugh with your sisters, pointing at the empty chair next to you so he would sit close by all night. With one last glare at his uncle, he walks to his seat and pours wine into his cup, blushing a bit when he hears you laughing again. You are not even laughing at something he has said and he is the one who gets flushed.

He is knee-deep inside these new feelings but he welcomes the challenge with open arms. Or at least he tries to do so without Daemon being an obstacle to his plans. 

He looks at you when Rhanea and Helaena pull you to the dancefloor for the new song, pairing up with different lords to dance with, but what catches his eye, isn’t who you are dancing with, but more than who Daemon is talking to. He recognizes the lord to be from the south, probably a Tyrell, and when his uncle and the lord look in your direction, he knows something is not right, an uneasy feeling settling deep in his stomach.

He watches the lord closely as he makes his way through the crowd to get to you, bowing and introducing himself before taking your hand to dance with you. He can see how uncomfortable he is making you, probably discussing his sick desire to have a wife and kids while he dances with a Targaryen-Valeryon goddess.

“Stop glaring and do something!” Baela slides into the seat next to him, hissing the words at him while she keeps her eyes fixed on you as well, “I don’t like you, I will never like you, but you make her happy. Do something before our father ruins her life because of Rhaenyra.” “I thought you liked your stepmother,” Aemond chooses to ignore most of the things she said.

“It’s Rhaenyra’s schemes, please, Aemond, my sister deserves to feel appreciated. I have never seen any lord take an interest in her the way you have. You are the only thing she could talk about in the last few days. I will beg you if I have to.” Aemond turns his head toward Baela, letting her words calm down the hesitancy he has toward courting you. There are far more handsome men than him in the court, yet, he is the one who is blessed to hold you and kiss you, to gaze into your eyes and see forever in them.

He hisses when he feels a sting in his skull, not now, no. The pain can’t start now. He gulps his wine before he nods at Bela and stands up to walk to the crowd in the middle of the hall, catching your eyes for a second before he has to bow and start the dance with a lady he does not care to engage in a conversation with.

He thinks about how much he has changed in a few days; there will always be a part of him who thinks he’s not worthy of your affection, that you can do better than him, but also the thought of you in another man’s arms sets his skin ablaze. He is torn between keeping you all to himself or letting you have a wonderful future with another guy who can stand by your side and make you proud, who is not maimed and scarred like him.

Luckily, everyone needs to change their partner and he reaches with his hand to grab yours and pull you to his side, grinning when he hears your delighted shriek. “My Prince Aemond,” you say, squeezing his hand while the two of you twirl around the room.

 He doesn’t wish to say, but the tempo is too high for me, and it worries him that somehow he might make a fool of himself or you if he trips over someone’s shoe on his blindside.

“Lady Targaryen, you look like a Valyrian Goddess, my beloved.”

“Why thank you, my good prince. I have to say that this color truly brings out your beautiful eye,” you reply coyly, tipping your chin up while you bite your lip.

“You are playing with fire, darling.” he leans down to whisper in your ear, pressing a feather-like kiss on your earlobe without anyone noticing.

“I’m a Targaryen, Prince Aemond, fire is in my blood,”

“Is that so? Well, I must say—”

He doesn’t know what happens, or how it happens, but in a second he can’t see you when he twirls you around him, and suddenly, the weight of your waist isn’t in his hand anymore.

“Aemond!” you fall down by his feet, and he sees that his boots have caught the edge of your heels, making you twist your ankle in the wrong way and causing your fall.

What have I done?

What have I done?

I dropped her.

I did this.

What happened?

His eye has widened in fear, and he is frozen in place, hands shaking slightly as he feels the crowd around you look in your direction, staring and gaping at him before the hushed whispers start to fill the room.

“Aemond, look—”

He can’t look at you. He will never be able to live with himself for humiliating you in the way he did tonight.

Stupid, weak, useless good for nothing, Aemond. If another lord was dancing with her, he wouldn’t have dropped her. A prince but less worthy than a common whore. 

With trembling lips, and a pain blooming in his eyesocket, he dashes out of the room, leaving you on the floor. 

His vision is blurry, the pain is getting worse and the air is stuck in his lungs. He can’t breathe, no, he doesn’t deserve to breathe. How can he when all he wanted to do was to dance with you but ended up hurting you? How could he hurt you like this? 

He skips the steps, running to his room while he groans in pain, the stinging is getting stronger, the agony in his nerves is spreading through his skull and it only gets worse when he opens the door to his chambers to find not only scented candles but the windows and the balcony door is open as well.

“You are dismissed!” he shouts at the guard before he slams the door shut, “Ah!” He tumbles down, gripping the nearest chair to keep himself on his feet at least before he falls on his knees, clawing at the eyepatch to pull it off as if it’s burning his skin.

The pain is like a dagger, stabbing him over and over again until even his knees don’t have the strength to keep him up. He falls on the floor, curling into a ball while the pain spreads through his face, and he finally breaks down, bursting into tears from agony and humiliation. If only he wasn’t in pain… if only his eye wasn’t cut out…

Aemond doesn’t hear when the door opens, nor he can see who the person is. Tears have flooded his vision, but as soon as he feels your soft hand on his arms, trying to help him sit up, he flinches, backing away from you while he gasps for air, feeling his tunic clinging to his sweaty body. 

“Aemond, please let me—” “No, no, no, no…” he stands up hurriedly, walking to the balcony on unsteady legs to get some air in his lungs, only to be met by a freezing wind that makes the chronic pain in his eye even worse. He drops to his knees again, this time the sounds of his gasps and painful yelps are louder than before.

You rush to his side, kneeling in front of him to cup his cheeks, kissing his clammy forehead before you wipe his tears away gently. He lets you touch him this time, too exhausted to utter a word, to push you away even if he has to.

“It’s going to be okay, Aemond, let me help you,” You help him on his feet, making sure to have your arms wrapped tightly around him while he leans his weight on you, trusting you to take care of him, even though the voice in the back of his head is telling him to push you out of his room.

“Gently, my love, gently,” you help him lay down on the bed, pecking his cheek again, rising to get the smoke out of the room but his hands shot up and grabs your forearm tightly.

“Stay, please,” he whimpers, his beautiful eye tearing in pain.

“I will, my dearest, I just need to blow out the candles and close the windows, and I’ll be back in bed with you.” You reach and bring his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon his knuckles before he lets you go.

He can’t see you clearly, but your shadow moves from side to side frantically, blowing the candles on the balcony so the smoke won’t get inside again, shutting the windows quickly so the cold wind doesn’t bother him anymore before you come to bed again.

You unlace your gown, taking it off so you can tend to him more easily, pulling at the few pins inside your head to let the strands fall freely around your shoulders. You climb onto the bed, a jar of his salve and ointment in hand with clean rags in your other as you sit comfortably next to him, helping him take off his tunic and pants.

Aemond lies on the pillow on your lap, sniffing as you look at his face; bare and raw of emotions with his sapphire glinting in the low lights of the room.

“My love, you need to help me pull the gem out,” you whisper, almost sound scared of him, or scared of what you might see.

“No, it is an unbecoming sight—”

“Nothing about you is unbecoming. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on, and for you and your suffering, I begged my grandma to allow me to study about your condition with the Maesters,” you lean to kiss the bridge of his nose, “the skin around your eyesocket is swollen, if we do not pull it out now, it shall make it more unbearable for you.”

He hesitates for a moment. While he would love to ask you about why you studied something so gruesome because of him, he can’t help but feel so wanted. The pain is getting worse, sure, he has to pull the gem out anyway but to hear you say how you have begged Rhaenys to let you partake in those classes, to maybe someday help him with his pain… that truly makes him feel fuzzy all over.

“Alright…” he whispers, gritting his teeth in pain as he reaches out with his fingers to grab the side of the gem, pulling it out slowly while he groans and the pain nearly knocks him out. “Shouldn’t we use something more—” “Take it out, take it out—I don’t care how!”

You nod, tears falling from your eyes as you watch him writhe in pain more as the two of you pull his sapphire out, leaving a heavily swollen and empty eyesocket on display. His hand falls limp on the bed while you drop the gem into a clean bowl before pouring some of the ointment on a rag, gently holding his face in one hand while the other daps slowly over the scar and his ripped eyelids, pressing a few kisses here and there to soothe his whimpering.

He clings to your arms and waist tightly, letting his tears fall freely while you soothe his pain away, falling into slumber easily beneath your gentle touch.

•••••••••••

He is running.

Where is he? Why is he running?

He looks around him, finding himself in the labyrinth he always sees in his dreams.

The hedges are covered in ivy, the walls have gotten taller and the paths are thinner.

What’s this smell?

He steps closer to the source of it, taking different routes until the smell gets worse and stronger. He knows where the center of the maze is, he has been here countless times.

He turns around, finding the space of the labyrinth of his dream, but he doesn’t expect to see you there, not while standing with your nightshift covered in maroon, hands dripping with thick droplets of blood as you look at him horrifyingly.

“Darling, are you alright?”

“Don’t- don’t come closer,” you say, taking a step away from him.

“I don’t understand, why—” “You did this to me!” screaming at him, your hands cover your heart, and he finally sees how your chest has been ripped open and blood gushes out of the wound.

“I was not here—”

“You did this to me! You hurt me, Aemond!”

“Aemond!”

“Aemond!”...

He jolts up, gasping for air, hands clutching the bedsheets as he experiences another nightmare. He looks at you, finding you awake and alarmed while you rub his back, eyes filled with worry and pain for him.

“You should leave,” his voice is barely above whispering, his nails digging into the palms of his hand while he blinks his tears away.

“Aemond—” “I will only hurt you, why don’t you understand?!” he asks, raising his voice a little. 

He is torn between needing you to wishing you were gone; he can’t cope if he ever hurts you again.

“You have not hurt me, you won’t hurt me.” “I killed you in my dream! You fell in front of everyone and twisted your ankle because of me, I humiliated you! How can you say I won’t fucking hurt you? I have already done it.” He explains, but instead of pushing you away, he welcomes you when you pull him down into your embrace, holding his head tightly in your neck as he sobs uncontrollably.

“It’s not your fault, I should have been more careful. I won’t let you ruin yourself for something that was a mistake on my behalf.” you kiss the side of his face, rocking him from side to side while he calms down eventually.

“Don’t push me away, I love you, Aemond. Let me be here and help you carry this heavy pain with you.”

He doesn’t reply, but his arms tighten around you.

He looks at how you lay back on the pillows, gently pulling him in your arms until he is lying in your chest while you play with his hair.

“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

•••••••••••

He opens his eye slowly when he feels someone caressing his hair, pressing butterfly kisses all over his face. Smiling a little, he finds you admiring him in his sleep, taking notes of every line and deep of his skin.

“It’s very rude to stare,” he says, his voice thick and raspy from all the crying he did last night.

“Not when he is my lover,” you whisper back, nuzzling your nose against his, “you look like a fairy when you sleep.”

“No one has ever told me that. How do you come up with such unique ways to describe me?” He leans over, pressing a kiss on your shoulder while he waits for you to answer.

“You are a wonderful muse for poetry, I shall start writing about your hair and eye!”

He keeps his lips sealed to your skin, sucking and nibbling until he is satisfied with the marks he has left. His pupil is blown out with a newfound lust; how can he not desire you when you are lying in his arms with your wild white hair plastered over his pillows?

“You are staring,” he chuckles at how breathless you sound. He hasn’t even begun to do anything and he already has you melting under his touch.

“Can you blame me? I have the most exquisite lady of the realm in my bed.”

“What happened to the insecure boy I held last night?” You ask while leaning up towards him, pushing him down on his back so you can straddle his narrow hips.

“It’s still here with us in this room, but he has begun to heal. You have helped him when he had no one,” his palms rest on your thighs.

“I need you,” it comes more as a plea, but Aemond obliges and flips the two of you over, hiding his face in your neck to prep it with kisses while he whispers that he needs you too.

“I love you, darling,” he whispers, craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, moving them together with a rhythm that encourages him to take the next step.

His hand inches downward, pushing past the fabric of your underwear to find you already wet for him.

“I-I have already lost my maidenhand…”

“I don’t care, I have you now,”

He silences your whine with another deep kiss, his fingers circling your clit until you are squirming and bucking your hips into his palm, your arms pulling him in by the shoulders.

He breaks the kiss, watching you take a deep breath when he pushes one digit inside while he tugs at the front of your shift, pulling it down until your tits are on display. He covers your chest with marks and bruises the same time another finger enters you, making you gasp loudly in pleasure.

He stretches you on his fingers, thrusting them in and out slowly at first, but soon he is speeding up, his patience running thin as he scissors you open not roughly to make it hurt, but to make sure you are ready to take him.

“A-Aemond, please, need you closer,”

He nods because he too can feel the need to become one with you, to take you as his, or more so you take him as yours.

His breeches are thrown on the floor, followed by his undershirt immediately as he takes home between your spread legs, one hand holding him up while the other guides his throbbing cock to your entrance. You both gasp in union when his tip nudges past your muscles, pushing in slowly and gently until he is sheathed inside you completely.

You throw your head back, wrapping your legs around his waist while your nails dig into his naked chest as he lets you get adjusted to his size.

“Can I move?” He asks, leaning down over you as he cages you beneath him, both of his forearms holding himself up against the pillow under your head.

You nod, looking at him with pleading eyes, and he finally caves in and moves slowly; pulling his hips back a little before driving in.

The next minutes pass by him gently making love to you, circling his hips and kissing you, bringing you closer and closer to your highest point. You know you both are close when his groans and moans grow louder, and your voice matches his tone as he quickenes his pace, the loud sounds of skin slapping against each other echoing in the chambers of the prince.

You both finish together; you with a gasp of his name, and him with a loud groan of yours as he fills you and you gush around him. He trembles above you, whether it is for the climax he experiences or the overwhelming love he holds for you. 

He watches your face twist in pleasure — the pleasure he is giving you — and he memorizes every sound, counting each lash that he can while he himself rides his high with you.

He drops face down on the bed next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath as you look at each other with a satisfied expression on your faces.

“They would ask about our whereabouts if we are late for breakfast.” You say, giggling when he groans in absolute disgust — he is not ready to leave this room and face the world again when he knows he can stay and take you again, thrive in your attention and love for all day.

“Must you ruin this moment for us? Now I can only think about how to face your father after what we did.”

“You should look him in the eye and ask for my hand,” you sit up, throwing the cover off of you before getting off the bed “and you shall do it with the braids I do for you,”

“You are impossible,” he says, but he knows that behind his words, there is no hidden intent, nothing but adoration and playfulness.

“Come, sit!” You pull him off the bed as well, leading him to his vanity before pushing him down on the chair, both of you stark naked as you brush his hair slowly.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and for the first time in years, his reflection doesn’t disgust him, it doesn’t scare him or make him self-conscious. He feels… beautiful, he feels worthy again of having this life, having you as his.

“Do you wish to know what I see when I look at you?” You ask him, letting his soft hair fall around his shoulders before you lean down, wrapping your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He nods, hands coming to cover yours where they caress the skin above his heart.

“I see a broken man who needed to be saved. I see a boy, fierce and strong as he claims the largest dragon alive. I see my friend who danced with me in different gatherings, my beloved friend who built sandcastles with me and helped me with my Valyrian studies. I see my Aemond, finally freed from the labyrinth of his mind.”

[silasours]

ৎ⸝⸝⠀COCKWARMING ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino, x gn reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. unprotected sex. edging. office sex. public sex. sub/power sub reader. no mentions of specific anatomy. vox is in an online meeting for work. touch starved lucifer. val blowing his smoke on you for fun. non proofread because it's six in the fuckin morning and I have not slept a wink. #summary : in which they keep themselves buried deep inside of you while being busied by other stuff. #note : save me, I've been writing nothing but hazbin smut lately. i should really start working on other shows.. alastor's a bit shorter than the others, can't really think of a solid idea for him and I wanted to get this out as soon as possible

ʚ LUCIFER .

lucifer whines when you force him to focus on his unfinished work once again. he has been going back and forth from attempting to thrust into you, but you always found a way to press him down in his place firmly. he had some unfinished work that he left sitting in his office for almost a week now, and it irritated you. that's when you offered to cockwarm him while he worked, get him to finally get his hands on those unfinished works.

being absolutely touch starved, lucifer agreed without hesitation unaware of how miserable and impatient this will make him. his hand remain on his working desk, occasionally scribbling some words and a signature on the paper filled with printed words. he does his best to resist the urge to finally thrust into you, worried that you'd leave him unsatisfied if he doesn't do as he's told.

but there's a limit to how much he can contain himself, especially when he has you sitting on his lap with his cock stuffing you to the brim, when you'd tease him so often by clenching around him or moving your hips ever so slightly. lucifer whines every time, the hand that's placed on your hip squeezing on your flesh desperately.

"can i please.. just finish this up later?" his voice muffled from nuzzling his face into your shoulder, eyes closed shut to focus on the warmth engulfing his throbbing member. you let out a small chuckle, baring your teeth into his neck to draw out those pretty moans of his; his cock leaks pathetically inside of you.

"no can do, luci. you're not going to get whatever you want until you finish up." you pull away and tilt your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss onto his jaw while giving a quick glance at the papers sprawled across his desk. he's only halfway done with them. "you're doing pretty well, no? you're halfway done."

lucifer groans, annoyed as he picks up the pen from the desk again while reading through the papers. this time, you decide to tease him a little more instead of staying still. you connect your lips with his exposed neck, sucking on the sensitive skin as your hips slowly grind against his. you hear his breath hitch, his knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping you.

your name spills out from his lips breathlessly, following with a whimper that you love so much. you carry on with your actions, dark marks gradually bloom all over his skin like breathtaking flowers. lucifer shifts to lay his forehead on your shoulder, shuddering from pleasure; you tug on his soft hair, firm enough to lift his head up from your shoulder.

"stay focused, luci. remember what's waiting for you to finish your work."

ʚ ALASTOR .

"oh, what a twist!" alastor exclaims with his eyes glued to the book he's reading, chuckling like you're not clenching down on his cock out of desperation. your eyes are teary as you turn to peek at the page he's on, frustration brewing in your chest. upon noticing your reaction, alastor laughs while moving his hand to cup your face, leaning in with a grin. "don't you agree, my dear?"

you groan, parting your lips further enough to drop his thumb into your mouth, biting down on it. alastor mutters a small "fiesty" before buckling up his hips, watching your eyes widen from the sudden pleasure that shoots up your veins. his arm tightens around your waist to stop you from squirming around excessively.

"put.. the fuckin' book down, a-alastor.." your nails dig into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, the back of your other hand hovering over your mouth with a frown on your face. alastor smiles in response, holding the book between the both of you now that there's a gap.

"why, it has only gotten interesting! patience is key, darling."

"it has been almost a whole fucking hour, alast-" your words get cut off by yet another harsh thrust of his hips, an uncontrollable moan slipping off your tongue. a low, barely audible grunt could be heard coming from alastor because of how you're squeezing around him like your life depends on it.

slowly, he places the book down, pushing two digits into your mouth as his sharp nails graze past your gums. your tongue swirls around them, gaze fixated on his that seems to be mocking your desperation. you grind your hips, wanting to feel more of that sensitive spot in you being stimulated by his tip brushing against it. alastor grunts every time you tighten around him, the feeling making his skin jump and his eyes close shut from the pleasure he receives.

you reach for the book to toss it aside, not allowing him any chance to get it back and return to what he was previously putting you through. he laughs at the action before getting cut off by yet another groan, a frown slowly finds its way to spread across his face despite the grin that remains on his lips.

"the book shall wait after all."

ʚ VOX .

the sound of vox's workers and colleagues echoes through his workplace, the source of it coming from the laptop that sits in front of him. he's holding an urgent meeting with them to discuss some things about work, yet you're here obediently sitting on him, cockwarming him. your arms hug his neck tightly, hands grabbing tightly onto his shirt while listening to him speak to the people in call.

you bite down every moan that builds in your throat, not allowing any sound to be heard by anyone but your partner. times when vox isn't discussing important matters, he leans into your ear to whisper praises, thrusting into you, and stops so suddenly when you're close to release.

he grins as you whine at the sudden loss of friction, skin flushed while feeling him draw lazy circles on your hips with his thumbs. he starts speaking again just when you're about to voice your frustration, drawing out a grumble from you. you stay there unattended, glancing at the part where the two of you connect; you're craving release, and you're done waiting.

with a steady pace, you move your own hips while holding onto his shoulders for support. vox's head snaps toward your direction, teeth gritting as he bites back the groans that threaten to leave his lips. he tries to hold you down, but his body betrays him and allows you to carry on with your movements. his head tilts back to lean against the headrest of his chair, the words that his workers speak gradually shifting to a blur in his mind.

"fuck, w-wait," his breath grows heavy, barely managing to keep his eyes open as you fuck yourself on his cock. you're supposed to be cockwarming him, not riding him. he has allowed you to the point of no return, how is he going to carry on with the meeting now? you grab him and connect your lips with his, drinking in his groans like how he does to your moans.

ignoring the calls of his name from the meeting, he pulls you closer by the waist as you grind yourself on him. it wasn't until he started getting annoyed by the meeting that he broke away from the kiss, strings of saliva still connecting your lips while his hand reached out to shut the laptop down. the room falls to a sudden silence, the only sounds that remain are your heavy breathing.

"you're gonna fuck up my company if this carries on," vox snickers before crashing his lips with yours again, hands holding onto your hips to thrust into you without anything holding him back this time.

ʚ VALENTINO .

you still can't process the fact that you're in valentino's studio with his cock buried deep inside of you while people walked around to work on set. valentino takes puffs from the cigarette he holds between his fingers, often ordering and even yelling at people as they rush to obey his commands.

nobody pays any mind to the both of you; in fact, they see it as something normal. after all, they're working for a porn producer, what is there not to be normal? you keep your face stuffed in the fluff of his coat, hands gripping tightly onto his outfit while still trying to adjust to how good he stretches you apart. everyone has just started working, and the set is still being prepared for a new film.

"you're tighter than usual my love, are you that excited to be around everyone?" he teases with a mocking tone, puffing out a wisp of pink smoke onto your flushed face. you lightly shake your head with a whine, the smoke that you inhale causing your vision to spin immediately. humming, valentino lifts your body up with the help of his lower pair of arms before roughly slamming you back down onto his cock. "I doubt that. you've always loved being fucking in public, no? look at you,"

you gasp, body tensing as a moan escapes your throat. you immediately bite down on your lower lip, eyes screwing shut while simultaneously having your body trembling under his hold. you don't want to draw too much attention to yourself, yet the idea alone excites you in an odd way that you never knew it would. noting your reaction, valentino continues repeating the action before stopping promptly, feeding himself with your choked back moans.

"keep looking pretty like that while i work, i'll have a reward waiting for you." you mewl at his words, giving him a weak nod while tugging onto his shirt. he takes another long drag from his cigarette before letting his gaze fall onto the prepared set displayed in front of him, eyes scanning for the stars of the show in the room.

he would moan softly into your ear whenever you clenched around him, teasing you with his mere voice and carrying on with his work. you don't complain, though, considering how you'll be fucked into a moaning mess once he's done with work.

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.