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fayes-fics · 11 months

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Second Son

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...

Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.

Word Count: 2.9k

Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3

Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.

____

His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.

He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.

But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.

____

“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death.

“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.

“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”

“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.

He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.

What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society.

So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul.

“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.

“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.

____

She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even.

Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.

“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.

“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.

“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.

Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach.

“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.

Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.

“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought.

She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.

____

Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.

“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.

“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.

“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.

“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.

“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”

“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily.

You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit.

You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.

“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.

“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.

“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”

“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. “Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.

Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.

____

Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball.

He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony.

Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.

____

You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.

“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.

He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.

“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”

You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.

“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”

You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.

“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.

Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.

“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.

“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.

“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.

____

His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone.

Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.

He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize.

And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.

____

“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life.

“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.

And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future.

____

“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.

“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.

“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.

“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.

There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.

“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.

“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.

An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.

____

He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.

“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

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roosterforme · 8 months

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The Younger Kind Part 25 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley doesn't know how he will be able to function if Meredith wins custody. As Noah cries in the courtroom, he whishes he would have done more to ensure this never happened. But when he watches you, terrified but supporting him anyway, he knows what he really needed this whole time was you.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

The courtroom was freezing cold. Your blazer was scratchy against your arms, and Noah was already crying. As soon as Bradley had to hand his son over to the court appointed counselor, Noah's tears started flowing. And now you were seated in the front row, right behind Bradley, but you couldn't slide down the bench to get to Noah. You couldn't even look at the back of Bradley's head for too long without feeling like it was suspicious.

So you sat there and listened to Noah softly ask for his dad over and over again while Judge Greene listed everyone who was present today. When your name was called, Meredith and her lawyer both turned back to look at you with identical sneers.

Stay strong. Stay strong. You kept telling yourself you would handle this, but you didn't even have to do anything yet, and you already felt ready to fold. But the soft sobbing from Noah and the fact that Meredith hadn't looked at her son once kept you motivated.

Both lawyers gave statements which were largely identical, each one claiming their client would be the better option to raise Noah. But you noticed that while Bradley was fighting for zero visitation rights for Meredith, she was doing the opposite. She seemed willing to have Bradley visit with Noah if she won today. And that made you nervous, because even to your untrained ears, it sounded like she was more flexible than him. She also made it clear she was going to fight for financial support.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, please stand and give your statement," Judge Greene commanded. You had listened last night at Bradley's kitchen table while he read over his personal statement with Tracy, but hearing his deep, raspy voice shake now had you squeezing your hands to keep calm.

"My son turned four on April twelfth. For every single one of his birthdays, I have been the only parent involved in his life. If something needs to be done for him, I do it. I pay for everything. I care for him in every way. He only knows me," Bradley said, taking a deep breath. "His mother abandoned us. Both of us. And I know he's sitting right behind me and listening to everything I'm saying. And I can hear him crying, which is making it really hard to stand here right now. But I also know he has no idea who his biological mom is. I do not think it would be in his best interest to remove him from his home and the parent who loves him."

When Meredith stood to give her statement, you could tell she felt defensive. It was rolling off of her in waves. Her voice was harsh as she tried to make claims that you just couldn't believe. "Bradley has kept my son from me. For years I've tried reaching out to him, and I'm lucky to even get a response. So the idea that I could have abandoned them is preposterous. He never asked me for money, so I never gave it. Had he asked, I would have been more than happy to help provide. But along with that, changes in my lifestyle have meant that I'm ready to take full control of my son's custody. As his mother. And I'm more than willing to work with a court appointed counselor to ensure that visitation rights would be granted. I'm being more than fair. A mother is better equipped to care for her child than a father."

You were shivering in the cold room now, and while Bradley's posture had only incrementally changed, you could tell he was angry. But Tracy looked completely relaxed. How could that be? Meredith was a fucking liar! And Noah was whining for his dad! And nothing that was going on in this room was fair or just.

The lawyers were going back and forth like a verbal wrestling match now. It was impressive. Mesmerizing. When one of them seemed to have the upper hand, the other made a swift comeback. The only problem was, Meredith was being made to sound like a saint. You couldn't understand why Tracy wasn't going for the kill right now. The sooner this was over, the sooner you and Bradley could take Noah back to his house and let things go back to normal. The three of you eating dinner together would help Noah forget about his tears. You wanted your boys to pretend today never happened.

You watched Meredith's profile as she sat there, completely aloof when Judge Greene called the counselor and Noah up toward the bench. Noah pulled his hand away and ran right for Bradley, tears in his eyes again.

"It's okay, Bub," he soothed, dropping down from his chair to kneel in front of his son. "It's okay to go with them. It won't even take long."

"I want to go home," Noah hiccupped, looking between you and Bradley, knowing the comfort that one or both of you usually provided him. But none of that came right now. Bradley picked him up and handed him over with a soft kiss on the cheek. Noah wailed as he was carried off to the judge's chambers for some one on one questions with Judge Greene.

And Meredith sat there like she hadn't a care in the world while Bradley cradled his head in his hands on the table in front of him. Tracy tried to get him to drink some water from her bag, but he wouldn't. You reminded yourself not to look at him too much, and that's when Meredith caught your eye again. She was fighting to try to keep the smirk from her face as she tried to appear serious. You knew what she was probably going to have her lawyer ask you. You knew it was going to be ridiculous. But you didn't like the way she was looking at you like you were the only thing between her and what she wanted.

When Judge Greene returned empty handed, Bradley scrambled to his feet. "Where's Noah?" he asked, and Tracy was immediately trying to get him to sit down.

"In my chambers, coloring. He's just fine. Now, I'd like to call up some character witnesses."

You waited while three separate people spoke about Meredith like she was sunshine incarnate instead of a woman who left her son behind like he was nothing to her. Then your name was called. You made your way up to the seat near the front, and Meredith's lawyer wasted no time in trying to break you.

"You're a character witness for Bradley Bradshaw?"

"Yes," you replied, mortified by the way your voice shook. "I am."

"And how do you know him?"

You swallowed hard. "I babysit Noah on occasion." It was the truth, but it felt like a lie. Saying you were just Noah's occasional babysitter was a wholly inadequate representation of what the two of them meant to you. Of how much you loved them. You had to swallow against the sick feeling in your throat.

"Is that all you do when you're watching Noah? Or do you stay? Earn some money by doing things for Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

Cold sweat broke out along your neck and chest, and your eyes shifted to Bradley without warning. He looked irate and red in the face, and you were already embarrassed after less than a minute of questioning.

"I object!" Tracy called out, waving her hand in the air. "That's hearsay. And irrelevant."

"Sustained," Judge Greene said calmly, as if there was no reason for you to feel like you were going to vomit right now. "Any further questions?"

But of course Meredith's lawyer had more questions for you. And they were all designed to make you look bad.

"How did you pay for nursing school? Did Lieutenant Bradshaw offer to give you an outlandish salary to spend time with him? Do you actually have any experience watching a child that age? How are you qualified to spend time with him? What sorts of questionable things did you find in that house?"

You tried to answer each question with calm composure, but soon you felt like you couldn't breathe. Your eyes were burning. You turned to the judge, but she gave you a bland look. You were on your own. So you took a deep breath, determined to finish this even if your voice was shaking again.

"As a nursing student, you must have access to prescription drugs. Do you use them?"

"No!" you said, having had just about enough of this. Bradley was rubbing his hand along his face, barely keeping it together. Tracy was looking at you, eyes pleading with you to hold it together. "I do not steal or use prescription drugs. I'm studying pediatric nursing. I'm more than qualified to take care of Noah."

"Would you be willing to be drug tested?" the other lawyer asked.

"Absolutely. You want blood? Urine? Hair? Depending on the lab, you could have results by the end of the day." Your jaw was clenched tight.

"One last question," he said with a smile. "Is it true that you seduced Lieutenant Bradshaw? And that you're pregnant with his child?"

The audible gasp that came from you mirrored Tracy's. Bradley was now gripping the edge of the table in front of him. You were shaking as you said, "I'll take a pregnancy test, too."

You would do it if they made you. But it didn't seem fair. Your relationship with Bradley didn't have anything to do with how he cared for Noah. It didn't have anything to do with how qualified you were to babysit. Tears filled your eyes, but you had promised Tracy you wouldn't cry. You watched through blurry vision as she jumped to her feet and approached your seat.

"He's badgering the witness with irrelevant questions!" she said, and Judge Greene told the other lawyer to sit down.

Tracy must have been able to tell you were shaken up, because she asked, "Can we take a short recess?"

"No," Judge Green replied with a sharp shake of her head. "Let's carry on with your questioning."

Tracy took her time walking back to the table and gathering her notes, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Your hands were still shaking when Tracy asked you, "Did Lieutenant Bradshaw ever make you feel uncomfortable?"

"No. Never."

"Did he ever criticize the way you cared for his son?"

"No," you said, your voice sounding stronger now.

Tracy shuffled her papers and asked, "Does Lieutenant Bradshaw seem to be a loving and caring parent to Noah?"

"Yes," you replied with conviction.

"Now, can you tell me a little bit about how you injured your arm in the parking lot at Meyer Park?"

You watched the color drain from Meredith's face as you recounted the way she had scared you, forcing you to run to safety with Noah.

"And was that the only time you saw her prior to this morning?" Tracy asked.

"I saw her yesterday," you replied. "At the grocery store. I thought she was following me."

"Objection!" shouted the other lawyer.

"Sustained," responded Judge Greene. Your head was swimming with what you were supposed to say and what you were supposed to stay away from. You couldn't remember. And you could barely focus on Tracy. But she wanted you to get to the point. You could tell.

So you blurted out, "Meredith asked me if I was sleeping with Bradley to get to his money. She mentioned a life insurance payout and his expensive car."

"It's actually a Bronco," Bradley muttered, raking his fingers through his hair as Meredith slammed her hand down on the notebook in front of her and started whispering to her lawyer.

Tracy asked another question quickly while everyone else was distracted. "And what did you do when you left the grocery store?"

She was giving you an encouraging look, so you said. "I looked some things up online. About how her business filed for bankruptcy. And her home went into foreclosure. And she said in an interview after Noah was born that she doesn't have any kids."

"Objection!" the other lawyer shouted again.

"Overruled," said Judge Greene, and Tracy looked like just won the lottery. "Please continue," she said, brow creased in concern now.

You felt like an idiot as you told Tracy that you used Google to search for information about Meredith, but you just kept going.

"I found articles that suggest that her business went into bankruptcy because of mismanaged funds. And insider trading with her business partner. They were married, but it appears that he left her."

Every single time the other lawyer tried to object to what you were saying, the judge overruled it. And then Tracy urged you to continue. But you were shaking from a combination of anxiety and fear.

"It sounds like she has no money," you said, voice quivering again as you met Bradley's eyes. You'd never seen him look so distraught or so hopeful before. He was silently cheering you on, like he knew how strong you could be. So you kept going.

---------------------------

Bradley was practically ready to crawl out of his own skin. He couldn't stand the way Meredith's lawyer kept yelling at you. He hated that he had to sit here in this horribly uncomfortable seat and just listen as your character got ripped to shreds. He wanted to take you and Noah home, order a pizza and watch a movie. You looked like you wanted to cry, but you didn't. And Bradley was so proud of how strong you were.

When Tracy started asking you questions, you sat up a little taller. You sounded a little bolder. And then Meredith was the one in a state of panic.

"It sounds like she has no money," you said, as you met Bradley's eyes. "That doesn't sound like the right reason to fight for custody of a child."

The room went silent for a second after that. And then Meredith stood up and said, "I've lost everything, okay? Everything! But Noah is my blood, and I have a right to him, too!"

Then chaos broke out. When Bradley stood and said, "Why do you want him now that you're broke, huh?" he felt Tracy's hands on his arm, pulling him back to his chair.

"Let her sink her own ship," she whispered, keeping a firm hand on his forearm. You were still sitting up in the front, perched on the edge of the seat like you wanted to run. He wanted to scoop you up like he always did, for your own comfort, but for his as well.

He listened to Meredith rant and try to blame him for everything as her lawyer begged her to sit. He listened to her call you a slut and claim once again that you were pregnant. She said she knows you bought pregnancy tests at the grocery store. So what if you were pregnant? It didn't have anything to do with Noah or Bradley's ability to take care of him. It didn't have anything to do with that fact that Bradley would never abandon a child like she had.

He watched Judge Greene remain completely calm as Meredith's lawyer finally got her to sit down. Then she stood and said, "Please bring me all written evidence. I'll have my decision shortly." Both lawyers handed her folders before she disappeared into her chambers.

"Where's Noah?" Bradley asked Tracy immediately, accepting a bottle of water from her.

"He's with the counselor. He's fine. And you did great."

"I barely did anything!" he growled, worried he hadn't done enough today. He'd done nothing compared to you. As you stood and made your way to the rows of benches behind him, you never met his eyes. He loved you. All he ever wanted to do was protect you from all of this. You shouldn't be here right now. If he lost Noah today, he didn't know how he was going to continue to exist. And you should have had no part in this nightmare.

He'd forced this on you in a way. Every step he took since he met you led you here. Bradley had tried so hard to cut you out, end things with you, but he was so fucking weak. He should have been more focused on Noah. But he had been. He'd been trying to find someone to date who would make him and Noah complete, or at least better. And despite his initial reservations, that was you.

When he turned to face you, your eyes snapped up to meet his. He'd never be able to thank you enough for everything you'd done for both of them. But he wanted to have the chance. He wanted you to know what you meant to him and to Noah.

"How long is this going to take?" he asked Tracy, wiping his sweaty palms on his suit pants. He could hear Meredith talking, but he kept himself focused on his lawyer.

"Hard to say," she told him calmly. "Just keep breathing. Focus on your breathing."

So he did, and when he started to feel sick again, Tracy talked to him. And then Judge Greene was coming back out, and Bradley could see Noah through the door before it closed. Dread rose inside him as the judge had everyone in the room stand. He felt like his limbs weighed a million pounds as he faced the front of the room.

Every second of silence made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He almost had to reach for Tracy when Judge Greene said, "In light of today's testimonies and evidence plus the collection of evidence I reviewed leading up to the trial, I have reached a decision regarding the custody of Noah Bradshaw."

Bradley had to close his eyes. All of his senses were overwhelmed, and he was afraid he was going to breakdown.

"The following decision is a reflection of what is in the best interest of the child. Full custody is to be awarded to Bradley Bradshaw. There will be no visitation privileges. There will be no child support owed. The child's biological father is to be his sole guardian."

Bradley collapsed back down onto the chair as he cried. "Oh my god," he groaned, cradling his face in his hands. He was gasping for air as he felt Tracy's hand on his shoulder. He could see Meredith storm out of the room. He could hear you laughing and crying at the same time behind him as the counselor walked back out of the judge's chambers with Noah.

And then he was out of his chair again, rushing toward his son and scooping him up. "I colored you a monkey," Noah told him as Bradley smothered his whole face in kisses.

"I love it," Bradley promised him without even looking at the coloring sheet. "It's perfect, and I love it so much." He buried his face against Noah's neck and inhaled.

"And I colored a unicorn for Princess."

"Yeah?" Bradley asked, holding him tight. "She's gonna love it, too."

"I know," Noah replied confidently. "I told them about how she brings me coloring books and cooks food like spaghetti. And how she plays blocks and reads and can sing good."

"You told them about Princess?" Bradley asked, turning to the back of the room. You were waiting patiently for them, a huge smile on your face as you bounced a little bit on your feet.

"Yep. I told them that she loves me and that you do too. Can we go home yet?"

As much as Bradley wanted to keep you separate from all of this, he needed you the whole time. And so did Noah. He rushed toward you and took you by the hand. "Now we can go home."

------------------------

You unlocked the front door with your key, and Bradley kissed you again. A huge smile was still plastered all over your face as you watched how much he loved his son. He ended up on his back on the living room floor while Noah sat on top of him and laughed. Bradley's suit was a wrinkly mess now as you knelt down next to them.

"You want spaghetti for dinner, Noah?" Your appetite was back, and you were ravenous. There was no doubt in your mind that Bradley could do with a good meal as well.

"Yeah! And ants on logs!"

You kissed his chubby cheek and said, "Let me check on the raisin situation." Then you leaned down to kiss Bradley's lips, and he pulled you back for a second and a third.

He murmured, "I love you," before briefly swiping your tongue with his. You ran your fingers back through his hair and let your forehead rest on his.

"I love both of you." Then you kissed his nose and went to the kitchen, letting them have a little more time alone as they laughed on the floor.

As you set a pot on the stove to boil some water, your eyes filled with tears. It felt like a combination of stress and relief and happiness. You sank to the floor with your back to the cabinet and cried. When you left the courthouse with Bradley, Meredith was nowhere to be found. Bradley had hugged Tracy with tears in his eyes, and she promised to be in touch with him soon to take some final actions. And then she told you that you had done a great job of staying calm and presenting evidence against Meredith while acting as a character witness. "I wish everyone was as professional as you."

Her words echoed in your head as you remembered that you didn't live here with Bradley and Noah. Not really. You were still going to need to finish writing your final papers for school and start looking for a job to support yourself. Because contrary to what Meredith thought, you hadn't been fucking Bradley to get him to pay your tuition. You had a mountain of loans to pay off now. And really, it would be better if you left after dinner tonight and went home. You'd have to get used to a routine where Bradley was your boyfriend with his own space.

Noah came running in a minute later as you wiped your eyes. "I'm hungry," he informed you, sitting down on your lap. Bradley walked in without his suit coat on. His shirt sleeves were rolled up. His tie was loose, and his top few buttons were undone.

"How about I make dinner and you just supervise?" he asked, pulling you to your feet. "You had a long day, too."

So you nodded at him, and he picked you up and set you on the counter. And then he set Noah on your lap and started the playlist you made. You showed him how to brown the meat and add the sauce. You showed him how to keep the spaghetti noodles from sticking together.

And as he was plating the food, he paused and looked at you. "I forgot. I picked something up at the store the other day for us to celebrate with. Wait here." He dashed out of the room, and you slipped down off of the counter with Noah in your arms. You finished getting the spaghetti onto plates and pulled out the carrots to make him some ants, and then Bradley was back in the kitchen with the biggest bag of Skittles you had ever seen.

Laughter bubbled out of you along with another sob. "I'm happy, but I can't stop crying."

He tossed the Skittles aside and grabbed you by the hips. "That's because you really care about us. You always have. And you saved us today."

The prickle of his mustache against your skin had you parting your lips for him. He held you close, his thumbs stroking you through your pants as you worked your fingers through his hair. "I love you," he rasped, releasing your lips in favor of whispering the sexiest, loveliest things in your ear while Noah made a huge mess of spaghetti at the table.

--------------------------

Ahhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhh! Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 26

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hihello-pinky · 4 months

Text

varsity crush

atsumu miya x afab reader

some fluff, i guess

i originally wanted to write a full fic based on pixie labrador’s song (hence, the title) but somehow i ended up with this drabble. ALSO i know it’s a sapphic song but damn, the first time i listened to it and heard the lyrics about volleyball, haikyuu was my first thought

miya atsumu who has been your classmate since sixth grade; who you always only thought of as osamu’s loudmouth brother who once lent you his jacket when it was cold and you forgot to bring yours.

atsumu who was your partner for cleaning duty at seventh grade; who would almost always miss the task because he made it a habit to rush to the gym after last period.

atsumu who made your heart skip a beat when he passed you a note asking you to the eighth grade dance; who raises an eyebrow at your questioning look and says the note is from osamu.

atsumu who was your seatmate during ninth grade; who would distract you during class with the sound of his pen scraping against his notebook as he sketched volleyball plays.

atsumu who surprises you when he enters the classroom on the first day of tenth grade with his blonde hair; who you couldn’t stop looking at because his lightened hair made him more handsome.

atsumu who, one night, dropped by your grandpa’s convenience store looking for an onigiri; who told you as he reached the counter that he had a fight with osamu and he wanted to give it as a peace offering.

atsumu, who somehow made it a habit to drop by the convenience store after practice to buy energy drinks; who always buy one of those candies displayed at the counter and conveniently “forgets” them, sending you a quick message to just keep it.

atsumu who approached you after class one thursday afternoon in eleventh grade; who shared he needed help in his studies in order to stay in the volleyball club and asked you to tutor him.

atsumu who began sharing a table with you at lunch under the pretense of having more time to discuss about lessons but always made it a point to just talk about random stuff; who in time recruited his brother and suna to your lunch table.

atsumu who lovingly accepts gifts from his fans at your lunch table; who smiles so sweetly at the girls as it makes you inwardly frown, confusing yourself.

atsumu who, at the first month of twelfth grade, excitedly tells you he made captain as he walked you home; who grinned at you as he showed you his jersey and jacket with his last name.

atsumu who became much busier due to volleyball but would always somehow find time in his calendar to stay with you either in a coffee shop or library as you studied for college entrance exams; who would force you to take a break as he snatches the pen from your hand (my old captain, kita, would scold you!)

atsumu who gets surprised once you tell him you’re going with them to the nationals; who teases you for volunteering to cover for the school newspaper; who is actually secretly happy that you’re coming.

atsumu who gives you his jacket before their first game “in case you get cold”; who makes the girls beside you at the bleachers squeal when he smiles at your direction once he sees you wearing his jacket and cheering for him.

atsumu who lets you see his tears for the first time as you comfort him when inarizaki places second; who listens to your gentle voice as you sincerely tell him that you believe there are lots of greater opportunities for him in the future once he goes pro.

atsumu who passes you a note before class with prom? written in his messy handwriting; atsumu who receives a note from you saying is this from osamu again?; atsumu who bites back a smile as he passes back the note, so the bastard told you?; atsumu who doesn’t notice his ears reddening until suna points it out but he doesn’t care at all as he reads your note: yes, and yes i’ll go to prom with you.

atsumu who surprises you at prom because as athletic as he is, he sucks at slow dancing; atsumu who makes you blush as he tightens his hand around your waist as soon as you two finally find the rhythm; atsumu who leans to you closely and whispers in your ear how beautiful you are; atsumu who plants a soft kiss at the top of your head after you tell him to shut up and accidentally step on his shoes.

atsumu who runs to hug you at graduation, wrapping his strong arms around your smaller figure and lifting you in the air; who attends your class’ afterparty with you where you end up playing truth or dare.

atsumu who chokes on his drink as your bottle ends up on him and you ask him on when he plans to ask you out; who, after composing himself, gives you a cheesy smile and asks you to be his girlfriend; who blushes so hard, making osamu and suna laugh, when you say yes and kiss him on the cheek.

miya atsumu who you never thought would capture your heart; atsumu who somehow also fell for you; atsumu who you would be cheering on for the rest of your life.

it doesn’t matter whether you’re wearing his jacket or not; he already gave you his last name, anyway.

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heli-writes · 18 days

Text

A dragon's heart, part 10.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries, mentions of forceful behaviour towards women, bad family dynamics

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Note: Sorry, folks! No smut yet, I need some more time to build up the right moment!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's silly to cry about this, isn't it? No, yeah, it's definitely not silly.

Y/n rubs her eyes. She's standing lost in the abandoned tent in the middle of the pieces of Katsuki's tantrum. Slowly, she starts picking up the things Katsuki has thrown across the room.

It will be alright. You can trust Katsuki. Whatever happened today, it's not your fault and Katsuki knows that. He might get irritated easily but he's not unreasonable.

When y/n is done picking up the pieces of the destroyed chair, she's unsure what to do next. She decides to scrub off the paint in the stone hut. There's only cold water this time but y/n grinds her teeth and scrubs it all off. Afterward, she feels a little bit like herself again.

Back in the tent, she loses the clothes as well. She looks for her dress but she can't find it. This upsets her more than it should. After all, it's just a piece of fabric, she tells herself. Then again, it was her mother's dress. The last thing that connected her with her people.

My bag!, she thinks and looks for it where she dropped it the night before. She finds it next to the bed. She dumps the contents on the bed and looks at the things she's brought along. She takes the small knife and strokes over the carvings in the wooden handle. Her father made it for her for her twelfth birthday. He wanted to paint it one day, but he passed before he ever got the chance.

She remembers her father. He was a kind but firm man. He believed in the way of their people. Y/n remembers how he used to take her and her brother to a meadow in the middle of a summer night. He showed the kids how the fireflies light up when you run through the grass. He dared them to catch one and when they did, he explained to them how every creature was created by the great being of things and therefore should be treated with respect. He made y/n let go of the fireflight she caught and they watched as it disappeared into the night sky.

Y/n clutches the knife. She didn't notice how tears slipped down her cheeks. Quickly, she brushes them away. She shakes her head. Thinking about this, won't change the present. Carefully, she places the things back into her bag and hides it beneath the bed, so that they won't be taken away again like her dress.

She slips out of the skimpy clothes she was put into this morning and puts on the clothes Katsuki gave her yesterday. Also, she wraps a blanket around her since she's planning to go outside. I'm going to look for Katsuki, she determines.

~*~*~*~*~

It's strange walking around the village without Katsuki by her side. Y/n feels a lot more vulnerable without him. Again, there are only men outside the tents and they give her strange looks. She's sure they are talking about her, too.

She tries to shake the thought off when she slips in between two tents to get out of sight. Suddenly, a cold hand grabs her arm.

„A-are you new? When did they bring you in?“, a scared female voice says next to her.

Y/n feels instant relief. Finally, someone who understands her! And a woman too! She turns around to the voice and is instantly stunned.

There's a woman standing at the entrance of a tent. She's about y/n's height. The woman is pale as if she barely sees the sunlight. She looks sickish in a haggard way. Her state is nothing but alarming to y/n.

„Yes, I am. I just arrived yesterday. Are-“, y/n tells her and before y/n can ask her if she's alright, the woman's grip on her arm tightens.

„Did he do it already? The man that took you? Is he near? Is he looking for you?“, the woman asks frantically. There is fear in her eyes.

„Uhm, what do you mean?“, y/n replies uncertainly.

„You need to get away!“, the woman tells her, now grabbing both of y/n's arms. „If he hasn't taken you, you might still have a chance!“

The woman's eyes are ripped open widely and y/n can see how bloodshot they are. She mustn't have slept for days. Y/n tries to wiggle out of the woman's hold.

„I-i'm fine. Thanks for your concern, but-“, y/n tries to shake her off.

„Nadia!“, a voice barks from the side y/n came from. A big, bulky man walks their way. His face looks angry. He continues to speak loudly in his language. The woman winces and lets go of y/n. She quickly retreats back into the tent, leaving y/n alone outside.

The man gives y/n a glance before disappearing into the tent. His loud voice can be heard in the inside. By the tone of his voice, he must be scolding the woman. Y/n isn't sure if that's her cue to disappear like the woman said.

Eventually, the man comes back outside. He doesn't look as angry as before anymore. He says something to y/n that she doesn't understand.

„U-uhm, I'm a friend of Katsuki, I guess. Do you know where he is?“, she asks him and the man looks annoyed. He throws his arms into the air in frustration and rambles something to himself.

Y/n straightens her posture a bit at tells him in a determined voice: „Katsuki“.

The man gives her an uncertain look. Then he grabs her shoulder and makes a gesture to follow him. Y/n does so. The man drags her through half of the village, stopping here and there to talk to people. Y/n can hear the word „Katsuki“ quite often, so she guesses he is asking around where Katsuki is. Eventually, the man makes her walk quite a while outside of the settlement and y/n starts doubting her decision to follow him. What if the woman was right? What if that guy really has something bad on his mind?

The man leads her into a small gorge. Y/n can see how smoke rises from the inside, so she guesses humans must be there as well.

Turns out her guess was kind of wrong. The deeper they get into the gorge, the more clearly it becomes what lives her: dragons. When the first comes into sight, y/n walks a bit closer to the man in front of her. More and more dragons come into sight. Golden ones, blue ones, green ones. Y/n thinks the deep black ones look the scariest. She tries to avoid eye contact with all of them. Also, she wonders if Katsuki's great red one is here. Actually, she'd be really relieved to see the great red one again right now. At least one familiar face, or snout, around here.

The man leads her all the way in, where a small fire is lit. More men sit around it drinking and laughing.

The men cheer and gesture for the man to join him but he declines with a wave of his hand. He says something to them and y/n hears Katsuki's name again. She peeks behind the man and sees Katsuki sitting among the men around the fire. When Katsuki spots her, he immediately gets up.

Katsuki exchanges a few words with the man before said man turns around to leave. Katsuki grabs her shoulder and gives her an angry look. Seems as if he's not too happy that I'm here, y/n thinks.

The men laugh and say something to Katsuki to which he gives them a snarky reply. Katsuki leads her to the fire and motions for her to sit down. Y/n does so and wraps the blanket around her a little bit more tight. The man called Kirishima asks Katsuki something and points at y/n. Katsuki shrugs indifferently.

Kirishima fills a mug with something that's been brewing over the fire and hands the mug to y/n. Y/n takes a sniff. It's definitely alcohool. She takes a sip and is pleasantly surprised.

„Mead!“ she exclaims. The men cheer and raise their cups to her. Y/n does so too and takes another sip. The mead is sweet and rich in her mouth.

Kirishima laughs and says something to her. Y/n smiles. Somehow, this feels comfortable. Like when her people sat around the fire at night drinking some hot mead to keep warm. It's the time when stories and memories are shared. Y/n decides there's no harm in sharing a memory of her own, even if these strange men won't understand her.

„You know“, she tells Kirishima, „My aunt used to make mead together with my father“. Kirishima takes another sip from his cup while listening.

„Of course, you need honey for that.“, y/n continues, „So my aunt and my dad went to the woods to find wild honey for their mead. Unfortunately for them, there also was a bear looking for honey too. When my aunt saw the bear, she screamed so loudly that even the bear was frightened, and in his shock, the bear knocked down the bee nest. Of course, the bee attacked my aunt and my dad and they ran home to our camp, screaming the entire way. I've never heard my father scream like that. Like a little girl.“

Y/n is giggling at the end of the story and has to wipe the side of her eye. When she's done, she notices that the rest of the men fell silent and were watching her intently. Suddenly, she's a bit embarrassed for rambling out a story like that.

„Anyways“, she says and raises her cup, „Cheers!“. Quickly she takes another sip and the men start laughing. Y/n feels incredibly embarrassed. A few of the men clap Katsuki's back who also looks embarrassed. Y/n lowers her head. She didn't want to embarrass Katsuki with her stupid story.

Suddenly, she feels Katsuki slide closer to her. He puts an arm around her tucking her safely into his side. Y/n peers up at him. He keeps his eyes fixed on his peers and y/n snuggles a bit deeper into his side. At least he doesn't seem mad now anymore. She keeps slurping her mead until it's empty. Also, she surely feels the buzz. This mead is a lot stronger than the one her aunt and father brewed.

She watches Katsuki for a while who also seems to be done with his cup. Eventually, she pulls at one of his necklaces trying to get his attention. Katsuki lets go of her and looks down at her. He mumbles something which y/n guess is something like a „what?“. She should write that word down later.

„Where's your dragon?“, she asks him. When Katsuki's brows only furrow, she points at a dragon and says „Dragon?“ and then points at him. It seems as if a light goes up in Katsuki's head. He says something to his men and then gets up taking y/n's hand. They leave the fire together and Katsuki leads her to a cave entrance. He gestures for her to stay behind him and y/n does as she's told. The last thing she wants is to wake up an angry dragon. She peeks behind Katsuki and sees the enormous form of the great red right in front of them. Katsuki gestures for her to step beside him.

„Drami“, Katsuki tells her and y/n looks at him uncertainly. Is that the word for dragon in his language?

„Drami.“, y/n repeats and the great red raises its head. Y/n watches with wide eyes how the dragon moves its big head and nudges Katsuki.

„Oi!“, Katsuki exclaims and tries to push the dragon away. Y/n has to giggle at the sight. Is this how she looks when she tries to push Katsuki away but he doesn't move at all?

The great red notices her as well and moves towards her. Fear strikes her even though she knows that the beast probably won't hurt her. The dragon nudges her as well but in contrast to Katsuki, y/n wasn't prepared for the force of the nudge. She stumbles and falls over. There's a grumbling sound in the dragon's throat and she's sure the beast is laughing at her.

„Hey!“, she complaints and sits up.

Suddenly, there are whistling sounds in the air. Then, y/n gets attacked by all sides. Little dragons nudges her from all sides. Pulling on her blanket and hair. It's not painful and when the first shock wears off, y/n has to laugh and she tries to push the little dragon off of her. When she looks up, her eyes meet Katsuki's who have a mischievous gleam in it. He laughs at her and y/n sticks out her tongue to him while fending off the lizards around her.

There's a deeper grumble in the air and the dragons let go off y/n. They rush back to the great red. The small ones have the same color as the great red and when they climb onto it, they become invisible. No wonder y/n didn't spot them before. Katsuki chuckles and helps her up.

„That was rude.“, y/n tells him and tries to rearrange her messy hair. Katsuki picks up the blanket and puts it around y/n's shoulders again. He ruffles her hair and says something to the great red. He gestures for y/n to follow him.

„Bye, Drami!“, y/n tells the great red and quickly follows Katsuki outside.

~*~*~*~*~

After Katsuki says goodbye to his men, he walks back to the village with y/n. She looks ridiculous, he thinks. She lost the nice clothes picked out for her and instead carries this ratched blanket around with her. Is she really that cold? Katsuki and his men walk around shirtless half of the time and even the women in his tribe wear more revealing clothes than the women from the kingdom. It makes him wonder if his mother might be right about y/n.

They walk back in silence and Katsuki notices how uncomfortable y/n feels. He can't blame her. She probably hasn't got a clue about what happened earlier today. He wants to feel sorry for her but can't find it in him to do so. She should man up a bit, he thinks to himself. Otherwise, she will never be accepted around here.

Doubt gnaws at the inside of his mind. He's been replaying the conversation with his mother again and again. The truth is that Mitsuki's right. Y/n isn't strong enough for his people. Physically and probably also mentally. She doesn't fit in. Hell, she doesn't even speak their language. Fine, that's something that can be tackled. Actually, Katsuki already decided that he'll send for Deku. That damn scholar can make himself useful and teach y/n their language.

And yet, Katsuki knows that he needs a strong mate by his side. One that stands strongly and proudly next to him as the leader of his people. Having a weak mate and weak offspring does not help his position. In contrast, it might give people a reason to doubt him. And who knows what the future holds.

So far the king Todoroki turned a blind eye to the dragonblood tribe's raid on his grounds. It's easier to let them take a few women than to fight his men. But how long will that go well? Katsuki already got the news that the king is stocking up his army. His tribe can handle a few strikes of retaliation. However, if it escalates to a full-blown war things look differently. The plague already decimated their numbers and with almost no women in the tribe to even out the number, the future looks grim.

His men did little to cheer him up. While they tried to support his choice, they also gave insight into their own homes. Comparing y/n to the few women they've brought home and mated. Denki's mate passed only after a few months. She lost weight rapidly after arriving in the village and one nasty cold later, the woman completely withered away. Not enough time to give him an heir. Kirishima's position is not rosy either. While his mate is still alive, the woman is terrified of him and that even though Kirishima is probably the softest of the bunch. The other men urge him to just take her since the tribe needs children and that's what the women are brought in for but Kirishima is too kind of a man to touch her against her will.

Kirishima doesn't speak it out loud but Katsuki knows how disgusted the man felt about himself after he mated her for the first time. Other men are not as docile as Kirishima. They take their new mates as they see fit. They think that if their new mate doesn't find it in themselves to accommodate the situation, at least they can submit to them and fulfill their duty as a mate.

Katsuki is so deep in his own thoughts that he doesn't notice how they arrived back at his tent. Only when y/n stops walking, he looks up. One of his mother's ladies-in-waiting is standing in front of his tent.

„Your mother wishes to speak to you. She's inside.“, the woman informs him. Katsuki gives her a nod and puts a hand on y/n's lower back pushing her inside.

„What do you want?“, Katsuki asks his mother upon entering the tent. His mother sits on the remaining chair with her arms and legs crossed.

„Did you mate her yet?“, she poses a counterquestion.

„Obviously not.“, Katsuki tells her. He gives y/n a side-eye and he notices how tense the smaller woman got. Clearly, she must fear his mother by now.

His mother rubs her temple.

„Katsuki, I didn't mean to upset you earlier.“, his mother states. Katsuki lets go of y/n and sits down on one of the trunks.

„I know that.“, he mumbles.

Mitsuki watches as her son uses a knife to scratch off dirt from the underside of his shoe. Meanwhile, y/n stands at the entrance of the room feeling absolutely lost. She feels like she shouldn't be here for this conversation. She tries to make eye contact with Katsuki who keeps his focus on his shoes. Mitsuki sighs loudly making y/n flinch.

„Katsuki, I'm glad you want to take on a mate. I've been afraid you'd refuse one completely. I'm just worried about your future, our future.“, Mitsuki points out. Her voice isn't exactly soft but probably as soft as the former chief can be.

Katsuki stabs the trunk with his knife.

„Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I'm worried, too?“, he barks at her.

Mitsuki gives her son a pointed look.

„I know you are. Which is more the reason why I don't understand... this.“, Mitsuki says and vaguely gestures towards y/n as if she's a piece of furniture rather than a real person standing in the room.

Looking back at it, y/n doesn't know why that was the reason to get her angry but it does. Y/n decides then and there that she doesn't like the woman who clearly is related to Katsuki. Why does she always pretend like I'm not there, y/n thinks. It makes her angry. It's rude. Also, y/n is pretty sure that his woman has nothing nice to say about her.

Katsuki looks at his mother annoyedly.

„What do you want me to say? I've chosen her. Don't you trust my reasons?“, he tells her.

„Do you trust your reasons? Because if you had, wouldn't you have mated her by now?“, Mitsuki strikes back.

Katsuki feels more and more irritated by each passing second.

„That's none of your business. Or do you also plan to check how often I fuck my mate?“, he bites back.

Mitsuki gives him a piqued look and shakes her head in disgust.

„Seriously, Katsuki. What the hell are you thinking?“, Mitsuki asks him.

Katsuki pushes himself off the trunk and ruffles his own hair roughly.

„I don't know, okay? I met her and we connected. I want her.“, he tells his mother.

„Aha, you want her. If you want her, then take her and pass her on, or let her go.“, Mitsuki replies.

Katsuki gives her an angry look.

„She's different from the other women we brought here.“, he tries to argue.

„In how far?“

Katsuki throws his arms up in the air.

„For one, she's not afraid of us or our dragons. Actually, I think Drami might like her. She's a fighter. I saw her fight a bandit with her bare hands. She can hunt, or at least read tracks to a certain degree. She can treat wounds and she picks up on things quite quickly. I'm sure that if that damn Deku teaches her, she will be speaking...“, Katsuki starts to ramble.

„Stop.“, Mitsuki says coldly and holds up a hand.

„I don't need to hear you sing praise to this woman. Nothing you said proves to me that she will be a good mate to you. You describe basic skills that everyone should have. If you think that...“, his mother continues.

„Can I say something about this?“, y/n enters the conversation. She's sick that she's forced to observe from the sidelines, especially considering that this is a conversation that's clearly about her. Y/n doesn't care that neither Katsuki nor this woman understands her. It's time to give both of them a piece of her mind.

Y/n stems her arm into her hips and points at Mitsuki.

„First of all, who do hell do you think that you are? I don't give a shit if you're their queen or something. My people believe that all humans are equals to one another. Therefore I can't stand how you talk about me pretending I'm not there. Secondly, I might not understand what you say but I'm sure you say very mean things about me. Did nobody teach you basic manners? Like seriously, at least have the decency to talk shit about me behind my back. But making me understand what you think of me without speaking my language? Wow, you must really be determined on making me feel like crap.“, y/n tells Mitsuki while holding eye contact with the woman. Mitsuki looks unpleasantly surprised by y/n's outburst.

„And now to you, mister!“, y/n says turning to Katsuki.

„You drag me all the way to your people, make me do stupid ceremonies that I don't understand and then you let his woman humiliate me in front of all of these people? And after all this, you take me back here just to throw a temper tantrum. What are you? Five? I honestly don't give a fuck about what that woman's issue is. What I do care about is how you handle it. And you're not handling it very successfully, dare I say. You're handling it like a manchild. Drinking your problems away with your buddies only to have another argument with her all over again? Seriously, I start to doubt if I made the right choice in trusting you!“, y/n gives Katsuki an earful.

Katsuki stares at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. Y/n takes a deep breath. She straightens her posture.

„That being said, I exclude myself from this conversation.“, she tells Katsuki proudly with her head held high.

Then, she turns around and stomps outside the tent. Mitsuki stares after her just as perplexed as her son does.

Outside, y/n is fuming. This whole situation frustrates her. Because people talk and decide things over her head. Because she has no way to take any form of action. This time, she doesn't cry.

It's time to find that Nadia woman and get some more information out of her, y/n thinks.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tag list: @graviewaviee @cosmicbreathe @tsukikoxo @nnubee @witchbishsblog @elajede @bsallergy @frxcless @berryvioo @eyesforbkg @shamelesjaroflaffytaffy @pastelbaby1111 @iamlizardgod @plvt0fvtvre @hello-peanutdoodle-blog @guccirosegold @kookiemyfeelsposts @sweetblueworm @54fangirl @sakurarr1122 @rv19 @leeliyah @king-dynamight @confused-smol-fan @xmaudx @waterstarz @pinkwhiskerglitter @adeline96 @zoom1374 @fingui @giuli-in-earth @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @futuristicallykawaiiturtle @tragedyofabrokensoul @dynakats @rebel-loves-anime @cloudxluv @itsssyagurll @sunshineandwitchery @cloudxluv @hollykanuki @atouchofmidnight @nutellaenjoyer @musicbecky @miacitocco @cassouandco @penguinlovestowrite @sleepykittycx @bakugouswh0r3 @xxjesshuxx @helenamaximoff @ssssssws-world @k1tk4tkatsuki @gh0stgirl333 @anon-mouse223 @bexxs @i-am-ms-rebel-heart @wannabeisekai @spragaraga @faemagic88 @kolakoke @faetoraa @cax-per @willy-the-witch @stardream14 @jiyuu-da @mintytalesblog @sparklyoperaroadpie @musicbecky @maria-patricia @mistermemister @katsukismrs @l0kisbitch @bakukiriswife @rebel-loves-anime @drink-water-456

@gold24fish @notsaelty

[I think I can't tag anymore people, sorry! Unless anybody knows what I'm doing wrong...]

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morganas-pendragons · 3 months

Text

All My Love | Twelfth Doctor

@pompeiianbollockr

Set during the blindness arc in Season 10 because I love me some vulnerable Doctor. I don't care if it's not in Twelve's character. He gets to be vulnerable because I SAID so :D

He hasn't spoken to you since before you landed on the space station. In fact, it's been nearly a week. It's been nearly a week since The Doctor allowed himself to kiss you. To touch you.

And possibly the most devastating part.. to see you.

Self sacrificial. That was one of the best words you'd ever used to describe him in the time you'd known this face. This face. With all its quirks, and all the things he hates about it: The attack eyebrows, the lines, the wrinkles and the age... Despite all the things he'd hated about this face, the one thing he'd learned from traveling with you is that the faces didn't matter.

He truly believed you loved him for him. You knew it. He knew it. This, though... This was something he wasn't sure he was going to come back from. The Doctor had spent centuries gallivanting across the universe, running further and faster from home because he couldn't dare look back, with promises of adventures on his lips and desperation for escape in his heart.

"Tell me... am I a good man?"

You scooted closer to where he was sitting on the stairs and tentatively rose your hand to graze your fingertips across his temple and card through those unruly silver curls. He shivered at the sensation and forced his eyes open to meet yours as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, "The best man I will ever know."

He hasn't forgotten the feeling of your lips meeting the skin under his ear. Or the first time he'd kissed you of his own accord. Or the first time you'd marked him in the dead of night in his bedroom, where your lips had branded his skin. The way he'd linked your fingers together on either side of your head.

The sound of your voice calling his name. The sound of your voice in general, so soft and sweet and good...

That is something he clings to so tightly now. All the memories of the past - mere years for you, millions of years for him - that had opened his eyes to the truth: Despite all his misgivings and all his failures, he too was someone deemed worthy of loving.

You had brought a light into his life that The Doctor had not realized he'd been so deprived of. It was the light of humanity, of hope, of a heart far too big for this universe that nobody would ever thank you for. You deserved so much better than him.

And yet, you didn't want better.

You only wanted him.

He can't figure out why he's so... sad. There's an empty hole in his hearts and his mind where someone used to be, where the memory and the love of someone he cared for used to occupy, and the realization he cannot place who they are is angering him.

The Doctor has always been vengeful. The Oncoming Storm, The Valeyard, Timelord Victorious. He has rage written into the very essence of his bones and a desire to protect and save people in a way no one had ever saved him from himself.

"Hey you," You dragged your fingers across his shoulder blades as you came to sit beside him in the open doorway of the TARDIS. "Where did you go?"

That was one of the things he'd first recognized he loved about you. Despite this body having difficulties with physical affection and intimacy, he'd learned how to communicate with body language and gazes. Absent looks. Looks of adoration. Affection. Longing. That was all it took.

And you still read him like a book.

"Something's missing," He lightly knocked on his temple as you reached out and took his hand in your own. The Doctor let you. It was like he could feel the sunlight and warmth seeping from you into him. The light overwhelming the dark. "In here. There's someone who's supposed to be in here with the rest of them. I don't remember."

You did. You did, and Clara had made you promise before she flew away that you would never help him remember. That you would help him carry the weight.

"Maybe you're not supposed to. We're all stories in the end," You whisper. The Doctor softened as he lifted your hand to his lips and tentatively brushed them against your knuckles. "And maybe some of those stories become songs. Whispers of melodies and lines that hold the things we cannot remember."

All of his memories are composed in a form of music: Lines upon lines of melancholic notes in the minor key that is his endless life, with crescendos of bright notes meant to convey the optimism and light brought by the companions who travel alongside him.

And when they leave, the decrescendo extends over what feels like years, softening to a singular note that eases into silence.

Him, alone, on his own battlefield. That's how he feels right now. Battling the recognition that he may never be able to bask in the light again. That he may always be victim to the darkness.

So The Doctor lets the darkness win. He distances himself from you because it's better to face the darkness alone.

However, you are not willing to let him.

***

You know him. You know him better then you know yourself, and you have known him long enough to know his tells when it comes to how he keeps his secrets. How he lets himself lie. You are the only person who is able to truly see The Doctor.

You would be lying if you said you weren't hurt by his sudden distance. He hadn't done this since he'd recently regenerated. When he'd been resentful of his new body, of the world, and of who he was now.

You had lost count of all of the times that you had followed the sound of grief and heartache and despair into the darkness of his bedroom. All the times he'd turned you away. All the times he'd left you out in the cold of the TARDIS hallways.

All the times he'd finally given in and allowed himself to be held.

You'd been longing to do that again. To be the one being held, to be reminded that he did indeed still love you. The Doctor always went on about having ''a duty of care'' for you and for Bill.

Did your self hatred overwhelm your duty of care, Doctor? Did the coward finally win?

When Bill and Nardole had disappeared, you had stayed behind with The Doctor when he'd attempted to read the Veritas. You had been right around the corner when you were alarmed by the sound of pained groaning coming from within the cage.

"Cardinal, it worked. I can see. Not well enough. Not yet."

Dread bubbled low in your stomach as you approached the cage from behind. Hadn't his blindness been cured? What was he talking about?

"Think about the universes. Whatever you need, you can always borrow." He blinked heavily. Once, twice, three times to try and clear the haze from over his eyes. You were standing just outside of his peripheral vision. He wouldn't be able to tell you were there. And after shutting you out, after days of nothing.. This upset you. This hurt. "As long as you pay it back. I just borrowed from my future. I get a few minutes of proper eyesight, but I lose something. Maybe all my future regenerations will be blind. Maybe I won't regenerate ever again. Maybe I'll drop dead in twenty minutes, but... I will be able to read this."

He slammed his hand on top of the Veritas. You weren't paying attention anymore. The next thing you knew, the lights were going out, and you were running to keep up with him even though he did not know you were there.

You tried not to let your hurt show. Or for him to hear it in your voice.

That would come later.

***

When all was said and done, you found him in the console room. He was still adjusting to learning how to identify when people were approaching based off of his other senses. It took The Doctor a moment to recognize the sound of footsteps approaching, but he did turn from his seat on the pilot's chair nearest to the console to where he thought you were standing.

He also didn't know that you were very aware he was still blind.

"Darling? Is that you? You should know that I always know it's you. Don't be coy."

"I'm mad at you."

His brow rose at that. "And why would that be?"

You walked forward to stand in the natural part of his legs. "For all of the times you have dragged me across the universe," You begin, swallowing your fear as you take both his hands and settle them on your hips while you settle in his lap. "For all the times I have had with you, the years I have known you. I never thought you'd be this thick."

The Doctor snorted. Did you not know this face? He was ridiculously thick headed.

"You should know by now that I am extremely thick," He argued, allowing his fingers to drift under the fabric of your cotton shirt and drum lightly against your hips. "Thick headed and arrogant and a selfish old man."

"An old man who forgot the first promise we ever made." You have yet to touch him. To properly touch him. ''Tell me. When did you forget?"

He struggled to keep hold of those memories. The early ones. When one has an infinite life, you do your best to hold onto what is precious.

"You can't." The Doctor had declared. It had been mere weeks since he'd regenerated, and he was so unsure, so scared. He did a remarkable job of hiding it. "You can't love me."

It was also the first time you'd properly been able to communicate how you felt to him. Eleven had called you, desperate and longing and begging you to understand, to remember that he's still The Doctor despite having a different face.

You had never had the courage to tell his younger face that you loved him. When Eleven had helped you to recognize the fear underneath that worn, aged face, you'd walked right back into the TARDIS and declared it with all the courage of a soldier facing a battlefield alone.

"I do love you. I have loved you. It took a while for me to recognize it, but I do. It's not a lie. It's not a trick or deception. It's me." You took your hand and placed it on his chest. He winced, though briefly, because this body was not quite ready to accept more physical contact than that. "Being brave."

"Promise me then. No secrets. No tricks." He murmured. You took the opportunity to close the gap of space between you, keeping your hand in its place as his grey eyes met yours. You shivered as he brought his own hand up to cradle your jaw. Your lips parted on their own accord as his eyes flickered down to them before slowly dragging his gaze upward to meet your own. "Promise me that you will keep them safe."

"Them?"

"Those fragile, beating things you've held in your hands since we met. Tell me," His breath fanned across your face as he hesitantly leaned inward. "What does it feel like to hold a Timelords hearts?"

"I asked you to keep me safe," The Doctor remarked. "That's not your job. It was an unrealistic promise."

"You're forgetting the beginning of that promise," You finally leaned inward enough that The Doctor could feel the rise and fall of your chest, the warmth of your breath against his cheek. He froze as you lightly tapped his sonic glasses. "No secrets. Take them off."

He did not move for almost a minute and a half. The Doctor knew that he should've seen this coming. He should've known you were clever enough to figure him out.

He removed one hand from under your shirt and removed the glasses willingly. Your heart hammered painfully hard in your chest as you were greeted with the familiar grey of his eyes. This time, however, they were cloudy. They were almost... dark.

"It never went away. I just didn't know how to properly tell you." The Doctor shrugged. "You deserve better. It's as I've said. Selfish old man, traveling across the universe with his best-"

He paused as you pressed a fingertip to his lips. The Doctor hummed and kissed your finger, reveling in the feeling of warmth tracing his face reverently.

"I wish you'd just told me." You murmured. You pressed yourself closer, dragging his hand up your hip until his thumb was pressing hard enough against your skin to feel your heartbeat. "You know me better than this. I love you. You have all my love."

"Even without my sight?" He asked. "I can't... I can't see you. And it's devastating."

That was a peculiar way to describe it. "What could be devastating about that?"

"You really don't know, do you?" He replied. You took both of his hands and slowly lifted them to your face, setting his thumbs against the curve of your lips. "It's hard to come to terms with the darkness winning when you've learned to love the light."

Oh.

"You can't see me," You whisper. You shiver as he drags his fingers across your mouth slowly, allowing them to travel across your face. "But you can learn how to find the light again. Darkness isn't forever."

You spent what felt like hours in silence after that. The Doctor allowed himself to drink in the warmth for the first time in ages, humming as you allowed him to relearn your face. The shape of your eyes. The sweep of your nose, the curve of your lips, the texture of your hair under his fingers.

When he was done, your breath caught as he tangled his fingers in your hair and dragged your head back just enough to expose the slope of your neck. "My love," His voice rumbled deep in his chest. "Tell me, what does it feel like?"

It took you a moment to find your voice as he lowered his head to drag his teeth across your pulse point, followed by the warmth of his lips that elicited a shiver from deep within you. "What does.. What does what feel like, Doctor?"

The last thing he says is, "Being the light." Before he's capturing your lips with his own, and the light overcomes the darkness once again.

#twelfth doctor x reader #12th Doctor x Reader #doctor who imagines #doctor who oneshots

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maiverie · 10 months

Text

BITE BY BITE ┊ CHAPTER ONE .

in which you’re a vampire, and heeseung teaches you how he likes to be bitten.

SYNOPSIS. lee heeseung has one reputation, and it’s that he’s not afraid of anything: of rules, of authority, and especially not of vampires. he’s obviously bad news, and for such reasons, you’ve always made sure to never cross his path. it isn’t until one fateful night that you find yourselves face to face and what he tells you makes your entire world flip on its axis.

“bite me, fangs. just like last time.”

PAIRING. college playboy!heeseung x vampire fem!reader

GENRES. romance, fantasy, slight thriller

WARNINGS. swearing; blood and violence; mentions of death; descriptive & suggestive (makeout) scenes (no smut); some angst; heeseung is kind of a dick / overly flirtatious at times / slightly toxic (sorry I'm kinda into that)

╰ ( # ) tracking tag ‣ #(—BBB 🔗) ┊ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST! 📌

CHAPTER ONE. ╰ ✩ ┈ 7k ﹕masterlist ﹕ next . ╰ ✩ ┈ warnings : swearing, suggestive scenes, mentions of death ╰ ✩ ┈ a/note : narrative will flit between heeseung & yn's povs

“your son will die early.”

they say the scariest type of people are the ones who have nothing to lose.

“he will die before his twenty-fifth birthday.”

heeseung disagrees.

he thinks those who have everything to lose are far more terrifying.

this was a lesson he learned when he was just twelve years old.

he’s never really believed in fortune tellers, but that hadn’t stopped his parents from impelling him to visit one on his twelfth birthday. that fateful day was the first spark of what would soon become a raging inferno, because it was then and there that a morbid foretelling had been carved into his fate.

“lee heeseung will die from two bites on his neck.”

there are two types of responses to a death curse.

one, wait for your death — wither away with each second that passes, like you’re a candle slowly melting until the flame is swallowed by a pool of liquid wax.

or two, be a fire — be a raging, catastrophic wildfire; one that scorches everything within its proximity and doesn’t wait to be extinguished, but has to be extinguished.

you can wait for death or play it like a game.

heeseung chose the latter.

he constantly plays dice for death.

“are you scared, heeseung?”

heeseung exhaled, his head thrown back as the girl straddled him. his back was pressed into the couch in the living room of his upscale penthouse, a body flushed against his while the two remained engulfed by midnight darkness — precisely how he liked it. in the dark, every sense felt heightened, like how her delicate fingers spread themselves over his neck, and how her mouth was so close to him that her hot breath tickled the sensitive skin below his jaw.

“scared?” heeseung echoed with a twinge of amusement, his tongue coating his lips. he held her hips while she leaned forward and peppered kisses all over his neck. “that’s cute.”

“ah, so it’s not your first time being bitten,” the girl purred. she then glazed her tongue across his neck, indulging in a preliminary taste, like an appetiser before a full-course meal. “i bet you love it then. being bitten, i mean.”

“i guess i do,” he whispered, feeling slightly impatient as he angled his head closer and allowed the sensation of his breath over her ear to make her shiver — “but i love it especially when they stop wasting my time and get to the point.”

his blunt words sliced through the atmosphere so abruptly that the girl seemed to halt in surprise. heeseung thinks it’s amusing that she reacts like this, because he knows he has a callous reputation that precedes him. is she surprised that what most people say about him is right?

he’s never been the type to dance around his words. he’s honest and forthright and as a result, doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he wants just one thing from this girl — nothing more.

“o-okay, sorry,” the girl cleared her throat and licked her lips. she inhaled deeply before opening her mouth wide enough that her fangs began to extend outward. heeseung could feel their sharp tips lightly graze his skin, which roused a flame of exhilaration within him.

he felt his heart begin to pick up and he shifts in his seat, eyes fluttering shut with furrowed brows.

a slow exhale escaped his nose.

two sharp pricks.

one.

two.

crunch.

a soft grunt leaves his lips. the instant he feels his blood surge up through his veins and out his neck, he waits for that surge of euphoria he had experienced a long time ago.

he waits and waits and waits — but nothing happens.

everything within him falls flat and all his anticipation dissipates like smoke in air.

again.

yet again, he’s disappointed.

they say the first bite for a vampire is a slippery slope, because once you have a taste for blood, the hunger becomes insatiable. ravenous. like there’s an unquenchable thirst to devour, and devour, and devour.

heeseung wonders if the same could apply to him.

is it possible for humans to become insatiable?

is it normal that every time he finds himself here, his mind always floats back to that one girl?

he hasn’t been able to rest ever since that very first bite.

in fact, he’s been relentlessly chasing that thrill — chasing her — for years.

it comes with a sigh and a sharp decline of the exhilaration in his veins that heeseung realises tonight is no exception.

tonight is just another unsatisfying bite.

even after four years, he’s still not able to replicate the sensation he had his first time.

while he knows that bite by bite he inches closer to death, he also knows nobody’s bite has ever felt quite as gratifying as yours — you, the girl of his first bite.

tonight is the nail in the coffin.

he needs to find you.

after all, your bite is the only one that’s ever made him feel alive.

your dad always instilled one lesson in you: be relentless.

“hi!” you stepped forward to a fellow college student, your hand outstretched with a flyer. “would you like the chance to win a gift card valued at twenty dollars? i’m looking for study partici—”

the student scowls instantly, openly glaring at you. “get out of the fucking way, leech.”

he shoves past your shoulder, bumping you hard enough that all the flyers in your hands fall and scatter everywhere along the concrete walkway. you stagger back, stunned by the sight of the disarrayed paper sheets on the ground.

second. that was the second time today that had happened. all your life, you’ve tried to come to terms with the fact that humans and vampires might never get along, but being treated this way certainly stung.

being relentless, as it seems, came at the cost of your dignity.

it’s been roughly two hours since you had arrived at your university’s front courtyard, sweltering under the sun in desperation of finding study participants for your course assignment.

so far — nobody.

literally not a single soul.

your genius idea was that you’d be able to take advantage of the booming foot traffic at this time in the afternoon. after all, the courtyard has always been known to be the place students pass in between classes, especially since it’s lavishly embellished with open, wide cement walkways; gorgeous topiaries and flowers; and a stunning view of the main building out front.

it’s your second year as a nursing student and, in a twist of sickening irony, this semester is all about haematology. blood. the lab project you’ve been assigned is simple: you need to gather some study participants, practise your phlebotomy skills, test their blood, and consult them for any blood-borne viruses. the only problem? it’s been about a month since you were assigned this project and you’ve been wildly unsuccessful in recruiting participants.

the reason why is so obvious that it hurts.

nobody in their right mind wants to trust a vampire with their blood.

be relentless, you echoed to yourself with another sigh, collecting the flyers off the ground.

with what little morsels of resilience you could muster, you stood back up and plastered a polite smile on your face, making quick strides to a pair of girls who were chatting under a large tree. they looked friendly, so you felt a hopeful shine to your lips as the edges tugged upwards.

“hi!” you beamed with a sunny grin, “my name is—”

“go gargle some garlic, fuck-face.” they sneered at you, slamming the flyers out of your hands.

the flyers once again spatter everywhere on the grass, on which the girls are sure to trample over as they storm off.

great.

you’re fucked.

there’s no way you’re going to be able to start this project, let alone finish it with a passing grade.

you know the optics of your situation are a little strange, but you really do care about nursing. yes, it’s ironic and ridiculous for a vampire to have anything to do with healthcare, but most things about you were a little ironic anyway.

you’re the daughter of an eminent vampire and a blood descendant of hundreds of generations — with your inauguration coming up in two months, you were going to be formally recognised as the inheritor of your father’s legacy and fortune. this was supposed to be a prerogative of being the great park kangho’s daughter, but it felt more like a ball and chain to a predetermined future you wanted no part of.

it was all sunghoon’s fault — had your estranged brother not run away from the family like a coward, you wouldn’t be in this situation. it would have been his inauguration.

you know it’s weird that you don’t want anything to do with this, but heck — you barely understood how to be a vampire in the first place. you haven’t even had your first bite yet. it’s strange and a little embarrassing that you’re the first vampire of your family lineage to be scared of biting into a human, but you couldn’t help it — the thought was terrifying and has always been ever since you were a child.

this fear dates back to when you were twelve and a rumor had lingered around your classmates before it finally reached you. apparently, there was once a vampire who bit into the wrong human and died.

it was unprecedented: vampires were always the predator and humans the prey, which explained your utter horror when the rumor turned out to be true.

and it turned out to be about your mother.

since then, you’ve lived your life scared in the shadows, puppeteered by trepidation and the looming fear that you might meet the same fate one day. as you’ve learned, being the one who bites doesn’t necessarily mean you’re the one who doesn’t get hurt.

in this world, there are fish and there are snakes — people who bite bait and find themselves reeled in, and people who bite with the intention of injecting their venom.

they both bite, but just one survives.

frankly, you didn’t want to be either. and perhaps it was these things — a college degree and your new part-time job — that would save you from having to follow your father’s footsteps.

was it so bad to want to pass this semester?

was it so bad to dream beyond the future set out for you?

you sigh with dejection, unable to withstand the way your shoulders slump.

you run your fingers through your hair, freezing when your eyes flit into the distance and something catches your eye.

lee heeseung is seated at one of the bench tables. there’s a crowd of people swarming around him — there almost always is — and he has one elbow propped up on the table, palm up with his chin rested on it. his gaze is initially trained ahead of him while he engages in a conversation with one of his friends, until suddenly — his eyes flick upward and you both lock gazes from across the courtyard.

your heart slows into a halt at the sight of his penetrating gaze, a complete coldness sweeping over your body to keep you frozen.

shit.

you quickly tear your eyes away from him, feeling your heart begin to pick up.

shit.

if there’s one person in the world your father has always warned you about, it’s lee heeseung.

campus heartthrob, lee heeseung.

son of your dad’s most loathed enemy, lee heeseung.

chaos and fire in one pretty package, lee heeseung.

undeniably, devilishly handsome lee heeseung with silver, almost lavender locks and big, brown bambi-like eyes that looked far more innocent than they actually were.

your accidental eye contact was a cruel mistake, because it has now become the catalyst that prompted him to stand and slowly make his way over to you. you felt goosebumps across your skin as you hurriedly tried to gather the flyers in your arms, hoping to make your escape before he reaches you.

after all, heeseung is, for lack of better words — a snake.

granted, you’ve only spoken to him once in your life, but the whispers of everybody around you seemed to suggest you were lucky.

as the youngest son of his already notorious family, lee heeseung has the most infamous name in your college, one which induces a mix of both intimidation and intrigue. he has one reputation, and it’s that he’s not afraid of anything: of rules, of authority, and especially not of vampires. his repertoire consists of constant partying, illicit affairs, and a penchant for breaking girls’ hearts and collecting vampires’ bites.

he turned heads in every room he walked and based on the fleeting moments you’d seen him in the flesh, had an aura that was inexplicably captivating. there was a reason why he never struggled in finding company wherever he went — most people found his confidence extremely attractive.

the worst rumor you’d heard was that he had some sort of obsession with being bitten. and that he’d dismiss people at the drop of a hat once he got what he wanted. you couldn’t think of anything worse than being involved with such a callous guy, which would explain the utter dread you felt when you saw his shadow hovering over your crouched body.

shit.

you gulp, feeling like cornered prey.

most people agree that he’s all types of bad news — that he’s a fire who easily burns anyone dumb enough to get close — yet he attracts people like moths to a flame.

a flame.

you were going to make sure you did whatever it took to not get burned.

it’s obvious you don’t remember him.

heeseung thinks it’s kind of funny, actually — because most people are so well-acquainted with his name that when they meet him for the first time, they act as though they’ve known him for years.

but you don’t seem to remember him at all.

nothing about you seems to indicate that you recall that night you two had first met, about four years ago under a willow tree on a cliff that overlooked the city.

you bit him that day.

while this is a memory vividly engraved in his mind, he thinks the fact you had fainted afterwards must be a contributing factor to your amnesia.

“a twenty-dollar gift card?” he chuckles, eyes raking over one of the flyers from the pile he helps you pick up off the ground. “sounds fun.”

when he looks up and the two of you stand facing each other properly, heeseung gets the first glimpse of the subtle scarlet glow in your eyes for the first time in years. at once, everything within him ignites like fireworks — he feels excitement expand the walls of his veins while his heart drums with an echo, especially when you stare back at him and your proximity allows your familiar scent to flood his senses.

he can’t help but lick his lips as his mind flits back to that night and the ecstasy you gave him with just one bite.

the willow tree. your hair. your hands. your fangs.

shit. you’re even cuter than you were back then.

heeseung has always had a habit of chasing pleasure.

it’s safe to say he’s decided that you’ll be his next chase.

“uh, thanks,” you whisper, watching him pick up the last of your flyers. he also notices the empty sign up sheet on the ground, so he adds that to the top of the pile before holding it out for you to take.

when you take the flyers from him, he senses your hesitation, which makes it obvious that you probably don’t have the best impression of him. it’s fine; he can easily change that. “your study sounds interesting,” heeseung flashes you the charming smile and moon-crescent eyes that most people seemed to fall for.

unfortunately, it has the opposite effect. you don’t do a great job at hiding your grimace, because it’s there in your eyes and in the way your lips slightly dip. you’re suspicious of him. he can’t blame you — after all, he just watched you get shut down and sneered at by several people for half an hour.

that, and the fact that unflattering rumors seem to follow him wherever he goes.

“not many people seem to think so,” you clear your throat, gnawing on your lips. his eyes trickle down the length of your hair as he notes all the different ways you’ve changed since you last came face to face. “but anyway, thanks again for picking up my flyers.”

“no worries,” heeseung tilts his head with a calm expression, though his lips twitch upward when he sees you tuck your lip between your teeth.

noted. you’ve done that twice now.

once is an action and twice is a habit.

“so where can i sign up?”

“oh, uh — i-i don’t think it’s really your thing,” you let out a breathy chuckle, diverting your eyes.

“how would you know what is and isn’t my thing?” he steps forward, lowering his head slightly so that you meet his gaze. he has to say that he loves the way you stare back at him — eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and wariness, and even the way you shuffle back in an attempt at creating distance.

“just an educated guess,” you gulp, hugging your flyers closer to your chest. “you don’t really seem like the type and i wouldn’t want to bore you,” your eyes narrow at him.

“you could never bore me,” heeseung counters, the edges of his lips curling into a small grin. “besides, i’m super interested in haematology.”

haematology… getting bitten by pretty girls… same thing.

he watches your brows slowly furrow. you shuffle back again and he stifles a laugh. frankly, the way you keep drawing the line between the two of you makes this interaction all the more entertaining.

you appear to contemplate your next words before staring right back up at him with a certain ferocity that makes his chest squeeze with excitement. “actually, i have enough participants already. the study’s full,” you forced a tight smile, “sorry.”

ha.

you liar.

you act as though heeseung didn’t just watch you get rejected by half the campus.

“wow, what a shame,” he shakes his head, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “i really wanted that gift card.”

“aw, that sucks! so disappointing!” you comically pout, feigning regret with a solemn shake of the head. “i guess you’re just going to have to pay like a normal person.”

“i guess so,” he chuckled, “maybe i’ll pay with this empty sign up sheet.” he leans forward and swipes the topmost piece of paper from the pile in your arms, holding it up for you to see.

your smile instantly drops. you stare at him in horror as you snatch the paper from him, scrunching it up into a ball. “th-this was a second sheet!”

heeseung can’t help that a smirk slithers to his lips because he finds this irony amusing — you seem slightly disgusted by him, but his mind runs with relentless thoughts of you like he’s a hamster on a wheel.

you don’t remember him.

perhaps he has to make you remember him.

“it’s okay,” he exhales with his nose, grinning while he looks you up and down, “it was just an excuse to talk to you anyway,” he leaned in with a playfully raised brow, “maybe even take you out on a date.”

he wants to laugh out loud when your face drops into a disgusted expression. you’re almost sneering at him with the way your lips contort into a scowl. he wasn’t serious, but he loves to watch the animation in all your reactions.

it’s entertaining.

it’s cute.

“um, no thanks,” you scoff, backing away with a few slow steps. heeseung straightens his back, watching you hold your hands up as the distance between the two of you widens within seconds.

“oh, wow, um look at the time!” you quickly check your watch and nervously chuckle. “sorry i-i gotta go! my — uh, dog just died so yeah, bye!”

heeseung attempts to withstand laughing as you twist on your heels and bolt, running as though your life depends on it. you cast just one cursory glance over your shoulder before you disappear from his sight completely, leaving behind a flyer on the ground.

it should hurt his pride that you’re the first girl to turn him down in such an abrupt manner, but he knows time is on his side.

after all, things have a way of working out for him.

he has the cheese.

he has the trap.

he just needs to wait for you to bite.

“do you want to work overtime?”

your honest answer is no.

your even more honest answer is absolutely the fuck no.

however, your lips are suddenly bobbing up and down like a marionette and you find yourself agreeing to another two hours of what you consider hell on earth.

as it appears, applying for a new job as a bartender in one of the city’s most bustling nightclubs is the latest addition to your library of horrible mistakes.

decelis is supposedly the best nightclub in the city.

objectively, you can see why it’s so popular among college students. the establishment itself boasted of three storeys plus a rooftop, with an exquisite bar on each level. the atmosphere here is undeniably electrifying, and if you weren’t so painfully sober, perhaps you’d be able to appreciate that.

ironically, clubbing has never really been your thing.

how could it, when party music is currently resounding in your ears; flashing neon lights are searing your eyes; and sweaty, gross bodies are screaming various drink orders at you from every direction imaginable?

you wouldn’t normally be caught dead in a place like this, but you were desperate for a job. it was just last week that you had waltzed into the club and slipped them your résumé. you honestly weren’t expecting to get the job, but it was an offer you couldn’t refuse when they handed it to you.

because if you wanted any chance of escaping the web in which you were entrapped, you needed to know you’d be able to fend for yourself.

but as one can imagine, bartending is fast-paced and demanding.

you thought it would be exciting to work with a backdrop of party music and led lights, but your first two shifts were dreadful. you learned over a hundred different recipes, cleaned up vomit five times, skipped your lunch break both days, and found your brain rattling in your skull to the beat of jay park’s music when you stumbled home at five am.

while your coworkers are utterly lovely and you had unbridled access to free alcohol, such things weren’t enough to offset possibly the worst part of the job — the drunk customers.

“fuck, you’re cute as hell,” the boy drunkenly exclaimed from across the bar benchtop, while you watched him struggle to keep himself erect on his feet.

“thanks. so is that cash or card?” you stared, a hand hovering over the cash register and the other cradling the eftpos machine.

“are you a vampy?” he ignored your question, his chortle punctured by a few hiccups.

you slammed your eyes shut in irritation, regretting the overtime already. the penalty rate wasn’t worth it, because if there’s one thing you detest the most, it’s being called vampy.

nevertheless, you force your lips to curl into a courteous smile, though your stare hollowed like pitless voids. “if you’re asking if i’m a vampire, then yes.”

“that’s hot,” he chuckles, slipping on his feet but managing to use the bench to catch his fall. “i mean, hella scary — but still really hot.”

“sir, for the love of god, please tell me if you’d prefer to pay with cash or card,” your jaw clenched while your resolve began to chip away.

“sir?” the boy gasped incredulously, offended by your implication. “what am i? a fifty-year-old man?”

you sure as fuck act like one. you exhaled, containing yourself. “okay, my apologies. so is it cash or card?” you grit your teeth, fantasising about climbing over the bar and strangling the life out of the guy.

“oh, just put it on the tab,” he dismisses you with a lazy wave of his hand, then snatches the glass from the bench before sculling its contents in a swift movement. “lee heeseung’s tab.”

of course.

why did you even bother to ask? more than half of the people you’ve served tonight have been stacking their orders on that guy’s tab. perhaps this is why you’ve been having such a shit shift — every second order you take is a horrible reminder of your interaction with the boy from earlier today — which, for the record — is something you desperately wish to forget.

‘maybe even take you out on a date.’

that crazy bastard.

was that supposed to be a stupid joke?

the animosity between your two families has always been obvious — and barring today, he’s never approached you and vice versa. you thought it was an unspoken mutual agreement.

sure, there have been times you’ve caught his gaze on campus or at mutual events, but that was it — today was the only time he’d gone out of his way to speak to you. this is the reason why you found it so fishy — there has to be something he wants from you, though you can’t quite put your finger on what that might be.

the only time you’d ever interacted with lee heeseung before today was a strange occurrence you recall back in high school, when you had woken in the nursing infirmary and he was sitting beside you with his head resting on your bed.

these two experiences make you feel the exact same way: like his gaze has a tendency to shoot right through you as if he could read you like an open book. you hate that. you hate his penetrating gaze and his boundless arsenal of smirks and smiles and the way he carried himself like he always had the upper hand.

whatever.

hoping to rid yourself of these thoughts, you quickly shake your head and divert your attention back to your job.

half an hour passes as you continually hustle behind the bar, attending as many orders as you can. you work as though you have four hands — sprinting around along the circular bar while people shout their orders at you.

eight tequila shots.

three vodka raspberries.

two cosmopolitans.

five apple ciders.

it isn’t too long before your coworker, yunjin, taps you on the shoulder and offers to replace you while you run off for your shift break.

you quickly thank her and rush to the other, quieter side of the bar, but in the midst of removing the apron from your uniform, you hear a voice suddenly ring.

“is the sign up sheet for a drink also full, too?”

you instantly yelp, jumping in fright from the sudden voice. you snap your head toward its direction, where heeseung is leaning over the counter, smirking at you.

what the actual hell?

you almost feel a little winded at the sight of him. frankly, it’s only been a few hours since you’d last seen him, but he looks like a completely different person when he’s all dressed up for the club.

what replaces his usually clean and casual style is something that exudes confidence and suave charisma. even you find it difficult to deny that he looks as alluring as most people claim. tonight, he’s wearing a black button up top that accentuates his wild shoulders. you notice the first few buttons are unfastened and left open to showcase his pretty neckline and the silver chain around his neck, which glints in the dim lighting. he has half of his silver hair slicked back, the other half swept forward and hanging over his forehead.

he’s gorgeous, you think, and it almost makes your blood boil.

“i only ask because the sign up sheet to stare is full,” he cracks open a smirk at your deadpanned expression. “but i guess i could make an exception for you.”

“you’re following me.”

“actually, i’m a regular here,” he smiles, nudging his chin behind you. your gaze follows his direction and you see a picture of him and his friends hanging from the wall. not exactly a flex that he’s a frequent clubgoer, but he certainly proved his point.

“fine,” you huff in concession. “good for you,” you say sarcastically, reaching down to scoop your bag up in your hands from the lower shelves just behind the counter.

“before you leave, my go-to is whiskey on the rocks,” he smiles, propping his elbow up so that his cheek can rest on his palm. “i don’t think the owners would be very happy to see a regular leave… unsatisfied.”

you pressed your lips together, turning your head over your shoulder to see poor yunjin struggling to keep herself afloat, inundated with orders. you sigh, begrudgingly placing your bag back down so that you could pour him a glass.

“look,” you yank the most expensive whiskey bottle from the shelf and pour it into a glass, hoping the total price of his bar tab knocks his ego down a peg or two. as you place a few ice cubes in it and slide it over to him, you pin him down with a dark glare and an ugly frown. “i don’t know what the hell it is you want from me, but i’m not buying your act.”

“what act?” he smirked in amusement, taking a sip of the drink you handed him.

“the whole i’m interested in haematology act,” you scoff, too exhausted from your shift to tip-toe around the topic. “look, i’m not interested, okay?” you run your hand through your hair and sigh loudly. “i’m sure you’re a nice guy,” you almost gag on air when you say this, “but you’re just not my type.”

“then what’s your type?”

“i don’t know; guys that don’t creep me out?” you hiss, frankly surprised by your own hostility. you hadn’t planned to be so forthright with your words, but frankly, you were too exhausted to care. heeseung doesn’t creep you out per se — but you knew guys like him only have selfish intentions.

they needed to fought with fire.

heeseung doesn’t say anything when you throw your bag over your shoulder and stamp away from the bar, and you don’t even bother to cast him a final glance.

however, you’re only able to make it halfway to the exit before you realise you had left your phone behind.

crap.

there’s a moment of hesitation before you decide to go back, because there’s nothing more embarrassing than having to backtrack a dramatic exit.

nevertheless, you begrudgingly twist on your heels and make the shameful journey back, noticing as you near the bar that heeseung is no longer where he had been sitting earlier. the glass you’d poured for him still remains on the counter, but in a matter of seconds, you suddenly see a girl slide into his old seat.

huh.

circumventing the crowd in the middle, you find your way back to the bar and retrieve your phone. as the design of the circular bar allows you to conceal yourself behind the middle pillar, she doesn’t seem to notice you as you watch her through a blind spot mirror on the roof.

you don’t understand the compulsion within yourself, but you allow yourself a minute or two to observe her.

you stare at her big eyes, her medium cut layered hair and the blunt bangs across her face. she looks familiar, you think to yourself, halting once you see her glance over her own shoulders suspiciously.

you watch carefully as she does one last eye sweep of her surroundings before retrieving a small paper packet from her handbag.

what the heck is she doing?

you stare with a confused frown, eyes slowly widening as you watch her rip the packet open and pour its contents into heeseung’s drink.

she then dips her finger into the glass and swirls it around.

and just like that, the powder dissolves colourlessly and it almost appears as though heeseung’s drink has been untouched.

your heart shoots down your feet when you realise what she’s done.

she’s spiked his drink.

the adrenaline allows you to cast everything aside — your long-awaited break, your animosity with heeseung, and even your bag.

because within milliseconds, the girl springs to her feet and re-enters the dancing floor while you struggle to tail her, losing her amidst the sea of bodies.

fuck!

fuck. fuck. fuck.

you quickly exit the bar and follow her steps the best you can, though it’s difficult when the lights are low enough that everybody blends into a vague swarm of heads and bodies. she has dark hair, but so do half the people here. her frame and height are small, which makes it all the more difficult to locate her. every time you think you recognise her, you realise you’d been pursuing the wrong culprit.

everybody in the crowd is shoving you in all different directions.

she’s nowhere to be found.

and you can’t seem to find heeseung, either.

shit.

when you feel yourself enter a swivet of panic, you tell yourself to do the most rational thing — grab your phone and call for help. unfortunately, the sheer volume of club music resounding around you makes it difficult for yunjin to hear you on the other side of the call.

thus, you force your way to the outskirts of the club where your voice is more audible, but it’s only here that you finally look up and spot heeseung climbing the stairs to the second storey.

there he is!

you immediately hang up on the call and thrust your way through people in the direction of the stairs, eyes widening with alarm when you see the girl trail behind heeseung, the drink in her hand. the pair eventually reach the height of the stairs and the second storey, prompting you to yell out his name as loud as you can.

“lee heeseung!” you call, but in a similar fashion to your phone call — the music drowns out your voice. you scramble now, sprinting your way up the stairs while screaming his name loud enough that he finally stops in his tracks.

“heeseung!” you pant for a breath, settling your feet on the second level while you leaned forward over your knees. “w-wait—”

“who are you?” the girl asks, so you snap your head up and sneer at her.

you stomp over toward her and attempt to grab the glass from her, but unfortunately her grip is equally as strong.

for a few seconds, the two of you engage in a tug of war.

“wh-what the heck?” the girl shrieks loudly, “what the fuck are you—”

you’re both struggling for the glass, pulling it in your own directions.

it isn’t until you tug a little too hard that her grip suddenly loosens.

the cup flies in your direction and tilts toward you an—

splash!

you freeze, gasping at the sensation of cold liquid running down your chest.

no no no no no no no no—

you look down at your uniform and wince at the sight.

fuck.

liquid is trickling down your chest and legs and pooling at the bottom of your shoes.

fucking fantastic.

you throw your head back and sigh loudly, shutting your eyes in frustration before slamming them back open.

“i quit. i officially quit,” you mutter aloud, scoffing in disbelief to yourself. with the glass in one hand, you use your free hand to fruitlessly swipe at your uniform in order to flick off whatever remnants you can, though unfortunately the liquid has already saturated your clothes.

passerbys murmur and gawk at the sight of you, causing immense heat to flood your face and ears while you lower your head in humiliation. this is so embarrassing, you think to yourself, desperately wishing to remove yourself from the scene.

while you turn around to leave, you suddenly halt in your tracks and find yourself committing to one more stupid idea.

you storm over toward the pair and grab heeseung’s wrist, yanking him with you as you stomp your way to the backrooms.

“i saw her spike your drink,” is the first thing you say when you shut the door behind yourself, and the two of you find yourselves inside one of the empty vip rooms.

you’re encased by four padded walls in a dimly lit room, on which colourful flashes of light dance and flicker all thanks to the led projector on the ceiling.

there’s an entertainment centre and a tv screen on one end of the spacious room, while a circular table and a couch that perfectly circles around its perimeter is on the other side. you storm over and slam the glass down on the table, harshly throwing your bottom onto the couch while you knot your arms across your chest.

“she poured something in that,” you point to the remaining drink in the glass, glaring up at him, “i saw her.”

heeseung is silent for a moment while he watches you. he briefly tears his gaze from yours to observe his surroundings before facing you again, both brows raised slightly. “wow, you smell great.”

his eyes flicker to your soaked shirt. “but you look better than you smell.”

“you—” you scoff, slamming your hand down on the table in frustration. “you ungrateful piece of shit!”

he immediately stifles a laugh, biting his bottom lip to refrain his grin from growing any wider. “i-i’m sorry?”

“i was trying to help you!” you exclaim incredulously, springing to your feet as you furiously storm over to him. “did you not hear what i just said? i said she spiked your drink! do you not understand what that means? for all you know, you could have been poisoned! i was trying to save you!”

momentary silence engulfs the two of you after your outburst. the silence is sobering, if you’re going to be honest. after all, you feel immediate regret trickle in, but before you can backtrack, heeseung tilts his head and watches you with a calm gaze.

“save?” he echoed while a smirk slithered to his lips, and another important realisation strikes you like a rock to the head.

perhaps you should have just let him die.

“now look at me,” you throw your hands in the air, scoffing again in disbelief. “i’m drenched in whiskey, god—” you openly gag, “this is disgusting! the least you can say is thank you.”

“you want me to thank you?” he raised a brow.

“well, you could have died; i practically saved your life,” perhaps this was a hyperbole, but you were feeling petty — he didn’t look as shaken up as you did. frankly, you were beginning to think you cared more about his safety than he did.

“see, you’re mistaken,” heeseung took a step toward you, causing you to step back. he kept advancing toward you, closing the distance, until you felt your back softly hit one of the walls.

shit.

having heeseung in such an uncomfortable proximity made you want to shrink into a ball.

“wh-what?”

“i said, you’re mistaken,” you saw his eyes glint with amusement as he placed an arm against the wall beside your head, using it as an anchor while he leaned in closer, your faces now inches apart. you gulp, warmth crawling up your neck and into your cheeks from the sheer proximity and sensation of his hot breath grazing your face.

“i think it’s cute that you’re worried about me,” you watched as the edges of his lips curled before his eyes landed below your nose. you froze when his fingers were on your chin, lightly gripping it so that he could get a better view of your lips. “but like i said, i don’t need saving.”

“you’re right,” you smiled sarcastically, slapping his fingers away from your chin, “maybe i should have just let her poison you. or sedate you and sell your organs to the black market. do you have a preference for how you’d like to die?”

“don’t worry,” he whispered to you, voice so low and ghostly quiet you thought you could feel it sweep right through you. “i already know how and when i’m going to die, so don’t bother trying to save me.”

his words struck you.

you frowned in confusion, unable to decipher the cryptic meaning behind them.

heeseung smiled at your reaction, leaning into your ear so that his warm voice sunk into your ears like honey. “in fact, do something else for me instead.”

you froze, eyes flickering to the bare skin of his neck, on which you see old scar marks that appear like vampire bites.

you quickly place a hand on his chest to push him away, but this contact only seemed to encourage him — instead, he gently grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his waist.

“bite me,” he whispers alluringly, “i bet you want blood more than anyone else.”

your face dropped as his scent overwhelmed your senses.

something musky. woody. a hint of floral.

and a hint of blood.

you felt your eyes drop and your stomach churn, because for the first time, you feel something within you — a gnawing sensation.

an ache. an itch. an urge.

a hunger, even.

“w-wait…” you blurted, feeling a little lightheaded while your heart left a hammering echo inside your chest. you swallowed and swallowed but your mouth felt drier than ever.

“if you’re going to save me,” he exhaled. “then just bite me, fangs,” heeseung lured you in with a soft voice.

he then leaned in close enough that his breath tickled the sensitive skin of your ear.

“just like last time.”

A/N. well that escalated quickly 🤠 n e ways I literally had so much fun writing this chapter (sorry i cbfd proof reading lel) bc this is my first vampire au. also my first playboy au so BE NICE PLS DONT TEAR ME TO SHREDS LMFAOOO 😭 anyway words cannot even describe how excited I am for this fic - I've been craving the thought of writing smh a lil more actiony/thrilling than my usual romcom repertoire SO. I hope u r strapping urself in for a riiiiiiide >:) anyways aaaa tysm for reading && I hope u guys enjoyed the first chap!! sorry for all the long text but i promise the groundwork is necessary for the future shitshow in upcoming chapters SO. 🫡

likes, rbs & feedback are always appreciated! :) ╰ ✩ ┈ masterlist // next chapter .

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mr2swap · 6 months

Text

wedding gift for "dad"

I feel terrible about how things turned out for me and my son David, but there is nothing I can do now. All I can do is live the life David always wanted for himself and his husband, Andrew.

I met Andrew when he was just a little boy who used to come every afternoon to play with my son David, the two of them were inseparable so much that I came to consider Andrew as the second son I never had, the years passed, and I saw how Andrew and David became men, until that moment I never believed that there was more than friendship between them, they were always so fanatical of spending their afternoons training in the gym until long hours of the night, studying in long sleepovers that lasted all weekend week and rehearsing their choreographies for the dance club they were both enrolled in. I guess I should have seen the signs.

10 years ago while the whole family was together and David was next to him, he decided to tell us the truth, they had been secretly dating for so long that I almost choked on a mouthful of my wife's delicious meatloaf, they all seemed quite happy at that moment everyone except me.

I was so stupid back then that at that moment, I decided that the man in front of me was not my son anymore, I started treating him differently, I cut myself off from him and Andrew completely, damn it! I even felt sorry that everyone on our street knew about it before I did. I'm 59 years old, in my day all that shit was kept secret, of course there were gay people, but I never thought David would be one of them.

For the good of the family I decided to just ignore David, but when he and Andrew came to my house with an invitation to their wedding I just couldn't help myself anymore, I told David that I didn't agree with his lifestyle and if he wanted to be gay had to be done outside this house and forever, I wouldn't attend the wedding of two fagots, let alone let someone from my family know about it.

From that moment I did not see David or Andrew again, until their wedding day, I was alone at home watching the football game on television, my wife had betrayed me and left me alone to go to the wedding from David and Andrew, I drank a six pack of beers just to forget today's wedding, but while you were watching the game something strange happened, I don't know if it was the effect of the beers or maybe the strange wish that my son made, I swear that In a simple blink that I lived in slow motion I was transported from the comfortable sofa in my house to a hotel room.

I looked around surprised because my living room had become an elegant room on the twelfth floor of a hotel, believing that I was in an extremely realistic dream, I looked at my hands, they were no longer old and wrinkled, now they were firm and young, my clothes I had also changed instead of a dirty tank top that highlighted my huge belly and yellowed boxer shorts I was now dressed in a fancy tuxedo, I looked down in surprise that my belly didn't obstruct my vision to see my feet which were now in a pair in elegant black shoes.

-This must be a dream…-

I said out loud and startled by the sudden change in the tone of my voice, something seemed familiar in that voice, but I didn't know what it was, I decided to believe that I was in a lucid dream thanks to all the pain that I normally suffered in my back and on my knees they disappeared, with my long and firm fingers I held my hard and firm pectorals, even the sensations on my skin were different and for some reason my nipples were also much more sensitive.

I kept using my fingers to highlight each of my muscles, I continued down towards my chiseled abs, surprised to find myself with the hardness of my muscles instead of a grotesque round belly, I looked to the sides trying to find a mirror, so I could see myself better, and luckily I found one that was on the other side of the huge hotel room.

When I first looked at my reflection, I immediately recognized the face that was now mine.

-AHHH!!!-

Indeed, that was not my face, it was the face of my son David, I fell backwards terrified by the impact of seeing my son again and at the same time knowing that I was him, I remained silent for a whole minute making movements slowly while crawling to the mirror my eyes did not take off for a single second from the reflection in the mirror that imitated each of my movements.

As I knelt in front of the mirror, I examined my son's mature handsome face, his perfectly trimmed beard, his whitened teeth, and his hair which I had recently painted black.

-What the fuck is… This?-

I caressed my new face while making strange expressions with my son's face in the mirror, to verify that it was me who was there. Suddenly, from the other side of the room, the ringing of a telephone made me wake up from hypnosis in who was submerged while looking at my face.

I stood up and awkwardly walked to the phone now that I was aware of the vast difference between my obese body and the young body of my gay son.

Before I had the phone in my hands I looked at the number, immediately recognizing it was the number we had had in the house for years, less and less convinced that this was a dream, I picked up the phone and simply answered it.

-He-hello?-

For five long seconds that seemed like an eternity the phone remained silent, a hoarse and thick voice broke the silence in which we were.

-Dad are you?-

-Who speaks? David? for the love of god what's happening?-

-Oh shit! If you are the one in my body, I… I'm sorry, I think this is my fault.-

-David, where the hell are you? and where am i? why is this your fault?

I had to sit down for the long conversation we had that day, he doesn't know exactly what happened, he was just getting ready to go down to the reception and be on his wedding day, but it seems an unexpected gift arrived, from out of nowhere a mysterious gift appeared on the floor, it was in front of the door so I guess it was a gift from her future husband or maybe the reception had sent them something in gratitude for renting the ballroom, the gift box was simple and it only had a name on it.

From: Mr2 Swap

He thought the gift was a mistake, that it simply wasn't for him and one of the hotel workers had got the wrong room, but for some reason he couldn't leave the gift unopened, it was almost as if he was calling him .

When he finished dressing, the gift was still there and David could not resist the supernatural curiosity that invaded him, he took the gift in his hands and opened it, he was not expecting anything specific, but what the box contained surprised him, it was a simple golden ticket

"Valid for one wish"

David looked everywhere, but there were no more letters or signs of who had sent the ticket.

-A wish huh?… I just wish dad was here to see how I get married-

And after that we both woke up in each other's place, while there Disney was counting all this madness I looked everywhere even under the bed, but there was no ticket not even a gift box it was like after his wish was fulfilled would have vanished.

While I was still looking for some clues as to where that strange gift had gone, my wife also dressed in an elegant dress entered the room, as soon as I saw her I knew that she had to find out what had happened to me and David But the words wouldn't come out of my mouth no matter how hard I tried I couldn't say a single word about the exchange or about the real David now being drunk in my body thousands of miles from here.

-the wedding planner is waiting for you son, if you take longer on the phone, we will have to postpone dinner-

Caught by the magic of the ticket, I act exactly as David did, I took one last look in the mirror and with a smile I fixed my hair, I definitely wouldn't act like this in a situation like this, but David's personality was so dominant in to my mind that now that so much time has passed since then I can't believe that I actually married another man.

I drank a couple of drinks to ease the tension but as soon as I saw Andrew for the first time through my son's eyes it was like seeing him for the first time, he was a bit taller than me he had a lovely smile and had a body so fucking hot in that body hugging black suit that a boner formed when I kissed him in front of my family and David and Andrew's friends

I will never forget my first kiss with Andrew, his lips were firm but soft, his tongue was so wild that I was carried away by the intoxicating taste of his saliva and that slight taste of champagne, with his long and strong arms he caressed my round butt giving me a prelude to what would be my wedding night, the grip on his fingers dug into the meat of my ass like teeth, in my old life I never allowed myself to be weak, but now I enjoyed my newly husband's manipulations.

By the time the wedding ended I was drunk enough to let myself go, the real Andrew noticed my nervousness a bit, but he thought it was just the nerves before the wedding, I hadn't seen my son or Andrew in years, I knew what enough for the time we were together and for what his mother said to convince him that I was the real David.

Hours went by and it got darker and darker, when all the guests had left and me and Andrew went up to the room, the real performance began, the second we walked through the door immediately Andrew took my hands and he tossed me onto the bed like I was a wild animal I stripped naked revealing my son's years worked muscles, my heart was pounding like crazy as I watched Andrew take off his shirt in front of me, I had seen Andrew shirtless a lot of times when I was in my old body, but now it was very different.

As if they had a life of their own my hands began to adore Andrew's massive hairy pecs, I pinched those nipples that were in front of me and buried my face in the middle of his pecs, the smell was delicious, sweat, and a slight scent of champagne spilled on his shirt, Andrew seemed to be enjoying it even more than I was, his moans that must have seemed repulsive to me before now only turned me on more and more as he released one.

Andrew I can't contain myself for another second he took me by the waist and turned my body so that I was lying face down towards the bed, my legs settled as if they knew exactly what was happening, I arched my back and lifted my ass to display it in front of Andrew, this time the moans that filled the room were my own.

Andrew had plunged his face into my ass and with the same ferocity that he had desecrated my mouth he did with my anus, even though he had magically acquired the personality of my son David, all the sensations will be new to me, and my God. , what fucking incredible sensations!

As he used his tongue to please me with his strong, calloused, firm hands, he took my penis and began to masturbate it, for a straight man and I have done the old-fashioned like me all these pleasurable sensations were incredible.

But neither me nor Andrew were satisfied, Andrew stuck his tongue out of my hairy ass and slowly inserted his cock inside me, it was a painful sensation, but somehow familiar and pleasant, he fucked me so hard that day that surely we didn't let sleep to the people in the next room.

He was so drunk and so tired that day that I didn't realize when he had put me to sleep, and when I woke up to the rest of Andrew, I almost fell out of bed. Immediately, all the memories of the day before came to mind. I got out of bed as quietly as possible, took the phone and unlocked it with Andrew's face, it had 58 calls from the real David.

I changed into a pair of my son's tight revealing underwear and went into the bathroom, called David and told him everything that had happened that night, completely avoiding that Andrew and I had fornicated.

It was strange hearing my son cry in my old voice, but there was nothing I could do to comfort him, I just promised him that he would try to figure this out and not ruin his life or his new marriage.

Since that day I have been pretending to be David, every day is something new and to be honest it is exciting, thanks to my new personality I was able to fully adapt to David's gay life the new ideas did not seem disastrous to me as they would have seemed to me in my Old body, I always thought my son was a model or something, I soon found out that he and Andrew were the best strippers in the city where we now live, we had loads of money, I never thought fagots would pay so much just to see me dance, having fun, kissing and stroking my husband's cock in public.

It's been three years since then, Andrew and I have a nice house that we remodeled, a lot of savings in the bank, and we recently started an OnlyFans account as a couple, and he never suspected that she married her boyfriend's father.

Actually no one ever found out about the body swap, that's still our secret between me and David, and speaking of David we talked again after the swap, he has a hard time adjusting to his new life as a bigoted middle-aged man, all those stupid ideas that used to be in my head are now in hers but I think she's adjusting to her new gay son.

It's a bit hard to admit, but I prefer my new life, so I'll try not to open a mystery gift from Mr2 swap again.

Hello, if you liked this story and you want more, you can take a look at my Ko-Fi page to see my most recent stories, see my new stories and support me to continue creating this hot content.

#body swap #male body swap #bodyswap #body switch #male transformation

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malspinningyarns · 5 months

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It’s interesting that so many Shakespearean scholars focus on the death of Shakespeare’s son Hamnet possibly influencing Hamlet when Twelfth Night is way more obvious. Hamnet had a twin that lived into adulthood, Judith. Hamnet died around the age of 11. Twelfth Night was written about 5 or 6 years later, when Judith would have been about 16, so entering courting age.

For those who don’t know, Twelfth Night is about a young lady, Viola, who believes her twin brother Sebastian is dead after they both were in a shipwreck. In order to serve a Duke, she pretends to be a boy. Hijinks and a complicated love plot, of course, ensue after her brother is shown to be alive.

It’s not a hard stretch to speculate that Twelfth Night could be at least partially influenced by watching one of his daughters trying to move on from losing her twin brother (as well as Shakespeare processing his own grief by giving it a happy ending).

I know the answer is sexism and Hamlet being Hamlet, but it’s still interesting.

#shakespeare #william shakespeare #hamlet #twelfth night

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ai-yo · 14 days

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The amount of foolishness I have seen on social media relating to Jamie Lloyd's Romeo and Juliet and then Rapunzel is so annoying/funny weird that people making fun of older people believing everything they see on Facebook and WhatsApp group chats need to shut up.

They believe everything they see on tiktok and twitter getting their info from people who don't read and/or spread misinformation intentionally.

White People getting upset over the casting of Avantika Vandanapu as Rapunzel in the Tangled live action. But wait a Tangled live action was never announced. Meaning white people and others were getting mad that a Avantika Vandanapu fanpage I think made a fancast video and photo edits of her as Rapunzel

Now with Romeo and Juliet so many people think that it's a movie, and a remake and are talking about Hollywood. When it's actually a stage play happening in London West End and is set to go to Broadway too I think.

Even the ones that do know it's a play are still doing the most, they don't care about theatre because they are unaware that colourblind casting and even genderbent casting in Shakespeare plays happens all the time look at the posters for upcoming productions at the globe theatre

Twelfth Night in central park starring Anne Hathaway and Audra McDonald

The only reason they are paying attention is because of the stunt casting of Tom Holland and the only media they consume is superhero movies. People from different countries saying they won't watch, you don't live in England and you're not rich you ain't flying here to watch a play. You do not even watch plays.

So much racist stupidity over the past few days I had to rant

#francesca amewudah-rivers #avantika vandanapu #racism #romeo and juliet #Rapunzel #misinformation #go outside and see if it is raining dont take someone elses word for it #tom holland

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slaymitchabernathy · 23 days

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Wrapped in a Bow

It’s late when Coriolanus gets home.

So late.

The guilt eats him alive as he pushes the elevator button to take him to the twelfth floor. He lives in the penthouse of course.

He knows she’ll be waiting for him, she always is. Even if she falls asleep in the process he knows Soarynn won’t go to bed without him. At first he’d been slightly put off by it.

Why would she wait up for him when she could be asleep?

But then he began to love it, cherish it. And the more sick and twisted side of him was filled with pride that his girlfriend chose to wait for him each and every night. He knew his other friends couldn’t say the same.

He’s quiet when unlocking the doors and walking in. The penthouse is dark except for a faint glow coming from the living room. And he can hear a muffled voice, someone is talking but he knows it’s not Soarynn. He walks further into the apartment and finds his girlfriend in her usual spot, curled up on the sofa with a blanket, wearing one of his pullovers. She looks so beautiful, so angelic while she sleeps.

He turns his attention to the television where Lucky Flickerman’s television show is playing softly. He knows why she’s watching him this late at night and it’s not because she’s a big Lucky Flickerman fan.

It’s because she’s scared to be alone.

That’s probably what makes Coriolanus feel the worst. Knowing that while he’s at the office or at some company dinner Soarynn is home alone, anxiously waiting for him to get back.

She’s fine during the day. She goes out with her friends, goes shopping, gets her nails done. But when the sun sets she gets nervous.

Coriolanus walks around the sofa and reaches down for the remote, turning off the television before he gently scoops Soarynn off the sofa, inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla. She’s always smelled like vanilla. He’s always smelled like roses.

A perfect pair it seems.

Soarynn begins to mumble when they reach the bedroom, finally stirring from her sleep. “Hi pretty girl,” he whispers, nudging the doors shut with his foot. Soarynn slowly opens her eyes, nearly taking his breath away. She’s always been so stunning.

Soarynn reaches out and brushes his cheek with her finger tips as if she can’t believe he’s real. He often finds himself wondering the same thing about her.

Is this real? Is she real? Does she really love him?

He likes to think it’s real. He knows his love for her is real. “Coryo,” she whispers, “you’re home so late.” Coriolanus swallows at her statement and carefully sits down at the edge of the bed, holding her a little tighter in her arms. “I know, I got held up in a meeting and one thing led to another and I lost track of time. I’m sorry Soarynn.”

He knows it affects her. Upsets her. He’d be pretty upset too if he was in her position, waiting at home for her to get home just for her to be late and come home exhausted, barely able to give him any attention.

Soarynn doesn’t say anything but her eyes do. He chooses to ignore it, smooth over it. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promises with a kiss on her head. Soarynn simply hums and closes her eyes letting him watch her sleep for a while before he puts her to bed so he can shower.

Coriolanus thinks of what he could do to make it up to her. All his late nights. He knows that at the end of the day everything he already does for her is more than enough. He pays for everything and makes sure Soarynn is well taken care of.

Soarynn already has everything she needs.

So what do you get for someone who has everything?

꧁ ꧂

“And what breed are they?”

Coriolanus asks the question as he looks down at the pen filled with small kittens who are all looking up at him. He must look like a giant to them.

The shop owner reaches down and picks one up, one with white and gray fur, “They’re ragdolls Mr. Snow, very sweet and they’ll fall asleep in your hands almost instantly.”

Just like Soarynn, he thinks, looking at the small cat. It’s not secret that his girlfriend can fall asleep nearly anywhere although she prefers to be in his arms.

Coriolanus nods, gingerly taking the kitten from the owners hands. It’s so small and warm, so fragile. And it does almost immediately fall asleep in his hold. Which is good in his opinion. He doesn’t need a car running around the apartment in the middle of the night. “You’re welcome to choose which ever one you like,” the owner says.

Coriolanus almost wishes he brought Soarynn with him but this is meant to be a surprise. He looks back down at all the kittens and one in particular catches his eye. It’s all white, jumping onto its siblings and when it looks up at him he swears he’s looking into Soarynn’s eyes. The kittens nose is so pink and he knows in that moment that this is the kitten for him.

“I’ll take the white one,” he nods to the small feline. The owner smiles, “Excellent choice sir. She’ll be the perfect companion.”

He sure hopes so.

The shop owner provides a box for transporting the kitten and he pulls out a roll of ribbon. “Would you like me to tie a little bow around her neck? I know the ladies love a gift that comes with a bow.” Coriolanus hadn’t really thought of the presentation aspect of this surprise but he knows Soarynn will love it. “Yes please, the bow will do quite nicely.”

꧁ ꧂

It’s a strange thing to walk into his apartment with a kitten in a box.

She hasn’t stopped meowing since they left the shop and he’s beginning to worry that she might never shut up. Thankfully she quiets down once he opens the lid to the box and shoots her a stern look. If she wants to live in his house then she’ll need to learn that his world is law.

“Soarynn?” He calls out, noting her keys on the entry way table meaning she’s home, “Where are you darling?”

He can see a few shopping bags in the kitchen but Soarynn is nowhere to be found. “I’m in the bedroom Coryo!”

Coriolanus makes sure the box is properly closed before walking to the bedroom where he finds his girlfriend sitting on the bed with her legs crossed while she folds clothes. They have a maid who comes once a week to do laundry but Soarynn often has a specific outfit in mind for an event and she takes matters into her own hands and does the laundry herself.

Coriolanus certainly isn’t complaining. Not when she does his too.

“Hello my love,” she says sweetly, looking up at him. She looks perfect as always. She’s wearing one of her silk nightgowns which means it’ll be a night in. It’s only six o’clock but Soarynn often prefers to lounge around before going to bed. She’s like a cat in more ways than one. She’s quite tedious when it comes to grooming herself. She has soft hair, startling eyes and she nearly purrs whenever Coriolanus touches her just right.

“Doing laundry are we?” He asks, stopping at the foot of the bed to watch her. It’s mostly lingerie which brings a smirk to his lips. He loves seeing her in it almost as much as he loves ripping it off of her. Soarynn hums, “Yes, I thought I should go through it, get rid of some of my older pieces.” When she goes to look up at him her eyes land on the box. The pretty pink box.

“What’s that?”

Coriolanus smiles, “Just a little gift. I know you get lonely when I’m at work so I bought you something,” he says, placing the box down infront of her. Soarynn gives him a nervous smile as she goes to open the lid, “Coryo you really didn’t have to get me anything,” she says softly, taking the lid off.

The gasp that leaves her mouth makes it all worth it for him. Watching her eyes widen as she looks down at the white kitten. She reaches in, ever so gently picking up the kitten in her hands. “Oh my goodness, oh my, oh, Coryo she’s beautiful. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Oh, she’s perfect.”

Soarynn smiles at the kitten who is instantly taken with her and reaches out its tiny paws towards her face. Soarynn giggles and brings the cat towards her face, nuzzling her nose with the felines pink one. “Oh, aren’t you the sweetest thing?” She asks the kitten, grinning when she hears a small meow.

“Do you like it?” Coriolanus asks, feeling it’s his duty to ensure Soarynn is thoroughly pleased with everything she gets, even if it’s a cat. Soarynn nods and beams up at him, “I love it. I absolutely love it Coryo, thank you.” He smiles, pleased to see himself as the loving and doting boyfriend once again.

Soarynn sets the kitten down and lets her crawl around on the bed, “She’s perfect,” Soarynn whispers, “wrapped with a bow and everything.”

The kitten seems quite curious about Soarynn’s lingerie collection and Coriolanus chuckles when her tiny claws get tangled in a lace bralette, “Oh don’t do that darling,” Soarynn tells her softly, scooping her back up. “What are you going to name her?” He asks, curious as to what Soarynn will name the feline. She ought to be taken to the vet tomorrow to be given the proper shots and have all her paper work down. She’ll need a collar as well.

Soarynn holds the kitten up as if inspecting her for damage, “Hmm, I don’t know. I’ve never had a pet before. Perhaps something distinguished, so she’s a proper Snow.”

Coriolanus can’t stop himself from smiling at his girlfriend’s words. How she considers herself and the cat a Snow already. Soarynn is practically a Snow, all she needs is the wedding ring and that’s not too far in the future as far as he’s concerned. But the fact that she wants the cat to be a proper representation of his family name further supports that Coriolanus made the right decision in dating Soarynn.

“What about a flower?” He suggests since the Snows are known for their roses. Soarynn sets the kitten down, “Rosy?” She asks, looking for a reaction. She gets none. Soarynn bites her lip, “Daisy? Is your name Daisy?” She tilts her head but the kitten gives no indication that she’s been named properly. Soarynn sighs, “Oh this is hard. I can’t imagine the pressure there will be for children.”

Coriolanus likes the thought of that. Of them having children. A cat is simply the first step. Soarynn snaps her fingers, “Petunia.” The kitten lets out a meow and Soarynn gasps, “That’s her name! Petunia!”

Petunia purrs in her hold and begins to wiggle as if asking to be put down and Soarynn obliges, watching her run around. “She’s got a lot of energy right now,” she notes. Coriolanus takes a seat next to her on the edge of the bed, “She’ll wind down when she’s older and supposedly she’ll fall asleep right in your hands.” Soarynn raises her eyebrows and looks down at Petunia who’s now batting a paw at Coriolanus and his pants. He sighs and gently pushes her away, “She’ll need to be trained Soarynn. Well behaved when people come over and she better not touch any of my furniture.”

Coriolanus is beginning to have second thoughts about bringing an animal into the home. Didn’t they bring in mites and disease? Not too long ago dogs were roaming the streets with rabies during the war. He looks down at Petunia who has now crawled into Soarynn’s lap. She’s from a reputable breeder and she seems clean. The vet will be able to assess her. At least that’s what he tells himself. “She’ll be perfectly behaved,” Soarynn says, giving Petunia a scratch behind the ears, causing the cat to purr.

He’s not too convinced. Coriolanus is quick to grab her chin between his fingers, getting her to look him in the eyes, “I’m serious Soarynn. One wrong move and she’s gone. Petunia is supposed to be your pet not your child.” Soarynn gives him a small pout but his resolve isn’t breaking and she can see that now. “Okay, I’ll make sure she stays out of trouble,” Soarynn promises, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “And thank you for getting me a cat Coryo, she’ll be excellent company and you’ll come to love her you’ll see.”

Coriolanus isn’t too sure about loving the cat but he can tolerate her just fine as long as she stays out of his way and doesn’t steal all of his girlfriend’s attention. She was his first and she’ll be his last.

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus groans when his alarm goes off. Six in the morning is brutal but necessary in his opinion to be successful throughout the day. He sits up and allows himself a moment to admire his sleeping girlfriend. Her head is practically on his pillow but she’s never been too good at staying on her side of the bed.

Coriolanus quietly slips out of bed and heads to the bathroom where he takes a nice hot shower. He keeps the door slightly cracked open just in case Soarynn is in the mood to join him. Every once in a while she’ll rouse from her sleep and hop in the shower with him before he goes to work.

And today is one of those days. He grins when his sleepy girlfriend pushes the door open, her nightgown nearly falling off her shoulders as she rubs her eyes. “Well isn’t this a lovely surprise?” He asks watching her step into the steamy shower after slipping off the nightgown. Soarynn gives him a shy smile before wrapping her arms around his neck, “The bed got so cold once you left,” she mumbles into his neck.

He chuckles and wraps his arms around her small waist, pressing a kiss to her head, “Is Petunia not around to provide you warmth?” Soarynn giggles and slightly pulls away, looking up at him with those eyes he could drown in, “You know she’s probably wide awake right now,” she says teasingly.

She has a point. It had taken them one night to learn that Petunia thrives at night. During the day she sleeps but during the night that cat is a ball of energy. Coriolanus had nearly banished her from their bedroom all together when she tried to play with his socks in the middle of the night. But thankfully she’s calmed down since then. The vet said as she got older she’d sleep more throughout the night and Coriolanus was counting down the days until that happened.

But she made Soarynn happy. So that counts for something he supposes.

All her friends adored Petunia and that cat lived better than most humans in his opinion. She had a pink collar, her own bed and a plethora of cat toys. Not to mention how many times Soarynn brushed her during the day. Spoiled didn’t begin to describe that cat.

Coriolanus simply hums before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. He cherishes times like these the most with Soarynn. When it feels like they’re the only two people in the world. Soarynn returns it eagerly and her fingers card through his wet curls. Coriolanus slips his hands from her waist to her ass, squeezing it and smirking when she moans.

Coriolanus is a man who indulges in the little things and that includes steamy morning sex in the shower every once in a while. “It’s been a minute since I’ve taken you in here,” he mumbles against her lips. Soarynn sighs into the kiss, “Well here’s your chance.”

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus is all smiles as they walk out of the bathroom. He’s smiling like a school boy watching Soarynn’s naked body walking in front of him, a slight limp to her walk. He doesn’t hesitate to land a slap to her ass and Soarynn gasps, shooting him a look from over her shoulder, “You’re done for the day,” she tells him, her tone all too flirtatious to really mean it.

He cocks his eyebrow, “Well then it looks like I have my work cut out for me when it becomes night.”

Before Soarynn can even reply a white paw appears from under the bed, batting at her ankle. Soarynn giggles and couches down, playing with Petunia’s paw for a moment before the feline crawls out. She was probably under there all night along with the mountain of toys Soarynn has bought her.

“Good morning my sweet angel,” Soarynn says as she picks her up and spins her around. Petunia lets out a pleased purr before Soarynn brings her to her shoulder, holding her like an infant.

Coriolanus usually rolls his eyes at the sight, treating the cat as if she’s a human baby. But there’s something about it, seeing Soarynn act so motherly as if on instinct. She’ll be a wonderful mother where actual children are concerned.

He’ll propose soon. Maybe do it on the rooftop surrounded by his grandmothers roses. Whatever he does it’ll be perfectly romantic. The ring will be stunning, a ring fit for the wife of a Snow. The wife of Coriolanus Snow. He’ll pick out the perfect diamond, the perfect band, perfect box.

He’ll do everything perfectly and have it wrapped with a bow.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

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serendiquity · 2 months

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Because I love you - Lovebrush Chronicles

Valentine's Day/Rose Day headcanons for the lbc boys

Clarence

"We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright." - Ernest Hemingway.

Detailed and meticulous, Clarence’s nature is reflected in the blue roses he gives you. He doesn’t hand them to you outright, instead tucking them in books he lends you and leaving them in places he knows you often frequent. He presses some into bookmarks to preserve for longer, hoping that perhaps you’ll grow curious enough to search up their meaning on your own.

Clarence makes sure to dye each rose in different shades, each bloom boasting beautiful petals and, if you look closely enough, the hints of dyed-blue water still lingering in the stem.

It’s a pleasant surprise, and soon you find yourself dyeing roses to give back in exchange. Upon starting, however, you realize that you’ve greatly underestimated the difficulty of what originally seemed like a simple task. Apart from finding the perfect roses to use, the dye needs constant refreshing and your petals keep wilting before you manage to finish.

Clarence realizes your intentions when he sees you fiddling with one of your failed attempts, the blue dye barely even reaching past the stem. His eyes widen before he smiles, eyes soft. “Here, I’ll teach you.”

Just like that, your weekly study sessions take on an added aspect, and Clarence patiently takes the time to help with your new interest. Within a few days, you’re eager to present him with the results of your hard work, handing him a bouquet of sky blue roses. “They ended up being a bit lighter than I wanted, but I hope you like them!”

Alkaid

“True love is like little roses, sweet, fragrant in small doses.” - Ana Claudia Antunes

Alkaid is fond of white roses, and he believes their meaning encompasses you quite well: innocent, loyal, and kind, but with the thorns to protect yourself if necessary. He thinks that happiness tastes sweetest when shared and savored slowly, and so he hopes that the roses he gifts you each day can brighten your life, just like what you do for him.

He gives you twelve roses in the days leading up to the confession, a single white blossom every day. Each, he makes sure to present in a different way. The first he hands you outright, summer sunlight shining gently down as witness. The second he makes into a pale floral tea, petals drifting and bubbles rising like tiny stars. He sees you hesitate for a moment, looking down at the cup he handed you with undecipherable emotions, before drinking the contents enthusiastically. “It’s good,” you say, and he lets out a quiet sigh of relief, breaking into a small smile.

Throughout the next few days, he finds a multitude of ways to express his love, from pressed flowers to light flirting to your intertwined hands. Every time, he waits, watching for the slightest sign of disappointment or approval from you. When you beam and thank him, his heart lifts, and he feels a bit more confident.

The last rose, given on the twelfth day, he tucks into your hair, thorns carefully clipped away. He leads you to a picnic he prepared, a spread of your favorite foods and treats already laid out. He watches as you enjoy yourself, blissfully oblivious to his budding feelings. For a moment, he considers reaching out to clasp your hands in his own, then blurting out the words that have been haunting him for so long. He shakes the thought away.

… It’s alright even if you don’t realize. After all, love is best given and received in small doses, and he has plenty of time and love to give.

Lars

“And then there were our sweet stolen moments in the midst of our work – just a word, or caress, or flash of love-light; and our moments were sweeter for being stolen.” - Jack London

To Lars, Valentines’ day is a rare chance to take a break from work and see you. Passionate and flamboyant, Lars wants to express his love in any way possible, and celebrating the holiday together is the perfect way to do it.

He texts you early in the morning to make sure you’re free, hoping you can go with him for a surprise date. Call him classic, but he shows up at your house with a bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath, stealing your own breath away in exchange. He grins boyishly and tugs you outside, whisking you away to visit a cafe you had mentioned liking a few weeks back, going shopping together, and even arranging a candlelit dinner. Even if it’s cheesy, he boldly serenades you with love songs he prepared, and watching you laugh freely makes it all worth it.

If it weren’t for his responsibilities, he’d spend the whole week with you if he could, indulging you in whatever you wanted to do. But he can’t do that, so he settles for making today the best day he can instead.

At the end of the day, he escorts you back home, dropping you off at the door with a dramatic bow and flourish. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees your eyes sparkle with an idea. “Come here,” you say, beckoning him closer. “Today was a lot of fun.”

You push yourself onto your tiptoes, left arm on his shoulder for balance. Before he realizes what’s happening, your lips are pressed to his cheek, leaving a crimson lipstick mark as red as the roses he gave you before. You pull away and grin at him, turning to head inside. He stands there for a long moment afterwards, hand to his face.

Though he had intended for it to be the other way around, he thinks that today has made him fall even deeper in love with you. And if you don’t realize the depths of his feelings, then he’ll simply have to repeat himself again and again until you do.

#sorry i'm back from the dead and its bc i have a new obsession again T-T #lovebrush chronicles #lovebrush chronicles x reader #alkaid x reader #lars x reader #clarence x reader #for all time #for all time x reader #alkaid mcgrath #clarence clayden #lars rorschach

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wqnwoos · 10 months

Text

love & shakespeare (x.mh)

-> genre fluff, college!au, academic rivals to lovers -> warnings swearing, kissing, multiple shakespeare references, gn!reader -> word count 2k

there is nothing and nobody you despise more in this world than xu minghao.

you do not like his cocky little smile and his annoyingly pretty face. you do not like the way he rocks his chair back and forth during lectures and spins his pencil around his fingers carelessly. but most of all, you do not like that he’s made it his personal mission to make your life hell.

that’s the only explanation you have for the rivalry you two have going on — everything you say in class, everything you manage to bring up, he counters. he argues. you argue back. the argument veers off the rails slightly, curses slipping out of both of you mouths, until the professor eventually steps in and stops your “debates”. it’s the same story, every literature class, every thursday at 10 in the morning, until today —

“you’re kidding.” your voice is aghast, and rightly so, you feel, as you gaze at minghao in disbelief.

“believe me,” minghao mutters darkly. “i wish i was.”

“why?” you groan, throwing your head back in despair and dragging out the syllable. “i don’t want to partner with you! that is literally the last thing i have ever wanted!”

minghao just takes the seat next to you with a roll of his eyes. “like i said, sweetheart. i don’t want this either, so can we just get on with it?”

you scoff, but he does have a point — so you shut up and dig out your laptop, before professor choi can scold you both. you drum your fingers lightly on the keyboard, turning to minghao reluctantly. “so… which book are we doing?”

“book?” he repeats, scrunching his nose at you. “have you been listening, like, at all? we’re doing a play. a shakespeare play, dumbass.”

you wave your hand dismissively. “whatever. i don’t care. it’s too early for this shit.”

he blinks at you, deadpan. “it’s half ten in the morning.”

you don’t break eye contact. “exactly?”

a short pause, before minghao clicks his tongue, turning away from you. “okay, we’re not doing a midsummer night’s dream — ”

“agreed.”

“— but i was thinking macbeth or twelfth night. or romeo and juliet.”

slowly, you nod. “those all sound okay, i guess. there’s more to say about macbeth and romeo and juliet, though. theme-wise, i mean?”

“there’s always plenty to say about shakespeare,” minghao counters. “but sure. let’s do romeo and juliet.”

“why not macbeth?” you’re asking just to be difficult. you don’t really care which play you do, you just want to see the way his brows furrow when he’s annoyed.

minghao eyes you balefully. “i don’t want you getting ideas. murdering me in my sleep or something.”

“if it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well it were done quickly,” you quip instantly, and the joke actually makes him snort, biting down on his lip to repress his laughter.

you gasp, pointing at him. “no way! he laughs!”

“don’t be stupid,” minghao retorts, but colour is already rising to his cheeks, and he ducks his head to hide it.

it’s cute, you think, and then immediately wonder why you’re thinking that.

unsurprisingly, working with minghao is not going well.

it’s been a few days since the project was assigned, and so the two of you are holed up in a corner of the campus library, laptops open, copies of the text spread across the desk — but instead of working, you’re too busy glaring at each other to do anything useful for the presentation.

“how are you not going to put love as a theme?” minghao hisses, raking a hand through his hair.

“please!” you snort, rolling your eyes and looking away.

minghao slaps a hand to his forehead. “___, we’re literally talking about romeo and juliet. you know, widely regarded as one of the greatest love stories of all time?

“the whole thing takes place over like, four to five days, minghao,” you emphasise, leaning forward over the desk. “there’s no way anyone can fall in love that quickly.”

your project partner passes a hand over his face, biting out, “it. is. fiction.”

“infatuation is more accurate,” you pronounce, ignoring minghao’s narrowed eyes. “in my opinion, anyway.”

minghao sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes. “you know what? let’s split the slide into two. we’ll do an argument for love and an argument for infatuation. how’s that, your highness?”

you beam at him. “minghao, that’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said all day.”

“oh, fuck you too,” he mutters, as he begins typing. “just find your fucking infatuation quotes and get on with it.”

“oh? and how many slides have you done, o great — ”

(within the next half an hour, the two of you are kicked out of the library. for disturbing the peace and foul language.)

“i feel like romeo is a tad dramatic,” you announce suddenly. “listen — i defy you, stars! is kinda crazy for a girl he just met.”

minghao glances up at you, taking out an airpod with a sigh. “he’s in love. it’s meant to be romantic, idiot. do you not like romance or something?”

“no! i like romance fine!” you protest, scowling. “i guess i just don’t get this play. romeo kind of bugs me. i like other romances.”

“you kind of bug me,” minghao replies childishly. “what other romances do you actually enjoy, then?”

your eyes brighten a little. “so basic, but i like pride and prejudice.”

he stares at you. “don’t tell me you’re one of those mr darcy lovers.”

you sniff. “i won’t tell you then. you just don’t understand the cultural significance of the hand flex scene.”

“sure,” he says, rolling his eyes. “god. maybe we should have done macbeth.”

you hum, eyeing your copy of the play critically. “maybe. like i said. i just don’t get it.”

“it’s a love story.” minghao takes out his other airpod. “what is there to get?”

shrugging, and slightly embarrassed, you continue. “i don’t know, it just — maybe because i’ve never been in love or something. is it really that… eclipsing?”

to your surprise, minghao doesn’t pounce on your moment of vulnerability. he just tilts his head to the side, looking at you unreadably, before shrugging. “i don’t know. you’re asking the wrong person. i’ve never been in love either.”

you nod, and then cut your eyes away from his — the atmosphere is different now. this is uncharted territory; you’re used to snarky, quick remarks and returning them equally. but recently, minghao has been…

nice. he’s been nice, and you don’t know how to deal with it.

you’re jolted out of your thoughts by his voice again. “i’d like to be, though,” he says, voice quieter, avoiding your gaze. “in love, i mean. it sounds pretty nice.”

“yeah,” you hear yourself saying. “i think you’ll get there.”

something flashes in his eyes, but he’s quick to disguise it with a mischievous grin. “oh? you think i have loveable qualities, ___?”

“to me, no. to others, sure,” you say dismissively. (and you’re lying through your teeth, you realise with a sinking stomach as you say it.)

minghao cups his hands under his chin in a flower pose, beaming. “you think i’m handsome though, right?”

you scoff, beginning to studiously write out your notes again. “sure, minghao. you’re cute.”

(inwardly, you’re screaming. outwardly, you are the very epitome of calm and dismissive.)

there’s silence for a moment, so you glance at him, and with a hidden smirk you realise he’s blushing. “i wasn’t expecting you to actually admit it,” he mumbles, eyes wide.

you wave a hand, continuing your writing. “i’m not blind. you’re handsome or whatever, just… not my type?”

“not your type?” the boy opposite you snorts, leaning back and folding his arms, looking slightly offended. “why? what’s your type?”

you bite down on your lower lip to suppress an amused giggle, instead maintaining your unbothered facade. “mmm… do you know kwon soonyoung? the football guy?”

minghao raises a brow. “he’s a friend of mine.”

“ahh, really?” you feign surprise. of course you knew that already. “he’s cute. he seems kind.”

minghao just wrinkles his nose in blatant disgust — if you actually liked soonyoung, you’d be a little indignant at the way he turns back to his laptop. you do manage to catch his distasteful mutte: “that man genuinely believes he is a tiger, and this…” — before he trails off into silence, shaking his head.

after that day, minghao hasn’t been as nice to you. the two of you finished off the presentation in stilted silence, charged with a tension you can’t quite work out. he only talks to enough when necessary, barely meets your eyes, and while once you might not have minded, now your feelings have changed. significantly.

but clearly, he’s tired of you.

a week later, you and minghao ace the presentation on romeo and juliet. your professor loves the slides — compliments your arguments on love versus infatuation — is intrigued by the quotes the two of you have picked out. you do everything right.

which means both of you are awarded full marks; it has you bouncing out the room with glee, while minghao trails behind you, hiding a smile at your giddiness.

“you’re acting like you’ve never gotten full marks before,” he remarks. “and i know for a fact that’s not true.”

you glance at him, wondering how he has the gall to comment on your happiness when he’s been the cause of your unhappiness for so long. “dude. can i not just be happy?”

startled, minghao raises his hands and steps back. “of course you can. i just meant — i don’t know. you can be quite serious a lot of the time.”

“me?” you sound shocked when you whip round to face him, but that’s because you are. “i’m the one who looks serious? what about you? you look like you’re always sucking a lemon.”

your partner looks insulted. “excuse me?“

“what?” you snap, sudden months of frustration pouring out. “i’ve literally never seen you look at me without burning anger in those eyes.”

“burning anger?” he repeats, lips forming a slight sneer. “that’s a little dramatic, sweetheart.”

“don’t call me that!”

he steps closer, quirking a brow. “or what?”

suddenly, he’s too close — you turn your head to the side, glancing down the deserted corridor with warmth rising to your cheeks. “nothing,” you say, with more heat than necessary. “you’re so annoying, xu minghao.”

“you’re so dramatic, ___ ___,” he mimics immediately, tilting his head to the side. god, he’s unbearably close; you can feel his body’s warmth, smell his cologne — fresh, minty, altogether too enticing.

“you look flustered,” he says, voice dropping to a whisper. another step forward; his voice takes on a light, teasing tone. “do i make you nervous?”

“no!” you retort, sharper and louder than needed. “you annoy me. you’re annoying.” but even as you utter the words, you’re leaning back into him.

“shut up,” he murmurs, so gently it feels like a confession — he brings a hand up to cup you cheek, thumb caressing your skin, as you bite out your next words;

“make me.”

minghao’s eyes spark at the challenge; one second he’s gazing at you with fire in his eyes, and the next, his lips are colliding with yours in bruising, urgent kisses — “god,” he gasps out between them, as your hands loop around his neck and into his hair, “you are so — fucking — irritating.”

you pull back with and beam at him innocently. “oh, but you like it.”

he rolls his eyes, but doesn’t deny it.

you push your luck, wrapping your arms around him and beaming. “one might even say that… you like me.”

silence, as he gazes at your bright eyes and happy smile, before softening his facade and smiling. “sure,” he admits reluctantly. “i like you. my only love sprung from my only hate, you could say.”

his smile widens when yours does, as you place a kiss on his cheek, and then he mutters lowly; “god, i knew you were lying about soonyoung!”

#minghao scenarios #minghao fluff #minghao comfort #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #minghao imagines #minghao x reader #minghao x you #minghao drabbles #minghao seventeen #minghao au

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