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call-sign-shark · 1 year

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✨ The Shape of Water ✨

Summary: He kissed you and almost drown -- Or how Jake Seresin is convinced he met a mermaid.

Word count: 3k (lmao it was supposed to be short)

Tags: Fluff fluff fluff, muscular and wet Hangman, allusion to smut

notes: It's up to you to decide whether reader is a mermaid or a human woman. I'd love to read your opinions! // inspired by Glen Powell's recent beach pics and this playlist

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Watching people at the beach was your favorite way of killing time.

You liked peeping at the beautiful women coming out of the sea, dressed in thousands of water beads on their soft skin. You also liked watching the men playing sports, their muscles tensing at each of their physical efforts. You liked the non-binary too, whose beauty and fiery souls reminded you of the finest sea shells. And finally, you adored watching children building sandcastles while babbling stories of brave knights and mesmerizing princesses.

You would have swum further away from the crowded Californian beaches, but today a man got your attention more than usual, so you decided to take a closer look. He was a tall blonde creature, whose body was far more muscular and athletic than many of the other males you had seen. But what caught your attention was not his body, although attractive, but his radiant and slightly cocky grin. Each time he would score a goal, his face would brighten up with a beaming smile, showcasing his perfect white and aligned teeth, as shiny as white pearls. A relaxed sigh escaped from your juicy lips at the sensation of water hugging your frame from your waist to your toes. You had managed to find a flat rock to rest against, near the shore. Your crossed arms were lying on its warm and wet surface, giving you not only the perfect comfortable position but also the perfect spot to watch the man.

“Come on Hangman! A last one!” An equally seductive man said, even though this one had curly hair and a trimmed mustache. From what you understood, he was a part of the blonde’s group of friends.

You blinked as you realized what you just heard – He was called Hangman. What a weird name, you thought, but who were you to judge? Glad to be able to put a name to such a pretty face, you listened to them even more carefully.

“I’ve already beat your ass three times, Rooster. You’re a loser – face it!” Jake teased, an amused chuckle punctuating his sentence. He picked up a fresh bottle of water from the sand and gulped it down. While doing so, a few drops escaped from his mouth and ran down his chin, forming long streams of glistening water on his tanned skin. Heat pooled in your body at such a delightful sight.

“A last one – For me?” Rooster insisted.

“Nope.” Jake replied, exaggerating each syllable for Rooster to understand his refusal, “I’m going for a swim, but you should play with Bob. Maybe you’ll have a chance to win!” He slapped Rooster’s shoulder and laughed. Without further ado, he ran to the water. A wave of panic broke in you as the blonde man came in your direction.

You let out a small surprised whine and slipped under the water as quickly as you could. As you did, all the laughter, the children’s cries, and the hullabaloo of summer vacations disappeared for the quiet sea muffled all the sound. Reopening your eyes, you looked around you for fear someone had seen you, but it was not the case. You brought your trembling fingers in your floating hair, dancing at the water’s discretion, and calmed down. A small smirk stretched your pouty lips: you felt better now that you were under the water. There, everything was peaceful. Even when the most hellish and thunderous storms were breaking loose at the surface, the undersea remained heavenly quiet.

But all your senses tingled.

On alert, you turned your head to look behind you and squinted your eyes to sharpen your vision. When you realized that Jake was swimming near you, you brought your hand to your mouth for illogical fear of making a noise. Once again, you looked all around you quickly to find somewhere to hide but all your surroundings were desperately empty.

Your heart beat fast in your chest, ready to tear your ribcage apart.

Come on Y/N, find a solution! Find a damn solution! Your mind buzzed with confused thoughts blurred by panic. It was as if your head was a beehive whose raging bees crashed against your skull. You looked above your shoulder one last time to see where Jake was and froze.

That was at this exact moment his emerald eyes met yours.

Endless green oceans in which you drowned.

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Jake's heart missed a beat.

He had barely looked at her when she escaped, swift and nimble. The shock of such a sight had shaken him to the core – so much that he remained petrified, his mind unable to comprehend what he had just seen. She was gorgeous – breathtakingly divine. Enchanted by her beauty, Jake snapped from his lethargy and quickly looked all around him in the hope of finding her. To his great disappointment, he was alone, as if the sublime woman she saw had been a fragment of his imagination. Or maybe a mirage created by the dancing sun’s reflection on the gentle water.

Jake suddenly realized he was running out of oxygen. He shook his head and swam up to the surface, taking a big inhale as his head came out of the water.

“Oh my fucking God” He whispered to himself with an expression of pure shock etched on his face. He swam to the shore, his heart pounding. He stopped when the water was shallow enough for his feet to touch the bottom and stood up on his shaky legs, whose all strong muscles seemed to have melted.

“What the hell was that? What the fucking hell??” Jake could not believe it.

The most logical part of him tried to rationalize the whole matter: he had probably dreamt. After all, he did not sleep very well these days so maybe lack of sleep and underwater vision had tricked him into seeing a feminine silhouette with a long tail. Nevertheless, another part of him was convinced it was true. He had seen you crystal clear. So clear that he could recall the Y/HC of your floating mane and the Y/EC of your fascinating eyes. He saw your Y/SC skin so smooth all he wished was to touch you. And even though he was not sure about the long scaly tail, he knew you were real.

Jake closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He ran one hand through his messy wet hair, slicking them back. As he did, the sun shone on his shredded biceps. Water dripped from his chin, and soaked his whole body, making it glisten in the sunlight.

Hidden behind a rock not so far away, you had let your face come to the surface just enough for your eyes to be out of the water. You knew it was not reasonable to stay here – after all, he already caught you once! But the attraction you were feeling for Hangman was stronger than your common sense. Your eyes seemed to have never had enough of him.

His arm fell back along his body. Lost in his train of thought, he absentmindedly touched his wet and shredded abs as he tried to put his mind in order. Blood rushed to your face – And arousal ran through your pumping veins. You shivered, goosebumps appearing on your skin at the sole thought of running your hands on his warm body and kissing his tanned skin, on which the pleasant smell of sunscreen was anchored.

When he reopened his dazzling green eyes, the pilot had made up his mind: he had to find out whether what he saw was just an odd optical illusion or if it was real. Somehow, if there had been an actual woman she couldn’t have got far.

“Alright,” He said out loud to give himself a bit of courage. Then, he swam back to where he had met the mysterious gorgeous creature. Never mind the Dagger Squad, he would probably manage to make up an excuse to explain his absence. He had to know. When he reached the rock where he had seen her, Jake took a deep breath and dove underwater, ready to probe its mysteries.

You frowned, wondering what the hell he was doing. Was he trying to look for you? Your heart lightened up with joy at this thought, but you quickly came back to your senses: why would he do that? Nevermind! You definitely could not stay here – you could be in serious trouble if someone came across you. You turned around, ready to swim in the opposite direction of the handsome aviator, but something kept you from leaving. What if your dad was wrong about men? What if not all of them wanted to hurt you? To be honest, you were done living your life withdrawn from others. For the first time in your life, risk called you – and you answered.

Did he come back for you?

You had to figure it out.

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He had lost track of time trying to find her.

Jake kept swimming into the deepest waters he could reach, only coming back to the surface from time to time to take his breath before diving back into the sea. His green eyes probed the water, searching for the dreamlike woman he had seen.

His soul melted when he thought about her and the adorable surprised expression she had when their eyes met. She was everything he had always wanted -- and he met her in the heart of the sea itself, for a brief second, before she vanished in one swift shadow. How ironic was that? Here he was, chasing after a possible mirage, which had taken the form of the creature of his dreams.

His body gently danced in the water, but his heart was not in the mood for it. She was not here, and it broke him.

The tremors in your body intensified, for Jake was only a few meters away from you. The soft blue lighting of the ocean gave his tanned skin a mesmerizing tone -- sea fitted him as well as you. A storm raged inside of you: should you join him or should you leave? Your heart swung between the two options, the first being far more judicious than the second. Nevertheless, your inner voice convinced you to give in. You took a last look at him to make up your mind and sunk deeper into love. The way his muscular body moved gracefully got you on your knees. You gathered all your strength and swam towards him. As you reached the handsome aviator, you stretched your arms and softly touched his shoulder. Surprised by a sudden physical contact he had absolutely not expected, Jake turned around quickly.

His heart froze.

You were real, he would have said it out loud if he had not been under the water, risking drowning if he had the stupid idea of opening his mouth. It would be absolutely ridiculous to die now that he had found you. His whole body started to quiver without any logical explanation. He was not cold, nor he was afraid, so he came to the conclusion that the reason behind his body losing control was that his piercing green eyes could not handle your endless beauty.

Enchanted by your eyes, mesmerized by your lips, the blonde pilot brought his shy hand to your face but did not touch you yet. He was afraid you would disappear a second time if his skin touched yours. To his hesitation, all you could answer was the sweetest smile you ever gifted to a man. A smile so charming that it almost physically hurt him. Despite the overwhelming fascination he felt for you, Jake dared to touch you. He had barely laid his fingers on you when a powerful surge ran through his body, electrified by the sexual tension.

His warm fingers brushed your cheek with indescribable tenderness -- this simple touch awoke a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. What were those new sensations? What were those disconcerting feelings blooming within?

You pressed your cheek against his whole hand, for your whole being already lingered for more. Jake's surprised expression turned into an enamored grin, whose charm sublimated his handsome traits. When he smiled, his eyes squinted, and you found it irresistible.

Nothing existed anymore, only both of you lost in the heart of the soothing ocean were real. He forgot about the Dagger Squad and the Uranium mission. He forgot about his recent breakup and his broken heart. He forgot about everything, except you.

After a moment during which he just caressed your cheek and got lost in the maze of your eyes, Jake fought his hesitation and wrapped his strong arms around your waist. The sensation of his body crashing against yours echoed in your very soul. All your convictions, all your beliefs, and all the rules set by your father vanished. He held you there for a moment in the comforting silence of the water, your bodies slowly swirling with the flow and the waves. All he could hear was the booming sound of your heart, beating along with his.

You brought your lips closer, your mouth irremediably attracted by his as two magnets would. You put your hands on his muscular shoulders and held him like your life depended on it. Eyes half-closed, Jake was watching you, fascinated. Far too fascinated to even check if you really had a scaly tail or a pair of legs. All he wanted was to kiss you -- which he ultimately did.

His teeth tugged at your lower lip:

You tasted like ocean foam and paradise.

He tasted like sadness and courage.

But one common flavor you had was that of loneliness.

His tongue swept in your fury mouth, salt water seeping through the tiny open spaces your languid kiss created in its burning waltz. Jake felt your body tense as his large and firm hands slid down your curves to grab your ass in a lustful grip.

The press of your lips became demanding, hungrier than ever. Consumed by desire, your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, and, forgetting he was submerged, he moaned. Jake squeezed your butt a bit harder and brought your hips together.

His mind felt flooded by the kiss, so intoxicated by your ambrosia taste that he did not even notice that you were pulling him deeper and deeper into the abyss. Nothing mattered to him, not even the water diving into his throat and filling his lungs.

He felt like he was …

Going down with you.

Falling down with you.

But the truth was different: he was drowning.

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“Jake? Oh my fucking God!”

The voice seemed to come from far away – maybe was it carried away by the wind? Clouds started to clear from his mind. Where was he? What happened? Jake could not tell. His toes twitched as he slowly regained control of his body.

“That’s alright, he’s breathing.” He recognized Phoenix’s quiet voice, even though he could notice the tint of worry that stained her tone. Jake softly opened his eyes and squinted, annoyed by the sun’s burning light. The salty taste of water on his tongue made him wince. All his being felt oddly numb. Nevertheless, the aviator managed to fully come back to consciousness. He stayed there for a while, lying on the warm sand, but still looked around him in confusion as a man who had just woken up from years of coma.

“Fuck…” He whispered with a hoarse voice, his throat irritated by the salt. What was he doing here? Someone had probably dragged him to this corner of the beach.

“Hallelujah he’s alive,” Rooster exclaimed, letting out a long relief sigh. Honestly, he had been particularly anxious when he found Jake, “The fuck happened? You straight up disappeared and reappeared there, on the other side of the beach. You should have seen Coyote. He almost had a heart attack when he saw you passed out on the sand.” Bradshaw’s words were coming far too quick for his mouth.

Jake blinked, utterly confused, “You– You had not seen her?”

“Who?” Phoenix asked, after pressing one hand on Rooster’s shoulder for him to stop talking.

“The mermaid.”

Silence fell on the Dagger Squad.

“Okay, I think you’re still a bit confused by what-the-fuck happened to you. Take all the time you need, Hangman.” Rooster finally said.

“No, no, I swear there was a– “ He stopped and understood that arguing was pointless. Who would believe him? To be true, he was not even believing himself. Maybe the sun hit him a bit too harshly, or maybe he swallowed a bit too much of salt water and passed out near the shore. Yet, the sensation of your greedy mouth was still tingling his lips. It had felt so real…

“Come on Hangman, we’re going to bring you to the nursery.”

“I’m fine.” He simply answered, proceeding to stand up but as he did something fell from his wet, hairy, and strong chest. Jake frowned and picked up the shiny object in his hand to discover what it was: a shell. The stranger who had dragged him to the beach had placed a magnificent nacre shell on his chest. He twirled the gift between his fingers and clenched his jaws under the perplexed gaze of his teammates.

“Are you okay?” Coyote asked.

“I am.”

Jake tightened the shell in the palm of his hand, his heart quickening in his ribcage.

Now he knew you were real.

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Psss; please reblog if you liked it 💚

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moonchildreads · 11 months

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small town

Chapter 16 - Let's Hear It for the Boy

IN THIS CHAPTER: Science fiction double feature, rotten eggs, and Eddie turns 20 [12.2k]

WARNINGS: bullying (mentions of racism and fatphobia), childhood trauma (hair trauma, child neglect, toxic masculinity), one use of a homophobic slur (f-word), mild spoilers for The Rocky Horror Picture Show and The Exorcist (specific mentions of the crucifix scene, if you've seen the movie, you know what this is about)

A/N: shout out to my one and only @gutterratt for helping me figure out my way through old horror movies! i'm a wuss so i relied heavily on her opinions to make this work (also read a few entire scripts and scared myself lmao). thank you for being the best teacher i could have asked for. 10 more days until i get to hug the shit out of you <3

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

We always have a real good time And maybe he sings off-key But that's all right by me, yeah

Thursday, May 15th - 1986

On Eddie’s 20th birthday it rained cats and dogs. There was a light shower during the early morning which stopped at around 10 only to come back with a vengeance after lunch, and by the time the school day had ended, the weather was warm and humid with a sky-obscuring fog that made it seem like it was much later than it actually was. Eddie, as he always did when it rained, offered to take Gareth home so he gave his friend his keys and asked him and Dottie to wait in the van while he finished up a private conversation with Mrs. Vaughn, his Drawing teacher. She was quite impressed with how his portfolio was shaping up, and wanted to know more about the subjects he’d chosen to portray in his art. Some talks were meant to be kept behind closed doors.

Gareth left Dottie at her locker where she was fighting to fit Eddie’s birthday present in her backpack without absolutely destroying the muffin she’d baked for him during Home Ec and headed towards the parking lot to wait for his friends in the safety of the van. Dottie had barely managed to zip up her backpack when a pair of pink sneakers came up to where she was kneeling.

“Do you need help?” a warm, melodic voice asked.

Dottie looked up to find Chrissy Cunningham, the current Queen of Hawkins High, smiling at her like they’d known each other for years. She wasn’t wearing her full cheerleading uniform that day; instead she had chosen cuffed jeans and a lovely cream blouse, her strawberry blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. Wow, Dottie thought without an ounce of shame for ogling. She’s gorgeous. Realizing she had been staring up at the kind (almost) stranger, she quickly stood and threw her backpack over her shoulder.

“Oh, no, thank you! I’ve got it,” Dottie said, and Chrissy smiled even wider if it was even possible.

“You’re Dottie Burke, right? We’re in World History together, you sit with Jeff Patton two seats in front of me?”

“Yup, that’s me! And you’re Chrissy Cunningham, you sit with, um, Melissa?”

“Yes, Melissa Levine,” the blonde’s eyes brightened up, pleased that this conversation was going smoothly. “I know you’re best friends with Eddie so could you give this to him for me?”

Chrissy presented a shiny green gift bag to her. It was carefully sealed with a big transparent sticker from the store where it had been purchased from and a huge silvery bow was tied to the handles. Of all the things she had been expecting her to pull out behind her back, a birthday gift for Eddie hadn’t been in her Top 10 List at all.

“Are you sure? He’ll come back in a sec if you want to give it to him yourself, he’s just talking to a teacher.”

“Yeah, I think he already knows what it is,” Chrissy waved her hand like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’d wait for him but my boyfriend is in the car already so…”

“Oh, yeah, totally. I can give this to Ed for you, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, you’re so nice!” she said, beaming at her. “I’m sorry if I’m coming off too strong, Eddie said we’d get along so I thought “well, what am I waiting for”, right?”

“You’re fine, seriously,” Dottie laughed; Chrissy’s bubbly energy was contagious. “He told me we’d get along too. Something about you liking Queen and owning all the records?”

“Yes! Gosh, I love Queen! Do you? We should hang out sometime, we can listen to them together.”

“Absolutely, yes. I’d love that.”

“Okay, cool! I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah, sure! Have fun on your date!”

“How did you know I’m going on a date?” Chrissy said, mild intrigue on her face.

“You just look really pretty and you mentioned your boyfriend so I thought you might be going on a date with him,” Dottie explained like it was the simplest thing in the world. “I like your makeup.”

“Oh,” she said, stopping for a moment.

Chrissy wasn’t a stranger to people telling her she was pretty. She had grown up going to pageants and being paraded as a doll by her mother but the compliments were always the same and regarding things she didn’t care about, like how big her Mom had teased her hair, and how thin she looked like in that formal gown. No one had ever told her something she did for herself, like her daily makeup, was pretty. She gave Dottie a big toothy smile, genuine and warm.

“Thank you! I like your dress!”

“Thanks, it was my Mom’s. It has pockets!” the brunette said, shoving a hand inside the left pocket of her short black jumper dress to demonstrate.

“I love that! Not enough dresses have pockets, it’s a shame.”

They said their goodbyes again and Chrissy disappeared down the hallway, leaving Dottie to consider that maybe she really did need more girl friends. She loved her Hellfire boys, and of course Erica was great, but she had missed the kind of special warmth female friendships gave - the gentle toughness she’d always admired in her Aunts’ actions. Now that she knew what a real friend was supposed to look like thanks to the guys, she realized that whatever she had thought Jeannie was during her life in New York hadn’t exactly been a good example of true friendship. Dottie wondered if, given enough time, Chrissy could become a real friend. She was, after all, good friends with Eddie already and he seemed like a fine judge of character so far.

“You ready to bounce?” Eddie asked, hurrying down the hallway to where she was still standing.

“Yeah! This is for you, by the way,” Dottie said, giving him the gift bag. “It’s from Chrissy.”

“Chris- damnit, I told her not to do it,” he shook his head, a fond smile gracing his face. He accepted the bag and shoved it inside his backpack to protect it from the rain; he had a pretty good idea of what it was but he’d look at it once they were home. “Come on, let’s go.”

He guided Dottie towards the parking lot with a hand on the back of her bag, keeping her close as they ran out into the rain and towards the dry seats of his van. They were almost there when Eddie noticed someone curled into themselves near the furthest column that supported the overhang roof at the entrance, a figure huddled up on the floor wearing what looked like Gareth’s red plaid shirt. He looked at his van and saw instantly that his friend was not sitting inside waiting for them, and the vehicle wasn’t even on. What the fuck, he thought bitterly, taking note that the door on the driver’s side was covered in what looked like a runny viscous liquid. The rain was washing it away, but the white and light brown shells on the floor were enough to confirm his suspicions. Switching gears quickly, he pulled Dottie under his arm and guided her towards Gareth.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking up at him, arm up trying to keep the rain out of her face.

“Gareth!” he yelled for an answer, and the younger boy lifted his teary head up from his knees. “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” Dottie exclaimed, rushing to their friend.

“They were waiting for Eddie. Said it was a birthday present,” he sniffed, lifting his arm to wipe his face with his sleeve and putting it down instantly when he saw it was filthy. He smelled like rotten eggs.

“I’m so sorry, man,” Eddie said, crouching next to him.

“Not your fault,” Gareth shrugged. “You always cover for me so… guess it was time I covered you for once.”

“This has happened before?” Dottie asked, and both boys looked at her like it was common sense. “Who- who did this to you? How many times?”

“It isn’t always eggs,” Gareth sniffed again. “One time they threw mud at Donny, called him a pig. Gave Dustin a swirly a couple of times but they don’t touch Mike anymore since they found out Nancy Wheeler is his sister. Andy is the worst, he, um-” he interrupted himself and looked at Eddie.

“Andy Humphrey,” Eddie sighed. “He put a bunch of racist notes in Jeff’s locker for a couple of months last year. We saw him doing it but Higgins didn’t do shit about it. He’s on the basketball team, always wears that stupid hat.”

“Yeah, I know him,” Dottie said. “He’s in my AP Spanish class, he’s barely passing. He cheated on our last pop quiz, he knows I saw because he winked at me like he was trying to get me on his side.”

“Almost everyone on the basketball team sucks,” Gareth said. “I don’t know what Lucas is doing with them.”

“Lucas?”

“Lucas Sinclair. Erica’s brother?” Eddie explained. “He used to play with us before he decided being a freak wasn’t good enough for him.”

“I mean… I don’t blame him. I smell like a sewer,” Gareth grimaced.

“Okay, come on, let’s get you home,” Dottie said, patting his knee to get him to stand up.

“I’ll just walk, I’m gonna get the van dirty.”

“No way, man, not in this thunderstorm. Get in the back,” Eddie instructed.

The three of them headed back to the van, the rain not relenting for a single second. On the bright side, Eddie’s door wasn’t dirty anymore, clean from the constant water streaming upon the metal. On the other hand, Gareth was soaked and shivering by the time he sat himself on a plastic crate at the back of the van, keeping himself away from the blankets and pillows, windows cracked open to let cool air in and rotten egg smell out. They drove to Gareth’s house in silence, only the occasional sniffling coming from the dirty boy wallowing in his own misery could be heard under the vehicle’s rumbling.

When they arrived and pulled up to Gareth’s garage, Eddie wasn’t expecting Dottie to get out too, leaving behind her backpack tucked under the co-pilot seat. He followed the pair to the front door, heard the keys tinkling against each other as his friends walked inside and hurried up to get out of the rain. In the foyer, Dottie peeled off her cardigan and sneakers before directing Gareth to his bathroom.

“Eddie, can you get a chair from the kitchen?” she asked, already pushing Gareth down the hallway.

Eddie complied with her request, bringing one of the aluminum chairs with pleather seats into the Jack and Jill that connected Gareth’s bedroom with his sister’s. Gareth was peeling his dirty sleeveless shirt and sweatshirt off his body, Dottie kneeling near his feet helping him take his rain soaked shoes off.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling softly at Eddie before looking up at Gareth. “You sit.”

“Why can’t I just take a shower?” he complained, but still sat down on the chair.

“Because you’re not only covered in gunk, there’s eggshells in your hair. Let me get them out and we’ll leave you to shower in peace, okay?” she pulled back the bath curtain and got his shampoo and conditioner, coming to stand next to the sink.

The birthday boy watched her work, carefully picking all the shells out of Gareth’s hair and throwing them into the pink waste bin that was hidden next to the toilet. She got rid of the knots in his hair with a glittery blue plastic comb that clearly belonged to Gretchen, wetting it with warm water between each pass. Eddie could feel something bubbling up his chest, but it wasn’t anything like the usual jealousy he swore he had stopped feeling days ago. No, this was something different, much more deep seated, clawing up his throat and threatening to tear his insides apart leaving no prisoners behind. This was something he’d been ignoring for a very long time, from before he even knew a Gareth Coleman or a Dorothy Burke. This padlock had been sealed shut with rust ages ago, the key long forgotten somewhere no one, not even Eddie, would find it anymore.

Dottie poured water on Gareth’s scalp with her hands, making him shiver once and then giggle at himself for his reaction. She worked the shampoo into his curls, pulling his hair once to make him wince when he made a stupid comment that Eddie wasn’t listening. He watched the suds fall into the pure white porcelain of the sink bowl as she washed them away with the utmost patience and care.

“You should be a hairdresser,” Gareth said, eyes closed while he relaxed into her touch.

“I could never. You know that smell when you walk into a salon? I fucking hate it,” she said, snorting at the end.

When was the last time Eddie had gone to a salon for a haircut? Not since living with Wayne, that’s for sure. The last time he’d had a haircut he hadn’t given himself in his own bathroom was back in middle school, when a neighbor buzzed all his hair off during that horrible lice outbreak he’d told Dottie about. He remembered that before he turned 12, before she passed away calmly in her sleep, his Grandma kept his hair rather short, like it had been that summer he’d spent in her care when he was eight. And before that… Eddie didn’t like to remember before that.

Dottie shook the bottle of conditioner until a small blob hit her palm and began weaving her fingers into Gareth’s curls. They were still chatting quietly, their long haired friend hovering in the hallway near the door. Eight years. Eight years since anyone had touched Eddie’s hair, since anyone that wasn’t himself had run a brush through his curls and snapped the damaged ends off with a pair of sharp scissors. He hated getting haircuts from his Grandma - not because she was bad at doing them, but because she always pulled at the knots a little bit too harshly, muttering about how boys with longer hair were unkempt and unruly. And Eddie loved his Grandma so much, and she loved him so much in return, but in those moments there was no denying that she was his father’s mother, and getting haircuts from her only reminded him of Wyatt Munson calling him a faggot because his curls reached the collar of his school shirt before he dropped him off at a cheap salon and returned five hours later, smelling of booze and nicotine and regrets.

Eddie used to feel so guilty whenever he went to the salon. Wyatt would treat him like absolute shit, and then he’d sob quietly in the chair while a middle aged lady told him things like “boys don’t cry” and “it’s just hair, kid, don’t be a brat”, only for Wyatt to return and ask her if she’d turned his little girl into a proper boy. A while back, when Eddie first got his driver’s license, he drove past that salon on his way to Donny’s family restaurant and felt like he’d won the damn lottery when he saw it had been closed for several years. Fuck that place, he’d thought and promptly sped up.

“Hey,” a hand touched his arm, making him jump lightly. “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, blinking a few times and focusing on Dottie’s worried face in front of him. “I think I fell asleep for a second.”

“We’re done so… we can go now,” she said, not pushing him for an answer.

She’d seen that face on him before, back when they were arguing about his moldy ceiling, and immediately decided they weren’t going to have this conversation in front of Gareth. The younger boy had a small towel on his head like a nun’s headdress to stop his curls from dripping all over the floor as he gathered his dirty clothes and walked past them towards the laundry room.

“Sorry about all this,” said Gareth, standing under his front door’s frame.

“Wasn’t your fault, man. Sorry you got caught in the crossfire,” Eddie reassured him, waiting for Dottie to finish putting on her sneakers.

“Better me than you.”

“Tell you what, why don’t you pick the movie tomorrow? Anything you want.”

“Anything?” he asked, mischief glinting in his eyes.

“Just… don’t pick anything stupid, okay? The Boogey Man sucked ass.”

“You have no fucking taste,” Gareth complained, rolling his eyes.

“Wait, hold on, are we gonna watch a horror film?” Dottie asked in the direction of the younger boy.

“It’s tradition, we always watch horror movies on our birthdays.”

“Can we not do that this time? You know I hate horror. We can do a thriller, that’s like… horror-adjacent, right?”

“Horror-adjac… Dude,” Gareth turned to Eddie, seeking an ally.

It’s not that Eddie was dying to watch a horror film, he really wasn’t. He was happy to watch whatever most of the time, like when Jeff had insisted on watching Spacehunter: Adventures in the Forbidden Zone for some weird reason and he’d gone along for the ride because, well, any movie was still a movie. Eddie loved stories, the more outlandish the better. He wasn’t about to complain about two hours of mindless entertainment, regardless of the subject of the VHS tape in the player. Caught between his two friends, one who looked at him with exasperation at even suggesting a change of plans and the other one with the cutest goddamned pout and rounded eyes he had ever seen, well, he was only human. If Jesus had stumbled, why wouldn’t he do it too?

“Maybe we can skip the horror this time,” he said.

“Come on, man, don’t let her peer-pressure you!”

“Peer-pressure? God, you’re such a little-”

“Okay, okay, calm down, Jesus,” Eddie lifted his hands, getting between them. “How about this? We do a double feature. You each pick one movie and you can’t complain about what the other one chooses, alright? It’s my birthday, don’t make me uninvite you.”

“But-”

“Take it or leave it, Gareth, it’s my final offer.”

“Fine,” Gareth grumbled.

“Thank you,” Dottie said, still looking apprehensive but not wanting to push the argument further.

This was a tradition she hadn’t been a part of since its inception and she wasn’t going to fight her way in when they were so graciously holding the door open for her. Friends do stuff they don’t enjoy to make other friends happy sometimes, it’s okay. They’d do it for me. I’ll just… suck it up and watch the floor for two hours, she thought as they said their goodbyes and ran under the rain to get to Eddie’s van. He was excitedly going on about the cake Wayne had gotten for him on the way to the trailer, and Dottie couldn’t find it in herself to care about what horrifying movie Gareth was gonna subject her too when Eddie looked so happy to spend his special day with his Uncle and her.

“Wayne, we’re home!” Eddie yelled, trying to put his key in to open his front door.

Dottie was standing very still in front of Eddie, his chest to her back and arms on either side of her while he wrestled with his keys, shielding her from the storm with his body. The copious raindrops falling on them pinged off the leather jacket that was keeping him cozy and dry, soaking his hair that curtained Dottie’s head from above. She was holding both their backpacks against her chest, trying to protect them and their contents from the rain.

“Wayne!” he yelled again, hitting the door twice with his fist.

“Hold on, I’m coming,” the older man replied from the inside, hurrying up to let them in. "Where were you?"

"Got held up at school," said Eddie, guiding Dot in and closing the door quickly behind his back before shedding his wet jacket. "Talked to that teacher I told you about last night. She said I have talent."

"Coulda told you that myself," Wayne smiled at him, pulling his big boy into a hug and patting his back. "Happy birthday, Ed."

"Thanks, Wayne," Eddie melted into his Uncle. They didn't hug often, less so now that he wasn't a little kid anymore, but if you asked him, his Uncle Wayne gave the best hugs in the entire world because whenever he gave you one, he definitely meant it. "Can we have cake now?"

"Get the candles," Wayne jerked his head towards the kitchen where a set of barely used birthday candles were waiting in the bottom drawer ready to grant a new wish.

While Eddie busied himself putting the candles on a small chocolate cake, Dottie cleared the coffee table, setting his gifts on the floor. There were three presents: Chrissy's shiny green bag that had gotten a bit smushed in Eddie's backpack, a thin rectangle in bright blue paper, and a little package smaller than a hand. Wayne added two to the pile wrapped in the same red paper; one looked soft, the other one was a square box. Dottie's funfetti muffin ended up with its own candle next to the cake.

"Light me up, princess," Eddie said, pointing to a BIC lighter that had been abandoned in the coffee table bowl at some point.

"I can't," Dottie admitted, looking embarrassed. "I don't know how to use that kind of lighter, the flick thing scares me."

"The flick thing?"

"You know, the thingy you have to roll with your thumb? That scrapes something inside and sparks up?"

"The sparkwheel?"

"I don't know what it's called!" Eddie held back a grin. "Don't laugh at me, I don't like how close the spark is to the finger. It's a perfectly reasonable fear, I don't want to burn myself!"

"No, yeah, absolutely. You're totally right" he said, fighting a chuckle. God, she's so fucking cute. He reached into a kitchen drawer and retrieved a small matchbox. “Here, use these.”

“The Hideout,” she read aloud on the front of the box. “That’s where you guys play on Tuesdays, right?”

“Yeah, they have a big bowl of these on the bar. I grab a couple every few weeks, haven’t bought real matches in years.”

“Very smart,” she said, lighting the two candles at the same time Wayne found his old camera tucked away in their storage closet.

Eddie knelt in front of the coffee table, closing his eyes with only one wish in mind. Dottie and Wayne sang to him and he smiled, the sudden flash of the camera in his Uncle’s hands painting his eyelids pink for a brief second. His 19th birthday had been tainted with the knowledge that he was going to be held back for the second time in a row. Wayne had taken him to a diner that night; they’d gotten pancakes for dinner and Eddie had cried and apologized for being such a goddamn failure. The eldest Munson had simply let his tears dry before he’d said, very matter-of-factly: I didn’t finish high school, do you think I’m a failure? What’s important is that you keep tryin’ and see things through even if they get hard. Are you a quitter, Ed?

Please, let ‘86 be my year, Eddie thought as hard as he could, sending his prayer to the universe before he opened his eyes and blew both candles out with one single breath. Dottie clapped and hollered, making them laugh. Wayne nudged her side with his elbow, nodding once in his nephew’s direction.

“Come on, you two. Gimme a nice smile,” he lifted the camera again.

Dottie hurried to sit next to Eddie and he didn’t waste a second pulling her to him, cheeks pressed against each other’s. She smiled brightly, the muffin she’d made for him in her hands like a delicate flower, and his arms around her waist, tongue out in a funny face. Wayne committed the memory to film before Dottie lifted herself up onto her knees, making grabby hands at him, Eddie still holding onto her.

“I’ll take one of you two, Mr. Wayne!” she offered.

“How about we take a group picture?” he said, sitting on the couch behind them and turning the camera around.

The two teens huddled up at his feet, his nephew giving him instructions to frame everyone better (“You gotta go higher, Wayne, half your head will be out of the picture!”). After the flash went off, Dottie went to find a knife to cut the cake while Eddie tore into his gifts, starting with Wayne’s packages. He seemed to already know what the soft looking one was, but still ripped the paper with gusto, a childlike glint in his eyes.

Wayne’s gifts had clearly been picked from a thrift shop, but that didn’t damp Eddie’s excitement in the slightest. He thanked his Uncle profusely for his two new shirts and boxy jean shorts for the summer before moving onto the mystery box which turned out to be a thermos flask with a slightly faded Snoopy print.

“No way!” he said, gleefully. “I’ve been trying to get one of these for ages!”

“I know,” Wayne said, proudly. “Heard you yappin’ about it so I asked Loretta to hold one for me if she ever saw them. Said they got a few of them a couple of months ago so I went and snatched one for you.”

“A couple of months ago? Where did you hide it all this time?”

“Under the seat in my truck,” he laughed, and Dottie was reminded once again of how similar the Munson men truly were.

“Gonna start checking down there around Christmas,” Eddie said, narrowing his eyes. He passed the flask to Dottie to examine who traded it for a plate of cake.

“This is really cute, Mr. Wayne. Wish mine was pretty like this one.”

“You got one of these?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, my Grandpa gave me his old one a few years ago. It looks so ugly, it’s like… plaid? But it keeps water cool in the summer so I can’t really complain. He got it for his fishing trips but he never used it so I got it instead. The perks of being his only grandchild,” she waved her fingers.

“You don’t have cousins?” Wayne asked, digging into his own piece of cake while Eddie picked a new present to open.

“No, both my parents are only children. All my Aunts and Uncles are their friends. I’ve got a big family, but I’m not blood related to any of them.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie muttered, his attention on the long thin box in his hands.

Chrissy’s gift had turned out to be a red tie. The fabric was soft and silky, slightly shiny, and the tie itself was on the thinner side. There was a simple white card in the bag, it only said “For: Eddie, From: Chrissy” but she’d dotted the I’s with tiny hearts. He caressed the side of the box lightly, staring at it in wonder. He’d never owned a tie, much less one that looked as expensive as this one. When he’d asked Chrissy for advice on what to wear for prom, he’d never imagined she’d take it upon herself to make sure he was presentable. He’d have to figure out a way to make it up to her for her birthday, maybe Dottie would know how to help.

“That’s nice,” Wayne said, craning his neck to see into the box. “That one yours, Dot?”

“No, this one’s Chrissy’s,” she replied.

“Who’s Chrissy?”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” Eddie said, realizing he’d never talked to his Uncle about his most unlikely friend. “We’re in Sociology together.”

Dottie knew he was lying; Eddie only shared Sociology with Jeff but it wasn’t like he could tell Wayne he’d become friends with a cheerleader by selling her weed, could he? She noticed how suspicious his Uncle was by his statement and decided to help him out.

“I’m in World History with her, she’s really kind,” Dottie said, making Eddie look up at her too. “We were talking about Queen when you were with Mrs. Vaughn today, she said she liked my dress.”

“She did?”

“Yeah! She liked the pockets,” she smiled at him. “You gonna wear this for prom?”

“I think that’s why she got it for me,” Eddie chuckled. “I told her we’re all wearing Hellfire colors. Gareth got a red bowtie the other day.”

“I still haven’t found a dress I like or that fits right,” she huffed. “Dad said we’re gonna have to go to Indianapolis, we’ve been to every shop in Hawkins already.”

“A lot of shops closed last year ‘cause of the mall,” Wayne said, clearing up the cake plates. “Never reopened after the fire. Damn shame.”

“Can I open these ones?” Eddie interrupted, excited about the two other presents he had left on the pile.

“Sure!”

“Any special order?”

“No, they’re separate from each other.”

He decided to open the bigger one first, fairly confident about it being a book. He tore the paper to find a hardcover notebook, black with an elastic to keep it closed. It looked fancy, but not particularly special, at least not until he opened it. It was sheet music, 14 five-line staffs on every off-white page, binded and with a pocket on the back. He turned to the first sheet, blank, no lines but with a note written in familiar black ink. For my favorite rockstar, from your darling Dottie. With a little daisy at the end. He stared at it for a minute that never seemed to end and looked up at her, big rounded eyes pushing his eyebrows under his fringe.

“You were talking about wanting to write more songs for Corroded Coffin last week at practice, so I thought you might need a place to keep everything organized,” she explained, voice shy and a little soft.

“Dot, I-”

“Open the other one.”

Wordlessly, he grabbed the small box, instantly recognizing it as a cassette case. He removed the paper, aware that Wayne was watching them from behind the kitchen bar while he brewed some coffee, and turned the transparent case in his hand. 1986 - E&D was written on the front, colorful stickers decorating the plastic. The song list inside only had one entry: Hot Patootie - Meatloaf (RHPS).

“Just one song?” he asked, confused.

“I thought we could fill it up together. See, I wrote 1986 on this one, but we can make a new one for every year we’re friends so when we get old, we can remember what we were doing that year by the songs we chose. Like a musical scrapbook.”

“Fuck, I love you,” Eddie said, launching himself from the floor and tackling her to the carpet, dissolving into giggles as she fought to sit back down.

“Stop- Jesus, Ed- I don’t like tickles, stop!” she pleaded, writhing on the floor like a worm, thankful that she was wearing colorful leggings under her skirt.

“Who doesn’t like tickles?” he lifted himself up onto hands and knees above her, ceasing the attack but still caging her under his body.

“I get nervous if I can’t breathe right,” she explained, hair fanning out like a halo around her head. Eddie felt his knees go weak. “Also, it makes me feel like I’m gonna pee myself and that’s so embarrassing.”

“Okay, gotcha. No tickling,” he pulled them both into a sitting position and smiled, wrapping one arm around her. “Thank you, I love my gifts. And I already know what song I wanna add next to the mixtape.”

“Do tell.”

“Nope,” he shook his head dramatically. “You’ll find out when it’s done.”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes, turning to where Wayne was watching them, hiding a smile behind his mug.

“Happy birthday, son,” he said, raising his coffee to his mouth, and Eddie thought it might have been the happiest of them all.

After dishes had been washed and the rest of the cake had been put away until a certain birthday boy got the munchies at midnight, Eddie and Dottie decided to sit on the porch just outside his bedroom and leave Wayne to his devices. They lounged side by side on the old ratty couch, him working on his portfolio and her reading Pride and Prejudice out loud in an attempt to get him to finish the last book left in their compulsory reading list before finals week was upon them.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounded families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?”

The heavy rain hitting the tin roof provided the perfect ambiance for Eddie’s limbs to start feeling heavy and his hand to begin missing the lines he was trying to stay between while he shaded his latest piece. He closed his sketchbook and slid it through his open window to keep it dry in the safety of his bedroom, quickly returning to the couch to continue hearing the tales of the Bennet sisters. He laid down on the cushions, legs hanging off the armrest and head comfortably pillowed by Dottie's lap.

“Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”

“I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is no another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”

“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley, “for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them, you see, uncommonly pretty.”

“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

What a lovely voice, Eddie thought about Dottie, closing his eyes and letting his impressive imagination create Austen's lavish world behind his eyelids. It wasn't too high-pitched, nor too low, with the cadence of someone who already knows the story they are reading and is aware of where to pause for dramatic effect. This Bingham fellow seems nice. Is this a love triangle-angle?, he wondered. Dottie's voice turned sweet when reading Jane, demure when reading Charlotte, and bratty when reading Lydia. She would be kind when she read Bingham, disdainful when Caroline and solemn when Darcy. But Eddie's favorite so far was her Lizzie voice, which turned sensible and self-assured, yet playful and naïve. He supposed it was because she used her own voice for her most preferred Bennet sister.

“Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed, that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

“If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy,” cried a young Lucas, who came with his sisters, “I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine every day.”

A page was turned, and Dottie’s hand that had been propped up on her armrest fell onto her lap, where it began playing with Eddie's hair. She had touched it before, albeit briefly, but never had she had the opportunity to absent-mindedly run her fingers through his curls like this. They were so much softer than she had expected. She continued this soothing motion, and Eddie kept his eyes closed, leaving her to wonder if his unusual stillness was due to him falling asleep under her touch. She stopped, not wanting to disturb him when his arm shot up and his hand curled around her wrist.

"Please," he muttered in a broken voice. "Keep going."

Eddie couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a haircut at a salon, but he also couldn't remember the last time anyone had brushed their fingers through the strands that had grown exponentially since middle school. He couldn't recall anyone helping him wash it, blow drying it for him, pushing it out of his face. And now Dottie was showing him the type of affection and care he'd craved for since before he learned how to tie his own shoes, and the rusty padlock with the missing key was beginning to break with the slightest amount of brute force applied to it.

"Please," Eddie pleaded, and Dottie closed the book, pulling her wrist out of his hand.

"Wait here," she said, moving her thighs so he'd let her get up and promptly disappeared into the trailer.

I've finally done it, he berated himself. I finally scared her off. But she reappeared quickly carrying a cushion and a rounded brush, sitting once again on the ratty couch. She opened her legs and put the cushion on the floor between them, motioning for him to sit down. Eddie complied without questioning it, his shoulders grazing against the colorful nylon leggings that covered her inner thighs while he faced the trailer park currently plunged into darkness by the storm. The first gentle but firm pull of the plastic bristles on his scalp made him shiver. The second one broke the dam.

Dottie brushed his hair in silence, being extra careful when she encountered a knot, undoing it slowly and patiently. Eddie sobbed without fear of judgment, because even though they weren't talking about it, he knew that she understood. How could she not, growing up with a single father who had never once in his life styled long hair before hers began to grow past her shoulders? So she brushed, and he cried, and they let go of yet another invisible weight together. When she put the brush down on the cushions, Eddie expected her to say something to ask him about what was happening. Instead, he felt her fingers running once, twice through the entire length of his hair, parting a small section near the top to his left on the third time. Dottie began braiding the strands into a thin plait, securing it with a small colorful plastic hair tie, the kind Eddie knew she always carried in her bag and had used a couple of times to pull her short curls into low pigtails.

She finished the braid, and moved onto the next one, right below the first one. Dottie wove strand with strand until she had three braids on either side of his head, all thinner than her own pinky. She pulled them back into a ponytail with the rest of his hair and brushed the ends for good measure one more time before dropping her weight on the floor between Eddie and the couch. Her arms curled around his waist, his chest to his back, her hands finding his curled into tight fists on his lap.

“You look like a viking now,” she said, softly.

“Thank you,” he replied, voice frail and small but full of meaning. She leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to the base of his neck, just above his shirt, and he bit back another sob.

“Happy birthday, Ed,” she muttered, lips still pressed to his skin like she wanted to get the words permanently etched into it.

Dottie did not go back to reading out loud and Eddie didn’t fish his sketchbook from his room for the remainder of the evening. They simply sat together on the porch, tangled with one another as usual, and watched the rain fall and heard the thunder rumble until it was time for her to go home. They didn’t say anything about what had happened, but there was no need. Another padlock laid at their feet, and they weren’t afraid of busting them open anymore.

Friday, May 16th - 1986

“Fred? Fred!” Dottie called, pushing the doors to the Hawkins High newspaper room in a hurry. “Fred, are you here?”

“N-no, he’s- he went to see the nurse!” a familiar voice came from under the stairs.

Sitting on the floor and hiding between a few boxes that contained blank bundles of paper, was Nancy Wheeler. Her pretty calf-length pastel rainbow skirt covered her bent legs, concealing her feet from anyone who walked by. She had been crying, brown mascara staining the skin under her eyes but she clearly wasn’t anymore, face dry and eyes only slightly swollen. When she noticed Dottie coming to kneel next to her, she quickly hid the paper she was holding in her cardigan pocket. They didn’t know each other very well yet, were friendly at best, but Dottie knew that Nancy didn’t have many friends in school. She was highly regarded as a good student, on track to being the valedictorian with a bright future ahead but she could be a bit of a loner when she wasn’t being followed around by Fred Benson or another newspaper club member.

Nancy often chose to spend most of her time in the library studying or working on something for The Weekly Streak, building her journalism portfolio to parade around in search of internships when she left Hawkins for college in Boston. Dottie wasn’t one to gossip with anyone that wasn’t named Gareth Coleman, but Fred liked to talk. On one occasion when the junior was assisting Dottie with an urgent task, he’d babbled on and on about Nancy, her late friend Barb, the fact that she’d been considered Hawkins royalty for a period of time while she dated some popular guy who was captain of the swimming team, and how she’d dumped him rather publicly at a Halloween party and gotten together with known weirdo Jonathan Byers. She tried to steer Fred away from the topic at the time, but he was undeterred: it was clear the boy held some sort of candle for the pretty senior, and who was Dottie to tell him to snuff it out? She’d only known them for less than a month. Still, with the knowledge that Nancy was a bit of an outcast after the tragic death of her best friend, and coupled with the fact that she was Mike’s sister, Dottie couldn’t pretend like she hadn’t seen her distress.

“You okay?” she asked, giving her editor-in-chief enough room to answer however she wanted.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s nothing,” Nancy rolled her shiny blue eyes, waving a hand around. “Everything’s fine.”

“I was dropping by to leave these for Fred,” Dottie explained, showing her the stack of papers she was holding. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, he was just complaining about a headache. Nothing serious.”

“Good, okay. I’ll leave this on his station and we can go get a soda. Would that be alright?”

“You want to get a soda with me?” Nancy said, a soft smile gracing her lips.

“Of course! We can share M&Ms if you want too. I’ve known you for a month and all I know about you is that you’re going to Emerson and that Dustin thinks you’re a badass.”

“He called me badass?” she laughed, getting to her feet and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“God, the kid loves you. Mike says he had a crush on you when they were younger.”

“Ugh, he did,” Nancy said, remembering the moment fondly. “Dustin is probably my favorite out of all my brother’s friends.”

“He’s so nice. His Mom did a great job with him.”

“Have you met Claudia? She’s quite the character,” she confided as the two girls climbed up the stairs and headed into the empty hallways side by side.

Nancy was funny. That was something Dottie hadn’t been expecting. She was polite and reserved, yes, but funny in the way people who notice things others don’t are. She carried their conversation well, asked Dottie questions to get to know her better while she answered the ones directed at her with ease. Her favorite color was pink, she liked all her classes except Math, was really excited about the release of Top Gun and was going to go see it with her Mom, Karen. She preferred Sprite to Coca-Cola, and in her opinion, the best M&Ms were the red ones, even though they all tasted the same. They sat on a bench just outside the cafeteria and talked about trivial things until they ran out of topics to explore.

“I wish we would have done this earlier,” Dottie said, popping a green candy into her mouth. “You’re really cool, Nance.”

“Thanks,” she said, chuckling shyly. “I think you might be collecting Wheeler siblings at this point. Should I let my Mom know you’re available to babysit Holly?”

“I actually have a lot of experience with babysitting. Give me until finals are done and if you need me, I’m there.”

“Speaking of babysitting, Mike mentioned you’re tutoring Eddie Munson.”

“I’m not really tutoring him, just… helping him keep his focus. We’re good friends.”

“I know. Mike,” Nancy said, like that explained everything and it actually did. “Actually, he… he mentioned you gave him advice a few times. About his girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I remember. Why are teenage boys so scared of their own feelings?”

“Tell me about it,” she scoffed, but immediately turned shy and rigid. “Could you… would it be okay if I asked you for advice too? It’s just- you are impartial in this situation and I think that’s what I need right now.”

“Sure, how can I help?” Dottie turned to her.

Nancy explained that she’d gotten a letter from her boyfriend, Jonathan. Ex-boyfriend, actually, but neither of them were good at the ex part. They had had a big argument over the phone after Spring break when post California-visit, Mike had accidentally let it slip that Jonathan didn’t want to go to Emerson with Nancy and had chosen community school instead. She hadn’t been upset about him changing his plans, but it definitely had hurt to know he’d been lying to her all this time, telling her he’d applied when he hadn’t, stringing her along for months on end. Dottie listened to Nancy retelling how she’d broken up with him, worried about if there were maybe other things he’d been hiding from her, and how Jonathan hadn’t tried to argue back once. He’d called two weeks later from a payphone outside the pizza parlor his new best friend worked at, high off his mind, crying and begging for her to take him back. Nancy had firmly said no, but that she was willing to talk more when he wasn’t on drugs.

This had happened mid-April, and Jonathan hadn’t called since. Instead, a letter addressed to Nancy had arrived that same Friday - four full pages of him not exactly asking for forgiveness, but explaining his reasoning in regards to his lies. Nancy didn’t share all the details, but the essential part was that as the eldest son of a single parent, he felt a sense of duty towards his siblings and didn’t want to move away so soon after they started high school in a new town where they had virtually to no friends and were getting bullied just for daring to exist. She did mention that his new sister Jane, Mike’s girlfriend, was still dealing with the loss of her adoptive father, so that situation on top of the move wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Nancy said, at the end of her long monologue. “If he’d told me all of this before, I would have understood him. He’s right, they are all having a hard time but did he have to lie about it for an entire year?”

“I think both sides are valid,” Dottie said, offering her the last candy in the package. “He’s not wrong for wanting to help his Mom and his siblings out, but he went about it in a really shitty way and you’re allowed to feel betrayed by it.”

“Am I?”

“Yes! Nancy, he lied to you! It was with the best of intentions, but he still lied. If you feel like that’s a hard limit in your relationship, you should tell him that, and he should respect it. And you. He should always respect you.”

“He does, he’s… I love him.”

“You can love someone and be upset with them at the same time. Just tell him how you feel instead of avoiding each other because you don’t want to get into a fight. Trust your instincts on this one.”

“You’re right. I’m gonna call him this weekend, and if we’re done, we’re done, but at least we handled it like adults.”

“That’s the spirit!” Dottie cheered her on. “Everything will turn out okay, I have faith in you both.”

“Thank you,” Nancy said, smiling. “I really needed the pep talk.”

“Anytime. I gotta run now, but I liked hanging out with you.”

“Me too. It’s been a while since I’ve done the whole… girl talk thing.”

“Can’t imagine Mike being into that, no,” Dottie said, and Nancy laughed. “See you on Monday?”

“Yes. Monday. Good luck with Hellfire!”

“Good luck with Jonathan. Fight for your love, girl!” she declared dramatically while she sped away.

Nancy watched her go with a curious smile on her face. She’d have to keep an eye on Dorothy Burke from now on, but that could wait. It was Friday, Fred might be down for the count, and she had a newspaper edition to perfect before Monday morning.

Dottie had been to Family Video only twice since moving to Hawkins, once with her Dad and once with the boys, both times during a weekend. When Donny pulled into the parking lot that Friday night after Hellfire, she was fully expecting to see the same greasy dude that smelled like Cheetos she’d seen the last two times but saw instead a pretty tall girl that had her eyes glued to a black and white movie playing on the overhead TV. Gareth immediately ran to the horror section in search for the first part of their double feature, and Dottie approached the girl timidly while Donny smoked outside, waiting for Eddie and Jeff to arrive with warm pizza and fresh ice cream.

“Hi, welcome to Family Video, how can I help you?” the taller girl smiled with tired eyes, the kind you only got if you worked retail.

“Hi! I wanted to rent The Rocky Horror Picture Show if you have it?”

“Yeah, of course, follow me,” she said, lifting the counter and guiding her towards the Musicals section. Another boy was restocking shelves labeled as Comedy next to them.

“Hi there,” he said, waving a VHS case in the air.

“Hi,” Dottie said and turned to where the girl was moving movies around, a frown on her face. “Did someone else beat me to it?”

“No, no, I know it’s here… Just can’t figure out where I put it.”

“What are you looking for?” the boy said, coming to stand above the girl, craning his neck to see the stands.

“The Rocky Horror Picture Show. The cover’s a mouth with red lips.”

“Oh, yeah, I moved it to the Horror section,” he said, brows bunching in the middle.

“Why did you move it? It’s a musical, dingus.”

“How would I know? It says horror in the title!”

“God, you’re hopeless,” the girl shook her head, and Dottie snorted at their antics.

They bickered all the way to the Horror section, Gareth looking up with a confused expression at the scene in front of him. The tall girl moved around him with ease, finding instantly what she was looking for.

“Here you go, sorry about that,” she said, giving the VHS to Dottie.

“You picked a horror movie?” Gareth asked.

“No, it’s a musical.”

“We’re not watching a musical.”

“Why not? It’s really fun, it’s about-”

“Dot, we’re not watching lovey-dovey bullshit on movie night. Come on, pick something else.”

“No!” Dottie put her foot down. “Eddie said we both got one pick and we couldn’t complain about what the other person chose. Jeff hasn’t seen Rocky Horror and I want him to know where Hot Patootie comes from if he’s gonna be singing it for me every week!”

“It’s from a musical? Eddie said it was a Meatloaf song!”

“It is!” the tall girl interrupted with a bright smile. “Meatloaf plays Eddie in it, it’s his only song in the whole movie but it’s a classic.”

“You’ve seen it?” Dottie asked, eyes lighting up at the discovery of a kindred spirit.

“Y-yeah, it’s really good. I love how it constantly breaks the fourth wall, I mean, talking to the audience through a narrator must be one of the most well known resources in theater but it must be so fun to experience in the stage show-”

“Oh my god, yes!” Dottie interrupted her, turning her entire body to face her newest friend. “The stage show is so cool, I saw it twice at, like, the shittiest community theater ever but they killed it every single time. The material is just so good!”

“You saw it live? Where?”

“New York, I used to live there.”

“That’s so cool,” the girl said, her eyes wide.

“Okay, so maybe you two can have your own movie night and watch your girly musical together,” Gareth said, getting back to the topic. “-but we’re not gonna watch that tonight. Birthdays are for horror movies.”

“It says horror in the title, dude,” the other boy said, making Dottie chuckle. Gareth looked at her like she was betraying him.

“Come on, it’s really not bad. You’re gonna like it, I promise. There’s… there’s sex and boobies in it!”

A tense silence spread through Family Video, Dottie painfully aware that she had said something extremely weird in front of people she didn’t know. It was okay that she was using the tantalizing idea of breasts to lure Gareth into saying yes to her movie choice, but she didn’t need to make it so damn obvious she was excited about the prospect of seeing them too. The taller girl was staring at her with a wild blush spreading from her chest up to her ears, but perhaps the other boy’s reactions were much more disconcerting. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise, stared at the back of his friend’s head, and then turned to Dottie with a huge grin on his face.

“If you don’t rent this movie, I will. We’re definitely watching it tonight, right, Rob?” he said, and the girl began giggling, her face in her hands.

“You’re such an idiot, Steve,” she gritted out through her laughter.

“Really, man, you’re a dumbass if you miss some boobs because you don’t wanna watch a musical with friends.”

“You’re gonna like it, G, I swear. It was made for the freaks,” Dottie insisted, sharing a grateful smile with the boy who was now known as Steve.

“Ugh, okay, fine! But if you’re picking a dumb musical, I can pick whatever I want and you can’t say no because you’re scared.”

“Those were the rules, we don’t complain about each other’s picks.”

“Not even if I pick The Exorcist?”

“Well… No, it’s- it’s okay. You can pick whatever you want,” she said, but looked very daunted by the idea.

“You sure?”

“She said yes, man,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips like a suburban dad. “Are you gonna rent these two or do you want one more? You can rent up to three every time.”

“Two’s okay, thank you, Steve,” Dottie said, grabbing The Exorcist off the shelf and taking both VHS cases to the counter.

The four of them moved to the main area and Steve busied himself checking them out, asking Gareth for his information to enter into the computer. Dottie was distracted while she looked at the small selection of candy they offered, the tall girl following her movement with her eyes. She knew she’d seen her before, probably at school but who was she? She mentioned she lived in New York…

“You’re Dorothy, right?” she said suddenly.

“How did you know?”

“People used to talk about you a lot back in January. Then you kinda dropped off everyone’s radar.”

“Yeah,” she grimaced. “Kinda joined the outcasts so…”

“I’m in band, I get it.”

“What do you play?”

“Trumpet. Been playing for twelve years.”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Dottie said, thinking that she hadn’t done anything in her life with that kind of consistency. “It’s really nice to meet you, Robin.”

“Wha- oh. Oh! My tag!” Robin laughed at herself, looking down at the pins on her vest. “You know, I heard there’s a place in Indy where they do Rocky Horror showings once a month if you ever want to go. I don’t drive b-but I bet Steve can take us.”

“That sounds great, yeah! Is he cool with, y’know, nudity and stuff?”

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely! He doesn’t mind. He’s cool. Yeah, Steve’s… really cool.”

“Aw, you actually love me,” Steve said, giving away the fact that he’d been eavesdropping, and Robin hit him with a magazine.

“You two are really cute,” Dottie said, smiling at them. “How long have you been together?”

“We’re not-”

“Ew, that’s not-”

“We’re friends,” said Steve.

“Best friends,” added Robin.

“Strictly platonic.”

“With a capital P.”

“Oh. Well, I guess retail bonds you forever,” Dottie laughed, and Steve chuckled.

“You have no idea,” he said, looking over at Robin with a knowing expression.

“Okay, can you stop flirting with King Steve now? You’re grossing me out,” Gareth deadpanned, making Dottie frown.

“I’m not- I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

“It’s cool. We’re all friends here,” Steve said. “Enjoy your movie night!”

“Thank you, bye! Bye, Robin,” she waved at the girl, who waved back before Dottie grabbed Gareth’s arm and pulled him towards the door. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Ow, you’re hurting me,” Gareth said, when she shoved him outside, Donny holding the door open for them.

“Don’t know what you did, but you probably deserved it,” he said, letting the door close behind them, muffling their voices from inside the store.

Steve and Robin watched them get into Donny’s car and pull out behind a beat up brown Chevy van, both vehicles disappearing down the road together. When the tail lights were no longer able to be seen, they turned to each other with curious expressions.

“Was she-” Robin asked.

“I think she was, yeah.”

“Huh.”

“What did I tell you?” Steve said, going back to where he had been restocking before all the commotion. “Boobies.”

“Stop saying boobies!”

When Dottie asked to sit next to him to watch The Exorcist, Eddie imagined a scenario where she’d be a little bit scared and seek him out for comfort. After all, cuddling on a couch wasn’t something they’d never done before, blurring the line between friendly touches and something more every day that went by. She suggested eating first, putting the movie in later, and no one complained about the request, eager to stuff their faces after a long day of school and extracurriculars on top. Jeff’s basement was a cozy hangout spot with a door that led to a side entrance, perfect for sneaking out for a smoke between his mother’s carefully manicured rose bushes. The tan carpet and wooden walls were welcoming, if not slightly tacky, and the space had been filled in with a big couch and two armchairs, a huge TV where Jeff’s dad liked to watch football, and a great sound system that had probably been top-of-the-line ten years prior. They gotten their fill of cheese and soda, Whitesnake and Black Sabbath playing in the background, and then retreated to their seats for the movie: Eddie, Dottie, and Jeff on the couch, Donny to Jeff’s left as far away from the TV as he could sit, and Gareth on the remaining Lay-Z-Boy to Eddie’s right, bowl of popcorn for himself on his lap.

As soon as the movie started, it was clear Eddie’s expectations had been sorely mistaken. Dottie started stiff as a board between the two boys, slowly sinking into the couch as the minutes ticked, head hidden behind her knees. Jeff had a bit of success in getting her to relax when he attempted to tell her every time it was safe to look up, but after a miscalculation of the length of a scene involving various medical procedures, her eyes never went beyond the coffee table again. Gareth and Donny’s constant commentary helped ease the uncomfortable air in the room, but it was clear to Eddie that Dottie was not enjoying this situation one bit. Forgoing any ideas of romance, he pulled her into his side, letting her bury her head into his shirt as she tried to ignore the sounds coming from the TV while Regan thrashed on a hospital bed calling for her mother.

Donny looked at Eddie pointedly during a quiet moment, but he pretended not to see it, choosing instead to rub big circles on Dottie’s back in an attempt to calm down her heart rate, beating wildly against the side of his chest like it was trying to get out of her body. Progressively through the 122 minutes that the movie lasted, she pressed more and more of herself against Eddie trying to shield herself from the horrors on the screen, and truthfully, if he hadn’t been so distracted trying to comfort her, he would have been terrified too. By the time Regan was gilding down the stairs on all fours, Jeff was covering half his face with a decorative pillow. When she began hurting herself with a crucifix, even Donny who had been somewhat unaffected until that moment let out a perturbed “Jesus Christ”. By the time the actual exorcism had began, Donny looked like he desperately needed a cig, Jeff was threatening to throw up if Regan threw up again, and Dottie was shaking so much that Eddie straight up manhandled her into his lap like a child and covered the ear that wasn’t pressed up against his chest with his own hand. Credits rolled, and Gareth was the only one that moved out of his chair to stretch and turn on the lights, face pallid when he saw the angry faces of his friends.

“Uh…”

“Are you fucking serious, Gareth?” Donny said in disbelief, knees cracking with the sudden movement of standing up after two hours. “That shit was so fucked up!”

“Please don’t fight,” Jeff said tiredly, letting his pillow drop to the floor.

“Oh, I’m fighting,” Donny doubled down. “Look at Dot! You know she hates horror movies and you get this one? Couldn’t you get fucking Gremlins instead?”

“It’s not that scary, it’s so obvious everything’s totally fake! You can see the tube stuck to her head when she throws up!”

“That was so fucking gross,” Jeff added, still looking a little green himself.

“It’s okay-” Dottie began, wiping under her eyes with the sleeve of her red cardigan, but Donny interrupted her again.

“This is what you were giving her shit for in the video store?”

“Okay, shit- I get it. I fucked up,” Gareth lifted his hands. “I honestly didn’t think it was that scary the first time I saw it.”

“Man, you need to see a shrink if that shit didn’t scare you,” Eddie said, no longer all cozied up to Dottie, but still keeping one arm around her for support.

“I’m sorry,” Gareth looked at Dot, who was the most affected out of his friends. “Didn’t mean to make you feel like ass for two hours. I thought we’d have fun with it.”

“You’re mean, and I hate you, but it’s okay,” she said, grumpily pouting but lifting her arms to ask him for a hug which he immediately gave her. “Just don’t do it again. And you have to go with me to the bathroom now because I’m gonna pee myself and I don’t wanna be in there alone.”

“I’ll hold your hand while you pee, you big wuss.”

Gareth and Dottie climbed up the stairs, him cracking the stupidest jokes to get her to relax while Jeff busied himself going to grab the ice cream so everyone could cool down before the second movie. Donny got his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and nodded at Eddie to follow him outside. They pressed their backs to the cold brick, the lights spilling out from the glass panel on the door illuminating their faces with warm yellow tones. They smoked for a few minutes in silence, looking out onto the fenced-in backyard.

“That shit was wild,” Donny said. "Can't believe they made a twelve-year-old pretend to stab her own pussy with a fucking cross."

"You think that actress was really 12?" Eddie mused.

"Well, she looked like it."

"Yeah, but... maybe she was like 16 and just looks really small? Dunno, but that was crazy. Was she really telling that priest to fuck that other priest?"

"Yeah," Donny chuckled, throwing a bit of ash to the ground. "Saw you, by the way."

"Saw me?"

"You two. Dottie sitting on your lap."

"Oh, fuck off," Eddie scoffed.

"I'm not saying anything weird was happening. Just that I saw you."

"She was terrified, man. Never seen her shake like that, and I've seen her scared before," the eldest said, bitterly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm telling you, I could feel her fucking heartbeat and that shit didn’t feel healthy. She's gonna sleep with her lights on for a week."

"Shit. Didn't realize it was that bad or I would have said something. Honestly thought she was playing it up a little bit, getting cozy with you."

"Nah, she's not like that."

"How do you know?" Eddie shrugged, and Donny narrowed his eyes. "What's been going with you two lately? You're like, attached at the hip."

Eddie took his time to answer, letting the smoke in his lungs leave his body slowly, savoring the peace and quiet of the Friday night. Donny had been his first friend in the group, and if anyone deserved honesty after showing him so much loyalty, it was him. Maybe he'd have valuable insight to share with him in return.

"I'm whipped, Don. That's what's going on," Eddie said.

"Tell me something I don't know, dude."

"Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yes. I don't think the others have noticed yet."

"Yeah, well, it's bad. Like really, really bad. Like I'm one more pout away from dropping on one knee and asking her to be the new Mrs. Munson bad."

"Jesus."

"Yup."

"So it's not just a crush? Are you, like, seriously in love with her?"

"I'm gonna go to prom and wear a tie for her. Take a wild fucking guess."

Donny stared at Eddie for a few seconds before smiling and shaking his head. The long haired boy lifted an eyebrow, questioning.

"Why haven't you asked her out yet?"

"I don't deserve her."

"Ed-"

"I just don't want to drag her down, y'know? She has all these plans, she’s gonna go to college, do cool stuff. I want to ask her when I have something real to offer. After graduation, once I get a job."

"Eddie, has it ever occurred to you that she really fucking likes you right now? You know, without all that extra shit?"

"I know she does."

"You do?" Donny looked at him like he'd grown two heads.

"I'm stupid, not blind. Dunno when she started to like me but yeah, I know she does."

"When did you figure it out?"

"We spent Mother's Day together."

"Oh."

"That's when I realized, damn, she must really like me to spend such a big day like this with me. And then her Dad gave me a manly talk so I just kinda put two and two together."

"Does she know you know?"

"I don't know if she even knows herself. She was telling me the other day that it's stupid boys and girls can't be friends without people reading too much into it. Maybe she’s in denial. I was.

“You were?”

“For like two days, yeah,” Eddie admitted.

"I'll ask Gareth about it. I bet he knows."

"You think?"

"They act like siblings all the time, if someone knows, it's him," Donny assured him, putting his cig out against the brick wall. "Hurry up though, she might get tired of waiting."

"Just a couple more weeks. Until I know if I graduate or not. It's the bare fucking minimum but she deserves it."

"Alright. I'm rooting for you, man. Go make me proud."

"Thanks, dude."

They returned to the basement after their smoke break, Donny giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder when they saw Dottie and Jeff back on the couch, heads together over a big tub of vanilla ice cream. Gareth was sitting on the floor in front of them scooping chocolate into a bowl that already had strawberry and vanilla in it. She was explaining the basics of the movie they were about to watch, warning them that things weren’t what they seemed and that it was about to get weird. Jeff looked terribly excited about the prospect of some lighthearted fun, and whatever talk Gareth and Dottie had had while they were in the bathroom (he’d apologized again while he stood in a corner, back to her and his eyes closed for good measure while she peed) had left him equally curious. The boy heard the words “boobs” and “murder” and decided he was all in for the experience.

Once everyone was back in their seats and had a cold treat in their hands to enjoy during the movie, lights went off and bright red lips filled the screen. Michael Rennie was ill the day the Earth stood still, but he told us… where we stand, Dottie mouthed following the lyrics, spoon resting on her lower lip. It was a complete 180 from the previous feature, her eyes now glued to the moving images, only rousing from her hypnosis to fill her spoon with more ice cream when Jeff prompted her to do so. She encouraged the boys to participate, instructing them to say “Janet” or “Oh, Brad” in a bored tone along with Riff Raff and Magenta during Dammit Janet or teaching them the steps to The Time Warp. Donny and Jeff, ever the performers, immediately jumped to action when Hot Patootie - Bless My Soul began, and Eddie twirled Dottie around proving himself to be quite the capable dancer when he put effort into it. Even Gareth got into the festivities when the pickaxe came out.

“Okay, that was awesome,” Jeff said while the credits were still rolling. “Didn’t know musicals could be, y’know, not Grease.”

“Take that back, Grease is legit,” Donny threatened him with his spoon.

“Less boobs than I was promised but still pretty good,” laughed Gareth, and Dottie chucked a pillow at his head.

“Looks like movie night is a success all thanks to Dot,” Eddie said, grinning at the girl that couldn’t sing for shit, but still knew all the lyrics to every beat of the musical. “Gareth, you’re banned from picking movies for a month.”

“I’ll take it,” he shrugged.

“Are there more musicals like this?” Jeff asked, and Eddie could see Dottie’s eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Well, there’s one about a demon barber…”

Eddie’s 20th birthday had been nothing like he was used to, but as he sat in Jeff’s brown-looking basement, his crush resting her weight against his shoulder as she animatedly explained to their friends the plot of Sweeney Tood: The Demon Barber of Fleet… Street, his spoon full of strawberry ice cream, and a pre-rolled joint in his backpack they were definitely going to sneakily smoke in the back of his van at some point during the night, he felt truly lucky for the first time in years. Everything was going to change for them in a few weeks, but Eddie really hoped that his 21st birthday would be as happy, if not more, as his 20th had been.

taglist (comment below or shoot me a dm if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean

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justagamerandaweeb · 5 months

Text

Bonded Together Forever - Kyojuro x Reader

18+ MDNI

Part 2 of True love - Kyojuro x Reader

____________________________________________

Ever since Kyojuro was married to you, he started to become more passionate towards you. He checked on you every day to see if you were okay, came to every mission you went to protect you, and ate with you if you were ever by yourself.

But he was being assigned to a mission that was for himself, and the three other Demon Slayers. The mission was about people going missing on the so-called: Mugen Train. But before he goes on his mission, he wanted to talk to you.

You were reading a book when you heard knocking on your door. You put the book next to you and stood up as you walked to the door. You opened it to see Kyojuro standing right in front of you.

"Kyojuro!" You got on your toes and kissed him as you cupped his cheeks.

He pats your head in response to your action with his shiny smile. "Nice to meet you too, (Y/N)."

You back up to let him enter as he closes the door behind him. "How have you been, my dear?"

"Good. I was just reading a book, nothing that major. So what are you here for?" You said as you went to sit back down on the floor.

"I came to talk to you about my mission."

"Oh, the Mugen Train, right?"

"Yes. But before I go, I wanted to talk to you." He then grabs a chair and sits in front of you on the table. "I may not be able to come back after this mission..."

"W-Woah, Kyojuro. What's with the sudden mood shift?"

He shook his head as if he was in a trance. "Sorry. I just got a little lost in my head. What I'm trying to say is; This could be my last mission."

You felt your heart stop for a second when you heard him say that. The thought of your fiance getting killed from a mission made your chest tighten.

"But I really hope that's not the case. Seeing you brightens my mood, and it would be a shame to never see you again. But, if that is the case..." He takes his haori and wraps it around you. "I want you to have this. That way, I will always be with you, indirectly." He looks at you for a second before he wraps his forearms around your head and gently pulls you to his chest.

"Can't I come with you?"

"No. I won't risk letting you get hurt. I can never live with myself letting my wife get hurt during a mission without me knowing."

"But I'm a Demon Slayer too, remember? I can pull my weight."

He kisses your forehead before he stood up. "Just trust me on this, okay? I don't want you to get hurt." And kisses your lips. "Just know that I will always be with you."

He starts to slowly walk away to the door as you grip his haori. Once he got close to the door you got up and ran up behind to hug him.

"(Y/N)?"

"Come back safe."

His mouth opens but shortly closes as he smiles. "I will."

He looks at you again as he extends his arm to pat your head, and gave you his signature smile before leaving.

You gently squeeze the haori Kyojuro gave you and looked up to the roof.

"Gods... Please let him make it back safe."

Time skip

It's been a few days since Kyojuro went on his mission and you were starting to get worried. Usually, it doesn't take him this long to complete a mission. You were about to the headquarters until you heard knocking.

The person who opened the door was Kyojuro's younger brother, Senjuro. He was panting heavily as if he was running. "(Y/N)-chan!" He runs up to you and hugs you.

You stroked the boy's head, happy seeing him, but concerned about what he was doing here. "Senjuro, what's going on?"

"It's Nii-san, he's back!"

Your eyes widened. Your fire-haired husband actually came back after his mission. "R-really!? Well, where is he?"

"He's at the butterfly estate, but he's badly wounded! I heard he fought against an upper moon!"

Your heart dropped. Hearing that your husband fought against an upper-rank demon, and somehow survived. Your first response to Senjuro was: "Take me to him."

He nods and grabs your hand to make him run with you.

Time skip

You both arrived at the estate both heavily panting trying to regain back some stamina. As you were regaining your breath, you look up to see Shinobu walking up to you and Senjuro.

"Ah! (Y/N) and Senjuro! What are you doing here?"

"I... We..." You tried to speak but you were too tired to say anything.

"N-Nii-san..."

Shinobu then knocks on her head when she figured out what you two were doing here. "Oh! You two came to see Kyojuro-san! Please, come with me." She said as she begins to walk.

"Thank you..."

She stops at the door that Kyojuro and turns back to you. "Y'know... When we saw the others carrying Kyojuro... He was in a pretty bad condition. Thankfully I managed to fix him up though, but for how long his injuries will heal, I'm not so sure."

"Ok but, just let us see him, please."

She turns back and opens the door and gets out of your way for you to enter. "Just don't wake him up, that may interrupt the healing." You walk into the room to see Kyojuro laying on the bed, bruised and scratched, bandages on his forearm, the left side of his head and eye, and his abdomen.

You slowly walk up to his sleeping body as you couldn't believe it. He's alive. Your husband that fought an upper-rank survived. You started to tremble as you just wanted to scream and burst tears of joy as you were standing in front of his battle-damaged body.

You felt Senjuro circling your back, looking like he was about to burst into tears as well. "I'm happy to see him too, (Y/N)-san." He said as his voice was shaking.

You suddenly felt tears running down your face as you were too focused looking at Kyojuro. You then got down to your knees as you covered your face on the bed, quietly sobbing as you grabbed his arm.

"K-Kyojuro..."

Senjuro crouched down behind you and wrapped his arms around you, to comfort you and to hide his tears falling out.

Shinobu was watching this all unfold, smiling on the outside, but hurting on the inside. If only her older sibling survived fighting an upper-rank demon.

She decided to leave you and Senjuro alone with him to give you two time to cope.

Time skip

You both ended up sleeping in the same room Kyojuro was in. Since you ask Shinobu can you stay and she said yes. You ended up sleeping on Kyojuro with your head on his leg while Senjuro slept on the bed behind you.

As you were sleeping, Kyojuro's sleeping body started to shift, almost like he was in some sort of nightmare. His body started to sweat as he starts to mumble.

"N-no..."

His unconscious fist balls up as his body started to tremble. "Get away from her, you bastard!" His dream self said to the upper moon. He tries to get up but his hands and legs are tied up so he can't properly stand up.

The lined demon chuckles at his efforts trying to get up. "How adorable. A man trying to save the person he loves most, but can't even unbind himself when he needs to." He says as he grabs you and pulls you by the hair, making you yelp in pain.

"Don't fucking hurt her! I'm gonna fucking kill you!" He said in a rageful tone in his voice.

The upper moon starts to raise his hand above your head, making Kyojuro struggle even harder trying to untie himself. Soon the rage in his voice turned into desperation. "Stop! Please!"

The lined demon smiles as he slowly balls his fist. "K-Kyojuro, please get up. Please get u-" Before you could finish your sentence, the lined demon punches through the back of your head, blood running down and dripping on his knuckle.

Kyojuro's eyes widen and released a gut-wrenching scream. "(Y/N)!!!"

He jolts awake, heavily breathing as he felt his heart vastly beating out of his chest. He looks at his surroundings to you and his younger brother sleeping.

He lays back down as he relaxes his breathing. His hand is on where his heart is as he closes his eyes and lets out a sigh.

He sits back up as he looks at you sleeping on his leg. He slowly raises his hand as he tries not to wake you up and puts his hand on your hair to see if you were real.

He smiles as he softly strokes your hair, relieved that this is real and not just a nightmare.

"I'm glad you're here with me, (Y/N). You have no idea how happy I am to see you. Even though you might not hear me, I just want you to know that I will love you and I will always protect you. I wish I could kiss you right now, but I don't wanna interrupt your sleeping. I hope the first thing you do after you realize I'm awake is cup my cheeks and kiss me."

He looks to the right of his bed to see Senjuro sleeping under the comforter and his haori he gave you. "You've even kept my other haori. That's nice. And I'm glad your here too, Senjuro."

He begins to close his eyes and goes back to sleep, happy to see your faces when he wakes up.

Time skip

Kyojuro was the first to wake up. As he wipes his eye for vision to clear, he realizes that he had some breakfast. Steamed rice with grilled fish.

He grabs the chopsticks and grabs the bowl of rice and proceeds to eats. He quietly says "Tasty." every time he takes a bite of the fluffy white rice.

Once he finished the bowl he then grabbed the grilled fish and took a bite of the fish and he couldn't help but yell out, "TASTY!" Making you and Senjuro jump out of your slumber.

You groaned from tiredness as you turned your head to get a better sleeping position. "It's too early Kyojuro, go back to sleep."

"Apologies (Y/N), but if you were tasting the food I was eating, you wouldn't blame me for why I said tasty." He said in his eternal energetic voice.

And then your eyes immediately widen awake as you realize that Kyojuro was actually awake. You turn your head back to see Kyojuro eating the grilled fish. "Tasty!"

A shaking gasp came out of your mouth as you stood up and hugged him. "Kyojuro!" Senjuro quickly got out of the bed as he wanted to hug Kyojuro as well. "Nii-san!"

He laughs but then groans as his wounds are still healing. But he still wraps his arms around you two. "Relax, you two. I'm still injured here."

You then look at Kyojuro smiling at you before slapping him.

"(Y/N)-chan! Don't hurt him!"

"That's for breaking my promise." You then cup his cheeks before kissing his lips, making a quiet moan exit out of his mouth. "And that's for at least coming back."

"Yeah I did break half of it, and I did deserve that slap." He said in a seductive tone.

"Would you like more than a slap, my dear?" You slid your finger under his chin as you sat on his lap. "U-umm..." You both looked at the source of the noise.

"G-guys... I'm right here." The young Rengoku said with a light blush on his face.

You both blushed and wear it off with a laugh. "Sorry Senjuro, you should've seen that for a child your age." Says the older Rengoku as he scratches the back of his head.

He head pats both of you with a smile on his face. "I'm so glad you two are here with me." He strokes your hair and kisses both of your foreheads, acting as a father figure to both of you.

You then heard knocking coming from the door. The door opens to reveal a boy that had burgundy hair and a fire-like scar on the top left of his forehead.

You look at the young boy in concern as to who he was. Was this the Demon Slayer that went on a mission with Kyojuro?

"R-Rengoku-san?"

"Ah! Young Kamado! It's a pleasure to see you!"

The young slayer rushes to Kyojuro and hugs him, his head laying on his neck as Kyojuro slowly wraps his arms around him.

You then heard a voice calling out the young slayer. "Tanjiro! Wait for us!" And another one coming too. "Yeah, Monjiro! We wanna see owl man too!"

The two voices get closer as their physical appearances show. One had blonde to orange hair while the other had a boar head to conceal his true face.

"These must've been the three slayers that went with Kyojuro..." You thought as the other two Demon Slayers also rushed in to hug Kyojuro.

And you couldn't blame them. Kyojuro person by heart and spirit. You wouldn't be surprised if someone died for this man.

The young stops hugging Kyojuro for a second after realizing you were here. "Oh, sorry. Where are my manners? My name is Tanjiro Kamado." The boy extends his hand out waiting for a handshake.

You politely shook his hand and responded, "(Y/N) (L/N)."

He lit up as he said your name. "Oh, so you must be Rengoku-san's fiancee, correct?"

You nodded to his question as he smiles. "Rengoku-san has told me about you. You sound like a nice lady from what I heard."

His other arm extends behind him to showcase the other slayers. "These are my friends: Zenitsu and Inosuke."

Zenitsu waves as he avoided making eye contact with you while Inosuke had his hands on his hips and laughed.

Tanjiro turns around to Senjuro and says, "I don't think we've met before, what's your name?"

"S-Senjuro." He with a shy tone in his tone.

"Hello, Senjuro! My name is Tanjiro! You must be Rengoku's brother, nice to meet you!" He says as he extends his hand for Senjuro to shake.

Senjuro slowly takes his hand and shakes it, giving Reassurance to Senjuro. "He has rough hands." Senjuro thought.

You looked around the room to realize that 5 other people were in the same room. Did Shinobu allow this or did they just snuck in?

"Hey Tanjiro, if you don't mind me asking, how did you guys get here?"

Tanjiro turns around and said, "We're in the same estate as you, don't you know? This estate is mostly for medical purposes."

Wow, Tanjiro made you look really stupid.

"Oh well, thank you for telling me that, Tanjiro." You said as you cursed at yourself mentally.

You say at the edge of Kyojuro's bed as you pat your thighs just because. "So, the gangs all here."

"I guess so."

Tanjiro sighs and puts his hands on his hips and says, "Well it's been fun, but I think we should go back to training. After seeing Rengoku-san fight that upper-moon, I think it's a clear sign that we need to get stronger."

"Okay, it was a pleasure talking to you Tanjiro."

He smiles. "You too. Let's go you two, say goodbye to (Y/N) and Rengoku-san."

The two slayers wave and leave with Tanjiro for training. Senjuro stands in front of you as he looks at you with puppy eyes. "Is it okay if I come with them?"

This was the first time you've seen Senjuro trying to socialize with someone, which put a smile on your face. So you said, "Of course, you can!" And smiled.

He lightens up and rushes to the other slayers leaving. "Guys! Wait up!"

He closes the door, meaning that you and Kyojuro were alone at the moment. "That's the first time I've seen Senjuro trying to socialize with others."

"For me, it's been so long. It's actually kind of nice to see him like that. Happy." He half-smiles.

"Well, we have the room to ourselves now. What do you want to do?" You asked Kyojuro.

"Cuddle." He immediately says.

"What?"

"I want you to cuddle with me."

"But you're injured. I don't wanna cause anything to break."

He pats where his heart was and says, "Just lay your head on my chest."

You scootched over to him and put your head on his left pec, getting down on your knees to get comfortable.

You could feel his heartbeat bumping in your ear as Kyojuro strokes your head.

"I've missed you."

You look up to see Kyojuro forming a soft smile, his eye half-lidded as he lowers his head and kisses yours. "I've missed you too, my flame."

That nickname he gives you, it makes you feel flustered and fuzzy when he calls you that.

"Y'know you make me feel all giddy inside whenever you call me that."

"Do you not like it?"

"No, I do. But, the last time you called me that, was when we were having sex." You slightly blushed when you finished your sentence.

Silence filled the room until Kyojuro started to chuckle but it slowly starts turning into a laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"It's the way you said it, my dear. You act like I haven't called you that multiple times."

He wasn't wrong.

"Only in bed though."

And you weren't.

"Well, you caught me there. The only time I call you that was in bed. But I haven't called you anything cute." He says as he continues to stroke your hair, thinking of a name to call you other than 'his flame.'

Then a name popped up in his head. It's about his favorite food. "I know! I'll call you my sweet potato!"

A smile slowly crept up to your face before you laughed.

"What? Too corny?"

"No! No... It's cute." You exhaled as you stopped laughing. "I love you Kyojuro."

He chuckles. "I love you too, my sweet potato." He says before kissing your head again.

"I love you more."

'No, I do."

"Prove it."

He raises an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge? Do you not enjoy cuddling with me or my sweet head kisses?"

"No, I do. I just want you to solidify the fact that you love me more."

He took his fingers and grabbed your chin to make you look at him. He begins to lean his head down to kiss your lips.

Your eye closed as you let Kyojuro kiss you. His lips touching yours after being gone for so long, just made him more hungry for your lips.

He held your head and tilted his head to make the kiss deeper. You felt his tongue enter your mouth, making you whimper as he dominates your tongue.

Your face scrunches up but relaxes as you cupped his cheek and started to dance with his tongue.

Drool was running down to your chin as Kyojuro was kissing you for 2 minutes straight. You were surprised that no one walked in to witness this happening.

He stops as a line of saliva stretches from your lips, both of you heavily panting after your kissing session.

"How was that?"

He looks at you to see you were a blushing mess, with your ears red just like the ends of his hair.

"Amazing..."

He chuckles and pecks your lips before he scootches back on the twin-size bed and pats the vacant part of the mattress.

You lay down on the bed and Kyojuro wrapped his arms around you. He closes his eye as he begins to take a nap. "Sleep, my sweet potato."

You smirked as you were beginning to like him calling you a 'Sweet potato'. You closed your eyes as you put your head on Kyojuro's chest and wrapped your arms around him as well.

You closed your eyes as you planted your head on his chest, feeling his warm embrace once again.

Time skip

Its been a few months since Kyojuro went on his mission on the Mugen Train, he started to get progressively better as time went by. His body wasn't covered in bruises, and he now donned an eyepatch and a kimono.

Instead of fighting demons, he started to train the slayers, specifically the trio that went with him. Ever since he became a Hashira, he always wanted a Tsuguko that would carry his legacy as the Flame Hashira, but no one could because his training was too tough. But seeing how the other three performed at the train, he may see that happening.

While you decided to stay by Kyojuro's side, nursing him to get better faster. Thanks to Shinobu for educating you about medical care.

Today though was something different. Not in a bad way, but a way that surprised you. When Kyojuro told you to come with you, you thought he was going to show you training the others like before, but then you were in the Demon Slayer HQ, and Oyakata-sama was laying on the futon with his wife taking care of him.

Amane quietly gasps as to notice you two standing in front of them. "Kagaya."

His head turns to see you two standing. "Rengoku and (Y/N). Nice you two." His wife helps him sit up to properly look at you two.

You both sat down on your knees and bowed to him. "Oyakata-sama."

"What brings you here, my children?"

What Kyojuro said completely took you by surprise.

"Me and (Y/N) want to retire being Demon Slayers."

Your eyes widen when Kyojuro said that. The Flame Pillar wanting to quiet the Demon Slayer Corps? Not only alone but with you.

"What is your reason for this request, Rengoku?"

"The reason why I say this is because, well other than my injuries, I'm in love with (Y/N). The last time I went on a mission, I made her worried sick about me. I don't want her to feel that way again. Not only that, but I wanna start a family with her, get rid of all this pain and suffering from all these years, and start over. I understand if you are upset by this request, Oyakata-sama. But please, let us leave the Corps, and live ordinary lives again."

The sounds of trees flowing in the wind, and wind chimes filled the HQ to minimize the silence until Kagaya laughs.

"What would make you think I would be upset, Mr.Rengoku? I've seen the way you looked at (Y/N). It was only a matter of time before this moment came to be."

His hand gestures for you to get closer, so you both comply. He takes both of his hands and pats both of you. "You two have done a great service for the Demon Slayer Corps, keeping the people safe, destroying evil, helping each other, all these things that made you great, is possibly the best thank you I could ever have. You two deserved this retirement."

"Thank you Oyakata-sama, but I wanna hear it from you."

Kagaya softly smiles and says, "Rengoku, (Y/N), I hereby disband you two from the Demon Slayer Corps."

You both bow to him one final time as a thank you.

"Oyakata-sama, I-"

"Lose the formality, my child. Call me Kagaya."

His mouth was slightly open but closes to form a smile. "It's been an honor serving for you, Kagaya-san."

He bows his head. "Same to you my child."

He grabs your hand and gets up to leave the HQ with you, but he stops himself and looks back to Kagaya.

"Before I leave, can I make one last request?"

"Ask away."

"Can you notify everyone that me and (Y/N) have retired?"

"...Of course."

He smiles, "Thank you. Let's go, (Y/N)." And walks out of the HQ to start a new life.

As you were walking out, you heard crows cawing in the distance.

"Oh my, Looks like the word got out quickly. I hope they aren't upset that we're quitting."

"I don't think so, my sweet potato, they're probably happy that we're retiring together. It's only a matter of time before one of them does it too."

You both continue walking as you said his name. "Kyojuro..."

"What is it, my dear?"

"When you said those things to Kagaya, did you actually mean them?"

He stops walking to look at you.

"Of course I did. You mean so much to me, more than you think. When you were asleep when you first came to see me, I talked about how much I love you, and how much I wanted to protect you. I just don't want you to worry about me, because just know, I will always be there for you. Rather I become a pillow for you to cry on, or just want to lay down and cuddle with, I will always be there to comfort you."

Tears started to well up in your eyes as you struggle to compose yourself. Kyojuro softly smiles as he extends his arms. "Starting now. C'mere, my sweet potato."

He wraps his arms on you as he puts your head on his chest and strokes your hair.

Tears began to run down your face as you wrapped your arms around Kyojuro, and began to cry. Your breath was shaking as Kyojuro was kissing your head. "K-Kyojuro... I... I..."

"Shh... I know. I love you too."

He starts to stroke your back as you cried harder on his chest, your tears staining his kimono, but that's what he wanted, for you to let it all out.

You stopped crying as you took your head off his chest. As you looked up to Kyojuro, he cups your cheek and caressed it with his thumb.

"Got that out of your system?"

You nodded like a child after a temper tantrum.

"Good." He kisses you as he held your head. Being firm yet gentle. You quietly moaned as his lips came in contact with yours.

He stops kissing you to you have a slight blush on your face. He chuckles as he says, "Let's go home, my flame." He says as he turns around, implicating for you to get on his back.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and hopped on his back for him to catch your legs.

"Comfortable?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Alright, let's go." And starts to walk to his home.

You closed your eyes as was walking and started to imagine having a family with him. Having 2 kids, one looked like him and the other looked like you. You smiled as you were looking forward to that.

Time skip

You weren't looking forward to this.

It has been 2 months since you and Kyojuro were retired from the Demon Slayer Corps and when Kyojuro said he wanted to start a family.

When you first thought about it, you thought it would be fun. But then you started to think about the bad things about it. What if you die during childbirth? What if you and Kyojuro don't make it work? What if you're a terrible parent?

Kyojuro would always ask what was going on in your head, but you would always respond with nothing.

Yet here you are. Sitting on your knees in front of Kyojuro, wearing nothing but your kimono while your heart was beating very fast.

Kyojuro, of course, made the first move by kissing your lips. Holding your head in place while cupping your cheek.

He touches your cloth-covered breast, making you moan in his mouth. He stops touching your breast and puts his hand on your back. He starts to lean down carefully until you were on the floor and he was on top of you.

He stops and strokes your cheek as he looks at you with gentle, but seductive eyes. "You ready for this, my dear?"

"Kyojuro..." You completely ignored his question.

"What is it?"

"...do you think I would I would be a good mother?"

And there it is. What Kyojuro was wondering when you were thinking about for all this time. You were insecure about being a bad mother, but he knew better. He saw the way you treated Senjuro. Like as if he was your offspring.

"Of course you would." He pecks at you, warming your face up with haste kisses. "We would make a great family. Besides, the way you treat my little brother like he was your own makes me realize how much we could make this work."

You smirked as you realize that he wasn't wrong. The way you were treating Senjuro was like he saw you as another mother figure.

He smirks as well and chuckles. "Now that's that taken care of, I suppose you wouldn't mind if I undressed you, right...?"

You shook your head and Kyojuro starts to take off your kimono. Your breast started to peak out of the top of the piece of cloth, making Kyojuro blush a little bit. He leans down and licks your sensitive nipple, giving you chills throughout your body.

"Kyojuro!"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist."

He gets back to removing your kimono off your body and only leaving your panties on.

"How I miss this beautiful body of yours..." He starts to feel down his body as for not seen it for so long. He missed seeing all of you and feeling your soft luscious skin on his hands.

"H-hey..." You moaned as you felt his firm hands touching you. "It's not fair if you see me like this. H-how 'bout you take off your kimono?"

"Of course, forgive me for not undressing myself." He sat down on his knees and took off his kimono. You sat up to see him with only a fundoshi and he had a big scar on his stomach.

Your hand reaches down, but slowly hesitates to touch the healed, but visible scar.

"Was this during your fight against the upper-moon?"

"Yes, it is. I kind of prefer if we leave that in the past though."

"Aww... But it's so..."

"So what?"

"...so hot."

A part of you wanted to say it looks cute, but then you thought to yourself, "No scar looks cute, and Sanemi is the prime example of that."

Kyojuro blushed as you called his scar hot. Making him flustered and fuzzy inside.

You chuckled as you see Kyojuro blushing, but you started to pan down to Kyojuro's regional area and saw a huge bulge in his fundoshi, and you too started to blush.

"I-is that from praising your scar?"

He looks down to see his cock bulging out of the piece of cloth, twitching as if it was begging to be free of its prison.

"No. I'm just really excited that we get to do this again, that's all."

He leaning towards you and kisses your lips again. It was quick, yet passionate. "You're so beautiful, I can't get enough of it. How did I get so lucky with you?"

"I should be asking you that."

He gently pushes you down, which alarmed you for a brief moment, and takes off your panties, leaving you completely naked in his eyes.

You knew Kyojuro would separate your legs if you tried to cover your nether to him, so you spread your legs to show your wet heat to him.

"I-I'm ready, Kyojuro..."

"Not yet, my flame. I want us to both feel good, but not the way you think I will do."

He stood up and starts to take off the fundoshi only to let his cock spring free. His cock was covered in veins as his tip was about red as the tips of his hair.

And if you were being honest to yourself, it was making you more aroused.

"First, sit on my chest, but leave your back facing me." He says as he lays down on his back.

You stood up and walked to Kyojuro's laying body. You turned your body around and sat on his chest, just like he asked.

Your eyes panned down to Kyojuro's thick and veiny cock twitching, begging for attention.

"W-what now?"

"Now you lay down until you are face to face with my cock."

You did what he ask and leaned your body down and got close to his cock. It looked so big against his face. You could've sworn you seen pre on his tip.

"Like this?"

"Just like that, now..." He grabs your thighs and starts to lick your slit, making you gasp and giving you chills throughout your body. "...suck it."

You moaned as you felt Kyojuro's tongue licking your pussy. His tongue felt so hot against your nether region, but that didn't stop you from doing what he asked.

You started off by sucking him by the tip of his cock before you progress further into taking him all.

He moans as he felt your warm mouth wrapping around his red mushroom. "J-Just like that. Ohh... Don't stop." He tries not to buck his hips as this was the first you were giving him oral, and he wouldn't want to damage your mouth.

Rather than licking, he starts to eat your pussy as to trying not to fuck your mouth. But the, you moaned. Sending vibrations on his cock, causing his hips to jolt uncontrollably.

Your eyes widen from the sudden action. His cock was 4 inches inside of you, half of what his shaft actually is. It felt so big in your mouth, it felt like you couldn't take it. But you wanted to make him feel good, so your force yourself to suck his cock.

"(Y/N)! I-I'm sorry. The way that you moaned made my hips move on their own. I-If you want to stop doing this, I understand. Just please tell me if I-" You interrupted him as you moved your head up and down on his shaft, making his back arch a little and him to moan.

He tightens his grip on your thighs and shoved his face all over your pussy, and vigorously eats it.

You moaned but continued bobbing your head on Kyojuro's shaft. You twirled your tongue around him and you could feel almost every vein brushing against your tongue and lips.

"(Y/N), please stop." He heavily pants as he stops eating you out.

A quiet pop came out as you stopped sucking his cock. "W-why? Was I doing it wrong?"

"No. You did a phenomenal job making me feel good. I just can't wait anymore." You rolled off of him and spread your legs.

Kyojuro position himself on top of you as he prods your wet pussy with his lubricated cock.

"You ready to start a family, my flame?"

Here it is. The final stretch. The moment both of you have been waiting for. All that foreplay was building up to this moment. For Kyojuro to make you pregnant.

And you were ready for it.

"Make me pregnant, Kyojuro."

And that is all he needed to hear before he plunged his cock inside you.

You half screamed and moaned as he rolled his hips into your pelvis, making a wet slapping noise every your pelvises came in contact with each other.

You've missed this feeling. The feeling of lust and euphoria hitting your body like a tsunami as Kyojuro was fucking you.

"O-ohh... How I've missed your walls tighten around me..."

"A-and how I've missed your cock hitting my womb..."

He french kisses you as he goes faster into thrusting inside you. The way your walls tighten around him just makes him lose a little bit of control.

The way his hips stutter as he thrust inside you made your toes curl up.

You started to feel a knot forming at your core as Kyojuro was hitting your womb.

"K-Kyojuro... I'm gonna..."

"I know, (Y/N). I know."

He picks up your legs and puts them on his shoulders as he leans down to your face and thrusts his hips.

"You feel so tight this way..." He said with his hushed voice as he pecks your lips and held your head.

You moan as you felt closer and closer to your climax. "Kyojuro!"

"Don't fight it. J-just, mmm... Let go."

You cupped his cheeks as he thrust inside you and kisses him as he fucks you.

You tried to hold as long as you could, but couldn't as he pulled out leaving the tip, and thrust back inside you balls deep inside you.

"Mmph!"

Your toes curled as you came on his cock. Feeling yet another tsunami of pleasure wash over you.

He begins to thrust inside you as squishy wet sounds come out as he deeply pounds you.

You disconnected the kiss with a line of saliva stretching as he was thrusting faster, making you whimper.

"It's okay, my flame. I'm almost there." He lets your legs drop to the floor as he hugs your sweaty body.

All you could do was moan as you Kyojuro separate your walls and kiss your womb with his tip. You were paralyzed from the overstimulation you were feeling.

That was until you heard Kyojuro in a husk tone, "(Y/N), I'm close..." You trapped his waist with your legs and locked your arms around his neck as you have a heated kissing session as he comes to his climax.

His cock was twitching as he was on the brink of spewing his seed deep inside your womb. He thrust inside you one last time before he leaves the tip in, and plunged his cock inside of you.

His cock shoots his thick seed inside your cervix with 5 thick ropes of cum. Your entire body shudders as you felt his hot seed enter inside you.

He stops kissing you as another line of saliva stretches from your lips. His breath was shaky from when he finally finished.

"W-We did it, Kyojuro..." You cup his cheek with your trembling hand. "...were actually g-gonna start a family..." Tears of joy started to run down your sweaty face as you were happy that the man that impregnated you was the man that you loved most.

"Yes, we did, my flame. I've finally impregnated you after so long, and I couldn't be any more thankful." He kisses you, but only with his lips. He wraps his arms around you and lays on the side of the futon with your head on his.

"I hope our babies come out healthy. And I hope that one of them looks like you. That way, every time I look at them, it'll just remind me of you."

"Same to you Kyojuro..." You yawned as your eyes started to feel heavy. "I hope one of them has your face..." You said as you drifted to sleep, softly snoring in his arms.

He kisses your head as he takes off his eye patch and puts his head down on the futon. "Good night, my dear. Tomorrow is the start of a new life."

Time Skip

"Well, that was fun, wasn't it?" Kyojuro said after leaving the festival.

"Yeah, it was. I'm just glad the kids enjoyed it." You turned your head back to see a child on your back that looked similar to Kyojuro, but with shorter hair and no red tips, sleeping.

"Really? Enjoyed it? They loved it!" He quietly shouts as the child with (S/C) skin and (H/C) hair was also asleep on his back.

You giggled as you were walking back home. Its been six years since you gave birth to your two children, (M/N) and (F/N). Both of them are around the same age.

Not only that, but Kyojuro is 26 years old now. Meaning that he had a light stubble just like his father. He's been considering if he should shave it.

And Senjuro is 19. Also means that his hair is long as Kyojuro's when you first met him. When you two weren't there to take care of your kids, Senjuro would always be there to take of them. And the kids like him for his kind and sweet personality.

You both made it to the estate. The children were both still asleep so you looked at each other and nodded. You quietly opened the door to your children's bedroom and put them on their mattresses. You both put the comforters on them as you both kissed the children's heads good night.

You exit the room and quietly close the door. You looked behind you to see Kyojuro smirking.

"What are you smiling for?"

"I'm just happy with the life we live now."

You smiled as you nodded in agreement. You too were happy living the life you have. Its been five years since the final battle ended, and there has been nothing but peace. You could finally relax without being worried that a demon would slit your throat or eat you when you sleep.

"I am too. Now, shall we get some rest?"

He chuckles and puts his hand on your shoulder. "Yes. Let us rest together, my sweet potato."

Six years he still calls you that. And that didn't upset you.

You held his hand as you both went to your bedroom, happy to be together as Mr. and Mrs. Rengoku.

#kyojuro x reader #kny smut #demon slayer smut #anime #kny x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kyojuro smut #kyojuro rengoku x reader #x reader #rengoku kyojuro

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johaerys-writes · 10 months

Text

Ch. 5: Bulletproof... I Wish I Was

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

The basketball court is busy with activity when they arrive. Their classmates are all there, and Agamemnon is also there, and so is Ajax with Tecmessa and her friends. Ajax grins and waves excitedly at them from the bleachers.

“What you got there, runt?” he calls out to Achilles, who glares at him. He picks up the bundle that is in the basket at the front of his bike.

“Whatever it is, it isn’t for you,” he says, drawing the bag that was covering the object away.

It’s a brand new basketball, a limited edition, shiny and rough and still smelling of newness. The boys gather around to admire it.

“Now that,” Menelaus says as he takes it, passing from one hand to the other, “that's the good stuff.” He grins, dribbling it a little for show, then lifts it and bends his knees to throw, but Achilles snatches it back.

“I brought it, I get the first throw. Either Patroclus or I.”

Patroclus shakes his head wearily. “I’m not playing today.”

“Why?” Achilles gives him a stricken look. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just not in the mood.”

“Hey, man, you can't do that now,” Menelaus cuts in anxiously before Achilles can speak. “We’ve all been waiting for you two to arrive all morning. You have to play. You’re the best defence we have. We’re counting on you.”

Patroclus glances at Menelaus, then at the other boys behind him that are watching the exchange with interest. They’re from Troy High, the nearby town’s high school. It’s practically a stone’s throw from Phthia, but the two schools have been in bitter rivalry since time immemorial. Menelaus himself has personal stakes in this match: everyone knows he has a crush on Helen, who in turn has been sweet on Paris for most of last year.

“We can’t let them come here and steal what’s ours, right?” Menelaus says, and several heads nod around them. “We gotta show them what’s what. And today, they’re going back to Troy with their tails between their legs, because we’ve got the better team and everyone knows it.”

“Damn straight.” Idomeneus laughs, clapping hands with Automedon and giving him a pound hug. The other boys cheer in agreement; Alcimedon tries to clap Achilles on the shoulder, but he irritably shrugs him off. He is watching Patroclus intently, as if he’s trying to see into the depths of him.

“If Patroclus doesn’t want to play, then he doesn’t have to,” Achilles says.

“Come on, Pelides—” Menelaus starts to protest, but snaps his mouth shut again when Achilles glares hotly at him.

“Patroclus says no, it’s a no, get it? End of discussion.”

Patroclus rubs at his temples. It’s too hot and too bright and everyone’s attention on him makes it hard to think clearly. He knows they can play just fine without him, and he doesn’t really care about the petty rivalry between the two schools, or between Menelaus and Paris for that matter, but he hates letting others down. Not when they’re counting on him.

“Okay,” he concedes. “Let’s do this.”

Menelaus grins from ear to ear, his ruddy cheeks brightening, and throws an arm over Patroclus’ shoulders in a rough brotherly hug. “These Trojans, they won’t know what hit them,” he says, then lets him go to shout obscenities at the Trojans, who respond in kind.

Achilles draws close to Patroclus, his brows still gathered in concern. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks him quietly, so the others won’t hear. “You don’t have to play if you don’t feel like it. We can just go back home, and— I don’t know, play video games or something. Listen to some music.”

“No,” Patroclus says. “No music.” When Achilles doesn’t drag his gaze away, Patroclus tries for a half smile. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

The teams separate, and they all take their positions. The game starts, and the tension ramps up with it. Within the first ten minutes, Menelaus steals the ball from Hector and almost knocks him down, then has the ball stolen by Sarpedon, who lunges forth and sinks a two pointer from the freethrow line. There are shouts and shoves and various accusations of fouls and wrong-doings being thrown left and right. It’s a rough and fast-paced game, and it’s clear that both sides are bent on winning.

“Damn it,” Menelaus curses during the time-out, raking a hair through his unruly reddish-brown hair. “Get it together, team. They’re only four points ahead of us. We need to catch up with them, and fast. Are you with me?”

The boys whoop excitedly and high-five each other. Achilles rolls his eyes. “It’s a game, Menelaus, not a pissing match.”

“Yeah, well, even in a pissing match you need strategy,” Menelaus counters. “Anyway, as we said: don’t let them break through our lines, right? That’s you, Pat. Don’t give them an inch.”

“You don’t have to keep telling him that,” Achilles snaps at him, scowling.

"I— I don't mind," Patroclus says, but Achilles doesn't even grace him with an answer before he grabs the ball and heads back into the court.

The game starts more decisively in favour of the Phthia team this time. Achilles gets the rebound from Menelaus's missed shot and races down to the other side of the court, sinking a layup before anyone else has even crossed the half-court line. The team and the crowd watching from the bleachers either cheer with joy or shout with frustration. There’s only two points separating each team now; they’re neck and neck, and any throw could mean victory or loss.

The Trojans don’t let them enjoy their triumph for too long. Paris steals the ball from Automedon and rushes across the court; Menelaus blocks his way, but Paris plants his feet on the ground instead of brushing past him, and throws. The ball hovers over the net for a bit, swishing around the hoop before it falls through. More cheers, more arguing, and then Sarpedon takes the ball and attempts to cross the midline again, when he comes face to face with Patroclus.

Patroclus isn’t quite as fast as Achilles, nor does he have a stronger throw than Menelaus, but he’s taller and knows how to guard their side well. Sarpedon dribbles the ball, tries to pivot, but Patroclus steps before him again. Exasperated, the other boy grabs the ball and prepares to throw it over his head. When Patroclus jumps with him and slaps the ball out of his hands, the entire court erupts in hoots and applause.

“Time out,” Hector calls from across the court. He eyes Patroclus warily, as if sizing him up, before turning towards his team.

Patroclus brushes a hand through his sweaty curls. His glasses are steaming, and he wipes them on his shirt. There isn’t much time left, and both teams have almost used up their time-outs. Soon enough, a victor will be declared. Patroclus simply hopes the result will be accepted with alacrity. Little hope of that, he thinks as he kneels to tie his shoelaces.

“Hey, you.”

Read the rest on AO3!

#patrochilles #the song of achilles #achilles #patroclus #tsoa #hades game #the iliad #johaerys writes

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bakuthedeku · 3 years

Text

their everyday game

Read on AO3

Words: 3,000

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Things Midoriya Izuku is: A student, a sugar baby, a boyfriend, a brat.

Things Midoriya Izuku is not: Patient.

Or: Izuku wants attention from Kacchan and he is going to get it.

A commissioned fic for @insinirate !

Clack clack clack. The room is silent but for the steady breaths of its occupants and the rhythmic beat of fingers on plastic. Clear, wall-to-ceiling windows wash the sun’s gentle light into the room, and reveal a picturesque view of the sparkling city, looking like something straight out of a magazine.

Izuku glares at the extravagant view. He bets Kacchan is writing another one of those stupid reports of his.

Buzz. The clacking halts and Kacchan glances at his work phone for but a moment before the typing resumes.

Izuku takes a deep breath. Holds it. Puffs out his cheeks.

He slumps over in his seat and sighs obnoxiously.

God, he’s so damn bored.

Kacchan said he had to get one more hour of work done, and then he’d take a break. That had been almost three hours ago. ‘One hour’ had turned into two when Izuku left Kacchan to get ready for their lunch date and had foolishly gone straight to the cafe instead of meeting up with Kacchan at the office first. He’d waited all of ten minutes at their usual table before calling a company car and returning to find Kacchan still working in his office.

If not for Kacchan’s genuine surprise at the time and his gruff, yet sweet apologies, he would be a dead man already.

But Izuku still isn’t satisfied. Kacchan needs a break, and Izuku needs attention, stat. There’s only one solution: Izuku’s gonna annoy the shit out of Kacchan. So Izuku sucks in another breath and pouts at the ceiling. “Kacchaaaaan!”

Kacchan sighs, but he doesn’t respond. The silence in the room grows thick with expectation; Izuku’s long-perfect attention-seeking tone signals the start of the game they play every day.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clack of keys and occasional buzz from Kacchan’s work phone. Izuku wriggles against his plush seat, making the leather squeak obnoxiously, and clears his throat daintily, earning himself a glance. “Kacchan, I’m hungry…” Izuku peaks at Kacchan from beneath fluttering eyelashes.

Kacchan shifts his eyes back to his computer and types another line, pointedly loud against the room’s still silence.

When they play this game, whoever breaks first (or whoever wants whatever they’re after more) will relent and go to the other, so this can go one of two ways; Izuku will pull himself from his lounging position to drape himself over Kacchan, or Kacchan will pull himself from his work and lavish Izuku with the attention he deserves.

Today, Izuku takes it upon himself to move things forward—Kacchan is in one of those moods where it could take hours to break him down, and Izuku needs results now.

So with an impatient, gusty sigh pulled deep from his lungs, Izuku heaves himself up and slinks over to Kacchan’s grand desk, stalking up from behind him. When Kacchan makes the mistake of glancing at Izuku from the corner of his eye, Izuku pounces.

Izuku wrenches Kacchan’s chair around and jumps into his lap, laying himself over Kacchan as well as the plush arms of his chair. Kacchan grunts out a quiet oof at the sudden weight but wraps an arm around his waist nonetheless.

“I’m working, Deku,” Kacchan says dryly.

“Actually, Kacchan, I think you’ll find that you’re cuddling me and giving me attention right now, and I can’t imagine why you’d want to stop.”

Kacchan exhales quietly and wrestles down the corners of his lips—it’s not quite a smile, but it’s a good enough start for Izuku. “I have a lot to do, so as much as I’d love to keep giving you all the attention you desire, I really do have to get back to work.”

Izuku wraps an arm around Kacchan’s neck and pretends to think, then shakes his head solemnly. “Unfortunately, it’s a no from me. I’m hungry and I want lunch.”

“Then go get lunch.”

Izuku gives Kacchan a look for being deliberately obtuse.

“I’ll order in for you, then,” Kacchan offers.

Izuku huffs and pushes himself away from his comfortable spot against Kacchan’s broad chest. “Not good enough, Kacchan! We organised a lunch date, so I am getting a lunch date. Now.” Izuku sticks out his chin and dares Kacchan to say no.

Eyes lock. Izuku stares with determination, burying his will into impenetrable crystal red and steadfastly ignoring their alluring pull. Kacchan makes an aborted noise in the back of his throat, as if he was about to say something stupid but thought better of it, and finally sighs.

“Half an hour.”

Izuku smiles sweetly. “Two. You’re late, so you’ve accrued interest.”

Kacchan decides to focus on their negotiations over Izuku’s mockingly business-like tone: “Forty-five is the best you’re going to get from me.”

“An hour, not including travel time, or I’ll get our contract from your room and tear it up myself.” Izuku juts out a petulant lip. He’d never do it, but it gets his point across—Izuku isn’t budging on this.

Kacchan stares hard for a moment, then sags and rests his head in the crook of Izuku’s neck. “You’re such an annoying little shit,” he murmurs, warm against Izuku’s skin.

Izuku hides his smile in Kacchan’s hair and holds him tight. Another victory secured.

/-/

The cafe is a relaxing, familiar space for Izuku. He’s been a regular since before his arrangement with Kacchan began, and when it breached the confines of Kacchan’s highrise office, it was only natural Izuku would drag Kacchan to his favourite little spot.

After enough of their regular visits, the staff have stopped staring at Kacchan and his crisp suits and shiny Rolex watches, and they interact more or less normally with the pair when they stop by.

They place their orders, as usual, and Kacchan pays, as usual, before they settle in their favourite corner, waiting for drinks and food.

Izuku relaxes into his plush chair. He breathes in happiness, the scent of sugar and coffee and Kacchan’s handsome cologne, and breathes out his worries. He’s already plotting ways to extend the hour he was so graciously granted.

On the table before him is a generous slice of cake, which is ‘not a meal,’ according to Kacchan, but Izuku wanted it and he doesn’t care what Kacchan has to say about it. Kacchan is still waiting on his own food; some kind of salmon dish, which is about the fanciest thing he might be able to get his hands on at a casual place like this.

Before Kacchan can grouse at Izuku further, Izuku digs into his treat with no regard for manners, or as Kacchan calls them, “basic fucking social etiquette.” Whenever Kacchan attempts to spout this particular kind of bullshit, Izuku rather enjoys pointing out the hypocrisy of Kacchan of all people criticising other people’s social graces.

Izuku glances at Kacchan and licks his lips before he fills his mouth with fluffy, sugary goodness, making eye-contact with him as he lets out an exaggerated moan. “So good,” Izuku takes care to lick his lips and smiles, warm and sweet like molten honey.

Kacchan rolls his eyes, but he swallows like his mouth is dry. “You’re a damn menace, you little brat,” he says hoarsely, despite the way his eyes have been stuck on Izuku’s lips since he licked them.

“Hey!” Izuku kicks out with all the gentleness of a fussy toddler, landing a solid kick on Kacchan’s shin. “Don’t be mean. You would’ve missed our lunch date altogether if I hadn’t dragged you here.” Izuku tilts his head and gives an Oscar-worthy kicked-puppy pout.

“Deku…” Kacchan obviously misses the point of his pouting by a mile, because now he just looks sad, and that is not what Izuku was going for! “I’m sorry I forgot, baby. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, it’s just...”

“You’re busy,” Izuku finishes for him, and leans across the table to (affectionately) swat his dumb boyfriend’s head. “I know. I’m not mad, but I do want your attention right now, so cut out the sadness and shower me with compliments like you’re supposed to.”

This earns a snort of laughter from Kacchan, who finally catches on and plays along with their usual game. His whole face brightens with his smile. “Ah yes, of course, dear. How could I spend even a second not overwhelming you with compliments?”

Izuku nods seriously. “Exactly. I’m just so shocked. You should know better than to neglect me by now,” Izuku winks, “Daddy.”

Kacchan makes a point of rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling broadly now, all teeth and crinkled eyes. “Alright, you’ve made your point, asshole. Eat your stupid cake already.”

/-/

Once they’ve eaten, and the redundant alarm Kacchan had set goes off, they return to the car. It’s time for Izuku to execute his plan.

Before Kacchan can put his belt on like the square he is, Izuku swings a leg over his lap and wraps himself around his boyfriend. Kacchan raises a questioning eyebrow before Izuku makes his demand: “Take me shopping.”

Kacchan smacks his head back against the headrest dramatically. “You have my card. I’ll have the driver drop you off wherever you want to go, okay?”

“I said take me shopping, not send me. You have to be there or there’s no use! Kacchan needs to come with me.”

Kacchan looks sad, then, and the stupid man has apparently learnt a thing or two from Izuku, because he’s got the bestest, heart-wrenchingest puppy-dog eyes without even trying. Resting his forehead against Izuku’s, Kacchan sighs softly against his lips. “You know I spend as much time as I can with you, baby. I can only ignore my work for so long, for you.”

Izuku aches, sudden and raw. “Oh, Kacchan… I know you’re busy, you work so hard! Kacchan really is amazing. But sometimes I want to be selfish and snatch up more of your time. You put too much pressure on yourself at work. You have so many employees so you don’t have to run yourself in the ground.”

“There are things my employees can’t do-”

“Like stopping you from working yourself to death? Right, that’s my job.” Izuku wiggles in Kacchan’s lap and captures his lips in a whisper-soft kiss. “So let me take care of you.” Izuku flutters his eyelashes and pulls his trump card. “Please, Daddy?” he asks, words sugar-sweet on his lips.

Cheeks glowing a suspicious strawberry red, Kacchan huffs and grabs Izuku by the waist, easily picking him up off his lap and depositing him on the seat next to him. He waits patiently for Kacchan to break, all the while butterflies dance in Izuku’s belly at his Daddy’s casual display of strength.

“The hell do you need so badly anyway?”

Truthfully, Izuku has no idea what he would wish to buy. Spoiled as he is, there are few things he’s wanted through life that he doesn’t now own, thanks to Kacchan. “I saw this gorgeous lingerie set and I just have to try it on before I buy it. And I need you there to tell me how good it looks,” Izuku states matter-of-factly.

Kacchan clears his throat and pinches Izuku’s cheek. “Fine. Let’s go look at this lingerie, then, baby.”

/-/

Izuku drags Kacchan out of the car by his hand and refuses to let go even after they’ve made it inside the shopping center.

“Come on, come on, I wanna see what this store has!” With Kacchan in tow, Izuku makes a beeline for his favourite lingerie store.

Izuku chatters away as he makes his way up and down the store, fluttering about pretty displays and shiny, luxurious lingerie sets hung up on the walls. He semi-consciously gives Kacchan a consistent stream of observations, rhetorical questions and mumbled postulations about what Kacchan might like best. He picks out half a dozen sets in just a few minutes, handing each one over to Kacchan for him to judge and/or hold like a handsome sentient display rack.

Soon enough, Kacchan flags down someone from the store to do the grunt work for him as he follows Izuku around the store like a loyal dog, face warring between fondness and annoyance.

Izuku is quite certain that the fondness far outweighs the annoyance, though. Izuku is, after all, impossible to hate.

After completing one circuit of the store, Kacchan interrupts Izuku before he can begin on a second. “What happened to the ‘one’ set you wanted, huh?” The man crosses his arms like a brute, biceps flexing handsomely as he pours disapproval into the question.

Izuku tuts at him. “There’s nothing wrong with browsing. Just look at how pretty this one is!” Izuku pulls out the dainty belt and harness set he was looking at, wiggling it around for Kacchan’s judgment.

“Mm,” Kacchan acknowledges, carefully collected as he judges the set. With his nod of approval, Izuku gleefully adds it to his soon-to-be-towering pile of things to try on, heedless of the fact that Kacchan immediately passes it off to the poor retail worker trailing after them.

Kacchan crosses his arms. “Don’t think I don’t realise what you’re doing, baby boy.”

Izuku ought to feel sheepish at being caught out so easily, but it’s to be expected when he’s trying to con Kacchan. Instead, he tilts his head and bats his big, round eyes, the perfect picture of innocence. “But Daddy, what exactly are you going to do about it?”

Kacchan crosses his arms, but Izuku’s got him there. Kacchan wants to see Izuku in this lingerie just as much as Izuku wants to try them on. And if all of this has the bonus of Izuku keeping Kacchan to himself for a little longer, then they don’t need to talk about that, really.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Kacchan says, and Izuku giggles, wrapping his arms around his Daddy’s neck.

“I can think of a few reasons,” he laughs. “Now come tell me how pretty I look in these!”

/-/

The driver has to help them get everything into the car. As soon as they’re in, Kacchan orders the driver to start the car and get them back to his work quickly.

It’s cute that Kacchan thinks they’d be going anywhere near his office if not for Izuku allowing it.

“Are you satisfied now, brat?” Kacchan asks, pulling on his seatbelt only after the car has started moving (ooh, rebellious).

Izuku hums. He takes a long few moments to rearrange the copious amount of bags around him, just because he can. He pretends to think very hard about it before nodding exaggeratedly. “Yes, I think I am. For today, at least.”

When Kacchan groans, Izuku shuts him up with a kiss, and they smile like kids in love against each other’s lips.

/-/

Deku seems to have tuckered himself out during their shopping trip, which is understandable considering the sheer amount of clothes he insisted he try on before making Katsuki buy everything for him. He spends the car ride back draped over Katsuki’s side, giving a docile little mumble every now and then when he sees a dog on the sidewalk or a pretty flower that apparently reminds him of Katsuki’s eyes.

(How can the fucker get even cuter than usual just because he tired himself out being a whiny brat all day? How is that fair at all to Katsuki’s heart? Not to mention his wallet...)

(It’s not like Katsuki can’t afford it, but damn, lingerie is surprisingly fucking expensive.)

Katsuki carefully shakes Deku awake when they arrive, because he has learnt the hard way that if he leaves Deku to doze or wakes him too quickly, there will be hell to pay. So he accepts Deku’s blindly groping hand into his own and leads him into the building, where Izuku says something vague about harassing his friend in reception and stumbles off, bleary-eyed.

Katsuki has some interns come down and transfer Deku’s things into his private car so he can attempt to get some work done before Deku makes it upstairs. Deku usually settles down after a few hours of monopolising Katsuki’s time and attention, but with the mood he’s in today, Katsuki doesn’t like his chances of getting anything else done.

He’s gotten as far as opening up an email from a partner company when the door clicks open and Deku sashays in like he owns the place.

And, okay. Katsuki owns the place, and Deku has him wrapped around his pinky finger, so he does own the place in every way but name. But only Katsuki is allowed to know that, god damn it.

“You look like a bumbling fawn like that,” Katsuki informs him, just to see Deku’s sleepy eyes flash with indignation, and watch his cheeks glow a pretty, flustered pink.

Deku’s response doesn’t disappoint, and his nose even scrunches up like a disgruntled bunny, but Katsuki’s gone and shot himself in the foot because now Deku is stomping up to him in a way that says he means business. Deku collapses heavily and claims the space of Katsuki’s lap, steadfast in the fact that it is his and his alone.

Deku slaps him petulantly on the chest. “Meanie,” he mumbles, and curls up on Katsuki’s lap, nestling his head beneath his chin and settling against him, a puzzle piece slotted perfectly in its place. “I’m tired,” Deku says, as if that isn’t obvious already.

Kastuki huffs, presses a feather-soft kiss to the crown of his head. “Just rest, idiot.”

“‘Mkay Daddy…”

Katsuki strokes his fingers through the softness of Izuku’s hair and cradles him as Deku’s body relaxes into Katsuki’s own. “Good boy,” he murmurs.

Pressed tenderly together, Deku continues babbling quietly to fill the peaceful sunset air. Katsuki nods along and holds his baby securely in his arms until he floats off into sleep.

Clack clack clack. With a watchful eye on Deku, lovely and sleep-soft against his chest, Katsuki quietly gets back to work.

#bakudeku #katsudeku #bnha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #sugar daddy AU #my fic #commissioned writing #commission #post #long post

1K notes · View notes

ohmysparkle · 3 years

Text

What do you want to watch?

📀 Pairing: Hyunjin (Stray Kids) x Reader

📀 Length: 2.5K

📀 Warnings: Smut, oral, fingering, piv. GFDish??

Typical lazy afternoon... you’re in one of his shirts, no bra and no panties, just some comfy stretchy cotton shorts. The lights are hazy and you’re just watching something on tv after a long day of doing nothing. Happily passing through different apps... Netflix... Hulu... Prime...

Until he comes into your vision. He’s then kneeling at the foot of the couch. His head just beside your raised knees, which you’re supporting in the coffee table, and as he neatly places his hands on his lap like a good little boy he leans his head against your thigh to place a polite peck.

“What do you want to watch?” He asks.

You know what he’s getting at. He knows you’ve been tired, stressed, working like crazy. He admires you so much, how hard you work and yet how you’re always so attentive of him, spoiling him with love, compliments, affection, and gifts - the gifts carry the least sentiment in his mind, and he could do without them, but he knows it’s all a collection of many gestures you make to prove to him that you love him, wish to dote on him and make him happy.

He feels... undeserving. Only sometimes... not because he is insecure, but because he’s unsure if he’s done enough to merit such love and admiration. You make him feel like he’s an amazing man, beyond anything he’s ever thought of himself. Not that he ever thought little or disliked many things, but who else would ever look at him the way you do? Or say the things you do and mean them with so much truth?

He’s desperate to give it all back sometimes. Desperate to prove how much he loves you, how much he’s willing to give, how much he’s willing to support you and to alleviate your burdens - like he is now.

He knows you love loving him in any way, as equals, playfully, sensually, aggressively... yet he knows it gives you great reassurance when he does this. He’s on his knees for you, he’s showing you that he’ll do whatever you ask, to do whatever you want to your body or let you use his body to your pleasure. It’s not so much about dominance, he thinks, and he knows you agree. To you it’s a gesture of trust and devotion, of full surrender to one another. He wants to give you exactly what you want, and it makes your heart swoon so you’ll gladly take it. He’s yours, all yours, all for you. The same goes for you, all for him. The gestures of proof just vary depending the circumstances.

There’s another little kiss to your thigh, and he nudges you with his nose, looking at you cutely with one eye. You love that damn cute nose and its button tip.

“What do you want to watch?” He asks again, more playfully, and you reply with a little boop to his nose with your index finger, pressing into the squishy flesh.

You simply take that finger and press it back to your lips. ‘Give me a kiss’ is what it means - and he complies. He sits up to lean over you and presses those supple and plump lips to yours, it’s sweet, simple, loving, but not yet sensual. He sits back down against his calves with a little bounce and a happy smile.

“So... what do you want to watch?” And he lips his head to one side playfully.

“I want to watch you take your clothes off.”

The words starkly change the atmosphere, make it hot and tense in a snap. It’s the door he was waiting for you to open. He does so, obediently. His movements are quiet and careful, he sits back down as if it hadn’t been even the slightest interruption. You love how his abs and tummy crunch together, showing all those little lumps of flesh you just want to kiss and poke and pinch. The tops of his thighs look so plump and muscular like this. His chest and his pretty dark nubs on his pecs are exposed, ohhh how your love to suck and nibble on those...

“I want to watch you touch yourself...” you lowly insist, you do want to. You want to see a beautiful and carnal display just at your fingertips, just for your audience.

He sits up straight, stretching his front as his spine curves back in an arch, and he spreads his knees apart slightly. When he takes his still limp cock into his hand, he raises it upward, exposing his pretty pink balls. Everything is groomed to perfection and he’s smooth all over. His dark eyes never leave yours, watching you fiercely as you slump all lustfully at the sight just below you. If you keep up the gawking you might just drool.

He spits on his hand and reaches down. He’s strokes himself, squeezing the still moldeable flesh as it hardens, and the breaths he sucks in are more in anticipation of what’s to come than the minimal pleasure he gives himself now. He knows that at the end of this you’ll all too eagerly want to have him in your cunt or in your ass, right where he belongs, completely enveloped in the embrace of your body - if he’s good, that is. He can’t wait, his toes curl at the thought of it, filling you, being impossibly close to you as he fucks you and your mouths are wet and heaving and your both all scratched up and sucked and marked by the other, and tears come to the two sets of eyes from the absolute ecstasy of it all. He can imagine you crying his name over his shamelessly loud moans. He’s a screamer after all, and you’ll touch him in all the right places so he’s squealing out like a rutting animal - these are the things he things of as he touches himself. You look at him right in his eyes and he wonders if you can see the thoughts that linger behind them if you look hard enough.

Your thoughts are similar... more along the lines of of the sloshing wetness in your body and how well the weight and heat of his cock would feel when he spills in you, and all over you, and you you’ll spread those fluids all over your body and his, and then have him lick it clean... but you don’t need to imagine because the means to do all that are right in front of you, specifically, they’re in his clenched fist, straining with protruded veins and brightening at the pretty rounded tip. It’s the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen - massive. You wish it’s the only cock you’ve ever seen and had, but you’ll make sure it’s the last.

“I want to watch you take of my shorts.” You say while still shuffling the tv apps about.

He complies, slipping them off easily, exposing your pretty little bits to the air. You stretch one leg out to rest on the coffee table again, and raise the other up, arching above him, until it rests on his shoulder and he’s trapped between your legs. He’s got a perfect view of all the pretty ridges of your labia now, every plump little lip, he can imagine he’d feel the steamy heat radiating off of you if he juuust leaned closer.

But he won’t. Not until you ask him to. You’re still flipping the channels while looking at the tv beyond his shoulder - it’s such a comfy position to watch tv in, and you can effortlessly glance at his pretty bare face, his pretty puffy eyelids and the neat little half-up pony tail that he’s pulled his blonde locks into. His fluffy brows are slightly messy, and his skin looks soft and spotless from a recent wash, and the corners of his lashes stick together from the moisture that still clings to them and form the most beautiful flicks outward to frame his pretty eyes.

He’s a nice thing to watch indeed. Fucking tasty and mouthwatering, like you can smell the meal you’re about to eat.

“Lick me.” You quietly purr, after enough pretending that you’ll ignore the obedient kneeling man. He kissed the inside of your leg that rests on his shoulder, before gently guiding both of your legs to rest at the edge of the couch, spreading you wide open with nothing to obstruct his course. He grabs your hips with care and guides them to slide down, so that your beautiful cunt is slightly facing upward, yet your line of sight is still above his, and you look at him like a cat that’s about to play around with a mouse.

He licks his lips, slowly, and you can see that smooth and shiny pink tongue, it looks like a gummy bear or a lollipop you could just suck on until it melts...

“Lick me... you know how...” you purr, relaxing into the next breath you exhale.

He starts off by slightly spreading your labia with the fingers of one of his giant hands, your cunt is searing hot and with just that pretty tip of his tongue he presses a smooth swipe, firm, but just with the tip. You like it when he focuses there, going at your nub until you’re wet and your hole throbs for more. So he swirls, swipes, presses - its just the tip and it’s ticklish and teasing and his breaths blow over the rest of your pussy and make you shiver.

More more more, he flicks the tip about, until your panting and he can see your abdomen and thighs tightening, being the expert he is regarding your body, he grabs your discarded shorts off the ground and slips them under you... he knows the tricks of fluid comes right when your clit is played with to this extent, teasing you with the tiniest and most detailed movements so it washes up on you unexpectedly. You tighten all over and squirt pretty clear droplets that look like crystals along your folds.

“More...” You mewl, panting.

He obeys, like a good boy. He knows this type of stimulation riles you up desperately, leaving you tingling with sensitivity yet begging for more, leaving your hole sopping and perfectly aroused. This time he is more generous with his tongue, swiping the top generously all over your lips, making sure every little ridge of his tongue rasps against every bit of squishy plump flesh, over every fold, dragging your deliciousness all around. He loves the smell - fuck the taste of you is delectable but the smell drives him mad, and he’s literally eating you up, mouth, tongue, lips, even teeth to nibble in the right places.

You’re growing desperate, far too desperate and you grab at his bound hair, he sticks his tongue all the way out, as flat as he can to let you have your way. Your nails sting at his scalp and you tug painfully, and it makes him leak and whimper. You bury his face against you, you’re like an animal in heat and your feet flip in the air as you’ve lost all support to your body, and you rock his face to and from you, making sure his tongue pressures you clit in just the right way. His face slaps against your moist and swollen lumps of flesh, it’s messy and his entire face is soiled. You feel the liquids trickle from you once more. it’s a very superficial orgasm, and you’re purposely chasing them to drive you towards the point of desperation for having him stuffed in you, but he’ll please you this way until you feel raw and aching and sated if he has to.

He moans against you, with his mouth open and you choke his cries out with every messy slap of your pussy to his face. If only you could see how hard he’s fucking his cock with his hand, how tightly he’s gripping the head till hit hurts. His beautiful eyes are squeezed shut, but he hears and feels you and he knows you’re losing your composure. He reaches up to grab your hands from his hair so he can move freely, forgetting his own aching cock. He sucks at your clit now, and sucks and sucks until fluids come from you again, and he imagines your all slick and slimy and creamy within by now. For one final measure he presses his flat palms right at the edges of your vulva and spreads you - he inserts his tongue in your hole and fucks you with the little muscle until you’re begging - it’s what drivers you insane above all other things. Well, actually, you don’t beg, you grab him by the hair and he begs he’ll be lucky enough that you’ll slap him and fuck him and squeeze him.

But alas, you just scream, and he knows he shouldn’t delay when you yell “Fuck meeee!”, but he doesn’t want to ruin your momentum by forcing his cock too early in, so he takes his fingers, two all at once, and fucks them into you so that the pads of them and their nubs stimulate every spot along your insides. He fucks them in eagerly, the muscles in his arm strain and he can hear every sloppy squelching noise and closes his eyes hoping it was his cock, imagining his cock which still stands against his abdomen begging for attention. He can practically feel his tip pushing past that tender wet hole until it pokes the furthest reach, that’s how hard he envisions it, feeling the tickling sensations of the top of his cock, his slit crying at the thought and desperation.

Your thighs twitch and you begin to clench, he’ll keep it up until you relax from within but he feels how easily your muscles can stretch already, yet they are still so deliciously tight for something the size of his cock. You reach desperately, trying to pull his hair once more, but he’s too far away. If he weren’t so engrossed in the carnality of it all he’d chuckle at the cute gesture, but he’s too aroused to stop his attack, even if he’s tense from the repetitive movements and his jaw feels tight. His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches and you look at him and he’s absolutely masculine and vicious, unlike the soft demeanor with which he began. You reach that point where you feel you need more. Deeper thrusts, faster, harder.

You come undone and you can’t breathe as it all spasms over you and he uses his other hand to grind the palm all over your vulva as his fingers massage you to surrender. He’s proud at how you’ve melted - and your dominant demeanor is all gone. It’s just a matter of time before you regain your senses and start ordering him around again, so he’ll take his filthy hands off your pussy for a while and slip them under the shirt you wear to play with your breasts.

Your breaths begin to become slower and deeper...

“What do you want to watch now?” He asks, standing up, towering above you so you have the perfect view of the cock you’ll ask him to stuff you with. He’s still looking down at you, but your livening eyes make him know that he’s still completely in the palm of your hand and under your spell, and he’ll do everything - anything - so long as you command it.

#stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #sub!hyunjin #hwang hyunjin smut #skz smut #sub!skz #sub!idol

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

Note

do you have any,,,post prison mute dream stuff??? or like, severely quiet, silent and obedient dream shtuff?? and the consequences thereof??? bc im reading your drabbles and i am in literal awe

aww, thank you so much !! yeah selectively mute dream post prison is absolutely a hc i love and write smtimes - it’s already been suggested in canon, and it’s super fun to play w/ in post-canon works. here’s some fluffy syndicate!dream bc gosh knows we need it after the angst that we’ve been getting

tw: implied torture, panic attacks, trauma - all v short mentions. this one’s definitely on the lighter side! :D

“I didn’t know you knew sign.”

Dream startles, arms flying to cover his face, and the crow he had been signing at squawks angrily when it turns towards Phil. He ignores its chatter, smoothing his own flinch behind a smile, lowering his wings, bringing his hands, palms up, in front of him at his waist - this song and dance has become all too familiar in the weeks that Dream’s resided with the Syndicate, and Phil is nothing if not patient.

Slowly, the boy uncurls from where he’d huddled into himself, arms clasped firmly around his ribs like someone will try and take them from him if he doesn’t hold on tight enough (and maybe, Phil thinks, imagining the messy lattice of scars underneath Dream’s loose-fitting hoodie that he has only seen a few times since they brought him over, someone has - but those are thoughts that are better left untouched for as long as he can manage it.) Dream’s eyes raise, flick over his face, his breathing quieting down from the discordant rattle it had been, and tentatively, ever slowly, he raises his good hand in a loose fist, letting it bob up and down. Yes.

Phil settles into the armchair across from him, raising his own hands. His fingers feel clumsy, but the memories come back with more ease than he would’ve expected - I know a little. Dream’s eyes don’t quite brighten, but his shoulders fall down from where they’d been hunched up to his ears, the hand he keeps tucked to his chest trembling slightly less, and it’s as much as a win as he’s ever going to get.

The silence stretches, familiar in its awkwardness, and Phil stifles a grimace as he forces long-forgotten memories to the surface. Dream’s hands, from what little he had seen from the doorway, had practically flown as he spoke to the crow still sitting by his right side - obviously practiced even with the still-healing injuries tracing over both arms. How did you learn?

We- He hesitates, left hand trembling violently, before pushing on, we all learned with- he signs a C, then lifts his hands to his head in a sign that Phil vaguely remembers as being the one for deer. Dream must see the questions written in his expression, because his cheeks flush as he backtracks. C-A-L-L-A-H-A-N, he finger spells, and Phil nods. That makes sense.

Some of the crows in the house must have noticed Phil’s arrival, because they storm into the room from the doorway, awkwardly hopping across the door with their wings waving by their sides as they eagerly voice their displeasure at the lack of attention. He’s not in the mood to pick out the words between their angry caws, so he simply watches as they scatter all over the room. Something almost like a smile tugs at Dream’s face as he watches them enter - the kid has grown inexplicably fond of both his flock and all of the assorted animals that Techno drags back into the house whenever he goes out, and Phil has long since resigned himself to being outnumbered one hundred to one by a literal army of mobs wherever he goes. Some of the crows had been pretty wary of Dream at the beginning, but after a few weeks more or less the entire flock has become viciously protective of the kid, sufficiently won over by gifts of head scratches and berries and various shiny things. Sure enough, the birds form a dark, squawking circle at Dream’s feet, a few flying up to tug impatiently at his clothes, and despite the (very obvious) favoritism, Phil smiles; the flock is good for Dream, as annoying as they can be.

DADZA, one calls, its lone cry soon echoed by the entire group of fluttering feathers gathered on the floor, DADZA AND DREAM DADZA DADZA. Phil laughs, a familiar warmth and exasperation filling his lungs, and he turns his attention back to Dream.

You up to some more? He tries; it’s a chance, for sure, and he brushes away the creeping anxiety crawling up his neck; he doesn’t want to make Dream panic, hopes that he’s doing the right thing. I could always use the practice.

Quiet, once again, only broken by the murmurs of his birds eagerly awaiting Dream’s answer as the boy rocks side to side in deliberation, and Phil is halfway through working out a frantic you don’t have to if you don’t want to when Dream raises his own hands.

Sure, he signs, a forced smile on his face but eyes still clear and bright, why not?

Somehow, they end up in a bastardized version of twenty questions, surrounded by birds that do not hesitate at any chance to voice their own opinions. They work through favorite colors (green), favorite flowers (roses for Dream, peonies for Phil), favorite mob (Phil answers this with a pointed definitely-not-crows, staring at the flock who have been shouting over themselves naming different colors for about five minutes, which immediately makes them devolve into screaming caws and divebombs at the edges of Phil’s cape that leave him thoroughly occupied for the next ten minutes), and at some point Phil falls further into the cushions of his chair and Dream’s legs lay against the sofa instead of being drawn up to his chest and it’s almost normal.

By the time Techno finds them, they’ve forgone structure all together, Dream watching intently as Phil signs out an embellished tale of one of the Antarctic Empire’s exploits with a crow held gently in his hands. Techno’s voice behind him startles him bad enough to send his wings snapping outwards, feathers standing on end, but Dream doesn’t react much beyond a twitch of his lips - he must’ve seen the piglin hybrid and tag-teamed to prank him, Phil realizes with a half-hearted grumble. Techno’s eyes sparkle mischievously, definitely planned, then.

“Hi Phil, Dream,” Techno shrugs off his cloak and drapes it over the back of Phil’s chair, “Looks like you’ve been busy. Can’t say I’m not feelin’ a bit left out, though; Phil, you never told me you knew sign language.”

“You never asked, mate,” he quips, even as Dream signs animatedly from the corner of his eye. T-E-C-H-N-O-L-O-S-T.

Techno narrows his eyes. “I get the feelin’ that you’re messin’ with me, nerd.” Dream blinks faux innocently, smiling wider, and Phil picks up on the bit. Oh, this is fun.

He can’t understand us, he assures Dream, feeling a wicked smirk of his own growing on his face. So what do you think for dinner?

“Phil- the betrayal!” Techno splutters, voice going high and pitchy, and that reaction alone would’ve made the prank more than worth it - but Dream’s shoulders shake, eyes glittering as his fingers fly almost too fast for Phil to catch, and oh, that’s laughter, tiny, breathless giggles falling from his lips, and Techno must catch it even as he begins to berate the voices in his head, “This is not a bruh moment, Chat, don’t you start-”

Stew? Dream signs, still snickering, and he looks happy, more than Phil has ever seen him, the sight of him smiling and bright-eyed with amusement almost enough to cover for the gaunt quality of his face, the pale scars left all over his skin.

Of course, mate, Phil signs back, throwing in a do you think T-E-C-H-N-O ended up lost in those same woods again for good measure, rewarded when it sends Dream into another round of giggles. Techno grumbles without any real heat behind it, plopping himself down in the remaining chair.

“Ok, nah, no more of this exclusive club; you guys are teachin’ me this tonight before Chat loses it - yes that was an insult, don’t you start it with the E’s,” and Phil laughs, hard, the flock cawing and beginning to spam E on their own, for some reason, and Dream signing through the alphabet with the biggest grin on his face, and-

“Oh, Prime, this is going to so scuffed,” Phil says, breathless, his warning unheeded as Techno finishes his rant at Chat to focus on Dream.

And it is scuffed - it is so fucking scuffed, between Phil’s lackluster memory and Techno’s frequent interrupting to quiet down an extremely rowdy Chat and the incessant calls of the flock further egging them on, but it’s warm and Dream doesn’t stop smiling and Techno looks more relaxed than he has in weeks and the helpless, singing urge of protect protect protect that has lived in Phil’s head ever since Techno had carried Dream, beaten and bloodied and broken, through their front door finally, finally, begins to quiet down.

He tunes back into the impromptu lesson - they’ve finished the alphabet, seemingly having moved onto common words and objects, and Dream- hesitates, raises his hand, all five fingers drawn together, to the corner of his mouth and then pulls it back. Home, he signs, moving to fingerspelling, H-O-M-E. Home.

For a moment, they’re all quiet, Dream’s hand still raised by his face, even the crows falling silent as they all stare at each other. Phil watches, breath caught in his throat, as the planes of Techno’s face soften, the teasing edge of his voice, for once, leaving. “Yeah, nerd. You’re home.”

Home, Dream signs again, then again, looking up, eyes bright, hopeful. Phil thinks, proudly, that it looks like a new beginning. I’m home.

#tw torture #tw trauma #tw panic attack #syndicate!dream #my beloved #queue <3 #q stream aftermath #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

Text

a little unconventional (part one)

[foster au]

this is set in America because i don't know how Romania works

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

rapture rising

“Alcina, my beloved sister, are you sure all of this is necessary?”

Alcina shot a glare over her shoulder at her toddling younger brother, who she was making carry in several boxes full of various items into one of the many rooms in her mansion. This one wasn’t one of the bedrooms, but rather a temporary storage room for all the things she had recently bought. She was going to have everything set up for the children to choose from when they eventually arrived. Just thinking about them getting to pick out their bedsheets and paint for their new rooms made a smile come to her lips, excitement rushing through her like dozens of butterflies flying for the first time.

…And then her idiot brother bumped into the doorframe and caused an avalanche of boxes to come down on top of him.

“Be careful!” Alcina barked, whirling around to him. She bent down to start picking the boxes up. “You’re lucky there was nothing fragile in here.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Heisenberg grunted, rubbing his head.

“And to answer your questions, dearest brother, yes, this is all very necessary,” Alcina said. “I need this to be perfect for them. This may be the first time those little girls get a real home.”

“Inflating your ego, aren’t you?”

Alcina stepped on his foot.

“I have the paints.” Moreau, Alcina’s other brother, shuffled inside, holding several cans of paint on his arms. If they were hurting him, he didn’t say anything. He seemed pleased with himself for being so useful.

“Thank you, Sal,” Alcina said. She took the cans from him and placed them against the wall. “Yellow, green, red, blue, pink, purple… Do you think that’s enough? What if they want, like, a mauve room?”

“Mauve?” Heisenberg echoed as he was crow hopping on one foot, still recovering from being stomped on.

“It’s a shade of purple,” Moreau supplied.

“I know what mauve is, asshole,” Heisenberg hissed. “I was just saying.”

“And I’m just saying, what if they want a lighter-colored room?” Alcina said. “This purple is dark. Should I go buy more?”

“You could mix white into the paint?” Moreau suggested.

Alcina thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, I could do that. Good idea.”

“Who wants a mauve bedroom, anyway?” Heisenberg muttered.

“Alcina!” A fourth voice echoed throughout the house, and Alcina’s sister entered the room. Donna looked uncharacteristically bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She was clutching something in her hands. “Alcina, I have finished them!”

“When did you get here?” Heisenberg looked at her.

“Just now,” Donna said. “It doesn’t matter. Look!”

A beautiful doll was presented to Alcina. It was hand-stitched and dressed with great care. All the little details, down to the freckles and shiny eyes, were incredibly-made, and Alcina couldn’t help but pick it up tentatively, as though she were afraid of accidentally destroying it.

“Oh, Donna,” she said. “It’s beautiful! Thank you.”

Donna beamed. “I have also made stuffed animals and toy clothes for them. An entire wardrobe, in fact. Many selections.”

“Damn,” Heisenberg looked impressed. “Toys dress better than I do.”

“We know,” the other three said in sync, eyeing his ratty trenchcoat and old cowboy hat that he insisted on wearing everywhere.

“You weren’t supposed to agree!” Heisenberg barked like one of his dogs.

“Shouldn’t have said anything,” Alcina shrugged daintily. She looked back at Donna and smiled. “Thank you, Donna. I really appreciate your support. I appreciate all of your support. Even yours, Karl.”

“Sure, sure…” Heisenberg said, though Alcina didn’t miss the glint of fondness in his eyes.

“This is so exciting,” Donna said. “It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, Alcina. Do you remember when we were all adopted by Mother?”

Heisenberg snorted. “I remember being kidnapped as a child and held for ransom, and then being one of the abduction victims to be actually found alive, only to discover that my parents had been killed while trying to get me back, to which I was then thrown into a home with you three.”

Donna winced. “Not…quite what I had in mind.”

“And you say ‘you three’ like we weren’t your best friends growing up,” Moreau pointed out idly, not looking at Heisenberg as he was helping unload some of the boxes. That one in particular held a wide selection of different bed sheets, ranging from leopard print to floral to plain blue.

Heisenberg raised his nose and huffed. “Well. Still.”

Alcina shook her head with a warm smile.

She vividly remembered life with her adoptive mother, Miranda, and her three other siblings. She was reborn from ash and flame after her old family estate burned down to the ground, smoldering the life she used to have and taking her parents with it. Yes, she could still smell the smoke, taste the embers on her tongue, even now, thirty-five years later. She was so small back then, only nine years old when the fire started, and she watched her home crumble to pieces right before her teary eyes. She thought it was over, that she had nothing, that she was going to be alone forever without her mother and father, but then a woman in a black cowl whisked her up into tender arms and took her under her wing as though she were the chicken to a nurturing mother bird.

She was the first of Miranda’s ragtag rascal children with harsh upbringings. For two years, it was just the both of them, reading books and watching movies in a beautiful countryside manor that quickly became her new home. Though the wounds had still been raw, the burns were very fresh, Miranda filled the void in her heart that her parents’ death left behind, extinguishing that eternal fire of survivor guilt and mourning.

And then the others came along.

At the time, Alcina had been rather indignant at the idea of having siblings. She was an only child with her birth family and she preferred to stay an only child with her new one, too, but she never voiced this opinion to Miranda. She grinned and bore it, even if it meant losing the attention of her mother.

Though, they didn’t end up being that bad…

The first of the “intruders” as she used to call them was Salvatore Moreau, a boy her age, though three months younger, and with a story similar to her own. He had been in a car crash after his drunken father got into a pretty nasty collision. The engine caught fire and it wasn’t long until the rest of the car followed. Moreau was trapped in the inferno, but managed to get out, running towards a nearby lake to extinguish the flames that were trying to make him its newest pyre. Unfortunately, the event left him badly burned, the scar still lingering all these years later, and nobody wanted to take in such a “disfigured child.” Miranda, however, stepped up to the challenge and fostered the boy, eventually adopting him fully later on.

Alcina was, admittedly, rather uneased by her new brother’s appearance at first, but she quickly got accustomed to him, even protective. There were several moments in school where she verbally (and sometimes even physically) pummeled any kids who dared to make fun of him, drilling into the bullies that he was not to be messed with while she was around. Some of her best retributions were when she threatened to leak unwarranted dick pics to the entire school, as it wasn’t uncommon for horny teenage boys to try to get into her pants, and that always shut them up quickly, especially when she loudly proclaimed details on their pathetic excuse for a penis, like the size and shape.

She and Moreau grew close rather quickly, much quicker than Miranda had been expecting. They both enjoyed more mellow things, like reading books and going on walks through the forest. Moreau was the sole reason she passed any English assignments done on Shakespearean literature, as he actually knew how to discern the confusing text, while she had to reread the same page over and over again to simply get a loose grasp on the grammar. He enjoyed cheesy romcoms, birdwatching, and swimming, the last of which he had a strong affinity for because of how the lake beside the car wreck very well could have been the only reason he survived. Now, he owned that very lake and made it into a popular fishing and boating destination for locals and tourists alike.

The second to arrive was Donna Beneviento, when Alcina and Moreau were both twelve. She was a full five years younger than the two of them and didn’t talk very often, at least for a good chunk of the first year she was there. She was put into the foster program after her parents commit suicide, leaving her with nothing but anxiety, trauma-induced selective muteness, and a doll named Angie.

It took time, but Donna eventually started opening up. First to Miranda, and then to Alcina and Moreau. Alcina strongly remembered a time when her little sister came to her room during a thunderstorm, lips quivering, tears glistening in her eyes, Angie clutched in a vice from her thin arms. She didn’t say anything, just stared from the doorway, whimpering and shivering.

“Alright,” Alcina had sighed. She flipped open her comforter, welcoming Donna. “Come on.”

Donna had brightened and skittered into the bed, snuggling right up against Alcina’s side. Alcina didn’t mind and resumed the book she had been reading before--Animal Farm, she believed. Donna pointed at the pages and then looked up at her curiously.

“Oh, this?” Alcina had said. “It’s called Animal Farm. It’s about these talking farm animals overthrowing their farmer to gain freedom, only to then be ruled by a communist pig.”

Donna blinked. “What’s a communist?”

“Well, you see…”

Her late-night explanation was certainly aided by the fact that they were in the middle of the Cold War at the time.

Overtime, Donna slowly grew out of her shell. Though she was still soft-spoken and reserved, she was also very kind-hearted and incredibly creative, which she showed through paintings, arts and crafts, and doll making. She would make dolls out of anything she could find--wood, thread, clay--so it made sense when she eventually became a toymaker once she grew up.

Finally, there was Karl Heisenberg when Alcina and Moreau were thirteen and Donna was eight. Right from the start, he was a loud, spitfire ten-year-old that broke the serene silence that used to hang over Miranda’s estate. He caused a great amount of mischief and mayhem, though Alcina would later discover it was to hide the fact that he was deeply traumatized by what exactly had happened to make him a foster child.

Even now, so many years later, Alcina still didn’t know the full story. Miranda said it wasn’t her tale to share and Heisenberg simply didn’t like talking about it very much. But from what she did know, Heisenberg used to belong to an incredibly wealthy business owner that ruled over their company with an iron fist. Due to the harshness his parents inflicted on their employees, it caused the workers to revolt against the abuse. A certain group took this way too far and kidnapped Heisenberg, holding him for ransom so they could get better treatment and pay at their work. Something ended up happening during the time between Heisenberg being held hostage and his parents paying up, and it left his mother and father in a way that he could never bring himself to explain. She only got snippets of the brutality of their deaths through brief moments when he would come to after vicious nightmares, one of which she actually stepped in to stop when she heard him struggling one night.

“Their heads, Alci,” Heisenberg had gasped, clawing manically for a desperate grasp on her arms, his body jerking and spasming in terror as his nightmare was still releasing his small, twelve-year-old body. “Their heads-- their brains were--” And then he stopped and keeled into her chest, sobbing in a way Alcina had never seen him do before in the two years he was living with her before that moment. Despite her occasional vex towards the boy, he was still her little brother and she was still his big sister, so she had wrapped her arms around him and held him close while he trembled and cried.

She never did find out what Heisenberg meant by “their heads,” but she had a hunch. Still, she never asked.

Nowadays, Heisenberg ran his own factory, where he treated his employees the way his parents should have treated theirs, learning from their mistakes. He also fostered all different kinds of dog breeds until they found their forever homes and rescued the more ‘vicious’ ones, like pit bulls and rottweilers, all of which he treated like royalty.

A freakishly tall girl, a burned boy, a selective mute, and a dog lover… They certainly weren’t the epitome of the stereotypical nuclear family, but they were family through and through, if not by blood, then by bloodshed.

“Do you guys remember the time Karl tried to clean the dishwasher with Kool-Aid?” Donna reminisced with a giggle.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Heisenberg said.

“Absolutely not,” Donna grinned at him.

“I still don’t know how you came to the conclusion that that would work,” Alcina shook her head.

Heisenberg threw his arms up into the air. “John said it did!”

“John also tried to steal a school urinal.”

“Also, you’re supposed to take all of the dishes out before you try to clean it with Kool-Aid,” Moreau spoke up. “You left all of the pots and plates and silverware in it.”

“And he didn’t even put it in the right spot!” Alcina joined, cackling. “You’re supposed to put the powder in the detergent dispenser. Karl, you just poured it out all over the dishes!”

“It wasn’t even the right powder,” Donna put in. “You’re supposed to strictly use unsweetened lemonade only. You used tropical punch!”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all burst into laughter, while Heisenberg crossed his arms and glared at them.

“John never specified any of that!” he blustered.

“Never trust John, dear,” Alcina tittered.

“Well, it happened!” Heisenberg said. “It’s over! What other boxes do you need to move!”

More laughter.

“I’m serious! I’ll get the boxes! Also WHAT IS THAT.”

They all turned to see a patchy tortoiseshell cat lazily strolling into the room with them. It looked like it had been run over, dismembered, run over again, and then put back together by a blind surgeon, but it held itself like it was the most pristine lion to ever walk the earth. It glanced over at the four siblings, meowed at them, then continued on its stroll to one of the empty boxes, which it jumped into and made itself comfortable inside.

“It’s a cat,” Donna said as if it should have been obvious, earning a snort from Moreau and then a glare from Heisenberg.

“It’s not funny,” Moreau said quickly after Heisenberg glared at him, too, but it was obvious Heisenberg’s leer was all in good fun.

“No, no. Tom from Tom and Jerry is a cat,” Heisenberg said. “THAT is an overgrown street rat.”

“Well, one could assume the same about you, but you don’t see us pointing it out,” Donna said breezily.

Another bout of laughter, this time with Heisenberg included.

“Okay, okay, you got me there,” Heisenberg said.

“Must you insist on reacting the same way every single time you see Tea Cake?” Alcina finally spoke up through the playful bickering. She crouched down next to the cat and stroked its back, which caused it to purr in content.

“It’s my trademark,” Heisenberg said with a shrug. “That old woman is still alive?”

“And kicking,” Alcina smiled fondly at her pet.

Tea Cake had been with her for a long fourteen years, witnessing more than a few existential crises and drunken concerts put on to chase off her lurking PTSD. That cat came during the worst part of her life, and Alcina owed everything to that little beast. She learned how to laugh and smile and genuinely feel again, not hide behind the facade that she was a strong, powerful woman who could take on everything and come out without a scratch.

And, yes, Alcina had known- still knew, that she had Miranda and her siblings, but sometimes they were not enough, not back then, not when she was filled with so much shame and self-hatred and disgust. Animals were different in a way people couldn’t be. Animals didn’t lie, they didn’t judge or think about how messed up you were in their heads. They didn’t share your secrets or give you false hope. They just--be there. They listened and lent their presence and, sometimes, that was all that was needed, and some people didn’t seem to understand that.

Tea Cake’s fur had dried more of Alcina’s tears than anyone else ever had because she never let them fall in front of others. Tea Cake didn’t get upset when Alcina touched her; she didn’t understand the concept of emotional trauma and sexual harassment and body image issues. She just cared, even if she didn’t quite get it.

Alcina would probably be dead if it weren’t for her.

Yes, she remembered that fateful night… The wind in her shaggy hair she hadn’t washed in days, the moonglow on her ashen skin, the tears burning in her eyes--all of it was so clear, even now. She remembered how horribly, hopelessly depressed she had been and how she drove out to a field with a note on the dashboard and a gun in the passenger seat.

At the time, nothing had helped her. Her antidepressants weren’t working, going out only made her feel unsafe, and her family’s presence no longer brought her comfort and happiness, rather guilt and shame. The only thing that ever helped was when she drowned herself in the alcohol she made for a living, drinking away her despair and trauma until her body tingled and the phantom hands went away. She was surprised her liver never exploded inside of her during those awful few months.

She had sat in her car for a while, leaning her head on the steering wheel and wallowing in silence and darkness. Then, she got out, made sure the note was visible, and grabbed the gun.

She considered calling or texting her mother and siblings, but that would make it hurt worse. It was better to leave them with their last memories of her than to have this sudden news of a goodbye that they wouldn’t be able to stop.

She placed the pistol’s barrel in her mouth and rested her finger on the trigger. Her life didn’t flash before her eyes like some movies or books say it did, and she was quite thankful for it. She didn’t want to relive the agony she had been put through that led her up to that point. She just shut her eyes as tight as possible in preparation for the bullet to pass through her brain…

Then, there was a rustling from the grass nearby.

Alcina hesitated. The metallic taste of the gun left her tongue and she looked in the direction of the noise.

“Hello?” she had called out in her best possible not-about-to-kill-herself voice.

A tiny meow answered her.

“Your roadkill wants you,” Heisenberg’s voice cut through the daze that had momentarily descended upon Alcina’s mind.

Blinking, Alcina realized that Tea Cake was gnawing on her finger and meowing. She smiled.

“It’s probably dinner time,” Alcina said. She stood up straight. “Come on, children. I have news to share.”

Curious, her three younger siblings followed her out of the room and to her kitchen, Tea Cake padding after them eagerly. Her house was a beautiful creation of the finest wood and the most luxurious stonework. Top-of-the-line appliances filled the space and every little detail, down to the hanging droplets on the chandelier and the grooves in the staircase railing, were customized to her preference. 6 bedrooms, 9 bathrooms, 17,182 square feet, 14.99 acres filled by lush vineyards, and $5,500,000 later, and you had the Dimitrescu Estate.

And it was a barren prison.

It had always been there, ever since she moved in: that lingering loneliness that seemed to shroud every hallway. She had so much space, but nobody to fill it. Nobody except herself, Tea Cake, and her maids, of course. Lying awake one night, thinking about this issue as she often did, a solution had finally come to her.

After pouring some wet food into Tea Cake’s food bowl, Alcina grabbed a bottle of sweet butter wine out of her wine fridge and poured a glass for herself and each of her siblings, all of which were staring at her curiously. After taking a long sip, she finally began: “As you all know, I have plans to foster a child. And I greatly appreciate all of the support you three have provided me up until now.”

“Is this an award ceremony or something?” Heisenberg joked light-heartedly. “Can I have the award for most boxes carried? I think I deserve that one.”

“You mean most boxes dropped?” Donna giggled, earning her a playful poke in the side.

“No, it is not an award ceremony,” Alcina glared at Heisenberg without any fire in her gaze. She opened up a drawer in the stainless kitchen island they were gathered around. “Though, this may very well be an award…” She pulled out a blue folder packed full of papers and set it on the marble countertop, grinning brightly. “I just wanted to let you all know first that my training is done. I’ve completed all the classes.” Her heart swelled in her heart as she spoke her next words: “I’m a foster mom now.”

All at once, her younger siblings lit up brighter than the sun’s supernova, throwing their arms up into the air and letting out a celebratory shout. Donna and Moreau even raced around the island to hug Alcina, which she returned with a laugh.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful, Alcina!” Donna said, squeezing her with surprising strength. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Me too,” Moreau agreed.

“Sal, are you crying?”

“No!” Moreau yelped, then sniffled. “I just have something in my eye, that’s all.”

“You mean tears?” Heisenberg teased. He then looked at Alcina. “That’s amazing, Alcina. I’m really happy for you. You deserve this.”

“Aww,” Alcina crooned. “Is my little brother going soft?”

Heisenberg instantly steeled himself. “Me? No way! I was just saying what you would want to hear.”

Still being embraced on either side by her other brother and sister, Alcina chuckled. “I see.”

“Do you know your placement yet?” Donna asked, looking up at Alcina as though she were a child again.

“Placements,” Alcina corrected. She couldn’t help but grin again as she spoke of her future children. “Two. I’m getting two little girls.”

“Aww!” Donna and Moreau both cooed.

Heisenberg was nodding. “Girls. Yes. I can do girls.” He looked up at Alcina. “I’m getting them a puppy.”

“Oh, you don’t have--”

“I’m getting them a puppy,” Heisenberg said again, and it was clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Alcina chuckled. “Alright. A puppy it is.”

Donna and Moreau began to join in on plans for being the greatest aunt and uncle, with Moreau saying that they needed to come to his lake for a swim and Donna listing off all the toys she would make for them. Alcina listened to them with a fond smile, happy to have such a supportive family. This was exactly what her daughters were going to need.

Daughters.

Just thinking about that word made her heart flutter in her chest. Her grin turned giddy. She was going to be a mother soon.

As she sipped from her wine glass, she thought about her placements. She had gotten the call four days ago and was scheduled to meet the little ones in the next two weeks. She could still hear her caseworker’s words in her ears during the conversation as she recalled it to her siblings.

“The first is named Daniela,” Duke had said. He was a studious, patient man with a warm smile and hands like chipmunk paws, keen on helping Alcina ever since she started her training to become a foster parent six months ago. “She’s a little girl and eleven years old. Her parents have, unfortunately, recently died due to a car crash. Her living relatives are unfit to take care of her, so she’s been placed into the foster system. Right now, she’s staying with her aunt and uncle, but she cannot be kept there much longer because of, ah…jealousy issues with their actual child.

The second is named Cassandra. Another girl, this one twelve years old. She’s been in the foster program ever since she was a baby when she was given up, as she was born from a teenager who couldn’t take care of her. She’s had…quite a few foster homes, all of which had given her up to someone else due to…issues. I understand if you don’t want to take this child. She’s been known to cause problems in her houses and pick fights. There is-- woo, that’s a lot of complaints… There are some notes on her left by her former families and-- Goddamn. They’re writing of her like she’s a monster or something…”

“Of course, I couldn’t turn down either of them,” Alcina concluded her retelling. “Especially the second one. Cassandra. The poor thing sounds like she needs a good home.”

“You’re so sweet, Alci,” Donna said, smiling at her.

“Think you can handle it?” Heisenberg asked. “I’m not doubting your abilities, but from what you said about the kid… Well, she just sounds difficult.”

“You were difficult,” Alcina said, grinning at him. “And everything turned out just fine, didn’t it?”

Her youngest brother’s concern didn’t diminish. “Yes, but… I don’t want anything to happen to you or my niece.”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all cooed. Heisenberg huffed.

“Oh, shut it! I have a heart!”

“You do,” Alcina’s smile lightened slightly. “But don’t worry: everything will be okay. I can do this. I need to do this. Those two little girls need a mother.”

Heisenberg considered her for a moment, then nodded. He smiled at her. “You’ve got a good heart, Alcina,” he said. “If you ever need any help, I’m here.”

“Me too!” Donna joined in.

“Me three!” Moreau piped up.

Alcina laughed. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot to me. Now…” She raised her glass. “Let’s drink before we have to cut back because there will be children around!”

Her siblings laughed and mimicked her gesture.

Alcina couldn’t wait.

#foster au #resident evil au #resident evil fanfic #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #mother miranda #dimitrescu daughters #a little unconventional

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booksofkingdomsandcourts · 3 years

Text

Nessian Modern AU: Proposal

A “sequel” to the drabble here that I posted for Nessian Week. As always, what started as a drabble spawned a full-length oneshot. Anyway, writing Nessian was a joy and I look forward to writing more for them in the future. Enjoy!

Warning: Gets a little NSFW near the end because, you know. Them.

Cassian could feel the little velvet box burning a hole in his suit jacket pocket. Were his hands shaking? He was sure they were shaking. Oh god, what if he dropped it? It probably wouldn’t go anywhere, they were pretty far from the edge of the balcony, but it would certainly be embarrassing.

His smart watch buzzed and he looked down at it to see a text from Azriel that said Dude, you’re practically sweating through your suit. Chill the fuck out. Cassian looked up and glared over the table at him. Azriel made a little “calm down” motion with his hands, and Cassian was so wired that if they’d been sitting closer he would have decked him. Luckily, Nesta was engrossed in a conversation with Emerie and Mor and wasn’t paying attention. The way everyone kept glancing at Cassian he was sure that she would have noticed something was going on by now, but she seemed unaware.

Of course, the party was already all about her, she just hadn’t seemed to realize that they were (hopefully) going to be celebrating more than one thing. When she had gotten accepted into law school Cassian had promised her a celebration for the ages, knowing it could double as the perfect chance to pop the question. He had tried to keep it on the down-low, but his brothers had seen right through him. As soon as he had said, “So I’m thinking about planning a trip to Vegas to celebrate Nesta getting into law school. I just want to do something really special for her, you know?” they had turned to him with matching grins and said,

“Oh yeah? Just a casual trip to one of the most spectacular cities in the country?”

“Any special shopping you need to do first?”

Cassian had swung at them while they dodged and laughed. It wasn’t that he didn’t want them to know, it was just that he worried that someone would let something slip to Nesta and ruin the surprise. But then he realized there was no keeping everyone from knowing, because he had to ask Feyre and Elain for their blessing (they gave it readily, with squeals and big hugs), and then he had to ask Emerie and Gwyn to help him find out about rings. Now he sat with what he hoped was the perfect ring in his pocket, showy but classy, with two black diamonds set on either side of a shining two carat white diamond. Shiny and noticeable but…tastefully so, he hoped. That was what Emerie and Gwyn had reported, and really, he should have guessed that, because Nesta liked to be noticed, but only in a way where she was respected, or at least revered.

Now they sat on a private balcony for a dinner service Rhys had helped Cassian book overlooking the Vegas strip, lights and fountains glittering around them, the noise of the strip a pleasant background hum. They had all the usual suspects—Azriel, Rhys and Feyre, Mor and Amren and Varian, Elain and Lucien, and of course, Gwyn and Emerie. Everyone Cassian thought Nesta would want to be here, and the usual plus ones that had to be invited either way. He knew Nesta wouldn’t want a true Jumbotron-style public proposal, but surely this was okay, right? Just their friends? He didn’t think she’d want no one to see it, and yet—

“Hey,” she said, putting her hand on his knee. He started, almost jumping out of his skin. She laughed. “What, did I startle you, sitting here exactly where I’ve been the whole time? Where are those judo reflexes now?”

They all had a nice buzz going, though they were refraining from getting really messy until after dinner. Nesta was maybe the most openly happy Cassian had ever seen her, smiling and laughing and shining in a way that he had never seen before. He knew she was really proud to finally be going to law school after all this time. He could only hope that after this dinner her good mood would be doubled, not dampened.

“Anyway,” Nesta continued, scooting her chair closer to his and sliding her hand dangerously up his thigh. “Could I steal you for a minute after dessert?”

She looked fucking stunning tonight. Not that she didn’t always, but in that little black dress with her perfect tits tastefully on display, her lithe legs in those heels, and her hair swept up and away from her neck, Cassian might have asked to marry her even if she wasn’t his girlfriend. The only thing keeping his libido in check were his nerves, and if she said yes, it wasn’t going to be much of a competition between the two anymore. But until then….

Cassian put his arm around her shoulders, trying to act natural. “I think we’re going to have cocktails then head out and hit the Strip again.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes. So it’ll be a while before we’re back in our room for the night. I was thinking we could just take a minute.” She moved her fingers on his leg again and with her other hand tilted his head to hers for a kiss. “You look so fucking good in that suit baby,” she whispered against his mouth.

God, he couldn’t wait to marry her. He lost himself for a second, drinking in the feeling of her lips on his, her warm hand against his thigh. She had to say yes. She had to, or Cassian wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

“Get a room!” Lucien called from the other side of the balcony. Cassian heard Elain chide him.

Nesta pulled away and whipped back, “You are here on courtesy invite only, asshole.”

“Nesta!” Elain complained.

If there was anything that would put a damper on Cassian’s marriage plans it was that if he married Nesta and Lucien married Elain, he’d be stuck with the little shithead for the rest of his life. Then Cassian looked at Nesta, already laughing with Emerie again, her hand still resting on his leg, and knew that he couldn’t even pretend. Nothing could cause him to hesitate.

That had to include his nerves. Now that they were finishing with dessert, the servers would be waiting for his speech before bringing out the cocktails and champagne. If he waited too much longer, Nesta would begin to wonder what the holdup was. Fuck his nerves. The last thing he was going to let keep him from marrying Nesta was himself.

So Cassian stood, taking Nesta’s hand and standing her up. Her face brightened, and she gave him a look through her eyelashes. Then it turned to confusion as he started leading her out onto the balcony, in front of everyone.

“Um, I was thinking we’d go inside,” she whispered to him, but he could hear the question in her playful tone. What the hell are you doing?

What he came here to do.

“Everyone?” he said, just loud enough to beat the ambient noise of Vegas below them. They all turned to him from their scattered little tables, and he hoped Nesta wouldn’t read into the eagerness on their faces. Here it was: the main event.

He didn’t let go of Nesta’s hand as he continued, “I want to thank you all so much for coming this weekend to celebrate the most incredible woman any of us have ever been blessed to have in their presence, soon to be the best attorney this nation has ever seen.”

Everyone clapped as Nesta rolled her eyes and said, “Cassian, stop.” But she was smiling.

He didn’t stop, but instead continued, “It has been such an honor to get to be the one by her side through all she has accomplished these past few years. ‘Now Cassian,’ you might be thinking, ‘surely some of that can be attributed to her incredible fitness coach.’ And you would be right,” he said, and as everyone laughed good-naturedly, he heard Nesta mutter, “Nevermind I fucking hate you.” He wasn’t facing her, but he could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

“But in all seriousness, Nesta is the most amazing woman I have ever met. If you all could see her behind the scenes, how hard she works, how much she cares about her family and her friends,” Cassian paused to take Nesta’s other hand, turning her to face him. There were a hundred specific little things he could list, but knowing how easily she was embarrassed, he would leave it at that until they were alone. “I think you’d be pretty in love with her too.”

There were a couple of “aw”s from the crowd, and Cassian was pretty sure Lucien’s was genuine. Nesta was blushing, but Cassian was glad to see she was still smiling. “Cassian, how drunk are you?" she laughed.

“Just enough to fight my nerves,” he replied honestly.

Her smile froze, and a crease appeared between her eyebrows. “What are you nervous about?”

He gave her a grin that he was sure looked nervous as hell. “Would you be mad if I told you I might have had an additional motive for planning this trip?”

He watched as her face changed, putting the clues together just as Cassian sank down onto one knee. She pulled her hands out of his, putting them both over her mouth as Cassian fished the little box out of the inside of his jacket and popped it open. He looked up into her eyes, wide as saucers now, and said, “Nesta Archeron. You are the strongest, sexiest, most capable, most remarkable woman I have ever been fortunate enough to cross the path of. I love everything about you, and I love everything about us. Marry me, Ness. I think we both know this is forever—let’s make it official.”

She made a slight keening sound. Her face had turned very red, and Cassian could see that she was trembling. But at his question she started nodding frantically, and she choked out a, “Yes. Yes, yes.”

Their little audience erupted into cheers as Cassian slid the ring onto her finger and stood. Before he could even kiss her, she pulled herself against him with crushing force, burying her face in his shoulder. He could feel her shuddering as she pulled in big, heaving breaths. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. Then, after a moment without her breaths settling, Cassian said, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Nesta said, pulling away just enough to talk. Her face was red and streaked with heavy tears. Her breaths were still labored, and Cassian suddenly realized she was genuinely hyperventilating. “Yes, I just, oh god, I can’t—” The words came out choppy as she tried to catch her breath, still crying. She buried herself back in his chest and he realized she was trying to hide her hysterics.

“Okay, okay,” Cassian said quietly, hoping to calm her down before she made herself light headed and passed out. “Let’s step inside, okay? Are you okay to move?”

She nodded, gasping. He gently put his hand on her waist and guided her past the tables. The rest of the party watched with concern, but he mouthed we’ll be right back as he led Nesta inside.

The space inside was mostly just a hall to the balcony, so Cassian pulled Nesta aside to the little alcove by the bathrooms so they would be hidden from the big glass windows. As soon as they were out of sight he pulled her back close to him.

“Just tell me this is happy crying,” he said.

“It is,” Nesta said thickly with a choked laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, slowly stroking his fingers down her back to calm her. “If I had known this would be your reaction, I would have planned something private for you.”

“No! It was perfect,” she said. “Everything was perfect. I—I didn’t know I’d react like this.” She was still sniffling. “I’ve never really imagined my own engagement. I—I never thought I’d love someone this much. That someone would love me this much.”

“I love you that much and more,” Cassian said, meaning it with everything he had. “I would marry you tonight if you wanted. We’re in Vegas—pick any venue and we can make it official.”

She laughed. Her throat still sounded thick but her breathing had returned to normal. “Oh no. We’re having the most grandiose wedding anyone has ever seen. If I’m getting married, everyone is going to know. And I want a ten thousand dollar dress.”

“Deal,” Cassian said without hesitation. Nesta’s heels already brought her much closer to Cassian’s face than usual, but she still had to press herself up an extra inch on her toes to kiss him. Cassian leaned down obligingly, and now feeling the warmth of her body, the cold press of her ring against his jaw as she cupped his face, sent heat settling at the front of his pelvis.

“Now what would you say if I told you to drop your panties,” he growled against her mouth.

She smirked. “I’d say I would.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and tipped her head to whisper in his ear, “But I’d have to be wearing some.”

Cassian groaned, sliding his hands up under the hem of her dress and indeed finding only bare skin. “Fuck, Ness.”

“I was hoping you’d get handsy and find out during dinner,” she said. “But you had other things on your mind, apparently.”

“From now on I promise to always put my hands up your skirt at dinner to check if you’re commando,” Cassian said.

“At every dinner,” Nesta said, kissing him again. “For the rest of our lives. That better be in your wedding vows.”

“For the rest of our lives,” he repeated.

“For the rest of our lives,” she echoed again. Then she kissed him again, passionately, slipping her tongue over his lips.

He pulled his hands out from her dress and opened the door to the bathroom beside them. “Get in,” he commanded, voice a tight snarl. Nesta took her time, sending him a sultry look through ruined makeup as she swayed her hips and made her way into the single-person room. Cassian followed, locking the door. She stayed with her back to him, watching in the mirror as he slid his suit jacket off and hung it on the hook on the door. She licked her bottom lip as he rolled his sleeves up just a little, to try and make sure he wouldn’t soil them. He met her eyes in the mirror, and he read her intention in the look on her face. She leaned forward and braced herself on the sink.

“Alright then,” he chuckled, undoing his belt and unfastening his pants to slide them down just over his rapidly hardening cock. He shoved the hem of her dress up to expose her bare ass and said, “Better make sure you’ve got a good grip on that sink, sweetheart. You’re going to need it.”

*~*~*

Cassian made his way back out onto the balcony, put back together on the outside but with his head still swimming with the look on Nesta’s face in the mirror as she finished around him. Evidently someone had made the wise call to start cocktail hour without waiting for them, and the laughter he heard around him sounded a lot louder and messier than it had when he’d left. Gwyn and Emerie quickly departed for inside, makeup bags in hand, to help clean Nesta up for the rest of the night. Cassian was swarmed with congratulations, and he ordered a scotch on the rocks to keep him busy while he waited for his fiancée to reemerge.

When Nesta reentered the party she was almost knocked to the ground by her sisters, and she begged them not to make her cry again. Rhys motioned to a server who brought out a bottle of champagne Rhysand had specially reserved for Nesta and Cassian (Cassian didn’t even want to know how much it cost), and Nesta popped the cork to raucous applause. Elain slapped them both with Just Engaged! sashes to wear for the rest of the night, and through it all, there was never a moment that Nesta and Cassian didn’t have some form of physical contact, be it holding hands or hips against each other or an arm around the shoulder. Cassian caught the way Nesta kept looking at her ring, tilting her hand to make it glitter in the lights. Then she would look at him, and she would smile, and as they headed out the Strip to celebrate, Cassian felt happier than he ever had in his entire life.

#nessian #nessian fanfic #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #my writing

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candycityy · 3 years

Text

—shoutout to @avadescent for inspiring me to write offended-attention-deprived levi. because why not right? right.

Levi isn't an unreasonable man.

Rude, sure. Neurotic, well, maybe. He's aware of his flaws, thanks, but as far as he's concerned, unreasonable has never been one of those.

And yet—looking down at the hopeful expression of his subordinate, he feels the irrepressible urge to say something wholly unreasonable. Something like no.

"It'd be a really good opportunity," Petra says, as usual catching on to his thoughts far too quickly for his comfort. "The Military Police has never showed any interest in us before, this could be a real chance to rally some support—"

"Some extra coin, you mean," Levi interjects drily. Far too used to her captain's cynicism, Petra presses on, unperturbed.

"Besides," she adds, "it's just for a week. And the commander—"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Levi waves an irritated hand. "The Military Police is in town, they finally manage to get over their massive fucking egos long enough to realise how shit their fatality rates are against actual titans, as opposed to the scum—"

"Captain."

"Criminals," Levi amends, "that they waste their time chasing after, most of the time. And now they want a tour guide to show them around. Fine. But why you?"

Petra levels a glare at him—the only one of his soldiers who'd have the guts to do so—and he feels a stab of grudging respect. "Are you insinuating that I'm not qualified, sir?"

"Just asking why."

"In that case, sir, I'd wager that the commander," she enunciates the world pointedly, "nominated me because I'm nice and friendly and have the second-highest kill count in the Corps. And unfortunately, the soldier with the actual highest kill count has approximately the charm and charisma of a dead slug."

He narrows his eyes at the soldier, who immediately schools her expression back into one of wide-eyed innocence. "You're an insubordinate brat, Ral."

"I'm saving you from having to deal with the MP yourself, sir," Petra says patiently. "You know that if you don't give me permission, Commander Smith is going to go after you next."

They stare at each other for a few seconds, locked in stalemate. Finally, Levi sighs.

"Fine," he mutters. "You can be their tour guide, as long as you keep up with your training in your own time. And, Ral?"

"Sir?"

"For fuck's sake don't be too nice to them."

Petra's answering grin is wry and knowing, even as she lifts her fist to her chest in a flawless salute. "I'll try, sir."

The lounge is unnaturally quiet.

Apart from the sound of his pen scratching onto the seemingly endless pages, and the occasional murmured curse from Auruo whenever Gunther takes yet another one of his pawns, there's a strange, heavy silence permeating the ordinarily cheery room.

In his corner, where he's aimlessly folding bits of newspaper into a series of increasingly complicated figures, Eld exhales loudly. "I miss Pet," he declares, morosely tossing a miniature bird into the trash can across the room and missing by a clear metre.

At Levi's glare, he goes to collect it quickly enough.

Auruo snorts in a show of derision. "What for? The peace and quiet's a nice change." He steals a quick, hopeful glance at Levi, who obligingly pretends not to notice.

Privately, Levi agrees with Eld. The squad has been unusually quiet without its sole female member, and he's on more than one occasion during training found himself looking over his shoulder, expecting to see Petra's lithe form at his back, ready to sweep in for an assist.

And. even though he'd sooner stab himself with a blade than admit it, the tea he's been forced to make in her absence—as careful as he's been with his technique—just isn't the same. He takes a sip and wrinkles his nose with annoyance.

"It's only been two days," Gunther says absently, ignoring Auruo's sound of protest as he neatly plucks a knight off the chessboard. "And she seems to be enjoying it."

"Is she?" Levi goes. He flicks off a stray bug with the tip of his pen, and savagely crosses out a misspelling.

"Yeah. An old friend from the Cadet Corps is in the lot that came in with the MP, she mentioned she'd been catching up with him."

"An old boyfriend, more like." Auruo hisses in exasperation when Gunther swipes yet another piece. "Michael, right? I remember him. Smug little slimeball, he was."

Levi stiffens. "She didn't mention that," he says, as casually as he can. Gunther shoots him a curious glance, which he ignores.

"Yeah, well, why would she?" Eld yawns and gets to his feet, stretching. "This blows. I'm gonna get some sleep. Later."

Levi sips at his tea, feeling violently and inexplicably irritated despite the would-be comfort of the familiar brew. The feeling doesn't fade, not even when the chess game ends with Gunther's resounding victory and both men traipse out of the room, leaving him alone in the quiet.

He dots an i with more severity than strictly necessary and decides to call it a night, too.

Petra continues to spend the better part of the next week flitting off to attend to their unwanted guests. With every activity that she doesn't turn up at, Levi finds his mood turning a shade fouler. Training isn't as productive. The whole squad is off their game.

Also, he misses her.

That evening, the lounge is empty. The rest of the squad has gone off to town for a much-needed drink, leaving Levi alone behind to tackle yet another stack of paperwork.

He's worked himself into a monotonous rhythm when the door swings open and Petra steps in, looking exhausted but content. Against his will, Levi feels his mood lift a fraction, although he keeps his scowl firmly in place.

"Captain," Petra greets with her usual smile, flopping down on her favourite spot at the sofa, "where's everyone?"

"Town," Levi replies shortly.

"Oh?" Her smile turns into a yawn, and he notes with an odd feeling the shadows under her eyes. "I need a drink, too. The MP visitors have been a handful. Did you know that most of them have barely touched their 3DMG after graduating? They're so rusty, they make Hanji's gear look positively shiny."

Levi has to stop himself from snickering; the squad leader is notorious for failing to maintain her gear, much to her second-in-command's constant despair. He has to force his expression to remain icy. Petra looks at him curiously.

"Anything the matter, captain?" she goes. He shrugs.

"Not really."

"That's not the same as no," Petra observes. Levi casts her a dark glare.

"Insubordinate," he mutters. "Just...hasn't been the best week."

"Because of me?"

Levi stares down at his paperwork.

"Maybe," he finally replies. Still refusing to meet her gaze, he asks, casually, "So, did anything exciting happen?"

He's still not looking at her, but he can hear the frown in her voice as she shakes her head. "Not really."

"That's not the same as no," Levi echoes. His subordinate rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

"One of my old squadmates, back in the cadet corps, was being annoying throughout," she admits. Levi tries to keep his expression composed, even as something in his chest seems to lift, for whatever reason.

She clears her throat, seemingly eager to move on to the next topic. "Apart from that, the most exciting thing was probably seeing the captain of the MP almost lose his lunch after we showed him Hanji's lab."

Levi finally allows himself to snort. "Shitheads."

"Shitheads," Petra agrees. Her lips quirk into a tentative smile. "I missed the squad, though."

It's phrased like a sentence but sounds more like a question.

He makes the mistake of looking at her. Her cheeks are red, and there's a light in her eyes that seems nervous, almost shy. Yet she meets his gaze with a kind of determination. Questioning. Hopeful.

It's an unusual look for the girl who cuts down titans without batting an eyelid. Something in the back of mind tells him that her words are layered, but he forces himself to focus on the outside.

"The squad wasn't the same without you," Levi finally replies. It's not nearly enough, even he knows that.

Still, it's sufficient to make her whole countenance brighten and her smile shift into something different, whole. He realises belatedly that the dark, irritated cloud that has persisted in the back of his mind for the past week has dissipated almost entirely.

He shoves away the realisation quickly. Petra just smiles at him, seeming to know his thoughts before he can even begin to wonder at them. As usual.

"It's good to be back, captain," she says softly.

"Good to have you back, Ral."

#rivetra #levi x petra #levi ackerman #petra ral #attack on titan #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #candycity writes

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blutopaz15 · 3 years

Text

Flufftober Oct. 2

Sneaking Out Together

Yay, day two! This has been REALLY good for my writer's block so far! Hope you enjoy more sweet, dorky rayllum fluff! <3

NOTES: rated t for mildly suggestive content, 1.1k

ao3 link

It was weird going to bed without Rayla.

Callum snapped his sketchbook shut. Even drawing felt strange to do alone.

He missed having Rayla beside him, peering down at the page. Her hair, so shiny and white, always fell across his shoulder when she tucked her forehead into the crook of his neck and her lips were always so sweet and soft when she interrupted to kiss him first...

He sighed.

They’d seldom spent a night alone since coming back to Katolis, and Callum could tell from the way Rayla had crossed her arms as they went their separate ways—without so much as a kiss in front of all the dinner guests—that she was definitely just as unhappy about being apart as he was.

The clear view of the nearly full moon through the windows that led to the balcony attached to the room didn’t help.

Swinging his legs out of bed, Callum tried to come up with a reasonable excuse to traipse across the Neolandian palace they were visiting, but came up short. He settled for stepping out onto the balcony instead.

It was complicated here.

Not like it was in Katolis, where it was just a fact that their room was theirs. The worst thing they needed to worry about back home was the morning housekeeping crew catching them in a compromising position if they slept too late, and that only resulted in—at worst—another embarrassing conversation with Opeli or Aunt Amaya. The threats to separate them had grown less and less convincing the older they got, especially as it became more and more obvious that Rayla was there to stay.

Here, though…

At first, Callum had thought it was some convoluted show of prejudice when their things had very clearly been taken in separate directions as they arrived. After all, he was certainly in tune enough with the sideways looks from palace staff—even without her hand tightened around his—to realize that Rayla being an elf was definitely still noteworthy here, like it’d been those first couple weeks in Katolis after the Spire.

But...he’d gotten the feeling that it was the sharing-a-room part that would have really stirred the pot, regardless of Rayla being an elf. Opeli had reminded both of them with a shake of her head: a few nights apart wouldn’t be worth the risk of an even rockier relationship with Neolandia.

Callum huffed grumpily, resting his elbows on the banister.

Did Rayla really have to be all the way on the other side of the palace, though?

Apparently—he brightened, seeing her slip out onto the balcony directly across from his—exactly on the other side of the courtyard.

It was too far across to call out, but...not too far to be able to tell that she was grinning at him. He waved, and her lips didn’t need to move for him to hear her voice calling him a dork. Rayla waved back, though...and then the look in her eyes shifted to a familiar, calculating brightness. She glanced all around his balcony then peered down hers, eyes narrowed and judging distances. Rayla ended up frowning, though. She hesitated for a moment and then clumsily signed a few words that she’d learned early on in talking with Aunt Amaya.

No blades. She pointed behind her then, back to the room where she seemed to have left them along with her day-clothes, and Callum understood that it was a little far of a jump to make without her hooks to catch herself with.

You, she started, then paused to think before settling on a gesture that got across that he was supposed to fly over, whether it was actual Katolis Sign Language or not.

Callum watched her roll her eyes when he licked a finger and pointed it up in the air like he was testing the breeze, as if it was even a question that he was heading over there to kiss his beautiful, adorable pajama-clad sweetheart goodnight.

“Manus—” Callum paused, realizing that midnight flight practice might not be an adequate explanation for a shredded pajama top, especially if Opeli caught wind of it. He tossed the shirt back towards the door to his room.

The goal was not to get caught anyway…

He held his arms out, and struggled to get the words out around the grin that Rayla’s smirking at him from across the way had brought on.

“Manus, pluma, volantis.”

He’d barely touched down before Rayla’s arms were looped around his neck.

“Nice flying, mage,” she teased, fingers in his hair sending a tingle down his spine. Brushing her lips against his temple, she let his wings folding around her draw her in even closer, and whispered: “I missed you.”

“Just a few more nights, okay?” Callum reassured her, nosing a piece of hair away from her cheek so he could pass the kiss back to her. “We’ll ride home together and everything.”

Rayla’s hands slipped to his chest, ghosting over his ribs. “Won’t be too weird for you?” she giggled when he gasped.

“Not...not weirder than this,” he stammered, acutely aware of how her hands had slid further down to pull his hips against hers and how they were now trailing up his back. “That...tickles.” He tried to ignore how her hands actually felt on his skin.

“Oh, please. She stilled her hands but kissed his neck. “You love it. You’re the one who decided to strip down, half naked, to come kiss me goodnight.”

“Had to,” he shrugged, getting his bearings without her fingers wandering. “Sleeves, you know.”

The moonlight sparkled in her eyes before they went half lidded as her palm pressed flat against his ass.

“Hmm, well, tomorrow night—”

“Good night, Rayla,” he scolded gently, only slightly tempted to risk political ruin and slip back into her room with her. He sought out his goodnight kiss instead, looking at her lips meaningfully, unable to catch her jaw in his hands the way he wanted to without all the trouble of dispelling the wings.

“I’m just saying! The moon! It’ll be full!” Rayla squirmed around in his wings, gesturing dramatically to the brightness looming overhead. “I can’t believe you’d willingly waste a full moon!”

Callum wrapped the wings as tight as he could around her and angled closer. “I love you.”

Saucy grin softening, Rayla finally let him close the distance between them, her lips pushing back against his with searing heat and her hands pulling him in with fervor enough for the both of them. She let their foreheads meet and lingered, eyes huge and bright and lilac and refusing to leave his.

“Night, Callum,” she said at last, her reluctance matching his own as she slipped away, leaving him longing and lonely…

...and looking forward to tomorrow night.

#rayllum #the dragon prince #fluff #flufftober2021 #rayla #callum #post series vibes i guess?#rated t for mildly suggestive content #oneshot #rayllum fanfic #spicy fluff #ah yes spicy fluff #my one true love #<3

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obeymeluv · 4 years

Text

Signs they Love You

Back for my 1 post a week to prove school hasn’t totally killed me! When I get a semester break, I’ll post more often. In the mean time, feel free to leave me chats or PMs for stuff you want to see! :) Something nice and sappy for an okay Saturday

These turned out really long so I only did Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, and Satan. I have to get back to studying :/. Maybe I’ll have part 2 next week?

Lucifer

You wouldn’t be able to notice it because his pride wouldn’t allow you to. One of the brothers (or, to Lucifer’s extreme mortification, Lord Diavolo) would have to tell you

He’s not sure if it’s just the appreciation of you not being as totally chaotic as his brothers or genuine human naivete that has somehow worn off on him, but he loves you

Will be outed by sappy, soft stares that last 2 seconds too long.

Asmo and Satan are the first to notice and he LOATHES that

If he’s tasked with waking you up that morning, his knock will be firm but his voice will be gentle. Almost persuasive or commiserating

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by school workload, he may have a private conference with the teacher and grant you a minor extension. Will you know it was him? No. Is he happy to see you brighten up and refill with hope just a bit? Definitely. Is it worth the teasing from Lord Diavolo? ...Sure.

If he responds to texts in the wee hours of the morning when he’s still pouring over paperwork, he likes you.

Anyone who knows him can see how his eyes soften when someone else talks about you. There’s a fond slowness to his actions, how he glides his hand imperceptibly over his chest as if to feel where that emotion is coming from. Boy is whipped.

Should Lord Diavolo invite him out for a meeting, he will bring you back something small. Something he thought you’d like. Beel is upset. Levi yells “SIMP!” from the second floor and prepares for Armageddon.

Actually reminds you about assignments if you’re not already up on it yourself. Your success is his joy.

Is very keen on if/when you burn the candle too long and has a sixth sense for bad sleeping habits. Will put you on a stricter schedule for your own health

It may take almost all of the brothers to do it (or just help from Diavolo) but if he gets drunk on Demonus you’re getting a whole BOOK about why he likes you. He almost charms your memory away but everyone practically dog-piles on him not to because he needs to deal with his feelings.

You’re the only one he won’t chase out of his study when he’s doing paperwork. He’ll even set up a little fire if you like the fireplace.

How he confesses: tries to take you on a fancy date to Ristorante Six. Does not know that Lord Diavolo and Barbatos know about this (damn time-travelling butler!) and basically crash the date just to encourage him. Just long enough to encourage him.

Kind of an, “So you chose this idea, Lucifer? Admirable! I’m sure your date will be amazing! Enjoy your evening!” as Diavolo walks back to his table.

Does Lucifer deny it? Look and see how red his face is. If you’re really not sure, ask Diavolo. He will gladly yell, “I cannot lie!” across the restaurant.

Mammon

For all his talk, when he really, really decides he likes you, he doesn’t know what to say.

He can console himself with how obvious it is and how you made the best choice, but he has to show it! What to do?

Mammon’s kind of confused about it because he doesn’t really change how he behaves. You didn’t catch on already?! C’mon, human!

What, does he have to spell it out for you? Do an interview with Majolish?

His first tactic is to just be around you. Be subtle, and maybe cuddle a bit more than usual. Things to show he’s kittenish and at your mercy. Comfortable with you.

You don’t seem to be getting the hint so he throws the net a little wider by trying to find things you like or that you’ve been talking about. They mysteriously show up at your door.

It sends the others on a gossip train about who your admire could be and when they list off everyone BUT him, he wants to slam his head on the table.

Feeling tired? Coffee! Backpack heavy? Silly human, the BEST man can help you with that, OBVIOUSLY! Mammon jumps at the chance to do any little thing for you because he cares. His actions always speak louder than words.

Feeling kind of defeated and embarrassed, Mammon will go talk to the flock of crows that meander around the House of Lamentation’s yard when he really needs them.

For the next few days you’re accosted in the nicest way, birds chirping at you and dropping off various shiny things

You collect them, finally showing them to Mammon and he’s embarrassed that his representative animal has taken to courting you on his behalf.

He calls them to him, embarrassed and ready to rant or fall into the ground never to be seen again, when they start talking. Repeating all the things he’s practiced saying.

“Hey baby,”, “Hey human,” “Love you!”, “Silly! Silly!”, “Dummy, no, dummy!”, “My human.”

It’s broken and confusing, six or seven bird children cawing in your face and bobbing, but you get it.

Levi

Levi’s not the best at expressing himself but it counts, right? As much as he hates to admit he’s some kind of shy tsundere, you know what that is, right? He doesn’t have to say it?

Yes. Yes he does. His brothers are getting too chummy with you and you don’t understand his signals. Time for Plan B.

If you get invited to stand in line for a midnight release, he hopes you take it. Then it’s just you two hanging out in line? What’s this? He brought snacks? Totally not for the two of you BUT you an have some if you’re hungry. It’s whatever

When he’s not doing boss raids and playing with online friends, he’ll ask if you want to play something with him. A Player 1 needs a Player 2, you know?

I headcanon that Levi knows how to play some unusual instruments like the kalimba or a real ocarina. I could see him making you a song on one of those. Or just playing it because you inspire him. He’s very good with a harp and will play it when he’s in the mood.

Boy also likes to draw and paint. Especially loves watercolors. Would it be weird if he gave you a painting of you as a mermaid? Just you and the ocean. Beautiful.

Was there a really cute plush or knickknack you liked? Levi has his ways, regardless of how rare or limited edition it is. It will be yours.

He has a hard time understanding a passing comment of interest versus a genuine want because he genuinely wants everything he’s interested in, so if you hear a whisper about him almost securing something, stop and look it up. Make sure it’s not super expensive!!

Probably outed by Belphegor, who feels like Levi’s broadcasting all of his stress, frustration, and hope through his dreams. (”His dreams are weird. Just different ways of asking them out, and if he messes up it restarts like a simulation. My brain hurts.” he says to Beel)

You’re allowed to come into his super-restricted bedroom haven when everything’s too much. It’s very exclusive since the Mammon incident. Be happy.

Might go swimming in his big tank and pick a seashell or rock to make a necklace out of. He hopes you like it.

If he’s not outed by Belphie, some of his online friends made a game demo they wanted him to try. They specified it was two player so he asked you to join in. While he’s in the middle of bragging about how he knows people, knows developers, he totally misses the dating-sim like dialogue and the big reveal.

Doesn’t really kick in until he realize the characters look like you two. You’re busy saying ‘Yes’ to “Do you like me?” as Levi absolutely threatens to rip them apart six ways to Sunday. Almost in full demon mode, too.

Everything falls out of his brain and quiets in his throat when he realizes the characters are kissing and ‘THEY SAID YES!’ flashes on the screen.

“Y-You like me?”

“Yep.”

It was that easy all along. Levi thinks he’s going to faint.

Satan

Becomes aware of it pretty quick but ignores it for a looong time

Is it rude or foolish of him to assume you would also like him back?

Run away into books. A solid plan. If you don’t think about it, it’s not an issue

Oh, but it is an issue when you fall asleep after a mutual day of reading, forced in by bad weather. He finds his heart fluttering in a painful squeeze as he quietly whispers all the things he dare not say when you’re awake

It’s nervous poetry, and it’s beautiful

Satan tries to get himself back on track, to focus on reading, and he gets frustrated when he’s stuck on the same page almost an hour later

When you’re on the brain he just can’t do anything else

How does one show their affection? He’s swimming in books for a new reason now, as voracious as ever

He brews you a pot of Melancholy Coffee and is a bit disappointed you don’t know the meaning behind the bitterness. Wants to break the pot when Lucifer jokes about how it tastes exceptionally bitter to him as well.

Okay, so coffee didn’t work. What else do people do when they show their affections?

Asmo suggests a ‘not a date’ date and Satan sighs inside. Sounds like a lot of work and effort. It’s not that you’re not worth it, but he has a feeling that everyone will know and look at him the whole time.

Tries anyways. You guys go to a beautiful nature conservatory and take a tour of the plants and some indigenous animals

You’re starting to realize it now, he can tell. Satan tries to answer your question without saying it while you’re at school. You walk together, he offers to carry some of your books, and always requests that he be your project partner

Nearly there. If there was a single defining moment for him, he’d want it to be classic. He shows up at your door with a rose and asks you to go on a moonlit walk.

Mammon’s poking fun about how cheesy and cliche it is, Asmo’s gearing up to shut Mammon’s stupid mouth, and Satan just whisks you out the door with an aggravated sigh.

No matter what side of the house you’re on, Asmo throws up the biggest, gaudiest handmade sign that’s like ‘CUTEST COUPLE! 10/10!’

#Obey me!#Obey me x reader #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Levi x Reader #Leviathan x Reader #Satan x Reader

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mysticgoblinwriter · 3 years

Text

Driving In A Cold Sweat; There Is No One On This Highway

Warnings- Murder, infidelity, swearing, food imagery, shitty parents, i made Steve the villain who’s in the HOA and a politician, adult content, dark!reader, cheating, a bit of flirting, mental health joke (mental health is NOT a joke, y’all), religion symbolism, dark!steve, peggy x bucky,

Word Count- 1.9k

kudos to @blackberrybucky for being my soundboard, and @fandomsandxfiles for being my beta reader. Love y'all

a/n- This is inspired by Hypothermic by Goodnight Texas. Its really dark, and I surprised myself writing this but I like it. I also changed the landscape to desert. Leave comments if you want! As many as you like, I fangirl over my work too. All writers should, its selfcare.

IF YOU WANT SOMETHING FLUFFY AND SOFT TURN AWAY NOW; MINORS DNI

DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE. A REBLOG IS APPRECIATED. A REPOST IS NOT.

Bucky looks you up and down, taking you in like you are the gods own ambrosia. “So, doll. What brings you to this shit hole?”

You laugh to yourself. “I murdered somebody.”- was the sentence that also inspired this but its not in the actual story.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The radio gave out miles ago. It was emitting nothing except for crackling and static. Every now and then it would cut back to a sermon, funnily enough it’d been the same one that was on when you started your trip. Sunset was a little ways off. If you looked hard enough you could see coyotes just off the asphalt. Alive, yes. But just how long had their souls been gone? Someone was screaming.

A man. You’d heard that scream before. Seared into you memory like that steak you had for your 15th birthday. It was right next to you. Oozing blood and raw-red. You could hear the clink of the knife as it scraped against the plate. Shaking your head to clear it, you notice an exit with a gas station. “Now’s a time as good as any to stop.” Gravel crunches as you slide up next to the pump. The neon beer lights from the bar across the road are calling. But you can’t answer. The gas handle is slick and grimy, you’ve felt something like that before, but you can’t remember what. A fuzzy noise in the back of your ears gets your attention. Another truck has pulled in. Right in the spot next to yours, never mind the dozen others that are free. A bulky man steps down, his face hidden by a rangers hat.

You could tell he worked out though. And had hair in need of a washing. Clunk. The tank was full. You thought it best to leave before anyone could place you, but your stomach needed something other than greasy two-bit fast food. You glance around, looking for any sign that promised a hot meal.

“Looking for something, doll?” You let out a small gasp. He was staring straight at you now.

“Does this shithole have a place to eat? I might have to start eating the cactus.”

He lets out a soft laugh, “Yeah, there’s a diner about half mile down the road.”

His face brightens like he just thought of something. “You wanna meet me there? I’ll buy dinner?” You weigh the options. You can’t have anybody recognize you; but your cash is getting low and however you can stretch it, you must. You nod once. “Sure.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The diner is every trope you’d seen in the movies your pops watched when he got off work. Flies buzzing, neon sign flickering, checkered tile. It even had the shiny red leather booths. What a dream. “Getcha a seat anywhere, honey. I’ll be right over,” came a perky voice from the back. Presumably a waitress. You choose the booth near the back exit. Its always good to have a backup plan.

The man said he needed to get something at the mini-mart, that you could go ahead and he’d catch up. Somebody screamed right next to you, causing you to jump out of your seat. You whip your head around. No one was even in the dining area. It sounded so real. Like you could reach out and grasp the shattering inky blackness. You take a couple of deep breaths. Try to remember your happy place. Tahiti, its a magical place. Or so you’ve been told You just picked it from a magazine that was open on the coffee table the night your mother set fire to the curtains in the living room. The flames had licked up the page, burning the island resort into ash. Boots thudded as they made way to where you were. He slides in across from you.

“Um, the waitress’ll be right out,” you said softly. He barely heard it over the rickety air conditioning. He nods to show he heard. He’s sitting close. Closer than you’d thought another human would ever sit next to you again. His hands are rough and calloused. The sleeve cuffs of his hoodie are frayed; as if someone clawed at them. Eyes traveling up his body, you take in more details. The hoodie isn’t faded, its brand new. He wears a bracelet of leather on his right hand, with a charm you can’t quite see. His necklace is corded hemp, plain and understated.

A light stubble that’s maybe three days old covers his jaw. His eyes... are piercing right through you. You take in a quick breath, not being able to look away. You’d never seen that shade of blue before. He’d been watching you watching him. Quirking an eyebrow, ”See anything ya like, doll?” You start to sputter an answer but the waitress comes over. “Sorry about the wait. Here’s your-” Blue eyes interrupts her, “We don’t need those. I’ll have the special and she’ll have the ‘Its Impossible To Go Away Hungry’ plate” “Okay, then. I’ll get that right out to ya folks.”

You glare at him, he mirrors it with dicky nonchalance. “Why did you order for me?” He leans forward, tilts his head the right the tiniest fraction. “You’re starved. I really don’t give a damn what kept you from eating but I ain’t gonna let you go without giving you a meal. The steak plate is the biggest meal they have. You can take a to go box, that is if you don’t eat the whole thing.”

“Oh.” You cast out a huff, “Well, thank you.” He flashes a killer smile. Pearly white teeth in a straight line. Not an imperfection to be found anywhere. A silence falls between the two of you. You can’t decide whether its comfortable of not.

“My name is Bucky. I thought you wouldn’t like eating with a stranger. I like to doodle in the margins of my books sometimes.” “Please tell me not library books.” He scoffs as if you suggested the impossible, “Never. Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Jury’s out on that, Bucky.” He looks at you more intently now. “Really? Same could be said about you. When I first spoke to you it was like a deer in headlights. Ya running from something, sugar?” He’d said it jokingly but you didn’t laugh.

“No. Nothing like that.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Shirley came back with your plates, and two root beers. She left the check at the end of the table and Bucky swooped it up. The meal passed by in the comfortable sounds of silverware clinking and ice clacking in the cups. You both ate in record time.

You were careful to save enough for a second meal. That went into the to go container. Now both cups were drained and plates scraped clean. You start to slide out of your seat, mumbling a thanks but Bucky stops you. “Wait, won’t you sit here a while longer? I’d be kinda sad sitting here alone.” After a moments hesitation, you resume your position. “What do you wanna talk about? It can’t be the weather. Its been dry as bones for weeks.” He ponders for a moment, “You.” He shifts a little, resting one ankle on the opposite knee.

“I want to know what you’re running from, and see if I can offer...a distraction.” That shocks you. “Life? Aren’t we all running away in some form or another? I just happened to take the mobile route.” You shrug, “What do you want me to say? It was all shitty so I left it behind. And as for the distraction part, I got a whore last night, so don’t bother.” He is silent. Just sits there and gazes at you. You cock your head, getting impatient. “Am I allowed to leave now? Or do you want to talk about our feelings?”

“I slept with my best friends wife.”

“I-I’m sorry you what??”

“I slept with my best friends wife. He owns half the town, what with him being mayor and all. I couldn’t take it anymore, he’s always been the golden boy. Always been the beacon of light. I just wanted a slice of what he had.” He looks up, his eyes are dead. “She was willing, and I just... took her. There on his desk. He’d been out for lunch with some bigwig, and I made her cum twice on my cock.” He chuckles darkly. “That’d been the first time. All the other times don’t matter, he doesn’t know about those. But he does know about the time in the craft shed. Peggy did pottery.

Had a nice little workshop, it was connected to the mansion they had. I wanted to bring her pleasure in the place where she gets frustrated often, so she’d have something else to think about. Steve caught us on the floor. A big bunch of daffodils in hand. Stupid, those weren’t even her favorites.” He was gone now, lost in memories, not even knowing he was talking. “Said he had come by to take her to lunch. That was always like Steve. Expected her to clear her schedule at the drop of a hat but never doing the same for anybody. He didn’t even get mad. He just walked away, muttering something about his office.

Peggy said she could talk some sense into him. The next day I found her in the garbage when I took out my trash.” Your sharp inhale and big eyes do nothing to catch his attention. “Steve comes strolling out of nowhere, said that she was a threat to his image. Said that I need to leave or face the same. I asked why he left me alive and he said ‘So you can remember the pain until you lay down in the ground and the mice and carrion drag your body up from its silk cocoon to feast.”

But that’s not all.” He said the last bit so quietly, it was as if he said nothing.

“What?” He’s crying now, tears are forming rivers in his eyes. “She knew. She knew he was going to be there and that’s how she wanted to go out.” Your puzzled expression makes him laugh. “Don’t know many politicians, do you? Good. Keep it that way. That day when the mail came I got a letter. From her. It said how she wanted to divorce Steve ever since he became the HOA president. But she couldn’t. He had threatened her once, just once and what he said was so blisteringly awful. And he did it. He is a man of his word, after all. He kept his damn word.”

“So...she used you as an out?” He winces. You hadn’t meant to sound like that.

“Yes.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Out in the diners parking lot you say goodbye to James. Wait. No, no. His name is Bucky. He’s got a green Chevy and blue eyes. Or was it red? It doesn’t matter anyway. You back out and head for the next state, ignoring the blood leaking from the tarp in your trunk. The screams have stopped. And the moon is bright.

#dark!reader x bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #mcu #marvel fic #bucky barnes x dark!reader #bucky barnes oneshot #dark!steve rogers #moongoblin marvel writes all by herself #bucky barnes x female reader

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fizzychocolatemilk · 3 years

Text

The Sky is Blue (...and Kacchan Loves Deku) (Bakudeku Tropetember Drabble)

Some of you might remember this preview that I said that I was putting on the back-burner. Well...I realized that I had a free space day for tropetember, so I was like, “Why don’t I finish this fic for that?!” So I finished it. Enjoy! AO3 link here.

The realization wasn’t a surprise. It was a quick, “oh, I love him,” but it didn’t catch him off guard. It was a universal truth, like the sky is blue or his hearing was going to go if he didn’t wear noise-cancellers with his hero costume. It was a normal day, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping happily, and Katsuki was with Deku. They were training, they usually are, but today the sun hit Deku’s hair just right and gave him a golden halo that made him look like an angel when he smiled and reached to help Katsuki up. “I love him,” he thought as he accepted the hand being offered to him, thinking nothing of the realization. It was obvious. The sky is blue, time stops for no one, and Kacchan loves Deku.

After the realization, he thought about Deku more if that’s possible. He sighed fondly when he saw him laughing with his friends; he borrowed notes from Half-n-Half or Ponytail because he could spend entire class periods admiring Deku’s reflection in the window next to their seats; he was more proud than frustrated when Deku ended up pinning him multiple times in a row during their sparring sessions.

He still encouraged Deku and he was still the best partner he could be for someone with a timeless quirk like One-for-All, but his love now encompassed his every action in a way that he never noticed before.

That’s why he noticed when Deku started pulling away.

It was slow at first. Deku started by making excuses to skip their hangouts every so often. First it was, “Denki-kun asked me for some help with his quirk theory homework.” or “Ei-kun wanted me to show him a new training regimen that I came up with to maximize his quirk.”

Then the excuses became more elaborate and more often, “Ocha-chan wants Shou-kun, Tenya-kun, and I to go to the mall with her to carry bags,” “...The girls want to give me a makeover...” or “Umm...Hanta-kun just sent me a text saying that he needs my help...because he taped himself...to a tree...by accident!”

While Katsuki was very understanding about these disappearances even though he knew that Deku was lying to him, it hurt his heart that Deku didn’t want to spend time with him enough for him to lie to his face. He wanted to get angry, wanted to rage at Deku for just getting up and abandoning them, abandoning what they were starting to have—but he couldn’t. Deku had every right to choose who he wanted to spend time with; Katsuki had just thought that their friendship was worth more than flimsy excuses and missed hangouts.

Katsuki had been going through the motions for the past week. Deku had eventually stopped giving him excuses and just started skipping their meetings. Shark-face and Raccoon-eyes had invited him to several “squad” sessions, but he told them that he wanted to train or that he had homework. Most of the time, he layed in his bed with his eyes closed—imagining shiny green curls, a smile that rivaled the sun, and constellations of freckles under a clear blue sky until he eventually fell asleep.

He always woke up with tears running down his cheeks.

The next week Katsuki sat next to Deku at lunch.

Usually he sat with his squad, but he wasn’t going to give up Deku without some sort of fight. After a week of living in a grey malaise where nothing really mattered to him, he realized that Deku was his world. He would chase Deku to the ends of the Earth, shoulder every tear to see him smile, and do anything, no matter how humiliating, to see him laugh. Kacchan loved Deku, and he was going to live by him until Deku told him to leave, no excuses.

Deku had been talking and laughing with his friends, but he was blushing when he turned to look at Katsuki. “Kacchan? Are you okay? Do you need something?”

Katsuki’s heart melted at the compassion that Deku was displaying. He’d missed him so much. At that point, he was blushing slightly as he replied, “I’m fine, Deku. I just...wanted to sit by you today. Missed you last week, nerd.”

He swore that steam started coming out of Deku’s ears when he said that. Deku was stuttering incoherently, his hands were flailing without purpose, and his face was so red that it rivaled Shark-face’s shitty hair.

“Nerd?! Are you okay?” Katsuki placed a hand on Deku’s shoulder and the back of the other on Deku’s forehead. “Shit, you feel a little warm. Should I take you to Recovery Hag?”

If it was possible, Deku flushes harder, which only makes Katsuki more worried. But then Half-n-Half interrupts them. “He’s in perfect physical health, Bakugou,” he says with a barely noticeable teasing smile. In the background, Floaty has broken down in laughter on Glasses’s shoulder.

Katsuki furrows his brow but doesn’t get angry. “Then what the fuck is wrong with him?!” This just makes Floaty laugh harder.

The Candy-Cane faced bastard just smiles knowingly, “You should ask him that.”

Deku had apparently gained enough coherency at that point to blurt, “Why don’t we spar tonight, Kacchan! Normal place, normal time!”

Katsuki’s eyes had shot to Deku when he’d started talking, and his heart started doing a victory dance when Deku invited him to spar. After weeks of excuses and another week of nothingness, Deku had finally agreed to spend time with him again! Katsuki didn’t realize he was smiling until he heard a choked gasp from his right.

Deku was once again incoherent, and he was staring at Katsuki like he had killed Deku’s mother. Katsuki caught himself and softened his smile (he couldn’t find it in himself to stop smiling completely...he was so ecstatic) before slightly nodding at Deku in confirmation of their plans. Deku’s flush got redder for some reason. Katsuki flushed too under Deku’s continued attention as he turned back to his food. What was going on in the nerd’s head?

Katsuki arrived in the grassy field of their usual sparring location right after class. Sometimes he and Deku would spar at night or in the morning, but the afternoon was the most convenient.

Deku hadn’t arrived yet, so Katsuki plopped down onto the vibrant grass and looked up at the sky. It was still breathtakingly blue. It reminded him of Deku. It reminded him of the day he realized his love. He smiled serenely while thinking about his nerd, his gorgeous eyes that Katsuki wouldn’t be able to adequately describe if he was given a thousand words, his smile that radiated sunshine and brightened Katsuki’s day at a mere glimpse, his bountiful kindness and optimism that simultaneously scared Katsuki and made his heart melt. Deku, Deku, Deku.

“Kacchan?” Deku had arrived, “Oh my goodness, you haven’t been waiting too long right?! I’m sorry!”

They were inconsequential words, but every one made Katsuki realize more and more how much he had missed his Deku. “I would wait forever for you,” he blurted. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but the words were the truth, a truth that Katsuki was no longer scared to share. “I would chase you to the fucking ends of the Earth, do any-shitty-thing to make you laugh, defeat hundreds of the most depraved villains to see your smile….Deku...Izuku….I love you. I love you so much it hurts, so much that I cannot fucking hold it within myself anymore. You have no obligation to return my feelings or even to be my friend—but I had to tell you that you mean so fucking much to me. My world is you, and without you, I am nothing.”

Green met red for a moment, a moment which conveyed the truth behind Katsuki’s words, before Izuku broke into tears.

Katsuki leaped up and pulled Izuku into a hug, rubbed his back and whispered platitudes to him until he stopped crying. They stood in silence for a moment, just holding each other, before Katsuki broke the silence, “Deku?” They needed to have a conversation.

“...Kacchan….You—How could someone as amazing as you love someone like me? How could I love you right back? I—Kacchan, what about me is there to love?”

Katsuki’s heart ached with the final question, but he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Izuku nodded against Katsuki’s shoulder, and Katsuki held Izuku’s face in his hands before giving him the sweetest kiss he could muster. It was both of their firsts, so it wasn’t very good, but Katsuki could feel Izuku’s insecurity and he hoped that Izuku could feel Katsuki’s all encompassing love.

Soon enough, their kiss broke as Izuku had broken down in sobs again. Katsuki pulled him in and placed Izuku’s head on his shoulder once again. After another stretch of holding each other and listening to Izuku’s cries, Izuku lifted his head and smiled at Katsuki before saying three simple words.

“I love you”

Izuku reached up to cradle Katsuki’s face in his hand, and Katsuki's heart warmed up as they kissed again. The world has simple truths: the sky is blue, Kacchan loves Deku….and apparently Deku loves Kacchan too.

That’s it! I hope you enjoyed! I’m considering making a part two from Izuku’s perspective...let me know if that’s a good idea. I’ll see y’all later!

#fizzy's fics #tropetember #I almost cried while writing this #it hit me in the feels #bakugou katsuki #soft bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki is GOOD at feelings #midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku is BAD at feelings #bakusquad #dekusquad #bakudeku #bkdk #dynadeku #bakdeku fanfic #bkdk fic #free space #feelings realization

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

Death and an Angel part 4

Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: When you and Din arrive at the village in Sorgan, you both learn that the universe is full of surprises.

Rating: G

Word Count: 3,300

Warnings: Fluffy fluff, angsty angst, pining (so...much...pining...)

Author Note: All the love and thanks to everyone who reads, likes, reblogs, and comments on this series! Seriously, the support is beyond words. I wanted to go ahead and spoil it now that Winta does not make an appearance. I love that little girl in the episode, but I just couldn’t get her to fit in this segment. Maybe she’ll appear later on in the future, I honestly don’t know how my brain works.

Also, fun fact, this will be my 100th post 😱🥳

Links to Part 1 and Part 3 and Part 5

Photo Inspiration: (I love black and white photos if you can’t tell by now...)

Sorgan is a beautiful planet, covered in massive forests and several freshwater lakes filled with krill. There is a tiny, farming village that isolates itself in the midst of Sorgan’s swampy region which is where you hope to find Omera. Rumor has it she’d fallen in love with the community five years ago and bound her nurturing powers to the planet, shielding them against the harshness of famine and plague. Her powers also prohibited other immortals from teleporting directly into the village, even if they meant no harm, thus forcing you and Din to walk the five-mile-long road from the common house to the village boundary line.

Mud sticks to the bottom of your shoes and the humidity is absolutely murdering your hair, but you love the addictive burn of fresh air filling your lungs, the symphonic sounds of the wilderness encompassing you. Here on Sorgan, the positive attributes far outweigh the negative ones.

Din walks beside you, close enough your arm occasionally brushes against his vambrace, and you find yourself glancing at him out of your peripheral every few steps, dazzled by how the sunlight reflects off his armor. He catches your eye more than once, inclining his head to stare back while puffing out his chest, preening like the kriffing asshole he is. Each time you swiftly turn away with a burning face, hating how his smugness changes to amusement at your inability to hold his gaze, even with the impeding visor.

You string together creative expletives in your mind, each one meant to strengthen your resolve to ignore him. Except, like clockwork, your eyes helplessly drift back over again mere minutes later, dooming you to a continuous cycle of torment and embarrassment.

At least up until you’re less than a mile from your destination and Din abruptly halts without warning. “How will I know?”

You nearly slip as you whirl around to face him, worried at first but then confused when the question registers. “Know what?”

��If I’ve met my match,” he answers, the hand branded with his soulmate marking restlessly clenching and unclenching at his side. “How will I know it’s my soulmate?”

It’s a question you’re extremely familiar with. Maker knows exactly how many times you’ve been asked it throughout your years as a Cupid, but it’s got to be nearing a couple hundred thousand at least. And yet your usual go-to answer—a speech fed to you by your bosses about the perfect plan of the universe—doesn’t feel right to give him. He deserves your own honest opinion.

The first time you ever matched two individuals, you’d naively expected literal sparks to appear when they shook hands. Or a beam of light to shine down on them from above, an unmistakable sign from the universe they were meant to be together. So you were crushed when absolutely nothing noteworthy happened, only that neither one was able to look away from each other, eyes as wide as moons and full of awe. The same kind of awe usually reserved for watching sunsets and hearing a baby’s first cry of life.

You’d realized then the exact moment soulmates experienced their connection was not something externally witnessed by the eyes of the world. It was an internal sensation felt only by the two halves finally becoming whole.

“They’re called your soulmate for a reason, Din,” you say, slowly drawing closer. You’re not truly cognizant of your actions, only your voice, and perhaps that’s why you reach out to take a hold of his gloved hand, rubbing your thumb over his leather-covered knuckles. Distantly, as if looking through a foggy window, you’re aware of the way his whole body freezes at your touch, but still you hold on, still the words keep flowing from your lips.

“The moment you shake their hand, there will be no doubt. It’ll be instant. Like you’re tasting air for the first time after being trapped underwater. Everything will be clearer, colors brighter. Your whole world will crumble apart at their feet because all that matters now is them. And the only thought you’ll be able to think is, ‘It’s you. All this time I’ve been waiting for you.’”

Din sucks in a ragged breath. It’s only barely audible because of your closeness, but it’s also just loud enough to snap you out of your daze. “Angel,” he says hesitantly. It’s your turn to freeze when he leans in, helmet pressing softly against your forehead. “Have you ever—“

You jerk backwards, cutting Din off and releasing your grip on his hand all in the same movement. Panic is swelling in your chest and you can’t stop it, clothes suddenly feeling too constricting and you force yourself to remember why you’re here on Sorgan, the importance of the mission at stake.

“We need to keep moving,” you say, looking anywhere but Din’s direction. “I don’t think the village is that much further.”

Din watches you silently, no doubt trying to make sense of your agitated state. You feel exposed, torn open at the seams with all your insecurities on full display for him to pick apart and criticize.

In the end though, he only heaves a sigh, respectfully granting you time to begin the slow process of stitching yourself back up.

“Lead the way,” Din says, gesturing towards the path with a nod of his head. “I go where you go.”

The rest of the journey would have been completed in silence, if not for how Din’s unfinished question seemed to float alongside you in the breeze, echoing in your ears.

Have you ever...

~~~

The villagers are scared of your arrival at first, panicked to be in the presence of Death. Parents clutch at their children and the elderly are ushered into huts, as if they’ll be better protected by being kept out of Din’s field of vision.

“I promise you, we don’t mean any harm,” you say, but your words do little to reassure any of them.

A woman emerges from the crowd, the only one whose expression doesn’t bear a hint of fear. Segments of her dark hair are intricately braided while the rest flows unhindered over her shoulders, long enough to nearly reach her waist. Her features are delicate, but there is strength in how she carries herself as she marches right up to you and Din, shoulders drawn back with determination.

“Omera,” you breathe, recognizing the woman for the goddess she truly is.

“Yes,” she says, sounding reluctant to confirm her identity. Her eyes flick between you and Din. “Who are you and why have you brought Death here? I have a formal agreement with the Guild that grants me permission to personally handle the passing of my people’s souls into the afterlife. Death should have no purpose here.”

This is news to you.

Not the reference of the Guild—you’re very much aware of Greef Karga’s organization of reapers who assist Din in maintaining the natural order by collecting deceased souls on his behalf across the galaxy. Despite all the powers that come with being Death, Din is unable to be everywhere all at once. So the reapers bring the souls to Nevarro where Karga holds onto them until Din arrives to usher them into the afterlife.

What you weren’t aware of is her claim that this village might be the one place in the whole galaxy where Death and his associates have no influence.

“I’m a Cupid. I help people find their soulmates.” You gesture to Din who stands so tense behind you, you’re not entirely certain he’s even breathing. “And currently, I’m helping him.”

The way Omera’s expression instantly brightens is almost comical. A smile grows across her face, warm and friendly as if she’s known you for years and not mere seconds. “Oh, forgive me my rudeness. That’s wonderful to hear. It’s been quite some time since we’ve had guests. Would you like something to drink?”

“Actually—” Din starts, speaking for the first time since you’ve arrived.

“Yes, I would love one,” you interrupt, digging your elbow into his side and eliciting a soft grunt. “I heard the spotchka here is exceptional.”

The villagers, who had relaxed once Omera deemed you and Din weren’t a threat, are eager to prove their reputation as spotchka brewmasters. Nothing brings people together like alcoholic beverages, and within the hour you are sitting on a log bench in the village center and chatting amicably with them.

It’s a happy, tight knit community. Omera’s nurturing powers have only further increased it’s natural conditioning as an ideal sanctuary to raise a family. Everyone knows one another and takes care of each other. You can see how easy it was for her to have fallen in love with the place.

“He’s different than I expected.” Omera interrupts your thoughts by nodding to someone behind you.

You follow her line of sight, and see Din standing distantly in a field of grass, surrounded by a squadron of younglings. He’s too far to be heard, but you can tell by the gesturing of his hands that he’s explaining to them the pieces of his armor. They’re hanging onto his every word, completely enthralled, if their wide-eyed expressions are any indication. You realize as you watch that they’ll never come to recognize Din as the true identity of Death due to Omera’s agreement with the Guild. In their eyes, he is just an interesting stranger wearing shiny metal who they can pester with an endless amount of questions.

“He’s got many layers,” you admit, turning back around before the bittersweet scene makes your heart melt into a disgusting puddle at your feet.

And it is only because you look away first that you notice how Omera’s gaze lingers just a beat too long.

“Does he ever take it off?” she asks. “The helmet, I mean.”

You hesitate, stalling by sipping at your spotchka. “Not when he’s Death.”

Omera looks at you like you’ve told her a riddle. “When is Death not Death?”

When he’s with me, the voice in the back of your head wants you to shout at her, but instead you ask, “You said earlier you handle the souls of the villagers when they pass away?”

“They asked me if I could protect their planet for future generations,” Omera explains slowly, confusion still present in the lines of her face. “My powers are strongly connected to the growth of life, blessing both expectant mothers and nature’s saplings. After I chose to bind myself to Sorgan, the villagers offered to lend me their souls as sources of energy to further strengthen it. So now, rather than losing them to the afterlife, we continue to see those who have passed on in every blossoming flower and in each drop of rain, remaining part of our everyday lives despite their physical absence.”

“That’s beautiful,” you breathe, because it’s the truth. It’s also the confirmation you needed to hear to honestly tell her, “He wouldn’t be Death here. He’d have the opportunity to be anyone else he wanted.”

Omera lets the words sink in for a moment, then she returns to staring at Din, eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully. You don’t blame her for being curious, especially since he’s barely said anything to her, subsequently forcing you to be the sociable one.

You thought when you both arrived he’d try harder than this to make a good first impression. Omera’s his potential soulmate, he knows this and yet it seems as if he’s doing all he can to avoid her.

Omera startles you out of your thoughts when she abruptly inches closer to you, as if preparing to share a secret in your ear.

“You said you were helping Death find his soulmate,” Omera’s voice is no louder than a murmur, seeming uncharacteristically bashful all of the sudden as she tugs at a strand of hair. “Does he...Has he been marked?”

It occurs to you then that this whole time she’s been fishing for information from you, gradually leading up to this particular question. This is a good thing, you tell yourself, despite the sickening pit forming in your stomach. It means she hasn’t been offended by his standoffishness.

“Yes.” Your head dips in a jerky nod. Fortunately the goddess doesn’t notice your awkwardness as she peers down at her hands folded in her lap. You know what’s there without having to see it. “We came here because I knew you’d been marked too.”

“I’d hoped so,” she confesses, showing you her palm. “I didn’t think it was possible, someone like me having a soulmate.” An immortal, your mind deciphers her underlying meaning. “But, then again, the universe always seems to be full of surprises, right?”

Soulmate markings all resemble each other as black lines forming the shape of a heart no bigger than a bottlecap in the center of one’s palm, regardless of what the person looks like themselves. They only appear on select individuals the universe picks for reasons known only by the divine Maker. Those without marks often make the ignorant mistake of comparing them to tattoos. A soulmate mark doesn’t fade with time like ink does, remaining eternally vibrant and warm to the touch, as if there’s a tiny flame buried beneath the skin.

You’ve seen thousands of marks on thousands of hands, yet your mouth dries up at the sight of hers despite it looking no different. An unexpected tremor rocks your body, worse than anything you’ve ever felt before. It’s as if you’ve been stabbed by an invisible shard of ice, threatening to freeze you solid from the inside out.

When you speak, each word scrapes against the inside of your throat and tastes bitter on your tongue. “You should go talk to him.”

Omera’s face goes a bit pink. “You think so?”

You force yourself to smile, hoping it doesn’t resemble a grimace or, Maker forbid, a snarl. “I think you’ll never know if he’s your match unless you do.”

Not needing any more convincing, she spares you one last hopeful look before leaving to approach Din. She walks across the grassy field with unhindered grace, not once tripping over a rock or the bottom of her dress, and you can’t help feeling envious, knowing your clumsy feet wouldn’t be able to carry you three steps without an issue. You watch as she says something to the children, inducing several disappointed groans audible even from where you sit, before one by one they each depart, seeking entertainment elsewhere in the village.

Omera and Din fall into conversation, and you bite your lip, knowing you’re only making the ache hurt worse by watching but unable to tear your eyes away. Their conversation is too quiet for you to make out, but given the way Din’s body language is relaxed and without a hint of defensiveness, you’re convinced Omera’s definitely charming him.

They’ll make an attractive couple, you think before you can stop yourself. They’re similar, too, in that they both have protective streaks a mile wide when it comes to those they care about. As a divinely gifted caretaker, Omera will know just what to say to pull him out of one of his brooding episodes. She’ll soften his rough edges, lend him strength when he needs it most, and might even be able to convince him to settle down in the village where he can shed his persona as Death and actually experience life. Most importantly, though, you hope she’ll make him happy.

Because Din deserves someone who will make him happy every day of his existence.

You know it’s coming, but still your breath stutters when you see Din begin to remove his glove. He moves slowly, revealing tanned skin inch by inch as he pulls at the leather with his other hand. He has never been one to hesitate over things in the past, except when he showed you his mark that night at the train station. You really don’t want to think that Din could be nervous, but you also can’t determine any other reason explaining his behavior. Omera, for her part, is the perfect image of patience as she waits for him to initiate contact, if not for the way you spy her pulling anxiously at her brown locks again.

As Din reaches out to grab hold of Omera's hand, there is a second right before contact where his helmet shifts in your direction and you feel the intensity of his gaze cut through the distance, piercing your fragile heart.

In the next breath, an invisible explosive force sends you hurtling backwards through the air several feet. You bite your tongue when you collide with the ground and blood begins pooling in your mouth, causing you to gag at the coppery taste. Ignoring the pain emanating from your undoubtedly bruised rib cage, you force your body to roll over so you can spit out a scarlet blob onto the dirt. Gross, you think sluggishly.

Movement out of the corner of your eye has your head turning to look, but it takes several more seconds before your brain comprehends what you’re seeing.

The village looks as if a massive wind storm has swept through it in the last five seconds. Several villagers are slowly rising onto their feet, having apparently also been roughly tossed to the ground, looking just as bewildered by the state of things as you feel.

Your eyes next lock onto Din’s figure. He and Omera stand in the distance exactly where you last saw them, appearing completely unaffected by the unseen force. But rather than looking at each other with awe as all other soulmate pairs do, there is only unbridled shock on Omera’s face.

With newfound urgency, you stumble onto your feet, knowing something’s gone horribly wrong.

“Din!”

Your shout startles him enough he visibly jolts, increasing your worry tenfold.

Your feet skid to a stop closer to his body than you anticipated, nearly colliding face-first with his chest. It’s on the tip of your injured tongue to ask them what the hell just happened when Din beats you to the punch.

“What happened to you?” he demands, cradling your jaw. He’s using his gloved hand, you can’t help but notice. His other one—still uncovered from when it had touched Omera’s—is pressed firmly against the segment of armor protecting his upper thigh. His thumb starts to wipe at the blood staining the corner of your mouth, but you refuse to be tended to when there’s a bigger issue at stake.

“What happened?” you repeat incredulously, pulling away and resisting the urge to smack the side of his helmet. “I should be asking you that, idiot. Did you two match?”

Omera says nothing in response to your question, but there is something about the way she stares at you directly, like you’ve revealed a secret of the universe right in front of her, that brings back the same self-conscious feeling of being exposed you’d felt earlier.

“Look for yourself, angel,” Din answers with a tone full of scorn, gesturing widely to your surroundings with both arms. “Does any of this look like what you told me would happen?”

Taken aback by his hostile tone, you glance around the field, only to be stunned by what you’d initially failed to notice. In an almost perfect circle encompassing the three of you, the once beautifully green and luscious grass is now black and shriveled, entirely devoid of life. It crunches beneath your shoes as you nervously shift in place, eerily resembling the sound of bone breaking, and you’re beginning to understand the shock you’d glimpsed on Omera’s face.

“No,” you say, feeling slightly hysterical but doing your best to keep it out of your voice. “No, it definitely doesn’t.”

Omera had said that the universe is always full of surprises.

What a kriffing understatement that turned out to be.

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#death and an angel #Pedro Pascal #Din Djarin #din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #soulmate au #my writing #my fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #mandalorian x reader #Mandalorian #the mandalorian

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