#in the blink of an eye she’ll be walking and talking and I’ll look fondly back on the days of my stubborn little baby

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

A Modest Proposal (Alcina x Fem!Reader)

Premise: You finally muster up the courage to propose to Alcina Dimitrescu. But will everything go as planned?

Note: Even though we technically don't know Alcina's middle name, I gave her Carmilla as her middle name in homage to another beloved Sapphic vampire! :)

Warnings: blood. Steamy scenes her and there, but nothing NSFW.

As you take the last steps towards your mistress’s chambers you have to stop for a minute and take some deep breaths. The other maids had taken to giving you concerned glances all morning. Your nerves had been so fraught that a plate had slipped out of your sweaty hands and broken. You didn’t mind the stares. To everyone else, this is just an ordinary day. Not for you.

Today is the day you are going to propose to Alcina Dimitrescu.

However, you have some errands to run first. For that you are going to have to ask Alcina, ironically enough, for the rest of the day off.

You steel yourself, slap your cheeks to banish any last nerves and knock on the door.

“Come in,” you hear an elegant, mature voice call.

Lady Dimitrescu is seated at her secretary, lining up accounts for the month. Her brow is furrowed in concentration. Upon clearing your throat, she takes off her reading glasses and when she sees you a smile bursts across her face that takes your breath away.

After a year and a half of courting, you could still not believe that this beautiful woman was your lover. You take in her laugh lines and dimples, her slightly puffy cheeks that she hated but you found adorable, her carmine lips freshly painted, and her blue eyes with a corona of gold around them that you found absolutely mesmerizing.

She takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. “Yes, iubirea mea, what can I do for you?”

“I would like to take the rest of the day off if that’s alright with you,” you say in a rush.

She blinks, surprised, but then smiles. “I don’t mind. After all, you’ve been working so hard lately. Have you cleared it with the head maid?”

“Yes-” Before you can say any more, in an instant Alcina has bent down and taken you in her arms with your back against her ample bosom. You feel hot breath on your neck and her curls tickle your ears as she whispers, “We could spend the whole day together. How would you like that, pet?”

You find yourself lost for words as she moves your uniform collar and begins kissing your neck. You lean back and sigh. Her perfume is intoxicating. She moves one hand to your hip and the other begins to peel back your skirt.

You would rather do nothing more than to make love to Alcina on your day off, however there are other matters more pressing. It takes great self control to take her hands off of you. A look of hurt crosses her face. You turn around and give her a chaste kiss and hold her face in your hands. “Forgive me, darling. I would love to but I have some errands to run. May I see you later? Dinner, the usual time?”

Her expression brightens and she kisses you deeply. “I’ll look forward to tonight then,” she says, tucking a curl behind your ear.

You can only nod and when you turn around, Alcina gives you a playful slap on the bum. You look back at her and she gives you a devilish grin.

Closing the door behind you, you can’t help but let out a chuckle. Alcina’s libido, it seemed, could never be satiated. As you take a step you wince and rub your behind. That woman honestly didn’t know her own strength sometimes.

You wrap your scarf around you as you leave the castle grounds. It may be the dead of winter but you find yourself sweating from nerves. The Duke catches your eye and waves you over.

“Ah, Miss Y/N! Just the lady I wanted to see. Your package just arrived.”

You feel your breath catch but nod silently. He turns around and begins rummaging around in the store. You turn around so as to not catch a glimpse of the Duke’s massive behind and you freeze. Alcina is at the window enjoying her morning cigarette. And she is staring directly at you.

You whisper to him, “Wait.” Alcina is still looking at you as she’s taking a drag off her cigarette. Smoke wreathes her gorgeous face. You give her a nervous wave. She waves back and then hears the phone ring. With a grimace, she puts out her cigarette and steps back inside.

You turn back to the Duke. “All right. It should be fine now.”

The Duke smiles and then presents you with a box slightly larger than a normal engagement ring box. With bated breath you open the box and behold the engagement ring that you have bought for Alcina.

Getting the ring had not been easy. When the Duke had told you the price for an engagement ring, especially a custom-made ring for Alcina, you nearly cried with frustration. After all, the main purpose of you working at Castle Dimitrescu was to send back money for your aging parents. When you and Lady Dimitrescu had first begun courting and she learned of your family’s financial situation she had offered to send them money herself each month so you didn’t have to work. However, your pride would not allow it. Any money sent back to your home, you wanted to come from your labors.

Getting enough money for your parents while also raising money to buy the ring had been a long and arduous process. You had begun taking up extra shifts to make up the money. There had been many nights where you had fallen asleep on the sofa with a feather duster in your hand and Alcina had to scoop you up in her arms and carry you to bed herself. But looking in at the ring within the box, you found it had been all worth it. The ring is beautiful, around 14 karats of gold inlaid with rubies forming the House Dimitrescu crest. You are sure Alcina would love it. It had taken time to get the exact measurements of her ring finger. While Alcina was asleep, you had taken her left hand often and studied her ring finger making sure the ring fit snug but not too tight. To get the crest right, you had taken to drawing it over and over again in your off time before you had a drawing good enough to show the Duke to have it commissioned.

You look up and grin at the Duke with tears in your eyes. “Duke, it's beautiful!” you breathe. “Alcina- er, Lady Dimitrescu will love it!”

He pats your hand as you slip the box into your apron pocket. “Not a problem at all, m’dear! Good luck tonight!”

With that done, you head back to the castle. You practically skip back to the gates, taking out the box every so often and peeking inside. Your joy dissipates when you realize what the next item on your to do list is.

Asking for Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters’ blessing.

When you walk in, you actually run into them getting ready to go out. Bela smiles at you as she adjusts Daniela’s cowl on her traveling cloak. “Y/N! Good to see you! Mother told us you had taken the day off.”

Cassandra pipes up, “We were just going out to go hunting! Want to come with us?”

“Actually I wanted to talk to you all about something,” you say as you look around the foyer for any sign of the girls’ mother. “Is there somewhere private we can all talk? Preferably somewhere your mother doesn’t frequent?”

Daniela’s eyes glitter mischievously. “Oooh, keeping secrets are we? Come on, I know a perfect place we can hide!”

Daniels leads the pack to the library. “Mother usually practices her singing around this time,” she says over her shoulder. “So there’s not a chance she’ll overhear anything you say.”

Sure enough, you hear Lady Dimitrescu’s voice singing an elaborate coloratura from upstairs. Perfect.

Daniela’s hands run over the panels in the wall. “Now where is it….Aha there it is!” Daniela picks up a loose panel on the wall and puts it to the side. She steps in and backons the rest of you forward.

There is no light in this room save for torches every couple meters. The room can’t be much more than 6 feet tall, so there was no way Lady Dimitrescu could fit in properly. “We used to hide from Mother here all the time as children,” Daniela winks conspiratorially at you.

Cassandra begins jumping up and down excitedly. “Now what’s the secret? Tell us! Tell us!”

You take a deep breath and then let it out. “All right...Tonight I am planning on proposing to your mother and-”

You are cut off by the girls’ cries of jubilation. Daniela runs over and gives you a big hug. Bela has burst into happy tears. Cassandra continues jumping up and down and chanting, “Bonus mom! Bonus mom!”

You can’t help but laugh. “Does that mean I have your blessing?”

“Of course!” they yell in unison.

Bela says excitedly, “The ring! Do you have a ring?”

Blushing furiously you nod and take out the black velvet box and open it. They “ooh” and “aah” and take turns looking at it before they finally relinquish it back to you. As you put the box back into your pocket, you say, “Well girls, I need to start getting ready. Please make sure not to do anything to arouse your mother’s suspicions. I want it to be a surprise.”

The girls nod their assent, but Cassandra interjects, “Do you need help getting ready? We want you to be looking your best for tonight!”

Everyone enthusiastically agrees and you can’t help but smile fondly at the girls. You may be closer in age to them, but ever since you had begun courting their mother, you loved them like they were your own children. “All right, if you insist.”

The girls cheer and Cassaandra takes you by the hand and leads you back to your room to get ready.

15 minutes before your meeting with Lady Dimitrescu you take a look in the mirror. The girls truly outdid themselves on your makeover. Daniela had curled your hair and it hung in ringlets over your shoulders. Cassandra had given you one of her dresses, a red column dress that was backless with a plunging neckline. This wasn’t the sort of thing you would normally wear, but you had to admit the silhouette was very flattering, highlighting your natural curves. The best part: it had pockets large enough to hide the ring box! Bela was on makeup duty, giving you wingtips sharper than Alcina’s claws and a smokey eye. You spritz on some rosewater perfume and head out. As you pass the hall mirror, you consider putting your hair up in a chignon but think better of it. Alcina had always liked your hair best when it was down.

When you are at the door to Alcina’s chambers you take a deep breath before knocking on the door. “Come in, iubirea mea,” Alcina’s voice purrs within.

You head inside and Alcina has her back turned on you, lighting the candelabras at the table she has set up for you two. “I’ve needed this, my love. You should’ve heard what that fool Heisenberg-”

She stops and stares at you. You can’t help but feel self-conscious as she takes you in. She finally sets the candlestick she was using to light the others back in the candelabra and heads purposefully towards you. She scoops you up in her arms and kisses you deeply, burying her hands in your curls. She breaks the kiss and strokes your cheek. “You look beautiful,” she says breathlessly.

You can’t help but blush at the compliment. “So do you,” you reply as she sets you down gently, praying she doesn’t hear the box rustling in your skirts. She takes your hand and leads you to your seat where she pulls out your chair for you. You take her hand that is resting on the back of your seat and kiss it.

Dinner proceeds as normal at first. You listen to her talk about her day, which takes your mind off the proposal for a bit. Then she puts it at the forefront of your mind when she says, “I saw you talking to the merchant this morning. Did you have anything special coming in?”

Your mouth goes dry. How do you respond to that? “Oh, no. He just wanted to chat. You know how he gets!”

Alcina purses her lips but nods eventually. “Indeed.”

Awkward silence settles over you for a bit. Then she begins talking again, this time ranting about Heisenberg and you almost sigh in relief. This is easy. You just have to listen and agree with whatever she says.

“And then do you know what that fool called me? He called me a ‘simp’ for Mother Miranda! I didn’t even know what that was. I had to ask my daughters and when they told me of course I was infuriated.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean, a simp? Me? Ha! Imagine! He’s just jealous because he wishes that he had half the devotion that I have for her!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you think I’m a simp?”

“Uh-huh.”

She glares at you from across the table. Damn. She’s caught you.

You stumble over your words trying to correct your stupid blunder. “I mean, no! Of course you’re not a simp! Where would he get that idea?”

Alcina leans across the table and takes your chin in her hand, forcing you to look directly into her eyes. “Am I boring you, pet?” she asks, a dangerous edge to her voice.

“Er, no! No, I'm having a great time!” you say, smiling stupidly at her.

Alcina lets go of your chin and settles back in her chair, crossing her arms. Her stormy expression can’t disguise the look of hurt on her face. “You were the one that suggested we meet tonight, darling. I can’t see why you would want to if you’re not going to at least attempt to be present with me.”

“I’m sorry, darling. I-”

She turns away from you, her large hat blocking her expression. “Maybe you should go.” She gets up and crosses the room to open the door.

No, no, God, no this can’t be happening. This is your worst nightmare. You can’t let her open the door, you just can’t.

You practically fall to one knee. “Alcina!”

“What?” she snaps, turning her head toward you. Her expression softens as she sees that you are down on one knee with the box open. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she says so quietly you have to lean to hear it, “Draga mea, what are you doing?”

You had a big speech prepared for this. But everything else has gone to hell in a handbasket, so you might as well get it over with. “Alcina Carmilla Dimitrescu, will you marry me?”

Alcina just stands there and stares. The tears that had been building in her eyes now spill over as she kneels down to your level and gives you a passionate kiss.

You smile against her lips and break the kiss. “Does that mean yes?”

“Yes, my darling,” she gives you a watery smile and caresses your jaw. “Yes.”

With trembling hands you take the ring out of the box and slip it on her left ring finger. She lifts her hand and inspects the new ring in the chandelier light. The rubies catch the light, nearly blinding you with their brilliance.

“How does it fit? It’s not too tight?”

She beams at you, positively radiating with joy. “It fits perfectly.” She then rises and heads over to her dresser and opens the top drawer. To your surprise, she pulls out a red box with the Dimitrescu family crest on the top. She sinks to one knee and presents you with an old, but beautiful ring. It must have been passed down through the Dimitrescu bloodline for generations.

Your face feels hot and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. She gently takes your arm. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” She wipes the tears that have already begun cascading your cheeks. “It is tradition for House Dimitrescu to propose with the family ring to symbolize the unification of two houses. I had been planning to propose to you next week. You beat me to it, you clever girl.” She takes your hand and slips the Dimitrescu family ring on your ring finger. It is slightly larger than your finger, but you don’t care. You couldn’t be happier.

Alcina takes you into her lap and kisses you passionately. In between kisses, she queries, ”All those extra shifts you took. They were all for me?”

“Yes, my love,” you say breathlessly. “All for you.”

She stands up and takes you in her arms. You wrap your arms around her neck as she deepens the kiss, exploring your mouth with her tongue. You can taste salty tears on her lips. She carries you over to the bed kissing you the whole time and sets you down gently. She kneels over you on the bed and you rest your leg on her hip. The slit in your skirt rises up, exposing your stockinged leg. After putting her hand gently on your shoulder, Alcina begins kissing your neck. You lean back into the cushions and sigh.

You hear a low moan in her throat, almost like a whine as she kisses your pulse point. You don’t say anything; you just nod. Soon enough you feel the sharp but familiar sensation of Alcina’s fangs piercing your neck. She holds you against her body and you bury your hands in her curls, causing her hat to fall off. Briefly taking her hand off your shoulder, she slaps the hat aside like it was so much rubbish. You take pleasure in every sigh, every moan, every exclamation you elicit from her as she drinks. When she finally stops drinking she wipes her mouth and gives you a seductive smirk. “Good girl,” she purrs.

Alcina’s mouth is on yours again as she undoes your halter while you unhook her garter. She breaks the kiss and cradles your face in her hands. “Te iubesc, draga mea.”

You take her hand and kiss it while saying, “And I you, Alcina.”

The two of you make love until the sun rises the next morning.

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 village #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #re8 fanfiction #lady dimitrescu fanfic #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina x maiden #lady dimitrescu x female reader

[silverynight]

Can you write a oneshot about the kamboko squad and their mission during the Entertainment District Arc? I could imagine the hashiras just keep on visiting Sumiko. (The poor ladies must be so confused on why Sumiko is so popular 😭.) If you want, you can also write about the boys putting on their make up before the mission. Either way I feel like the chaos would be great >:D (Sorry for my bad english!)

(This is not going to follow the main events of that arc, only Tanjirou posing as a courtesan for another mission)

***

If he's being honest, Tanjirou doesn't think too much about appearances, not even then as he's trying to pretend to be a girl. He just needs to find the demon who's been terrorizing the whole Red District and then go back to his friends.

"You're really pretty, Sumiko," one of the girls (her name is Kana, if he remembers correctly) comments carefully removing Tanjirou's makeup after he's been helping all of them carry heavy stuff around the house. She had said she wanted to pay her back by helping her with something. "You just don't know how to apply makeup. Don't worry, you have me now."

He thanks her sincerely, feeling grateful for the kindness the girl has showed him, but he doesn't even waste his time finding a mirror to look at the final result; he keeps moving around the house, helping all the girls while trying to get new information.

"You're so nice to us, Sumiko!" One of them almost sobs, wrapping herself around him. Tanjirou immediately feels bad again for hiding his true identity from all of them. They deserve so much better. "I really wish you find a nice, wealthy person so they can get you out of here!"

"But you know most of them wouldn't buy a scarred girl," says another, earning glares from the ones around.

"It's alright, really!" Tanjirou assures them with a huge grin. "It means I'll get to stay with you and help you as much as I can!"

Suddenly, he's surrounded by girls in an embrace that for a moment, makes him feel like he's back at home with his family again. He holds back a sob.

When he's back in his room he gets another letter from Zenitsu; despite him being usually talkative in most of them (he mentions Nezuko a lot, which Tanjirou is very much glad about) this just contains a couple of words, which surprises him.

All the hashira found out about your mission.

Tanjirou frowns, looking around to see if there's another page on the ground, another piece of parchment with more information.

He has no idea why Zenitsu thought that was something he should know.

***

Kana is aware the House she was sold into is popular, but she's never seen something like that before.

The first swordsman that arrives both scares the girls and attracts them at the same time; he's the most handsome man they have had in a while and of course everyone around wants to be the one to entertain him.

He's tall and even though he's completely covered from his neck to his feet in some sort of uniform, they all can see he's pure muscle underneath.

He's blond, but has red tips that make him look like a torch all the time. All about him screams fire.

Oh, they all like him.

The woman in charge looks at him with such a pleased expression as soon as she sees the money he's carrying.

"Let me show you the girls..."

Right then though, Sumiko walks out, carrying a huge chair over her shoulders; she leaves it near the entrance. Honestly, that girl is unbelievable strong.

Her dark red hair is a mess, her makeup is already falling off, but her cheeks are still pink because she's been doing nothing but heavy chores since she arrived.

The woman in charge is already pushing her away so the customer doesn't see her (because that woman believes the scar on her forehead is too ugly and therefore no one would ever want her).

"I want that one," the client says without hesitation.

"But she's–"

He purposely ignores her and takes Sumiko in his arms.

For a moment, Kana wonders if she's witnessing what some people call "love at first sight" because the man looks so in love already.

When he walks away with her, she thinks that maybe she'll never get to see Sumiko again and feels a little bit lonely because of it. The girls in the house have really grown fond of her rather quickly.

***

Sumiko returns and the beautiful people keep walking in the place asking about her.

A man with dark hair and deep blue eyes and a permanent neutral expression on his face arrives the next day. He's really handsome, but Kana notices he's less popular among the girls because of his somber demeanor.

"Leave him to me," one of Kana's friends winks. "I love quiet ones."

"I want to see Sumiko," he says, surprising everyone again.

Then, before he takes her, Kana swears she sees a fond smile quirking his lips up as Sumiko beams at him.

"Tomioka-san! Hi! Do you want a report?"

The last sentence doesn't make any sense so Kana convinces herself she just imagined it.

***

They have lost the ability to get surprised; as the third one walks in (a tall man with huge arms and a flamboyant personality) this time, they all know he has come to see Sumiko.

She's really popular now; Kana and her sisters (as she calls the other girls that work with her) have accepted it a while ago. However, they have never felt jealous of her; they really love her, the girl has charmed her way into their hearts with kindness.

"Look at you," the man grins at her; he's so tall he has to kneel in front of her. He's so clearly flirting with Sumiko, Kana has no idea how she isn't a flustered mess already. "So pretty. You look like my future wife."

Sumiko chuckles, like she's used to hearing things like that.

"You're so funny, Uzui-san."

***

It's not unusual to get female customers; many girls arrive at the House, looking for a pretty girl to have some fun with.

No, what surprises them is that the girl is really beautiful; she has long, pink hair and an innocent look on her face that tells Kana she doesn't get to visit that sort of places very often...

Perhaps it's her first time.

However, her shyness vanishes as she sees Sumiko, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her closer before kissing her on the cheek.

Kana gives the other girls a knowing look before they all leave Sumiko and the client alone.

***

Kana counts nine; they're nine loyal customers that only come to see Sumiko. They come really often and sometimes bring her gifts that Sumiko immediately shares with the other girls.

"I think it's more than... physical," Kana mumbles, saying out loud what everyone there has been thinking for a while now. "I think they're in love with you."

"Uh?" Sumiko blinks at her in confusion, after taking a sip of her tea. "What are you talking about?"

"The people that visit you," Kana insists, rolling her eyes. She's never met such an oblivious girl.

"They're just being nice."

Kana decides not to keep bothering her with that and instead asks about something that has been troubling her for a while.

"So... About the one with scars all over his chest," shs mumbles, remembering the first time she saw him; he's handsome, but he always looks like he's about to growl or bite someone. "The one with white messy hair. Is he... Has he been gentle with you?"

Sumiko blushes to the tip of her ears, quickly realizing what she's trying to say.

"It's not like that... Uhh, I m-mean, he's... not usually... He knows how to be kind," Sumiko stammers.

Kana nods, recalling the day; how she begged the master of the House not to let Sumiko go with him, but the woman just huffed that he had the money so they couldn't deny him.

She's glad he's not aggressive with her; part of her knows that he's also in love with Sumiko in his own way.

***

Shinobu can't help but smile fondly at Tanjirou as the boy puts back his haori. He seems happy to be wearing his uniform again, even though all the Pillars think he looked really pretty as Sumiko.

"I'm glad the demon won't hurt anymore people," Tanjirou grins, looking at Muichiro who swoons with delight at the attention. "Thanks for helping me fight him!"

"Anything for you, Tanjirou!"

Next to them, Tengen is already begging Mitsuri to give Tanjirou one of her skirts and assuring her he'll convince him to wear it in the hashira headquarters for their next meeting.

Shinobu rolls her eyes.

"Kocho-san, can I bring some of the girls to the butterfly estate so they can start working there?" Tanjirou asks, eyes opening wide. He looks adorable and he probably doesn't even know it. "Please, they don't like working in that House!"

Shinobu sighs, knowing that by "some" he means anyone who wants to come with him, which is probably all of them.

She doesn't even bother to ask her fellow hashira what they think, because judging by the ridiculous, fond looks on their faces they're ready to say yes to anything Tanjirou asks them.

"Fine. We'll get them out of there."

"Thank you!" Tanjirou beams and she can't help but smile in return as she ruffles his hair.

Kyojuro takes the opportunity to put him over his lap as Giyuu glares at the flame hashira, however, he takes Tanjirou's hand in his before kissing it gently.

They're hopeless; Shinobu has no idea how they didn't ruin the whole mission because none of them could stop paying visits to Sumiko. How did no one notice there was something weird going on there?

***

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#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #tanjiro kamado #kyojuro rengoku #giyu tomioka #sanemi shinazugawa #shinobu kochou #tengen uzui #mitsuri kanroji #muichiro tokito #kyotan #giyutan #anonymous #asks #ask silverynight

[lonely-lost-soul]

Under the Floorboards Part XI:

(Technoblade x reader) First Part / Previous Part

Shimmering lights sparkled above you, your dress was a deep scarlet that billowed around your feet like a halo. The corset around your waist felt tight as you leaned backward spreading your arms wide like you were asking for a hug from the universe itself. The ballroom was vast and empty, only soft music could be heard behind you, soft violins, and harps. You took in the warm lights above you, your diamond wedding ring shone brilliantly off the candles as you began to hum. Blood covered your masquerade mask, neck, and hands, a bloody sword laid by your feet, long since falling out of your hands. Hands traced the curvature of your figure and soft lips landed on the juncture of where your neck met your shoulder blade. A smile came across your lips as you breathed lightly, “Billiam.” His hands traced soft circles on your hips, the butler watched from afar, his brown hair covering his glowing red eyes. Karl watched in mild terror as Sir. Billiam whispered something in his wife’s ear, your grin only served to widen till your cheeks hurt, you brought your hand up to cup his cheek. Your eyes met with Karl’s and he took a few steps back, he couldn’t believe that all this time it was the mild-mannered wife, in the ballroom with the sword who killed the party. Sir. Billiam kicked the sword up and caught it in his hands, you leaned against your lover's chest as he held the sword against your throat, red rubies trailed down your neck in droplets. The violins picked up in a loud roaring crescendo, “Praise be the egg,” you whispered as he sliced your neck wide open swallowing your mouth in a kiss.

“Praise be the egg, my dear.”

You woke up in a cold sweat, it clung to you like a second skin as you sat up. Your hands came to cover your neck where it had been cut in your dream...nightmare? You couldn’t quite place a name on it, Aether and Technoblade both stirred beside you. Technoblade sat up on his forearms and turned his head to face you, you were breathing heavily. He watched as you brought your wrist up to your line of sight, three tally marks were etched into the skin, your jaw dropped onto the floor.

Technoblade reached over Aether to snatch your wrist and get a good look at the marks, three cannon lives. You had three, he gaped at you

You were intertwined in the twisted workings of the Smp, DreamXD had smiled upon you and your household.

“Is it supposed to be itchy?” You asked while you carried Aether upstairs trying to ignore the buzzing underneath your skin, Technoblade frowned at his wife, a mixed feeling churning in his gut. On one hand, he was relieved you had more than just one life, but on another hand now that you’ve caught the eye of DreamXD...you’d never be free to live a peaceful life. “Cause it’s really itchy,” You whined while sitting Aether down on top of Steve so you could scratch at your wrist.

“I don’t remember. I think mine was,” Technoblade gently removed your nails from your skin. “Don’t scratch at it, all you’ll do is irritate the skin, I’ll grab some ointment.”

“Thanks, Tech,” You kissed the corner of his lips and he smiled weakly at you, for that was all he could do in his current state of turmoil. He opened up the first aid kit and came back over to your place in the kitchen. Aether was sitting on the countertop lightly nibbling on a muffin. Technoblade stood beside you as he picked up your hand, he pressed a feather-light kiss to your new lifeline before he gently rubbed the hydrocortisone on your irritated wrists.

“Better?”

“Much,” You sighed in relief gazing at the lines with mild interest. Technoblade wanted to draw you away from whatever you were thinking,

“I got a letter from BadBoyHalo.” Technoblade piped up grabbing a pot of coffee, “He wants to meet up with the both of us, I have a feeling it has something to do with the egg.”

“Egg?”

“You’ll see.” He groaned, “I have a feeling he’s going to show up sometime today. I’ll bring Steve as a backup just in case,” Technoblade sighed watching you glance over at Aether, eyebrows furrowing together. You looked back over at him,

“We can’t let him know about Aether.”

“He won’t.” You let out a breath of relief and kissed the top of Aether’s head, he smiled up at you and made a happy sound. “We’ll keep him safe under the floorboards if he can keep quiet he’ll be okay.” Technoblade ruffled the top of Aether’s head with his hand, “You’re a good kid right?” Aether nodded his head rapidly not wanting to let Technoblade down, “Thanks, kid.” Technoblade caught your fond smile and flushed a light pink, “what?”

“You’re attached.” You hummed wrapping your arms around his waist, he grumbled under his breath and pushed you off, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” He sighed as knocking sounded on your cabin door. “Go hide Aether, I’ll distract BadBoyHalo.” You nodded picking Aether up into your arms and kissing the top of his head, Technoblade opened the door an eyebrow cocked. “New outfit?”

BadBoyHalo smiled a wide smile at the blade, his new black and white robes billowed from behind him as he stepped into Technoblade’s abode. “Yes! You noticed, do you like it?” He chirped fondly stepping back a little as Steve bared his teeth. “Is that a polar bear?”

“He’s Steve. It’s (Y/n)’s and I’s emotional support polar bear, he’s a good boy. He’s very good at following commands, he’s a great attack bear.” Technoblade tossed a fish Steve’s way and he caught it in his mouth tearing it to shreds in a matter of moments. BadBoyHalo’s nose scrunched up in distaste,

“That’s...um nice.” He cleared his throat before clapping his hands together, “where is your lovely wife?” He tilted his head to the side smiling a tight-lipped smile.

“She’s finishing up getting dressed. She’ll be back here in a second, slept in,” Technoblade waved the demon man off. Steve’s nub of a tail began to wag as you climbed back up the ladder, “Here she is now.”

“Hello! I’m Bad it’s very nice to formally meet you, Mrs. Blade!” Bad grinned reaching out to shake your hand, you took with a smile.

“Pleasure, and (Y/n)’s just fine. I’m more than just Technoblade’s eye candy.” You winked teasingly at the tall man who looked shocked,

“I never meant to assume-”

“You’re fine.” You reassured, “I was only teasing it’s no problem.” You smiled warmly as Steve nudged your elbow, “Hi big guy!” You cooed kissing all over the bear’s fur, he rumbled deep in his chest. Bad looked shocked at the bear’s complete compliance to your affections, “So! Where are we off to today?” You hummed as Technoblade pulled you close to his side, eyeing Bad suspiciously.

“I just have someone I want to introduce you to is all.” Bad hummed fondly, “I want to see what you think of it, I think all of you will get along great.” He praised his close friend fondly, and you smiled,

“We’d love to meet them, we can bring Steve right?” You looked up at Technoblade innocently,

“I’m not sure if that’s-”

“Obviously.” Technoblade scoffed called Steve over to him, he walked over with a gruff huff as Technoblade placed a lead on him. “Okay, we’re all ready when you are,” Technoblade nodded as BadBoyHalo blinked in mild shock,

“Um...okay!” He cleared his throat, “follow me then I suppose!” He headed outside the home and as you all left Technoblade caught sight of Ranboo. The halfling was holding a grass block in his hands and Techno motioned for him to follow. As the group of you made your way into the hole that was once L’manburg, Bad talked and talked about how wondrous his friend was, and how excited they were to meet the both of them. The entire way there Technoblade would destroy these red vines while urging you not to touch them, you were confused but listened without argument.

Even though you listened without argument, you couldn’t help but be drawn to touch them, they seemed to be whispering to you softly, wanting you near. You pushed the thoughts to the side, trying to block out those whispers, however, it was much more difficult than you anticipated. Your mind drifted wondering if this is how Technoblade felt daily, you understood him a little bit better at that moment. The raspy voices called Sir. Billiam’s name, the name meant nothing to you but made your head pound and your heart hurt painfully. You jolted feeling a hand grasp your shoulder, you were met with the concerned face of Technoblade. Unbeknownst to you, you all arrived at Bad’s friend’s hideaway, “You alright?” Technoblade whispered into your ear,

“I...Yes.” You responded as Technoblade squeezed your shoulder once again, he wished he could’ve brought Steve in with him to comfort you. “I’m alright Tech, we shouldn’t keep Bad waiting.” You entered the red room with your husband following close behind you, your eyes widened in horror seeing the entire room coated in thick red vines. There in the far right corner sat a giant pulsating egg, the voices grew louder urging you to reach out and simply touch the vines.

“Don’t touch them,” Technoblade told you almost like he could read your thoughts, the demon scoffed at Technoblade’s protectiveness. Bad crossed his arms in front of his chest but didn’t argue. The Blade picked you up in his arms just to be extra safe and carried you over to the egg, before gently resting you on the solid cobblestone floor. Your stomach churned with anxiety as Bad smiled brightly motioning to the egg, introducing you and Technonlade to his so-called friend. You were barely paying attention to what BadBoyHalo was saying, a voice entered your mind, it poked at the sides of your brain, trying to find any available crevice to slip into.

‘Lady (Y/n) I haven’t seen you in decades.’ It purred in your mind stealing your breath away, ‘You’re just as beautiful as I remember you being, and still married to a descendent of Sir. Billiam I see. Not even death could keep the two of you apart.’

‘I don’t understand.’ You thought pupils shrinking, ‘Who’s Billiam? Who are you?’

‘I go by many names the one most familiar to me is The Egg. I can grant and honor your deepest desires, my dear, I see all. I know all. I can help you get what you want most in the entire world.’

‘Oh do you?’ You mentally scoffed, ‘Jokes on you I don’t even know my own desires.’

‘Don’t you wish for Tommy to come back to you? For everyone on the SMP to be at peace. For the children not to suffer, to raise Aether in a safe environment free from government and its posion? Have other children with your husband, raise them well?’ You felt your cheeks turn bright red at the thought,

‘How did you-’

‘I know all my child.’

“Princess?” Technoblade grumbled beside you, pulling you against his side, “Keep your focus on me alright.” His eyes narrowed at an innocent-looking Bad, “What are you trying to do to her?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Bad hummed drumming his fingers gently against the egg, “She’s talking to the egg! It’s offering her the world just like it’s going to do for you! It only wants to help.”

“We don’t need anything else, especially not from some overgrown chicken egg. We’re fine.” Technoblade snarled at the demon and the egg the voices were demanding blood and the egg’s promises were drowned out by the voices. He was getting a migraine as his patience ran thin, Bad looked a little nervous at the way Technoblade’s teeth grit against one another.

“Techno…” You whispered quietly leaning against his side, You tried to reassure him but the way the voices urged for blood didn’t sit well with him, especially now that Bad had caught sight of Ranboo as well. Technoblade didn’t want to be forced to choose between Ranboo or you, he’d avoid that scenario at all costs.

“Just stay by me and don’t touch the egg or anything.”

“But-” Technoblade shot you a stern look, worry flickering across his face, he didn’t like that but, not at all. “It’s not all bad…”

“WHAT!” All four of them shouted, wait four? When did Captain Puffy get here? The only one overjoyed was Bad as he clasped your hands within his own.

“I’m so excited to hear that!” He exclaimed pulling you away from Techno who bared his teeth at the demon. “Come closer, you just have to touch it!”

“Oh fuck that!” Puffy snapped shooting an arrow right in between you and Bad, distracting you just enough so that Technoblade could snatch you back in his arm. “Bad you can’t just use the egg to manipulate people to join your side! Especially not (Y/n)!”

“Language!” Bad scolded the pirate his eyes narrowing, “I’m- We’re-” He motioned to the egg, “Aren’t manipulating anyone! The egg showed her something she desired, something she needs, and that it can help her get!”

Technoblade’s brow furrowed as he looked at you, red seeping into the corners of your eyes. He couldn’t imagine what you might want enough that he couldn’t give to you. A selfish part of him was hurt that he couldn’t provide enough, couldn’t make you happy enough so that’d you’d listen to an omlette. Still, he wasn’t just going to hand you over, he gripped you tighter,

“Look just, just give me one more chance to convince both of you!” Bad gushed, “All of you, follow me. You too little spy.” Bad pointed a claw-like finger at Ranboo who shrunk in on himself. He stepped over the vines motioning for all of you to follow, reluctantly you all did so, Puffy put a hand on your shoulder while Technoblade hovered close.

“You alright girly?” Puffy whispered to you, the red was still swimming in the corners of your eyes. “You can get through this okay?”

“I’m alright Puffy. I just have a killer headache.” You spoke with a strained smile, “Everythings just all muddled, I keep seeing flashes of...someone who looks like me in a striking red gown. I just…” You groaned rubbing your eyes causing Technoblade to turn to look over at you, you sent him a weak smile back. He growled under his breath, not mad at you just mad at Bad, he knew that you were hearing voices. He knew how difficult that was from personal experience you just needed to hang on a little bit longer, then you both could sleep the day away with Steve and Aether. When Bad brought all of you to the other egg-like structure he wanted to run his sword through Bad’s chest, fuck not bringing Steve along.

Bad tried to argue against the bear coming into the meeting area, he simply vetoed that by simply ignoring the demon man’s protests. Ranboo was silently hovering around you, everyone seemed to be on high alert as their nerves increased. Even in your delirious state, your hand interlocked with Ranboo’s claws giving it a reassuring squeeze,

“It’ll be alright Ranboo,” You reassured as Bad smiled at the both of you, “Trust me. If anything goes wrong Techno will protect us.” From behind you Technoblade’s shoulders relaxed considerably, he knew he would protect you, for now, that was enough for him. Bad went on and on about the egg, sliding in a few casual threats about Ranboo and even (Y/n). Technoblade was desperately trying to keep it together, the voices roared for blood after all no one threatens (Y/n) and one of his only friends. He watched as Bad gripped both the shoulders of his wife and Ranboo, a sinister smile on his face.

“After all Techno, it would be a crying shame if something happened to Ranboo and (Y/n) wouldn’t it?”

Technoblade’s pupils turned into slits as steam exited his nose, he grit his teeth. “Don’t touch them,” He hissed viciously even Puffy who was beside The Blade pulled out her sword. Technoblade decided to follow her lead and just as Technoblade pulled out his sword, the floor below you and Ranboo gave out. You let out a startled yelp as you grabbed onto Ranboo, as you fell, you held him to your chest you wouldn’t let him get hurt. As your head make contact with the stone ground you were out like a light.

An elegant figure stepped out of the large master bedroom, her hair pulled back, her slippered feet padding against the hardwood floors. Moonlight shone in through the large windows illuminating your features, you stepped out onto the balcony where your husband stood. A glass of whiskey in his hand, he twirled it absentmindedly, his loose pajama pants sat low on his hips. Your arms wrapped around his waist and rested your chin on his shoulder, he tensed only briefly before relaxing in your arms.

“Beautiful night Billiam.” You responded casually pressing a kiss to the side of his neck,

“Can’t sleep my dear one?” He asked, voice rich much like the taste of honey, as Billiam reached up and brushed his thumb against his wife’s cheek.

“I could say the same thing to you,” You shot back with a sad smile as he clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction. “Are you at all worried about the masquerade tomorrow?” You asked softly as he turned around to face you, he grabbed your hands brushing his thumbs across your knuckles.

“Are you?” Billiam asked tenderly as you looked away in shame, “It’s alright if you are. You don’t do this often, but the egg is pleased that you want to take part.” Billiam’s eyes flashed a deep scarlet, but the love in his eyes was still the same.

“I know and I’m honored.” You exclaimed passionately, holding your hands to your heart, your own eyes were a deep red color. “I want to help the egg grow and thrive!” Billiam smiled fondly and kissed your lips softly,

“I know you do. So relax, the masquerade will go off without a hitch. All you need to do is follow the butler’s and my lead.” You nodded obediently a tired smile on your lips, “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“Come with me?”

“Of course,” Billiam gave an elegant bow, taking your hand within your own and pressing a gentlemanly kiss to your knuckles. You giggled sweetly before placing a hand on your lower back leading you back to the bedroom. The both of you slipped into the satin bedsheets and fell asleep side by side. As the morning rolled around, Ranbutler woke the both of you up and requested you both got ready earlier than expected. Billiam waved him off as the both of you getting ready for the masquerade ball he was throwing that evening. You slipped on your deep red dress, there was a slit up the leg and a low cut neckline. You had diamonds adorning your ears and a neck, your high heels were also littered in silver sparkles that almost made you the same height as your husband. A crow-like mask was chosen as your main accessory for the ball, “You look gorgeous.” Billiam spoke from behind you, his fingers trailing down the slope of your neck you smiled shyly, “almost ethereal.”

“Thank you, my love.” You turned to face him, you couldn’t deny he looked pretty dapper in a suit himself. “You clean up rather nicely too,” You giggled flattening out his lapel and pulling him close to press a kiss to his lips. He hummed against them before pulling away,

“I have to check on the preparations for tonight, wait for me?”

“Always.” Your husband walked out of the room whispering something to his loyal butler who nodded, Ranbutler looked over to you and you sent him a small smile. He gave you a little bow and you shushed him softly allowing him to rise to his feet. “Checking on the egg I presume?” You smiled as the butler gave a stern nod, both your eyes flashed a deep scarlet, a loud knock was heard on the front door of the mansion. “Someone’s early,” You pursed your lips heading out of the room, heels clicking against the floor, the butler following behind you. As you stood at the top of the steps, you saw your husband talking to what you assumed was an early guest to your masquerade. He was handsome, brown hair curling all over the place, odd goggles adorned the top of his head. Your husband immediately called him poor and you had to hide your laugh behind your hand. You stepped down the steps hand gently touching the golden railing,

“Billiam, my love, don’t be rude.” He turned to face you just as the guest’s eyes widened,

“(Y/n)?”

“Oh? Have we met?” You titled your head to the side with a fond smile,

“No. You just...you look like an old friend.” He cleared his throat holding out his hand, “My name is Karl.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” You took his hand as he pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, Billiam let out a soft grumble of displeasure.

“He’s a youtube streamer.”

“No way!” You gasp in awe taking Karl’s hands, “That’s wonderful you have to tell us all about it!” You gushed fondly as Billiam placed a gentle hand on your back, his mouth moved in the shape of your name but you heard nothing in your ears. Your brow furrowed as you saw your name again, suddenly you felt like you were drowning, people shouting your name. Your eyes snapped open as you took a deep breath in, you were being pulled from the water. Hair stuck to your forehead as you coughed, water dripping down your head. You recognized a shape wrap you up in a tight hug, they were saying something but everything was muddled.

“Billiam?” You croaked out and the figure pulled away raising an eyebrow, they cupped your cheek tenderly,

“Heh? Who? Princess, it’s Techno.”

‘Techno? Who was Techno? Your husband!’ You sat up taking in a gulping breath, your eyes turning back to their normal (e/c) color and not the sudden scarlet. You looked around, Ranboo was shuffling in the corner holding a grass block, Puffy was beside him a gentle hand on his back. You looked around and you seemed to be in some sort of stark white church, a bell was in the corner and purple stained glass windows littered the walls.

“Where are we? What happened?”

Techno ran his fingers through your wet hair detangling it, “You were briefly corrupted by the egg. But Puffy knew how to snap you out of it.”

“You didn’t kill Bad did you?”

Technoblade grumbled under his breath, “I wanted to.”

“I wouldn’t let him.” Ranboo murmured, “You’d be upset.”

“I would’ve been,” You licked your lips nervously as you heard Technoblade grumble behind you.

“He would’ve deserved it,” You hit him lightly as he rested his chin on top of your head, “What? He would’ve, the Egg hurt you and that Egg is his best friend. Therefore you getting hurt is his fault so I will spill his blood.” Technoblade hissed, “And we’ll make an omelette out of that fucking egg.” He snarled looked up at Puffy who sent him a nod and a smile,

“I’m glad to know you’re on our side in this Techno,” Puffy smiled kneeling to sit beside you, “You too (Y/n).”

“Obviously.” You said swiftly, trying to cover up any hesitance that slipped into your tone, while the egg’s corruption was washed from your mind, his promises still held tight. “Sorry...I just have a killer migraine.”

“That’s completely normal, make sure she gets some bed rest,” Puffy told your husband handing him a little bottle of the holy water. “If she’s starting to slip, this will help,” She reassured and you smiled at her gratefully. “You’ll be back to normal in no time cutie,” Puffy beamed kissing the top of your head fondly.

“Thanks, Captian.” You praised and she hummed,

“Anything for you,” Puffy hummed standing back up to her feet, “I know first hand how scary the egg and its power can be. Living far away will help, try not to bring her back here for a while.”

“I won’t.” Technoblade nodded picking you up in his arms, you nuzzled against his neck and closed your eyes tightly. He squeezed you tightly, “don’t scare me like Jesus you’re a liability.”

“I’m sorry, trouble just seems to follow me around.” You spoke softly, sneaking a little peek at the lives on your wrist. You still had all three,

Good. You weren’t going to let some egg take one of them, not again.

The woman in red appeared once more in your mind and the man who looked suspiciously like your husband, beside her. He spun her around and dipped her, before pressing a passionate kiss to her lips. As they stood up they both disappeared into an array of golden sparkles, you opened your eyes and Technoblade was staring down at you. He looked concerned, his sharp red eyes peering into your soul. Technoblade led Ranboo and Steve back to your shared property, you were halfway asleep by the time all of you stepped into the gates.

“We need to talk about what happened.” He murmured to you as Ranboo and Steve hovered around nervously. “Alone preferably!” Technoblade cleared his throat, Ranboo jumped up smacking his head on the doorframe, and nodded,

"I'm glad you're okay (Y/n). Genuinely,"

He said smiling sadly before slipping out of the house. Steve huffed out a snort and made his way down to Aether, to entertain him while the adults talked. You rubbed your eyes and sat down on the couch by the fireplace, trying to warm yourself up. Technoblade slipped off his cape and wrapped it around your shoulders to keep you warm while you talked. “What did the egg promise you?”

You looked ashamed, ears turning pink, lying was something you and Technoblade never did. There was a mutual trust earned and respected and you weren’t going to betray that trust, “That it could end all the pain everyone’s been experiencing. That it could help the children finally be at peace and get the freedom they deserved, that we wouldn’t have to worry about people hunting us down. That we could raise Aether and be a family together without worry.” Your voice was soft, refusing to meet Technoblade’s eyes.

“Do you think I can’t protect you both? Is that really what you think?”

“That’s not fair Techno! That’s not what I mean!” You looked up at him and he didn’t look happy, “I just want everyone to be at peace here! Kids shouldn’t be suffering or put on pedestals! I know you’re perfectly capable of protecting us. What if we have more kids? Will Dream eventually get to them too?”

“I’d never let anyone touch them, you know that.” He hissed eyes narrowing, “You need an omlette to promise you protection? Don’t argue, because you slipped under its control, you did. So some part of you agreed.” Your mouth snapped shut at Technoblade’s words, your eyes narrowed and you refused to look at him. “Why am I incapable of keeping you safe?” His true feelings bubbled to the surface, you heard the slight crack in his voice. You looked back up at him, his hands were balled into fists, your furrowed brow unraveled. You reached out and took his fist in your hand, you gently rubbed the fist as it slowly relaxed in your hand. “I love you, and I’m failing you.”

“You’re not failing me,” You said softly “Not once have you failed me. You saved me from Dream, you saved me from the egg today, hell you saved me in general. I’m your wife and I’ll always love you.” He gave your hand a tight squeeze, “I just wish everyone would feel as protected as I do with you.” You admitted quietly, “even though Tommy betrayed us...He’s still a kid you know? I can’t help but feel guilty, I could’ve done better.”

“You couldn’t have. You’re not his mother.” Technoblade scoffed, “I’ll be the first to remind you about how stubborn he is, stubborn and loyal. If there’s anyone he’s always going to stick to it's Tubbo, even if we showed him kindness.” He watched you nod his head before he leaned forward to plant a kiss on your forehead. He watched your brow furrow as Steve lumbered back into the room holding Aether by the back of his overalls. You smiled over at the sight as Steve dumped your son in your lap, he made a happy squeal and buried his head in your chest.

“I missed you too Aether, did you have fun today?” He gave a happy nod reaching into his front pocket to pull out a little drawing. It was a stick figure drawing of you and Techno both holding his hands, on top of Aether’s head in the drawing was a scribbled on crown. They were both labeled something in Piglin, Technblade made an embarrassing sound as Aether squealed happily. “What? What does it say?”

“Mom and Dad,” He spoke weakly pinching the bridge of his nose and he watched your entire face light up.

“Yes! Exactly! Good job Aether!” You praised pressing kisses all over his face, “I’m your mom, and Techno’s your reluctant father!” Techno clicked his tongue in distaste at the situation, but he couldn’t lie looking at your happy expression, and Aether’s pure joy it melted his facade.

“Yeah, good job kid. Go hang it on the fridge,” Technoblade urged shooing him away and he ran into the kitchen excitedly.

“You didn’t deny it.~” You teased biting your lip fondly, “You Aether’s dad now?”

“That depends does that make you a MILF?” Technoblade questioned with such a casual deadpan it made you burst into hysterical laughter. You nodded your head rapidly as he pressed a fond kiss to your lips. “Remind me never to say that again, if I ever do please run the nearest sword through my body.”

“Will do, you absolute idiot.”

You turned to look over your shoulder at Aether who was sticking his drawing on the fridge eagerly. Technoblade took in your features, watching you look so calm even with your still-damp hair. He adored you, every single inch of you, from your wondrous brain to your beautiful body. He watched as you snuggle into his cape before turning back towards him,

“We have to protect him with our life. If anyone ever lays a hand on him they won’t live to see the next sunrise. I’ll make sure they burn and water the land with their blood.” You hummed fondly closing your eyes, that shouldn’t have turned Technoblade on as much as it did. He cleared his throat trying to calm himself and the voices down. They wanted to pin her into the couch and devour her, he cleared his throat once again, now was not the time nor place. Especially not with his supposed son in the next room, he swallowed thickly. He couldn’t believe that he was beginning to consider the zombie piglin in the other room his son. He couldn’t believe the voices were considering Aether his son. The urge to protect the child and keep that smile on your face was strong, and he couldn’t help but bend to its pull. That’s when a thought occurred to him, a smile spread across his features, there needed to be people willing to fight the tyranny you were concerned about, something to make sure anarchy always remained supreme.

They needed a syndicate.

A wide smile spread across his face as he kissed you passionately, you let out a small surprised sound.

“What was that about?”

“I have an idea.”

Sic semper tyrannis. ~~~

Tag List: @iamsuchasimp, @victory-is-here, @pastelmoonwitche, @ignat1usaquar1us, @boiled-onionrings, @Natalie-is-a-wall@alovestruck-fool, @mack4676

#mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #dreamsmp x y/n #dreamsmp x you #dreamsmp x reader #techno x reader #techno x you #techno x y/n #dsmp x reader #dsmp x y/n #dsmp x you #technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #technoblade x y/n #x reader #x you #UTFB #under the floorboards #underthefloorboards #fanfic #fanfiction #minecraft youtubers x reader #minecraft x reader #techno imagines #techno drabbles #technoblade imagines #technoblade drabbles #technoblade x reader drabbles #technoblade x reader imagines

[the-karma-cafe]

they deserve better :T (warriors of hope comfort n slight byakuya x reader)

A/N: they are,,, just kiddos,,, they deserve,,, better,,,, komaru kin check 

The Warriors of Hope sat in front of us, their faces not… sad, exactly, but a bit diminished. Byakuya adjusted his glasses. “I’ll leave it up to you, Kirigiri, but I don’t think they should be left alive.” Nagisa flinched at this, but kept his gaze level and hardened. I felt a pang of sympathy for these kids. They didn’t know… they’re just kids… they…

I placed a hand on Byakuya’s shoulder. He blinked and looked down at me curiously. My teeth worried my lip, “Hey… Would it be alright if I took care of them?”

He grunted in surprise. “What?” He turned, gently grabbing my elbow as my hand dropped from his shoulder. I smiled slightly at the contact. He realized what he’d done and dropped his hands. “It seems like a waste of time to me. Kirigiri?”

Kyoko pursed her lips, eyeing us for a beat. My teeth worried at my lip harder, drawing blood. “Shit,” I mumbled, licking my lips.

She sighed, checking her watch. “That’s fine. Use the collection of rooms in the east wing.” She looked back up, meeting my eyes. “Be careful.”

I smiled reassuringly. “Thank you.” My eyes turned to Byakuya’s worried ones. He held my gaze for a beat.

He huffed. “Fine, do as you wish. I won’t be surprised if I find you dead, though.” He left the room without a backwards glance. My lips twitched up watching him leave. Worry betrayed his true feelings in his rigid shoulders and clenched fists. Nigh impossible to identify to the untrained eye, but to the Ultimate Observer…

I turned to the children. Only Nagisa made eye contact. He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin. “What are your intentions, demon?”

I smiled and knelt down to his level. “To spare your lives. Is that pursuit not noble enough for you?”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Ah,” I looked at the ground. “As cliche as it is, I believe you are misunderstood.”

His brows furrowed in agitation. “You believe WRONG, demon. You’d be better off killing us where we stand.” Kotoko flinched and grabbed at Nagisa’s arm. “Don’t say that! She’ll listen to you!”

I nodded. “No, it’s fine. Everyone should speak their mind. Although I assure you I won’t be killing anyone anytime soon.” I pushed myself up from my crouch and held out my hand to the children. “Follow me?”

Kotoko grinned and grabbed my hand easily. “I hope my room is super adorbs!”

I led them to the east wing, Masaru and Kotoko chatting my ears off. They learned things about me but with all their talking, I heard nothing of their backgrounds. I smiled awkwardly. I didn’t think they’d be so forthcoming. Nagisa and Jataro trailed behind me, less than thrilled about the situation.

We ended up at the east wing and I led them into the main room. Masaru ran over to one of the chairs and hopped into it, laughing loudly. Nagisa huffed something about childishness under his breath. Kotoko held steadfast to my hand. Jataro tugged on the hem of my shirt, “Uh, hi! Is there a uh um art room or something? Duh huh.. Sorry I’m so ugly and annoying and-”

I placed a soft hand on his head. “Hey,” I spoke quietly. He looked up curiously. “Don’t say those things about yourself, okay?”

Kotoko rolled her eyes. “But he is those things. It’s the truth.”

I shook my head. “Please don’t say those things, Kotoko. Being mean isn’t adorable.”

She gasped. “You’re right! I’m soooo sorry! Please forgive me!”

“There’s nothing to be forgiven. You made a mistake and have been corrected. Everything’s fine, okay?”

Jataro frowned. “Why don’t you hate me? Hate me, already! Who do.. I have to make a masterpiece? Of all your friends? Maybe that blonde guy, huh?” He smirked evilly. “I bet you’d really hate me if I killed him, huh? Hate me so much you’d wanna claw my skin off!”

I winced. “I… I would appreciate it if you left Byakuya alone. I don’t want to hate you, please don’t try to make me.” I straightened up. “It takes a lot for me to hate someone, anyway. Obviously, or I wouldn’t’ve stood up for you kids.”

Jataro grinned. “What, do you *like* him or something?”

Pink dusted my cheeks and I internally scolded myself. “Of course. As a.. colleague.”

Kotoko squealed. “I know a girl in love when I see one! That’s soooo adorable! You have to tell him immediately!”

My cheeks color deepened. “Please, Kotoko, I love the enthusiasm but I really can’t.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

I pursed my lips. “Well… we’re recovering from the tragedy in Towa City. Duty comes first and foremost. It’d be selfish of me to let feelings get in the way.”

The room was quiet after that, the children not eager to talk about what happened. I cleared my throat. “Right. I figure individual attention is best? But I won’t force anything. If any of you would like to talk to me, you can find me in the other room.” I smiled easily. “I’d love to talk, but I understand if not.” With that, I left the room.

I closed the door behind me and heaved a deep sigh. This was going to be draining. My phone buzzed in my pocket, startling me. I laughed slightly at my reaction before answering. “Hel-?”

“Are you alright?” Byakuya’s cold voice cut through my greeting. My heart warmed. He was worried.

I beamed at no one, heading into the next room. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Don’t let anyone hear you~” I teased. “God forbid Togami have feelings.”

I could hear him scowl through the phone. “I’m merely concerned for a colleague, nothing more.”

I bit my lip. “Yeah.. just a colleague…” I wish I didn’t feel this way. Things would be so much easier for everyone if I could just stuff my feelings down so far that they’d disappear. Byakuya wouldn’t return them anyway. Sure, he cared if I died but he wasn’t about to ask me about my day or anything.

He was quiet for a second. “….Yes. What is your plan of action for the children?”

I leaned against a wall and raked a hand through my hair. “For now I’m just waiting for one of ‘em to approach me. I don’t wanna overwhelm anyone.”

“That sounds.. ineffective.”

I laughed dryly. “Got any better ideas?”

“You wouldn’t like them.”

I grinned fondly. “You know me so well.”

“We are colleagues, after all.”

“Right… colleagues.”

Another pause. “If that’s all, I’ll be hanging up.”

I bit my lip. “Wait.” It was quiet. He was waiting. Was I really going to ask now, of all times? I frowned. Yes, yes I was. “Am I really just a colleague to you?”

It was quiet again and I immediately regretted asking. What was I thinking?? His answer was only going to upset me and put me in a mindset where I wouldn’t be able to take care of the kids properly and would probably-

“No.”

What? “What?” I breathed, echoing my thoughts.

“You heard me.” He huffed. “We’re not just colleagues. The killing game changed that. I…” he trailed off. “You are at least a friend. A trusted one. I cannot say that for many people.”

I smiled. Friend. That was better than colleague. “Thank you, Byakuya. That means a lot to me. I hope you know that you are… very precious to me.” There was a knock on the door. “Oh, I have my first visitor. Talk to you later?”

“Hm.” He hummed and hung up. I stuffed the phone in my pocket.

I opened the door to see an irritated Kotoko. She pointed her little finger in my face angrily. “I heard you!! Just confess already!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do!” She walked in and sat down in one of the chairs. “You were on the phone with blondie, right? Just tell him you love him!”

I shrugged, taking a seat opposite her. “I wish it were that simple. I’m not as brave as you or Masaru. If he didn’t return my feelings it’d definitely ruin our friendship.”

Kotoko pouted. “So!! Some friendships need to be ruined!”

I smiled. “I’m touched that you care, but I’ll need some time to build up my courage.”

She nodded fiercely. “I’ll help you!”

I worked my way through each of the children. I did make progress. My ultimate always came in handy with children.

~

With Kotoko, I needed to treat her like a close friend. Trust her with my secrets, take her advice on relationships, agree to let her dress me up later, and don’t ever use the word “gentle.”

“Well, that wasn’t so bad, right? You can head back to the others now, if you’d like.”

She hopped up from her chair. “That was easy! But I could’ve been acting the whole time. I’m the best at that.”

I covered my chest in mock surprise. “Are you? I never would’ve guessed!”

She nodded. “Yes, yes, I know!” She walked over to me and fidgeted with the hem of her dress for a second. “…Can I get something before I leave?”

I tilted my head, confused. “If I have it, I suppose. What’s wrong?”

She looked at the ground. “Can I have a hug?”

A large smile bloomed on my face. “Of course you can, Kotoko.” I pushed up from my chair and knelt down, arms outstretched. She jumped into my arms easily and I wrapped them around her. You’re safe with me, I promise nothing bad will happen again.

~

With Nagisa, I needed to treat him like an adult. Respect him as an equal, use big words, ask for his input on things, and reassure him that there is no pressure. At one point he demanded that I have higher expectations of him, something I didn’t expect.

I frowned. “Like what?”

He pulled at his hair “Anything! Just, please, expect more of me!” I gently unwrapped his hands from his hair.

“If that’s what you want. Do tell me if it’s ever too much, though, alright? I don’t want to overwhelm you.” I held his hands in my own to keep them away from his hair.

Nagisa searched my eyes desperately. “Promise you’ll expect more of me?”

I nodded. “Of course. You’re very grown up, it’s only natural that expectations of you will rise.” I released his hands and held out my arms. “You’re not obligated to, but some of the others wanted hugs.”

The beginnings of tears formed in his eyes and I pretended not to notice. He stepped into my arms hesitantly. I wrapped him in my arms, holding him close and trying to put as much love into it as possible. I heard a choked sob from my shoulder and smoothed circles on his back.

“D-Don’t tell the others a-about this.” He pushed out.

I shook my head. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

~

With Jataro, I needed to treat him like I wanted him there, which I did. Don’t interrupt him, reassure him that you do not hate him, insist he is not ugly, encourage his artistic passion but discourage killing people. Fascination with gore is fine as long as it doesn’t harm anyone. Introduce him to the concept of horror media.

I pulled up a horror game google search on my phone and held it out to him. “That’s one of the games I was talking about. You’re welcome to scroll through the pictures.”

“This isn’t very true to life…” he frowned.

I winced. “Ah.. not many have seen the things you have, Jataro. Both a gift and a curse, I suppose. Now you can portray things very accurately, but I do hope nothing haunts you later on in life.”

“Duh huh.. I can always go kill again for reference.”

I shook my head. “Please do not. You already have enough references.”

He sneered. “I bet you hate me for saying that, huh?”

“No, I don’t. I doubt I’ll ever hate you, Jataro, and I definitely don’t want to. I’m here for you.”

Jataro fiddled with his sleeves. “Oh… for me?”

I nodded.

“Oh………. Okay.” It seemed to get through to him a bit. “Can I go now?”

“Of course.”

~

With Masaru, I needed to treat him like, well, a kid. Praise him for his enthusiasm, praise him for his excellence in sports, compliment his leadership abilities, don’t let him hurt himself, reassure him that it’s okay to be scared. At one point, something I said had sent him back to that time and he started punching his arms.

“No! Stop shaking. Weak weak scared-“ His already bruised arms started to get worse. I immediately grabbed his hands. He struggled against my hold. “Lemme go!”

I pulled him against me, holding him. “It’s okay to be scared. You’re not weak. Everything is fine. You’re with me now.” I repeated mantras I had with the other children softly.

It took a couple of minutes but Masaru eventually stopped struggling and threw his arms around me. “Girls are stupid cowards.. shut up…”

I smiled. “I might be a coward, but I’m smart. I know some things.”

His hold on me tightened. “Please don’t leave me… I promise I’ll be good, I won’t make you look like the bad guy again……”

“I’m not going anywhere, Masaru. You’re a good boy, okay?”

He nodded.

~

I closed the door to their collective room with a soft click, not missing the knowing wink Kotoko sent my way. I breathed out evenly, filled with a sense of accomplishment. I was right to stand up for them. Hopefully, with much time and effort, these kids would get… a little better. That was all I could really hope to achieve.

“Have fun?” A voice called out, startling me. I jumped, glancing around until I saw Byakuya leaning coolly against a nearby wall. He checked his watch pointedly. “You were with them for quite some time.” His unspoken question hung in the air. Did you make any progress?

I smiled, walking over. “Yes!” I came to a stop in front of him, my grin turning coy. “You didn’t doubt my abilities, did you?”

He raised his eyebrows, gazing down his nose at me. He hummed, turning to leave. I scurried after him, fiddling with my fingers. We walked in silence, the voices of the children fading behind us.

I recalled Kotoko’s encouragement. She’d want me to say something right about now. Not to mention, it’d give me something to bond with her over during my next visit…

I cleared my throat, stopping in the hall. Byakuya continued walking, and I almost thought he wasn’t going to stop for me.

But he did.

He glanced back at me, a confused frown prepared. “What.” He quipped. Sigh, he certainly didn’t make things easy.

I took in a deep breath. “I believe there’s a way for me to get closer to Kotoko…” He stared quietly, not catching on to how on Earth this had anything to do with him. “…And I’d need your… cooperation. Is that alright?”

He pursed his lips disapprovingly. “This was your project, (L/N). I thought I made it clear I want no part of it.”

I chewed my lip, not able to keep eye contact. “Can I ask anyway?”

A dramatic sigh echoed between us, but he remained quiet. I met his eyes again. His arms were folded over his chest and he pinned me with an expectant gaze. Now or never. I squeezed my hands together, searching for the right words. “Do you remember our conversation on the phone earlier?”

He nodded wordlessly, but his expression tensed slightly. Likely not the best sign to keep going, but I was doing this for Kotoko. Yeah.. for her… not me.

“Right, of course you do.” I waved my hand around nervously. “Well, it has to do with that. Kotoko, as you probably know, has a soft spot for um… romance. The main thing she wanted to speak with me about was my uh…” I couldn’t physically take holding his gaze right now, and instead focused my eyes on my hands. I cleared my throat. “Relationship with… you. I… I guess what I’m trying to ask is…”

“Quit the bumbling, (L/N), I have places to be.”

I snapped my head up to study him. His tone was snappy and rude but his posture had the slightest note of… anxiety? I hadn’t seen that on him often. Seeing it built up my confidence.

“Right. Sorry.” My eyes wandered his form more, puzzling out his feelings. “My point is, do you mind if I tell Kotoko about a blossoming relationship between the two of us?” He stiffened further, his jaw tightening and his eyes widening. I was quick to explain. “Obviously I don’t expect you to actually date me, but if you could just not deny it in front of Kotoko, that would be-“

“Do you not want to date me?” He interrupted.

I froze, breaking my absentminded analysis to meet his nervous stare. “Wh…”

Byakuya immediately closed off, looking away from me. “Nevermind.”

My heart beat faster. “Wait, no. Are you…” I didn’t want to reveal my hand but, surely he already knew how I felt? He was practically as observant as me. I mustered an awkward laugh. “Is that a rhetorical question? Obviously we both know how I feel about you.”

He frowned, the tips of his ears turning pink. He opened his mouth only to soundlessly form shapes.

I watched his reaction with bewilderment. Did he really not know?? I took a step closer. “Byakuya, are you serious?”

He blinked down at me. “You… have feelings for me?”

“I thought it was painfully clear!” I gave an exasperated laugh. “Perhaps I give you more credit than you deserve.”

He spluttered before me—spluttered! “Well- I… I I had no idea.” His cheeks began to match his ears in hue. “You’ll… be delighted to hear that I feel the same way.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Holy shit, really?”

He rolled his eyes. “Language.”

I grabbed his hands, yanking him closer to study his face. “You’re serious?”

“How many times do you plan to make me repeat myself?” He looked away from my eyes, his face reddening further.

I smiled giddily, his hands warm in mine. Maybe Kotoko was more observant than I gave her credit for.

~

Warriors of Hope POV

Kotoko watched them through the glass of the door, squealing when she saw them hold hands.

Masaru groaned, looking away. “Grooosss, why’d you tell her to do thaaat.”

She twirled around, clapping her hands together. “Because they’re in LOVE!! And people in LOVE should ALWAYS be TOGETHER!!!!”

Nagisa also grimaced at the sight. “Here I thought she was a professional. How unseemly… in front of us, no less.”

Kotoko bopped him lightly on the head, ignoring his indignant yelp. “You’re all being just awful! (Y/N)’s allowed to be happy, just like us!”

“You sure warmed up to her quick.”

She frowned, looking over at Jataro. He picked at his sleeves, not making eye contact. “Real bunch of demon-haters you guys are, duh huh… Falling for aaannyyyoonnnee’ss nice words…”

She furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to yell at him or call him ugly but stopped herself. She held her head up, looking down her nose at him primly. “I’d call you mean things but (Y/N) said that’s not cute. So just be quiet!”

Nagisa nodded, his hand white-knuckled on the table. “Well I don’t care about being cute. Jataro, (Y/N)’s risking a lot to give us a new chance. We owe her civility at the very least.”

Jataro frowned, tears welling up in his eyes. “You’re so mean to me.” His lips twitched up. “You hate me, don’t you? I’ll ruin your chances with (Y/N). After all, if there’s one bad apple, the rest are probably m-mmmooollldddyyy too.”

Masaru rummaged through the toys in the corner. “Whatever.” He picked up a soccer ball and grinned toothily. He dropped it onto his knee and tried to toss it to his other. It bounced off his leg but his spirit wasn’t dampened in the slightest as he ran over to retrieve it again. “You like her too, I can tell.”

Jataro huffed and plopped on the ground to draw, ignoring him. He heard rustling in his pocket as he sat down. He frowned, fishing through his pocket for the offending wrapper. His fingers met plastic and he pulled it out. A small orange candy twinkled up from his palm.

Kotoko gasped loudly, drawing his attention. She was looking out the window again, waving wildly. “She’s waving goodbye!! COME WAVE WITH ME.”

The others stood to join her but he did not. He stared down at the candy in wonder, unwrapping it carefully. It was from a company that didn’t have a factory in Towa City.

…It tasted nice. He hadn’t had their candy since before everything went down. He stared down at his violent drawing and crumpled it up, tossing it away. His blue crayon met the paper, drawing something nicer. Kinder. Stuff he used to draw… before. It was nice.

Masaru’s soccer ball collided with his head. “OOOOWW!” Jataro cried out, clutching his head dramatically.

“Ooops! Hehe, sorry Jataro.” Masaru picked up the ball with a grin.

a/n: pff thats as good of an ending as any ^^ hope u enjoyed :0!

#warriors of hope #danganronpa #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #danganronpa imagine #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa oneshot #Byakuya Togami #byakuya togami x reader #byakuya x reader #warriors of hope comfort #comfort #comfort fic #jataro #jataro kemuri #kotoko utsugi #masaru #masaru daimon #nagisa shingetsu #udg #udg oneshot #ultra despair girls #oneshot

[loveelle]

Are we supposed to kiss?

Alive!Reggie Peters x Reader AU

Request from Anon: okay but could you PLEASE do a fake dating trope imagine w reggie? like he has a crush on carrie and she has a crush on luke && they start fake dating each other before they ultimately fall for the other?🥺🤍

A/N: Hope you enjoy my dear! 

WC: 6.5K

MASTER

---

Lunch was usually the only time of day you had the chance to hang out with your friends without the distraction of class, teachers, and homework. Your class was right next to the lunchroom, meaning you were luckily one of the first students to buy food and save a table. You always enjoyed the few minutes you had to yourself, you loved your friends but sometimes a breather between class and friends is needed. But today, someone decided to interrupt your alone time.

Reggie Peters, your best friend since second grade took the seat across from you, making you tug the earbud out of your ear to talk to him. “What’s up, Reggie?”

“We’re friends, right?”

His question threw you as you furrowed your brows. “Uh, I guess you can call us that.” You answered, slightly mocking him.

“Good! Then I need you to go on a date with me.”

You blinked at him, seeing the happy smile on his face before you let your mouth open. “Um, yeah. I’m gonna need a little more of an explanation here.”

Reggie’s face faltered as he glanced around nervously before leaning closer to you, beckoning you to do the same. You sighed but did so. “You’re good friends with Carrie.” You hummed his correctness. “I like Carrie.”

“You like Carrie?”

Reggie’s cheeks started to darken at your surprised question. “I like Carrie.”

You were shocked to hear Reggie liked Carrie. You’ve known everything about him for years, but this was not something you noticed. “Wait, if you like Carrie, then why are you asking me on a date?”

“Well, I figured if we pretend to date around Carrie, then maybe she’ll see what a great boyfriend I am.” You had to admit that Reggie’s thinking made just the tiniest bit of sense, but this whole ordeal was unexpected.

“Why don’t you just ask Carrie out on a date?”

“Well, I assume it’s the same reason you won’t out Luke.” Reggie’s comment made you choke on the water you were drinking, and your throat burned as you tried to breathe again. Reggie’s eyes widened as he scrambled to your side and started rubbing your back, helping you as best he could as you finally stopped choking and turned to face him.

“How the hell do you know about that?” you whispered harshly. How Reggie knew about your crush on his bandmate was beyond you and you slightly feared that Luke knew as well.

“Y/N, I’m going to be honest with you because you’re my best friend.” He put his hand on top of yours resting on the table as he suddenly became serious. “You’re not that good at hiding the fact you’re undressing him with your eyes.”

You snatched your head back from him as your mouth fell open and Reggie let out an uncontrollable laugh at your reaction. “I- I don’t undress him with my eyes!” you squeaked out and buried your face in your hands, feeling your cheeks heat as you leaned into Reggie’s open embrace.

“You do, but it’s okay! I think I’m the only one who’s noticed.” He tried to console you and you only whined as he wrapped his arms around you, smiling at your reaction before you pulled out of his arms.

“That only makes me feel a little better.” Reggie smiled at you as you nudged his shoulder with his.

“So, what do you say? Help a guy out? We can even use this to your advantage with Luke!”

Before you had the chance to answer him, your friends started pouring in the table around you and your eyes widened along with Reggie’s. “What are you doing here, Reggie? Don’t you usually eat with your band?” Carrie asked him as she took the spot Reggie first sat in. Reggie and you exchanged looks, trying to figure out what to say.

You took the lead. “We’re… dating now.”

Your friends fell silent and you had to keep from shrinking under their gazes. “OMG that’s great!” Carrie smiled at you and you relaxed. “I’m so happy for you two.”

“Thanks Care.” You knew she was being real with you. Although Carrie can be harsh when she wants, she’s never been anything but nice to you.

“Wait…” Kayla mumbled, moving her head out to look at the two of you. “I thought you two were already dating.”

“No! Nope!” you blurted out along with a nervous batch of giggles, seeing Reggie looked amusedly at you. “I just mean- we weren’t dating yet. Right, Reg?”

He nodded before meeting your eyes and smiling. “That’s right, babe.”

Babe.

Yeah, that was going to take some getting used to.

“Well, Reggie, you’re welcome to eat lunch with us if you want.” Nick extended an olive branch and Reggie happily took it, pulling your food closer to him and stealing some of your chips.

“Uh, excuse me!” you grabbed your chip back from him before he could eat it and popped it in his mouth. “I think Nick meant eat your own food.” Reggie just smirked and reached for your water, but as you were grabbing it and trying to stop him, he snuck another chip and ate it with satisfaction.

“Ha! I win.” Reggie chuckled and you shook your head at him.

“You guys are so cute.” Carrie put her hand on her heart.

“Well, it’s easy to be cute when you’ve got a boyfriend as great as Reggie.” You glanced between him and Carrie, seeing her nod briefly before her attention was diverted to Nick next to her.

Reggie’s arm slipped with yours as he pulled you close enough to whisper. “I think this might be working.”

“I have to pretend to be your girlfriend, it better work.” You mumbled back with a smirk, knowing Reggie would know you’re joking. The whispers between you two were dropped as you and Reggie joined with your friends and to keep up the act, Reggie’s arm stayed laid across your shoulder.

When the bell rang to tell lunch was over, you said bye to all your friend’s and threw your bag over your shoulder to head to your next class. Before you could, Reggie grabbed your hand to keep you from leaving him.

“You comin’ over to the studio after school today?” Reggie asked and you stared in thought for a second, something that made him sigh dramatically. “Oh, just say yes! We can get started on the Luke part of the plan.”

“Reg, you don’t-“

“Nope! It’s a deal. You help with my crush and I help with yours.” He seemed determined to help you and while you didn’t want your best friend to insert himself in your love life as your actual boyfriend, you weren’t getting far doing what you were now.

“I can’t! I have Dirty Candy rehearsals today.”

“Just for a few minutes?”

You pressed your lips together in thought before shaking your head with a smile. “Fine, I’ll be there at 5.”

Reggie pumped his fist as you chuckled and when you reached the end of the hallway, where Reggie and you were supposed to go separate ways, he turned toward you.

“So, what now?” He asked before donning a goofy grin. “Are we supposed to kiss?”

“Yeah.” You laughed sweetly and stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder that caused Reggie to widen his eyes slightly. “Try it and we’ll see what happens, babe.” You tapped his cheek with your hand before dropping it and walking pass him to your class. Reggie watched you walk away before shaking his head fondly and turning the other way.

---

The band was hanging out in the studio after having taken a break from rehearsal. Reggie glanced at the clock behind him, tapping his foot as the clock showed a few minutes passed 5.

“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” Luke asked as he tossed his friend a water, hitting him in the chest before Reggie took a sip.

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong, why?”

“Maybe because you keep glancing at the clock like it insulted you?” Alex pointed his drumstick at him getting Luke and Julie to laugh. Reggie sighed, falling into the chair next to him.

“Y/N said she’d be here at 5 and she’s late.” He said with a shrug.

The boy’s heads perked up. “Y/N’s coming?” Luke asked and Reggie felt a sense of pride that Luke was the one to ask, apparently happy by your future arrival.

“Yup.” Reggie answered shortly. “We’ve got some news.”

“Oh yeah? What’s up?” Julie asked, wiggling her brows at him.

Reggie’s mouth opened but before he could say anything, the door to the studio opened and you walked in. “Where’s the music! I was promised music!” You faked anger as you walked over to where they were all hanging around and you leaned on the chair Reggie was perched on.

“You’re late.” Reggie smiled up at you and you pouted playfully, bopping his nose.

“Aw, did you miss me already?” Reggie rolled his eyes as you laughed at his reaction.

“No, I just wanted to make sure I had enough time to see you before your practice started.” Your amused face melted into a soft smile and Reggie’s own smile sprung to life at the same time.

“What’s this news that’s Reggie’s talking about?” Luke called out, making your eyes narrow at the fact Reggie had started to tell them already.

You pulled your eyes off Reggie and looked to your friends, seeing their states of confusion as you motioned for Reggie to talk. He stood up and moved in front of them all, pulling you to stand next to him. His hand slipped into yours and you both looked down at your intertwined hands before meeting eyes. Despite Reggie being your best friend, you’ve never really held his hands like this and stood so close. It was… well, it wasn’t unwanted.  

Reggie was the first to pull his eyes away, making you take a deep breath as he cleared his throat. “Y/N and I are dating.”

“No way!” Julie shouted as she sat up in her seat, her jaw dropping and you smiled at her before nodding.

“Hey, that’s cool, guys. Congrats, We’re happy for you.” Alex got up, coming to give you and Reggie hugs much like Julie and Luke did.

“Thanks guys.” Reggie told them, getting a pat on the back from Luke.

You sucked in a breath as Luke moved to you, pulling you in for a short but tight hug. You tried not to hug him too much, but as you got closer to him, it was hard. He stayed next to you as the four of you stood talking, placing himself right between you and Julie.

“Why did it take so long for you guys to get together?” Alex furrowed his brows and you and Reggie both looked at each other with slacked jaws, unsure how to answer that question because technically you weren’t together.

“Come on, Alex.” Luke spoke up. “Who cares if it took them years, at least they finally figured it out.” You didn’t want to ask Luke what that meant as you and Reggie laughed softly in agreement, thankful for the avoidance of answering.

Your phone dinged in your pocket and you and Reggie exchanged a glance, both of you knowing that was Carrie asking where you were. “That’s my cue.” You joked and patted Reggie’s back.

“Did you drive?” Julie asked, looking for your keys only to come up empty.

You shook your head. “No, I left my keys in my dance bag and I left my dance bag at Carrie’s when Kayla drove me home last night. I was just going to take the bus.” You told her and her eyes bugged out of her head.

“Why on earth would you do that?”

You shrugged. “Cause it’s too far to walk?”

Julie looked at Reggie, followed by Alex’s gaze, then Luke’s and Reggie stood there like a deer in headlights before he caught on to what his friends were trying to get him to do. “Oh, I’ll drive you!” he blurted out, receiving nods from his friends and a chuckle from you.

“It’s alright, Reg. I don’t mind taking the bus and I’m not going to pull you from practice just to drive me.”

“I’m driving you!” Reggie smirked.

You looked to your friends. “You’re cool if I steal him for a bit?”

“Of course.” Luke smiled at you, glancing from you to Reggie then back. “He’s your boyfriend.”

You forced a smile and started toward the door with Reggie on your heels. When you were out of the others hearing range, you turned to Reggie, making him run into you slightly before he stopped himself, putting his hands on your shoulders for balance as you both stumbled. “Does this feel weird to you? The whole fake dating? Cause it doesn’t feel right to me.”

Reggie frowned slightly as he shrugged. “I mean, kinda? I guess, seeing how happy everyone was felt a little weird.”

“And Kayla’s comment!”

“Exactly!” you and Reggie both chuckled under your breaths, remembering how awkward you had been after that moment. Reggie’s face softened when he saw you tug your lip between your teeth, letting your eyes fall to the ground. “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t fake date anyone else.”

You picked your head up, seeing the small blush on his face. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone else is dumb enough to fake date you.” Reggie’s laugh bubbled out of him, making yours do the same but before you could say more, the door to the studio opened.

Both of your heads snapped to the side, only to see Luke looking between you two embarrassed. You only became aware of Reggie’s hands that were still on your shoulders when he pulled them off and took a step back. If you weren’t aware of what Reggie and you were really talking about in that position, you would’ve assumed Reggie and you just kissed, which is exactly what Luke assumed.

“Hey, uh, you left your keys.” You quirked your brow at Reggie who proceeded to pat his pockets before Luke held up the keys and you rolled your eyes, holding your hand out to take them.

Luke tossed you the keys before heading back inside and you put your hands on your hips. Reggie looked embarrassed. “Look, we were going to find out I left them when we got to the car, he saved us from having to come back.”

“Um, I pretty sure he saved you from having to come back.” You nudged your shoulder against his as the two of you set off. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he thought we were kissing.”

“So?” Reggie guffawed. “That’s what we wanted right? Now I can go back and say what a good kisser you are.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up. “You don’t know, I could be an awful kisser and you’re setting me up for failure.” You joked but Reggie just sighed dramatically.

“You’re not a bad kisser, Y/N.”

“You don’t know that!”

You finally reached his car, hoping into the front seat as he jumped in the driver’s seat. “You’re a good kisser.”

“But how do you-“

“Because it’s impossible for someone like you to be awful at kissing of all things.” Your arguments stopped as Reggie looked at you, raising his brows and silently daring you to challenge him.

You didn’t challenge him, only leaning back in your seat and glancing out the window, bringing a hand to hold in front of your mouth to hide the smile that involuntarily came up. Reggie kept glancing at you as he drove down Julie’s street, wondering if he made things awkward. His worries were put to rest when you reached over to the music player, turning it on and turning up the volume as you bobbed your head to the music.

“Be honest, Reg. Did you offer to drive me because you’d get to see Carrie?” Reggie tried to the hide the look on his face as you accused him. There were a lot of reasons Reggie offered to drive you: He didn’t want you to take the bus, the looks his friends were giving him, knowing your boyfriend driving you to practice would surely sell the act, not wanting you to have to take the public bus; Knowing he’d get to see Carrie was just a bonus.

Your laugh pulled Reggie out of his thoughts as he looked between you and the road. “Oh yeah? Well, you just came to rehearsal to see Luke!”

The sounds of your laughs only doubled. “That was the point, Reginald!” He couldn’t help but laugh with you, knowing his counter wasn’t good at all. You pulled into Carrie’s place faster than you thought you would as Reggie put the car in park, his hand hovering overing over the gear shift before you rolled your eyes and turned off the car. “You’re allowed inside.”

You climbed out, hearing Reggie do the same. “Oh wait, come here.” Reggie told you and you listened, coming to the front of the car to meet Reggie who was offering out his flannel to you. You took it slowly, looking up at him curiously. “I just want Carrie to know that I’m the type of guy who lets his girl wear his clothes.” You nodded, understanding completely as you slipped the jacket over your shirt, fixing yourself before presenting yourself to Reggie.

“How do I look? Like your girlfriend?”

Reggie froze at the addition to your question because, if he was being honest with himself, he always wanted his girlfriend to wear his flannel or jacket. And on you-

“You look really good.” Reggie straightened his head, ignoring the weird look you were giving him as he faced the house. “You ready for rehearsal?”

You nodded, locking your arm with his as you headed inside. “You’re late again!” Carrie smirked at you when you opened the door, seeing her in the kitchen filling her water bottle.

“Can I plead loss of time?” you asked, glancing to Reggie and watching him give Carrie a little wave. Carrie looked between the two of you for a moment, her eyes drifting down to the flannel before she let out a small hum.

Carrie started past you, a small smirk on her lips. “I’ll give you 1 minute.”

When she was gone, your eyes widened. “You really like her like that?” you questioned, scratching your head.

Reggie’s mouth fell open as he looked between you and where Carrie departed several times. “I mean, yeah, I just-“

“Reg, it’s cool. I was just kidding; you don’t have to explain yourself.” You put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “Thank you for driving me, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, uh, if you need a ride back, let me know.”

“I’ll probably catch one with Kayla.” You shrugged before Reggie caught the mysterious glint in your eye. “Or I can ask Carrie if I could spend the night and I’ll talk you up!”

“You don’t have to do that.” Reggie said but he wasn’t sure why. The whole point was to talk each other up to their respective crushes.

“Why not? Maybe I’ll tell her what a good kisser you are.” You smirked as you started walking backwards, not hearing if Reggie disagreed before you were gone.

---

“Check it out, yeah, we make ‘em say, “Wow””

You were out of breath as the song finished, you and the rest of your group striking your poses for a moment before Carrie stepped forward and broke formation, meaning the rest of you could. “5-minute break, then we run again.” She said and you nodded before heading over to your bag and water and collapsing on the floor. You closed your eyes, focusing on taking deep breaths as you drank your water.

“You seem distracted today.” Carrie took the spot next to you, drinking from her own bottle.

You furrowed your brows, swishing your water in your mouth as you thought. “Do I?”

She hummed, glancing around to the other girls before scooting closer to you. “You and Reggie?”

Your brows quirked up from their previous position as you let out a soft laugh. “What about me and Reggie?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know you liked him like that.”

“What’s not to like?” You questioned before getting an idea in your head, one that could paint Reggie out perfectly to Carrie. “I mean, He’s literally the kindest person I know, he’s always there for me and always knows how to cheer me up. He’s my best friend, he knows everything about me and I know everything about him-“

“Okay, Okay!” Carrie laughed, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “You don’t have to convince me you’re in love with him.”

“I-I’m not in love with him.” You defended instantly. Despite needing to put up this act, you didn’t need Carrie to think she doesn’t have a shot. She gave you a look though, one that told you she didn’t believe you. “Carrie, I’m not in love with him.”

“Got it.”

There was a silence that unnerved you. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

She patted your shoulder. “No, I believe you. You’re not in love with your boyfriend.” Well, when you put it like that…

“I mean, it’s not like I-I won’t be?” you winced when you heard how dumb you sounded. If Reggie could hear you right now, he’d hate you for most likely ruining this plan.

“Whatever you say Y/N, just know that everyone can see the way you look at each other.”

Much to your fortune, Carrie’s phone rang. It was something regarding a possible gig for the group, but you were thankful it pulled her away from the conversation. You let your head rest against your knees as you relaxed, occasionally bringing it up to drink but you couldn’t help but think about what Carrie said.

---

As Reggie got back to his house that night after a few more hours of rehearsal, he was exhausted. All he wanted to do was fall asleep forever, but before he could, he had to make a call.

“Hello?” you sounded like you were just asleep when you answered, making Reggie chuckle.

“It’s only 10, Y/N. Are you already asleep?”

There was a quiet shuffle on from your side as Reggie assumed you struggled to sit up and cleared your throat. “Um… no?”

“Oh, that’s believable.” Reggie made you chuckle. “How was rehearsal?”

“Exhausting.” You sighed, noting how your limbs ached when they moved. “I might’ve overdone it a little.”

“You always overdo it.” Reggie reminded you, making you hum in agreement at all the times you’ve definitely worked harder in rehearsal than onstage.

“Well, it’s worth it. Carrie said we have a gig this Friday.”

“Ooh, can I come?”

You scrunched your face. “You want to? Don’t you have rehearsal that day?”

“I can skip it. I’m sure the others will understand when I tell them I want to go and support my girlfriend.” Reggie rolled his eyes and you could swear you heard it, or at least you knew Reggie enough to know for a fact he did so.

You thought for a second, playing with your blanket as you laid back in your bed. “I guess… it would be nice if I had someone there for me.”

“I’m always there for you!”

“Oh yeah, and as soon as Carrie’s free, you’re right by her side.”

Reggie paused. He entirely forgot that Carrie would even be there, it was her group but he was planning on going just for you. “Y/N, you know you’re still my best friend, right? I’m not going to just ditch you just because Carrie’s there.”

The sound of your chuckle made Reggie feel slightly better, the knowledge that you weren’t upset with him by any means. “I’ll hold you too that, Reginald.”

You yawned and Reggie held back a smile. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Nah. I wanna talk to you for a little longer.” Reggie didn’t now what the small feeling in his stomach was at your words, but whatever it was, he enjoyed the feeling. “Besides, we have to talk about the specifics of this relationship.”

“Oh, right.” Reggie said nervously. “The specifics?”

“Uh-huh. I mean, both of us froze up today when Alex asked why we got together.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t our finer moments.” Reggie mumbled before raising his brow. “At least Luke came to your rescue.”

Your cheeks heated up instantly as you draped a hand over your face. “He came to OUR rescue.”

Reggie and you fell into a fit of laughs and before long, you were both silent and donning smiles of your own. The sound of you yawning again caused Reggie’s smile to fall slightly. “Go to sleep.”

“What if I don’t wanna?”

Thinking for a second, Reggie’s smile returned. “Do you remember last time you stayed at my house and I couldn’t sleep so you sang to me?” After hearing your hum of acknowledgment, Reggie took a deep breath before quietly singing your favorite song to you. He could hear you chuckle, but you listened nonetheless and eventually, Reggie heard your breathing fall even. “Y/N?” He whispered, wanting to make sure you were asleep and when you didn’t reply, he got his answer. “Goodnight, Y/N.” He said softly before hanging up, letting you get your rest and eventually finding his own.

---

It’s been a few days since you and Reggie started this relationship and you had to admit, you were crossing a lot of boundaries with him that you hadn’t expected before. Pet names between the two of you seemed to be the funniest part. It seemed the moment one of you called the other a name like babe, baby, sweetie, or even love– which had to be the hardest to wrap your head around– the other did the same, making a game of it. You also hung out with each other’s friends more often.

You were about to meet Reggie at Julie’s so he could drive you to your rehearsal, something he’s done the past few days in hopes to see Carrie. He wasn’t supposed to have rehearsal today, but he told you he was most likely going to spend the afternoon at there. You adjusted your grip on your dance bag as you pulled the studio door open without knocking.

That was a huge mistake.

Instead of what you expected to be the four members of Julie and the Phantoms laying around and talking, you found just Julie and Luke and instead of talking, they were kissing. They pulled apart at the sound of your dance bag dropping from your grab and when they turned to you, your eyes widened and you quickly picked it back up. “I’m so, so sorry!” you told them. “I’ll just- I’ll just leave you to it.”

You didn’t let them get a word in before you were out the door and walking as fast as you could out of Julie’s residence. You had no clue where Reggie was but at that moment you didn’t want to think about anything relating to the fake dating or the plan to get Luke to like you. It was a stupid plan to begin with.

You didn’t bring your car because you thought Reggie would drive you, so with no plan, you ended at a bus station and hopped on the next bus to take you downtown. Dirty Candy’s performance was tomorrow and you knew rehearsal was mandatory, but the thought of having to go and rehearse made your sick fall.

You pulled out your phone, pulling up Carrie’s contact and listening to the ring. “Where are you?” Carrie asked immediately when she answered.

“I’m not going to be able to make it today. Something came up.” You mumbled, keeping your voice low to not disturb anyone else riding.

“Are you okay?!” Carrie’s worried tone made you shift awkwardly, hating that you were making her concerned.

“Uh, yeah. It’s- It’s nothing bad.”

“Good. We’ve got a performance tomorrow. You can’t just miss rehearsal the day before a performance, Y/N. You know the rules.”

You groaned, glancing out the window as the bus started to pull to a stop around a bunch of shops, including a smoothie place that you and Reggie found yourselves at frequently as you trudged off the bus. “Alright. I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m just going to be a little late.” You said quickly and hung-up hearing Carrie calling your name. She hated you being late. The smoothie place was barely packed as you bought yourself a smoothie and sat down in a booth in the back, letting yourself collapse in the seat.

Julie and Luke kissed. You watched them kiss and it wasn’t something that could be misconstrued. That wasn’t the hardest part to wrap your head around. What was troubling you was the fact that watching them kiss made you feel nothing. You weren’t mad or upset or jealous that Julie and Luke were possibly dating now. It was like you didn’t really care.

Your phone sounded, getting your attention as you looked down to see Reggie’s contact filling the screen. The other day, you were hanging out after school and decided to update your contacts to sell the fake dating. His picture on your phone was him smiling and you pressing a kiss to his cheek. Similarly, your picture on his phone was of him pressing a kiss to your cheek.

The call ended and you realized you’ve zoned out thinking about that day. It was only a second before Reggie called back and you were quick to answer. “Hey.” You said awkwardly, taking a sip of your smoothie.

“Hey, where are you? Alex and I came back into the studio and Julie and Luke said you just ran off. I thought I was supposed to drive you to practice.”

You sighed heavily, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, after I walked in on Julie and Luke kissing, I kinda just ran out.”

Reggie froze at your words paired with such a carefree attitude. “Wait what?” He stumbled out, he glanced around the studio, seeing his other free friends busy in a conversation as he slipped outside. “Julie and Luke kissed?”

“Yup.”

“And you saw them?”

“With my own two eyes.”

“Wow.”

“My thoughts exactly.” You chuckled under your breath and Reggie’s heart sunk for you.

“Are you okay?”

There was a silence on your part as Reggie waited, unsure whether you were going to be honest with him but the sigh that released before you spoke told him you meant what you said. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m fine.”

Reggie’s brows scrunched together. “You’re fine?” You hummed and Reggie’s concern started to settle. “Well, where are you?”

“At our smoothie place.”

Reggie scoffed playfully. “Without me? Wow. Wait, don’t you have rehearsal?”

“Yeah, but I told Carrie I’d be late.”

“Oh, I’m sure she took that well.”

“I wouldn’t know. I hung up before she could yell at me.”

Reggie’s laugh made you grin widely. “Buy me a smoothie, I’ll pick you up.” He said before hanging up and you rolled your eyes before doing what he said. It barely took Reggie 5 minutes to get there, perfectly lining the time up with when his smoothie landed at your table. He didn’t say anything as he climb into the booth across from you.

“I don’t like this silence.” You admitted and narrowed your eyes at him. He just sighed, reaching out to take the smoothie you bought him and taking a long sip. You waited, your leg shaking as you groaned. “Will you say something? Please?”

“I’m just waiting for you to tell me how you’re really feeling.”

“Oh.” You rubbed your hands together, your eyes falling to the table. “I’m really fine. I guess, it makes sense Luke and Julie together. They’re much more suited to each other than Luke and I could ever be.” You finished off your statement with a sip and a smile.

“You’re really fine?” Reggie clarified and your demeanor softened as you nodded.

“I’m really fine, Reg. Thank you for making sure.”

“Of course. I’m always here for you.” You tried to bite back your smile as you looked out the window next to you before finally meeting Reggie’s eyes. You reached forward, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze and Reggie and you were caught off guard by the skips in your hearts at the touch and seeing each other smile so dearly.

---

Reggie’s felt weird all night after you grabbed his hand at the smoothie place. It wasn’t like you haven’t held his hand before, you’ve done it a lot this week, but something about that moment right then where no one was watching felt so intimate. He drove you to rehearsal, receiving a weird look from you when he decided to stay in the car instead of walking in to see Carrie and later that night when the two of you did your nightly phone calls, he stayed quiet most of the time, choosing to listen to you ramble on about how Carrie worked you harder than hard for being late.

Now, he was on his way to pick you up for your gig, something he promised that night that he would do. He pulled up in front of your house and honked, waiting a minute before the door opened and Reggie could see your blue wig from the street. He grinned at the sight, looking down at the sparkly shirt and pants you wore that matched the color. The only thing that didn’t matched was Reggie’s flannel hanging off your shoulders as you rushed to his car and threw your dance bag in the bag.

“Thanks for the ride!” you told him as you slid in next to him, seeing his eyes dart from you to the steering wheel as he cleared his throat.

“I told you before, it’s no problem.” Reggie and you started singing along to the music until he pulled into the venue. You were bouncing on the seat as Reggie hesitated before reaching for your hand, making you surprised by the action. “Don’t be nervous. You’re going to be great.” You should’ve known he picked up on your nerves, he always does.

You nodded and started out of the car, keeping Reggie’s hand in yours until you were inside and whisked away from him by your friends. You threw a look back as they pulled you to what was deemed ‘backstage’ and Reggie was watching you leave, a small smile on his face as he waved.

Reggie glanced around, trying to figure out what to do before he found an empty table and slid into a seat. The band that was onstage kept his boredom from surfacing, but he was just waiting for you to walk on stage.

The moment your group was announced, Reggie’s head perked up and he clapped and cheered with the audience. When he saw you look around the crowd, he waved again to catch your attention and gave you a thumbs up. Your smile lit up your face as you took your position and Reggie couldn’t help but match your expression. His eyes never left you as you preformed, occasionally catching your eye and sending a wink your way that made your cheeks heat up more as you sung and danced along. He was so caught up in you, he never even looked to Carrie.

The moment you were offstage, he was by your side, tapping your shoulder to get you to turn around. “You were amazing!” He told you and you giggled and threw your arms around his neck in a hug, one that Reggie was happy to return.

“Aw, you guys really are so cute.” Kayla awed as she watched and Reggie and you pulled apart, each sporting your own embarrassment.

“Thanks, Kay.” You told her, feeling Reggie’s hand grab yours. You turned back to face him, feeling the adrenaline of the performance start to wear off. “I’m exhausted.”

Reggie snorted a laugh at you. “Yeah, I bet. That looked intense, I don’t know how-“

“You came!” Reggie’s words were cut off by the sound of Carrie across the room and you and Reggie turned right in time to watch her jump into Nick’s arms. Your stomach dropped. They weren’t getting back together, were they? When Nick pressed a kiss to Carrie’s cheek, you turned back to Reggie, seeing him looking at you.

“Are you alright?” you questioned, slightly confused by the reaction you weren’t getting from him.

Reggie looked back to Carrie and Nick, seeing them holding each other as he let a smile creep on his face, one that double when his eyes flickered back to you. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.” He assured you, just like you had assured him yesterday.

You chuckled. “We really know how to pick good people to crush on, don’t we?”

“Yeah, we’re great at it.” He joked with a chuckle as well before glancing down to your hands. “I guess, we don’t have to pretend to date anymore.”

You gulped, your smile faltering. “I guess not.” Slowly, you let your hands drift apart and you were already missing the warmth his hand brought you. Reggie was missing it too and a part of him, a big part of him, hoped you were feeling the same he has these past few days.

“Hey, Y/N?” Your eyes met, making your heart skip when he smiled at you. “We’re friends, right?”

You quirked a brow, your head tilting before you realized what Reggie was doing. “I guess, you could call us that.”

“Good. Then I need you to go on a date with me.”

You knew what Reggie was doing, but you didn’t know where he was going with your repeated conversation. “I’m gonna need a little more of an explanation here.”

Reggie’s breath was shaky as he reconnected your hands. You held your breath, refusing to look away from him as he hyped himself up to speak. “I like you.”

“You like me?”

“I like you.” Reggie repeated, hearing the uncertainty in your voice but the way you tightened your hold on his made him hopeful. “So, um…”

“I like you too.” You assured him and felt Reggie relax as his eyes closed before he opened them back up to look into yours. “So, what now?” you joked, stepped closer to him. “Are we supposed to kiss?”

Reggie’s eyes flickered down to your lips and yours did the same before Reggie nodded. “Yeah.” Not a second later, Reggie’s lips were on yours, and you were melting into his hold as he held you close by your waist. You brought a hand up to his neck to deepen the kiss. When you separated, your hand moved to rest on his chest as you were fully pressed against him. “Why couldn’t that have part of the fake dating?” Reggie mumbled, chasing your lips for another kiss that you granted him before giggling.

“And we thought we were just friends.”

“Yeah, we were stupid. Another kiss please?” Reggie pleaded and you rolled your eyes fondly before doing just that.

.

.

.

.

#Reggie Peters x reader #Reggie Peters imagine #Reggie Peters #Jatp #Jatp x reader #Jatp imagine #Jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms imagine #Julie and the phantoms x reader #Julie and the Phantoms

[gallickingun]

legacy || dragon prince!kirishima

SUMMARY: After an arranged marriage to the Prince of Dragons, Kirishima Eijirou, you decide you do not want to live your life in a loveless relationship, so you attempt to get to know him. After some time, you realize that he was keeping something very important from you. How are you supposed to help him if he won’t come clean?

PAIRING: Dragon Prince!Kirishima x Princess!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, smut, breeding kink (so much breeding), etc. WORD COUNT: 13.5k+

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

Author’s Note: This is a prompt fill for THESE prompts that I just couldn’t chill out with. I didn’t want this to get confused with @makoodles​ Dragon Dick Kiri! This Kirishima has normal anatomy 👀 but go give her’s a read as well, it’s so frickin’ good. 

༶•┈⛧ ┈♛ ♛ ┈⛧┈•༶

An arranged marriage to the Prince of Dragons wasn’t how you saw the start of the rest of your life going.

You expected to have more time before you would be called to responsibility, to the throne, to your people. You wanted to live your life, to frolic through the meadows and taste the sweet mead drinks the cooks are always going on about. You wanted to be free.

You did not want to find yourself forced into a white dress, a bunch of flowers in your hand, as you recite the sacred betrothal vows to a man you’ve never met before.

His name is Kirishima Eijirou.

At least he’s handsome.

And beyond his good looks, Kirishima has a charming air about him as well. He is kind to all the servants and never asks for their help unless it’s entirely required. He even goes so far as to request separate bedrooms for the two of you, knowing exactly what might be expected of you if you were to sleep together.

When you approached him about it, he bowed his head, “I know that you did not enter this matrimony by choice, milady. I would hate to force you into anything you did not ask for.”

You would be lying if you denied that your heart skipped a beat.

Kirishima makes himself useful around the castle, tending to the gardens with the other landscapers, using his enhanced strength and hard, scaly skin to chop down trees and uproot stumps. He even brings the ladies in the kitchen spices from other parts of the kingdom and animals that the other hunters had not been able to slay.

His fierce instincts and amazing strength have made him quite the match for the kingdom; almost as if he were exactly what you needed. The citizens have never been more excited for a new king to rise, practically salivating as Kirishima passes through the town on his daily walks. You watch on from your tower window, leaning over the edge of the cobblestone to squint as you make out his bulky frame mounting a horse and exiting the castle gates.

Many a night passes and you feel uneasy at the distance between you. He is your husband, and yet you are sure that you have not had a conversation lasting more than a few syllables with him. You are sure that even the commoners know him better than you do.

Everyone in the kingdom adores Kirishima, although they could care less for the mouthy knight he’s brought along with him. A blonde, stout man you’ve come to know as Bakugou Katsuki. He is Kirishima’s protector and right-hand, following him around like a shadow, throwing his opinions and criticisms out with little care to the sensitive ears they may fall upon.

“Bakugou?” you ask one afternoon, crossing your arms as you stand beside him, Kirishima helping to dig trenches using his scaled, hardened hands. You tilt your head to consider the blonde, your irises finding a crimson color, harsh and unbending, much unlike your betrothed’s warm gaze, “Does Kirishima care for me?”

His throat bobs and a strangled sound comes from it, “Excuse me?”

“Kirishima keeps his distance from me,” you muse, licking your lips as you turn from him to focus on the man you find yourself fascinated with even more as each day passes. “I just want to know if he is uncomfortable around me.”

“That’s one word for it.”

You unceremoniously smack his arm, “Stop being belligerent and answer me!”

“Bloody hell,” Bakugou takes a step away from you, “yes, Kirishima is uncomfortable around you, but not for the reason you think, wench.”

Your narrowed eyes spur him to speak again, “He thinks fondly of you, if that’s what you wish to know. Eijirou just has a strange way of showing it. Now, can we please stop talking about this emotional shit?”

There is no answer from your lips, only the absence of your presence at his side. Bakugou huffs out a relieved sigh and watches as you hitch your skirt up and run towards his friend and ruler. He shakes his head when you stumble into Kirishima’s arms, rolling his eyes as he begins his afternoon patrol of the grounds.

“Whoa,” the prince’s arms are sturdy as he catches you before you can face plant into the trench he’s dug, “are you okay?”

Your body relishes in the warmth he provides, fingers clinging onto his shoulders, feeling the ridges of the hard, corded muscle beneath you, “Y-Yes, I am fine! I need to ask you something, though.”

“Yes, Princess?” Kirishima, ever the gentleman, holds you steady, guiding you back to some sense of normalcy. He is fighting a smile at your bedraggled appearance, the corners of his lips twitching as he looks down his nose at you, the black metal guard around his face making his features even more sharp.

The core of you churns with molten lava at the sight of his handsome features, the tendrils of smoke from the sloshing heat curling up your throat until it forces your mouth open, “W-Would you like to go for a picnic?”

Kirishima has never looked more surprised and amused. His hand absentmindedly rubs over your elbow and bicep, sending small jolts of electricity through to your bones until you can feel them rattling around in the cage of your body. He stutters when he speaks, “A-A picnic? As in, eating together? A-Alone?”

“Yes,” you flush, your cheeks burning brightly at the confession, “I think we’ve earned a little time away, don’t you think?”

His face goes the same color as his hair, his pink tongue passing over his lower lip as he considers you, shifting uncomfortably from foot-to-foot as he chooses his words wisely, “Princess, you don’t have to humor me. I know my place.”

“Your place is with me,” you bolster your spine so you can look him in the eyes, barely distracted by the small scales that cover his temples and jawline. “And I want to know my husband. Is that a crime? Shall you have me thrown in the dungeon?”

The black pupils in the center of his orbs dilate, his shoulders shifting as he considers your words and your tone. Kirishima shakes his head after he’s processed what you’re saying, taking a step closer so your chest almost brushes his when you take heaving breaths, “No, I think it sounds like a wonderful idea. How does veal and fruit sound?”

“Like heaven.”

It is not much later in the afternoon when Kirishima stops by the stables to collect you, a woven wicker basket cradled in one of his hands, full to the brim with a plethora of things hidden under the lid. He packs the basket and a few blankets onto the backside of the horse that he brought with him when he merged his belongings with yours. He pats the horse’s backside, “All right, Red. Be nice. This is the princess you’re carrying.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with your palm as you step forward. Your free hand brushes over Red’s snout and down her mane, “And that’s the prince, you know. Precious cargo.”

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got my thick skin,” he shrugs, reaching out a hand for you to take, “plus Red knows I’m the one with the sugar cubes, so she’ll be sweet on me.”

Your palm rests in his as you stride towards him, the proximity of your bodies now intoxicating as his natural heat radiates between the two of you. The base of your throat bobs as emotion gathers in your esophagus, cutting off your breathing. Your eyes flutter somewhere between open and closed when you try to look at him directly, unable to focus when he’s so close to you.

Kirishima is no small man, your eye-level meeting his collarbones. His hands dwarf yours easily, his stout body thick with muscle and sinew, dense bones holding him together. You suppose it’s thanks to his animalistic ancestry.

Each kingdom descended from some form of ancient animal, and Kirishima’s was the dragons. And so, he inherited the qualities of that very beast, starting with his intense body heat and the scales that litter his skin in small patches. They are black in color at a first glance, but when he shifts beneath the sunbeams, you notice they have a red iridescence to them. You are thankful to find that he has no tail or snout, saving those features for a much more human-looking set.

Kirishima rests his palms on your hips, almost able to wrap his digits completely around the circumference of your waist as he hoists you onto his horse. His quaking digits roam down the thick of your thigh, thumbs brushing up against the skin to treasure it. You have to stop yourself from keening into his touch, seeming desperate, by white knuckling your hands around the saddle.

He clambers up after you, slinging one leg before propping himself up to rest behind you. Leaning forward, he grabs the reigns, his chest pressing firmly into your back. You force yourself to regulate your breathing, the scent and feel of him making your head dizzy. Kirishima scoots forward and the curve of his crotch is pressing into your spine as he spurs Red forward with a gentle slap of the reigns.

You squeal, your hands instinctively reaching out to wrap around his forearms, the tips of your fingers dragging over the dark scales he sports at the junctures of his arms. His muscles twitch under your touch and your breath hitches. The bottom of his chin is hovering just above your shoulder, his cheek threatening your personal space while his chest falls flush with your back, “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” you manage an awkward laugh, blinking to clear your vision. “Sorry, I just wasn’t ready.”

Kirishima holds the reigns in one hand, using the other to wrap around your waist, effectively silencing you as your heart beats heavy in your chest, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

It is easy to melt back into him, a shuddering breath making your shoulders shake. You rest your hands over the top of his thick arm, thumbs finding his veins and bones to trace while you wait for your end destination to come in sight. You avoid paying too close attention to the ebony scales that glimmer in the afternoon sun, shifting from black to red when you look acutely.

The sun is setting when he finally stops Red at the edge of a lake, golden glow shining from the surface of the water and making it difficult to see. Kirishima helps you down before grabbing the picnic basket and tying Red up around the trunk of a tree. In the meantime, you work at setting out the blanket on the ground, tugging out the corners so it’s fully splayed open.

Conversation flows easy for the two of you as you lay out on the ground, face turned toward the sun as is sinks lower in the afternoon sky. You close your eyes and drink in the sunbeams, your hands tucked behind your head. Kirishima is waving his hands around, holding grapes between one set of fingers and a slice of bread in the other.

You laugh, a full-bellied giggle that you have not felt in what seems like years. When the laughter settles, you turn your head to see Kirishima already looking down at you, a soft but sad expression tugging on his features. You tilt your head, blinking a few times before asking him, “What is on your mind?”

“Why are you doing this?” he blurts unabashedly.

The inside of your mouth turns to ash, as if you’ve licked the inside of the oven and can’t get the taste off of your tongue. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and reach a hand up to rub at your face as nerves start to eat away at your belly.

“Can a princess not have a picnic with her husband?” Your voice has risen an octave and it’s obvious he notices because he leans in further, as if silently asking you to further explain. You huff, rolling your eyes, “I just want to get to know you, Kirishima. If we’re to be wed for the rest of our lives, don’t you think we should learn a little about one another?!”

Kirishima sits up straighter, his eyes unable to find a part of you to focus on as his gaze wanders. You turn on your side, reaching out to press your palm to his thigh, but he halts you with his warm touch and saddened words, “I assumed you would have nothing to do with me. Arranged marriages aren’t usually filled with companionship.”

You lean forward, your mouth against his knuckles as you exhale, “I think we’d like each other if we had the chance, arranged marriage or not.”

A silence hangs in the air, Kirishima’s hand heavy beneath yours. You feel the muscles in his leg twitch as your thumb brushes down over his shin. It’s like you are waiting sparks to ignite in midair and take the both of you down, the imminent danger of his response sending a burning chill down your spine. You fear you may have misjudged him, or perhaps his companion misspoke with the intent to turn the two of you against one another.

“Kirishima,” you try again, sitting up on your knees so you can look him in the eyes much easier, “listen, I-”

His thumb against your lower lip gives you pause, your eyes crossing as you try to look down at the offending digit. Kirishima looks up at you, a glimmer in his vermilion irises, “I want you to call me Eijirou.”

Your heart stops beating within your chest at the admission of his given name. You had heard Bakugou say it, and of course when you learned who you would be marrying, you were informed of the nomenclature. However, you never assumed that you would be gifted the privilege to use it so soon.

“Eijirou,” you test it out on your tongue, rolling the name around like honey, “I like that.”

A smile tugs on the corners of his lips and you see the faintest brush of dimples. You lean your body forward to press a kiss to his cheek, just barely brushing the corner of his mouth, “Nice to meet you, Eijirou. I’m your wife.”

He chuckles, reaching out to shake your hand, “Pleased to make your acquaintance. How do you do?”

“I’d be doing much better with some berries between my teeth,” you lean back, brushing your thumb over the back of his palm, “but I’m doing just fine, now that I’ve got you.”

The smile on Kirishima’s face puts the sunshine to shame.

༶•┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

It had been months since that picnic by the lake, and you and Kirishima had grown rather close. He chases your lips behind closed doors and your hands are insatiable as they roam his body beneath his tunic. You know the taste of his skin by heart, and he knows the innermost parts of you better than you do.

So him pulling away now has you perplexed.

You pace back and forth in front of his private chambers, the place where he is allowed to go when he needs to contemplate war plans and farming plots and taxation of the citizens. However, he has been holed up behind the thick wooden door for six days straight, and you know that something is wrong.

Bakugou is posted up in front of the door, a mess of limbs as he whittles away at a slab of wood, working on turning it into something much more intricate. His head raises so he can roll his eyes at your unease, “Relax, Princess. He’ll be out of there in another week or two.”

“What does that even mean?!” you snap, your eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. You feel yourself breaking from the inside out – you thought you had made so much progress, that maybe you and Kirishima were really moving forward, learning how to co-habitate and rule together. Your voice is crazed and you throw your palms face-up towards the knight, “Weeks? This is absurd!”

You narrow your eyes at the door like it has wronged you, keeping you from your lover, and you are barreling towards it before Bakugou can stop you.  

“Eijirou!”

Bursting through the door, you’re surprised to find that he is not sitting at his desk, pouring over world maps and charts. Rather, he’s not anywhere to be seen at all. You shut and lock the door behind you just as Bakugou has gotten to his feet, narrowing your eyes at him as it clicks shut.

You hear a whimpering sound off in the distance, and you follow it.

There is a secluded area you know is hidden behind the bookshelf – a secret room built by your father so he can escape even the already secretive confines of his study. You pull the familiar lever at the base of the bookcase and the entire structure begins to shudder as the door is opened. A familiar head of red hair is lowered, his chin to his chest as sobs rack his body, broad shoulders shaking as he sniffles.

“Eiji?” your voice is quiet, afraid to disrupt the moment. He is bare at the torso, his hands cradled in front of him, but you can only make out the muscled expanse of his back, “Eijirou, why are you-”

“I-I didn’t want you in here,” he mumbles through labored breaths. When he turns his head you can make out the glistening tears running down his face, “Y-You smell so strongly and I don’t know if I can control myself.”

“Excuse you?” Your voice is more of a bark than a question, stepping further into the small space so you’re stood beside him, “I smell? You could have just told me, for Christ’s sakes, Eiji-holy shit.”

Your eyes are drawn to the center of his hips, where he’s currently cradling his cock between his hands. The head of it is engorged and blushed, leaking pearlescent fluid that leaks down the shaft, coating one of the more prominent veins on the underside. Your throat bobs at the sight of him, taking in his girth with your own two eyes, trying to rationalize why you’d never seen his lower body without clothing until just now.

“I-I’m sorry, listen, it’s just…” Kirishima is in tears, his voice strained as he stands to his feet, “I-I’m in a fucking rut and it’s horrible and you shouldn’t have to witness it, let alone be a part of it. I wanted to wait it out in here so I could stay away from you.”

You step closer to him, your hands hovering in midair as you’re not sure which part of him to grab for first. Your entire anatomy is on fire at the visual of his thick cock leaking pre and throbbing with the need to spill his seed. The base of him leads way to a set of weighty balls, and you can only imagine the sheer amount of come that he has stored up in them.

“Stay away from me? Eiji,” you whisper, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He recoils, another sniffle as he turns his head, but you persist regardless, “Am I not your wife? Is this not my job?”

He stands to his feet, his trousers taut against his thighs as he tries to pull them back up his legs, “Exactly! This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you! It’s not a job, Princess, nothing in this realm should ever feel like a job. It should be fun, and I can promise you this won’t be fun for you.”

“Rut?” you redirect the conversation, coming to stand in front of him with your hand on his wrist to keep him from pulling his pants back over his cock. “Wh-Tell me what that means, exactly?”

Kirishima inhales deeply, his chest expanding, and then reaches down to take his dick in his hand, stroking it once to show you the length of it, “It’s whatever part of me is intertwined with dragon, I have these annual cycles where I’m drawn to my-fuck, this is so strange to say out loud-my mate.”

You want to reach down to hold his throbbing length in your hands but the look in his eyes says that he isn’t done. Kirishima gulps as he looks across at you, glittering ruby eyes filled to the brim with emotion, “It’s a mating cycle, outside of that I’m not really sure. I go into a rut for a couple of weeks each year, ever since I went through the change, and my body has this intense desire to impregnate a mate.”

The talk coming from him is oddly arousing, and you find yourself growing slick between your thighs. You hover closer to him now, the head of his cock brushing up against your belly as your hands start to roam over his bare chest, “Please, show me what you need, whatever it is, and I’ll help you. You’re in pain, Eijirou.”

He winces on cue, turning his head before you can see the extent of his discomfort. Kirishima shakes his head, “Listen, I-I’ve been doing this alone for years, I can handle it.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to!” You try and reason with him, reaching up to take his cheeks in your hands, redirecting his attention, “I’m your wife, Eijirou.”

A tear wells up in either of his eyes, making his irises look like they are glittering in the candlelight of the secret room, “Yes, but you’re not my mate.”

Those few words topple you over like a horse has just run over your chest. The breath has been knocked out of you, stolen from your lungs, and you take a step back to steady yourself before you fall. Kirishima’s eyesight falters as he realizes what he’s just said, but he makes no move to correct himself. Rather, he stands taller, straightening his spine like he’s ready to go to war, to lead thousands of men into a battle he’s not sure he can win.

You have a choice to make now – you can stand here and fight, or you can flee through the secret passage and hide in your own chambers until his rut is over.

“Eijirou,” you grit your teeth, tears flowing down your cheeks, and look him in the eyes, “I’m not leaving you.”

Fight it is, then.

Kirishima looks stunned, so you take advantage of his stillness to rush at him, cupping his face with your hands and bruising his lips in a kiss. His hips roll forward and his cock is sheathed between your thighs, so you squeeze yourself tight around him, grabbing at his wrists before he can pull himself away. The whimper he lets loose from his mouth is wanton, his body practically shivering with the need to swallow you whole.

You kiss him until he’s shaking, his hands white-knuckled as he bars himself from grabbing every inch of your body like his primal nature pushes him to. When you pull away from him, you look up into his eyes and see hesitation keeping his pupils dilated to where you can still make out his crimson irises.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I-I can’t do that to you, not now, not when I think-”

He stops himself before he finishes his sentence, but in your heart, you know what he’s going to say. You smile, praying that he receives some warmth and comfort from the gesture, and brush your thumbs against his wrists where you hold his hands by his sides, “You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

It’s as if he’s resigned himself to this truth, that you will not leave unless he forces you, and he does not believe that it’s his place to coerce you into doing anything you haven’t already decided for yourself. Kirishima stands tall and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as if taking in the moment. You hear him count a few numbers in an ancient dialect before he peels back his lids and his darkened eyes meet yours, lust swirling around like thunderclouds and his irises have deepened to a maroon shade.

“Are you sure?” he asks, one final time, hands still by his sides, “Once we start, I might not be able to stop.”

That sentence alone is enough to send a chill down your spine.

You nod, trying not to seem too eager by keeping your feet flat to the ground, “Yes, Eijirou, please. I want you to do whatever you need to, please use me.”

The sound of your voice so willing and wanton makes Kirishima’s blood run hot in his veins, thudding against his ears until he can hardly hear anything else. He steps forward, his chest flush with yours, and his shaking hands finally make contact with your body.

He is insatiable when he finally grabs a hold of you, palming at you like an animal. Kirishima captures your mouth in a searing kiss, moaning as soon as your lips part in a gasp. He backs you into the desk he was sitting against when you first came in, your ass knocking against the wood in his haste. A low growl bubbles up in his chest until he nips at your lower lip and you whimper, then the sound fades to a moan.

“Fuck, Princess,” he whispers hoarsely, eyes already blitzed out as he looks down at you, “I want to taste you.”

Your eyes are wide as you blink up at him, your fingers in his hair to sift through the dark red strands. You find yourself nodding your head eagerly, squirming up onto the top of the desk to give him a better angle. Kirishima smiles wide enough that you can see his sharper canines, gums bared as he grins. He lowers himself to his knees, and something about seeing him in such a vulnerable position makes your head spin.

Kirishima pushes the hem of your skirt up and over your thighs, bunching up the material in one hand as the other parades over your soft undergarments. He visibly shivers when the pad of his middle finger brushes over the wet patch on the fabric, his tongue parting his lips as he dampens them.

He mutters a string of ancient curse words in a dialect you cannot comprehend, but it still arouses you, nonetheless. You help him with your dress, tucking it behind your back, before reaching out to run your fingers through his hair, tugging him closer to your core.

You give him a soft, “Eiji, please,” before you hear the tearing of fabric, and your cunt is bared to the cold air.

A gasp parts your lips, but you throw your head back when his tongue first makes contact with your slick folds. You whine into the air, the sound dying out as it travels, and your grip in his hair tightens to a pressure that should be painful, but his thick skin gives him a better barrier for pain.

Kirishima hums against your clit, running the coarse pad of his tongue over the sensitive bud before diving back into your sopping core. He moans as your taste coats his tongue, bringing one of his hands up to your belly so he can brush his thumb along your clit for further stimulation, the coarse feeling of his scaled elbow grating over your thigh giving you goosebumps. His free set of fingers dig into every part of your leg that he can find, roaming from your calves to your thighs to your ass, kneading the plush skin beneath his hardened fingertips.

You clench around his tongue, the thick muscle stimulating even the deepest parts of you. You mewl out his name, uncaring as to how loud you’re being, which only seems to spur him on, the pace of his tongue quickening as his thumb grinds mercilessly against your clit. You cant your hips upward against his mouth, begging for even more friction, and he chuckles, the sound sending reverberating pleasure through your core.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Kirishima’s voice is gentle as he turns his attention to your thighs, kissing the innermost parts as he slips a thick finger between your folds, “I want you to come undone for me, yeah? Think you can do that?”

A nod brings your vision back down to him, to look into his eyes as you rock against his knuckles. He bares his teeth to your thigh before sucking your supple skin between his lips. The combination of pleasure from your cunt mixed with the pain from his biting and sucking of your thigh brings you closer to your high, your vision blurred by ecstasy. You moan, tightening every muscle in your body in hopes that it will push you over the edge, but Kirishima’s hand runs over your taut skin in a soothing motion, rubbing the pads of his fingers deep into your muscles as if to try and calm you down.

“Relax,” he kisses over the dark red mark now splotched against your thigh, “I’ve got you, I’m gonna take care of you.”

You believe him, between his earnest expression and the honest hoarseness behind his words. You swallow thickly, forcing the growing lump in your throat back down into your chest. The contours of your body are less noticeable once you’ve eased your muscles, and Kirishima takes it as a sign for him to quicken the pace of his fingers in your pussy, leaning forward to suck at your clit with his teeth and tongue.

He can feel your walls tightening as he stretches you out with another finger, the spongy texture of your insides giving away the closeness to your end. Smirking around your skin, Kirishima hums, sending you crashing carelessly towards your orgasm.

The sound of his name falling obscenely from your lips makes his cock harden and twitch between his legs. He grunts as he ruts forward against your shin, the head of his dick smearing pre-come against your smooth skin. You suck in a breath at the feeling, falling forward so your lips are in his hair, whispering murmurs of praise and begging as you feel your core writhe with pleasure.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, hearing your whines from above, “c’mon, Princess, come for me.”

You do as your told, the glutinous walls within you coated with your arousal, milky fluid seeping from your body until it has coated his palm. Kirishima reaches up with his clean hand to thread it through your hair, pulling you gently so he can stand to his feet. You watch as he pumps his cock with the palm that is slick with your silvery strands of spend, the head of him engorged and angry red in color. Your mouth salivates at the thought of him splitting you wide open with the thick girth of him, and for a moment you’re unsure if you’ll be able to take him as easily as you originally believed.

Kirishima wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you to him so he can hoist you off of the desk and walk you towards the small bed staggered in the corner of the room. He lowers you down easily, the rippling muscles of his biceps drawing your eye as he strains himself to keep you safe. You lean up and kiss him on the mouth, swallowing his growling sounds into the recesses of your throat so they may thrum up and down your spine, sending a second shock-wave towards your core.

You notice that Kirishima is eyeing a very specific point on your throat as he leans back onto his thick thighs, taking in your already weakened body. You reach up and palm at his chest, redirecting his attention to your eyes, “Eijirou, what is it?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, leaning down to kiss up from your navel to your chest, “you’re just beautiful.”

His words make your body blush from head to toe, your feet curling up as he shuffles himself out of his pants. You take the moment to hoist your dress over your head, both of your clothes left in a pile on the floor as you reconnect your bodies with a kiss.

Something about this time makes his skin hotter to the touch, you notice, and his muscles are practically ripping at the seams, threatening to bust out if he tries any harder to keep himself restrained. You lick at the fullness of his lower lip, “Eijirou, I need you. Please.”

The pleading nature of your voice only feeds his feral nature, the instinctive side of him wanting to rip you to shreds until you’re screaming his name, crying fat tears as he presses into you and fills you to the brim with his spend. Kirishima has to squeeze his eyes shut to stave off the primal need that stirs him, instead focusing on the way his heart beats faster when you’re around, and how the glimmer in your eyes never ceases to amaze him.

Kirishima angles his hips backward so he can push the tip of his cock between your sopping heat, his restraint feathering out the deeper he slides into you. A gentle gasp from your lips stops him, his hips stilled as he peels his eyes open to look down at you, “A-Am I hurting you?”

“No, fuck, Eijirou, I want you,” you scramble to grab at whatever part of him you can find, fingernails digging roughly into his biceps, “I need you in me, I need you to take me. I’m yours.”

That is the last straw to break the proverbial camel’s back. Kirishima sheathes his cock within your heat with one smooth stroke, the stretch of your tight pussy making the shaft of his dick throb noticeably. You reel forward, your forehead smacking into his chest at the sudden obtrusion from within you. Your body takes over then, trying your hardest to kiss and lick and touch any patch of skin that is close enough.

The prince wraps an arm around your back, holding you sturdily with a palm splayed out between your shoulders, easily keeping you in place as he starts to jut his hips forward, “So fuckin’ tight, angel, such a good little girl, takin’ my cock like this. Fuck I want to-”

He stops himself by dropping his forehead to your shoulder, whining as his thick cock pounds repeatedly into your pussy. You grab at his hair to pull him away from you, desperate to look him in the eyes, “Eiji, tell me.”

There are tears settled in the corners of his irises with the desperate need for more that his body cries out for. Kirishima shakes his head and kisses you on the mouth, nails biting into your back as his cock makes your insides keen. He loses himself in the stretch of you, the tightness of your core making his whole body boil, his skin teeming with sweat as he rucks into you.

“Damnit,” he whimpers as you clench around him, drawing his dick back into your core as he tries to snap his hips backward, “I want to breed you, so fuckin’ bad, Princess.”

It is like he expects you to retreat once he’s said it, as if the thought of it might scare you off. On the contrary, all it does is spur you forward. You kiss him like your life depends on it, rolling your hips up to meet his until he is stroking the hidden part of you near your spine, the head of his cock inflamed and beading with pre-come even as he’s buried to the hilt within you.

The weight of his balls is more intense now, throbbing with his seed, slapping into your ass as he ruts forward, taking your body and molding it with his intentions. You hiss as the veins forking along the underside of his cock drag salaciously against your folds, but he merely takes advantage of the parting of your lips to delve his tongue into your mouth. He maps out each of your molars and then down to the back of your throat, moans spoken into the confines of your jaws so that the world may never hear them, only you.

You know that you are going to have to be the one to tell him that this is okay, that you want him to destroy your body with his touch. Every hair stands on end, even with him holding back, and you can only imagine how worked your bones will feel once he’s actually given you his all. Kirishima is feverish around you, hot and sweating as he works the both of you towards the point of coming undone. You relinquish yourself from his kiss, leaning your head back so you can look him in the eyes.

“Breed me, Eijirou,” your voice is hoarse when you speak, near cracking as you beg him, desperate tears glittering in the corners of your eyes, “I want you to fill me up with your come, please. Stuff me full of it.”

Kirishima’s palm rests at your abdomen, and you notice it for the first time. You wonder what is going through his mind; if he is thinking about the way his cock fills your stomach, or if he is plagued by the idea of you full with his child, pregnant and swollen at the navel. He rubs the heel of it over the expanse of your belly, finding every available patch of skin to caress with his touch, the hardened tips of his fingers raking thin red lines into your skin.

A part of you wants them to never go away, marking you as his, letting all the others know who you belong to.

“I want your baby, Eiji. Won’t you give me one?” Your voice is quiet, timid, unsure if this is how he wants this night to go. You lick your lips and look up at him bashfully, tiny tear tracks spilled over your cheeks in rivulets, “I want you to breed me full, Eijirou. I want you to fill up my cunt with your seed until I’m dripping, please, won’t you?”

Your begging mixed with his feral desire brings his teeth down to your neck, bared but not piercing, not yet. He whimpers as he slips his mouth closed, nosing over the area, licking at it like an animal, “You’d be so pretty when you’re full of me, absolutely beautiful.”

You turn your head so you can kiss him on the temple, feeling his hesitation beneath the pads of your fingers, “I’m your wife, Eiji, but I want to be your mate, too.”

A strangled sound is mangled in his throat, but he pulls away from you to look you in the eye nonetheless, “Wh-What are…Princess, listen, I don’t want you to think-”

“I love you.”

His irises engulf his pupils as his eyes widen, stuttering breaths parting his lips. His gaze is frantic, unable to find one part of your face to hone in on, the three words that you’ve uttered into the air giving him serious pause. His heart starts pumping furiously in his chest, threatening to beat right out of the cage of his ribs if he isn’t careful to calm it.

You are frightened that you’ve been too honest, that you’ve bared your soul too far and there is no coming back. Fear forces your words down into your chest, unable to cry out an apology at going too far too soon. Your hands on his arms pull away, digging into the sheets so you have something to take out your inner turmoil on.

“Y-You want…” Kirishima shakes his head, swallowing thickly so his throat bobs, “You want me?”

The incredulous snort that makes your nostrils flare cannot be contained. You look down to where he is balls deep in your cunt, and then back up to hold his gaze, “Eijirou, is that really even a question?”

He’s stuttering out some sort of response, but you can’t be bothered to listen, so you drag him forward by the nape of his neck, cementing your mouth to his. You wrap your legs around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into the firm muscle of his ass to pull him back to you, to encourage his movements. Kirishima is tentative this time, unsure of himself but his animalistic nature still brings him back to pump his cock within your heat.

“I love you,” you murmur into his lips, twirling your fingers through his hair, “if you love me too, then I want whatever you have to offer, whatever you need to give me so I can finally be yours.”

With every word you speak, the animal gnawing at the back of Kirishima’s consciousness grows less tame. It is begging, with claws at his throat, to take you for all you’re worth, until you’re bone dry and pleading for him to relinquish you. He bares his teeth and the instinct curling around his spine, making him seem stronger, wider, somehow gives way to the true nature of this rut he’s told you about.

It’s a mixture of excitement and fear, and you feel a rush of heat flood your core.

Kirishima groans, gnashing his teeth as he drops his head so your foreheads are pressed to one another. You can sense he’s still holding back, still a touch embarrassed, so you knead your fingers into the tops of his shoulders, begging with the touch of his muscles for him to claim you once and for all.

“Kiri,” your voice is strong even though you’re whispering, “what do you want to do to me? Don’t you want me?”

“Fuck, of course I do,” Kirishima kisses you soundly on the mouth, as if he must reassure you, as if you were doubting him. “I want you, every day for the rest of my life. B-But I can’t…a mate is for life, angel.”

The way he says it suggests that you don’t already know, or that it may come as a surprise to you. You smile, wrapping your arms around his back so you can lean up, arching your spine so your torsos are flush with one another. You’ve never felt the desire to be so close to someone, but it is as if this is not even close enough. You wish there were a better way to prove to him that he is the end of the line for you, that you could never want anyone else.

“I love you,” you repeat, palming the corded muscle of his back as if it might pump the confession into him by the osmosis of your sweat, “You are the first thing I want to see in the morning when I wake, and the last thing I gaze at in the night before I fall asleep. You are the end to all my beginnings, Eijirou.”

Kirishima groans at your confession, his needy body unable to create the same kind of eloquent response as he holds his hips still, unwilling to ruin your beautiful moment. His nose brushes along the bridge of yours, a question lodged in his throat and unwilling to be bared. You nudge the bow of your lips against his cheek, murmuring kind praises into his ear, “Tell me what you want, what you need, Eijirou. I want to give it to you, whatever it is.”

“C-Can I mark you?” his voice is bedraggled, just on the cusp of breaking.

“Please,” you ask of him, craning your head so your neck is available. “I want to be yours, and I want everyone else to know.”

It seems that is all the encouragement he needs, baring his fanged teeth to the thin skin of your neck, tongue tracing over your jugular as he prepares the area for his biting kiss. He nudges his nose against your earlobe, that same ancient tongue from earlier sending a shiver down your spine as he speaks.

You are not prepared for the searing pain that rips through your body when he finally tears into you. A cry parts your lips and your cunt squeezes him so tightly that he almost slips from within you. Your hand rips through his hair, the other occupied with his shoulder, nails bludgeoning his hardened skin until you draw blood. You want to throw your head back but you know that will only make it all worse, his teeth will shred your skin until you are but a flayed piece of meat lying beneath him.

“Kiri,” you whine, turning your head to nestle you lips into the edge of his hair that curls around his ear, kissing at whatever surface you can find.

He hums in response, unable to give you words as he sucks and pulls at the skin. You feel your mind cloud the longer he has dug into you, the tendrils of need writhing around your cerebrum until you can no longer think clearly. The one thing on your mind is the very thing between his legs, and you whisper words of want into his ear, praying that he can hear you through his animalistic marking.

The palm of his hand digs further into your belly, until he can feel the tip of his cock underneath his fingers. Kirishima growls around your neck, the timbre of his voice shaking your very bones. You swallow, dipping your fingers further into the skin of his shoulders, “Kirishima, move.”

His hips are listening even if he does not give an indication that he’s heard you. He uses his hands to prop up your legs, the tips of his digits bruising your skin with their intensity, until your knees are almost parallel with the mattress. The only reason they aren’t digging into your chest is because he’s still slotted there, gnashing away at the sensitive skin of your neck. His body is lumbering and thick, dense from his neck to his ankles.

Kirishima makes you feel small, in every sense of the word. Even as a princess, you did not feel dainty, you’ve never been a precious flower that someone else has to protect. You’ve always stumbled a little, faltered when you should be standing upright, and your parents have had to reprimand you for your unladylike tendencies more than once.

But here, lying underneath his hulking form, your fingers seem tinier, more elegant, and even as your knees dig into his ribs, he does not falter, does not wince. You cannot put him in pain, between his hard exterior and his intense primal nature, and it makes you feel like a porcelain doll.

And once his cock plunges back within your tight, wet heat, you are reminded of how massive he truly is.

The tip of his cock butterflies you wide open, shattering your limited stretch and prying you open with each quivering inch of his thick girth. He overwhelms you, so much so that your head topples backward to dig further into the pillow, as if running away from him might soothe the ache between your legs. Even that is a mistake, because once you’ve shifted, his teeth scrape down the sensitive skin of your collarbones, angry red marks left in their wake.

He leans back to examine his hard work, eyes roaming the juncture of your neck and shoulder where the shape of his teeth is like a shadow. A guttural growl emanates from his throat, the air sparking with electricity at the sound of it. You swallow the thick, pent-up arousal in your throat and breathe heavily, somewhat thankful to be rid of his mouth even though a part of you would frenetically like to bring it back. Your throat is throbbing, and you think you could count the number of teeth he was able to sink into you based on the pain of it alone.

“Princess,” he gasps as he takes in the pulsating mark now claiming you as his, “I-I’m sorry, d-did I-”

You shake your head and pull at him in every way possible, your body crying out for more of him in every sense of the word. Kirishima moans as you kiss him again, pushing your tongue between his teeth to try and taste the familiar warmth of his mouth. You moan, your body finding his easily, comfortable and wanting as you careen forward, the throbbing circular mark on your shoulder long forgotten. You have to come up for air much sooner than you like, still reeling from his marking of your body.

Kirishima’s palm is digging into your stomach again, nails biting into your smooth skin as his cock pulses, and he squints harshly as he pulls away to look you in the eyes. The sight of you splayed out beneath him, completely at his mercy, makes his balls throb and he snaps his hips up into you again out of pure primal need alone. Your body jostles, breasts bouncing and thighs rippling, as his cock bottoms out into your cunt, the tip of him bursting with arousal and finding your cervix.

“Oh shit,” he drops his head to your chest, curling himself upward so your hips are flush, his hip bones bruising your thighs as he unceremoniously crumbles into you. Your hands are on him in an instant, trying to understand what could have possibly happened to make him so vulnerable.

You barely have time to say his name before he’s whining, sucking your nipple between the bite of his teeth out of the sole desire to muffle his needy pants. Your hand sifts through his hair, head thrown back while you enjoy the ministrations of his tongue around your chest. He mumbles out words that you can’t quite make out, but with the way his cock is throbbing between your walls and the motions of his hand and mouth on your breast, you don’t care much to understand what drivel he’s spinning.

It is only when you feel the inside of your body flood with heat that you understand.

“Eijirou,” you call to him, forcing his head away from your nipple with the gentle tug of your hands, “d-did you just-”

He looks like he could cry, his head hung in shame, “Yes.”

You want to laugh at his pitiful nature, but you can’t, not knowing what the would do to his self-esteem. Instead, you roll your hips up to try and milk him of his release, encouraging him to start rocking your body with his arousing rhythm until he is completely spent within you.

“You said you wanted to breed me, didn’t you?” you question roughly in his ear, your head tilted to where he’s tucked into your collarbone. You kiss his hair, desperate to clutch onto him as you feel his cock softening, peeling away from your tight hole. The feel of come seeping from your cunt makes you squirm, “Eijirou?”

Kirishima tilts his head back and looks you in the eyes, reddened orbs practically devastated. He nods, “Y-Yeah, but I just-”

“Again.”

His throat bobs, eyes widening at your notion. He turns his head to survey your body, littered with bruises and bite marks and it hasn’t been but one round of his cock buried to the hilt within you. His eyes catch on the marking on your shoulder and his cock stirs again, “A-Again?”

“Breed me,” you grit between your teeth, “please, Eijirou. I want you to put a baby in me.”

The biting nature of his fingertips is not lost on you as he pushes your thighs back so your knees are pressed into the mattress. His thick body is wavering above you, eyes unable and unwilling to look away from you as he starts to roll his hips again, slowly so he does not lose the slick that he has gathered from the both of you.

Kirishima swallows one last pensive breath and then it’s like a switch has gone off in his mind, like he’s finally letting the caged beast out to take over, controlling his ministrations. You arch your back so you can feel his hardened nipples against your chest, one of his hands slowly creeping up your torso until he’s found the bruised, marred skin of your neck beneath his fingertips.

“Look so beautiful, love,” Kirishima kisses your forehead, like a proverbial final word before he devours you whole. “I can’t wait to wreck this pretty pussy of yours, mark this body up until no one has any question of who you belong to.”

His uncharacteristically harsh words make your core tighten and your toes curl. You nod, starting to beg for it, the words just barely tipping over the edge of your tongue when he clamps his hand down on the mark of your neck. You feel white-hot pain shoot forth from the area, coating your body in a wave of agony as the pulsing spreads downward.

A broken whimper escapes your gritted teeth, eyes screwed shut when his blunt fingernails dip further into the area, almost like he’s testing to see how far you can take it before he has to relent. He is unkind when he grabs your thigh, pushing it up into your chest as he resumes his slow pace from before. His cock is already beginning to harden again, twitching relentlessly against your glutinous walls, coated with both your arousal and his spend.

“Eijirou,” you want to beg for him but you can barely push out the broken syllables of his name. Tears coat your cheeks but you don’t mind the blurred vision as you gaze up at him. It makes him shine, like the starlight he truly is. Your face breaks into a smile, despite the absolute torment you feel wracking your body. You would endure anything for him, any sort of discomfort or torture, if it meant that you could be this close to him forever.

Kirishima kisses you square on the mouth, “Hush, angel, let me take care of you.”

Your jaw snaps shut, the muscles along the angle of your face shuddering under the pressure of your gritted teeth. Kirishima smiles warmly at you, the last shred of his humanity remaining before he plunges his thumb into the direct center of your marking, digging his fingernail into the bruised skin. You yelp, your cunt clenching around his cock as he pushes deeper into you.

The entirety of your body is so compliant, molded around his frame, practically fluid as you conform to the positions his hands push you into. Kirishima licks a heated stripe along the column of your neck, leaving behind a wet patch that runs cold when he breathes over it. You dig your hands back against his shoulders, raking the tips of your nails along the length of his back and shoulders.

Kirishima gasps audibly at the newfound tightness of your core at his ministrations. He uses his free palm to reach down and grind his thumb against your hooded clit. He nudges his nose along your jawline, breathing coming in heavy pants as he pummels you into the soft plush of the mattress beneath your shoulders. The snap of his hips does not let your backside rest, your body hovering a few inches from the mattress.

It’s as if he cannot get enough of you, even so much so that he won’t allow your frame to fall too far from him. Kirishima must keep you close, he has no other option. The feral animal clawing at what little shred of his resolve that remains whispers in his ear to put a new mark on every visible inch of your skin until you are nothing but a black and blue mess, blubbering and begging beneath him.

“Such a pretty little thing when you come undone for me,” Kirishima murmurs against the shell of your ear, the sultry sound of his voice intermingled with his panting sending a rolling wave of pleasure down your spine until your toes are curling around the sheets. “You like it when I’m this deep inside of you? Not letting your pussy breathe?”

You are nodding even if you don’t fully understand what he’s saying. You would agree to anything, that much you are aware of, and you know that he is keen to that fact as well. Kirishima is still careful with you, somehow aware enough of your limitations to revere you and reel himself in when he feels he might be going too far. The blitzed-out look in your eyes tells him all that he needs to know – you have slipped beneath the surface into that subservient headspace that he’s seen you on the cusp of so many times when he’s had you knuckle deep and coming around his fingers. The very essence of his being tells him to work you for every tear, ever drop of arousal, that you can create, to bludgeon your body until you are begging him to give you a moment to breathe, and then deny you of it.

Kirishima’s hand that has been pressed against your wound now turns to curl around your throat, fingers squeezing your neck until you are gasping for breath. Your eyes flutter somewhere between open and closed as your mouth gapes open wide, bobbing like a fish out of water as you struggle to inhale the slightest amount of oxygen. Your hands flop from his body to the mattress, curling around the sheets until he hears them rip between your nails.

“Look at you, Princess,” he nudges your cheek until you’re looking him in the eyes again, “can’t even speak in full sentences. So whipped for my cock, huh? Tell me what you want me to do to you, if you can talk.”

Drool dribbles from either corner of your mouth and when you shake your head, it creates damp splotches on the pillowcase. Kirishima chuckles, pushing the base of his thumb against the fleshy underside of your chin, forcing your head still so he can glower down at you, crimson eyes shining. The heel of his palm stays jutted against your esophagus, limiting your breathing as he loiters over you.

The words that come out of your mouth are mere wheezing syllables, unable to be understood in their broken form. Tears form in your eyes, clumping on your lashes, at the pure frustration that you can’t tell him exactly what you’d like him to do to you. You whine, the sound breaking in the middle when Kirishima tightens his grip on your throat. You peel your eyes open to see a darkness settled in his irises, their normally crimson color turned almost to black in his lustful state.

It should make you upset, that he’s losing himself, but instead, it just stokes the fire in your belly until the flames are raging up into your throat. The smoke of it all builds behind your eyes and in your mouth until you have to open everything, whining and moaning and writhing like your life depends on it. All the while, Kirishima has set a steady, bruising pace of his cock dragging against your walls, the forked veins on the underside of him giving you additional friction. You want to grab at him, to tug on his body until he melts into you, but your arms are limp, practically your whole body is at the intense ministrations of his hands and hips.

Finally, after your vision begins to blur and your eyelids slip closed at the feel of the remaining oxygen leaving your throat, Kirishima relents his grip and a rush of air floods your lungs. You gasp and choke, the motions making your cunt clamp tightly around his cock, giving Kirishima the push he needs to bottom out within you again, holding himself still until you can catch your breath.

“Such a good girl,” Kirishima is whispering the words hoarsely as his mouth roams your cheek and neck and collarbones. He plants wet, sloppy kisses against your skin like he does not have time to think about the affections.

You whine when you feel his tongue dart from between his lips to lavish attention to the wound on your shoulder, the bite mark from his pointed teeth leading way to bruising and little trails of crimson seeping down from your shoulder to the mattress. He licks at it, half out of wanting to hear you moan when he puts too much pressure on the bruise and half out of guilt for hurting you.

His name comes from your lips and it makes his cock stir against your cervix, “Tell me what you want, angel, I need to know.”

You are aware the duality of that statement. He needs to know because he needs permission, even if his current state won’t allow him to admit it. You find it in you to reach a hand up to sift through his hair, palming at the back of his head to give him some ease with your touch.

“I want you to come in me, Eijirou,” your voice is panting, a mix of exhaustion and longing making you sound fatigued. You feel tears push out of the edges of your eyes at the pure need you have for him to make all of this a reality, “Come in me, Eiji, I want you to give me a baby. I want you to breed me until I’m full of your child, over and over again. I want you to fill me up un-ah!”

Kirishima ruts forward and you swear you feel something within you tear at the pure size of him. He nips at your jaw, nosing along your neck, brushing against it whenever he pulses forward. The salacious sounds filling the air only contribute to your arousal, floods of slick washing over his dick as he slots in and out of you.

He grunts, “So fuckin’ tight,” before his hands travel down towards your thighs, pushing them back until he has you folded so only your shoulders are against the bed. You whimper as you turn, your mark pushed against the mattress until it is pulsing with pain.

“I’m gonna come in this tight, wet little hole until you’re leaking, until you taste it.” Kirishima can feel the impending doom of his spend when his cock twitches within your quivering heat. You try and clamp your walls down around him to keep his length sheathed within you for longer, but it’s of no use. He has set a bruising pace that he intends on following through with until you are screaming and his come is coating your soft insides.

Your toes are pointed toward the ceiling, curling downward when he slams into you. The pace of his hips is menacing, something you should fear, because the feel of him makes you think he might rip you open. But, you’re sure you’d let him split you down the middle and you’d still say thank you. Mumbles of incoherent drivel pour from your mouth along with your rivulets of drool and tears.

Kirishima chuckles, “Look at you, a beautiful mess for me, aren’t you, sweetheart? I can’t wait to fill this precious cunt up. I’ll give you as many babies as you can hold.”

The call to your womb must be strong, because he stays slotted within you for a moment, fingers rolling around your thighs as he takes you in. His crimson irises dole over your body, from your plush lips to your plump chest, on downward to the gentle bump of your belly as his cock nudges within you. Kirishima abandons your thighs for your stomach, raking his nails along the unmarked plane of skin, thin angry lines left behind when he pulls away.

You reach forward to wrap your fingers around his wrist, keeping his touch pointed on your navel, “I want to have your baby, Eijirou. All of them, as many as you can give me. Please, I’m just a vessel for you to use.”

His eyes deepen at that sentiment, but something else passes through them. He catches his lip within the bite of his teeth before leaning down to kiss you, palm turned against your stomach so his knuckles drag along your skin, but he can slot his fingers between yours and squeeze.

“You are so much more than that,” he whispers into your mouth, as if the words may stay caged in there forever for you to marinate on them. He kisses your cheeks, the tears sticking on his lips, his voice thick when he speaks, “You’ll be the prettiest mama out there, you know? So beautiful and round, absolutely breathtaking when you have to waddle around, you’re so full.”

Kirishima is close to whimpering, eyes screwed shut as he speaks his heart, “I love you, Princess, god, you mean the world to me.”

Your fingers find purchase against his shoulders, the scratched skin beneath the pads of your digits making you salivate. You’ve marked him, too, even if it’s not the same. You want to spend the rest of your life repeating it over and over, marking him every time he finds you beneath the sheets, so that the others may know that he belongs to you just as much as you belong to him. The two of you are completely intertwined in every facet of the word, limbs and hearts woven into the same piece of soul fabric, begging to be together until the end of time.

The edges of your vision begin to dither as you come closer to your climax. You swallow the lump in your throat and whimper, “Kirishima, I think I might-”

He is listening, the hand not currently wrapped around yours reaching between your slick bodies to thumb at your clit. A bruising kiss is pressed firmly to your mouth, dampening your lewd sounds as you writhe under his bulky body, hardly moving but trying desperately all the same. You can’t help it as your mouth parts to lick at seam of his lips, but he willingly opens his mouth to you, receiving the pointed lapping of your tongue as he slowly begins to rut back into you.

“I want you to beg for what you want,” he gasps into your teeth, the tip of your noses clashing as the sound of his weighty balls slap against the curve of your ass. He can taste the saltiness of your tears as your mouths meld together, and it makes him smirk, “Are you cryin’? Like a sweet little bitch, crying for my cock?”

You want to answer him, to tell him how much you love every part of him, to shower his body in praise until you’ve gone mute, but your throat is hoarse and your mind is hazy, and you can’t form words. Instead, you tilt your head and kiss him harder, your tongue swiping over his as you try to convey how you’re feeling into this kiss, attempting to make his world spin. You want to give him a small taste of what he has done to you, even if it will never truly meet the searing reality of his hold he’s got on you, body, mind and soul.

“Cry for me, darling,” Kirishima coos as his mouth travels down the curve of your jaw until his teeth meet the juncture of your neck and ear, “I want Bakugou to hear you when I stuff your cunt full, all the way from out in the hallway. Gonna put my child in you while you sob for my cock, begging me to keep fucking you deeper and deeper into this bed.”

You can hardly create coherent sentences, between his mouth and hands and cock all working at your relentlessly, the ministrations of his body creating a throbbing euphoria between your hips. You whine at the idea of having to say much of anything right now, let alone an understandable string of words.

His balls are weighty as they slap against your backside, the sound making your throat bob, and he growls, “Beg for me, like the little whore you are.”

The nipping of his teeth against your mouth makes your cunt spasm, and Kirishima lets loose a strangled sound from the back of his throat. Based on the whimpering curtail of his voice, you can tell that he’s close to coming a second time. Your body tenses, every muscle coiled tightly as you edge yourself to a release. You have to close your eyes so the white-hot arousal boiling in your core can’t blur your vision.

“Y-Your come, your cock,” is all you can find yourself repeating over and over, your being too fucked-out to say much of anything else. Hot tears leak down your temples, exhausted sobs making your voice shake when you scream for him, throat close to shattering in its hoarseness.

Kirishima leans back so he can preen, his cock stretching you even further in this position. Your eyes bug out before you can squint your lids closed again. He chuckles, the sound dark and ominous as it reverberates around in the room, “Do you know how fuckin’ hard it’s been to control myself around you? God, I’ve been wanting to fuck you like this for months, breed you like a good little bitch in heat, give you loads of my come until you’re bursting at the seams with it.”

His lewd words are what bring you toppling over the edge, the thought of his come leaking out of your abused pussy, him plugging you up with his cock and rutting up into you again until he’s brought on another release from within himself. Your palms slap his biceps as you grip onto him, afraid he might actually push you through the mattress with the ferocity of his hips. There’s no doubt in your mind that you will have blooming bruises all over your body, marking you up like flowers spread throughout a garden.

“Fucking hell at this sloppy pussy, Princess,” Kirishima’s hands on your thighs tighten, biting deep into the muscle until you swear he hits bone, “I’m gonna breed you up so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. Keep you hidden in here, fuck you endlessly, until you’re begging me to quit.”

“No,” you gasp out, your voice crackling even on the single syllable, “don’t stop.”

Kirishima smirks down at you, “Careful what you wish for, Princess.”

You are shaking your head, silently encouraging him because your voice is shot to hell. You dig your nails into his biceps, shaking him just enough that he understands your subtext, starting to rock his hips against your ass, the thick shaft of his cock slipping along your inner walls as he works you closer to the crest of climax.

It’s just on the precipice of your body, your entire form overheated with the flames of arousal. You want to cry, the end so close and yet feeling so unachievable. Kirishima releases one of your thighs to attend to your clit, the pace of his circling finger matching that of his cock pounding into your heat. With each thrust, you see another wave of stars in the air above you. Even in the low candlelight of this secret room, you can see the glimmering in Kirishima’s irises, as if he has his own galaxy tucked away in his pupils, bringing it out for you and for you only.

Kirishima curses, dropping his head to watch his cock slip from your wet core, silvery strands of slick the only thing connecting him to you now, “Gotta stop clenching so hard, sweetheart,” somehow he manages to push himself back into you, despite the size of your hole. Kirishima grabs one of your ankles and settles it on his shoulder, turning to kiss the joint, “Such a tight little pussy, but so fucking sloppy. You’re dripping.”

His nose nudges along the length of your calf as he picks up his pace, rutting into you with purpose. You wonder how much of his animalistic nature will bleed into the other aspects of your life, but you don’t have much time to ponder before the coiling heat of your orgasm is beginning to build up and cloud your consciousness. Your jaw hangs slack and Kirishima takes the opportunity to slip his index and fourth finger between your lips, the golden ring on his finger cool on the heated pad of your tongue.

“There you go,” he murmurs absentmindedly, tilting his head to consider you. You circle one hand around his wrist, pushing him further into the hollows of your cheeks. His eyes widen at the action and it makes his hips falter in their pacing.

Kirishima can feel the tightening of your cunt around his cock, and the tears in your eyes, and he knows that you’re close, “C’mon, angel, I want you to come on my cock. You feel so fuckin’ good around me, holding me tight.”

You sniffle, drool creating a silvery rivulet down your cheek, “Eijirou, please,” you are whimpering into his knuckles, praying that you don’t bite down on him too hard.

“S’okay,” Kirishima’s voice is kind, in stark contrast to the harsh nature of his dick as it jackhammers into you. “Bite me, I’ll be okay. I just want to make you come.”

Listening to his plea, you grind your teeth together around his knuckles, biting into his skin until you taste metal. The release of pressure gives way to an earth-shattering orgasm, your cunt spasming around his cock until you can feel your arousal seeping out of your body, dripping onto the mattress beneath you. You suck on Kirishima’s fingers, tonguing his knuckles to distract yourself from screaming.

“Good girl,” he coos, thumb grazing your cheek and chin as he continues to rock into your core. You are still gushing when he tenses up, thighs rippling as he readies himself to come for the second time. Kirishima’s voice is hoarse, near a growl as he looks down at you, a blubbering, hiccuping mess beneath him, “F-Fuck, Princess, you’re gonna look so beautiful when you’re full with our child. I can’t wait to stuff you full over and over again, until you’re bursting at the seams.”

You start to plead, your words nothing more than blather, foaming at the mouth as you whine for his spend, tears beading at the corners of your eyes in your desperation. Your nails rake down the length of his muscled back, your heels dipping into the flesh of his ass to keep him pinned to you, for just a moment of reprieve from his agonizingly thick length. The forked veins running along either side of his cock make your walls quiver as your abused insides beg for a break.

When he feels a newfound tightness as he tries to withdraw from you, he seethes through his teeth, “Shit, sweetheart. St-Stop clenching, or else I’ll have to fuck you all over again.”

There’s a pause, a stilling of his body, as he looks down at you, drooling and crying around his knuckles. He chuckles, the sound reverberating his chest in such a way that shakes the very room. Your body tenses at the timbre, eyes struggling to focus on one specific point on his face as he ravishes you with his carmine irises.

“Actually,” he tilts his head, shoving his fingers further down your throat until you are gagging around his digits, “go ahead, push it out, it just means I get to breed this tight little pussy all over again.”

Kirishima leans forward, brushing his mouth against your jaw as he sheathes himself within you inch by inch, slow and salacious, “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you to the fucking brim anyway, angel. You want this load?”

You can’t help the instant wanton words that fly from your mouth, sparking in the midst of the two of you, pouring out of your chest like fire. You whine and keen, sucking his knuckles into the hollows of your cheeks to try and bring him closer to the precipice of pleasure, to give him the same radical sensation that he has given you twice now.

“Give it,” you force the words out despite his thick digits pushing down on the muscle of your tongue, “please, Eiji, I-I want your ba-oh.”

He growls, bludgeoning his cock into your cunt as he starts coming undone within you. A blooming heat starts in your core and blossoms upward until you think smoke may come out of your nostrils. It clouds your mind, the slightest bit of consciousness creeping forward so you can enjoy the way he paints your walls with his spend, filling you just as he promised.

“Take it,” he snarls, sharpened teeth making your back arch, “take my fucking load.”

Your legs wobble, but you keep yourself wrapped around him, allowing him to ride out his pleasure until his hips are sloppy, thighs brushing your bruised ass a final time before he drops his head to your chest. He is hot, unbearably warm, but you endure it because it means he is here.

His hands brush down from the backs of your knees until he is pushing you back into the mattress, allowing your body to rest, limp against the sheets. Kirishima kisses the swell of your breast, imagining how full they’ll be once your womb has been filled and your body starts to change. He could cry at the thought of it, his animalistic side attempting to take over his consciousness, warm at the thought of you carrying on his lineage, giving him heir after heir.

Kirishima hums against your sternum, hands encompassing your sides in full, fingers splayed across your ribs, “Such a pretty little thing, angel. You’re perfect. I love you.”

He starts to pull from you but you whine, clenching around him so tightly that your combined arousal seeps from your cunt, dripping down the curve of your ass. Your nails bite into his biceps, clutching onto him like an anchor, “Please don’t leave me, Eijirou.”

“Hey,” his voice is soothing, nose nudging over your jugular. He presses himself back into you, filling you up even as he starts to soften, “I’m right here, sweetheart. I promise I’m not going anywhere. Not now, and not ever. You’re mine, my mate.”

You swear you see the curling wisps of flames seeping from his teeth and tongue, the dragon in him coming forth in a surge of possessiveness. His eyes drop to the piercing bite adorning your shoulder, a mix of blood and bruising on display, the mating mark stirring his cock within your cunt again and you’re afraid he might already be starting up for a third round.

Tilting your head skyward, you beseech him for his mouth, pursing your lips just enough that he understands your silent plea. Kirishima’s smirk melts into a smile, dimples piercing his cheeks, and he meets you halfway, slotting his mouth to yours. The warmth of your lips meld together, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but you do not care because at least he is buried to the hilt within you and his body is flush with your own. You see stars as you are deprived of oxygen, but this might be the most pleasant way to go – full to the brim of him, his mouth starving you, your entire being swallowed by the essence of him.

“You don’t quit that, I’ll take you again, right now,” Kirishima is growling as his mouth finds your mark again, pressing a harsh kiss to the purpled skin, “You’re so perfect, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you’re not sure what specific event has stirred them on, but you let them fall nonetheless. Kirishima is quick to kiss them away before they can stain your pillowcase, whispering kindness as he brushes his mouth against each of your eyelids, “I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“Always, Eijirou,” you whisper into thin air, your voice reaching his ears and sending a bolt of lightning down his spine, “I’ve always been yours, from the moment I saw you, I belonged to you.”

“And I have always been yours too.” Kirishima brushes his nose against the bridge of your face, “I can’t wait to build a legacy with you.”

-

The thudding of footsteps echoes down the hall, drawing carmine irises up from their previously hooded position. He rolls his eyes, standing to his feet, sword weighing heavy on his belt, “What is it?”

“Very important news,” the younger man’s throat bobs as he stutter steps backward, “The, uh, the ball that’s being held later-”

The blonde wags his finger in midair, a chuckle parting his smirking mouth, “Go find someone else to figure that shit out. You’ll regret it if you go in there now.”

A widened stare follows his finger to the door, where the wood is shaking just enough that he can get the hint. The knight in front of him chuckles, sitting back down in his chair, crossing his leg over his knee, “Yeah, I wouldn’t disturb him during his breeding season if I were you.”

-

a/n: yeah, so this was supposed to be 2k. obviously that didn’t happen, lol. i hope you guys like my first true kiri fic :) 

tagging: @mirakumiruku @kamehamethot​ @1-800-callmekatsuki​ @shoutogepi​ @freckledoriya​ @writeiolite​ @kingtamakimurder​ @cutesuki--bakugou​

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #kirishima bnha #morgan writes bnha #kirishima x you #kirishima eijirou x you #my writing

[supercorpkid]

Alura.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 2230.

“Hey kid.” Kara walks in your room, and you look up from the device you’re working on. “How’s the leg?”

You look at the cast aunt Alex put on your leg, so you could have an excuse for your limping walk, and for missing so many days at school. You shrug.

“A little better.” You smile when she comes closer to kiss your forehead.

“Good. Can you help me with something?” Kara asks, opening her hand and showing you a computer piece. You look at her with puzzling eyes.

“What’s that?” You give her an inquisitive eyebrow raise. “Did you break something at CatCo again?”

“I-Well, yes. But this isn’t it. This is-” Kara sits in your bed and you follow her with your eyes. “It’s a program Alex found on my ship when I was sent to Earth. It’s, um, a hologram of my mom.”

You look at her even more confused.

“It was programmed to help me here on Earth or whatever. I didn’t use it much, and then I found out that my mom was alive in Argo and I really didn’t have to use it anymore.” Kara breathes deep, and looks up, trying not to cry. “But now-”

You stand up and make your way to the bed. She holds your arms to support you, and helps you sit on the bed with her. You put your arm over her shoulders, and pull her in, kissing her temple.

“But now you’re missing her.” You say, and she agrees with her head, letting her tears fall. You wipe them with your thumb.

“I just-I don’t know. I think I have things I want to ask her now.” She gives you a sad little smile and you agree.

“Can you take me to L Corp? We can work on it together.”

“Sure!” She looks a little more excited after your suggestion and she picks you up immediately. You laugh.

“Maybe I can change out of my pajamas first?” You ask and Kara puts you on the floor. You blink and you’re changed. You look at your outfit. “That’s what you chose for me to wear? It doesn’t even go together.”

“I think you look great!” Kara picks you up again and makes her way to the backyard. “Besides, I really don’t want any intern messing with you.”

“You and mom are delusional.” You laugh and she flies you both to L Corp.

“Miss Luthor-Danvers!” Aly, the receptionist, stands up when she sees you walking in with Kara supporting you. “I’m so glad to see you! We’ve been missing you around here. I asked Mrs Luthor and she told me about the accident. I hope you’re feeling better.”

“Hi Aly. I’m ok.” You smile at her. “Still hard to walk, but the brain doesn’t stop, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be better in no time!” She smiles back at you. Then puts her best professional face, and sits back on the chair. “Mrs. Danvers.”

“Hi Aly.” Your momma answers and makes her way to the elevator. “See, they’ve missed you.”

“Yes, I do very well with the older crowd.” You joke making Kara laugh, she takes you to your lab, and you smile when you open the door. “Rao, I love this place.”

“Let me get you a chair.” Kara runs to the other side of the room, grabs a chair and makes you sit in it. “Where should I roll you to?”

“Table. Let me see what we’re dealing with.”

Kara does what you ask. She’s actually very helpful when she’s not so anxious. She grabs all the tools you need, and buys snacks when you’re focused on working.

“Hello, my loves.” You hear Lena’s voice coming from the door, but you’re too focused to move. “I’m happy that you two are here.”

You hear them kissing, and Kara explaining everything to her. You’re still too concentrated to talk to them.

“Oh, so if this works, she’ll get to meet Alura.” Lena says and you finally stop to look at her. “You’re going to love her, babygirl.” She makes her way towards you and kisses your forehead. “Um, what are you wearing?”

“Momma picked it up.” You roll your eyes.

“Hey! I think she looks nice!” Kara defends herself making you and Lena chuckle.

“I’m not ten anymore!” You complain, but you’re laughing while doing so. “I don’t even know where you found a mickey t-shirt!”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining. If your mom had picked your outfit, you would be wearing a suit.” It’s Lena’s time to roll her eyes.

“Mom’s got great style and she wouldn’t dress me like a little kid.” You say and see Lena arching her eyebrow back at Kara, who huffs a ‘whatever’. “Anyways, I think I got it.” You say and you look at Kara. “Can you roll me to that computer?”

“Do you need help?” Lena asks after Kara puts you in place. You look back at her with a smile.

“Well, I mean, I don’t want to take much of your time…” You see Lena pulling up a chair next to you.

“What do you need?” She asks and you give yourself a little smile, very content with her reaction.

“I made a 3D projector for momma once, I’m trying to figure out what changes I need to make to read Kryptonian technology.” You show Lena and it doesn’t take long until you and Lena are working side by side, and she finds the answer really fast.

“My family is so smart.” Kara has a proud smile on her lips, and you look at Lena to see her blushing at the compliment.

“Ok!” You stand up and Kara hurries to reach your arm, to support you. You give her a thankful smile and put the device on the table, looking at her. “Ready?”

“Yes!” She says excitedly. Lena comes to your side after you turn it on, and holds you, so Kara can let go of you.

“Kara.”

You see a woman in the projector looking at you. You furrow your brows to her funny-looking clothes. She doesn’t look like your momma.

“Mom.” Kara lets her tears fall immediately and the hologram turns to face her. Alura looks at you again, and then at your momma.

“There are two Karas in this world.”

She points out and you look at Lena, confused.

“No, that’s-that’s my daughter.” Kara answers and you don’t know how it’s possible, but the hologram gives you a smile.

“She’s a copy of your DNA. And someone else’s.”

“Yes.” Kara points at Lena behind her. “This is my wife, Lena.”

“You have a beautiful family, Kara. You must be proud.”

She says making Kara cry a little harder and you understand how much she must feel validated hearing that.

“Come on, let’s give them some privacy.” Lena whispers in your ear, holding your waist, and supporting you the best way she can while you two get out of the lab. “So, that was your grandmother.” Lena says once the door is closed and you agree with your head.

“She’s funny-looking.” You give her a smile and explain right after. “I mean, what’s with the ball gown outfit?”

“You would be dressed like that if you were in Krypton.” She smiles. “You should see Kara’s outfit when she landed, it’s adorable. Your Gramm still has it in Midvale.”

“Oooh, I definitely wanna see it now.” You smile and look at the door. You hear some words that aren’t leaving Lena’s mouth, and you look at her, frowning. “My super hearing is…”

“Baby.” She holds your arms when she sees your expression. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s just-It’s-It’s confusing. I can’t shut it off, and-”

“Mom, I-I have a daughter now. I finally understand why you sent me to Earth. Watching over Kal-El was just an excuse. You wanted to save me.” You hear Kara’s voice. You know this conversation is way too private, but nothing you do makes it shut off.

“Yes Kara. You understand it now. A mother must do whatever she can to protect her children.”

“What if I can’t? How do you come to terms with not being able to be there all the time?” Kara chokes a little and your eyes are filled with tears. Lena hugs you, trying to make you feel better, even though she can’t hear what you’re hearing.

“You don’t. We can never accept the fact that we can’t. That’s why no matter what happens we keep trying.”

“Mom, I can’t stop listening.” You look at Lena trying to cover your ears. “It’s, um, about me.”

“Come on, baby.” Lena helps you again, making her way to the elevator, and going up to her office. All the voices start to mingle and you stop hearing them, making you feel better for not violating their privacy. “How are you feeling?”

“It’s just a little confusing, but I’ll be fine.” She helps you into her office, and sits you on the couch. You close your eyes trying to shut off everything.

“Here baby.” You open your eyes to find Lena offering you a glass of water. You drink and she sits next to you, holding you tight. “Tell me, what can I do to help?”

“Talk, or like sing.” You look at her with pleading eyes. “Can you sing?”

“C’mere.” Lena takes you in her arms, holding your head close to her chest, and hearing her heartbeat already helps a lot. She then starts singing so softly you have to focus all your hearing on her. “Just like a star across my sky, just like an angel off the page, you have appeared to my life, feel like I'll never be the same…”

You smile closing your eyes again, and all the noise fades away and all you can hear is Lena’s husky voice calming you. When Kara shows up a little later, you’re already calmer and happier.

“Thanks baby.” Kara squeezes your knee. “It was just what I needed.”

“Yeah?” You ask and she smiles. The truest one you’ve seen in her face in weeks.

“Yeah.” She kisses your head. “Let’s let your mom go back to work.” She picks you up, and Lena stands up from the couch, kissing your forehead and then Kara’s mouth. “See you at home, love.”

“I’ll see you both in a few.” Lena answers and Kara flies away, leaving from the office’s balcony.

You can’t stop feeling bad from hearing part of her conversation, even if it was unintentionally. So, as soon as Kara lands in the backyard, and sits you on the couch, you apologize.

“Momma, my powers are… weird.” You start and she shakes her head agreeing. “I didn’t mean to use my super hearing, but I-I heard part of your conversation with grandmother Alura. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.” Kara sits next to you, looking unbothered. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

“You wanted to talk to her about me?” You ask, shyly. Kara smiles fondly at you, putting her arm over your shoulders.

“It was one of the reasons.” She agrees. “I left Krypton too young. She didn’t teach me everything I wanted to know, and when I came to Earth, I was mostly relearning basic things.” She breathes deep. “I know Eliza loves me like a daughter, but I can’t help but think there’s a tiny little difference from the way Alura loved me. You know, this feeling of ‘I would give my life for yours’.” Kara asks you and you agree with your head. “I felt that, when I saw you in that bed.”

“So, you wanted a solution for not feeling like that anymore?”

“For never letting it happen again, maybe.” She shrugs.

“Did she help?”

“Well, not exactly.” Kara holds you tighter. “I don’t think there will ever come a day where I will not feel guilty for not helping you out of a bad situation. But she did say something interesting.”

“Oh?” You ask.

“On the contrary of what she did, she told me to pass all my knowledge along to you, so you’ll be able to protect yourself.”

“Don’t you already?”

“Yeah.” She smiles, but adds right after. “But maybe I can do more.”

“Can I tell you something?” You ask and she shakes her head agreeing. “What you do is more than enough. What happened wasn’t your fault. I’d hate for this feeling of guilt to consume you because of me.” You hold her tight. “You’re the best momma in the universe. I don’t think grandmother Alura can help you with that.”

“Thanks baby.” Kara kisses the top of your head. “I love you. You’re the greatest kid in the world.”

You smile at that. And look up to Kara’s face.

“She thought I was you.” You laugh and Kara joins right after.

“Well, she isn’t really your grandmother. But, I mean, look at this cute little face of yours.” Kara holds your face between her hand, squishing your cheeks, and you give her a crooked smile. “You can’t blame a hologram for thinking that.”

“Not when you think that yourself, huh?” You joke and Kara smiles widely.

“Oh, I wish I was as cool and awesome as you are!”

And you wish you were half the brave woman Kara is. She’s been through so much stuff and she still smiles like that. Rao, you really love her.

Notes

Thanks @hermen0404 for your help with this prompt and also HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY HYPEMAN/IDEA BUDDY!!! 🎉💙❤️

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp daughter #supercorp fanfic #supercorpfamily #lena x reader #reader insert

[wingsofhcpe]

oh and this one because i love pain: having to watch your lover die, as you’re restrained by the antagonist, unable to fight your way out of their grip, yet your eyes are glued on your lover’s

(@sparklingrainbowdragon you asked for this too so, tagging you here!)

I am very sorry in advance for this. Read below the cut!

--

"Sir. We have captured some of the deserters."

Ivan turned around to look at Galina, his second-in-command, as she walked into the strategy room. She looked rumpled, as if it's taken a lot out of her to capture the rogue Grisha. Possibly, Ivan thought with satisfaction, that meant her squad had caught a lot of them.

"How many?" He asked, and raised an eyebrow when he saw her shift her weight from one foot to the other. "Well?"

"Just... Just two of them, sir." Her heartbeat spiked up dangerously, and Ivan wondered if she was afraid he would reprimand her for not bringing in more captives.

"Well then." He said strictly, but not as cold as he would have usually been. "That's still something worth reporting to the General."

"Sir..." Galina swallowed. "Sir, one of then is- we- we have captured Fedyor Kaminsky."

Ivan stood very, very still. For a moment, he thought it was Galina's heart pounding against her chest like a caged bird trying to be freed; then he slowly realised, the sound of blood rushing in his ears, was his own.

He stalked past Galina and was out of the tent before he could check himself. Another of his Grisha threw a pitying glance at him, but Ivan hardly registered it. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.

Fedyor had been thrown into one of the Fabrikator-enforced cages, with a set of sturdy, iron cuffs clamped around his wrists. He sat slumped next to the second captive Grisha (an unconscious young girl who Ivan didn't recognise), but when he picked up Ivan's heartbeat his head shot up like a deer caught in the firelight. Those warm, brown eyes widened impossibly, and to Ivan's shock, he smiled.

"Vanya!" He said, his voice as soft and warm and loving as it had always been. Ivan nearly threw himself on the metal bars, his hand reaching through the gaps as if to reach Fedyor.

There was no need for words; their hearts did the talking. Besides, there wasn't anything they could have said. Not in this situation.

Fedyor didn't move, but he leaned closer to the bars. Belatedly, Ivan realised his right leg was bent in a strange angle underneath him. He cursed under his breath.

"Who did this to you?" He hissed, a spark of his old fierce protectiveness bubbling to the surface. Fedyor shrugged.

"One of the oprichniki decided I wasn't being cooperative enough while we were being transported here."

Of course he hadn't been. Ivan would have been proud of him had it not ended like that. He made a mental note of finding the oprichnik in question and tanning their arse so hard they wouldn't be able to sit for days.

"Does it hurt?" Ivan askes uselessly.

"A bit." The words were breathed out softly; Fedyor was good at masking his pain, but Ivan knew him too well. He knew he was in agony. He longed to lay his hand on Fedyor's knee, ease his pain, call a healer. But... He couldn't. And Fedyor wouldn't want his pity.

Ivan blinked the sudden wetness away and shifted his attention at the other Grisha. "And she?"

"Her name is Mariya." Fedyor said fondly, and for a moment Ivan felt a pang of jealousy. Then he realised Fedyor's heart beat for her the same way it had done for Nina. Protective, a mentor. His shoulders relaxed against his will.

"She was knocked unconscious by one of the Heartrenders. But she'll be okay, I think. Until..."

'Until we're sentenced to death and executed for high treason.' Ivan knew he would have to be the one to pass the sentence. The General wasn't going to let him off the hook for sentimentalities.

"Saints, Fedya." Ivan sat on the ground so he could be at level with the other man. "Why didn't you leave? Why didn't you go to Ketterdam or something?"

"I'm sorry, Vanya." Fedyor said softly, and sounded like he meant it. "I couldn't leave Alina. I couldn't leave Ravka to Kirigan's mercy."

Not the General's. Whatever respect Fedyor had once held for that man, had vanished into thin air. The worst was, Ivan found that he couldn't blame him.

"You should have left." Was all he said, uselessly. It didn't matter anymore. His husband was going to die. And he would be the cause of it.

Fedyor shifted awkwardly as if trying to pass one of his hands through the bars. It was hard with the cuffs on, but in the end he managed to slip his fingers out, towards Ivan's. Ivan quickly held his hand out to hold them.

"It's alright, Vanyusha." Fedyor whispered as their heads leaned close to each other. "We both made a choice. I'm glad to die for it."

"I'm not!" Ivan blurted. "Saints, I don't want to lose you!"

He already had, in a sense. But at least he'd known Fedyor was out there, alive, possibly happy. This... This was different. Permanent.

"I love you." Fedyor replied simply, his eyes twinkling in the twilight. "You know that, yeah?"

"Of course. And I love you too. More- More than anything else, Fedyenka." Ivan said softly. He didn't say more; he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his voice steady.

"Can you stay?" Fedyor asked. "If only for a little while. My leg hurts."

The simple admittance broke Ivan, along with the knowledge he couldn't do anything to help. He let out a choked sob, gripping Fedyor's cuffed hand tighter.

"I will. I promise I will."

---

"Mariya Abramova Svetaeva, and Fedyor Alexeivitch Kaminsky, you are hereby sentenced to death for the crime of high treason against the Second Army, the Grisha, and Ravka as a whole."

Kirigan's voice echoed like the drop of a hammer in the silence of the evening, that was only interrupted by Mariya's muffled whimpers as she cried. Fedyor spoke softly to her, trying to comfort her.

"Silence." The oprichnik that held him hissed, and punctuated the order with a swift kick on the Grisha's broken leg. Fedyor couldn't swallow back a short cry of pain as he nearly crumpled to the ground, and Ivan felt hot rage building up inside of him.

"Soldier." He snapped. "You will not attempt to harm the prisoners before the passing of the sentence."

The oprichnik muttered something about lovesickness and lack of conviction, but Ivan elected to ignore it. Kirigan cleared his throat to restore order.

"The sentence will be carried out immediately."

He announced. Ivan felt his stomach drop to his shoes- no, surely they'd have more time, surely he could have another moment with Fedyor-

"Aleksandra," Kirigan turned to the lead Inferni "build a pyre in the middle of the camp."

For a second, Ivan wasn't sure what the General had meant. Then it dawned on him, and he swore he could feel the ground crumpling from under his feet.

"Sir, that's not-"

"An order is an order, Ivan. They do not deserve a Grisha death. Rather, they will be treated to a druskëlle sentence."

Mariya must have finally realised what was happening, because she let out a heartbreaking wail and strained against the guard that held her.

"No!" She screamed. "No, please, sir I repent, I repent-"

The General ignored her and turned around. "Ivan, I trust you will carry out what needs to be done. It's what's best for Ravka, and for the Grisha. No sentimentalities."

Ivan didn't know what the feeling building up within him was; he had never felt anything like it. Too cold to be called rage, too powerful to be called fear. All he could see was Fedyor chained to a wooden pole, screaming and crying for mercy as the flames consumed him. Looking at him, those brown eyes filled with agony.

Something inside Ivan broke.

Distantly, he heard himself roaring as he hurled himself against Kirigan's back, hands wrapping around the other man's neck. Grisha powers be damned, Ivan was going to kill the bastard with his own two hands-

But Kirigan flipped him around easily, and suddenly his back was pressed against the other man's chest, his hands held painfully behind him. He couldn't move a finger.

"Careful, Ivan." The General hissed in his ear. "Or you will share your lover's fate."

"I'd rather burn than side with someone who would kill us like the druskëlle!" Ivan snapped, straining against Kirigan's grip. "You are a disgrace to the Grisha. To think I believed in you-"

"I am only doing what is best for all of us. Our personal feelings don't matter." Kirigan's voice was cold, detached. As if he had killed whatever warmth remained inside him long ago. He probably had.

"Vladimir." He said to the guard that held Fedyor. "Kill him now."

"No!" Ivan shouted. "No- Fedya, Fedyenka- no!"

Fedyor's eyes met his. Impossibly, he smiled; that damned, irresistible smile that Ivan had fallen for the first time he'd ever seen it.

"It's alright, Vanya." He said easily as the oprichnik fumbled for his dagger. "I'll wait for you, yes? We'll see each other again."

He sounded so calm, as if he was just leaving on a long mission rather than being executed. Ivan sobbed, sagging against Kirigan's grip.

"Vanya-" Fedyor grunted as the oprichnik pulled him back, the cold steel of an ornate dagger pressing against his throat. "Look at me, my love. Look at me."

Ivan forced himself to look. The knowledge that this would be the last time he heard Fedyor's voice, saw him alive and well and smiling, shattered him. But Fedyor kept smiling, his eyes filled with love and tears.

"Fedyor." Ivan whispered. Fedyor closed his eyes.

A moment later, the dagger sliced his throat, and blood painted the ground in front of him red.

#liaduval #my writing #answered #shadow and bone #heartrender husbands #fivan #fedyor x ivan #fedyor kaminsky #ivan no last name #i am So sorry

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 23: toy stores

Character A owns a struggling toy store, and Character B is looking for a toy,, percabeth

Annabeth’s stares up at the toy store’s sign that appears to be falling apart before her eyes. It gives her an eerie feeling, looking up at a sign with glowing letters that are crooked and dull.

“Mommy?”

She glances down at her daughter beside her, who is tugging on the sleeve of her sweater. “Yes, baby?”

The three-year-old slides her hand into her mother’s, and Annabeth holds onto the tiny fingers tightly. “Can we get toys now?”

Annabeth smiles gently, tugging her daughter along lightly. The doors to the store creak open, a small bell chiming overhead. The store seems to be empty save for an old couple wandering the aisles with a cart that is peeling grey paint.

She stands in place as she looks around, entirely unsure of where to start. Annabeth hadn’t wanted to come here to begin with, much preferring to stick to more known stores like Target, but Sophia has gained much more insight to the world and began pointing out the store each time they passed by. When she’d begged to stop at a real toy store so she could pick out a new toy, Annabeth hadn’t known how to say no.

“Go on,” Annabeth encourages softly, letting go of her hand. Sophia wastes no time, immediately beginning to run as fast as her tiny legs will let her, which isn’t very fast at all. It helps Annabeth a lot, actually, because it’s already becoming much harder to chase after her, even only at three months pregnant.

Annabeth watches fondly as her daughter is fascinated by the wall of Barbies they have. They’re all basic enough in her opinion, and cheap enough for her to afford at least two of them, so Annabeth lets her daughter run her fingers over the boxes, cooing at each and every one.

“Pick two, baby,” Annabeth tells her, looking around the rest of the shop. Even the inside doesn’t appear to be in great shape. The lighting is rather dim, and it’s incredibly echoey – she can hear each footstep resonate, and her daughter’s excited chatters are loud in the empty vicinity.

Annabeth leans against the aisle as she watches, her hand moving up unconsciously to rest against her stomach. She tries not to think too much of it, but it’s gotten worse now, knowing that she’s alone, and going to be raising two kids on her own. She doesn’t know how she got into this position, but it’s too late to do anything except keep moving.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

She glances to her right, startled, where there is a man looking at her kindly. He has a plain black t-shirt on that shows his arms that her eyes linger on just a bit longer than intended. She looks back to his face where he has a gentle smile on. His nametag reads, Percy.

“We’re just looking,” she replies, a soft grin back to him.

“Anything in particular?”

Annabeth’s eyes dart down to the four boxes of Barbies her daughter has pulled off the shelves.

“I’ll take a wild guess and say Barbies?” Percy asks. “It seems so,” Annabeth says, laughing.

“Well, I’m afraid this is all we have on that then,” he says, moving towards Annabeth’s side. “We aren’t the most advanced toy store there is,” he says more quietly, for Annabeth to hear. “But from the look on your face, you already know that.”

She blinks, a slight blush forming on her cheeks. Had she been that transparent? “It’s… fine.”

He laughs sweetly. “I know it’s practically falling apart. Sometimes I have to close by myself, and I get scared one of these dolls are actually cursed and going to kill me in my sleep.”

“Like Annabelle?”

“Exactly,” he says, giving her daughter a humored look when she holds up a fifth doll to Annabeth’s sight. “This is your daughter?”

She’s a bit surprised at how chatty the store worker is. He seems too polite to be working in such a rundown place, and it almost makes her feel bad.

“She is,” Annabeth answers after a short pause. “She’s only three, but she’s expensive.”

“I know what you mean. I have a daughter at home too, and I never knew how expensive kids were before I had her. It feels like they’re demanding a new toy every two seconds.”

A sixth toy is shoved into Annabeth’s hands by her daughter, and she waves it in front of him. “You mean like this?”

“Seems about right,” he replies, laughing. “Are you shopping for any special occasions?”

She shakes her head, biting her lower lip. “She just wanted to come look around, and I ran out of ways to tell her no.”

“It’s always hard to say no,” he agrees. Annabeth looks at him again and catches his bright green eyes. It’s the first true look she gets of him, and she has to admit she’s not disappointed with what she sees.

“So when are you due?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pregnant,” he comments. When she looks at him questioningly, and a bit daringly, he smiles. “You keep touching your stomach.”

She drops her hand and chuckles. “I didn’t even realize.”

“My wife used to do that all the time,” he says. The word wife makes something in her drop, but she doesn’t quite know why. She hadn’t even realized how much she liked talking to him until then. “I’m sure your husband has picked up on little quirks like that.”

“Oh, there’s no husband,” she starts, laughing lightly. “Divorced was finalized a few weeks before I found out I was pregnant.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I think it’s cute that you notice stuff like that about your wife.”

“It would be cuter if we were still together,” he says.

Annabeth nods, lips tugging upwards. “So we both know the pains of divorce and fighting for custody.”

“And the pains of sleeping alone,” he adds. “It’s a different feeling, I’ll admit.”

“Try having a baby on the way and no husband,” she says. “It’s that icy type of fear – the one that freezes you over because you have no idea what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, but you seem like you’ll be okay.”

He’s looking at her with such warmth and kindness, and it feels weird to say, but this might be the most comfortable she’s felt in months. They fall into a silence, and she lets herself just take in his presence – it’s familiar in an unfamiliar way. She doesn’t know if it’s just having someone else close to her, or feeling protected, but she doesn’t care because she feels safe with him by her side.

“I want these,” her daughter says, placing a last box by her feet. It makes Annabeth feel a bit lightheaded because she knows there’s no way she’ll be able to afford all of those, and this trip is going to end with a tantrum.

“I said two,” Annabeth reminds her. “Pick two and put the rest back.”

“But I want them!”

Annabeth sighs, scrunching her nose at the feeling of an oncoming headache. “Mommy can’t buy all of them.”

“Why not?” she asks accusingly.

“These are expensive, baby.”

“But you go to work all the time for money!”

It makes Annabeth’s heart sore, because there’s no way for her to explain that the money she makes from work goes towards everything else. She’s barely making the weekly payments on her apartment, or the water and electricity bills, and she just can’t afford everything her daughter wants. But she can see the tears brimming in Sophie’s eyes, and suddenly she wants to cry too because she’s doing everything she can, and it’s still not enough, and it won’t be in six months either when she suddenly has another child to take care of.

“Put them back, Sophie.”

She whines.

“Please put some of them back, and maybe Santa Claus can bring you more in a few weeks.”

Sophia doesn’t budge, and Annabeth knows it’s going to take herself putting them back on the shelves. Percy respectfully wanders off back into the store somewhere out of sight as Annabeth begins to shove them back on the shelf. She lets Sophia hold on tightly onto two of them as she begins crying and is forced to pick her up and carry her over to pay.

Annabeth waits by the counter for a good few minutes before Percy reappears. He’s pushing a cart suspiciously in front of him that he sets by the counter.

“These are the best toys we have!” he tells Sophia, coaxing them from her hands so he can scan them. “You did a good job choosing.”

“I wanted more,” she whimpers as Annabeth’s hand slides up and down her back soothingly.

“I know, but you have to leave some for Santa Claus to get you,” he whispers, handing the toys back to her after it’s scanned. “You’re a good girl, so I bet you’re going to get a ton of presents from him this year!”

Annabeth shoots him a dirty look, and it makes his eyes mirthful.

“That’ll be twenty-five dollars and forty-nine cents.”

She hands him a card from her back pocket, setting Sophia down. Her daughter seems to be in a slightly better mood by now, but she still wraps herself around her mother’s leg. She takes the card back, about to turn around and leave, but his hand wraps gently around her wrist.

“Is it alright if I walk you to your car?”

“May I ask what for?”

He glances to the shopping cart he placed by the counter, and she has a vague feeling of what’s in there.

“I’m compelled to say no,” she tells him, eyeing the cart.

“This place is closing in two months anyways, and it’ll all go to waste,” he tells her quietly. “Let me do this.”

“If there are five dolls in that cart, I swear to god.”

“There’s six, actually.”

She glares at him.

“You can save them as Christmas presents for her,” he says. “You have another baby on the way, and I can tell you’re struggling. I’m not trying to judge because believe me when I say I’ve been there, so let me help.”

She feels bad taking stuff from him that could easily add up to more than one-hundred dollars, but she also knows that even if Christmas is weeks away, she’s not going to be able to do much on her own. She has to figure out how to afford things for a newborn that are more necessary than a few Barbie’s that’ll be forgotten quickly enough anyways, but it breaks her heart thinking of Sophia waking up to a nearly bare Christmas tree, so she says, “Okay.”

He shoots her a grin, coming around the counter to grab the cart. He helps stuff them into the trunk of her car as Annabeth straps Sophia into her car seat. She turns the car on before stepping outside to speak to him alone.

“Are you sure you’re okay giving these to me?”

“Of course I am,” he says. “It would be sitting there for months otherwise.”

“Then thank you,” she says earnestly. “It means a lot.”

“Don’t worry about it. I wanted to do it.”

“Yeah, why is that?” she asks, smirking now. “I didn’t see you doing this for the old couple walking around.”

“You’re a lot cuter than the old couple,” he admits, fingers toying with the handle of the cart.

“So now I’m cute?”

“I’ve always had a thing for pregnant women,” he says.

Annabeth slaps his arm playfully. “So you actually do this for all the pregnant women?”

He winks. “Only the cute ones.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“I was hoping you’d let me know that.”

She gives him a sly look. “Annabeth.”

“Now that I know your name, Annabeth, I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Or we could take our girls to a toy store and let them run wild,” he suggests, “but I think both of our bank accounts would be wiped in that case.”

“Dinner sounds nice,” she agrees. He gives her his phone number, and for a moment, she imagines that life is perfect. She doesn’t know if it’s because she really does like him or because she’s been alone for what feels like forever, but she can see a future. They are together in a home, three girls around a fireplace, unwrapping toys, and Percy is sitting by her side, her wrapped in his arms. He places a kiss to her forehead, and she feels at home. It’s a fleeting image, but it makes her long.

She learns four years later on the anniversary of when they first met that maybe she really did see a glimpse of her future. There are three girls curled up on the couch, and they all love each other so much. Instead of unwrapping presents though, they are watching a Disney movie. Annabeth watches the kids with a smile on her face from the doorframe, turning her head up when she feels him slide his hands over her swollen stomach (courtesy of Percy). He gives her a sweet kiss.

She’s in love in a way she never thought possible, her heart is full, and everything is perfect.

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #my writing

[snelbz]

The Ranch {19}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz​ x @tacmc​

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

Nesta stood in the paint department and looked at the wall of samples in front of her. She wanted something light, but something that stood out, too. She didn’t want anything like her father had chosen back in the nineties and-.

She shook her head, trying to free her head of the deja vu that washed over her and chuckling quietly. She had been here before, had done this before. Things were just...a little different this time.

As if she wanted to remind her mother of this fact, Nesta felt a sharp pain against her ribs and she inhaled sharply through her teeth. Beau looked up at her, brown eyes wide. He hadn’t left her side since the beginning of her third trimester and Nesta had learned to love the constant, comforting presence.

“Your sister is using my ribs as a punching bag,” she told him, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t understand her. He opened his mouth in what Nesta swore was a smile and his tongue hung to the side.

He always smiled when they talked about the baby.

Nesta was floored as she realized how different her life had become in twelve months. A year ago, she’d been deciding whether or not she should give up everything she’d ever wanted, to move home and run her father’s crumbling dream of a bed and breakfast. Now she was about to have a baby, her perfect, little girl, and she was going to marry the man of her dreams, the man who gave her the gift she never thought possible.

“Nesta?”

She froze, recalling how someone had called her name the last time she’d been here, who it had been when she turned. But it wasn’t Tomas, just Azriel standing in his old, torn jeans and black hoodie. Out of all of them, it was Azriel who looked the least the part of a rancher, but he sure as hell knew what he was doing.

“Cass said you were running into town, but this was the last place I thought I’d see you,” Azriel said, when Nesta said nothing. 

Nesta, collecting her thoughts, gestured to the wall of paint samples. “Nursery color.”

“Ah,” Azriel said, huffing a laugh as he stopped next to her and looked at the wall. Beau brushed up against his leg, and he gave the pup a loving scratch behind the ears. “What about purple?”

Nesta frowned, looking at the endless samples of purple. She had gone over the lavender hues ten times already. “Too predictable. Pink, too. I’ve ruled them both out.”

Azriel chuckled. “Fair enough. Cass wants to paint it green.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. She had to admit that she had her eye on a neutral olive color, but it didn’t seem right, it wasn't special enough.  “So I’ve been told. I told him no, though.”

It was true. In fact, the night before they’d had a heated debate over what color the nursery would be. It ended in them making love on the nursery’s carpet, but that was irrelevant. 

“How about blue?” Azriel suggested, picking up a few different swatches. “There are a ton of different shades of blue, surely there’s one you two can agree on.”

It was her favorite color, but it limited her decorating choices. Both the camouflage and rodeo nursery ideas were nixed last night as well, and Cassian was still pouting about it.

“I’ve been leaning towards a softer yellow or orange.” She lifted a buttery yellow card from its slot. It was too bright, too rich. She added it to the stack, knowing it may look different away from the fluorescent lights. “Like the sunrise. First light.”

Azriel was nodding. “Why don’t you ask Feyre to paint the sunrise?”

Nesta was going to blame her stupidity on pregnancy brain as her eyes went wide and she said, “I hadn’t even thought of that. She’d love that.”

Azriel just smiled, softly. “Feyre would be honored, if you asked her.”

Nesta nodded, slowly, then picked out a couple different shades of yellows and oranges. “Since you’re here, please take me to get some tacos. I’ll buy. Might even bring some home to Cass, if he’s been good this morning.” Azriel’s grin widened as they began walking toward the exit. “A little cranky, I must say, but I think that’s just because he’s hungover.”

Nesta snorted. After their fight over paints, he’d indulged himself - one beer too many, perhaps. “It doesn’t take much to be hungover when you wake up at five a.m.”

“True,” Azriel agreed. “I could do tacos, though.”

“Good,” Nesta said, putting the paint swatches into her purse as she and Azriel walked out onto the sidewalk, Beau close behind. 

It wasn’t until they were down the street at a taco vendor’s food truck that Nesta asked, “So, when the hell are you going to ask my sister to marry you?”

The bite he’d been in the process of taking nearly came back out. Nesta didn’t even flinch. She’d spent so much time throwing up in the past eight months that partially chewed food didn’t even phase her. She blinked and waited for him to collect himself before he took a drink of the Corona in his hand.

“You just go straight for the balls, don’t you?” He laughed.

She raised her eyebrows. “Have you met my fiancé?”

“Fair enough,” he laughed, but he sighed. “You want the honest truth?”

Nesta suddenly realized she wasn’t sure. She was meddling and the only person who hated meddling more than she did was Elain. But she nodded.

Az took a deep breath and said, “I’ve had the ring for almost six months.”

“What?” Nesta’s eyes must have nearly bulged out of her head, because Az backed up a step. “And why exactly haven’t you proposed?”

His smile was soft but proud, as he said, “I don’t want to take this time from you, or from Cassian. You’re having a baby. Like, Nesta, you’re growing a literal human inside of yourself.” He chuckled and smiled fondly. “Did you know that even when we were in high school all Cass wanted from life was to rope and have a family. You’re giving him one of those things and I can’t ever thank you for making my brother so happy. And I don’t want to take that spotlight from y’all. I want you to have your moment, so that when the time comes, Elain can have hers.”

Nesta hated Azriel for making her cry over her taco, and yet, tears were sliding down her cheeks as she set her taco back down onto her plate and observed him. Eventually, she cleared her throat and said, “Elain is a lucky woman.”

Azriel just shook his head as he took another bite. “That woman deserves the world. If anyone’s lucky, it’s me.”

Nesta found herself completely overwhelmed. A year ago, she hadn’t believed love existed, but now? Her and Cassian, Elain and Azriel, Feyre and Rhysand...this type of love was rare, Nesta was sure of it, but somehow they all ended up in a fairytale romance. Her sisters were happy, she was happy...it was perfect. 

“Don’t tell your sister that I made you cry,” Azriel went on, shoving the last of his taco into his mouth. “She’ll kick my ass. She’s scary when she wants to be.”

She shook her head, dabbing at her eyes with a scratchy napkin. “She’ll understand when you knock her up. I cried yesterday during a Christmas commercial.” Azriel waited, knowing that was somewhat common. “A commercial for cattle feed.”

He nodded. “I believe you. Doesn’t change the fact that your sister will punch me in the dick if she finds out I was the cause of your tears.”

They both laughed and Nesta smiled. “Thank you for making her so happy.”

Az gave her that full smile that so many rarely saw. “It’s my pleasure.”

Nesta finished her tacos and ordered some for Cassian for the road. “Word of advice,” she said, getting into her car. Beau already patiently sat in the passenger seat. “Don’t ask her on a holiday. Girls don’t want to share their special day.”

Azriel’s eyebrows raised. “I...hadn’t thought of that.”

Nesta chuckled. “You were going to propose on New Years, weren’t you?”

He nodded once. “Yes, I was.”

She laughed, full and bright, and said, “How about this? You tell me when it’s time, I’ll plan a family dinner and voila, you’ve got yourself a fiancée.”

“Really?” Azriel asked, stopping in front of the driver’s side of the truck’s door.

“Of course,” Nesta said, crossing her arms, the bag of Cassian’s food hanging on her arm. 

“Thank you,” he said, and she knew by the look in his eyes that he meant it.

Although they were going to the same place, they said their goodbyes and Nesta drove home, slowly. By the time she made it back home to the ranch with her paint swatches, Cassian was mowing the lawn. He was shirtless, of course, and was chugging a bottle of water as he rode the lawn mower across the grass. As Nesta pulled into the driveway, he was waving and putting it in park. 

He was covered in sweat, but Nesta still didn’t stop him as he pressed his lips to the side of her head. “The grass was long.”

Nesta nodded. She had wanted to ask him to mow, considering she was too pregnant to do so, but hadn’t wanted to interrupt his daily plans. “I brought you tacos.” 

“Mmm, that’s exactly why I’m marrying you,” he said, pulling her onto his sweaty lap and opening the box in her hands.

She squirmed out of his arms, as best as she could at eight and a half months pregnant and said, “I’m going to go hang the swatches on the wall, come see when you’re done?”

He nodded, shoving an entire taco in his mouth.

She chuckled, but shivered as a brisk wind blew by. “Cass, I know the sun is straight on you, but it’s forty-five degrees out. Don’t you think you should put a shirt on?”

He finished chewing and said, “How else will I keep my tan year round?”

She shook her head and said, “I’ll be inside, call me if you need me. I love you.”

He smiled at her, those hazel eyes sparkling from the joy he felt inside. “I love you too, darlin’.”

She turned and started up the porch steps and heard, “Hey.”

Nesta looked back at him and he asked, the sparkle replaced by his usual mischievous glint, “You got any green swatches in there?”

Nesta rolled her eyes as Azriel pulled the truck in next to her little car. “No.”

She continued up into the house, laughing when she heard Az ask why the hell he wasn’t wearing a shirt. She pulled the swatches out of her purse, including the couple of greens she’d snagged on their way out, along with her phone and she and Beau made their way up to her old room.

The room that she grew up in was the same room her daughter would too.

As she was taping swatches to the room, in various lighting, she called Feyre, putting her phone on speaker.

“Hello?” her sister answered a second later.

“Hey,” Nesta said, looking around the room. “I have a favor to ask.” “Ask away,” Feyre said.

Nesta admired the swatches she had chosen before clearing her throat. “Would you mind...helping me paint the baby’s nursery?”

There was a slight pause, then Feyre’s quiet voice came through, “Of course.”

“I was thinking the sunrise,” Nesta continued, trying not to cry for the tenth time that day. “Bright, cheery, calming.”

“I can do that,” Feyre breathed. “I can come by this weekend?”

“Perfect,” Nesta agreed. There was a few seconds of silence before Nesta said, “Thank you.”

“Anything for my niece,” Feyre said, then added, “And anything for you. And that idiot fiancé of yours.”

Nesta peeked out the window where Cassian was still mowing without his shirt on. He always acted like it was spring, even in the winter. Although their town stayed pretty mild, winter-wise, there was still a little chill in the air. “Idiot he is, but he’s my idiot.”

Feyre chuckled. “Still on for dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Nesta promised. “I’ll see you then.”

They said their goodbyes before Nesta was left alone, in the silence, observing the room around her. Five minutes of planning in her head passed before heavy boots padded up the stairs and Cassian appeared, now wearing a hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. “Can I help with anything?”

She was admiring the colors in the direct sunlight. “You can tell me which of these you like best.”

“Hmm.” He came up behind her, pressing his big hands against her belly. Even as round as she was, even at over eight months pregnant, his hands still covered most of it. But then they slid upwards until he was cupping a breast in each hand. He made a show of weighing them and squeezing them gently, and said, “I don’t know, I think I’m pretty partial to the left one.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing, and pushed away from him, walking towards the wall. “I meant color, baby.”

“Oh, well that’s easy,” he snorted, coming in closer as well.

It turned out that it was, in fact, not easy.

After forty-five minutes of arguing and an almost silent quickie with the door open to make up, they had narrowed it down to New Spring Chick and Frosted Tropical Apricot.

They would let Feyre make the final decision in the morning.

“Don’t you have to get back out there?” Nesta asked.

Cassian shook his head. “For now, Az has it covered, it’s been an easy day. I was thinking you and I could go out to dinner, though.”

Nesta lifted a brow. “Dinner?”

Cassian nodded, then gestured to her belly. “We only have so much more time before baby comes. We should have a date night while we can.”

Nesta watched him for a moment before saying, “Okay, fine. But does this mean I have to get dressed up?”

Cassian grinned. “You could wear fucking sweatpants for all I care, but I’m taking you out.”

She wouldn’t wear sweatpants, but she also didn’t plan on wearing another real pair of pants until after this baby was out of her.

Cassian pressed a soft kiss to her stomach, which he did every chance he took, and left to go take a much needed shower. Nesta got ready, slipping on a pair of comfy black leggings and a baggy sweatshirt. Cass ended up dressing nearly identically, except he did wear sweatpants.

They hopped in the “play truck” and right before they left, Cassian said, “Shit, I’ll be right back.”

Nesta sat straight up, hands forming a protective cage around her stomach. “What? Is everything okay?”

He jogged into the house and came back out a minute later, backpack tossed over his shoulder. Climbing back into the truck, he tossed it in the backseat and put it in reverse.

“What is that?” she asked. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“This,” Cass replied, putting his free hand in Nesta’s and rubbing soothing circles into the back of her hand, “is our emergency bag. It’s got everything we’ll need in it in case you go into labor. Clothes, insurance paperwork, phone chargers, snacks.” He began a smooth back and forth motion. “Diapers, binkies, onesies, little socks and blankets, and everything else our precious girl is going to need.”

She blinked, and hated that tears were, once again, rolling down her cheeks. “You have truly thought of everything, haven’t you?”

Cassian shrugged. “You’re literally growing my child inside of you. As your baby daddy, it’s my job to take as much stress off of you as possible.”

Nesta leaned over the center console and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Thank you.”

He grinned, fully satisfied with himself, as he pulled onto the road and headed into town. They drove to a little Italian restaurant because Nesta had mentioned she could use a plate full of breadsticks. Cassian ordered it to go, though, and hopped back into the truck before driving a mile down the road to the old high school. He parked in the parking lot before hopping out and putting down the truck bed.

“Come on, babe,” he called, already taking the boxes of pasta out of the bag. When Nesta came around, he helped her onto the back of the truck before joining her there, his thigh brushing hers.

She ate her alfredo happily, indeed chowing down on an insane number of breadsticks that Cassian swore he didn’t count.

He was rubbing her feet when she asked, voice quiet, “Are you scared?”

He looked at her, at how she was staring off toward the football field, pretending not to notice him staring at her. “Am I scared of doing something stupid? Yes. Am I scared it’s going to be a lot more than we’re expecting? Yes. Am I scared we’re going to get in over our heads? Yes. Am I scared that there’s about to be a miniature version of you running around? Hell yes.” He turned her face toward his, forcing her to look at him. “But am I scared to be a father? No. Am I scared to meet our daughter? No. Am I scared to do this with you? Absolutely not.”

She whispered, “Quit making me cry.”

But he shook his head, softly. “I love you, Nesta. And yeah, I am scared, but I can’t wait. This little girl already has me wrapped around her finger and she’s not even here yet.”

A tear slid down her cheek that he quickly reached up and brushed away. “Are you scared?”

Nesta took a moment to think about it, but then she sighed. “Yes, and no. It’s complicated.”

Cassian chuckled, in full understanding.

“I’m scared because I don’t know what to expect,” she said, after a minute. “I’m not sure how to handle the not knowing.”

“That’s why we have each other, sweetheart,” he kissed the top of her head. “Come on, let’s get home. I have a shitload of furniture to build tonight.”

The egregiously overpriced infant's bedroom suit that Nesta had seen online had been delivered that afternoon. Cassian couldn’t understand how Nesta could justify spending as much as some people spent on a vehicle on furniture that was just going to get covered in shit and baby barf.

Not to mention that it had been shipped from overseas.

They packed up their trash and got back in the truck, heading for home.

“While I carry all of the boxes upstairs, why don’t you take a nice bath, baby?” He asked. “And then when you’re done, you can read me instructions that I won’t listen to while I figure out how to put it all together.”

Nesta shook her head, unable to stop herself from chuckling. “At least you’re honest.” 

He took her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles. “I am that.”

Nesta had to admit that the thought of a bath sounded incredible, though, so she didn’t argue. Once they got home, Nesta was making her way, slowly, up the porch, inside, and up the stairs while Cassian got to work on gathering the boxed nursery furniture. They had a changing table, a bookshelf, a dresser, and a crib, all of which Nesta had bought from a small French boutique that had always caught her eye in Paris. When Cassian asked why they couldn’t just go into town and buy something that was already assembled, Nesta’s answer was simple: she was getting what she wanted, and she wanted the modern, white, sleek furniture she’d on her walk to work every day.

Cassian didn’t argue. 

While she was soaking in the tub, she could hear Cass moving around in the other room. She’d hear a thump as a box was dropped or something would start dragging across the floor. At one point, she heard a loud bang followed by Son of a bitch!

Nesta laughed quietly to herself and smoothed a hand over her belly, which stuck out of the water by a considerable amount. “Daddy’s getting your room put together, sweet girl, and then we’re ready for you to get here whenever you are.”

She leaned her head back against the cool, porcelain tub, sighing happy. Life had become so crazy lately, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be stressed about it.

Her phone vibrated on the small table by her head and when she leaned up to glance at it, her hand slipped on the slick surface. The table knocked against the tub and Nesta gasped as her phone fell into the water.

“Shit,” she breathed, grabbing it out and tossing it onto a nearby towel. She decided that was the end of her bath and got out drying herself off and getting dressed.

She tried to power her phone back on, knowing she shouldn’t but hoping it hadn’t been in the water long enough to do any damage. The logo popped up in the middle of the screen then it went black and began to make a whirring noise.

“Damn it.” She sighed and made her way downstairs, throwing it in a bag of rice to see if it could be salvaged. Otherwise, it looked like she’d be going into town the next day for a new phone.

Cassian was padding down the stairs a moment later, his brows furrowed. He took one look at Nesta and froze, then looked down at her phone in the bag of rice. “Your phone take a bath, too?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe.” With a deep sigh, she leaned back against the counter. “I’m pissed.”

“Me too,” Cassian mumbled, throwing open the fridge and grabbing two beers. “I’ve decided that I hate France. Or at least French furniture. Fuck France and their fancy furniture.”

Nesta snorted and came up behind him, attempting to wrap her arms around his waist, but over her giant bump, she hardly managed to reach around his sides.

Cassian's body shook with silent laughter as he turned to face her. “Bump in the way?” He asked, before setting one of his beer cans on the top of it, which only made Nesta roll her eyes.

“It’s not a table,” she laughed. 

“Seems pretty convenient to me,” he shrugged, popping open a can and chugging it down. He brushed his hand over her bump, and just when he touched, baby girl kicked wildly from inside, which only made Nesta groan. 

“That either means that she loves me, or that she’s telling me to fuck off,” Cassian said, which made Nesta laugh. After he kissed her forehead, then the bump with the wild, little Nazari inside, he said, “Alright, baby mama, come upstairs and watch me struggle.”

She smirked and headed for the stairs as he tossed the empty can in the trash, opened the second and grabbed a third to take upstairs. “I already do that on the daily. What’s so different about building furniture?”

She heard him mimic her words in a mocking tone and she laughed as she topped the stairs and made her way into the nursery.

It looked like a styrofoam factory exploded. There were pieces everywhere and screws littering the little catch-all tray he pulled from his tool box. She sighed, realizing it was going to be a long night.

But when she looked out the window, into the starry, cloudless night, and screamed Cassian’s name, she forgot all about furniture and messy packing materials. She forgot all about her phone lying useless on the kitchen counter. She even, for a moment, forgot her own name.

Because the stables were catching on fire.

Cassian was instantly behind her, his eyes wide as he swore violently. “Stay here,” he ordered, and then he was gone, pulling out his phone on the way out the nursery door. 

Nesta could only stare in horror as Cassian's dark figure, only outlined by the light of the moon, sprinted down the path that led to the stables.

It was quickly going up in flames, all consuming, raging flames. Nesta didn’t understand how it could have happened.

Only moments ago, she had been down in the kitchen and the stables were fine.

Then, the thought that had her heart stopping entered her mind. It hadn’t been an accident, couldn’t have been an accident, but that didn’t make any sense. 

A slow panic crept into the pit of her stomach, she was breathing heavier, her heart beating wildly as she sobbed, holding onto her bump, the only thing that allowed her to keep her sanity.

Nesta remembered that Az had told her he’d put the horses in the pasture this morning, since it wasn’t supposed to rain, and she was thankful to whatever god whispered in his ear and told him to do so.

She needed to call someone, needed to get the fire department here. Needed to call her sisters, to call Az. Without thinking, she turned and ran from the room, carefully making her way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Her phone wasn’t on the counter where she’d left it and she frantically looked around the kitchen. 

She plunged into near darkness as the lights went out and a frightened scream burst from Nesta, followed by a sob.

She needed Cassian.

She screamed his name, her voice full of shaking terror as she reached around, trying to find something to hold onto. Eventually, her hands found the edge of the counter and she told herself to breath, in and out. Stress wasn’t good for the baby, panic wasn’t good for the baby.

But she couldn’t help it, and as if the infant in her womb knew that something horrible was happening, she kicked wildly.

Nesta felt the need to puke but she couldn’t move, not in the darkness, not as far from the city as they were. Even as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she couldn’t see through the endless tears.

She tried one more time to scream Cassian’s name, but her voice came out broken, terrified, and it was no use, he was too far away.

She thought she heard a door open and close across the house and she froze. Her voice cracked as she called, “Cass?”

There was no answer.

Something was wrong, something was very, very wrong. She held onto the counter as she quickly ran for the back door - only to find that it was jammed shut, a two-by-four under the doorknob preventing it from opening.

She began to hyperventilate as she realized that this, all of this, was deliberate. The fire still blazed outside, and Nesta heard a creak from the old, wood flooring in the other room. Her blood chilled as she realized that she wasn’t alone in the house.

She ran for the front door, finding it stuck shut as well. “Please, please, please!” She sobbed, pulling on the door as hard as she could. There were unmistakably footsteps from the dining room and she cried, “Please, I’m pregnant, please.”

She hurried back to the kitchen as quietly as she could and silently opened a drawer, pulling out a large knife. She held it out, blindly as she took shuddering breaths.

Then he appeared, in the doorway, wearing a dark hoodie, the hood pulled up. He was tall, his shoulders broad, but slim.

She knew who it was.

She would be foolish to convince herself it wasn’t him. He hadn’t gotten what he wanted from her, had stalked her for months without saying a word. He didn’t come any closer.

Nesta did not lower her knife.

She tried to convince herself to look unafraid, to sound calm, but she couldn’t help the tears that continued to stream down her face.

Inside of her womb, the infant became utterly still.

Nesta swallowed and lifted her chin. “Leave,” she ordered, the demand echoing in the silence. “Or I will kill you, and I will not hesitate.”

Even as she said the words, she wasn’t convinced they were true.

Cassian couldn’t breathe. There was smoke in his eyes, it was unbearably hot, and he couldn’t stop coughing, but then he was out in the fresh night air, his back hitting the soft grass.

He knew that Az had led the horses out before he left today, had watched him take them out one by one, but he had to make sure. He had to verify that there wasn’t one down somewhere.

He found nothing, not a horse or person inside.

Except the overwhelming smell of gasoline.

This fire wasn’t natural, it was intentional. This fire was set.

He’d called Azriel before his feet had hit the landing of the stairs telling him what was happening and asking him to call the fire department. He didn’t know what else to do. It’s not like he could turn on the garden hose and put it out. With as much accelerant was used, it would burn all night.

He knew exactly who it was, he didn’t try to delude himself into anything else.

A truck door slammed and Feyre and Rhys were running toward him.

“What happened?” He asked, helping him stand. Cassian saw that his arm was covered in soot. “I have no idea. We were building baby furniture and the barn was fine, came down to the kitchen so I could grab a beer, and when Nes got back upstairs it was in a blaze.” He coughed, but continued, “Smells like a damn Mapco in there, there was so much gasoline dumped.”

“Gasoline?” Feyre asked, covering her mouth in horror.

Cassian nodded. “Tomas did this.”

Rhysand stilled as Feyre’s face paled.

“I have to go to Nesta,” she breathed, backing away from the fire, even though she wasn’t close to it. She glanced back at the dark. “Is she down at the cabin?”

Cassian’s face fell as he glanced up at the big house, then, he was sprinting.

If Tomas had done this, which Cassian was sure he did, he would still be close. He ran without stopping, without a breath, until he was up the back porch. The door was wide open, a piece of wood sitting off to the side.

Cassian was inside of the kitchen before he screamed, “Nesta?!”

There was no reply in the dark house, no movement or creak or whisper. He frantically flicked the light switch, nothing happening.

“What’s going on?” Feyre called, catching up and coming up the stairs.

Cassian opened his mouth to reply, but there was a banging from the front of the house. “Nesta?!”

He was running through the dark house immediately, finding Azriel and Elain on the other side of the front door. It was jammed closed as well. “Move!”

They did as he said and he put all of his weight into the motion as he tried to shove the door open. On the second try, it gave way.

Elain was already crying when she and Az ran in. He said, “Fire department is on the way.”

Cassian was about to say something when Rhysand’s shaking voice called out from the kitchen. “Cass… come here.”

The sound of his voice chilled Cassian’s blood. He hurried back, could see from the glow that either Feyre or Rhys was using their phone’s flashlight function.

He stumbled into the kitchen, nearly tripping over himself and ran to the other side of the island.

He froze.

One of the kitchen knives was missing from its spot in the open drawer, but it laid on the floor, just a few feet away.

There was so much blood.

She was gone. He took her. By taking her, he took them both.

Cassian heaved over the kitchen sink, everything within his stomach emptying out. He knew he was crying, but he didn’t care. He knew he was sobbing, but no one tried to comfort him. Knew no one was sure how.

Nesta was gone. His baby girl was gone. Tomas had taken them. They were gone, the only hunch of where they had gone written on the kitchen floor: a long kitchen knife and a puddle of blood. 

Cassian was ready to set the world on fire.

“I have to find her,” he breathed, he cried, as his face fell into his hands next to the kitchen sink. “I will find her.”

“Cass-.”

“No,” Cassian interrupted Rhysand before he could even say a word. “He’s out there, and he has my fucking fiancée and child!” 

But Rhysand only shook his head. “I know. I’m coming, too.”

“Me too,” Azriel agreed, then looked to Elain, who nodded.

“We'll take care of things around here,” Elain promised. “Go to the police. Now.” 

Cassian was already near the front door, just as a fire truck pulled onto the grounds. 

“I’ll go talk to them,” Feyre said, and kissed Rhysand quickly on the cheek before hurrying out the back door, Elain close behind. 

Cassian was looking around the house as he walked, even though he’d already searched the entirety of it. Rhysand and Azriel were on his heels as they exited through the front door.

Rhysand’s truck had the most room, and they knew letting Cassian drive wasn’t the smartest. The first logical place to go was the Carlson ranch, only to find it deserted. Cassian looked at the window, where he’d hurled the brick back at him.

“Where would they go?” Azriel asked, kicking something aside as they searched through his workshop.

Rhysand’s phone rang and he answered it. A quick conversation took place, and Feyre said the police needed to talk to Cassian.

They loaded back up into the truck and went back to the ranch. The police were there, along with the fire department and an ambulance, and the second Cassian’s feet hit the ground, questions were being asked.

“What happened?”

Cassian replayed the situation, from the second Nesta had noticed the fire blazing up until the point he realized they were missing. 

“You have to find her,” he told the police, after he told his story. “She’s thirty-eight weeks pregnant, nearly ready to go into labor, you have to fucking find her.”

“We will do everything we ca-.”

“Find her!” he yelled, grabbing the cop he’d been talking to by the shoulders. No one reacted, everyone stayed calm, even the cop that was being grabbed.

The young cop simply took a deep breath before saying, “We will look for her, adamantly, starting now.”

Cassian released his shoulders and nodded, and said in a quiet voice. “Thank you, just… I have to get them back.”

He looked over to where the stables once stood. Now it was a smoldering pile of wood and cinders, all that time put in, all those memories. Gone up in a blaze.

They told Cassian he couldn’t stay in their house that night, that they’d be combing through it for any evidence.

He asked a passing officer, “Will you please, please tell me if that’s her blood?”

The dark red hair, the amber eyes. He was a Vanserra, no doubt.

He nodded. “As soon as we know something, we’ll let you know.”

They let Cassian go in, accompanied by Elain, to get what he would need for the next few days. 

Elain did most of the packing, although she cried the whole time. Cassian couldn’t stay focused though, couldn’t concentrate on anything other than her.

All he could think about was Nesta and their baby, where they were, what he was doing to them.

But per the cops request, Cassian went home with Azriel and Elain to wait for further word.

But he didn’t sleep, didn’t rest.

And he wouldn’t until he found them.

Nesta, and his baby girl. 

#theranchnessian #sharacollab #snelbz tacmc collab #snacmc #nessian

[mouse-fantoms]

Wisdom Teeth

This is completely bc of @blush-and-books post, this is comepley your doing Julie gets her wisdom teeth out, Luke sticks around to help her, somethings are said

“What’s the plan for today boss?” Luke asked Julie when she came into the studio.

“Well,” she addressed her band, “looks like we’ll have the week off from practicing together since I have to get my wisdom teeth taken out.”

“Ick!” They all shared the same disgusted expression.

“Oh!” Even though one could not forget that her band mates were ghosts, it slipped her mind about their pasts. They did have lives before meeting her. They had become so improtant to her in the present that the past slipped her mind. None the less, whenever their past was mentioned, she was curious. “You guys have had them taken out?”

“Couldn’t do anything for about a week.” Luke groaned, remembering the experience.

“And Reg helped you ‘learn’ guitar because you thought you didn’t know how.” Alex input.

“Why’d you ‘help’ him?” Julie’s eyebrows knit.

“He was heartbreaken! I couldn’t just leave him to think he couldn’t.” He explained. “And then Alex was-”

“Oh if you think I compliment you all time,” Luke looked to Julie, “if Alex is under anesthesia oh he will not hold back.”

“I was out of it. My head was in the clouds.” He recalled.

“You still mean what you said about me having a perfect smile?” Luke flashed his said smile.

“Okay but I was nothing compared to what Reggie was like.”

“Oh come on guys.” He looked down, not wanting them to bring up the embarrassing memory.

“What happened?” Julie asked curious.

Alex explained, “We helped walk him out of the building and he started flirting with the cars.”

“...it wasn’t flirting.”

“You said ‘That’s a lovely shade of red, you should wear it more often’ to a convertible.”

“Okay all of us were pretty out of it.” Reggie concluded.

“Well, you guys won’t have to worry about me because Dad will be taking care of me.”

Her statement turned out to be particularly true. Julie however, might have topped Reggie’s ‘flirting with a car’ wisdom teeth story.

~~~

“How long as it been?” Luke wondered. “Since she left?”

“Please tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.” Alex could tell right away.

“What?”

“She’s only been gone 30 minutes.” Reggie answered Luke’s previous question.

“And how long did ours take?”

“She’ll be out of it. She won’t be making sense.” The blond knew that wouldn’t stop him.

“I’m sorry that I’m concerned about the well being of our band mate.” Luke put a hand on his heart excusing his actions.

“Our band mate being Julie.” Reggie added how she wasn’t just any band mate.

“Fine you guys can sit on your butts while I go see how she’s doing.” Neither stopped him from poofing our because there would be no talking out Luke Patterson from checking on Julie Molina.

After poking his head in a few rooms, he finally found where Julie was after seeing two people in scrubs leave alongside someone in a white coat. He entered through the door just before they closed it. The chair was in the middle of the room, the back towards the door. He saw Julie’s head rested on her shoulder, she hadn’t waken up yet. There was a set of two chairs against the wall on the right. He took a seat in the chair that was closest to her.

Once he sat down, she started to move her head. The classic ‘I-probably-should-get-up-but-I-don’t-want-to-get-up-yet’ move. She moved her head to the center of the head rest and her eyes opened. Feeling the throbbing pain in the back of her jaw she went to feel it.

“You just got your wisdom teeth out, remember?” He reminded.

“Luke,” she said endearing, speech slurred, her head turning to him, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Wow. He was so glad Reggie or Alex weren’t in the room to see him blushing like crazy.

“Me too.” He finally found the words. “They probably went to get your dad. They’ll be back in a little.”

“It hurts.” She said in reference to her mouth.

“It should feel a little numb from where they had to take them out. You might be swollen later.” He remembered his experience. “But maybe you’ll get ice cream later that helps with the pain.”

“Ice cream!” She perked up. “Will you get me ice cream?”

It was hard not the resist the eyes that had stars in them. “I mean,” he breathed, “yeah if you... if you want me to.”

“I only want you.”

Wow! She must have been under some serious anesthesia. 

He hesitated, “You don’t,” he fidgeted in the chair, “mean that.”

It was just the anesthesia talking. Obviously.

“Of course I do.” She put her right arm down on the arm of the chair. “Why else would I decline a date with Nick?”

“...a what now?” His mouth a gap from shock.

“You and me connect in some many ways. Flynn has no idea what she’s talking about by saying you’re ‘just air’.”

He didn’t know whether to be offended or taken aback with the words coming out of her mouth, probably a bit of both.

THAT ANESTHESIA WAS REALLY TALKING!

“You and I dance way better than him.”

“...dance?”

“Yeah, when you came through the mirror when Nick and I were in dance class. Your hair all pushed back, looking goofy.” He couldn’t tell if her smile was from looking back fondly on the memory or laughing at him. “Our song was-”

“Our song?” Either the anesthesia was making her really really looping or he was hearing something he probably was never met to.

“I had to write it down considering how amazing it was. We truly are in Perfect Harmony. I put it in my dream box to get it out of my mind. Even though I don’t get why I would.” She laughed at herself.

Before he could ever find the words to say, the door opened and in came the specialists along with Ray. He poofed away into the garage feeling like he found out something he was never supposed to know.

~~~

It had been some hours later since Julie had gotten home from getting her wisdom teeth removed. It had also been a few hours since the anesthesia had worn off.

“Do you need anything?” Luke asked, hands in his pocket, at the foot of Julie’s bed.

“I already told you I’m fine.” She said, gauges in her mouth. “Dad told me to text him if I need anything.”

“But I’m asking you if you need anything. Do you want that ice cream yet?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You asked if I could get you ice cream later after I said that’s one thing that helps with the pain.”

She had a vague memory of seeing Luke when she opened her eyes.

“Just wanted to check and see how you were doing.” He excused.

“What else did I say?” She asked curious.

“Oh you know... the usually loopy things you say on anesthesia.”

“If you do get it will that make you stop asking if I need anything?”

His smile was her answer.

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes though smile appeared too, “I’ll take the ice cream. Make sure Dad doesn’t see floating ice cream.”

She watched as he poofed away. He poofed into the kitchen, first checking to see if anyone was nearby. Once making sure the coast was clear he opened the freezer and spotted the tub of ice cream, he grabbed it then opened the silverware drawer and took a spoon out setting it on the lid on the container.

However, before he poofed back to her room, he had a sudden idea. He poofed to the garage, ice cream in hand slightly forgetting about it. He set the tub down on the coffee table.

“Not for you,” he told Reggie who was sat on the couch, “for Julie.”

“So that’s where you’ve been.” He heard Alex say from his drums.

He didn’t respond to the comment and instead made his way up to the loft. “Do you mind if I look for something in your bag Reg?”

“...guess not?” He replied confused.

He watched as Luke took his black backpack and upzipped the small pocket. “Ah ha!” He exclaimed pulling out a comb.

Alex moved away from his drum set in order to see Luke up in the loft.

“Wow... a comb.” He said clearly amused.

They watched as he used it.

“How do I look?” He put down the comb and extended his arms for effect.

“Like a goof.” Alex let out.

“...interesting.” Reggie answered.

“Perfect!” He went down the ladder, grabbed the ice cream on the coffee table and poofed to Julie’s room.

“Voilà!” Julie saw the ice cream container be placed next to her on bed from the corner of her eye.

“Tha-“ she looked up to thank him but was caught off guard. “Luke,” she addressed, “what are doing?”

“Was just seeing something.” He played off as he russled his hair to return it to his forehead. As he did, Julie had a sudden thought.

“...you know about Perfect Harmony don’t you?”

“I may or may not know of the existence of a certain song that’s in your dream box.”

She put a hand to her head, not believing that she let it slip.

“Also perhaps may or may not know of you declining a date with that Nick guy.”

“Did I say anything else?” She wondered if she embarrassed herself even more.

“No that was pretty much it.” He said rather quickly. “Also if you could tell Flynn the ‘just air’ comment is a little insulting and I’d rather not be referred to as that.” He said before poofing away.

Something told her that the next songwriting session between them would be a little bit different to say the least.

#I don’t think it would have taken that long for them to bring Ray back in to see Julie but leave me alone I have the power to write >:) #also had IV sedation which I recommend bc you have a very nice nap #this may or may not be accurate bc I had a very different wisdom teeth experience bc of covid #it’s seriously the best sleep you’ll have in your life #also I had like... no pain after I got them out #idk maybe I’m just weird #jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp netflix #luke jatp #jatp luke #jatp reggie #alex jatp #jatp alex #luke patterson #netflix shows #julie molina #julie and luke #luke and julie #jatp juke #juke jatp #juke #jatp fic #jatp fanfic #jatp one shot #thephantomsandjulie #jatp julie #reggie peters #alex mercer #luke x julie

[joonie-beanie]

Kissing Booth

So, a while ago an anon sent me this ask:

And I honestly thought it was really cute, so I decided to write a lil story out of it. It’s nothing extravagant, but I wrote it anyway!

Words: 2,387

Pairing: Bean x The Demon Brothers

The school festival is meant to be fun. It gives the students a chance to set up booths, and raise money for a good cause--like classroom funds, or charity donations.

Mammon, however, sets a booth up to make money for himself. A kissing booth, to be specific. He assumes that every demon within a two mile radius will be lined up, ready to empty their wallets in order to get a kiss from The Great Mammon, but...that’s not what happens.

No, half way through the festival, less than a dozen people have paid Mammon for a kiss. A few other demons had stopped, asking what the money would be put towards, and when he had answered “my wallet” they’d promptly walked away.

Honestly, what a fool.

Unfortunately, Bean still loves him, despite his idiotic ideas.

Sighing, she places a $5 in front of the demon--catching his attention. He lifts his head from where it’d been buried in his arms--dejected at his lack of customers--and his blue eyes light up when he sees Bean standing there.

When he notes the bill placed on the table, a brilliant smile tugs at his lips. 

“See! I knew ya couldn’t resist kissing The Great Mammon!” 

His comment has Bean rolling her eyes, and she reaches forward to snatch her money back. The movement flusters Mammon, who quickly jumps to his feet. 

“H-Hey, wait!” he slaps his hand down on top of hers, cheeks heating up sheepishly as he looks at her. “C’mon, don’t be like that…”

She smiles a little, breathing a laugh.

“Take your kiss then, before I seriously consider getting a refund.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one that’s supposed’ta be kissing me,” he retorts. A pouty look appears on his face, and Bean is tempted to sigh. However, rather than continue to drag this on, she leans in and presses her lips to his. Solid, soft contact.

After a few seconds, she moves to pull back, but Mammon quickly reaches out and grabs her--one hand curling around her waist, while the other finds the back of her head. She makes a quiet sound of surprise as he tugs her into another kiss--and then another, and another after that.

He only stops when someone nearby whistles, making him aware of the intimacy of his current actions.

When he pulls back, Bean’s face has turned a pleasant shade of pink. Satisfaction beats steadily in his chest.

“I’d say that’s another $15 dollars right there. It’s actually probably more like $50, but I’ll give ya a discount since I’m a nice guy like that.”

He grins cheekily, laughing when Bean reaches out and punches him in the arm.

“You can’t extort customers for money by deciding to kiss them more than what they paid for!”

“Fine, fine~,” he relinquishes, grumbling. “I suppose I’ll give ya the extra kisses for free since it’s obvious ya like me.”

“Wow, how kind of you,” she responds, rolling her eyes a little, but she can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips.

“Oh, and speaking of kisses--”

Bean blinks as Mammon grabs her by her shoulders, directing her around the side of the table.

“--I need ya to work the booth for a few minutes for me. I gotta go do somethin’ real quick.”

Without waiting for her answer, Mammon slips out from behind the booth and begins jogging away. Bean blanches.

“Hey! Mammon!”

“I’ll be right back! I doubt anyone’ll be by anyway! It’s been slow as hell tonight!”

And with that, the Avatar of Greed fully turns and hightails it into the distance--disappearing into the festival crown. Bean is left there, shocked at the sudden turn of events.

Sighing, she flops down into his seat and pulls out her DDD. If what Mammon said is true, then she’ll just have to sit here and wait it out by herself until he comes back. However--

“I’d like a kiss please.”

Bean blinks as a demon slips a $5 dollar bill onto the table, grinning down at her. Where the hell had he even come from??? It’d only been a minute since Mammon had abandoned her here!!

“O-Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, pushing the bill back towards him. She forces a smile, drawing on her years of customer service experience to feign politeness. “I’m actually just watching the booth for a friend. It’s not technically open right now.”

“But I’m a paying customer, and I’m giving you my money,” he responds, clearly a little annoyed with her refusal. “So you should give me what I’m paying for.”

“I haven’t taken your money. And we’re not open.”

The demon’s smile drops away--his face scrunching angrily. 

“Now listen here you stupid human--”

“Bean, how wonderful to see you.”

The demon’s words immediately cut off--recognizing the voice of the royal prince. Diavolo smiles down at the two of them, his hand coming to rest on the male’s shoulder, and he gives it a squeeze. The demon winces.

“There’s no issue here, is there?”

“N-No, sir--,” as quickly as he can, the demon twists out of Diavolo’s grasp and hightails it away. Bean sighs, relieved, and The Prince flashes her a knowing look.

“Did Mammon somehow rope you into this?”

“He ran away before I could stop him.”

“Ah,” Diavolo chuckles quietly, his eyes scanning the busy festival grounds. “Would you like me to stay and stand guard until he returns?”

Bean quickly holds up her hands, cheeks heating up. 

“No! There’s no need for that! I’m sure you’re busy.”

Diavolo cocks an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you being forced to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I’ll text the guys right now,” she says, holding up her DDD. “I’m sure they’ll help, so please. I don’t want to take up all your time.”

“You’re too considerate of me, really.”

Diavolo’s golden eyes stray to the table, where the lesser demon’s money lays abandoned. He picks it up and hands it to Bean. 

“Consider this a donation to you for your trouble. He is one of my students, after all.”

Bean blinks, cheeks heating up as she takes the money from him. 

“Would you like the kiss instead?” she feels as if her heart might explode while asking him, but somehow she manages to get the words out.

Diavolo’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

“I mean, of course you don’t have to! But....I feel comfortable enough around you, so…”

The demon prince smiles softly at her admission, more than happy to hear that she feels comfortable around him. Enough to offer him a kiss, more so!

“Well, if that’s the case…,” Diavolo leans in, and cocks his head to the side--revealing his cheek. Bean, despite being embarrassed, immediately leans in and presses her lips to his skin.

“A kiss for My Lord,” she says as she sits back, hoping to ease the flurry of emotions now swirling around in her chest. Diavolo laughs heartily.

“Thank you. Now hurry and text Lucifer and the others. And, of course, call me if you need me!”

With that, he strides away from the table, sending her one last smile. Bean smiles back, hoping the blush on her face isn’t as obvious as she thinks it is, and immediately grabs her DDD.

Bean: SOS

Bean: Mammon abandoned me at his kissing booth

Bean: Please help

The message doesn’t take long to be seen by the brothers, and yet, by the time the first of the brothers manage to locate her, she’s already trying to fend off 3 more students--all vying for a kiss from one of the two human exchange students. 

Apparently, humans are a hotter commodity to demons that the Avatar of Greed himself. 

“Please, leave,” Satan speaks, a dangerous smile on his face as he steps up behind the crowd of demons. They look ready to pick a fight until they realize who’s talking. Then, they tuck their tails between their legs and scurry off.

Bean sighs. “Thank god.”

“I’m sure we’d all be more than happy to kill Mammon for you, if you want,” Satan says, crossing his arms. 

Bean actually seems to contemplate the idea, which makes him laugh.

“Mmm, what kind of trash leaves someone else to man their booth,” Levi adds in, stepping up next to Satan. His eyes are focused on the DDD in his hand. “Besides, Mammon might think he’s the main love interest of a high school RP game, but he’s not. Kissing booths never actually work.”

Bean giggles at his words, posing a hand on her hip as she fondly regards them.

“Would you like a kiss for your help?” she asks after a moment, grinning at their reactions. Satan looks shocked more than anything, while Levi looks about ready to combust.

“No?”

Satan huffs.

“I mean, of course I won’t turn it down.”

Smiling, Bean happily leans over the table and meets him halfway--the two sharing a soft kiss. Once having expressed her gratitude to Satan, her attention shifts to Levi.

“Yes? No? Maybe so?”

“I...I guess o-one kiss would be okay,” he mumbles, the tips of his ears turning bright read as Bean gently cups his face and guides him into a kiss. However, just as she’s pulling back--

“Ooh! Me too!”

Before Bean can react, Asmo is running up and grabbing her by her cheeks. He kisses her sweetly, a tiny groan of satisfaction muffled in his chest as their lips meet.

“You know, you didn’t actually save her from anything,” Satan quips, eying him. Stepping back, Asmo pouts at his brother, leaving a red-faced Bean to try and get a hold of herself.

She’s not used to kissing different brothers directly after one another like this. And being in a public space doesn’t help her embarrassment.

“So? Does that mean I don’t deserve a kiss?”

“Guys, c’mon,” Bean tries to say, not wanting them to argue. They’ve already attracted quite a few stares. After all, it’s not everyday you see a bunch of demons all walking up and casually kissing the same woman, and a human at that.

Then again, she is standing behind a kissing booth…

“Hmm? Is Bean giving out free kisses?” Belphie’s voice enters the fray, he and his twin brother joining the others on the opposite side of the table. “If so, then I want one.”

“I mean, I wasn’t planning on giving out kisses, but--”

Before she can even finish, Beel has leaned forward--stealing her lips with a simple exclamation of, “I want one too.” 

And the instance he pulls back, Belphie is grabbing her--guiding her into another soft kiss.

“Sharing is caring.”

Bean can feel his grin when their lips connect, and she debates hitting him. Lucky for him, she doesn’t. Right now, she’s too busy dealing with the mini meltdown happening in her brain.

So many kisses.

“Oi!”

At that moment, Mammon appears around the corner--his eyes narrowed on Belphie as he pulls back from his kiss with Bean.

“If you guys are gonna stand around my booth kissin’ Bean, then ya better fork out some money! How many times did ya kiss her? Ya owe me for those kisses!”

The five brothers surrounding Bean fix him with unimpressed stares. Belphie is the first to speak.

“You really think we’re going to pay you money after you abandoned her to work your booth?”

“She was getting hounded by a bunch of random demons when we got here,” Satan pipes in, crossing his arms. Mammon opens his mouth to argue--wanting to get the money he feels that he’s rightfully owed--but at that moment a shiver rolls up his spine.

Freezing where he’s stood, he slowly turns around--visibly gulping as Lucifer finally appears, standing right behind him.

“Mammon,” the eldest brother starts, smiling dangerously. “You do realize that it’s against school policy to use booths at the school fair for personal profit, yes?”

“I...I--”

“Therefore, you will be donating any profit you’ve made to the school. Not only that, but you’re going to pay June back for her trouble.”

His crimson eyes shift to the blushing girl, gaze softening when he sees her.

“June, what do you think is appropriate punishment?”

She takes a moment to think it over.

“Mammon gets no kisses for a week.”

The Avatar of Greed looks SHOCKED.

“WHAT?? But that’s not fair!”

“Just be grateful she’s not making you pay her money, idiot,” Levi responds, sounding less than concerned with Mammon’s current predicament.

“Now,” Lucifer says. “Dismantle this booth, and give me all of your earnings. I will hand them over to Diavolo.”

“Dammit…,” Mammon groans, sulking towards the booth. Bean is nice enough to pat his hair as he steps up beside her, but she’s smart enough to not give into the puppy eyes he turns her way.

In the end, he did abandon her and leave her to fend for herself.

“Bean, c’mon!” Asmo grins, skipping away, and tugging Satan along with him. “Let’s go play more games!” 

“Mmm, Bean, let’s get some more food too,” Beel pipes up, following after his brothers.

Nodding, Bean slips past Mammon and moves to join them. However, before she can get too far, Lucifer’s gloved fingers find their way between hers.

“Wait for me a moment,” he says quietly, giving her hand a squeeze. The two hang back just long enough for Lucifer to collect the money Mammon has earned. Then, Lucifer is leading Bean after his brothers, their fingers comfortably locked together.

Silence stretches between them for a moment.

“I’ll take my kiss later.”

“Oh?” Bean raises an amused eyebrow at him, making him roll his eyes.

“Is the Avatar of Pride jealous over a few kisses?”

“It simply doesn’t feel right that I’m the only one being left out,” he responds, making her grin.

“If that’s so, then I’m okay giving you one now. I can suck it up and handle a few more seconds of PDA.”

“No, I’d prefer mine later,” he gives her hand another squeeze, his eyes glinting. “The kisses I intend to take from you wouldn’t be appropriate to show in a setting like this.”

Bean turns red at his words.

“Oh.”

Lucifer chuckles.

“Oh, indeed” 

#bean #obey me mc #fic #bean fic #this is more dialogue than anything but oh well

[percabethfeelsfandom]

Writing Prompt: Nico Visiting Elysium

SPOILERS FOR THE BURNING MAZE AND THE TOWER OF NERO

The walk to Elysium was one that Nico was familiar with. Some days his feet would bring him there subconsciously, hoping to one day find his sister among the souls that resided there. 

That day hadn’t come yet. But the heroes that were there were familiar with his presence, they weren’t bothered by the shadows beneath his feet, the tendrils that clung to his wrists, and winded themselves around his sword handle, ready to shoot out at his command. They didn’t blink an eye at the bags under his eyes, no matter how much sleep he got. When you’re a spirit constantly surrounded by death, you forget what life looks like. The same went for Nico. 

It had been a while since he’d been to the Underworld to see his father and step mother, but the way the rubble crunched beneath his feet was almost comforting. He knew where the dips in the hill were, where to avoid the holes and minor chasms. 

The environment and atmosphere of the Underworld began to shift the closer he got to Elysium. 

Nico’s eyes adjusted to the brightness of Elysium, and the glittering blue lake where The Isles of the Blest resided. He shouldn’t have been able to enter through the gates, but being a child of the Underworld had its perks. The gates opened at Nico’s touch and Nico was greeted with the beautiful view of Elysium. For a home made for the dead, the place exuded a significant amount of life and light, yet it lacked the warmth real life did. It was beautiful in the way jewels were beautiful, sparkly and well-cared for, but not the way flowers were, in their life and their aliveness. 

The trek to the pavilion where he usually met with spirits was hard, it didn’t get easier to see the spirits of heroes Nico had watched or felt die in battles he had also fought in. Every time he saw the familiar gleam of Hunter-silver he had to hold back a flinch. The flowers of Elysium were of gold and silver and Nico had come to the realisation that they were the only plants that didn’t wilt in his presence, it left him feeling an odd sense of pride as he picked one from the ground and placed it in his pocket for later. There was no breeze down here, yet the grass rippled in colours of the rainbow as spirits passed through, wanting to see why the child of Hades was present. Small voices called out to him beyond the gates, wanting to feed on his light, and his life but he pulled up a barrier in his mind, imagining a fortress to protect himself. 

He stood in the middle of the pavilion and held out his hand. He wouldn’t need food to summon who he needed to speak to, he knew that they’d come. 

“Jason Grace.” 

His voice came out stronger than he thought it would. But he still wasn’t mentally prepared enough for the shape of Jason to appear so easily. He knew that Jason had died in his school uniform, but someone had taken the liberty to put him in a purple Camp Jupiter shirt, despite this, the colour was pale, as if all the colour had been bleached out.

Nico caught himself against a pillar as Jason’s form materialised by Nico’s feet. Jason was kneeling as if he was praying, head bowed and arms out trying to hold himself up. 

“Jason?” Nico repeated. 

The silvery outline of Jason seemed to grow brighter, before he rose to his full height. Nico tried not to stare, but it was difficult not to notice the gaping holes in his chest that glowed with silver through the purple shirt. 

“Nico?” 

When he was little, Nico had been taught by his mother and by Bianca that eye contact was important, it was rude if you didn’t meet people’s eyes when you were speaking to them. But over the years he had also learnt that in order to meet people’s eyes constantly, he needed to be prepared for other people to look into his eyes, allow them to see that vulnerability that he knew he showed. 

Nico forced himself not to avert his eyes as Jason looked at him astounded, his wire framed glasses still sat atop his nose but Nico could no longer see his reflection in them. Everything about him looked the same, his voice too. 

“Hi Jason,” Nico breathed, blinking hard. It was getting significantly harder to remain standing as Jason watched him. It had only been a couple of months since- but Nico hadn’t been able to bring himself to come down and search for him. It was a pain that reminded him all too much of the time when he'd just found out he was a demigod and his world had turned upside down. 

“You’re angry with me,” Jason said, a small smile growing on his mouth. Nico let out a choked laugh and shook his head. 

“I’m learning that grudges do me no good, especially against...especially against the dead,” Nico admitted. He waited for Jason’s form to blur into a corporeal version, but he remained in a hazy silvery state, like Nico was in the middle of an Iris message with him and Nico guessed perhaps they were; except instead of being miles apart and trying to communicate, it was the absence of Jason’s life and the existence of Nico’s that enabled them to talk despite Jason’s body being buried at Camp Jupiter. 

“I always thought I wasn’t scared of death…when you’re a demigod of a prophecy you learn to be, and then Leo died, and I knew. I knew that whatever happened I had nothing to be scared of because he’d be here for me…”

“And then he wasn’t,” Nico filled in. Jason nodded, looking beyond the pavilion at the Isles of the Blest. 

“I knew that he wouldn’t be here...yet, I don’t know, maybe it’s selfish to wish that I wasn’t alone-”

“It’s not,” Nico said firmly, standing up straighter to meet Jason’s gaze. With a sharp intake of breath he realised that he had slightly grown since he’d last seen Jason, and now he’d be immortalised at this height. 

Jason seemed to notice at the same time, losing his train of thought as he looked down at Nico. 

“You’ve grown taller,” he said fondly. Jason reached out almost as if he went to pet Nico’s head, but his hand passed through Nico, leaving him with a brain freeze. Jason noticeably winced and muttered an apology. The pain in Nico’s stomach was second to the odd feeling of familiarity. It had been many years since Nico had had an older sibling, and only recently had he become one again, yet Jason, in their small time period of knowing each other had grown closer than Nico would have thought. It was a nice thought, to think he had someone else watching over him, even if it was beyond the life he was currently living. Nico found himself thinking about Bianca again, the way he always did when he felt lost. 

“I saw your plans for the temples,” Nico managed. He gripped the hilt of his sword, using it to ground him as his emotions began to unfurl, curling around him like a dark cloud. 

“Apollo kept his promise?” 

“He was adamant in doing so.”

Jason smiled, and it made him look younger, bringing a light to his face that should’ve been hard to achieve in the Underworld but he made it look easy. 

“Will you try for the Isles?” Nico asked, and though he tried not to, fear laced his words as he watched Jason look at the island in question, a wistful look upon his features. 

“Maybe…” Fear, as hot as lightning struck Nico in the chest, and he thought he was about to say goodbye to another demigod he had looked up to. 

“But not yet. There are heroes here. Heroes that I fought with during the titan war, one’s I didn’t know the name of, same with the giant war. I think it’s time that I learned them.”

"Jason?" 

"Yeah?"

"Are you still scared?" Absentmindedly Nico placed his hand in his pocket where he kept a small token of luck, the familiar groove in the old mythomagic toy bringing him a bittersweet comfort. 

Jason tilted his head to the side for a moment, thinking before he shook his head.

"Not anymore, no."

As he spoke, his light began to flicker, becoming more of a mirage than anything. Nico poured his power into him, praying to his father for more time. He had so much more to say, messages to pass on, and- he just wanted more time. 

“Piper she-”

“Is she happy?” Jason asked, interrupting. Nico thought of Piper with her girlfriend, and the life she was building outside of Camp Half Blood and nodded slowly. 

“And Leo?” He continued. This time Nico thought about Leo’s easy laugh and his constant energy, bouncing off the walls, and his smiles around Calypso. 

“Yeah he’s happy but-”

“And Reyna? Percy and Annabeth? Frank? Hazel? Are they all happy? Right at this moment?” The question almost took Nico by surprise but he wasn’t lying when he said his answer. 

“Yes.” Images of the other demigods, speaking via Iris message, and on visits to each other's camps flashed in Nico’s head. Reyna and her pledge to the Hunters echoed in his head, an almost mirror to Bianca and Thalias. The pictures Annabeth and Percy had sent to Chiron when they had arrived at college, pinned on the board in The Big House. Then of his little sister with her purple cape, matching Franks. 

“They’re happy,” he repeated, more sure of himself when he said it. Jason seemed to relax. 

“And Thalia?” he asked softly. 

“She’ll be okay,” he replied honestly. 

“I never wanted to leave her.”

“She knows.”

“What about you, Nico? Are you happy?” 

The question jarred Nico and he hesitated to answer, thinking hard about it. He thought about the haze he had been in right after Jason’s death. The nightmares that had resurfaced, the voices that called to him from beneath the ground. 

“I want to be.” It was the closest to the truth he could get. Will’s face flashed behind Nico’s closed eyelids, and unconsciously Nico smiled and nodded with more certainty. 

Jason smiled again. 

“Then I’ll be okay.” 

#nico di angelo #jason grace #thalia grace #percy jackson #annabeth chase #frank zhang #leo valdez #piper mclean #reyna avila ramirez arellano #lester papadopoulos #apollo #son of jupiter #rick riordan #one shot #burning maze spoilers #tower of nero spoilers #writing prompt #angst #fanfic #drabbles #trials of apollo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #hades #underworld #bianca di angelo #elysium #hazel levesque #will solace #solangelo

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Sunrise

(Peter Parker x Reader)

MASTER

Word Count: 2K

A/N: I hope this works because I posted once and it didn’t. Also hope this shows up in tags and doesn’t flop. Oh god, fingers crossed.

Peter had been on patrol since the moment he got home. The sun was starting to set now off in the horizon as he climbed back into his window, ripping his mask from his face and let his suit fall to the floor.

“I’m back!” he shouted to his aunt as he pulled some sweats on, throwing a shirt on moments before May opened the door.

“How was patrol?” She asked, raising her eyebrows. “Catch any bad guys?”

Peter rolled his eyes at his aunts’ questions before telling her a little about his day on patrol. When the oven dinged, meaning the pasta May was making was done, she finally left Peter alone. He was quick to pull out his phone and scroll through his contacts until the one he was looking for finally showed up. It rang a couple times before sending Peter to voicemail.

“Hey Y/N.” He sighed happily into the call, falling onto his bed with a groan before fixing himself. “I just got back from patrol. Well, I got back a while ago but you know May.” He laughed to himself. “She asks almost as many questions as you sometimes.” There was a smile on his face as he remembered one time, he came home to find a whole storm of messages from you asking all about his nights as Spiderman. God, he loved those nights texting you. May shouted his name for dinner and he sighed disappointingly. “I guess I have to go. May made your favorite pasta by the way.” He pulled the phone away from his ear before his eyes widen and he spoke again. “I’ll come by tonight! To see you. Yeah… yeah, I’ll come by.” May called his name again and Peter swallowed, finally ending the call and bouncing on his feet out to eat.

If someone asked May how many times her nephew looked down at the screen of his phone to see the picture of you and him at homecoming, she wouldn’t be able to say. Or how many times he stopped in the middle of his sentence to shoot you a text about whatever. She had no idea. Peter kept doing so, but his phone never buzzed with a response. It didn’t matter however because as soon as dinner was over Peter was back again to calling you.

“Hey! It’s Y/N! Sorry I couldn’t answer, leave a message and I’ll call you back!”

“Hey Y/N!” Peter breathed into his phone at the sound of your voice. He quickly grabbed his suit, slipping it on before throwing a pair of sweats and a T-shirt into a bag and switching the call through Karen and his suit. He climbed out his window, being sure to keep it unlatched for his return. “I’m on my way! See you soon.” Leaving his apartment, he flipped through the air, the call now ended as Peter made his way to you as fast as he could.

His feet hit the dirt on the ground with a soft almost silent thud as Peter pushed the gates open in front of him, hearing them clang closed behind him when he kept walking. He checked to be sure he was alone before pulling off his mask. The cool air brushed against his skin as he took a shaky breath, no longer feeling as excited he was when he passed the gates. He tugged his backpack off his shoulder and he kept walking the familiar path, putting out his clothes on as he finally reaching his destination.

He cleared his throat, letting his bag hit the floor as he stared at the gravestone in front of him. “Hey Y/N.” He whispered before sitting down on the grass in front of the slab. He didn’t say anything more, bringing his fingers up to delicately trace your name and suit symbol. “I miss you.” His voice cracked against Peter’s will as he sucked in a breath, looking up into the darkening sky as he blinked away the tears he refused to let fall.

6 months since you died.

6 months since you died and Peter came here every day to talk to you. He needed to. He needed you. He kept struggling not to cry, to try and smile and remember you, but it hurt. Every time he called your number, hearing your voice made him so happy but he wished he spent longer listening to your voice, hearing the soft sound coming from your lips. The same lips he wished he kissed more.

A hand touched his shoulder gently as he jumped slightly, barely looking behind to see the Iron Man suit. He didn’t say anything, his eyes red and watery as the suit retracted and a distraught Tony Stark stepped out, his hand still comforting Peter. “I figured you’d be here.”

“Aren’t I always?” Peter let out a fake laugh as he stifled, looking away from his mentor to keep from falling apart. Tony wore a frown as he looked between Peter and your grave. He couldn’t believe it had been 6 months since you passed either. You, who always wore a smile, made sure Tony never worked himself too hard, who didn’t deserve the ending she got.

“How many times have you called her today?” Tony groaned as he took a seat next to Peter, quickly noting how the young man refused to look at him.

“I don’t know,” Peter whispered, his voice lacking any emotion as Tony sighed. “Lost count after lunch.”

Tony nodded, the silence of night filling his ears as he looked at Peter out of the corner of his eyes. “What are you planning on doin’ when you call that number and someone else picks up?”

Peter's eyes widened and for once since Tony joined him, Peter looked into his equally as broken eyes. “I- Mr. Stark, I-“

“It’s okay, kid.” He cut off Peters stuttering with a raised arm, turning back to look at the ground in front of them as Peter did the same. “I won’t let that happen.”

Peter nodded hurriedly, wanting his worries to settle down but they didn’t. Tony and he stayed side by side into the late hours of the day, not saying anything as Peter let his mind wander. It never strayed from you. You meeting May, your first date, sneaking around the tower before hiding away in your room, your touch- god he missed your touch. He missed holding your hand and feeling your thumb always brushing his skin when you zoned out. Or the way you would play with his hair when you cuddled on the couch, pulling gently at his curls as Peter fell asleep on you.

That’s when the guilt ate at him tonight much like it did any other night he visited here.

“I was supposed to protect her,” Peter whispered as Tony raised a brow at him, giving him a side glance as Peter clenched his jaw and tightened his fists. “I should’ve protected her, why couldn’t I-“

“It wasn’t your job to protect her. She was an avenger.” Tony stopped him, knowing he was about to have a breakdown but Peter was too far.

Tears started down the boys’ face before he could realize it. “She was my girlfriend. I loved her! I was supposed to protect her from everything and now she’s dead!” Tony let him yell, the slight shake of words at the end of Peter’s outburst letting him know that Peter was controlling himself again. Peter closed his eyes as he took a breath, slowly letting his fist relax as he deflated in his spot. “I’m sorry.” He breathed out before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I just really miss her.”

“I do too. She was my kid.” Even though Tony wasn’t related to you, Peter knew what he meant. You were family. The Avengers, that team was your family. Peter sometimes forgot he wasn’t the only one who lost you. Tony’s own tears started to fall and Peter looked away, giving Tony a sense of privacy to cry. “She was just a kid.”

“Yeah. She did what she had to though. She was a hero.” Peter’s voice was so quiet he wasn’t sure Tony heard.

The duo fell into silence again as time passed, owls hooting every so often bringing them away from their thoughts. Tony breathed out heavily before pushing himself up from the ground, glancing at the top of Peter’s head since Peter hadn’t moved one bit. “Don’t stay out here too long, Pete. Go home. She’ll still be here tomorrow.” Peter bit his tongue as another tear rolled down his face, but he didn’t wipe it away as Tony took off behind him and Peter heard his thrusters before Peter was alone with you again.

He didn’t know what time it was, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to be here with you. He pulled out his phone, the picture of the two of you lighting him up in the dark as he let out a breathy laugh before opening his contacts and clicking on your name.

“Hey! It’s Y/N! Sorry I couldn’t answer, leave a message and I’ll call you back!”

“Do you remember homecoming?” Peter blurted out the moment the voicemail started. “You looked so beautiful I couldn’t believe I was dating you. I know the dance didn’t turn out the best for either of us, but the rest of the night wasn’t the worst. I think it was the best night of my life.” He smiled fondly, remembering how good it felt to hug you after everything with Liz’s dad. He couldn’t believe his friend’s dad was his nemesis. You both went back to the tower and up to the roof where no one would disturb you. “You were always good at patching me up.”  He choked out, trying not to get emotional. “Your dress was torn but you didn’t care because you wanted to be there for me. You were always there for me.” He wished he’d have been there for you. “I remember- I remember looking at the stars-“

The phone’s voicemail cut him off as Peter sighed, and hung up but quickly called back.

“Hey! It’s Y/N! Sorry I couldn’t answer, leave a message and I’ll call you back!”

“I remember looking at the stars,” He begun again after the second of hearing your voice. “laying on the ground with you in my arms and you pointed out all the constellations. God, the smile on your face. I should’ve taken a picture.” Peter took a second to imagine your smile, the way your eyes crinkled and the huff of a laugh you’d always let through. “We stayed like that until morning, until the sunrise.” He licked his lips and breathed. “You always loved the sunrise.” Peter’s voice cracked and he couldn’t take it he brought a hand up, burying his face in it as he rubbed away the tears falling quickly. He was in silence again, hanging up the phone once the voicemail ended. He wished he could hold your hand, but instead he put his hand against the grass, feeling the dirt underneath clinging to his hand as he sighed. “I really need you Y/N, I don’t want to do this without you.”

Peter sat there in the cold night of Queens for hours, his eyes now dried with tears and his throat hurt from crying, all his energy seemingly drained. He was beginning to doze off but refused to go home, he didn’t want to leave you. The sky started to get lighter as Peter glanced out to the horizon.

“Look Y/N.” He whispered out, his heartbroken frown slowly turning to a smile as the early morning light brought the nature around him to life, the dark orange glow bringing him warmth as he let his eyes move back to your grave, finally able to see your name and suit symbol once again in the light. “Sunrise.”

Tags are open! Please send an ask if you want to be added a Taglist! Sorry if I forgot someone, my tags are a little messy.

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[20skai]

You and Me II

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Heiress!Original Character

Rating: T

Word count: 1,718

Notes: A lot happens in this part! Finally Friday is here and Chioma is coming over!

Chapter warnings: There is some angst near the end but that’s it.

Part I

To Maxwell Lorenzano Friday couldn’t come quick enough. His heart was aching to have Chioma within reach again. It had him thinking back to when the last time they had seen each other before losing contact. It was a summer day and they were walking in a park. Chioma had just come home from college on break. They walked and talked for hours just simply enjoying each other’s presence. Those were simpler times he thinks.

Finally Friday came, he raced out of the office to get home and tidy up before she came. He had already told Alistair that an old friend was coming over for dinner and the boy seemed hesitant to it at first but soon warmed up to the idea when he saw how happy his father was. Having cleaned up the small home, Maxwell started making dinner. Arroz con Pollo was her favorite if he remembered correctly. Soon after he put the finishing touches on dinner the door bell rang. Giving himself one more once over and strides to the door and opens it.

Chioma is standing there in all her beautiful glory. Her hair is down and she’s wearing slacks and a button down blouse. Max takes a few deep, quiet breaths before speaking.

“You look great! Come in.” Stepping to the side he lets her in his home. She gives the entrance a look and takes off her shoes. Closing the door, Max takes her jacket and hangs it in the hallway closet. He leads her to the living room and gestures for her to sit in the couch.

“I need to set up the dining room, it shouldn’t take me long. I’ll call you once I’m finished.” Chioma nods and Maxwell gets to work in the next room. Looking around the living room she feels a sense of homeyness, there was a lot of love in this house. Getting up, she walks to the mantle and looks at photos that have been placed there and something moves in her peripheral vision. Turning she sees a boy no older than 9 looking at her shyly. Kneeling down she gives him a warm smile.

“Hello, I’m Chioma. What’s your name?” She already knows that this is Max’s son, he described in in great detail the few times the spoke on the phone this week. The boy does confirm his name in Alistair while wringing his hands together. Chioma finds him to be adorable.

“You’re Alistair? Your dad’s told me so much about you!” Once she says that the boy’s head shoots up with a smile.

“Really?” He replies.

“Oh, yes. He’s told me how smart and kind you are. He also told me you like to put Lego figures together. And that you’re working on putting the be Millennium Falcon together.” The boy nods his head in excitement and takes her hand to lead her to another room where she sees a partially put together Falcon figure.

“Daddy helps me when he’s home but he’s busy a lot, so I try to do it by myself. But it’s kinda hard.” He makes the cutest pout and Chioma has to keep herself from awwing. She then has an idea and rolls up her sleeves.

“Well how about I help you? You can show me what to do until you dad calls us for dinner.” Alistair’s eyes light up and they both get to work on putting their new joint project together. Soon enough they’re both giggling and laughing. Unbeknownst to them Maxwell is standing in the doorway looking at them both fondly with his heart full to bursting. He came looking for them after calling that dinner was done only to go looking and finding his two favorite people bonding and having a good time. He regretfully clears his throat and two heads turn to him.

“Dinner’s ready.” They both get up from their chairs carefully not to disturb the figurine and Alistair takes Chioma’s hand again to lead her to the dining room. While passing she gives Maxwell a bright smile, one he returns with equal enthusiasm.

During dinner Alistair talks to Chioma about anything his mind can think up. Dominating the conversation Maxwell can hardly get a word into Chioma but she looks to be enjoying the 9 year olds conversation so Maxwell sits and watches on in adoration. Soon enough they all finish dinner and Alistair is on the verge of sleep with his belly full. Max takes him to his room and change into his pajamas. After reading him a bedtime story, Max kisses his forehead and quietly leaves the room.

Making his way back to the front room, he sees Chioma sitting on the couch with a photo album in her hand. She looks up and smiles at him. “I’ve already washed the dishes.” Though Max tries to tell her that he would have gotten them she shakes her head and tells him that it was no problem. He sits down next to her to see which album she has. It’s Alistair’s baby pictures.

“I think he likes you. He’s never been so talkative with a person he’s just met before. And you’re really good with him.” Maxwell says with pride. Chioma ducks her head at his praise.

“I like him. He’s a sweet kid and he’s very intelligent at his young age. You’ve raised him well, Max.” Chioma sees him sit up straighter with pride etched on to his face for his son. They both go through the photo album with Chioma cooing at baby Alistair and Max telling her stories behind some of the pictures. They had stayed up so late the next thing Maxwell realizes is that the Sun is shining through the windows. He finds himself laying in the couch with Chioma resting her head on his chest snoring lightly. We must have fallen asleep he thinks. Max puts his hand on her head and begins to massage her scalp. Chioma stirs and yawns, blinking awake. She sees Max and smiles at him.

“Morning, Max. Sorry I crashed on your couch.” He sees her flush and can’t help but chuckle.

“It’s no problem, Chi. I wasn’t going to make you leave so late in the night anyway.” She gives a greatly look and Max can’t help but admire how the Sun looks on her skin. He aches to stroke it like he’s dreamed of doing for years.

Suddenly, there is a knock at the door. Max groans and maneuvers himself off the couch to not jostle Chioma too much. Walking to the door he opens it and sees a man with a tow truck.

“Mr. Lorenzano, I’ve come to give you the final notice for your car payment.” Max blanches and tries to think of an excuse.

“Hey, I can pay the bill, I just need a little more time. That’s all I need is time.” Max begs the man. While looks sympathetic, the man shakes his head. “I’m sorry sir, but I can’t do that. Unless you have what is owed, I have to take the car.” Max begins to internally panic. How am I going to get to work? Who is going to take Alistair to school? If I can’t get to work what’s going to happen to the house?

“Max? What’s going on?” Maxwell snaps his head to see Chioma standing off to the side. What’s Chioma going to think of me? He thinks shamefully.

The man at the door sees her and tips is hat. “I’m sorry for the disturbance ma’am. But I need to take the gentleman’s car.” He states matter of factly. Chioma raises an eyebrow and gives him a level look.

“How much does he owe?” Her tone monotonous. He tells her and she nods. “Can you take a check?” Both men look at her in shock and surprise. The man gives her an affirmative nod. And Chioma gets her purse and writes a check. Handing it to him, the man tips his hat again to her and wishes them both a good day. Closing the door, Chioma sighs.

“I can’t believe they do that. I mean really? First thing in the morning they drop that on a person? Unbelievable!” Caught up in her ranting she doesn’t notice Max drops to the floor until she hears him crying. Spinning around she sees tears streaming down his face.

“Max? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Kneeling down she places her ands on his cheeks. Max looks into her eyes and sees the concern there. It only makes him sob harder.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” Max places his hands on her wrists and continues to cry.

“Max, what are you sorry for?” Chioma says in confusion. Max shakes his head and takes her hands from his face.

“I dragged you into my money problems. I didn’t want you to know how tight things were here. I can only imagine what you think of me now. And I’m not sure how to pay you back!” Max shakes his head and is taken back when Chioma hugs him. They are like this until Max ceases his crying. Letting go Chioma takes his hands in both of hers.

“Max don’t worry about paying me back. I wanted to help. If I didn’t I would t have said anything. And I don’t think any less of you. Money problems happen. And if you ever need help, just tell me and I’ll help. No questions asked.” Chioma caresses his cheek and smiles reassuringly. Max sniffs and pulls her to him in a tight hug.

“I don’t deserve you.” Max whispers. Shaking her head Chioma pulls back and rolls her eyes. They both stand and Chioma kisses him in the cheek.

“If that were true Maxwell, I wouldn’t be here. Now let’s get cleaned up before Alistair wakes up. I’ll treat you both to a fun-filled and relaxing weekend.” She shoos him away and tells him that she’ll be back in about an hour so she can get a change of clothes and make reservations. He sees her off and after she’s out of sight he makes is way to the shower and gets underneath the nozzle letting hot water surround him.

I love her more than I ever thought was possible. He thinks. Oh, Chioma.

Part 3

—————————

@absurdthirst @mrschiltoncat

#maxwell lord x oc #ww1984 #Maxwell lord #Maxwell Lorenzano x OC #named oc #black writers #wonder women 1984 #maxwell lord x reader