#━━ ♡ SORRY NOT SORRY ABOUT WHAT I SAID [ MUSINGS ]

[kashverse]

𝒴our first encounter with the 呪術廻戦 men 

⪩⪨ ✶ implied f!reader but can be read otherwise (use of "pretty" in choso's version), strangers to lovers, fluff, featuring ♡ canon! gojo, canon! geto, single dad! toji, modern au! choso, canon! sukuna in a modern au, corporate! nanami ✿ ⪩⪨ tried a new formatting style..! ib my dear @norikuna (∩˃o˂∩)♡

gojo doesn’t see you coming. not because he’s oblivious—though, sure, that’s part of it—but because he’s too busy making himself miserable, listening to some poor bastard on the phone cry about their ex. it’s barely noon, the sun’s out, people are living their lives, and this guy’s talking about how he let “the one��� slip through his fingers. “bro, just get another one,” gojo had said, dead-eyed, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. the response was more crying. he sighed, hanging up.

and then he smacked straight into you.

not a polite bump, not even a nudge—full-on body collision, your forehead meeting his chin with a sharp crack. the impact was enough to send you both stumbling, but while gojo’s built like a brick wall, you had all the misfortune of being knocked back a few steps. “ow—what the fuck?!” your voice came first, and then, through the dizzying pain, you saw him. tall, white-haired, stupidly good-looking in an insufferable way, dressed like he was on some model’s off-day. sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, and even through the slight daze, you could see the sharp glint of his blue eyes peering down at you.

“ah, my bad—”

“your bad?” your voice rose, disbelieving. the pain hadn’t even settled yet, but your temper had. “you nearly took my head off!”

gojo blinked. “well, technically, if i took your head off, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he pointed out. “unless you’re a talking head, which would be—"

“are you serious?” you cut him off, hands flying up in exasperation. “you’re just standing in the middle of the damn sidewalk—”

“crosswalk,” he corrected.

“—like a fucking lamppost,” you barreled on, ignoring him. “and then you hit me. no, actually, you collided with me like a fucking train, and now you’re just standing there?”

you looked ready to kill him. gojo thought you looked radiant. people don’t really yell at him. they get nervous, flustered, awkward. maybe they complain a little, but they don’t yell. not like this—not with this kind of raw, unfiltered rage that was directed solely at him.

and he was loving it.

“ohhh, you’re mad mad,” he said, grinning.

“no shit?” you spat, rubbing your forehead. “you’re huge! why do you walk like you don’t know how to control your own size?”

“i’m huge? that’s a compliment,” he mused. “also, you ran into me.”

“i did not—"

“you did, but it’s okay,” he waved off. “i forgive you.”

your mouth dropped open. your jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard it click. “i don’t need your forgiveness,” you snapped. “i need you to watch where the hell you’re going!” gojo just smiled. “i can do that,” he said. “but only if you tell me your name first.”

you squinted at him. “why?”

“so i know what to say in my apology,” he said smoothly. “y’know, something heartfelt, real personal. ‘i’m so sorry, dear stranger, for running into you with my big, strong, muscular body—’”

your scowl deepened. “forget it,” you turned to leave, shaking your head.

gojo grabbed your wrist. lightly, like he was afraid you’d shake him off (which you probably would). “wait,” he said, less teasing this time, more curious.

you stopped, staring at him warily. “what?”

he grinned. “you’re fun.”

you yanked your arm out of his grip. “you’re annoying.”

but you weren’t yelling anymore. and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

toji doesn't believe in love—at least, not in the way people like to romanticize it. to him, love has always been transactional. people want things: security, pleasure, a warm body to cling to at night. he provides, they take. simple.

commitment? fuck no. he’s been there, done that, and all it got him was a headache and a kid who looks at him like he’s a walking disappointment. not that he blames megumi—he knows exactly the kind of man he is. relationships, from what he's seen, are just another job. another obligation. more shit to deal with when he's already stretched thin making sure megumi doesn't starve or turn into a little menace. and he's already got enough on his plate. 

raising megumi is work. the kid is sharp, stubborn, and way too perceptive for his own good. keeping up with him is exhausting. fulfilling someone else’s expectations on top of that? hell no.

people ask if he’s lonely. he laughs. lonely? he’s got freedom. no nagging, no obligations, no answering to anyone but himself and, on the worst days, a grumpy eight-year-old who somehow thinks he’s smarter than him. love, in his experience, is just a distraction. and toji fushiguro doesn’t do distractions.

and toji swears he only looked away for a second.

he was just checking the damn price tag on some overpriced brand of instant noodles, and when he looked back, megumi was gone. poof. like a magic trick, except it wasn’t a trick, and the rising panic in his chest was very, very real. “shit,” he muttered, scanning the aisles. nothing. just a bunch of old ladies and college kids looking for cheap meals. no messy black hair, no tiny scowl. he ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep calm. he didn’t want to make a scene. people lost their kids all the time, right? it wasn’t a big deal. he just had to—

and then he saw him.

megumi was at the end of the next aisle, small hands clenched at his sides, his mouth pressed in a thin, stubborn line, like he wasn’t scared, even though he definitely was. and right next to him, crouched down to his level, was you. “you’re really good at this,” you said. megumi blinked up at you. “huh?”

“the whole ‘not panicking’ thing,” you smiled at him. “most kids freak out when they lose their parents. you’re staying calm. that’s cool.” megumi looked away, like he wasn’t sure if that was actually a compliment or not. “i don’t wanna cause trouble,” he muttered.

“aw, but that’s what parents are for,” you teased. “causing them trouble.” megumi almost smiled. almost. toji, still frozen in place, narrowed his eyes. who the hell were you?

“c’mon, let’s go find your dad,” you said, standing up and holding out a hand. megumi didn’t take it, but he followed you anyway, his short legs working hard to keep up with your pace. and toji? well. he wasn’t sure why, but instead of stepping forward, he let you find him.

he let you do the whole thing, watching as you walked with megumi, asking him questions—where he last saw his dad, what his name was, what he looked like.

“he’s really tall,” megumi said. you hummed. “tall, huh? that helps.”

“and he’s got a scar on his mouth,” he added.

“even better. anyone who looks scary is easier to spot.”

megumi frowned a little. “he’s not scary.” you smiled, ruffling his hair. “i bet he isn’t.”

toji snorted under his breath.

by the time you turned the corner and finally spotted him, megumi exhaled in relief. toji pretended not to notice how fast he ran up to him, grabbing the fabric of his shirt like he wasn’t just saying how calm he was. you, on the other hand, stopped a few steps away, hands on your hips. “you must be the scary, not-scary dad,” you said.

toji raised an eyebrow. “and you’re just a random saint, huh?” you shrugged. “not a saint. just someone who doesn’t like seeing kids upset.”

he looked at you, really looked at you. you didn’t seem put out by any of this, like helping some stranger’s kid wasn’t an inconvenience, but just another part of your day. like it was normal. toji let out a breath, then tilted his head down at megumi. “you good, kid?”

megumi nodded, though he still wasn’t letting go of toji’s shirt. toji sighed, glancing back at you. “guess i owe you, huh?”

you waved him off. “don’t worry about it. just keep an eye on him next time.”

toji huffed a laugh. “easier said than done.”

you grinned, giving megumi one last look before turning to leave. and toji? well. maybe being responsible for two people wouldn’t be so bad after all.

nanami never thought much about being single. it wasn’t a matter of pride or principle—just reality. his job was time-consuming, his patience was thin, and the thought of entertaining someone else’s needs after a long workday felt exhausting. he wasn’t lonely, just… fine. indifferent.

until he got sick of his office food.

“this is inedible,” he said flatly, staring at the sad excuse of a meal on his plate. his colleague, barely looking up from his own tray, mumbled, “it’s fine.”

nanami’s eye twitched. it was not fine. rubbery chicken, dry rice, and a soup that tasted more like dishwater than anything edible. this was not a meal—it was a punishment.

so, he made a change.

he found a small business that delivered homemade meals, something personal but convenient. it promised variety, quality ingredients, and, most importantly, flavor.

what he didn’t expect were the notes.

the first one came tucked under the neatly packed meal.

“hope today isn’t too exhausting! eat well!”

nanami stared at it for longer than he should have. then, at the food—real food. properly cooked, properly seasoned, steaming with warmth that no canteen meal could ever replicate. he didn’t think about it much. a kind gesture, that was all. but the notes kept coming.

“long meetings? i packed extra today.”

“rainy day! hope this brings some warmth.”

“rough week? your food will always be good at least.”

and then—

“your order is always so precise. you must be someone who likes routine.”

nanami paused mid-bite. he did like routine. he thrived on it. and yet, this—this unexpected kindness, these little messages—was beginning to throw him off in a way he couldn’t explain. weeks passed, meals came, and nanami found himself looking forward to them—not just for the food, but for the words that came with it. one afternoon, after another insufferable meeting, he opened his meal to find:

“do you ever take breaks? hope you’re not working too hard.”

he let out a breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. he was working too hard. but how did you—someone he’d never met—seem to know that better than the people around him? finally, curiosity got the better of him. he grabbed a pen and, for the first time, wrote back.

“who are you?”

the next day, his meal came with a note, just like always.

“just someone who wants you to eat well. but i wouldn’t mind knowing who you are too.”

and for the first time in a long time, nanami thought—maybe being single wasn’t so fine after all.

geto doesn’t believe in love. not in the way people romanticize it, anyway. he’s known desire—used it, wielded it like a tool, a means to an end. a well-timed smile, a hand grazing a wrist, a whispered promise—all of it was just another step in expanding his cause. people were easy to sway when you made them feel special. and being single? it wasn’t something he mourned. it was efficient. no attachments, no complications, no wasted energy. everything he did, every conversation, every encounter—it all served a purpose.

until you.

“you’ve been talking for a while,” you said, tilting your head at him. geto smiled. “am i boring you?”

“not at all. just wondering if you’re going to get to the point.”

he chuckled, swirling his drink. clever. impatient. interesting.

“what do you think my point is?”

you leaned back, thoughtful. “well, you’re charming, you have that practiced ease of someone who’s very used to getting what they want, and yet…” you narrowed your eyes. “you haven’t tried to get anything from me yet.”

his smile twitched. perceptive too. “maybe i’m just enjoying the conversation.”

“hmm.” you didn’t look convinced. “i doubt you talk to people without a reason.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you wound me. am i not allowed to simply appreciate good company?”

you smirked. “do you?”

and that was the problem, wasn’t it? he did.

he was supposed to be recruiting you. that was why he approached you in the first place—he had assessed, observed, picked you out for your potential. another piece in his grander vision. but now? now, he was talking to you about books, about philosophy, about things that had nothing to do with his cause.

he liked your sharp tongue, your quick comebacks, the way you saw through people but humored them anyway. and he was enjoying this. more than he should.

“you’re thinking too hard,” you noted.

“am i?”

“yeah. for someone who flirts so easily, you seem oddly distracted.”

he chuckled, shaking his head. you had no idea. for the first time in a long time, geto suguru had forgotten his purpose. and strangely enough, he didn’t mind.

choso doesn’t really get love. it’s not that he doesn’t feel it—he does, deeply, messily, all-consuming in the way only someone who has lived too long without it can. it’s just that he doesn’t understand how it’s supposed to work. his friends talk about relationships like they’re puzzles, like you’re supposed to fit into someone else’s life piece by piece, no gaps, no edges sticking out. but choso? he keeps forcing the wrong pieces together. he’s had his heart broken by so many situationships, and he doesn’t even know what that word means. all he knows is that people like him enough to stay for a while, but not enough to stay forever. and when someone ghosts him? it’s over.

“why would they do that?” he asks yuuji, completely distraught. “i thought we were getting along.” yuuji winces. “yeah, but… sometimes people just disappear, man. it’s not your fault.”

“but why not just say they don’t like me?”

“because people suck.”

choso frowns. love is confusing. people are confusing. nothing makes sense.

until he meets you.

more specifically, until you send a pug flying in his direction. one second, he’s minding his own business, sipping a coffee, staring blankly at nothing. the next—

“watch out!”

and then—THUD.

a very round, very squishy pug collides with his chest, knocking the air out of him. he blinks. looks down. the pug is fine. choso, however, is shaken.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry,” you pant, running up to him, looking horrified. “he’s got the speed of a missile and the weight distribution of a sack of potatoes. are you okay?”

choso is still holding the pug. he has not processed a single thing except that you’re talking to him, and you’re really pretty. you snap your fingers in front of his face.

“hello? earth to guy who just got body slammed by my dog?”

he swallows. “i—i’m okay.”

you sigh in relief. “good. i don’t think my insurance covers ‘pug-related assaults.’”

he stares. then—

he laughs.

it’s an awkward, slightly delayed laugh, but it’s real. it bubbles out of him, because suddenly, everything is just… simple. you’re still talking, apologizing, trying to pry your dog from his grip, and he realizes—love doesn’t have to be this big, complicated thing. it can be a stranger, a runaway pug, and a stupidly perfect moment where he thinks, 'oh. this is it.'

sukuna has never cared for love. love is mortal, fleeting, an indulgence for the weak. he has lived for centuries without it, conquered, destroyed, thrived—all on his own. why bother with attachment? why waste time on something that promises nothing but vulnerability? he’s always been perfectly fine like this.

until the night he meets you at the bar.

he doesn’t even mean to notice you at first—just another human in a crowded room, laughing, talking, lighting up the space with an ease he’s never possessed. 

and then he hears you speak. your voice is smooth, effortless, like you’re meant to be heard. every sentence flows into the next, words never fumbling, never uncertain. you make people laugh, pull them in, keep them hanging on to every syllable. sukuna watches, listens, enthralled, before someone leans in and calls you by name—your full name. followed by—

“aren’t you that talk show host?”

and it clicks. you are. he’s seen your face before, flickering on a television screen, a passing glimpse at a life so far removed from his own.

and now he’s irritated. because you talk so easily with everyone but him. and that won’t do.

so he tries. for the first time in centuries, he tries to talk to someone—like a normal person, like it’s something he’s done before, like it’s as easy as you make it look.

but it’s not. it’s a disaster.

he waits until the crowd around you has thinned, takes the seat next to you, and—

“so.” he clears his throat. “you talk to people for a living.”

you turn, blinking, mildly amused. “i do.”

he nods, confident. good start. then nothing. his mind goes blank. shit.

you raise a brow, waiting. sukuna glares at his drink like it’s betrayed him. “how do you do it?”

you tilt your head. “do what?” he gestures vaguely. “talk. keep people engaged.”

you blink. “are you asking me how to hold a conversation?”

his jaw tenses. “no.”

you laugh. he scowls.

he tries again. “what makes a good interview?”

“oh, that’s easy,” you hum. “you have to be genuinely interested in the other person.”

he deadpans.

you smirk. “which means you have to actually listen to what they’re saying.”

“i listen,” he grumbles.

“really?” you lean in. “then what were we just talking about?”

silence. your smirk widens. “you weren’t listening.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face. this is hell.

but he keeps trying. keeps failing, keeps making an idiot of himself, keeps suffering through every one of your knowing smiles—because for the first time in his miserable, ancient existence, he actually wants to learn.

he wants to talk to you.

and maybe, just maybe, he wants you to talk to him, too.

[slutzforbueckers]

I know you were advocating for bottom Paige but maybe a true verse Paige fic. I feel like I could see her like to dominate and tease, but is also a sucker for being pleasured and wants to be babied a little when receiving. I also feel like she's got a bit of a praise kink cause she loves being loved think she loves being told when she's doing good. If you write this request maybe reader could be already in a more established relationship with Paige, so they're already more comfortable and familiar with each other.

she can switch— p.b x fem!reader

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut

synopsis: paige is the biggest tease, but so are you.

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long to write!!!

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

the apartment was fairly quiet except for the soft hum of the tv in the background. you weren’t really watching it, just letting the noise fill the space while you curled up on the couch, legs tucked under you. paige sat beside you, sprawled out in the effortlessly confident way she always seemed to be— one arm draped over the back of the couch, her legs stretched out, completely at ease.

you loved moments like this, the kind of quiet that came with being comfortable with each other—with your relationship. there was no need to fill the silence; just being there together was enough.

but paige was doing that thing again. that thing where she acted like she was completely innocent while doing not very innocent things.

it had started small, so subtle that you almost didn’t catch it. the way she brushed her fingers against your arm absentmindedly, like she wasn’t really thinking about it, but you knew better. the way she stretched, making sure her shirt rode up just a little, exposing the defined muscles of her stomach. the way she shifted closer, close enough that the warmth of her body pressed against your side, but not close enough to really touch.

it was slow, purposeful, calculated. paige was an expert at it.

you glance at her out of the corner of your eye, trying to play it cool, but the smirk tugging at her lips told you she knew exactly what she was doing.

“you good?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

she hummed, tilting her head slightly as she traced an idle pattern on your thigh with her fingertips. “mhm, just getting comfortable.”

liar.

your eyes flickered to the screen, trying to focus on the show you weren’t even watching, but paige’s fingers kept moving— slow, lazy little circles, light enough to be nothing, heavy enough to be something. you exhaled through your nose, determined not to react. if you reacted, you’d be giving her exactly what she wanted and you were about to let her win that easily.

then she shifted again, this time leaning in just a little closer, close enough that her breath tickled the surely of your ear as she murmured, “you seem tense, babe.”

“i’m fine.” you said, keeping your voice steady even thought your stomach was flipping.

“are you though?” she asked, her tone full of something infuriatingly smug. “you just seem a little…” she dragged her fingers up your thigh, the barest hint of pressure before retreating. “distracted.”

you swallowed hard. she was testing the waters, testing how far she could push you before you broke. this was her thing, she loved to tease, loved to push you as close to the edge as she could. she was good at it too— annoyingly good. it was so easy for her because she knew you, knew just how to get under your skin in a way that made you both flustered and frustrated, knew exactly how to push without pushing too far. but so could you, that’s what made you so good together.

you turned your head slightly, meeting her gaze. she was smirking, of course, her blue eyes sharp with amusement, a silent challenge written all over her face.

“you’re awfully handsy,” you mused, tilting your head. “something on your mind?”

paige let out a low laugh, her fingers pausing for just a second before continuing their slow, torturous path up and down your thigh. “i don’t know what you mean.”

“oh, really?” you shifted, pressing a little closer, just enough that your lips were barely a breath away from hers. paige’s smirk faltered for half a second, her fingers tightening on your thigh. it was quick, barely there, but you caught it. she leaned forward—brushing her lips against yours— and you grinned, pulling away before she could close the space.

paige narrowed her eyes slightly, but you could see the flicker of something else in them— something warm, something hungry. she liked this, she liked when you pushed back. “you’re a tease.”

“just playing your game, bueckers.” you shot back, keeping your expression neutral as if your heart wasn’t pounding. paige grinned stupidly at the way you tried to make like you didn’t care, like she wasn’t getting to you.

“i can keep this up all night, you know.” her voice dripping with amusement, her fingers trailing up your thigh again. you exhaled sharply, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“of course you can.”

“then you admit it.” she grinned.

“admit what?”

“that i’m getting to you.” you didn’t answer, you weren’t about to give her the satisfaction. paige, of course, took that as a victory. she moved again, this time draping her arm over your shoulders and tugging you closer, her lips brushing against your temple in an almost affectionate way. “just say it. say that you want it too and i’ll make you feel so good, i promise.”

you turned your head, looking into her eyes and this time you didn’t pull away. your lips crashed against hers, swallowing that smut little laugh of hers as you finally gave in. paige responded immediately, her hands gripping your waist, pulling you into her lap like she’d been waiting for this exact moment all night.

the kiss was messy, urgent. there was no finesse to it— just raw, unrestrained need, and the heat between you two seemed to intensify with every passing second. your hands were on her body, under her shirt, feeling the heat of her skin, the firmness of her muscles as she let you explore her. you felt her tug you closer, her leg sliding between yours as she grounded against you, teasing with the slightest friction.

for a long, delicious minute, time seemed to lose meaning. the soft glow and hum of the tv became an afterthought compared to the immediacy of the sensations that enveloped you. paige’s teasing had always been a game— one where she expertly straddled the line between control and surrender. her lips traced along your jaw and her hands roamed under your shirt.

as your lips met hers again in a rhythm that was both frantic and tender, your hands began to explore, mapping the contours of her body with an almost reverent urgency.

you pulled back to catch your breath and gripped the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. you grinned at how her eyes immediately dropped to your chest, and instead of letting her touch, you slid off her lap. paige looked at you with a confused expression but didn’t move, she watched as you backed away from her. you hooked your fingers into the waistband of your shorts and slowly pushed them down, all while looking at her.

“you want it, so come get it.” and with that you turned around and headed to your bedroom, swaying your hips with purpose. paige’s stomach flipped as she watched you and in a second she was up, taking long strides until she reached the room where you were already laid on the bed. she was on you in a split second, lips crashing into yours while she made work of pulling your panties off and tossing them to the side.

she reached under you to unhook your bra and the second it was off her mouth was on your chest, her lips closing around your hardened nipple, earning a soft moan from you. “god— i can’t get enough of you.” she mumbled against your skin.

“good.” you bit your lip, your eyes fluttering closed when you felt her switch to the other side. paige didn’t spend long on the foreplay, usually she took her time but she couldn’t wait any longer. she kissed her way down your body until she was settled between your thighs. she wasted no time in placing your legs over her shoulders and licking a bold stripe through your slit, moaning at the taste of you.

you let out a shaky breath, fingers twisting in the sheets as her tongue moved with a practiced rhythm—slow at first, savoring, then building with each soft gasp you gave her. she looked up at you through her lashes, her blue eyes burning with hunger and pride, like she was cataloging every reaction, every twitch of your hips and stuttered breath.

“fuck, paige.” you breathed out, voice breaking on the last syllable. your hands found their way into her hair, gently tugging, and she groaned at the contact, the sound vibrating against you. the pressure she applied grew firmer, her pace more focused. she wasn’t teasing anymore. she was devouring.

“just like that, baby—you’re doing so good,” you whispered, the words slipping out between gasps before you could even think about them. and god, the effect they had on her. paige moaned against you, her thighs involuntarily squeezing together to try and relieve the pressure. her hands tightened on your thighs as she moaned into you again, more desperate this time, your praise lit her up from the inside out.

you felt the tension building low in your stomach, sharp and pulsing, and the more she kept going, the closer you got. paige felt it too—your legs tensing, thighs tightening around her shoulders. she slowed down just enough to make you whine, drawing lazy circles with her tongue now, just to hear that sweet desperation bleed into your voice.

“paige, please—” your hips jerked towards her, chasing the high that was right there, so close.

she smirked against you. “since you said please,” she murmured, kissing the inside of your thigh before going back to work, this time adding her fingers—slow, steady, curling in that way she knew made your whole body arch. her mouth stayed latched on your clit, sucking gently in perfect rhythm with each thrust.

“love when you eat me out like this,” you continued breathlessly, voice cracking as her fingers curled just right inside you. “always know exactly how to touch me. you’re so good at it, paige, so good—”

“shit,” she muttered against your skin, her voice almost shaky now, but she didn’t slow down—if anything, she got more eager. her tongue moved faster, sloppier, like she couldn’t help herself anymore, like your words were fueling every flick and curl of her fingers. she lived for this—your voice, your praise, the way you said her name like it was the only word that mattered. she was ravenous for it.

it was over before you could warn her. your release hit hard, crashing over you like a wave and leaving you breathless. your back arched off the bed, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as paige held you through it, not stopping until you were twitching from the overstimulation.

she finally pulled away, lips glistening, cheeks flushed, a satisfied look etched into every line of her face. she crawled up your body, kissed your lips softly and you could taste yourself on her tongue. it made you groan into the kiss, pulling her closer. paige sat up and pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her bare chest, tugging her sweats and boxers down next.

"need to cum." she muttered, climbing back over your body and settling just above your hips. one thing about paige is that she’s never been shy about what she wanted— she knew what she wanted, when she wanted it, and she made sure you knew as well. she leaned down and pressed her lips to yours, her hair falling around your faces. “make me cum, please?”

her tone was teetering the edge of desperation, you could feel her slick on your skin, and there was no way you weren’t going to give her what she wanted. you let out a quiet breath and grabbed her hips, tugging her up your body. “fuck, c’mere.”

paige pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and moved up your chest until her knees were on either side of your head. she held onto the headboard to keep her balance as she hovered over your face but you weren’t having that. a sharp gasp escaped her lips when you pulled her down, her wet cunt flush with your tongue, your hands squeezing her thighs as you held her there.

your tongue dragged slow and firm through her slick folds, circling her clit with the tip of it. you pressed your tongue into her, moaning at the last of her slick coating your tongue. the vibration of your moan coursed through her core, pulling a strangled moan from her throat, the sound raw and breathless as she dropped her forehead against the headboard.

she was so sensitive, already soaking, grinding down before she even realized she was doing it. “shit—baby,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible over the wet sound of your mouth on her. her hands were gripping the wood, her abs were flexing above you, trembling, her muscles tightening every time your tongue hit just right.

you glanced up at her—her eyes were squeezed shut, lips parted, brows drawn together, pleasure written all over her face. you helped her rock her hips against your face, guiding her into a rhythm that had her thighs tensing around your head.

"doing so good for me, baby." you murmured against her. you added your fingers- slowly at first, curling them inside her while your tongue worked at her clit. the moan that ripped from her chest was feral, high and sharp and completely unapologetic.

“don’t stop,” she begged, breathless, desperate now. “please don’t stop, don’t stop—feels so good.”

her hips jerked forward, her grip on the headboard tightening as she lost her rhythm. her thighs were quivering around your head, her body caught between pulling away and pressing closer. you sucked on her clit again, harder this time, and curled your fingers deep inside her- and that was it. her orgasm hit her like a freight train, her whole body locking up as a cry tore from her throat. she came hard, grinding down onto your mouth, her back arching, thighs clamping around your head as she rode it out.

you didn’t stop until she was gasping, her body twitching with the aftershocks, whimpering your name like a prayer. eventually, you eased her down gently, letting her collapse onto your chest. her body was heavy and warm, still trembling slightly as you held her. she buried her face in your neck, breathing hard, her skin flushed and damp.

“holy shit.”

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

[thatdammchickennugget]

Hi Marky! 💘😽 thought id pop in for a request - I liked this groceries idea but I thought I’d spin it a bit. For a au pinning where you flat with Blaise and Theo and one time when Mattheo is over you’re out of groceries so he offers to go with you. And it’s just bit pining over doing a mundane task together - kind of inspired by the song groceries by mallrat sorry if this is shit lmfao ily! 🤍

pairing - mattheo riddle x fem!reader

warnings - fluff, soft matty, theo and blaise are pretty useless

a/n - thanks for the request flower, I love it 💕

wordcount - 849

“Whose turn was it to buy groceries?” you asked, staring into the barren wasteland of the fridge. A half-empty carton of orange juice and a single, lonely lemon mocked you from the shelves.

“Not mine,” Blaise called from the living room, where he was sprawled across the couch like a Renaissance painting.

Theo, perched on the armrest with a mug in hand, raised a brow. “It was yours.”

You slammed the fridge door shut. “No, it wasn’t. I went last time. It’s someone else’s turn.”

Blaise didn’t even glance up from his magazine. “I vote Theo.”

“You can’t just ‘vote’ me,” Theo retorted.

“Watch me.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the counter. “You’re all useless, you know that? The only thing left in this flat is desperation and vibes.”

“And even the vibes are questionable,” Theo said, earning a snort from Blaise.

At that moment, the front door opened, and Mattheo strolled in like he owned the place. He glanced at the scene—Blaise reclining like a bored prince, Theo sipping tea like he was better than everyone, and you looking moments away from a breakdown—and smirked.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asked, shrugging off his jacket.

“We’re out of food,” you replied flatly.

“Out of food, out of coffee…” Theo mused. “Out of patience, if we’re talking about her.”

You shot him a glare. “Don’t test me.”

Mattheo chuckled, leaning casually against the counter. “Sounds like you need to hit the store.”

“She does,” Blaise chimed in, flipping a page.

“Well, I’m not going alone,” you said, crossing your arms.

Mattheo raised a brow. “You scared of the big bad grocery store?”

“No, I just know that if I go alone, I’ll end up doing everything, and then you three will eat it all and leave me with nothing but crumbs.”

“Harsh,” Theo said, though he didn’t look particularly offended.

“I’ll go with you,” Mattheo said, surprising everyone.

The room went quiet for a beat. Blaise raised his head, looking between you and Mattheo with barely concealed amusement. “Since when do you volunteer for manual labor?”

Mattheo shrugged. “I’m feeling generous.”

“Generous?” Theo snorted. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Shut up, Theo,” Mattheo muttered, his ears tinging pink.

You hesitated, glancing between the boys. “Fine. But if you’re coming, you’re carrying the bags.”

“Deal,” he said, already heading toward the door.

“Have fun, lovebirds,” Blaise called, earning himself a glare from Mattheo and a not-so-light smack on the back of the head from you.

♡

The grocery store was quieter than usual.

Mattheo grabbed a cart without being asked, his fingers drumming lightly on the handle as you started down the first aisle.

“You’ve got a system, right?” he asked, glancing at the list in your hand.

“I don’t need a system,” you replied, tossing a loaf of bread into the cart. “I know what we need.”

“That’s a system,” he said, smirking.

“You’re a system,” you muttered under your breath, and his chuckle sent a small thrill through you.

The two of you moved through the aisles in a rhythm that was surprisingly natural. He handed you things from higher shelves without asking, tossed in snacks you didn’t have the heart to scold him for, and even managed to charm an older woman into letting you skip the queue at the deli counter.

“You’re awfully good at this,” you said as he expertly steered the cart around a corner.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he replied, smirking.

“Sorry, I just didn’t peg you as the domestic type.”

He shrugged, adding a pack of chocolate biscuits to the cart. “Maybe I’m full of surprises.”

You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest as he said it, focusing instead on grabbing a box of cereal.

By the time you reached the self-checkout, the cart was full, and the air between you felt lighter, more comfortable. He took over scanning the items, his grin widening every time you tried to help.

“Are you having fun?” you asked, exasperated.

“Maybe,” he said, scanning a box of tea. “It’s cute when you get all bossy.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words stuck as his grin softened into something warmer, more genuine.

Mattheo carried most of the bags without complaint, the muscles in his arms flexing just enough to make your heart race if you looked too long.

“Thanks for coming with me,” you said after a while.

“Anytime,” he replied, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

You hesitated, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “You didn’t have to, though. Blaise or Theo could’ve—”

“They wouldn’t have,” he interrupted, his voice quiet but certain. “And even if they would’ve, I wanted to.”

The simplicity of his words left you momentarily speechless.

By the time you reached the flat, your heart was racing for an entirely different reason. As you unpacked the groceries together, his hand brushed yours, lingering just long enough to make you wonder if it was on purpose.

And when he smiled at you—soft, a little shy—you couldn’t help but smile back.

Masterlist

Requesting Guidelines

[no-144444]

A Christmas Prince (2017)- c.leclerc

₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

summary: When a young aspiring journalist is sent abroad to cover a a coronation, she hears rumours about the 'Prince of F1' and goes undercover to investigate them.

pairing: prince! charles leclerc x fem! reader

9.8k words

disclaimer: i do not own anything in these films, the only original character is the character y/n.

‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

You jumped up from your desk as soon as you saw him, and trailed him through the office. “Excuse me, sorry- Ron?!” 

He turned to you. “Not now.”

“This will just take a second, I just have some questions about your article? The fashion week piece that I’m editing?”

He groaned, clearly uninterested in giving you the time of day. “Go for it.”

Nevertheless, you continued on. How could someone who makes so many noticeable mistakes have a higher job than you? How could someone so self-centred and rude be in that position of power? “The main problem is that Max wanted 300 words, and you’ve written 600, and also the models and designers you quoted weren’t even at the event so…”

“Y/n,” he sighed, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I don’t have time for you right now, just go off and fix it? Yeah?” he smiled, that punchable, asshole smile, and walked off. You rolled your eyes. 

Working as a journalist bitch was not your plan when you moved to New York, but alas, your rent does not magically pay itself. Categorically, you enjoyed your job. Decent pay, good co-workers (minus asshole Ron), and it was pretty cool to be in one of the high-rise offices of New York, especially around Christmas. But… the whole getting to write articles part wasn’t something you got to do. You were an editor now, not a journalist. It was… slightly infuriating to know that someone less qualified got paid more money to write shit that you always ended up rewriting for him, but as we mentioned before, bills don’t pay themselves. 

“Let me guess, you’re going to completely rewrite the article and save his ass?” Damon, your best friend, asked. 

You faked a smile. “It’s almost like that’s my job!”

He rolled his eyes. “Tell him to shove it,” he scoffed. “Any of us could write that better- with our eyes closed!”

You groaned as you sat down.

“How the fuck are you ever going to be taken seriously as a real journalist if you are such a good editor?” he added. “He’ll never promote you if you’re always going to stay as his bitch.”

The ding of your laptop ended the conversation 

Max wants you in her office- NOW! 

“Oh fuck,” you said under your breath. 

“What?” Damon asked, looking over your shoulder. “Oh… good luck.”

You walked into her glass office, praying to something to make this as painless as possible. “If this is because of Ron’s article-”

“It’s not, sit down. I have something else for you,” she smiled. You followed her instructions and stared at her, unused to the kindness. “What do you know about the Royal Family of Monaco?”

“Monaco?” you wracked your brain. “The King died a few years ago, the new King just got married, and the other two are racecar drivers, right?”

“Exactly, anything about the second eldest Prince?” she mused. 

You grimaced. “He’s more loyal to Ferrari than his girlfriends and he’s a royal disgrace?”

She grinned. “Yes! Exactly that! Obviously, Charles moved off from the royal duties a long time ago, but Lorenzo has decided to abdicate since his fiance has fallen ill, in Monaco there’s a rule that the throne can be uncrowned for one year and it turns out Lorenzo abdicated in December last year.”

“So Charles has to take the throne?” you asked. “But he’s a driver there’s no way he’d… what happens then?”

She smirked. “That’s exactly what you’re going to find out! His Royal Highness is due back at the Castle this weekend, but in case he also abdicates, I need someone to write on it! There’s a press conference on the 18th, and I want your boots on the ground!”

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but why me?” you smiled, genuinely curious. 

“You’re intelligent, talented, hungry for a story- also none of my regular writers are willing to give up their Christmas,” she admitted. You nodded, knowing you were a last resort. 

“Thank you for this opportunity, I won’t let you down.” 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

“He’s gorgeous!” Damon fawned over the pictures of him. 

You shrugged. “He’s such a douche, I cannot believe people still find him attractive after all the stuff he’s done.”

“Who wouldn't forgive a face and body like that?” 

You looked at the photos. Yes, he was conventionally attractive, but his track record of scorned girlfriends, and the semi-awful fashion sense (who , over the age of 12, still wears tie dye jeans?) put you off. “He’s not my type.” 

He stared at you. “He’s everyone’s type. Everyone is a Ferrari fan, and everyone is a Charles LeClerc fan.”

“I still don’t see it,” you shrugged. 

“You should try to seduce him! Make him your husband and just excuse all the cheating so you can be royal and rich,” he suggested. 

“I do not want that,” you scoffed. “Plus, I’m not on the market right now.”  

He groaned. “You two broke up a whole year ago. Don’t let him yuck your yum 12 months on!”

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

You walked into Rudy’s, your dad’s diner, you couldn’t but feel the weight of the conversation you were just about to have. You had spent Christmas as just the two of you every year since your mom had passed, you didn’t want to just leave him alone. The regulars raved about the pies as you stepped in from the cold, snowy air. 

“The usual?” your dad asked, you nodded and smiled, waving to some of the regulars you knew. “How are you doing sweetie?” 

“Good, great!” You smiled, plastering on your best ‘i’m fine!’ face. 

“What happened?” he asked, concerned. You deflated.

“I have good news and bad news,” you explained.

“Bad news first,” he decided. 

“I won’t be here on Christmas- but, It’s because I got my first story.”

He grinned, pulling you into a hug. “That’s amazing! Your first real story! This is your big break!”

“You don’t mind that I’ll miss Christmas?”

He shook his head. “This is your big break, take it. Don’t worry about me. You go over to wherever, and you make me proud.”

You smiled, pulling him into another hug, and thanked him. 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

The flight was long and uncomfortable, thus the joys of economy, and the dickhead that stole your cab wasn’t much nicer either. 

You and the rest of the press were all then bundled into cars and brought to the palace. 

“First time?” The reporter beside you questioned. You nodded your head, slightly embarrassed about the fact that they could tell, but he just chuckled. “Word to the wise, pick a new career.”

The rest of the car was an eruption of laughter, small agreements, or a scoff. You chuckled along, but you couldn’t help but feel small. You were the only woman in your car, the only new reporter, and-

Woah. Holy shit. 

The Monaco Palace. 

Any and all other thoughts were pushed to the back of your mind as you stared in awe at the beautiful structure. The wide windows and beautiful pillars, all decorated perfectly for Christmas. Though it wasn’t snowing (like back home), you did appreciate the gesture of making it feel like Christmas. You were enchanted by the palace, it stood tall on the edge of the bay, fitting in perfectly with the rest of the gorgeous scenery. 

You walked in behind the rest of the press, a nervous energy buzzing in the air. Prince Charles was an F1 favourite, a master of the sport, and now he had to give it all up for the crown. Everyone was more than excited to see if he’d actually show up, which seemed increasingly unlikely as the moments ticked away. He did every single piece of press Ferrari or the FIA asked him to do, and he seemed to enjoy the majority of them, but the second the palace asked him to do something, he was ‘too busy’. It left a bad taste in your mouth. You were exactly a patriot, but you thought that one should at least appreciate the fact that they were a part of their country, and the people deserved to hear from their Prince, not only through sports interviews. He’d been photoshopped into the palace's Christmas cards for the past 4 years, for god’s sake. 

You pushed your opinion of him to the side and turned your attention to the palace. The tall white walls and arched ceilings, the beautiful and historic artwork hanging off the walls, god, you’d give anything to be allowed free reign in here with your camera. Your attention was then grabbed by the PR liaison, Penelope, standing at the panel desk looking increasingly nervous.

After another 30 minutes of waiting, the repress started getting restless. Lorenzo was never late. Hervé had never been late. Pascale was never late. Arthur was never late. Charles was the outlier. He slept with too many women, drank too much, and ‘disgraced the crown’, according to the Monegasque reporters beside you. You didn’t care much for all of the gossip pages he frequented, and only watched F1 on the occasion that your father wanted to watch it. But, it was clear that he thought that following his dreams of being a racecar driver were more important than his duties, and while you understood the push and pull of having a dream, there were also expectations to meet, and he didn’t meet them. 

“We regret to inform you that this press conference has been cancelled-” 

She was cut off by about 200 reporters shouting and groaning. 

You politely raised your hand, and all eyes turned to you. “When can we expect the press conference to be rescheduled?” You asked and the room was alive again, this time, in agreement. 

“As of right now, we won’t be rescheduling,” she offered a polite smile as everyone collectively groaned again. 

“Well can we at least expect a date at which he’ll be crowned?”

“He will be crowned on Christmas Eve, at the annual Christmas Ball,” she smiled. 

“Which is a private event, so what are we to tell your people? They can’t see him getting crowned as their next king? No media are allowed in, no cameras, phones are barely allowed. What will your people think?” you questioned, your voice dripping with condescension. The rest of the reporters cheered you on, no one had stood up against his behaviour before. No one. 

She faltered, and then the room started being cleared by security, much to the chagrin of the rest of you. You were kicked out, a collection of grumbles and groans, knowing Christmas was ruined because of some stupid Prince and his childish antics. 

You couldn’t go home empty handed. You’d never get a chance like this again, so breaking and entering into the Monaco Palace wasn’t that bad of a crime, right? 

You came into a long hallway, the marble walls and floors taking your full attention, until you came across a picture. It was the royal family, a picture of the five of them, taken before Hervé passed. Charles was only 20, Arthur was only 16. Lorenzo was 29. And they lost their father. In the photo, they’re sitting at a dinner table, looking happy. It didn’t look posed, or professionally taken. It looked like it had been taken on an iphone. Charles was smiling bright, his arm around his little brother and his father. Lorenzo’s arm around Pascale as she held Arthur’s hand. Charles was truly the thing that dragged you in. His bright smile, eyes crinkled at the edges, laughing so hard he must’ve felt sick. The way everyone else’s eyes were on him. He was like a magnet. Not because of his good looks or lovably dorky personality, but because of something else. He was just… interesting. 

“Can I help you?” a security guard asked, his voice booming and strong. You jumped. 

“Gosh! Sorry, umm-yes-no-um-”

“American?” he asked, and you were sure you were busted. But then he smiled. “Follow me.”

You followed him through the halls until you were in front of a tall woman with brunette hair. You knew who she was, her name was Georgia, the palace coordinator. She was terrifying to stand in front of. You’d never felt so judged in your life. 

“You’re the new tutor?” she questioned. You just nodded. “I thought you couldn’t come until January?”

“My last job finished up early,” you lied. A sinking pit in your stomach started growing, but you just swallowed it. You’d deal with it later. 

“Oh,” she smiled. “Perfect, I’ll bring you to meet him,” she smiled. 

What were you getting yourself into?

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

Turns out Arthur LeClerc needed a tutor to help with his engineering course. Thank god you’d dated that engineer who wanted to mansplain every single part of a car to you, and you could get by the maths with a calculator. Arthur wasn’t exactly a fan of having someone younger than him tutor him, he felt stupid, you could tell. You did everything you could to reassure him that it truly was alright to need help, and he was starting to come around, but every time you two really started talking, Charles would appear. And yes, Charles had been that asshole who’d taken your cab at the airport. Even more of a reason to hate him.

“Arthur!” Charles called up as you finished explaining a sum, which he was finally getting, but of course, Charles had to distract him. “Sim work?” he offered, popping his head in the door. You frowned. He was clean-shaven, unlike the small goatee and mustache he’d been sporting before. Objectively, he was attractive either way, but you personally preferred the facial hair. 

He frowned back at you. “What?”

Arthur attempted to get up to join his brother, but you held him down to his seat with a hand on his shoulder. He sighed. 

“What?” you repeated. “Arthur is busy with lessons, your Royal Highness, you can come back in 2 hours, when he’s finished,” you smile politely, though your tone was less than warm. 

“2 hours?” Arthur sighed, looking at you with pleading eyes. 

“I’m not the one who failed their midterm,” you said, matter-of-factly. He nodded, agreeing. 

“Why did you look at me like that?” Charles smirked, walking into the study. 

“Like what?” you asked, engrossed in the work, trying to decipher Arthur’s handwriting. 

“Like you didn’t like what you saw,” he mused. 

You scoffed. “I was just surprised by the baby face, that’s all.” 

He frowned, making Arthur laugh. “Baby face?”

“You look like a 12 year old boy without facial hair, it freaks me out,” you pointed out. 

Charles left the room with whatever dignity he still had intact, and you and Arthur rather enjoyed the teasing. 

“Will you be my guest tonight?” he turned to you, discarding his work. 

“What’s tonight?” you asked. 

“Some boring drinks and dinner thing with the whole of Charles’s team, and other nobility. It’s going to be such a chore to go without you, please come?” 

You smiled. “I’d be honoured.”

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

You kind of hated the whole ‘double agent’ thing. You were getting on really well with Arthur, Charles was enough to stomach (in small intervals), and Lorenzo had been too busy to really meet. Georgia had been on you about different things, but you always had to remember that a) your name was in fact not Y/n, but Martha. And b) You still had to be a reporter. You still had to break into these people’s privacy, and make it a story. You were pretty sure what you were doing was illegal in America, so you were just hoping it wasn’t a crime here. As the night went on you snapped pictures of Pascale, Lorenzo, some of the other nobility and some of the important F1 drivers (a friend was doing an expose on one of them for cheating so… yeah). You didn’t catch a glimpse of his Royal (pain-in-the-ass) Highness all night, that was, until he made an(uncharacteristically (not)) late arrival. You also left Arthur to go hang out with his girlfriend, who had surprised him this weekend by arriving a whole week early. 

“How are you enjoying the party?” Arthur smiled, walking up behind you as you tried to take photos of the nobility as secretly as possible. You quickly hid your phone. 

“Very much so, thank you for inviting me,” you smiled. 

“Staring at Charles?” he questioned, noticing how you’d been following him around the room. 

“Trying to find something to eat,” you lied. Again, that pit in your stomach grew every single day that you were at the palace. “Not a fan of the meat-jelly.”

He grimaced. “Me neither, follow me.”

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

Possibly the best gingerbread cookies entered your mouth soon after. “Wow,” you nodded, and he smiled back. You stared at him. “Where’s Jade?”

“She’s off with her friends,” he answered, but you knew it was a guess. 

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden? You hated me three days ago,” you chuckled. 

“You’re not like everyone here,” he shrugged. “You’re normal.”

You smiled. “I know I’m, normal, btu so are you-”

“A ‘normal’ 24 year old who has a palace and a crown, as well as an affinity for racing cars. I’m so normal.”

You laughed. “No one’s perfect.”

Then a tall man, who looked a little bit like Arthur, joined you. 

“Cousin Arthur,” he smiled. 

“Cousin Simon,” he sighed, less than impressed with having to see him. 

Simon looked at you, slightly confused. “Was your mother feeling charitable, inviting the chambermaids again?” he joked, but it wasn’t funny. Arthur didn't laugh, he groaned. 

“She’s my tutor, actually. And I invited her. Mrs. Martha Whelan, meet my cousin, Simon.” 

You stood up and held your hand out to be shook, but he shied away. “Nice to meet you Simon.” 

“You can address me as Lord Dukesburg,” he explained, taking great offence. Ah, this was Simon Dukesburg, the man who has been after the throne since Arhtur’s father died. He said some of the most out-of-touch shit about Lorenzo, saying he couldn’t be the King because he wasn’t Herve’s blood-related son. 

“I find that nobility who require someone to use their title might be compensating for something,” Charles interjected, making you stifle a laugh, whereas Arthur laughed out loud. 

“And what might I be compensating for?” he scoffed. 

“I wonder,” Charles smirked. Then someone else interjected the conversation and pulled the both of them away from you and Arthur. 

“Simon hates Charles,” Arthur explained. “He’s ahead of him in the succession, since it goes by age, not actual blood relation, he’s ahead of me.”

“So if Charles abdicates, Simon has the throne?” you questioned. 

Arthur nodded. You looked up at the two men again, and found Charles already looking back at you. You offered a small smile, which was returned, then you turned back to Arthur. 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

“I'm really not sure there’s any dirt here,” you sighed, explaining it for the millionth time to your boss. 

She wasn’t having it. You ended the call feeling even worse than before. Honestly, you were one day away from just leaving the palace all together and admitting your crimes. It was eating you up inside, you could barely sleep, barely eat. It was all a little bit too much for you. You understood that reporters had to be cut-throat, but god, it was hard work pretending to be someone you weren't, especially to people as kind as the LeClerc’s. As you walked through the halls of the palace, unable to sleep, you heard some piano music. You followed the sound and found Prince Charles at his piano, incredibly talented. Sadly, it ended the second he noticed you, about 30 seconds of you being there. 

“Sorry for interrupting, your Royal Highness,, I’ll head back-”

“Call me Charles,” he smiled. 

Slightly blind-sided, you weren’t sure what to say. “That was beautiful,” you smiled. 

“Thank you,” he smiled, getting up. “My father made me take lessons. It’s a great passion of mine.”

“I’ve heard your father was a great man,” you smiled. 

“He was,” Charles agreed.. 

“Won’t be easy to replace him,” you mused, hoping he would give you something, anything worth writing the story over. 

“I’m not trying to replace him,” he explained. “No one could.”

“Oh god! No, I didn’t mean it like that- just… there must be a lot of pressure on you, I didn’t mean it…” you trailed off and he smiled. 

“Well, you’re under more pressure than you bargained for, right?” he smirked. 

Shit. He knew. Somehow. He knew. You were bout to get arrested by the fucking Prince of Monaco. How embarrassing. 

“My brother can really be a handful,” he chuckled. 

You took a deep breath. He didn’t know. You were safe, for now at least. You chuckled. “He’s actually pretty great.”

“After our father died, he took it very hard,” he explained. 

“I lost my mom, same age and everything,” you explained, a flat smile on your face. 

He nodded. “So you know what it’s like then.”

You nodded. “Holidays are the worst.”

“I’m glad he has someone to talk to.”

“So, now that you’re back… is it for good? Arthur talks about you all the time. He misses you when you’re gone. Is all that talk about abdication just… rumors?” you questioned, feeling like the worst human being in the world for manipulating this family the way you were. They were good people. Maybe yes, they’re rich and commit tax fraud, but good people. 

He sighed. “It’s very hard to know what to do.”

FUCK! 

Great. So there is a story. Ideal. It’s not like if he’d just said, ‘yes, they’re all just rumors’, you could’ve gone home and never had to think about the awful things you’ve done here, but now you have to stay, to listen to him. Great.

“I heard you didn’t want to give your… lifestyle,” you asked. “Is that true?”

“What lifestyle is that?” he scoffed, slightly amused.

“I don’t know. The women, wine, and cars?” 

“Is that what you think I am?” he chuckled. 

“I don’t know who you are, Charles, but if your brother is any indication, I wouldn’t exactly believe everything I read. Good night.” 

And with that you left the room, feeling like a terrible person, and he was more than intrigued by you. 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

Christmas Eve rolled closer and closer, and every night seemed to be one of celebration. You decorated the tree with the family (aka you sat in the corner not eating or drinking because of the guilt, and watched over Arthur, making sure he was alright). 

“To family and friends,” Pascale smiled. 

“And new friends!” Arthur called, lifting your hand. You smiled at him, thankful that you had a friend there. 

“What are your traditions Martha?” Charles asked, turning attention to you. 

“Well, my father and I light a candle and we bake my mothers favourite cookies,” you explained, a smile on your face. “I know how it feels to… have someone missing during traditions,” you assured Arthur, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Just then, Lady Sophia appeared in the doorway. Lady Sophia, Charles’s childhood best friend and the leading lady of the greatest will-they-won’t-they story of all time. She wore a beautiful long flowing gown with a present in hand for Pascale. She elegantly dodged cousin Simon’s advances (you applauded her for that), and went straight to Pascale and Charles. 

“Sophia, it’s lovely to see you,” she smiled, pulling her in for a hug. 

“It’s lovely to see you too,” she smiled, then moved on to Charles. “Charles, good to see you.”

Charles greeted her with his best flirty smirk, and Arthur turned to you, fake gagging, which made you both laugh. All eyes turned to the two of you for a moment, before you quickly shut up, and the greetings continued. Lady Sophia was staying for Christmas, how wonderful. Maybe you could get an early access to their engagement story- god you felt sick with yourself. 

You turned to Arthur engrossed in the small toy car he had in his hands, a gift from his father, he spoke about it as you listened, barely noticing Charles over both of your shoulders. 

“I remember when you first got that,” he chuckled, ruffling Arthur’s hair. “You were so happy with it, you wanted to be just like dad.”

“Now you are,” you smiled, squeezing Arthur;’s hand. He’d be moving up to F1 next year, in a Haas seat (Esetban Ocon shit the bed, oops), and Arthur was the next best Ferrari junior driver. Arthur beamed back at you, and Charles gave himself a moment to study you. 

You were so gentle, so smart, so kind, so… you. He was entranced by you. You were some sort of enigma. He didn’t want to sound full of himself, but women did throw themselves at him, it was a simple fact, and you didn’t. You weren’t interested in him at all, in fact. It was refreshing. 

“Charles!” Lady Sophie called. “Will you put my ornament on the tree?” 

He (begrudgingly) took his eyes off of you and joined her at the side of the tree. Funnily enough, her ornament was a heart. 

“Be gentle with it,” she told him, and he sighed, knowing it wasn’t just the ornament she was talking about.He placed it on the ree and when he looked back at you, you were already engrossed in conversation with Arthur about something else and he thought it best not to pry. You barely liked him as is, he shouldn’t push his luck. 

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The day you get bossed around by Arthur LeCerc may actually be the biggest joke of your life. He found out that you were a journalist, and he didn’t even care. He just… wanted a friend, and for you to write the truth about his brother. Which you were happy to oblige. 

So, instead of going over aerodynamics, you baked Christmas cookies. 

“What’s with Charles and Lady Sophia?” you questioned, shovelling some of the batter into your mouth. Arthur shrugged. 

“She’s had a crush on him for ages, but he’s never liked her back,” he shrugged, eating some of the icing. “She’s always trying to get with him though.” 

“Simon seems to like her,” you pointed out, shooing him away from the icing (he’d eaten half of it). 

Arthur groaned. “Simon has wanted everything Charles has had since they were 3. He even tried go-karting. He was shit though,” he chuckled. “But y’know, everyone wants what we have.”

You cracked a smile. “You are the royal family of one of the most beautiful countries in Europe.”

Arthur sighed. “It was different though, before my dad died, it was-” he cut himself off, trying to to cry. You pulled him into a hug. 

“He’s not gone Arthur, you’ll always remember him,” you smiled, he nodded against your neck. “Come on, we need to get these in the oven before I eat all of the batter.”

He laughed, joining you beside the oven. 

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The next morning was the children’s fundraiser, where everyone was expected to be a guest. You, again, were Arthur’s, Jade having left a few days earlier to spend time with her family. One of those asshole reporters came up to you, but he got them away, and you knew that by tomorrow, people would already assume you were his new girlfriend, or something along those lines, so you made sure to tell him to talk about Jade in interviews. After the wonderful carol service, Pascale came out to the stage and addressed the public, announcing Charles’s speech. 

When she called his name, he didn’t show. 

Arthur sighed, grabbing your hand and running you to the Orphanage. There he was, playing with the children. He looked so… happy. He was telling them about every corner in the Monaco Grand Prix, and telling them what it felt like to win it. They all sat around him, listening intently, desperate to hear from him. You took out your phone and took a photo, seeing a tiny glimpse of that same 20 year old boy from the picture.  

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“Charles, help me understand why you were unable to carry out your duty today?” Pascale asked, exasperated with her son. 

“I thought my duty was to those children,” his words bit through the tension in the air. 

“There is much more to being kind than simply compassion,” she sighed. “You need to be strong, a leader. You need to be someone that those people can look up to and say, ‘that’s my king, and he can make the hard decisions’. Not someone who tiptoes around his duties like a schoolboy. Arthur had to give your speech instead. Now every outlet thinks your abdicating and giving the throne to him right when he’s on the cusp of his dreams-”

“I have dreams!” he shouted. “I have a life, I have a dream-”

“And we gave you 8 years to make it happen. You have to grow up now Charles,” she commanded. 

“Mother I-”

“Do you seriously think you’re the only one who wants to run away?” she questioned. “The only one who has dreams, and feelings, and a weariness about everything?”

“I’m-”

“This has been the hardest year of my life,” she choked up. “Lorenzo abdicating, you off in god-knows-where racing a car that can’t win, and Arthur trying his damndest to make his dreams come true, while I deal with it all. While I ‘hold down the fort’. You have a duty to your country, but you also have a duty to your family, Charles. I have complete faith in you, and then some. You will be a brave, and compassionate King. But you need to realise that sacrifice is a part of life. One we may have shielded you from, and I am sorry for that. But you need to make a sacrifice here. Royal life isn’t the prison you make it out to be. You can be happy, and you will be. But you need to learn to be happy with what you’ve got, because you have so much Charles. You have your family, you’ll meet someone nice and then you’ll have your own. You don’t need to race cars to feel strong. You need to be yourself. The people of Monaco are looking for someone they know after a year of confusion and shock. You need to be the comforting voice. I know you can be.” 

“I’m trying,” he whispered. 

“I have faith in you. You need to have faith in yourself. Don’t try to be your father, be Charles. He’s just as wonderful.”

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Arthur wasn’t going to focus, it was 3 days till Christmas, and he was kind of like an over-excited child. You suggested an adventure, and that is how you ended up racing speed boats with Arthur and a few of his friends. You two won, of course, and he may or may not have accidentally shoved you overboard and made you hit your head. But you were probably fine. Probably. You two relaxed on the water for a while, enjoying the Monaco sun asn the sun began to set and all of his friends went home. 

Then you felt something hit into the edge of your boat. Another speedboat. Driven by none other than Prince Charles. 

“Race you?” he smirked at his brother, his eyes then landing on you. He stopped, almost doing a double take when he saw you in your swimsuit, his mouth opening slightly. You didn’t seem to notice. Arthur did and he rolled his eyes, hoping against hope that Charles and his master-manipulating ways would pass you by and go onto the next person.

“You’re on!” Arthur shouted back, reeving up the engine, and thus the great race of speedboats began. Sadly, once again, Arthur LeClerc is very much not coordinated, so he shoved you off the boat, again. Charles immediately slowed down, turning back to grab you, but he found you laughing. He reached a hand in, and pulled you up onto his boat, grabbing your waist when you almost slipped and fell. You were close, much too close. You could feel his breath on your face, his eyes staring into yours, the look of shock, but neither one of you was asking to stop. It was different, a good difference. He was right there, right in front of you, and you didn’t look at him with annoyance, or anger, or distance. One of those fleeting moments of the both of you truly just being yourselves. Well, you were Marha and he was the Prince of Monaco, soon to be King. He saw every freckle on your face, every small wrinkle line, every flutter of your eyelashes. He loved it. He loved being this close to you. He loved the way you were smiling at him, and once he’d started looking at your lips, he couldn’t stop. 

Arthur threw a snorkel at the two of you, making you jump apart, you almost falling off the boat again (actually your fault that time), but you just fell into Arthur’s boat. “No fraternising with the enemy!”

And the race was back on.

Unbeknownst to you, Lady Sophia and Duke Arsehole (aka Cousin Simoin), were riding by on a perfectly sublime boat ride, and saw the three of you enjoying yourselves. You had joined Charles' side, winning against Arthur every time, and then you’d be swapped back, or Arthur would swap. 

Lady Sophia didn’t like it one bit. 

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When you got back to the palace, Lorenzo was standing at the top step of the stairs, his mother beside him. 

“Where have you three been?” he demanded. 

“Lorenzo, we were-” Charles began.

“Speedboat racing in the bay?” he finished.  

The three of you stood there, silent and still, unsure of what to do next. 

“I suggest next time that you ask permission, Ms. Whelan,” he addressed you, and you nodded quickly offering multiple apologies. “And next time, maybe include the other members of the family. It’s not like we've never raced in our lives,” he smiled, before walking off. You had a feeling they hadn’t seen Arthur this happy in a long time. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in you, that you had been the one to help him get himself back. 

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Arthur was busy with his duties, so you were given the day off, the day before Christmas Eve. You needed to get to know Charles better, so you could right all the wrongs online about him. He was going for a bike ride, so you followed suit, clearly forgetting about the fact that you knew nothing about Monaco, and the limited cell-service was really helpful. Oh, and when you fell off your bike and cut the shit out of your knee, you really wondered whether it was you or Arthur who was clumsy. 

“Are you alright?”a voice called out, a voice you couldn't quite place, until Charles was in front of you and taking a look at your knee. “This looks bad, come with me.”

He helped you up, and while Mont Agel was beautiful, you were in the middle of fucking nowhere, what was he going to do? 

Bring you to his secret cabin, of course. 

Literally, was this dude James Bond? 

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You sat outside on his patio as the sun set. He handed you a glass of water. You thanked him. 

“So, now that you’re alright,” he smiled (he’d bandaged up your leg despite the thousands of times you assured him you were fine). “Why were you following me?”

You sighed. “I was curious about Monaco, and I didn’t want to bother you,” lie after lie after lie. You were continuously sick. Maybe that other reporter was right, maybe you did need a new career. 

“You couldn’t bother me,” he assured you, an easy smile on his lips. 

“So what is… this?” you asked, gesturing to the house. “James Bond hideout or?

He laughed. “No, nothing interesting like that. This is just my house,” he smiled. 

“So you’ve lived in Monaco the entire time?” you asked. 

“The Palace is a bit too much for me at times,” he explained. “So I come here.”

“That’s nice,” you smiled. “Why do you find the Palace too much?”

He sighed. “Everyone is always looking at me.”

“Everyone is away looking at you in F1 too, you have like, millions of fan-girls,” you giggled. 

“That’s different,” he argued. “I’m a driver there, that’s talent and hard work, I was just… handed the throne.”

“You were born into it,” you corrected him. “And just because you came across something easily doesn’t mean you haven’t struggled. I mean yes, it’s a lot of responsibility, but why wouldn’t you want to be King of Monaco?” 

“Do we have to talk about this?” he sighed, getting up and pacing the patio. 

“It might be good for you to talk it through,” you told him. 

“I can’t even go for dinner with my friends without it being an international scandal!” he groaned. 

“Like, when you went out with Sophia?” you mused. 

“That was different, she sold a story to a tabloid, and the media had a field day,” he sighed, slumping back into his chair. 

“The media is what’s holding you back?” you questioned, feeling your stomach twist. 

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Explain it then,” you smiled gently. 

He looked at you for a moment, and for a fraction of a second, you could see that boy from the picture again. The magnetic, messy, smiley boy his parents had adored. The boy who worked so hard to prove himself. Then those walls went right back up and what replaced him was the man; older, wiser, and hurt. “Why bother? You probably think I’m just a spoiled rich kid anyway.”

You scoffed. “I never said that!” you argued, getting up and turning to him. “You know what you need to do, stop worrying so much about what everyone thinks of you, or how they’re going to perceive you. You’re a good person, with good instincts, and despite being actual nobility, you have morals, good ones, the kind that makes you miss a speech because you’re helping children. The kind that makes you worry about your little brother so much that you come home when he asks you to. The kind that makes you kind. Stop trying to be your father Charles, just be, Charles.” 

He sighed, standing beside you. “You make that sound so simple,” he scoffed. 

“Why isn't it? You’re a smart, talented, caring person-”

“Except when I steal your taxi,” he smirked, making you roll your eyes. He paused for a moment, his eyes shining in the low light of the sun. “I want to show you something.”

You stared at him, grimacing slightly. “What is it?”

“Follow me,” he said, taking your hand. He led you through his house, up to a room filled with books. 

“You read?”

“After my father died,” he explained. “We kept some of the overflow of his habit here. He also kept his journals here. I found a poem, it was dated just before he died, I think he was going to give it to my mother.”

Frost a sparkle in the fields, 

Twixt the frozen minarets, 

Winter’s harvest, wager yields, 

Heavy burden’s, the years debts, 

P[out from a seed, an acorn’s gift, 

Henceforth the truth will flood, 

Darkness such a secret bears, 

A love far greater than blood.

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled, reading the poem. Charles’s eyes were on you. You were so close, just like on the bat, just like he wished for every single day since you’d come into his life. He leaned in and you didn’t back away. You didn’t run, or lean in either, you were still, your eyes trained on his lips.

Then your phone rang, and off you went to find it. Part of him wanted to grab you back and kiss you, but even he, in his delirious love-filled haze, knew the moment had passed, and he would just have to wait until the next one. 

As you two were getting ready to go back to the palace, he left to go grab something from his room. His father’s desk took your attention, and you obliged yourself. Hidden in plain sight was a secret drawer with a stack of documents in it. As much as you hated yourself for it, you took the documents back to the palace with you. 

Within those documents you found out a truth, a truth so great, you had no idea what to say. Charles and Arthur were adopted as children. 

What the fuck were you going to do now?

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As you were walking through the halls with Arthur the next day, you saw Lady Sophia and Charles… kissing. Great, barf. Anyways. You had to finish your story, get something on the page, make this torment of a trip worth something. If you broke the story today, you could be out of there before Christmas, and their lives would be a lot easier. You thought about coming clean, but the thought of it actually made you vomit in your mouth. You were lost. You had no idea what to do. 

So, you called your dad. What else were you supposed to do?

“Y/n!” he smiled, it was only a phone call but you could tell. “How are you?”

“Hey dad, remember how you said I have to take chances to win?” you asked.

“They are my words to live by,” he chuckled, understanding that something was going on. “Is everything alright?”

“What if that chance is going to really hurt people who don’t deserve it?” you questioned.

“I’m going to need more than that sweetheart,” he sighed. 

“My story, if I release it, it might hurt someone who’s already been through a lot. I’m just…” you trailed off

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to sit here and pretend I know anything about the world of publishing and reporting, but I do know that you have to trust your gut.”

You smiled. “Thanks dad.”

“I’m better than a fortune cookie, right?” he joked and you both chuckled. “I’ll see you soon sweetheart.”

“Bye dad-” as you hung up the phone, there was a knock on your door. You tentatively got up and opened the door, only to find Charles on the other side, dressed in a Ferrari branded suit, a small smile on his face. 

“Hi, is there something I can do for you?” you asked, slightly awkward and unsure. You didn’t really want him to look in your room too much, considering the documents of his adoption were literally on your desk, but alas, what would be, would be. 

“I thought we could go for a walk?” he offered. “I can actually show you around Monaco, now that I know you want a tour guide.”

Your smile faltered. “I don’t know,” you sighed. The media had been stirring everything up ever since the boat, you were the ‘mystery girl’ being passed around by the LeClerc’s, and it didn’t feel great. 

He looked at you with pleading eyes. “Please, just give me a few minutes of your time. I would like some company.”

“Sure, let me grab my coat,” you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

As you two walked through the streets of Monaco, he spoke freely about the beautiful buildings and people he knew so well, while you listened. You liked it, but it broke your heart slightly, to know that you had lied to the entire family for weeks now. But another part of you was grateful that you got to meet them, because you knew you had been changed for the better. It was also nice to see Charles be less… upset than when you first came. He smiled more, laughed more, and spent more time with Arthur, it was lovely to see. 

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes darting around your face as you looked at the pavement. “Are you alright?”

“Do you often take the help for a walk?” you questioned, your tone soft but the words bit at him anyway. 

“What?” he questioned.

“Nothing, it’s stupid. Go back to your story Charles,” you sighed, walking on. 

He grabbed your hand, turning you back to him. “Please talk to me. I feel like you know everything about me, and I know nothing about you.”

“What would Lady Sophia say if she saw us walking together?” you scoffed. 

“Why would that matter?” 

“I saw you two,” you said.

“Whatever you saw, trust me, there is nothing there,” he pleaded. 

“It didn’t look like that to me,” you scoffed. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“She was just… taking her chance again, even after I explicitly told her not to.”

“Sure,” you nodded. “It doesn’t matter anyways. Charles.”

You were both silent for a moment. He took the opportunity to study your face. The way your eyebrows creased, the tightness of your lips, the determined stare forward. He smiled. You were so smart, and headstrong, and right all the time (which kind of drove him crazy), but he loved it all. He loved you. 

“I hope you’ll come tomorrow night,” he admitted. You looked at him confused. “The Ball. My coronation.” 

You couldn’t do it anymore. You had to tell him. He couldn’t keep living this lie, and neither could you. “Charles, I need to tell you something-”

But he kissed you. Of course, he fucking kissed you, because he’d been wanting to do it since the day you arrived at the palace. He was in love with you, if he hadn't made that obvious enough, and yes, he kissed you, because the fact that he hadn’t yet was driving him mad. He didn’t want Sophia, he didn’t want anyone else, he wanted you. 

And it was everything he could’ve dreamed of. His arms circled your waist, pulling you close to him, while his lips explored your soft ones, the taste of cherry on them. You must use some sort of cherry lip balm, and it quickly became one of his favourite tastes. Your arms slowly crept up to wrap around his neck, and when he pulled back you just pulled him back in. 

This was the real Charles. The one who loved people unabashedly and didn’t care what people thought. This was that 20 year old boy in the photo. This was the boy you had slowly fallen in love with, without even realising it. 

And it was wonderful. 

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Much to your chagrin, while you were off tonguing the next King of Monaco, Lady Sophia and Cousin Arsehole were busy looking through your things. Unluckily for you, they found something.

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Charles sat in the driver’s seat of his Ferrari, half willing himself to man-up, and the other half begging himself to turn around. He couldn't though, not when he was this close to finally visiting his father’s resting place for the first time in months. 

He got up and out of the car, your voice in his head telling him to get over himself, with that soft, perfect, smile on your lips. 

He walked up to the grave, determined to speak to his father once again. 

“I’ll take the crown,” he whispered, his eyes flooding with tears. “I’ll never measure up to you, but I will take it. For you and for mom.”

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You stood in your room, wondering what the fuck one wears to a coronation. 

Arthur stood in the doorway, smiling brightly. He frowned when he saw your dress. 

“It’s this or pyjamas,” you dead-panned. He walked in, taking the dress out of your hands and sitting on your bed. 

“How’s the story coming along?” he asked. “Nearly done?”

“Almost,” you huffed, laying beside him. 

He sighed. “I’ll miss you when you go,” he admitted, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. You almost forgot how much he’d been through, his sunny demeanour always seemed to make you forget his troubles.  “It was nice to have a friend.”

You turned to him. “I’ll always be your friend,” you smiled. “And I’ll be cheering you on in Haas, and in everything else you do. I think you’re brilliant Arthur, seriously.”

He chuckled. “Thank you. I hope everything goes well for you back in New York.”

 “I hope so too,” you teased, wiping a tear off his cheek. 

“I got you something,” he smiled cheekily, handing over a small box. 

“Arthur!” you scolded. “We said no gifts!”

“There was no way I was following that,” he chuckled. “Open it!”

You slowly opened the box, inside there was a beautiful necklace with a beautiful blue topaz on the end. “Oh my god Arthur, this is beautiful,” you whispered. 

“To remind you of the boat day” he grinned. “So you will never forget me.”

You smiled, your eyes cloudy with unshed tears. “I could never forget you, Arthur.” 

Then in walked Jade, his girlfriend, with an array of gowns on a rack. 

“Oh no,” you whispered. 

“Oh yes!” Arthur cheered. 

It was going to be a long afternoon. 

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You stood at the top of the steps, terrified of what anyone would say. Arthur had styled you (aka, Jade let him pick the dress) and while you thought you looked beautiful, you were slightly worried about what the nobility in the room would think. It had been fun though, an afternoon of being pampered and becoming friends with Jade was a lot more enjoyable than it was nerve-wracking. You slowly descended the steps, looking for Arthur, when Charles caught your eye. He looked beautiful, his hair perfectly styled, his suit perfect, his face perfect. He smiled up at you, excusing himself from his mother and brother to take your hand as you left the bottom step. 

“You look beautiful,” he smiled, taking in your dress. IN all honesty, there wasn’t a word for how he thought you looked. Regularly, a look from you made his heart stop. This? A different level. He was enamoured. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, even if he wanted to. 

You felt your cheeks heat. “Thank you,” you smiled. “You look pretty handsome yourself.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “I will see you in there, alright? I have to-”

“Do what you need to Charles,” you chuckled. “I’m not running away at midnight.”

He smiled. “I’m glad.”

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Despite the fact that it was a royal ball, it was quite entertaining. Different Duke’s and Duchess’s were dancing, letting loose, and getting pretty drunk, but you just sat with Arthur and Jade and laughed at them. The ballroom was magnificent, the tall ceilings and Christmas lights all around, and in the centre of the hall there was a 36 foot (yes, about the height of a telephone pole) Christmas tree, decorated perfectly. Even though you were miles and miles away from home, it was still nice to be celebrating with people you love. 

As you were speaking to Jade, someone started speaking. 

“Might I have the first dance, mon amour?” Charles asked, barely above a whisper as he wrapped an arm around your waist. 

You turned to him, your face dropping. “Seriously?”

“Well, as long as you promise not to tread on my feet, we should be alright,” he chuckled, leading you to the dance floor. You joined on, doing a simple waltz (you thanked your father mentally for making you take ballroom classes as a child), and it was very sweet. It was nice to be so open about being close to each other, no longer shying away from each other's affections. You liked having Charles so close. He liked having you in his arms. 

Win-win. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he said as you waltzed around the hall. “I wouldn’t be accepting the crown if it wasn’t for you, so thank you for telling me to grow up.”

You chuckled. “I think you’re giving me too much credit there.”

He shrugged. “I do not think so,” he smiled. “You make me feel comfortable, you’re the most genuine person I have met since… well probably since birth.”

Again, that nauseating feeling in your stomach urged you to run away and hide from him, even though your heart (as mad as it sounds) longed to never let him go. “I have to tell you something.”

He nodded. “You can talk to me about anything.”

As he spoke, the music stopped, and it was time. He would be crowned King. 

“Tell me after,” he whispered, as all eyes went to him. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck.”

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“I dispute this claim!” Lady Sophia’s voice shocked the room and you. Charles was so close, so close to taking his rightful seat as the King, and of course, someone had to make it difficult. 

“On what grounds?” the Archbishop asked.

“The grounds that he is in fact, not the rightful heir,” she smirked, smug as ever. “Prince Charles, and his brother Arthur, were in fact adopted by the late King Hervé and our Queen Pascale, therefore are not of the blood of the Royal family, as per this document.”

The certificate was taken from her, and shown to the Archbishop. “Where did you obtain this document?”

“I obtained it by uncovering a scheme by an American journalist, Ms. Martha Whelan, or should we call you Y/n Y/l/n?” 

All eyes went to you as the room was full of gasps. 

You knew you should've turned tail and ran, you knew you shouldn’t have stayed on when Arthur found out, and you knew you shouldn’t have fallen in love with the Prince of fucking Monaco. You were the dumbest person you’d ever met. 

You didn’t dare look at Charles, knowing what his expression would be. You just looked down. 

“Is that true, you are a journalist?” the Archbishop questioned. 

You spoke confidently, though the regret was evident in your voice. “I am.”

The room was in upheaval. Everyone was angry, everyone was confused, and everyone needed an answer. 

“And your Majesty, this certificate?”

The room went silent as Pascale began to speak. “It is legitimate.” 

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You were running out as quickly as humanly possible, trailing just after Charles. 

“Charles, please, just let me explain-!”

“Explain what?” he spat, turning to you. 

“I’m sorry. I never meant for anything like this to happen, and I understand that you never want to see me again. I just had to tell you I’m sorry, and the only reason I kept it up was for you and Arthur.”

“And you couldn’t have told me?!”

“Arthur made me promise I wouldn’t tell you,” you sniffled. 

His face dropped. “He knew?”

You nodded, wiping away your tears. This wasn’t for you to be upset about. This was your mistake, and you couldn't fix it. 

“Why wouldn’t he let you tell me? Did he know he was adopted?”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t know. And I don’t know why he wouldn’t let me tell you. I just… he asked me not to.”

He stared at you for a moment, and it wasn’t those same, shining eyes that made your heart leap. It was the cold, dead, reserved eyes that made you want to run away and never come back, that stared back at you. “I’m glad you have your story. I suggest you stay out of our lives from now on.” 

And with that he walked on.

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

New York was colder than you remembered. You had decided to just go straight to your apartment, turn off your phone, and binge watch shitty reality tv shows until you could show your face in public again without wanting to sob every time you saw something that remotely reminded you of Charles and Monaco. 

But something nagged at you. The acorn, the poem, ‘a love far greater than blood’. You didn’t understand it. So you spent about 12 hours working on deconstructing it, and you thought of something. Maybe it was your delusions after not sleeping for a day (or two), but maybe the acorn ornament could prove something, so you sent your findings over to Arthur, hoping they would make sense, and turned your phone back off, blocking all of their numbers and falling into a very needed sleep. 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

The next few weeks were full of clearing out your office (you quit), looking for a new job, and starting off as an actual journalist, not just cleaning up some sleaze work. It was nice, peaceful. Writing articles about things that mattered to you, things that would help people, things that weren’t a certain King of Monaco.

Life was good. Getting over your heartbreak was hard, but you were starting to believe that you might actually be alright. 

You sat in your dad’s diner, ready to ring in the New Year, when there was a snowball thrown on the glass, and when you looked outside, there he was.  

Quickly, you ran outside. “What are you doing here?” you questioned. 

He shrugged, “I never got to say goodbye, or thank you.”

“Please don’t thank me, I honestly should be apologising again and again for what I did, I am so sor-”

“You opened a door that should’ve been opened years ago. Arthur showed me what you’d done. Half because I couldn’t believe he could do it on his own, and half because… I thought it was going to be a message from you. You blocked me…”

“I didn’t want to risk bothering you anymore,” you sighed. 

“You’d never bother me,” he smiled, pausing for a moment. “Arthur misses you. So do I.”

“I miss you both too,” you smiled. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Y’know, a palace is a lonely place for a king, when he has no queen,” he admitted. 

“It’s a good thing you’re an eligible bachelor then,” you chuckled. “Good night Charles, thank you for coming to see me-”

“I love you,” he confessed. “You made me a better man- you make me a better man. I don’t even want to spend time without you, do you understand that?” he asked, getting down on one knee and revealing an engagement ring. 

You frowned, your eyes tearing up. “Charles, I am not nobility-”

“I don’t care,” he smiled.

“My entire life is in New York-”

“We can come back as much as you want.”

“What will the people think?” you sniffled, and he stood up, wrapping his arms around you. 

“They’ll think you're a kind, caring, beautiful woman with a very intelligent mind, and brilliant ideas, who is loved very much by their King,” he whispered, then pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“We barely know each other Charles-”

“And yet I’ve never been more certain in my life. And I’m known to be indecisive-” 

He stopped talking because you’d started kissing him. 

Jesus Christ, you were going to be the Queen of Monaco, what a story that was.

‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

a very f1 christmas! masterlist (2024)

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[edges-of-night]

I love your headcannons, thank you very much. How do you think fellowship would react if a reader saw two cute animals and said, "Oh, it's you and me!"

Thank you very much! I’m happy to hear you enjoy this little blog ♡ Another animal request, with another anon who asked for this, too – this prompt is super cute, I hope I did it justice!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

You’re gazing at a golden twilight forest with Aragorn when you spot two deer in the distance. Just like you, one rests its head against the other. “Look,” you chuckle quietly, “it’s you and me.” Aragorn smiles as he follows your gaze. When one of the deer nuzzles the other’s ear, he, too, leans in to give you a kiss. “What an uncanny resemblance, my love,” he says and pulls you even closer.

.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir is scandalised when you suggest that the two cats crossing your path are “just like you and me.” He has heard stories of the ruthless Gondorian queen who used felines as her spies and flinches when one of the cats hisses at him. You go to pet it instead, and it softens and purrs – just like Boromir does when you caress him – but you don’t say that part out loud ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

You and Frodo share a cool carafe of strawberry lemonade when two butterflies flutter to the flower field beside you. “Look at those,” you say, “they’re just like you and me.” – “Sharing a delicious drink in the sunlight,” Frodo agrees with a dreamy smile. You keep watching the butterflies until one of them flies right into your face. “It gave you a kiss. I shall do the same,” Frodo says and leans in to peck you ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

You’re travelling the Shire’s hills in Gandalf’s wooden cart when two sparrows almost fly right into you. You flinch but realise they’re only doing their Spring dance through the morning air – a couple! “They’re like you and me!” you laugh. Gandalf gives you an amused look. “What a subtle way to tell me we’re going to dance at tonight’s party.” – “Indeed,” you grin.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

Watching the puppies play on the ground makes you soften. When one of them bites another’s ear, you playfully nudge Gimli’s head – he’s been sitting silently next to you until now. “What?” he grunts. “The dogs are doing it,” you argue with a grin. Your Dwarf protests at first about this comparison. The two of you, dogs? “I reckon it is true though,” he muses. “We are both very loyal after all. And we like food. And games. And…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

You’re making your way through Mirkwood with Legolas, crossing a tree over a small pond where you make a curious observation: “Look! The toad and dragonfly are sharing a lily pad.” You snort. “They remind me of you and me.” – “Indeed! The sunlight reflects on its wings just like in your eyes, in all the colours of the sky.” You blush and wonder whether or not Legolas knew you meant it the other way around.

.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry is a bit sensitive about his height, but that doesn’t stop you from comparing the two of you to the horse and the pony you spot in Bree. “Hey! I’ll have you know,” Merry begins, “that ponies are very sturdy and resilient.” – “I know. Just like Hobbits.” – Merry pouts at that comment and crosses his arms, murmuring, “Fine. Just don’t braid my hair like that pony’s.” – “Perhaps…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

After a proper picnic, you lie in a meadow with Pippin. Purely by chance you look to your right when two bunnies scamper out of the bushes to eat some grass. You grin and whisper, “Don’t move too fast now, but there’s tiny versions of you and me over there.” – “Tinier than me?” Pippin asks and rolls over to watch the bunnies over your belly. “Aww! They’re mighty cute, but so are we!”

.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

You watch fondly when two ladybugs crawl over Sam’s hands, dirty from gardening but still gentle to the bugs. You smile when you hear your Hobbit talking quietly: “Right. Let me get up… there you go… over here it’s safer for you. A flower house.” You tilt your head at him. “Moving in together? Just like the two of us, you mean?” – “Hm? What? Sorry, luv, I wasn’t listenin’ there.” – “Oh, nothing…” ♡

[organic-bloodbath]

Knife Princess - Part 4

Chishiya x Reader

Summary: You and Chishiya reunite with your friends – and also the King of Spades.

Warnings: Heavy angst. Hold my hand. It's sad.

A/N: I'm sorry.

Chapters

♤♡♧◇

You and Chishiya had ended up into an old thrift shop of sorts. It had been raining very heavily earlier, so you had gone inside the first building you were able get into, just to get to the safety from getting completely soaked.

You helped yourself with some new clothes hanging on the racks, not wanting to stay in your wet shirt and shorts and catch a flu – like that was your biggest problem here.

"So, what do you think?" you asked, holding two shirts, one in each hand. The other one was pastel pink and the other dark green. "Which color suits me better?"

"Green," Chishiya said, not giving it much thought as in thinking the answer was obvious. "Pink is too girly for a badass like you."

"You think i'm a badass, hm?"

"I know you are, i've witnessed it with my own eyes," he confirmed.

"I'm touched," you smiled and pulled your old shirt over your head, feeling Chishiya's gaze lingering on your upper body. A playful smirk spread on your face. "You know, it's rude to stare when a woman is changing her clothes."

"Can't help it when you're doing it right in front of me," Chishiya stated, having no shame looking at you now.

"When we get back home," you said when you had changed into new clothes, "what do you want to do first?"

Chishiya was quiet for a moment. "I haven't given it much thought. Getting home always seemed to be so far, no matter how much we progressed through the games," Chishiya answered, furrowing his brows a little. "What about you?"

"First, a long hot bath," you sighed, already daydreaming of all the bubbles and warmth embracing your body. "Then, have a fresh and delicious, homemade dinner. Something else than expired protein bars or having to hunt down food by your own hands."

"Sounds almost too good to be true," he smiled. "Your expectations sound a little too high."

"I hope you'll join me though," you suggested.

"The bath or dinner?" he asked, lifting his left eyebrow in amusement.

"Both," you said and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Perhaps," he mused and was about to grab your waist until you looked over his shoulder and your eyes widened. "What?"

You pushed him away and walked to the back of the room to an old gramophone record player.

"Oh my gosh. Does this thing work?" you asked, brushing the dust off its surface.

There was pile of old records next to it which nobody had touched in ages, probably in years by the looks of it. You started going through them, one by one. Chishiya only looked at you, leaning against the wall, without interrupting you. He loved seeing you so excited about something and only watched you in awe.

You ended up pulling one of the records in your hand, admiring its cover on the front and back.

The gramophone was old, definitely one of those vintage items. Chishiya had never used one of those but you seemed to know how it was supposed to work. As you pressed the needle gently on top of the black record, it started playing music. It was a slow song. You looked into Chishiya's eyes and smiled, excitement clear on your face, which made Chishiya suspicious.

"Chishiya," you said slowly and took his hand, pulling him towards you. "Dance with me."

"What?"

"Dance with me."

"I don't dance," he refused and shook his head, trying to subtly back away from you.

"Come on, just one song," you insisted.

"Y/N, i don't-"

"Come onnnnn," you groaned. "Don't be a buzzkill."

"I'm not-"

"Take my hand," you commanded him, not taking a 'no' for an answer.

"Y/N, i really don't-" Chishiya started but the sad and pouting look on your face made his heart melt a little. He let out a deep sigh. "Fine. One song."

He didn't look happy but you didn't care, you'd get the grumpiness out of him in no time.

Chishiya took your hand in his, putting his other hand on your waist. He was stepping on your toes as your bodies moved together, trying to stay in sync, which made you laugh.

"Don't laugh at me, i'm trying," he mumbled, looking surprisingly concentrated on his steps but still failing.

Chishiya knew that if Kuina and the others were here to witness this moment, they would definitely make fun of him, he could imagine the picture in his mind. Chishiya didn't get embarrassed easily, if ever, but stumbling on you and looking like a disaster of a dancer managed to make him a little embarrassed if there was anyone to see him – other than you.

"It's cute," you chuckled. "Now, spin me."

Chishiya let go of your waist, spinning you around under his arm. He then pulled your body back against his, your back against his chest, his arms around your waist. Chishiya let his chin rest on your left shoulder.

"Look at you, you're a pro after all," you praised him.

"I suppose i have many hidden talents," Chishiya hummed.

"Yeah? Name a few more of them," you challenged him.

"You'll have to find out later."

"I see you want to act all mysterious," you smirked.

"Can't be too predictable."

"That you definitely aren't," you agreed. "I have many hidden talents too, you know."

"I'm sure you do since you keep surprising me over and over again," he said and lifted his brows.

"Good."

Both of you fell silent for a while, only looking into each other's eyes. He was still holding you behind your back, squeezing you tight against him.

"Can i ask you a question?" you asked. "Like, a serious one?"

"Hm?"

"What really happens when we get home? Like, between us. Everything's going to be different."

"Well," Chishiya said, looking away from you for a second. You turned around to face him better now. He turned his gaze back to your eyes. "What do you want to happen?"

"I don't know," you said shyly. "I want to have you there though. I don't want you to leave."

"Hm," he hummed. "Well, i don't want you to leave either."

"For real?" you asked and bit your lip, reaching to put a strand of his blond hair behind his ear. "So, you admit you like me?"

"Do i need to say it outloud?" he asked. "My actions of kissing and holding you aren't enough?"

"Come on, admit it," you smiled. "Sometimes people might kiss someone but doesn't genuinely like them."

Chishiya took a deep breath. "Fine. I like you, Y/N."

"Doesn't sound very convincing," you teased, narrowing your eyes.

"It doesn't, hm?" Chishiya asked. "What would convince you then? Want me to take you on a proper date?"

"You make it sound like you are obliged to do that."

"Trust me, i'll never do anything i don't want to do," he promised.

"So, you do want to take me out?" you asked, slight blush creeping its way on your cheeks.

"Unless it involves dancing," he corrected and let out a laugh. "You saw how bad i was at that."

"I wasn't thinking about that but now i do want to go dancing with you," you smirked and played with his hair a little more. "And you weren't that bad."

"Anything else," he insisted.

You let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine..."

"I do enjoy your company," Chishiya confirmed. "So, i don't really mind what we do, but dancing is off limits."

"What do you enjoy about my company?" you teased him.

"Everything," he whispered with a warm smile which made your cheeks feel warm.

You weren't sure when the music had stopped but it was suddenly completely quiet in the background.

♤♡♧◇

You walked forward next to Chishiya, not really knowing what your exact destination was right now.

"So, when i was –"

You were interrupted when you noticed a familiar figure in the distance. Both of you stopped and only looked at the person ahead of you for a moment. A relief washed over your body for seeing a familiar face.

"Arisu?" you gasped.

"Fancy meeting you here," Chishiya said.

"Y/N? Chishiya?" Arisu asked, genuinely surprised.

"I had a pretty good hunch that you were still alive," Chishiya admitted to Arisu, who eyed Chishiya for a moment.

"You're a lot less grumpy now," Arisu commented, making Chishiya laugh.

"That's on me," you smiled, proud of yourself.

"Less grumpy, huh? Well, we've been through hell of a lot." Chishiya slowly walked closer to Arisu, hands in his pockets. "Can i admit something to you?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, i–" Chishiya started, but was interrupted by a gunshot, which made all three of you flinch. The gunshot was aimed at Chishiya, who now fell on the ground, red spot growing on his white hoodie. Chishiya was holding his stomach, leaning on his elbow on the ground.

"Yo!" someone shouted in the distance.

"Chishiya!" you shrieked in horror, instantly kneeling down next to him. Arisu pointed his gun towards the person who was approaching you now.

"I thought i'd never see you again." Niragi pointed a gun towards Arisu. "I'm so fucking happy."

"Niragi?" you mumbled in disbelief. He was the last person you expected to see anymore, thinking him and Aguni had burned with the mansion. "You're alive?"

"Why do you sound surprised? Can't get rid of me that easily," he responded with a smirk.

"Should have guessed," you said, rolling your eyes.

"What, you're not happy to see your dear brother, hm?" Niragi asked. "I sure missed you so much, little sunshine."

"I'm so happy to see you, dear brother who shot me twice," you responded sarcastically.

"I shot you?" Niragi asked, furrowing his eyebrows, genuinely confused.

"At the Beach, yes," you spat and crossed your arms on your chest.

"You sure it was me?" Niragi narrowed his eyes. You just gave him an annoyed look. "Fine, you want me to apologise or something?"

"That would be nice, sure."

"I mean, you look alive and well so no permanent harm done," Niragi shrugged. You sent him another poisonous look, making him roll his eyes. "Alright, I'm sorry."

"Mhm," you hummed, not satisfied at all but tired of dealing with his attitude. You eyed him from head to toe. "You look a little crispy."

"This is what fire does to human flesh, sunshine," Niragi said back sarcastically, the tone matching yours. "Anyway, let's begin – our own murder game."

"Our own what now?" you asked, sure you hadn't heard him correctly.

"Not that there's anything else for the three of us to do here." Niragi glanced at you and winked. "You're sitting this one out, sweetheart. It's just between us guys."

"You want to start a game between the players?" Chishiya asked, even him sounding surprised.

"The three of us are the same. Social outcast. Losers. Yet we still want to know how it feels to be alive," Niragi explained, but then he coughed and spat blood on the ground by his feet. "I don't have very much time left." Niragi wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Do me one last favor. One more game."

Chishiya and Arisu glanced at each other.

"Come on, I thought you guys were my bros!" Niragi groaned, raising his voice.

Niragi threw a gun for Chishiya, who stepped forward to pick it up.

"Sounds like fun. Arisu, what do you think?"

"What do you mean?" Arisu looked as lost and shocked as you.

"Come on, i know you have a bone to pick with me. Might as well deal with it right now."

"Chishiya, what the hell is wrong with you?" you whispered to him and grabbed him by his shoulder, turning him to look at you. "Put that gun down right now, don't start messing with Niragi."

"Y/N, it's okay," he assured you and turned back to Arisu and Niragi. "We can settle things once and for all."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Arisu shouted.

"Come on, where's your gun? I know you got one," Niragi said to Arisu.

"There's gotta be another way to do this," Arisu insisted.

Niragi was tired of waiting and shot towards Arisu, but missed. Right that second Chishiya pushed you behind the car so you'd stay out of the way and not get put between the shooting.

Niragi was soon standing on top of one of the cars, doing some sort of dramatic speech. God, how much you wanted to throw your knife through his eye right now. But you didn't.

After a while, Usagi arrived to the scene, silencing everyone. Everything happened faster than you managed to comprehend the situation.

Another gunshot was fired, making Chishiya fall on the ground on his back, having taken a second bullet into his body now. Niragi had meant to shoot Usagi, but Chishiya had decided to step in and sacrifice himself or whatever the hell he was thinking of doing. In return, Arisu shot Niragi.

"Chishiya!" you and Usagi shouted in unison.

"Why did you do that?" Usagi cried.

"I wanted to do something that was a bit out of character," Chishiya stated, trying to smile a little bit.

You, Usagi and Arisu surrounded Chishiya, all of you worried about him.

"No, no, no," you whimpered, more to yourself than to Chishiya. "This can't be happening right now."

"Y/N, calm down," Chishiya said, looking directly into your eyes. "I'll be alright."

If Chishiya died from bleeding out right now, you'd actually go and kill Niragi with your own hands.

"Oh, and by the way, Niragi!" Chishiya shouted with a smug grin on his face now. "You're going to become an uncle."

Niragi looked at him for a moment with a puzzled expression on his face, glancing shortly towards you, until his face darkened. Your eyes widened as well, not expecting Chishiya to drop the bomb like that.

"You knocked up my sister?!" he shouted, trying to get up but he was too wounded from the wound Arisu caused at him. The tone of his voice was so angry and harsh that he would have definitely attacked Chishiya with his bare hands if he was able to.

"Wasn't my original intention," Chishiya shouted back. Normally he would have been terrified to shout anything like that to Niragi, but he had already shot Chishiya twice anyway, so what did it matter anymore?

"So, what? You're a couple now?" Niragi scoffed. "Going to build a nice little family in the suburbs or something?"

You rolled your eyes and was about to say something back, when you heard more shooting coming from the distance. This time, it wasn't Niragi.

The King of Spades arrived, dressed in a long black cloak, shooting every person in his sight.

Everything became a huge chaos. People were running away from him left and right. You spotted Ann and Kuina running towards you.

Soon, someone drove over him with a car, setting the car in flames. People started to cheer that you had won, the King was finally defeated – but they were wrong, very wrong. Because the King rose from the flames like a phoenix, throwing his cloak away and finally revealed his face.

It was only a man. One man who nobody seemed to defeat. He had a long scar across his cheek and the look in his eyes was colder than death itself. There was no emotion in his gaze, only the crave for more death until every single person in this country was gone except him. He was dressed in some sort of bulletproof vest, so it would be useless to shoot to his chest.

Both Chishiya and Niragi were bleeding out on the ground. You kneeled down in front of Chishiya with wide eyes when the King had gone our of sight for a moment. His white hoodie was being dyed in red on his stomach which he was holding with his hand.

"Chishiya, i-"

"It's okay, Y/N," he assured you and smiled. "He didn't hit any vital organs."

"Are you sure about it?" you asked, more worried than ever before, and cupped his face in your hands. "I can't let you die here just like this. Tell me what i can do, please."

You tried to put your hand against his wound, but he put his hand gently around your wrist.

"Hey, you were shot twice and survived, i can do the same." Chishiya smirked. "By the same man too."

You looked at him in the eyes, finding nothing funny or even slightly amusing about the situation.

"I'll go and help our friends, okay?" you said and brushed his face with your thumb. "Promise to live for me."

"I promise," he nodded.

You looked into his eyes for a little longer, genuinely afraid for his life.

"I'll be back soon."

You took his face in your hands and kissed him, keeping your lips on his longer than before. You didn't want to let go, you wanted to stay like this for much longer but you knew you couldn't.

Then, you walked away from him, on your way to help your friends to beat the King. You were unharmed, for now, so you couldn't just stand or sit around doing nothing while others were fighting back.

But Chishiya wanted you to stay. He didn't want you to go after the King, because there was a high chance that you wouldn't return to him unharmed anymore. But he knew you wouldn't let your friends be alone in the fight.

"So," Niragi started awkwardly when you had been out of sight for a minute or two. "Didn't leave banging her for one time only?"

"We had a few rounds."

Niragi laughed. "You're definitely not his usual type."

"Yeah? What's her usual type then?" Chishiya asked, slightly curious.

"You know, toxic assholes," he shrugged. "Not sure if you're any better than that though, but they were atleast taller and more... masculine looking."

Chishiya didn't respond to that. He already knew you were too good for him. How could he deserve someone like you? You two weren't in an exclusive relationship together, there had been no conversation of you two being a couple – would you move on from him when you'd get back home? Back to your own friends in your real life?

You had talked about what was to come between you, just a little bit, but it was a different thing to talk about it and have it actually happen.

When you would escape this world, you wouldn't need Chishiya to protect and take care of you anymore. What if he had been only a short comfort to you, being able to feel safe during these games, trying to avoid death at all cost?

He didn't know what he wanted from you, truly wanted, but he didn't want you to leave him alone, no matter what kind of part you would play in his life. Lover, partner, friend – he'd take anything, as long as you were there.

"If you break her heart, i'll actually kill you," Niragi threatened. "Like, i won't hesitate at all."

"Oh, i don't doubt that at all," Chishiya admitted with an amused smile, which started to fade sooner than it got there. "And i would never do that intentionally."

"Do you love her?" Niragi asked, narrowing his eyes.

Chishiya was silent for a moment and looked into his hands, furrowing his brows.

"I do care about her. A lot," he admitted.

Had he gone as far as fallen in love? He didn't know. He hadn't loved a woman before, like truly loved with all his heart, so he wasn't sure what it felt like. Was it love? Surely not.

Niragi eyed him for a moment. It was awkward to talk about his feelings with Niragi. It felt surreal for having a conversation like this alone with him and not have him pointing a gun at Chishiya's face.

"Hm," was all Niragi mumbled. Chishiya couldn't tell what he was thinking by the look of his face, and he preferred to keep it that way.

♤♡♧◇

The plan was to lure the King towards the pharmacy and cause an explosion there. Aguni had joined in as well – of course you should have known he wouldn't die that easily.

Your heart was beating faster than ever before, you were completely terrified but you had to be brave to save yourself and your friends – to finally end these games and get back home.

You stayed in the shadows, walking slowly from corner to corner until it would be your turn to make your move on the King.

You had a gun in your hand as well, shooting towards the King but you missed. Eventually, you ran out of bullets, you hadn't had a lot to begin with. You quickly pulled one of your knives from your boot and threw it towards him, managing to pierce his shoulder instead of neck which you had originally aimed for, intending to break an artery. The damage of your knife on him was pathetic. He calmly took the knife off, threw it on the ground and looked like the wound didn't even sting at all, even though the blade was covered in blood.

When he was facing you, you tried to jump behind a corner to hide yourself for a second, but before that the King managed to shoot you as well, three times on your abdomen. You had the urge to fall on the ground but you managed to stay up. The King turned away from you, and now you gathered your last strength and threw your second, and the last, knife towards his neck – now managing to hit the side of his neck.

The King was about to shoot you again to end your life for good, but right then Aguni jumped in to attack him, making the King forget you momenturaly. You took this as a chance to escape and tried to get out of there as fast as possible. You had no weapons or energy to fight with anymore.

You weren't able to move very fast and soon collapsed on the ground, holding your bleeding stomach.

When Chishiya saw you crawling towards him, his eyes widened and panic took over him. He shouldn't have let you go to the fight. Of course you wouldn't survive the King – none of you would.

"Y/N," Chishiya breathed out. "Y/N!"

Chishiya wouldn't be able to carry you, not this time. He couldn't go and pick you up, he couldn't even get up himself.

You couldn't crawl any further, you didn't manage to reach Chishiya like you had planned. You stopped next to one of the cars, but it wasn't the one which Chishiya had been leaning on.

Chishiya saw blood on your shirt and hands, terror taking over his body. He stood up, slowly, legs feeling unsteady under him but he had to get to you. Chishiya held his stomach as he took slow and tired steps to you.

Chishiya sat next to you, heart beating fast. He was barely able to breathe when he lifted the hem of your shirt and saw your bare stomach. Three gunshots on your abdomen.

"I'm so tired, Shiya," you mumbled.

"It'll be alright," Chishiya assured you, but he didn't come off as convincing at all, how his voice was shaking and trembling. He took off his hoodie, trying to wrap it around your waist. Anything to slow the bleeding, but he knew it wouldn't help enough. Still, it must be better than nothing. Chishiya pressed on your stomach, making you wince.

"Ow, that hurts," you mumbled, making Chishiya to try to be more gentle.

You laid down on your back, your head now on Chishiya's lap.

"I don't feel so good," you mumbled, your eyelids feeling heavy.

"You're not closing your eyes right now," Chishiya commanded. "You'll stay with me, okay? It won't be long anymore."

You looked in Chishiya's eyes and gave him a small, a bit sad smile. There was going to be no medical treatment for you any time soon, you were bleeding out and it wouldn't take too long anymore to start to be on the edge of dying.

"Thank you Chishiya," you whispered. "The weeks i've spent with you have been wonderful and i'm so glad i met you."

Chishiya's eyes started to water. He didn't know the last time he had cried. Had he ever cried? He didn't remember. But losing you, having you die right in his arms, was absolutely breaking him.

"Y/N, don't talk to me like this is going to be our last moment together," Chishiya said, almost a threatening tone in his voice.

Chishiya pulled you up so he could hold you in his arms, you sitting between his legs and your head resting against his shoulder. He had his arm around your back and waist, holding you like a mom would hold her baby.

"Shiya, i'm bleeding out," you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek. "There's nothing you can do anymore."

"No, Y/N, we've come this far, you're not giving up on me when we're almost finished with the games and on our way home," Chishiya said and cupped your face, making you turn your face towards him. "We'll be okay. We'll get back home and we can finally spend time with each other without being afraid of death all the time. We'll do anything you want. I'll take you out, a real date just the two of us. I'll- I'll cook food for you. I'll make us sushi. I'll buy you flowers, if you want. I'll even take you dancing. I'll -"

He was talking so fast you had a hard time to interrupt him. "Chishiya," you mumbled and lifted your hand to cup his cheek, not realising your hand was covered in your own blood and you were leaving a print of blood on his skin. "Shut up."

"You can't leave me alone," Chishiya whispered. "You can't."

Not when i just got you. We've barely even started getting know each other.

"It's okay," you whispered.

"No, it's not," Chishiya gritted between his teeth.

"Shiya," you whispered, furrowing your brows and wiped a tear off his cheek. "Are you crying?"

Chishiya hadn't realised he had let couple of tears run down his cheeks.

"No," he mumbled. He never cried, he wouldn't cry now either, but still the tears were forcing themselves out of his eyes.

"Don't cry. I don't want to see you cry."

Eventually, the fireworks started, covering the entire dark sky all over the city. You looked above you to the fireworks, a smile on your face.

"It's nice to die during fireworks. I've always liked them," you said quietly.

"No. No, stop. Don't talk like that," Chishiya said seriously. "We'll get through this. We'll get back home."

Then, a loud announcement was repeated to you twice.

All surviving players will be presented by two choices.

Players can now all decide whether to accept permanent residency in this country or decline it.

"I want to go home," you said, a tear falling down your cheek. "I decline. Please, take me home."

"I'll take you home, i promise," Chishiya insisted and planted a kiss on the top of your head. "We'll both go home."

"I just want you to know that," you started. "I know we haven't known each other very long, but if there was a person meant for me, i think it would be you."

Chishiya wanted to tell you how much you meant to him. How much he had started to care about you, but the words were stuck in his throat.

"Y/N, i-"

But your eyes had already closed. Your body was limp against his.

"No. No, wake up," Chishiya mumbled under his breath, his eyes wide, then raising his voice. "I said wake up!"

He was shaking your body to get you to open your eyes, as if you were taking just a short nap. But you weren't asleep, he wouldn't be able to shake you awake anymore.

"Wake up," he whispered in disbelief, barely able to hear the words himself.

Chishiya held your head, trying to find your pulse on your neck but his hands were shaking so much he had hard times to find it. And he felt nothing. He had taken care of your injuries, able to patch you up, but now? He could do nothing. He felt absolutely useless.

The games were over. All of them. You had survived so many games but passed away right in the last second. Right when you would have only a few steps left to get back home. The door was right in front of you.

I love you. He never managed to say those simple words to you. He didn't even fully realise it until you were already gone. I love you.

"I love you," Chishiya mumbled against your forehead.

Chishiya held you close against his chest until the fireworks stopped.

♤♡♧◇

A/N: Before you yell at me — this isn't the last part.

Taglist:

@audiiix

@valexqpt

@moonchild323232

@lizxoxeth

@crazzzyyyy

@spencersoneball

@queenofviolenceandnerds

[jellykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Historical Au: Slave!Jinwoo x Noble!Reader ◛⑅˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 036 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: Slavery, Violence, Yandere Jinwoo, Familial Abuse, strong language. Please don't read this fic if it is triggering or uncomfortable for you. I do not condone slavery nor do encourage such acts. This is simply a work of fiction ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Cai Bot Link ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Devotion or Obsession? ] ��! ❞

"A gift for you, my dear child" Your father mused as an 18 year old teenager, tattered and chained, was dragged to the floor and forced to kneel in-front of you Jinwoo looked up at you with expressionless gray eyes, his face was covered in dirt and his shirt was extremely filthy. "Hi." Jinwoo greeted you humbly.

"Father!" You shrieked, flicking the fabrics of your dress as you hurriedly knelt towards the slave and tried to support his limp figure.

He was hardly even concious with his bleary and sleepy eyes, his clothes are covered in grime and dirt as his face was dusted with blood and something else. He looked not much older nor younger than you, and yet all this man was made of was skin and bones.

"Why so upset, my dear?" Your father sneers, humming as he swirls a glass of wine in his his hand. "It's your birthday after all. Daddy thought that should be gifted, no?"

"But I didn't ask for a slave or anything at all!" You protest, only to be met by a domineering glare that instantly made you close your mouth.

"Be grateful, you goddamn pig" He bites, making you feel even more terrified than you already were. "If it weren't for the fact your fucking wench of a mother making a goddamn fuss before dying you wouldn't be here. The least you could do is accept whatever the fact I give you"

He calms down, continuing "That child was only a few silver coins. If you dont want him I could always give him to your sisters or work him to death."

"N-no!" You protest immediately, shivering at the thought of what your father might decide to do. "I-I'll keep him... I'll take care of him."

"There's a good girl," He chuckles, "Start with the imprinting."

You gulp, anxiously looking at Jinwoo who was tired beside you, he looked like he just wanted to to be done with everything.

"Your... Uhm..." His eyes would sweep towards you with an empty grey gaze. "Name?"

"Jinwoo." He says shortly.

"Alright, uhm, Jinwoo..." You hold your palm out. "It'll tickle, I have't done this before s-so—"

"It's fine." He cuts you off, stretching his scarred left hand towards yours and pressing it together.

You tremble at the touch, not of disgust— But instead you were nervous. If you screw this up, you might get another beating or worse,... Something might happen to Jinwoo.

So with the little mana you hold; you started pouring energy out as a soft gentle light comes as the brilliant and pretty things somehow turned into pitch black and purple shadows— Twisting and churning before attaching themselves to both of your ring fingers.

Jinwoo seemed unamused, but your father certainly was.

"Now, get out of my sight" Your father simply said after recovering from the spectacle. "Your sisters are about to arrive, you bring a sour expression to their wonderful faces, so leave"

You could only respond with a polite bow as you helped Jinwoo up to his feet and guided him out of the main house.

There wasn't even a carriage prepared for the both of you as you silently walked towards the far west inside a forest and then finally arriving at a crude but somehow decent looking manor.

Jinwoo watched and followed you as you guided him to a dusty bedroom and sat him down before fetching a small chest with ointments and bandages. Though his gaze was still empty, he was looking at you with curiosity, wondering why exactly you're doing this.

"I'm your slave," Jinwoo breaks the silence. "Aren't you supposed to leave this to your servants?"

"Hahah... Sorry." You apologize, making him quirk up an eyebrow. "Your master is pathetic, I have no servant in my name."

He doesn't question that situation, instead asking; "Then why do it yourself? I can patch myself up just fine."

"Maybe... Because I feel guilty?" You fidget, applying ointment on him after wiping his arm. "It's my... Birthday and yet because of it you're here. I'm sorry."

"Don't." He simply said, not meeting your eyes as he looks out to the distant skies. outside your broken window. "It's not your fault. And besides, here is better than just wherever."

The silence ensues, nothing much being said any further as you directed Jinwoo to an empty room. He was given a decent place to sleep in. It was odd, since this bedroom seemed more comfortable compared to yours that was even more shabby and dusty.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

It an odd situation, not once did you have ever treat Jinwoo as a slave, you were often on your own in your little garden at the backyard and farming vegetables for both of you to eat.

Jinwoo actively avoided you for quite a while, before deciding that since he lives with you and is technically leeching off of you— He might as well be useful.

And in those days where he helped you, the walls that Jinwoo had built around himself crumbled the more time passed by.

For a while, he was happy, you were happy.

You were both happy.

That was until you had to attend a gathering with your family that had abandoned you.

Of course, you had to dress in your shabby and outdated dress, to which everyone in the ballroom responds with mockery and spite. Jinwoo expected it, sure he's mad, but there's nothing he could do since he is nothing more but a damn slave who cant even defend his own master.

With heads hung low like cowards, the both of you decided to just stay in a corner and be as far away from any and all interactions. It went well for the first hour.

Admiring the brilliant lights and listening to wonderful music around you. Nobility is truly such a beautiful thing, golden plates, silver spoons, brilliant and gleaming jewels stitched into fine fabrics made by highly respectable and sought after tailors.

Jinwoo wanted to admire the scene with you, he truly did.

After all, he spent most of his days being dragged through the mud, his body being flogged over and over just for the fun of a drunk knight, or worse— Hard labour with only a piece of bread you can barely chew on due to how hard it is.

Compared to the grueling days he spent sleeping on the dirt, compared to the devastation he had as he cradled his dearly beloved little sister's corpse when she died of starvation— The sight of these luxurious tiles is mercy upon his pitiful soul.

...

Jinwoo's face drained of it's colours as he watches your elder sister yell at you for simply trying to greet her. A simple greet.

That was all it took for you to be on your knees frantically saying sorry with your voice as humble and as quiet as it can be.

He felt so hopeless, so frozen as he sees your pretty face scrunch in grief at your own actions that isnt even in the wrong in the first place.

So why must you kneel? Why must you humiliate yourself like this?

They stare at you with those sly eyes, as if finding your misery a source of entertainment. Sneers and chuckles would come with each insult being thrown your way.

Was it your fault you were born as the bastard child of the duke when it was your father who willingly went to brothels and slept with multiple women. It was only your mother who stepped up confidently to demand your father to take you in despite the fact that she is currently dying of birth complications. Your mother did all of that just so you could live a comfortable life.

And instead here you were, being punished over something you didn't do.

Isn't family supposed to love eachohter? Jinwoo loved his baby sister so much. So why is he watching another older sibling throw wine at their own blood just for breathing?

Jinwoo felt so... Devastated, his dear companion, his master. His own master— Is being ridiculed right in front of him.

The person he was sold to, the person who took care of him—

"Don't touch him, eonnie!" You scream, throwing yourself right in front of Jinwoo despite the fact you're already soaking wet from the wine splattered all over your pretty face and your already ruined dress. "Please, he's innocent. He's imprinted to me, but he shouldn't receive any punishment. We'll go, eonnie, we'll go. Please don't touch him."

You're protecting him.

That bastard woman would have continued her assault if it werent for her dear father stopping her and saying it's a waste of time dealing with a bunch of lowlifes.

Thus, the two of you were escorted— No, thrown out the main palace.

Jinwoo followed behind you towards the path of your shabby manor, and as the blowing wind caressed your skins,... You broke down.

"Sorry, sorry, Jinwoo." You sob as the man threw his arms around you. "I'm sorry, it was my fault, you shouldn't have seen that. I'm so sorry, Jinwoo. I really am. Please forgive me. Don't be mad at me.

"Why are you asking me those questions?" He asks, his soft voice barely even able to control his trembling voice. "You're my owner, shouldn't I be begging for forgiveness?"

"No, no," You sob even louder.

And Jinwoo couldn't do anything else but comfort you.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo didnt know how, but he managed to put you into sleep right after taking you home. He delivered some spare clothes to you for you to change in. He tucked you in under the shabby blankets and watched over you.

His gaze was stuck on you, contemplating deeply while guilt slowly clawed at his heart.

Tap, Tap, Tap.

"You'll get her killed." A voice suddenly says, and Jinwoo shot up, blocking his arm in front of you as you slept.

"Who—"

"Shut up"

The voice suddenly came from behind him, and when Jinwoo looked back— He could see a pair of purple eyes glaring at him. He can't quite see the face of the man, it was too pitch black and the moon isnt out tonight. He tried grabbing the vase on the sidetable but something had stopped him.

He can't quite tell, but it was as if the air itself is holding him back as those wicked and purple eyes glanced at him from the darkness right beside your sleeping form.

"You really think a damn vase can scare off an intruder?" The man scoffs. "You're pathetic."

"Who are you?" Jinwoo asks again, struggling to move as quiet murmurs surrounded him.

"Some guy" He answers.

"You must be one of those—"

"Ssh." The purple eyes gaze up at him again. "You'll wake the princess up with your voice."

Jinwoo shut his mouth, biting down on his lip as once again he felt so utterly hopeless. Not to mention the air around the stranger was absolutely wicked and somehow... Demonic? Otherwordly?

It was a feeling akin to staring at the abyss, the unkown that makes your skin crawl and itch.

That man is dangerous.

Dangerous But Not Hostile.

"That sister of hers," The man starts, his voice a little tense. "Will get her killed in a few years."

"Excuse me?"

"She'll die, and her blood will be on you, Jinwoo" He grits his teeth. "Just like your sister's who died from starvation, just like your mother who died from sickness, just like your father who died in your arms saving you from a bandit— Her blood will be on your hands just like theirs that is already on you."

"....."

"So quiet, now, huh? You're crying?" He sneers, the voice suddenly coming from behind him. "Crying wont do you any good, you fucking idiot."

"So what exactly do you want me to do?" Jinwoo yells, struggling as he tried to face the man. "I'm not strong, I'm built like a twig. I'm trying, okay? But I'm just a slave. This house is goddamn shabby, I've been trying to fix everything but it's lacking. I can barely even help in the farm, not to mention it's almost winter soon and if she wont die by that bitch's hands then she'll die because of this house! What the hell do you think I can do? I'm trying here and nothing is working!"

"...."

Of course he doesn't want to be in this situation either. Who does? He already lost his family, his blood, his precious kin— All gone and he couldnt do anything about. It was a hopeless situation. Of course, he tried getting a job in the capital since you let him roam as he pleases. He tried some odd jobs, several of them ranging from ordinary helper jobs to cleaning shoes to selling newspapers; nothing is working.

He lost his family because of his weakness, and because of that same weakness he'll loose you too.

"Hypothetically, you are given a guide to becoming extremely strong to protect her but in the process you loose your sanity along the way as well as your emotions" The voice says, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room as he walked around Jinwoo like a ghost. "How far are you willing to go?"

"Farther than the limit."

"Even if you lose your limbs along the way?"

"Yes."

"Even if you get mauled by beasts?"

"Yes."

"Even if you go mad by the power you'll soon hold?"

"Yes."

"Even if you must become a murderer?"

"Yes."

"I'll do it."

"I'll do it all for her sake."

"Good" The voice hums, satisfied.

Jinwoo starts feeling dizzy, his legs giving in as he felt himself collapse on something soft.

"Protect her." The stranger's tone becomes gentle. "Where I failed to do so, be better than me. Devote yourself to her. Protect the heart that is more precious than anything in this world. Even if you go through hell, you must protect her. You must love her. Give her all the adoration you can ever give. Because I couldn't protect my princess. So don't make the same mistake."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo had received the system from that night ever since. He had been busy from then on, often going out in the day and coming back in the evenings tired but somehow... A little different.

He'd go on long trips sometimes, which you honestly didn't mind so long as he promises to come home.

Soon enough, that same lanky, 18 year old boy— Is suddenly a head taller than you that you physically have to strain your neck just so you can meet with him eye-to-eye. Jinwoo had become from a lanky boy to a different person in just a blink of an eye in a matter of months.

Each long week he disappears; he comes back even more mature and lax in his demeanour. The next thing you knew, Jinwoo enrolled himself as a hunter.

You're proud of him, of course you are.

That's your Jinwoo.

Your precious, precious and sweet Jinwoo who always stuck by your side even if you are a noble who had no servant to her name and a manor fit to be deemed as a haunted home.

The wealth would soon come pouring in with each succesful hunt Jinwoo goes through. And the more powerful his bounties were, the more famous he became. The money he accumulated directly went into rebuilding the shabby manor into an opulent home worthy of a duke's daughter. Your filthy, ragged dresses were replaced by finely crafted fabrics. Your neck and ears would be adorned in the meek but captivating jewelry.

Of course, he still had that title of slave over his head but weirdly enough... Jinwoo seemed to carry it as a badge of honor.

Why?

Because he was yours.

What he is, is yours.

Naturally, jealous eyes come your way as the your dear hunter is now the most sought after. Who wouldn't want him anyway? Tall, handsome, a hunter— He is the embodiment of what is lusted for with a man.

And yet he never once bat an eye to those arrogant nobles who offered him the finest of fine wealth could ever give.

Love letters from all over the kingdom pine for your precious Jinwoo.

And yet he still chose you.

Those steely grey eyes of him would solely be for you and you only.

He looked a you like you are his precious goddess.

You Jinwoo is so... So Innocent and lovely.

Even as he held your father's severed head on his hand.

Even as a pool of blood puddled beneath his feet. Even as his grey orbs have turned purple. Even as the opulent pearl tiles reflected his maddened figure.

Your Jinwoo is just so... So lovely.

His heart, oh, his heart belonged to you. His innocent, pretty little master who looks up at him with a bewildered but awestruck gaze— He knew you weren't mad.

"I did it all for you, princess" Jinwoo would coo, cupping your face and swiping his thumb affectionately over cheek. "They were trying to make you cry again. We can't have that"

He whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "After all, I am yours. We're already binded by a contract. Even if it didn't exist I'd still choose the same choice I have made now."

He holds up his hand, pressing his palm against yours as the tattooes rings on your ring fingers glowed purple.

"See? Even our mark is like wedding rings" He intertwines your fingers together before bringing it up to his lips and kissing the mark on you. "It's okay. It's okay. This is for your own good."

"This is all for your sake, my precious god."

"This bloodbath is an offering for you."

꒰ A/N: idk what I made nor do I wanna know. The plot is all over the place wheeze. I'm quaking at writer's block. I should not write for Jinwoo until I get the energy back. I'm so mindblocked with him maybe it's because I cant draw fanart of him atm. ahhhhhhhhhh ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[bonelyheartsclub]

♡ Blue - Valentine's One-Shot ♡

Written by @/justsamwich

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The day was surprisingly warm for late winter, but neither you or Blue minded. It meant that you could drive with the windows down, and while the wind didn’t allow for much conversation, the quiet was a comfortable kind that put you at ease. It was a good thing, too. Although they hadn’t said anything about it directly, Blue seemed pretty nervous when you picked them up for your photoshoot. Your gps chirped at you, indicating that you were getting close to your destination. 

“I know you want to keep this photoshoot as much of a surprise as possible, but do you mind at least telling me what I’m supposed to be looking for so I can park?” You asked, looking over at the skeleton just long enough to give him a reassuring smile. Blue blinked, startled out of his thoughts.

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, I… Probably should have thought of that.” He admitted, cheekbones a bit flushed. He sat up a little straighter in his seat, looking around. “We’re headed to the park- well, okay, not the park, cause we passed that a while ago, but there’s a bigger one that’s got a lot more… Stuff.”

“Right, stuff.” You mused. Blue rolled their eyelights in response, but their smile remained in place. “Sorry, sorry. I was just teasing. I think I see where I’m supposed to be going now, thank you.” You turned off of the street and into a surprisingly massive parking lot for a park. Blue was right about there being more to do. As you parked, you noticed nearby signs pointing towards a few museums, a theater, and something called a holiday village..? Before you got the chance to ask anything, Blue was out of the car, unloading whatever it was that they’d packed into your back seat. 

“What are you waiting for?” He called, barely contained excitement lacing his voice. You laughed a little to yourself as you climbed out of the car. Seeing him, you paused. In his arms, he held a basket where you’d been expecting his camera equipment. Upon closer inspection, it looked like he was wearing a backpack- maybe he’d packed it into that..?

“Is this a prank?” You asked, raising a brow at the skeleton. They laughed a bit, shaking their head. 

“No, no! It’s not a prank- I just thought it might be nice to have lunch together before we got started?” He seemed nervous again, fidgeting with the handle of the basket. The sight was a bit endearing, and you gave him a nod. 

“That sounds really nice. Thank you for putting it together, that was so thoughtful.” Blue cleared his throat, shifting the basket to one hand so he could take one of your hands in the other. 

“It’s no trouble, really. You know I’m always happy to spend time together.” Blue said, leading you through the park to find a spot for your picnic.

 For as large and as robust as the park was, it looked like a fairly slow day. You could see a few other people making their way around, most of them clustered by what you assumed was one of the museums. That’ll be nice, you thought, Blue can get better pictures that way. Your thoughts were interrupted shortly after, when you noticed that your companion was staring. At some point, he’d finished laying everything out, and it seemed like he had been trying to get your attention. 

“Sorry, I got distracted.” You admitted, sitting down beside the skeleton. “I didn’t know we had something like this in the city- how’d you find out about it?” 

“Oh, I got hired to take some wedding pictures here a while back.” They explained, passing you a plate before readying his own. The food they'd brought along was light, but delicious. “I poked around online, hoping maybe it was haunted or something- and there are a few rumors! But really, nothing all that exciting.” 

“That’s a shame,” You hummed, “I would’ve loved to hear the ghost stories. You always tell them the best.” The compliment seemed to boost Blue’s ego a bit, as they puffed their chest out proudly. 

“Well, I suppose I could tell you a few later, since you like them so much. But first… here.” Blue dug through his bag, passing you a carefully wrapped gift from inside. “It’s a human holiday today, right? I read that a lot of people will get their partners gifts.”

“Blue, that’s sweet of you. Thank you…” You looked down at the gift, a twinge of guilt eating away at you. You’d been so excited about the photoshoot, you hadn’t even realized it was valentine’s day. “I kinda forgot about the holiday, I’m sorry. I didn’t get you-”

“Don’t worry about it!” Blue reassured you, his smile as bright as ever. “I’m just happy to be spending time with you. I was planning to give this to you anyway, honestly.” His words placated the guilt inside you, and left in its place was curiosity about whatever it was he’d gotten you. Eagerly, you tore through the wrapping and unveiled… a photo album?

“Ooh,” You admired, opening it up and flipping through the pages. “Wait, these are…it’s us.” The album looked a bit more like a scrapbook now that you had it open. A collection of memories the two of you had shared starting from when you’d met. Alongside the photos he’d carefully compiled, there were receipts, little hand drawn doodles, and wrappers. His attention to the details made you wonder just how long he’d spent on it, and- and the last few pages were empty? You gave him a puzzled look, which earned you a laugh from the skeleton. 

“I figured we could fill the last few pages together,” They explained, starting to dig through their backpack again. “I doubt we’ll fill them completely today, but I brought these so we could start.” Blue held out a pair of polaroid cameras. You recognized one of them- the older of the two, as you’d seen him taking pictures with it a few times. 

“When did you get another..?” You trailed off. He got the point, given that you were, well, pointing at the second camera.

“I’ve had my eye on it for a while, and Stretch ended up getting it for me as a Gyftmas present.” Blue answered, setting aside the older camera to properly show off the new one. “This one lets you adjust the aperture and shutter speed manually, that way you can really control how much light you’re letting in- which affects depth of field and exposure.” You weren’t sure you understood everything they were saying; they seemed happy, though, so you were happy. 

“That’s really cool, Blue.” You chimed in, “It sounds like we’d better get this show on the road.” Blue nodded, and with your meal finished there was little else to do but pack everything back up. 

“We should, but I think we have time to drop this stuff off back at the car real quick.” He agreed, picking up the basket again. “‘On the road’ is a good choice of words, though.”

“What does that mean?” You questioned, getting only a cryptic smile in response as Blue loaded the basket back into your car. “I don’t think I should be trying to take photos while I drive.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing you won’t be driving, isn’t it?” Blue retorted, passing you the older of the two cameras. “They offer photo tours here! By rickshaw, which I’ve seen a lot but haven’t actually tried. I thought it’d be fun!” 

“That’s the bicycle-cart-thing, right?” You looked over the camera he’d passed you, raising it to your face to peek through the viewfinder. “They do seem fun. Are we meeting them somewhere, or..?” They stepped into the frame of your shot with an amused grin, pointing up ahead. You took the opportunity to snap a photo. After collecting said photo, you finally looked up to see that Blue had been pointing at. Waiting there for you was a fairly well built person on a bike, and attached was your little cart. 

“Shall we, cutie?” Blue asked, offering you one of his arms. You giggled and took his arm with a nod. 

“I can’t wait!” 

Once the two of you were properly settled and moving along, Blue took the chance to explain how the camera he lent you worked. A good bit of it you’d expected- you had a certain amount of film, there were different settings depending on the lighting, and so on. He also explained a few tips and tricks to get the most out of the tool in your hands, things like helping you adjust your framing or composition, and using modes for more than what you’d assumed to get different effects. Oh, and of course- he stressed the importance of not shaking the polaroids. Repeatedly. Loudly. 

They’d only just finished by the time you’d arrived at your first stop:  the botanical garden. It looked like a giant greenhouse, large glass panels laid in a deep green metal frame, slowly being overgrown by creeping ivy on all sides. It was just as beautiful on the inside, completely draped in greenery from all over the world. They seemed to be organized by climate and watering needs, which created distinctly different scenes from one section of the garden to the next. Blue wasted no time in starting to snap photos, and you followed his lead. 

“Ash would probably love something like this.” Blue mumbled, pausing to read one of the placards posted throughout. He seemed so lost in thought, he didn’t even notice when you took a photo of the moment. Altogether, the two of you spent around fifteen minutes or so snapping photos and exploring together before heading back to ride to your next destination. 

The afternoon sun reflected beautifully off of the pond you’d stopped at next, bathing whatever was closest to it in a pretty golden light. As the two of you disembarked and got closer to the water, you could see a myriad of wildlife teeming inside. Most notably, there were a bunch of koi fish who certainly weren’t shy about greeting visitors. You laughed a little as you knelt down to look closer, a sight that Blue just couldn’t resist capturing on film. 

“They kiiinda look like overgrown goldfish.” He teased, kneeling down beside you. You gasped and placed a hand on your chest, feigning offense. 

“They do not! How could you? They are clearly their own fish, and so are goldfish!” You corrected. Blue laughed.

“Weeellllll…”

“Well, what?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at the skeleton. They raised both hands defensively, giving you a sheepish look. 

“Technically, goldfish and koi are both species of carp, so…” They shrugged. “Sorry to burst your bubble on it, cutie.” You smirked. He may have won the battle of fishy facts, but you’d just won the war. As soon as he saw the look or your face, he realized what he’d done. 

“Burst my bubble?” You teased, doing your best to sound innocent.

“Nooooo…” He groaned, covering his face. “That wasn’t on purpose! So not fair!” You laughed, taking a photo to commemorate your victory forever. Though maybe for Blue’s sake, you’d keep this one to yourself.

Your time at the koi pond passed quicker than you’d expected, and before long the two of you were headed towards the final stop on your little tour. Blue draped an arm over your shoulder as you enjoyed the ride, and you leaned your head onto their shoulder. 

Just as you’d started to relax, a gazebo came into view, tucked away in a lesser traversed section of the park. It looked old, overgrown like the garden had been- though instead of ivy it looked like a thick, flowering bush of some kind. Blue helped you down and led you inside the structure. From the inside, it felt serene. The light was dimmer as it filtered through the leaves, and the air around you felt nice and cool. 

You were breathtaking. Well, if Blue had  breath, he was certain you would have stolen it in that moment. He cleared his throat a little, gesturing for you to move ever so slightly so he could capture you in just the right way. You sat on the railing and gave him a small smile, and with a simple click, the photo was taken. 

“Thank you for today, Blue. It’s been… stars, you’re perfect.” You mumbled a little, thoroughly flustered. After your comment, Blue was in a similar state. 

“You don’t have to- I mean, if anything I should be thanking you. For all the memories we’ve gotten to share- for all the new ones I’m excited to make! I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have by my side.” They looked down at the camera in their hands. “I just… I found out about the holiday and thought that this might be a good way to show you that.” 

You melted a little, walking over to pull him into the tightest hug you could manage. He returned the gesture happily, and soon the two of you were back to taking pictures. In fact, you were more determined than ever to finish the album. That way, the two of you could start a new one together. 

All too soon, your photo tour came to an end. You were a bit saddened as you climbed into the car, but that feeling disappeared as soon as Blue pulled out the bags containing the pictures you’d been taking. You took turns comparing photos, showing off the ones you were proudest of, and deciding which ones should go into the album. 

“You took so many pictures of me.” You realized, parsing through a few that he’d already shown you. 

“I was about to say the same thing, actually.” He held up a few of yours, all featuring your partner. There was a moment or two of silence between you before he snickered, and after that the floodgates were open. You laughed with him for a few solid minutes, leaning over onto each other. As soon as Blue could regain their composure, they sighed happily. 

“Well, there’s only one way to fix this,” He said, reaching for the camera he’d been using. He turned it around to face you, carefully adjusting to get you both into the frame. “Come here.” He laid his free arm over your shoulder as you leaned in, and just as you smiled for the photo, he pressed a kiss to your cheek and took the picture. 

“Blue!” You gasped, laughing a little. The skeleton seemed all too pleased with himself. 

“You know, I think this one is probably going to be my favorite.”

[hwangism143]

𓆩♡𓆪 nicknames. 𓆩♡𓆪

maknae line.

bang chan.

when you woke up from bed, you noticed a bang chan-shaped depression right beside you. a giggle escaped your mouth as your brain recounted all the fun you had last night trying to beat chan in monoply.

yes, you had only been dating for two months, but this relationship felt real. it felt like something. you were confident in saying that you saw a future with him. you walked into the kitchen where you chan preparing breakfast. he handed you a cup of coffee, just the way you like it, with a sleepy smile.

"so, i've been thinking and," chan started, "would like it if i call you a nickname in your native language?"

you nearly choked on your coffee. "like it? chan, that is the sweetest thing ever."

he grinned at you, "good, cuz i have been doing a lot of research." he swooped down, kissing the top of your head and melting your heart along with it.

lee minho.

"i have a problem."

minho startled you, uttering those four words as soon as he stepped through the door. you were watching tv, curled up on the sofa with a blanket and dori, munching on popcorn and waiting for minho's arrival.

"what's wrong?"

"it's you." minho watched your face morph into confusion and worry and he quickly explained, "not exactly. since we're dating, i need to come up with a cute nickname for you. hyunjin said that jagiya is not cute enough."

at that, you start to laugh. "babe, does he even know why you call me jagiya? as a matter of fact, i'm curious too."

minho begins blushing, the tips of his ears turning red. "oh, um, as a nickname, it reminds me of home. and you're, well, home."

you let out a squeal and begin attacking minho with kisses and for once, he doesn't protest.

seo changbin.

"no. i will not give up."

you let out a weary sigh. "binnie, it's been hours."

changbin is sitting on a bar stool and you are sprawled across the sofa, dangling upside down. for the past two hours, you and changbin had been deciding on what terms of endearment to use on each other.

unlike changbin being extremely undecisive, you had almost immediately decided what you would call him. your bunny boy! this was probably an extremely boring way to spend your six-month anniversary to outsiders, but it was (comically) important to changbin and if it was important to him, it was important to you.

"i'm sorry for boring you, princess," he said sadly. suddenly, his eyes widened. you got up instantly, making eye contact with him, breaking out into a smile.

"that's it!"

hwang hyunjin.

you and hyunjin laid down on the mat you placed on the grass, gazing at the stars. or at least, you were gazing at the stars. hyunjin's eyes only looked at you.

"what's your favorite term of endearment?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence you were in.

"hm," you contemplated it for a minute, "probably love. there is something just so romantic about calling someone you love, love. it's almost as if you're making it known to the world that they personify your version of love."

hyunjin nodded in agreement, "or that the exemplify the love that they have to give."

you turned to look at him. his face was drawn in concentration, clearly very focused on the topic at hand. "but," he began, "it's ambiguous, isn't it? you can call anyone love, regardless of the type of love."

you hummed at his words, turning them over in your head. "well then, what would you prefer?" you questioned him, curious to hear the thoughts in his head.

"something my-adjacent," he replied, "my love. my muse. my world."

he cupped your cheeks in his hand looking at you with stars in his eyes.

"my everything."

[moonstruckme]

Hello! I love all of your stories! Always got me giggling and kicking my feet.

I was wondering if you would be interested in poly!marauders and massages? Or Sirius and massages. I’ve recently been doing a lot of leg exercises and now I just have moments were walking hurts and I wouldn’t mind a good massage.

Have a wonderful day!

Thanks lovely, hope you have a wonderful day too!

cw: implicit nsfw stuff, but really no description or anything

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 457 words

“Sirius.” You try to make your tone stern, but it’s very clearly teetering on the edge of a giggle. “Can you stay on task, please?” 

“Can you trust that I know what I’m doing?” The eye roll is evident in your boyfriend’s voice. “The internet said to get you warmed up first.” 

“I’m fairly sure they meant my legs.” 

“Fine, fine.” He stops groping your ass, moving his hands down to press on the backs of your legs. Your aching muscles stiffen at the contact, and Sirius hisses through his teeth. “Shit, does that hurt already?” 

“No,” you say, voice tight. “Sorry, no, they’re just tense.” 

“I can tell.” Sirius starts rubbing up and down your thighs, softer now. His voice becomes tender. “Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay angel?” 

You hum and do your best to relax, closing your eyes as his fingers slowly spread out and start applying more pressure. At the first firm push of Sirius’ hands up the length of your thighs, you sigh. 

A chuckle. “That working for you?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, shameless. 

Sirius doesn’t double down on the teasing like you expect. Rather, he repeats the same motion again, humming satisfiedly when it works another sigh from you. 

“I don’t know how I feel about this gym business,” he muses. “Seems to be causing a lot of problems.” 

“It’s part of the process,” you say. 

“Yeah, yeah, no pain no gain. You’re starting to sound like James.” He finds a tight spot, pressing his fingers carefully into the muscles. You let out a stringy little whimper. “All I know is my girl goes to the gym, and she comes back hardly able to walk. I’m not feeling particularly favorable towards the place.” He presses into a funny bundle of tension, and the noise that leaves you is borderline pornographic. You hide your face in your arms, mortified. 

“Okay,” Sirius says, and now amusement permeates his tone, “I get that you’re enjoying this, darling, but if you’re going to make sounds like that you can’t be upset when I get distracted.” 

“Sorry.” Your cheek is hot where it squishes against your forearm. 

Your boyfriend chuckles darkly. “I’ll allow it. But after I’m done, I’m expecting a similar treatment as payment.” 

“Like what?” 

“Kisses. Many of them.” He splays his hands over the skin of your thighs, working his way towards the sides. “And the best hug you’ve given in your life.” 

You hum. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to move after you’re done,” you admit. “But if you lay down on top of me, I can promise to do my best.” 

Another quiet laugh, and Sirius presses his lips gently to the small of your back. “That’ll do.”

[nana-au]

Best Friends Know Best

Suguru Geto ♡

MDNI

₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: Your trip to the mall stresses Suguru out, so you treat him to some head when you two get home.

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: possessiveness, praising, immodest clothes in public, toxic ideology from geto, oral m! receiving, slight slut shaming, throat fucking, dirty talking (did i miss anything.. lol)

₊˚ପ⊹ an: this is sorta an extension off of my fic Best Friends Forever! (also sorry for not posting in a while i’m working on longer fics while also struggling to keep up with life lol)

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 1.8k

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

He doesn't really understand why you insist on dressing up to go to the mall. You were there to buy new clothes, does it matter what you have on? Typically he would never complain about your fashion choices – You look darling in your girly little outfits. 

But today? He cursed himself for not making you change while he still had the chance. He didn't want to be cruel, you were so excited to wear your new dress. It was a pink gingham number – it was so you. What he didn't like was how your chest spilled out of the low neckline and how anytime you shifted in just the right way your sheer panties were on display. He wanted to cry upon noticing how see-through your panties were – there was no mistaking the outline of your plump cheeks. Did you not know how many creeps there were in this world? Did he protect you so well that you were blissfully unaware of the dangers of looking this good? Tempting any man that is so fortunate to breathe the same air as you. 

All throughout the day Geto followed closely behind you, shielding what he could of your body while trying not to make it obvious. You didn’t really notice what he had been doing until his hand reached to cover your chest from the employee at your check-out lane when you bent over; looking at the cute bracelets set up on the counter in front of you. You slowly stood up straight, giving him an odd look as he pocketed his credit card and grabbed your bag of items from the clerk. “What was that about?” you asked him while walking out of the store. 

“Nothing baby,” he said from close behind you, your multiple bags in his arms, “Let’s go get you a latte.”

“Ooo that sounds good,” you mused, daydreaming which flavor syrup you wanted before you quickly snapped out of it, “Don’t change the subject! Why did you cover my chest? Is it really that noticeable?” You ask, looking down to see your cleavage spilling out the top of your dress. “It’s not that bad…” An exasperated sigh left his lips, seemingly exhausted by spending the whole day trying to keep you modest. “Geto? Does my dress upset you?” you stopped in the middle of the mall, turning around to meet his dead eyes. Your brows furrowed, noticing just how tense Geto was compared to when you first arrived. “Do you not like my dress?” your voice is drenched in worry.

“No baby, your dress is very pretty,” he meant it, your dress looked amazing on you. But that was just the problem he was having. “You look good… Just a little too good, y’know?” he forced a chuckle, trying to convince you that he was less upset than he really was. The two of you had been there for three hours, and for three hours he was at war with every guy’s wandering eyes. He had endured three hours of men checking you out, some were so indiscreet about it that the handles of your shopping bags were barely managing to keep the straps under his tight grasp. “Let’s get you a drink and head home, hmm?” he said, pulling together all of his energy to sound fine.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Even after a couple of hours went by at your shared place, Suguru still looked as wound up as he did at the mall. He sat on the couch, drinking a beer and staring at the show on the tv, obviously not really watching it. His grip on the beer bottle was loose, only sipping it when he remembered it was in his hand. 

You grew more and more worried as time passed. You lost the outfit as soon as you got home, opting for pajama shorts and a long sleeved shirt – hoping that he would forget about whatever issue he had with your dress if he no longer had to look at it. That didn’t seem to be the case. 

“Sugu?” you barely said above a whisper, “Is everything okay?” he only hummed at you, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Do you want to talk about it?” you meekly asked. His head shook while he took another lazy sip of his beer. You bit your lip in thought, taking in his still tensed figure that leaned back into the couch. He never changed out of his jeans and black tee, opting to prioritize drinking over unwinding for the day in his usual sweatpants attire. An idea came to you while your eyes trailed his figure, and you hesitated before speaking. “Do you want your cock in my mouth, Suguru?”

He nearly choked on his beer hearing your words, turning to see your face. You looked desperate to hear his response, so eager to hear you can please him. “Of course,” was his response to you, he could never turn that down. You crawled down from the couch and placed yourself between his legs. He sat up, moving to the edge to make it easier for you to reach. He pitched a tent almost immediately seeing you between his thighs. You began to undo his belt, working slowly as he watched with bated breath. 

“Will this be a good apology, Sugu?” your doe eyes met his and you can see him melt at your words. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting patiently as you pull down his zipper. He lifts his hips off the couch, helping you slide his pants all the way off. You rub his cock over his briefs, slowly stroking it and watching the fabric grow a wet patch. You decide it best not to tease for too long, so you pull his cock out and run your thumb across his wet tip. 

“F-fuck,” he sighed, his hips following you as you began to stroke his cock. You twisted your wrist as you slid your hand up his length, teasing the head with your thumb each time you reached the top. He watched you behind his lidded eyes, waiting to feel the warmth of your throat. He dropped his beer onto the end table, preferring to stroke your hair as your wet tongue reached out to lick a fat stripe from the base of his cock to the tip. He groaned at the feeling, leaning back as your mouth finally took him in. You started slow, only taking him halfway and stroking the half that was left out with your hand. It wasn’t long before Suguru started his usual dirty talk that made you squirm. “You feel so good, princess,” he grunted, “This is what I deserved after a long day of putting up with you, hmm?” His hips bucked up, his tip hitting the roof of your mouth. “Having to keep you safe because you wanted to dress like a slut,” his other hand reached down to pull up his shirt, exposing his toned stomach that flexed every time you showed his tip extra attention. You licked the slit, pulling back just to spit all over it and using your hand to guide the lubricant down. He shuddered as you took more of him into your mouth, massaging his length with your tongue as his tip neared further down your throat. “Just couldn’t help showing yourself off,” he let loose his frustrations while his dick was stuffed in your mouth, preventing you from talking back. “Gotta suck my cock to make it up to me, princess,” he snickered. “You’ll do a good job? Hmm? Take me all the way?” it was your turn to react to the pleasure he was giving you. The way he talked to you always riled you up, his words always going straight to your clit. You shifted on your knees, desperately trying to give yourself any form of relief. As if he knew, his foot reached out for you and you took it, rubbing your clit shamelessly against the spot where his ankle and foot met. He laughed darkly at you, completely in awe as he watched you hump his foot while you drooled around his cock. “Look at you baby,” he purred at you, “Getting off to sucking my cock…” his Adam apple bobbed in his throat while he tried to collect himself before he came too soon. Your tight shorts were already growing wet as you rutted into him, sucking him even more feverishly. You took all of him, your eyes watering at the heavy feeling against your tongue and in your throat. “Fuck your throat feels so good. S’warm and wet,” he was moaning now, not capable of keeping it back anymore. “Almost as good as your little pussy… too bad she doesn’t deserve my cock right now…” you whined at his words, causing you to gag against his cock. You pulled back, coughing and wiping the tears from your eyes. “Am I too big for you, princess? Can’t take it?” he teased and you shook your head, readying yourself to go back down. Instead he guides you back, standing up and pulling his briefs completely off. “Gonna fuck your mouth, okay?” he asks you and you nod, moving in to take him back in your mouth. As soon as his tip hits your tongue he is pushing himself all the way in, gripping your hair and shoving his cock down your throat at a brutal pace. You feel his trimmed hair tickle your nose with each thrust of his hips. Your cheeks were covered in tears and drool seeped from your lips and onto your chin. “You’re so good t’me,” he moaned out, throwing his head back as he used your throat. His hips stuttered and you felt his dick twitch in your throat, you could tell he was close. “You’re gonna swallow it all… else you’re gonna have to try again until you get it right. Fuckkk, can’t waste a drop,” you dug your nails into his thighs, waiting eagerly for him to reach his peak. Eager to taste his salty cum. 

When he finally came you did as you were told, cleaning up anything that spilled out with your fingers, before popping it back into your mouth. “Such a good girl,” he murmured to you, smoothing out the hair he roughed up previously. “So beautiful,” his dark eyes showed nothing but adoration for you, kissing your forehead as he spoke, “A little too beautiful…”

[rosesradio]

sneaking out

notes & warnings: gn!reader, just 700 words of making out lol, + hickies & implied future smut

my inbox is open, please read my pinned 💌

♡♡♡

You were so going to get in trouble for this.

This was not your style, sneaking out in the dead of night. Not so much out of a morality aspect; you didn’t care about why the rules were in place, though you did care about the punishment. If Luke got you caught and sentenced to cleaning duty, you were going to wipe the floor with him during the next 1-on-1 duel.

Then again, you both knew what you’d rather be doing 1-on-1 with Luke. That was why you were out here in the first place.

You had stealthily slipped behind the Hermes cabin, clammy hands behind your back as you leaned against the wall. You took in the perfect cool summer air as you steadied your breathing. This was…fun. Exhilarating. Everything was going to be—

“y/n…” a low, teasing voice spoke from your right.

You yelped, your heart jumping into your throat. Before you could process who it was, you pulled them by the shirt and pressed them against the wall with your Celestial Bronze knife to their chest.

It only took a moment for you to realize that it was, in fact, Luke. Your eyes widened as you slipped your blade back into the sheath as quickly as it had been drawn, pulling away with a litany of apologies.

“Don’t be sorry,” Luke laughed softly, taking your hand in his and pressing the back of it to his lips. “I thought we were just about to get into something fun. Intense,” he noted, raising his eyebrows. “But fun.”

You let out a shaky breath, grabbing hold of the bottom of Luke’s shirt out of habit. “This is already intense but fun. If we get caught, I’m throwing you under the bus.”

Luke grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you close. You couldn’t begin to describe how his touch—warm and intense and utterly real—made you feel. Even just this, hip to hip and thigh to thigh, made your face flush.

Luke grazed his fingers down your cheek, and you couldn’t help but meet his warm brown eyes. You wondered if he watched a lot of romantic movies, or if he was just like that.

“What if,” he mused. “I made it worth your while…?” Luke leaned in close, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then a few more down your jawline. His breath was warm, testing and teasing against your lips before finally, finally kissing you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, his hands gripping your hips as he spun you around, pinning you against the cabin wall. You gasped faintly against his lips, feeling him smile slightly against your own as he cupped your face in his hands.

It was as if he couldn’t get enough of you, no matter how he touched you. As he moved down to kiss your neck, hands once again curiously moving to rub your hips underneath your shirt, you knew it was true.

“Luke,” you breathed, fingers carding through his curls.

When you tugged at his hair, he let out an involuntary moan, pinning you harder against the wall. It was as if he were worried you’d get away from him—though as he sucked a lasting mark against your skin, soothing the slight pain with his tongue, you couldn’t imagine getting away from this.

“Luke,” you repeated, despite how your heart skipped a beat in your chest, despite how you hated yourself for interrupting this. “We…we can’t keep going…not here.”

Luke cursed under his breath, something in Ancient Greek you didn’t quite catch, though he pulled away. “You’re right, I got carried away…I’m not sorry, though.” He cupped your cheek, pressing another kiss to your lips. “We’ll find a time and place.”

He always said that. You were beginning to wonder if this time and place was a thing of myth.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” you ran your fingers through his curls once more. “And when we do, I’ll keep in mind that you like getting your hair pulled…”

You couldn’t help but grin at the utterly flustered look on Luke’s face as you kissed his cheek. The euphoria of getting the upper hand followed you all the way as you stealthily snuck back into your cabin for the night.

[onlyangel4]

delicate. ls2. smau

logan sargeant x country singer!reader

in which logan and reader do not want to pop their bubble of secret new love but sometimes you just have to let the world know that you are in love.

warnings: cursing.

faceclaim: megan moroney

taylor swift series masterlist

y/insta posted a story

written: back in the studio for the first time in what feels like forever

y/insta

liked by kelseaballerini, sabrinacarpenter, logansargeant and 1,239,118 others

y/insta: i think i'm really happy, i think i want to stay

view all 21,521 comments

user1: it is a sad day for us all y/n has a boyfriend

user2: i'm seeing you in nashville next week and i am so excited

kelseaballerini: i need to know where those boots are from asap

y/ninsta: just sent you the link bby

user3: f1 driver logan sargeant spotted in the likes

user4: he loves country music he is probably just a fan

user5: this caption has to be song lyrics

ls2updates posted a story

written: logan, lando and oscar were spotted in nashville at a y/n y/ln concert

y/nupdates

liked by user6, user7, user8 and 23,472 others

y/nupdates: y/n played a new song for the first time last night. she said that it was about someone in the crowd and then proceeded to play the most beautiful love song in the entire world, whoever it is makes mother very happy

view all 549 comments

user6: imagine being lucky enough to say THE y/n y/ln is your girlfriend

user7: there were three single f1 drivers at her show last night i'm convinced she is dating one of them

user8: glen powell liked a few tweets about her a couple months back, i still bet it is him

williamsracing

liked by carlossainz, alexalbon, user9 and 1,003,883 others

tagged: carlossainz

williamsracing: we are delighted to announce that carlos sainz will be joining williams for the 2025 season

view all 53,817 comments

carlossainz: so excited for this chapter

user9: thank god, logan was useless

user10: no the car was useless y/ninsta liked this comment

user11: poor logan i heard he hardly got any warning

y/ninsta liked this comment

user12: so excited for carlex

user13: i'm going to miss logan on the grid

y/ninsta liked this comment

user14: what the fuck is going on that country singer y/n y/ln has been liking all the positive comments about logan

y/ninsta

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, carrieunderwood and 1,321,872 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/ninsta: i'm so thrilled to tell you that my new single is out at midnight and to introduce you to logan the muse that inspired am i okay?, a man that made me question whether i am okay because spending time with him made me uncharacteristically happy. love you logie.

view all 29,374 comments

user14: i am so sorry mister sargeant i was unaware that you had game

user15: streets said logan had a girlfriend, i was not expecting her to be this gorgeous

user16: what an all american couple omg

logansargeant: i'm so glad i can finally recommend this song to everyone, so proud of you

y/ninsta: and i am so proud of you

user17: song just dropped everyone share your fav lyrics i'll start "like a 6'2" dream, heaven-sent", girl no wonder you launched your relationship before this was released people would have guessed him quickly

user18: "he's funny and he's smart and he's good in (bed implied)- babe just tell us the dick is fire

user19: "who knew guys still brought flowers" - i knew logan would be a massive green flag in a relationship

user20: "i don't feel like a sad song soundtrack" - considering this is the first love song y/n has ever released i am so fucking happy for her, she deserves this so much

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[psychesalcove]

who knows how long i've loved you, you know i love you still

♡ leo valdez x fem. reader

synopsis. request!!

tw. nothing i think, just not proofread at all

guess who finally is writing again!! this past month has been soo packed with school and work things—this year is also a hectic scholarship one, so i've been doing that lol. i'm sorry that i haven't been active, lifes just been crazy 😓.

"hi."

you saw leo jump a little from where he sat at the ledge of the fire escape. he turned his head slightly in your direction, but his eyes stayed put on the streets of manhattan. "hey."

the seven were meeting up at sallys apartment—a tradition that had been going on for some time now. you had just come from the kitchen, were everyone was chatting away, minus leo. that's what brought you out here. you somehow always had a nack for knowing where he was; a longing, some said.

you walked over to him, silently asking him if you could sit. he nodded silently, the opposite of how he usually is at these gatherings—talking to anyone and everyone about whatever came to mind. you sat down at the approval nod, mimicking his position by draping your legs over the edge too.

"whats wrong?" you asked, getting straight to the point. leo never got this quiet unless something was wrong, you learned that from your time on argo ii with him. he shrugged his shoulders, eyes following a person walking their dog down the street.

"hey, cmon." you said lightly, bumping your shoulder with his. "i wanna know how to help."

he shrugged again, but this time started taking. "i don't know," he mumbled. "i just, feel weird–i guess, i don't know." he shrugged his shoulders again; must be his favorite gesture right now.

"i think you do know what you feel," you mused, eyes flickering from the across the street apartments to leo. "what's happening in that smart head of yours?" you prompted, ears picking up on percy singing horribly from somewhere inside.

you saw leo smile lightly at your wording from the corner of your eyes, but didn't mention it. "i think it just feels different now, i guess." he started. "i mean, everyone here seems to be figuring out their life. percy, annabeth, you and jason are at college, piper already has a business starting, hazel and frank are doing great at new rome, and then—" he stopped with a breath, shoulders slumping down.

"then i'm here with nothing to talk about. what do i even say? that im just doing nothing cool? i haven't even really starting applying to college, how do i talk about that and sound interesting?" he rambled, hands starting to gesture mindlessly.

you considered this. you haven't even realized that leo felt like this; he always seemed like the most interesting person to you. "you can talk alot about applying to college," you said finally, watching as he looked over and made eye contact with you for the first time since you came out here.

"talk about the collage, what you're thinking of majoring in, stuff like that. gods, you can even talk about joining a frat house; piper would joke about that for hours with you." as you talked, you watched as leo took in your words, though you didn't know if it was helping.

"remeber when i was applying to college last year? i talked about that with you for hours, and you didn't get bored, did you?" you asked. leo shook his head in response pressing his lips together as he thought.

"and, i promise you—i ever swear on river styx—that everyone in there would love to talk to you about anything, especially me." you said, hand coming up to hold his. you don't know where this gesture came from, but it almost seemed natural to you. you squeezed his hand, smiling as he reciprocated.

"thank you." leo mumbled, his free hand coming up to quickly rub at his eyes.

"leo, you better not start crying on me now," you joked, hand still in his. he laughed lightly at your statement, his arm now rubbing at his face instead of just his hands.

"can i hug you?" he asked. before he could even finish his question, you were removing your hand from his and instead embracing him fully. he mumbled something you couldn't pick up, but he quickly hugged you back tigher.

"thank you so much." he repeated, head resting on your shoulder.

[chickenkurage]

Old habits, die hard (Teen Alan AU)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Alan still has the habit of overworking himself to the point of passing out, thankfully the hollowheads catch up on what he was doing, with Second accidentally managing to find a way to open Alan’s camera and find him sleeping on the desk again looking worse for wear.

Tag: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Overworking, Health Issues, Humor, and Comedy

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“This is... uh, embarrassing,” Alan admitted, feeling a flush of embarrassment as Jennifer inspected the broken wheel of his chair. “What even happened, Alan? This is the only swivel chair we've got in the house. I don't think I can buy a new one at the moment,” Jennifer said, her brow furrowed as she knelt beside the chair, examining the damage.

“Tried taking out the cobwebs from my ceiling... I fell,” Alan confessed, his cheeks reddening as he rubbed the back of his head. “Goodness! Are you okay?” Jennifer inquired, moving closer to Alan and checking his arm and back for any signs of injury.

“I'm fine, my back hurts a little, but I'm good! I promise,” Alan assured, a slight pout on his face. “I'm sorry, Mom. I know you got me this chair... I didn't mean to break it,” he added, feeling genuinely apologetic.

Jennifer's expression softened as she placed a comforting hand on Alan's shoulder. “It's alright, accidents happen. Your well-being is more important than any chair. We'll figure something out,” she reassured him, offering a warm smile.

"It's old anyway. How about in the meantime, you use one of the chairs from the kitchen? Until maybe I can buy you a new one,” Jennifer suggested, her hand gently rubbing her chin in thought.

“Huh?! No, it's fine... I-I can use the kitchen chair. It's okay if it's not like this one,” Alan replied, a hint of discomfort evident in his frown as he considered the alternative.

“Really? The kitchen chair isn't exactly comfortable, and your back might start hurting if you use it for a long time. And knowing you... you'll definitely be glued to your seat,” Jennifer teased playfully, a mischievous grin on her face.

Alan pouted in response. “No, I don't! I go out with DJ daily,” he protested.

Jennifer raised an eyebrow, her expression clearly skeptical as her lips curved into a knowing smile.

Blushing slightly, Alan ducked his head. “Okay, maybe not every day, but every weekend! I don't sit around all the time. I take walks... usually,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Alan, how many times do I have to remind you that you need to take care of yourself better? I know you're already 15, 5 more years and you're a grown man! You probably don't even need me now,” Jennifer said, crossing her arms with a mix of concern and affection.

“I'm just saying, please take care of yourself more. Look at you, you look thin! And pale!” Jennifer remarked, grabbing Alan's face and squeezing his cheeks. “Mommm,” Alan whined playfully as Jennifer continued to squish his face with a chuckle.

“Alan, just do what I tell you, okay? Take good care of yourself. I trust you,” Jennifer said, emphasizing the importance of self-care before giving Alan's cheek one last gentle squeeze. “Mommmmm,” Alan protested again, though this time with a hint of laughter as Jennifer stepped back.

“I'll see if a friend of mine can fix your chair so you don't have to use the kitchen chair, how about that?” Jennifer suggested, turning back to the swivel chair Alan had. “Sure, I think that's much better,” Alan replied with a small smile.

[♡]

Alan did in fact not follow what his mother had said….

“Alan… psst, wake up! Lecture's over,” James shook Alan's shoulder, causing him to flinch and his eyes to open in panic. “Wha! Dark!” Alan sputtered, causing James to look at him weirdly before glancing around the room. “It's not dark here,” James mused, puzzled by Alan's reaction, and then looked back down at Alan, who sniffed, his nose slightly runny.

“Did I fall asleep through the whole lecture?” Alan asked, wide-eyed as he took in the empty room, devoid of students or the professor.

James nodded, “Yeah, man, you slept through the entire 3-hour class. That's crazy.”

Alan grabbed his hair in panic. “And you didn't wake me up?! Wh-What!? Tell me you wrote down notes for this lecture,” Alan said, cupping both of his hands together in a pleading gesture.

“Yeah, dude, I can lend you mine,” James said, opening his bag and handing Alan his binder. “ Oh, Christ, why did I even sleep through the whole thing,” Alan groaned, running a hand over his face in dismay.

“Honestly, you look worse for wear, Alan, and that’s saying something. You look even worse than last week,” James exclaimed, taking note of Alan's eye bags and slightly red nose from his frequent rubbing.

Alan shot him a seething glare, snatching the binder from James' hands. “Gee, thanks, James,” Alan grumbled under his breath.

“Anyways, I'm also done with my part in the animation project that we have to pass next week,” James added, placing a hand on his waist in a relaxed stance.

“That’s already next week? I haven’t even started yet,” Alan said, pushing himself up from his seat, only to pause when his vision suddenly blurred.

James quickly placed a hand on Alan's shoulder to steady him. “It’s next weekend. I mean, you should rest for now, Alan. You look really sick,” James frowned, concern evident in his voice as Alan instinctively placed a hand on his forehead.

“I still have a lot of notes to write down. Can't you believe it? 500 slides for a 10-item quiz this Friday,” Alan whined, shoving the binder into his bag and pulling out a tissue to blow his nose.

“It’s Monday, Alan. You can review some slides tomorrow. Go to sleep, man,” James advised, crossing his arms as he observed Alan rubbing his tired eyes.

“I know, I know. I can do it. I’m not dying,” Alan retorted, rolling his eyes as he zipped up his bag and turned to James. “We've got no class tomorrow. Just get some rest, dude,” James insisted as he followed after Alan, who stumbled out of the room.

“Mmm, yeah, yeah,” Alan mumbled wearily, prompting James to shake his head in disappointment. “One day, Alan, I swear, one day you're gonna regret pushing yourself so much,” James remarked, while Alan waved him off and headed in a different direction to catch a bus.

“See ya, James,” Alan bid farewell tiredly as James watched him stumble away with a frown, shaking his head at his friend's stubbornness. 

By the time Alan reached home, Jennifer was not around, leaving him alone in the house.

“Nhhh,” Alan groaned, attempting to stretch his left arm to relieve the ache. His stomach grumbled, prompting him to walk over to the fridge. He let out a sigh upon finding it empty. “Ugh,” Alan muttered, lightly knocking his head on the top of the fridge, causing him to rub it in frustration.

“I’ll just wait for dinner,” Alan mumbled to himself, closing the fridge and trudging up the stairs to his room.

Upon opening the door, he surveyed his messy room. "Right, I forgot to clean my room," Alan mumbled, kicking a dirty shirt towards the hamper.

He threw his bag on his bed, retrieved James' binder, notebook, and pen, then settled in his chair, wincing slightly at its discomfort before powering up his PC.

As he waited for it to boot up, he began copying James’ notes. “Tsk,” Alan clicked his tongue, shaking his right hand, feeling his wrist ache. “Not again,” he mumbled,  before glancing up at his screen displaying Second and the skittle gang lounging on the sofa.

Alan chuckled softly before reaching for his earphones tucked beside his desk.

“Hey guys” Alan said, causing Second to sit up excitedly and wave his direction. Alan waved back in response before chuckling when he remembers that Second can’t exactly see him.

“Alan! You’re back home from school?” Second asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Mmm, I've got some stuff to do, but I'm here to listen if you've got some stories to share about what happened while I was gone,” Alan replied, glancing back down at his notebook and continuing to jot down notes despite the painful ache in his right hand.

“Oh well… there’s nothing that exciting that happened, I think,” Second said, tapping his hand on his chin thoughtfully.

“That's a lie. I think you all are some sort of danger magnet. Surely something must have happened while I was gone,” Alan chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Wha?! No way!” Second spluttered in embarrassment, waving his arms defensively. Behind him, Green and Yellow chuckled, their shoulders shaking before returning to their own activities.

“Okayyy,” Alan drawled, a smirk playing on his lips as he continued to write,

“Trust me!... Anyways, Vic, Cho, and Dark are coming by,” Second said excitedly, hopping with anticipation. Alan shifted his focus back to the screen, a grin spreading across his face.

“Really?! Great!” Alan exclaimed, already looking forward to chatting with the three, who led lives in the... whatever they called it, the outernet?

“But if you're really busy, they can come by tomorrow if you want,” Second suggested, tilting his head curiously.

Alan's eyes widened as he glanced at the list of tasks he had written on his wrist. “Uhhh, totally not busy, don’t worry,” Alan lied through his teeth, chuckling awkwardly. 

“Really? I kind of thought you would be very busy. Then again, I kind of don’t understand how schools work,” Second said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“Oh, Sec, don’t worry, I seriously am free today, uhm... even right now!” Alan winced at his unintentionally high-pitched voice as he watched Second excitedly hop and open the animation program application.

 “Great! We can animate while we wait for them!” Second clapped enthusiastically as Alan pushed his notebook to the side of his desk.

“Totally,” Alan agreed, pulling his keyboard and drawing tablet closer.

[♡]

“A–Achoo!” Alan sneezed, followed by a sniffle as he reached for another tissue to blow his nose. Glancing at the clock in the bottom left corner of his screen, he noted the time: 3:00 AM.

“Ugh, this is my fault. I should've started earlier,” Alan muttered to himself, pulling his lamp closer to his notebook and bending down to continue writing, his back and wrist protesting with aches.

“Not like I could say no to them, though,” Alan mumbled as he finished jotting down the last of the notes he had missed earlier. Closing James’ binder, he shoved it back into his bag and refocused on his screen.

The empty sofa caught his eye before he opened his personal files and the slides that required more detailed note-taking. “Great… more writing,” Alan grumbled, rubbing his eyes and sniffling, his nose running again.

He groaned in response, balling up a tissue and pressing it inside his nose, blocking it completely.

“Nnh,” Alan grunted, rubbing his wrist, feeling the numbness creeping in. Typically, at this point, he would rest his wrist and resume the work the next day. 

However, with 500 slides looming ahead, he knew he had to push through and start his work now, understanding that his penchant for procrastination could hinder his progress if he delayed any further.

Alan turned his focus back to the bottom left of his screen. “4:00 AM, then I rest,” Alan mumbled to himself before returning to the slides, hastily jotting down his notes, still ignoring the persistent ache in his wrist.

Lost in a trance, time seemed to slip away unnoticed, and before he knew it, he found himself suddenly jolting awake, his face meeting the hard surface of his desk with a resounding thud. “Achk!” Alan yelped in surprise, instinctively holding his nose where the tissue had slipped off during his unintended slumber.

“Oh no, di-did I fall asleep?” Alan mumbled, his eyes widening as he glanced at the time displayed on his screen—it was already 5 AM in the morning.

He blinked in disbelief before looking down at his notes, realizing that he had managed to cover almost half of the material, despite not recalling how he had drifted off to sleep.

“Did I fall asleep sitting up?” Alan mumbled to himself drowsily, his nose feeling runny again as he grabbed another tissue to stifle the sniffles, then retrieved the pen that had rolled under his desk.

“Khk,” Alan groaned, his aching wrist causing him to flinch, inadvertently hitting his head under the table. “Ah, dammit,” he cursed, retrieving the pen with his left hand and placing it back on the table, rubbing his head in discomfort.

“Alan? You’re awake early,” Chosen said, suddenly appearing at the side of his screen, looking like he had just woken up. “Huh? Yeah,” Alan replied, picking up his pen, wincing slightly as his right hand protested. “I thought you don’t have classes on Tuesday?” Chosen inquired, walking over to the sofa and flopping down with a sigh.

“I don’t, but I need to, uhmm–” Alan trailed off, his mind momentarily blanking for no apparent reason.

He noticed Chosen tilting his head, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“Ah, yeah, I have a quiz, sorry I forgot the word,” Alan said, rubbing his head embarrassedly.

“Oh, I understand. You can continue; I’ll watch over here and wait for the others to wake up,” Chosen said, waving a hand lazily.

“Mmm,” Alan hummed tiredly, refocusing on the PowerPoint and continuing his notes, mumbling to himself intermittently. However, at some point, his vision began to darken at the edges, prompting him to release his pen and bury his face in his hands.

“Ughhh,” Alan groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Chosen asked, still observing him from the couch, though he had reclined and inadvertently dozed off while watching Alan's cursor move around the slides. He woke up to Alan groaning, feeling slightly concerned upon hearing Alan's sniffles and a more congested tone in his voice.

“N-nothing, it’s just that I'm only on the 332nd slide,” Alan said with a groan, punctuating his response with a yawn.

Chosen felt a hint of suspicion creeping up his back.

“Alan… did you even sleep?” Chosen suddenly asked, sitting up from the couch and crossing his arms disapprovingly.

“Oh, uhm, uh, haha, I-I did? I took a nap,” Alan said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Don’t tell me the nap is on the desk,” Chosen said, disappointment evident in his tone as he heard Alan emit a small ‘eep.’

“Alan, go to sleep. You need rest,” Chosen remarked firmly, noticing Alan's audible groans and sniffling, along with the faint sound of him removing his earphones to blow his nose away from the mic.

“Just a bit more, th-then I'll sleep,” Alan muttered, determined to finish a few more slides as Chosen shook his head in disappointment.

Alan frowned, feeling embarrassed and slightly hurt as he gazed at Chosen. While Chosen doesn't have a face, his body language spoke volumes, arms crossed and an air of disappointment palpable in his posture.

Alan despised disappointing people, and the weight of Chosen's disappointment weighed heavily on him.

“Okay, I’ll rest!” Alan said, raising his arms in defeat, the throbbing in his right arm now insistent. Chosen gave him a firm nod, “Good, come back when you’re well-rested.”

Alan couldn't help but roll his eyes at Chosen's directive as he removed his earphones and made his way to his bed. Shoving his bag to the corner, he collapsed onto his unmade mattress. “Just for a few hours,” Alan mumbled to himself as he curled up on his side, closing his eyes.

However, he soon found his respite interrupted by the uncomfortable ache in his back and right arm. “Ugh, just my luck,” Alan grumbled, sitting up and making his way to his drawers in search of pain relief patches to alleviate the discomfort.

Thankfully, he found a few and carefully placed two on his lower back for good measure, along with one on his forehead to help him rest more comfortably. Despite his efforts, his mind raced with thoughts of work left undone, making it challenging to relax.

Frustrated, Alan rubbed his face wearily, glancing at his screen to find that Chosen had already left, likely back in the folder where the houses were stored.

“Just a few more minutes, I need to finish the slides and then a few commissions,” Alan mumbled to himself, rushing to his bed and bending down to retrieve the wrist brace he had accidentally kicked under the bed before settling back into his chair.

He swiftly strapped the brace onto his right wrist, tightening it for good measure before grasping his pen, ensuring he could still maneuver his hand. Though slightly uncomfortable, wearing the brace affected his writing, but he felt compelled to complete his tasks before even considering rest.

And so, that's what he did. Alan finished all his slides and transitioned to his animation project, his tired eyes struggling to focus on the time displayed on his screen—it was already 8 AM, and he was still engrossed in sketching. Nothing was finalized yet; perhaps he had grown too reliant on seeking help from Second.

“Good morning, Alan!” Second beamed, skipping down his desktop joyfully.

“Hey, Sec, mind if I ask for some help for a few moments?” Alan inquired, tapping his pen wearily against his cheek, refusing to pause his work even though every time he closed his eyes, they burned with fatigue.

“Oh yeah, definitely. Is this a commission or something?” Second asked, climbing up the animation program and grabbing his own pencil.

Alan only hummed tiredly, not fully registering Second's question as he continued with his work.

Second tilted his head curiously, “Alan? Yahoo, I'm asking something.” Second waved his hands, prompting Alan to blink owlishly. “Ah, sorry, I didn't hear it. Can you ask again?” Alan replied with an awkward chuckle.

“Alan, are you sure you’re alright? I honestly thought you would still be asleep at this time. You don't have any classes today, right?” Second inquired while fixing a few errors in Alan's sketch.

“Ah, well, I just want to finish this quickly. This is school work, and I still haven't started on some of my commissions yet,” Alan mumbled, his focus split between the conversation and his tasks.

“Hmm, have you thought about closing your commissions for now?” Second asked.

“Ah, well, no... I need money for my…..school stuff,” Alan admitted, feeling embarrassed as his face flushed with heat.

“Oh... But... isn’t your mom there to help you? You have school, and you are quite busy,” Second remarked as he observed Alan's work, jumping down to hit the play button and watching the animation unfold with a proud hum.

“Mmmm, ehh,” Alan responded, prompting a chuckle from Second. Alan was indeed a man of few words at times.

By the time 10 PM rolled around, Alan and Second had finally completed the animation. Alan then proceeded to craft a brief message to James, attaching the animation and sending it through email before leaning back in his chair, releasing a contented sigh.

“Finally,” Alan uttered, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and fatigue, his arms raised in a gesture of victory.

He heard Second clapping. “Nice job, Alan!” Second cheered, only to stop abruptly when he noticed the sound of light snoring. “Alan? Are you asleep?” Second inquired, tilting his head curiously.

In the end, Alan had indeed passed out in his chair, the weight of his efforts and exhaustion finally catching up to him.

[♡]

Alan adjusted the webcam above his screen and tapped his chin, “I think it's finally set up,” he mumbled to himself, having to rouse from his impromptu sleep at his desk when a knock sounded at the front door. Peering out, he spotted the small package he had ordered from Amazon.

Despite using some of his money to buy the webcam so others could see him, Alan grimaced as he surveyed his messy room and his disheveled appearance. He looked incredibly haggard and felt even worse as his nose continued to run from the previous night.

“Awwwww!” Second whined, slumping in disappointment. Vic patted his back consolingly, “I'm sorry, guys. Maybe tomorrow?” Alan suggested, rubbing the back of his head. “I mean, it's fine by me, to be honest. Sec is just impatient,” Dark remarked as Second let out a sad whine.

“Same here,” Vic added with a nod, Chosen echoing his sentiment.

“Oh, that's good. I promise I'll open my camera tomorrow, Sec,” Alan said with a laugh as Second knelt on the ground, clasping his hands together. “Alannnn, pleaseeee,” Second whined, prompting Dark to grab him by the scruff of his neck.

“Stop being so dramatic, Sec,” Dark chided as he shook the orange stick, eliciting a sad whine that made Second resemble a kicked puppy. Alan chuckled as he watched Dark drag Second off the side of the screen and towards the folder.

Stretching his arms over his head, Alan observed Vic and Chosen settling down on the couch, engrossed in their conversation.

After a moment of contemplation, Alan stood up from his chair and walked towards his drawer to retrieve brand new patches to replace the ones on his forehead and back. He took off his wristband momentarily to add a patch to his wrist before securing it back in place, releasing a relieved sigh.

“Perfect, I can work again,” Alan declared before returning to his desk, pulling up the list of his commissions. “Where to start, where to start,” he mumbled to himself, opening his program and diving back into his work.

By 2 PM, Alan had yet to have his breakfast or lunch, engrossed in completing his second commission of the day. Jennifer had not returned home to remind him to eat, and his stomach's growls finally drew attention to his neglected meals.

Vic and Chosen had retreated back to the folder, likely to spend time with the others and leave Alan to his work. Despite expressing his appreciation for their presence, Alan tried not to feel disheartened by their departure.

Standing up from his chair, Alan descended the stairs, glancing into the darkened kitchen. “Mom still isn't home?” Alan mumbled, a tinge of loneliness creeping in as he eyed the sandwich Jennifer had left in the fridge the previous night.

“Sandwich is fine,” Alan decided, grabbing it and taking a bite of the cold bread before pausing as he noticed a bill and a small note on the kitchen aisle.

“Order some food that’ll last you until dinner! I won’t be home until midnight, i love you”

“Oh... I totally forgot about that,” Alan murmured, scratching his head as he recalled Jennifer mentioning something to him during dinner the previous night, a detail that had slipped his mind entirely.

“Okay,” Alan muttered to himself, picking up the bill and pocketing it. “I don’t need to order any food; I can just eat sandwiches,” he resolved, feeling guilty about using Jennifer's money. He was content with the remaining peanut butter and bread.

Rushing back to his room, Alan tried to chew the cold peanut butter sandwich as he resumed his work, determined to make the most of what he had.

[♡]

Second hummed with curiosity, navigating through the settings bar in an attempt to rectify the muted Google issue pointed out by Yellow. It seemed Alan had accidentally muted Google, preventing them from watching YouTube.

"Where is it…" Second pondered, tapping his chin in confusion, clicking on the 'System' tab and jumping to the 'Sounds' bar before backtracking with a groan of frustration.

“It’s not here. Is it even in the Settings? I don’t remember,” Second muttered, pressing back and then jumping to the search bar, typing 'Google', only to groan again when it yielded no results.

“Might as well just make Yellow do this,” Second decided, scratching his head.

Suddenly, a mischievous idea sparked in his mind. What if he could access Alan’s webcam and catch a glimpse?

“Heck yeah!” Second cheered excitedly, typing 'Camera Privacy', locating the camera icon, and opening it to grant access. With a devious giggle, he relished at the idea of being the first to see Alan.

Second swiftly exited the Settings app, frantically navigating to the Camera app via the taskbar, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alan without alerting him. The room was quiet, and Second prayed that Alan was not at his desk at that moment.

“Yes!” Second cheered as the camera app opened, only to frown at the darkened room illuminated by a soft light, revealing a distressing sight—Alan.

Alan appeared to have fallen asleep in his chair, his cheek pressed against his palm, looking unwell and sick. Second was taken aback by the unexpected scene, noticing Alan's disheveled appearance, the white patch on his forehead, the tissue stuffed in his nose, a line of drool on his chin, and a thick wrist brace on Alan’s wrist.

“The hell?!” Second exclaimed softly, observing Alan's discomfort as he shifted slightly in his sleep. Concerned, Second realized he needed to alert the others without delay.

“I gotta get the others quick!” Second muttered to himself, rushing towards the folder, nearly tripping as he hurried to the house. He pushed the door open abruptly, startling Vic, who was seated in the living room engrossed in something on his tablet.

“Vic! Cho! Dark! I need help!” Second exclaimed, waving his arms frantically to get their attention.

“Woah, what’s with you, man?” Dark inquired, strolling in from the kitchen, mug in hand, while Chosen, lounging on the other couch, looked up quizzically. Vic, closing his tablet, asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Uhm, I may or may not have opened Alan’s camera... and he looks really sick and bad. He has this patch on his forehead, and I think there’s even a tissue shoved in his nose. And he’s wearing a brace on his wrist... Achk! Never mind, just follow me quickly!” Second explained hurriedly, darting out of the house and back to the folder.

They reached Alan's room, where the camera app was still open, revealing Alan slumbering at his desk, his head supported by his hands.

“Creators above, what happened to him?” Vic questioned, his arms crossed, visibly worried. Beside him, Chosen growled, looking perturbed. “I thought he had gone to bed earlier. I told him to rest,” Chosen added.

“What the hell? What happened to Alan?” Dark demanded, a mix of concern and anger in his voice.

Alan stirred awake, the voices from his earphones drawing his attention to the camera application open on his screen, revealing his own exhausted appearance. Blinking in confusion, he noticed the four Hollowheads on the side of the screen.

“Eep!” Alan yelped, hastily covering the webcam with his hand to block the view.

“Alan... What happened?” Vic inquired, his arms folded, a mix of worry and sternness in his expression.

“I... Did you see?” Alan asked nervously, his voice tinged with apprehension.

“I'm sorry, Alan. I was just really curious to see how you looked, and I found you asleep. You look really tired. I didn't know you could outdo Yellow in looking incredibly haggard!” Second blurted out before receiving a shove from Dark.

“That’s not helping, Sec,” Dark muttered under his breath, while Second chuckled, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

“I promise this doesn't happen every day. I-I’m just…” Alan trailed off, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he slowly removed his hand, revealing his face on the camera once more.

“Alan… did you sleep earlier when I told you to rest?” Chosen inquired, his tone filled with a mix of concern and slight reproach.

Alan could only lower his gaze, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry,” he mumbled softly, eliciting disappointed sighs from the group.

However, Second, looking at Alan with admiration, interjected, “You do look really young!” This unexpected comment made Alan look up, a chuckle escaping him as his shoulders shook, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

“Usually, I would fix myself up before showing you guys how I look,” Alan confessed, a blush tinting his cheeks as he observed their curious expressions focused on the camera application.

“I really think you should get some sleep, though,” Dark interjected, a hint of protectiveness creeping into his voice now that he had seen how young and weary Alan appeared. While Dark hadn't encountered many humans, he knew from pictures what an adult typically looked like, and Alan didn't fit that mold.

“Y-yeah, totally,” Alan replied awkwardly, acknowledging the concern in Dark's words, while Chosen stood with arms crossed, adding, “I'm glad to see you, but I think you should leave the camera open so I know you're actually going to rest.”

“I didn’t know you were his dad,” Second quipped, surprised by Chosen's protective stance.

“I'm not, but I'd feel better knowing you're not just saying you'll rest,” Chosen retorted, his tone carrying a hint of authority that made Alan scratch his head. “Okay, it's fine with me,” Alan agreed, though he couldn't hide his slight discomfort.

A moment of silence followed as they all processed the sight of Alan, their creator. Vic, Chosen, and Dark had once perceived him as an all-powerful figure, only to discover he was just an awkward teenager who couldn't stop fidgeting and rubbing the back of his neck every few seconds.

“You're pretty awkward, aren't you?” Dark teased gently, prompting Alan to sputter in protest. “I-I'm not!” he protested, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Alright, enough, before you rest, tell me what happened with your wrist first,” Chosen demanded, pointing at the black wrist brace on Alan’s right hand.

“Oh, this? Uhm, I'm not sure yet. My right hand tends to ache when I use it for a long time—I mean…” Alan trailed off as he realized his slip of tongue.

“Don’t tell me you've been working with your right hand hurting all this time?” Vic interjected, a note of worry in his voice.

“I wasn't!” Alan defended himself, raising both arms in protest, inadvertently revealing more patches on his arms to the Hollowheads’ view.

“Alan,” Dark growled, a hint of frustration evident in his tone, while Second let out a sigh of exasperation.

Alan could only duck in defeat, preparing himself to listen to the Hollowheads' admonitions about his health once again.

[princessbrunette]

I’m not sure if you’ve ever done this before but during season 1 when jb is going through that whole thing with his dad what’s pups reaction? Also when jb finds his dad and refuses to believe his dad is an asshole, how does pup react to that as well? Sorry if this is too much

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poor pup, you obviously don’t understand to the full extent what’s going on because he tries to keep you out of as much of it as possible but you try and be there for him when he needs it. he knows you need a lot of attention, it’s how you got your ‘puppy’ nickname in the first place — but during this time when he’s constantly jetting off on impromptu missions with the pogues, more than anything he appreciates you being understanding and letting him go with little complaint.

it doesn’t mean you don’t get sad or scared, and this definitely doesn’t mean he doesn’t acknowledge it. before he runs off, he usually remembers to approach you first with an urgent expression — his hands on your cheeks and his eyes wide. “look, i know i’ve been an asshole okay? i haven’t been here and that’s not fair on you. i take full accountability for that and— and you have been amazing. but i really gotta do this, and… i don’t know if i’m gonna be home tonight. there’s this thing up in charleston and—”

“s’okay john b. i understand. go find your dad, ‘kay? wanna meet him.” you smile, standing on your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. he melts instantly, pressing his mouth to yours and stroking your cheeks.

“you’re the best, okay? i love you. so much. i’m sorry, yeah? i love you.” he calls as he backs up, running to the twinkie with the rest of the pogues in tow, who were waiting nearby for him to say goodbye. as jj passes, he ruffles your head, sending you back a pleased smile.

“you a good doggy.” he muses in that southern jokey drawl that makes you smile.

when john b is gone for days at a time with a dead phone, he feels terrible. atleast when the police ask you if you’d seen him you don’t have to lie, shaking your head sadly and telling them you don’t know where he is. you keep things clean at the chateau, look after the chickens when he’s gone. there’s points when you’re not sure if he’s ever coming back, but you know he’d never do that to you.

he arrives home one day in the middle of the night, surprised to find you still there loyally— curled up on the couch clutching his sweatshirt. you look all puffy, like you’d been crying — but now, you were peacefully asleep.

“hey, i’m home puppy, daddies home.” he whispers and you’re up in an instant, groggily wrapping your arms around his neck, sniffling.

he loves that you never doubted his father being alive, making you the only person to consistently believe in him. when any of the pogues would doubt him, he’d instantly be reassured by your furrowed brows, a confused expression. because why wouldn’t he be alive? if he left all those clues, and john b said so — it had to be true?

down the line, when you finally meet his father — he’s not all what he was cut out to be. john b was always in charge, always strong— but with big john routledge around, who was always bossing him about and making him do things he didn’t wanna do, he made jb more vulnerable and not in a good way. he also wouldn’t let you come along, stealing you away from your boyfriend because he didn’t fully trust you.

“i mean, c’mon son you really trust that scrappy lil’ girl? she don’t know right from left, she ain’t comin’ alright? end of. she’d only slow you down.” the man speaks, unknown to the fact you were listening in on the conversation with a tearful pout, one room over.

“you watch your mouth about her.” john b gets in his face but the old man old scoffs, moving him aside.

“yeah, yeah. save the drama for your girl. look, you wanna be the kinda man that gets his girlfriend shot because she can’t think for herself in a think-fast situation? or you wanna be the kinda man that brings her a fuck load of gold n’makes her rich. up to you, boy.” he busies himself with readying his backpack— heading to the door.

when john b finds you, looking guilty in his cap and printed shirt, a look you’d usually wanna be all over if you weren’t so upset — he cups your face, realising you must’ve heard everything.

“look, he’s just… stressed about the gold, okay he— he—”

“i don’t like him, john b.” your lip wobbles, petty and upset from his slander. he sighs, displeased.

“i know, okay. i don’t blame you. but… this is my dad, pup. i can’t please everyone. i just need you to be patient.”

“i have been patient.” he sob, and he pulls you into his chest, shocked because he’s never seen you this upset. “i have—”

“i know, hey, i know. i’m so sorry, baby. gonna figure this whole thing out and come home to you, and when i do — i’m cutting him off okay? unless he apologises, he’s not allowed to be around you anymore.” he promises sincerely and you just nod. you look so tired, tired of everything and his heart sinks.

“okay.”

when he arrives to the twinkie, climbing in the passenger seat he’s furious. so furious he can’t say a word as his father pulls the car out the makeshift drive as john b watches you through the window, curling up miserably on the couch like a sad old dog waiting for death.

“i hope you’re happy.” john b spits. his father barely reacts.

“i will be, once i got a fat golden nugget sittin’ in my palm. you’ll thank me for this one day, john b.”

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