#Elegant Car Ribbon

[carbowsindia]

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[ponderingmoonlight]

Chapter 1: From Tradegy to Fantasy - Awakening in Another World

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Warnings: reader's death, language

Genre: Isekai, Romance, Fantasy

Synopsis: Your life takes a tragic turn as you perish in a car crash, only to awaken in a whimsical world of fantasy with none other than Jujustu Kaisen characters as its main protagonists. But as if that wasn't enough, you're about to marry the prince version of Gojo Satoru. How will you navigate through this world of history and fantasy? Does your life take the same sudden twist of fate as that of your favorite characters?

Next Chapter ->

„Are you reading those strange stuff again…What was it called? Manga?”

“I’m only watching the anime because of that hot blindfolded guy.”

You don’t even try to look up from your phone, currently reading the newest publication of the Jujutsu Kaisen manga over some sketchy site online. That hot blindfolded guy…You’ll never understand why some girls are only watching Jujutsu Kaisen because of him, Gojo Satoru. This world has so much more to offer, so much more than this overpowered character not even Gege himself likes.

“It’s not exactly reading”, you mutter, so sunken into the drawn fight in front of your eyes that you simply can’t look away.

“(y/n), come back to reality. We have some classes to attend.”

Out of instinct, you roll your eyes. You’ll probably have to listen to that one professor who always talks about himself and simply reads through his presentation for three hours straight, not even allowed to look at your phone and do something useful instead. Urgh, being an uni student sucks.

“Give me a minute, I’m just finishing this chapter.”

When your friends start walking, you follow them without paying attention. This is it, the fight you’ve been waiting for. Maybe this time someone is able to defeat Sukuna, maybe this will be the day you’ve been waiting for. Fuck plot armour, fuck all the horrible things that happened last, all the beloved characters that had to die. Damn, you still miss Geto to this day. If they would have noticed sooner, he might be still alive-

“(Y/N), WATCH OUT!”

You always wondered about how death must feel like. Getting consumed by darkness, getting dragged into sheer empty space. Does it hurt? Will you die right on the spot and feel absolutely nothing? What about that myth about reminiscing your own life shortly before your death?

The second you looked into those blinding car lights, you knew exactly that you are next, that there is no way you’ll survive the hit that will sweep you off your feet, that throws your body into the air like a plastic bag.

How pathetic to die like this. Getting hit by a car while being glued to the sketches of fictional characters on your phone. What will your parents say, your family, your friends? You don’t want to die like this, but still…

You allow your eyes to rest against your harsh light, your phone dropping to the phone. You can’t escape the hit. Maybe, just maybe, you will wake up in a better world.

If stuff like that even exists.

When you open your eyes again, you brace yourself for an immense wave of pain hunting down your body, for getting greeted by those way too harsh hospital lights. But instead, your eyes open with ease. Instead, you get greeted by the dim light of a golden chandelier in and a well-painted ceiling in all different shades of purple.

“Where on earth…Am I?”, you mutter to yourself.

The second you look down on you, your heart drops to the floor. You aren’t wearing a pair of leggings and an oversized tee like you always do. No, you are covered in the softest white fabric you ever felt from head to toe, an elegant lavendel ribbon tied around your waist. And that delicate jewellery...

Immediately, you yank out of bed and almost trip over the hem of the white dress, coming to a stand in front of a mirror.

This isn’t possible. No, this has to be a feverish dream. Maybe they put you into coma after…

You swallow hard, reality hitting you with full force. You died. As soon as the car hit you, you were dead right on the spot and you knew it instantly. But why does everything feel so damn real? Frantically, your hands wander around the sweaty face that looks back at you in sheer horror through the mirror, stare at the lavendel eyes that don’t look like yours at all. But those facial features, the way your hair falls.

Is it…you?

A violent scream escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it, guts turning so uncomfortably that you feel like puking every minute. This can’t be true. This can’t be your reality now…Just before your feet give in, you grab the cool golden frame of the mirror, allow your spinning head to rest for a second.

“Lady Zenin, are you alright!?”

That distant voice, who is it talking to? Lady Zenin…Like Toji, Mai and Maki Zenin? Maybe you didn’t die but got kidnapped into a pervert cosplay party. Slowly, you turn around, face sticky in cold sweat.

But the man standing in front of you doesn’t look like a creep at all. No, he’s a truly elegant man. Maybe in his 50s, but it is clear that he’s taking care of himself. His eyes look at you worried, his gloved hands stretched out in order to help if you fall.

“Where…Where am I?”, you press out.

This isn’t your hometown. Fuck, this isn’t even your home country, not even your timeline. The stuff in this room looks so old and somehow magical, let alone that dress you’re wearing.

“I don’t understand, Lady Zenin. You are in your room”, the man replies visibly worried.

“What country?”, you probe.

“My lady, we are still in Avaloria…Are you feeling unwell? Shall I call the doctor-“

“In Avaloria. And I’m Lady Zenin…”, you mumble to yourself.

This doesn’t make any sense. You didn’t pay that much attention to geography, but you know for a fact that Avaloria isn’t a real country and that your last name definitely isn’t Zenin. But oh that last name is definitely familiar to you, so familiar that it’s frightening. Suddenly a shiver runs down your spine, dark foreshadowing letting your fingertips shake.

“What is my father’s name?”

You don’t want this answer. No, all you want to do is waking up from this dream, from this nightmare. You aren’t a lady, you aren’t a Zenin. You are nothing but plain (y/n) who adores anime and manga a little too much and still goes to university. You are nothing but a normal young woman.

“Your lordship…Your lordship is called Naobito Zenin, my Lady”, he stutters.

“And my brother’s name is Naoya, huh?”, you huff out.

This has to be a bad joke, right? What is this man, a stand-up comedian, maybe? You cross your arms in front of your chest, force your body to stop shaking. You need to put this madness to an end right now.

“Yes, exactly my Lady!”, the man in front of you literally cries out in relief while the ground is pulled underneath your feet.

No, nothing about this is right. These men, their names…They are nothing but an invention by Gege Akutami, nothing but drawn figures in a book adapted into an anime. They are nothing but fantasy, nothing but fiction.

“B-But…”

Your voice fails as your mind can’t process anymore. Is it really possible that…You were reincarnated into a world like this?

“Are you causing a scene again, sister?”

You don’t recognize the voice speaking behind you, but something inside you tells you that if you turn around, you will be greeted by…

Cold, sharp brown eyes.

Your very own orbs widen in sheer horror. Those dark green roots, the annoyed look on his face, his tall muscular frame. He looks exactly like the manga made him appear. But instead of wearing a kimono, he is dressed in a black uniform with golden and purple details.

“You’re looking like a fucking prince…”, you breathe out.

“Are you trying to upset me, (y/n)?”

“Master Naoya, the lady doesn’t appear like herself today. Shall I call the doctor?”, the older man speaks with low voice.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

He grabs your chin before you’re able to stop him, his cold glare hitting you with full force.

Naoya just touched you. Fucking Naoya Zenin is standing in front of your very own self, his fingers wrapped around your chin, staring at you so intensely that you feel like fainting any given minute.

“Don’t you dare to mess today’s meeting up because of your weird acting. It took father and I months to arrange a meeting with that lousy prince. Let’s hope that he finds liking in you or else I’ll marry you below your status”, he hisses into your face.

“You can’t just arrange my wedding. Who the hell do you think you are?”, you spit into his face out of instinct.

“All the attention must have gone to your head, (y/n). Who do I think I am? I am your big brother, father’s right hand. And you are nothing but a woman. Your only worth is to marry into a wealthy and influential family. I will never understand why the prince of our country found a liking in you. Apart from a pretty face, you have nothing to offer.”

He yanks your chin away roughly, forces you to take a few steps back and almost sends you onto the floor with the sheer force of his fingertips. Your body quivers in anger, hands balled into fists so tight that your knuckles stand out white.

“I don’t need a prince, I know my own worth you fool!”, you demand.

“Who taught you to talk like this? You are a lady, (y/n). Finally start to act like one or I will tell father about your behaviour. Maybe a venesection will cause your mouth to finally shut, what do you think?”

“A vene-what?”

“Urgh, just be quiet and get yourself ready. You will meet the prince as soon as you are presentable. And don’t you dare to disappoint us”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

And then he’s gone in the wind while you stand in the middle of the room, still unable to catch your shaky breath. Who the hell does this guy think he his? Where exactly are you, what world is this? Your head begins to spin so violently that you fear to lose your balance, your whole life crashing down on you like a house of cards.

This isn’t 2024 on mother earth anymore. This…this is something completely different. And that man who introduced himself as your brother made it all too clear that there’s no way you’ll survive here if you don’t play along. Maybe it’s like in that anime you just watched, the one with the girl names Raeliana. If that’s the case…

“Please call in my maids. I wish to be dressed”, you speak out monotone.

“Of course, Lady (y/n).”

You will play along. But there is no way in hell you’ll let him force you into a marriage with some strange prince you don’t even know. Your eyes are fixated on themselves, the new lavender color gleaming back at you being so unknown as well as all those women who scurry around you.

Who is this prince, anyway? If you’re really in some strange jujutsu kaisen verse, it must be another character. Maybe Geto…Oh, that would be nice. But what if it’s Sukuna? You shake your head, haunt away your stinging imagination. No, you won’t marry the king of curses. Actually, there aren’t many men you’d like as your husband.

How is this supposed to turn out good?

-at the salon-

You feel like fainting any given minute, heart pounding so roughly against your well-dressed ribcage that every beat sends a shiver down your spine. If the man standing in front of you isn’t called Geto or Nanami, you don’t want him. And apart from that…Aren’t you too young to marry anyway? Why does your family want to get rid of you so badly?

“It is so nice to finally meet you in person, Lady (y/n).”

Your heart drops to the floor.

That voice.

Fuck. It’s no doubt that it’s him.

“Let me introduce myself properly: I’m Prince Satoru, the future king of Avaloria.”

The second your brother steps aside, you get greeted by bright blue eyes and a cheeky grin.

This is Gojo Satoru, that “hot guy with the blindfold”, one of the last men you’d like to marry even if he’s dressed in a fine suit with red and blue details. Out of instinct, you cross your arms in front of your chest, narrow eyes staring him into the ground. You will never understand the hype behind his smile and eyes when it’s all too clear that he’s a player, a womanizer. A man like Gojo Satoru isn’t the husband you were imagining, not the man you were looking for since you were a child.

“I’m not marrying that man”, you announce into the silence of the room.

Soo, this was the very first chapter of my new series and it makes me beyond excited! So please, if you enjoyed it, it would make me beyond happy if you like/comment/reblog that work of mine and let me know what you think. Thank you guys so much for your constant support, it means the world 🤍

Tags: @m0k0k0 @lees-chaotic-brain @sanicsmut @risuola @fire-loving-siren @sunshine7queen @gatitam @kentocalls

[elryuse]

Hierarchy

Part 3 : New Faces, Same Cases

Y/n POV

The morning sun painted the sky in hues of gold and pink as I pedaled my beloved bicycle towards Jooshin High. The wind whipped through my hair, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers. I felt a sense of peace and tranquility wash over me, a stark contrast to the anxiety that had been gnawing at me in the days leading up to this moment.

As I approached the school, a line of luxury cars snaked along the driveway. Their polished exteriors gleamed under the morning sun, a testament to the wealth and privilege of their owners. A red carpet had been rolled out, a crimson ribbon leading to the grand entrance.

I watched in fascination as a group of four girls emerged from the cars. They were dressed in designer outfits, their long legs and flawless makeup drawing the attention of everyone around them. Wonyoung, Ryujin, Minjeong, and Jimin—the angels of Jooshin High, as they were known—stepped onto the red carpet, their every movement a picture of grace and elegance.

I was both dazzled and dumbfounded. What was the significance of the red carpet? Why were they treated so differently? As I parked my bicycle, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had stumbled into a different world.

Gathering my courage, I made my way into the school. The halls were filled with students, their conversations a low hum of privilege and exclusivity. I felt like a small fish in a vast, unfamiliar ocean.

My classroom was a cavernous space, bathed in the soft glow of fluorescent lights. The desks were arranged in neat rows, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the hallway. I found my seat at the back, hoping to blend into the background.

As I sat down, I couldn't help but notice the way the other students were staring at me. They were sizing me up, assessing my worth. I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me.

A few minutes later, a woman entered the room. She was tall and elegant, with a warm smile that instantly lit up the room. "Good morning, everyone," she said. "My name is Ms. Han So Hee, and I'll be your homeroom teacher for this year."

She greeted the privileged students first, her voice filled with warmth and admiration. When she turned her attention to the scholarship students, her tone shifted slightly, becoming more formal.

"Welcome to Jooshin High," she said. "I hope you will find this to be a challenging and rewarding experience."

After introducing herself, Ms. Han outlined the rules and policies of the school. The first rule was clear: the privileged students were the main focus of the teachers. The scholarship students were secondary. The second rule was even more shocking: the educational materials would be differentiated, with a greater emphasis on the privileged students.

A murmur of discontent rippled through the scholarship students. We had all been warned about the elitism of Jooshin High, but this was beyond anything we could have imagined.

As the students were discussing the rules, a familiar figure burst into the room. It was Ryujin, one of the angels of Jooshin High. She apologized profusely to Ms. Han, who dismissed her apology with a wave of her hand.

"It's quite alright, Ryujin," she said. "Just be more careful in the future."

Ryujin thanked Ms. Han and took her seat. The other students watched in awe, their eyes filled with envy.

But the scene took a dramatic turn when a scholarship student, who had arrived late, tried to enter the classroom. The doorman stopped him, his face stern. "I'm sorry, but you're late," he said. "You're not allowed to enter the class."

The student pleaded with the doorman, but to no avail. He was expelled from the class, his face filled with shame and humiliation.

As I watched the scene unfold, I felt a cold dread settle in my stomach. Jooshin High was not what I had expected. It was a hell on earth.

Small Timeskip

The classroom door swung shut behind Ms. Han, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the cacophony of the hallway. As soon as she was out of sight, the students pulled out their phones, tablets, and laptops, their screens illuminating their faces. The air was filled with the sounds of games, laughter, and idle chatter.

I couldn't help but notice Ryujin, her presence radiating through the room. She was surrounded by her friends, a group of privileged students who seemed to orbit around her. There was something about her that drew me in, a magnetic force that pulled me towards her.

As I watched her, she glanced in my direction. A flicker of recognition crossed her face, and then she smiled. My heart skipped a beat. I quickly turned away, pretending to be engrossed in my book.

But Ryujin wasn't deterred. She stood up and walked towards me, her steps confident and purposeful. I felt a surge of excitement and dread.

"Hi there," she said, her voice warm and inviting. "I've never seen your face before. What's your name, little one?"

I was taken aback by her familiarity. She was one of the most popular girls in school, and yet she was talking to me as if we were old friends.

"My name is Y/n," I replied, my voice barely audible.

Ryujin smiled. "Nice to meet you, Y/n. You're new here, aren't you?"

I nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement.

"Well, welcome to Jooshin High," Ryujin said. "I hope you'll enjoy your time here."

I thanked her, my heart racing. I couldn't believe that Ryujin was actually talking to me.

"Would you like to join us?" she asked, gesturing towards her friends.

I hesitated, unsure of what to do. But something inside me told me to say yes.

"Sure," I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

Ryujin took my hand and led me to her group of friends. They were all dressed in designer clothes, their laughter and chatter a constant buzz of energy. I felt out of place, but Ryujin seemed to sense my discomfort.

"Don't worry, you'll fit right in," she said, squeezing my hand.

As we sat down, Ryujin's friends introduced themselves. There was Minjeong, the ice queen of the group; Jimin, the bubbly social butterfly; Chaewon, the quiet observer; and Yeji, the rebellious free spirit.

They all seemed to be very friendly, and they made an effort to include me in their conversations. I was surprised by their warmth and openness.

After a while, Ryujin pulled out a vape. The other girls followed suit, inhaling deeply. I watched them with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"Have you ever tried this?" Minjeong asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I shook my head. "No, I can't smoke."

The girls laughed. "Oh, come on," Jimin said. "It's not that bad."

I resisted the urge to try it. I didn't want to disappoint Ryujin or her friends, but I also didn't want to do anything that could harm me.

As we sat there, chatting and laughing, I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. For the first time since I arrived at Jooshin High, I felt like I was part of something.

Just as we were starting to get comfortable, the bell rang. Ryujin took my hand and led me back to our classroom.

"We should hang out sometime," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

I nodded, my heart pounding with anticipation.

As we entered the classroom, I couldn't help but feel a sense of hope. Perhaps Jooshin High wasn't as bad as I had thought. Maybe there was a chance for me to find my place here after all.

Meanwhile In So-hyun's POV

The hum of the air conditioner filled the classroom, a constant drone that barely registered in my mind. My gaze drifted out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. As the queen bee of Jooshin High, I was accustomed to feeling on top of the world, but today was different.

A sudden vibration in my pocket snapped me out of my reverie. I pulled out my phone, my heart pounding. An anonymous number had sent me a photo. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the younger version of myself, vaping and laughing with a boy who looked completely out of place. He was dressed in plain clothes, his books piled high, a stark contrast to the designer labels I was accustomed to.

Panic surged through me. I typed furiously, demanding to know who the sender was and what they wanted. But the anonymous person remained silent, sending only a chilling message: "Soon... You'll understand."

Fear gripped me as I realized the implications of the photo. It was a secret I had buried deep, a part of my past I had hoped to forget. The thought of it being exposed to my classmates and friends filled me with dread.

I couldn't believe it. I, So-hyun, the queen bee of Jooshin High, was being threatened. I was the one who controlled the social hierarchy, the one who everyone looked up to. How could anyone dare to challenge me?

Overwhelmed by a mix of fear and anger, I burst into tears. I ran out of the classroom, leaving my friends Yujin and Gaeul confused and concerned. As Gaeul followed me into the bathroom, I collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

"So-hyun, what's wrong?" Gaeul asked, her voice filled with worry.

I couldn't find the words to explain. The secret I had been hiding for so long was now threatening to destroy everything I had built. I was terrified of what would happen if anyone found out about my past.

"I don't know," I managed to choke out. "I just... I'm scared."

Gaeul wrapped her arms around me, offering comfort. "We'll figure this out together," she said. "Just tell me what's going on."

I hesitated, unsure if I was ready to share my secret. But I knew that I couldn't keep it to myself anymore. So I told her everything, from the vaping to the boy I had met.

Gaeul listened intently, her expression filled with shock and concern. "I can't believe you never told me," she said. "You're not alone, So-hyun. We're all here for you."

Her words offered me some comfort, but the fear still lingered. I knew that the person who had sent me the photo was watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.

In the days that followed, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. I was constantly looking over my shoulder, expecting to be caught. The stress was taking a toll on me, and I began to feel physically ill.

One night, as I was trying to sleep, my phone buzzed again. I opened it with trepidation, expecting another message from the anonymous sender. But to my surprise, it was a text from an unknown number.

"Meet me at the old amusement park tomorrow night at midnight," the message read. "If you don't come, I'll release your secret to everyone."

Panic surged through me. I knew that I couldn't ignore the threat. I had to go.

The next night, I found myself standing at the entrance of the abandoned amusement park. The place was eerily quiet, the only sound the wind rustling through the trees. I hesitated for a moment, but then I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

As I wandered through the park, I felt a sense of dread creeping over me. The place was dark and foreboding, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.

Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me. I turned around, my heart pounding. There, standing in the shadows, was a figure cloaked in darkness.

"So-hyun," the figure said, their voice cold and menacing. "It's time for you to pay the price."

I tried to scream, but no sound came out. The figure stepped closer, their eyes glinting in the darkness.

"You think you're so perfect, don't you?" they said. "But you're just like everyone else. A hypocrite who pretends to be something she's not."

Before I could react, the figure grabbed me and pulled me into the shadows. I struggled to break free, but their grip was too strong.

As the figure dragged me deeper into the park, I realized that my secret was about to be exposed. My carefully constructed image was about to be shattered, and I would be left alone and humiliated.

I closed my eyes, preparing myself for the worst. But then, something unexpected happened. A bright light flashed in the distance, followed by the sound of sirens.

The figure froze, their grip on me loosening. I took advantage of the distraction and broke free. I ran towards the light, my heart pounding in my chest.

As I reached the edge of the park, I saw a police car pulling up. I stumbled towards the officers, my legs shaking.

"Help me," I cried, tears streaming down my face.

The officers rushed over to me, their faces filled with concern. They listened to my story, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"We'll find out who did this," one of the officers said. "Don't worry, we'll protect you."

As the officers escorted me to their car, I looked back at the abandoned amusement park. I knew that my ordeal was far from over, but for the first time in a long time, I felt a glimmer of hope.

To Be Continued

[buckets-and-trees]

Chosen, Part 1: Arrival

Characters/Pairings: eventual Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Word Count: 3.4k Summary: After surviving three rounds of interviews, you have been invited for a full-day to tour and interview at the estate and headquarters that belong to the Winged Heritage Foundation.

SERIES Content Warnings: SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut, dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting

CHAPTER Content Warnings: none

Notes: I started writing this story with the intention for it to be a long one-shot, but after it shot past 18k, I realized I would need to break it up into installments, so ... expect sort of a slow burn for the plot? Installments will be posted on Mondays and Thursdays.

Shout outs to @stargazingfangirl18, @witchywithwhiskey, @biteofcherry, and @vonalyn for helping me get my ideas sorted out for this trip!

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You scroll through the note in your phone with questions to ask during a final interview as the car pulls off the interstate and starts down a country highway lined with trees.

At least you hope this is the final interview.

You had applied for a basic administrative assistant position with the Winged Heritage Foundation, but after your first interview you had been called by a recruitment officer and asked if you would consider a different position with the organization, one that hadn’t been posted publicly.

You still don’t know what the position is you’re being considered for, but after two more interviews, you had been notified that you were a finalist and invited to a full-day interview and tour of the Foundation’s headquarters – an estate outside of the city. They had even arranged for a professional car service to pick you up and take you there. The offices in the city, where your previous three interviews had taken place, evidently handles most of the business operations for the Foundation, and the estate is where the more focused work takes place.

You are naturally a bit nervous for a fourth - and full day - interview, but you feel you like your nerves are at a healthy level - present but not paralyzing, a small buzz that will keep you focused.

The car slows as it approaches a break in the trees, and your driver signals to turn. As you round the corner, your breath catches in your throat. A wrought-iron gate stretches across a wide driveway, its intricate scrollwork spelling out "Winged Heritage" in elegant script. The gate swings open silently as your car approaches, as if by magic.

The driveway stretches before you, a winding ribbon of pale gravel cutting through a verdant landscape that takes your breath away. Ancient oaks and maples line the drive, their branches reaching across to form a dappled canopy overhead. Bright morning sunlight filters through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground.

As you travel deeper into the estate, meticulously manicured gardens unfold on either side. Vibrant flower beds burst with color - deep purple irises, sunny yellow daffodils, and blood-red roses. The gardens give way to rolling lawns of emerald green, dotted with sculpted topiaries in fantastical shapes.

As the car rounds another bend, a shimmering pond comes into view. Its surface is like polished glass, reflecting the azure sky and fluffy white clouds above. A family of swans glide gracefully across the water, their long necks arched in elegant curves. At the far end of the pond, a delicate bridge of white marble spans the narrowest point, its railings gilded with gold.

The driveway begins to climb a gentle slope, and as you crest the hill, your jaw drops at the sight before you. A magnificent mansion rises from the landscape, its pale stone walls glowing warmly in the morning sunlight. The architecture is a stunning blend of classical elegance, with graceful arches and intricate stonework that seems to ripple and dance as you approach.

The central facade is a masterpiece of symmetry, with wide steps leading up to a grand entrance flanked by towering columns. Ivy climbs the walls in artful patterns, as if guided by an invisible hand to accentuate the building's most beautiful features.

The car follows the curve of the driveway as it sweeps up to the grand entrance before coming to a stop. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself for what lies ahead. The driver opens your door, and you step out onto the gravel, the crunch beneath your feet grounding you in the moment.

A figure emerges from the ornate double doors at the top of the steps, and your heart skips a beat as you recognize her instantly. Natasha Romanoff, the Chief Recruitment Officer, descends the stairs with astonishing grace. Her vibrant red hair catches the sunlight, creating a halo effect that seems almost otherworldly. She's dressed in a sleek black pantsuit that exudes both professionalism and an air of mystery. As your eyes meet hers, you're struck by the intensity of her gaze - piercing green eyes that seem to look right through you.

As she draws closer, you notice a subtle smile playing at the corners of her mouth, a mix of confidence and what you suspect to be mischief. Over the course of your brief interactions up to this point, she had been nothing but professional, but you could feel some alluring pull or energy that seemed to run deep beneath the surface of her controlled demeanor. She had been present in your second interview, conducted the third with one of her associates, and had been the one to schedule you for this.

"Welcome," Natasha says, her voice smooth as silk. "We're so pleased you could join us today." She extends her hand, and you shake it, noting the firmness of her grip.

"Thank you for having me," you reply, proud that your voice doesn't betray your nerves. "The estate is absolutely breathtaking."

Natasha's smile widens slightly. "It is, isn't it? We find that beauty inspires greatness. But come, let's not linger in the driveway. We have a full day and much to show you."

She gestures towards the entrance, and you fall into step beside her as you ascend the stone steps. The massive doors swing open silently, revealing a grand foyer that takes your breath away. The ceiling soars overhead, at least three stories, adorned with an intricate fresco depicting a beautiful sky, birds in flight, and towering trees, bringing the beauty of the grounds into this entry.

Natasha guides you through a doorway off to the side of the foyer, leading you into a small sitting room. The space is elegantly decorated with plush couches, rich mahogany furniture, and intricate paintings on the walls.

"Please, have a seat," Natasha gestures towards one of the couches as she takes a seat in an armchair across from you. You sink into the soft cushions, trying to take in everything at once - the opulence of the room, Natasha's presence, and her piercing gaze.

"First things first,” Natasha says, a professional smile on her face, “the nature of what goes on here is very sensitive and so I'll need you to sign this NDA before we continue." She hands you a stack of paperwork and a pen.

You quickly skim through the document before signing it, feeling slightly uneasy about signing something so quickly without fully understanding what the day ahead of you will entail. But your curiosity outweighs your hesitation and when Natasha takes back the signed document, she slides it into a briefcase by her side.

"Now that's out of the way," she says smoothly, "let me tell you more about our foundation."

She proceeds to give you an overview of the Winged Heritage Foundation – an overview of its history, mission, and values. It's all very intriguing and impressive - but although what she shares is engaging, outside of supporting initiatives identified as important to its founder and possibly something to do preservation of history or historical places and artifacts, you still feel you don’t have any clearer of an idea of what the Foundation’s actual purpose is. But since you have an entire day here, you don’t press the point now, assuming some part of the day will be dedicated to diving deeper into the work they do.

"But enough about us," Natasha says with another enigmatic smile. "Let's talk about what brought you here today."

She pulls out your resume from her briefcase and goes over your experience and qualifications with sharp attention to detail. She asks probing questions that make you feel like she's reading between the lines of your professional achievements.

"Impressive," she comments once she's finished going over your resume. "Your professional and personal character references also speak very highly of you."

Your brow furrows slightly. “Sorry,” you interject, “I don’t remember giving personal references?”

“No, you did not. But we do a lot of work on our end to vet candidates at this point for positions like this. Surely you understand.”

You nod slowly and train your face back into a smile. At least whatever homework they seem to have done on you came back with a positive result.

She leans forward slightly, and you can feel the intensity of her gaze. "We need someone who's truly suited for the responsibilities, but personnel fit is also incredibly important to us.”

“Of course,” you respond. “And what responsibilities exactly would you be looking for me to fulfill?”

Natasha presses her lips together and seems to scrutinize your face more closely. “You’re being considered for two opportunities. Until later in the day when I’ve made a determination on which I’ll recommend you for, I won’t be disclosing that information to you.”

“Oh,” you’re a little surprised at her directness, but you suppose her reason for withholding the information is logical.

“As the Chief Recruitment Officer, I’m very good at what I do, so I’ll know your future with us by the end of the day.”

Natasha rises from her chair with fluid grace. "Shall we begin the tour?" she asks, extending her hand to help you up. You take it, noting the surprising strength in her grip. “I'm eager to show you the wonders of our estate."

She seems to hold your hand longer than necessary, or maybe it’s just your nerves, maybe you looked unsteady standing up and she was only ensuring you were okay.

As you follow her out of the sitting room, you're once again struck by the grandeur of the foyer. Natasha notices your gaze lingering on the fresco above. "That was commissioned by our founder," she explains. "It's said to depict the view from the highest peak of a mountain range that no longer exists."

She leads you down a long corridor, its walls lined with portraits of distinguished-looking individuals. "Our benefactors and notable members throughout the years," Natasha explains. "Each one has contributed significantly to our mission."

The corridor opens into a vast library that takes your breath away. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stretch as far as the eye can see, filled with leather-bound tomes. The air is heavy with the scent of old books and polished wood. Sunlight streams through tall windows, casting a warm glow over the room. The library is a bibliophile's dream, with rolling ladders affixed to the shelves, gorgeous wooden tables for spreading out books for research, and cozy reading nooks tucked into alcoves.

As you walk between the towering shelves, you notice that some of the books look ancient, their spines cracked and faded with age, some even appear to be bound in unfamiliar materials. Others appear to be in pristine condition, despite clearly being very old.

"Our collection is quite extensive," Natasha says, running her fingers along the spines of nearby books. "We have texts dating back centuries, some of which are the only surviving copies in the world."

"How do you preserve them so well?" you ask, unable to hide your fascination.

Natasha's lips curl into a mysterious smile. "We have our ways. Mostly it’s all down to our librarian Jarvis.”

She leads you through a set of double wooden doors at the other side of the library. Once you exit, Natasha leads you through a series of grand hallways, each more breathtaking than the last. The walls are adorned with tapestries and paintings that seem to come alive as you pass, their subjects' eyes following your movement. You could swear you see a figure in one portrait shift slightly, but when you look back, it's perfectly still.

"This wing houses our main offices and research facilities," Natasha explains as you walk. "We have state-of-the-art equipment for analyzing artifacts and documents, as well as a world-class conservation lab."

You pass by rooms filled with people working diligently at computers, their screens displaying what look like ancient texts and complex diagrams. In one room, you glimpse a team carefully examining what appears to be an old manuscript under specialized lighting.

As you continue down the hallway, you notice a door that seems different from the others. It's made of dark, heavy wood and adorned with intricate carvings. Unlike the other doors which are open or have glass panels, this one is firmly shut.

Natasha catches you looking at it. "That area is off-limits, I'm afraid. Some of our more... sensitive projects require absolute secrecy."

You nod but can't help feeling a prickle of curiosity. What could be behind that door that requires such concealment?

Natasha guides you to an elevator at the end of the hall. As you step inside, you notice there are more floors than you would have expected from the outside view of the mansion.

"We have quite extensive facilities underground," Natasha explains as she presses a button for one of the lower levels. "It allows us to maintain the historical integrity of the mansion's exterior while having all the modern amenities we need for our work."

The elevator descends smoothly, and when the doors open, you find yourself in a sleek, modern space that contrasts sharply with the ornate decor above. The walls are a pristine white, and the floors are polished concrete. The lighting is bright but not harsh, giving the space a clean, almost clinical feel.

Natasha leads you down a corridor lined with glass-walled rooms. In one, you see people in lab coats hunched over microscopes. In another, a group is gathered around a large touch screen, manipulating 3D models of what look like ancient artifacts.

"This is our primary research facility," Natasha says, leading you down a wide corridor. "We have some of the most advanced technology in the world at our disposal here."

As you walk, you pass by rooms with glass walls, allowing you to see inside. In one, you spot what looks like a holographic projection of a complex molecule rotating in mid-air. In another, a team of scientists in white lab coats huddle around a table, examining something you can't quite make out.

You pause for a moment, trying to take it all in. The contrast between the classical architecture upstairs and this futuristic facility is striking. "This is incredible," you say, unable to keep the awe from your voice. "I had no idea the Foundation had such advanced capabilities."

Natasha's lips curl into a satisfied smile. "We pride ourselves on being at the cutting edge of research and technology. It's essential for some of our work. We’re also one of the few science labs in the world that still is granted an affiliation with the nation of Wakanda."

As you continue down the corridor, you notice a few doors that aren't made of glass like the others. These are solid metal, with keycard readers and what look like biometric scanners next to them.

"What's behind those doors?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

Natasha's expression doesn't change, but you sense a slight shift in her demeanor. "Those are our most sensitive research areas. Access is strictly limited to senior researchers and leadership."

As if orchestrated for this precise moment, the doors slide open, and two men emerge, engaged in a heated discussion. Or, rather, one of them is heated, and the other is shooting back casual, sarcastic comments.

Natasha clears her throat, “Gentlemen.”

They both stop.

“We have company,” she says, gesturing to you.

The two men turn to face you, and your jaw nearly drops as you instantly recognize them. Standing before you are none other than Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, two of the most famous figures in the world and certainly at the Foundation.

Tony Stark, looking every bit the billionaire genius he's known to be, is dressed in an impeccably tailored suit that probably costs more than your current yearly salary. His goatee is perfectly trimmed, and his hair is styled with just the right amount of casual messiness. There's a faint blue glow visible beneath his shirt - the arc reactor that's become his trademark.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Tony says, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and mischief. He steps forward, extending his hand. "Tony Stark. But you probably knew that already."

As you shake his hand, you can't help but feel a bit starstruck. Tony Stark's grip is brief but firm and confident, his smile charming yet slightly calculating as he sizes you up.

"And this strapping specimen of American values is Steve Rogers," Tony adds, gesturing to the man beside him.

Steve, standing tall and broad-shouldered, offers you a warm smile that seems to light up the room. He's dressed more casually than Tony in khakis and a fitted blue shirt that barely contains his muscular frame. His handshake is strong but gentle, and his blue eyes radiate sincerity.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Steve says, his voice deep and reassuring. "I hope you're enjoying your tour of our facilities."

You manage to find your voice, introducing yourself. “The tour has been nothing but fascinating and impressive so far,” you affirm.

Tony's eyes gleam with interest. "Oh, you’re the one they’ve been wooing, eh? I was sent no less than five reminders this morning that I was to be on my best behavior,” he discloses with a wink.

Natasha rolls her eyes, and you have the suspicion Steve only barely restrains himself from doing so.

"Anyway, welcome to the Foundation," Tony says.

"Stark is supposed to be one of our most valuable researchers," Natasha explains.

"Eh, that’s why you send Steve down to get me back in line when I’m pursuing tangential projects."

This time Steve does roll his eyes.

You can't help but chuckle at the banter between Tony and Steve. Their dynamic is exactly as you'd imagined from what you've seen in the media - Tony's quick wit and sarcasm playing off Steve's more serious demeanor.

"So, what do you think of our little operation so far?" Tony asks, gesturing broadly at the surrounding facility. "Pretty impressive, right?"

Before you can answer, Natasha interjects smoothly. "I'm sure our guest is finding everything quite fascinating, but we should continue the tour. I'm sure you both have important work to get back to."

Tony raises an eyebrow at Natasha, a silent exchange seeming to pass between them. "Right, right. Important work. Can't keep the world waiting, can we?" He turns back to you with a grin. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you around."

“You’ll at the very least be seeing me,” Steve says. “I believe I’m scheduled to join you for lunch.”

“And I’m not invited?” Tony protests, but he sports an unrepentant grin rather than any genuine offense.

Steve puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder to steer him away, “You’re not the Executive Director of the Foundation, so, no.”

Tony shrugs out of his grip, “And remind me why that is?”

“‘All administrative, no science,’ as you aptly put it so many times when you remind me why you don’t want to listen to what I say.”

“Right,” Tony replies, but does fall into step with Steve heading down the corridor.

As they leave, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and bewilderment. Meeting two such prominent figures so casually during your interview process only adds to the surreal nature of this experience.

Natasha gently touches your elbow and guides you away from the metal doors and continues down the corridor. "My apologies for that interruption," she says, though her tone suggests she's not entirely displeased. "Mr. Stark has a tendency to... make an impression."

You nod, still processing the encounter. "It's no problem at all. I'm just surprised to see them here. I knew they were involved with the Foundation, but I didn't realize they were so hands-on."

Natasha's lips curl into a knowing smile. "The Winged Heritage Foundation values the direct involvement of all its key members. You'll find that everyone here, regardless of their public status or their position in our organization, contributes actively to our mission.”

She leads you through more state-of-the-art laboratories and research facilities, each more impressive than the last, before returning to the elevator to bring you surface-level again.

As the elevator ascends, you find your mind racing with questions. The encounter with Stark and Rogers, the glimpses of cutting-edge technology, and the air of mystery surrounding certain areas of the facility have only heightened your curiosity about the true nature of the Winged Heritage Foundation is, showing you so much, but not truly illuminating any answers.  

NEXT PART: LUNCH

Welcome to the Winged Heritage Foundation, lovelies. This is only the beginning... Where will this day take you? And what is going on here?

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[blingblong55]

Landslide -Simon "Ghost" Riley

Based on a request: I was talking about military father-daughter balls with a coworker and as a fluff request to also cleanse your asks: How about Simon walking into his daughters room wearing his suit, going to ask his wife to do his bow tie because he's never been one for formal occasions and sees R/N is getting their daughter ready into her dress and doing her hair.

---- F!Reader, fluff, dad!Ghost, father-daughter moment ----

It's an old tradition that dads did with their daughters, something he never expected to attend and here he is, getting in his dress uniform. His ribbons, medals and the tight berret all decored him. As he was about to put his last medal on, he remembered the stupid tie. He was good at tying ropes but stupid ties that made him forget everything he learned were just…ugh where is his darling wife when he needs him?

"Bloody thing-" he gets cut off by a giggle from his daughter. Oh, that sweet sound that made him retire years ago. As his daughter giggles, he finds himself smiling and forgetting about the tie and the one woman who knows how to tie one is his sweet wife. Slowly, he finds himself walking to the bedroom, looking down as he tries to figure out how to tie this without looking and feeling dumb.

"And then daddy will dance with me?" your sweet daughter says and you nod. "He will and you best be on your best behaviour, okay?" You say as you fix zip her dress up and smile. Simon leans on the doorway and smiles. This is the life any soldier like him ever dreamed of.

He doesn't want to interrupt, this is a special moment after all and he hopes that this becomes a tradition. One that he can continue even with the little one in your soft belly.

Your daughter with a small pout asks if she will always be as pretty as she is tonight and before you can answer, Simon does it for you. "Your daddy's little princess, of course, you'll always be as pretty– no, you'll always be as beautiful and elegant as tonight, just like your mum," he smiles and winks your way.

He always has a way with words and always knows when to compliment you and your princess.

"Now sit still, I have to finish this braid," you softly say and smile. Your little girl is as eager as ever to go out with her dad tonight. And as you do her hair, Simons sits on the edge of the bed, watching you both.

He went from guns, infiltrations and bombs to having pink stickers, toys, dolls and bows all over his home and he will never complain about it. It's beautiful really. He knows that the change is so different but it's so good, he likes the car rides to and from school where he has to play two certain songs over and over. And Soap may laugh at him anytime he gets in the car after a night out and the radio station is on a kid's station but he is a dad and fuck does he love being a dad.

Once you place the last bow and apply the glitter to her hair, Simon is next. Here he was, standing like a little kid to have his mother help him with something. "I just don't get it, love," he says as he lets you tie the tie. You smile, tightening and adjusting his shirt, "Just takes time, Si," you kiss his cheek and chuckle a little as you have to clean his cheek from the lipstick stain. He smiles like a lovesick fool.

A cheeky smile appears on him as your daughter takes his hand, "We'll be late daddy." she reminds him and he smiles. He taught her well, that time management was always important and if he had to arrive at an event at a certain time, he was always there 10 minutes earlier and now so will his daughter.

"Alright, c'mon," he picks her up and kisses your cheek. "We'll be home at 10:30, alright love?" he brushes your cheek and kisses your forehead. "You and the little lad stay warm," he says as he closes the front door.

The whole night was amazing for them both. She received flowers when she got to the car because gentlemen should always give flowers on special nights and she always danced with him all night.

It is a night for the years to come, a new tradition that will heal the old wounds of an old soldier.

Tags: @liyanahelena @uniquecroissant @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @frazie99 @night-mare-owl-79 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @@konigssultwithghost @pinkblossomsworld @kaoyamamegami @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @@foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @@sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95

[sugoi-writes]

Joyride - Alastor x Lucifer

Kinktober - Day IV (Car Sex)

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷

A/N - What a fucking HONOR it is to kick of Day 4 of this prompt with my lovely wives! If you haven't read the first few days, please do so! I'd love to thank @hazelfoureyes @synamartia @fraugwinska @macabr3-barbi3 and @minkdelovely for indulging in this insanity with me 🔥 Oh this will be FUN

Day I Day II Day III

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Old man yaoi, cursing, dirty talk, thirsty descriptions, Luci in a damn dress, riding/grinding/humping, handjob(kinda?), anal fingering/prep, banter, alcohol consumption, Bottom/Switch Alastor if you squint, edging mention, and... just straight up smut. This is car sex people. MDNI I SWEAR TO CHRIST... Have fun!

🔥VROOM VROOM🔥

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷

When Alastor arrived at the rendezvous, he hadn't expected the limousine that awaited him. Or, perhaps he should have... This is the King of Hell, after all. The vehicle was an elegant, pristine white with accents of red and gold. Imagery of Eden's vices were lovingly etched into the metallic flourishes with a near-angelic precision. Lucifer’s fixations on apples and serpentine designs were not missed by the Radio Demon… He had to admit: it was a perfect chariot for the prideful ruler of Hell. A chariot he would soon share with him alone.

Alastor dismissed his cane with a flick of his wrist, hands eager to hold onto something else. When a long, pitch and ivory leg emerged from the car, he felt his heart leap into his throat. Alastor was rarely a victim of his carnal urges, but he felt the table shifting as he saw more and more of that delectable skin. 

Lucifer Morningstar emerged from the limo in his colors-- a deep, cherry red with golden accents. The opulent, delicate chains that dangled down his bare back could be seen in the tinted windows' reflection. Alastor fought the urge to clear his throat, feeling his pulse hammering away urgently. Has Lucifer always owned this dress?

The fallen angel, temptation incarnate, combed his blackened fingers through his far-too-slick hair. Much like the snake in the Garden of Eden, Lucifer's eyes were lidded with sin and desire. He knew exactly how he looked, relishing his partner's near sheepish reaction.

"You look dapper as always, Mr. Radio Demon,” he practically purred, addressing Alastor as an equal. The flustered sinner was hoping to get more intimate names to tumble from those lips soon enough. 

Alastor bows at the waist, taking Lucifer's hand into his own formally. He smiles before pressing the silken flesh to his lips. During this, he maintains his focus on Lucifer’s eyes, and not the valley between his pectorals. Arguably, it was a difficult task for the taller demon. 

"Your Majesty, you may call me Alastor tonight. I implore you to." For the moment, Alastor returns the playful, formal tone, knowing that his partner will find it amusing. As if on cue, Lucifer tilts his head curiously, his free hand stifling his chuckle. 

"What a change of pace... Something must have come over you," Lucifer supplied, sighing as Alastor starts a tender ascent up his arm. Alastor's lips didn't rest the entire journey, talking between his strategic kisses. 

"Well, 'Alastor' sounds far sweeter when you're wailing in ecstacy, Your Grace." Alastor's rebuttal was so brief, yet so devastating to the demon before him. As if Lucifer wasn't already mentally shredding his new, black blazer to ribbons…

Lucifer's breath stutters as Alastor's kisses carve sensual patterns up his neck, tempting the temptress to give in to a moan. Alastor forgot that they were in public with prying eyes, it seemed... 

A fist full of hair forces Alastor to halt in his tracks, a breathy reply ghosting his cheek. 

"Then you must call me Lucifer tonight, Al... I'd rather hear that than the list of royal bastardizations you've cooking up..." 

A wolfish grin presses against Lucifer's pulse, making the fallen angel's heart stir once more," As you wish, Lucifer." Alastor, ever the gentleman, untangles himself from the breathless devil swiftly. Immediately after, he swings the door of the limo open, gesturing towards the interior with a dramatic flare. 

"But please, do crawl in... Wouldn't want you to catch a cold from your... Interesting choice of garments." 

Lucifer snickers, revealing that his dress has not one, but two side slits. As he makes a show of crawling in, Alastor's eyes can't help their wandering to the devil’s pert rump," Only if you come crawling after me, Bambi Boy~" 

See, at this very moment, Alastor is a simple man. And he follows the requests of his Lord without hesitation. He is nothing if not an eager man; ready to please.

🩸🩸🩸

Alastor can't help marveling over the little things. Limos were a luxury rarely extended to people of lower classes, like himself. He and his mother were as low as they could be on Earth, humble and grateful for what they have. While he tried to not oogle at the niceties of the cab, he couldn't hide the interest that sparkled in his eyes.

A phone, with a direct line to the driver-- for emergencies, or requests to stop, one could assume. Conveniently, there was a sliding window, should the phone be obsolete. In all of their banter, Lucifer insisted that 'it’s basically soundproof'. Had Lucifer wanted to test that theory, Alastor wondered. 

Towards the front of the cabin, dozens of glasses for champagne and other spirits sat on a bar cart– conveniently built into the side of the vehicle. The center console just below the window acted as a cooler, stocked with lovely vintages and chasers (he even spotted a brandy bottle or two--how very thoughtful of the King...) 

The windows were tinted, of course, the seats a red, luxurious leather. And for comfort, the lights in the back were dimmed, bathing the pair in a low, sultry light. For all intents and purposes, this was the perfect set up to a steamy tryst… One that even the Radio Demon could see coming. Alastor was surrounded by wealth, comfort and good company... A combination he wasn't used to, but one he welcomed enthusiastically. 

Lucifer had been meeting him finger-to-finger with whiskey the entire drive, the two of them laughing and honking like a pair of geese at the smallest reference. Alastor hadn't remembered the last time he had this much fun and let loose, already feeling the delicious effects of his drinks settle in. He had to admit: the dingy hotel bar was a far cry from the back of Lucifer's limousine. He felt justified in spending his time so earnestly with him, and felt just as eager to pursue the tryst that crossed his mind more than once. 

Alastor felt light as a feather, and yet as hearty as molten lava. He was one of the few to get this luxury; one of the first outside of the Morningstar Family to grace the seats of Lucifer’s limousine. Alastor wanted to leave an impression… and who could blame him? This was just as much his limo as it was Lucifer’s, in his mind. This particular ride would be one the Lord of the Hells would never forget... A 'joyride', as he's heard it called before. And so, with many fingers of whiskey making his heart flutter, Alastor enacted his plan. 

He hadn't anticipated the road bump when he tried to lean over, his longer, spindly body colliding into Lucifer's suddenly. The latter had clipped his head on the way down, but still managed to keep his glass of whiskey aloft. A pained groan was shared between the two, before they settled into their new position. 

When Lucifer looked up to wide, near hysterical eyes, a grin stretched across his pale face mischievously. He let his hand rest against Alastor's broad chest, his other still dangling midair. 

"First time in a car, I reckon?" Lucifer needles boldly, feeling a leg press between his own. Alastor levels him with a hard stare, softened by the blush rapidly coloring his cheeks. 

"And if it was? Would you feel so honored?" Alastor bit back, his hands confidently caging Lucifer's head. Alastor did his best to keep his balance as the limo hopped and bobbed along, not missing the way that Lucifer's body rippled beneath him. He wanted to see those same ripples uninterrupted by the luxurious fabric on his skin...

"I would be flattered, yes! For saving something so special for me, Bambi~" 

"Please don't call me that--" 

Lucifer manages to pull his leg up, pressing it to Alastor's chest before kicking him off. He sends the startled demon flying onto his back, leaving him sputtering from shock. Thankfully, he didn't shred the ceiling with his antlers on his descent. However… he wasn't so lucky with the door, the very tips of his points sinking into the doorframe. 

Lucifer straddled Alastor's hips with his shimmering thighs, chugging the rest of his drink before slinging the empty glass away. Alastor flinched as it shattered right against the window that divided the cabin from the front, ears flat against his skull. Was he TRYING to get the driver's attention?!

"Why don't I show you how it's done then, hmm~? I'll give you the ride of your life~" Lucifer offers, mirroring Alastor's classic, amused head tilt. 

The sinner bit his lip, suppressing the groan building in his throat. The prospect was one he wasn't disinterested in… He struggled as Lucifer settled over his groin, grinding his soft hind against his lap. It appeared he wasn't the only one struggling to 'keep it in his pants'... Err, dress? 

Alastor's hands grasp Luci's waist possessively, resisting the urge to bring him harder against his growing cock. 

"H-Have it your way," Alastor scoffs, head rolling back as Lucifer's rocking becomes a harsh bounce– accursed speed bumps! And curse the car door! 

Alastor’s antlers created deep gouges into the frame, rendering him completely still. In this position, he is quite vulnerable, his tail wagging subconsciously under his body. And yet, the element of being ‘trapped’ somehow made the heat in his cheeks travel straight to his cock. 

“ ‘You sure you want it my way~?” Lucifer teased, bringing his hips in a tight circle. This act alone had Alastor keening, biting his lip to silence himself. Of course I do, Alastor thought.

“Just get on with it, before I change my mind!” He jabs, knowing damn well that Lucifer saw straight through him. Lucifer grins as he braces a hand against the ceiling, the other fiddling with Alastor's trousers. "With pleasure, Alastor~" 

Alastor could hardly conceal his desire, the booze unraveling his resolve to be stoic or guarded. His cock throbbed at the use of his name in such a sensual context, aching to be freed.

Lucifer unclasps Alastor's belt with ease, tongue running across his pointed teeth greedily. Even as the vehicle rocked about, Lucifer hardly swayed. Instead, he used the unpredictability as a reason to press his body closer. The Radio Demon sighed with relief when his cock was released, his flushed, heated tip already damp with precum. 

Lucifer whistles lewdly at the sight, looking to Alastor with a cocky smirk,” Absolutely divine…” the former angel mused, leaving Alastor unable to form a coherent thought. 

When Lucifer resettles over his lap, Alastor is struck with a startling realization: no underwear. Not a single fucking thing to keep Lucifer concealed. Had Lucifer simply willed it away, or had he been garment-less this entire time? The prospect made Alastor buck up into Lucifer, a breathy sigh fumbling from his lips.

“Such an eager boy… I'll be sure to reward my little doe soon enough~” 

Alastor hardly had a moment to think before Lucifer's cock pressed to his. Thereafter, a warm hand wrapped firmly around both shafts. Alastor jolts, gasping as his partner moves against him. Lucifer keeps his hand ridgid with a delicious, all consuming pressure, watching his favorite sinner tremble below him. Experimentally, Lucifer begins to stroke the both of them, getting the Radio Demon to sigh and relax. The large hands holding Lucifer's waist act as an anchor, despite Alastor’s desire to move. His hips begin rocking languidly to watch Lucifer's pace, seeking even more friction than the bit provided by him. A shared, wanton moan hangs in the air, both sinners feeling their hearts quicken. 

Lucifer glides against the Radio Demon faster, the bumps in the road making his pace haphazard but heavenly," S-See? Told you I'd show-- you-- aaaaah good time~ Aaahn!" 

Alastor wasn't up for refuting the statement, especially when he was focusing on staying quiet," Are you quite certain we c-cahh-- hah-- c-can't be heard, cher?" 

Lucifer laughs breathlessly, grinning," Let him hear... The driver could use the change in pace-!! Hah!!!" 

Alastor grinds harsher against Lucifer’s cock, claws threatening to rip his dress for the horrendous suggestion.

"Sh-Shut your maw... This is too--nnn-- too lewd-- What if he reported this? What would the papers s-say?" 

Lucifer mewls as he tightens his grasp, eyes threatening to roll back as his hips move with Alastor's effortlessly," Nnnngh-- uhh, lucky demon~?" He quips, laughing breathlessly as Alastor smacks his thigh. The quake that travels through his skin has Alastor craning his head back, a hand flying to the car door to keep his antlers from sinking further in. 

"Sh-Shit!" was his only reply, ears pinned back as Lucifer began rocking with intent, the precum produced by their members making the glide unbearably wet and smooth. His hand, now stationary, focused on keeping the pressure tight and warm; a perfect hole for them to slide into.

Lucifer's lopsided grin portrays his ecstacy, the sweat clinging to his forehead making a heated descent down his temple. 

"At a loss for words, huh~?" He teased, his hips swiveling lecherously. The grunt he's rewarded with is just as telling, his partner's eyes slamming shut from the bliss. Lucifer doesn't seem to care, bringing his hips forward in a rapid succession of thrusts. 

"I should make you cum like this, y'know... Make us paint these dull seats with your cum--" Lucifer croaks, feeling a finger teasing the tight rim of his ass. 

"I'd rather have it here," Alastor groaned," Pl-Please-- this is is torture," Alastor gasps, feeling Lucifer's cock kick against his own at the idea. Begrudgingly, Lucifer couldn’t argue with that, knowing that he's essentially edging the two of them at the same time. 

"Nnnn, you're no fun~" Lucifer muses, letting go of their cocks for a moment," But you better make it worth my while, Bambi~" 

Alastor smirks, brows raised," I've never heard complaints..." He retorted, mentally finishing his sentence: not from you, at least.

🩸🩸🩸

When Lucifer allowed Alastor to stretch and probe his ass, he switched arms, the one formerly bracing the ceiling falling to Alastor's hip. He arched his back as harshly as he could, offering his ass to his partner easily. The stimulation from behind made his hips buck, cock absentmindedly grinding against Alastor's. The faster and wider the Radio Demon’s fingers fucked, the harsher Lucifer's hips moved to meet them. Alastor panted below Lucifer, eyes nearly crossed as the pleasure kept building higher and higher. His hot breath made the heat in Lucifer's cheeks feel mild, the Demon King cursing through clenched teeth. He marveled at the sight of Alastor's mouth hanging open, Lucifer leaning over to get a better view of the debauched look. 

"Mmm~ Is my doe going to cum~?" Lucifer moans, his tongue swiping across his mouth, as if coaxing him to kiss him. Alastor flinched, his brow hardening," This buck-- hah-- is about to shut you up--" Alastor yaps, yanking Lucifer down by the neck. He heard the familiar slapping and squelching of his hand hastily fucking into Lucifer's ass, kissing the squirming demon desperately to hide another mewl. He wasn't the only one struggling not to cum.

As Alastor continued to feverishly kiss him, he teased Lucifer between each disconnect. A tongue sliding across his lip, a gentle nip just to the right of his mouth… anything to make Lucifer sigh and pant again. The temptee just became the tempter!

"I should have you cum like this... You're a quivering mess from just my hands--" 

"A-And your cock-- G-Good God!" Lucifer sung, drooling from the dual stimulation. Alastor chuckles darkly, leaning up to capture Lucifer's neck with a gentle bite," It's just the two of us down here, cher~,” he admonishes, regaining some of his footing with the other demon. 

Lucifer practically squeaks as Alastor finds his prostate, the bullying internally amplifying his impending orgasm. Close. Lucifer was getting extremely close, and it was plain as day to the other sinner.

"Cum for me," Alastor pleaded,"C-Cum for me, please-- so this buck can fuck you properly." 

The triggering phrase was all it took for Lucifer to lose himself to the white-hot madness, his head thrown back in rapture. His hips didn't stop even as Alastor's fingers slowed down, his vision blurred with hot tears. When he felt the press of Alastor's cock to his wanting hole instead of his fingers, he bit back a wail of overstimulation. 

"F-Fuck... We may be late for the reservation-- nnnnghh– Alastor, listen to me!" 

The Radio Demon’s static fills the air, a conniving laugh haunting the heavy air of the cabin. 

"I intend to hold my end of things: I'm going to fuck you properly. Dinner be damned when something this delicious is in my lap--" 

When Lucifer wailed Alastor's name, fully impaled on his member, Alastor couldn't help calling out to his lover in tandem. Their bodies melded together once more, their original plans a distant memory in their lust-driven minds. 

Bottom Banner made by the lovely @synamartia 🔥

[pupsmailbox]

DOLL︰PUPPET ID PACK

NAMES ⌇ abbie. adelaide. adorablesse. adorablette. aerlyn. alena. alexis. alice. amaia. amaya. andrea. angeline. ankou. annabelle. annie. antoinette. anxiette. anxious. apricot. asaka. ash. asha. aspen. atticus. ava. avel. babette. babydoll. bambi. bambina. bambino. bashfelle. bashful. beau. bellamy. belle. bells. bernadette. blu. blue. bluesse. bluette. blushe. blushesse. blushette. boo. bram. bronach. bronagh. brone. button. buttons. cadel. candace. carmilla. carrie. catherine. cessair. charlie. charlott. charlotte. chelsea. chia. chica. chirella. chirelle. chiwa. chuckie. claeg. coffin. colere. commedia. constance. coquette. cordelia. corelle. corette. corsette. cypress. dahlia. dalia. damon. darling. dawn. dearesse. dearest. dearette. dearie. deidre. demure. desdemona. devin. devon. doilie. doily. doll. dollaintye. dollawie. dollerie. dollesse. dollette. dolleyed. dollie. dolline. dollita. dolly. dolores. dottie. drea. dread. drusilla. dáinn. eeria. eldritche. elissar. eliza. elle. elodie. eloise. emerence. emily. essie. esther. evangela. evangeline. evelyn. eveyln. faith. frill. frillette. genevieve. genoveva. gia. gladys. glorie. glory. gorey. gorie. gracelyn. gregory. gretta. gwen. gwenivive. haldor. haunt. hiccup. hyde. iraia. iresse. irette. itishree. jabez. janelle. janet. jannet. jinx. josie. julie. juniper. juno. kailey. kanani. kewpie. kiva. krak. lace. lacesse. lacette. lacey. lacie. lain. laintess. lakka. lalki. lavender. lea. lefu. letta. letum. libitina. lilac. lillith. lilly. lily. loaela. lola. lolah. loletta. lolita. lolite. lolla. lottie. lovelace. luci. lucius. lulu. lute. lyla. lys. madison. mahina. mandy. mannie. manon. many. mara. maria. marianette. marie. marion. marionette. marionne. marotte. marrionette. marrow. mary. maryjane. marzana. maveth. meek. melanie. melodie. melody. merripen. miel. minuette. mold. moldie. moldy. molly. moonie. moore. morana. morgana. morgue. mors. mort. mot. muriel. murmur. muse. nadine. nadzen. nancy. nanea. nanelle. nanette. nappi. naz. negan. nekane. nelly. nemesis. nettie. nicodème. niegan. nimbus. nina. nuri. olive. oliver. olivia. omega. panchaali. parner. pinkesse. pinkette. pinkie. pinky. pinocchio. pippin. poe. poppet. poppette. poppy. porce. porcelain. porcelynn. prantika. pulau. punthali. pupetta. puppet. puppetear. puppetesse. puppetette. puppette. puppyte. putala. quinn. ravanche. raven. realiteer. rebel. ribbon. ribbonne. riley. rion. robert. rose. rubella. ruby. sacrifette. salem. sasha. satin. scarlet. sebastian. sew. sewine. shivani. shiver. sidney. smierc. smiley. smilie. softesse. softette. softie. solikha. spirit. sprout. statuette. stitches. strings. sweeheart. sweetheart. sweetie. sweetiebelle. sweetine. sychar. teacup. tearie. teddy. tempest. thalia. than. thana. theodora. thorn. trembelle. trista. ultima. ulysses. vanessa. vera. viola. visage. whisp. whisper. willow. winston. wisp. wispera. wrathes. zizi.

PRONOUNS ⌇ adorable/adorable. ae/aer. angel/angel. anger/anger. antique/antique. app/apparition. bell/bell. berry/berry. berserk/berserk. bjd/bjd. bla/black. blank/blank. bliding/bliding. blue/blue. blush/blush. bug/bug. button/button. cake/cake. car/carcasse. cheer/cheer. cloth/cloth. coffin/coffin. control/control. coo/croon. cor/cor. cor/corrupt. core/core. corpse/corpse. coy/coy. crack/cracked. cracked/cracked. cre/creepy. creep/creepy. cu/curse. cu/cute. curse/curse. cute/cute. da/dark. de4/de4d. de/dear. de/demure. dea/dead. dead/dead. dead/death. dear/dear. death/death. decay/decay. delica/delicate. delicate/delicate. demon/demon. despair/despair. dirt/dirty. do/doll. doll/doll. doll/dolly. dolly/dolly. dread/dread. dress/dressup. dress/up. d♡ll/d♡ll. eer/eeerie. elegant/elegant. en/energy. end/end. evil/evil. eye/eye. fabric/fabric. fae/fae. fi/figure. fig/figure. figurine/figurine. flower/flower. fragile/fragile. frail/frail. friendly/friendly. frill/frill. fury/fury. gho/ghost. glass/glass. glo/gloomy. gore/gore. grave/grave. grief/grief. grim/grimm. grime/grime. gru/grudge. ha/haunt. happy/happy. haun/haunt. hx/hxm. h♡/h♡m. it/it. joint/joint. joint/jointed. joy/joy. ke/ker. kew/kewpie. kill/kill. kor/kor. kor/korrupt. la/lace. lace/lace. lae/lace. lo/love. lo/loved. lolita/lolita. love/love. mad/mad. mae/mae. mari/marionette. marionette/marionette. me/meek. mi/mier. mim/mimic. model/model. morbid/morbid. mu/mutter. mur/murmur. nap/nap. null/null. ny/nym. patch/patch. phan/phantom. pink/pink. pitter/patter. plastic/plastic. play/play. play/playtime. play/time. plush/plush. plush/plushie. por/porcelain. porce/porcelain. porcel/porcelain. porcela/porcelain. porcelain/porcelain. pose/pose. pose/posed. possess/possessed. pup/puppet. puppet/puppet. rea/reality. rest/rest. reven/revenge. rib/ribbon. ribbon/ribbon. rot/rot. scare/scare. scary/scary. seem/seem. sew/sew. sew/sewn. shi/shift. shi/shiver. shx/hxr. sh♡/h♡r. sie/sier. silk/silk. slee/sleep. sleep/sleep. smile/smile. snap/snapped. sneak/sneak. soft/soft. sou/soul. spi/spider. spi/spirit. spo/spook. spook/spook. sta/stalk. sta/stare. statue/statue. sti/string. stitch/stitch. string/string. sweet/heart. sweet/sweet. sweet/sweetdolls sweetie/sweetie. ta/tap. te/teer. tea/teatime. teeth/teeth. thre/thread. thread/thread. thxy/thxm. th♡y/th♡m. ti/timid. to/toy. toy/toy. toy/toytime. trick/trick. un/canny. unca/uncanny. ve/ver. vey/vem. vi/vr. vintage/vintage. vomit/vomit. wan/wander. watch/watch. whi/whisper. white/white. wilt/wilt. wood/wood. wrath/wrath. yarn/yarn. zzz/zzz. ♡/♡. ⚰️ . 🍨 . 🛌 . 🛏️ . 🥀 . 🧸 .

[kapeeshkapoosh]

birthday girl

a/n : lil oneshot of megumi being the sweetest sweetie, also ik megumis birthday was a few days ago but wtv 😭

synopsis : everything’s okay, because your world didn’t end at 19 at your birthday party.

contents : Megumi and reader are bffs :( , megumi being the best, both are hardcore crushing on eachother, fluff, cringe?, 481 words, no use of y/n!

Fushiguro Megumi x F! Reader

“It’s so stupid."

You mumbled under your breath.

It was your 19th birthday party, and here you were. Sat alone on the steps leading up to your house. Previous tear marks stained your face as you watched the still sky.

It was dark now, and the climax of the party was just arriving.

However, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk back in. All day, no one had even said happy birthday. Yet, everyone had come over to have a party for your birthday.

In the dark, a car pulled up to your driveway.

The familiar black BMW parked smoothly, its lights catching your eye.

As the door opened, a smile grazed your face.

Silently, you made eye contact. The feeling was humbling - your best friend (and crush) of 10 years seeing you pathetically alone at your own party.

“Hey Megs.” You smiled the best you could as he took a seat next to you, placing his gift aside.

“Hey.”

…

“so-“

“Why are you out here?” He questioned, looking at the constellations of stars. You turned to him, his eyes reflecting the elegance of the sky.

“I..” You swallowed your words, taking interest in the solid colour of your shoes.

His gentle gaze switched over to you. “I don’t even know Megs.” You whispered, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“I thought I would have fun, because, well, not to be obnoxious, but it’s my birthday!” You sniffed, “And everyone’s been treating me like crap, and-"

A small velvet box was placed in front of you.

“And no one had gotten you a present or said happy birthday?” He asked, you could hear the amusement in his voice.

“And no one had gotten me a present or said happy birthday..” You muttered, confused, raising your head off his shoulder.

"How- how did you..?”

He shrugged, a small grin teasing his pink lips.

“happy birthday.”

You breathed out a relieved laugh, slowly untying the blue satin ribbon around the box.

A giddy smile laced over your lips, looking over to Megumi for reassurance before opening it.

“Go ahead, it’s your birthday.” He chuckled, subtly excited for your reaction.

Slowly, you lifted the box open.

“Megumi..” You smiled, holding up the necklace in the moonlight. “Didn’t I say I want my future boyfriend to buy me this?” You flustered, playfully glaring at Megumi.

His grin softens. “sorry.”

You faked a huff of annoyance as you examined the necklace that has never failed to capture your attention.

“Can you?” You held the necklace in front of Megumi, pulling your hair apart and allowing Megumi tie the clasp.

“I love it.” You beamed.

He smiled contentedly as you gushed over the twinkle of the gem in the middle.

“Wanna get out of here?”

You scoffed jokingly, “And where to? The ice cream parlor down the street?”

“If that’s what you want.” He stood up, extending a hand for you to take. Gratefully, you took his hand.

“Can we?” You whispered.

Smiling, he whispered back.

“Of course."

[starzioo]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓. 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘.

Hiii! This is a DracoxFem!Reader one-shot! In this story you are a ballerina. I saw this post of the Slytherin boys x a ballerina and I could just imagine Draco being absolutely in love with her. So here it is I hope you like!

WARNINGS: NONE <3

You sit on the stage of the Royal Opera House in London. Tightly wrapping the dusty pink ribbons around your ankles. Today was your rehearsal day for the production of The Nutcracker. You had been casted as the Sugar Plum Fairy. Most people would take this role as being easy and simple. But oh no, they would be terribly wrong. The movements you made had to be fluid and effortless, while also being regal. You sigh before standing back up and fixing your rehearsal tutu. You head over to your starting mark and give the signal to the director to start the music.

=

DRACO POV

I get out of the muggle-car behind my father. 'Muggles really think that this is the peak of transportation?' I think to myself as I look back at the black car behind me. "Good morning Mr. Malfoy. It's a pleasure to have you here again! Mr. Evan's is in a meeting right now and told me to tell you that he'll meet with you as soon as possible." A woman who I assume is Mr. Evan's assistant spoke to my father. "M'Alright." My father says obviously annoyed with the muggles tardiness. "Right this way then." The woman says with her smile not faltering. She walks a couple paces ahead of my father while I linger behind him. We step inside of the building. The interior looks to be made for royals. The architecture being elegant. She leads us down a couple hallways before stopping at a big door. "You may sit and wait here. Mr. Evan's will be here shortly. If you would like any refreshments or if you have any questions just head down the hallway and my desk is right there." My father only nods in response. She flashes her smile once more before heading down the hallway. Me and my father sit down on the waiting chairs. "Why are we here? Better question why am I here?" I turn and ask my father who's reading a muggle newspaper. He doesn't even look at me, "Because Draco. We are here on important business. It's about time you start learning what lies ahead for you." His tone still cold as ever. I can't even speak back, I know i'll be silenced. All I can do is huff. I stand up and just walk the opposite direction of him. I don't hate my father but sometimes I just can't stand how he seems to have my entire future in the palm of his hand.

Walking down the large hallway I can start to hear the elegant music that I can only recognize as music from The Nutcracker. When I was little my mother used to take me to a muggle theater around Christmas time. Although my father urged that we don't celebrate muggle holidays. She would always sneak us out and take me to see the Nutcracker. Not only did she love ballet but I loved to see the story play out through the graceful dancing. Of course as I grew older the tradition stopped but I never forgot.

I continue down the hallway and I can hear the music growing louder. I turn one more corner to see a double door way with a sign above the entrance that says 'MAIN THEATER' in gold lettering. The doors were slightly cracked open. I slightly peek into the theater to see a girl dancing on the stage doing the sugar plum fairies variation. I quietly slip into the room and sit down in the farthest back row to watch.

Y/N POV:

I had already rehearsed my routine twice but my director kept critiquing every little thing I did. I mean of course that's his job but I swear he was acting as if everything I did was wrong. I was in the in the middle of my third pirouette when my coach suddenly stood up and started walking to the back of the theater. I continued my pirouettes until I heard my coach speak. "I'm sorry sir but you aren't allowed in here while rehearsals are going on. I must ask you to leave." He said as he ushered someone who was sitting in the back of the theater out of the room. The man stood and I caught a glimpse of him. He was tall and had icy blonde hair. I paused my variation and stood to watch. The blonde man then spoke, "I'm sorry for interrupting sir. I had no clue." He said before then exiting the theater. My manager turned back around after closing the doors to the theater. "Alright Y/n from the top!" He said as he gave the tech people the signal to restart the music. I didn't complain. I rushed back to my starting mark and started my routine from the beginning.

DRACO POV:

As I sat in the back row I admired the ballerina on stage. Her movements were so elegant, mesmerizing even. With every turn and step she took her tutu bounced. Her arms stretched out with grace. I'm instantly snapped out of my daze when an official looking man comes up to me. "I'm sorry sir but you aren't allowed in here while rehearsals are going on. I must ask you to leave." He said as he turned to open the door for me. "I'm sorry for interrupting sir. I had no idea." I said as I stood from my seat. I walked to the door and took once last glance at the ballerina.

Y/N POV:

After the man had left the theater I ran through my routine nearly a half a dozen more times. Each time my coach giving me more pointers and critiques. As the music stopped and I finished my last variation my coach stood from his seat, "Y/n you need to keep your back straight and your knees pointed on that last part!" My coach shouted clearly tired of me not being able to perfect my solo. I just huffed and wiped my forehead with the back of my wrist. "Can I go get some water?" I said with my hands on my hips. My director sighed, "Yeah, be back in five." He said as he wrote something down on his clipboard. I hurriedly sped walked down the stairs that were on the far end of the stage and headed towards the theater entrance. I took a turn then walked down the long hallway. I stop at the end of the hallway when I see that man who got kicked out of the theater and another man who has long icy blonde hair, they're both sitting down on the waiting chairs outside Mr. Evan's office. I shake my head of any curiosity about the two and hurriedly walk past them to go to Adeline's desk. I notice the short haired boy look up at me as I walked but I continued. "Hey Adeline, could you please get me a water?" I asked to the woman. "Yeah just give me a second." She said with her usual smile, as she stood and went to another room. A couple seconds later she reappeared and had a water bottle in hand. The water bottle had a custom logo on it that said The Royal Opera House in gold letters on a dark red paper. "Thank you Ade, I'll most likely be back soon." I said as I turned around while simultaneously taking a drink of my water. As I turned I practically bump straight into a brick wall.

But it wasn't a wall it was that same blonde boy. And I had now just spilt water all over him. "Oh, i'm sorry! That was my bad!" I said frantically as I tried to wipe the water off of his black button down. "No, no, no, don't worry about it." He said laughing lightly as he grabbed hand to calm me, after a few seconds you let go. "I was just coming to compliment you. I saw you back in the theater and your dancing was truly beautiful." He said as his ice blue eyes practically pierced yours. "Oh...thank you." —I laughed softly—"But my director would say other wise." I said as I began to walk past him, I turned back around to look at him once more to find him with his eyebrows furrowed. "Well it's basically his job to tell me what I'm doing wrong, but it feels impossible to get my routine perfect." I sighed. "Well...regardless of what that oaf thinks I think you dance nothing short of perfection." He said slightly playfully. I let out a small laugh. "Well, I've got to get back to rehearsing. It was nice meeting you...?" I questioned having never learned his name. "Draco." "Draco?" "Draco." He confirmed. "Well it was nice meeting you Draco." I said nodding my head before turning to go back to the theater. "Wait what's your name?" He calls out to me as I was walking away. I turned around once more then gestured to a poster on the wall, then finally walked away.

As I gestured to the poster Draco immediately examined it. It was a picture of you in your sugar plum fairy costume and a title below it. It said, 'Y/n L/n as The Sugar Plum Fairy' Draco let out an airy laugh as he admired the poster when Lucius appeared behind him. "Draco I would like to not have to come look for you as if you were a lost puppy. Mr.Evan's is ready to see us now." He said coldly then turned Draco following behind.

=

You had went back to the theater thoughts of Draco lingering in the back of your head. Draco had went to sit in on the meeting between Lucius and Mr. Evan's. To Lucius that meeting was very important to the future of his shares in the theater, but to Draco it was merely an hour wasted listening to rubbish. You had finally wrapped up your rehearsals for the day and it was time for you to go get food and go home.

DRACO POV:

"Draco you can sit outside while me and Mr. Evan's wrap this up. Don't wander." Lucius spat. I didn't respond he simply just got up and left the room. I sat outside on the chairs until I heard a voice. "Yeah, I'll see you on Thursday?" She said as she walked out of the theater. There she was, Y/n. All of my attention was on her. She was no longer wearing the tutu and leotard. She was now wearing a baby pink off the shoulder knit sweater with grey flared leggings. She has a white knit scarf around her neck and she carried grey bag, what I assume was her ballet stuff. Her hair was in a low bun making her headphones she had in visible.

     When she turned to walk out she paused when she saw me. "Hey, you're still here?" She said softly as she walked up to me while taking out her headphone. "Yeah, i'm just waiting for my father and Mr. Evan's to get out of their meeting." "Well, I could wait with you?" She said as she rocked back and forth on her feet. "Yeah, sure. I don't mind." She sat down next to me setting her bag on her side. "So why are you here? To see Mr.Evans I mean." She said as she looked up at me. "Well I wouldn't say that i'm here to see him. My father is.  Something that has to do with his shares. I honestly don't know. The only thing i've gotten out of coming here was seeing you dance." I laughed a little, and so did she. "I didn't know I was that good." She smiled. "Whatever your director was yelling at you, he truly is wrong. I thought you danced perfect." I said avoiding eye contact with her. I could see her out of the corner of my eye just staring up at me. "Why thank you good sir. I'm glad you liked it." She giggled. "Have you ever seen The Nutcracker?" "Yeah, quite a few times actually." "Oh. Would you like to see it again maybe?" She asked this time not peering up at me, but now fiddling with the loose ends of her scarf. "When?" She stop and looked back up at me. "Uhmm,—she hummed— Opening night would be December 10th, I could get you tickets if you would like?" "Yeah, yeah, although I don't know when I'll see you again?" I asked. She laughing softly, "I guess whenever you want to see me again." She smiled.

DECEMBER TENTH

DRACO POV

Today was the day, the day I get to see her again. I don't know why I'm so...entranced? By her. Something about her just makes me fascinated. Ever since last week she's all I could think about. Of course in order to be able to go see the show I told my parents some bullshit excuse. My father would never let me go to London by myself, especially just so I could go see the ballet. Not only that a muggle girl.

I had made my way to the theatre early so I would be able to avoid all the people there for opening night. I stepped out of the taxi, it was cold the winter air crisp. I entered the building and walked up to the concierge. "One ticket for The Nutcracker, please." I said slightly rubbing my hands together trying to warm them. "I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid we are all sold out for the night." He said with pity. "What? No, I have to see the show tonight." "Like I said, I'm sorry. But I can sell you a ticket for-" "Oh! Mr. Malfoy I wasn't expecting you so early!" The concierge was interrupted by no other than Adeline. "You were expecting me?" I turned to her. "Well yes? I expected that Ms. L/n made you aware of your visit?" She said with her usual smile. "Well yeah, but- you know what never mind. Why were you expecting me?" "Of course, because she was very adamant that you got the best seat in the house!" She said ushering me down the hall, then to an elevator.

The classical music played lightly in the elevator, the ride up two floors wasn't awkward, it was actually quite pleasant. This was an elevator ride I had been on countless times before, it was nostalgic in a way. The elevator dinged before the large metal doors opened. We were on The Donald Gordon Grand Tier. It was technically the third floor of the theater. She led me to row A which was in the very middle and front. "Ms. L/n was very insisting that you get this specific seat sir. She said it was the best seat in the house and you deserve nothing less!" I stood there for a moment and blinked at the seats in front of me. That feeling of nostalgia had now been explained. I was sitting in the exact same seat my mother would always sit in when we would come to the theater. "Mr. Malfoy, are you okay?" Adeline broke my trance. "Thank you Adeline, for everything." I thanked her as I sat down. "No problem! Feel free to come down to my desk if you need anything!" She smiled before walking away.

I sat there for maybe 30 minutes before hundreds of people started sitting in the theater. Of course by courtesy of Adeline I was able to avoid the crowd. After about another 30 minutes the lights in the theater had dimmed. That's when I heard the oh so familiar tune to the mystical music. There was something about the story of The Nutcracker that always fascinated me. Maybe it was the playful but yet elegant dances that were done. They were so complex but yet so smooth and graceful. Or perhaps it was the fact that I was able to watch a story come to life in front of my very eyes. As I watched the ballet I found myself the same way I was many years ago. Only blinking every few minutes to be sure I didn't miss any parts of the show. My mind fully clear, only focusing on the ballet dancers below. I was entranced by the story all over again.

Now, we were in act II. After Clara and the Prince have slayed the Mouse King, the snowflakes have led them to the Kingdom of Sweets. As the enchanting music transitioned to a more sweet sounding melody it hit me. She was going to be dancing soon. Clara and the Prince arrived to the gates of Kingdom of Sweets. The Sugar Plum Fairy reigns over the Kingdom of Sweets. I sat up in my chair. Then there she was, graceful as ever tip-toing across stage. Her costume was beautiful a light pink bodice and tutu with gold accents. Her hair was elegant and she wore a gold tiara. She was covered in glitter, but what shined the most was her eyes. She was so passionate in the way she danced. Her moves were liquid smooth enchanting the audience. She placed a tiara on Clara's head then commenced a day of festivities in honor of Clara saving the Prince from the mouse king. First came the Chocolate from Spain, then the Arabian Coffee, the Chinese tea, and lastly the sweet French Marzipan.

But then the flowers came, and they preformed a great waltz. The Sugar Plum Fairy came back with her cavalier and did a mesmerizing duet. Although they were doing a duet me and the whole audience could only look at one of them. Her. She danced with a great passion. Not that he didn't. There was just something about her that made you believe that she was born to be on that stage. Born to shine. Even with the light shining down on her, she was the light. Soon after she and her cavalier finished their dance Clara is guided back home. She tosses and turns in her sleep, she wakes up to find out it was a dream? A fantasy. Nothing more.

And Suddenly I was pulled into reality. The audience erupted in roars. Not one person in that theater wasn't clapping. Roses were being thrown onto stage by people sitting on the lower floors. The people around me whistling and cheering. I quickly stood up and headed down to Adeline's desk. "Excuse me, Adeline. I had a delivery made here, did it arrive yet?" I said as I leaned on her desk. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Just wait one second while I go grab it. She disappeared into a room before coming out with the custom bouquet I had delivered. Freshly picked Frutteto's. The baby pink roses were dusted with gold glitter, they were perfect. "She's gonna love them you know?" Adeline asked snapping me out of my trance. "Yeah...yeah, I know. Do you know when she'll be out?" "I'd say maybe 30 minutes? In the mean while you're more than welcome to wait here." She said as she sat back down at her desk and started flipping through a book.

I sat there for what seemed like forever. I inspected every flower to make sure they were nothing short of perfection. Just as I was picking off a petal that was too pink to fit in with the rest I saw her. She was already on her way out of the glass doors. I quickly rushed after her, "Y/n, wait!" I yelled after her as I caught up. She turned around her nose being a light shade of pink from the brisk winter air, the soft snowflakes landing in her hair. "Draco, you came? I didn't see you come in before the show?" "I got here early, don't worry I watched the whole show. You were...amazing. Oh, I got you these." I quickly handed her the bouquet, "They're beautiful." Her face lit up, "Perfect, they're perfect." She cradled them in one arm while the other fiddled with the petals. "Thank you." She said with that sweet smile of hers. "My pleasure, I knew you'd like them." I really didn't, I was actually terrified she wouldn't like them. "Hey...would you maybe..." Her eyes glistened in the street lights as she looked up from the flowers, "...would you maybe like to go to dinner with me?" I was a bit taken aback by the sudden question. I paused, "Yeah, I would love to. But it's my treat." "You don't have to i'm the one who invited you." She said lightly laughing. "Well, I would like to treat you after your amazing performance tonight. Where do you wanna eat?" "I know a great place! It's called Bancone, it's an italian place, is that okay?" "Whatever you want is fine with me." I smile. "Okay, uhh, hold on let me call a cab!" She turned and walked to the road. She hailed us a cab.

We both sat in the back of the cab, watching the snow glitter down from the sky. "How far is the restaurant?" I asked turning to her. When I looked at her she was simply smiling down at her flowers. "Oh, we should be there any minute! Actually we're here! Thank you!" She said as she scooted out of the cab. I paid the driver then got out. I was surprised to find she took my hand and led me inside.

We stepped inside and I was taken aback by the olive tree that was planted in the middle of the restaurant. The interior was classy but casual. "Hi! Welcome in! Table for two?" A hostess came up to us. "Yeah, uhm, could we be seated at a window table?" She asked as she dusted off the small pieces of snow she had in her hair. "Of course! Right this way!" The hostess led us to a table in the front of the restaurant. I pulled out her chair for her, "Why thank you good sir." She softly laughed. I sat down. "Can I get you started with any drinks, or would you like a minute?" "Could we get a bottle of the house red? And then I would just like a glass of water." She asked the hostess. "Great choice, and as for you sir?" "I would just like a glass of water, thank you." She handed us our menus then walked away. "What do you think you're gonna get?" I looked up from my menu. "For sure the bucatini, i've been craving it all day." I laugh lightly, "I don't know what I want" I said as I studied the menu, "What do you think?" I looked up at her to find her already looking at me. "I personally think you'll like the duck ragú, I had it last time I came and it was heavenly." She laughed. "Okay I guess it's settled then, wait what about dessert?" "Oo! They have these cannolis! They're covered in hazelnuts you have to try them." Just then a waitress came to the table, "Here is your house red, and waters." She said as she set down our water and presented the bottle.

She opened the bottle with a pop, then filled our glasses. "Thank you" we both said nearly in unison. "Are you ready to order your entrees, or would you like another minute?" "We're ready. I'll have the bucatini and as for dessert we'll do two orders of the hazelnut cannolis." She said as she handed the waitress her menu. "Sure thing! And as for you sir?" She turned to me, "I'll have the duck ragú, that'll be all, thank you." I handed her my menu. "Okay, i'll be back with your food shortly." She smiled then walked away to another table. "You know what I realized?" Y/n said as she twirled the wine in her glass. "What?" "I barely know anything about you, but yet here I am at dinner with you." She tilted her head slightly. "Well, I don't know anything about you either." I laughed, "What do you wanna know?" "Anything! But skip the basic things, I just really wanna know you" She took a sip of her wine. What was I supposed to tell her? That i'm a wizard and that I went to a school to learn sorcery? "I honestly don't know where to start? Just ask me anything, anything." "Mmm, what's your favorite childhood memory?" She said as she took off her scarf.

I took a breath "I would have to say...probably going to see The Nutcracker with my mother." I laughed, she looked up at me curiously. "Ironic isn't it." "Very." "See my father isn't big on...fun. Or anything really. So every year my mother would sneak us out of the house and we would go see the show. As I got older the whole tradition kind of just...stopped. But you know what's crazy?" "Hm?" "The seat that you picked out for me, was the exact same seat my mum would sit in when we would go." She looked at me like I was crazy. "She always said 'it was the best seat in the house' the whole thing felt like a dream." "That's...just...wow. That's a big coincidence huh?" "I know huh, I was so confused. But what about you? What's your favorite memory?" "My grandmother she was absolutely amazing when it came to playing piano. As a little girl she would play the Swan Lake piano arrangement while I danced. We would do this for hours and hours till my mother told us to take a break. I've always loved ballet. What I would give to re-live those memories." She looked out the window and played with the hem of her sleeves as she spoke. "That's...beautiful. So you've been dancing since you were young?" "Yeah, kinda like you my mother took me to see the ballet when I was little. But instead we saw Sleeping Beauty. I was absolutely fascinated by it. For weeks I begged my mother to put me in classes, I guess she just got annoyed of my constant begging and just gave in." She laughed softly. "Well it definitely paid off." I smiled.

We got to know each other all night long. Even though we had already finished our food long ago, we sat there and just talked. About everything. She was just so captivating. Every detail about her was intriguing. Each one of her stories just led me to wanting to know more about her. The way her eyes sparkled a little when she would talk about something she was passionate about. All of her was just perfect. I told her a lot about myself. Maybe more than I should've. Everything about me surrounded the one thing I couldn't tell her. Most of the stories I told her had gaps but I don't think she caught on. I felt almost...bad? For not being able to tell her what could possibly be the biggest detail about me. But seriously how do you just tell someone that. 'Oh yeah, by the way i'm a wizard. And there's millions of other wizards around the world.' And plus even if I wanted to tell her I couldn't. And it was killing me.

We stayed at the restaurant until the waitress told us they were closing soon. "I guess we should get going huh?" She asked as she lightly laughed. "Yeah, I guess so." I slightly frowned. I paid the bill, then we left. We stood on the side walk as the snow continued to fall from the dark sky. Street lamps lit the road, illuminating it with golden rays. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and carried her flowers with both hands. "Could I have your number by the way?" She asked. "Oh, yeah. Here just put your number in and i'll text you later." I handed her my cell. I got a muggle cell phone, specifically for this reason. My father would never approve of me having a device like that. But for her it was worth whatever trouble it could cause. In all reality the reason I asked her to put her number in my cell was because I had no clue how. "Okay, there." She smiled as she handed me back my phone. I looked down, Y/n xx , is what she put as her contact. "I should get going now, I have to be back at the theater early tomorrow." She said as she fiddled with her flowers. I took a breath, "Okay, tonight was really great. When can I see you again?" "Like I said, whenever you want." She smiled, I laughed. She turned out to the road and hailed a cab. "Goodnight!" She yelled out to me before turning back to the cab, she paused, then turned around back to me and ran back to me. She gave me a kiss on my cheek and then a small hug, "Goodnight." "Goodnight." I said a bit surprised. She ran back to the cab and got in. I watched the car disappear down the road, out of sight.

===

Mwah I hope you liked! If you did make sure to reblog and leave a note! <3

[mchlgayser]

heeey could u write about mason’s family finding out he has a girlfriend because she shows up at his door (when he answers she kisses him and everyone is shocked) thank u

OH MY GOD: : mason mount x female!reader

author's note: this is, by far one of my cutest fiction I think?! but lemme know what you think anon!! luv xx

contents warning: none // not proofread

'You got me a dress? ...In my closet room? ...Mason when did you even get here?!' He chuckles through the phone 'I'll tell you about that later alright? Just get dolled up for me angel!' He hung up the phone and you sigh, exasperatedly.

Mason told you today he wanted to bring you to a dinner date at his house, and you as a person who could't said no, you agreed to. What could possibly go wrong anyway?

Everything

You jog upstairs to your room and the linked closet room to see a black box with gold ribbon laid before you on the accessories drawer. You carefully pull open the box to see a long and elegant pink maxi dress neatly tucked

You present the dress in front of you feeling giddy and bubbly to wear it for today's special occasion.

You did your make up not too long after, putting on the dress and get your 'M' initial necklace and a pair of eggshell white pearl dangling earrings. After that you put your hair on a neat low bun and strands of hair at the front curling it a bit.

Satisfied with the look, you grab a purse along with a few of your necessities and then left the house.

Mason on the other hand started to grow more anxious, his polo-collared shirt is beads with sweats, his hands is shaking, too scared for your reaction and his family but he knows none of it won't be too negative but he'll get nagged from both parties.

His family are still preparing the dishes while his father and his brother in law on the hall talking business, him on the other hand has been quite nonstop looking out the window to see if your car had parked outside his residence.

'Guys, dinner's ready!' His sister, Chloe announced 'Mason come on--'

'I invited--'

The front door bell chiming, the whole family turns up to Mason 'Friends coming over?' He gulps, his mom head shake at the weird behavior of his son and gets up 'Let me get the door!'

'I'll do it, mom,' He rush to the door, his whole family is still eyeing him, he could see it from the corner of his views

He opens the door welcoming you, you squealed giving him a long chaste kiss on the lip and his cheeks. A series of 'What?' and a shrieking 'Oh' comes after that, you peep from his shoulder seeing his whole family looking at you both, well partially you...

You gapped in surprise, eyes going back and forth between Mason and his family. The mother came up to you first 'Gosh dear, you must be Mason's girlfriend,' She laugh immediately easing the tension, you gulp eyes burning holes into Mason as she drags you over the table and strike an immediate convos. His father joined in and soon his sister

'So how long you to've known each other?' She questioned you, you awkwardly chuckle 'It was't long, eight months I think? We met during an award show, I was the host and we had short interview together..' You blurted out, Mason beside you smile along and confirming it.

It was like that for the next past hours, his family opening up to you, especially his mom, she's very supportive, very reliable and caring too, easy for a timid person like you to even talk to her.

The day went by fast, and soon they left, you rolled your eyes at Mason and went back inside the house 'Wait babe--'

'What?! You got me meeting your family while I'm like this..' You pouted at him and he laugh, clasping one hand over your waist 'Like what..? You look decent.'

'Am not, I would've put more effort if I know it would be a dinner date with your family... I know I said that I'm ready to meet them whenever but not surprising me like Mase!' You complained, hand crossing over your chest getting sulky

He crooks a small smile and kiss your hand 'Well it went well innit?'

You suck your teeth and dismissed the topic 'Whatever but next time you gotta tell me first so I can prepare gifts or something...' He hums and followed after you inside the house

'You could say that all my family are fond of you, especially mom..' He admitted with a toothy grin, you mirror his expression and nods 'I think so, not too bad am I? Do you think they'll approve me to be part of the Mount family?' You joked sending a giggle his way, he froze for a second before he wraps both arms around you 'Yeah, they won't mind that, I think mom will definitely say this "the sooner the better" don't you think?' You flush down to your neck as Mason laughs at your unexpected reaction 'So cute!' He cooed scooping you up and bringing you to his bedroom

'Stay for the night, yeah love?'

[nanamineedstherapy]

Velvet Sin & Clandestine Vows - Getting *ahem ahemed* by Nanami in a bathroom at a billionaire's party!

Minors DNI/Implied Cheating/Shameless Smut/My First Smut

Summary: Nanami X F!Reader Porn with plot if you squint Nanami at a bougie party? Weird. Nanami getting dragged into a bathroom with a woman who isn't his wife? Even weirder. What’s hotter than luxury, mystery, and terrible decision-making? Spoiler: nothing. Let the chaos (and a closet with better taste than Gojo) ensue. Or Getting Railed by Nanami in a bathroom at a billionaire's party! This fic started as a joke & spiraled into a mix of billionaire aesthetics, deadpan sass, & unhinged party vibes. Buckle up—it’s classy, messy, & totally Nanami-approved. 💅 #Rewritten since I hated the first draft. TW: Maybe Cheating

A/N: This is my first time writing smut of any kind so let me know if it hits the spot ( ✧≖ ͜ʖ≖) Y’all, I swear, Nanami is loyal as hell, but who doesn’t love a little tension and mystery? If you’re living for the luxury or just here for the smut, drop a comment or a kudos—your chaos feeds mine. Cheers, besties! 🍸

The road twisted like a serpent through a dense forest, the towering pines stretching skyward, their shadows merging into a dark canvas under the fading sun. As Nanami’s Aston Martin DBS Superleggera glided past the last cluster of trees, the view opened into a scene pulled from the pages of an expensive dream.

The estate stood by a tranquil lake , its surface a sheet of liquid sapphire, mirroring the golden hues of the evening. The mansion, impossibly grand, didn’t merely rise—it commanded the horizon, almost otherworldly.

Towering walls of smooth stone enclosed the property, their minimalist design interrupted by intricate wrought-iron gates that whispered exclusivity rather than screamed it. AI-quipped security cameras, seamlessly embedded into the structure, blinking like mechanical sentinels, their presence a silent testament to caution wrapped in discretion. Guards in impeccably tailored suits patrolled the perimeter, some with guns, some with drones, some with androids, some with canines, their demeanor more akin to that of secret service agents than traditional staff.

The driveway stretched before him, a sleek ribbon of obsidian stone that gleamed like polished onyx under strategically placed lighting. The circular courtyard at the end was a gallery of excess : a Koenigsegg Jesko , a Bugatti Chiron , a Maserati Folgore , a Mercedes-Maybach S-Class , a Cadillac Celestiq , and a Rolls-Royce Phantom sat gleaming among other cars, their black, forest green or electric blue flawless exteriors reflecting the golden glow of vintage lampposts.

The lawns rolled outward like an emerald sea, interrupted by marble fountains with sculptures so detailed they seemed to breathe. At the edge of the estate, a private dock cradled a yacht —a floating palace that promised indulgence on the water. Above, the faint hum of helicopter rotors signaled rooftop landings, where multiple sleek, futuristic aircrafts waited in perfect formation.

The mansion itself was a contradiction brought to life. Its towering facade bore sharp lines and elegant curves, an architectural ballet where glass and steel met aged stone and brushed brass, each material woven into a seamless tapestry of power and refinement. High ceilings soared above, the kind that made you feel small without making you feel insignificant. The structure breathed genius—an intellect so vast it had turned ambition into reality.

As Nanami pulled up, the double doors opened before he even stepped out, as though the house had been expecting him. Inside, the ambiance shifted into a warm, inviting opulence. The grand hall shimmered under crystal chandeliers that fractured light into golden rain. Polished marble floors reflected the glow, amplifying the sense of space, while floor-to-ceiling windows turned the lake into a living painting framed by midnight silk drapes.

Walking in, he adjusted his Tateossian 18K gold cufflinks out of habit, the gold gleaming briefly in the chandelier light. The fabric of his Tom Ford silk Charmeuse shirt cooled against his skin as he rolled up his sleeves neatly, a testament to effort without indulgence. His tailored Mohair trousers—his entire outfit, his wife’s suggestion—fit him perfectly, a fact he acknowledged with a silent nod to her exquisite taste.

He knew she had spent more time selecting them than he ever would. She had an eye for these things, a maddening precision that made him trust her implicitly. He'd let her spend a good amount on tonight's party outfit to blend in with his office crowd, even though price tags were the least of his concerns. His wife, however, was a different story. Her taste was so particular that she rarely found anything worth buying at a store. But once she did, if it was casual, it would likely be inexpensive. However, if it was anything work- or party-related, it would undoubtedly carry a hefty price tag

The party coursed through the mansion like a heartbeat. In one ballroom , laughter mingled with the clinking of glasses as soft jazz played from hidden speakers. A smaller, more intimate space pulsed with energy, decked out like a private nightclub , where a few couples swayed to Spanish music under the prismatic glow of lights. Staff moved seamlessly among the crowd; their movements choreographed perfection, while their uniforms—a balance of practicality and haute couture—highlighted the wealth that surrounded them.

Each corner of the estate exuded thought and precision. From the soft, ambient lighting casting shadows on minimalistic art pieces to the way every surface seemed untouched yet lived in, the house wasn’t just a home; it was a living entity—one that whispered of brilliance, extravagance, and untold secrets.

Soon, before he knew it, corporate small talk had already grated on him; he’d barely resisted the urge to check his watch. Conversations about ‘exciting’ fiscal projections felt like sandpaper on his nerves, but years of navigating boardrooms had honed his stoic armor to perfection. He tilted his head just enough to feign interest in a junior analyst’s enthusiastic recounting of how they saved 0.5% on operational costs last quarter.

“Impressive,” he muttered, his voice so flat it was unclear whether he meant it or not. The analyst beamed anyway, oblivious.

His whiskey remained mostly untouched, a mere prop for these tedious rituals. He glanced down at the gold trim of the glass and thought fleetingly about hurling it through one of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows—not out of anger, but for something more stimulating than listening to Steve from Compliance recount his golf trip.

“Nanami-san!” Steve called out, loud enough to turn heads. “What’s your handicap? Bet you’re deadly on the green.”

Nanami turned slowly, blinking once as if the words needed extra time to register. “I don’t play golf, Steve,” he replied, deadpan. “I have a job.”

Steve’s laugh was loud and awkward, his ego crumpling in on itself. Nanami allowed himself a flicker of satisfaction before turning back to the entrance, silently daring someone interesting to walk in and save him.

A marketing executive drifted over, a glass of champagne precariously balanced in one hand, their other already extended for a handshake. “Nanami, old sport!” the exec crowed, as though they’d survived war trenches together instead of working in adjacent departments.

“Hardly,” Nanami said, shaking their hand briefly before folding his arms, an unmistakable signal that the conversation was over before it began.

Then the intern appeared like a fly buzzing near a fresh wound, her enthusiasm bordering on suffocation. “Nanami-san, you look great tonight,” she gushed. “Is that Tom Ford? I could tell from a mile away!”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes the moment he saw her making her way towards him from the other corner of the room. Her extremely short gold dress barely covered anything, highly inappropriate for co-worker parties. Where was HR when you needed them?

He regarded her with the kind of cool detachment that made people second-guess speaking to him in the first place. His response was little more than a nod, a gesture so dismissive it might as well have been punctuation. “Yes,” he replied curtly, sipping his whiskey for the first time just to end the interaction. The burn of alcohol was preferable to enduring another comment.

“I’ve never seen you in anything so... relaxed ,” she added, eyes wide as though he’d arrived in a Hawaiian shirt instead of a $25,000 ensemble.

Nanami considered a sarcastic remark— yes, I’m positively unhinged tonight with my gold cufflinks and tailored trousers —but decided against it. “Enjoy the party,” he said instead, his tone as warm as a January morning.

Her persistence, however, was unwavering, her enthusiasm grating on his last nerve. She was the type who delivered coffee he never asked for, lunches he didn’t need, flushed cheeks, and doe-eyed stares he couldn’t unsee. What he had initially dismissed as professional eagerness was now so obviously a crush that even the office ficus had likely noticed. He didn’t mind admirers so long as they kept their distance, but this one was suffocating. Tonight, he had a plan: feed her to his wife .

He let her ramble, tuning her out while his colleagues began their usual background drone: glowing self-praise about the last quarter’s financial performance. Occasionally, Nanami nodded, just enough to seem engaged while maintaining an expression that screamed, I’d rather be anywhere else .

Then a peer from Finance leaned in, his smirk as oily as his hair gel. “You’re quite the magnet tonight, Nanami. What’s your secret?”

“Competence,” Nanami replied, without missing a beat.

The peer’s laugh faltered into a cough as he quickly excused himself. Events like this always managed to sap what little energy he had left after work. First, they stole every waking moment with deadlines and deliverables, then they expected polite socializing in his so-called free time. It was, in his opinion, borderline sadistic. He took another sip of his whiskey, wishing—not for the first time—that he hadn’t shown up. He didn’t much care to mingle, despite appearances. These events were breeding grounds for insincerity, where pleasantries masked ulterior motives. His colleagues jumped him, juniors seeking advice on everything from office politics to investment strategies, while his peers probed for weaknesses under the guise of camaraderie.

Then, previously flanked by armed bodyguards, she walked in.

He felt it before he saw it—the slight shift in the room’s energy, the way conversations seemed to falter for half a second. When his eyes finally found her, it was like everything else dimmed in comparison.

Time didn’t stop—not in some romanticized way, but it slowed just enough to emphasize her entrance. Classy, confident, and untouchable. The sound of her heels on marble cut through the hum of conversation, subtle but commanding. The red rubies on her dress flowed like molten lava, catching the chandeliers’ light with every step. The slit revealed long, toned legs that seemed almost deliberately designed to catch the attention of every person in the room. Her movements were languid but purposeful, as though she were fully aware that the entire party had turned their focus toward her and didn’t mind in the slightest. The siren-like glint in her eyes warned anyone brave enough to approach.

Nanami’s grip tightened imperceptibly on the whiskey glass, his chest rising and falling in a controlled breath. His gaze locked on her instantly, though he couldn’t pinpoint what drew him first—the way her dress hugged her or the quiet authority in her stride. One moment, he was half-listening to his coworkers drone about quotas; the next, he was captivated .

“Who is she?” The intern whispered, her tone laced with poorly concealed jelousy.

Nanami didn’t look away, his gaze steady and unreadable. “Trouble,” he murmured, his voice low and even.

She didn’t need to seek attention—it sought her. Women flocked to her, showering her with warm greetings and effusive compliments. She reciprocated their affection with gracious smiles and her charm disarming even the iciest socialites. The men weren’t as brave, unsure whether to admire her or cower under her gaze—her siren-like aura daring any man to try their luck.

Except for one idiot.

Fucking Gojo.

Nanami’s jaw tightened as his white-haired colleague made a spectacle of himself, wrapping his arms around her from behind like an old friend reunited. Her face scrunched in irritation, a flash of disdain that Nanami couldn’t help but savor. But then she turned, her expression softening as she saw who it was. To his dismay, she hugged him back.

Nanami’s fingers curled harder around the glass of whiskey, the gold trim biting into his palm. Jealousy wasn’t his style— not like he wasn’t already married . But Gojo was a different story. The man had a knack for testing limits, his arrogance as boundless as his charm.

She, on the other hand, was the embodiment of contradictions: sharp yet soft, fun yet untouchable, her elegant demeanor veiling something far more dangerous. As if on cue, her eyes scanned the room lazily, not in search of anyone but allowing people to search for her.

And then their gazes locked. Her lips quirked into a knowing smirk, a silent dare.

Nanami’s breath hitched. Her smile—a challenge, a tease, a warning. His pulse quickened, a subtle betrayal against his otherwise calm exterior.

The intern beside him shifted uncomfortably, clearly feeling the weight of the unspoken connection between the two. Nanami almost pitied her. Almost. Definitely not.

His focus remained on the woman; she approached the bar with the kind of confidence that made the world rearrange itself around her. Even the bartender seemed to straighten his posture, offering her a champagne flute without so much as a question. Her long fingers, adorned with a curious glove-like jewelry piece , brushed the glass as she murmured her thanks, her tone effortlessly polite but laced with disinterest.

He didn’t notice the minutes slipping by; time blurred under the soft hum of chandeliers and the muted conversations he was no longer part of. Her every movement consumed his attention, the sway of her hips in that red silk dress a calculated provocation.

When she slipped through the gilded archway leading toward the bathrooms, his decision was already made.

Keeping his drink down, Nanami barely registered the figure stepping into his path until he heard the familiar sing-song voice that grated worse than nails on glass. “Nanami! Where’s your wife? Haven’t seen her yet tonight,” his rival cooed, wearing his trademark smug grin that Nanami fantasized about erasing.

“Still at work,” Nanami replied smoothly, his tone devoid of emotion but cutting enough to silence further prying. He didn’t slow, leaving behind muttered speculations about his sudden interest in someone other than his wife .

The hallways had the richness of the place amplified. The further he moved from the party, the quieter it became, the noise receding into a distant hum. The mansion’s grandeur became starker in the silence. High ceilings arched above, their ornate crown moldings gilded with gold that caught the soft light of sconces. The black marble floors shimmered under his polished shoes, stretching endlessly toward the private quarters. Staff passed like shadows flitting through the ethereal glow of this labyrinthine estate.

He paused in front of the bathroom door, glossy black with intricate gold fixtures, left slightly ajar as though inviting him in. The faintest sliver of light spilled out against the marble.

Knock. Knock. Two taps. Firm. Purposeful.

The response was immediate. The door cracked open, and before he could utter a word, her hand shot out, grabbing his shirt and yanking him inside with a force that surprised him.

The door closed behind them with a soft thud as he was shoved against it, followed by the decisive click of the lock. Her scent lingered in the air, both grounding and intoxicating, cutting through the bathroom . Then her mouth was on his, hot and demanding, leaving no room for hesitation.

“Not even a hello?” He murmured against her lips, his tone low, strained, yet laced with wry humor.

“Hello,” she whispered mockingly, her voice syrupy sweet, before pulling him back down. Her nails grazed the nape of his neck, sending an electric jolt through him.

Oh, she was definitely a siren. He thought as she drew him in with effortless ease, leaving him half-convinced she could drag him into the ocean and he’d thank her for it.

Her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, deft yet impatient. When one refused to cooperate, she let out a soft growl, yanking hard enough to send buttons scattering across the tiled floor.

“They’re custom,” Nanami deadpanned, his voice thick with effort. “My wife chose them.”

“No wonder they’re ugly,” she shot back, her smirk as sharp as a blade. “Send me the bill.”

Her sass drew a low chuckle from him, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. She was cutting through his composure so easily, leaving him disarmed in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

In a swift motion, he flipped their positions, pinning her against the full-length mirror. Her front hit the glass with a muted thud, the chill drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. For a moment, he held her there, his gaze sweeping over her—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, pupils blown wide with a mix of defiance and desire.

His reflection caught his eye in the mirror—a man undone, his hair disheveled, his usually sharp expression softened by raw hunger. He barely recognized himself, and for some reason, that didn’t bother him.

“Temptress. You’ve already got me obsessed,” his voice dark as he leaned down to press his lips to the curve of her ear.

“Stop talking,” she countered, her tone dripping with impatience. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling just hard enough to make him groan softly.

He obliged.

The kiss turned feral, finesse abandoned in favor of raw, unfiltered need. His hands roamed, the fabric slipping against her skin like water.

Once she turned in his arms, more of his buttons clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the small space as she ran her fingers on his chest then abs. The room filled with their gasps and whispered curses, the sterile luxury of the bathroom a backdrop to the pandemonium unfolding. She took off her handpiece, chucking it on the counter just to feel his skin against her fingertips unhindered.

Her scent was everywhere now, filling his lungs, embedding itself in his memory. It was familiar in a way, like déjà vu dancing on the edge of recognition. Unsettling, magnetic, and impossible to ignore.

“Careful,” she murmured against his lips, her voice teasing. “You might just fall for me.”

Nanami pulled back slightly, enough to meet her gaze, his expression a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement. “Highly unlikely,” he replied, deadpan, though the corner of his mouth betrayed the faintest smirk.

“Your loss,” she quipped, her voice light, but her hands circled around his shoulders, pulling him back toward her.

Whatever this was—whatever dangerous game they were playing—Nanami knew one thing: he didn’t want it to end.

The bathroom’s air carried a subtle mix of sandalwood, bergamot and cedarwood, understated yet lingering—a scent that seemed designed to make every breath feel curated, the kind of understated opulence that whispered money rather than screamed it

Yet for all its grandeur, it wasn't the decor that took center stage. It was the mess unfolding next to the countertop, where passion replaced polish.

Nanami now had her pressed against the large, mirror-backed counter, its polished surface now marred with the aftermath of their urgency—smudged fingerprints, scattered toiletries, and the faint condensation of their mingled heat. The cool marble against her back seemed to amplify the fire between them.

His grip was firm yet restrained, one hand steadying her thigh while the other trailed upward, tracing the daring slit of her dress with deliberate slowness. His fingers paused at the neckline, the silk sliding under his touch like water. His hold spoke of possession, but his eyes, half-lidded and burning, betrayed something deeper—curiosity, defiance, and a hunger he rarely let surface.

She kissed him again, her lips a demand he had no intention of denying. Teeth scraped against his lower lip, the sting pulling a soft groan from him that melted into a low chuckle. His hands roamed with precision, finding her waist, her hips, her breasts—each touch firm, unapologetic, and met with a sharp inhale or muffled moan. Every touch was a battle for dominance, each moment teetering on the edge of control and disarray.

He lifted her with ease onto the countertop in one fluid motion. The chilled mirror behind her elicited a gasp as her dress slid higher at her thighs. Her legs tightened instinctively around him, pulling him closer.

“Not bad,” she teased breathlessly, her voice a mix of amusement and provocation.

Nanami’s lips quirked into a rare smirk as he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “I aim to impress.”

Her laugh was soft, intoxicating, and far too knowing. “You’re getting there.”

Her scent enveloped him now—a crisp, briny ocean breeze tinged with something wild and woody, a sharp contrast to the muted, earthy warmth of the bathroom. It was a siren’s scent, designed to disarm, to enthrall, and it worked far too well.

The sounds of their frenzy filled the room, chaotic yet rhythmic. Her nails dragged along his back, leaving faint crescent imprints as if marking her territory.

Then, with a devilish smirk, he dropped to his knees, his large hands splaying across the backs of her thighs.

“On your knees already?” She started, her voice faltering as he pushed the fabric of her dress higher. His lips ghosted over her inner thigh, his breath warm and teasing.

“You talk too much,” he murmured, his tone flat but edged with mischief.

Her laugh turned into a gasp as he tore through the delicate lace of her underwear with his teeth, the sound of ripping fabric punctuated by her sharp intake of breath.

His mouth found her core, hot and demanding; his tongue moved with deliberate precision, drawing broken whispers from her lips. Her fingers tangled in his hair, long nails digging into his scalp as she arched into him, every nerve alight with sensation.

Each touch was a battle for dominance, each moment teetering on the edge of control and chaos. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her steady as she raised her head, her eyes wide at the sight of him.

When his fingers joined the fray—one, then two, then three—she let out a muffled cry, her hands trembling as they gripped his hair tighter. The rhythm turned torturous, each stroke a ploy to keep her teetering on the edge.

“Quiet,” he murmured against her, though the command was half-hearted at best.

Her laugh, shaky and breathless, cut through the haze. “Make me.”

He obliged, taking off his shirt & shoving it into her mouth to muffle her moans.

The room, a masterpiece of design and decadence, bore silent witness to their undoing. The perfection of its lines, the care in its curation—all of it had melted away, leaving only raw, unbridled chaos in its place.

When she finally collapsed against the mirror, her breath came in uneven bursts, fogging the glass behind her. Her flushed face, her dress still bunched at her waist, chest rising and falling as aftershocks wracked her frame left her looking like Mayhem personified. Still, he didn’t stop, his tongue lapping up every drop of her release like she was the finest wine.

Her body trembled, hips bucking against his mouth. His tongue and fingers were moving in perfect harmony. Her mewles grew higher in pitch, her body arching further as the tension began to pool in her belly.

Nanami’s grip on her tightened, his fingers digging into her hips to hold her steady as her body trembled beneath him. Her moans, muffled by his discarded shirt, vibrated against his chest as he felt the waves of her release pulse through her. She clawed his scalp, a claim he wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t enjoy.

Few moments passed, & Nanami stood, brushing the back of his hand against his lips, catching the faint taste of her. He was the picture of disheveled restraint—his hair tousled, his chest bare, and his trousers hanging low on his hips. The hunger in his eyes, however, was anything but restrained.

His gaze lingered on her as he reached for the straps of her dress. Tugging them down, he exposed her bare chest, the fabric sliding away like water until it pooled uselessly at her waist. Her breasts bounced with the movement, drawing a low growl from him that rumbled deep in his chest.

“Perfect,” he muttered, his voice gravelly as he leaned down. His lips closed over one breast, flicking her nipple with his toung, while his hand found the other, his touch alternating between firm and teasing. She gasped, her back arching off the mirror as he bit gently before soothing with his tongue, leaving her gasping & mumbling incoherently, her voice ragged but threaded with laughter—the kind that would have thrown a lesser man off balance. “You’re enjoying this way too much.” She spoke against the fabric in her mouth.

He paused, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “You started it.”

She smirked, sharper than the edge of the counter, biting into her legs. “And I’ll finish it.” She gestured.

Her hands fumbled with his waistband, still trembling but determined. The flicker of impatience in her eyes was oddly endearing, though he’d never admit it. Nanami stepped back slightly, watching as she struggled with his belt, her fingers clumsy but relentless, then the same belt clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the small space.

When she finally freed his cock, her hand paused holding it, her eyes widening as her lips parted slightly.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teased, his voice dropping into that smooth, sardonic tone.

“Shut up,” she muttered, voice muffled by the shirt.

He bit down lightly on her neck, one hand busy kneading her breast, while the other left faint crescent moons in the flesh of her ass.

Despite her reservations, her hand moved, slow at first, tentative strokes exploring him with a curiosity that bordered on reverence. The low "fuck" that escaped his lips emboldened her, and her fingers became bolder—squeezing at the tip, letting her thumb tease the slit, earning sharp hisses from him.

His control, usually ironclad, wavered, catching himself before her touch unraveled him entirely.

“Enough,” he growled, his hand wrapping around hers as he guided his cock to her.

She braced herself, her legs parted further instinctively as Nanami growled, guiding his cock toward her slick entrance. She mewled softly as he deliberately didn’t push in, instead teasing her, the thick head of his cock gliding against her swollen folds. The wet slide was maddening, the tension building as he refused to give her what she wanted. Her breath coming in shallow bursts as the tension coiled between them like a spring wound too tightly. Her eyes flashed with impatience, and the look of anger made him smirk through his own restraint. Then she hissed something, muffled, her voice low and threaded with irritation.

Nanami’s smirk was infuriating. “Patience.”

That patience didn’t last long. With a sharp thrust, he pushed inside her, his jaw clenching as she clenched around him, her walls tight and pulling him deeper. He moved slowly at first, letting her adjust; the intensity of the moment mirrored in their matched gasps and muffled curses.

Once he was fully sheathed, the restraint snapped. He withdrew almost completely before slamming back in, forcing a loud, uncontrollable moan from her.

His pace turned brutal, his hips slamming against hers with a force that made the marble countertop tremble beneath them. Her cries morphed into curses, each one sharp and biting, and directed at him with a venom that only fueled his hunger.

“You—oh my God—” she let out a muffled gasp, head falling back against the mirror as he drove her higher.

Nanami leaned down, yanking the shirt from her mouth as he captured her lips in a messy, heated kiss. Her teeth immediately bite his lower lip, drawing blood, but he didn’t care. Their tongues clashed, the kiss more battle than affection, each one pushing and pulling, neither willing to yield.

Breaking away to catch his breath, Nanami's thrusts didn’t falter.

“Still talking?” he muttered against her lips.

“Shut up,” she replied, biting him again, the taste of him & herself lingering on her tongue.

His hips slammed against hers, forcing cries from her throat. Her nails raked down his back, desperate, as though she needed them to fuse on a molecular level.

Despite his relentless pace, his lips softened, trailing kisses along her jawline, down her neck, and finally to her breasts. He nipped and sucked at the delicate skin; his attention split between breaking her apart with his cock and worshipping the parts of her he loved most.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room—a brutal rhythm that matched the pounding of her heartbeat. His hands roamed over her body, his nails leaving faint crescent moons in her thighs, her back, wherever he could reach.

Her body arched into him, trembling & walls tightening as another wave of pleasure threatened to overtake her. He knew she was close; his hand slid between them, his fingers finding her clit and circling it with a precision that left her gasping.

Her reaction was instant as she came with a sharp, keening cry, muffled when he cupped a hand over her mouth, entire body clenching around him as her nails dug into his shoulders.

“She’s sucking me in... so tight,” he murmured, voice hoarse, as his control finally broke. Movements turning erratic as he buried himself deep, his groan muffled against her neck. His eyes fluttered shut as his own climax surged through him, leaving him breathless and trembling. He barely managed to catch himself before collapsing onto her as the aftershocks rolled through him.

Two forces of chaos colliding. Neither of them moved, just staying for a bit; she rubbed his back as they caught their breaths, the occasional tremor running through her as she adjusted to the lingering sensitivity.

The bathroom was a battlefield of indulgence and chaos. Perfume bottles lay toppled on the black marble counter, the delicate crystal shimmering under the ambient lighting. A faint mist lingered in the air, clouding the oversized mirror that stretched from floor to ceiling, capturing distorted reflections of disheveled hair, flushed skin, and heat that had yet to fully dissipate. The mingling scents of bergamot, cedar, and salt—the sharp tang of the ocean—clung to the air, layered with the undeniable intimacy of their aftermath. Despite the mess around them, the silence between them felt clean, untouched by the outside world.

Soon her fingers were idly tracing patterns on his back, grazing over faint red marks she’d left moments before. When she finally broke the silence, her voice was teasing but warm, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Your technique hasn’t changed.”

Nanami froze, the words cutting through the lingering haze like a cold blade. He pulled back just enough to study her face, his brows furrowing. “What?”

“You heard me,” she replied, her tone deliberate and light as she brushed her fingers along his jaw. Her touch was deceptively soft, almost disarming.

Before he could spiral into overthinking, she laughed—a sound both melodic and cutting, slicing through his composure with surgical precision. “Relax, Mr. Nanami,” she teased, her lips curling into a smirk. “I’m just grateful for the first million you invested in my company when no one else would even hear me out.”

The tension in his shoulders eased as realization dawned, corners of his mouth twitching into the faintest smile. “Mrs. L/N,” he said dryly, his voice laced with equal parts amusement and exasperation. “Should I prepare my chequebook again?”

“Always,” she quipped, her smirk softening as she leaned up to kiss him. Her lips brushed against his with a familiarity that belied the game they’d been playing all evening.

“You’re still mine, Kento,” she murmured against his ear—almost biting them, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down his spine.

Straightening himself, hand lingering at her waist, he pulled her closer to hold as the reality of her presence grounded him. When they finally pulled apart, her tone shifted. “Nice house, by the way.”

“Thank you, Mrs. L/N,” he replied, his thumb brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. The simple gesture felt intimate, grounding, a contrast to the disarray they’d left in their wake. He arched a brow, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Though I do have to ask—what was the dress for?”

Her smirk deepened, her silence deliberate.

“Y/N,” he pressed, his voice carrying a mix of affection and exasperation. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“I was informed that you looked miserable out there,” she said simply, shrugging with nonchalance that only made her look more self-assured. “Your coworkers are vultures. I couldn’t just stand by and watch you suffer.”

His exhale was slow, measured, but his forehead dropped against hers, his voice softening. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me plenty,” she countered, her hands sliding over his chest with a teasing confidence. “But I’m not done yet. My company just hit a billion-dollar valuation, which means—"she smirked, her tone mock-serious—"you can finally quit working for those corporate overlords. Effective immediately.”

Nanami blinked, her words settling in slowly. Just as he opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off with a single raised finger.

“And don’t start with the ‘backup plan’ speech,” she added, rolling her eyes in dramatic exasperation. “I’ve secured enough for the next fifteen generations to sit around and squander. You’re free, Ken. ”

He let out a long exhale, relief washing over him like a tide pulling him out to calmer seas. His hands tightened gently at her waist as he pulled her closer, his forehead brushing hers again.

“I can finally retire,” he mused, a rare chuckle breaking the steady timbre of his voice. “What a dream.”

Her grin was wicked and teasing. “Don’t worry, I’ll deck you out with butlers, drivers, private pilots—the works.”

He shook his head, laughing softly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” she said, her voice lighter now, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw before stepping down. She fixed her dress, the fabric shimmering under the soft lighting as if it had never been touched. After quickly rinsing & drying her hands, she shuffled for something in the drawer below the sink counter, then gestured Nanami to turn around, who obliged and then winced as she sprayed antiseptic healing spray on her nail scratches on his back. Then, putting it back with one hand while she rubbed his shoulder with the other, soon she adorned her handpiece again.

“Now, pack your bags. We’re going on a month-long vacation. We’ve barely seen each other this quarter.” Her tone practical, though the playful glint in her eyes was still sparkling while Nanami, who knelt on one knee to zip up her askew heels with a gentle touch. This was a stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor; he radiated a quiet eagerness to serve her, even if she had never asked for it—or even forbade him from kneeling—for anyone, including herself. His care for her was unwavering, as he found joy in these small devotions.

Raising up to his full height, Nanami tilted his head, arching a brow. “When do we leave?”

“An hour.” Her smirk was maddeningly smug, the kind that always made him want to both kiss her and roll his eyes. “Don’t worry about clothes—we’ll buy what we need when we get there.”

His frown deepened slightly, his gaze flicking toward the door. “The house is still full of people.”

She waved a hand dismissively, her confidence unshakable. “The white-haired menace can handle it.”

As if summoned, a sharp knock echoed against the ornate black and gold bathroom door.

“Nanami,” Gojo’s unmistakable voice called out, muffled yet infuriatingly cheerful. “I know you told me not to disturb you, but if you want to leave on time, you should probably come out now.”

Nanami groaned audibly, burying his face in her hair. “I hate that he knows us so well. Or worse, that he was probably hovering outside.”

Her laugh bubbled up, light and unrestrained, as she turned to press a soft kiss to his nose. “Good thing no one will know,” she teased, her tone laced with mischief as she nodded toward the party still raging beyond the door.

“Small mercies,” he muttered. His hand reached down, scooping up her ripped panties. He shoved them into his pocket—a gesture equal parts practical and ridiculous. Housekeeping didn’t need to discover that.

He reached for his ruined shirt & still-ok belt while his cufflinks were probably lost to the similarly colored lines in the bathroom floor’s marble. Sighing, he shrugged the shirt on. With most of the buttons broken, the fabric barely clung to him, but he managed enough to appear vaguely presentable, then did his belt & washed his hands. Before stepping out, he winked at her, his rare smirk making her laugh again as she leaned on the counter, ogling him.

Walking out of the bathroom, Nanami was immediately engulfed by the sheer scale of the mansion. The vaulted ceilings soared above him, an intricate lattice of brass and black lines reminiscent of sharp geometry. Recessed lighting cast a warm, almost ethereal glow over the polished marble floors, their obsidian surface streaked with veins of gold that seemed to shimmer with every step.

Security was seamlessly integrated into the decor—discreet cameras nestled within decorative sconces, motion sensors hidden within the intricate carvings of doorframes, and biometric panels that blended effortlessly with the black lacquered walls.

Gojo leaned casually against the wall near the bathroom door, his smirk as sharp as the lapels on his bespoke electric blue suit. “Well, well,” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. “Looks like someone had a productive break.”

Nanami cast him a withering glare, brushing past him without a word.

“Don’t worry,” Gojo called after him, clearly undeterred. “Your secret’s safe with me. Well Mostly .”

Nanami strode into his bedroom, its absurd luxury understated yet undeniable once he unlocked it’s door with his thumb. Warm recessed lighting bathed the space in a golden hue, highlighting the polished marble floors and the California king bed draped in silk sheets that whispered decadence with every subtle fold. The walls were a study in contrasts—one side a sweeping expanse of black glass overlooking the estate, the other adorned with minimalist art deco patterns in gold and dark maroon.

A walk-in closet occupied one corner of the room, its glossy black doors sliding open with a faint hum. Rows of designer suits, pressed shirts, and tailored trousers moved along tracks, neatly organized by color, fabric, and season. It wasn’t just a closet—it was an AI-driven sartorial fortress.

Gojo trailed behind Nanami, Martini glass in hand, his ever-present grin practically glowing under the warm light of the bedroom.

Nanami shrugged off his ruined shirt, revealing faint nail marks trailing down his back.

Gojo’s exaggerated gasp was immediate. “Knew you were freaks,” he declared, grinning like a cat who’d just discovered a fresh bowl of cream.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nanami replied, his tone dry as he waited for the first shirt the AI closet presented.

The automated system whirred softly, its sleek black panels sliding open to reveal a neatly arranged selection of tailored clothing. The closet’s AI chimed in, its voice smooth and masculine: “Good evening, Mr. Nanami. May I suggest the Maurizio Miri blue Sam Arold , double-breasted blazer for optimal sophistication?”

“No, a white shirt will be enough for now. Thank you.” Nanami replied smoothly as the closet handed him the shirt.

Gojo’s eyes lit up. “Hold up, your closet talks?”

Nanami buttoned up the crisp white shirt, the fabric molding to him like it had been made yesterday, which it probably had been. A subtle reminder of how far he—and this house—stood from anything resembling average. “Of course it talks. Everything here does. Wife is particular about it,” he muttered, casually pulling out a certain incriminating piece of fabric from his pocket & tossing it into the hidden incinerator bin while Gojo eyed the AI.

Then Gojo leaned closer to the closet; his curiosity piqued. “Hey, Mr. Closet—do you take orders? I need something that makes me look like a billionaire without actually trying. Extra points if it comes with a holographic logo of the Gojo Clan.” Gojo didn’t have such bad likes; he just enjoyed being a menace.

The AI responded without missing a beat. “My name is Winston, & I’m sorry, sir. My services are exclusive to Mr. Nanami. While I assure you, no attire could enhance perfection.”

Nanami’s lips twitched as he fought back a smirk. “Even the closet knows you’re insufferable.”

“Hey, I like this guy!” Gojo shot back, pointing at the sleek black panel like it was a long-lost friend. “At least he has taste.”

The AI, apparently more than willing to engage, added, “Taste, sir, is precisely what you lack.”

Nanami turned away, struggling to suppress his laughter, as Gojo gawked. “Traitor! I’m officially boycotting this brand,” Gojo declared, though his curiosity kept him glued to the closet. “Btw what brand are you.”

Nanami smacked his arm. “Do you forget my wife invents AIs for a living, among other things?”

Gojo shrugged, “I didn’t know it was one of hers.”

As Nanami folded his sleeves up again, Gojo shot one last look at the closet. “You’re lucky I’m a forgiving man, Mr. Closet-Winston. Once I babysit this house, bet you’ll miss me when I leave.”

“I highly doubt that,” the AI replied, its tone impossibly smooth.

Gojo huffed, muttering something about finding an AI closet with better taste, while Nanami finally allowed a small smirk to surface.

Once out of the closet, Gojo chirped, “Aren’t you going to thank me for organizing this amazing party?”

Nanami took the whisky glass Gojo handed him, savoring a slow sip. “Thank you, Gojo, for organizing this party,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s not like we paid for it or anything.”

“Fair,” Gojo replied, recovering quickly with a shrug. “But I still expect to cash in the favor someday.”

Nanami nodded, flooding his sleeves with practiced precision before striding back toward the party.

Gojo followed on his heels like an overenthusiastic puppy, Martini in hand. Then looking back at the sentinel closet, he mused. “I need one of these. Think the wife will help me place an order?”

“She’s not your wife,” Nanami deadpanned, savouring the whisky burn as he sipped.

Once they had stepped into the grand ballroom, Nanami’s gaze swept over the room. Gojo, meanwhile, leaned in conspiratorially.

“So,” he began, his grin as infuriating as ever, “how was she?”

His gaze immediately found her. She stood along the far wall; an expansive bar carved from obsidian and gold stood like a centerpiece, its surface laden with bottles of rare vintages.

He didn’t falter in his reply, expression flat. “She’s a woman, Gojo. Not a secret.”

Gojo smirked as Nanami ignored the conspiratorial knowing smirks and whispers that seemed to surround him.

His gaze lingered as she laughed warmly, her head tilted slightly, the sound unguarded and genuine. She was speaking to two women he vaguely recognized as the CTO and CFO of her company, their expressions a mix of respect and admiration. For a moment, he simply watched. Despite himself, Nanami felt a rare sense of pride.

Just as he was about to make his way to her, a voice sliced through the moment.

“Nanami-san! There you are!”

The same intern with an unfortunate crush on him had caught sight of him again, waving over one of her equally annoying cohorts, a smug backstabbing bitch of a coworker Nanami didn’t even bother to remember the name of. They approached like vultures, the intern’s over-the-top enthusiasm clashing painfully with the coworker’s grimey smirk.

“Nanami-san!” she chirped, clasping her hands together. “This house is incredible! You must feel so inspired here.”

“I feel inspired to have another drink,” Nanami deadpanned, raising his glass slightly before taking a sip.

The coworker, clearly fishing for gossip, leaned in. “Yeah, no kidding. So, where’s your wife we’ve all heard so much about?” He practically sang the last part, his tone dripping with mockery. “Must be so busy to miss an event like this.”

Listening to this, Gojo moved closer to Nanami’s side like chaos incarnate, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Oh, you haven’t met her yet?” he asked, his grin practically weaponized. “Tsk, tsk, Nanami, keeping secrets from your best friends .”

The coworker scowled at the jab.

The intern blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. Nanami bit back a smirk, swirling his whisky lazily in his glass.

When the intern finally recovered, her tone turned defensive. “Well, he’s never mentioned her to me!”

Nanami’s expression darkened, his patience stretching to its breaking point. One thing he wasn’t—had never been—was unfaithful. And this implication, no matter how cluelessly delivered, crossed a line.

Yet Gojo wasn’t finished. He turned his full attention to the intern, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper loud enough for everyone to hear. “You know, he does talk about her all the time. But I guess you two must not hang out much, huh? Just acquaintances, then.”

“Excuse me?” Nanami’s voice was sharp, each syllable cutting.

The intern, oblivious to the shift in tone, pressed on. “You never mentioned you were married—”

“Please,” arching a brow, he interrupted, his expression one of detached amusement. “Do not imply that I’ve hidden my marriage. I’ve been married for years and have never avoided speaking about my wife when asked. If you’re unaware, perhaps that says more about you than it does about me.” Each word measured and sharp. It’s not like he cared to keep his job anymore anyway.

The intern blinked, stunned into silence.

Gojo erupted into laughter, clapping him on the back. “Kento, you’re killing it tonight. Who’s next on the chopping block?”

Without waiting for a response, Nanami brushed past them, his focus already shifting back to her. Gojo, naturally, wasn’t done yet. Turning back with a smirk, he delivered one final dig.

“He talks about her all the time with his friends. Trust me, I’d know since I’m his best friend. I know all his secrets ,” he said lightly. “Guess you’re just colleagues.” Nanami could hear the mockery directed at his coworkers, with a hint of possessiveness over their friendship in Gojo’s voice, along with the intern’s sputtering, behind him.

Once he approached, his hand slid around her waist, the gesture subtle yet unmistakable. It wasn’t a public claim so much as a quiet reassurance, a tether grounding him in the chaos of the room.

She turned to him, her smirk softening into something more intimate as she acknowledged the unspoken exchange.

“Hello,” he murmured, inclining his head with a faint smile toward the women she’d been speaking with. They were better than his coworkers; hence they were hired.

As Gojo approached them behind Nanami, she introduced him smoothly, her tone warm yet commanding. “Ladies, my closest friend, Gojo Satoru.”

Gojo’s professional smirk slipped into place with practiced ease. “A pleasure,” he said simply, his arm resting on Nanami’s shoulder again.

The conversation progressed for a bit before the sound of glass clinking drew their attention.

“Everyone!” Gojo’s voice rang out, cheerful and uncontainable. He was sitting atop the bar, manspreading, grin wide enough to rival the chandelier’s glow. “A toast to the lovely couple!”

Heads turned toward them, though many had already been stealing glances at her all evening while others were glaring daggers at Nanami.

Nanami cleared his throat, voice steady, effortlessly commanding the room. “Thank you all for coming to our housewarming party,” he began, his tone formal but with a warmth that felt uncharacteristic. His hand rested securely on her waist. “For those of you who don’t know, this is Y/N L/N. She’s my wife. She’s the one who bought us this house.”

A ripple of polite claps followed, though Nanami wasn’t finished.

“She hasn’t visited my office because she’s been working tirelessly on her company, Curse Cop, which, as of today, has officially reached a billion-dollar valuation.” He paused, his voice softening as he glanced at her, unguarded admiration flickering across his face. “Please, drink to your heart’s content, because starting tomorrow, I’ll be on vacation with her—and I’ll also be stepping down as Finance Director to spend more time with my wife, as I promised her.”

The room erupted in applause and a few ‘awws’ from mostly female guests, though Nanami barely noticed. His focus remained on her as she looked up at him, her expression a blend of amusement and affection.

From somewhere behind them, he heard whispers, envy poorly concealed.

“How’d he even get with her?” one muttered.

“It makes sense,” another replied begrudgingly. “He’s the kind of man every woman wants.”

But none of it mattered. Nanami leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips, as if the room around them didn’t exist.

For him, in that moment, it didn’t.

Soon the evening had progressed—Nanami was comfortably leaning against the bar, whisky in hand, Gojo, still on top of the bar, flanking him as usual, when the intern caught sight of Y/N between them.

She stumbled her way toward her, clearly drunk, with newfound boldness, her barely-there dress doing little to enhance her sense of professionalism. Nanami’s lips twitched as he watched the scene unfold, hiding his amusement behind his glass. He wasn’t much for unnecessary public fights, but he was waiting for this one since she had really become a nuisance for him over the months, hence the reason she was invited today.

“Y/N,” Gojo whispered, sidling closer to her as she inquired about the launch of their latest multiplayer game with the COO of her company. “See that girl over there?”

Pausing, she glanced over, her brow arching slightly as she clocked the intern making a beeline toward her.

“That one’s been after Kento for months,” Gojo murmured, his grin wicked. “Unrequited coffee deliveries, surprise lunches... the works. You’re about to have front-row seats to her grand finale.” He had noticed it all while visiting Nanami’s office, along with Nanami’s look of frustration when she wouldn’t take the hint and leave him alone.

Y/N didn’t miss a beat, her expression remaining poised as she turned fully to face the intern. The air around her seemed to shift, her unapproachable aura sharpening to something razor-edged.

The intern, blissfully unaware, extended a hand, her confidence teetering on arrogance. “Hi! I’m Nat. I work closely with Nanami-san in finance. It’s so great to finally meet you.”

Y/N’s gaze flicked briefly to the outstretched hand before returning to the intern’s face, her expression neutral but distinctly unimpressed. “Oh?” she said coolly. “And what are you to him?”

The intern faltered, her hand dropping slightly. “I... like I said, I work with Nanami-san! He’s been so helpful to me in the office. Such a great mentor.”

Turning his head from his vantage point, Nanami’s smirk widened as he took another slow sip of whisky. He had actively avoided helping her since he discovered her hidden agenda.

“Is that so?” Y/N replied, tilting her head slightly. “And what exactly have you learned from him?”

The intern brightened, eager to elaborate. “Oh, just... everything, really! He’s so dedicated and focused. I can see why you married him.”

There was a pause—a beat of silence that stretched just long enough to become uncomfortable. Then Y/N smiled, and it wasn’t kind.

“I see,” she said, her tone dripping with polite venom. “And yet, here you are, at a party in our house, introducing yourself to me like you’re a stranger. How odd for someone who claims to work so ‘closely’ with my husband.”

The intern’s expression wavered, a flicker of panic breaking through her confident facade. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t mean what?” Y/N interrupted smoothly, her smile widening. “To sound presumptuous? To overstep? Or to assume familiarity where there is none?”

Gojo, now openly laughing, gestured to Nanami, “Remind me never to piss your wife off.”

The intern stammered something unintelligible before finally scoffing & retreating, her confidence crumbling as she melted back into the crowd.

Y/N turned back to the COO, now flanked by CTO and CFO without so much as a backward glance as they dragged her off to introduce a potential investor, the conversation resuming as if nothing had happened.

Turning straight, Nanami finally let his smirk show, raising his glass toward Y/N in a silent toast.

She caught his eye, the faintest curve of her lips betraying her amusement, before she returned her attention to her companions.

“Worth every penny,” Gojo muttered under his breath, clinking his glass against Nanami’s.

“Agreed,” Nanami replied, his tone calm but his eyes glinting with mirth.

A/N: You thought Kento would cheat huh ☜(ˆ▿ˆc) Thanks for diving into this tangled mess of lust & love. If you caught the twist & liked it (or even hated it), drop a comment. I live for your chaos & crave your feedback like Nanami craves his wife. 🖤

Masterlist

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[phantomtwitch]

Sooo I wrote a Part 2 for the Everyone Knows AU part of angstfest. (Anything to avoid editing my IB fic right now, apparently)

Part One of this fic is here if you missed it!

Danny sits in the passenger seat of Jazz’s car, leaning his head against the window as his Mom drives them in silence, her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. His Dad and sister are back at FentonWorks, since his parents insisted it would be best if Danny and his Mom went alone, and it’s been hours since he’s seen any real signs of civilization. The further they travel from home the worse he feels, some nagging sense of discomfort and uneasiness that won’t relent, even as he knows this is to help him. 

For over a year and a half, he’s been experiencing fainting spells and blackouts every time there’s a ghost attack. He’s lucky his friends have managed to keep it hidden from his peers at school, since he knows Dash’s bullying would only increase if he knew Danny was so terrified of the ghosts that he fainted every time one appeared. They tried to keep it from his parents, too, with his sister Jazz’s help, even as Danny couldn’t understand why. But every time he thought about telling them in the past, his jaw would lock up and the words would die before he could utter even a single syllable. 

Yet now they know. He remembers waking up in the lab, not sure how he made it there, his parents sobbing as Jazz hovered in the corner, arms crossed over her chest as she watched the three of them warily. They said something to him, explained something even as they lectured Jazz, too, about keeping this a secret, but the words slipped from his fingers within minutes, and whatever confession they made was lost to him. But he can remember the fear in their eyes, the way they trembled and shook, and the odd sense that they were afraid of him rather than for him. He can remember asking if he should go to a doctor and the way they paled, adamantly refusing to bring him to anyone for weeks. It’s only now that they’ve finally agreed to bring him to see some specialist way out in Wisconsin. 

It used to be that whenever this happened, something would push back in his own subconscious eventually, reassuring him that it was fine, that he was fine, that there was nothing to worry about. It would smother him like a comforter in the middle of a snowstorm, warm and inviting and soft even as it felt entirely too heavy and like he really ought to be outside helping to dig out from the blizzard instead of hiding inside beneath his covers, but he still let it, the embrace too kind and safe for him to push back against. But this time he could not forget, not when his parents flinched every time he entered a room, not when they seemed so afraid even after so many weeks. Danny wishes he knew what he did wrong, what they fear about him, why they seem to almost hate him at times. It hurts, the ache so intense that there are moments when he swears something within him is fracturing and slowly crumbling to pieces, and he hopes this specialist can help repair whatever’s been broken. 

When they finally arrive, though, it’s not at a doctor’s office but a massive mansion. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

“I’m sure,” she insists as she unbuckles her seatbelt while Danny steps out of the car. Despite the bright colors and decor, something in him uncurls in his gut like a snake, rearing back and ready to strike, and Danny shivers as he fights back against the odd sensation. 

The man who greets them is tall with silver hair pulled back into an elegant ponytail tied with a red silk ribbon that probably costs more than Danny’s entire wardrobe. He’s wearing a dark black suit and red tie, and the way he smiles reminds Danny of a crocodile or a shark. It’s as if he’s slime given form and Danny shudders.

“Hello, Vlad,” says Mom. 

“My dearest Maddie,” he says, kissing his mother on both cheeks. “How lovely to see you after so long. And what a pleasure to meet you, young Daniel. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” He offers him his hand and Danny shakes it, barely resisting the urge to pull away immediately since the man’s grip is too hot, like fire burns beneath his fingertips. A small, absurd part of him wonders if he’s the devil, if his parents are planning to make some terrible deal (or admit to having done so long ago given his issues), but he pushes his fears down. 

“Thanks, I guess, but I don’t know anything about you,” replies Danny, and the man flinches briefly before recovering. “My Mom said you could help me with my fainting spells and blackouts, though.”

“Ah, yes. Your ‘fainting spells,’” he says bemusedly, as if in quotes, and that defensive, roiling in his gut returns, more pronounced than before. 

“Vlad,” says Mom sternly. “Please. Can you help him?”

“That depends entirely on what you mean by help, but I’ll see what I can do,” he says with a small smirk, and Danny bristles even as his Mom seems satisfied with the response. “Follow me.” 

The two of them walk through the massive mansion. It’s decked out in Packers paraphernalia, which seems completely at odds with the perfectly poised man in front of him. “You’re a cheesehead?” says Danny. 

“Indeed. I’ve tried to buy the Packers several times, too, but to no avail,” he says, teeth gritted, and Danny suspects the man isn’t told ‘no’ very often. He worries what that means for him and his potential treatment. 

“What kind of specialist are you?” he asks. 

“I am technically a business owner, but I’ve done extensive research into unique types of ecto entities,” he says, watching Danny out of the corner of his eye. “Entities like yourself.”

“I’m not–I’m human,” he objects, and he can feel that buzzing, that comfortable embrace pulling on him, and he tries to resist it but finds himself unwilling to do so for long, and by the time he’s aware once more he’s standing on the stairs to a basement lab, unable to remember what Vlad’s specialty is, what else they talked about or how they even made it here. 

“What did you say you specialized in?” he asks, and Vlad pauses on the stairs in front of them, turning to him with a frown. 

“See?” says Mom. “I told you already, Vlad, he can’t remember for more than a minute or two.”

“Remember what?” asks Danny irritably. 

“That I’m a specialist who can help you with your blackouts and medical issues,” says Vlad, and Danny frowns. That’s frustratingly non-specific, even as it’s almost certainly, technically true. 

“So like a neurologist?” he presses. 

“Something like that,” he says, and Danny scowls as he follows him the rest of the way into the lab, not sure why they won’t tell him the truth, not sure why he can’t remember if they already did. 

The lab itself is incredibly high-tech. There’s no repurposed household items like there are in his parents’ lab, and everything is carefully organized, labeled, and tucked away. In one corner sits a massive portal, and Danny’s eyes widen as he takes in the green swirling within it, recognizing it for what it is. “You’re an ecto scientist?” he says, turning to the man as he puts on a lab coat. 

“Indeed, though I specialize in many other areas, too,” he says. “Maddie, dear, why don’t you have a seat over there while I examine young Daniel?” 

His Mom pauses, eyeing Vlad warily for a moment before finally relenting and taking a seat at one of the empty lab benches. “And you, child, come here,” he insists, beckoning to him like Danny’s an obedient puppy, and Danny glares as he takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I need to do a quick scan. Please lay back.”

“What kind of scan?” He won’t simply do what this man asks, not without knowing more first. Not when even his Mom looks nervous. 

“Think of it like an MRI or x-ray. I promise, it’s harmless,” he says, flashing his teeth in a way that’s meant to be reassuring but is far too predatory, and Danny shivers as he looks at his Mom. She gives a small smile that’s not half as reassuring as he hoped even as she nods for him to do as Vlad says, and Danny sighs as he lays down on the bed, letting his hands rest on his stomach, his fingers twisting around in his shirt as he ignores the pounding of his heart and the sweat on his palms. 

‘I’ll be fine,’ he thinks stubbornly to himself, and he feels that odd sense of warmth, of a hug from something within his chest and relaxes as Vlad wheels over some strange scanner. It moves slowly over him, hovering for a long time near where his heart and lungs are before progressing, and then Vlad sits down at a computer for a few minutes as he reviews the results, humming thoughtfully as Danny’s Mom walks over and peers over his shoulder. 

“Is that . . .?” she asks, pointing to something on the screen. 

“Yes. But see this? There’s disconnection here,” he says, pointing to it and moving his finger, and Danny angles his head to try and see what they’re looking at but he can’t, the screen angled away from him too much. He starts to sit up when his Mom looks at him and shakes her head, and with a sigh he lays back down, drumming his fingers on his stomach impatiently. Clearly they’ve found something, and he feels like he has a right to know what. “The pathways didn’t form properly, and if they aren’t repaired, he’s not going to survive for much longer. You can already see the damage to his internal organs.” 

Danny swallows, his blood running cold. He’s going to die? He didn’t–he can’t be–

“Can you fix it?” she asks, interrupting his thoughts. 

“I think so, but it may be a bit traumatic,” Vlad says, “and with the disconnection having lasted so long, I’m not certain how cooperative he’ll be when it comes to the required treatment. Still, the memory issues are more severe than they ought to be even in this case. I have my suspicions about the cause, but I’ll need to provoke him to confirm it.”

“What?” Danny’s heart is beating rapidly and he’s sitting up now, staring at them with wide eyes, unable to hold back his terror even as he can begin to feel that tug at him, that warmth, but he won’t give into it this time. He can’t. He needs to know. 

“I would explain it, child, but you won’t remember,” sighs Vlad as he stands up. “Do you trust your mother?”

“I–what?” he sputters. Aside from it sounding like he’s probably dying, Danny’s still not sure what’s happening here, even as Vlad and his mom do seem to understand, and he desperately wants them to explain it to him, to tell him the truth, for someone to be honest with him just once.

“I would prefer your consent, of course, but you literally cannot give it due to your condition,” he explains, which makes absolutely no sense to Danny. “I’m asking if you trust your mother so she can at least grant it on your behalf.”

His mouth opens automatically to say that of course he trusts her, but then he pauses, the words dying on his tongue. Does he trust her? She’s brought him here with little to no explanation, and like with his sister and his friends, Danny knows nothing about why or what’s happening to him besides the blackouts. They all claim they’ve told him about it before–even this Vlad guy seems to suggest as much–but he hates that he can’t remember, hates that he has nothing to fall back on to confirm that they all have his best interest at heart beyond his own gut feeling. And his instincts right now are diametrically opposed, screaming at each other to reassure Vlad that he trusts her even as another part insists that he can’t, that he shouldn’t, that she’ll hurt him and he needs to be kept safe and he can feel that part forcibly pushing down on his ability to say yes, to let them know they can do the treatment, that they need to move forward and–

Danny blinks, struggling to remember what he was thinking about, what question he was supposed to answer. “I–sorry–can you . . . what did you say?” he whispers, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, and Vlad tilts his head to the side. 

“Interesting,” he hums. “But it does provide more proof for what I suspect is occurring. Maddie, dear, do I have your permission?”

“But he–”

“I’m not sure he can,” interrupts Vlad as Danny stares at them cluelessly, not sure what they’re talking about again. He’s lost some more time, he’s sure, but he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t think he fainted or fully blacked out, yet the last thing he can remember is laying down on the table before Vlad prepared to start the scan, and he shivers, rubbing his arms. 

She turns to look at him, and then walks over, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, hon,” she says and then she gives him a hug, squeezing him tightly, but he can feel her trembling even as she tries to reassure him. “I promise, okay?”

“I–okay,” he manages, the word choking its way past, and then she walks back to Vlad. 

“Maddie, my dear, you’ll need to stay here, please,” he insists, and Mom nods as Vlad comes over with something Danny recognizes. It’s a portable ghost shield, although the design is different from the one his parents use, and Vlad presses a finger against a sensor, activating around them as Danny’s heart beats faster now and the thing in his gut rears back, ready to strike as Vlad’s eyes flash impossibly red and a set of black rings appear around his waist, and–

Danny’s body drops to the table as Phantom emerges, hissing and shrieking at the intruder and ghost before him, tackling him with his claws as his brain screams at him to protect, protect, protect! The ghost puts up a shield, eyeing him lazily as he speaks, his words full of fire and ash even as they sound human, too, smothered beneath the surface of the water. “Enough, child,” he insists, using human words, but he can see the ripples in his aura, the subtle shifts that indicate his intentions, and he pauses with his claws outstretched, ectoblast building between the black tips. “So you are sentient enough, at least, to understand. Can you speak?” 

He hisses, echoes and static and chirps as his aura flares in response, letting him know that he sees the threat but that he’s unafraid, that he will protect Danny and his mother from the ghost in front of him. There are no real words, not in the way there is with human speech simply because there doesn’t need to be, his intentions and meaning clear enough for any ghost to understand. 

“Ah. I thought not, based on what we saw in the scans,” he muses. Black rings appear around his waist and he shifts, the dark haired ghost with bluish skin and fire in his hands and eyes vanishing beneath a human facade. “I promise I intend no harm.”

The words mean less to Phantom now than they would’ve if Vlad spoke them before transforming. Vlad’s aura is muted this way, his intentions less clear even as Phantom can taste the ash on his tongue as the man speaks, the echo of Vlad’s otherness apparent to him, and Phantom floats forward, tilting his head around as he puts a clawed hand on Vlad’s chest to better feel the pulsing of his core beneath his flesh. 

“Vlad, are you–” begins Mom, her words sounding distant and submerged beneath waves. It’s always so hard for him to hear and understand the humans that speak to him, even as he tries since he doesn’t want to hurt them. He needs to protect them. He needs to keep them safe. 

“I’m quite fine,” he insists, even as Phantom hisses a warning at him. “Are you done posturing? I’m here to help you, Daniel. Or do you prefer Phantom?”  Phantom’s aura flares, spiking and sending a mixture of signals. “You are not helping him.” His claws extend, pushing intangibly through his skin, grasping his core, but Vlad remains calm despite the clear threat. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You are disconnected from yourself this way. You leave behind your body each time, and eventually, no matter how much your friends and family intervene, you will not be able to return to it.”

He turns his head more, floating upside down, his tail spiraling behind him as he considers the words. Vlad’s core is too tightly grasped between his fingers for him to hide his intentions, and there’s truth there, at least as far as Vlad sees it, and Phantom sends a questioning chirp. “You are meant to be a single entity,” he says. “But your core is not fully connected to your biological systems. It’s created a barrier between you and Daniel, an artificial wall that should not exist, and it’s harming both of you.”

Phantom hisses reflexively, showing his sharp teeth as he lets one of his claws dig into Vlad’s core, and the man winces but otherwise hides his distress at the intrusion. “You can’t keep denying it and hiding the truth from your human half. I know you’re trying to protect him. I know you’re trying to help. But it’s hurting him. He’s confused and upset and scared. You’re leaving his body behind whenever you respond to the intruders in your haunt, as you’ve done here. You risk him being discovered, being captured by the GIW or other ghost hunters who, unlike your parents, would not be willing to try to help you. They would experiment on him, dissect him, and ultimately destroy both of you.” 

“And it’s hurting him physically, too,” says Vlad. “My scans are showing damage to his internal organs and structures. If this continues for much longer, your human half will not survive. It cannot.”

He relaxes his hand, the words coming out in a whisper of echoes and static, of uneasiness and fear. 

Vlad responds quietly in kind, sending an oddly comforting response from a man whose core burns with impossible anger and resentment at the world. “I know you’re worried about how he’ll manage knowing the truth of who he is. But you cannot hide it from him forever, not without destroying him and yourself. Please, child. Allow me to help you be whole again,” he says. 

He withdraws his hand, sending out a questioning burst of noise, of inquiry. Because he doesn’t want Danny to die. He doesn’t want to die. 

“The integration was prevented due to the interference of your family and friends,” he explains, and his Mom flinches. “Our transformation is not meant to have artificial triggers. The use of the AED to resuscitate you, to fill your core with electricity so it can artificially force the ectoplasm within your body to bring you back, has prevented it from fully bonding to your own systems and sending the spark from within itself to revive your human half upon your transformation. You must re-enter Daniel and trigger the change yourself. You must use the energy from your own core, your own essence.”

A soft, pleading whine. 

“You can,” insists Vlad. “More than that, you must.”

He moves from the man, floating over to himself, to his other half, to the part that he misses and aches for every time he leaves to take care of the ghostly threats that intrude on his haunt. Reaching out, Phantom places his hand on Danny’s chest, feeling the absence of breath, the missing life that should be there, and the gentle hum of a fragment of his own core pulsing within, that keeps him whole and alive despite the loss of his spirit even if humans can’t sense it. 

And with a terrified shiver, he pushes himself inside, letting him flow into the body, to not merely overshadow and reattach but become one again as he tries to seek the spark from within his core, tries to connect his spirit and body in full. He’s not sure he can, not without the external boost, and he can feel himself holding back, his worry over how Danny will handle the truth about knowing what he is, knowing that his parents almost certainly hate him and fear him, that his friends will never accept him–

“--focus,” says Vlad, and then he feels someone gripping Danny’s hand and he opens Danny’s eyes, expecting the half-ghost, but it’s not Vlad. 

It’s his Mom.

“Please, son,” she whispers, tears burning in her eyes. “Please.” 

And he mumbles something in response, his aura flickering as he speaks in a language she can’t understand, and he feels her grip Danny’s hand–their hand, his hand–more tightly, trying to reassure him, to let him know he’s okay, he’s safe, that they love him and care about him as he–

–Danny blinks, gasping as he sits up, clutching at his chest. It hurts, like ice and lightning and fire pouring through his veins and he wants to scream even as it feels right, as a bright light passes over him and he shifts, feeling oddly weightless and absent for a moment before they pass over him again and he shifts once more, back to being heavy and human and present. It’s painful and terrifying yet oh so right, and somehow, that makes it worse. 

And he sits for a moment, hand still clutching his chest even as his mother hasn’t let go of his other hand, as his world crashes around him, as he remembers who they are, who he is, what he is. As his memories he’s kept from himself in an effort to protect his human half crash back, slamming into him impossibly hard, moments spent in ghost fights and then burrowing himself inside his own helpless corpse as his friends were forced to endure the burden of caring for him and protecting him, and Danny lets out a keening wail that’s neither human nor ghostly in its sound but some odd blend of the two. 

“I’m a monster,” he whispers, sobbing as his shoulders shake, and his Mom shifts, moving to hold him tightly to herself. 

“Oh, hon,” she says, but no words follow, no gentle affirmations that she loves him, no denials about him being the horrifying creature he knows they’ve seen him as, that they’ve hunted and shot at and threatened to experiment on and–

“It’ll be okay,” she says, interrupting his spiraling thoughts as she strokes his hair. “We’ll figure it out, Danny. I promise.”

Maybe someday he’ll believe her.

[h00nerz]

spots on!

THIRTY-EIGHT / i should have known

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warnings: mentions of violence/murder, mention of cheating kinda, that’s it afaik

word count: 4.5k (sorry)

THE LAST FEW DAYS HAD BEEN A WHIRLWIND OF EMOTIONS. Not only were you still trying to decide how to proceed on your Chat Noir issue, you were also battling a never ending wave of anxiety. 

You had never been invited to a fancy event before—and definitely not a fashion event. You still couldn’t believe you had gotten an invitation to the Choi Designs launch party. For the last few weeks you had known about it, you’d spent every second you weren’t thinking about Chat Noir trying to plan the perfect outfit. You needed to prove you knew a thing or two about fashion before you attempted to network with the other attendees. 

The fashion world was extremely daunting, but you were confident in your abilities. Even though yes, you were wracked with nerves, you also knew you would be able to pull out on top alright. Design was in your blood, and today was the day you would get to prove that. 

Today was not going to be about Yeonjun, or Chat Noir, or any man for that matter. 

“Okay, Jeongin just texted me to tell me he, Gyu and Heeseung are on their way.” Sieun announced as she walked into your room. After lots of convincing, you had finally agreed to let Heeseung drive the five of you to the event, so long as he dropped you off a block away. Apparently Beomgyu had gotten the okay from Yeonjun to take Jeongin and Heeseung, so now you were all going. 

You nodded, while you smoothed your hands over the bottom of your dress. You had decided on a mini dress inspired by vintage Chanel you made recently, and a long black ribbon tied around your neck that trailed down your back. To top it all off, you wore your most expensive pair of black heels, courtesy of Choi Designs themselves. It was elegant, but also cute. 

“Ahh, Y/N! You look so good!” Sieun sang, running up to hug you from behind. You giggled and looked away to try to hide your embarrassment. “You’re going to knock the socks off of everyone there!” 

“Yeah, I hope so.” You said quietly, your eyes trained on yourself in the mirror. “Sie… Can you tell me that I’m a good designer? That I’m going to make it? I’m just really nervous.” It was an embarrassing thing to ask her, but she was your closest friend. If anyone was going to ease your nerves, it was Sieun. 

She smiled at you through the mirror, then gently spun you around to face her. “Y/N. I’m not just saying this because you asked me to. You are seriously one of the most talented people I know. I mean, you designed your own Ladybug suit, and you designed this gorgeous dress… You’re going to get offered internships to all of the best fashion companies in this city.” 

Her hands gripped onto you tightly, and you could feel your nerves slowly melting away. “Just… If you end up becoming a rich and famous designer, you can’t forget about me, okay? We still need to start our magazine together one day.” With that, she pulled you in for a tight hug, burying her face in your neck. 

You hugged her back, smiling into her long, blonde hair. “Thank you. And don’t worry, I don’t think I could ever forget you.” 

A loud, horrible noise filled the space outside your apartment, and unfortunately you recognized that song. “Jesus, Hee has got to get a new horn for that thing.” Sieun muttered, pulling away from the hug with a quiet sniffle. 

You giggled. “He needs to get a whole new car is what he really needs.” 

The two of you left your apartment, and wandered down to the street to see that Heeseung had actually parked semi-normally (his front tire was up on the curb). Even more surprising, it looked like he had taken Dongshik through a car wash. 

“Ladies!” Heeseung greeted you, sticking his head out the car window. “You both look great, especially you, Sieun. Y/N, you look okay.” 

As Jeongin pulled open the van door, you frowned. “So, we don’t both look great?” 

Heeseung hummed. “I guess not. Just Sieun.” 

You rolled your eyes. His attempt at flirting was pathetic, really.

As you got into the van, Jeongin stared at you with wide eyes. “Wow, Y/N. You look pretty. I mean, not pretty pretty. Nice, I mean. You look nice. Just normal. I haven’t ever considered you attractive. That would be weird. You’re my friend.” He started to ramble. 

“Why are you acting like a freak?” You asked, sitting down next to Beomgyu in the backseat. 

“I’m not! Stop looking at me!” Jeongin cried out, and turned to rest his head against his window. 

Beomgyu nudged you. “Did you make that dress?” He asked. 

You nodded. “Yep. Just finished it a few nights ago.” 

“Cool. It looks really nice. Like something Yeonjun’s dad would make.” He told you encouragingly, and you couldn’t help flushing at the comment. 

“Thank you, Gyu. That means a lot coming from someone who barely knows anything about fashion.”

He frowned. “Hey! What’s that even supposed to mean?” 

“It’s not a bad thing! It just means if you think it’s good, then maybe it is good!” You insisted, grabbing onto his arm to reassure him. 

He glared at you, but still smiled. “Don’t worry. Yeonjun’s dad will offer you a job on the spot. We all know it’s true.”

“Yeah, he would be crazy not to.” Jeongin added.

God, you hoped so.

IT TOOK YOU A WHOLE TWO SECONDS TO SPOT HIM. Even though he was just in a sleek, black suit, and seemed to blend in with the crowd, he still managed to stick out like a sore thumb. No matter how hard you were trying to move on from him, you would always be able to pick him out even in a crowd of a million people. 

There was just something about Choi Yeonjun that would forever draw you to him. 

You were standing by the entrance of the event with your friends, getting a good look at all the guests. You recognized quite a few designers, as well as some models and journalists. The guest list was as if someone had taken all of your favorite inspirations, and sent them all invitations. Intimidated wasn't a big enough word to describe how you were feeling. 

And then you saw him. He was talking to some people, laughing as though he didn’t have a single care in the world. His dark hair was slicked back, with a few strands strategically pulled out to fall in front of his eyes. He clearly wasn’t wearing a shirt under his suit jacket, as his bare chest was exposed all the way to the third button. Choi Yeonjun looked beautiful. 

For a second, you felt the river of your feelings beating against the dam you’d built to hold them back, creating cracks and threatening to break through. But, then you saw her. Choi Yena, with her arm looped around his own, looking up at him with eyes full of adoration. 

The river started to still. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Sieun asked, appearing at your side. She looped her arm through yours, the same way Yena had to Yeonjun. 

You glanced over at her, and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” When she didn’t seem convinced, you flashed her the most genuine smile you could muster up. 

“Come on, let’s go say hi to people!” Beomgyu shouted, squishing in between you and Sieun to throw his arms around the two of you. 

Just as you were about to ask what people?, he started leading you in the direction of the last person you wanted to talk to. “What? No, Beomgyu. I don’t wanna talk to him.” You said quickly. You tried your best to stop him, but your heels were making that a bit difficult. 

“Come on, just for two seconds! And his dad is over there, you wanna talk to him, right?” He whined into your ear. He was right, unfortunately. You were most looking forward to talking to Mr. Choi, and he was standing near Yeonjun and his girlfriend. You supposed this was the best time to introduce yourself. 

“Hey! Jun!” Yeonjun’s attention to whatever conversation he was in was lost when Beomgyu called out his name, and that was when his dark eyes landed on you for the first time that day. You should have looked away, and avoided his gaze, but you couldn’t. You were like a moth, and Yeonjun’s eyes were made up of flames. There was also something so familiar in them, something so…

A thought appeared in your head. A terrible, almost invasive thought. It couldn’t be true, though. That would be crazy, insane even. It would mean you were an absolute idiot. Worst of all, it would mean…

Your fingers drifted up to your lips, and you found yourself avoiding looking at Yeonjun. 

“Oh, babe! Are these your friends?” A feminine voice cooed, and you felt yourself grow nauseous.

“Y-Yeah, some of them. Yena, this is Beomgyu, Sieun, Heeseung, Jeongin, and…” He paused, swallowing hard. “…Y/N.” 

“Oh, Y/N! She’s the designer, right?” Yena practically gushed, and you nodded weakly. “Did you design that dress? It’s seriously gorgeous, I need one of those! It’s gorgeous, right, Yeonjun?” You glanced up to see Yeonjun staring at you, his eyes still widened like he had seen a ghost.

“Yeah. Gorgeous.” He replied, without ever looking down at the dress. 

You glanced away, hoping to find some sort of way to escape this conversation. By this point, you were sure your embarrassment was becoming visible, and if you stood there any longer, you thought your head might end up exploding. 

“You know, Y/N actually designed both Chat Noir and Ladybug’s suits.” Sieun randomly decided to inform the couple, and you practically snapped your neck to stare at her incredulously. 

Yeonjun, who had just taken a sip of his champagne glass, started choking. 

“Wow, really? I mean, I had heard about Chat Noir, but I didn’t know she did Ladybug’s too.” Yena continued the conversation casually, her gloved hand gently patting Yeonjun’s back as he coughed into a napkin. 

“Most people don’t.” You said through gritted teeth. 

Yeonjun finished coughing after a minute, and flashed you all an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I don’t know what just happened. Um, Y/N, I didn’t know you knew Ladybug.” He tilted his head at you curiously. 

“Oh. Umm, no, I wouldn’t say I know her. It was actually Sieun who set it all up! Yes, Sieun! You know, she’s good friends with Ladybug, so when she mentioned needing a new suit, Sieun recommended me!” You were impressed by how quickly you made up the lie, and Yeonjun seemed convinced enough as he nodded slowly. 

Beomgyu, Heeseung and Jeongin had seemingly checked out of the conversation a long time ago, and you noticed a slight redness to their eyes as they took turns investigating a centerpiece. You couldn’t believe you had let Heeseung drive you there when he had obviously smoked something. 

You glanced around the crowd of people, until your eyes finally fell on the person you wanted to talk to: Mr. Choi. And luckily for you, it looked like he was about to wrap up his conversation, which meant there was an opening for you. 

“Um, it’s been really nice meeting you, Yena, but I’m hoping to go get a word in with Mr. Choi, so I’m going to head over.” You gave the girl a polite smile, and were starting to walk away when you felt her grab your wrist. 

“Wait! You should have Yeonjun go and introduce you! It’s his dad, after all!” She suggested, an almost crazed smile playing on her lips. 

“What a good idea!” Sieun added in. You sent her a you-told-me-you-would-keep-me-away-from-him glare, but she feigned innocence as she grinned at Yena. 

You awkwardly glanced up at Yeonjun, who seemed just as unnerved about the idea as you. “Oh, I’m not sure—I mean, if you want me to, that’s fine, but—if you’d rather go alone—“

“Nonsense! Of course she wants you to go with her, babe!” Yena practically shoved him in your direction. 

The last thing you wanted was to introduce yourself to one of your icons, and make yourself look like a fool due to your crush on his son. The darned haired boy looked down at you, smiling apologetically. And in that moment, it hit you:

You’re totally not over Yeonjun.

“Um, then, shall we?” He asked. 

“O-Okay.” You stammered out. 

You shot Sieun one last glare as you and Yeonjun started to walk off in the direction of his father, and then the two of you were alone together. As you walked, you had to keep your arms folded across your stomach, too scared of the possibility of your hand brushing against his. You couldn’t believe yourself. Just a few days earlier, you were making out with Chat Noir on your sofa, and here you were, freaking out over the same crush you thought you were through with. 

A small part of you wished the cat man was there. He had always been good at relaxing your nerves. 

“I’m sorry about Yena. She can be a little… Pushy sometimes.” Yeonjun randomly spoke up. 

You laughed. “Yeah, I can see that.” 

He laughed as well, and if you could bottle up the sound of his laughter and keep it forever, you would. For a minute, the space between the two of you grew quiet, and even though the thought of talking to him terrified you, you also hated the silence. 

“Yeonjun?” You called out his name quietly, and he looked down at you with curious eyes. You swallowed hard, your hands becoming clammy. “I—you don’t have to do this. I don’t want…” Your voice trailed off as you tried to find the right words. 

“You don’t want…?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m only friends with you so I can get close to your dad.” You finally said. 

The space became quiet again. 

He sucked in a breath. “So, we’re friends?” He asked, a hint of doubt in his voice, and you felt yourself start to panic. 

“Oh! I mean, I think we’re friends, but if you don’t consider us friends, then that’s okay. I don’t want to overstep and be weird or anything, I just thought—“

“Y/N, relax.” You watched as he rested one of his hands on your shoulder, your eyes growing wide. “I think we’re friends. It’s just nice to hear it from you.” He spoke quietly, and you felt your face become warm. 

When you finally gained the courage to look up, you were surprised to see how close the two of you were now. His dark eyes were gazing into your own, flickering between them as though he was looking for something. Then, they dipped down to look at your lips. 

“Yeonjun! Y/N! Yeonjun quickly retracted his hand when a voice called out to the two of you, and you turned around to see Kai running up to the two of you. “It’s Beomgyu! He’s in the bathroom, throwing up, and he keeps asking for you guys!” 

You furrowed your eyebrows, looking over at Yeonjun to exchange a confused look with him. That didn’t exactly sound like Beomgyu. But, there was really no reason you could think of that Kai would be lying to you, so you let out a sigh. “Okay, take us to him.”

IN HINDSIGHT, YOU DEFINITELY SHOULD HAVE KNOWN KAI WAS MAKING THINGS UP. But, it seemed like being in Yeonjun’s proximity was enough to cloud your judgment, like his presence was intoxicating to you or something. You weren’t thinking very clearly as you trailed behind Kai towards the bathrooms, instead you were mostly focusing on how good Yeonjun’s suit made his back look. 

You were a bit confused when you made it to the room Kai was claiming to be the bathroom, and found not only all of your friends, but most of Yeonjun’s as well. 

“He’s in there!” Sieun exclaimed dramatically, pointing a finger at the door. “One second he was fine, talking to Jeongin and Heeseung about the tablecloths being used, and the next, he said he felt like his stomach was going to explode, and he ran into the bathroom!”

“Okay, but why does he want us?” Yeonjun asked. 

“I don’t know, he said he wanted his two closest friends!”

You looked over at Sieun, looking for any sign of a lie in her face, but saw nothing. Either she was a really great liar, or something was actually wrong with Beomgyu. You let out a frustrated sigh, looking down at your white dress. 

“I swear to god, if he gets vomit all over this dress, you’re all paying for it.” You snapped, making sure to point at Soobin specifically. 

With that, you opened the door, Yeonjun standing close behind you. But, when you peered inside the room, it was very obviously not a bathroom. Instead, it looked more like some kind of supply closet. There were some folded chairs lined against the wall, and some shelves that looked like they held some cleaning supplies. 

“This isn’t a bathroom…? Where’s Gyu--?”

Before there was even time for the question to leave your lips, Yeonjun was stumbling into you as though someone had shoved him from behind, forcing the two of you into the room. 

“Sorry, guys!” You heard Beomgyu yell, before the door was slammed shut in your face and locked.

You couldn’t believe it. Your stupid friends who knew you were trying to get over Yeonjun decided to lock you into a room with him! Apparently you were friends with a group of sick and twisted individuals. An angry growl ripped through your throat, and the next thing you knew, you started pounding your fist against the door.

“Choi-Fucking-Beomgyu, you open this fucking door right now!” You screamed, and swore you could hear his muffled giggles from the other side of the door. You tried slamming your fist against the thick wooden door a few times, but one particular strike caused you to hiss in pain and forced you to stop. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Yeonjun asked quickly, rushing over and cradling your hand gently. 

You nodded. You were still seething with rage at the fact you were cooped up in here with him, but could feel it slowly dissipating. “I’m so sorry. My friends--our friends are so dumb. I-I don’t even know why they would lock us up in here together.” You muttered, glancing over at the door. That was a lie, you definitely knew why they would do that.

Yeonjun let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I have a few ideas.” 

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking up at him suspiciously. Did he know about your crush on him? Had Beomgyu told him? Oh, you were totally going to beat the shit out of him when you got out of there.

“Oh… Nothing…” He let go of your hand, and instead reached up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. 

You nodded slowly, and leaned back against the wall. He was pressed against the one opposite of you, taking an interest in his dress shoes that he lazily clicked together. You weren’t sure what your friends were trying to accomplish, since there was no way you were going to confess to Yeonjun any time soon, especially not in some supply closet at his father’s party. 

Speaking of his father, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to meet my dad, and some of the other people here.” He spoke quietly.

You shrugged, pressing your lips together. “It’s fine. I guess I can always meet them some other time, right?” You smiled at him weakly, and he nodded. “I still have time… I think.” 

“You’re going to be fine, Y/N. You know, I meet a lot of young designers who come and do work for my dad and whatnot, and I don’t think any of them hold a candle to you.” 

You met his gaze with wide eyes. “Really?” You asked. 

Suddenly, you were hit with a wave of deja vu. This was exactly like your conversation you’d had with Chat Noir a few days ago, where he was comforting you about the exact guy you were talking to now. The guy who you thought had never really noticed you before. But, also the guy with a girlfriend. You had almost forgotten all about her, which you felt like made you a horrible person. 

“Um, Yena, she’s nice.” You said. 

“Yena. Yeah, she is. She’s very nice.”

The atmosphere had become so awkward, you wanted to scream. 

“About Yena… I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, but--”

Once again, just when the conversation was starting to get somewhere, you were interrupted by the feeling of your phone buzzing. You held up a finger, indicating for Yeonjun to pause, and dug your phone out of your small bag to see a text from Sieun. 

so… lol we messed up and the lock on the door is broken…

and

please don’t hate me

someone at the party just got akumatized

You gaped at your phone with wide eyes. “Shit…” You mumbled on your breath, wandering over to the door to give the handle a wiggle. You weren’t sure why you were expecting anything to happen. You were about to just transform into Ladybug right there, then remembered that Yeonjun was stuck in the room with you. “Shit!”

“What is it?” The man in question queried. 

You let out a frustrated sigh. “Um… Our friends broke the door… And apparently someone got Akumatized out there.” 

Yeonjun’s dark eyes widened. “Are you serious?” He demanded, and you nodded feverishly. 

“Yes!” You groaned. Then, an idea struck you. “Wait! I think I know somebody who can help! Hold on…” You opened up the Twitter app, thumb darting around to open up your direct messages. 

“Wait, it’s okay! I’ll get my dad to send someone over and fix the door!” Yeonjun tried to assure you, but you ignored him, opening up your messages with Chat Noir. 

s.o.s i’m locked in a room at this party and someone got akumatized 

You sent him the message, and less than ten seconds after you sent it, you heard Yeonjun’s phone go off. 

Oh.

The room became silent, as the two of you stared at the phone in his hands. Just to test it out, you sent another message, and his phone went off again. 

Oh.

“Y/N, I can explain--”

Your head was spinning. Of course, the possibility of Yeonjun being Chat Noir had crossed your mind a few times before, but you had never actually seriously considered that it could be true. The possibility of your annoying partner being the boy you had been crushing on for years? Yeah, okay. It sounded like some sort of sick joke. Truthfully, Yeonjun was the last person you had realistically thought could be Chat Noir. Or, maybe you’d just been so in denial about the possibility, you had missed all the signs. 

The universe was playing a sick joke on you. 

“So… You’re telling me… You are Chat Noir?” You whispered. 

There was no use in denying it. Instead, he nodded slowly. 

You felt dizzy. “But—you—“ It felt like the air was being stolen from your lungs, so you decided to pause for a moment, leaning up against the door for support. 

He said nothing. Instead, he stared at you with wide eyes, like he was carefully surveying you for each and every reaction you were having. 

“Have you just been playing me this whole time?” You whispered. He sucked in a breath, like he was ready to start denying it, but you jumped to cut him off. “Because I thought you liked me, really liked me, but you have a whole girlfriend. Oh God, and she’s so sweet, does she know you’re Chat Noir? Does she know you’ve been coming to my apartment at night to see me?” 

“No! No, it’s not like that! Yena and I aren’t even really dating!” He assured you quickly, speeding across the room to pull your hands into his own. 

As he did so, you gazed down, imagining his gloved hands being the ones to hold you. He wasn’t dating Yena. Well, that was good to know. Still, it didn’t make the situation any better. It didn’t change the fact that Choi Yeonjun was Chat Noir, and you had no clue. 

 “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner. I was too blinded by my crush on you, I should have been able to figure this out sooner.” 

Yeonjun paled. “You have a crush on me?” 

“Yes, you idiot!” You exclaimed, snatching your hands away from him. “I have for a long time, and everyone knows except for you, apparently! But that’s not the point, the point is, I should have known!” 

“How could you have known?” He was trying to comfort you, but instead it was just ushering a confession out of you, those little words that would change everything between the two of you more than it already had. “Honestly, Y/N, the thought of telling you crossed my mind, but… Ladybug would have killed me.” 

“I should have figured it out because I am Ladybug!” 

The words slipped through your lips before you had the chance to think them over and stop yourself. Your hands darted up to your mouth to cover it, as though it would be able to take it back. 

It couldn’t. 

Yeonjun looked like he was about to tip over and pass out. 

There was a creaking sound behind you, and you slowly turned to see the door to the supply closet being peeled open by a cringing Soobin. The rest of your friends were gathered around, peering at the two of you with wide, curious eyes. 

You had a sneaking feeling that the door was never broken, and there was never an Akuma. Your friends had made it all up to get you and Yeonjun to confess your alternate identities to each other. Oh, you were going to kill them all. 

“So… Did you guys talk?” Jeongin asked, flashing his cute bread smile at you as if it might make you forget what they did. 

It did not, in fact, make you forget. No, you were so consumed with rage, you wouldn’t be surprised if you got Akumatized right then and there. Not even Jeongin’s sweet smile could calm you down now. 

Before you were able to stop yourself, an angry scream ripped through your throat, and you launched yourself at your so-called “friends”. 

Discussing your true identities with Yeonjun could wait. Now, your top priority was going to be murdering all of your stupid friends. 

authors note: so… yeah… it happened 😅😅 surprise!!! i wonder how they are going to react now that they know this….

tag list: (closed) @therealhyunjingf @jakeshands @impureperhaps @mazeinthemoon @tyunlatte @loveliii @exohclipse @17szn @txtbrainrot @bubblytaetae @serafilms @iirene304 @snowfalltxt @choistick @lost-leopard-beanie @taekwondoes @captivq @aestheticsluut @suburbiataehyung @cecedrake2217 @omiomipepperoni @ttyunz @stellz581 @cher-bears @tyunner @eggomi @rikismiel @vianna99 @certainyouthpeanut @cookiehaos @90sni-ki @http-gyu @iad0ru @viagumi @reverbtunes @fatoompie @ka143 @sserafimez @hoonjjun @ahnneyong @cutiespaghetti @wonioml @emohazuzworld @taylvvrr @cowsmicwu

[annebaby]

National Anthem ♡ (pt. 3 - final)

aaaand here is the final part of my first fic, National Anthem! i hope you all enjoyed & i appreciate all the love always!

warnings: toxic snow, suggestiveness, fem!reader x young!coriolanus snow, use of Y/N, and i think thats all (?) let me know?

enjoy my lovelies :)

As you pull towards the entrance of the gala, you can’t help but awe at the exquisite architecture of the building. With long columns stretching across the width of the building and a large overhang donned with black ribbons, it was truly a sight for sore eyes. Coriolanus parks the car and heads to your side of the vehicle to let you out. He offers his hand to help you, then he kisses it. This was going to be a long night. 

The car was whisked away to valet parking meaning there was no escape now. Who knew what he would do next? 

The entryway to the gala was covered in a burgundy velvet rug that stretched into the lobby of the main dance hall. You took Coriolanus’ arm in yours, smiled and continued to walk towards the hall. You weren’t surprised you received many looks from the public upon your arrival with Coriolanus. You were both well known in the Capitol. People were staring at your dress in awe, admiring its beauty and taking you in. 

You looked around at the onlookers whilst entering the hall, and you smiled sweetly. Of course, there were multiple men whose gaze was stolen by your cleavage, but you expected this. At least Coriolanus hadn’t stared at them, yet. 

Upon entry to the gala, you released Coriolanus’ arm and turned to face him. He looked down at you with a sly smile, slightly smirking. His eyebrows were raised, waiting for you to say something. 

“I’d like to go find Bridgette, is that alright?” You didn’t know why but you felt the need to ask him. He broke his smile and said, “Of course,” as if it were obvious there was no need for you to ask. 

You stared at him for a second longer before feeling your chest relax. You hadn’t even known it was tight. You stood on your tiptoes to give Coriolanus a kiss on the cheek, before running off to find Bridgette. 

Coriolanus was far too excited by your presence with him. Not only had he wanted you for months, but now he had finally felt your lips on his. He could recall the first time he saw you, a large ribbon in your hair in a far too short skirt and a black sweater. He swore to himself that day that he would never act on his feelings. Lucy Gray made him that way. 

However, as the months passed and he saw you more, he knew something had to be done. You were gorgeous, innocent, obedient, and charming. You would make a perfect wife for him. 

It’s not that he wanted to own you though - he really did have feelings for you. The poor man was just awful at acting on them. That was all. 

So as you walked off to find your friend, he watched every man’s eyes fall on your figure and he fumed. He wanted to rip their eyes out for even glancing in your direction, but that wouldn’t be fit for an upcoming leader. 

He wandered off to find your father, keeping a close eye on you as you disappeared into the crowd. 

“Bridgette! Oh thank God I've finally found you.” Bridgette had been tucked in a corner chatting with Arachne Crane, awaiting your arrival. 

“Oh my goodness you’re stunning! I love this dress,” you spoke, feeling the material of her dress in your fingers. Her brown hair was slicked back in an elegant braided bun and her gown was an eggplant purple with black lacing on the sides. You noticed all the men staring at her as well and laughed due to her obliviousness. 

“Y/N! I’m so glad you’re here! Arachne, if you’ll excuse us, you look gorgeous by the way!” You give Arachne a nod before Bridgette takes your hand and pulls you away. 

“Lord, I cannot stand her. All she wants to talk about is her money and blah blah,” Bridgette laughs as she walks with you. You laugh as well, turning your head around to still see Arachne scoffing at something. 

“But please tell me everything Y/N! Everyone’s already talking about your arrival with Snow and I want to hear it all, I'm honestly so confused.” 

Bridgette leads you to a tray of Posca, which you accept thankfully. Grabbing the glass off the tray, you nod at the Avox carrying it and you turn back to her. You sip your drink solemnly, swallowing and gulping loudly. Then, you squeal. Finally, you could tell someone about the wildness of the night. 

“You’re not going to believe me,” you say, holding onto her shoulder. 

You tell her absolutely everything, and she doesn’t interrupt. She stands with her mouth slightly open and holds all her questions until the end. 

“…. he kissed my hand and now I’m here!”

She stood there for a moment, still silent. Her mouth turned into an open smile as she jumped up and down slightly. 

“Was he a good kiss-,” Bridgette stopped mid sentence, staring at someone behind you. 

You felt a hand sneak around your waist, and it wasn’t Coriolanus. It was Festus Creed.

Your ex boyfriend of about a year, he wasn’t much at all. You hated him if anything. He was rude, stubborn and conceded - not to mention horrible in bed. You smelled the Posca on his breath as he stood next to you, hand on your waist. Even his red curls couldn’t hide the blush in his cheeks from drinking too much. 

“Festus, what’re you doing? Get your hands off me.” You scoff and pry his hand from you before looking at him. He drunkenly smiles, completely out of it. 

The breakup between you had been messy. You had caught him making out with Clemmie in the halls just a few months ago. Needless to say, all contact was cut completely, and the feelings between you two were severed and turned into hatred. Festus does not move away from you, and puts his hands back on your waist. He tries to snuggle his face into your neck. 

“Festus. I said get off -“

You’re cut short by the sight of Coriolanus approaching you both. You shoot him a pleading look, and he quickly intervenes. He pried Festus off you aggressively before grabbing his collar and spitting in his face. 

“One more word to her Festus, and I’ll make sure your father knows you just assaulted a woman and drank way too much. Wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Festus stared at Coriolanus silently, before Coriolanus released his grip on Festus and told him to get away. He cowered down and slowly walked away, ultimately leaving the event. Needless to say, you and Bridgette were standing side by side awestruck. 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, Y/N. Maybe I need to stick around you more often,” Coriolanus says. He stares at you intently before looking at Bridgette. 

“Hello, Ms. Sinclair. Hoping Ms. Y/N is being good company to you tonight. So sorry I had to intrude.”He smiles sweetly at Bridgette before beginning to walk away. 

“I won’t be far, if anyone else bothers either one of you let me know.”

As soon as he turns his back, you yell after him, “You can just stay with us if you want!” 

You look at Bridgette, silently asking if that was okay with her. She widens her eyes and nods yes frantically, hoping to get more insight on his feelings for you. She was always good at reading people and interpreting their actions. 

Coriolanus slowly turns around with a smile on his face. He bows his head down before holding his hand out to you. 

“In that case, Miss Y/N, may I have this dance?”

You nervously look at Bridgette, not wanting to leave her by herself. She shoves you forward slightly, encouraging you to dance. You take Coriolanus’ hand in your own, slowly moving toward the dance floor.  

A pristine classical song was playing, the sharpness of the violin leaving a small amount of seductiveness in the air. You joined the crowd as smoothly as you could. Coriolanus places his left hand in your waist, his right hand interlocked with yours. He pulls you much closer to him, bodies touching on all planes. The music restarts its pattern, and you both start dancing. As the President’s daughter, you’ve had many dance lessons. You knew how to do just about every dance there ever was in all of Panem. 

Little did you know, so did Coriolanus. He had lots of catching to do after he gained his newfound wealth upon winning the Plinth prize. He enrolled in dance lessons, basic etiquette, and extra scholar tutoring. So, his dancing was above par, making his footsteps go perfectly in sync with yours. 

“So, shall we impress them or keep it tame tonight, my darling?” His whisper in your ear makes cold chills run down your body. You feel his breath on the side of your face and you want to pull him into a nearby room for yourself. 

Without moving for your stable position and disturbing the rhythm, you whisper, “Let’s keep it tame so you can continue to quietly explain to me what it is you want.”

“What do you mean, what I want?” He stopped dancing abruptly, pulling back from you and staring into your eyes with concern and annoyance.

He grabs your arm harshly, pulling you through the crowd and into a nearby room. He shuts the door, locks it, and you step back from him, creating distance. He stands at the door for a second, seemingly out of breath as he places his forehead on the surface of the door. The tenseness in the room was heavy, creating an odd atmosphere. You felt like you needed to walk on eggshells around him. His breathing was labored and his hands were slightly shaking. He was truly terrifying. However, the sexual desire was too thick to deny. An odd mix of both emotions, but hey, you were just a girl after all. 

He slowly turned to face you, craziness in his eyes. He walked toward you slowly, your eyebrows creasing in slight fear and confusion. 

“Don’t you get it? I’ve been trying to show you how I feel for weeks. I see you staring at me in the halls and I know you see me stare back. Even after you saw me brine the driver, you’re still acting utterly oblivious to what I want from you!” He’s yelling now, and he has fully closed the space in between you two, his hands now on either side of your face. 

His eyes search all of your features for some sort of response. They’re scanning your face frantically, looking for anything you can give him. Suddenly, his fingers start tracing the features of your skin delicately. 

“My God. You’re perfect.”

He leaned in and gave your forehead a precious kiss before looking at you to say something once again. 

“I just, I don’t understand. You’ve hardly spoken to me since we’ve known each other. I’m still in the academy, and I don’t have any career plans or anything. What would you want with me?” 

Your voice slightly faltered during your confession, making you seem more innocent and fragile in his eyes. He wanted to destroy you, corrupt you ; you needed to belong to him. 

“I also don’t understand how you’re having a panic tantrum and then kissing me on the forehead - your mood swings are getting too confusing,” you said while giggling. 

You hoped he would take a liking to the joke as well, though you may have stepped over the line. He smiled too, looking down at your hands before grabbing them with his own. He laughs quietly, feeling your fingers in his. 

“How pretty your finger would look with a wedding ring on it. Wonder who the lucky man could be.” 

You looked down at your fingers, imagining an expensive ring as well. You’ve always dreamed of a beautiful ring, a beautiful proposal and an elegant wedding. It was something you never thought you would get to. However, Coriolanus calling your future husband ‘lucky’ was definitely something that gave you hope. 

“I think I’ll have a while before that happens, I am only nineteen after all.”

His hands slowly release yours and rest on your waist. He looks up at you and scans your face quickly before inching closer. He grabs your hands again, placing them on his shoulders to stabilize you. Once your hands are around his neck, he tells you to jump.

“Do what?” You have had sex before, but something about Coriolanus initiating intimacy with you startled you and caught you off guard.

“I said, jump.” 

You do as he says and jump up as his hands cup your bottom and hold you up. As soon as you are at his level, he immediately attaches his lips to yours. The kiss was so sincere and sweet - until it wasn’t. He started pushing his tongue into your mouth and biting your bottom lip whenever he got the chance. Your hands made their way up into his hair, slightly tugging on the ends. He breathed out quietly as he walked the two of you towards the wall. He pinned your back against it, using it to keep you in his arms. 

You had a burst of confidence shortly after that, tugging at the bottom of his blouse, trying to get him to take it off. He dropped you back on the floor gently. Looking at you as if he was waiting, you slowly started to take off his shirt for him. You could tell this was making him go insane by the way he was breathing and looking at you. 

His shirt comes off, leaving his toned abdomen in full sight for you to see. You could not help but stare. He was ridiculously lean and carved in a way you did not think any guys could be. You traced the outline of his abs with your fingertips and kissed the middle of his chest. 

“I didn’t know this is what my schoolboy crush was hiding from me,” you say breathlessly. He laughs in response.

“I have wanted you since the day you stepped in my house for the job, Mr. Snow. You do not understand.”

He watches you as you pull the straps of your dress down the sides of your arms. Something so small and it was driving him insane. He pins your shoulders to the wall as he kisses you roughly. Your hands reach for his neck again before an idea crosses your mind. Your hands travel down to his belt, fiddling and trying to undo it. 

Coriolanus laughs as he breaks the kiss and moves your hand away. 

“Let’s wait until later, darling. You have all the time in the world now.”

You tilt your head, noticeably confused.

“What do you mean?” He stepped back from you and reached down for his coat. He pulls a small box out of the pocket, and your eyes widen. He opens the box to reveal the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen in your life. A simple gold band accompanied by a five carat emerald cut diamond. Your mouth opens, jaw on the ground. 

“I am the lucky man, Y/N. Your Father approved of our marriage the day after I started my internship. I think you’re the perfect bride and the perfect wife and-” he stops before walking towards you and sliding the ring on your finger. 

“...and - now you’re mine forever.”

[melodymunson]

Steve Harrington x fem reader x Eddie Munson valentine's head canons

Headcanons for Steddie Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson x fem! reader Valentines throughout the years. Contains NSFW, smut, and as always 18+

Ao3 link

-You were best friends with Eddie and Steve in high school and throughout college. You graduated from Hawkins High in 1986 with Eddie and went to the college of your dreams on the other side of the country. Steve and Eddie stayed in Hawkins. Eddie worked at a guitar and music store and stayed in Corroded Coffin as well as recorded/toured with them. Steve, on the other hand, ended up going on to work as a manager at Family Video and then worked at a car dealership and made a really good commission.

-Besides fighting the Upside Down with Steve and Eddie and defeating the Demobats along with Vecna with the help of your friends Robin, Nancy, Max, Lucas, and Dustin, you remained an outcast even past graduation as did Eddie. The wreckage from the hurricane and the battle in upside down only brought you and your friends closer together.

-It was late spring of 1990 and you graduated college with honors and moved back to Hawkins to get a job. You missed your family and home but most importantly you were missing Eddie and Steve. You became Steve's roommate and got a temporary job working with Robin at a comic book/record store.

-As you got closer to Steve and Eddie, you spent your weekends playing Dungeons and Dragons with Eddie and the hellfire club but during the week you spent your time with Steve and Eddie cooking/baking, watching movies, playing records, and finally, that fall you got a better job. You ended up working for your dream job and by early 1991, with a big promotion you moved into an even bigger place with Steve and Eddie moved in with his best friends.

-You started as friends with benefits in late 1990 but it grew into so much more by the beginning of February '91 when Steve and Eddie asked you to be their girlfriend. Of course, you said yes and you all celebrated by having the best and biggest joints, mind-blowing sex, and happy-ending massages.

-With Eddie things were a bit rough usually but in all the best ways. Both Steve and Eddie cared so much about pleasing you and getting you off--even more than getting themselves to cum.

-Their favorite way to please you was by eating you out simultaneously and making you cum over and over again at least 8 times before they fucked you deep and hard.

-You loved to get them off by giving them head and they both swore you gave the best blowjobs ever. Having no gag reflex and being able to easily deepthroat were two of the reasons why but they still enjoyed and loved eating you out even more.

-Every day in February up until Valentine's they gave you little gifts. They would give you anything from a new band tee or denim/leather jacket--to a new pair of shoes, really nice and elegant jewelry such as bracelets, necklaces, and even earrings, lingerie, or your favorite bottle/type of liquor. No gesture or gift was too small. Even a home-cooked meal they prepared or a tasty dessert (even one brought home from the local bakery or your favorite coffee and donuts) was a gift you fully cherished.

-On your first official couple's Valentine's Day together you received the biggest chocolate heart and an expensive bottle of really nice champagne tied in a pink and red ribbon bow when you first woke up. When the boys got home from work you had a nice meal cooked and they brought a multi-color variety of 2 dozen roses just for you.

-The best and biggest gift they got you was your final Valentine's Day gift of a puppy and it was your favorite breed that you named Dio.

-That first Valentine's Day together was the most special of them all because you were so spoiled by getting so many amazing presents in addition to receiving a night of being pampered with a set-up home spa complete with lit candles. They ran you the best bath and gave you the nicest massages and some of the best sex ever with rose petals scattered all over the room and the King-sized bed.

-The night was finished off by watching My Bloody Valentine a true classic and Night Dreams (a porno that was horror-based and inspired by the gritty and dark work of David Lynch the director of Twin Peaks. It was about people fucking in hell and you thought it set the mood). The dirty movie led to more sex including 69 with Eddie as Steve filmed it. Eddie then filmed you and Steve fucking doggy style and then anal.

-Future Valentine's Days with your boyfriends included going to a burlesque show one year, a strip club another year, an epic rock/metal concert of your favorite rock n' roll band, and your 4-year anniversary had you and the boys getting an escort who was stunning. She was goth with the prettiest hazel eyes and the most gorgeous figure. Of course, Eddie and Steve wanted you to indulge in your fantasies of being with a woman. They didn't in any way want to deny you that pleasure even though you were seriously dating them. They trusted you and you felt safe with them.

-The other woman was so tender and caring and as Eddie and Steve watched you make love to her, they got off by giving each other handjobs. You loved to watch them as well as you and the woman pleased each other. Everyone had a wonderful time and even though it was a one-night stand you still occasionally went all together to see her headline shows at a local Hawkins burlesque club.

-Some of the hottest and most vivid moments of Valentine's days you spent with them were by far going out to eat at restaurants and showing each other off. After your first Valentine's together your men made sure to always take off Valentine's Day from work and you did as well.

-After being together happily for 7 years you were pregnant and everyone was overjoyed. Steve hoped you were having twins preferably a girl and a boy. Both of them were so happy for you though. Steve wanted to have at least several more kids after this birth and you and Eddie wholeheartedly agreed with him. Soon Dio and another dog had puppies and you kept half the litter giving the rest to Nancy, Robin, and Dustin.

-That next year on Valentine's and 4 months pregnant, you got married to them in a ceremony and celebration with all of your closest family and friends. In attendance was Uncle Wayne, Hellfire club, your parents, best friends, your cousins, some of Steve's relatives, and of course the whole gang including Max, Eleven, Nancy who was now married happily with 2 kids to Jonathan, Robin who was engaged to Vickie with an adopted 5-year-old daughter, and Argyle along with his long-time girlfriend, Eden. Legally you were married to Steve but Eddie was still your husband as well in your eyes and Steddie's and that's all that truly mattered.

-10 years later you were still married but living in an even bigger place with 4 kids now. You had twin girls and two boys. Robin and Nancy were of course the Godmothers. Mike and Dustin were the Godfathers and loved having those titles more than anything. Dio was such a protective and loving dog for the twins and the boys and so were the other dogs.

-You felt so safe and secure with your family and felt like you had more love than your heart ever felt before. For that, you were truly grateful and wouldn't trade any of it for anything.

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