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marwritesgood · 4 years ago

Text

Just Me | S. Basset

Pairing: Simon x WOC!Reader

Timeframe: Early Season One

Summary: Simon and Y/n had a long history together. So why did it take reading Lady Whistledown’s latest column for her to learn about his blooming relationship with Daphne Bridgerton?

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A/N: This fic is over 6K words.

The mere thought of a BIPOC love story set in the 18th Century is enough to make me swoon. So I decided to give it a go and write one myself. There’ll be two more parts after this :)

I also wanted to keep the reader description applicable to any and all women of colour, so it’s a bit vague just to ensure all of us (women of colour) can feel included. Please let me know if there any parts of this fic that don’t do this and I’ll fix it asap!

If you’re white, this fic is not for you to identify with x

Also, if at any point you find my attempt at mimicking the language used in Bridgerton laughable... you are not the only one lmao. This has been super fun to write and also very challenging, but I am well aware it is farrrr from perfect :)

Nonetheless, I hope it’s a nice read for my WOC readers <3

Simon and Y/n first met when they were children. Her mother was very closely acquainted with Lady Danbury, so naturally, a friendship grew between the two of them- and a strong one at that.

For years, their interactions had remained within confinements of what was socially acceptable. They bickered. They laughed. They shared inside jokes about the people within their social circle. Their feelings for each other never extended beyond what was befitting of a friendship.

That was until they grew older.

When marriage and love became more and more ingrained into casual conversations, Simon and Y/n explored their feelings for one another. Questioned the extent to which they cared for each other and whether there was something more beneath the surface.

However, just as Y/n came to realise her love for Simon, he left for London. After a few short weeks, he returned with a new title. A new vow that the Hastings bloodline would end with him. Subsequently, with it, any hope Y/n had of her relationship with him becoming anything more than all it had always been: a friendship.

A year had passed since the sorrowful conversation resulting in Simon and Y/n agreeing to not indulge in the affections they shared. Since then, Y/n struggled to focus on securing a marriage proposal from one of the suitors in her town.

“This is your second season,” Y/n’s mother cried as she paced across the sitting room. Y/n sat in silence, having been interrupted from playing the piano by another one of her panicked outbursts. “Your second season and yet you continue to reject every marriage proposal you receive.”

She couldn’t blame her mother for being frustrated with her. As her only daughter, she needed to find a good match and be married off as soon as possible. Her father was of old age, but even he remained restless that Y/n be married. He much preferred the prospect of dying knowing that the estate would be inherited by Y/n’s husband instead of his nephew.

“I did not reject Mr Graham’s proposal, mama,” Y/n responded, unnervingly calmly considering how distraught her mother was. Mr Graham’s proposal was the latest one she had received that season. “I... simply asked for more time to consider my answer.”

“What on earth is there to consider?” Mrs Y/l/n shrieked. Her frustration only grew when her daughter was unable to answer her question. Y/n turned away from her mother. “He is a good man. He comes from a good, honourable family and will give you a good future- something you will not have if you continue to turn away suitors.”

“Mama, please.” Y/n could not say anything more, for fear that her mother’s anger toward her would only grow if she were to find out the truth. The real reason she could not yet bring herself to accept a marriage proposal.

“Why do you need time to consider, Y/n?” Her daughter had stood up from behind the piano and had her back turned to her mother. That did not stop her from continuing to pry. After so many rejected proposals, she felt she had a right to know why her daughter refused to marry. “I beg of you, tell me- what is there to consider?... What could possibly be keeping you from marrying Mr Graham.”

They stood in silence for a moment before Y/n sighed exasperatedly and turned back to face her mother.

“I do not love him,” Y/n replied in a hushed cry, only just loud enough for Mrs Y/l/n to hear from across the room. “He may be a good man, mama, but I... I do not love him, and I do not believe I ever could.”

She knew from their first encounter that she could never love him. Perhaps it was how he mispronounced her grandmother’s name or the way he possessed the same arrogance as every other suitor Y/n encountered.

“My dear,” Mrs Y/l/n said, her voice and expression softening entirely. She reached out for her daughter’s hand and took hold of it gently. She knew precisely how Y/n felt, which meant that, unfortunately, she knew there was nothing to be done. “We have talked about this. Women like you and I... we do not have the luxury to make decisions based on our own feelings.”

Y/n was surrounded by women who did not share the same experiences she did. Women who could not empathise with the challenges she faced and being a woman in the 18th Century. Not even if they tried.

Therefore, whenever Y/n found herself hoping for the same things as the white women around her, she had to bring herself back to reality. She had to remember that if life was unkind to white women, it would always be hell for women like her, no matter who married into the royal family.

“I know,” Y/n answered.

She did. She knew it was incredibly reckless of her to reject all of the proposals she had received. She knew she was naïve for basing her decision based on love. Yet, even so, she could not keep herself from holding out on the hope that she would not end up in a loveless marriage.

“I do not mean to upset you, Y/n,” Mrs Y/l/n said sincerely, as she guided her daughter to the nearest seat. “But I fear that if you continue on, you will have no more proposals to reject, and I... I simply cannot bear the thought... Please, dear, you must-”

Y/n began to close her eyes ready to brace herself for what she feared would inevitably happen- her mother insisting she accepts a proposal. However, just as she did, a maid knocked on the door and promptly brought in the newspaper. When Simon left for London, Y/n requested that any newspaper copy or mail sent to her from London be immediately handed to her. She looked forward to any kind of update on him.

“Thank you,” Y/n said to the maid as she handed her the newspaper. Without hesitation, she immediately turned to Lady Whistledown’s column.

“What does it say?” Her mother asked, giving up on her attempts at convincing Y/n to accept a marriage proposal, at least for the time being.

Y/n’s blood ran cold as she read the column. She had expected to hear more about the bitter impression Simon was leaving in London. She was going to comment on how typical arrogant white elitists villainising anyone who did not approach them in a way that appeases their ego.

But that was not what she read.

Instead, she read about Simon showing a particular interest in the woman named the ‘Diamond of the Season’ by the Queen herself- Miss Daphne Bridgerton. She read about him courting her and spending a significant amount of time with her. She read about flowers, the expensive kind, and walks through Hyde park, and she was unsure whether to feel betrayed or feel furious.

It was one thing for Simon to begin courting another woman, after explaining to Y/n that he would never marry. It was another for her to have to learn all of this from reading the Lady Whistledown column.

Without providing her mother with an answer as to what the column wrote, Y/n slammed the newspaper against the table beside her and stood up abruptly.

Her mother went to reprimand Y/n for slamming the paper so violently against her favourite table. However, Y/n walked hastily into her bedroom. She began to plan what she was to pack when she would leave for London in the morning.

She was adamant on learning the truth in its entirety. And, this time, not from an anonymous publisher but from Simon himself.

***

Y/n had an aunt who lived in London with her husband and their three kids- all much younger than Y/n was. She knew that if she could get away with arriving in London unannounced with intent to stay for longer than a week, her only luck was with her aunt.

After she was escorted inside by one of the workers, Y/n stood and marvelled at her aunt’s husband’s estate. It looked nothing like the sitting room at her home. It looked fancier with much nicer things, leading her to think back to why her mother pushed so hard for her to marry. Mrs Y/l/n had helped her younger sister find a match, and now she lived in a beautiful home in London.

Perhaps all she wanted was to ensure the same future for her only child.

“Y/n, my dear!” Her aunt came bursting through the doors with arms stretched out. She pulled Y/n into a tight embrace as she always did whenever greeting her niece. Before her three children, she had Y/n. “Oh, how I have missed you!”

“I have missed you too, Aunt Philippa,” Y/n smiled, gently clutching her aunt’s hand as she held her cheek. “Please forgive me for arriving here unannounced. I would have written to you in advanced, but I have an urgent matter to attend to.”

“Do not be silly, my dear,” Philippa laughed, before guiding her niece out of the sitting room and towards the staircase. “You are welcome to stay here for as long as you may need. Though I imagine your mother will be impatiently anticipating your return... how is my dear sister?”

“As restless as ever,” Y/n mumbled. Philippa’s laughter echoed across the halls. Just as she expected, her older sister had not changed. Not one bit. “She is adamant that I am engaged by the end of the season, which is part of the reason I needed to leave home so quickly.”

“I do not blame you, dear,” Philippa murmured. She knew from first-hand experience how relentless Y/n’s mother could be. Even so, she knew it was out of love. Y/n knew as well. “Now... what is the urgent matter you need to attend? I imagine you will need a chaperone... and perhaps a carriage?”

Y/n smiled in relief. Everything she had done leading up to her arrival in London was purely impulsive. She hadn’t even thought of how she would get to Simon or who she would have to escort and chaperone her.

“You wouldn’t happen to know the whereabouts of... the Duke of Hastings?”

Philippa’s eyes grew twice in size. Whether it was shock or excitement, Y/n could not figure out. It wasn’t until her aunt pulled her into the nearest empty room, checked to see if anyone was listening in, and grinned at her that Y/n concluded it was the latter.

“When I read about the Duke and Miss Bridgerton, all I could think of was you,” Philippa began, speaking in a hushed tone, though unable to contain her excitement. She did not typically indulge in gossip, but she was entirely invested in staying updated to her niece and Simon. “You never did tell me what happened when he returned. Did you confess your feelings?”

Philippa had generously volunteered her afternoons so that her niece could practise what she would say to Simon. She hoped those afternoons had not been spent in vain.

“I did... And then he did too... Before telling me, he would never marry,” Y/n explained, trying to conceal the way her breath hitched and the way tears welled up in her eyes. “Though, after reading Lady Whistledown’s column, it is clear that perhaps he meant that he would never marry me.”

Philippa frowned and lifted her hand up again, holding the side of Y/n’s face and swiping the few tears she couldn’t stop from escaping. As she did so, Y/n inhaled sharply- trying desperately to keep herself from indulging in her sorrow.

“I am sure that is not the case, dearest,” Philippa insisted.

She refused to believe Simon would do that to her niece. Not after the stories she had heard from Y/n as they grew up. Not to mention all the times she caught one staring at the other across ballrooms and dining tables.

“We must hurry,” she chirped, dropping her hand so she could grasp her niece’s arm. “I believe the Duke will be in Hyde Park with Lady Danbury. ‘Tis best we leave now if we wish to catch them.”

Y/n smiled. Being with her aunt was a nice change of pace to being with her mother. She would have scolded Y/n had she caught wind of what had happened.

***

Upon their arrival at Hyde Park, Philippa approached Lady Danbury. Her plan was to make conversation with her, find out more about Simon and Daphne’s relationship. Then, she would ultimately create a segue for Y/n to have a somewhat private conversation with Simon.

However, Y/n had other plans.

When they arrived, she scanned the park in search of Simon. Once she spotted him walking alone on the pavement, she threw caution and decorum to the wind. Before her Aunt Philippa could stop her, Y/n sprinted.

Once she reached him, she grabbed his shoulder roughly, prompting him to turn around.

“Peach,” Simon whispered, dumbfounded by Y/n’s sudden appearance.

He stopped calling Y/n by her name when they were five. Instead, he called her Peach, for reasons that remained a mystery to Y/n. Despite not knowing the reasoning behind it, she always adored it. She was the only person he had a unique designated name for.

More recently, she wondered if Miss Bridgerton would soon become an exception.

“You owe me an explanation,” Y/n said harshly, not having the patience to beat around the bush. This was primarily because she wanted to know the truth and because she was out of breath from sprinting to Simon. “Do I really mean so little to you, Simon?”

“Please lower your voice,” Simon begged, subtly grabbing Y/n’s arm and quickening their pace to avoid the crowded area of the park.

“Do not speak to me as though I am a child,” Y/n growled, yanking her arm away from him and stepping back.

“Then do not act like one,” Simon retorted.

Y/n scoffed, before dusting off her dress. Simon rolled his eyes to cover his nervousness. He had a habit of concealing it with aggression. Y/n was often able to see through it, but she was guilty of doing the same.

“What changed?” Y/n asked as she looked back at Simon. “You seemed so certain when you told me you would never marry. Now you have extended your stay in London to court Miss Bridgerton?”

“I wish I could give you an answer,” Simon responded honestly. It was perhaps the most honest statement he had made all month.

His courtship of Daphne was a mere ruse to attract more suitors for her. Truth be told, Simon was incredibly stressed by it, but he was too deep into the lie to give up any time soon. He hadn’t anticipated Y/n would be caught in the middle of it.

“Well, what could be hindering you from doing so?” Y/n cried, confused by how vague and cryptic Simon was acting.

He struggles to find the right words. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Y/n any more than he already had, but he could not give her the answer she wanted. Although he was not actually courting Daphne, he still would not marry. Thus, he could not do what would make her happy, which was the main reason he kept his distance from her in the first place.

“Things are different now,” Simon said apologetically, hoping to deter Y/n from prying. Though he desperately wanted to say more, he knew that doing so was incredibly risky. “We... we are not children anymore.”

Y/n blinked, astonished by Simon’s reaction. It was far from what she had expected. She expected an explanation. She expected assurance. Instead, she has pushed aside as though she and her feelings were disposable.

This was a familiar feeling to Y/n.

“Is that all you think of me?” She asked angrily. Simon, of all the people in her life, had the most power to hurt her. And he often did so without realising. “A child?... And our relationship? You think it is something as easy to put behind you as your childhood? Is that all this is to you, Simon?”

She went to speak again. To demand what she felt she had a right to. However, before she could get a word out, a woman appeared from behind her. She was fair-skinned and wore a dress that resembled her complexion.

“Miss Bridgerton,” Simon gasped. He did not know whether to be grateful for her arrival or concerned about how it would affect Y/n. He eventually became both. “May I introduce you to Miss Y/l/n. She is a... very close family friend.”

Y/n had to keep herself from scoffing. She was more to him than just a friend. Y/n knew that well, despite Simon’s denial.

“I am terribly sorry,” Miss Bridgerton cried, averting her attention to Y/n. “I did not mean to intrude.”

“Not at all,” Y/n assured, smiling sincerely at Daphne. Her anger was entirely directed towards Simon. Unlike him, Daphne had no pre-existing history with Y/n to remain considerate of. “I actually must return to my aunt. It was lovely to finally meet you, Miss Bridgerton.”

Before Y/n turned to walk back to her Aunt Philippa, she glanced back at Simon, who was very clearly terrified of how calm Y/n was. He could only imagine the amount of anger she was harbouring. Deterring her would prove to be much more complicated than he expected.

“Your grace,” Y/n snarled through gritted teeth, before forcing a smile as she turned away.

***

It had been a week since Y/n and Simon’s interaction at Hyde Park.

Y/n sat beside her aunt Philippa in a carriage as she read through her mother’s letter. She had made vividly clear, through an eight-paged rant, that she was absolutely livid with her daughter. Y/n’s hands were trembling.

“I assume she is quite upset?” Philippa asked, though she already knew the answer.

Y/n had extended her stay to a week just so she could attend a gala at Lady Danbury’s estate. It was her last hope of catching a moment alone with Simon and gaining, at the very least, some form of closure. She hoped it would not come to that, but from their last interaction, Y/n was losing confidence.

“She is furious,” Y/n answered shortly, before folding the letter abruptly and placing it aside. Her mother wrote one demand that sent chills through her bones. “If I am not home within a week, she will come to London and take me back herself. Then, I will have to accept Mr Graham’s proposal.”

Philippa’s stomach dropped. She placed her hand atop her niece’s. Y/n looked down to conceal the tears that began to gather in her eyes. Philippa noticed and wrapped her arm around Y/n, gently squeezing her shoulder.

“I am sure it will not come to that,” she whispered soothingly, though she struggled to sound sincere. Y/n nodded. She didn’t quite believe her aunt, but she knew there was no point in losing hope entirely. At least not yet.

Once they arrived at the gala, Philippa made conversation with a friend, whileY/n made way to Lady Danbury. The event was held in her courtyard. While others marvelled at her estate, Y/n felt a warm sense of nostalgia. When Lady Danbury brought Simon to her London estate during summers, she would often invite Y/n and her parents. While her parents and the Danburys made conversation in the house, Simon and Y/n would run about freely outside.

“Welcome back, Miss Y/l/n,” Lady Danbury smiled warmly, as Y/n and her aunt approached her.

“It is a pleasure to be here, my lady,” Y/n responded curtly, before laughing out loud as Lady Danbury pulled her into her arms for a tight hug.

Once she let go, they made small talk. Lady Danbury asked Y/n how her parents were. Y/n asked Lady Danbury how she was and how her fruit orchards were. After they ran out of things to discuss, Y/n could not help but scan the room searching for Simon, who was nowhere to be found.

“I am not completely sure where he is,” Lady Danbury said, startling Y/n who had not realised how far from natural she was acting. “Though, he did complain about how suffocated he was by the throng here... I imagine he has gone to a place where it will be difficult for most to find him.”

Y/n thought for a moment. Lady Danbury was cryptic by nature, and after years of knowing her, she had a knack for figuring out what she meant. Once Y/n knew, she smiled at Lady Danbury, before excusing herself from the gala.

Y/n headed away from the gala and towards the maze area. It was well-lit, which she was grateful for as it meant she could navigate her way around swiftly. It felt like second-nature to her; running about in the Danbury’s London Estate. She forgot how much she enjoyed the thrill of running through and past the hedges.

Once she reached the maze’s centre, she saw Simon standing idle, his back towards where she stood. That was the place they spent most of their time. When they were younger, they would sit there and play games. As they got older, they would sit there and talk. Sometimes he would read while she drew. Sometimes vice versa. But most of the time, they spoke—about everything worth talking about, and then some.

“I remember the first time we played here together,” Y/n began, causing Simon to jump. Once he turned around and saw Y/n his tense posture softened, and a small smile appeared across his face. She felt relieved by it, though she didn’t want to let her guard down entirely. “I got lost, almost immediately, and you found me sitting here, cross-legged, in a puddle of tears. Do you remember?”

Simon chuckled. Of course, he thought.

“You were inconsolable when I found you,” he mocked, prompting Y/n to reach out and lightly punch his shoulder. His laughter only grew.

“We were five,” Y/n reasoned. She would never admit that she was dramatic. Not even as a child. “I genuinely thought no one would ever find me... and then you did, within a matter of minutes.”

She joined him in laughing. It made for a very entertaining story that they retold relentlessly. While others were sick of hearing it, neither of them were sick of recounting it, for their own reasons.

“I told you I would never leave you behind,” he added, smiling as he thought back to that day. His smile faded quickly when he realised the irony. He frowned and took a step towards Y/n. “Peach, I must apologise-”

“-No... I am the one who must apologise,” she intervened. Simon stood back in confusion. Y/n sighed before clarifying herself. “I did not mean to blindside you so aggressively before. I did not come here to argue with you, Simon, I... I came to ask you if it is true... Are you courting Miss Bridgerton... with the intent of marrying?”

Simon winced.

He felt conflicted by both his love for Y/n and the promise he made to Daphne to uphold their ruse. He could not in good faith outright admit that he was merely pretending to court Miss Bridgerton. However, he couldn’t bear the thought of breaking Y/n’s heart a second time.

His lips parted, but his mouth ran dry. Before Simon could keep himself from blurting out the wrong thing, he was overcome by a habit he developed over the last month of playing along.

“I am,” he answered.

Just as he did, he lifted his hand to his temple and scrunched his eyebrows. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Y/n. He was still haunted by the look on her face when he told her he would never marry.

“Right,” she sniffled, unsure how to react. Y/n had convinced herself that there was more to the story than what she had read from Lady Whistledown. She regretted how in-denial she allowed herself to become.

One thing Y/n knew for sure, though, was that she did not want to be near Simon. Although she was on the verge of sobbing, she still turned around and intended to leave him, but Simon grabbed her arm and kept her from doing so.

“Please let me explain,” he begged.

Y/n’s tears halted as she glared at Simon, shocked. She shook her arm out of his grasp and took a step back from him. She had always despised the way men often treated women as though they were disposable and replaceable. She never expected Simon to be one.

“There is no explanation necessary,” she scoffed.

“Y/n, please, you do not understand,” Simon cried. It was rare for him to call her by her name, but Y/n dubbed it as him trying to manipulate her emotions. She would not let that happen.

“No, of course, you would deceive me,” Y/n spat, unwilling to let Simon get a word in. She was tired of waiting around just to hear from him. This time, she would be the talking. He would be the one listening. “-about not wanting to marry or have children, and of course, I believed your ridiculous lie, like the fool I have always been for you.”

“Ridiculous?” Simon hissed. Y/n’s dismissal of his vow sparked a fit of anger that overcame him before he could realise it had done so. No one had ever called to question or criticised his decision to remain a bachelor for life. No one until Y/n.

“Perhaps not a ridiculous lie,” Y/n sneered. “No, it was more-so childish and nonsensical.”

“And yet, you believed it... What is that to say about you, Miss Y/l/n?” Simon scorned. Y/n flinched. Simon had only ever addressed her in such a way to either tease her or to emphasise his anger. It had been a long while since he had done so for the latter. “It was not a lie, Y/n, I... You could never understand the immense pressure I have been placed under my entire life-”

“- Pressure that significantly decreased with the death of your father,” Y/n argued. Simon acted as though he had a monopoly over her when it came to challenges in life. He could not have been more wrong. “I, on the other hand, am placed under severe pressure and will continue to be, long after my parents pass... That is one of the many things you will never understand.”

“That is not true,” Simon fired back, only for Y/n to continue speaking- this time, with a louder voice.

“We may be the same in one sense, but we are significantly different in another, because you, Simon, are still a man with a title.” Y/n and Simon both shared similar challenges as neither of them were white. However, where Simon inherited certain advantages for being a man, and a Duke, Y/n was only disparaged more. He often forgot that. “You, at the very least, still have the luxury of choice. To choose how you wish to fulfil your future, and whether or not that may include a wife or children.”

Simon lowered his eyes defeatedly. Though he was still angry, there was no denying the shame he felt.

“I do not. Those choices were made for me the moment I was born a daughter and not a son. So do not act as though you are in a position to empathise with me,” Y/n said. “Especially when you have been the least bit empathetic after I came all the way here, just to confirm the truth about you and Miss Bridgerton.”

“I never told you to come to London,” Simon snapped.

“No, you did not,” Y/n retorted, with just as much, if not more, annoyance in her voice. “You did not tell me anything. I had to find out at the same moment as everyone else in England, as though we are strangers.”

Simon flinched as Y/n progressed from speaking loudly to outright shouting. He had always relied on having her sympathy and her support, even when he was in the wrong. Thankfully, they were far from the gala. However, Simon still feared someone had heard her reprimanding him.

“You claim you are different, now that you are a Duke, but you are the same as you have always been,” Y/n continued. She knew how he had always been. Better than anyone, let alone Miss Bridgerton, that was for sure. “You are still rigid and arrogant. You are still a coward who will never allow himself to feel any kind of joy. And you are still revolving your every decision in life around a man you claim to despise.”

“You do not know a thing,” he whispered, which only confirmed to Y/n that he was scared. He was intimidated. For as long as they had known one another, Y/n rarely confronted his relationship with his father.

“I have watched you go from living only to please him to living only to spite him, even if it means hurting the people who actually care for you,” she cried. She had no more anger within her. Not any more. She had only sadness. “Did it ever occur to you how much it hurt when you rejected me?”

“That was never my intention,” Simon said regretfully.

It was the truth, though Simon had begun to realise that his wrath against his father blinded him from what he cared about more: her happiness.

“Peach,” he whispered, inching towards Y/n as he lifted his hand and held the left side of her face. “Please, believe me, I never meant to hurt you.”

Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity. It had been so long since they had shared a moment like that. An intimate moment shared between no one but them. Where Simon was not the stoic and emotionally detached Duke of Hastings. He was Simon. Dare she say, her Simon.

Despite that, Y/n was the first to turn away. She wanted to indulge. To take advantage of the opportunity to reconcile with him. To enjoy how vulnerable he was, after months of distance.

But she couldn’t.

Not when there were still questions burning in her mind. She could not rest until they were dealt with. After all, she was her mother’s child.

“Then what about Miss Bridgerton?” Y/n’s expression remained stagnant, but she could not keep hands from trembling. Simon winced at the mention of Daphne. “You... courting her after rejecting me... You cannot possibly tell me you did not intend to hurt me when you did that.”

Simon opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He had no response to what she had said because there was no justification for what he had done. All he could do was curse quietly to himself for taking so long to realise how foolish he had been.

“I had always expected this to happen,” Y/n began, sniffling as she tried to compose herself enough to explain herself. Simon remained quiet and decided he would until she finished. He figured he owed her as much. “I always knew I would be turned away for someone like Daphne Bridgerton.”

It had been the subject of many of her mother’s lessons. Before she was introduced to society, her mother made it a point to prepare her for rejection. To not hold out hope for any man, until a marriage proposal was made.

Simon had been Y/n’s only exception to that rule.

“It’s happened to me my whole life,” Y/n laughed bitterly, as she recalled all the times she had lost to a woman of fairer skin than her. All the times she wept to her Aunt Philippa and to Simon. “I always expected this would happen. But I never expected this would happen with you.”

Simon’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched Y/n struggle to stifle her cries in between her sentences. He had watched her sit in this sorrow many times, just as she had done for him, for this was a pain she shared. But this time was different. This time he was the one responsible.

He didn’t know pain, so heart-wrenching, was possible. But watching her cry and knowing he could do nothing to fix it. That pain had never felt more real.

“I do not blame you, Simon,” Y/n whimpered, which only made him hurt more. He wanted her to be angry. To berate him some more. It was the least of what he deserved for causing her such sorrow. “She is the ‘Diamond of the Season’ after all, and... I am just me.”

Y/n hated the pity party she was throwing for herself, but she could not help what she felt. After a life of being classed second to white women, who could blame her for internalising this?

He was dying to say something. To tell Y/n that she had it all wrong. He wanted to reveal that his courtship of Daphne was all a ruse. That he could never bring himself to entertain the idea of marrying anyone but her. But his fear of only making things worse left him paralysed.

“You have made it abundantly clear that I was a fool forever waiting around for you,” she said to Simon. Unfortunately for him, she had taken his lack of response as confirmation that what she had concluded of the situation was accurate. “I will not make that mistake again.”

“Peach-”

“Goodbye, Simon,” Y/n blurted as she turned away hastily.

Left in too much shock to reach out and stop her, Simon stood, dumbfounded, and watched as the woman he loved walked away from him and back to the gala. Looking back, he wished he had called out to her. Simon wished he had run after her. But he did not.

When Y/n reached the courtyard where the gala was being held, she couldn’t help the wave of disappointment that rushed over when she realised Simon let her go. This assured her that she was right to leave him, but it did not alleviate the pain in doing so.

She made her way through the crowd and searched for her aunt. As she did, she felt her cheeks burn and her pace of breath quicken. She had gone through all the effort of coming to London just for what she feared most to be the reality.

“There you are, my dear!”

Y/n turned around and saw her Aunt approaching her. Philippa smiled brightly as she walked towards her niece. However, when she realised that Y/n’s enthusiasm fell short of matching hers by a significant margin, her smile began to fade.

“Where is Simon?” She inquired, her voice lowered to not draw attention to their conversation. From Y/n expression, Philippa inferred that was the last thing she wanted.

Y/n’s lip quivered as she tried desperately to answer her aunt’s question. When she failed to do so, she hung her head- too embarrassed to face her aunt. Philippa frowned. A line appeared between her brows as she reached out to her distraught niece.

Though she was dying to know, the details of Simon and Y/n’s conversation were the least of her concerns. All she cared for was her niece and helping her in any way she needed.

“I will call for our carriage,” she whispered, before guiding Y/n out of the courtyard.

Once their carriage arrived, Philippa sat opposite her niece and watched worriedly as she refused to make eye contact, let alone speak.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Y/n took a long moment to respond. She stared at her gloved hands as she thought about what to do next. She regretted all the proposals she had turned down, and all the ways she put her life on hold for Simon. She felt ashamed that she had allowed herself to be in the situation she was in.

Then she realised the only thing she could do to fix it.

“May you organise a carriage to take me home tomorrow?” Y/n asked. Her aunt’s eyes widened. Returning home to face her mother was the last thing Philippa expected Y/n to want to do.

She watched her niece closely, trying to figure out what her plan moving forward was. Y/n finally looked up and met her aunt’s gaze. To Philippa’s surprise, her niece had a prominent sense of confidence in her expression.

“Why, my dear?” Philippa quizzed, her eyebrows still knitted in confusion as well as fear. The way her niece was suddenly overcome with confidence after being on the verge of tears was concerning. She couldn’t imagine it would lead to anything good.

Y/n inhaled sharply, pursing her lips as she did so. She knew her aunt would disagree with what she planned to do. But she also knew that, given the circumstance, Philippa would reluctantly do as she asked. Before she answered, Y/n momentarily glanced down at her hands and turned back to her aunt.

“I have a proposal to accept.”

NEXT PART

#simon basset x reader #simon basset imagine #duke hastings x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #duke hastings #bridgerton #simon basset

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rosie-chaeyoung · 4 years ago

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☽ 𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗲 [ 𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲𝘁 ] ☽

title ; 3am - red velvet - irene

summary ; It’s late at night and the world was asleep. Well, except for Irene. When she wakes you up in the middle of the night for her personal needs things quickly take a turn.

word count ; 2288

pairing(s) / group ; irene of red velvet

warning(s) ; 18+, mommy kink, use of handcuffs, oral sex ( giving ), fingering, dom!reader, sub!irene

genre ; smut

༉‧₊˚✧ ༉‧₊˚✧ ༉‧₊˚✧ ༉‧₊˚✧ ༉‧₊˚✧ ༉‧₊˚✧ ༉‧₊˚✧ ༉‧₊˚✧ ༉‧₊˚✧

Quiet crickets sang a song of slumber as the sun had set in for a soft slumber. It was a peaceful night to say the least. Y/n and her girlfriend, Irene, both lay in bed asleep. The world outside snored quietly as the couple slept peacefully. A cool breeze blew every now and then making Joohyun move closer to her taller girlfriend. The clock ticked by slowly, each minute taking it's time to show. Irene's eyes peeked opened, her long eyelashes batted as she turned looking to her lover.

She was still asleep, but she was gorgeous. Her (h/c) hair fell on her pillow and her breathing was steady. She looked so peaceful. The brunette on the other hand was now in distress. She was now wide awake. Tossing and turning on her back, she was having trouble going back to sleep. The last few memories she had weren’t helping. Small flashes of the wet dream went through her mind, they were much too vivid to let go. “Ah. Wait, go f-faster Y/n" Her breath hitched, this was becoming too much to bare alone.

It felt all too surreal. “Moan my name baby" She turned on her side, slightly gripping the bedsheets underneath her frail form. She had to stop thinking about this. "Y-Y/n.. please.." Irene could feel her face turning a dark shade of red, she was becoming hotter and hotter by the second. "Louder baby" With a breathy sigh she realized she couldn't take it any longer. Either she was going to get out of bed or do something rash. “Ah~! I'm about to cum, Y/n~!" She easily decided the ladder. Irene pushed herself up from the soft mattress, putting both her hands on her lover.

She shook her side to side whispering a soft, "Wake up" each time. This continued for about two more minutes before the (e/c) eyed girl started to grow conscious. She opened her eyes, sitting up to look at her lover. "What? I'm up.." Y/n rubbed her eyes and stretched. She had no clue what time it was, but it was way too late for this. "I, um need your help with something." the idol trailed on. Y/n looked at the clock, '03:24' it read. "What's so important for you to wake me up this late? Are you alright?"

Y/n, now fully awake, gave all of her attention to the brown haired female. She figured it must’ve been important if she got waken up for it. Hopefully nothing along the lines of being hurt. “I'm horny.." Joohyun mumbled. Was she ashamed? Slightly, but it was either tell her or deal with this for the rest of the night alone. Y/n groaned rolling her eyes. "Baby, you woke me up at three in the morning to tell me you're horny?" She sighed out. It was unnecessary, she could’ve easily waited a couple more hours.

Or, she could have fixed the issue herself. Anything would have been better than being woken up this late. Irene furrowed her eyebrows and gently pushed her lover to lay on her back. She climbed over from her part of the bed to Y/n's. Straddling her girlfriend’s waist, she sat on top with an annoyed look on her delicate features. Y/n, in return, put her hands on Joohyun’s small waist looking up at the pouting girl.

"What's wrong now?" She asked aloud. Irene ran her hands across the h/c haired girls toned body, she trailed her finger lightly up and down. "I'm being serious about this... And you won't help me! I’ve helped you whenever you need it!" Her pout seemed to sink in deeper at her statement. Y/n exhaled, this was somewhat her fault. The only time her girlfriend became whiny like was when she was needy. Usually every time she became needy she would take care of her. She was just so tired right now though. So reluctantly, she agreed. "Fine fine. Damn, you're lucky I love you.."

The dominant female changed around their positions so she was on top and Irene lay on her back. "But since you did wake me up, we’ll play by my rules. So tell me just how badly you need me.” She laid her hands on Irene's thighs, pushing her legs more and more apart. She slid her knee in between her lovers aching legs, and let out a stiff laugh when Irene bucked her hips forward. "Seriously Y/n, hurry up! This isn’t fair so stop teasing me!" Irene glared up at the dominant female who still hovered her.

Although Y/n smiled, her eyes quickly darkened once she heard the sentence slip from her lover. Reaching up she pulled her wrists together holding them in one place. Her tone started off condescending as she spoke, and slowly let it trail for a better effect. “Listen babe. You woke me up for this. I could be asleep. But you're horny, so tone it down. Okay?" Irene listened and shrunk back into the bed letting her pout return. "Yes..." She lowered her head leaving only a few inches between the two. "Yes what?" She urged on. Irene's cheeks grew hot again but responded. "Yes mommy."

Now pleased, she leaned down capturing the elder females lips in her own. Irene moaned into the soft kiss letting Y/n slide her tongue deep into her mouth. Turning her head to deepen their struggle for dominance, the pale skinned female happily gave in midway. Y/n leaned over to the side of her bed feeling around for a certain object, their lips still connected. Finding what she wanted, she sat up showing her toy to the submissive girl. This was personally one of her favorites. “What? No! You know I hate being handcuffed!"

Irene told her while looking at the silver play thing. "Exactly. That’s the point of this babe." Y/n leaned downward locking the handcuffs to Irene's wrists. She squirmed already hating the new feeling. Irene never did like these restraints, because when she's in them she can never touch her girlfriend. Leaving scratches on her back was a huge turn on for Irene, so to not be able to do that upset her greatly. She hated this. Y/n chuckled looking at Irene's vulnerable state.

"Don’t make that face. You and I both know this is what happens when you get all bratty." But this seemed like too much talking for her liking. Y/n once more leaned down and let her hands find themselves underneath Joohyun’s shirt. She tugged at it, before pulling it off leaving her in a black lace bra and panties. Fortunately enough, Irene never sleeps in pants. "It seems like you came prepared." She teased. The brunette shook her head disagreeing.

"It just sort of happened..." Y/n shrugged her shoulders while going to unclip and take off the lace bra. She didn't waste any time enveloping her significant other. Putting Irene's sensitive bud in her mouth and twirling the other in her hand, Y/n watched Irene let out soft moans. This was her joy of being in control, the trill that ran through her. The only thing she wanted to her was her name being moaned over and over, and as of now she was getting that. "Y/n, ah, please." She panted out.

Y/n loved the feeling of teasing the brown eyed female, this was pure torture. Trailing light and soft butterfly kisses down her toned body Irene was having trouble with the silver restraints on her wrists. Hating the feeling of being tied down she tugged at the cold cuffs, hoping they would come loose. But they didn't budge. Y/n finally tugged the hem of Irene's matching panties, already feeling how soaked they were.

She smirked, her lover always made teasing easy. She always so sensitive to her touch, just the slightest of moves and she could have her older lover turn into a hot moaning mess. The best example of this would be now. "Aww, did you really need my attention that badly?" Y/n began pulling the black lace material off Irene's slender legs. In return, Irene tugged her legs away. "Wait."

Y/n looked up to Irene's dark and lust filled eyes, she was so stunning. She made a humming like noise telling her to continue. She would never do anything without permission, so if she needed to wait then she would do that. "This isn't fair. You have to take off your clothes too. I can’t be the only one naked here." So that’s what she wanted ? She laughed at her submissive's order. She knew it wasn't fair, but she also knew that teasing was still fun.

So she did take her clothes off, just not as quickly as Irene wanted. She put her hand on her shirt hem pulling it off slowly, doing the same with her shorts. "Y/n! Please, I really need you right now!" Irene had been holding back her pleas, but this was her breaking point. She wasn’t even sure how she held onto them this long truly. Her lower regions were throbbing with anticipation and her body was so hot she could’ve swore she would set the bed on fire.

Her breathing was off, and she couldn't hold in anymore of her waiting. She wasn’t the only one having fun though. As mentioned, this is what really turned on Y/n. Being in charge wasn’t always easy, especially with someone with an attitude like Joohyun’s. Yet, times like this really proved she was where she belonged. "As you wish princess." In one big motion she took off the last bit of clothing clinging to her body. Irene, now feeling self conscious of her own body, closed her legs.

Y/n noticed this and almost immediately spread the brunettes legs. With one hand on her hip and the other on her thigh Y/n didn't waste much time going to work. All it took was a few small licks, a bit of sucking, and she was already a throbbing, moaning mess. Joohyun arched her back multiple times letting Y/n stick her tongue fully into her. Her moans were becoming louder by the second as she began tugging harshly at the handcuffs.

She hated not being able to touch her, it was one of the things that just drove her crazy. "Y/n, o-off. Take these off m-" Her 'sentence' cut itself short as another loud moan followed her words. Her climax was coming fast and it was coming hard at that. No, not yet she couldn’t let it happen yet. She wanted these off of her first, she hadn’t to get them off. She pulled harder at the restraints, at this point she was just trying to run away from the pleasure. It was becoming too overwhelming for her.

Y/n made room with her tongue by adding in two fingers. And once she was adjusted, a third to maximize her pleasure as much as possible. Irene's legs began to shake and she began to squirm in her place. "Ah! Y/n! J-Just move your hand, f-faster!" She wanted to ride out her climax and this was her way of doing it. Just to tease her a little more, Y/n slowed her pace slightly. “What’s the magic word?” Joohyun began to push herself toward her lovers hand as she was able to stutter out the word.

“P-Please..” The one little word was all Y/n needed to continue. She went back to her same actions but this time sped things up significantly. Using her thumb Y/n circled around the elder females most sensitive part making her throw her head back, and soon enough let the knot in her stomach break. Breathing heavily she laid her back on the cool bed. It was the only thing in the room that didn't seem hot.

Y/n didn’t consider herself an impatient person, but at the moment she could definitely see why she may be label that way. She pulled Irene's legs apart again and began to ease her into another climax. Irene was sensitive though, so any sort of stimulation down there would be torture. "S-Stop it..." She whined out weakly. There was little fight put up before her legs began to tremble from pleasure once more. The h/c-ette began all over again to give her girlfriend the satisfaction she deserved.

She started to squirm again and now bite down on her lip. "Fuck!" She let her swear slip from her mouth. Once more she arched her back off the bed letting her moans fall out simultaneously. The knot formed over, and soon broke again. Small sighs of pleasure floated from her as she gripped the sheeting beneath her. She had hit her climax for the second time. Joohyun yelled out in pleasure, moaning the (e/c) eyed girl's name.

She let out one last shaky moan until she let herself cum. She sighed in relief, the pleasure was over. "Good girl, you did so well." Y/n moved the wet, frizzled hair from her pale girlfriend's face. She was a panting, sticky, sweaty mess. And that's how she liked it. She reached up unlocking Irene's handcuffs and throwing them to a random corner of the room. Irene quickly clung to Y/n pulling her back down on the bed with herself. After a moment of breathing in her sweet scent, she flipped their positions.

She now straddled Y/n who laid under her satisfied with the past events. Irene showed off her pearly white smile looking into her lovers eyes.

"Round two?" ~

#reader!insert #smut #kpop #red velvet #red velvet irene #bae joohyun #sub!idol #top!reader #dom!reader #kpop smut #kpop gg #kpop girls #gxg smut #gxg imagine #gxg

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husbandohunter · 4 years ago

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Boys over flowers [Genshin Impact/Various x Reader] Part 2

Not everything had to be about fighting. Ahem Childe.

Genre: fluff, angst(?)

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Xiao

{Zhongli}

Out of all the bountiful possessions in the land he carved with his very own hands, the glaze lily had always been his favourite.

This flower was a nostalgia stained with time. As much as he loved them, the love he felt was more of a bittersweet sadness if anything. The loss of a friend, his mentor, someone he cherished so deeply, all of it was held into a single glaze lily.

Once as Morax, now as ordinary Zhongli, in those 6000 years he had seen it all. Even his grief for Guizhong faded into a memory.

Sometimes Zhongli felt like he was reading from a story book. Detatched while staring through an omniscient standpoint. It seems that his infinite years brought both experience and lonliness along the way.

"Zhongli? What are you staring at?"

But not when he was with you.

The glaze lily went on many journeys when he met you

He remembers the first encounter on a sunset night just as the petals were about to bloom. You were there, crouched down, staring into his golden eyes.

“This is for you! Not many can be fully matured like this so make sure to take good care of it,” You held it out to him and he takes the stem out of your hold.

“A parting gift, I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Zhongli sees it as a sign of a new contract, “It seems you possess a good eye when you were selecting them.”

He remembers the bouquet you presented during his birthday, the garland you placed on his head when he was reading, the vase by his desk always filled to the brim whenever you’d pay a visit to his parlour.

He remembers how the blue petals scattered across the floor the day you two married, everywhere he went so did this flower. Everytime he saw this flower, he thought of you.

Was it okay to feel like this? No one can ever replace Guizhong, was it okay to love again even when this being was much more perishable than she was? Zhongli was use to the experience of tragedy and loss as it was part of life.

Ah, so this must be what it feels like to live like a mortal.

To cherish every passing moment knowing that it won’t last forever. He will embrace it to the end.

Old memories that were once dust rose from the soil, now reborn into a new beginning. Your curious gaze leans closer to his profile, sitting side-by-side under the blankets of your shared bed, the corners of his lips lift into a small smile.

“I’m only reminiscing, my dear. You don’t need to worry for me.” He kisses your forehead and tucked you to bed. The candle now blown out as his arms wrapped around your waist while spooning from behind.

Zhongli closed his eyes, knowing if he dreamt of a garden full of glaze lilies, there will be no sadness behind it.

{Childe}

Mother fucker would try to turn this into a sparring session.

This is why you NEVER invite Childe. If the valley were the air nomads, Childe was the fire nation. He’d stomp his muddy shoes in front of you just to get your attention simply because he knows it will piss you off.

An angry s/o means a potential fight. Win win situation.

Thus, no one blamed you for giving him a cold shoulder after that.

“Aha, looks like I went a little too far, didn’t I? Alright alright, I’ll stop trampling on your flowers from now on, you have my word. So talk to me, okay? Please?”

Alas you spare him a glance, “Make that a pinky promise.”

He didn’t know you were so serious about gardening. The Feiyun commerce guild took greate pride in cultivating the finest silk flowers in all of Teyvat and you being from that guild held up that legacy. Even if Childe tries to buy back the ones he stepped on, nothing could match the quality of your work.

Needless to say, your little hobby became a normal thing, Childe was very chaotic in nature so something more calm was nice to mediate that attitude. You taught him how to water plants, place the fertilizer and knowing which ones to pick.

But let’s be real, florist Childe isn’t that far-fetched because he is 10/10 waifu material.

Then Teucer comes in and tags along. He wanted to take some silk flowers back to Tonia until Childe informed him they’ll wilt on their way to Snezhnaya.

“Aww, that’s too bad,” he would say while pouting, “Then I’ll give them to you big sister (Y/n)!”

“How sweet, you’ll be quite the charmer when you’re all grown up, Teucer. Maybe even better than your big brother.”

“Come on now, babe. You know that’s impossible.”

You twirled the silk flower right under your nose, the playful tone never leaving your voice, “Oh really? You and Teucer both share the same genes so yes, it is a possibility.”

An amusing glint dances in the ocean of his gaze as he gleefully remarks, “Well if you put it that way, I think Teucer would be at a very big disadvantage.”

“What do you-”

Before you could finish, Childe covers Teucer’s eyes and leans over to steal a sinful kiss, sliding his tongue inside. He purposely brushed his lips over yours after parting, completely satisfied by your flustered expression.

I love this bastard

{Xiao}

Hip hip hooray for having both Qiqi and Xiao in your party. Must be fun collecting their ascension materials.

“Adeptus Xiao!”

Your dumbass fell off the high cliff while obtaining the violet grass, Xiao yeets in from nowhere and caught you from death’s clutches.

Shall I mention that this had happened TWICE already?

Xiao carries you to safety and gently settles you down to your feet. He shot you the sharpest and most deadpan look he could muster because actions speak louder that words, he was trying to make a point.

You gave him a weary smile as the violetgrass batch limps in your hands along with the qingxins.

“I can hardly fathom how utterly stupid and moronic you can actually be. What did you think would happen when you tried to pull off that stunt? That you’d suddenly grow wings and be able to fly?”

His harsh words put you back into your place like a scolded child, “I’m sorry...I just wanted to help...”

Mah man does not watch what he says and always end up guilty. Your kicked puppy look is really going to be the death of him. He means well, just harsh when it comes to your well-being.

“Fine, give me those. I’ll take care of it.” He wouldn’t allow you to retort, he just took them from your hands and left without a word.

Let’s just say that Xiao isn’t the best when it comes to handling flowers as he would handle monesters, his touch isn’t the most delicate either and would prefer to get the job done fast.

Sometimes he’d pull the roots our along with it, dirt and mud dripping from the bottom of the stem. Or the opposite. He pulls too hard and the stem just SNAPS and you’re left with just the blossom.

“Does it matter? They’re only ingredients as you’ve said.”

That gave you a perfect excuse to teach him the ways of gardening and just be more delicate overall.

At first he didn’t understand why humans were so meticulous about these things but when he saw a man present a bouquet to his wife, Xiao began to reconsider his methods. He doesn’t undersand mortal traditions as much and sticks to something simple and classy.

Don’t be surprised when you find a bunch on your desk for your birthday <3

{Albedo}

The sheer cold of dragon spine could naturally kill any botanical organisms aside from mints. The only flowers Albedo usually sees are the ones he artificially makes.

But being the genius he was, Albedo knew every variety of flowers to exist in the book. In this case, HE was the expert.

To him, the flower was the symbol of life. Albedo only knew the scientific facts of plant life and their natural functions, you on the otherhand were more familiar with the flower languages in a deeper meaning.

Today was a rare day where Albedo figured he’d step out of that freezing lab and conduct his research somewhere warmer, specifically Windrise where it’s quiet and away from the city.

“Dandelions may not be flowers but thei’re the main specialty of Mondstadt carrying the meaning of ‘freedom’! That’s probably how the Acting Grandmaster got her title.”

“Freedom...” He ponders, “I guess you cold say that.”

Albedo can’t understand why people would choose to associate meaning with plants. Where do their ideas come from? And why? Frankly, he can’t see the point in any of it.

But at the same time, it made him happy to see you so enthusiastic about his research even if it wasn’t quite near the target. Albedo had always been so engrossed in his work and you’d just silently keep him company of the side, not many times where you both fot to nerd out on the same topic.

Emotions were still a mystery to him. It seems that even upon the most boring subjects, they don’t seem boring anymore when talking to his significant other. Soon enough, Albedo found himself putting his research aside and just listening to you talk.

“And the Rose expresses romance and love. It’s common for lovers to give it to another during Valentines day.”

He hums cheekily, “Are you telling me that just to hint me to give one to you?”

“W-Well, I didn’t say that.”

He got nothing done. Perhaps his research can wait for another day, right now, he was more curious on what other meanings can a flower hold.

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin albedo #albedo x reader #genshin childe #childe x reader #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #nya-writes

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

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Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 1: The Plea ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 1800>

Warnings: canon typical violence

Series Masterlist ** reblogs appreciated!

You were just a child; small and naïve. The screams of anguish and pain that came from outside the palace walls were enough to still traumatize you all these years later. You were the heir to the Mandalorian throne; the daughter of the late Satine Kryze. Her sister, Bo-Katan, had been caring for you since your mother was killed by the treacherous Darth Maul, ally of The Death Watch. After many failed attempts of taking over Mandalore, The Death Watch became part of Maul's Shadow Collective and successfully took control of your sacred home planet. They were responsible for the destruction of your home, the killing of your people and the brutal assassination of your own mother— and you swore that if you were to ever come into contact with a Child of the Watch, they wouldn't live to see the dawn of a new day. To say you held a grudge on that specific Mandalorian tribe was an understatement. If it wasn't for them, your family would still be alive. Your planet would be under Mandalorian reign, free from Imperialism and war.

But now, almost fifteen years later, you were faced with a new problem. A new enemy.

"You have something I want." Moff Gideon snarled, his lips curling upwards into a smirk. His tongue dripped with venom as his dark eyes settled into you.

Your blood boiled as you faced off with the man; an Imperial officer who clearly had more motive than just serving the Empire. You clenched your fingers into a tight fist and took a deep breath, you had to stay calm. Acting irrationally and letting your anger consume you was not the way of Mandalore. You were not a fighter.

"I have nothing. The beskar is long gone— scattered amongst the galaxy for foundlings to utilize. You can't have it," You shot back, folding your arms over your chest. Negotiation was usually your forté but today you were having none of it. "We have nothing here. Nothing you could possibly want."

Moff Gideon chuckled, circling around you. Of course, there was one thing… but surely not. What would a simple ISB officer want with an ancient Mandalorian weapon?

"The darksaber," He affirmed, and your greatest fears had been realised. "Where is it?"

You swallowed, shaking your head profusely. "I have no idea what you're talking about." you lied. Stay calm. Stay calm.

"You are the princess of Mandalore, are you not? Your mother was Duchess Satine Kryze. You were a child born out of wedlock… never knew your own father…" he chuckled as he noticed the way fear flicked in your eyes. He may have had access to the Imperial Security Bureau but how could he possibly know so much? There was definitely more to Moff Gideon than met the eye. "Yes dear, assume that I know everything. I suppose you aren't the first controversial thing to come out of the Mandalorian culture." Moff Gideon made a sweeping gesture with his gloved hand and two of his flame troopers stormed past you, entering the secret underground lair of your palace.

The lair was where you kept everything of significance. Every memory, every piece of history. Your collection of Mandalorian armour, your mother's keepsakes from her time in power, your personal supply of beskar, and of course, the darksaber.

"You and your people have already taken everything from me," you spat, a helpless tear falling down your cheek. "What more could you want?"

Before he could reply, you heard the troopers' modulated voice through Gideon's commlink. "Sir, we've located the weapon."

Gideon grinned and pushed past you, his crimson trimmed cape brushing against your body as he entered the lair. You couldn't even formulate words. Your blood ran cold and there was nothing you could do to stop the Moff. The Imps were raiding your palace and they were taking everything from you, showing absolute no remorse. When Gideon returned, he was wielding the darksaber. He held the fizzling blade to your neck and your whole body stiffened.

"I won't kill you." He said after a few anxiety induced moments.

"Then you are not worthy." you protested. Moff Gideon cocked his head but you did not regret your words. He could strike you down in this moment and it would all be over. He had the power. "Those who wield the darksaber are the rightful rulers of Mandalore," you had no doubt he already knew this, but it didn't stop you from speaking your many thoughts out loud as you desperately tried to comprehend what was going on. If Moff Gideon wielded the darksaber it meant that you had to forgo your title of princess. "You are the Manda'lor now." you confirmed, feeling completely and utterly exasperated. The kingdom was his. You were worn out— you had cried one too many tears. There had been so much bloodshed and you couldn't help but feel responsible. This was your moment of weakness.

"I know that," he scoffed. "But nobody is to know that I took the darksaber. This remains a secret between you and me. Understood?" The Imperial Officer ignited the saber once more and impaled the two flame troopers who had helped him raid your secret lair. "Who would've thought killing could be so fun?" He chuckled as the bodies fell to the floor. The screams of your people became louder, ringing like bells in your ears as you closed your eyes. You could only hope that some managed to flee and leave the planet.

"You're a monster." you gritted out.

"Is that any way to speak to your ruler? Now, I still have things to do… people to see. From this day forward I declare Mandalore under Imperial reign, and you my dear… you are still the princess. I can't kill you because you may be the last of the Kryze bloodline— I need you, here, ruling my kingdom," Gideon turned off the saber and attached it to his belt. "Until we meet again." he smirked before spinning around on his heel and exiting the palace.

You ran to the bay window of your bedroom and pushed it open, clambering out onto the balcony. You gazed upon the horizon as his ship departed the docking bay. The cold air took your breath away and tears glazed your eyes as you watched stormtroopers raid your town, killing anybody who dared to stand in their way. Bodies were piling up. So much death and destruction. You reached up to your chest and pulled out your mythosaur pendant; the one you had inherited from your mother before she died, and let your thumb graze the details of the pure silver beskar.

You felt like a failure. You'd failed your mother, you'd failed Bo-Katan, and you'd failed the Mandalorian creed. You swore from that moment on that Moff Gideon's decision to keep you alive would be the biggest mistake of his life. You were the princess of Mandalore and you would gain control of your planet once more.

One year later, and you were still filled with deep-seated anguish. You hadn't seen Moff Gideon since that dreaded night where his troops raided and took over your home planet of Mandalore. All you could do was smile and put on a brave face— but you were walking on a fine line and every day was becoming more and more and unbearable. More death and decay. You were losing hope. You wanted to fight this yourself, just like your mother had raised you, but you knew that you were no match against an army of Imperials. So you sent out a distress call to any living Mandalorians. You lived in a vast galaxy and you knew you couldn't be alone. There had to be someone who could help you. There had to be someone out there.

The Armorer was forging a new pauldron for Din Djarin when the call reached her. Upon hearing your voice, she dropped everything, her tools and the beskar clinking as they fell to the ground. She raced to accept your plea for help, noting down every ounce of information that you provided her with.

"The princess of Mandalore lives." she gasped, turning to Din.

"The princess?" Din asked, furrowing his eyebrows together in bewilderment. Despite his face being masked by a helmet, the Armorer was Din's mentor and she had known him long enough to sense when he was confused. "I thought she died during the great purge… I thought that-"

"Mandalore was under Imperial reign?" The Armorer cut him off. "It is. But the princess somehow lives."

"As an Imperial?" Din beckoned further.

"As a hostage to the Empire." The Armorer revealed, shaking her head in disbelief as she tried to process everything you told her.

"What did she say?" Din questioned. The Armorer pondered for a second before looking up at the bounty hunter and placing her hands on either side of his broad shoulders.

"She requires help— protection, if you will. She wishes to form a rebellion against the Empire and restore Mandalore to its former glory."

"There's no way," Din huffed. "She must have a death wish."

"I know… everything about this is unusual. But the last time a Kryze sent out a distress call was after the death of Duchess Satine. It sounds serious. And she is the Manda'lor therefore we must do as she wishes." The Armorer informed Din coldly.

"And what is that?"

"As a Child of the Watch I am sending you out to Mandalore to protect the princess."

"Me?" Din gasped, his voice rising an octave as he pointed his own fingers into his chest. "No no no. I live here, on Nevarro. I'm a member of the Guild. I can't leave that all behind. What if it's a trap set up by the Imps?...And I have Grogu now."

"Sometimes there are sacrifices you must make as a Mandalorian, you know this," The Armorer said matter-of-factly. Din hated that she was right. "The Princess of Mandalore needs you. I'm afraid you don't have a choice."

"And when I get to Mandalore, what do I do?" Din sighed.

"You marry her, of course. Before Clan Kryze, we were the ones who ruled Mandalore. Our tribe are the rightful leaders of that planet and to have one of our Children of the Watch marry into the monarchy would mean you could not only restore Mandalore to the Mandalorians, but you could restore it to the old way, the right way. The way of tradition and the way it used to be. It would change the galaxy forever."

Din blinked momentarily and looked to his feet. Marriage? To a princess? There was no point in arguing with the Armorer because Din knew that deep down, she was right, and he could not deny her. The creed had brought him in and gave him everything. They provided him with a family when he'd lost his own, and if marrying a princess was what he had to do to respect his honour, then so be it.

"This is the way." The Armorer chanted, picking up her tools and walking back over to her work station.

She was right. "This is the way."

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stevenbasic · 3 years ago

Text

"Let’s chat,” Olivia had said, after directing me to sit. She watched as I did, then smiled, and then turned to look around the room, my small office.

Olivia was a friend of my wife, new, for maybe the past year. I’d only met her a handful of times, at the house and at a couple functions. Though Sheryl always spoke highly of her, how much fun she could be, she always struck me as a bit aloof, even a bit haughty. Maybe she just doesn’t like me, I’d always found myself thinking. And here she was, in my office, looking around like she owned the place. How had she gotten involved?!? I’d figured her as a slightly strange loner of a woman, just a suburbanite friend of my wife - though apparently I’d underestimated her...

Olivia slowly began to step around the room, inspecting the texts I had in my bookshelf, running a finger up and down the spine of my PDR. Olivia was maybe a few years older than Sheryl and me, but she always looked amazing. Tall, red-headed and curvy, she must have been drop-dead gorgeous in her youth. But she’d been single her whole life, as far as I knew. Childless? Honestly, I didn’t know that much about her, only what Sheryl had told me…and I have to admit I probably hadn’t been listening.

“You have some nice old books here,” she said, casually, pulling Loewy’s Textbook of Medical Ethics from the shelf, cracking it open. Apparently she was a physician, and a PhD as well <tweak image?>. Had Sheryl ever mentioned that? I remembered chatting with her at the house a few times, when she’d come to have a glass of wine with my wife. That we both practiced medicine never came up was weird. In honesty, though, I’d probably never spoken to her more than a few minutes at a time, always being shooed away to leave the two ladies to their girl talk.

As I watched Olivia thumb through the book, my eyes did a quick up-and-down of her stunning figure. I remembered one summer day at the house, after having been dismissed by the women, going to spy on her and Sheryl from the upstairs window as they sunbathed by the pool in the backyard. My view down Olivia’s black, one-piece bathing suit had been phenomenal, and I’d found myself furtively jerking off to the sight of her big white breasts. Still semi-thick down my leg, I grabbed myself under my desk and gave myself a squeeze. Jesus her tits and ass are both big.

“So, uh, Olivia,” I began, still watching as she returned the book to its shelf, slowly turning on her heels to saunter around the room and inspect the degrees I had hanging on the wall, “You’re a physician?” Eyeing her body in her black blouse and tight, knee-length skirt, I continued to marvel at her curves, and squeezed myself again. Nnnnnff. Though she was soft with some years, good genetics and probably some time in the gym kept her in really great shape. “What speciality?”

“Oh, I was research, mostly,” she answered, reaching out with one finger to touch, possessively, my medical degree, wipe a line of dust off the top of its frame. She was not, obviously, all that keen on being too forthcoming, or even just plain friendly. Hopefully she didn’t realize I was, under my desk, slowly rubbing myself through my pants to the sight of her broad hips.

I did remember, however, now that she’d mentioned the research, something Sheryl had said, about how Olivia had made her money, a biomedical start-up years ago. But supposedly that had been in the past, and she spent her time in politics now, managing the campaign of some female candidate. If I recalled, Olivia had come from a political family, and had fallen into the role naturally.

She was now nonchalantly looking through a pile of file folders I had on a cabinet. So, I found myself thinking, even as my dick grew harder for her, if she’d never really practiced, clinically, and had been away from medicine for this long, what on god’s green earth qualified her to be our ‘Clinical Director’??

“So, Olivia,” I found myself asking, thinking I was lightening the mood, boldly cracking some ice, “are you my boss now?”

Her bluntness shocked me.

“Yes in fact I am,” she said, plainly, turning now to face me, “Sheryl and I both are.” The light from my window caught her eyes, reminding me of how it had done the same to Melissa’s just a few minutes earlier. Olivia’s green eyes, though, seemed to absorb the sun into themselves, like magic, glittering gems. It intensified her gaze, pulling me in with a sudden intimacy that grabbed me by the loins. “We are your superiors.”

<gulp>

Abruptly cowed, I let go of my now-throbbing erection, afraid that I might erupt in my slacks. I tried to find words, thinking I should say something in defense, something snarky to assert myself, but my voice was caught in my chest.

“Melissa will handle administration, I’ll guide the clinical staff,” Olivia continued in explanation, seeing I’d been properly unnerved and releasing me from her gaze. She began to stroll towards my desk, again, looking at the anatomy chart I had hanging on the opposite wall. “The MA’s, the nurses and clinicians, they’ll all report to me. You included.” I was thankful, again, that I wasn’t standing. She’d be so much taller than me. Wait what?!?

So I, apparently, was now to be just another clinician? This couldn’t stand! ”What will I do?” I asked, speaking too quickly, hearing the petulance in my own voice, “What will be my title?”

Olivia fought back a satisfied smile and answered me as she approached the chair in front of my desk. “Oh, you’re still a partial owner,” she said, now trying to reassure me of my continued significance, as diminished as it was, “but a title? You want a title?” She sat down, now, across the desk from me, and thought. “Hm,” she decided, “You can be ‘Lead Clinical Physician’. Will that work?”

”I’m the ONLY physician!” I blurted.

To that, Olivia laughed. Tolerantly, she continued. ”How about you just be you?” she offered, with a smile meant to placate me, a glimmer in her eyes that once again reminded me of Melissa, “You worry about seeing patients, you make sure you do what you need for the Evolution study.” Obviously she knew that I was upset, that I’d felt belittled and sidelined. She sat up straight, and went on seeking to soothe me. “You'll have plenty of help,” she said, “I’ll make sure everything runs smoothly here, that patients are getting the care they need.”

Speechless, I felt humiliated. Cast aside, all but mothballed. And, lest we forget, by women.

“Oh, c’mon,” Olivia laughed, reaching her left hand across the desk, laying it palm-down in front of me, “Yes, I’ll be your Clinical Director, but it’s just a title. You all know what you’re doing.” She had her eyes on me; I looked down at her hand, the emerald she wore on her ring finger. It was striking. “I won’t even be here most days,” she assured me, “I’m so busy with the election. You’ll barely see me.”

Feeling a wave of sadness overtake me, washing away whatever ire I’d still held, I continued to look down at her ring, her large, well-manicured nails. What did she want, with her hand there? For me to hold it? Maybe I should…

She waited for me to speak, to say something. Saying anything, though, to me seemed like I would be acknowledging the facts, as would taking her hand. Inaction, passivity, was easier. It could be a silent signal that I was unhappy with the new changes.

I heard her draw a deep breath, let it out in frustration.

”Okay, fine,” she huffed, a new edge in her voice, “What is it? Do you feel emasculated? Hm? Is that it?”

I looked up at her in shock, feeling my lip quivering.

“Good, you deserve it,” she said plainly, continuing, sitting back and straightening her shoulders, “After the way you made Sheryl feel all these years, with the affairs, you should feel emasculated. What sort of man does that, acts like that? So childish…” Her green, gleaming eyes were spitting poison, now, in obvious solidarity with her friend, my wife. I had to look down, back at her hand, the stone in her emerald ring.

“My god, after all she’s done for you?” she continued, unrelenting, “She’s supported you from the beginning, built you this nice, comfortable life while she worked ten times as hard as you. Even in the face of all the other women, the girls you fell to through the years, she’d had faith in you, that you could change.”

I squirmed in humiliation, knowing she was speaking the truth, but disbelieving it myself. How had I done this, let myself become this person? And, Jesus, how could I still be getting harder?! What the fuck is wrong with me?!? The green jewel on her finger glittered back, but gave me no answer.

“Well, you’ve proven it, you've proven you can’t change,” she spat, “So we’re going to change everything around you, change ourselves.”

I was shaking, under her diatribes, defenseless. I felt the strength in her voice, the conviction. Olivia was determined, had become a powerful person through her talents and hard work. I felt like a worm.

“Yes, we’re all working to improve ourselves, while you just do…nothing,” she said, “We’re getting better, smarter, stronger. You’re going to have to just sit there and watch while we all grow around you.”

My breath was coming fast, I was trying to keep myself from groaning or, good god, whining. My cock continued to harden, throbbing against my thigh. Goddamnit why didn’t I jerk off this morning?? I still stared at her hand because I was afraid if I looked up at her face or god help me her tits I would come right there, explode into my pants.

She had paused.

“Are you looking at my ring?” she asked, her voice softer now. Laid out on the desk between us, her hand flexed, long fingers straightening to show off her jewel. “It was my mother’s, she wanted me to have it,” she told me, as I looked at it, admiring it’s rich green beauty. It really was impressive. “It matches my necklace.”

At that, my eyes were finally drawn up, away from her left hand as her right had come to her chest, the neckline of her blouse. I watched as she undid a single button and revealed inches of white, creamy cleavage and a necklace with a green, matching stone. The jewel was huge, spherical, the size of a human eye, nestled just above her big breasts. I tried my best to keep my eyes on it and not let them fall into her cleavage, but couldn’t fight what felt like an unseen force secretly moving my hand back to grab my cock through my pants. I was speechless, though I heard myself emit a little moan of admiration.

“What's wrong?” Olivia asked, an amused interest in her voice, “You like looking at my necklace?”

“It’s…” I began, gazing at the green stone, seeing how it, like her eyes, seemed to capture the light in the room, “…it’s beautiful.” It seemed to gaze back at me, from right above the deep valley of her soft, inviting cleavage.

“Thank you,” she purred. She stretched her arm out closer to me, turning her hand over on the desk in front of me. “Now, take my hand,” she said, a new, patient charity in her voice.

“w-what..?” I managed.

“Take my hand,” she repeated, and I watched my own free left hand place itself in hers, my right hand still covertly wrapped around my shaft, intermittently squeezing it, stroking it, pressing it into my thigh.

“And now, back at my necklace,” she directed, with composed sympathy.

“o-o-Olivia..?” I peeped. My eyes were now up at hers, pleadingly, but as she drew a deep breath I couldn’t do anything but drop my gaze back down to her chest. The green stone had dropped a fraction and now lay just between the uppermost swells of her breasts. It had captured my eyes with its own. “oh, god…” I heard myself say.

“shhhh…” she whispered, indulgently, “C’mon. This shouldn’t be a surprise.” Her chest began to rise and fall with slow, purposeful breaths, the bulges of her breasts swelling to embrace the green jewel, and then fall away again. “We’ve surrounded you with eye candy so far, and here I am. Another tall, bosomy woman in the office for you. So…just enjoy.” Another deep breath, breasts enveloping the stone, and then dropping away. I’d begun to slowly stroke myself under the desk, and didn’t have the force of will to stop. “It’s been nice, hm? Having all these girls?” she continued, allowing herself a girlish giggle, “And I’d always noticed the way you look at me when I’ve come to see Sheryl. I knew you were a physician, a smart, respected guy. But it made me think of you as so…”

Another deep breath, and the stone all but disappeared.

“…small.”

I fucking whined.

Olivia smiled. “But that can be all water under the bridge,” she offered, her voice warming generously, “I think you and I can have a nice, professional relationship. Between Melissa and I we’ll make sure you’ll be well taken care of, by all your women.”

Somehow, I was able to tear my eyes up off her chest. “n-no…Olivia…that’s n-“

“What? Isn’t that every man’s dream?” she asked, doing something with her free right hand, some movement, “To be surrounded by a harem of young, beautiful women, doing everything, taking care of all the details?”

“n-no..but, y-…yes but…” I floundered, as a quick something changed in the air. I looked down, to my left, and on the desk was a piece of paper. Had that been there before? The whole time? Melissa must have left it.

I looked down at it, even as I still brainlessly rubbed my cock. It was a short statement, something for me to sign. It was on our company letterhead. I read the first few sentences in a fog, my mind really only realizing the purpose of the agreement when I reached the final phrase:

“…cedes all authority to and acknowledges the authority of Olivia M. Henders, MD as Clinical Director of Far Horizons Medical Associates.”

Her left hand had left mine; her right was handing me a pen.

“We’re going to ask you to step back from your responsibilities at the hospital as well,” Olivia explained, trying to hide the satisfaction in her voice as I mindlessly signed the paper, “Vida can handle your rounds, she and Morgan and Karen can take over your admitting privileges.”

“w-what..?” I asked, weakly protesting though I barely understood what she was telling me, more focused now on my hand rubbing away at my cock.

“After what happened this week, yesterday,” she continued, taking the pen from my hand, “the new Chief Medical Officer at the hospital called us. She suggested the leave of absence.” She took the paper, inspected my signature. “Until you get your health back under control.”

I’d heard about her, the new woman at xxx. I’d known her for years as a physician. She’d risen in the ranks, administratively, finally landing the top job and had already removed some of the old-time guys from the hospital staff. So now it was no surprise she wanted me gone, too. But..if I didn’t have hospital privileges…?

“b-but…no…” <stroke stroke stroke> Jesus I just need to fucking come

“It’s a done deal already,” Olivia said, looking down at the mug of warm milk Melissa had made for me, “the board of directors has spoken. It’s what we want.”

“w-we…?” <stroke stroke stroke> oh god don’t tell me.

“Yes, it’s so exciting,” she said, eyes back now watching mine, which had fallen again to her bosom and its green stone, “the first all-female hospital board in the state. Including myself…and Sheryl.”

Suddenly, it all became clear. This was Sheryl’s idea.

Shit. <stroke stroke stroke><faster faster faster>

“She sends her best, by the way,” Olivia smiled as she watched me. Did she see my eyes flutter, as my climax began to grab me? If she knew what was going on below the table, only a slight curl to her lips gave it away. “You really should sign those divorce papers…”

She pushed my mug towards me, as I exploded in my pants.

“…and drink your milk.”

==========================

Many thanks to my brother-in-arms TopographicSociety for his help with the image, giving Olivia her necklace.

#growing into the job

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sentakushimasu · 3 years ago

Text

diving off the deep end, breathe slow

pairing: sero hanta/iida tenya summary: Sero drowns during a training exercise. Today doesn't make Iida's list of top ten favourite days. genre: hurt/comfort, whump word count: 11.4k warnings: drowning, cpr, hospitals, slight vomit warning (no actual vomiting), hypothermia title from: dayseeker - drunk AO3

Sero tried to ignore the pang of disappointment in his chest as he saw Aizawa’s allocated teams. They were supposed to be randomly generated but Sero couldn’t help but feel like the world was out to get him.

Iida wasn’t on his team yet again.

It wasn’t a big deal, but every time they had a big scale training session, Sero wanted to try working on a team up with his boyfriend. They both had quirks that made them incredibly mobile, but they needed to work better in combat as a team.

Aizawa, however, seemed dead set on preventing that from happening.

Sero had to suppress a yelp as an arm wrapped around his neck and dragged him staggering along. He regained his balance as Kirishima let go of him, grinning widely.

Kirishima, Mina, Shinsou and himself in a team. They could make this work.

They’d all been arranged into five teams of four, tasked with placing quirk suppressing handcuffs on members of the other teams. Kirishima took the role of their self-proclaimed leader and happily accepted the five pairs of cuffs to share between the team. They’d been given the red ones, making it easier to keep track of who was cuffed by which team.

The other teams had other colours, and other interesting combinations of quirks. The blue team, consisting of Iida (their appointed leader), Yaoyorozu, Tsuyu and Uraraka, were likely going to be scarily efficient despite their lack of flashy quirks.

The green team was led by Deku, which, if that wasn’t scary enough, was followed by Shouji, Satou and Todoroki. Sero had to suppress a shudder just looking at that team. The only member who couldn’t easily snap him in half like a twig, could make mountains of ice and pyres of fire without batting an eye. He really hoped another team dealt with them before his team had the misfortune of running into them.

Less intimidating was the yellow team, fronted by Sero’s partner in crime, accompanied by Ojirou, Hagakure and Aoyama. Any team that let Kaminari take charge was not one that Sero felt the need to be scared of.

Bakugou was already barking out orders to the black team. Sero cringed in sympathy for Kouda, Jirou and Tokoyami. Their self-appointed leader was bound to run off on his own, leaving them without much opportunity to intimidate anyone they ran into. Tokoyami could be pretty terrifying in his own right, but going up against a team with Deku and Todoroki? He didn’t stand a chance.

Aizawa interrupted them, speaking in a bored tone, “the first team to use all of their quirk cuffs wins. No, you cannot cuff your teammates, doing so results in immediate disqualification for the entire team.”

Iida’s hand shot up. “Can we use the other teams’ handcuffs if we become separated from our team?”

“The team the cuffs belong to gets the point.”

Uraraka was the next one to raise her hand. “If we handcuff someone with their team’s handcuffs will their team still get disqualified?”

Aizawa paused for a second, regarding Uraraka with a lethargic look. “Yes.”

Okay, Sero had officially decided that the blue team was kind of terrifying. He wasn’t going to let himself be fooled by Uraraka’s round cheeks or the pink-heavy colour scheme of her hero outfit; she was out for blood.

As it turns out, Iida’s team was the only one asking any questions as Yaomomo joined the discussion. “Do we have to cuff both of their hands?”

“No, it’s the same as your previous exams. If you cuff one hand or ankle, you get the point.”

Mina leaned over and gave Sero a well-placed elbow to his ribs. “Don’t let glasses distract you, he’ll steal your handcuffs and disqualify our whole team while you’re busy making heart eyes.”

Sero just rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

As if to exemplify the fact that Sero was a filthy liar, he made eye contact with Iida who promptly gave him a wave that he returned with what was undoubtedly an utterly lovesick grin if Mina’s exaggerated fake gagging was anything to go by.

“We’re screwed,” she whined.

Sero gave her a half-hearted glare. “You have such little faith in me.”

Aizawa directed their attention to a map of the training grounds they were located in today. Between the cityscape of ground beta and the added area of the river and its surrounding banks, clearly he was prepared for a lot of big scale altercations. There were five markings on the map, all with a colour corresponding to the different teams.

“Every team has a starting location and the next fifteen minutes to get there

Most of the teams’ locations were within ground beta, aside from the red dot next to the bridge and the blue dot a little ways down the path from the bridge, away from ground beta. Great, an area that Sero couldn’t even swing the majority of, and they were completely exposed to the wind.

He was beginning to think that it was much too cold for outdoor training. As he trailed behind Kirishima and Mina. Shinsou hung back but Sero didn’t hold it against him, they were certainly a much louder group than the purple haired boy would be comfortable with.

Although that didn’t explain why he still let Kaminari follow him around like a hyperactive clingy puppy.

After all, Sero, one of the most chaotic and academically-underwhelming members of class 1-A had somehow managed to be dating Mr Perfect, the class president, for the past four months. Now that had been a shock to the rest of the class, most of all, Sero Hanta whose heart still skipped a beat when Iida reached out to take his hand.

Shinsou at least looked like his hero suit wasn’t going to let him freeze, his capture weapon even seeming to act like a scarf. The same could not be said for anyone else on their team as they began the trek down the pathway up to the bridge.

“Kiri, how are you not a popsicle? You have sleeves but no shirt!” Mina claimed as she shivered.

“I’m invincible,” Kirishima shrugged as he tapped a hardened fist on his now hardened chest. For dramatic effect.

“It’s too cold to be outside,” Sero piped up, rubbing his arms in an attempt to keep the blood circulating. He was kind of hoping that they ran into Todoroki during training, at least being gently roasted alive was better than the cold he was currently experiencing.

Maybe when the exercise started, they would be able to warm up, but the distance between them and the closest group was quite significant and he wasn’t sure they’d be too into an all-out battle.

Maybe if Yaoyorozu made a net and Sero accidentally let himself get caught, Iida would carry him back to base. That was always an option.

The bridge was a good location. From their position in the middle of it, they would be able to see anyone trying to sneak up on them. It was a better vantage point than what the blue team had, that’s for sure.

The group was just standing on the path along the riverbank, Yaoyorozu already sparkling as she used her quirk. As Sero squinted his eyes he could tell that she was handing a jacket to Tsu, he couldn’t help but to feel sympathy for his classmate who was much more sensitive to the cold than everyone else.

There was a ringing noise coming from the wristband Kirishima had been given as their team’s acting leader, to signal the start of the exercise.

“Theoretically, we could just wait for them to come to us,” Shinsou offered. “Let Bakugou deal with Midoriya and Todoroki before he tries to blow our heads off.”

“Good plan,” Sero supplies, trying to show Shinsou some support. “I’ll swing up the bridge supports and keep an eye out if you guys want to sit by the railing and stay out of the wind.”

Mina eyed him warily. “What about you? The wind is gonna be worse up there.”

Sero shrugged. “Pro-hero Cellophane isn’t bothered by the cold.”

“You’re not a pro yet,” Mina corrected him, folding her arms across her chest.

“If you get too cold you’ll come back down, right?” Shinsou asked, his voice laced with an emotion Sero couldn’t pinpoint. “If you faint up there, it would be bad news.”

“I’ll be extra careful,” Sero said with a wink.

Kirishima gave Sero a thumbs up and at that, Sero turned to look up at the structure of the bridge, quickly dispensing his tape.

As the tape curled around the support beam and held its position as Sero gave it a firm tug, he used it to propel himself upwards.

It had probably only been five minutes of Sero leaning against the cold metal of the bridge’s support beams before their first challengers arrived. Sero could see two figures headed towards them. Smaller in stature and both dressed dark, it only took Sero a few seconds to identify Jirou and Tokoyami.

Jirou, they could handle pretty easily. Tokoyami would be trouble.

Mina and Kirishima wouldn’t be at all effective against Dark Shadow, so that match would come down to Sero and Shinsou.

Scratch that, it came down to Sero.

He’d only just managed to swing down onto the bridge and alert his team to their visitors before Jirou’s quirk ripped through the air.

The volume disoriented Sero for a moment, knocking him off balance before he could swing himself back up into the air. He needed to incapacitate Jirou if they had any hope of using Shinsou’s quirk. If Tokoyami couldn’t hear him speak, he couldn’t be brainwashed.

Sparing a glance behind him, Sero noticed that Mina and Shinsou were both struggling to stay oriented as the sound assaulted their senses. It was no Present Mic, but it was powerful enough to pose a threat to their group when their most powerful quirk needed to be heard to work.

They were lucky that Sero at least had a quirk that worked long distance because while Kirishima and Mina had to get close to their opponent to use their quirks, Sero was able to maneuver through the air.

He had gotten much better at using his quirk midair during his time at UA, able to turn and shoot another reel of tape at the railing across the bridge and pull himself back down to the ground.

His landing was smooth as he folded himself to roll across the asphalt and up onto his feet.

He would never complain about the gymnastics classes his mum had forced him into during middle school ever again.

With another spin, he was wrapping his tape around Jirou and yanking her towards him, her arms pinned to her sides. She was too startled to maintain her quirk, whipping her earphone jacks towards Sero, likely in hopes of deterring him.

It didn’t work. Of course. As Sero slapped the quirk suppressant cuffs on her wrist.

He offered Jirou an apologetic smile as she glared at him.

The moment was cut short by an impact sending Sero flying to the side.

He quickly adjusted his form so that he rolled on impact with the ground and could easily pull himself back up on his knees. Only to find himself faced with Dark Shadow moving towards him, swooping side to side menacingly.

Sero was a big fan of the sentient quirk, it was like having a dog in the dorms, if dogs were made of shadows and could speak. What he didn’t like about Dark Shadow, was its ability to absolutely throttle him right now.

Forcing himself to his feet, Sero started to back away from the quirk, hoping that his team would figure something out while he had the threat distracted. If Dark Shadow focused its attention on someone else then Sero could possibly manage to restrain Tokoyami and cuff him if he was fast enough.

“Tokoyami, help!” Jirou called out, sounding so panicked that even Sero’s head snapped up at the sound.

Just in time to see Tokoyami’s expression go blank and his stance lose its tension. The consequence of calling out to his teammate in concern.

Shinsou was kneeling on the ground a few metres away, his hand still on his mask, his unruly purple hair moving in the wind. Clever.

Dark Shadow was quick to snap its attention to Tokoyami, fussing over the boy who wasn’t responding to him.

Sero saw his opportunity and took it.

He shot out the tape, wrapping it around Tokoyami to restrain him in case something interrupted Shinsou’s mind control.

Dark Shadow quickly retreated back into Tokoyami and Sero couldn’t help the proud smile spreading across his face as he nodded at Shinsou and gave him a thumbs up.

Shinsou’s quirk was officially his favourite. That was badass.

Their relief was soon interrupted by a loud clatter.

Sero’s eyes fell on the black handcuffs now sitting in the middle of the bridge. Which could only mean that someone else was here, and Sero sincerely doubted that Kouda would be dropping things from a height like that. Which left the last person Sero wanted to fight right now. Bakugou Katsuki.

The sound of an explosion confirmed his suspicions.

The dropped handcuffs weren’t a mistake, they were a threat.

Sero barely had a second to shoot out more tape and grab Shinsou, pulling his teammate towards him as Bakugou descended on the place where he stood, his hands popping with explosions.

With his hands on Shinsou’s shoulders, Sero steadied the purple haired boy, loosening the hold of the tape.

“Are you hurt?” Sero asked quickly, his eyes worriedly scanning Shinsou for any signs that the tape hadn’t been fast enough.

Shinsou looked thoroughly spooked but shook his head after a few seconds, snapping back into focus. “No.”

“Good. Did you cuff Tokoyami?”

Shinsou nodded. Great, that kept their threats to a minimum.

“Good job,” Sero said, giving Shinsou’s shoulder a supportive pat. “Stay where he can’t get you.”

Sero didn’t wait for a reply as he dispensed his tape and swung himself up into the fray.

Bakugou was fixated on Kirishima, hitting the boy’s hardened exterior with explosion after explosion. Sero cringed in sympathy, Kirishima said that it didn’t hurt but it still had to be hot.

Choosing that moment to look away from the fight, Sero turned to pull himself even higher up, reading another set of handcuffs in his non-dominant hand.

That was the easy part.

He turned back to the fight only to see that Bakugou had successfully cuffed Kirishima who was just staring at his wrist in shock. And Bakugou was notorious for not knowing when to quit as he reared up to set off another explosion at Kirishima.

Shooting out his tape in a panic, Sero grabbed Bakugou by his waist and tugged him away from the redhead. Only for the explosion to be rounded on him.

Bakugou missed his mark and Sero foolishly let Bakugou explode the tape that tethered them together.

His enemy was now airborne, setting off explosions as he hovered, staring at Sero with murderous intent. Sero hoped he looked good because this was going to be his last day alive with Bakugou looking at him like that.

Sero was a lot of things, a smart guy who thought things through before he did them was not one of them.

He shot out tape at a support beam directly across the bridge, and prayed that Bakugou didn’t sever it as he yanked himself to the other side. His other hand readied with the handcuffs.

In a stroke of dumb luck, Sero managed to clip the black handcuffs above Bakugou’s gauntlet. The older boy had made a mistake dropping those as a threat.

Sero had a split second to be proud of himself as the incessant sound of popping ceased before he realised that he was swinging over the edge of the bridge and Bakugou was plummeting.

He was getting too far away, forgetting to halt the unwinding of his tape until he was a ridiculous distance out from the bridge. There was no way he could reach the explosive teen now.

He shot a new piece of tap at the railing and tried to pull himself back down, turning to shoot a second strand towards Bakugou to hopefully help his descent.

The tape missed and Sero was swinging too low, on course to swing under the bridge before he could pull himself back up the other side.

Shinsou’s capture weapon caught Bakugou and Sero had to hope his fall wasn’t too dramatic as the top of the bridge left his eyesight.

He just had to swing under the bridge and come up on the other side, and then he’d be able to check on everyone. It would only take him a few seconds to be back topside.

Sero felt the release of tension in his tape and before he even realised what was happening, he was in freefall and on a collision course with the river. That was the thing about his quirk, the constant looming threat of falling. In his panic, he tried to fling out some more tape, hoping it would find a purchase on some part of the underside of the bridge.

Or the railing that entered his line of sight as he fell along the trajectory of his previous swing. He could almost swear he saw a head of fluffy pink hair peeking over the railing.

His tape failed to connect with anything as his body hit water.

Which was freezing.

The shock of the impact and the temperature drop had Sero taking an involuntary breath of nothing but water, the coldness eagerly filling his lungs and pushing out whatever air he had left. He wasn’t sure if his helmet was still on his head or if it was just whatever the opposite of watertight was.

Even opening his eyes to the assault of the cold water didn’t help his case. He couldn’t see any light to tell him which way the surface was. All he knew was that his lungs burned and he could do nothing more than try to swim and hope he wasn’t sinking.

He tried to stay calm, but there was really no option for him other than to panic and hope that someone fished him out of the water.

Kirishima would sink like a stone if he even dared to jump in after Sero, he would immediately harden in contact with the water. Mina and Shinsou could swim but the jump off the bridge was far too dangerous.

Maybe Bakugou could get to the water with his explosions, but Sero couldn’t remember if he’d be able to propel them out of the river even if he did go after Sero. He didn’t see the end of Bakugou’s fall, his friend could very well be dangerously injured, far too poorly off to help the one who was responsible for his fall.

His head was so foggy.

There was a different quality to the darkness that crept in around the corner of his vision in comparison to the darkness of the water. Sero had always thought he could hold his breath for a long time, but he guessed that the gut instinct of inhaling the water would be his undoing.

Sero vaguely recalled that there was another group, closer to the riverbank. He couldn’t remember who had been there, but he could only hope that Tsu was nearby, she was perhaps the only one who would be able to get him. She was very qualified with water rescues.

The fog was growing thicker, heavier, and Sero wasn’t sure he had the energy to keep up his fight towards the surface.

It was always fun when a training exercise became a rescue mission. He just hoped that someone fished him out before it was too late.

Everything was heavy and Sero let the water take him.

Iida’s entire team snapped to attention when they heard a scream.

“SERO!”

It was raw and filled with genuine terror. Iida felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head as he turned in the direction the scream came from. Just in time to see a dark form hit the water at a high speed, white strips of tape hanging uselessly in the air as they floated down onto the river’s surface.

With bated breath, everyone watched the surface of the water, waiting for Sero to surface.

Iida’s mind was a whirlwind. Had he hit his head? Had he been blown from the bridge by one of their classmates’ stronger quirks? Why had Iida yet to see his boyfriend’s hair pop out the top of the water?

No one needed to say anything before Asui was racing down the riverbank and throwing out her tongue.

Asui pulled Sero from the water with ease, how she had even known where he was, was beyond Iida. He would have to thank her later, after he checked on his boyfriend.

That water had to be freezing, and Iida was not unfamiliar with the knowledge that Sero would lose his body heat a lot faster in cold water. He was in his winter version of his suit but it wasn’t waterproof.

Sero’s helmet had fallen off at some point, maybe even prior to him hitting the water, Iida noticed as he raced over to meet him and Asui.

Iida didn’t know what he was expecting when he crashed to his knees next to his boyfriend’s wet form. Coughing and complaining? Sure. Sero being completely limp, soaked to the bone and not giving Iida’s presence any acknowledgement? Not what Iida expected.

Sero’s dark hair was plastered to his skin by the water, his eyes were closed, his lips and the tip of his nose going a jarring shade of purple and grey.

“Sero?”

Iida wrapped his hand around the top of Sero's shoulder, where it met the base of his neck. He tried to ignore how cold Sero felt to the touch, blaming it on the water, but the temperature of his skin had anxiety curling in Iida’s gut. "Sero? Hanta, can you hear me?"

Sero offered him no response, not even a twitch or grumble like he usually did when Iida bothered him while the older boy was trying to take a cat nap on the common room couch.

Okay. Bad news.

"Call an ambulance, and Aizawa-sensei!" Iida called out. It came out a lot shakier than he was expecting.

He leant down so that his cheek hovered above Sero's mouth and nose, his hand resting atop his boyfriend's chest. He was hoping, begging, for the sensation of air brushing against his face or movement under his hand, even the sound of Sero's breathing or the sight of his chest rising and falling.

Worse news.

Sero wasn't breathing.

Iida wasn't wearing his watch so he couldn't be certain that it had been ten seconds but he knew that it had been too long without any indication that Sero could breathe.

Aizawa regularly made them revise first aid so it wasn't like Iida didn't know what to do.

But there was a world of difference between a CPR dummy and turning his giggling boyfriend onto his side, and Sero being completely unresponsive and being entirely dependent on Iida to help him.

Taking a deep breath and trying to shove his anxiety deeper inside himself, Iida positioned himself. With his knees pressed up against Sero’s side, his right hand over his left and his elbows locked straight.

His mind was a whirlwind as he started the compressions. Was he pressing hard enough? Was it fast enough? Was he even helping?

He was quick to shove the thoughts out of his mind, he couldn’t afford to think about anything other than the compressions. If he hesitated or freaked out, it could cost Sero his life.

“Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty,” Iida counted under his breath. He leant down to Sero’s face, his hands tilting his boyfriend’s head back and pinching his nose as Iida’s mouth covered Sero’s cold one.

Two breaths and he was back to pumping Sero’s heart for him. Iida’s head swam at the thought.

Iida was counting his way through his second ground of compressions when someone fell into place on Sero’s other side. Iida didn’t even bother to look up at who they were, he only cared about one thing right now, seeing Sero awake and breathing.

“Iida.” So it was Yaoyorozu next to him. “I have a defibrillator. Attach it while I do the breaths, okay?”

Iida nodded firmly. “Okay.”

Fuck, he’d forgotten all about the defibrillator in his panic. Had she made it? He tried to pull up the mental map of where AEDs were located around campus but it was all a blur in his head. He couldn’t think clearly about anything other than Hanta.

He says his “thirty” loud enough for Yaoyorozu to hear him and she snapped into action, passing the opened defibrillator to Iida as she placed a bag-valve-mask over Sero’s nose and mouth.

Either she was truly the best at locating things under pressure or she was incredible at using her complex quirk in a panic. Iida couldn’t rule out either.

He would be grateful for her for the rest of his life, he suspected.

Iida grabbed the shears from the defibrillator box and started to cut away Sero’s hero costume. It was a simple motion, starting at the base of Sero’s throat and stopping just above his pelvis.

Vaguely, Iida was aware that Sero’s chest was falling for the second time and Yaoyorozu was setting the bag valve mask down next to his head.

“I’ll get it, you do compressions.”

Iida couldn’t find it in him to say anything, getting back into the rhythm of pushing on Sero’s chest. It was more physically draining than he had expected, his arms ached and his chest was begging to feel tight with the exhaustion. But he couldn’t stop. He would keep going until Sero’s heart was beating on its own.

Out of the corner of his eye, Iida can see Yaoyorozu peeling back the film on the AED pads so he took over the breaths for her. He didn’t even bother fumbling with the mask that was on the other side of Sero.

In the span of two rescue breaths, Yaoyorozu had dried off Sero’s torso with a towel that would have seemingly appeared out of midair if Iida didn’t know any better and attached the pads to his chest.

Iida hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do.

Yaoyorozu’s voice was firm yet comforting as she spoke. “Keep going.”

Thankfully, at least one of them could keep their head on straight right now.

As Iida continued the compressions, his heart breaking ten times over with every one, Yaoyorozu called out to someone outside of his field of vision.

“Uraraka, can you use the bag mask? Just squeeze it twice when Iida does thirty compressions.”

There was a silent exchange and another body kneeling on the ground with them.

The AED made a noise when Iida stopped his compressions. How long had it been? It felt like a lifetime. The amicable chatter he had been exchanging with Asui and Uraraka as they walked down the riverbank seemed like it had happened forever ago. Where was Aizawa? They needed help.

“Analysing rhythm, don’t touch the patient.”

Iida snatched his hands away from where they hovered close to Sero, shuffling back until his knees were no longer touching his boyfriend.

They waited with baited breath for the machine’s verdict.

“No shock advised. Continue compressions.”

Iida was back in position in less than a second, pushing down on his boyfriend’s chest again. Sero’s sternum was firm below the heel of Iida’s palm.

How many times had he languidly traced his fingers across Sero’s skin, trailing ghosts of fingertips over his boyfriend’s sternum, a flat palm pressed over where Iida could feel the strong thumping of Sero’s heart? He’d become so accustomed to just reaching out and touching Sero, it was normal, but this wasn’t like that.

There was no sight of black eyes watching him carefully as Sero’s lips curled into a smile, a soft “I love you” on his tongue.

The stupid monotonous “press, press, press” from the AED was not helping to ease Iida’s panic. He couldn’t do more than try to tune it out.

“Come on, Hanta,” Iida pleaded, his voice breaking with the pent up emotion he had accumulated in the past few minutes. “Breathe.” Iida was still pressing on Sero’s chest, hoping that with every thrust downwards that it would spur Sero into motion. “Please, Hanta. You have to breathe!”

Yaoyorozu and Uraraka both refrained from saying anything as the tears started to fall, Iida couldn’t keep them at bay anymore. He was tired, he was desperate, and Sero was still cold and unresponsive.

His tears hit the back of Iida’s hand, others pooling on Sero’s skin.

Aizawa couldn’t have picked a better or worse time to show up.

There was some shuffling and Aizawa was kneeling on the other side of Sero, Yaoyorozu having moved to take over the position by Sero’s head. Where did Uraraka go?

“Iida,” Aizawa said. He was clearly out of breath. Had he run to them? Iida didn’t doubt that his teacher would. After all, he’d proven himself willing to give his life for them. “Next round you’re swapping out with me,” he commanded in a low voice.

Iida shook his head. “I can’t”.

“You can. You’re tired and you need to let me take over. You’ve done well, let me help, Iida.”

Iida couldn’t keep up his argument. Aizawa was right, he was tired.

As he finished his round of compressions, he leant back heavily, turning his legs so that he didn’t sit on his engines.

Aizawa offered him a sympathetic look, but there was an edge to it - worry.

Iida couldn’t do anything more than watch as Aizawa took over. He kept his eyes trained on Sero’s face, mostly obscured by the mask. Yaoyorozu also had tears in her eyes but with her lips pressed into a firm line, they didn’t spill.

That’s when it really sank in.

This was supposed to be a routine training exercise, and now Sero might not walk away from it. How did everything go so wrong so quickly?

Aizawa was still going when he spoke, “Sero, if you open your eyes, I’ll give you an A on every test left in the semester.”

There was a weird quality to his voice. Iida wasn’t used to hearing this much identifiable emotion from his teacher, a plea with the unconscious kid he was supposed to take care of, masked in useless humour.

Sero would laugh if he made Aizawa cry. It had always been such a bizarre thing to think about, but Iida wasn’t so sure anymore.

His timing was almost comical.

As Aizawa started on his second round of compressions, the student beneath him jolted, spitting up water as he desperately tried to suck air into his lungs.

“Sero!” Yaoyorozu exclaimed, Iida had no doubt that she was crying those tears now.

“Turn him on his side,” Aizawa instructed as he slid his hands under Sero’s shoulder and hip, turning him towards Iida who quickly moved to help guide Sero into a stable side position.

He was breathing, and it finally felt like Iida could breathe too.

Sero was coughing as his chest spasmed, emptying his lungs of filthy river water.

Yaoyorozu was cooing and brushing Sero’s hair out of his face. If the tape user was more aware right now he probably would have been blushing at the ministrations, but currently they just helped to settle his panicked writhing.

“Just breathe, Sero,” Iida says, his voice uncharacteristically shaky but no one dares question it. He’s completely focused on holding Sero steady as he breathes. The sound is laboured and wheezy but it’s the most beautiful thing Iida has ever heard.

Iida doesn’t even look when Aizawa unwraps his capture weapon from around his neck and slides the bundle of fabric under Sero’s head. His scarred and much bigger than Yaoyorozu’s hand rested against the back of his student’s wet head for a few moments before he retracted it, instead opting to hold onto Sero’s wrist, feeling his pulse and looking at his watch on his other wrist.

“You did good, kid. Focus on breathing.”

Sero let out a weak and breathless laugh. He seemed to be done with coughing up the water, much to Iida’s relief. “Praise from Aizawa-sensei, I really must be dead.”

Aizawa didn’t look up from his watch. “Do you know where you are?”

“Somewhere wet,” Sero grumbled before shuddering. “I’m cold.”

“Yaoyorozu, do you think you could make him a blanket?”

Iida looked up at Yaoyorozu, only really looking at her at this moment. Her eyes were red and her face tear-streaked, she looked exhausted. He felt bad that Aizawa was asking her to do even more after she just exhausted herself and her quirk to save Sero’s life.

But Sero was shivering pretty aggressively under Iida’s hold. His lips and nose were still discoloured, and from this angle he could see that the purple tint extended to Sero’s eyelids.

She nodded. “Of course.”

Aizawa wrote something on the back of his hand as he set Sero’s hand down. Iida had no idea where his teacher had produced the pen but he was fairly impressed with Aizawa’s efficiency and professionalism. Especially considering that Iida and Yaoyorozu were both still crying. The wetness on Aizawa’s cheeks did not evade the class representative’s notice though.

As the sparkles in the corner of Iida’s vision died down, he was handed the corner of a very fluffy blanket, Aizawa taking the other as they tucked it around Sero.

“The ambulance is almost here,” Uraraka’s voice chirped helpfully from behind Iida. He hadn’t realised that she was still there.

“Thank you, Uraraka. Do you think you and Asui can meet them when they enter the training grounds and guide them here?” Aizawa asked, his voice so soft it was frankly unnerving.

“Of course, sensei!”

And with that, the two girls were gone.

“Tenya?” Sero croaked, snapping Iida back to focus.

“Yeah?”

If Aizawa noticed the use of Iida’s given name, he didn’t give any indication. Maybe he was just too relieved that Sero was alive to care much about anything else. The teacher just continued to kneel there with a hand on Sero’s back and his eyes on his watch.

“Are you okay?” Sero asked softly, reaching for Iida with a clumsy hand. Cold fingers wrapping around Iida’s own.

Iida takes a few seconds to be surprised. “What?”

“You’re crying.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Sero hums thoughtfully. “I like it better when you smile.”

They kept up the random chatter until the ambulance arrived. Aizawa took the role of talking to the paramedics and Iida was incredibly grateful for that, he wasn’t sure he could get through a sentence without crying at the moment. He was feeling very emotionally raw.

The paramedics were nice enough to work around Iida, whom Sero was still holding onto.

Sero grumbled when one of the paramedics secured an oxygen mask to his face, letting go of Iida’s hand to try and remove it. He was sitting up now but his eyes were still glossy and he didn’t seem entirely present. Iida snatched Sero’s hand back with a firm look.

“Don’t do that.”

“It feels weird,” Sero whined, his voice muffled by the oxygen mask.

“Too bad. Don’t drown next time.” Iida felt kind of guilty when he was being so strict with Sero, but he wasn’t about to let his boyfriend interfere with his medical care.

“You’re so mean to me.”

Iida was about to respond but he was interrupted by one of the paramedics, he was unsure if it was the same one that gave Sero the oxygen mask or not. “Do you think you can stand?”

Sero paused for a second, mulling over the question before he gave the paramedic a shake of his head.

“That’s okay, we can go at your pace. You can sit here for a little longer and try again or we could figure out some other option that suits you,” the paramedic said in such a comforting tone that even Iida felt reassured.

Sero seemed to perk up at that. “Can Tenya pick me up?”

Iida internally groaned. Their relationship was not going to be a secret from Aizawa after today.

“If that’s what you’re both comfortable with, then sure, I’ll just hold onto the oxygen tank and we’ll get you on the gurney and loaded into the ambulance, okay? It’s much warmer than out here, too.”

Iida had no qualms about lifting Sero. His boyfriend weighed basically nothing and loved being carried around regularly. Sometimes he would be too tired to be bothered walking up to his dorm and made Iida scoop him up and take him there to prevent him from sleeping on the couch and waking up with a crick in his neck.

With an arm under Sero’s shoulders and another behind his knees, Iida easily lifted his partner. It was only a matter of steps to the elevated surface of the gurney which he nestled Sero on easily.

The other paramedic was quick to cover Sero in blankets, especially considering that the one Yaoyorozu kindly provided was pretty much soaked through at this point. Iida hoped she would get some rest when she got back to the dorms, but figured most of the class would wait up for news on their classmate’s condition.

As the paramedics loaded the gurney into the ambulance, one of them turned to speak. “Who’s riding with?”

Iida turned to Aizawa, expecting to be given instructions to handle the class while Aizawa went with Sero to the hospital but Aizawa just nodded his head in the direction of the ambulance. “Go ahead.”

“But sensei-”

“No buts. I’ll wrap things up here and meet you at the hospital. I trust you can handle things for an hour.”

“I- thank you sensei!” Iida said, following his boyfriend into the back of the ambulance.

Turning back to look at Aizawa who was bending over to pick up his sodden capture scarf off the ground, Iida saw the group of their classmates that had gathered. Only a few of them were there, but they all looked off.

Iida’s entire group was there, of course. Yaoyorozu was folding up the soaked blanket she had made for Sero, her face still covered in tears. Uraraka had her arms around Tsuyu, both of them looking worse for wear.

At some point that Iida would not have been able to pinpoint if he tried, Sero’s team had joined them. Ashido was holding onto Kirishima, looking like she’d barely just stopped crying, Kirishima didn’t look much better, his own face streaked with tears. Shinsou hung back from the two, his mask in his hand as he watched everything with wide eyes.

Bakugou wasn’t a member of either group but he was there, looking uncharacteristically solemn. Iida idly wondered how much they’d seen. Bakugou was not known for being quiet, and he was just standing there with a vacant look as his arms hung limply by his side.

Iida turned back to Sero just in time to see him giving his friends a wave.

Out of everyone, he seemed to be taking it the best. He was soaked to the bone, visibly exhausted and had an oxygen mask strapped to his face but he still smiled when he met Iida’s eye.

“Tenya don’t let them take my suit,” Sero called out. Iida was growing more accustomed to Sero speaking through the oxygen mask, making communication much easier. It also helped that Sero was now a lot more aware than he had been in the ambulance.

“It’s beyond salvation, you’re going to need a new one,” Iida stated.

Sero just whined at him. “I don’t want them to cut my suit.”

Iida looked over at the nurse who was already most of the way done cutting the fabric away from Sero’s skin. “I already cut it.”

“But it’s okay when you do it.”

“If you’re brave and listen to the hospital staff, you’ll be able to go home earlier.”

Sero perked up at that. “Really? Can we watch a movie back at the dorms?”

“If you’re feeling up to it when you get discharged, then sure,” Iida said with a soft smile. He rubbed his palms against his thighs, cursing how uncomfortable it was to wear his suit for non-hero purposes. He did not design it with sitting in a chair in mind.

The other issue was that his hands would not stop shaking. It had been a solid half an hour of sitting in the ER with Sero but Iida couldn’t quell the constant trembling. It wasn’t even subtle, he had planned on texting the class group chat with an update but he couldn’t hold his phone steady for long enough to even unlock it.

Sero had noticed, pretty early on actually, he mumbled something about Iida’s shaky hands and offered to hold them. That had lasted for a short while until Sero had gotten tired of trying to comfort Iida. He was very exhausted, losing the energy to do much more than pipe up occasionally when he thought of something funny that he wanted to share.

Iida sincerely doubted that Sero would be able to hold out for an entire movie by the time they got back to the dorms. That was unless the doctor decided to keep Sero overnight, which was still possible.

However, Iida really hoped that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t sure he could handle going back to the dorms for the night and not being able to confirm his boyfriend’s safety with his own eyes.

If the anxiety seized him right now, he could just reach out and take Sero’s hand or look across the bed at the monitor that beeps to reaffirm that Sero’s heart was beating fine.

Iida wasn’t sure he could ever shake the fear of the realisation that it wasn’t. It hadn’t been. He’d come within a hair’s breadth of not sitting next to Sero’s hospital bed as the older boy complained about getting his suit cut off.

He could be sitting in the dorms right now, grieving with everyone else. But he wasn’t.

Sero looked extra unimpressed as he sat up, Iida leapt from his seat, his arm coming up behind Sero’s shoulders to stabilize him.

The nurse quickly tied the hospital gown in place and Sero was eased back onto the now elevated mattress so he could sit up and pout at Iida with minimal effort.

Sero spoke when the nurse left the room, pulling the curtain shut behind her. “It’s ugly.”

Iida rolled his eyes. “It’s practical.”

“Still ugly,” Sero grumbled. “I’m tired.

“Take a nap, I’ll be here the entire time. Just don’t mess with the wires.”

Sero rolled over onto his side and pulled his knees up to his chest. “Goodnight, Tenya.”

“It’s like 3pm.”

“Goodnight, Tenya,” Sero said again, his voice firmer.

Iida couldn’t help but sigh as he stood up again to press a kiss to the top of Sero’s head in his semi-dry hair. “Goodnight, Hanta.”

He lingered for a moment, drinking in the sight of his boyfriend. The whiteness of the hospital gown, the bed sheets and blankets all served to amplify how pale Sero looked. He still had that purple tint to his extremities. There were at least a billion wires poking out from the top of the hospital gown, all of them connected to some monitor or another. The oxygen mask was still firmly fixed to his face, a little grey rectangular clip on the index finger of his right hand to document the necessity for the mask.

He knew Sero had to be feeling pretty awful right now, but his boyfriend continued to joke and try to make Iida smile, it made his heart squeeze in his chest as Iida reached for the bundle of blankets that had slipped to Sero’s feet. He tucked them up to his boyfriend’s shoulders and pressed another kiss to his hair before returning to his seat.

After a trip to radiology for a chest x-ray that Iida had to sit in the waiting area for the duration of, Iida followed Sero up to a room in the pediatric ward.

It was weird, following the orderlies and his boyfriend’s hospital bed through the corridors and a bunch of kids. Some of them were crying and screaming, others running around with friends and giggling. He felt very out of place as an almost-adult still dressed head-to-toe in his hero gear.

As Sero was settled into the room, his oxygen mask was switched to a nasal cannula that showed off the fact that the colour had come back to his face. He still had his pile of blankets as well as an additional IV that the nurse said was warm saline to bring up his body temperature a little faster.

The wires were still there, as was the pulse oximeter clipped to his finger, and a little paper cup of tea in Sero’s hands that he slowly sipped.

Aizawa joined them after a little while, as Sero’s eyelids were beginning to droop again. “What’s the verdict?”

“They killed my suit,” Sero grumbled, pouting like a child.

Aizawa quirked a questioning eyebrow.

“They had to cut it off of him when he arrived,” Iida supplied helpfully.

“I’ll contact the support class when we get back to UA,” Aizawa said simply, ignoring Sero’s pout. He lifted up a hand with two cloth shopping bags dangling from his grip. “I got your classmates to get you both a change of clothes. I figured you didn’t want to be Ingenium right now, and Sero is going to need something to wear when he gets discharged.”

“When is that going to be?” Sero asked, bringing his paper cup to his lips again.

Aizawa levelled him with a stern gaze. “You almost died, Sero.” His expression and voice softened considerably. “I’m glad to see you’re doing better.”

“So when do I get to go home?”

“The doctor said that once his temperature and Oxygen levels are back within a normal range, they’ll keep him for a few extra hours for observation. Said it’s unlikely that they’ll keep him overnight unless a complication arises,” Iida explained.

Aizawa pointed an accusing finger in Sero’s direction. “Don’t even think about wracking up pneumonia or, god forbid, a cardiac arrest. You’ve already traumatised poor Iida enough for one day.”

Sero tapped the finger with his pulse oximeter clipped to it on his chin. “I could do another cardiac arrest, for the drama of it all.”

Iida made a choked noise. “Please don’t.”

Sero and Aizawa both turned to him, Sero’s eyes wide and Aizawa’s eyebrows pulled together - in concern.

“Do you need a hug, Iida?” Aizawa asked in his usual monotone, regarding his student with an unreadable expression.

“What?”

Aizawa spread his arms in an invitation. “Free dad hug, one-time offer.”

“No-” Iida started, not even able to finish his sentence through his surprise. Aizawa was offering to hug him. “No thank you, sensei.”

“Your loss,” Aizawa said with a shrug, dropping his arms back to his sides.

Sero perked up. “I want a dad hug. Can I have a dad hug?”

“No. You give me heart palpitations, you don’t get a dad hug.”

“Aww, just one?” Sero asked, reaching a hand out towards Aizawa. It was clear that Sero was milking this opportunity for all it was worth, he knew he’d never be able to be so casual with Aizawa under any other circumstance without getting scolded.

“Maybe if you still want one when you’re discharged. Focus on recovering for now.”

“On it. You’ve neer seen someone more recovered from drowning than me.”

Aizawa set one of the bags of clothes at the foot of the bed, holding out the other one for Iida to take.

“The Ingenium suit can’t be all that comfortable right now.”

Aizawa’s gaze softened when Iida held the bag of clothes to his chest but didn’t move, his eyes still glued to Sero. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Get changed.”

Iida wanted to object but Aizawa wasn’t wrong. His suit was big and clunky and awkward. It was making his back hurt from the simple task of trying to sit in a chair.

He nodded and quickly shuffled out of the room and to the bathroom at the end of the corridor.

He changed in record speed, not wanting to be away from Sero for too long. The trembling he had finally managed to suppress came back with a vengeance when he left Sero’s company.

Hurrying back, Iida slipped back into the room, dressed in a much more comfortable hoodie and sweatpants.

Aizawa looked up at Iida from his place in the lone seat next to Sero’s bed as the door fell shut behind Iida. “Iida, can I speak with you outside for a moment? It won’t take long.”

“Sure.” Iida said, meeting eyes with Sero who looked equally as confused.

Aizawa continued walking up the corridor until they approached a vending machine. He punched in a few numbers and inserted his money, in a matter of seconds there was a chocolate bar being pressed into Iida’s hand.

“Eat it. You look like you’re about to collapse.” Aizawa’s voice was missing its usual commanding edge but Iida obeyed nonetheless.

“Present Mic is staying with 1-A in the dorms. Last I heard they’re watching movies and ordering food.”

Iida hummed thoughtfully as he continued to eat the chocolate bar under Aizawa’s watchful gaze. “That’s good.”

“They’re all worried, but glad that you’re here with him.”

Iida didn’t have much more to offer than another hum.

He was folding up the empty wrapper with trembling fingers when Aizawa spoke again. “If they do end up deciding to keep him here for the night, I’ll see what I can do about you staying with him.”

Iida looked up at that. “What? Why?”

“Your hands have gotten considerably more shaky the longer we’ve been out here. Staying with your boyfriend will help you keep calm, and I don’t think either of you would benefit from being alone right now.”

Curse how observant Aizawa was. They always forgot, but he noticed the smallest things. “He’s not my boyfriend-”

“Iida,” Aizawa cut him off, “I have known you since you were a baby. You’re going to have to be a better liar than that to convince me.”

“How long have you known?”

“I’ve had my suspicions for a few months, you’re not exactly subtle. But Hizashi and I have been in and out of hospitals enough, I know that look. And Sero calling you by your given name when he was half-conscious while insisting that he hold your hand and be carried by you did not help your case,” Aizawa supplied.

“Ah, that makes sense.”

They stood there in silence for a little longer, before Aizawa of all people broke it.

“Iida.” The softness in his voice was back. This had been a very out of character night for the both of them.

“Yes, sensei?”

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine-” Iida started, looking up to meet Aizawa’s gaze. Which was full of concern as he regarded his student. Iida cut himself off with the strangled sob that clawed its way out of his throat.

And he fell apart. One crack in his resolve and it all came pouring out. He didn’t have the energy to try and stop the sobs and the tears in favour of saving face in front of his teacher.

Aizawa didn’t speak, he just pulled Iida into a hug. There was barely two inches of height between them but Iida had never felt so small.

He continued to cry, loud broken sobs into Aizawa’s shirt, his tears undoubtedly leaving a large wet patch in the fabric. He was just so overwhelmed, more than he had thought, and it all came spilling out of him at once.

Aizawa, to his credit, gave pretty good hugs. He held Iida steady, rubbing circles into his back and mumbling words of comfort. “It’s okay, let it out. You’re gonna be okay.”

It took a while for Iida to finally get his sobbing under control. He had no idea how long he'd been crying in Aizawa's arms but it was definitely too long.

Sero was probably wondering where they were.

Iida cleared his throat. "Sorry sensei, I-"

"Don't mention it," Aizawa cut in quickly. "You've had one hell of a day and you needed comfort. It's nothing to be ashamed about. Personally, I've probably spent more hours crying into Kayama's shoulder than I've spent sleeping in the past month."

"Midnight-sensei?"

Aizawa nodded. "She gives the best hugs."

“That makes sense,” Iida mumbled, wiping at his eyes with the edge of his sleeve.

“Are you feeling better?” Aizawa asked, punching a few more numbers into the vending machine. Iida was hit with the shocking realisation that he’d just had a breakdown in the middle of this corridor, in front of a vending machine. If anyone had wanted a snack all they would have seen was Iida sobbing in his teacher’s arms for god knows how long.

Iida laughed a little breathlessly, there was no humour in the gesture. “Aside from crying out half the fluid in my body, yeah. Thank you, sensei.”

Aizawa bent down to retrieve something from the vending machine, only to hand a water bottle to Iida.

“Let’s go check on trouble, what do you think?”

Iida nodded, smiling softly as Aizawa began walking back to Sero’s room.

Sero had been discharged at midnight. A full nine hours after his admission. It’d been a long night.

By 5pm, Sero had been taken off of his supplemental oxygen, and his levels stayed consistent in its absence.

The remaining seven hours passed without incident.

Most of them were spent with Sero insisting that Iida sit in the bed with him as he messed around on the younger boy’s phone. Iida had supervised Sero’s texting the class group chat and the older boy went as far as to send a selfie of himself and Iida to comfort their concerned classmates.

“Mina says you look worse than I do,” Sero chirped.

Iida just nodded, leaning his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Tell her I said thank you.”

Sero showed him a few pictures that had been sent in the group chat. One of Present Mic drinking a mug of something in the dorm kitchen with his hair out of it’s gelled spike and in a complicated arrangement of braids and Ashido standing next to him, looking incredibly proud of herself.

A picture of Bakugou sitting on the couch, his head on Kirishima’s chest, he appeared to be asleep, bundled up in a hoodie that was definitely not his if the print on the back was anything to go buy. Iida was fairly confident that Kirishima was the only student in their class who owned limited edition Crimson Riot merchandise.

Another picture, this time of the floor where Uraraka appeared to be demolishing Jirou and Todoroki in uno.

The final picture Sero showed him was a selfie sent by Kaminari, the electric boy looking very happy as he threw up a peace sign, Shinsou was sitting next to him and held up a less enthusiastic peace sign but still gave them a smile.

Soaking in the physical affirmation that Sero was okay as the older boy pressed into his side was enough to soothe Iida’s anxiety. He sat back as Sero messed around on his phone, chatting with their classmates until he got a little too overwhelmed for his tired mind to keep up with.

Sero had begged to watch a movie not long after he’d bid farewell to the class chat, only to fall asleep on Iida’s shoulder before they were even halfway through it. Iida, however, was not far behind him.

The nurses had been very stealthy with their regular vital checks, successfully not rousing either of the boys as Aizawa continued to do all the necessary paperwork and phone calls in silence.

The two of them were woken a little past midnight by Sero’s doctor carrying out a final check of the boy’s condition before happily handing Aizawa the discharge papers.

Aizawa and Iida waited in the corridor for a nurse to help Sero get changed. When the eldest boy joined them, he was wearing an outfit not dissimilar to Iida’s. In fact, he was wearing one of Iida’s hoodies that hung loose on his lanky frame.

Iida had half a mind to just carry Sero up to his room when he fell asleep in the passenger seat of Aizawa’s car, a blanket tucked under his chin.

Gently shaking his shoulder, Sero stirred with an unintelligent string of mumbling. “Tenya?”

“I know you wanna sleep, but we’re at the dorms now, so you gotta wake up enough to get to bed.”

“Carry me,” Sero grumbled, his hands fisting in the fabric of Iida’s hoodie.

Iida couldn’t help but to laugh a little at his partner’s antics. Sero was so clingy when he was tired. “I would, sweetheart, but everyone’s been waiting for us to get home and I’m afraid they might collapse if they see me carrying you inside.”

“That’s so rude of them.”

“Okay, you tell them that.”

“I will,” Sero said firmly as he stumbled, half-asleep, out of Aizawa’s car, his hands still latched onto his boyfriend, using Iida to steady himself.

Aizawa silently watched the scene unfold, never saying anything as he followed behind the pair. Eighteen sets of eyes landed on them the second they stepped over the threshold.

“Sero!” a cacophony of voices called out.

“Don’t crowd him, he’s exhausted,” Aizawa commanded over the buzzing activity around him. “Where’s Mic?”

Iida watched Bakugou shrug and point towards the common room couches with the jerk of his thumb. “He fell asleep.”

Aizawa quickly departed from Iida and Sero’s side, headed over to rouse his husband. Iida couldn’t fathom how they’d actually managed to keep their relationship a secret from the students for this long. They were nothing close to subtle.

Iida stepped back a little, his hand still in Sero’s as the class descended upon them. Kirshima, Kaminari and Ashido all took turns giving their friend a hug. There were lots of questions thrown around, and a lot more hugs for Sero to receive, even one for Iida from Yaoyorozu who looked as worn out as he felt.

Tears were shed, everyone basking in the relief that their classmate was back, safe and sound.

“You look wiped,” Kirishima said as he turned to Iida who just offered him a half-hearted smile.

“It’s been a long day. I think we’re just gonna head up to bed before Sero falls asleep standing up.”

Kirishima gave him a firm pat on the back. “Good luck with that, Bakubro is intent on feeding you both. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to admitting that he cares, do not take it lightly.”

Iida nodded before turning back to Sero who was almost swaying on his feet. “Let’s go sit down, Bakugou made food.”

Sero hummed, not even bothering to open his eyes as Iida wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “He’s a good cook.”

Sitting on one of the common room couches, under the watchful eyes of everyone who wasn’t convinced that Sero was okay just yet, Sero and Iida shared a bowl of tofu stir fry.

Sero didn’t have the stomach for much, and insisted that Iida feed him, too tired to operate chopsticks on his own. He’d fallen asleep curled up into Iida’s side before the bowl was even emptied.

Iida stayed on the couch with Sero for a little while, talking with his remaining company in a low voice until he started to feel himself drifting off. It was time they made their way up to bed.

There was truly no other option but to carry Sero upstairs at this point, it was nearing 2am and there was no hope to rouse his partner for long enough to get all the way up to either of their dorms.

Bakugou, Ashido, Kirshima and Kaminari had been the only ones to stay up with them until that point. Shinsou was also there but he had spent the better part of the last hour asleep with his head in Kaminari’s lap while the latter ran his hand through the unruly purple hair, so he didn’t really count.

Actually, Bakugou seemed to be the only one still fully awake, despite his tendency to go to bed much earlier than everyone else. He’d never admit to it, but he had been worried, Iida didn’t have to know Bakugou well to know that much.

“Thank you,” Iida said, careful not to wake Sero up as he spoke.

Bakugou just looked at him and huffed. “I didn’t do it for you, nerd.”

“I’m grateful nonetheless, do you want a hand getting everyone up to their rooms?”

“They can take themselves, just take him upstairs.”

Iida pretended not to notice the lack of his usual nicknames as he turned back to Sero, shaking his shoulder lightly.

“No,” Sero mumbled, turning to bury his face further into Iida’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

Sero turned his head upwards to give Iida a pointed look through his messy and now dry hair. “You’re gonna make me get up.”

“Correct.”

“No.”

Iida leaned down until his mouth was level with Sero’s ear. “If we go upstairs we can cuddle,” he whispered in a low voice.

Sero hummed. “Really? Lead the way, Class Prez.”

It was not a complicated process to scoop Sero up and into his arms, one arm under his back, the other curled behind his knees. Sero’s weight was a comfort to have resting against Iida’s chest as he walked them to the elevator.

It was times like this that he was glad his boyfriend weighed the same as a bunch of grapes. On a good day, Iida could easily lift the heavier members of their class, but at that moment he was beyond exhausted and he wasn’t sure if he could even carry Sero much further than up to his dorm.

The elevator ride up to the fifth floor passed by quickly, and Iida easily made his way to Sero’s dorm.

If Iida had to wager a guess who had put the extra blankets on the bed and arranged what looked like a care basket on the little table in the middle of the room, he would put all of his money on Ashido. She notoriously would pick on and tease the other members of the Bakusquad but she had proven herself to be incredibly thoughtful and considerate on multiple occasions.

He would have to remember to thank her in the morning.

For now, his only goal was getting his boyfriend into bed. After everything, Iida felt like he could sleep for a week, figuring that Sero was not going to object to that plan.

Setting Sero down on the bed, Iida moved to pull the blankets on top of his partner. As he tucked the edge of the blankets under his boyfriend’s chin, he moved to smooth the furrow in Sero’s brows with his thumb.

Sero blinked up at Iida then. His black eyes found blue ones in the low lighting. “Are you staying?”

“Sure,” Iida said. He had been planning to sleep in the hammock, giving Sero space but also being close enough to verify that he was safe.

“Not in the hammock,” Sero said sternly, narrowing his eyes at Iida. “You said we could cuddle.”

Iida sighed, there was no use trying to argue, he was putty in Sero’s hands. “Little spoon or big spoon?”

“Little spoon.”

Sero pulled the blankets back as he shuffled closer to the edge of the bed, making room for Iida to slot himself into place behind him. It wasn’t the smoothest job of sharing the bed that they’ve ever done but Iida eventually settled in, sliding his arms around Sero and holding him close to his chest.

Iida buried his face in the crook of Sero’s neck, breathing in the scent of his boyfriend. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he mumbled into his shoulder.

He felt Sero’s soft laugh against his chest. “Me too. I can’t have some dude hitting you up with a ‘he would want you to move on’, you’re mine forever.”

“Forever,” Iida said, tightening his hold around Sero ever so slightly.

Sero hummed, the sound was low in his throat and Iida could feel the vibration of it against his skin. “Forever.”

Iida was lounging on Sero’s bed, not quite bothering to get up just yet. His eyes trailed Sero’s movements as the older boy circled his room. He had a check in with Recovery Girl in an hour so he was intent on getting changed himself. After the past few days, the soreness and exhaustion were starting to ease and he was a lot more mobile.

And that’s how Iida ended up face-to-face with a shirtless Sero who was still trying to figure out what shirt he wanted to wear as Iida’s eyes zeroed in on the dark purple bruising covering the front of his boyfriend’s chest.

It looked painful but Sero paid it no mind.

“Hanta?” Iida called out, sitting up with a much more tense posture than he had had moments ago.

“Hmm?”

“Are those bruises?”

Sero looked at Iida for a moment, confused, before looking down at his chest and giving his boyfriend a chuckle and a shrug. “Oh, those, yeah. I assume they’re from you, y’know, restarting my heart.” He paused, running a hand through his messy black hair. “Thanks for that by the way.”

“No problem…” Iida trailed off, starting at the mottled discolouration on Sero’s chest. He wondered if it had really hit Sero yet, truly how close the older boy had come to losing his life only two days ago.

The two of them had been excused from classes for at least a few days unless Sero was feeling up to going to class before then. Sero’s absence for the purpose of rest and recuperation, Iida’s to keep an eye on his boyfriend and look out for any symptoms of secondary drowning or pneumonia. He helped Sero to remember to take his antibiotics as well as just helping him do tasks that were a little too strenuous.

Aizawa had given them a stern look and told them to call him if they needed to or if they were worried about something. He’d also told the two of them that they had appointments with Hound Dog scheduled for them on the following Monday.

The rest of the class had informed the two of them that all training exercises had been suspended for the rest of the week until any changes to improve student safety could be made. Iida did not envy the meetings that Aizawa was undoubtedly going to be sitting through in the week to come.

“You know, you could always blame those on Aizawa-sensei,” Iida said, hoping to lighten the dark look that had crossed Sero’s face.

Sero blanched. “Aizawa-sensei saw me without a shirt on.”

Iida couldn’t help but to raise his eyebrows at the shift in mood. “I think that was the least of his concerns.”

“I can’t show my face ever again,” Sero groaned, flopping face first onto the bed. Only to let out another groan and roll onto his back, rubbing a free hand on his chest that had undoubtedly protested the motion.

“You are being dramatic.”

Sero rounded on Iida, giving him a serious look. “Do you think he noticed that my nipples are uneven?”

Iida just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up. “Your nipples are not uneven, Hanta.”

Sero nodded sagely. “Yaomomo definitely noticed.”

Iida threw a pillow at his boyfriend.

#bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #mha fanfiction #mha fic #seroiida #seriida #iidasero #iisero #nyoomtape #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #sero hanta #iida tenya

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twices-pup · 4 years ago

Text

Tattoos Together

title : tattoos together ( son chaeyoung x gn reader )

word count : 1,682 words

genre : fluff

warnings : mentions of needles

synopsis : [ requested ] you face a fear to remind your girlfriend, chaeyoung, that you love her for all that she is, including her tattoos.

side note : my first request finally done! i really hope the anon who requested and anyone else who reads this likes it! the request was a little vague so i had trouble making this fic long enough, and had to rewrite it a few times but since today is chaeyoung's birthday i was determined to finally get this out! happy strawberry princess day, everyone!! also, the title is definitely inspired by the song tattoos together by lauv because i suck at coming up with titles.

You were never one to be fond of the idea of getting a tattoo. It most probably stemmed from the fear of needles that you've had since you were a child and never quite grew out of. The mere thought of your skin being pierced and inked was enough to send a chill down your spine, which was why you vowed to yourself to never so much as step foot into a tattoo parlor.

Your girlfriend, on the other hand, loved getting tattoos. Her skin was like a canvas, and the tattoos she had gotten over the past couple of years were the works of art. You weren't surprised, Chaeyoung herself was nothing short of an artist, after all—if you handed her a pen and a piece of paper, she'd be able to conjure up a masterpiece out of thin air. Although you were still very much against getting a tattoo yourself, you've learned to love each and every one of the tattoos adorning her skin just as much as you loved the person herself.

Chaeyoung told you her intentions to get a couple more new tattoos shortly before TWICE began filming for the music video of their then newest title track, More & More, for the mini album of the same name. She was over at your place for a visit and the two of you were lazing on your couch together, television turned on and your eyes on the screen but neither of you really focusing on the program playing. You had an arm around her shoulders while she rested her head in the crook of your neck, the room pretty dark save for the light flashing from the TV screen and some sunlight that filtered in through your drawn-in curtains. "I've already looked up some designs I like," she had said. "I'll only pick one or two to get tattooed."

You didn't think much of it at first, the only thing that crossed your mind was "Ah, my girlfriend is getting another tattoo, cool." However, that was until you made an off-handed comment, with your eyes still glued on the TV. "You really like getting tattoos, huh? You have so many already, but you still want to get more."

Upon hearing your words, Chaeyoung suddenly became aware that you were subconsciously rubbing her upper arm gently, your fingers brushing right over the cherry tomatoes tattoo she had there. She didn't say anything at first, your living room back to being quiet other than the voices of the actors coming from the TV speaker. "Yeah, I really do," she suddenly answered you after you thought that the topic had been dropped. "I hope you don't have a problem with that."

Although she had muttered the last part under her breath, you were able to hear it clearly. You turned away from the TV to look at her, with a tiny crease between your eyebrows that were furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? Why would I have a problem with it?" you asked her softly.

Chaeyoung met your eyes and sighed. "Not everyone is a fan of girls with tattoos, you know?" she said, her gaze dropping from you to her lap. "So as the person I'm dating, I hope you're not one of those people. Those people who hold prejudice against tattoos or something like that."

Throughout the duration you had known Chaeyoung, you had always viewed her as someone who's free-spirited and jaunty, who doesn't let what other, insignificant people think of her get to her head, as long as she's able to do what she wants to do and be who she wants to be. So seeing her suddenly be so self-conscious about her tattoos, about something she'd usually feel so natural about, caught you by surprise. You realized that, perhaps, as her significant other, your opinion of her meant more to her than that of others did, and you immediately regretted letting your guard down and making such a careless remark.

"Hey," you called out softly, reaching for one of her hands to hold it in yours. "I do not and will never have any kind of problems with your tattoos. I know you love them, and that's completely okay," you assured her, offering her a gentle smile when she looked up at you. Her eyes searched your face for a moment, before she started chuckling.

"Thank you, y/n. Wow, that conversation got so serious all of a sudden. I feel a little embarrassed now, let's talk about something else."

You obliged with a nod, letting Chaeyoung shift the conversation to a different topic as you didn't want her to feel awkward or uncomfortable. Though you did make a mental note to remind her more frequently that you loved her, every single part of her.

On the day of her appointment at her regular tattoo parlor, you gave her a call. "Hey, y/n," she greeted you when she answered her phone. "What's up? I was just about to head to the tattoo place."

"Yeah, that's what I called you for," you said on your end of the call, feeling a little nervous but refusing to turn back on your decision. "Would it be okay if I tagged along with you?"

Your question was met with a moment of silence as Chaeyoung fully took in what you were asking her. "You want to come with me...to a tattoo parlor?" she asked for confirmation, and you nodded, although you were well aware that she wasn't able to see you. "Yes," you verbally answered. "I wanna accompany you as you get your new tattoos."

Knowing you, Chaeyoung surely hadn't expected you to willingly want to watch her get tattooed, in fact it came as a pretty big surprise to her, but if that was what you truly wanted then she had no reason to refuse. She texted you the address of the tattoo parlor and you met up with her there roughly half an hour later, swallowing down your nerves and telling yourself that you were doing it for you girlfriend all throughout your journey.

As the two of you entered the establishment, Chaeyoung noticed your shifty eyes looking all around the tattoo studio, and saw that you seemed more unsure of your decision to come by the passing second. "If you're having any regrets, you can leave at any time," she told you.

Despite the slight uneasiness you were feeling, you quickly shook your head. "It's okay, Chaengie. Like I said, I'm gonna be here for you."

"But why? y/n, you and I both know you're scared of needles, including tattoo needles."

"Because I know how much you love your tattoos. And I love you, so I wanna give you my support."

Your response was enough to put a wide smile on Chaeyoung's face, and seeing her smile was enough to make you smile too, in spite of your jitters. Chaeyoung's hand found yours and held it tightly as she led you deeper into the tattoo parlor. "Thank you," you heard her whisper. "I love you too."

The tattoo parlor was brighter than you had imagined it to be, but frankly that was because you had pictured the place to resemble a dark, soul-sucking torture chamber. Although the sufficient lighting managed to calm your nerves down a bit, the many scary-looking tattoo designs—skulls, snakes, demonic faces—hung up on the walls as decorations weren't helping. As you sat next to Chaeyoung at one of the tattooing stations, you did your best to not look at anything that, to you, were frightening, especially the tattoo machines.

You stayed quiet and only watched as Chaeyoung showed the tattoo artist the designs that she had chosen and told him where she wanted the tattoos to be. Your body tensed up and your breath hitched in your throat when the man took out a tattoo machine and started preparing to tattoo your girlfriend. Chaeyoung, noticing that you were as stiff as a board, gave you a reassuring smile. As much as you appreciated the gesture, you weren't able to smile back.

When the man finally started, you immediately diverted your eyes from your girlfriend to stare down at the floor. However, that did little to nothing to block out the whirring sound of the machine as it did its job. You gripped Chaeyoung's hand, the side that wasn't being tattooed, claiming that you were comforting her, though she had a feeling that it was the other way around instead.

"You're acting like you're the one getting a tattoo," she couldn't help but tease you.

When he was done with her tattoos after what felt like an eternity to you, you let out a heavy sigh of relief. You were finally able to turn back to Chaeyoung as she showed you her two new tattoos, one of a plant on her upper right arm and another of a butterfly by her right wrist.

"Woah, they look great," you complimented, genuinely impressed by the artist's handiwork. "I can't believe I made it through that, I guess watching people get tattooed isn't so bad after all."

Chaeyoung raised an eyebrow at you, amusement evident in her smile. "It isn't, but saying you watched me get tattooed is a bit of a stretch," she opined, and you pouted. "I was still here nonetheless," you argued.

"Alright, alright. Fair enough." Your girlfriend chuckled. "Then maybe next time you can take it a step further and get a tattoo yourself."

You playfully scrunched up your nose at her words and were about to oppose, until she continued. "Maybe we can even get matching ones!" she proposed, her eyes bright with excitement over the idea. Your expression softened in an instant, a wide smile making its way onto your face. Whenever she looked at you like that, with such innocent joy, it was near impossible for you to ever say no.

"Well, maybe one day," you told her, as you helped her up from her seat.

"Maybe one day, we can get tattoos together."

. . .

please do not repost my work, whether on tumblr or on any other site.

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exquisitley-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 2

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn's attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain's father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is going to be a long, slow burn fic (hopefully)

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Two: Interrogations

Historically, it is well known for males to experience the mating bond more viscerally, though this is no strict criterion. For example, in the case of two males being bonded, the mating bond appears to be less demanding and settles with more ease. It is males mated to females who appear to struggle. There are many theories for this, such as male/female bonding resulting in strong offspring which drives the males to copulate. Some even argue that the male’s desire comes from the Mother’s lover himself, who’s believed to have taken fire into his soul in order to reach the Motherland and mate her, and it is a bead of this fire which awakens in males when they feel the mating bond catalysed. As such, we find there being many social customs regarding mated males, such as being wary of their ease to anger and protectiveness and their overtly increased sex drive which-

“Good book?” Feyre flopped down next to Elain, Nyx having just been placed in his cradle which appeared more like a cage given the mesh wiring over the top, ‘just so he doesn’t get any ideas about flying away’, Feyre had grinned.

“It’s okay,” Elain smiled at her sister as she marked her place and set it down.

“Oh,” Feyre grinned as she eyed the title, “Interested in the bond are we?” She was just teasing, but Elain couldn’t stop the flush in her cheeks, particularly given her recent discovery on just how, physical, the bond was.

“Well considering I do have mate, I thought it was about time I looked into it.”

“You can ask me anything,” Feyre smiled kindly. “I mean, technically you could ask Nesta too but, she still isn’t the biggest fan of Lucien.” Even hearing his name on someone else’s tongue sent a bolt of energy through Elain.

“Well, I was wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“Are they really supposed to be your soulmate?”

“Well, yes and no. That’s the problem with mating bonds, they sort of mould themselves around the two people it’s attached to. It’s different with everyone. Like me and Rhys, we have a really clear mental communication, I can talk to him even if I was on the other side of Prythian, but that’s because we’re both dementias and the bond’s playing to that strength.

“Nesta and Cassian, well, I can’t speak for them, but it seems they connect on world view. Their lives are inherently interlinked with death and that’s what connects them…amongst, other, things,” Feyre giggled, “It really is different for everyone. And sometimes, yes, the bond connects two people who don’t seem to fit with one another, like Rhys’ parents for example. I don’t know if you’ve got to this section yet,” Feyre nodded to the book, “But some see the bond as not restrained to time. That’s why you and Lucien felt the bond snap into place even before you knew each other. Some people think that when you have ‘poor’ pairings, they not really bad matches but rather, the bond saw the two for their potential rather than what they were at the time.”

Elain’s brow furrowed. She’d wanted to read the book to make herself feel better, she’d never admit it to herself, but she was somewhat looking for a big flashing sign that pointed to Lucien and said ‘He’s your soulmate! You’re a perfect match! You’ll never have to worry about be alone again!’. But reading the book had only made it more complicated. The reality was, Lucien was to have a significant role in her life, whether she wanted him to or not.

“But…I don’t know…” Elain rolled her neck, “Is it worth it?”

“Is what worth it? The bond?”

“No…well, yes. I mean,” Elain thought for a moment, “I just don’t understand how the universe could expect me to fight for someone who I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I do see how that’s a bit unfair but, do you not think the bond’s doing that on purpose?”

“What do you mean?

“Well, it looks like the bond is demanding you take a leap of faith. Giving you Lucien the minute you set eyes on him is, well, it changed your whole world, right?”

“I know,” Elain huffed.

“No, what I mean is…maybe that’s the point?” Feyre was now more talking to herself. “Maybe…” Feyre trailed off before turning and eyeing her sister up and down.

“What?” Elain implored, and Feyre just shook her head, deep in thought.

“It’s just, I’ve been trying to figure it out y’know, you and Lucien, I think we all have.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, it’s just, he’s…well he’s loud and flirty and he can’t shut up for the life of him, it’s why he’s missing that damn eye. And you’re quiet and shy, and you just, you care about everything but…” Feyre was grinning now.

“What?”

“No, no, never mind. I just…” Feyre only smiled wider.

“No, I’m not going to say!” And then Feyre was up, collecting empty mugs from the coffee table.

“Feyre, you can’t leave, you haven’t helped me!”

“I know, I know, look, truth time,” Feyre turned back around, her smile now replaced by her High Lady look, “You’re right, you don’t know if it’s worth it. You and Lucien might turn out like Rhys’ parents, or worse…but he is your mate, and he’s not going anywhere.”

“So, what, I just proposition him next time he’s here?” Elain sighed, running a hand through her hair, feeling the same kernel of disappointment in her gut whenever she thought of Lucien on the other side of the country, avoiding the mating bond, avoiding her.

“Or you could go to him?” Elain snapped her head to her sister, who was wearing an easy smile.

“What?”

“You could go to the human lands and stay with him and his, what’s it, ‘Band of Exiles’.”

“What, just show up?”

“Actually, it’s not such a terrible idea,” Again, Feyre was now talking to herself, “Lucien’s been struggling to get the humans on board and you, well you might be perfect for the job. You understand how humans work and you had to deal with paperwork from father, not to mention the fact that quite literally no one can say no to you-”

“Lucien can,” Elain grumbled without thinking and Feyre grinned at her with a stupid, all-knowing smile.

“Elain, if you wanted, I’m sure you could have Lucien crawling around on all fours.” Elain looked away from her sister, ignoring the fact that the image popped into her mind before she could stop it, and especially ignoring the way her whole body seemed to flush in response.

“The only problem might be getting Rhys on board,” Feyre’s mind appeared to be working a mile a minute. “With what happened with Briallyn he’s a bit more, well, Rhysand than usual. And you know how he sees you.” Yes, the big brotherly talks had been slightly more regular given Nyx’s arrival. Elain supposed it was Rhysand’s subconscious way of reaching out.

“I’ll be fine if Lucien is there,” Elain shrugged non-committedly, though something zipped the length of her spine as she spoke his name aloud. One thing Elain, and everyone else could be certain of, is that Lucien would keep her safe.

“Look at you trying to manipulate around your High Lord.”

“Not manipulate-”

“I know, I know,” Feyre grinned as she peered over the edge of Nyx’s crib. “Look, on a serious note, there is work that needs doing down in the human lands if you’re up for it. After Briallyn we need a stronger base to represent the fae in the mortal world. Some more eyes and ears wouldn’t hurt and, quite frankly, whilst Lucien knows exactly how to work a court of fae, I don’t know how well he’s faring with councils of humans.”

Elain thought for a moment, truly considering what it would mean if she were to take on this role. It would mean accepting responsibility, being held accountable if she made a mistake, one that couldn’t fixed with some new seeds and freshly turned soil. She’d be on the other side of the world, away from her sisters – away from Nesta – for the first time, well, ever.

“I…” Elain began softly, “I think I’d like to go.”

“Really?” Despite Feyre’s enthusiasm in discussing Elain’s potential in leaving, it was clear that she was still mostly expecting Elain to pass on the opportunity.

“I can’t tend to my little gardens forever,” Elain shrugged, “With Lucien there I should be perfectly safe and, well, it’s human territory. I know those lands, arguably better than you and Nesta.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Feyre nodded furiously, though she seemed to not really be listening to her older sister, her mind was already helping Elain pack her dresses. “I’ll speak with Rhysand and sort out the particulars.”

“Will you,” Elain blushed without meaning to, “Will you warn Lucien? That I’m coming?” Feyre shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I don’t have to. Technically, as his High Lady I can do whatever I want, and he just has to roll with it.”

“Okay,” Elain let loose a breath, “Don’t tell him then. I’d just…I’m not sure. I suppose I’d just rather not spook him.”

“Whatever you say sis,” Feyre grinned, and Elain allowed her own lips to mirror her sisters, the excitement and reality of the adventure she was about to undertake truly setting in. Feyre turned to leave.

“Oh Feyre…let’s not tell Nesta…at least not till I’m already gone.”

***

“Hello, earth to Lucien?”

“What? Oh...sorry, go on,” Lucien muttered, shifting is attention back to Vassa whom he was supposed to be chatting to. This was their routine, when the sun finally dipped under the horizon and Vassa returned to her mortal form, she’d waltz into the manor before disappearing upstairs to change from the cloak she left out for herself into a queen’s gown. Today she’d come down wearing a deep crimson dress made of velvet, grumbling about how the storm that was currently beating against the windows, had quite literally ruffled her feathers. The evening was then to be spent in the Manor’s sitting room, sprawled on velvet couches as Jurian informed Vassa of the recent developments regarding the human councils, and Lucien told her of the fae lands.

Normally, Lucien would last till the early hours of the morning before leaving Vassa to whatever activities she wished to complete before the sun rose and her body was changed back into that of a firebird. But these past few nights Lucien had caught himself staying awake till almost sunrise, only getting an hour or two sleep before he was up again, his body alive with energy as he strode out into the woods in the early morning light.

Everything about Lucien felt unsettled and alive, and it had been that way since the previous week when Lucien had woke to his mate’s tears running down his cheeks. What could’ve upset her so badly? Had something happened at the Night Court? He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been waiting for a note from Rhysand or Feyre informing him of a terribly tragic event that had occurred when he was on the other side of the world. Even if nothing had happened, it could of, and Elain could’ve been seriously hurt. What was he doing on this side of the world? He should be there, even if she didn’t know what she wanted, at least he could keep her safe while she thought. But with no note, he didn’t know why sweet Elain was so agonisingly sad, and there was no reason besides the bond’s invasion of privacy for him to see her. But it seemed that he couldn’t relax until he found the cause of her pain. Found it and burned it to ashes.

“Lucien!”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Dinner, tomorrow evening, Nolan Manor – Mother did you get any of that?” Vassa’s eyes were light and her tone teasing, but Lucien was feeling more beast than man with his bond so wound up.

“No offence, Vassa, but I think you might be finally losing it if you think I’d be interested in dinner at the Nolan’s.” Lucien rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension as he looked back down at the book he’d been pretending to read for the past hour. He could feel Vassa’s eyes on him, assessing him as she always did whenever he came into conversation, which was far too often for his liking.

“Are you still on that?” Vassa eventually huffed, tucking her legs up under herself on the armchair. Lucien just raised a brow at her. Had anything changed? Was Graysen any less of a dickhead? If not, then yes, he supposed he was still on that.

“Our dear Lucien’s a mated male, Vassa,” Jurian quipped without raising his head from his paperwork. “It’s how these things work.”

“But it’s not really fair on Graysen is it?” Vassa flicked a fiery strand of hair over her shoulder.

“Not fair?” Lucien ground the two words out, feeling something animalistic rear its head inside of him. But beyond the primal urges of the bond and any threats to it, Lucien did genuinely dislike the boy. What he did to Elain was beyond cruel, and if he had done that to anyone Lucien would’ve still disliked the boy, granted he might not be baring his teeth at Vassa as he was doing now.

“He did give us the manor, Lucien,” the queen’s voice taunted him.

“One act of kindness doesn’t make him any less of an asshole,” Lucien’s own voice was low and daunting, as though he were daring Vassa to make another comment. Lucien hadn’t intended for his tone to turn brutal and dark, but Vassa clearly had no education in the expectations of a mated male.

“No, but he’s still the asshole putting a roof over our heads,” Vassa sighed, setting her book down. “Does it really upset you?”

“What?”

“Having him help us?”

“We don’t need his help.”

“No,” Vassa cocked her head, “But it’s certainly been of great use.”

“You like him?” Lucien spat, feeling something sour flood his gums as he pulled on his inner leash. Vassa was his friend. Vassa was supposed to be his friend, and Lockhart Manor was supposed to be the place in which he could escape from the demands of this bond.

“He didn’t do anything to me,” Vassa shrugged nonchalantly, “In fact, all he’s been to me is kind and accommodating. Why should I have a problem with him?”

“You know why.” Something feral was awakening in Lucien as he spat those three words at the queen, and in response to the autumn son’s anger, the fire flared dangerously, filling the room with the sound of snapping wood.

“Really?” Vassa’s eyes widened slightly as she assessed Lucien, evidentially amused by his grip on the chair’s armrests and the deathly look in his eye. “That girl can do this to you when she hasn’t even shown her face in-”

“Vassa,” Jurian’s sing-song voice curled into the air from where he was hunched over the worktable, signing off contracts, “Whilst it’s delicious to poke the beast, you can only go so long before it’ll bite.”

“Maybe that’s what I was hoping for,” Vassa shrugged nonchalantly as she inspected her nails. Lucien just glared into the fire, done with this conversation and done with his friends, at least for the night. Sometimes they forgot that he wasn’t like them, that he was fae, and he more or less operated in an entirely different world to them. He couldn’t blame them though, sometimes he forgot too.

Talking of Graysen had Lucien’s thoughts once more swirling of Elain. Though there was no concern in these thoughts, just admiration. He was picturing her in the cream gown she’d worn when he’d come one day to hand deliver a stack of reports to Rhysand. It was made of cotton and lace, the same hearty materials so often found in towns of Autumn. It was so unlike the favoured revealing cuts of Night Court fashion, and so Elain in every sense. The soft gold and white colours, the layered skirts and fluttering sleeves. Looking at her as she tucked herself into a small ball on a sofa, a hefty book balanced on her lap, Lucien had wished that he’d met Elain when she was human, when she was happy and content. Maybe then she would just see him for, well, him. Not a reminder of everything terrible that had happened to her.

“I’m sorry about prodding Lucien,” Vassa smiled at him, pulling him from his thoughts as her freckled cheeks dimpled. “Can I make it up to you by letting you beat me at cards?” She was baiting him, daring him to bite back that no one ‘let’ Lucien do anything but, tonight Lucien was tired. Of everything.

“I’m tapping out,” was all Lucien said in response, standing from his armchair and throwing his book down behind him. The storm was now torrential, and Lucien welcomed the chaos, somewhat comforted by the idea of lying down in the dark and listening to the rain batter against the windows as he brooded himself to sleep.

So, Lucien set off for the stairs, happy to leave his friends to themselves for the rest of the night, but he’d only managed to cross the room before a short, shy knock reverberated from the front door and sent a wave of cautious silence and shock throughout the room.

#elucien #elucien fic #elain #elain acotar #elain archeron #elain and lucien #elain/lucien #elain x lucien #lucien #lucien vanserra #lucien x elain #lucien/elain #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #fffaf

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rq-s · 4 years ago

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Title: Lucid Dreams - Chapter 2

Word Count: 2962

Warnings: Mingyu is featured heavily in the first few chapters and is directly involved in significant plot events. Due to recent events, I understand if reading these chapters may make you uncomfortable, but be aware that you’d be missing core story elements by skipping them. (Details)

Notes: While this chapter is part of a larger story, it can also be read (I hope..) as a standalone Mingyu x F!Reader (Light angst & Fluff) !

Lucid Dreams Masterlist

Chapter 1 |

Yn followed Mingyu’s lead as he guided her through ordering. It wasn’t too dissimilar from a regular café, but he still walked with her to and from the lockers, letting her take the pillow and put her phone and wallet inside, smiling widely when she trusted him to keep the key while she slept. Clearly that was a boost to his ego, especially after his low mood just minutes ago. Yn sat and waited at her table; it wasn't long until the drink was ready.

“Here you go,” Mingyu set the glass bottle in front of her, along with a white napkin and a glass straw. “One Sleepy Mingyu!” There was already an awkward blush on his cheeks, but his smile was wide as he clasped his hands together with pride, like this drink was his child at its first recital.

Yn couldn’t help but want to laugh at the sound of a drink being named after someone like that, and how said person was the one who served it to her. The entire situation felt absurd. And yet she didn’t feel as nervous as she had felt when she walked in. Perhaps it was Mingyu’s vulnerability earlier and knowing that she wasn’t the only one who was nervous, but now she felt unusually comfortable.

“Thank you.” Yn smiled back to him and examined the drink. It did, in fact, look as was advertised. The glass of the bottle and straw were nearly crystal clear, and the hue of the soda itself was a powerful royal purple. The way the bubbles ran up the sides and sizzled at the top made it seem especially refreshing and sophisticated, and there was a bit of condensation on the bottle from how cold it was.

Mingyu still stood by the table, hands held in front of him expectantly. She could hear his breath hitch when she finally took a drink.

It tasted like a mix of all the familiar grape flavors Yn knew. It was a strangely fitting mix of two distinct flavors from her memory: the artificially sweet grape juice from school lunches, and the bubbly grape spritzer from family gatherings. However, this was much better than either of those, creating its own memorable taste. It was ice cold and rich in flavor, with the perfect about of fizziness to disperse it enough and make the strength of it bearable. It tingled as it went down, as if actual light sparkles were in it.

Yn moved away from the straw just enough to be able to speak, tilting her head to look Mingyu’s way.

“This is really good.” He sighed with relief, putting a hand to his chest as if his heart had been racing. He mouthed vague praises for a moment before returning to his professional state.

“That’s good to hear! Please enjoy it, we'll keep you safe while you rest.” Yn giggled and thanked him, letting him practically skip back to the register in his glee.

Yn leaned back in her chair, holding the bottle and letting the straw rest between her lips, trying to relax. Sleeping in a public place wasn’t on her list of things that were easy for her to do. She worried that if the sleep aid couldn’t make her drowsy enough to sleep now, then she’d have trouble getting back home. Would Mingyu be crushed if I don’t sleep after drinking his drink? She didn’t mean to have thoughts like that; it felt cheap, like she was pitying him. But something about this place, about how Mingyu and Junhui acted, drew her in and played on her curiosity. She wanted to understand what unique experience they were talking about. That meant giving herself to the process, as strange as it was.

Her worries were needless, as not even two minutes after setting the empty bottle aside and leaning forward to rest her head on the pillow on the table did Yn fall asleep.

There was a jazz band playing, but she couldn’t see them. Yn couldn’t see anything, actually.

It smelled like lobster, rice, and wine. She heard some distant chatter and the sound of dishes being cleaned.

“So, how did you like it?” A voice spoke clearly, as if it was right next to her. Everything around her slowly came into view with each blink.

She was at a restaurant. An expensive and modern one. The ceiling was high, with full length windows, sheer black curtains, and crystal chandeliers. Her feet clicked against the marble floor as she shifted in her seat, and she noticed she had on expensive black stiletto heels. The dress she wore was a bright purple fabric with a black lace layer over the body and sleeves. The outfit wasn’t hers, but was one she could only dream of owning, as it flattered her body perfectly and made her feel dignified and rich.

The voice Yn had heard was coming from a man in the seat across from her. His shirt was fitted and ironed, a beautiful royal purple with a black lace collar and cuffs, matching the black of his dress pants. His face looked familiar, and his name was on the tip of her tongue.

There was an empty plate in front of them both, yet she could smell what should have been there. There was still wine in the glass though, and it smelled just like the kind she had at home.

“It was really good actually.” Yn spoke without thinking; not having thought at all.

“That bracelet looks really pretty on you.” The man spoke again, gesturing to her wrist as she held the stem of the wine glass. It was a small and simple bracelet, with square cut amethyst gems laid in hefty silver. It was perfectly sized to her wrist, and looked brand new, or at least very well cared for. It wasn’t hers either.

“Thanks Mingyu.” His name slipped from her lips, and she were shocked to hear it, finally able to recognize him. He smiled to her shyly, tilting his head with a sparkle in his deep brown eyes.

Why him?

Neither of them said anything for a few moments. Mingyu's gaze lingered on Yn while she nervously observed her surroundings. There were other tables with other couples or parties of guests all enjoying their meals, but they were all faceless. Their chatter got louder when she looked at them.

What's going on?!

“Wanna go outside?” Mingyu asked suddenly, urgently, and right on cue when the chatter began to make Yn anxious. Her senses caught up with her by that point and it felt like they were in overdrive. It was begging to overwhelm her, so she was grateful for his perfectly timed offer. Yn held onto his arm when he offered it, oddly without hesitation, and followed him into the chilly night of the terrace. The chatter stopped completely, the jazz music was stifled, and the dishes were replaced with the sound of cicadas in the distance.

“Oh wow, this is beautiful Yn.” He was audibly impressed, as if the night sky was something she had handcrafted. The terrace was at the back of the restaurant, and it seemed like nothing else existed other than what she could see. There wasn’t any light pollution and not a single wisp of a cloud, only twinkling stars and planets of different colors. The moon was a warning crescent, but was bright and sharp, high above them. Yn was in awe, just as he was.

Mingyu moved his arm out from hers and to the back of her shoulders, fingertips barely touching the fabric of her dress. It wasn’t as cold outside as she'd expected it to be, but Mingyu’s presence beside her was still warming. Any encroaching anxiousness she had felt had been washed away, much quicker than she had expected, and was replaced with wonder.

“What do you see?” He asked with an incredibly soft tone and volume, making her heart flutter.

It was hard to make out any shape or figure. Even the constellations she thought she knew weren’t visible. Mingyu waited for Yn's answer, but after a glance at her confused expressions, he spoke up.

“Look up there, at that cluster of stars.” Mingyu leaned in closer, now holding onto her shoulder, and pointed up into the sky. Yn followed his finger across the stars and found the cluster he saw.

“Now trace my finger with your eyes, okay?”

“I’ll try.” Yn chuckled, but he remained focused and slowly began tracing what he saw for her.

“Oh! It’s a puppy face!” She exclaimed as he finished the second floppy ear. The cluster had been the puppy’s nose.

“Yeah! He looks like he’s having a lot of fun up there.” Mingyu commented with a smile, finishing off the picture with a goofy tongue hanging out of the puppy’s mouth.

Yn kept searching the sky for something to show to him, but all the blinking lights seemed to keep shifting. She was still grinning as her eyes scoured the sky desperately.

She could feel Mingyu’s fingers against her shoulder, the weight and size of his hand on was unfamiliar, and she felt every tiny movement acutely. It wasn’t helping her focus at all.

“It’s okay.” He said kindly, letting go of her shoulder to rub the lower center her back, trying to offer comfort. It felt like he’d given up on her drawing something for him like he had for her. The butterflies in her stomach froze at the thought of his disappointment.

“Wait! Look there, under the moon.” An airplane suddenly came into view, flying slowly in the distance, its lights slowly blinking just like the stars in the dark night sky were. Mingyu stayed silent.

“When I was a kid, I thought airplanes in the night sky were shooting stars.” Yn admitted openly. Mingyu hummed with his hand held still against her, excluding his thumb, which massaged the middle of her back carefully. The motion was almost mesmerizing, threatening to melt her heart if she focused on it long enough. A stranger should not have this kind of power over her, intentional or not. She knew that, yet she didn’t feel afraid, or put off.

“Make a wish.” Mingyu said offhandedly. It came off as a teasing joke, but that’s exactly what Yn did as a child. Wishing on stars was the kid-friendly way of asking the universe for mercy. That’s what she told herself as a teenager, finding comfort that way. At the very least it was fun, and gave her something to hope for.

Yn thought for a moment before answering, choosing to take his teasing seriously, but did not know why her response had come to her mind.

“I wish for you to not be afraid of making mistakes or being wrong.”

She felt his stare move to her suddenly, and the touch of his hand on her back was gone. Still, she continued.

“You’re doing fine, Mingyu. You have good ideas, and you work hard. The only person you should ever have to prove your worth to is yourself. You’ll be alright.” She had no basis for what she said. No reason for him to believe her.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

It felt like it was what he needed to hear.

“Yn? It's time to wake up.” Someone was shaking her shoulder. It didn’t feel like Mingyu’s hand. It wasn’t Mingyu’s voice.

“It’s been a little over two hours Yn. If we let you sleep any longer you won’t feel very good.”

Yn groaned from having slept upright in the chair and her face tingled when she lifted her head from the pillow, as if she hadn’t moved at all in her sleep. The fact that she hadn’t fallen out of the chair was a miracle in itself. She rubbed her eyes a little too roughly and blinked as they adjusted to the light.

“Junhui?” She asked, having only that option to go off of at this point. The man chuckled.

“Nope, he clocked out about an hour ago. My name's Chan.” He pointed to the name printed on his collar with pride. That smile wasn’t one Yn could forget, and it clicked in her head that she’d seen him before too. He was the one who noticed her and let her pass on the sidewalk before, and Junhui must’ve been with him.

“Oh, okay.” Was all she managed to say. He chuckled again, understanding her grogginess.

“I’ll give you a few more minutes to wake up. I’ll be right back.” Yn merely nodded, noticing that the bottle had already been cleaned up. Eager to stretch her legs, she stood up and walked around.

It was about noon now, the store was warm and the music was still as lo-fi as it was two hours ago. The two girls from earlier had also left, and there was no one else around.

Yn's eyes went to the coolers. They weren’t fully stocked, maybe three or four of each of the juices and sodas, only two of each smoothie. I guess things like that are hard to stock when you make them all yourself, and don’t get many customers.

“We make them ourselves, you know.” Chan piped up from behind her, startling her slightly. Mingyu was with him.

“I told her that.” He pouted. Chan seemed younger than Mingyu, yet talked to him like they were the same age.

“Oh, well from what Jun said, you could barely even make it through the example run.” Chan teased.

“Hey-“ Yn and Mingyu spoke at the same time. But she didn’t pause like he did.

“-he tried his best. And Junhui was really nice about it.” It sounded more defensive than she meant it to, and Chan raised an eyebrow at it, but conceded all the same.

“Sorry, it’s his first time having a new customer. We just like to keep him humble.” Chan elbowed Mingyu’s side, and the taller boy played along, but looked at her with a look that assured her it was fine. As sincere as his smile was, Yn still noticed the redness and puffiness of his eyes.

“Let’s get you rung up, huh?” Mingyu suggested, waving her over to the register as he quickly went behind it. Chan mumbled something about coming off like the bad guy, but she was too focused on Mingyu.

“How did you sleep?” He asked softly, just loud enough for the two of them. As if anyone was around to hear. Yn instinctively leaned in a tad closer.

“Pretty well, actually. I’m still a bit fuzzy-headed but I feel more rested than I usually do when I take naps.” Yn failed at small talk, as usual. Mingyu nodded along regardless.

“How does your stomach feel?”

“Uh.. fine? I can still taste it in my mouth but it isn’t bad, and my tummy isn’t upset or anything.”

“Okay good,” He seemed happy to hear it, “We just want to gauge how each visitor handles each drink so we can change how we mix it for them if we need to.” He justified. Ah, right, just standard procedure questions.

“Are your eyes okay?” Yn's question was blatant and caught him off guard. He didn’t answer right away.

“You look like you’ve been crying.” Why does it hurt so much to see it? He’s a stranger. And yet she knew that she’d worry about it all day if she didn’t ask.

“Ah, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.” It was a dismissive response, but it felt inappropriate to press on.

“So… oh! Since this is your first visit, we’re only gonna charge you half price of your total! So if you’d like to get anything from the cooler, or order something else, now’s the time!” The mention of the coolers made Yn glance to them and she felt embarrassed at what drink caught her eye instantly.

Yn walked to the cooler and grabbed two bottles of Mingyu’s grape soda.

She then walked back up to the counter and set them both onto it a bit too harshly. Mingyu held back a laugh, and she held her hand out.

“I need the key to get my wallet.” Yn felt her face heating up from embarrassment. Luckily, the key was just under the register, and he handed it to her quickly. She heard him scanning the two drinks with a hand scanner as she strode over to the lockers.

“Chan already got the pillow.” He said amusedly as he watched her look for it by her table. Yn tsked at him and went back to the counter, finding her card easily.

Mingyu read her the total, asked if she wanted a paper bag, put the drinks in the paper bag, took the key back from her, and handed her the receipt all in a quick and practiced flow. Yn had already put her wallet away in her back pocket, along with her phone, but it was when she reached for the paper bag that she hesitated. Mingyu did too.

“Yn?” He was asking for her attention when she was already staring at him. She didn’t answer, despite feeling the urgency to.

“Do you still make wishes on shooting stars?”

“…” Mingyu began to panic as soon as the question left his mouth. His eyes darted over Yn features, searching for any sort of answer from her. After a painfully long moment, she finally did.

“I haven’t seen one in a long time.”

“Make a wish on an airplane then. For me.” It wasn’t really a question, but not quite a demand. Mingyu regretted it even before he finished, and he felt sick at the sight of her fearful expression after her quick and unexpected response.

“I promise.”

#rq-s lucid dreams #caratwritersclub #seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #mingyu x reader #svt mingyu x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen au #WHOO!!! the first dreamscape chapter of the sieres!!!#the stargazing scene was the first scene i ever wrote for this story ;-;#it feels so nice to finally post it #how do you all feel about it? how do you like Mingyu being purple #remember #color psych is variable on a lot of facotrs #color moods arent entirely universal so my depiction might not be what you see purple as #even so i hope you enjoyed it!!#with this #pretty much all the core plot elements have bene introduced! how do you feel and htink about them?#hwo do you like Yn? is she relatable?#i tried to make her very base #since thats the point of a fanfic liek this #but i hope shes not difficult to read #anyway please fele welcome to share yoru feelings thoughts and criticisms!!#and as always thank you so much for reading <3

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angelkurenai · 5 years ago

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His Princess - Chris Evans x Reader

Title: His Princess

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: Hello!! I’m so happy your requests are open again! Can you write Chris Evans going on set to his gf’s music video of "Beauty and the Beast" (w/ John Legend) and he’s so happy to date a «princess» please?

“Alright, one more for the net. Just stay like that, you look wonderful!”

You couldn't help but giggle at the enthusiasm of the young assistant. What with your manager being unable to show up any of the days of the filming the way she normally would and her always wanting you to have someone with you all the time besides bodyguards, make up artists and stylists that would be there more as a friend than anything else. And so her assistant was yours for the week as well, and you would be lying if you said you weren't already having great fun just by being around her. Not to mention the excitement of being on the set itself and living the dream quiet literally already had you grinning the whole day long as you skipped around the place.

“Alright, is this good?” you asked, resting your chin on your palm, nearly kneeling down on the floor so that the dress looked more like a flower that had enveloped you whole. The maroon color only a great contrast against the white walls of the small room and the lights shining over your diamonds jewellery.

“That's perfect, yes!” she nearly squealed, snapping another photo that made you laugh “Alright, I'm pretty sure we've got more than plenty of photos and videos now. I'm gonna get out of your hair now and see what little I can post to tease the fans. Oh and Eric left the gloves on the chair in the corner. He said it would be best if you wore them because they wanted to run a few tests with cameras and see if they will keep them or not in the end.”

“Alright, Coco, don't worry. I've got this.” you nodded your head, already picking up the fabric and slipping it through your fingers “See you in a couple minutes!”

It wasn't long before you were left in your own devices by the assistant and a calm silence fell in the room. You looked at your reflection, fixing your gloves and dress you hummed the tune of the song.

Taking your phone you scrolled through your feed, one last time before you went to work, only to soon take notice of the photos that had already been uploaded by Coco and grinned widely when you saw that some of your friends had already commented, earning a soft laugh from you as you went through them. Most of them already knew about the filming you were doing for the song of the new Beauty and The Beast movie. You had been overly excited both about the opportunity to sing the song itself – alongside none other than John Legend at that – and even more film the music video. You were so thrilled even before you got started, there was no stopping you from telling your friends everything about it even before you got started.

After so many years in the music industry, so many worldwide tours and music videos and albums later, and more than just a few in the movie industry as well you had seen and experienced so many things and yet you still got so excited over the most simple projects. Much like this one, there was not a single thing you didn't look forward to. At first you were sure it was going to be in a unique location but it was a totally different thing getting to actually see it, especially when you realized that most of it was real and not just a green screen. So with a beautiful set, dressed quiet literally like a princess it was impossible for it all to not feel like a fairytale and have you enticed even before you got started.

“Disney princess or the new Queen of Asgard? Easily both!” Chris Hemsworth had commented.

“Could have not said it better, Chris! What would a King be without her Queen after all?” Tessa comments made you grin.

“Safe to say, running Marvel and Disney has never looked more classy!” it was one from RDJ.

“And then they said not to believe in fairytales. Looking stunning as ever! If you wanna switch up a Captain, I'm always available!” your friend's comment made you laugh and you made a mental note to reply to Brie the second you got the chance to.

“Alright, so what petition do I need to sign to have them make this a live-action Disney movie now?” Liz Olsen with a great variety of emojis.

You couldn't help your smile all the while you scrolled down the comments, seeing many more not just from costars, friends or other celebrities and plenty from fans; but it was all the while a bit too tight. It didn't reach your eyes, certainly not the more you looked and found no comment from your boyfriend. You knew you shouldn't hold it against him but part of you couldn't help but feel the first waves of sadness wash over your soul. Mainly because he was the one that knew most about this song and video clip, how nervous and excited you had been from the first moment; it felt like he had been with you the whole way through all of it and therefore you wanted him to see this too, even if it was only part of what was to come.

On one hand the fact that he was such a big Disney fan was no secret either and it had always made your eagerness to see his reaction to this grow even more. And on the other, loving the man so much meant that his compliments always held a different, much more big, significance to you. Maybe, you realised slowly as you dwelled on it more, it also had a lot to do with the way he said everything. There was always so much emotion in them, such great love and admiration and adoration and every other beautiful feeling he felt for you, showing through not only his words but also his eyes, expression and touches that after all these years you had learned to picture even when he was not close to you.

You decided not to think any more of it, realising that he surely had work to do and it would be better if you focused on it. The fact that you missed said man because you had not seen him in over week due to said work completely put aside.

Setting your phone aside you started making some final checks on your dress and looks, getting the feel of it as you signed softly to yourself “Tale as old as time. True as it can be. Barely even friends, than somebody bends-”

“Unexpectedly.” the singing was soft in your ear, the breath fanning over your cheek and bare neck before a pair of arms sneaked around your waist and a pair of lips were pressed on your neck, making shivers run down your entire spine with such intensity you couldn't hold back a gasp. When a squeeze came next you didn't even have the time react because his one hand slid up to your arm and rested on your shoulders, drawing the familiar goosebumps you had so missed the past couple days.

You would have leaned back into the firm broad chest, the action as natural as blinking. Every curve and edge of your body always seemed to fit perfectly with his no matter the position and you would be a big liar if you said your body was already reacting to his touch. Your heart with its unruly heartbeat – one that easily matched his – and your lungs refusing to take in a deep breath as the pleasant warmth spread through hands around you were easily a sign of who it was, every cell in your recognizing the contact.

Your eyes widened and your vision nearly blurred as you turned around to face the man you had not even realized was there but could recognize even with your eyes completely closed. “Chris?”

“Your highness.” his smile got even bigger when you turned to lock eyes with his and oh wasn't that a sight to make your entire day worth it, if anything making all of your worries and fears disappear. His eyes were so soft, filled with so much adoration and almost sparkling in a way you had not seen before.

You stared at him for what felt like an eternity, unable to believe he was there, looking at you so lovingly. His hands were cupping your face and only when you heard him whisper “Hello, my love.” did reality dawn on you. Realizing it wasn't a dream you almost squealed before you jumped in his arms, wrapping yours around his shoulders. Earning a deep chuckle that made his chest ramble, you couldn't hold your own laughter when you felt it against your own chest.

“Oh my gosh.” you choked out, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to force yourself not to cry “Chris.” you pulled just slightly away to look into his eyes, cupping his face in both your hands. Your eyes roamed over his face, taking everything in as it felt nearly impossible to believe this was happening. You leaned in to press your lips to his in an urgent kiss that still earned a soft laugh from him. You let out a soft breath when you pulled away and as you rested your forehead against his you repeated “Chris.” and he smiled even more widely “You're here. How?”

“Do you really question that? I would travel from the other side of the world for you.” and his smile turned into a small smirk “Isn't that what a prince always does?”

“Why-” your smile turned more into a smirk as you slowly started pulling away, despite the small sound of protest that came from his lips “I didn't know you were officially my prince charming. That is a title that must be earned, is it not?”

“And it would be my greatest honor to...” he started with a small smirk of his own which eventually faded much like his words as he fully took in the sight of you in the beautiful gown, with the jewelry and gloves adorning the whole look, you realised he was completely at a loss for words.

“Well, seeing as you didn't see the photos posted on instagram yet, I'll ask now: How do I look?” you probably already looked confident enough but that didn't mean you didn't want to hear his opinion more than anybody else's.

“Dear” his eyes were wide as he took everything in “Marry me already.”

And as you expected it wasn't he words, or at least not only the words, which made your heart leap to your throat. It was the pure love and awe that filled his eyes, his smile brighter than you had ever seen it. It was the way his voice became low, almost hoarse as if his throat closed from the overwhelming emotion in his chest. It was the way he reached out for you again and slowly traced his fingers over yoru cheek, touch light as a feather, as if he feared to break you. In his eyes you saw you were more than just a fragile porcelain doll, way more important and precious to him than anything actually.

“I'm fairly sure I wouldn't mind the idea, however, should you not do something heroic to say the least to earn that right? To have the hand of a princess and even more her heart, that requires more effort, don't you think?” you said with a smirk and he chuckled before straightening his back.

“Why, your highness, had I known you'd be so open to the idea I'd have brought the ring with me. It has been tucked in the back of my drawer for too long, I fear.” he said it so casually and truthfully, without a hint of pretend for the sake of the small momentary fairytale you were living through, that it made you pause for a second to hold your breath and blink at him.

Too caught up with your own thoughts you didn't even have the chance to question anything when he spoke again. A soft laugh escaped his lips as he slowly took both your hands in his, the act slipping for the moment, as he whispered again “My gosh, you look stunning. How did I ever get so lucky in my life?”

“It's no big deal.” you felt bashful all of a sudden and you were well aware it was because of the way your heart had sped up at the thought of said ring which he had joked about a long time ago but not in this way, not with such underlacedhonesty and seriousness.

“No big deal?” his eyebrows raised “I'm standing in front of the most beautiful disney princess to ever exist, both on the inside and on the outside. And on top of it all she is my girl and only mine. I'd say I don't deserve this kind of love but who am I to judge? My ideal fairytale I coming to life, this is too good to be true and yet it is. I'll take whatever you have to give me and offer everything I can in return. Who knows-” he pulled away, you not having realized when his forehead had come to rest against yours “Maybe I'll do a job good enough or the ring will be impressive enough to make at least a bit something like a prince charming.”

The wink he sent your way earned a laugh from your own lips, easing some of the tense feeling in your chest. You realised there was no reason to dwell on it or overstress it, not at the moment, so you let your smile become more easy if not more teasing “I'm sure you'd have plenty to offer, my kind sir. But first, if only in order for a proper courtship, you must have to catch me, don't you?”

“I must wha-” he started but all words died on his lips. You were sure he had already caught up somehow, the glint in his eyes telling you as much, but didn't give him the chance to fully question it before you were already pulling away from him and with a wink, opening the door and sprinting down the long hallway.

You heard the deep laugh, filling the entire hallway and with only the smallest glance over your shoulder you saw the man start to follow you fast enough. Grinning you picked up your dress and with that, picked up your pace so that you were running. As if the feeling of the dress bouncing around like a soft cloud, the air warm inside the building but present nonetheless - not only because of the running but also because of the studio you were fast approaching and that you remembered had more than a few doors and windows – wasn't enough to make you laugh, hearing your boyfriend's laughter as he tried to catch you get louder made you feel as if you were flying more than running.

“(Y/n)? What are you-”

You recognised the voice immediately but didn't have the time to reply let alone stop for even a second when you heard Chris get closer “Can't talk now Chrissy, I gotta go! Ah!” you actually yelped – or perhaps it was her, though the laughter that came next were surely hers when your boyfriend nearly bumped into John's wife and his apologies were the proof because you didn't turn to see – before you quickly run around a corner and down some stairs.

It wasn't even a couple seconds later that you found yourself running inside the studio itself, the cameras all around as the crew was setting everything up for the filming. You almost got so carried away by the entire place, many things having been added since the morning when you first showed up, and in the middle of admiring the realistic set of a castle they had managed to build. You were sure if you had not been in any hurry, you could have easily spent hours wanderingaround the place and admiring the detailed work, getting lost in a daydream much like a fairytale. But, again, you were in a hurry and as you felt the first fingers slip over your waist, aside from earning a small yelp from you they managed to get you moving again, or more specifically running.

“You have to be faster than that, darling.” you grinned, rounding the piano so that you were on the one side and he on the other.

“Who says I am being nearly half as fast as I can really be? Who says that if I really wanted to I wouldn't already have my hands on you?” he smirked, raising an eyebrow at you that made you giggle “I am merely being your perfect prince charming.”

“Alright, first; I like the sound of that but it's not going to make me give in just yet. And second; we both know that you're just being a sore loser here. You haven't caught me yet not because you can't. You're also a sore looser, not a prince charming, dear.”

He groaned, placing a hand over his chest “Another wound, all within the span of only a couple minutes. How do I survive this? Oh yes, in fairytales, a kiss always always does wonders, doesn't I? If only my princess would be kind enough to not run away from me anymore and instead save my life?”

You had to admit that although he was being both dramatic and cheeky, and you had to keep serious, you couldn't hold back your wide smile as you spoke “For starters, you will have to earn it. And-” you paused, jumping away as he made a move to run around the piano but you were fast to get away so that you had now swapped places “If I may ask, what's the first one?”

“Wouldn't you know? As if you can't see my bleeding heart which has been struck worse today at seeing you like this. But-” another jump that got him dangerously close “I suppose if I can't get a kiss, I will make it my last wish that you wear a similar dress soon.” his words made you frown until he added “Only in total white. And really, the soonest possible so we should probably start making a guests list.”

“Chris” you caught yourself pausing, longer than expected and than should be right in this case but you felt like you had no control of your body at the moment “This is not a funny joke anymore.”

“Who said it was one in the first place?” he asked, and you could swear you heard Chrissy and John gasp softly in the background. At some point you had even seen them but now your entire mind was blank. You focused on Chris, his voice much softer than before, his posture having relaxed as if to let you know he wasn't playing any game of sorts “And maybe-” he took a slow tentative step towards you, eyes on you to judge your reaction all the time. When he saw you didn't move away from him, he took more steps closer to you “If you'd let me, I could show you real soon that I was serious from the first moment.”

“Wha-” but you stopped yourself because you knew that wasn't the answer you wanted so bad to ask, it wasn't the one your heart longed for to be answered so instead you whispered “How?”

Chris leaned in to press a kiss on your forehead, extending a hand which you took before he said another hing “First, I believe it's best if you get to job as fast as possible. And for that to happen, it would be right of me to stop playing around. So, what do you say we start things the way only in fairytales they do: a dance?”

“It doesn't necessarily happen in this order but-” you smiled, glancing over his shoulder to see John and his wife do the same, the music having only second now starting to play “I think we've already found the perfect song, so why not?”

“Think of it... as practice.”

#chris #chris evans #chris imagine #chris evans imagine #chris x reader #chris evans x reader #chris fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction #chris one shot #chris evans one shot #beauty and the beast

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subarublue · 4 years ago

Text

Sparda Family Bonding Time Series - Part 1

Series Description: It’s family bonding time! Sparda family style! A series of short stories revolving around platonic familial relationships between the members of the DMC crew. Warning: Lots of fluff and bonding ahead.

One Shot

Title: Kindred Spirits

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Timeline: Post DMC5

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 4153

Read on Ao3

Summary: Losing a brother is hard, even if you don’t always get along. Which is why Dante is ever grateful for this second chance with his...because he knows someone who’ll never get another chance with hers.

Notes: Mostly just some platonic comfort and family fluff between Dante and Kyrie with a splash of Vergil, Nero, and Nico.

It was inevitable, really.

They’d been back from the underworld for almost a month now, but they were still adjusting back to normal life. They’d been down there for so long, after all; constantly fighting for their lives and sparring each other in between. It wasn’t easy getting back into the normal swing of things. Well, normal for Dante, anyway. Vergil’s definition of normal was a whole other story.

So it really wasn’t surprising that a fight (a real one and not a sparring match) had finally broken out between them. Honestly, Dante was surprised it had taken this long to happen. Then again, he had been trying not to start one, not that he could say much for Vergil’s effort, if there had even been any. He didn’t quite know for sure. Talking wasn’t exactly Vergil’s strong suit; of course Dante wasn’t much better in that regard, either.

He wasn’t even sure what had started it. It probably didn’t matter; whatever it was had likely been trivial. This had been brewing ever since they got back (probably before so, even) and one wrong thing was bound to set them off, eventually.

Because things always ended up like this between him and Vergil. Yeah, sure they were capable of getting along for long periods of time, but somehow, no matter how good things were going, it always ended up in a fight eventually. That was just how it had always been, ever since they were kids. It was just unfortunate that this time it happened at Nero’s place.

Luckily, it was late so the boys were all in bed, sound asleep. At least, Dante hoped they were. They were making quite a ruckus outside and this was not something kids needed to see. Nico and Nero were watching on the sidelines and the latter was trying his best to not resort to yelling at his father and uncle, which would make even more noise. Dante was certain it wouldn’t be long before his nephew dove into put a stop to their brawl.

Except that Nero never got the chance.

Vergil had just given Dante his usual spiel of “Die!” which Dante was sure was only said in anger and he didn’t actually mean it (probably) when a distinctly feminine voice pierced the air with a ferocity he had never before heard from the young woman.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!”

It was like time had stopped for everyone, including Vergil and Dante who both froze in mid-strike. Everyone turned to look at the petite woman standing on the steps of the porch. Dante wasn’t sure when they had gained another audience, but he now knew that in addition to Nero and Nico, Kyrie was bearing witness to the traditional Sparda way of ‘discussing your problems.’

Apparently though, she was far less than content with the way their family handled their issues. Her hands were fisted in her skirt with a white-knuckled grip and the look on her face was one of absolute fury; an expression Dante had never thought the innocent girl was capable of. When he saw her angry tears beginning to fall, he felt panic well up inside him, though he tamped it down as best he could. He was never good at dealing with crying women. Not that he would have to worry about that. Nero would take care of her.

“If you two want to kill each other, then go do it somewhere else! I’m not going to stand around here and watch you two make the biggest mistake you’ll ever regret. This is our home and I WON’T STAND FOR THIS!”

No one dared to say a word. By now Dante and even Vergil had lowered their swords and while the latter appeared mostly stoic as always, there was the barest hint of shame in his expression. Dante’s expression was more akin to a scolded child. Even Nero and Nico were taken aback, though Nico recovered more quickly. She snickered a bit, but seemed to realize that was a big mistake and tried to stifle it, though the glare Kyrie shot her told everyone she hadn’t been successful.

“Um, Kyrie?” Nero addressed her tentatively in an effort to distract her. This was new territory even for him. They’d had disagreements before of course, but nothing that had ever brought out this kind of anger in her.

She leveled her heated look at Nero, and he stiffened in response until she looked back at the battered duo on their lawn. He didn’t get another word in.

“I won’t repeat myself. Either put those away and get cleaned up or leave! I’ll not have two grown men who are supposed to be brothers trying to kill each other at my house.” Her voice had calmed now, but only because it was devoid of emotion; as if she didn’t have the energy to feel any more. Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode back into the house, slamming the porch door behind her causing everyone except Vergil to flinch at the sudden noise.

The silence that followed in her departure was tense. Nero slowly turned to glare at his father and uncle with a look that rivaled his girlfriend’s from just moments ago.

“You two finished, then?” he said through gritted teeth. Dante could tell Nero was trying to rein in his temper.

“Yes.” Everyone was surprised when Vergil spoke first, but Dante was more so by his answer. He’d been certain Vergil was going to drag him off to finish their fight elsewhere. Instead, his brother sheathed Yamato without any complaint. That was definitely a change.

Huh. Guess he really is trying… But his thought didn’t get far before being interrupted.

“Dante?” Nero’s voice still held that angry tone, obviously waiting for a confirmation from his uncle, as well. Dante almost felt like a little kid again, being reprimanded for not paying attention.

“Yeah. No complaints from me.” He dismissed his sword as well to hopefully further appease his nephew.

“Soooo, uh, that was new. Didn’t know she had in it her, ya know?” Nico spoke up then, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Nero turned his glare on her, but it only lasted a second before worry settled on his face and he turned to looked at the door his girlfriend had left through.

“No, it’s not like her at all. I mean, she always gets a little emotional around this time of year, but she’s never gone off on anyone like that before...” Nero trailed off, obviously confused as to exactly what had Kyrie so upset all of a sudden.

“What significance does this time of year hold for her?” Surprisingly, it was Vergil who spoke up out of curiosity this time.

Nero looked stunned at first that his father had even bothered asking, but the look on his face quickly turned into a sorrowful grimace. Whatever the significance was, it affected Nero too, Dante noted.

That’s when he remembered.

Of course. This was the same time of year that the Savior incident occurred. They’d both been kidnapped by that old codger and used for his own, personal world-domination plan. Kyrie had been the bait and Nero had fallen right into his trap. It had been a horrible situation for the both of them. He was lucky he’d been able to rescue them...or well, Nero anyway; his nephew did all the damsel in distress saving. Either way, it stood to reason that the whole event left lasting scars.

“Her brother, Credo...he died around this time.” Nero looked pained as he spoke; Credo had been a brother to him, too. “I had to watch him die, but Kyrie? She never even got to see him one last time or say goodbye.”

At the mention of Credo, Dante’s eyes widened in realization and he suddenly felt very stupid for not putting two and two together immediately. Of course she was upset with them. Kyrie would have probably given anything to have her own brother back and here he and Vergil were, trying to make pincushions out of each other with their second chance.

He remembered Credo’s death clearly in his mind: questioning the dying man for information. Information that he gave freely in hopes that it would put an end to Sanctus’s plans. The man using his last bit of strength to stand, to ask Dante for one final request: to save Nero and his little sister.

God, I never even told either of them about his last moments. Nero probably didn’t even know he was still alive after the Savior took him. I should have...

Movement from Nero drew his attention away from his own thoughts. It was clear, despite what he’d just told Vergil, that Nero was still in the dark about exactly why their fight had upset Kyrie so much, but he was already moving to go after her. Dante panicked before he could stop himself.

“Wait, kid!”

He almost cringed as Nero turned to regard him with an angry look. What had possessed him to stop his nephew? Nero knew his girlfriend better than anyone so the kid was the logical choice to go and comfort her. Hell, he could probably do it better than Dante and Vergil combined, though relatively speaking, the two of them combined was almost never a good thing. Not to mention they both were complete shit at comforting others.

“What? You got a problem? You’re half the reason she’s upset so unless you’re gonna go fix this, just shut your damn mouth.” It was clear Nero was still angry with them, and Dante didn’t blame him. He didn’t like his father and uncle fighting if his stopping their fight right before their little underworld vacation was anything to go by.

But now, Nero was turning back to go after Kyrie, not even bothering to wait for an answer.

I should just let him go. They’ve been together long enough, surely she’ll tell him what’s bothering her and he can comfort her way better than-

Nero was opening the back door now and Dante couldn’t stop the words that left his mouth.

“Let me talk to her.” He regretted them the second he said it.

Stupid. This was a stupid idea. He was no good with crying women. Why was he doing this? Why was he putting himself in a situation where he was probably just going to make matters worse?

Oh, who was he kidding? He knew very well why he was doing this:

Guilt.

Not only did he feel somewhat responsible for what happened to the both of them and Credo, he’d never even told them about the man’s dying wish for Dante to save them. And here he was, fighting with his own brother right in their backyard.

Nero couldn’t cover his shocked expression, not that Dante expected any different of a reaction. In fact, even Nico and Vergil had surprised looks on their faces. When no one made a move to say anything, too stunned into silence, Dante figured he’d have to explain.

“Look, I think I understand what’s really bothering her, so...just let me talk to her. If I make it worse, you can step in and fix it.”

“If you make it worse, I’ll do more than just bitch-slap you this time.” Nero crossed his arms and leveled Dante with a glare to show he meant business.

“Deal.” He nodded to Nero as he passed him to head through the door. He really hoped he didn’t screw this up; for Kyrie’s sake...and his own.

It didn’t take him long to find her; she hadn’t gone far. She was sitting on a swinging bench on the front porch as he stepped out the door. When he heard her quiet weeping, he felt the panic rise up in him again.

Why? Why’d he volunteer for this again? He wasn’t any good at this whole comfort thing. Where was he even supposed to start?

Sorry’s usually a good place. He sighed. Yeah, right. What the hell was he supposed to say sorry for?

Sorry my brother and I not-quite killed each other and bled all over your lawn? Sorry your brother’s dead and mine’s not? Sorry it looks like we’re wasting the second chance we have when you deserve it a hell of a lot more?

God, he was terrible at this…and he hadn’t even said anything, yet.

He heard her try to stifle a sob, apparently now aware that she had company. He swallowed hard. He was not prepared for this at all.

Guess it’s time to do what I do best: wing it.

He took a seat at the opposite end from her. He watched her stiffen when his weight shifted the swing of the bench, slightly. Still unsure on how to start, he looked straight ahead, only glancing over at her every now and then as she tried to quiet her tears. He was half-hoping she’d say something first, though it soon became evident that would not be the case. He was just stalling because he was afraid; more so of upsetting her further than of Nero’s wrath.

He caught her out of the corner of his eye, chancing a glance in his direction to see who was currently sitting with her. He heard her choke back another sob, though whether it was from realizing it was him or some other reason, he didn’t know. It still solidified his thoughts that this was bad idea, but he was already here and Nero was expecting him to fix this. Besides, she deserved to know about her brother’s last moments. It was the least he could do. If he made things worse, he’d just have to let Nero beat the crap out of him. Maybe that would make her feel better, though he doubted it. This was Kyrie, after all. She’d never wish harm on anyone.

He cleared his throat finally, trying to gather up some courage. He knew he couldn’t stall forever.

“I’m no good at shit like this, so you’ll have to bear with me a bit.” Probably not the best start, so he paused to give her a chance to tell him to leave in case she didn’t want to talk to him. When she finally spoke, she didn’t tell him to leave, but she didn’t bother to turn and face him, either.

“It’s very rude to have fights at other people’s houses, you know?” There was a tinge of anger to her voice still. “Especially when you should be happy to have each other back.”

There it was. There was no mistaking the disdain in her voice. She really did think they were taking advantage of this second chance they had. So he’d been right, after all. Now, what to do about it?

Well, set her straight, of course....hopefully.

“I know it doesn’t look like we’re thankful to have each other back, but that’s not the case. Well, for me anyway. I can’t really speak for Vergil, but...he seems to be trying, I guess.”

“Is that how you show it? By trying to kill each other?” He could still hear her sniffle now and then, but her anger was overriding her crying for the moment. He sighed again.

“I ain’t gonna get into why we do things the way we do. We’d be here all night. What I can tell you is no matter how serious it looked, we weren’t gonna kill each other. Maybe a long time ago that might’ve been the case, but not anymore. Things are different now.”

“Because of Nero.” The anger was gone from her voice now, but it was replaced with an emotion he didn’t really think he could deal with well: sorrow.

“Yeah.” The silence following his admission was terribly uncomfortable. She was back to crying quietly again and he decided he should go with what his first instinct had been: apologize. Though he had far more to apologize for than just the brawl in her backyard.

“I’m sorry for what happened back then.”

“Just don’t fight here. I know Nero hates it.”

So do you. He didn’t say it out loud, though. Instead, he opted to correct her assumption. “I wasn’t apologizing for that, though I am sorry for that, too.”

He saw her in his peripheral vision; she slowly turned to face him. He was really glad he wasn’t looking directly at her. He could tell her face was tear-stained and it would have probably shot down any confidence he had to say what he needed to next.

“What are you apologizing for, then?” Her voice was strained from all the crying, but the confusion was still evident.

“For what happened to your brother.”

Her gasp was so quiet he would have missed it if he didn’t have exceptional hearing and he glanced at her briefly. Her eyes were wide and her hands covered her mouth in shock, obviously not having expected his answer. He swallowed thickly.

No backing out now, he thought. “I guess you could say I know what it feels like to lose a brother, too. I thought Vergil was dead for a long time. Even before that, I lost him to his own desire for power. We never really got along very well, but…it still hurt.”

“What happened that made you think he was dead”? Her shock had died down as she’d listened to him, now voicing an obvious question he should have anticipated.

A pained look crossed his face at the memory. She just didn’t know what can of worms she was trying to open. That was something he might tell them someday (or maybe Vergil would, if he really remembered it), but for now it was better left unsaid. They were getting off topic, anyway. Fortunately, she’d seen the look on his face at her question and understood it was a subject he didn’t want to get into.

“Sorry. I should have known better than to ask that thoughtlessly. It still hurts to talk about how Credo died, too.”

They were getting back to the reason he originally came out here in the first place and he was never one to pass up an opportunity, so he took it.

“You probably didn’t know it, but I was there…when he died, you know?”

“Yes, I know. Nero told me. He said you were there to catch him when he fell,” she said it like it should have been obvious and he knew she didn’t understand what he meant.

“No. Nero only told you what he knew.” She looked at him as he spoke and he turned slightly to face her more directly. Surely if he could face demons on a daily basis, he could face this. “He was still alive after Nero was taken by the Savior.” There was a long stretch of silence as she realized what this meant.

“But…Nero said he was probably dead when he fell from the Savior. He said that Sanctus…with Yamato…” She faltered, unable to talk about how her brother had died at the hands of someone he had respected and served. She was crying again now, and it took all his resolve not to look away again.

“Well, he wasn’t.” He met her eyes. He could barely catch the small glimmer of hope in them through her tears. She hadn’t had a body to bury and he suddenly realized that all she’d ever really wanted was a bit of closure, since she’d been practically comatose through the whole thing.

“I talked to him, before…you know.” He refrained from mentioning the man’s death again to try and avoid more of her tears. He turned away again, finding he couldn’t handle the look on her face. “He told me what the old man’s plans were. I guess that was his way of trying to right any wrongs he’d done in his last moments.”

“He was always very noble and selfless. He really thought what they were doing was for the better of the world.” She seemed to have gotten her crying under control somewhat as she reminisced about her brother, but her tone was still heavy with sadness. “And he was never one to be afraid of accepting responsibility for his own actions. I’m glad in his last moments that he wasn’t alone…and he was thinking of redemption.”

“Those weren’t his last thoughts, though.” He braved another glance at her before looking away again to stare at nothing in particular.

“W-what do you mean?” She seemed confused, as if she couldn’t think of anything else that might have mattered to Credo in his last moments.

“What do you think it means? He was pretty stubborn. Even as he sat there bleeding out, he forced himself to his feet so he could meet me face to face and ask me to honor his one last request-” Dante turned back to look at her fully this time “-to save you and Nero.”

Her eyes widened ever so slightly before the waterworks started up again and he felt more panic welling up in him. Great. He made her cry more. God, this is exactly what he was afraid of.

“At the end…h-he was thinking of us?”

She was staring at her hands in her lap as more silent tears fell from her eyes. She wasn’t really talking to anyone in particular; just thinking out loud, but he countered her question, anyway.

“Did you really expect any different?” Her tearful gaze met his and he willed himself not to look away. “You said it yourself: he was pretty noble and selfless. Seems very much like him to be worried about the two people he cared about most rather than his own fate.”

He’d hoped that would be of some comfort to her and stop her crying, but he jerked when she suddenly let out a rather loud sob and lunged forward, gripping the lapels of his coat as she practically fell into his chest and started weeping. He swallowed nervously, half-expecting Nero to come out the front door ready to knock him around a bit, but no one disturbed them and he settled for awkwardly patting her on the back as she cried her heart out.

They sat like that for a while; long enough that awkwardness dissipated for him somewhat. He eventually opted to rest one arm around her back in a gentle half-embrace, which seemed to do far more at comforting her than anything else. Eventually, she stopped crying and he hoped that was good enough.

“Dante?”

He looked down at her as she pulled away from him and the panic came back full force when he noticed there were still tears running down her cheeks. There was something different about it this time, though. This wasn’t the sorrowful weeping from moments ago. Instead, the silent tears were a stark contrast to the gentle smile on her face.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Thank you.” She said before attempting to dry her eyes with the sleeve of her dress.

He let out a short huff of relief. It seemed he wouldn’t get the crap beat out of him for the second time tonight. At least he could say that Vergil hadn’t faired too well, either. More so, he was just happy he could give her that little bit of closure that was long overdue.

“I’m sorry I never said anything before. Nero told me once he was the only family you had left and I guess I just didn’t know how to bring it up. I’m not real great at dealing with cryin’ women,” he admitted. That prompted a quiet laugh from her as he stood up from the bench and offered her a hand up, which she accepted graciously.

“I can understand that.” She gave him a knowing smile. “He was wrong, though.”

“Huh?” Now it was his turn to be confused.

“Nero. He was wrong. Credo wasn’t my only family left.” The smile on her face held a bit of a teasing look to it. His confusion bled into his expression as she took one of his hands in both of hers. “I have a new one now, in all of you.”

Tears started forming in her eyes again at the admission, while his widened in surprise this time. Her expression was anything but sad though, and Dante now recognized these tears for what they were: tears of happiness. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he pulled her into a gentle hug.

“It’s a bit late and maybe Nero hasn’t made it official quite yet, but...welcome to the family, Kyrie.”

“Thank you, Dante.”

When he pulled away, her smile was brighter than ever, despite the tears, and he thought that…maybe not all crying was so bad.

Part 1 of this series • Part 2 →

#devil may cry fanfiction #dmc #dmc dante #dmc kyrie #my writing #devil may cry #suby scrawls

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theresnosafeharbor4myships · 4 years ago

Text

TITLE: Merry Distractions

A/N: Just a bit of Ichabbie Christmas reading for you. You’ll find lots of longing with a sweet and happy ending and a smidge of Joe, Jenny, and Irving thrown in for good measure.

He'd watched her all night as she'd played hostess, flitting around filling glasses and snack bowls, changing the music when an unloved song sounded through the speakers, ensuring everyone had enough to eat, and making merry with the whole lot of them. Her festive attire, a silken, emerald green dress with gold flecks in it, lent her skin a rosy hue, and she'd pulled her crown of ringlets into a golden clasp at the back of her head, leaving her neck and dangly, Christmas light earrings exposed. The dress's short sleeves showed off her muscular arms, and the square neckline cut low but not so low it distracted him—or anyone else, he was happy to note. Not that it made much of a difference for him though: the woman was a walking distraction as far as he was concerned. Her large, expressive brown eyes twinkled at him in every one of his daydreams. Her hair, so versatile and stylish, begged him to brush it away from her beautiful face. And those full, Christmas-red lips she smiled with now would pleasantly haunt his dreams for weeks to come. Oh yes, most certainly a distraction, but tonight he almost felt safe with it. The handful of people roaming throughout the house gave him a buffer he didn't often have while working alone with her in the Archives or in the field or riding next to her in the car. As such, he freely 'checked her out,' a phrase Miss Jenny had used once that he'd mentally squirreled away. Much to his chagrin, he'd checked her out a bit too much this evening, and it’d left him feeling out of sorts. The new lieutenant on the force made her laugh easily, that wonderful smile of hers breaking across her face at something Mr. Muscular and New had said. The man's eyes twinkled at her, and a white-hot pearl of jealousy burned in Ichabod's chest, blooming large and ugly as Abbie’s new colleague gazed appreciatively at her, pleased and proud at the response his words had elicited from her. Not much of what he and the Lieutenant did as their day job made for amusement, but Ichabod felt ripples of pleasure when he could draw a laugh from her, loved watching the worries ease away from her beautiful face, that gorgeous, full-fledged smile and tinkling laugh filling his heart with gladness and his eyes with nearly more beauty than he could stand. None of her sheriff's department colleagues had acted so freely with her before—and she'd never responded so openly. Until this man. And it concerned him, more than he cared to admit. Seeing Abbie and Mr. Muscular standing next to one another, her hand landing lightly on the man's forearm as she laughed at his joke, raised his hackles. Not because he thought the man ill-willed or a foe to their cause, but precisely because he didn’t think those things. In fact, he couldn’t find a flaw in the man at all. The truth of the matter was...they made a striking pair: Abbie petite, stylish, stunning, and effervescent, and Mr. Muscular broad, powerful, and clearly amusing enough to hold the Lieutenant's unbridled attention. Further, Mr. Muscular exhibited everything he, Ichabod, did not: power, raw strength, position, and a gregarious personality. Gainful employment, modern style, shorn hair, and a tailor-cut suit. Together, the two of them looked like they'd stepped right out of the television box and into one of those yuletide films the Lieutenant indulged in on weekends. He, on the other hand, often drew strange stares and chuckles from strangers and acquaintances alike. He'd thought himself rather dashing this evening though, having traded his normal attire for a dark green shirt in his usual front-laced style with black breeches, his boots, and a fitted black tailcoat. This last piece had caused the Lieutenant to do a double take, and when he'd questioned her about it, she'd nodded with an appreciative eye and mentioned that it looked like a tux jacket. (He'd surreptitiously done an online search before the guests arrived to find out what a tux was and felt satisfied with his choice of finery, if only because Abbie seemed to like it on him.) But now, standing across the room from Mr. Muscular and Abbie, he questioned it all: how he could ever compare with a modern man who didn't need to be assisted with the mundanity of today's world, how he could have begun to think he was fitting in to the here and now, what he'd do without the Lieutenant by his side should she ever pair up with another man, how he'd thought he could have a chance with the beautiful, independent, strong, and wonderful woman who'd wrapped herself so intricately around his heart he'd have to surgically remove her should that pairing occur.

Tamping down his vexation, Ichabod kept a neutral look on his face, though he doubted anyone noticed his clandestine surveillance. He hadn't much cared what people thought of him, of his strange (in this era) manner of speaking and colonial attire and his 'hippie hair-do' (another of Miss Jenny's colloquialisms). From early on but more and more now, he'd hoped someday the two of them might become something more than just 'the two witnesses.' Watching Abbie so carefree with another man, and one that clearly had his sights set on her, made him question whether that had ever or could ever be a possibility. After all, he would always be a man out of time, and the Lieutenant deserved more than he could ever possibly provide for her. No, he seemed a far cry from a good match for her, and the sudden realization soured his mood. The music ringing from the wireless Bose speakers (he hadn’t bothered to ask what that particular moniker meant) certainly didn't help his mood. In his day, Christmas music spoke of the birth of the Christ-child, the peace that accompanied his glorious arrival, and the hope of the world fulfilled. Now, much of the festive music focused on missing one's 'true love,' as every voice ringing around the room seemed to long for a lost or distant lover, crave the attention or presence of 'the one,' or be begging Saint Nicolas for a partner. He simultaneously cringed at the desperate, needy lyrics and felt them resonating in his heart as he watched the Lieutenant and Mr. Muscular continue to chat. Ichabod felt like a giant flaw in the evening’s festivities, suddenly overcome by feelings of inadequacy as the weight of his imperfections wrapped their maudlin tendrils throughout his mind. His reticence to assimilate more bothered him in a way it never had. Not when he'd first ran though the dark streets of Sleepy Hollow just having woken from a centuries’ long sleep, not when the Lieutenant and Captain Irving and Miss Jenny had harangued him about the past, and not even when Abbie had purchased modern day attire for him to wear and he'd handily refused. He believed now that'd been a mistake. He could never compete with the likes of today's men such as he was. A Captain from the Revolution with odd speech, hair, and mannerisms, and a significant (though improving) lack of knowledge of modern phrases, places, and ways? No wonder she laughed with Mr. Muscular: he was nothing less than perfectly suited for her. The melancholy of the moment settled over him, and Ichabod turned away from the happy couple across the room and made his way to the drink table. He downed a few shots of rum—the Lieutenant had bought his favored brand, he noted with a twinge of pain—and let them burn through him before he rejoined the festivities, actively avoiding the Lieutenant and her new friend. He did his best to forget the vision of her—and she was a vision—and Mr. Muscular, instead choosing to make merry with the Captain for a while, then with Miss Jenny and Master Corbin. Though he easily feigned happiness, his insides ached at the sense of loss that had solidified into his heart. Despite his realization that someone else likely held the Lieutenant’s affections, the party had gone well. Lots of laughter and some drinks, talk of family traditions and something called a white elephant gift exchange. (He hadn't had a clue what that was, let alone what to buy, so Abbie, ever his patient guide, had rescued him, purchasing his party gift for him.) He'd walked away from the game with a gift card to a local spa. There'd been jokes about him finally getting a proper haircut or soaking in a sauna, trying a steam room or getting a body wrap, which, to hide his already miserable thoughts about himself, had set him off explaining how his Native American friends, well versed in natural healing properties of steam and mud, had taught him the finer points of self-care. He'd meant it in all solemnity, but it'd left everyone laughing, much to his chagrin. Now, as people began to leave and amidst saying his goodbyes, he downed another shot of rum and slowly started cleaning up, putting the leftover food into smaller containers and throwing away garbage. "Crane." He turned at the sound of Captain Irving's voice to find him and the Lieutenant standing by the front door. Regardless of how he felt after this evening's revelation, his eyes were drawn to her—always. How could he continue to live here, under the same roof as her, and maintain a friendship that he'd hoped would become more, knowing it'd never progress beyond what they had now? How long could he keep pretending he was unaffected by her, knowing his heart nearly beat out of his chest when she stood near him, fell asleep against him while lounging on the couch, lingered in mundane conversations with him over their morning coffee? How could he watch her be with someone else? Abbie's eyes went wide, pulling him into the present as she pointed at the Captain, indicating he should say a proper farewell. Irving lifted a hand in a goodbye wave, and Ichabod swallowed down his heartache, wiped his hands dry on a kitchen towel, and rushed to see the man off. He avoided looking at the Lieutenant as he approached them but put on a smile. "Good night, Captain. I quite hope you enjoyed yourself this evening." Abbie smiled indulgently as Irving glanced at her, the Captain never quite comfortable with his formality but appreciating the man's earnestness all the same. Irving opened the front door. "I did, thanks. You two have a great Christmas." Ichabod dipped his head in military affirmation, the idea of spending the blessed holiday alone with the Lieutenant, mere hours ago an exciting prospect, now beginning to turn his stomach sour. "Merry Christmas, sir," Abbie called out as he headed down the porch steps. A loud whistle rang out as she closed and locked the door, and they turned in tandem to see Joe and Jenny, their last remaining guests, smiling broadly at them. Confused, Ichabod glanced down at Abbie, who returned his questioning look, and they turned back to the duo. "What?" Jenny's smile widened, and she pointed above them. "You're standing under the mistletoe," she sing-songed in response. Abbie peered heavenward as Ichabod's eyebrow arched up. God’s wounds, of all nights… He could’ve wished this a thousand times over, anytime, day or night. Except tonight. How had no one else gotten caught under the vine? He briefly wondered if the duo had set them up. "Go on," Joe encouraged enthusiastically. "It's tradition." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Abbie angle towards him, her expression wondering and... hopeful? Must be the rum, he thought, sure she couldn't be all that interested in dallying with him under the mistletoe. Besides, he'd tried this scheme once before and she'd handily brushed him aside. He didn't think he could handle her rejection tonight. Miss Jenny's eyes bugged wide as she nodded towards Abbie, and Master Joe, still smiling like the proverbial cat that ate the canary, egged him on with a happily condescending "Don't be shy." Ichabod longed to return to the confidence he felt mere hours ago, before he realized the Lieutenant's interest might reside in another. Instead, he felt unsure and afraid of her dismissal, even as he knew he'd be more than willing to fulfill tradition's demand if she were amenable, despite the fact that they had an amused audience. He swallowed hard, steeling himself, and turned to face her. Her eyes danced merrily at him, the fun of the party not yet worn off, and the look on her face nearly took his breath away. She stared at him hopefully, lips parted slightly, the corners of her mouth lifted up in the early stages of one of those smiles that froze him in place. What he wouldn't give... His heart beat wildly, even as it ached and screamed at him to flee. But she looked so pleased at the prospect before them, so beautiful in the soft glow from the lit candles and Christmas lights adorning the room that he could hardly resist. The setting seemed perfect: warm from the rum, frosted lighting setting the mood, the Lieutenant staring at him expectantly and eager and so beautiful it made his heart ache. Why then did he hesitate so? How had witnessing one encounter of her with another man send him into fits of self-doubt? He really would need to revisit that later. At the moment, his Lieutenant stared up at him, and if he didn't know any better, he'd call that longing in her eyes. "Lieutenant?" He asked her permission on a soft exhale, needing her approval before he'd ever make so intimate a move. It didn't matter that he'd dreamed of this moment for years now, that he'd envisioned myriad ways this momentous event would occur. He would never step over boundaries she felt uncomfortable crossing; he loved and respected her too much. "If you're going to kiss me, you might as well call me Abbie," she commanded softly, that playful smile still tugging at her lips. Those lips that'd teased and taunted him nearly every day for years without ceasing looked luscious and full and as red as the blood pounding furiously through his veins. She was stunning, all smooth dark skin, feminine features, sultry gaze, and quiet confidence, anticipating his next move. He absently drummed the fingers of one hand against his thigh, overcome by her proximity, her encouragement, her downright anticipation. Was this actually happening? That after worrying half the night about not living up to what she deserved, he—not some other suitor of hers—stood next to her under the mistletoe with their closest friends encouraging them to lock lips? And she appeared excited about it? He made himself move before the moment passed, doubt and affection warring within him, creating a maelstrom of wanton confusion, even as she gazed at him longingly. "Abbie," he whispered obediently, his gaze flicking down to her perfect lips as he slowly leaned in, his eyes dropping closed as his mouth finally, wonderfully, touched hers. He kissed her tentatively, softly, gentle in his respectful way, and he reveled in the feel of her plump lips against his, the realization of a million dreams sending his mind reeling, his heart free-floating into oblivion. She felt like fire, his lips burning deliciously where they met hers, liquid heat running through his veins as shivers tingled down his spine. Somewhere beyond them he heard a door slam shut, but he couldn't be bothered by it with Abbie's mouth attached to his. He didn't plan on moving for a while, maybe ever. She shuffled closer to him, her hands landing against his ribs and sliding achingly slow up his chest as her mouth pressed more firmly against his. She moved against him, the intensity, her urgency leaving his body thrumming and aflame, and he sunk into the moment, drowning in her. Her tongue slipped between his lips, and he heard a moan escape, though he couldn't be sure if it came from her or himself. Sensations swirled around and inside of him, more than he'd felt in centuries, and he put his hands on Abbie's hips, inviting her closer to him as he settled into the rhythm they'd found. She waited until she was starving for air before slowly easing away from him, her eyelids fluttering open to see him frozen in place, eyes still closed, a look of wonder on his handsome face. "Abbie," he whispered again before slowly opening his eyes to peer down at her in wonder. A satisfied smile graced her face. "I was wondering if you were ever going to do that." "Mmm," he hummed absently, still trying to restart his brain. She'd done a factory reset on him with her lips and tongue. His eyes went wide as her words finally found traction. "You were?" he heard himself murmur breathily above the sound of blood thrumming through his ears. She nodded, the pleased smile on her just-kissed lips nearly making his knees weak. "Wondering...and hoping," she admitted. "But I thought..." He'd started talking before he realized what he was about to say and forced himself into silence before he made a village idiot of himself, sans village. She tilted her head questioningly. "You thought what?" With his head still swimming, he couldn't decipher a way out of the corner he'd walked himself into, so he forged ahead with the God's honest truth. "I thought you might prefer...a more modern gentleman." Her quizzical—and if he wasn't mistaken, curiously amused—look remained, and she stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. He forged again, sure if he’d had all his wits about him this conversation would not be taking place. "You know, more like your friend, the new lieutenant?" He attempted nonchalance but failed, and she smiled knowingly. "Ah, you mean Mark." Though the warmth from her kiss still burned his lips, her use of the man’s given name irked him. "Yes," he agreed with a clipped tone. "Mr. Mu—Mr. Mark." She inhaled a breath. "He does have the modern thing going for him,” she admitted, nodding thoughtfully. “And he’s easy on the eyes. Though I doubt his wife would be too happy if we started something up.”

“His wife,” he murmured in confusion, the notion of Mr. Muscular having a wife never having crossed his mind.

“Not to mention…I don’t make it a habit of dating married men.”

She looked at him pointedly, and the realization that she’d pined for him as long as he’d desired her washed over him like an overwhelming, cleansing tide. At times he’d wondered, hoped that what she’d just admitted could be true, but they hadn’t looked back after he’d returned from Scotland, and so had never spoken of their long-standing feelings towards one another. Though never in her presence, Master Corbin and Miss Jenny often teased him about the Lieutenant and…and where had those two gotten off to anyway?

He looked to where they’d last stood, but he saw no sign of them.

“Do you think they planned this?” he asked distractedly, realizing it was a clumsy attempt to change the subject.

“If they did, we should be thanking them, but nevermind them. If you’re going to get distracted, it should be like this.”

And with that, she took hold of his lapels and pulled him down to kiss her again.

#ichabbie #ichabbie fanfiction #ichabbie fanfic #ichabbie fan fiction #ichabbie fan fic #abbie x ichabod #abbie x crane #ichabod x abbie #crane x abbie #ichabbie christmas #sleepy hollow #sleepy hollow fanfiction #sleepy hollow fanfic #sleepy hollow fan fiction #sleepy hollow fan fic #my ichabbie writing #my writing #personal #ichabbie first kiss

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