#a hand that wont run through their own hair because strands will catch in the grooves

[owlf45]

what if kudou built yoichi a prosthetic hand 👀

YEAHHHHH THAT'D BE SICK

[heinrix]

from the sentences starter: Maybe Oz/Gale + "do you remember when we first met?"

ohh this is very cute yesss

Sleep was easy for Oz, the act of staying asleep however had been challenging ever since he’d been yanked from his own reality and from his own demise at the hands of a monster he once called friend. The feel of slick, oozing mercury running down his throat, his nose, the corners of his eyes, filling his lungs and sinuses, cutting off any way for him to breathe; relinquished himself to that fate, one he aptly deserved for sins of a former self he’d sooner bury than confront. He fought back, because of course he did, his body wouldn’t let him go quietly; his body, a thing not his own, claimed by many and puppeteered by fewer. Though that feeling of complete and utter suffocation would never properly leave him as he tried to grasp his throat but his hands were stuck, sifting through endless roils of a silver tidal wave.

He jolted awake, gasping, coughing for air that had been sapped from his lungs. The environment around him was somewhat unrecognizable at first until he felt a hand grasp his shoulder, a concerned voice filling his ears before Oz jerked away from the touch. “Gods, don’t touch me, please.” He rasped, still attempting to catch his breath, eyes landing on a concerned Gale who hesitantly took his hand back.

“Bad dream, I take it?” He asked, never taking his eyes off Oz as the tiefling sat up within their shared sent, wiping sweat from his brow and finally evening out his breaths, though his heart still battered against his ribs like the insistent rhythm of a drum.

He merely shrugged, turning to look at Gale, a bit awkward as this had been the first one of Oz’s recurring nightmares he’d experienced. “Not really a nightmare if it’s just a memory your brain sets on a loop.” A sigh fell from him as he fell back down against their bedroll, his side slightly dampened by sweat.

“True events do make for the worst horror stories…” he trailed off a bit, possibly wondering if what he’d said was a tad insensitive but Oz chuckled softly, letting his arm fall outward toward the wizard and Gale perked up at the gesture, taking the invitation to lie down, resting his head in the crook of Oz’s shoulder, fingers dancing softly along his exposed chest. “You do know, if ever you desire to alleviate these specific demons, I’m all ears.”

“Perhaps later…thank you, though.” Oz felt his chest tighten at the offer; it had been a long time since he had spoken of anything that could make him seem vulnerable, aside from his confession around the particulars how he was indeed more of a magical artifact than a person. The gesture was achingly sweet but Oz was in no mood for revealing old scars that still felt fresh.

Passing a hand through Gale’s hair, relishing in the strands of gray here and there, Oz had never felt as content with another person before; perhaps it was his own lack of true relationship experience shining through but Gale saw him, for what he was and what he had done yet still he was lying in Oz’s arms, fighting by his side each day. Though the tiefling’s body didn’t harbor his soul, Gale saw him and stayed. But Oz supposed that revelation was mutual, with how Gale viewed his own past transgressions. Their meeting in this reality, in this time, in this most harrowing of events felt as if fate had touched them both; deserved or not, Oz would thank whatever higher power brought them together for the rest of his days.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Oz queried, looking down at Gale only to be met with adoring deep oak eyes and a soft grin.

“As I recall, the grandiose strength of my paladin savior yanked me from a fate of being stuck between realms.” Gale gesticulated fancifully with his left hand as he was wont to do. “Not only was he as altruistic as to save a misfortune wizard such as myself, but gods was he utterly stunning.” Oz couldn’t help the smile that made its way across his lips, rolling his eyes at Gale’s recollection. “Oh and it doesn’t stop there, no, no, no, he takes me into his fold of every growing companions and well, you know the rest, surely?”

“And the gallant paladin falls headfirst in love with that clumsy yet erudite wizard who fumbles with all his flirtations.” Oz spoke, attempting mirror Gale’s own cadence. The wizard feigns offense as he sits up, hand over his chest.

“My good ser, I didn’t fumble anything considering you’re in my tent and my bed.” Gale tried his damnedest not to crack, a laugh bristling within him as Oz shook his head and pulled the wizard back down, hand cupping his jaw before he pressed his lips to Gale’s, chaste and basking in the warmth of him. These night wouldn’t chase away memories seared to every crevice of Oz’s brain but they did help.

this was way longer than i anticipated :3 anyway, them!

[julek]

for @greyduckgreygoose, my beloved <3 | read on ao3

! explicit

Jaskier was oddly quiet.

It was an unforgiving summer afternoon, the sun burning bright in the sky as they walked together on the dry roads. Roach followed close behind them — mindful of the heat, Geralt had dismounted as soon as he was able — and stomped her feet in displeasure every time they had to abandon the cool shadow of the trees, following the forks in the road that lead to Cleves. 

They had spent the night in Maribor, after Jaskier had sung his voice out in the marketplace’s small summer festival. They’d drunk cool beer and eaten sweet pastries, tumbling into bed at an ungodly hour and rising with the sun. Geralt, for once, had actually enjoyed himself — being able to accompany Jaskier on his many outings had long since become routine, but seeing him in his element, lute in hand and winning smile on his face, was still enough to make Geralt’s chest swell with pride, knowing he was the only one who would hold his hand at the end of the night, and take him home. 

Now, as they moved on through the deserted road, Geralt became suddenly too aware of how quiet it all was — apart from the fresh air running through the trees, there was no humming, no half-lines being sung. It was… suspicious. He looked to his left and found Jaskier fidgeting with the strap of his lute, mindlessly watching the thick foliage of the trees they passed by.

Against all demands of decency and decorum, Jaskier’s chemise was unbuttoned to the navel, tucked into his breeches in a half-hearted attempt to keep it from sliding off his back. He’d pushed his hair back in the early morning — as he was wont to do when the heat became unbearable — but by now a few wayward strands were falling on his face, matted with sweat. His chest was an inviting sight, one that always seemed to take Geralt by surprise, the swell of his muscles and the thick hair that covered it making his breath catch in his throat. He was walking a bit slower than usual, adjusting the waistband of his breeches from time to time — Geralt had simply shrugged it off as still being exhausted from the night before. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

“Jask.”

He turned around. “Hmm?”

“You’re being quiet,” Geralt observed. “Last time you were being this quiet it was a curse.”

“Not cursed,” Jaskier replied, biting his lower lip. “Though it is sweet to know you care.” 

Geralt hummed. “Then?”

Looking at Geralt, his head tilted, he smiled, snapping his lute strap into place. “Just thinking.”

There was a row of low-hanging trees on the edge of the path, and they passed underneath them to enjoy the cool shadow, if only for a few moments. Geralt was about to speak when a soft breeze wafted through the air, and made him stop dead in his tracks. 

That scent. Sweet like ripe fruit and sharp like the spices at the marketstalls — lust and desire and need, all in one. Not covered in scented oils, not masked by perfumes and rosewater — just pure Jaskier, sweaty and unwashed and wanton.

Geralt looked at Jaskier again, and the bard must have seen the way his nostrils flared because suddenly his cheeks were pink and his lips were swollen, bitten and cherry red. Geralt stepped closer, Roach’s reins slipping from his fingers, and just breathed in. He could feel himself giving into it, desire pooling low on his belly, just by thinking about taking Jaskier like that, sheltered by the trees and surrounded by nothing but their own skin.

“Jaskier,” Geralt breathed, his voice rough. “Here?”

Jaskier licked his lips, and his voice was already a wreck as he whispered, “Yeah.”

His back hit a tree as their lips crashed with an unbidden sense of urgency, Geralt’s hands reaching for as much skin as he could touch. Jaskier gave as good as he got, sucking bruises he knew would fade soon on Geralt’s jaw, his neck, his ear. 

“What’s got you so worked up?” Geralt panted against Jaskier’s collarbone when they parted, fingers stroking the soft skin of his belly, just above his waistband. “Could swear you were pretty dead to the world this morning.” 

Jaskier scoffed a laugh, pressing kisses to Geralt’s face, uncaring of the heat. “I may have a surprise for you.” 

Geralt pulled back to look at him, a small frown knitting his brows. His thumb was dangerously close to the pretty knot that tied Jaskier’s breeches together. “And what would that be?”

“Can’t tell you.” Jaskier’s grin was wicked. “Guess you’ll have to find it.” 

Groaning, Geralt stole a quick kiss, making Jaskier laugh. He linked their hands together and walked deeper into the forest — they’d had too many a close call, pleasuring each other on the side of the road — and whistled for Roach to follow. 

“Tell her to stay back!” Jaskier whisper-shouted, looking at Roach walking toward them. “I don’t want her—”

“Seeing us?” 

“Yes, Witcher, seeing us. She’ll be scarred for life.” 

Geralt snorted, but motioned for Roach to move along a line of trees. “There.” 

“Good,” Jaskier purred. “Now, where were we?” 

Almost tearing the fabric, Geralt took Jaskier’s chemise off his back. He needed to feel his skin, have no layers between them — with quick movements, Jaskier divested him of his armor, deft fingers making fast work of the buckles holding the plates together. Their lips met again and again, a vicious hunger running through their veins, demanding to be sated.

Pinned between Geralt and the trunk of a sturdy tree, Jaskier arched under the bruising kisses being sucked into his skin. Geralt caught his hands just before they moved to the laces of his breeches and placed them above his head, taking control. Jaskier shuddered. 

“If you’re gonna tease me,” he rasped, “at least take your clothes off. Put on a proper show.”

Geralt hummed. “You’d enjoy that too much.” 

“That is correct, which is why I’m—”

Jaskier’s words dissolved into a groan as Geralt finally, finally pushed his breeches down — but, too soon, his hands stilled. 

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice was low, almost too low to be heard. 

Jaskier huffed a laugh. “You like that?”

The bard wasn’t wearing any underclothes — just his breeches, all day long, under the offending sun — and it made some animalistic instinct in Geralt burn, something primal and raw melt his senses into nothing but Jaskier, Jaskier, Jaskier. 

He bit down on Jaskier’s neck as an answer, and his moan went straight to Geralt’s cock, already hard and aching for release. He wrapped his free hand around Jaskier, stroking hard and slow, the way he knew set the bard on edge — but then he remembered.

“Where’s my surprise?” He asked, smiling when Jaskier rocked into his hand, tiny whines escaping his lips. “I do recall being promised one, of sorts.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to answer, but then, right then, Geralt twisted his wrist and sped up his movements, wringing punched-out ah, ah, ahs from him. “Jaskier.”

“Y-yes,” he managed, his forehead pressed against Geralt’s shoulder. “There’s— ah, fuck—”

“It would be rude of you to come now,” Geralt whispered in his ear, his voice rough with want, though his movements didn’t falter, his thumb gliding along the slit messily, “before I got to unwrap my gift.”

“I— I won’t last,” Jaskier confessed, his eyes shut and his brows knitted in a frown borne of ecstasy, clearly reaching his peak. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Geralt smirked. “I’m sorry.”

Jaskier let out a broken moan as Geralt withdrew his hand entirely, leaving him unsatisfied and aching, panting against his chest. Geralt pressed small kisses to his hair, his face, his hands. “You okay?”

Though he seemed miserable, Jaskier gave him a soft smile before burying his face where Geralt’s neck met his shoulder. “Always.”

Geralt took him in his arms, relieved. He knew what Jaskier liked, was sure of what he wanted — making sure was part of it, all the same. 

He waited for Jaskier’s breathing to even out, let him rest against his body even though he kept subconsciously rocking against Geralt’s cock, which strained against the leather of his breeches with unfaltering desire. After a few moments, Jaskier rose from his chest with a knowing smile on his lips.

“Well, then,” he said, turning around and leaning his front against the tree, arms lifted above his head in surrender. He looked at Geralt over his shoulder, “won’t you come get it?”

Every bit of restraint and patience Geralt had been holding onto vanished, disappeared as he moved forward and pressed himself close to Jaskier, shoulder to knee. “I’ve fucked you in the woods before,” he observed, reaching for his own pants to unfasten them, “what’s special about this one?”

Jaskier chuckled. “Ah,” he said, clicking his tongue. “But you’re mistaken.”

Geralt watched as his hand traveled down his back, slow and teasing, until it reached his tailbone. Jaskier slid his fingers down his crack and pulled, spreading himself open just the slightest bit, enough for Geralt to see—

“Fuck, Jaskier.”

Down in the forgotten streets of Maribor, there’d been a small shop Jaskier knew very well. It was where they regularly got their oil supply, where Jaskier often complained to Geralt of high prices for feathered hats and embroidered underpants. The night before the festival, Geralt had watched Jaskier come in particularly pink-cheeked, smelling of chamomile and expensive perfume, a small velvet pouch hidden between his hands. He’d thought nothing of it — after all, he was the one who’d asked Jaskier to get their oil this time — and had almost forgotten about it.

Now, Geralt watched as a small, polished plug in a dark shade of blue was pressed inside Jaskier, keeping him open. It’s for you, the animal that lived inside him said, he’s wearing it for you. A low groan escaped him as he reached out and tapped the base once, making Jaskier squirm.

“Do you like it?”

Jaskier’s voice wavered the slightest bit, and immediately Geralt cursed himself for standing there quiet so long. Their eyes met, and that was it — Geralt surged forward and kissed him ferociously despite the awkward angle, just to show him how much he liked it. 

“I do,” Geralt said against Jaskier’s mouth, “I really fucking do.”

“Then show me.”

Geralt turned Jaskier around so he was facing the tree, and felt the wet dirt on his breeches as his knees hit the forest floor. This close, he could see just how far the plug went; the way it stretched Jaskier further and further with every move. He groaned. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

Jaskier couldn’t manage to answer. He let out a broken moan as Geralt licked a stripe down his cleft, briefly sucking on the plug and making Jaskier’s knees almost give out. His scent was so strong, here, so heady and raw, Geralt wanted nothing more than to get drunk on it.

He teased his tongue around the plug, pulling it out with his fingers just a little, only to push it back inside. It drove Jaskier mad, made him let out weak, breathless moans as Geralt licked him relentlessly. “Geralt,” he breathed. “Please.”

Geralt hummed, making Jaskier whine. “Yes?”

“Just,” Jaskier said through gritted teeth, “d-do something.”

Geralt pulled back, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. “Something?”

Jaskier looked down at him over his shoulder, and Geralt couldn’t suppress a shudder — he looked wrecked, his cheeks red and scratched from pressing them against the tree, his hair pushed back and gleaming with sweat, his eyes shining with unshed tears. An amalgamation of sin and innocence, purity and desire. His voice was rough when he said, “Anything.”

And Geralt gave it to him. He gripped the base of the plug and pulled, taking it out in one fluid motion, hearing Jaskier groan at the stretch. He immediately replaced the plug with two spit-slick fingers, feeling the warmth of Jaskier’s walls clenching around them.

“Geralt, Geralt— Geralt,” Jaskier chanted, his name suddenly a prayer, as Geralt pressed messy kisses to his hole, took playful bites at his cheeks. Jaskier’s cock still was hard and straining against his stomach, and Geralt could see he was holding himself back from rutting against the tree. 

Abruptly, Geralt pulled away and sat back, bringing Jaskier down with him. “C’mere,” he rasped, settling Jaskier on his lap, his fingers still deep inside him. He swallowed each one of Jaskier’s moans, kissing him fiercely as he added a third finger. “Are you gonna come, little bird?”

“Not yet.” Jaskier shook his head. “Want— with you.” 

Geralt groaned against his bard’s shoulder. Of course he’d think of Geralt even on the verge of his orgasm, of course he’d want him to take his pleasure as well. If only he knew what he did to Geralt — that seeing him incoherent and lost in desire was enough to bring him to the edge. Still, Geralt nodded. “With me.”

Jaskier unlaced Geralt’s breeches and pushed them down, just enough so they could rut against each other, skin on skin. Geralt hissed as Jaskier rocked his cock against his own, felt the dribble of precome slick the way as Jaskier��s palm wrapped around them both. He let out a low groan and caught Jaskier’s lips in a kiss that was mostly teeth and tongue, but that felt like diving into a frozen lake on a hot summer day. He felt Jaskier fucking himself on Geralt’s fingers as he stroked them both to completion, his movements faltering. 

“I’m— Geralt,” he choked out. 

Geralt nodded feverishly against his temple. “Yes, yes, yes.” 

Jaskier twisted his wrist once more, and Geralt came over Jaskier’s hand and stomach. Even under the hazy cloud of his orgasm, Geralt presses his fingers inside Jaskier still, brushing his prostate with nearly every stroke. Suddenly, Jaskier stilled, and came with a muffled sob against Geralt’s shoulder, his come hitting Geralt’s chest. 

They sat together, catching their breaths for a moment. Geralt pressed soft kisses against Jaskier’s neck, the side of his face, wherever he could reach. Devotion, he realized. This is what devotion feels like.

Jaskier melted against him, pressing lazy kisses of his own against Geralt’s scarred shoulder. “That was…” 

“Good,” Geralt rumbled.

Jaskier pulled back slowly, with a grin that quickly transformed into a groan. “Fuck, no,” he growled as he watched Geralt run a finger through the mess on his chest and suck it into his mouth. “Fuck.” 

Geralt shrugged. “You taste good,” he said simply.

“You can’t just say—” Jaskier pressed his face against Geralt’s neck, defeated. “You’ve killed me. I’m dead. Please grieve accordingly.” 

Geralt huffed a laugh. “We have to get going soon.”

Jaskier tsked. “Can’t. Dead, remember?” 

Geralt knew there was no competing against Jaskier’s soft afterglow. With a dramatic sigh — damn Jaskier and his endearing theatrics — Geralt laid down, his back on the damp summer grass. Jaskier burrowed into his side, nuzzling his nose against Geralt’s neck, their legs entwined. 

Geralt looked at the sky. Its blue was slowly giving way to the soft oranges and pinks of the late afternoon, sunlight melting against the clouds. He knew they would have to move eventually, saddle Roach and keep going until they reached Cleves. But for now, they could lie close to each other, their breaths and heartbeats as one, and worry for nothing but each other. 

For now, Geralt could look into Jaskier’s eyes and find nothing but a mirror of his own, could whisper sweet nothing against his ear and watch him flush and smile, embarrassed, until the sun set. He could press soft kisses on Jaskier’s skin and find nothing but the scent of sweat, and salt, and love. Find roundabout ways to tell him I love you, and I’m yours, and I never want to be without you, and I would never run.

He would always stay.

[cryingoverafictionalcharacter]

We Have A Pool?!

Summary: There’s a secret swimming pool at Hogwarts. Y/N discovered it purely on accident in her first year, and it has become her safe place, that is until a particular Weasley find it as well.

Warnings: SMUT! (fingering, vaginal, etc) SMUT WITH PLOT IN A POOL YALL (ok I heard pool sex can be not great for everyone, so maybe don’t try it unless your into that then go off) Swearing, no proof reading, an irrational amount of commas because the public school system failed me. The end

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: OK so IDK if there's canonically a pool at Hogwarts, I just heard it in a starkid play and was like “Hey, I like that” So I made it all up so if there is/isn’t actually a pool pls don’t come for me. Also HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope you’re all happy and are making progress to becoming even happier.

Your elbows rested on the desk in front of you, your fingers rubbing circles into your temples as you tried to pay attention to the class in front of you. This past week had been stressful to say the least, you had three different essays, all needing to be at least four pages long, as well as a potions exam and a herbology quiz. To say you were excited for the weekend was an understatement.

And you knew just where you were going to spend it.

As soon as class was dismissed, you started packing your bag as quickly as possible, wanting to get to your room to finish your homework and change before going to your favorite spot for some much needed stress relief.

You practically ran out of the class, heading straight to the Gryffindor common room, but before you could get far, two tall bodies appeared at your left and right sides.

“Someone seems to be in a hurry” Fred said, looking to George who nodded in agreement.

“Indeed, where are we off to Y/N?” George asked.

“Oh, its a wonderful place, I don’t think you would have head of it. It’s called nun ya” You said, causing the boys to raise an eyebrow at you.

“Nun ya?” Fred asked

“Nun ya business” You joked, causing the older red to head to gasp in feign hurt, while George tried to stifle a laugh.

You and the twins had been friends since you were children, being next door neighbors and being the same age meant you spent a lot of time together, especially when your parents went on business trips and left you at the burrow. You had grown to become really close to them. However, over the past few years George and Angelina had started hanging out more, leaving you and Fred to get closer. 

This wouldn’t have been a problem if you didn’t have a giant crush on him. 

“Wow, were your best friends in the world and you wont even tell us where you’re going. I’m hurt!” Fred cried, making you laugh a bit. 

“I’m just going back to my room to do some homework. I’ll see you guys at dinner yeah?” You asked, turning to wave at the two boys, who stood in confused silence as they watched you walk away.

“Well, she’s hiding something” George said.

“Definitely” Fred agreed.

A few hours later, you had gotten dinner, finished your homework, and were currently laying in bed, waiting for Angelina and Katie to fall asleep. After a while, their breathing evened out, and you quietly got out of bed, putting your pillow under the covers to make it look like you were still sleeping there just in case one of them woke up.

You tip toed out of the room, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible before making your way down the steps, and out of the common room. Once you were a bit farther away, you cast lumos to navigate better through the hallway. You took a right, then a left, then another left, before finally finding your way to the empty arythmancy classroom.

You made your way to the bookcase on the far left side of the room, running your finger along the spines before landing on a familiar blue cover labeled The Geometry of Liquids. You pulled the book back until you heard a click, pushing the bookcase forward which easily swung open to reveal a hallway.

You couldn’t help but smile as the smell of salt water filled your nose, quickly stepping behind the book case before closing it behind you. As you walked further down the hallway, you began to see a blue light, finally turning the last corner, you found yourself in an abandoned dungeon, with a large pool in the middle of it. 

You had accidentally stumbled across this room in your fourth year. You were bored, all of your friends either at Hogsmeade or detention Fred and George, and had found the abandoned classroom. You started going through the books, and the rest is history. You had been coming here at least once a week ever since.

You muttered the spell to stop the light coming from your wand, the pool somehow giving off its own soft blue light, before removing your shirt and sleep shorts, exposing the green bikini you had put on earlier. 

Walking closer to the edge, you took a few running steps before plugging your nose and jumping off the pool wall, landing in the water below. 

You sat there for a moment, allowing the cool feeling to sink deeper into your body. You had gotten a lot better at holding your breath over the years, still eventually you had to come back to the surface for air, which you did. You wiped the water off your face, opening your eyes to find a pair of dark brown ones looking back.

“Fred!” You screamed, surprised by his sudden presence. He stood at the edge of the water in a pair of jersey shorts and a t-shirt, his jaw on the floor as he looked at you, then to the rest of the room. 

“What are you... who’d you get here?” You continued, his silence making you a bit nervous.

“We have a pool?” He asked looking back to you, causing you to nod.

“Yeah...” You said, feeling a bit guilty for not telling him before. 

You had planned on telling him, along with the rest of your friends, but you were worried that word would get around and it would become a new party spot, which meant it would only be a matter of time before a teacher found it and blocked it off. 

“How long have you known this was here?” Fred asked.

You sighed, swimming to the side wall and pulling yourself out, ringing out your hair before crossing your arms in front of you.

“A while” You mumbled, feeling a bit ashamed.

“And you didn’t tell us because...” He started, wanting an explanation.

“I didn’t want everyone to find out, because then the teachers would find out-”

“And then nobody would be able to use it” Fred finished, causing you to nod, still refusing to meet his eyes, your own question suddenly popping into your mind.

“Wait, how did you find it?” You asked, finally looking up to meet his gaze, your heart beating a bit faster at the eye contact.

Now it was Fred’s turn to look guilty. “I followed you”

“You fo- why!” You shouted

“I’m sorry! It’s just, you were upset earlier and you seemed really excited about something, and then I saw you walking around and I don’t know I just followed you.” Fred blurted out, looking at you with a nervous expression.

“Ok fine, I’m not mad at you if you’re not mad at me” You tried to reason, wanting a truce.

“Deal” He said smiling, holding out his hand for you to shake, which you did. Unfortunately this made it so you didn’t see his other hand quickly come around to connect with your shoulder, pushing you back into the pool.

You quickly got your bearings, kicking back to the surface to find Fred keeled over with laughter. 

“You dick!” You shouted, which only made him laugh harder. You began laughing as well, before ducking under the water to move your hair away from your face, popping back up to see Fred walking over to where your clothes and wand were laying.

“What are you doing?” You asked suspiciously, you eyes widening as his hands went to the hem of his shirt.

“Getting in, duh” Fred stated, before pulling his shirt over his head to reveal his toned chest, making your face heat up in the process. 

Before you could say anything, Fred was running towards the pool at full speed before jumping into a cannon ball and landing right next to you, sending buckets of water flying into your face.

Your mouth fell open in shock, watching as Fred came back up to the surface, laughing once he saw your expression.

“Oh nuh uh” You grumbled, shooting out your hands to send water flying back at Fred, abruptly cutting off his laughter.

“Oh really?” he asked mockingly, sending a wave of water back at you, only for you to return a wave as well.

Soon enough, water was flying in all directions as you each tried to splash each other as fast as you could, the sound of both of your laughs echoing off the walls. 

You were splashing as fast as you could, looking away to avoid getting hit in the face as you aimed blindly, only stopping when you suddenly felt arms wrap around your middle and spin you around.

“Got cha!” Fred yelled, your arms landing around his neck to stabilize yourself as you shouted in surprise.

Fred stopped spinning, allowing the both of you to calm down and catch your breath, which made your heartbeat pick up at the realization of the position you were in. Your bodies pressed together as his arms remained around your waist, and yours around his neck.

You pulled back a bit to look at him, meeting his gaze before his eyes wandered down to your mouth, yours doing the same before he finally pulled you closer, and connected his lips to yours.

You responded instantly, moving your lips with his as you wrapped your legs around his waist. His arms moved downwards to hold you by your ass as he walked you over to the side of the pool, pressing you up against the wall.

He tugged at your bottom lip, making you moan into the kiss and allow his tongue to explore your mouth. You moved a hand up to his hair, weaving your fingers through the wet, fiery strands, and deepening the kiss even further. His hard length pressed against you, and your hands began traveling down his chest.

He suddenly pulled away making you open your eyes to look at him.

“Are you sure?” He asked, a soft look in his eyes.

You nodded.

Fred moved his lips to just below your ear, hovering just over the skin. “I need to hear you princess”

“Please, I need you Freddie” You whined, gasping as his lips came in contact with your neck.

He continued his attack on your neck as his hand moved in between you, dipping into your bikini bottoms before sliding his fingers through your folds. Your breath hitched as he slid two fingers into you, slowly pumping them in an out as his thumb drew circled over your clit, the coil in your stomach tightening as he began to speed up.

“Fred, I need you inside of me” You sighed, whining as he removed his fingers. His hands moved to lower his shorts a bit letting his cock spring free, moving your bikini bottoms to the side before gliding through your folds.

"You ready?” He asked, causing you to nod. “With your words princess”

“Please Fred just fuck me” You practically begged, before moaning as he slowly filled you up, his size stretching you out slightly.

He waited a moment, allowing you to adjust before you finally nodded, allowing him to move. He slowly pulled out half way, before thrusting back into you, repeating the action and picking up speed with each thrust.

You bit your lip to try and suppress your moans, but Fred wasn’t having any of it.

“None of that princess” He said, stopping his movements and making you whine “I want to hear you screaming my name when you come, got it?” He asked, still refusing to move.

“Ok fine, please just move-ah!” You gasped loudly as he started thrusting into you, much faster than before.

Water sloshed around you as he pounded into you, your back scratching against to tile with each thrust but you didn’t care. His cock hit that one spot perfectly with each stroke, tightening the coil in your stomach more and more. 

“You’re so perfect, taking my cock so well” Fred breathed into your ear, causing you to let out a soft moan. “I can’t hear you princess”

His hand slipped in between your bodies, beginning to rub fast circles around your bungle of nerves, causing the coil in your stomach to finally snap, sending you over the edge, while screaming Fred's name over and over again.

Fred continued to thrust into you, riding you through your orgasm, his thrusts eventually becoming sloppy before he stilled inside of you, painting your walls as he came.

You sat like that for a moment, catching your breath as you came down from your high. Fred pressed his lips to yours as he slowly pulled out, causing you to sigh at the empty feeling before moving both of your bottoms to their original place.

A wave of insecurity suddenly washed over you. Was this a one time thing? Was he still mad that I hid this from him? Does he want to just be friends with benefits? does he-

“Hey, what’s happening” Fred asked, snapping you out of your thoughts, a curious expression on his face.

“Um...” You started, setting yourself up for the possibility of rejection. “Was this a one time thing? Because, if it is I don’t want to-”

Fred cut you off by gently grabbing your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours, silencing all the insecure thoughts running through your mind.

“Y/N, I’ve liked you since fourth year, I really hope this isn’t a one time thing” He said, making you smile.

“Since fourth year?” You asked, causing his face to blush a bit.

“Well, yeah” He replied sheepishly.

“Well, I’ve liked you since third year, so I guess I like you more” You joked, causing him to let out a gasp.

“Not possible, I like you way more than you like me” He argued, to which you shook your head.

“Nope, I win, hands down” You responded, folding your arms matter of factely.

“How about, we go shower off, and I show you how much I like you?” Fred asked, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Challenge accepted” You replied, all the while you couldn't hide the smile on your face.

__________________________________________________

A/N: UMMMM ok??? Pool sex. With Fred Weasley??? Am I obsessed with this concept? Yes. Is it healthy, probably not but its not hurting anyone so I’m a keep doing it. Anyway, I hope you guys liked it, feel free to leave any suggestions or feedback. I love you all! ALSO IF YOU KNOW OF ANY FRED POOL SMUT PLEASE TAG ME OMG

[smilesvt]

honey muffins | pt.1

pairing: seungcheol x reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, possible angst later on,,

warnings: slight suggestive but nothing smutty!

summary: a stranger who catches your eye leads to a swirling discovery of your fates. will you succumb to the forbidden love that lies between you?

‘You know we shouldn’t be doing this right now Cheol.' You whined, hands pushing against the mans broad shoulders.

Yet your complaints made him even more riled up. The fact he could taste you when he wasn’t supposed to made the adrenaline rush faster through his veins, the sounds of your sweet voice echoed in his mind and filled him with even more desire.

'Says who?' he whispered, his lips like shadows of your own, his soft breath seeping into your very self.

You had never wanted something so bad, to feel his lips against yours as he whined into your mouth, helplessly and at his very edge.

But you had self control.

And you would never let your desire get a hold of you.

~~~

You mustered the energy left in you to fully shove the man away, however his strong hands still gripped onto your sides.

'You know exactly who.' you sighed, as if you hadnt had this same conversation with him plenty of times before. The man scoffed, looking away with his tongue pressed firmly in the side of his cheek.

'Seriously? That’s all you can think of right now? Whilst you have that pathetic look in your eye thats practically begging me for more? Don’t make me laugh.'

Cheol had never got angry at you; and he wasn’t about to now. But the tinge of annoyance mixed with desperation hidden in the depths of his voice made you feel slightly guilty.

'Fine.' You managed to speak out, your voice calm and steady, yet your eyes looked down at your lap, unable to make eye contact with the man.

'Do what you want with me. Anything and everything. But you know what risk that comes with. Is it worth never seeing me again for a night of pleasure? I would hope I mean more to you than that.’

His hands fell from your waist and onto the cold kitchen counter you were sat on.

‘Of course you do. You know that.’

‘Stop coming so close to losing me then.’ You poked at his chest, and tilted his head up to look at you.

He smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes.

——

Yours and Seungcheol’s families had never liked each other. It was a decades long feud, started when your great great grandfather opened a restaurant with his best friend, Seungcheols great great grandad.

The business had a slow start, what with the two men only being teenagers when they started selling their food to local people in the town. Little did they know, over the years, their seemingly perfect business would gain traction all over the country and earn them more than ever expected.

But as with most co-owned businesses, one half of the duo would become increasingly greedy, wanting more than the other.

And so the feud started. Seungcheols family had accused yours of stealing money from the joint bank account, and the business relationship crumbled.

Your great-great grandad opened his own bakery chain, specialising in his favourite, muffins: whereas Cheols turned his into a patisserie.

Fast forward to now, both of the families had stores around the country. You would have thought, what with the huge amounts of success from the two businesses, the family beef would have been quenched. Yet both of your families were stubborn: refusing to ever apologise or simply even acknowledge the other’s existence, despite walking past each others stores nearly everyday. And thats when you and Cheol came into the mix.

~~~~

You remember that day as clearly as if it were yesterday.

3 years ago, sometime in December, a fairly handsome man had walked into the bakery whilst you were working.

His beanie was pulled down low, with a few strands of espresso coloured hair peaking through. However the casual headwear contrasted the grey suit he was wearing, a burgundy tie pulled down in exhaustion and shiny black shoes at his feet.

You had had many weird and wacky customers walk in during your part time shifts at the family bakery (you worked in the heart of the city after all, weird was practically the usual) but something about this man had struck you. Your eyes had followed him as he perused around the store, occassionally stopping and observing the packs of bread. He looked way too interested in the baked goods, and you smiled to yourself as you looked down at the book you were reading.

'Excuse me.' A deep voice as smooth as honey had spoken from the other side of the counter. You quickly stood up from your stool and walked over to the till.

His golden eyes met yours over the rim of his thin gold glasses, with a sweetly intense gaze.

'How can i help you?' You had smiled at the man, your customer pleasing voice hiding your slight nerves.

'I was wondering, say you had a date coming up, and they really loved bakeries and such, what would you treat them to?'

The question had taken you aback, and he smiled as he noticed you pause to think of an answer.

'Well I’m personally a sweet sort of girl, so I would probably subconsciously choose something dessert like. A good neutral choice would be a muffin of some sorts-' you glanced over the array of treats that lay on the counter in front of you. 'I’d strongly recommend the blueberry honey one, it’s sweet yet not too overpowering, but I guess it’s all down to their personal preference.' You looked back up at the man, who flashed a warm smile at you.

'Perfect. I’ll take 2 of those then.'

---

It had been the day of your graduation when you decided to treat yourself to the slightly boujee patisserie down the road from your bakery.

Seungcheol remembered it as clearly as day.

The bell at the front entrance had jingled as a familiar girl waltzed through, a bright smile plastered on her face. He instantly recognised her; the pretty one from the bakery just up the road. She seemed to have recognised him too, as she slightly bowed her head towards him as she walked over to the till.

'How can I help you on this fine day mademoiselle?' he had questioned, taking the girl aback as she slightly giggled.

'Well I was wondering, say you had a person you wanted to impress and they really liked sweets, what would you treat them to?' He smiled at the words coming from her mouth, the ones that mirrored his own.

He gazed upon the small crescents your hazel eyes made as you laughed, a warmth seeping through his body.

His heart had never felt that way before.

---

From that day on, Seungcheol visited your store more often than he would like to admit. Sometimes he wouldnt even buy anything, he just wanted an excuse to be able to speak to you.

When the shop was filled to the brim with customers, he would simply wait at the end of the long line and you would smile at how stubborn he was.

~~~

'Its raining and you still stood out there.' You sighed as he shook his wet, curly hair in front of you. 'Worth it.' He flashed you his comforting gummy smile and your heart burst into smithereens.

'No work today?' You asked, looking down at the mans grey sweats and oversized hoodie, a backpack strewn over one shoulder.

'Fortunately not. There’s only so much pretentious business ladies in pencil skirts buying mille-feuille that I can handle.’

'I can imagine.' You sighed, glancing out at the thousands of raindrops hitting the shop window.

'At least its your day off tomorrow.'

You smiled internally: he knew your work schedule probably better than he knew his own.

'You might as well get something since you were stood out there for so long.' You started, opening a brown paper bag and waiting for the mans response.

'Hmmm...Is this new?' He pointed through the thick glass of the display.

You giggled. 'I’m glad you noticed. It’s a little something new we’re trialing, made by yours truly.'

'You shouldn’t have said that, I’ll end up buying the whole stock for you.'

'Don’t be stupid.' You chuckled, handing him the treat over the counter. 'Get going you idiot, I have to clean up.'

He took the bag with a smile. ‘I’ll see you soon, and let you know how good it tasted.'

---

Yet you never did see him soon.

The man stopped turning up after his shifts finished, he stopped waiting behind the long lines of customers. You would catch yourself staring out of the shop window, waiting-or maybe,hoping- to see a familiar mess of jet black hair pop into view, a gummy smile that made your heart burst, an outstreched hand waving excitedly at you.

But you never saw it.

'Are you expecting someone?' Your mother had asked you one day, when the shop was calm and empty, shaking you out of your daydream.

'No, why do you ask?' you wondered.

'You keep looking out of the window as if someones meant to be there.'

You nearly sighed, running a hand through your hair.

'It’s fine, just bored.'

‘Well the banquets tonight, hopefully you wont be bored there.'

The banquet had slipped your mind. It was a fancy dinner for corporate directors of companies around the country. Of course, you and your family had been invited. You knew your mom was hoping for you to meet some handsome rich man; she was always asking when you were ever going to get with anyone.

It was dumb you thought, constantly thinking of the man from the patisserie. You knew nothing about him, just his name and where he worked. Other than that, his whole existence was an enigma. That’s why it hurt when he stopped visiting, because you couldn’t even call him to ask what was up, or visit his home to check in.

He was a mystery man.

Then why did you care so much?

---

The truth was, Seungcheol wasn’t allowed to come see you. As he walked into his house, munching on the chocolate tart you had so carefully handed him, he couldn’t wait to tell you how good it was.

'Are you actually being serious?' his younger brother had said to him as he walked over to the fridge.

'What is it?' he turned around, chocolate circling his mouth.

'That’s from THEIR bakery... oh you are in so much trouble when I tell dad.' His brother ran off in the direction of their fathers study.

Dumbfounded, Seungcheol wondered. What was wrong with the bakery? It was just a local joint, surely no place his father would have any issue with.

However, as he turned the brown bag around to see the logo adorned on the front, he nearly dropped the tart.

There was no way.

No way he had fallen for someone he couldnt have.

----

So when you saw your parents disgusted faces as they looked at the family on the opposite side of the banquet hall, and your eyes fell upon a disgruntled Seungcheol, you had to stop your jaw from falling open.

It suddenly made sense, why he had seemingly ghosted you for weeks. His family mustve found out about him seeing you at the bakery.

His eyes met yours as you sat down at your table, and you swore you saw them light up.

You weren’t going to give up on this mystery man just because of your parents.

-

So fast forward to now, nearly 2 years later, where you were sat on your kitchen counter, the now not so mystery man in front of you.

Over the years, you and Cheol had been secretly hanging out without your parents' knowledge. You thought it was dumb, how the two of you, both adults with stable jobs and social lives, were meeting up in secret like teenagers hiding a relationship. Yet you knew if either of your families were made aware of this, they would do anything to stop it.

‘I’m sorry.' The man breathed out with a heavy sigh, his eyes suddenly glistening with the type of glow you hated to see. 'It’s okay.' You replied with a soft smile, patting the top of his head. You were used to this, Cheol getting too ahead of himself and apologising like a child getting caught stealing sweets.

It wasnt like he had never felt you before, the hotness of your skin against his hands as he ran them down your arms, your spine, your legs was something he knew well.

He had had all of you: apart from one place. Your lips.

You knew if your lips ever grazed upon his, you could never go back. And as much as you wanted it, as much as your body was craving it, you knew of its consequences.

'I’ll get going now.' He whispered, pushing himself away from the counter and picking up his suit jacket from the sofa.

-

You leant against the corridor doorway, watching the man pull on his dress shoes.

'See you tomorrow then? I’ve got some new cupcakes coming in that I think you’ll like.'

His ears shot up at the sound of sweets, and you giggled.

Some things never change.

He kissed the top of your head before opening your front door.

'See you tomorrow muffin.' he smiled, before walking out and closing the door behind him.

And everytime you saw his back in front of you, you hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

~~~~

a/n: ahhhh this is my first ever fic on here so if anyone reads this- which honestly im not expecting much- i hope you enjoyed, heres to many more xo

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Ace Merrill

(Not my gif)(Requested by a few anonymous askers)

- You’d been out with a few of your friends, visiting a drive in movie theater when you just so happened to catch Ace’s eye. He had to do a double take when he saw you for the first time, since when did Castle Rock have stray models wandering around?

- Well, what’s a guy supposed to do? Not come talk to you? Uh, uh, not an option. 

- So, while you were standing at the concession stand, the greaser sidled up to you, leaning against the counter and introducing himself with a charming smile. He made conversation as you waited for your food, sprinkling in little flirty comments and twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. 

- Not too long after, the cashier returned with your order; interrupting the two of you. You gathered your purchase, a bit disappointed that you had to say goodbye so soon. 

- Just as you were trying to think of something to say, he asked if he could take you out sometime. The two of you made plans to see each other before your friends urgently called you over. You hurriedly said goodbye to the blonde, giving him a quick apology before heading over to your seat. 

“See you around, y/n/n.” 

- Once you joined back with your group, they began to warn you about how much trouble your “new friend” was. To be honest, it sort of turned you off of him and rightfully so. A womanizing criminal was not exactly the kind of guy you were looking for. 

- With your friends words in mind, you made sure to avoid the blonde, not meeting him for your date and not answering his calls. Unfortunately for you, you’d relinquished just enough information about yourself for him to be able to track you down and by that I mean, he visited your work. 

- Finally, you were forced to confront him and admit that, yes, you’d been avoiding him. He seemed more than a little pissed but he tried to be on his best behavior, especially when asking if that mean’t you “couldn’t be friends”. 

- You felt bad for jerking him around so you hesitantly agreed to, at least, be on good terms with him. Lets just say you didn’t stay just friends for very long. 

- After only a week of hanging out with him, you find yourself fooling around in the backseat of his car. Don’t be too hard on yourself, Ace is a professional. 

- You tugged your sweater back on, running your fingers through your mussed up hair as the boy lit a cigarette. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you settled back against the seat, blowing out a cloud of smoke before he spoke. 

“You’re mine now, alright?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, a small smile finding it’s way onto your lips. “yeah, alright.” 

- And so, the two of you began your “secret” relationship. 

- Ace really isn’t too bad, just rough around the edges. You learn to live with his faults and just try to stop him from doing anything too against the law or dangerous. 

- He has a cold and tough exterior but his insides are... well mostly the same but with beer, some gooey parts and lots of love for you. 

- Can I just say that something tells me Ace is a momma’s boy. Like his family is pretty dysfunctional but his ma means a whole lot to him and she’s the sweetest little woman you’ll ever meet. He’s very excited to introduce you. 

- He usually calls you doll, darlin’, angel and babe. You cant decide which ones your favorite, he makes them all sound so good. 

- He’s always messing with something, whether that be a car part, knife or something of yours. 

- Constant pda. He has his hands on you whenever you let him and will try to sneak some contact whenever you wont. The only reason you wouldn’t let him was if you’re around someone you don’t want knowing you’re together.

- The looks that he gives you in public, oh dear. 

- He makes it damn clear to everyone that you belong to him so yes, you could say that he’s pretty jealous. 

- If anyone even tries to flirt with you they need to watch their backs while walking home. He’s not afraid to pull a knife on a guy in a bar, what do you think he’d do to someone when they’re all alone?

- You probably get an ‘Ace’ tattooed on you at some point. He’d usually just do something like that himself but he wants it to look nice so he’ll take you to an actual shop; unless of course, you want him to do it.

- He most likely tattooed your name on himself, making you do the first letter yourself. He thinks it’s cute when you keep apologizing for “hurting him”.

- Raunchy compliments. If you’re lucky he’ll just say you “look good” or that he “likes it” when you’ve done something new to yourself. 

- Husky morning/late night whispers. 

- Sometimes he’ll arrive home late at night, stumble around for a while and then just collapse onto you, falling asleep as you watch tv. He’s usually a little tipsy so you just run your fingers through your hair and let him nap. 

- Most of the time he’ll wake up all groggy a few minutes later, throw you over his shoulder and carry you off to your actual bed which is just a cozy tad bit too small.

- He drags Eyeball to the store with him whenever he needs to get you a gift.

“How bout roses? Girls like that kinda shit right?”

- Eyeball probably has a crush on you, he can’t help it; there aren’t a lot of girls in town who are as nice as you, not to mention as pretty. 

- All the cobras think you’re adorable and the best girlfriend any one of them could ever manage to get. They grew especially fond of you after you brought them beer when they ran out.

- Trying to stop him from messing with kids. He tones it down, mostly whenever you’re around, but never really quits. 

- Fake wrestling. It’s fun to roll around on the floor with you a little, especially when he wins which is often. 

- So much sarcasm, if you don’t know how to hold your own then you better learn quick. 

- Helping him or keeping him company while he cleans his car. He sprays you a few times with the hose because he’s an asshole. 

- He’s made you sit on the hood of his car for a picture at least once. 

 “I’ll give you two bucks if you let me take one of you topless.”

- He likes standing behind you while you cook and resting his head on your shoulder.

- Cutting his hair for him. There’s something oddly satisfying about sitting in a tiny bathroom with him, balancing on the sink ledge and trying your best to not mess up. 

- He doesn’t give a fuck, he’ll buy you pads. Who's going to give him shit for it? His friends? He’ll beat their asses into next week. 

- Going to drag races. 

- Watching him play pool. 

- Rough kisses. 

- Hickeys, bruises, and bite marks. 

- Sitting on his lap. 

- Getting pinned to things because he likes seeing you all flustered. 

- Let’s be honest, there’s a lot of sex. The mans horny like 80% of the time. Anything you do turns him on. Thankfully, being good at sex is one of his redeeming qualities. 

- He’s the kind of guy to slap and grab your ass in public with no shame.

- Whenever you walk in front of him he tends to pull you back against him so that you’re pressed against his chest. It’s both because he can't keep his hands off of you and because it shows that you’re his to everyone around you.

- Whenever you’re in the car together, he drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. 

- Him doing really dangerous shit and making you worry. He thinks it’s kinda cute when you do, not many people genuinely care about his well being. 

- He thinks it’s fun to annoy you so expect him to act like a little shit every now and again, putting things you need on the top shelf and stealing your clothes or towel from the bathroom while you’re showering. 

- He’ll usually annoy you until you talk to him whenever you try to give him the silent treatment. 

- Your parents found out about the two of you when they caught you making out in his car, a few months into your relationship. It certainly made convincing them that he’s actually an alright guy  pretty hard. 

- Depending on their personalities, they either made you stop seeing him for a little while as a punishment then tried their best to accept it or they just kicked you out of the house. This was the 60’s after all, most parents were pretty strict and judgmental. 

- If they decide to kick you out then you’re moving in with him, plain and simple. You're his girl, he’ll take care of you.

- Fights are rough, like really rough. There’s yelling, insults, things being thrown. It’s just overall not a fun time. Either you or him storm out at some point; if it’s him then you usually aren’t there when he gets back. You go to stay with your friend for a while. 

- He calls you constantly and tries to find you whenever you’re out in public. He’s still pissed off but he misses you and feels kind of horrible when he comes home and doesn’t find you there. He’ll usually spot you when you’re walking home and will drive up beside you to try and win you back. 

“Get in the car y/n.”

“Get lost Ace!” You shout, spouting off some rant about how you’re through and aren’t coming back. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it! We’ll be doing this till the end of time darlin’.”

“This is the last damn time Ace.”

“Come on babe, gimme another chance. Why’d you get that tattoo if you couldn’t handle me.” He joked. 

“... If I get in that damn car you promise this won’t happen again?”

“Hell, I can’t promise anything but I’ll sure as hell try.”

- When you guys are in bed he’ll apologize for real, wrapping his arms around you while you lay your head on his chest.

“You do know I’m sorry, right?”

- He’s kind of just your average dirtbag who sometimes takes you for granted, then makes it up to you in some way that makes it really hard for you to leave. You know you should probably ditch him but you just can’t, you love him for better or for worse. 

- You probably have a civil ceremony or a really small wedding. He’s not one for stuff that’s big and fancy so something private is ideal for him. 

[nebraska-is-a-myth]

But we can chose to fight - part 12

tw /// lots of mentions of  panic attacks, blood, and death, take care of yourselves please

Masterlist

P.s I'm sorry 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blood.

So much Blood.

Blood on his hands.

Blood on his clothes.

Blood pooling onto the concrete.

Pressure.

He needs to put pressure on the wound.

Keep pressure on it.

Stop the blood.

Why is there so much blood.

It won't stop.

Please, why wont it stop.

Pulse.

Check for a pulse.

Apply pressure.

No pulse.

Try again.

No pulse.

Too much blood.

Hands.

Hands all over him.

Hands dragging him away.

No, he needs to keep pressure on it.

He needs to stop the blood.

Hands.

Fists.

Blood.

His blood?

Why is nobody trying to stop the blood.

He needs to get up.

He needs to stop the blood.

Someone's shouting.

Is the ambulance here yet?

He’s covered in blood and,

Oh.

They're shouting at him. 

It’s foggy and he can't think, 

He doesn't know what's happening.

Think.

Blood

Counting

Gunfire

Blood

Oh

“Don't just fucking stand there say something!”

His face hurts, did someone hit him? He feels something run down his upper lip and he tastes the blood seeping into his mouth. The metallic taste makes him gag and he runs a hand through his hair, shit, now his hair is covered in blood.

Blood?

Blood!

Tommy!

“Tommy?”

The name leaves his lips like a whimper, it’s childish and desperate. He doesn't get a response.

“Don't you fucking say his name you monster!”

Something happens around him, something moves and people shout, not at him this time. It’s hard to understand what's happening when he can't pry his eyes away from Tommy's limp body. It looks unnatural for him to be so still, so quiet. Tubbo has his head in his lap, carting his fingers through Tommy's blond and slightly bloodied hair. There is blood everywhere. Dream looks between his hand and the red handprints on Tommy's cheeks and he decides that the marks on his face are because of Dream. He remembers holding Tommy's pale face in his hands. He wouldn't wake up. His back hurts and there are bloodied tracks on the concrete, are they his? He vaguely remembers being dragged away from all of the blood, was it Wilbur? Is that why Wilbur hit him, because he was too close? He was only trying to stop the blood. 

“What have you done.”

I don't know.

“What he should have done fucking months ago?”

George is here?

“So that was the plan was it-?”

Of course George was there, he shot Fundy.

Wait, he shot Fundy?

“ -lure him in when he was vulnerable and the murder him!”

No of course it wasn't, he loved Tommy. 

He loved him.

Loved.

But Tommy’s dead.

Oh my god he’s dead.

Tommys Dead.

He killed him

Tommys dead

Tommys dead

Tommys dead

Tommys dead

Tommys dead

He’s shaking

Why is he shaking

People are staring

Why are they looking

Stop it

Tommys dead

Stop staring

Why are they-

Hands

Hands on his back

He cant breath

Hands

Blood

Shaking

Tears

Stop it

Blood

Breathe

He can breathe

“Thats it Dream, in and out. In.”

Breathe.

“And out.”

Breathe.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Dream opens his eyes again he no longer feels like there's cotton wool clogging his ears, the sun is setting and he wants to wretch at the smell of blood coming from everywhere. He is now faintly aware that he is no longer wearing his mask and the beating in his chest pounds against his ribcage louder and louder, but he feels calmer as rhythmic circles are rubbed into his upper back. Dream melts into the touch, he hasn't had much human affection in a while, apart from flying fists and painful sparring sessions. He’s sat on the floor with Fundy crouched in front of him. Fundy? Did Fundy just,   help him? Dream looks up into Fundy’s eyes to find the orange haired man already looking at him, it’s strange having the man so close, but his gaze feels softer than all the other harsh stairs around him. He sees Wilbur come into focus from behind Fundy and looms over the both of them with a terrifying look in his eyes. 

“Fudy what the fuck are you doing.” It’s a half mumble and Dream barely hears it himself, but Fundy takes his gaze away from Dream and removes his touch from the other man. Is it strange that Dream feels colder without it?

“I wasn't exactly going to let him pass out from a panic attack Wilbur, and it’s not like any of them were going to do anything.”

Fundy gestures over to the rest of the Dream team who were still armed to the teeth and quite frankly looked rather bored.

“Dream just needs to stop being such a pussy and get over it. So what the kids dead, plenty more annoying little prats in the sea.” 

George's voice is replaced by shouting and the clacking of metal and Dream needs to stop this before someone else is killed because of him. Dream is in charge, not George. So (with a little help from Fundy) Dream staggers to his feet and crosses the line between l’manburg and Dream smp to meet the brit. He stands there for a moment, letting the confusion settle on George's face, before striking George across the bridge of his nose in one swift movement.

He hopes it hurts.

The maskless man turns from Georges curses and sapnaps confusions and walks towards Wilbur. “I want you to have independence.”

“WHAT THE FUCK.”

Dream ignores George in favor of directing his eyesight to Fundy. The man isn't smiling, but his eyes become a lot wider at the statement. Wilbur looks angry and confused and on the brink of tears. He doesn't blame the older man, the smp had taken so much from them, and all because he couldn't bear to stand against the people who he used to call his friends. He knows that this will never even come close to making up for what he has done to them, but he hopes that it's a start.

“The east side is yours to command Wilbur, you are free from the laws of the smp.”

In rage, Sapnap goes to lunge at dream, but Eret manages to grab one of his arms and pull him to the ground. “ How could you dream, after everything we’ve done.”

Dream turns to face the arsonist, his head is still spinning but his thoughts are clear, clearer than he thinks they've ever been.

“What we’ve done? Sapnap we terrorized these people, killed a child! You really think that's something to be proud of?”

George pinches the bridge of his nose and clambers to his feet, he snarls and spits at dreams feet. “The east side is not yours to give! We made you what you are, that territory is ours!”

“George you Manipulated me! You made me afraid and you put me in an impossible position. I should be dead right now, I wish I were fucking dead right now but I’m not okay. And I’ll be damned if I let you hurt these people any more than you already have. If it’s power your after then take it, take whatever the fuck you want from me, but you leave the east side the fuck alone George.”

Tubbo can hear the others shouting but he stops paying attention after Dreams outburst. It’s sad Dream said those things about himself, he knows how much the older man cared about Tommy. Tommy trusted Dream, and the list of people Tommy trusted was painfully short, but Dream had always been on that list, no matter what. Even after their little fight about Tommys disks, even after they had both almost died, Tommy probably died still trusting dream. Tubbo carts his fingers through Tommys soft hair, flecks of dried blood are stuck to the tips of some of the strands, he tries not to think about all of the blood pooling around them. He focuses on the happy things instead. Tubbo likes to think Tommy is happier up there, wherever he is. Maybe he’s finally in the arms of his mother after all these years alone, he hopes Tommy finally knows he is loved. Tubbo’s other hand is wrapped around his friends wrist, fingers placed firmly on where Tommy's pulse should be thudding with energy. He hasn't felt anything in minutes now, he knows his friend is gone, that no amount of cpr will bring him back, the blood reminds him of that. So Tubbo takes his hand from Tommys pale wrist and slips it into his friend's hand. It's cold and it feels nothing at all like Tommy. Tommy always used to run hot like a furnace, the boy always complained about how warm it was no matter what the weather was doing. It was both a blessing and a curse, yes it meant Tommy complained 24/7, but it also meant that Tubbo could use him as his own personal hot water bottle. Cold after a long day of running round the city on jobs? Go to Tommy. Run down after getting caught in a storm? Go to Tommy. Just need a warm hug? Go to Tommy. Tubbo could really do with one of those hugs right now, but he can't can he? Tommy isn't warm anymore, his paling skin is like ice to the touch, and Tubbo feels like he wants to sob until his tears run out. Will he ever be warm again?

He sits like that for a while, clutching Tommy's hand in a death grip like the boy would sink into the floor at any moment. Still overwhelmed with shock, Tubbo glances up for a second to catch Erets gaze. The older man is staring at them with this look in his eyes that Tubbo can't quite place, although he’s never really been good at reading people. He looks, sad almost, Tubbo thinks it’s regret. One day he thinks he’ll forgive Eret. Not today, he can't. But one day, when the sun rises in just the right way, and the birds call to him with a song that makes his heart pang, he will visit Tommy's grave and feel the breeze caress his tear stained cheeks and tell him that it's okay. It's okay to forgive him. Tubbo will welcome Eret with open arms as gusts of wind tousle both of their hair, rustling their shirts and telling them that Eret is forgiven, and that they can start to heal again. But the skies are clear, there is no breeze on this day, and so Tubbo tears his eyes away from his friend and back to his brother. Because that's what they were, brothers. Together forever until the very end. Although neither of them expected it to come so soon. It’s terrifying, knowing how alone he is in the world. Tommy was his everything, he was the glue that held everyone together, clichés as it may be. But that was the truth, and now that he’s gone, Tubbo can feel himself start to crumble. The Brunette caves in on himself and lets the sobs rack through his body, the grip on Tommy's hand tightens. He can almost hear Tommy nagging at him complaining at how he’s squeezing too hard.

“You're hurting my hand bitch.”

The thought makes him clutch at the cold skin even harder, tears still rolling down his cheeks. That is, until he hears the nagging again, as if this is some cruel game.

“Oi dick’ead that ‘urts.”

Wait?

“Tommy?”

The outburst catches the attention of the other gang members, although none of them quite know what's going on. 

Tubbo is left speechless, he doesn't understand what's happening. It’s almost as if all the blood had soaked back into Tommy's body and he had sprung back to life.

“Tommy you're alive!”

“‘course I am idiot, why wouldn't I be?”

Tommy is more than confused. Tubbo is firing words at his head that just don't even make sense, talking about how he got shot and something stupid like that. It makes Tommy head pound, I mean he’s pretty sure he would remember getting shot right? Although, he doesn't really remember ever being on the floor, or anything after getting punched by George for that matter. The color blind man couldn't have hit him that hard could he? Surely not. I mean come on, it's GeorgeNotFound! Tommy's confusion continues to grow as more an more people crowd round him, Wilbur, Fundy, Eret, sapnap and...

“Tommy?”

Its...he...Dream..

He cant breath

Tommy's head spins, he only gets a few seconds of peace before he feels like he’s being swallowed by the void in his mind. His vision goes dark and he can feel his body start to tremble. It’s terrifying. The blackness around him is hollow and cold and Tommy screams for someone to help him, he screams for Dream, Wilbur, Tubbo, in a desperate attempt he even calls out to Eret in hope of a savior. But nothing screams back. Instead he is taunted by silence and the pressure building in his chest. But as Tommy starts to surface, the distant sounds of Wilbur's deadly counting haunt his empty wasteland.

[shaggi]

if i could stop time, i would

info ; eren x reader ; soulmates ; 1.8k

content warning ; end of the world concept, mentions of not really wanting to live lol, gentle angst

Day one. 72 hours until the world ends.

The world is going to shit. I know it is because I can hear the panicked buzz of mothers holding their children close and reassuring them as the news practically burned "we're all going to die" into our heads.

My fingers twitched as they held the dark blue fabric of my jeans. I'm terrified ㅡ as is the rest of the people watching the news ㅡ and it most definitely doesnt help when they plaster a large timer onto the screen counting down our days and hours left on our beloved blue planet.

"We never thought this day would come.. Ladies and gentlemen, we've reached the end of the chapter." The words echoed into the back of my mind. 'The end of the chapter'? I havent even really lived my life? I'm only seventeen.. I barely made it to graduation. I suck in a deep breath, filling my lungs fully before releasing the built up pressure.

Theres a burning sensation on my waterline, tears threatening to roll down my cheeks. My hands begin to shake when I think back to all the sleepless nights I spent not enjoying life. I took life for granted ㅡ and now it's going to end in three days. In seventy-two hours, it's all going to go away. That's not enough time to say all the things I didnt have a chance to say.

Wasted opportunities.

Wasted chances that I now no longer have control over.

My legs suddenly feel like spaghetti and walking seems like a foriegn topic to me. I just need to sit down, take a breather.

Who am I kidding. The storm inside me is raging on tonight and my hands have a handful of messy locks.

I catch glimpse of inked red calligraphy spelling out the name 'Eren' that is marked onto the inside of my forearm in small writing just an inch below my wrist. My heart swells with sadness.

The sense of realization settles in, practically telling me to 'let this sink in for a little'. I'm not ever going to get the chance to meet my soulmate. I'll never get the satisfaction of weaving their fingers with mine, to lay on the couch on cold winter nights with blankets drooped over our shoulders. Never get the chance to tell them I love them over and over again, to brush their hair behind their ears, grab them by the smooth skin of theirs and feel the fireworks of pressing my lips against their own.

I wont feel the sweet electricity course through me like people explained would happen when they touched their soulmate for the first time. I've spent seventeen years searching for this perfect person in the happiness of this little town. The universe promised a perfect person, they never promised me to meet them though.

The younger generations were lucky, for they werent born with marks. They werent tied to someone, so they dont have anything to lose other than the fact that they're too young to leave this world.

A crowd begins to pull outside, staring at the sky with both a mix of admiration and fear. The blue sky has begun to turn itself into a peach color. My town's happy vibe has now turned uneasy, scared, unsure.

That day, I walk home slowly when the sky begins to darken, taking the scenery of the autumn leaves disarray upon the concrete sidewalk. If the world is ending in three days, I'm going to make the most of it. Soak it up like a sponge. Do what I should've been doing these past seventeen years and love life for once ㅡ despite all the wrong. Despite the fact that I'll never graduate, and never meet my soulmate. I force myself to disregard the nagging thoughts that tug at my conscious.

I dont think about the fact that I'll never get a chance to buy my first apartment.

I dont think about how I wont be able to wake up every morning to make my significant other breakfast.

And I most certainly dont think about how I'll never be able to take my lovers hand at the alter and say with great pride, "I do."

Day 2. 48 hours until the world ends.

Today, I woke up early. Early enough that the sun still hasn't peaked over the clouds. They say that if you wake up early enough the day takes longer to end.

The aching pain in my chest never seems to cease. I laugh a little bitterly at the calander on the wall, I feel like its mocking me now. A part of me wants to rip the thing to shreds and scream until my throat is raw ㅡ but I said I'd make the best of these last days. So, I push these bitter thoughts from my mind and start up a warm shower.

Seventeen years of not wanting to be alive, and now I only have two days to live until the entire world completely goes to shit. Ironic, isn’t it? Why now am I so angry? The water is warm trickling down my bare body, as my shower thoughts continue treading forward to how I could make life better in less than forty-eight hours.

I walk down a different road today, deciding that routine wasnt necessary when the world is going to end in forty-eight hours. The countdown continues on nearby TVs, the bright white luminous against the dark morning sky.

It makes me feel anxious.

Destruction clouds my mind, but I bite my lip and hold my ground. This situation will not drive me crazy.

The town is a lot quieter than I expected, then again it's only 6 in the morning.

The day carries on just as any other day, the air seems heavier though. It's the night time that brings chaos.

You see, I've been walking around town all day blowing that last little bits of money I have on little things that have no purpose. The sky is the same sunset peach as it was yesterday, only barely hinting at a blue color.

There's a faint noise a few blocks from where I am standing, and at first I chose the ignore it. The yelling got louder and louder until I felt my feet pull like magnets to what was going on.

Chocolate hair, smooth tan skin shining under the soft orange of the sky, handfuls of someones shirt as this mystery man pinned some junky against the rough brick wall. His eyes held a killer glow, practically fuming from the ears. I was going to mind my own business, but then I saw the other strike at the brunette ㅡ and I dont know why, but I stepped in.

A surprise attack, a blow right to the face, maybe a minor bruise on my cheek from when the other decided to attack back ㅡ but soon he left. I turn my gaze back to the brunette who still sits on the floor, palms pressed into the concrete.

"I didnt need your help," he hissed, dusting his hands against the black fabric of his jeans.

"Oh you're welcome for saving your ass, wasnt a problem at all." My hand lifts to my face, pressing onto the bruise and wincing before squatting next to this stranger. "Is it bad? Let me see," The moment my hand makes contact with the others chin I feel the rush of electricity course through me.

Overwhelming is an understatement. Sweet emotions flooded through my mind but I can feel the pounding of fear in my veins, and bittersweet it was. When I retract my hand, I see that he's mirrored the exact expression I have; eyes blown wide, fear in the darks of his pupils.

"Eren..?" trying to keep my voice from cracking seems hard, and it comes out more like a whisper. This situation leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Where the hell has he been for seventeen years? Why is he just now showing up?

Eren immediately sprung to his feet, taking a few steps back with no words to say. I snatched at his left arm, pushing the sweaters sleeve up and over his forearm to see my name inked in blue against his paper skin. "So.. you're my soulmate?" I promise I didnt mean to make it sound disappointed ㅡ but in a way, I guess you could say I was.

So many questions raced through my mind; but the biggest question of all was why? Why now of all times we could've met? Why must I be gifted with the worst luck.

Eren isnt a bad person though, and in the few hours we've spent together I can tell you this; His favorite color is red, he lives with his mother and a girl that his family took in when they were very little - who he loves dearly, he can play guitar very well, he looks absolutely adorable with his hair tied up, and that's only the stuff he's told me within the first hour.

Words cannot express how much I wished we could have more time together, but the bright TV clocks continue to remind me that our time is running out.

"There's nothing more I'd rather do than to spend my last moments with you," Eren whispered, golden flecks in his beautiful ocean eyes. His hand was held in mine as the pained expression washed over his face. Somewhere in the conversation led us to this point of heartbreak. We both explained how we wanted nothing more than to meet earlier in life, but apparently the universe had a different plan.

The idea of parting with Eren now just seemed like a waste, and I'd much rather take my dying last breath next to the one I looked for my entire life. Falling in love is easy when you've got nothing to live for.

The walk back to my house is silent, but it's a comfortable silence, and we never seem to let go of each others hands. The house is quiet and dark when we enter.

The rest of the remaining night we have is spent cuddled under the thick blanket of mine, Eren held me close to his chest as we whisper sweet things that wont mean much in a few hours. Chaste kisses are showered over the male as I remind him of how I never stopped searching for him.

He studied my face, moving a strand of hair behind my ear before placing his palm onto my cheek and rubbing his thumb across the smoothness underneath my eye. I could feel my breath begin to shallow and my heart skip a beat. I loved the way his eyes sparkled under my dim-lit room, the way I could feel his heartbeat pulsing from how close we lay where, how steady his breathing was, and how gentle he caressed me.

Its bittersweet, and I never believed in the after life, but with him - maybe, just maybe, we will meet again in the next life.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Elizabeth huffed with a hand on her cheek as she watched her father perform before seing on a nearby T.v that was replaying one of her favorite shows and her favorite actress was doing her job as her own character.

The girl often imagined herself as that actress, Miss (L/n) (Y/n), daughter. She was just too sweet and caring on her interviews and even helped everyone around her. Although she didn't make as much as appearance, just like her daddy, she did an amazing job on every role on the T.v.

She poked her head at where her character's father was talking with shigaraki Tomura and decided to just tip toe out of the set since Midoriya's actor was too distracted with his own brother to take care of her. Just to take a quick walk is all.

Although, walking through her set she gasped at seing Miss (L/n) reading some papers on her seat as other actors surrounded the area. Her eyes glowed at seing her idol right there.

"Isn't my mom great?" She yelped at the sudden voice beside her as jumping in guard to see a girl, same features as the woman she was looking at before.

"W-What-?" The girl giggled and pointed at the woman getting up from her chair.

"Is my mommy!" Elizabeth frowned at that, dissapointed at hearing such a thing but trying to not demonstrate to the other girl who extended a hand towards her "I'm Mai by the way! (L/n) Mai!"

She smiled and shaked her hand with a giggle.

"I'm Elizabeth."

"Nice to meet you Eli!" Mai smiled brightly before putting a hand on her lip and making a confused sound "Wait! I know you! You are Eri-chan!" She smiled brightly as she giggled.

"Yeah! My father got a job and I was the only one that could act with him because the other actress was scared of him!"

"Oh! Ypur father is Overhaul?! Scarry!!!" She laughed as the other kid giggled and they started to chat around. Elizabeth even discovered that mai was a actress as well!

Time passed as the two girls chatted for hours until a voice made them stop.

"Elizabeth!"

"Ops..." the girl tensed as she saw her father coming to her.

"What were you thinking?! I was scared out of my skin when you weren't in the set!" He kneeled down and holded on her shoulders as she apologized.

"Mai! Sweety!" a voice the two dark brow haired man and girl look up as the other girl squealed and went to hug you immediately "How many times do I have to tell you to not get out of the guards sign?" You sighed and petted her hair as she nuzzled on you and apologized with a smile.

Elizabeth watched the scene with a bit of envy before noticing the way that her father's eyes fixated on you and how his golden orbs seemed to shine brightly while you when looked at him gasped and seemed to have the same look.

Elizabeth and Mai shared a look before the two adults went to talk, after only God knows how much of time staring at each other.

"Forgive my daughter (Y/n), she gets bored on our set then she likes to explore some places when I'm not looking." He scratched the back of his head as you played with your hair.

"Oh no no! Dont be handso- I mean! Sorry! I mean sorry! Dont be sorry about it." You laughed nervously "My daughter does the same thing so I kinda know the deal very well."

"I do imagine." He chuckled as Elizabeth widened her eyes at how her father seemed so much comfortable around her. Before she gasped at feeling him pulling her near them "This is Elizabeth by the way. She is quite a fan of your works."

"Oh really?" You smiled down at her "Hello Elizabeth! Is so nice to meet you!"

"Same pleasure!" She squealed with exciment as you giggled and waved your hand at the girl on your side.

"Well, you already know Eli, but this is my daughter Mai. I think she has the same age as her." You looked at Kai which only nodded with a smile at her before retreading his looks at you.

Mai and Elizabeth looked at eachother before the girl with (H/c) smiled brightly.

"My mom likes your dad a lot!"

"Hm! And it seems like my dad has a crush on miss (L/n)! He never acts like this around anyone!"

"Hey!" Mai turned to her with a determined look "What about we make them both go on a date?! I would love to have a dad and you as my sister!"

"Really?" She gasped, tears burning at how overwhelmed she was "Would you like that? I always imagine your mom as mine own! Wont you be mad?"

"Mad?! No way! My mom deserves happiness as much as all of us! As long as your dad be a good boyfriend to her, we can become sister even!"

"Deal!" Elizabeth smiled and grabbed her hands as well.

The two girls were giggling and it accidentaly catched the both adults attention as you smiled at it and kai arched one eyebrow at the scene.

"Seems like they got along pretty well." You commented with a giggled as Kai sighed with a smirk.

"For some reason, I feel like these two are gonna make some trouble."

.

.

.

The man pored some tea for him before handing the plate of breakfast for his daughter as Elizabeth got up.

"Daddy go get dressed! Now!"

"Huh?" He almost dropped his cup on the ground as he felt Elizabeth pushing him towards his room.

"You have to change dad! Mai and I agreed to meet on the park today!"

"What now? Does her mother even know that?" He asked but Elizabeth only pushed him harder.

"Go daddy! We're gonna be late!" He sighed but still got into the room and went to change himself.

.

.

.

"You have to be more prettier than you already for your date mom!" Mai handed you some earings which you declined with a small laugh while arranging yourself on the mirror.

"Sweety is a playdate for you and Elizabeth. I am not going out with anyone as far as I know of."

"Yes you are!" Mai pouted while sitting near you "dont hid it mommy, I know you have a rush in Elizabeth's dad! Is soooooo obvious!"

You scoffed playfully, but still feeling way too embarrassed of even remembering that man... With those golden orbs that seemed to hypnotize you ever time you looked at then, his smile and his way of smooth talking, God even his body was perfect with those abs and torso that clinged to his usual black t-shirt and-

"MOM! Is almost time!" Mai yelled while constantly poking your cheek.

Okay... maybe you were a bit of a simp-

.

.

.

"They're talking." Mai handed the binoculars to Elizabeth as the said girl squealed.

"They look like a couple!" Elizabeth squealed and the two girsl gushed on the playground as the both adults stopped to talking to see the kids squealing and giggling from the distance.

"Mai really likes your daughter." You commented with a smile as he smiled as well.

"Elizabeth is not one to make friends that fast, guess this was an exception."

"I can see it." You giggled and he chuckled for a bit before it was stabilized a comfortable silence between you. You seemed to notice him rubbing his thumbs together before he decided to speak up again.

"I... I know some place where it sells some great tea and coffe nearby..." he rubbed the back of his neck a bit before looking at you "Maybe would you like me to buy you something?"

You widened your eyes at that before smilling and nodding.

"I would love to." It was one of the first times you saw that man with pale skin blushing a bit, but the sign was wonderful enough and his smile was just the cherry on the top of the cake.

"Great." You two flinched when you both heard your daughters screaming in joy before both of them put their hands on their own mouth when they notice you two looking at them.

"Sorry!"

.

.

.

"I TOLD YOU THAT IS NOT MY NAME ANYMORE!"

"And cut!" The director spoke as he sighed, rubbing his throat a bit since it was sore after this shout of his.

"Great acting as always!" Mirio's actor commented while getting up as Elizabeth clapped her hands at her father as he took off his mask.

"Thanks, although the creaming is gonna ruin my throat is actually fun." He commented before looking up at the sounds of another person clapping her hands.

"(Y/n)..?" He spoke, trying his best to not open a smile as you giggled while your daughter continued clapping her hands at him.

"It was amazing your job sir!" The little girl commented as him nodded at her with a smile, a form of thanking her before looking at you once again.

"I was wondering if I could see you." You laughed a bit while playing with a strand of your hair "And maybe pay back for all of the coffees you paid me so far?"

The two girls squealed silently before Elizabeth spoke up.

"So! Me and mai are going to stay on the set!" She waved at her father "You two can go on your date in peace! He loves you though (Y/n)! You dont need to pay back"

"Elizabeth!" He whispered shouted in embarrassment as she giggled.

"Same goes for my mom!" Mai squealed before running away with Elizabeth as both adults were left to deal with the embarrassment.

"Haha... kids." You commented in pure embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck nodding with a grunt. "..Do you really love me?" You asked before laughing at how red the man has gotten all of the sudden.

"Match making-" Mai extended her hand to high five Elizabeth's.

"Succeded!" The dark brow haired girl commented before looking at Mai "Congratilations to your soon new dad!"

"Congrats for your soon to be mom as well!" Mai laughed, the two girls happy as ever know.

[lollybliz]

bout to make a Monster of a fic rec post here we go

heyo @jinx108! We’ll start with the complete ones because sometimes you’re just not in the mood to wait for the last chapter, you know? I don't remember details of all of these so i’m just going to copy the author’s summary rather than write my own. I am literally just going through my bookmarks, I got 400 of these to sort through. if ive talked to or am familiar with the author im gonna mention them, but if I mention you and you don't want me to have Please tell me and i’ll remove it.

If you’re not into spoilers Please Tread Carefully, I don't watch out for that stuff so I wont know to label it

1>Crushing Truth by Bunzuku: Tododeku. “Romance is hard enough for a teenager to understand when they have a good relationship role model. For Shoto, it takes two excited meddlers for him to even realize what his feelings really are.“

2>Disowned by b00mgh: tododeku + others. Unrated, some traumatic elements. “Shouto freaks out under a bridge and I use the word "grass" a lot more than I really should. Izuku does his stupid martyr thing and everyone makes continuous references to his propensity to break his bones. Aizawa goes "oh FUCK my kids are dying again" and his students use him as emotional (and physical) support. A friend requests angst, I say what kind, she say idk make someone get disowned and i say oh this I can absolutely provide my good buddy.”

3>cotton candy hands by @chonideno: Kiribaku. I will take Any excuse to rec this fic, its the most fluffy pile of feels Good Lord. also the first fic I ever bound into a physical book. “Studying to become a hero requires knowing how to take care of yourself. Sometimes you might need help on the way so if your crush offers to do your hair for you or to give you a well-deserved back rub, it'd be stupid to say no. A series of soft vignettes in which a love-struck Kirishima and a touch-starved Bakugou care for each other and it's definitely not making their hearts jump through hoops, they’re never this close to kissing, no, they're totally best friends bro“

4>Catching Sight of the Storm by neo7v: Kiribaku, tododeku. A considerable amount of Whump and related angst, and kinda sad tbh. “Blind. Quirkless. Useless.The first two things were stated clearly by the doctor that sat about five feet in front of Izuku. The third was a word that Kacchan called him everytime he failed to make the jump on whatever forest excursion they were on or when he ran into a tree because he hadn’t seen it. “I’m so, so sorry, Izuku.” Was his mom giving up on him already? But he could still be a hero if he tried hard enough, right? Quirkless or not. Blind or not. Just because Izuku was useless now didn’t mean he would stay that way forever, right? *** A Blind!Izuku AU”

5>Yell Heah by fakecharliebrown: Chatfic. M a n y pairings. technically complete, but part of an ongoing series. “Iida creates a group-chat for Class 1-A. It doesn't go as planned.“

6>Sunshine by Rosey_Note: BIG SAD. tw- failed suicide attempt. KiriKamiBaku. “They didn't deserve to put up with his crappy mood. Because Denki Kaminari did not feel like Sunshine right now. And they deserved sunshine. In fact, Denki didn't feel much of anything right now.“

7>Electric Connection by  Onlymostydead: ShinKami. “Kaminari's quirk has always had... Weird side affects. Like his ADHD. And his constant energy. And his insomnia, which wouldn't leave him be right now, when he really needed to just get some sleep. But, thankfully, he has good friends.“

8>The Best (The Worst) by Onlymostydead: no romantic pairing. tw- rampant transphobia, both outside and internalized. “Bakugou Katsuki has known who he was since he was four years old. He was a boy, it was as simple as that. Around his friends, at school... But things couldn't just be that simple, could they?“

9>Lichtenberg Figures by Q_loves_you: no definite romantic pairing. “Kaminari Denki has a very powerful force of nature running through his body. Kaminari Denki doesn't want to hurt anybody. He doesn't always get what he wants, and "anybody" does generally include himself.“

10>Eventuality by KikaTouka: ill be honest I don't remember this one at all, I maaaay not have read it yet :/. anyway. ShinKami. “Shinsou learns more than just hero lessons after being transferred to 1-A.“

11>Pickup Lines for the Soul by MustardSoup: ShinKami. “Denki is twelve when he is flicking through the TV channels and lands on an old RomCom movie about soulmate marks – specifically the same type that he has. “I can’t believe I’ve had to walk around with a cheap pickup line written on my ankle my entire life because of you!” The leading lady yells at the leading man as he stares at her in awe. Denki laughs. “Oh no.” His mother says, watching him. “Oh no, indeed.” His sister repeats quietly.“

12>caught in my own web by @anxioussailorsoldier: ShinKami. “Shinsou needs some help after getting caught up in his capture weapon. Kaminari enters from stage left.“

13>not so summer love by nataliya: ShinKami. “Class 2-B’s common room, although typically quiet, was currently filled with five students—three slowly giving up on homework, one bitching about noise and another that rushes through the front door. “We’ve been waiting for you—” Mina starts, but Kaminari’s vaulting over the back of the couch, eyes wide as he practically buzzes out of his skin, emitting light like crazy as currents dazzle across strands of hair. “I have a big ugly crush,” He steps off the couch and onto the coffee table, much to Bakugou’s chagrin, “On big ugly Shinsou.””

14>Blamed by coldandhotsoba: ShinKami. Tw- they fuckin kill a guy and its a lil nasty. “This was not how the day was supposed to end. They were supposed to end the day like they do most nights.  Kaminari clutching onto him like a koala as he slept, wrapped in the millions of tacky blankets Kaminari had bought. Warm and safe in their bed. It was not supposed to end with both of them tied up in some cold metal room.“

15>Lightning Scars by Present-Mics-Scream (write_your_way_out): Shinkami. “It's hard to be confident in your abilities when you're surrounded by people with incredible quirks. Shinsou Hitoshi would know better than anyone. Sure, he was admitted to the hero course in his second year, but being admitted to the hero course, and keeping up with the rest of the class are two different things. Lucky for him, Kaminari is there to prove that the flashiest quirks come with the largest drawbacks.“

16>See No Evil, Hear No Evil by randomfan188: no romantic pairing. “Kaminari Denki is legally blind. When he forgets to wear his contacts and breaks down during math class, comfort appears in the strangest of ways.“

17>how not to enjoy the weather, an article by kaminari denki by dreamtowns: no defined romantic pairing. “If there was one thing Kaminari hated the most in a world wth villains, it would have to be thunderstorms.“

18>”Studying” by emmyrox22: ShinKami, EraserMic. “Shinsou and Kaminari have been “studying” together for a while (but not for school). Shinsou gets stopped by his dads on the way to another “study” session and mistakes are made“

19>Weaknesses by sunflowerstorm: ShinKami. “Kaminari's quirk and storms compliment each other in the worst way, but he's convinced he can deal with it on his own... until he really can't any longer. When Shinsou accidentally overhears Aizawa confronting Kaminari about recent changes in behaviour and hears about the hell his quirks been putting him through, he can't just pretend he never heard. He wants to help.“

20>it’s hurt denki hours by memeingfultrash: ShinKami + others. ““Certain members of our class are...under the impression that...you’re the traitor.” Denki’s body went cold and felt like he was going to short circuit. ~some of class 1a believes that denki is the traitor and avoid him”

21>Petition to replace Mineta with Shinsou- (signed by Kaminari Denki) by CharaTheQuartz: ShinKami + others. This is one of my favorites, I go back to reread it from time to time. It SAYS 41/42, but that's just a glitch cus chapter 36 doesn't exist for some reason, I talked to the author about it and its fine. “Mineta brings shame to the color purple. You know who does not bring shame to the rich color, but pride and sexual tension to one infatuated Kaminari Denki instead? Shinsou Hitoshi, aka sexy zombie man, aka the most perfect hunk of a man to walk planet earth, aka future husband. Shinsou has finally gotten his chance to prove himself to the hero course, and he did more than prove himself. The only question left unanswered is whether he will start in A or B, and how Kaminari can manipulate the end result.“

22>How to Get a Boyfriend (in Four Easy Steps!) by e1ana: ShinKami, EraserMic, + others. “Step 1: Get kicked out of the house by your homophobic parents. Step 2: Run headfirst into your brooding, mysterious crush. Step 3: Sleep in his dad’s (see: your homeroom teacher) house Step 4: Watch everything you thought you knew go to shit. This isn’t exactly the sweet, romantic plan that Kaminari Denki longed for. Will everything be ok, or will step 5 be to crash and burn?“

23>Bakugou and Todoroki’s Foolproof 5-Step Plan to Fuck with Mineta Minoru by Anubis_2701: Kiribaku, TodoDeku, + others. This is another one of my favorites, and the one I am currently folding and sewing into a physical book. you learn how to do funny things when bored and quarantined ig. “It was a simple enough idea; screw around with the resident bastard of Class 1-A to let him know that his medieval ways and perverted behaviour weren't going to be tolerated by even the most career-focused of UA's students. To say that things had snowballed was an understatement. Todoroki had no idea how he had ended up sitting on Bakugou's floor at 1 am, holding a dossier of incriminating material that would make the FBI slobber, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. The long and short of it was, fuck Mineta.”

24>Colour Theory by chancellorxofxtrash: TodoBakuDeku. this one’s a series. “Midoriya/Bakugo/Todoroki slow burn soulmate AU. All three of them are nerds with their own emotional issues, trying to navigate their way through becoming heroes, and their own relationship with each other.“

25>Summer Sunshine by Mara97: TodoDeku. Ever want a Barbie in a mermaid tale/Bnha crossover? No? well here you go anyway! “Instead of worrying about college, Izuku spends his summer vacation finding out his father is, supposedly, a dead merman king and going on a quest to dethrone the current king, Endeavor. Along the way, Izuku becomes close to the three journeying with him, makes friends with strangers, starts crushing on an unattainable prince, and, in the end, learns to love himself. Oh, and he saves a kingdom, too.“

26>The snowflakes on our skin and the flames in our soul are one (and the same), my love by missunderstuffyou: TodoDeku, Kiribaku. this is one of the ones I keep a running reread comment going on. its at,,, 6, atm.  “Before your quirk begins to present itself, the soulmate link comes through, and suddenly whatever you write upon your own skin appears on the body of your soulmate. As your soulmate writes to you, the emotions they feel follow through the ink.Izuku Midoriya is four years and a few months old when he first feels the slight ebbing in his arms. It doesn’t hurt… he can just feel something, and it’s enough to make him sprint into his mother’s arms screaming that his quirk is coming. She had been washing in the kitchen, and the sudden screech as her son rockets into her side is enough to make her jump with panic, immediately grabbing at him and looking for cuts and bumps before she understands his words and the stupidly bright, alight smile on his face with large, watery, hopeful eyes. Shoto Todoroki doesn’t feel his soulmate connection open up. It is drowned in the aches of a small body worked far too hard.“

27>It was dark inside the closet by Chad_Champion69420: Pre-ShinDeku? maybe? its tagged shindeku but like. it’ll make sense if you read it. “Midoriya is invited to a party. He and Shinsou decide to play a little trick on the rest of the party during Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

28>how to woo your local trash gremlin: a comprehensive guide by Todoroki shouto by wonhaebunny: TodoBaku. this is the fic that dragged me into todobaku, fun fact. “five times shouto tries to confess to bakugou, and one time he doesn't bother tryingaka: wikihow is a scam and bakugou is a terrible, terrible boy“

29>top ten photos taken right before disaster by Shookspeare: ShinDeku. “Izuku participates in a harmless prank, only to end up ruining it and running for dear life.“

30>Secrets to Share by pechebaie: no definite romantic pairing. “Kirishima comes out first, and nothing changes. Kirishima and Kaminari still hang out to complain about class and talk about boys - and sometimes girls, too, in Kaminari’s case; he still plans stupid pranks with Sero that get them sent to the principal’s or nurse’s office every time; Ashido still kicks his ass at Mario Kart without hesitation; and Bakugou doesn’t get angry at him any more than he usually does.“

31>What One Hides by Pinalinet: TodoDeku. “All Might gives class 1-A an unusual assignment that results in Midoriya Izuku and Todoroki Shouto attending a weekly acting class. But with a mysterious villain targeting individuals without Quirks, and a developing issue of Todoroki's own, an after-school assignment is the least of their worries.“

32>whether or not we’re fated, we’re meant to be by juurensha: KINDA SPOILERY. TodoDeku + others. “Todoroki didn’t have a soulmark for most of his life.His siblings all did, but up until the day of the U.A. entrance exam, he had shoved the idea aside. It’s not like they could help him anyway. And then a 9 appears on his chest, and a green-haired boy barrels into his life with a fire and ice soulmark on his arms, and suddenly Todoroki cares very much about all this could mean.”

33>The Midnight Shift by meiishu @meiishu @totallytodoroki (idk which you’d rather I attach so I went with both): ShinKami. ““Hey Toshi,” Denki says, and he laughs, clearly embarrassed. He’s got on a jean jacket that did him absolutely no help and a white tee shirt that is currently stuck to his torso. It’s got a pikachu design in the center. “By any chance, do you sell umbrellas?” “You really went out in this weather.” Hitoshi deadpans, instead of dignifying that with an answer. or hitoshi works the midnight shift at the gas station, which also doubles as a pokestop for pokemon go. of course, denki is a regular.”

34>Rock the House by AkabaneKayo: ShinKami. “It wasn’t just his bed. It was his entire fucking room shaking. Only one thought crossed his mind at that moment: “Holy shit. My room is haunted.”“

35>Technically, they’re morning kisses by CharaTheQuartz: ShinKami. “Most nights, Shinsou cannot fall sleep. Neither can Kaminari. It seems counterproductive to have a sleepover then, but they try to make it work. And they fail, but that is okay.“

36>someone to call mine by nearly_theyre: ShinKami, EraserMic “From: Me wish you were here, denks From: kitten 💛💘💛 what if i was tho? OR Four times Denki snuck into Hitoshi's room and one time he walked through the front door.“

37>Pretty by Onlymostydead (noticing some repeat authors? me too): no definite romantic pairing. “(Or, Kaminari still can't figure out bra clasps.) Kaminari has never really felt good about himself. Herself? Whichever way, not knowing doesn't make anything easier. Especially when he (she?) and Mina have their bodies swapped during training, and everything seems too right.“

38>If I offer you my hand, will you take it? by bleukitsune: Kiribaku. SPOILERY. ““Why?” Kirishima leaned back on his hands, trying to create some space between them. Too close. The ash-blond looked really nervous, his usually arrogant and cunning demeanor gone. “What do you see when you look at me? Kirishima is worried. Bakugou is hurting. After his confrontation with Midoriya, he finally reaches out to him. “

Theres way more but I haven't tagged them properly yet so that m a y come later if I can ever finish going through and adding my sorting tags.

and then a last few that Are Not Complete but im really very fond of them. not as many as id like to add, but my hands are getting tired tbh.

39>State of Mind by GuardianOfTheLoaf: no relationship YET but its looking like it’ll be either tododeku or shindeku, probably the former. EraserMic. tw- childhood neglect and severe depression. Izuku’s not a happy kid. “Izuku was a late bloomer, his quirk lying dormant until his tenth birthday when in a fit of emotion he grabs his mother and she disappears. With All Might slowly restoring his confidence Izuku begins the difficult journey into becoming a hero.“ 18/? chapters.

40>Izuku Eats His Problems by CosmicAce: ShinDeku. Izuku’s a flerkin, what more could you want? “His whole life, Izuku Midoriya was taught to keep his powers, his Quirk, hidden from the world. His kind were feared, hunted to near extinction because of it. He just wants to show people he’s different. That he can be a HERO. And nothing is going to stop him. Even if his Quirk IS like an eldritch abomination.“ 43/? chapters

and then probably my current favorite bnha fic- although it fights with Apertum Mortem for that spot but that ones d a r k and not here-

41>family of the year by periiwren: EraserMic. “Hitoshi is done. Done with moving around every few months to a couple that will scrutinize him and eventually dump him right back where he started. Good thing he’s well past his strike limit now- at least he can stay in one place, be content to age out of the system and finish out his training with Aizawa. Maybe transfer into the hero course, maybe be a hero- but none of that was guaranteed. The only thing for sure was that he was going to stay in that center for the rest of his childhood. Or so he thought- because Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi have other plans.“ 24/? chapters. we’ve been informed that this one’s gonne be l o n g and im Very Grateful.

42>Here There Be Dragons by here_and_there: pre-ShinDeku. “Izuku looked at the small circle Aizawa had motioned to in front of them. "I won't fit," he whispered, thinking. He raised his hand, tentatively. Sighing, Aizawa grumbled, "What?" "I-I have a question. Actually, two." His teacher just stared at him, unimpressed. Izuku continued. "Can we activate our quirks before we step into the ring?" Aizawa looked up into the sky, muttering something Izuku didn't hear. "If you must." "O-Okay. Uh, second question. You said we have to stay inside the circle, right?" "Yes." The man looked disappointed, not only in Izuku but in himself for letting the kid speak. "Great. Uh... does that include tails?"“ 6/? chapters.

43>Another Option by sandersonsister: TodoBakuDeku, Touya/Hawks, Dabi/Hawks. Potentially Spoilery, depends on whether horikoshi has the guts to confirm Touya. this one is waiting around the corner with a baseball bat, its really cute, and then r e a l l y painful. it might be getting better though. maybe. it might be getting worse. “When Touya stops his mother from hurting Shouto, he decides enough is enough. He needs to get out of this house and he's taking his baby brother with him.“ 33/? chapters.

That's it i’m done for now, oof. maybe ill edit more onto this post later, maybe i’ll just make another one. hope some of these work!

[spacemilkies]

gateau→  ; part i of iii

pairing: cal kestis x reader

word count: 2.5k+

summary: “So you had a Jedi as a roommate … that wont be a problem in the future or anything.”

a/n:  a bunch of new things to get me writing. all written at some ungoldly hour. this will probably be a three part series. something short and simple, based off the prologue with some background. hey, no song fic for once. i spent all day in this fandom. i feel ready. put me in coach.

                                                                    _______

“C’mon just this once, please.”

“Oh ho, no no. This is definitely not the first time.”

There was never a good reason for your roommate to visit you on the job. Not only were you stationed on opposite side of the station, you differing positions also lessened the opportunity for you to meet up without explicit reason. 

He was a rigger and you were a builder, simple as that. 

You refrained from lifting your mask, maintaining a sense of distance from the conversation as you continued to weld the two pieces of metal together. Maybe if you did your job hard enough he would eventually give up out of respect of your workload….

Who were you kidding.

A fiery shock of red hair crouched down next to you, apparently uncaring for the wayward sparks emitting from your torch. It was only when he dared to lean closer that you reluctantly cut the power out of concern for basic occupational safety. 

Flipping the hood of your mask, you gave him your sharpest glare to which he combatted easily with a killer smile. If only it was as effective on his conquests as he seemed to think the same applies to you. 

“You’re all just going to melt it down any.”

Any metals and ores that made it up here were better than the average scraps found in the lower sectors and certainly worth a pretty sum of credits. It was your roommate's favorite way to exploit your job and threaten your only means of survival in the same breath. 

 Darting your gaze around, you found that for once your colleges were rather forgiving of personal space. Though it didn’t mean that your supervisors wouldn’t have watchful eyes on your every move. Hence why these daring favors tended to have more impact than meaningless valve. 

You weren’t agreeing. Definitely were not going to get drawn into to those pleading baby blues. You were just curious. 

“And what exactly do two upstanding individuals as yourselves need with my fine metals?”

Cal’s smirk was shallow but no where lacking in its killer properties,” I’d bend your fine metals anyway.”

With a huff, you nudged him away with your shoulder. Practice allowing you to ignore the faint flush it brought to your cheeks. 

“You’re wasting time, Cal.”

“Just something nice. I’ll pay you back.”

You were not going to fall for it Totally, explicitly would not lose resolve on your promise to not give in like last time. You were strong and resilient and Cal was a big boy with his own means of survival and-

“I swear to all above, Cal if you-”

The force of his lips against your cheek nearly knocked you over and you were left momentarily stunned as nimble fingers searched knowingly against your body. Before you knew it, he was drawing away, your access card in hand. 

You should be happy with how quickly he scrambled to his feet, prepared for a hasty departure. It wouldn’t be long before your superiors began making their rounds and the last thing they wanted to see was a scrapper hunting around their stores. 

Gesturing with two fingers against his temple, Cal waved off before he disappeared around the corner. 

“Why are you not working? Your pay is based on your progress, not your time.”

Swallowing down a retort, you merely smiled shallowly in response to the haughty order as you tugged back down your face mask, Cal’s phantom touch still lingering against your form.

“Of course, sir.”

                                                                    _______

It should be said that Cal wasn’t a terrible roommate. In fact, when he first responded to your advertisement you had a feeling that he would actually be a helpful one.

That was a lie.

You knew that he would be a cute one. Someone that you would have to try /really hard to keep your hands off of. Fortunately for you, at the beginning he felt more like a brother than a bachelor. His boyish habits cutting into some of his charm.

It didn’t take much longer than that before the two of you fell into a rhythm of sorts. 

Having another human around was kind of nice too. 

Not to say you preached xenophobia. Some of your closer friends on this desolate planet were part of varying species. But in a way it aided in building a familiar quality of home even as you reside on the opposite side of the galaxy. 

Cal was moderately fair roommate. He wasn’t spotty with rent and you split the amenities, as scarce as they were, fairly. He was a little messy but not in the obnoxious unhygienic way. 

Everything was balanced. 

And you couldn’t really complain. 

He was a great guy. His humor and antics proving to raise your mood after a long day. Just the way he spoke about his own day bringing tears to your eyes and curling your stomach with laughter. 

You were a capable engineer, even though your talents were wasted on rebuilding the same schematics over and over again. At home, you are able to hone your own skills. Working on various knick knacks and gadgets. It was nice to have a second opinion as well. 

The two of you had spent many nights huddled around the living room surrounded by scattered parts and various prototypes. Only to have to separate the more advanced ones in fear of being caught. 

It was nice. 

                                                                    _______

“Damn, I didn’t think the boss would ever let you off.”

With less finesse and not a care in the world, you dropped haggeded into the seat offered by your friends. After another long week it was nice to finally load off with a few drinks and company chatter. 

For some reason the quota skyrocketed in the past few weeks. The recycling of old metal into new vessels becoming an unrelenting force on your crew. 

It turned out to be one of the worst moments to find yourself promoted. 

To think just three weeks ago you were throwing around drinks in celebration and now you were ready to drown out the accomplishment with whatever was on tap. 

“Apparently they’re bringing in a huge freighter soon,” you called out solemnly. Your supervisor had shown you the schematics of the parts that would be salvaged and what they wanted to accomplish with its predecessor. 

After another long shift all you could really make out was work and more work. 

But at least the same would be said for the riggers. 

To your right Reif, a Rodian, spoke crudely over a mouthful of food,” Yeah, been hearing about that one for sometime now. Suppose to be a Separist ship. Going to be quite the project.”

Slouching idly in your seat, you played lazily with the handle of the mug offered to you. Just another long project to keep you stranded on this planet. Not to say you had any plans otherwise. 

If anything you should really thank them for giving you something to focus on. 

Garnering everyone’s attention with a slam of her glass against the table, Enisa a pretty pale blue Rylothian, slurs loudly,” Enough of all this work talk. Let’s focus on something else.”

Then she’s sliding sharply into you, leaving you to fumble with your own glass,” Like your roommate. Why didn’t you tell me he was available.”

Because you weren’t in the market providing companions?

Your furrowed burrow must have voiced your thoughts because she was rolling her eyes without your verbal response. 

“Oh don’t play dumb. You’re harboring one of the few attractive souls on this god forsaken planet. And you’re not even bumping uglies with him, what a shame.”

You were stuck between defending your own choices and wondering when she learned such a human phrase. It was hardly worth the effort of explaining how the two of you just weren't like that. Your inventory of excuses were running dry.

“Stop making it awkward for her, she has to live with the guy.”

Catching Reif’s gaze over the rim of your glass, you give him a thankful nod. The rest of your group takes the initiative to fill the silence and progresses the conversation further into the night. Unlike most outings, neither of you are able to keep up with one another past a few extra hours. The weight of the day taking more out of you as it came to a close. 

You’re not the only one grateful when Reif brings the outing to a close. 

There is just enough alcohol in your system to make you stumble through the threshold of your home, groaning quietly as you try to stabilize yourself. More likely than not Cal was already asleep and you didn’t want to disrupt that. 

Now with the evening settling into your bones, there wasn't a part of your body that didn't ache and the incoming headache didn't make any part of it better. 

Right now the couch was looking a lot more inviting than it should be. You’d deal with the consequences it would leave on your body in the morning. 

Rounding the edge, you collapsed back into the cushions.

“What the hell?”

“Shit, Cal! What the fuck?”

A sharp hiss escapes him when your elbow jabs unkindly into the softness of his side. Before you could try to remedy it, his hand is gripping your upper arm and settling you more safely in the available space rather than on top of him. 

For a moment it's just your mixed breaths as you come down from the unexpected surprise. With more care, you twist more comfortably mindful of your limbs this time. 

It's hardly necessary but you whisper anyway. 

“Why are you here?”

You feel his arm wiggling behind your head and you raise your neck obediently to allow it to rest beneath you. As a reward, the same hand curls inward to comb through your hair lazily. He works his fingers across your nape and back up to your scalp finding just the right spot and drew small circles. 

“Dunno, just came home and ended up here. Kind of like you but less dramatically.”

You snort, “Sorry, wasn’t expecting a party of two.”

He hums to himself, the pad of his thumb pressing inward in a way the manages to reset your whole mindframe and you nearly white out from the release. 

There is more that could be said but the words escape you both as you settle for the night. If you weren't already going to regret this before, you were definitely were going to more now for an entirely different reason. But there was no chance of you altering the flow of what it was now. 

You would just have to lay there and try not to think too hard about the natural slot of your body to Lance’s despite the finite space. It was much easier to count the staccato of his dull thumping heartbeat as it lulled you off to sleep. 

                                                                     _______

“Goddammit, Meeka. You’re going to wake up your mom.”

Too late. 

Though in the defense of your mischievous loth-cat, the warm smell of breakfast permeating from the kitchen was just one waft away from rousing you. Stretching out your arms, you used the length of them to hook around the back of the couch to drag you up. 

Questionably burnt but you recognize the scent of some of your favorites.You has not caught a glimpse of what he was wearing last night but Cal appears to be wearing some fresh clothes. The way the collar of his shirt is damp in the back hints towards a shower. 

Part of you wonders if breakfast is a preemptive apology towards a cold shower you would be expecting later. 

“Where do you have to go so early?”

If you startle him, he doesn't show. He slides a bit of food onto a plate, giving Meeka more than gracious portion before bringing the plate to you. You take it gratefully, balancing it on the spine of the couch.

Alert to your presence and no doubt ready to beg for more scraps, you watch unimpressed as the feline-like creature slinks against you. She gets what's expected anyway as you part with a strip of meat.

Leaning against the counter within view, Cal scolds you playfully. “And you said I spoil her.”

“You start it,” you retort without any bite.

You blame the queasiness on residue alcohol when he laughs warmly. 

“Oh. “ You look up and Cal has a fork pointed at you. ‘’Your access card is on the table there.”

You’d already forgotten about that.

“Get anything good?” Safely, is weighted on your tongue but it seems like a waste to add it. Cal has always been mindful of his self, actions and footsteps in a way that makes you wonder how long he’s been watching his own back. 

In the few years you’ve known him, things like the past rarely came up. No one really came to Bracca chasing a future. It was just a means to an end until you could find something better if you could manage to get out. 

You hard already stopped trying when Cal stumbled into your life. But now it hardly seemed like a bad thing. 

The clank of dishes brings you out of your thoughts. His back is to you now as he cleans his mess.

“It will be a nice personal pay raise, that’s for sure. Prauf sends his thanks too.”

Cal surprises you again when he comes to collect your empty plate. Rather than comment it on it, you lounge comfortably in the domesticity of it all. 

“What’s your plan for the day?”

That was a good question. 

Your body had an obvious vote towards rest but responsibilities made a greater bid on your time. A bit of shopping would unfortunately be necessary but your savings would have to survive. Between the recent raise and this upcoming project, you should survive to hit. 

Replenish resources it would be then. At least if you start early enough it would allow you to relax for the remainder of the day. 

Cal’s gaze follows as you stretch and eventually slink off the couch. Meeka happy to have the entire furniture to herself doesn’t waste a moment to snuggle into your lingering warmth. 

“Down to the Bazaar first, then after that we’ll see.”

But first to see how much hot water you were going to be working with. Yawning loudly, you get to work with untangling the mess of your hair. Just before you can round the corner, Cal calls out to you.

“Want to make it a date?”

It’s an innocent play of words. One’s he’s used in the past without acting on it. 

‘And you’re not even bumping uglies with him, what a shame.’

And just when you finally stopped overthinking it.

Peeking over your shoulder, you found Cal waiting expectantly yet so unaware of the winds of the storm picking up in your mind. Was it even worth it to wonder if similar thoughts ever troubled him?

-nah, it was just easier to smile.

“Yeah, it’s a date.”

[crimsonbluemoon]

For the prompt game 12//07//25 please? Ah... Ohmtoonz? or a pair you've been itching to do :3

EACH TIME I SAY I WONT OVERDUE IT

Yet here we are. >.> 

AU: BabysitterTrope: Childhood friendsPrompt: “I know this looks bad, but I swear it’s not.” 

Pairing: Ohmtoonz

“Okay, I know this looks bad-” Ryan had to take a deep breath to keep from bursting out in laughter at the scene. His kitchen, which had been pristine and tidy when he’d left for a meeting with his lawyer three hours ago, was covered in more colors than he thought he could process. In the middle of the room sat Joe, hands splotched in yellow and smearing the substance down the tiles already coated in pink. The ‘babysitter’, (the term used very loosely, since it was a last minute decision after Joe’s original babysitter got sick) was in no better shape. Blue clumps of paint (Ryan hoped it was paint) were threaded through hair he remembered being much fluffier when they were children. Age had tamed it, though the red beard was even brighter now with fingerpaint between the strands. The place, his four year old son, and his babysitter were a disaster that Ryan still wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry over. “But I swear it’s not.”

“Luke.” Trying to keep from smiling, Ryan stepped forward, hands leaving his slack’s pockets to point above. “My ceiling is purple.” 

“And orange!” Joe supplied happily, splashing his hands down into an actual pile of paint beside him. 

“What happened? You’re a police officer; you literally shoot people for a living. How did a four year old get the jump on you like this?” Ryan had to tease, because it’d been so long since he’d been able to. Luke had always been the one that got away; his best friend for nearly two decades before, at eighteen, he left to travel Europe and ‘find his meaning’ in life. Ryan had wanted to go, nearly asked to join, but had simply stood in the airport and held back tears just long enough for Luke to enter the gate without seeing them. He’d been head over heels in love back then, and sometimes he’d thought the feeling was mutual. But all the ‘what ifs’ flew away with Luke on his plane, and Ryan had forced himself to move on. 

Eight years, one messy divorce, and a son later, Ryan had run into his high school love at the bank four months prior. Luke had come back to their hometown years ago to become a cop, but Ryan’s wonderful ex-wife had demanded he move to the west coast with her. He’d never got wind of Luke’s return, too distracted by the birth of Joe and the mother of his child abandoning her duties to run off with the pool guy. Ryan hadn’t been able to move back to his hometown until four months ago, still working on finalizing the paperwork and letting Joe finish his first year in pre-school before moving him back across the country. 

He’d felt a little lonely, raising his toddler without a hand to help support him on days he didn’t want to get out of bed. It wasn’t like his marriage had given him much in that department, either. She’d been distant after Joe was born, jealous of the attention Ryan gave their son, and sought her happiness in someone else. She hadn’t even said goodbye to their son when she left, which had been the coldest part of it all. And Ryan didn’t know how to de-thaw from her abandonment. Joe helped, because he was Ryan’s world. Honestly, the only good thing about the marriage was the ball of optimistic sunshine. But he had bouts of crying and questions about why his mom left that kept Ryan awake and aching for hours. Wounded with nobody willing to help heal him. Maybe he’d always been that alone, that empty and unlovable-

Except one look of relief and the words ‘There you are’ in a bank full of people was enough to fill his heart to the brim again. 

“Your kid’s way sneakier than the idiots in our town.” Luke glanced down at Joe with a grin that proved his next words were affectionate. “Like a damn little squirrel.”   

“That’s my favorite animal!” Joe gasped out, and Ryan shook his head in disbelief. Two days ago, it had been a flamingo. He’d begged Ryan to buy him a lawn decoration of the pink bird, which Ryan had firmly said no to. They barely even had a lawn, and he knew that Joe would never play with it. The puppy dog eyes were hard to refuse, but Ryan was getting better at putting his foot down. They did not need the bird.

But then Joe asked Luke, who bought it before Ryan came back from the bathroom. Ryan wasn’t sure who he scolded more that night over chicken fingers and fries. 

“Yup, you mentioned that. Six times.” Without an ounce of annoyance, Luke let Joe climb onto his lap, sitting cross legged so the toddler had a better seat. Green was smeared over Luke’s sweatpants from where Joe had dragged his knees, but like the amazing human he was, Luke didn’t show any regret over being a human jungle gym. “And remember what I told you each time?”

“Daddy’s favorite animal is a bunny,” Joe chirped back, and the long forgotten memory bubbled up too quick for Ryan to hide his blush.

“Luke!”

“What? I didn’t tell him why you like rabbits so much.” Except there was a grin on Luke’s face that was anything but innocent. Because how could it be, when Luke had never let him live down the time he walked in on Jonathan and Evan’s first time. He hand’t meant to blurt out ‘they were fucking like rabbits’ so loudly, and didn’t know that Mini had been recording the party. Craig got the perfect angle of Ryan nearly throwing himself down the stairs to escape the traumatizing experience. He wasn’t sure who had the tape anymore (maybe Panda, since his friend always liked to watch it whenever he was needing a pick me up), but Ryan had to guess that Luke watched it over a hundred times. 

“We’re not talking about this,” Ryan said, sending Luke a meaningful look through his blush. “We need to talk about who’s going to clean this disaster you and my son created.” 

“I’ve got the kitchen if you take the rugrat.” The offer of help was so simple, yet every time, it sucker-punched Ryan. Luke had not been expecting Joe when Ryan came back from California, blaming Jonathan’s ‘lack of understanding with the English language’ as to why he didn’t know. Ryan hadn’t been a fan of social media, and only kept in touch with a few old friends from the town. But like Joe was his own, Luke didn’t hesitate to jump into the fray with Ryan, helping out whenever he could. Being a cop meant weird hours and long shifts, but Luke never complained when he popped over to visit them after work. Ryan never needed to ask for help; Luke just gave it. Whether it was cooking Joe food while Ryan took a much needed shower, or picking out pjs as Ryan bathed the fussy kid, Luke was there to lend a hand and a smile right when Ryan needed it.

But for the life of him, Ryan couldn’t figure out why. Luke was attractive and single, and the talk of the town even now. It was hard to go into the supermarket without hearing one of the cashiers asking Ryan how Luke was doing. It was common knowledge in their little town where Luke spent most of his days, and it seemed people thought the best way to catch his attention was through befriending Ryan again. The jealousy and insecurity from high school reared up, and Ryan had to attack it with a fire hose to keep from Luke knowing. Luke had a right to date, to court whoever he wanted, because he didn’t owe Ryan and Joe anything-

“Uh oh, daddy’s daydreaming again.” Joe’s words and a snort of Luke made Ryan re-focus, turning his attention back to the two still on the floor. Luke looked so content with the toddler in his lap, and Joe showed no signs of discomfort being so close to the other man. They were covered in paint and his house was a wreck, but Ryan felt his heart swell at the warm image. 

“Maybe you should go pick out your pjs so I can check in with your dad.” Luke’s words were like magic; with a quickness that he never had when Ryan asked him to move, Joe scampered out of the kitchen. Little purple footprints made Ryan groan, but his shoulders barely got to slump before warm hands were pulling him forward into a hug. 

“You’re covered in paint,” Ryan protested weakly, though put up no real fight. The smooth hand that slid down his spine melted his stress away, and Ryan felt helpless to the urge of sinking into Luke’s warm chest. 

“What did Tyler say?” Luke didn’t mince words, but kept his voice low against Ryan’s ear. There was no reason to shiver at the contact or intimacy of their position, because Ryan knew it meant nothing like what his heart hoped it would. 

“He said this next court case will be the final one; she’s not fighting for any custody.” He should have been happy about the news, since it’d been what he and Tyler had asked for when discussing Joe’s fate. But it’d stung, knowing that even now, his ex-wife wanted nothing to do with the son they had created together. How did he explain that to Joe when he got older? When he asked questions about her, when he got angry and confused about his own self-worth? Ryan would do whatever he could to raise Joe with love and care, but fights would happen. They’d disagree over bigger things than eating broccoli or only reading two stories before bed. Who would Joe turn to in those moments? That was why he’d probably tried so hard with his ex-wife to begin with; he’d never wanted Joe to feel unsupported or disadvantaged because he’d only have Ryan. 

But he couldn’t make her love Joe. And that killed him more than the divorce ever could. 

“She’s an idiot.” Luke’s words of anger toward a woman he never met was unlike him. Charisma and open-mindedness were his middle name, never judging a book by its cover. But Joe’s mother seemed to be the one exception, Luke showing disdain toward her from day one. “She had everything anyone could ever want, and she gave it up like an idiot.”

“You really liked babysitting Joe that much, huh?” Ryan tried to make a joke, but his laugh was cut off when Luke grasped his shoulders and pulled him back far enough to force eye contact. 

“I’m not just talking about him.” The serious gaze made it hard to breathe, Ryan’s chest stuffed with too much to sort through. His eyes blinked slowly, reminiscent of the unspoken feelings he’d shut down at the airport years ago. Now they oozed out without his permission, and he didn’t have a plane to help hide them this time around. 

“I’m…I’m not-”

“Not what? Intelligent? Charming? Sweet? A great father that your kid would spend every second of the day with if he could? Not someone who deserves love?” Luke’s words were followed by a grin, a warm palm cupping Ryan’s face and slowly dragging a thumb under his wet eye. “Not the most amazing guy I’ve ever got to meet? Who, if I ever got the chance to call my husband, would never go a day without knowing how crazy in love with him I was? Cause I’ll tell you right now, you are all of those things. Every single one of them. You are worth so much more than you could ever know. And I’ll knock out any fucking moron who says anything else.”

“Luke…” But what could Ryan say? His stomach fluttered at the words, hope rising in his throat and keeping his vocal chords from speaking again. There was no room for protest, because Luke’s steady words and lack of hesitation proved the statements came from his very being. He really saw Ryan as something to brag about, as someone to keep. When his own wife, who was supposed to want him until death do them part, threw him away. Ryan knew he needed to say something, to give a response in some way to the confession (and Jesus, did Luke say he loved Ryan?), but his mind was too fuzzy and scared to speak and destroy the fantasy. 

“Luke said a bad word!” Joe, however, had no such problems, and Ryan forced his eyes away from Luke to see his son with his hands pointing to the counter. “He needs to put money in the swear jar!” 

“Oh, ri-right.” Ryan swallowed slowly and tried to focus, but a little peek at Luke from the corner of his eye made his heart jump into his throat again. His blush was deep, he knew it, but there was no saving himself. “You owe a dollar to the jar.” 

Luke’s grin was a mile wide as he slipped past, dropping the bill into the jar while keeping his eyes set on Ryan. And when he spoke, Ryan knew he wasn’t speaking about the swear. 

“So worth it.”

[babbushka]

All My Stars (2/3)

The year is 1346. War ravages the land, and you are torn from your family to reside with the royal household of the Organas until it is safe. However you know there are more plots at play here, and you feel bitter and alone, until one mysterious Knight clad all in black bursts through the doors of the great hall, and into your heart, forever.

A Kylo Ren x Reader Medieval AU

(Word count: 15.2k ; warnings: N*FW, graphic violence)

                                                         -----------

Kylo is, for lack of a better word, enthralled with you.

Absolutely everything about you, from the way you carry yourself, to the way you seemingly were sunshine incarnate, has him captivated. It is becoming a problem, for he is finding it more and more difficult to remain aloof, to remain distant.

He does not deserve you, this he knows. Neither your kindness nor your smiles, your affectionate gazes. His stomach twists as he dreams against your door, standing upright with his eyes closed for a few hours of sleep.

But oh, they are wicked visions, for they are good dreams, the best of dreams. Dreams of your body close to his, his arms around your middle, back pressed against his chest. They are dreams of the depth of your eyes, the way your lashes fan out against your cheek as you blush at him – the fact that you even blush at him at all.

He is torn, conflicted, so conflicted. He has come to slay his brother, a challenge in and of itself – he was not anticipating you, was not prepared for the way you so quickly, so easily, made a home inside his chest. He feels as though he is falling, until he realizes he is falling, for real, not just in his dreams, and he jolts awake.  

“You slept!” He hears you exclaim as he rushes to catch himself, bracing his arms out on the doorway so he might not topple over you and crush you beneath his armor.  

“Pardon?” He asks, and he is so disoriented, for you are so lovely, dressed and prepared for the day.

You crowd yourself against him as you are wont to do, reach up to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. He frowns, he has never liked his ears, and shakes the hair free to your amusement.

“You were asleep, oh good, I was beginning to worry that you had gone all this time without a wink.” You say, and Kylo is strangely embarrassed, like he has been found out, proven to be mortal.  

“You’ve caught me.” He says, and you beam up at him, for you know this is but a playful jest.

His heart warms at your smile, at the realization that now, something has shifted between you, that he is allowing himself to be more open, more warm. He offers his arm to you and you take it gladly, setting a slow and steady pace down through the hall. Your body is warm beside his, and Kylo does his best to breathe evenly, to focus on putting one foot in front of another.

“Please do not think that I require you alert at all times, a guard is little good to me if he is so exhausted.” You tease, and this admission relieves him of some of his stress.

He opens the door to the stairwell for you and follows carefully behind you down the spiral stone steps, makes sure you do not trip on the fabric of your skirt.

“What is on our agenda today, Lady (Y/N)?” He asks, and you throw a smile over your shoulder to him, one of mild exasperation, of fondness.

“Please, call me just (Y/N).” You instruct, to which is instantly ignores. You are a lady, a princess, of noble and royal blood alike, he will address you as such. “I would like to go into the village, if we may?” You ask, and he frowns.

“What for?” He asks, as this is the second time you’ve wanted to journey to the village.

There has not been another feast in between the last time you visited and now, there is nothing requiring your presence there. What could you possibly want in a farmland that you could not have here in the castle, on the grounds?

“Must there be a reason?” You challenge with a raised brow, reclaiming his arm once you are through with the stairwell, walking past the great hall, ignoring breakfast for the day.

“Most people typically tend to have one.” Kylo points out, a raised brow of his own.

“I am not like most people.” You reply, and Kylo admires your quick wit, for no you truly are not like most, like any he has come across.

“To the village it is, then.” He says with ease, and you puff up at the permission, not that you needed it anyway.

 The stables are not far from the castle doors, and you break free from his arm to run the last few paces into the sheltered building. Your horse is there as is Sam, and Kylo thinks it comical the size comparison between the two.

He thinks back to the day he met Sam, his most trusted, if reluctant companion. How he had freed her from an abusive farmer’s whip, how he had slain the man who had carved and branded wounds and scars into her hide. Sam snorts a greeting at Kylo, but is much more interested in you, something he cannot fault the horse for.

You procure an apple each, one for his and your horse, and they eat them happily.  

“Lady (Y/N)! I am afraid I have terrible news, your horse is ill.” The stableboy appears from around the corner, hat removed from his head and gripped tightly in his hands.

You pet the soft nose of your horse, regard him with a frown.

“Ill? But Agnes was perfectly fine just the other day!” You inspect her, and she only whinnies softly, tosses her head as if to say he is lying.

Kylo has been with horses his entire life, and he knows a sick one when he sees it – this is not that. Agnes looks perfectly healthy, her coat is shiny and her eyes are bright, and Kylo gives a hard stare at the stableboy, trying to decide what he’s playing at.

“The Queen has said her brother, Lord Bishop Luke, has prescribed her rest, I am afraid she cannot be ridden for a few days.” The stableboy explains, and your entire mood sours.

Kylo steps forward, hands balled into fists, ready to strangle the boy for ruining such a beautiful smile. You simply sigh, knowing that if the Queen has ordered it, there is nothing to be done.

“Please, make sure she gets the best care possible.” You say, glum before turning to Kylo, “It looks like we must find some other way to spend the day, Sir Ren.”

Sam chuffs and nudges Kylo’s back with her great big nose. He looks at her, and they exchange a glance or two, one that shows she is amendable to having you ride on her back once more.

“We could…” Kylo starts, hoping hoping hoping you do not think him overstepping any boundaries, “We could ride Samantha.”

“The both of us?” You ask with a great grin, no doubt remembering the way he had asked you to ride with him just the other day.

He blushes, for the thought of his arms around you once more has warmth spreading from his stomach, down to his toes, up to his spine where he tingles all over.

“Yes, I could remove some of my armor, so it would not be too heavy on her back.” Kylo says, and your eyes only widen, a great big smirk, a cheeky grin spreading across your face.

“Remove your armor?” You ask, and Kylo blushes, must choose his words carefully so that they may not appear rushed, or stammered.

“Not all of it, but I wear more layers than some deem necessary.” He says, before turning bright crimson when you step close, ever so close to him, your hands resting on his heavy breastplate, resting above his heart.

“If you would feel so comfortable, then I have no opposition.” You say, and Kylo swallows down a whimper for just as you have come, you are gone, giving him some room to breathe and undress.

He sheds two entire layers of protection, lessening the weight of his armor by half. He can already tell Sam is grateful for the lightened load, but she does not complain as you pet her mane, as you call her beautiful. In fact, she preens under the praise, and Kylo allows himself to roll his eyes, for of course his horse would like you better than his own self.

Sam is happy to simply trot down the path towards the village, taking her time. You are in no rush, simply wanting to get out of the castle walls, wanting to breathe the fresh air of nature, unpolluted by stench of civilization.

“Where have you been all these years? Why did they call you lost?” You ask, catching him off guard, as you travel through the wood.

The sunshine filters through the tops of the trees and a green gold washes across the floor in dappled patches. Kylo does not know how to answer, does not know what to say that will not alarm you, for what he has done has been most alarming. You wait, wait for an answer, and he finds he does not want to conceal the truth from you, you deserve the very best, nothing but the truth.

“I have been ruling in the Unknown Regions, under the hand of Chancellor Snoke. They call me the lost prince because I ran away when I was very young.” He says softly, only in your ear, as if there were spirits in the wood that might overhear.

“Why did you run?” You ask, and Kylo sighs.

“Because I am a murderer, a beast, a monster like everyone says.” He explains, the back of his throat burning with acid at the memories of his days as a prince.

“I do not say so.” You reply quietly, quiet and yet firm.

It is quiet for a long while, as Sam follows the path. There are chirping birds and blooming flowers, and you are so lovely pressed against him, his arms around you. All this, and still his mood darkens, he can feel thunder in his veins at the memory. But you do not seem angry with him, you show him nothing but concern, but compassion.

“The Chancellor showed me the truth of my family, the lies, the deception, the corruption. He opened my eyes to their lack of love, of care, their neglect for both me and my kingdom. I was part of a plot, a ploy, to murder them all and ascend the throne – but I was weak. I only managed to remove my father, and when my sister attacked me in retaliation, I slayed her as well, set fire to the castle.” He sighs, scrubs a gloved hand over his face, skin tingling, “She gave me this scar, a parting gift, a reminder of my failure, my shame.”

He fully expects you to gasp in shock, in horror, for this was murder in cold blood you see, this was treason, this was a crime. Instead, you reach out and pick ripened summer strawberries from bushes that Sam passes, and she slows to a halt to allow you to reach for more.

“Were they evil people?” You ask him, twisting your torso around to look up at him and his shining, wet eyes.

“No. But they were not good, either.” He whispers, and you only nod, place a strawberry in his palm.

“And now you are back, to finish the job?” You ask, closing his fist around it, squishing it, the juice running and flowing between his fingers.

“I do not know if I could kill my mother.” He says seriously, for this has been something he has battled with for twenty years.

You nod in understanding, and Kylo is so confused, so bewildered by you.

“But Sir Dameron?” You suggest with a cheeky grin, and this makes him very nearly smile.

“Oh, I have no problem skewering him.” He replies, and you laugh loudly, voice echoing through the forest.

Kylo urges Samantha onward, for at this rate you will never make it to the village before the day is done. She maintains her even pace, hooves clip clopping against the path. It is quiet, and it is peaceful – until it isn’t any longer.

Sam stiffens at the sound of something, and all at once Kylo’s attention is ripped from the soft tune of your humming, eyes scanning the trees.

“Lady (Y/N)! You must go.” He leaps down from his steed, sword drawn immediately as men jump down from the skies, hidden away in branches in the tall trees.

“What – ” You startle, for you are jumping down after him, not realizing, it is all happening too quickly.

There are ten of them, five great big men on the ground, dagger and sword drawn, and five in the trees, wearing camouflage colors of green and brown with bows and arrows poised at the ready. The men on the ground bare their filthy teeth at you, and Kylo does not waste a single moment, before he is defending you from them, swinging his sword expertly against their daggers, deflecting the arrows they shoot at you from above.

Adrenaline rushes through him, for it has been a long while since he has truly fought someone like this, and oh has he longed for the bloodshed of a victory. He shouts, a loud battle cry as he takes on all five men at once. They punch and kick but he weaves in and around them, meets their blows with one of his own, and he is more physically powerful, can move quicker than they can with these layers of his armor removed.

However he is more vulnerable to their bows, and must be careful, must dodge their pointed arrows. He twirls his sword and stabs a man through the stomach, relieved to see that he is not wearing mail of any kind – which means none of them must be.

This suddenly became much easier, he thinks, as he rounds on three more men, slices their gut open, listens to their ear splitting screams as they fall to the ground, slip and slide on their own mess.

The archers look at one another in fear, but with false bravery they descend from the trees, leap down and draw their swords. Kylo meets them, overpowers them, has no qualm to remove their hands, to slice the backs of their knees and incapacitate them. One by one they crumble to a pile, wailing and choking.

Kylo spears his sword through their necks from where they lay on the ground in agony, watches as blood bubbles up, gurgles through their gaping mouths.

“Get your hands off of me!” You shout, and Kylo whirls around to see the last man standing with his hand on your wrist.

Kylo sees red.

He storms over to where you are punching and punching this man in the face, trying to get him to let go of you, and Kylo tears you from his grip. Roughly he pushes you against a tree, a silent command to stay there, as he hauls the man up from the ground. He is tall, but Kylo is taller, and stronger, and he lifts this bandit, this scum of the earth by his throat, feet dangling and swinging for purchase as he chokes.

“What have you come here for?” Kylo demands, tightens his grip on the man’s throat, “Answer me!”

“For the princess!” The man chokes out, sobs, for now he can see the carnage that Kylo has left behind, nine bodies strewn about, some in pieces, some with their entrails spilled out from their bodies. All dead, and he knows he is to join them.

“To kill her?” Kylo shouts in his face, screams it, for he has come to realize that there is no greater fear he has, no greater crime that anyone could commit, than to want to do you harm.

“No! No – no just for the gold she wears, I swear it upon my life!” The man begs and cries and pleads, but Kylo shakes his head, sneers and scowls at him in disgust.

“Your life has little worth to me.” He spits in the man’s face, and with his other hand stabs his sword deep through his stomach.

He releases the man’s throat and watches as he falls deeper onto his sword, impaling himself as he falls down down down to the ground, a disgusting, tearing sound of flesh met with a heavy wet smack as the man goes limp on the earth.  

Kylo’s chest is heaving, his shoulders are tense. He tenses when he feels hands on his back, rounds quickly to see who else there might be, but it is only you, only you.

“Lady (Y/N) what are you – ”

“I told you, I will not stand by and watch you bleed.” You say, searching him, checking him all over. He does not feel pain, but that is only because he is not paying attention, and the more he tries to will himself to relax, the more he can feel stinging all over. It is in his palm, in his calf, his back. You yank off his gloves, and deep red crimson spills. “Your wound has opened back up, it might do for me to stitch it closed.”

Kylo frowns, wipes the sweat off his brow.

“We cannot stay here, it is unsightly, these people.” He says, wanting to shelter you from the gory, horrific sight before you. For surely this must repulse you, the state of things, the state of him.

You only shake your head, reach into the small pocket you have tied around your waist, fish out a small vial of clear water, needle and thread.

“I do not mind, you must be tended to.” You insist, your hands shaking and your chin trembling, and Kylo rushes to cup your cheek, rushes to soothe you. He would move Heaven and Earth to prevent a single tear of your from falling down your nose. “I feel awful, I am so sorry.” You whisper and he shakes his head.

“You have nothing to apologize for, do you understand?” You may be insistent but so is he, “I am your guard, this is what I am meant for.”

And when you look up at him, when he sees the clearness in your eyes, he sees something else, a hunger he cannot place.

“You are meant for so much more than this.” You whisper, letting him dwell on that as you sit him down on the soft earth where there is no blood.

You close the wound on his hand once more, secure it with fine stitching, a true embroiderers touch. All the while you tend to him with such care, such a steady hand, such even breathing, that Kylo wonders how you are real at all. Any person he has known would have stayed atop his horse and ridden away, would have put as much distance between them and the danger as possible.

But you, you rushed to his aid, you punched a man in the face over and over again. You were no damsel, no weak thing in peril. He wonders if you had had a sword, a dagger, what damage you could have done.

“Do you know how to fight with weapons of steel?” He asks, and you lightly trace the line of stiches when you tie them off, cut the thread with your teeth.

“Of course, though I have none of my own. There was no time to grad my knife, during the siege.” You explain, and Kylo nods, stands up from the earth and goes to Samantha, who had been nothing but a great witness to the fight.

In one of her knapsacks is a push dagger, a new weapon he had been experimenting with for his own self. He found he much preferred his sword, but carried the dagger around with him, for it would be a great waste if someone did not use it.

“Take this.” He offers you the dagger, places it in your hands.

“It’s beautifully made, pray tell where did you find this?” You gasp in delight, hold it up to the sun so that you might get a better glimpse of the engraving, the detailing that covers practically every inch of the blade.

“I made it with mine own hands.” Kylo says, and you stop in your tracks.

“You?” You ask, turning to face him with wide eyes, “You made this?”

“I have made everything you see me wear and hold.” Kylo gestures to his body, and he blinks when you are suddenly pressed close to him, barely a breath away, your hands running over his armor.

There is blood there, and you smear it with your fingertips, seemingly not caring, seemingly in awe.

“You mean to tell me you are, in addition to a prince and a knight, you are a blacksmith too?” You whisper, and Kylo does not know why this is appealing, why the thought of him covered in ash and sweat, bent over a fire and hammering metal may be so attractive, but your pupils dilate in a way that makes him stir.

“Chancellor Snoke taught me everything I know. This armor took over one thousand hours, the sword nearly as long.” He says, and your ribcage expands as you take in a deep breath, as you bite your lip.

Your hand travels down his stomach to his side, where the pommel sticks out, juts against your hip.

“It is a very capable sword.” You smooth your hand up and down the hilt, and Kylo goes deathly still, for that is far too suggestive, far too close to what he does to his cock, which is only inches away from your hand. “May I?” You ask with big round eyes, and he finds his breathing quickening although there is no danger.

“It is heavy.” He murmurs, and a soft groan escapes your throat as you pull it out of its hilt.

“Divine, it is absolutely divine. So big.” You say, and the words travel right to his dick, make his head go dizzy with want.

He can’t, should not, lust after you – it isn’t right, isn’t proper, but you – heaven you make it so difficult, when you’re looking up at him like that, hands wrapped around the hilt of his sword. Surely you must know what it is you do to him, but in the case that you do not, he would not dare be the one to bring it up, not dare to be the one to tarnish your virtue.

“Lady (Y/N),” He chokes out as you caress his sword, “We…we must return to the castle, must rinse away the blood of these enemies.”

“Perhaps I might like to be covered in it, for it is a reminder of your strength, of this victory.” You do not make this easy, you make nothing easy, not as you loop your arms around his neck, as you press your body close to his – so close that you might very well feel the hard press of his cock through his trousers when you whisper, “I am indebted to you.”

“I require no such payment.” He removes your arms, and you smile, place his sword back in his holster.

The ride back to the castle is without any issue, although he is most uncomfortable, for his cock is still hard and being pressed against you atop his horse does nothing to lessen that want, that craving. He wills himself to be calm, wills and prays and begs silently inside his own head for the strength to at the very least make it through the rest of the day.

You return to the castle in secret, slip down to the storerooms to eat instead of going to the great hall. You do not want a fuss, you tell him, you simply want to go to bed.

So Kylo accompanies you to your bedchambers, leaves you in the capable hands of Gwendoline as he takes his armor down to the brook, scrubs it and himself clean. You have a perfumed bath in your room, and Kylo is grateful, glad that the scum will be washed away from you, from your hair, your clothes.

That evening, he stands at full attention, having had the chance to let the events settle into his bones.

Kylo is ever more vigilant than before, now. Now that there has been proof of a true necessity for your protection, now that he has seen firsthand that there are those who might do you harm.

Those who would have, had he not been there. He looks to the stitches which lace together his palm, and thunder cracks outside, loud and brash as it booms across the castle. The rain is heavy, and this does not bode well, is not a good sign for a peaceful night.

He wonders, as he stands outside your door back pressed firmly against the wood, if you are afraid of thunder or of lightning. He used to be, when he was only a boy, before the thunder and lightning forged him into the man he is today.

You are sound asleep in your bed, and this thought brings him comfort, for each time he blinks he can only see the terror in your face, can only relive the shout of pain you let slip when that filthy man gripped your wrist in an attempt to twist you to submission. He grits his teeth, hand flexing on his sword’s pommel as that shout echoes in his mind like the thunder does in the hall.

He sighs, looks through the window though it is a fruitless endeavor. There would be no visibility this night, and this makes him anxious – how is he to see your attackers if there is no way to see them? Fortunately, the castle servants have lit the sconces, one on either side of your door. Kylo stands between them and is grateful for their warmth. Who knew a summer night could be so cold?

Left alone with his thoughts, they begin to fixate on the attack, on your reaction to it.

Time and time again, you reacted in a manner Kylo did not expect. The way that you had run to his side, the way you had refused to hide, the way you tended to his wound without a second thought – all of this had him in such shock. You did not bat an eye at the blood which splattered his armor, paid no mind to the men who laid strewn across the floor, sliced to pieces and stabbed to a gory death by his sword, his hand, the hand you held tightly in your own.

He knew not what the feeling in his chest was, but whatever it was, it had a strong grip on him, one he could not shake.

He wasn’t so sure he wanted to.

All of his thinking about you is interrupted by a low noise that he hears coming from your room.

He freezes, tries to parse if it is just a trick of the rain, the thunder. But no, there it is again, a groan, low and long, and panic begins to build within him.

He turns to face your door, presses an ear against the wooden planks which separate the two of you. He quiets his mind, trains his hearing to focus – and yes there it is again, this time higher in tone, a wail. Kylo is indecisive.

He has never been inside your bedchambers before, no man has. He has never been inside the bedchambers of, well, any woman before, for it is improper, it is inappropriate –

“Sir Ren!” You cry, call for him, and that is all it takes. They may have his head for this, but you are groaning for him and he is sworn to protect you, and he does not know, can not know, what ails you from standing on the other side of your door.

He checks the door, fully anticipated to find it locked as it should be, as he has told you to do, but instead the handle turns easily for him, and Kylo decides that when you are safe, when you are feeling better, he will remind you that you must take all precautions for your safety – especially after the events of the day.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door, rounds inside the bedchambers and closes it behind him, sword drawn, before he drops it clean out of his grip, for you are in your bed yes, but you are not tucked in underneath the covers like Kylo had envisioned.

No, instead you are spread out on top of them, your smock bunched up above your waist, your knees parted as your toes curl into your sheets. His eyes widen as he takes in the sight of you, his mouth goes dry – before practically flooding, salivating, as he takes stock of your hand between your legs.

You are writhing in your bed, but it is not with pain, it is with pleasure.

He has made a grave mistake.

You freeze, no doubt wondering what Kylo is doing there, and he too is frozen. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to think of something to say, some apology that could be worthy of this error, and his mind is racing. Surely you must be mortified; he has embarrassed you, he has walked in on such a private moment, an intimate moment!

And yet, you do not scream at him to leave your chambers. You do not lob an object as his head, you do not move to cover yourself.

Your fingers begin to move once more, and Kylo holds his breath, when he realizes when you cried out his name, it hadn’t been in agony, it had been a moan.

“Sir Ren.” You throw your head back onto your pillow and moan for him again, as if you could read his mind.

His cock fills out immediately in his trousers – no one had ever said his name in quite that manner. You carry on as if he were not there, as if he were not some imposing figure looming at your door. Your hips arch up into your hand, and Kylo’s feet carry him towards you of their own accord, not coming to a rest until he is at the foot of your bed, until he leans his chest against the corner wooden post which holds up your canopy.

Shame burns through him, rips through his stomach, warms him from the inside of his armor out. He can feel the back of his neck sweating, has to lick his lips, bite at them to keep him from saying something stupid, from making you stop.

God, he doesn’t want you to stop.

He can see the stiff peaks of your nipples poking up your smock, can see the dark stains where sweat has soaked through it. How long had you been touching yourself like this, he wonders, wonders if this is the first occasion – or if there had been others, other moments he was unaware of.

Your eyes are closed, and he doesn’t think, doesn’t give it a second moment to mull over as he reaches his hand under his chainmail, dips his own hand into his trousers.

His cock is leaking at the tip, spurred on by your sighs and pants, and he has to brace himself against the bed. He sits down on the edge of your mattress, a soft thing that dips dramatically when he adds his weight in all his armor. It dips so dramatically in fact, that you are pulled to him, your body sliding down towards him, and you only let out a little laugh as you throw your legs over Kylo’s lap.

He has died, he decided, he must have been killed in that ambush, for no creature as lovely as you could ever be so at ease with yourself around him, ever so encouraging. And encouraging you are, as you continue to pleasure yourself, opening your eyes to watch him do the same.

He growls, frustrated that he is in full plate, frustrated that he cannot pull himself free, instead he must be content with this, with his hand down his trousers as he has his eye trained on your hand, moves to the speed at which you move yours.

“I – I’m going to come,” You gasp, and he grunts out an acknowledgment, trying to catch up.

He wants to fuck you, wants to make love to you, but he can’t, not like this – not under these circumstances, not like this. He strains to catch a glimpse of you, of your cunt, but your hand covers it and he cannot bear to tell you to stop, not when you are clearly so close.

“Cover my mouth.” You order and he doesn’t know why you demand it, doesn’t bother to ask you, only splays his leather-clad palm over your lips.

You shout, loudly, and Kylo then understands. Your moans would have carried through the hall, not even the thunder could have stopped them. Kylo is still stroking his cock, pulling at it with force and speed, but now he feels awkward that he is the only one.

“Don’t stop,” You say, command, and his chest hitches as he continues to jerk off.

Your legs are still draped over his lap, and Kylo admires them, the way the flesh of your thigh trembles, the way your knees are turned towards one another. You are smudging his armor, smearing it, ruining the polished finish and he groans loudly, thuds his head against the post which holds up this corner of the canopy, so turned on by that.

He never wants to wash the evidence of this night away.

His orgasm takes him by surprise, and he curses, come spurting over his hand inelegantly. The release is incredible, he doesn’t think he’s come that hard ever. But the beauty of the moment vanishes, when you pull your legs away and he is immediately reminded of the circumstances, of what he has done.

He winces when you raise your hand, expecting and bracing for a slap to the face, but when none comes and he cracks open an eye, it is to see you kneeling before him, offering him a square of silk, white with braided edging.

“Use this.” You whisper, and he knows you mean to clean up, to wipe away his come.

Kylo does as he’s told, and with shaking hands he does his best to clean up his mess without exposing himself to you. The silk is cool against his overheated skin, and he regrets the finery of the napkin you’ve given him, regrets how it is now sullied with such a sinful thing as his come.

He wants to kiss you, desperately, but he will not ruin you the way he has ruined this napkin. He tucks it into your waiting hand, and you clasp your glistening fingers around it, and Kylo’s stomach swoops at the thought of your come mixing together, living together there in that silk.  

“Good night, Lady (Y/N).” Kylo murmurs, gathering himself together and retreating at once to your door.

He opens it and takes one last look at you for the night, the way your hair curls and sticks to your cheek from the sweat that has dampened it, the way you still kneel on your bed, hand outstretched as if calling to him, beckoning him.

“Call me (Y/N).” You say.

But you say it with a smile before flopping backwards onto your pillow, and when Kylo closes the door behind him, he knows that he is forgiven.

                                                          -----------

The next morning, you say nothing of your shared dalliance. You simply smile at him, and it is a knowing smile, and Kylo blushes behind you as he accompanies you all the way down to the great hall for breakfast, where there is sure to be a fuss.

And a fuss there is indeed – however this time it is not with anger they regard Kylo, it is with awe, with admiration.

“Lady (Y/N)! Is it true? Are there bandits in the wood?” A servant girl rushes up to you, clutching a bowl of pears to her chest as you and Kylo ascend the steps of the high table.

Kylo pulls out your chair for you, and stands behind you with hands clasped behind his back.

You gratefully take a pear, begin slicing it into pieces that you dip into honey.

“There were! And oh what a horrible group of men, I am eternally grateful for my guard, Sir Ren. If he were not with me, I do not know what might have become of me.” You beam, practically an angel, looking up at him with such adoration in your eyes that he must look away, for he can feel his ears burning from your kind words.

“Sir Ren?” His mother asks, as if she is surprised by this news.

She never did believe him capable of very much, he thinks bitterly. But that bitterness cannot remain, not when you turn to offer him a slice of pear, proud of him.

“Yes! He killed them swiftly, it was magnificent. I have never seen such speed and efficiency in my entire life. There we were, going down the path in the wood, the one to the village you know, and my goodness it was like something of a fairy tale the way they leapt from the trees, knives drawn!” You recounted.

“No.” Gwendoline gasps with mock shock, for you had told her the story last evening when Kylo had taken his bath.

“Sir Ren noticed the attack before I did, and he jumped down from his great steed with his weapon drawn, told me to flee the scene but I could not leave him, I was too enthralled with his swordsmanship. There were ten great men and within the blink of an eye, four lay on the ground bleeding from wounds to the neck and stomach.” You continue with a nod, and Kylo is enjoying your enthusiasm so much, that he does not notice at first when Dameron groans.

“Is this the most appropriate breakfast conversation?” He asks, swirling his spoon round and round in his porridge.

“Oh don’t tell me you are squeamish, Sir Dameron?” You ask, brow raised.  

“No! No not at all I just think that perhaps the ladies at the table might like to be spared the gory details.” Dameron grumbles, and Kylo cannot help himself.

He takes a step forward and leans down so that he may speak only into your ear. Everyone in the hall strains, either obviously or subtly, to try and listen to what he says.

“It appears as though he seems far too concerned with the ladies and less so with his own training.” Kylo murmurs, the ghost of a jest on your ear, and you snort into the goblet which you had just lifted to your lips.

Satisfied, he straightens back up, as Dameron grumbles, brow pinched in a petulant scowl.

“What?” He demands to know, but you simply bite the inside of your cheek, shake your head.

“Nothing at all.” You said, though there is still a hint of humor in your voice, and Kylo’s chest warms through and through, knowing he has such an easy time making you laugh. “Anyway, then he…”

 You spend the morning recounting the events, even going so far as to reenact with him. Kylo did little more than stand there while you pretended to stab him in the stomach with your spoon, but it entertained the entire hall, so much so that when you were finished with your breakfast and gathered your skirt up to leave, he was met with slight applause rather than harsh glares.

You were laughing with Kylo when once again, your happy mood was soiled by the prince, as he came chasing after the two of you.

“Lady (Y/N)!” He calls, throws a hand up to catch your attention.

“Yes, Sir Dameron?” You all but groan, and he braces his hands on his knees before tousling his hair and attempting to charm you.

“I was wondering if perhaps this afternoon you would take a walk with me, through the grounds.” Dameron asks, offering you his arm.

You simply look at it.

“Only if my guard may accompany us.” You agree, which brings irritation to Dameron’s face, and a victorious satisfaction to Kylo’s heart.

“Your highness may I remind you that I too am a knight?” Dameron asks, exasperated.

“You may.” You remark, sarcastic.

“I do not see why you must make things so much more difficult than necessary.” Dameron huffs, runs a hand through his hair, and for just a single moment, Kylo feels bad for him, for how stupid must one be, to not get the hint that he is unwanted?

“And I do not see why you insist on making me so uncomfortable with your attempts at an advancement.” You snap back, and anger flashes across his face.

“I – ” Dameron takes a step towards you with clenched jaw and fists, and Kylo intervenes immediately.

“Don’t.” He warns, threatens this man, his brother, for the second time.

It would seem that this is the limit.

“And you! I have about had enough of you. Bad enough you aim to steal your mother’s crown, but after what you did to your father? To our sister! How dare you show your face.” He spits, looks to you, to gauge your reaction. He thinks you do not know, that Kylo did not tell you. Well, he finds, they both find, he is wrong.

“He cannot steal what is rightfully his.” You seethe from behind Kylo, hands sliding around his waist.

Dameron’s eyes widen at the gesture, but he only growls.

“And what will you do with it? When you have it, if you win?” He steps forward once again, and Kylo is thankful for you, for only your arms around him are what is holding him back from breaking that perfect nose. “You know nothing of running a country, how could you having spent your whole life away?”

“You know nothing of what Sir Ren has done with his time away.” You say, angry, defensive, “Do not assume him to be so incapable.”

“Why do you stand up for him?! Why?” He explodes, and at this you dart around Kylo’s body, force yourself right in between them, teeth bared at this insufferable man.

“Because he is my friend!” You shout, shout so loudly, making Kylo’s ears ring, making all time stand still. “Do you still wish for a walk around the grounds, o kind and noble knight, Sir Dameron?” You have acid in your voice, and Dameron gets the message, finally.

“Perhaps another day.” He nods with a scowl, bows deeply, just as sarcastically.

“I shall await the moment with bated breath.” You have the last word, before Dameron turns on his heels and retreats to the castle.

Kylo can only see your tense shoulders from his position behind you, can only see the way your hands are balled into fists at your side. He reaches out, tentatively, ever so hesitantly, and hooks his pinky through yours.

“You consider me a friend?” He whispers, for the word has never been uttered in his regard before.

The tension falls, and you sigh, turn to face him with a sad smile.  

“Of course I do.” You whisper back, not wanting to yell at him accidentally, as your hand twines with his own, careful of the stitches. “Surely you must know that.”

“Forgive me, I have never had one before.” Kylo admits, admits right there on the grass of the castle grounds, and you cup his cheek, press your forehead against his own in a gesture that he has now come to crave.

“Well now you do.” You say, and his chest tightens, tightens even more when you pull away.

                                                          -----------

The next morning, Kylo is restless. He paces up and down the hall, unable to stand by your door any longer. The sun has barely risen above the hills to the East when he hears light excited footsteps running down the hall of the castle, a familiar gait that has his heart beating ever slightly faster.

“Sir Ren!” He hears, your bright voice only confirming his suspicions, and he turns to face you, to bow deeply before you. You grin, eternally pleased to see him, and you give a proper curtsy of your own. “Good morning, are you well?” You ask, out of breath only slightly from having sprinted to greet him.

“My morning has been made much better, now that you’ve awoken.” Kylo says, and you only duck your head in modesty, as you loop your arm through his. This has become your favorite fashion for walking through the castle, and Kylo cannot bring himself to deny you it, even if he is afraid the metal of his armor will be cold against your hands, will chill your sleeve.

“The weather is pleasant, is it not?” You ask, completely undeterred by his plate and chainmail, instead content to lead him through the castle, past the windows where sunlight pours through in pale yellow beams that have your hair shining.

He notes the small basket you have pressed to your hip, and he wonders where or when you had snuck off to gather such a thing, for he had been outside of your door all evening save for the wee early hours of morning when he stole away for his daily bath in the brook.

“Yes, why, have you something you’d like to do?” He asks playfully, for clearly you do, and you laugh at his feigned ignorance, in the best of moods this fine morning.

“As a matter of fact, I would.” You say, before whispering conspiratorially, “You see there is a secret clearing of which I know, and I have found myself longing to witness its testament to beauty. It was my hope you may accompany me there for breakfast.” You waggle an eyebrow at him and he stops in his tracks.

“How did you learn of this clearing?” He asks, and you look very much like the cat which got the cream in the way you smirk.

“A nightingale told me of it in a dream.” You reply, and he hums, because of course he wouldn’t be getting a straight answer out of you, not for anything it would seem.

You are so unlike any woman he had ever come across, he thinks, and he realizes he’s staring when you begin to blush.

“A dream, I see.” He says, nodding to himself, letting himself be pulled as you all but drag him further down the hall.

“If I told you it would not then be a secret, would it?” You countered, and Kylo only sighed, for as playful as you were, there were real dangers out in the world, real people who wanted to cause you real harm.

He had defended you once, and he would do so gladly again, but the thought of you two so unguarded had him genuinely concerned.

“I am not so certain it is indeed a secret, nor that it would be safe to conduct such a leisurely activity as a picnic, so wide in the open.” He expresses his worries, and in typical fashion you only give him a look of such longing that Kylo feels uncharacteristically vulnerable, like you’re looking directly into his soul.

Maybe, he thinks, you are.

“Oh but my dear knight, of course it would be safe, for I would be with you.” You say, say so softly that Kylo thinks he has misheard it, and he does not know how to handle this, how to respond. Fortunately, you give him reprieve of your affectionate gaze, and turn your sights to his steed who grazes out front, “And Sam, of course.”

“I presume you already have food and drink packed?” He asks, gesturing to the basket which you hold in your free hand, which swings back and forth from the gentle force of your walking.

“Your presumptions have yet to fail you.” You confirm, before rounding on him suddenly, “Please, may we go? I don’t wish to eat with the Queen and her ward, I find myself growing entirely too weary of the loudness of the dining hall.”

He searches your eyes and finds only the truth, and who is he to deny you this? He is your guard, you are a princess, he is happy to serve.

“Alright.” He concedes finally, making you practically jump into his arms, down and off of him as quickly as you were on, as you take his hand and tug him down to the castle grounds.

“Wonderful! Oh thank you, Sir Ren, thank you.” You burst into happiness, like a thousand poppies opening their petals, and Kylo has to plant his feet firmly to prevent you from running away on your own.

“Wait, where are you going?” He asks, making your smile fall in slight confusion.

“The clearing, it is this way.” You say, giving his hand a squeeze, but he only shakes his head.

“No – the morning dew will have moistened the path,” Kylo says, before wrapping an arm around your middle and one behind your knees as he carries you like a newly wedded bride, holding you close to his chest for the short distance it takes to reach Sam. “It would not do to muddy your shoes.”

He sets you atop his horse, and Sam whinnies and tosses her head happily. You smooth your hand over her cropped mane, and settle yourself in the saddle, confused for a moment as Kylo remains on the ground, holding Sam’s reigns in his hand.

“Will you not join me up here?” You ask, and Kylo shakes his head.

“I don’t think Sam would like that very much.” He points out, a fact which his horse confirms with a loud chuff of her nostrils.

“But Sam does not know I am afraid of heights.” You lie with a smile, an attempt to get him to fold.

“Rest assured my lady, I will always catch you if you should fall.” He says instead, and he has succeeded in charming you once again for the moment.

You ride in companionable silence for a short while, eager to simply enjoy the beauty of your surroundings. The trees are green and healthy for it is summer and the last of the spring chill has dissipated. The further you travel, the warmer the sun grows, and soon you are unbuttoning the brooch that holds the collar of your kirtle closed.

It takes great restraint for Kylo not to stare, not to steal glances in the hopes that he might see a hint of your cleavage. His ears grow warm at the thought, his mind wandering back to the rather chaotic day at the river only a week ago. How you were clothed and yet nearly bare to him all at once, how the fabric of your shift had clung to your form…

“Look – just there!” You gasp, and Kylo’s first instinct is to reach for his sword, until he registers that it is excitement in your voice rather than fear. He looks in the direction that you have pointed, and he instantly relaxes when he hears the soft baaing of livestock. “My family used to own many sheep, they’re my favorite creature. As a small child I used to run among them, pick fallen leaves out of their wool. The lambs and I would jump together through the fields in the spring, and I would feed them wildflowers when I was finished. Their milk sours my stomach, which is a great shame, for it is so delicious, don’t you think?”

“Hmm.” Is all he says, for now he is paranoid, checking the tops of trees for bandits that may be lurking in the shadows.

You fall silent once again, yet once again it is not uncomfortable.

“I think it is admirable, what you are doing, by the by.” You say, apropos of nothing. He looks to you with a slight frown, but you are glancing up through the trees. “Reclaiming your country, your title as king. I know it may seem obvious to you now, but you have my full support in the endeavor. I should like to see you on the throne rather than Dameron, when the time comes.”

He does not know why you would say such a thing, for a declaration like that would be treasonous at the very least. Yet he finds himself less scandalized than relieved, and he mulls over a response in his head.

Should he tell you? Should he let you know he has dreamed of you sitting beside him on great carved thrones made of the finest wood, wearing a crown forged from the softest gold, encrusted with the deepest sapphires? Should he confess his desires to call you his queen, ask your hand right then and there?

“Tell me about the dream, the one with the nightingale.” He says instead, heart thudding too wildly.

He cannot figure you out, cannot parse through your playful teasing and your sincerity. Or perhaps he can, and he is just too afraid that it is true, the things that you say – for how could he deserve such finery, after all he has done, all he has been through?

You do not jest with him, this he knows, but he cannot bear to think it true.

Luckily, you indulge him, and the conversation shifts to much less overwhelming topics.

“It was beautiful, you were there, walking with me as you always are. I do not know where we were going or why, but we found ourselves in the wood where a tawny brown nightingale hopped onto a cherry branch and chirped its sweet song at us.” You say, and Kylo can picture it, can picture exactly that. “I grasped your hand in mine own and we chased the bird through the wood to a clearing of tall grasses and wildflowers, where the sun shone brightly and we feasted upon a large loaf of bread and butter.”

“I like cherries.” He admits, and you gasp in delight at this news, startling Sam into a halt.

“Then I shall fetch us some! Help me down?” You ask eagerly, already collecting your skirt so it may not tangle around your feet, already swinging your leg over the saddle.

“Lady (Y/N) I don’t think – ” He protests, but you are already poised for action and he finds himself scrambling to free his arms of helmet and basket.

“Sir Ren if you do not help me I will have to jump and what might become of me then?” You ask, and he drops all that he carries to lift you by the waist and place you gently down onto the ground.

You do not stay there very long, and he watches as you nimbly climb into the nearest tree you can find, hand over hand as you ascend the branches, until you are far enough up that Kylo can barely see you through the leaves.

And you had a fear of heights, right, he thinks fondly.

“Toss me a small pouch?” You call, and Kylo searches his knapsack for one that might serve you well, a small woolen pocket embroidered by his own hand.

It takes a few tries for you to catch it, and you laugh and laugh as the attempts grow more and more futile, until finally Kylo decides to climb the damned tree himself, desperately trying to hide his own amusement as he bites the inside of his cheek.

The two of you hidden away in the tree like this feels more intimate than Kylo had prepared for, especially when you crowd him against the trunk, press a cherry to his mouth.

“Are they ripe?” You ask through hooded lids, watch as Kylo parts his lips to accept the fresh fruit, his teeth grazing the skin of your fingertips in a manner that has you shuddering.

He doesn’t trust himself to speak, instead he takes his time chewing the cherry, mindful of the pit which he plucks from between his teeth. He chucks it across the wood, where it might one day plant and add to the collection of trees, and you smile for that is answer enough.

Cherries are not enough however, to keep the growling of his stomach at bay. He is embarrassed, but you only smile knowingly, and the two of you climb back down the tree, Kylo positioning you back atop his horse. You cradle the pouch in your lap, filled to the brim with the fruit you will no doubt enjoy in a moment, enjoy with all the other splendid foods you have brought with you.

Kylo begins to grow skeptical when it seems as though the wood continues on and on. He wonders if your dream had been only that, just an imaginary concoction, as you ride through the wood. But then, just as he’s about to suggest turning back, or stopping to rest for a moment to eat right there, the dirt path gives way to a field of bluebells.

And you grow excited as you urge Sam onwards, Kylo maintaining his place at your side as he too becomes eager. The bluebells cover the ground until they are at the very edge of the wood, and Kylo must admit he is impressed when before him lays a great expanse of tilled land, neat and even.

There are few trees here, instead large sections of the area have been conformed to manicured sections, each a variety of green grasses and flowers. They are buttercup yellow and daisy white, and the sky is a powder blue that boasts few fluffy clouds. Unlike deep in the wood, here there is a breeze, and Kylo becomes entranced, not with the sights of nature, but rather with the sight of your hair fluttering softly.

“Oh isn’t it gorgeous!” You remark, hopping down from Sam with an ease that makes Kylo’s chest fond, forgetting yourself and your supposed fear of heights for once and for all, turning to him and taking the basket from his hands, running away from the edge of the wood to find a much better spot than there, a spot with sun and yet shade, with grasses but level ground.

“Yes.” Kylo says to himself, for you are out of ear shot and cannot hear him when he says, “Yes you are.”

You find a good location to rest, and happily you arrange the contents of the basket so that you may enjoy a happy feast for breakfast. Kylo allows Sam to graze on the wildflowers and grasses that sway calmly as he stands near you, watching you unpack the foods.

There is a round loaf of hearty bread, eggs boiled in their shells among clusters of small cheeses that are encased in wax, crisp yellow apples and of course the cherries you picked only moments ago. You unwrap some cheese and dip it only for a moment into the small jug of wine, before biting off a chunk and laying down, eyes closed, letting the sun warm your face.

Kylo watches all of this in awe, at how you can be so at ease, how you can be so relaxed.

Without opening your eyes you pat the space next to you, smile to yourself.

“Won’t you lie with me?” You ask, and Kylo shakes his head, though you cannot see.

“I’m afraid not.” He says, but you are not so easily deterred, if nothing else he has learned this.

“And pray tell why not?” You insist, always stubborn, always questioning him, challenging him.

“What good is a bodyguard if he is not alert to danger?” Kylo says simply, and you laugh brightly at the idea.

“I do believe the only thing I am in danger of at the moment is perhaps the sting of a bee, or the bite of an ant. And you would much better protect me from here than there.” You say, and Kylo, against his better judgement, settles down in the grass near you.

Not quite exactly next to you, but facing you in a way that he can see behind you, see if anyone were to creep up.

He looks beyond you for just a moment before something dawns on him.

“You’re wearing the red kirtle again.” He says, and this makes you open your eyes then, makes you sit up, smooth the fabric over your knees where it has begun to ride up only slightly.

“Yes.” You reply, amused that he is just now noticing.

“You’ve worn it the past three days. Has something happened to your other dresses?” Kylo grows concerned for them, and you only shrug, reach across the spread of food you have prepared, and pluck an apple from the pile.

“They do not please your eye as this one does, therefore they are of no use to me.” You smile softly at him, and Kylo cannot help himself but for his ears to go red. Never before in his life, had a lady done something like this, something for him. “You must be starving, here, please eat.”

You hand him an apple and he accepts it graciously, holds it between his palms and rips it in half like he has done all his life. He raises one half to his lips to take a bite when he sees your shocked expression, how your eyes have grown wide and your mouth dropped open.

“What?” He asks, looking over his own shoulder, trying to see what it is you must be looking at.

When it is clear there is nothing, he turns back towards you, to see your gaze cast away, lip bitten, hands busying themselves in the hem of your dress.

“Nothing, I have just never seen someone with such easy strength.” You remark, awe in your voice, and he blinks a frown, for that is not a true show of his strength, not by any means at all.

“It isn’t hard, here I’ll show you – ” He says, offering you another apple, but you refuse him, shake your head at once.

“No! No I would rather not learn.” You interrupt, growing silent as his hand lowers, and he is concerned, immediately afraid he has upset you, has disrespected you somehow. He wracks his mind for an apology that may suit you, but when you look up at him once more, he finds no anger in your eyes, rather a wistful sadness that aches almost as much when you say, “For if I do, then what excuse will I have to ask you to do it for me?”

Kylo and you simply look at one another for a moment, before he moves behind you, sits down on the grass and pulls your back to his chest as he places the apple in your palm. He positions his hands around yours, and the both of you split the apple with ease.

“You need not a single excuse, I would do it every time.” He murmurs in your ear, swallows hard against the lump in his throat.  

You take a large bite out of the crisp apple, the sound of your teeth tearing through the fruit music to his ears, and he is humbled, grateful, that you would eat the food he prepares for you, even if it is a small preparation as this.

You both remain in this position for a good long while, until more and more you begin to lean back into him, until Kylo must brace himself with his hands atop the earth, so that you may rest your head upon his shoulder.

You remove the stems from the cherries you have picked, and toss them up into the air so that Kylo may catch them between his teeth. You let out a small cheer each time he succeeds, and soon his lips are stained a deep red color, he can feel it. When the last of the cherries are gone, and the pits scattered to the wind, he is pleasantly full, and grateful for your spot against his shoulder so that you might not see the way he blushes at your applause.

You hum to yourself, a tune that Kylo recognizes and recognizes as a celebration of summer, Mirie It Is, and your eyes close against the warmth of the sun as you hum and hum, your fingers idly playing with a piece of grass you have plucked from the earth, twirling it round and round. Aside from your humming, it is quiet, the only sounds in the clearing are your even breathing and the chirping of the morning birds.

As the song comes to an end, your breathing deepens and soon Kylo realizes you have fallen asleep, putting him in quite the predicament.

He realizes you cannot remain like this, leaned back against his chest while you nap, because you would surely grow uncomfortable in that position, your back stiff or your neck in a crick where your face is turned into his throat. He is also vulnerable to danger like this, for if someone were to approach with the intent to harm, he would not be able to react fast enough without waking you.

However...

He cannot shake the thought of you being so comfortable as to fall asleep in his arms, for they are still around your middle. He cannot bring himself to part from you, to disturb you in any way, to do would cause him pain.  

Still, he is no stranger to pain, and he ever so carefully maneuvers you so that you may lay down atop the soft grass. A flower tickles your nose accidentally, and he swiftly rips it from the earth. He regards the small flower, a tiny thing with fair white petals, and places it gently in your hair, tucks it just behind your ear. Your lashes flutter softly against your cheek, and Kylo hopes you are having pleasant dreams.

He allows you to sleep as he walks just a few paces past, surveying the clearing.

He thinks of all the land that would be his, should he succeed in slaying his enemy, Sir Dameron. He thinks that this land might be given to you, if you would be so amendable as to receive it. He thinks of you coming to the clearing as often as you would like, and his heart yearns for a future where you might feed him cherries and he you apples.

He continually checks in on you, as the time passes, continues to make sure you are safe and comfortable.

He finds on one such checking, that you have arranged your limbs in a manner that is entirely suggestive, and he blushes at the thought – for it recalls memories of the night of the ambush, memories he had been trying to swallow for days now, memories that refused to stay locked away.

He licks his lips and wills himself not to grow overheated from the remembrance of the sounds that had poured from your lips, the way your hand had delved underneath your smock to disappear between your legs, as you had called out his name, his name.

He removes his cloak from his shoulders and drapes the fabric over your body, both in an effort to keep you comfortable, and to prevent his mind from wandering. He could get away with such devious thoughts late at night, but he fears that if he winds himself up now, he might have to relieve himself in broad daylight, and that would not do.

Shame burns through his throat at the very thought, for you are no common prostitute to lust after – no you are a princess, one who has captured the very essence of his soul, and in only a few short days. No, he could not sully you with such impure desires, no matter how strong those desires may be.

He collects an apple or two from the pile and approaches Sam, who has found a small pond of fresh water to hydrate herself by. She perks up at the offering of an apple, and Kylo rolls his eyes.

“She’s spoiled you greatly these past few days, hasn’t she?” He asks his horse, who has now all but come to expect the treat of this fruit.

Sam only nudges Kylo’s hand with her nose and downs the apple quickly, sniffing out the rest he has hidden under his arm. He doesn’t bother trying to refuse her.

The peace of the morning is broken, when suddenly you are running past him, having smacked his arm on your way.

Both he and Sam startle, and Kylo has his sword drawn, has it twirled in his hand for a stronger grip, for surely danger must be imminent. He is reaching for his helmet when you run past him once again, now heading in the opposite direction that you once were.

“Lady (Y/N)! What is the matter, where are you going?” Kylo insists, demands to know, hand already balling into a fist ready to deliver a swift blow to your attacker.

But you only laugh and jump around, and Kylo groans, groans for he does not how many more of these false alarms he can take.

“I have had my time in the sun and now I grow restless! As the children say, tag you’re it.” You taunt him, before gathering your skirt in your hands and running running running away.

“Lady (Y/N) please, come back.” Kylo shouts with too much force, exasperated, has half a mind to be angry at you as he sheaths his sword once more.

You climb atop a rock in the clearing, hands on your hips looking triumphant as you tease.

“Oh are you too slow my dear knight? Perhaps you’d be faster without all of your heavy armor weighing you down – ah!” You take notice of him chasing after you, Kylo’s legs far longer and stronger than your own.

You jump off the rock and your laughter rings through the hills of the clearing, echoes across the tilled land as Kylo snatches you about the waist with ease, hoists you up and over his shoulder like you were no more than a sack of potatoes and spins you around and around.

He does not know when the last time he played was, does not know if he ever has, so he does not know if this is correct, but you are not angry with him when you beat your fists against his back.

“Sir Ren!” You exclaim as he sets you right side up, feet on the floor and no longer kicking wildly from the thrill of being so captured.

Your chest heaves from the excitement but he is barely out of breath, and he wonders how you might fare in another situation, one where your face may flush just as it is now, where he may have his hands on you, around you, in a different manner.

“I think you’ll find I am exactly as fast as I need to be, Lady (Y/N).” He says, and you hum in contemplation, rest your forehead against his, for that is how close you are to one another.

“Call me (Y/N).” You whisper, a teasing smile just toying with the corner of your lips.

“No.” He says, and though he does not smile, he knows you can feel the warmth in his expression, in his eyes.

A moment passes and then he is pulling away from you, running away towards Sam, armor clinking and clanking against itself, as he calls out, “I believe now it is you, who are it, Lady (Y/N).”

He can clearly see disappointment flit across your face for some reason, before it is overcome with joy that he is willing to play along.

 Hours later, when the sun has gone down and you both have eaten every morsel of food you have brought, does Kylo suggest returning to town.

“I do not know how the time escaped us,” You remark as you enter the castle, Kylo’s arm in yours once more, “But I am glad to have spent such a wonderful day with you.”

Kylo wishes he had the words to say he was too, but he was more than glad, he was thrilled – elated, he had never felt this way before, about anyone or anything. He would give anything to you, for you, do anything to make you smile.

“Sir Ren…” You say when you arrive at your door, and for the first time it is you who is shy, you who dips your head low and blushes, “I feel as though I must confess something. I fear that you mistake my affections for jest, for only a friendly nature. Please know this is not the case, I…I care for you deeply.” You admit, and Kylo feels as though he may black out.

All of it, all of it has been true this entire time. He does not know what to do, what to say, for his mind is reeling, heart beating so fast, so hard in his chest he thinks he is going to die, going to just have a heart attack.

You mistake his silence for rejection, he can see it in your eyes and he begins to panic.

“I beg your pardon, it was never my intention to make you uncomfortable. Good night.” You are mortified, and you turn towards your door, shaking hand trying to get the lock turned with the great big key you carry.

He rushes to stop your hand, rushes to heal this pain he has caused you, for that is not the case, never has been the case.

“You do not.” He says, says so quickly that he isn’t sure if the words are coherent.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, and fuck there are tears in your eyes, and his heart sinks. He grasps your hand between his own, brings the fingertips to his lips, an echo of a gesture you had bestowed upon him those days ago at the brook.

“You do not make me uncomfortable, with your advances.” He shakes his head, tries to convey the depth of his feeling, how it is very much the opposite.

“You mean to say…?” You whisper with wide eyes, and Kylo nods.

“Good night.” He says, but he says so with such fondness that you grin, that you hug him tightly, arms around him in an embrace.

You slip behind the door to your bedchambers, but this time when you close it, you keep your eye trained on his the whole time, stealing a glance until the very moment the door is shut.

 Hours pass, and it is dark. The night is clear, only the gentle pattering of rain sounds around him, nothing quite so tumultuous as a thunder storm.

“Lady (Y/N)?” He sounds surprised, when you turn the heavy metal handle and gently push open the door.

He’s not sure why he’s surprised, why when in the middle of the night like this you aren’t in bed. No, instead you’re wearing only the barest of robes, thick red velvet that drapes and folds off your curves in such a manner that could ensnare the most chaste of men.

Your hair is down and freed from braids, and oh that is a sight, a sight so delicious he has to avert his eyes, has to turn his scarred face elsewhere, for he is unworthy to feast his eyes on you.

You disagree, reach a hand out to rest on his armor, for he still has not taken it off, of course not, not when at any moment he might need it. Your hand slides up his forearm, over his bicep, up to his face, to his cheek, and you are not wearing gloves – this he can tell, even in the dark.

“How many times must I tell you to simply call me, (Y/N)?” You ask, and this makes him bite the inside of his cheek, because this is the fifth time. He’s been counting, keeps track, he likes keeping track of you, likes that you have these inside humors to share.

You tilt his gaze back towards you and the pale light from the moon makes your skin glow. He’s not so sure he isn’t ensnared, not when you smooth your thumb over his marred flesh, not when you smile at him so softly.

He captures your hand in his own, filled with regret at the leather encasing his fingers. He turns his cheek slightly to kiss your palm, gently, ever so gently. He doesn’t want to harm you, not when he is capable of so much.

“As many times as you must, for I’ll never regard you as anything less than a Lady.” He says and even though the night is high and the visibility is low, he knows, he knows you are blushing.

“Won’t you come inside?” You ask, and he permits a soft huff of air that may be passable as a laugh.

“No, I’m to stand watch all night.” He replies, for this you know, he had stood guard of your bedroom every night for nearly two weeks.

This was not the first night you had been so bold, but his barriers have been broken down, he can feel in his heart how exceptionally lovely you are, how he desperately wishes to give you what you want. But as stubborn as you could be, so could he, and he aims to make you work for it.

“You couldn’t possibly, not all night. When would you sleep? A man needs his sleep.” You argue, and Kylo hums thoughtfully, playfully.

“No more than a Lady needs her protection.” He counters, making you bite at your lip in a grin that shows all of your pretty teeth, a luxury that Kylo is self-conscious of for himself.

“And what are you protecting me from, Sir Ren?” You ask, withdrawing your hand so you may cross it over your chest with the other, leaning against the doorframe looking entirely too beautiful.

“Anything. Everything.” He is lost in the sight of you, and thinks that yes, you are a woman he could fight for, would kill for. It seems silly in retrospect now, considering, but you had the face that would win a million wars, just call you Helen.

“You cannot protect me from everything, not out there.” You tsk, a playful glint in your eye, and Kylo was eager for another battle of wits, for they were such fun when they were with you – even though he would never admit it.

“Oh? And what, pray tell can I not prevent from here?” He asks, an eyebrow raised.

You hum to yourself for a moment, before he shocks you by opening his arms and collecting you in them, pulling you close. He could chuckle at the width of your eyes as you realize you’ve won this round, won this war. Still, he likes to be difficult and though he has you pressed against his black armor, he leans his head away so he might look upon your face, so you might be just out of reach of his lips.

“The chill of the room as it washes over my skin.” You say, licking your own, looking up at him through thick lashes.

“You should warm your skin by the fire, then.” He suggests, knowing all too well there is an ember glowing near your very bed.

“Hmm, the bandits that might climb through my window.” You offer, but he simply shrugs.

“Lock the window, then.” He allows a finger to curl under your chin, to lift your face up up up, watches as your eyes slip closed, as you breathe in the smell of his leather and polish.

“The plague of my nightmares.” You whisper, and Kylo’s lip quirks a smile, the first smile he’s let you seen, the first smile he’s let anyone see in many years.

“Pray for sweet dreams.” He says simply, as he lets himself lean down barely, just a tad, just a hint, enough that his warm breath ghosts across your mouth.

“The yearning ache in my lips?” You ask, and this, this he will grant you, because he can save you from this.

“Kiss me.” He allows, and you do, oh, you do.

His lips yield to yours, and the press is heavenly when your sweet smile sighs against him. He breathes you in, forgetting himself, forgetting his duty, and he allows his tongue to slide against yours.

When you moan into his mouth he decides he cannot wait any longer, will not wait any longer, and he cautiously walks you backwards into the room, door shutting behind you, sealing out the world beyond.  

Your bedroom is just as he remembers it, from that day where he caught you pleasuring yourself, and something inside him is thrilled that this time, this time it will be he who pleasures you. The room is dark and warm, nothing but the light of the moon and the small embers of the fire to light the area.

You allow the red velvet robe to fall from your shoulders, and a bead of sweat trickles down the back of Kylo’s neck, as he is allowed to look at you, as he is graced with the opportunity to really look at you. You are naked before him, arms relaxed at your side as the velvet catches around your wrists on its descent to the floor. There is enough light to see, to see how gorgeous you are, the way your hair cascades down your back, the way your pulse jumps in your throat, the way your nipples stiffen at the sudden exposure to the air.

He does not move, does not dare to move, not even as his trousers become impossibly tight around his crotch, as he desperately wants to shift his weight so he might have some friction on his cock.

“Let me help you?” You whisper, sensing his mild distress, sensing his desperation for you, but he shakes his head, gloved fingers already swiftly undoing the clasps and buckles that hold on his breastplate, heavy metal resting atop black chainmail.

“I can do it.” He says, grateful for the chance to breathe, the routine of removing his armor almost meditative, until your hand comes to rest atop his own.

“I know you can.” You say, as you lean up to kiss him, as you press your naked body against his which is entirely clothed, his which is clad in steel, steel that smudges as your sweat and the oils from your skin rub against them.

He kisses you slowly, the slide of his tongue against yours something which is more intoxicating than the most fragrant wine. He refuses to part from you as he removes the rest of his armor, piece by piece, as quickly as he can – not hurriedly, not rushing, but efficiently. Your hands join in helping lift the mail over his head, and you let out a surprised huff when you realize just how heavy it is.

He smirks, pleased that you are impressed.

You break the kiss to admire him, all of him, and he stands proudly before you as naked as you are before him. Your eyes are glued to his cock, which hangs heavy and thick between his legs, and you reach a hand out to grasp his, to lead him to your bed.

You lay down and Kylo follows, settles himself between your open legs, and he cannot stop looking looking looking at you, at the curve of your breasts, at the soft plush flesh of your stomach, the way your thighs part for him, hair between your legs that frame your pussy so beautifully. In the firelight he can see the way you glisten, all over, from the sweat on your chest to the slick that collects in your cunt.

“You are so lovely, a dream. I must be dreaming.” He whispers, and you blush, suddenly shy – shy after all this time spent flirting.

“Do these not feel real?” You ask, and he licks his lips as you guide his hands to your breasts, and he cannot stop them from shaking as they cup your tits, as his fingers splay across them.

He kneads them in his hands, pinches and rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger in a way that makes you gasp into his mouth when he swallows it up in a kiss. You remove one of his hands from your chest and instead guide it down between your legs.

“How about this?” You ask, hand holding his wrist steady.

His breathing quickens when your hips rise to meet his fingers as they curl inside you, and he is shocked to feel how hot you are, how wet. He acts on instinct, pushes them as deep inside you as they can go, just his two fingers, but he is bewitched by the feeling of it. You tip your head back and moan, and Kylo is afraid he is going to begin to drool, drunk off the sound.

His cock strains against your thigh, and he wants nothing more than to sink it deep inside you, but he must be honest with himself, with you.

“I – ” His voice is hoarse, and he clears it, tries to clear his head as he pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you, as he elicits more moans and gasps from your lips, moans that sound just the same as the ones he listened to when he interrupted you in a similar position as this, “I have but only heard, of the wonders of a woman’s body.”

He is shy, and his face burns with embarrassment at the admission, but he does not wish you to think he is more experienced than he is, does not wish you to be disappointed. Thankfully, you do not seem deterred, for you do not kick him out of your bedchambers in disgrace, nor do you laugh at him, nor do you do much of anything beside cup his cheek and pull his forehead down to rest against yours.

“The only experience I have is with myself, but this you already know.” You whisper, and relief floods through him as he removes his fingers from your cunt.

He laves his tongue over them, licks up your juices and moans at the taste, for you truly are like honey in his hands, on his lips. He in turn kisses you, because he cannot get enough of that, of this, of you.

“You must tell me what you like.” He says when his cock begins to throb and ache in a manner which he can ignore no longer. He abandons your breast which he has been holding, and instead uses that hand to support his weight while he rubs the head of his cock through your folds with his other.

You nod, and soon the sliding back and forth gives way to penetration, as he positions himself to push into you, hips pressing in short thrusts until they are flush against yours.

“Oh – oh.” You moan, your back arched up into him, and now that he is inside you he caresses your lower back, kisses you as his thrusts grow more bold.

He feels your legs wind around his hips, and lets out a deep groan of pleasure as you do something, something to squeeze your cunt around his cock, and his hips buck into you with more force.

“Yes! Harder? Harder, I beg of you.” You cry out, hands flying to his back, nails digging into the strong meat of his shoulders then.

He nods, buries his face into your neck as he thrusts with more and more force, until the bed is squeaking and shaking, until your mouth is unable to close, hot breath coming in short pants that he breathes in, that makes him dizzy.

You are exquisite around him, and he knows that this wait has been worth it, that this victory is one he shall savor forever, the trust that you have placed in him, the desire that you have for him, both evident in the way you are lavishing wet kisses to his neck, the way you mark his back, the way you clench your pussy and push your hips into him.

“I’m going to – ” You choke off a moan, and he knows this means you must be close, and anticipation builds in his chest. While he has seen you come once before, never has he felt it, experienced it like this.

He can feel your stiff nipples rubbing against his chest, and you’re whining, gasping. You blindly reach for his hand and he gives it to you willingly as his hips push you up and up the bed. He does not know what you aim to do until all at once it is clear – you guide his hand back to your cunt and press his finger down onto your clit, a command that he would rather die than disobey.

“Sir Ren, yes!” You shout out, not caring if you woke the whole castle, and Kylo feels your orgasm hit him like a waterfall.

He rubs your clit, harsh circles that paired with the force of his cock leave you crying, and Kylo is worried that he has hurt you somehow but when he peeks a glance at your face from where he has made a home in your throat, he finds nothing but what could only be described as ecstasy.

It is that face, the feeling of your hot body beneath his, around his, completely consuming his, that makes him grunt and groan, makes him sweat and shake as he can feel his orgasm rip through him.

It blinds him, and he doubles over, arm which has supported him this whole time finally giving out, as he collapses onto your chest. He can feel it, swears he can feel his come spreading inside you, the throb of his cock as it releases all of his spend into your tight cunt. Your arms are weak from your own pleasure but you smooth your hands up his back, and he rolls his hips with a groan to milk himself for what he’s worth.

He does not know what that may be, but he gives it to you, gives every single drop to you. Your thighs and stomach are fluttering underneath him, chest rising and falling with breath that tries to regulate itself, and he cannot stop the prick of hot tears from slipping down his nose, from collecting on your chest.

He is so overwhelmed, so in love with you, that he cannot bear it, cannot believe how lucky he is for you to grace him with this gift. You have the largest smile on your face, chin pinched up in happy tears of your own, and Kylo knows he has done well. He thinks he has done well, hopes he has, for he isn’t sure he could live without this, now that he has tasted it, has had a sample of your body.

But you are smiling and you comb your fingers through his hair as he kisses you, his body heavy on your own, his cock still inside you, and he has no strength in him to hold back a great big smile of his own.

                                                  ------------------

Tagging some pals! As always please let me know if you’d like to be put on the taglist or taken off of it <33 Part 3 coming soon!  @adamsnackdriver​​ @dreamboatdriver​​ @kyloxfem​​ @autumnlovesadam​​ @solotriplets​​ @driverficarchive​​ @kylo-renne​​ @formerly-anonhamster​​ @thepilotanon​​ @joannapenguin​​ @whiskey-bumblebee​​ @passengereve​​ @venusianmaiden​​ @callmehopeless​​ @sarcasticallyhateful​​ @ilikebritsandbands​​ @tinyplanet-explorers​​ @kittyofalltrades​​ @princessofpow​​ @softcrybabykid​​ @inkstaineddaughter​ @wonderneverland562​ @magikevalynn​

[ultsoobins]

New Rules - CSB

requested:

no

notes:

soobin x producer!reader

angsty, ends up fluffy, please read i can’t really explain this fic... might be deserving of a part 2... they’re slightly aged up

2.5k words

summary:

it’s 3 am and neither of you have ever been this vulnerable before. the sentiment is new but the feelings are not

you hear your studio’s door click open, and before you even turn around it’s obvious who it is. the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of your mouth, but you do your best to suppress your facial features as you swing around in your office chair, catching soobin as he sheds his jacket and hangs it on the coat hook you have at the entrance to your room. one he’s done, he shifts his things around so in one hand, he holds the studio key you’d gifted him at the beginning of your friendship. in the other is a convenience store bag with what has to be ramen.

he finally looks up, catching your gaze. his smile is immediate, and you finally let yours take over your features as well. you watch as he slips the keys into his back pocket and double checks to make sure the door is locked before setting the food down on the carpeted floor. once he straightens up, his smile softens. you push yourself gently out of your chair and onto your feet.

soobin opens his arms wide, and you rush into them, the force of your body against his sending him stumbling back a step in surprise. he catches both his and your balance quickly, however, and you’re glad he’d had the foresight of putting the ramen further away from where he’s standing. his arms encircle you naturally, his large hands travelling up and down the expanse of your back soothingly, in the way you’re both used to.

“rough week?” he asks, voice muffled in your hair. you nod into his chest and hold him tighter, letting all the sighs you’ve been holding in out into his thin sweater. he chuckles and you swear you feel him press his lips against your hairline before you step back, holding him at arm’s length while running your eyes over his features. 

“you haven’t been sleeping,” you finally say, and his smile drops for a split second before coming back to what it always is. soobin prays that you didn’t see his change in expression. it’s already ingrained into your mind. 

“it’s just comeback stuff. you’d think it would get easier the sixth time around,” he says before stepping away as well, bending down to pick up the bag. you lean over slightly to look into it, unsurprised as four cups of ramen and a couple of beers meets your inquisitive glance. 

“i don’t think i can eat two cups,” you point out, and soobin snorts on impulse as he makes his way across the room to your makeshift ‘kitchen’ in the corner of your studio. there’s a portable stove, a mini fridge, and a microwave balanced precariously on top of a stool. he looks back at you as he places the beers on the fridge’s bottom shelf, one eyebrow quirked. you match his mirthful stare evenly.

“three of them are for me,” soobin finally says, breaking eye contact to fill one of the ramen cups with the readily available boiling water in the kettle on your stove. he pops it in the microwave and punches in some numbers before placing the kettle back in its place. you pull two pairs of chopsticks out from a drawer at your desk, and settle into the futon in the corner of your studio. he joins you shortly, sitting on the other end of it as he does. for a moment, it feels frightfully domestic. everything feels just right, as if its as it should be. you wish that were the case. 

you realize that soobin’s waiting for you to speak, his smile gentle and his eyes curved into the barest of crescents. 

“so what’s the reason for your late-night visit, mr. choi?” you finally ask, swinging your legs up to place your feet in his lap. one of his hands goes to automatically keep your feet straight, the other arm already being thrown over the back of the futon. one corner of his mouth turns up, and he tilts his head teasingly.

“do i need one to visit my favorite producer?” 

“at -” you pause, tugging soobin’s wrist in front of your face to check the time on his watch. “3 in the morning? yes, i’d say so. what’s wrong?” your voice softens and your shoulders relax as you ask him again. you don’t let go of his hand. he doesn’t ask you to. the other tightens its grip on your calf. 

after what feels like aeons, soobin’s shoulders slump, muscles loosened. the microwave beeps urgently, but you both ignore it. soobin sighs, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, tugging on some strands subconsciously, a habit he’s developed over the time you’ve known him, though you aren’t wont to point it out. he looks at you, really looks at you, before sighing again. finally, he speaks. 

“you know that recent scandal? where that idol turned out to be dating a childhood best friend? right?” 

“the guy from - yeah, i’ve heard. dispatch was up the company’s ass, it was disgusting how low they went to expose the couple. why? did he leave his group?” you sit up straighter, leaning closer to your friend. his cologne hits you, and you find your shoulders seize up as you realize how good he smells. you try to put it out of your mind. he leans in too on reflex, and you find yourself shifting so you’re closer to him. one of his hands makes its way to the small of your back, keeping you balanced.

soobin is always the one who keeps you stable. he’s your rock. you’ve never told him so. you’re sure you’ll never be able to. 

“no not - no. there hasn’t been any recent news. i don’t even know if they can file a lawsuit. i didn’t bring it up because of him specifically, though…” soobin chews on his lower lip for a moment, inspecting his hands as he does. you wait, breath bated. when he looks back up, his face is almost somber.

you shift closer to him on protective instinct, your thighs now over his lap. both his arms encircle you, and you try not to melt into his warmth. 

“yeah?” you finally prod, voice barely above a whisper. soobin gulps. 

“it’s his situation. it’s - it’s the fact that he’s an idol and has a love life. that he’s both - he has both - at the same time.” soobin’s eyes search your own at this declaration, as if he’s looking for some understanding that isn’t there. you wet your bottom lip with your tongue on instinct, and soobin, not finding what he’s looking for, moves his gaze to your mouth for the briefest of moments before looking away entirely. it feels as if a weight of suspense is crushing you, caving your chest in. it’s as if soobin offers the breath of fresh air you need. you know, however, that he won’t deliver. this is new territory - soobin always has what you need, and vice versa. 

you’ve always completed each other somehow.

“soobin -” you start, only to be cut off immediately by him shaking his head almost frantically. his eyes meet yours again, and you see fear and apprehension within their depths before it’s all overshadowed by worry and by something - something you can’t, won’t, discern. 

‘you’ve never seen love like this in someone’s eyes before,’ your thoughts whisper, openly laughing at your precarious existence. you’re balanced exquisitely between knowledge and ignorance, at the precipice of something more than what you have and what you are, all while you aren’t ready for the upcoming fall. you swallow thickly and ignore the voices in your head, hoping that they’re lying to you for the greater good. 

“what if i’m hypothetically into someone?” soobin finally says, his words spilling out in a rush of air. it suddenly feels hot in your studio. you swallow again, your mouth falling open ever-so-slightly. “what if i’m - what if, hypothetically, i had feelings for a staff member or - or a producer, or something?” 

“hypothetically?” you finally get out, doing your best not to roll the sour word around your mouth over and over again. still, your tongue and lips form it in the ugliest manner possible, causing you to almost choke on the word as you speak it. soobin’s eyes darken in what you’ve come to know as concern, and it suddenly feels as if your lungs have been crushed too. the weight that had been on your chest earlier has done its job. you’ve fallen into the unknown with too great an understanding. 

“hypothetically i - i mean does this staff member -”

“- producer -” soobin interjects hurriedly.

“- producer,” you continue, pausing to gather your thoughts even somewhat haphazardly. “does this producer love you back, even hypothetically?” it’s only after you’ve let the words out that you realize soobin had never used the word ‘love’. by the way his eyes widen, so does he. the weight leaves you breathless entirely. you fixate on the way soobin’s teeth sink into his lower lip once more.

“you tell me,” he finally says, voice soft and laced with vulnerability. in the moment, his 6’1 frame looks the smallest it ever has been. your mouth is dry, and you suddenly wish you’d taken a beer right out of soobin’s hand when he’d walked in. his gaze is trained on you, expectant. you lick your lips once more. 

“hypothetically,” you say, the word harsher than it had been before. the true meaning of what you’re about to say does not escape you. your eyes meet soobin’s once more, and you know that the truth has never been so necessary before. 

“hypothetically, yes. the producer l-” your eyes are welling up, all of a sudden, and you pause to swallow back tears that don’t need to be shed. “the producer loves you back.”

“what if we love each other while my job is - is what it is? what then?” he asks, imploring you to say what he wants you to. neither of you miss the lack of the hypothetical. a tear escapes you, tracking its way down your cheek. soobin reaches a hand up instinctively, pausing with his thumb hovering over your face. he has never been so unsure before. neither have you. 

“we - they - we - we shouldn’t. we shouldn’t,” you gasp out, overwhelmed, before leaning your face into his waiting palm, tears flowing as your feelings wash over you. you curse yourself mentally, knowing that, under normal circumstances, you’d never be so immediately emotional. you’d be so much more cohesive, but it’s a quarter past 3 in the morning, there’s ramen in the microwave and beer in the fridge, you have a half finished track open on your desktop, and you’ve just essentially confessed to the love of your life when he’s one of the few people you should never love at all.

soobin gently swipes tears away as they come before finally drawing you into his chest entirely, pulling your body against his. you feel drops of wetness against your scalp, and you clutch him tighter as you realize that he’s crying, too. your heart aches. the last time you’d seen him cry was when he’d debuted. 

you wager that that was the last time anyone had seen him cry. if you were one to bet, you’d be right. 

“plenty of idols love, right?” he finally mutters into your hair, voice deeper and slightly raspier than it usually is. you strain to hear him before heaving your own shuddering sigh and nodding into his chest. as always, his hands run their route down your back. 

“love their jobs,” you finally say, pulling away but leaving your hands clutching his sweater. “love their fans and - and - and other idols, sometimes. i’ve never heard of an idol falling for someone who works for them.”

“with,” soobin corrects you on instinct, thumbing away a stray tear on your glistening cheek. “not for. we can be the first ones.” 

“we aren’t even dating,” you point out, brow furrowed as you process everything. “how can we be in love?”

“i love you,” soobin says easily, his hands pressing more firmly - and more protectively - into your back. you can feel his fingers shaking against the fabric of your - his, actually - sweatshirt, though, and you can see how heavily his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. he’s gotten better at feigning confidence and ease, you realize. a part of you is insanely proud of him. “i love you.” he repeats, voice slightly steadier, when you say nothing. there’s an unspoken ‘do you love me?’ in the air.

you can’t let him suffer when you’re both stuck at this cliff’s edge together. in your mind, you take another leap of faith.

“i love you too.”

“what do we do?” he finally asks, though only after exhaling heavily. it seems as if neither of you can bear to part from the other now that everything is laid out. you sigh, the last of your tears and gasps leaving your system as you do. 

“i don’t think anyone knows, least of all me,” is all you can find in way of response, and soobin gives a small laugh. you find yourself smiling back at him as naturally as ever. he leans over, pressing his lips to your forehead, and you find his warmth more comforting than anything else ever has been. you find yourself wanting more.

“soobin,” you start, cupping his face in your hands. he leans in, closer and closer until his nose bumps against yours. you smile, moving forward the last centimeter. 

his lips are soft. his palms against your jawline are rough. he tastes like the nearby bakery’s fresh bread and like beer, and you have the suspicion that you’ll find a crushed, empty can in the bottom of the bag he’d brought with him. the moment is over as quick as it had begun, and you both pull away naturally. 

“the ramen’s probably cold by now,” soobin finally breaks the silence, and you can’t help but smack a hand against his chest as he breaks into a grin. 

“you also only warmed one cup, dummy,” you point out, your smile mirroring his.

“figured we’d share,” he throws back at you, and you roll your eyes on impulse before fixing your gaze on his own. your voice is soft when you speak again. 

“are we putting this -” you gesture between your intertwined bodies. “- on hold?” your smile fades even as you ask, and soobin is quick to shake his head no. he leans his forehead against yours in reassurance for a moment before pulling away once more.

“after that kiss? not likely. besides,” he says, gently lifting your legs off of his as he does. he stands up, and you watch as he goes to the fridge. it’s only after he pulls its door open and grabs the two heinekens he’d brought that he continues his thought, closing the door with a well-aimed knee.

“i figured that this should be our first date.”

[ezzydean]

cauldron bubble

I needed something to distract myself until trick or treats could start and @notsuchasecret gave me BokuDai+ accidental baby acquisition.  So here we go.

Click here to read on my blog and not on the dash (it’s almost 4k)

The cauldron in the fireplace rattles and Daichi gives it an unimpressed stare.

“Look,” he says as it shudders and clanks against its stand, “I don’t like doing my job sometimes either.  But do you see me wiggling and grumbling about it?  No.  Just calm down okay?”

The cauldron rattles again and then goes still.  Daichi has just enough time to smile in relief at the quiet before the contents suddenly start bubbling over the top of the cauldron.

“Shit,” he sighs.  Foam starts oozing down the side of the cauldron and dripping into the fire, causing it to spit and crackle menacingly.  “Well that’s not good.”

He grabs a poker from next to the fireplace and taps at the cauldron cautiously.  It’s not supposed to do this.  Nothing he put into the cauldron should make it do this.  Why is it doing this?  Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten a used cauldron.  But the new ones are so expensive and after already having to replace most of his ingredients, two pairs of enchanted gloves, and his favorite formal scarf in the last two weeks he had been running a little short on funds.

The fire goes out with a puff of smoke and Daichi eyes the cauldron warily.  If it explodes it’ll probably take out his entire fireplace.  Which would suck.  Because he does not have the budget for extensive home repairs right now.  Clearly.  Seeing as how he’s using a discounted, pre-owned, gently used cauldron that’s probably actually some cursed object of some kind.  Which would actually pretty much be par for the course in terms of how his life has been going these last few months.

The cauldron rattles.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to do that.”  Daichi whirls at the voice in his ear, heart thumping wildly in his chest and fire poker raised like a weapon.  A warm hand catches his wrist before he can do any damage with said poker.  Unfortunately.

“Koutarou how many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that?”

Koutarou tilts his head and grins.  “But it’s just how I am.  I sneak.  I’m a sneaky sneak.”

“You’re a giant pain in my—”

The cauldron hits the floor with a bang and they watch as it rolls across the floor towards them.  It rolls to a wobbly stop a few steps away and they glance at each other.  Daichi taps the cauldron again with the fire poker in his hand.  Something inside the cauldron taps back.

“What did you put in there?” Koutarou whines in his ear.

“Nothing that should be able to do that.”

The cauldron wobbles again and Daichi raises the fire poker defensively.  The cauldron tips over and a bundle of blankets tumbles out of it.  A wriggling bundle of blankets.  Daichi and Koutarou shuffle backwards and the bundle of blankets wriggles towards them.  They shuffle again and the blankets wriggle faster.  Koutarou’s back hits the wall and Daichi’s back hits Koutarou and the blankets wriggle and wriggle and wriggle and—

“Is that a baby?”  Koutarou peers over Daichi’s shoulder curiously.  “Why did you put a baby in your cauldron?”

“I did not put a baby in my cauldron.”

“Then why is there a baby in your cauldron?”

The baby in question crawls towards them and pats questioningly at Daichi’s foot.

“I don’t know.  Nothing I put in there should have produced a baby.”

The baby peers up at them and giggles.

“Then where did it come from?”

“I.  Don’t.  Know.”  The baby blinks at his irritated tone and it’s chin starts to wobble and Daichi sucks in a sharp breath.  “No no no,” he hushes as he crouches down.  “It’s okay.  I’m not upset with you at all.”  The baby blinks some more and reaches up towards Daichi.  It coos happily when Daichi picks it up and stands.  “See.  It’s okay.”

“You’re a natural,” Koutarou says.  He reaches over Daichi’s shoulder and taps gently at the baby’s nose.  The baby giggles and then sneezes out a cloud of sparkles.  Then it giggles at the sparkles.  It reaches for them and Daichi spots something shiny hanging from it’s tiny neck.

He and Koutarou both reach for it, fingers brushing the warm surface.  He should have known better.  After all one of the first rules they’re taught is not to touch strange objects.

And yet.

Warmth sweeps through him as the magic in the medallion searches out his own and settles into place.  The baby in his arms giggles and pats at his arms.

“Um,” Koutarou mutters.  “Do we have to tell Akaashi?  Cause I think he might get mad at me.  I’m not sure what we just did but I definitely feel like it’s something Akaashi will scold me for.”

“I won’t tell Akaashi so long as you don’t tell Suga.”

“Deal.”

—

Daichi adjusts the bundle slung across his chest and knocks for a third time.

“Asahi,” he calls softly.  “I know you’re home.  Please let me in.”

“I know that tone,” Asahi calls back, just as soft.  “You did something and want to drag me into it.”

“Come on Asahi.”  He doesn’t beg.  But he might whine a little bit.  Which apparently works because Asahi’s door swings open and Daichi steps inside.

Asahi barely even glances up from the fabric spread across his table as Daichi pads into his workroom.  Daichi hovers in the door, uncertain if his magic would disturb whatever Asahi is working on.  He only needed to make the mistake of messing up Asahi’s work once to learn his lesson.  So he just shifts from side to side, slowly rocking the bundle against his chest, and watches Asahi work.  The gentle ebb and flow of Asahi’s magic as he turns the fabric piles into a really intricate bag soothes Daichi.  Sometimes he forgets, in the chaos of loving Koutarou, just how soft other people’s magic can be.

Asahi finally finishes the bag and pushes himself up from the table.

“What did you do?”

“Okay you can’t tell Suga.”

Asahi narrows his eyes.  “I won’t go running to him.  But if he asks me I’m not going to lie to him.  Not even for you Daichi.”

“That’s fair.”  Daichi gestures out of the room and Asahi follows him.  “So.  Here’s the thing.”  He explains what had happened, from the used cauldron right up to the magic of the medallion washing over him and Koutarou, and Asahi just listens quietly, gaze flickering down to the bundle against Daichi’s chest a few times.

“Okay,” Asahi says slowly.  “So you used this pre-owned cauldron and somehow summoned a baby and then you and Koutarou both touched the mysterious medallion around it’s neck and felt some kind of, I’m guessing, binding magic lock into place around you three.”

Daichi grins sheepishly.  “Yeah.  That about sums it up.”

“And you don’t want to tell Suga.”

“No.  I do not.”

“And you want me to do what?”

“Help me figure out if it’s just a human baby or if it’s, you know, extra magicky?”  Daichi continues before Asahi can even open his mouth.  “And yes I know that Suga would probably be a better choice but Suga is still kind of upset with me over the whole eye of newt Incident and I really don’t want to risk him trying to actually, literally, turn me into a sentient mushroom like he keeps threatening to do.  So please help me?”

Asahi stares at Daichi long enough that Daichi starts to squirm.

Asahi groans.  “Give me the baby.”

“Thank you,” Daichi sighs.  “Thank you.”

He hands over the baby and watches as it coos and grabs at Asahi’s long hair, immediately trying to shove the strands into its mouth.  Asahi laughs softly and gently pries his hair free, giving the baby his finger to gnaw on instead.  He hums softly as his magic fills the air around them all.  Daichi closes his eyes and lets the magic wash over him.

“Congratulations,” Asahi eventually says.  Daichi pries his eyes open.  “You and Koutarou are the proud parents of a baby human.”

“Parents?”

“The magic of the medallion was a sort of adoption bind.  This little guy’s magic sees you two as his caregivers and will continue to do so until he is of age or is claimed by his biological family.”  Asahi smiles down at the baby.  “Do you have the medallion on you?”

Daichi hands over the medallion and takes the baby.  He’s a parent.  He, the man who just a few weeks ago nearly set fire to his cabin because he got distracted by the crows outside the window, is a parent.  Is responsible for a tiny little human.  Holy shit.  Not just him.  He and Koutarou.  He loves the man dearly but Koutarou is even more of a disaster than Daichi is.

They’re both responsible for a baby.

Daichi looks up at Asahi in a panic that Asahi, the jerk of a friend he is, laughs when he catches sight of Daichi’s face.

“Well at least you don’t have to name him.  According to the medallion he’s called Kei.”

—

Daichi watches Kei crawl across the floor, chasing the colorful reflections of the wind chime hanging up outside the window.  He and Koutarou had tried childproofing his cabin once they realized Kei would be with them for awhile.  They had started softening corners and locking drawers and enchanting the nooks and crannies.  It had all been going well until they turned around and found Kei suddenly inside the glass front cabinet that Daichi stored his ingredients in that had been — and still was — locked.  Then a few minutes later Kei was sitting in Daichi’s cauldron on top of the workbench.  After that he and Koutarou had decided that childproofing the cabin was probably a bit of a waste of time with whatever magic Kei seemed to have and it wasn’t like Daichi really got up to anything too wild or left any dangerous tomes lying around that just anyone could stumble over and accidentally read and summon a demon like some of his friends were wont to do.

Kei seems content to crawl around and pat at the colors on the floor for the time being so Daichi spreads out a pile of papers on his table and starts skimming through them.  He’s got three different research projects going on that he needs to start getting sorted out and now is the perfect time in his mind.  It’s not like he’s about to start wandering around the woods or into town with some random baby that he kind of maybe somehow summoned in his pre-owned cauldron.  He could do without a random kidnapping charge on his record or dealing with a hundred questions about where he got a baby all of a sudden thanks very much.

He pauses in the middle of leafing through a small pile of notes on enchanted toadstools in the western part of the woods and wonders if maybe he should get hold of Suga even though he already got the info he needed out of Asahi.  Suga’s a hunter.  He knows things.  Maybe he would know where the baby came from if nothing else.

“Hey babe,” Koutarou says, stepping out of the shadows in the corner.  Daichi throws the large spellbook he’s been referencing at Koutarou on instinct.  Koutarou, of course, catches it easily.

“Bokuto,” Daichi hisses.

“I’m home?”  Kei makes a happy noise and crawls towards them as Koutarou kisses Daichi’s cheek in greeting.  “How are my two favorite guys doing?”

“I don’t know.  How are Kuroo and Akaashi doing today?”

“Ouch.”  Koutarou gives him a betrayed pout as he picks Kei up and cuddles him to his chest.  It shouldn’t be endearing at all but it is.  It really, really is and Daichi is a weak, weak man when it comes to Bokuto Koutarou and, apparently, little baby Kei in his arms.  “That’s harsh.”

Daichi rolls his eyes but tells Koutarou about their day.

—

Daichi doesn’t mean to not tell most of his friends about the baby.  Really he doesn’t.  But he was already kind of a hermit before the whole pre-owned cauldron baby summoning thing and his cabin is really deep into the woods.  Then Kei came along and, really, Daichi felt it was better for his sanity to not have to explain to a mob of angry townspeople that he suddenly had a baby in his care and had no idea how that happened.  So he just… stays home.  He takes on a lot of research projects and writes tome after tome on bizarre theories and niche arcane magic.  He visits with Asahi and Kuroo through various spells and channels.  He throws things when Koutarou appears out of thin air like the sneaky jerk he is and before he knows it over two years have passed.

Koutarou can never stay for too incredibly long.  But that’s okay because Daichi knows that no matter how soon Koutarou has to leave he will always come back to Daichi.  Well.  Daichi and Kei now.

He hears Kei and Koutarou laughing and he smiles to himself.  Nothing had been missing or wrong before but the moment Kei came into their lives something had clicked into place, a puzzle piece they had never realized there was room for.

Small thuds sound through the cabin and Daichi turns in time to watch Kei come running into the room, nimble as any three year old can be, and spot him.

“Oh no!” Kei yells.  “’tarou’s coming!”

“He is?”  Daichi gasps in concern.  “Do we need to hide?”

Kei shakes his head but makes a beeline for Daichi, crawling into his lap and burying his face against Daichi’s neck.

“You keep me safe.”

Daichi’s chest tightens with emotion.  “Of course I will,” he whispers.  “I’ll always keep you safe.”

“Good.”  Kei wriggles closer when they hear Koutarou’s heavy footsteps approaching.  Daichi knows it’s all for show — Koutarou can be completely silent when he chooses to be after all — but he plays it up for Kei’s benefit.  He gasps quietly and hugs Kei tighter.  He holds his breath when Koutarou’s footsteps stop outside his door.

He yelps and kicks Koutarou’s shin when he suddenly appears next to them out of thin air instead of coming through the door.

“Koutarou,” he hisses.

Koutarou and Kei laugh in unison and Daichi groans when he realizes he’d just been set up.

“Got you,” Kei crows happily, face still smushed into Daichi’s neck.

“Got you,” Koutarou teases, pressing a kiss to Daichi’s cheek in apology.

After a moment Daichi turns his head and Koutarou obliges his silent request and kisses his lips softly.  “Just what are you teaching our son,” he mutters against Koutarou’s lips.

“How to be an amazing sneaky sneak like his dad.  Just like you’ll teach him to be an amazing researcher who blows stuff up once we get him reading.”  Koutarou kisses him again.  “Between you and me we’ll make our boy unstoppable.”

Daichi kisses Koutarou softly, gently, nothing more than expressing their love for each other, until Kei starts squirming.

“Before we make him truly unstoppable I think he needs a snack.”  Kei stills for a moment and then squirms harder.  “How does some strawberry cake sound Kei?”

“Please!”  Kei slides off Daichi’s lap and flies out of the room as fast as he can run.  “Cake!  Please!”

“You spoil him,” Koutarou murmurs against Daichi’s lips.

“So do you,” Daichi murmurs back.

“No kiss!”  They break apart and share a laugh when they look to the door and see Kei peering in with a pout.  “Cake please!”

—

Kei is just short of five years old the first time Daichi catches him trying to read one of his spellbooks.  He promptly takes it away and gives Kei something closer to his skill level.  

(A week later Kei has found the spellbook again and nothing Daichi does convinces him to return it.)

—

Kei is seven when he and Koutarou shuffle into the cabin, both covered in vines and leaves and a mysterious ooze that Daichi chooses not to recognize.  Koutarou gives Daichi a brilliant grin that, after a moment, Kei mimics with startling accuracy.  

“We finished the contract,” they both say cheerfully and Daichi’s heart twists wickedly in his chest.

—

Kei is eight and a half when he narrows his eyes in concentration and Daichi’s kitchen window shatters into thousands of pieces.

“Oh,” Kei says, eyes wide and surprised.  “I think I read it wrong.”

Daichi peers over Kei’s shoulder and shakes his head.  “I think we need to get you glasses.”

—

Kei is just a little over nine when he stares up at the starry sky through the trees and asks Daichi, “Why are you so sad sometimes?  Who are you missing?”

Daichi swallows hard, heart suddenly trying to climb up his throat, and pulls Kei into his lap.  Kei struggles playfully but sinks happily into Daichi’s hug a moment later.

“An old friend,” Daichi answers truthfully.  “I haven’t seen him in a long time.  Sometimes it feels like he just vanished without a trace.”

Kei nods and twists so he can look into Daichi’s eyes.  For a moment Daichi feels like he’s looking into the eyes of someone much, much older.  Then Kei blinks and grins and Daichi is looking into the face of a nine year old again.

“I’m sure you’ll see him again soon.  Nobody really ever vanishes.”

—

Daichi can hear something rattling and he glances around the cabin, trying to place the noise.  The noise gets louder and he stands cautiously.  The last time he heard something like this a baby had popped out of a cauldron.  He eyes the fireplace warily but he had replaced that pre-owned cauldron years ago with a brand new, never used one and shoved the pre-owned monstrosity in a cupboard.

Kei steps into the cabin and hangs up his jacket and the rattling gets even louder.  He looks up, golden eyes flashing behind his glasses in the early morning light, and frowns.

“What is that?”

He’s eleven years old and nearly as tall as Daichi with a sharp mind and even sharper tongue and Daichi couldn’t be prouder of him.  Especially in moments like these when the rattling grows so loud the cupboards start shaking and Kei simply raises his brows and shifts himself into a stance Daichi knows Koutarou had taught him.  Easy to defend himself or launch an attack if needed.

“I’m not sure,” Daichi says loudly, trying to talk over the rattling.  “Let’s find out.”

It’s, obviously, the cupboard with the damned cauldron in it and Daichi has enough time to wonder just why he hasn’t gotten rid of it yet before the cauldron explodes in a cloud of smoke and dust and shadows and broken shards flying at him.  The shards bounce harmlessly off the shield Kei throws up as he steps in front of Daichi and Daichi waves away the smoke and dust.

“Was that—?”

“Yeah,” Daichi answers.  “Your cauldron.”

They had never lied to Kei about the cauldron, about how they got him, about how his magic adopted them.  And he had accepted it with the grace of a child, curious but never overly worried about it.  Now Daichi wonders if maybe they all should have been a little more worried, a little more proactive in finding out about the cauldron and the baby that had crawled out of it.

A knock sounds at the door and they share a cautious look.  When they don’t immediately react there’s more knocking, louder and more insistent, and Daichi sighs.  It’s been over a decade but he recognizes that knock.  He gestures for Kei to stay in the kitchen, out of sight, and makes his was towards the door.

“Come in Suga,” he calls out.  “The door is always unlocked for you.  You know that.”

The door swings open and Suga stands in the doorway, leaves swirling around his feet noisily.

“Do I?” Suga asks.  “It seems there’s a lot I don’t know about you Daichi.  Like the fact that you and Bokuto have a child.”

Daichi laughs awkwardly.  “Yeah.  About that—”

Suga shakes his head and raises his hand, cutting Daichi off.

“About eleven years old.  Golden eyes.  Slightly curly blond hair.  Probably tall for his age.”  Daichi glances over his shoulder but Kei is still tucked out of sight.  He turns back to Suga.  “Fairly pale skin, sunburns easily.  Magic that has the potential to overpower even yours.  Sound about right?”

“Um.”

The leaves are still swirling around Suga’s feet so Daichi doesn’t step any closer.  Suga has never hurt him and he doesn’t think he ever would.  But it’s been ten years since they saw each other and Suga looks really, really irritated with Daichi.

“You magicked a baby out of a cauldron Daichi!”

“I didn’t mean to!”  Suga glares at him and Daichi makes a helpless gesture.  “He just kind of appeared!  How do you know all this anyway?”

Suga sighs heavily, like the entire world is on his shoulders and he’s disappointed in everything everywhere ever, and steps into the cabin.  Standing behind him is Kei.  No.  It’s a young man who looks a lot like Kei.  He’s got the same chin and nose and eyes, though his are a little darker than Kei’s.  His hair isn’t quite as unruly as Kei’s but it’s the same pale blond color.

“This is Akiteru,” Suga explains.  “He came to me about six months ago, not long after he turned sixteen.  Now that he’s of age with his magic and on his own he asked me to help him find his little brother.”

There’s a shuffling noise behind him and Akiteru’s eyes widen as Kei steps out of the kitchen and stops at Daichi’s side.   Daichi pulls Kei into a side hug and can feel the way he trembles ever so slightly.  He meets Suga’s eyes and—

Koutarou steps into existence at Daichi’s other side, already talking.

“You’ll never believe what’s— Oh.  Suga.  Hi.”  Suga’s eyes narrow.  “Shit.”

The bits and pieces of the cauldron scattered around the kitchen begin to rattle and clank against the floor behind him and Daichi braces himself for whatever is going to happen next.

[pink-caterina]

The Cost of a Legacy (7)

Summary : He sees her and she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, everything perfect. Well except the fact that they’re growing up during the revolutionary war. Their love will hit many hurdles and what the future has in store may not be what they planned.

Pairing : John Laurens x Reader

Words : 3,697

October 1776, Switzerland

4 years later

Dearest Daughter,

I know my letters have been few and far between and I do apologize. I think now is a good time for you to know what our situation is, since the colonists have declared their independence, the business has collapsed.  As you know our ships to transport our “Merchandise and goods” were all harbored in London. The British government has taken those ships back and left me without a cent. I regret to inform you that I, Thomas Gavalanch have failed you, I'm sorry princess.  Our savings are also gone due to bad investments I made in the last years.

I know it's a bad situation, and because of it you have to come back. In this envelope, there is enough to get you back to New York. I know it's cruel to rip you from your world in Switzerland but unfortunately darling I can no longer pay to have you abroad. Please on your long journey back try to forgive your father. I tried to do what I thought was best.

Sincerely

Your father, Thomas Gavalanch

“What did the old man say?” She turned to John who was watching her from his seat across her room. To an outsider, the scene looked wrong, a young woman alone in her room with a man who is not her husband but to them, it was normal. This is how the last four years had been going for the two, two friends who loved- liked each other's company. And would sometimes sneak a kiss here or there, totally normal.

She turned to him and smiled, placing the letter under her pillow, “Nothing just that he misses me, and he's sorry for not writing to me as often.” (Y/n) turned back to her book in her lap, pretending that the letter didn't faze her. She stared at the page trying to concentrate on it, her mind not allowing her. When would she leave? Did her father already cancel her classes, or would she have to? Maybe Anna knew more than her, she'd have to speak to the older lady after John left. Oh gosh, John! What is she going to do, just leave him again? “Hey, are you okay?” She looked up, John now sitting next to her, her book in his hand. “Yea just, thinking of daddy. I haven't seen him in so long, he hasn't seen me in years. When I finally see him again I wonder if he'll recognize me.” John looked at her, a stare that often made her blush. “When Gavalanch sees you again he will be stunned to see what a beautiful woman you've become. He'll be sorry he missed seeing you transform from a pretty girl to a goddess of a woman.” She laughed slapping his arm, he laughed also at his comment. “I'm not lying you know? You are the most beautiful woman I've laid my eyes on. Not just that though, you are also intelligent, charming, elegant, a perfect young woman.” She blushed looking up at him.

“I actually wanted to ask you something.” He pulled out a cloth wrapped with a ribbon out of his jacket. “I don't know if you remember but for my seventeenth birthday, you sent me a letter with this ribbon. I kept it when we were apart all those months ago, I remember carrying it everywhere with me because it gave me hope we'd be together again one day. After I stopped writing to you, I still carried it everywhere with me, it comforted me like I knew you would. When you wrote to me your last letter I cried with it in my hands, and in the envelope, you sent your necklace,  the one I gifted you for your fourteenth birthday. I remember you swore to me you'd never take it off.” (Y/n) sighed, about to explain herself.

“I understand why you returned it to me, I made you feel unloved and I never want to make you feel like that again. For the rest of my life, I swear to you, on my life that you will never feel that helpless again.” He untied the ribbon to reveal the necklace, “You said to find a good wife and give this to her, well (Y/n) if you'd have me I'd like to give this to you.” She gasped, tears running down her face, and asked him the only question on her mind. “John, are you asking me to marry you?”

He smiled using his other hand to wipe her tears, “It's not proper I know, since we technically have not been courting, and I haven't asked your father. And I only have this necklace to give you- I'm doing all this wrong right. This probably isn't how you pictured it, (Y/n) what I'm trying to say is that  I do things that feel right and you and me are right. So what do you say?”

“Yes, yes John Laurens I will marry you.” He threw his fist in the air, celebrating his victory. He finally had her, John took the necklace and locked it around her neck. He turned to her capturing her lips with his, both so happy to be in that moment. He started kissing all around her face as she laughed, “John! John, oh my John.” He pushed him away, his lips still purcered. “What, I just want to kiss my fiance?” She laughed, still holding him away from her, “I have something serious to tell you.” He stopped his actions and sat still, “What could be more serious then what I just said?” (Y/n) took a deep breath, what to say.

“I lied.”

“About wanting to marry me?” His face paled. “No about what the letter said, from my father.”

“Oh thank god, continue love.” She took another breath, “I need to get back to New York, he needs help and he's asked for me to return. Were- were broke, the business is dead and he can't afford to have me here anymore. He says he's made a lot of bad investments and wants me back home.” She waited for his expression to change but it didn't, she thought hed look angry or disappointed. “Say something.” He sighed, “Well I guess I am going to have to ask Gavalanch for his blessing.” He laughed, pulling her into a hug. “Are you mad?’ She asked, her head in his chest.

“No, this is what you've waited for, to finally go home. Im happy for you (Y/n) you're going home to see Gavalanch, Angelica and her sisters I'm so happy for you.”  He said with complete sincerity. “What about you?” He snorted, “What do you mean about me? I'll be right behind you, (Y/n) you are not getting rid of me, where you go I go.” She sighed in relief, “I thought you'd be mad.”

“No, I thought originally that we'd just stay here, start our life here. But the colonies that's home. So if you're going home, so am I.” She blushed when he said starting their lives, she was engaged to a man she loved. “I love you John.”

“I love you (Y/n).”

---

“Oh Anna.” (Y/n) hugged her maid, what a mother figure she'd become for her. She wished Anna could come with her to New York but she had her own family in Switzerland. “You must visit me every chance you get dear, don't forget about the time we spent here.” She nodded hugging the older woman again, tears welling in her eyes.

“Hey, hey no crying this a happy moment! You're going home, it took long enough.” John who had just turned up with the rest of their bags. Both of them left Switzerland. “Anna I just wanna thank you for taking care of my bride to be, you've been an excellent caretaker and friend to her.” He leaned in giving her a side hug. “Of course sir, be sure to come back when you have little ones, I'd love to see your beautiful children.” They both blushed, “Of course Anna.” (Y/n) hugged her once more, the older woman gave one last goodbye and retreated up the docks.

“Are you ready?” She turned to him, frowning. “Yeah, I'll miss it here but at least you're coming with me. I just wish you could come with me now.” He sighed pushing a strand of hair out of her face, “I know but I promise after I settle things with my father in London I will be on the next ship to the colonies.” She nodded leaving up to kiss him goodbye. Hopefully not for long, she wanted him home so they could tell her father about the engagement together. She pulled away, leaning down to grab her bags. “I should get going, it's odd you know. This is like dejavu.”

“Promise me when you get home you won't leave me again.” She looked at him through her lashes, her face serious. This time things needed to be different, she couldn't live without John. “Hey, look at that necklace around your neck. If I promised I won't leave you again I wont. I promised to marry you so the only way you'll get rid of me is in death okay? When I get home to you we will tell Gavalanch and start planning our wedding okay?” She nodded, throwing herself in his chest. “Get home safe okay John.” She planted one last kiss on his cheek and turned towards her ship. “(Y/n)!” She turned to see one of the biggest smiles from John. “Honey! If I have to swim the atlantic to get to you I will.” She laughed, blowing him a kiss which he pretended to catch. He watched as she boarded her ship, before turning to the one on the other side of the harbor. He boarded watching her ship take off, he'd take care of his business in London as soon as he could and then head home to (Y/n). Now to earn his father's approval and respect.

---

Here she was back in the greatest city in the world, well in her opinion. Just being back in Manhattan made her heart feel almost complete again, only thing that was missing was John but he'd be back in a couple of weeks with the rest of her soul. For now she could deal, she couldn't wait to see Angelica, Oh! And her sisters must be so big now! She grabbed her bags and began looking around for her father. She searched the port for a while before she retreated back to her starting point. Where was he? He said he'd be here to greet her and take her home.

She sighed looking off in the distance for him, maybe he was late. ”Excusez-moi are you Miss Gvalanch?” She turned to see a very handsome man speaking to her, sounding French she thought. “Yes I am, (Y/n) Foire Gavalanch. If you don't mind me asking, who are you? Are you one of my father's helpers?” He laughed, taking her hand and kissing it. “Marquis de Lafayette, you can call me Lafayette. I do not work for you father but I was sent to bring you home.” She nodded handing him a bag, he led them to a carriage taking her other bag and tossing it in, before assisting her in. “I will eh- return in a moment.” She watched as he went up to the driver, she assumed he was telling him the direction to her home. She took notice how tall the man was, he towered over her earlier. She was trying to compare him to John who was only an  or two taller than her, Lafayette was maybe 5 inches taller than her. “Merci” He joined her inside, sitting directly across from her. “Pardon, I walked here so I had to eh- direct him.” (Y/n) nodded staring out the window taking in the scenery.

“So Foire? You know in French that means fair?” She nodded, “I took a bit of French when I was younger, I assume that's your home country?” He smirked at her, “It is my motherland, let me just say Miss Gavalanch you are foire.” He turned his head to the widow, she blushed doing the same to cover her red face.

---

“Here's your bag Sir.” John thanked the man taking his bag, here he was back in London. He looked around the port, it felt like just yesterday he had rejected Martha here, he sighed leaving the port. He had his father's address from letters from Henry, now if only he remembered how to arrive.

He approached a man, “Excuse me sir,can I bother you for directions?” The man scoffed eying John down, “Are you from the colonies?” The man asked him, John assumed he guessed by the lack of an accent. “I am? Sorry I'm just in need of direction.” The man looked angry as he towered over John, maybe he should have asked someone a little friendlier looking. A group surrounded the two of them, “Tell me boy do you think you guys can just declare independence and you're done with us? No son we own you, King George owns the colonies.” Ah, that explains it, this man was a supporter of the crown, well he assumed everyone here was. He remembered reading the Declaration of Independence by Thomas Jefferson,while in Switzerland. Written very well in his opinion.

“Well boy?” The man and his group awaited his response. “Sir I don't want any trouble, I'm just trying to see my father” The man pushed John’s chest, “You should've thought of that before you showed your face in London” The man swung first hitting John straight in the eye. John dropped his bag, he was never one to step away from a fight. He pounced at the men, delivering blow after blow, not even registering the hits the man was landing on him, he knew he was doing more damage.

In between the shouts of the crowd John heard a voice louder then the rest, “Gentleman stop this! Stop!” Another accentless person, was it who he thought? He was pulled off the man by the powerful voice and dragged out the crowd as the bystanders checked on the bloody man. John did good, he won this fight. John collected his bag and turned the man who dragged him out, “Hey thank you- Henry? Is that you?” Henry looked at the man, finally recognizing his older brother's face. “John? Brother oh my god, what are you doing here?”

“Causing trouble, what does it look like?” They laughed, as they embraced each other. “Henry you've grown so much in the last four years, I mean look at  you, you are a man now.” Henry chuckled, “Me look at you! You look so old now!” He joked, noticing his eye swelling. “Oh gosh we should ice that, you just had to approach the guy who's the most loyal to the crown right?” John laughed touching his eye, “Lead the way little brother.” Henry grabbed one of his two bags and lead his brother to his home.

“So why was that guy so pissed? Isn't the war in the colonies?” Henry sighed, “It is but you know men here tend to be very loyal to their monarchy. Most of them didn't take the news very well, calling the “United States” ungrateful. Anyone who fled here or was already living here has been treated pretty badly, that's why I put on a british accent when I need to.” He said the last part with a convincing accent, John laughed. “That's pretty good.”

“Took me four years but I did it.” They laughed, finally arriving at the home John hardly remembered. He had only spent two weeks in it before he fled to Switzerland, to (Y/n). “Is James home?” Henry shook his head, “No he's got two more hours of school, but the father is home.” John nodded taking a deep breath before being led into their home. “I'll be in my room. Father, I'm home.” He called out before running up to his room. “Okay, son!” He heard his father from the end of the hall, he assumed his study, he placed his bags down and began walking down to him. He walked up to the room, stood at the open door, and knocked, “Henry what do you need I'm busy.”

“It's not Henry.” His father turned swiftly, obviously recognizing his son's voice, “John.” His father stood up, smiling before pulling his son into his arms. “Hi Dad, how have you been?” His father pulled away taking good luck with his son, “I’m good son, my god you've grown so much, well not in height but your face looks older.” John smiled confused at that compliment, “John what are you doing here?”

“Well, I was on my way back to the colonies-”

“For the war? Oh, I knew one of my sons would fight, James is too young and well you know Henry hates confrontation. I actually mean to write to you about this-”

“No dad, well I don't know. I'm an engaged dad.” Henry's smile turned into a frown, stepping away from John. “To the Gavalanch girl I assume.” John nodded, already annoyed by his father's tone. “Yes and I'm going to marry her and we're going to start our family in the colonies.”

“Have you spoken to Mr. Gavalanch about this?” John frowned, ”No not yet, (Y/n) went ahead of me to the colonies, but when I get there we will speak to him together. Dad I came to tell you and well more importantly to get mothers' rings.” His father laughed, “You proposed without a ring?” John blushed, “Yes but mother gave me her ring when she died, I left it here. I want what's mine dad.” Henry nodded digging into his drawer pulling out the gold ring, handing it to John. “Thank you.”

“How long do you plan on staying?” Henry asked, “Only a week, just to see you and my brothers. Hopefully, clear the air and gain your support.” His father turned to the window, “It's not my approval you need John, Mr. Gavalanch never liked you much.”

“It's a good thing I'm not marrying him then.” They laughed, “Henry come down!” John was confused and watched his brother enter the office. “Yes, father?”

“Please give John the address of James school, I'm sure James would love it if you picked him up.” Henry jr. nodded explaining to his older brother how to get there. “Okay, I’ll go pick him up, and then we’ll talk more dad?” His father agreed, watch him exit.

“Are you going to tell him the rumors?” Henry Jr. asked his father.

“What? That Mr. Gavalanch has a suitor from France waiting for her in the colonies?”

“Yeah that one.” Henry Jr. looked up to his father, who smirked. “No I will not and neither will you, if you want to inherit this company you will keep your mouth shut.” Henry Jr. nodded retreating to his room, he needed to warn John some way, but how could he when his future depended on it? All he knew was that his brother needed to get home to Manhattan as soon as possible..

---

“So Lafayette, why are you in the colonies?” She asked the man, trying to kill the silence between them. “The war, I plan on enlisting soon, my father and his father fought in wars so I assume it's my time to prove myself.” She nodded already interested  by this new character.

“Why the colonies though? No disrespect to you Mr. Lafayette but the outcome of this war doesn't affect you so why fight in our battles.” He sighed making direct eye contact. “My country and yours are more similar than you think, we both crave freedom and rights. The United States has declared independence and is fighting a bloody battle for basic rights they should have already had. Those rights are different from the rights the people of France need but it's quite inspiring what's been done here. To be able to fight for something I believe in is all I want, and if I can't do it in France yet, then I'll do it here.” Flabbergasted what a speech, she could tell her was passionate about his cause too, the light in his eyes during his speech spoke for themselves. “I respect that so much Lafayette, I hope when your day in battle comes you make me-us proud.” He smiled agreeing.

“I'm actually here for something else too.” He stated. “What's that?” She cocked her head to the side.”I'm engaged.”

“Oh, congratulations Lafayette! I'm sure she's lovely, and very deserving of a gentleman like yourself.” She hoped she deserved a man like John, oh how she wished he came back with her, he would have loved Lafayette. “So, how do you know my father?”

“Well-”

“Sir. Lafayette, we've arrived.” He turned to (Y/n) silently telling her they'd finish their conversation later. He helped her step out of the carriage and ran around to grab her bags, wow here she was home. She looked at her childhood home in awe, she never thought she'd miss it. She walked in, past the wooden fence taking in the condition of her garden, gosh her father could have at least watered them. She heard the door open and there he was, Thomas Gavalanch in the flesh. “(Y/n), princess is that you?” She nodded running into his open arms, “Daddy!” He caught her giving her a big hug.

“Princess you've grown so much. Oh, sweetheart, you look just like your mother, maybe even more beautiful.” She cried into his shoulder, thanking him. She’d love to be angry but she hadn't seen him in so long she could be angry tomorrow.

“Oh, Monsieur Lafayette, thank you for escorting my princess home.” Lafayette shook his head, indicating no problem. “(Y/n) this is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette, Marquis de LaFayette, your fiance.” Her father said proudly, smiling at Lafayette.

“Fiance?” Maybe she could be angry today.

---

Im tired, not edited.