#and she looked horrified that her mother was standing there not doing anything i guess

[animentality]

I know it's a fact of life and all, but it does give me the heebie jeebies, knowing there's someone out there whose job is to masturbate male pigs so they can ship off semen to artificially inseminate sows.

Like I get it... it's just...like...business, circle of life, this is how the meat industry is efficient in how it breeds livestock, but...

I'm trying to imagine someone whose job it is to masturbate a caged pig, and it's like...

Hm.

I hope they pay them...something good.

Also I wonder if like...female pigs ever feel super weird about being artificially inseminated.

Like they know it's not natural.

I assume.

And then I think, well, what about the male pigs?

They probably know it's not natural either, being jerked off in a cage by some human.

What is going through their heads during all this...

[flowerandblood]

Blame | Betray | Bliss

[ modern! • Aemond x stepsister! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, angst, smut, kind of incest but not really, mention of marital infidelity, orgasm denial ]

[ description: After they both run away they have to face the consequences of their choice. Aemond, in a gesture of desperation, asks for help from the last person from whom he would expect any reaction, and Criston wants his daughter back, believing that it is all one big, cruel misunderstanding. The power of angst, ironic, protective, bitchy Aemond. Anon request. ]

Part 1 − Rage | Revenge | Relief Part 2 − Guilt | Greed | Grace Part 3 − Pride | Promise | Price

Series & Characters Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Driving through the dark night after what they had done, after what they had said, he felt both terror and excitement at the same time − he had the feeling that he had ended something, that he had freed himself from a situation and a place that was making him a worse and worse person.

From the very beginning they had talked about what they would do after this and he had formed a plan in his head, which although it had seemed very good to him at the time, now left him with a lot of doubts.

He no longer had any other choice.

He ran his hand over his face and, on the screen on his dashboard, went into his contact list and selected his father's number − they heard the loud sound of a call, which went on and on until, after a while, he answered with a hoarse voice, clearly sleepy.

"Aemond? Son, is something wrong?"

He pressed his lips together, trying not to cry, thinking that since he had lost his eye he had never been more vulnerable.

"Dad −" He started, but his voice trembled; he swallowed loudly feeling the tears under his eyelids, feeling the tightness in his throat, feeling the same as that day, lying in the hospital.

"Dad, I need your help. Can I come to you?"

He was horrified by how helpless and pathetic his voice sounded, her hand clasped tightly in his, he felt her looking at him, felt her crying too.

There was silence on the other side.

"Yes… yes, of course, are you okay?" He asked quickly, terrified, and he stopped at the side of the road, feeling he couldn't see anything anymore.

He covered his face with his hand, trying to calm himself, breathing deeply, thinking only of the warmth of her skin, her thumb stroking the back of his hand.

"No…I'll come to you with someone, okay?"

"When can I expect you?"

They showed up at his father's house after twenty minutes − he lived in a suburb on the complete other side of town.

They got out of the car shakily, taking their backpacks with the things they had managed to pack quickly, and Viserys came out to meet them − he seemed even older and even more dying to him, pale, his short hair completely white, limping on one leg and leaning on a cane.

He thought with pain that he didn't fit into this huge, modern house in which he was left completely alone.

He furrowed his brow noticing his red cheek, seeing that they both must have been crying a moment ago, that they were pale and terrified.

"Please, don't ask. Not today." He said quietly, strangely weak, sighing.

His father glanced at the girl standing next to him − he grasped her hand gently, stroking her soft skin with his thumb.

"That's my girlfriend, Dad."

He did not explain to him who she was or how they had met; he only revealed to him that he couldn't live with his mother for a while and that they needed a few days to work out what to do next.

By the time they entered the room where he lived as a child it was four in the morning, and they had to turn off their phones so they wouldn't see any missed calls from Criston and his mother.

He knew that even if she guessed where they had gone, his mother would be embarrassed to come to his father's house with her lover and that it gave them some time − they were both of age, so he hoped they wouldn't completely fuck off and get the police involved.

He didn't share his thoughts with his stepsister, instead pulling her to him as they lay on his bed; seeing her shivering he cuddled her into him, letting out a loud breath − all around them at last blissful silence, outside the window the first chirping of birds heralding a new day.

He thought that for once he would get his father to side with him, to let them stay with him until they finished their studies and found jobs, that their lives would be honest and without betrayal, without lies, without feigned innocence.

"I love you." He whispered stroking her hair, snuggled into her with his whole body, her face hidden in his neck, her hands on his chest, her figure seeking refuge in his arms.

He heard her swallow loudly at his words, tightening her fingers on his sweatshirt.

"I love you too." She mumbled out as if relieved, as if she understood in that moment that it wasn't all for nothing.

That they had done it not to get revenge on them.

That they just wanted to be together.

His mother did not call his father until the next day, apparently treating him as a last resort, not believing that he would find out anything − her surprise must have been great when Viserys told her that her child and his girlfriend had just had lunch with him.

They looked at him anxiously, horrified when the expression on his face changed − he furrowed his brow as if he had just analysed what he had heard.

His mother had obviously explained to him whose daughter his girlfriend was.

Viserys grunted after deep thought.

"Well, Alicent, they're of age and, from what I understand, you haven't managed to marry your still recent bodyguard in those few months. According to that, in the eyes of the law − and to my knowledge − they are complete strangers to each other, young people in love. My son wants to live with me and she wants to live with him, so it is not a kidnapping. I don't know what to tell you. As if to say − it's not our problem." He said and hung up, putting the phone down; he looked at him thoughtfully, but his words were not directed to him, but to his girlfriend.

"Will you leave us alone, my dear? I would like to talk alone with my son." He said calmly. She threw him a frightened look and he nodded, so she got up on trembling legs and went upstairs.

They were silent for a very long moment.

"I need to know, Aemond." He started at last, looking blankly at his plate. "I need to know why you're doing this."

He looked at him simultaneously surprised and bewildered, having never had a serious conversation with him before − he twisted in his seat and swallowed loudly, tapping his finger against the top of the wooden table in an involuntary, nervous gesture.

"What do you mean?" He asked him coolly, licking his lower lip with his tongue, looking down at his hands, feeling his heart pounding fast.

"You and Cole's daughter. Why?"

He shrugged his shoulders, feeling like a small child who had to explain to a parent why he had accidentally broken a vase.

He felt like he was shrinking, even though he had told himself all his life that his opinion didn't matter to him, he was suddenly afraid of what he would think of him.

"I don't know. I'm just…" He sighed heavily, running his hand over his face. "…I'm just happy with her, Dad. She's the only one who understands me. She's the only one who can comfort me or reassure me. Why should I give that up? Because they will be uncomfortable?" He asked angrily, feeling a burning wetness under his eyelids.

"They didn't care if I was going to be uncomfortable, if you were going to be uncomfortable, if she was going to be uncomfortable when they started fucking each other. They got a taste of true love and built their happiness on lying to their loved ones for years, fucking great. Maybe I'm fucked up and mentally ill, I don't know, but at least I'm not a fucking liar and hypocrite. I took what I wanted and I won't apologise for it. Her place is with me. I've already decided."

There was a heavy silence between them that seemed to last him an eternity, but for some reason he felt relieved when he got it all out. His father grunted loudly.

"So I understand that you are thinking seriously about her. Good. At least now I know what to tell your mother."

Criston and Alicent appeared outside his father's house after about twenty minutes, however no one came out to meet them − when they knocked on the door his father opened it for them.

They stood in the distance, his girlfriend snuggled into him, terrified − he kissed the top of her head, tense.

"Don't be afraid. I won't give you back. Hm?" He whispered tenderly, leaning over her to see the look on her face, and she nodded, fear and trust in her big, bright eyes, her body pressed tightly against his.

Criston standing in his house, pale and panicked at seeing his father for the first time when his affair with his mother came to light was a sight from which he felt wild satisfaction. He knew his father had no intention of making anything easy for them − he looked at him with a smile of superiority from which he bit his lip, furious, his mother staring at him pleadingly.

"I came for my daughter. What you did was kidnapping." He said coolly, and he chuckled under his breath, shaking his head with amusement, his gaze cold and full of disapproval.

"My girlfriend wants to live with me of her own free will." He murmured teasingly, feeling her fingers tighten tighter on his black T-shirt, his large hand stroking her back with a reassuring, affectionate gesture.

"Honey, please, let's end this madness." He directed his words to her, trying not to explode, but she shook her head quickly.

"I − I want a break Dad. From you and from Mum. I want to stay here. With Aemond and with his dad. To focus on my studies again, instead of being constantly reminded of what happened." She said in a trembling voice, Criston snorted, furious.

"He told you to say that, didn't he?"

He opened his mouth to reply something, but she let go of him and turned towards her father with despair in her eyes.

"He didn't tell me to say anything! Do you understand? Never! He asked me three times if I was sure I wanted it before we slept together. Yes, Dad, don't look at me like that!" She shouted in a trembling voice seeing the tears in his eyes, herself on the verge of crying.

"You made an angel out of me in your mind, an ignorant innocent child. Do you think I found out about what you were doing from my mother? That I didn't hear you talking to Alicent on the phone when my mother wasn't there, that I didn't hear you leaving home in the middle of the night when you thought I was asleep? I knew EVERYTHING and I had to pretend for so many years, Dad, God, please, just give me a break, I can't take it anymore."

She mumbled hiding her face in her hands and burst out sobbing − he grabbed her by her arm and pulled her close, embracing her in his arms.

Criston shook his head, distraught and pale, turned and walked out, closing the door behind him. Alicent looked at them in disbelief and swallowed hard.

"Bring their things here, Alicent." Viserys said, turning away from her and walking back into the living room as if nothing had happened, clearly tired of standing already.

That night they lay together in his single bed snuggled together, just stroking and looking at each other − it seemed more intimate to him than anything they had done before, so close, tender and full of affection.

They fell asleep cuddled into each other, feeling for the first time in years that they had decided their own fate, that they had freed themselves from what had poisoned their minds for so long.

That they were free.

The next few days were surprisingly peaceful for them and although they both felt they had to put their lives back together, they did not despair or cry any more. Alicent brought them most of their belongings the next day, which they needed immediately without the company of Criston, who could not accept what his daughter had told him.

She had suffered because of it, but when he asked her about it she told him that she had had enough of his expectations of her and of everyone around her, which, however, he clearly did not have to uphold towards himself.

It took longer to drive downtown from his father's house and they had to get up much earlier in the morning − they shared tasks, one of them made tea and coffee, the other made sandwiches and scrambled eggs. His father slept late so they were not disturbed, they could sit together on the sofa, embracing each other and watching the morning news.

No one bothered them, they didn't have to explain themselves to anyone.

However, he had no intention of losing contact with Daeron through all of this, and forced his father to fight for him as his parent, so that his little brother would come over to visit them at weekends.

When he finally succeeded and Alicent brought him, albeit reluctantly, on the Friday after his classes his brother threw himself into his arms crying and despairing, asking him how they could have left him there alone.

He felt a squeeze in his throat and tears in his eyes, not knowing what to answer him − he promised that he could come and see them every weekend, that he could always call them if he needed to.

He glanced at them amused from the side as Daeron and she watched funny videos together on the internet, which he said he had to show her because he thought she would definitely like them and had saved them especially for her.

It was their secret and he was excluded from looking at it as someone who would not understand this kind of content.

Daeron, to his slight jealousy focused all her attention and amused her late into the evening by telling her about his adventures at school and the friend she had apparently won his heart.

He picked him up and carried him to his old room when he fell asleep, then returned to her to finally have her all to himself.

They ordered a bigger, more comfortable double bed, where they could finally get a decent night's sleep and explored each other's bodies with more tenderness and peace, without the fear of having to hurry up and run away.

It made him spend long hours with his face sunk in the heat between her thighs, taking unspeakable, savage satisfaction in her reactions, in how sensitive she was to his slightest touch.

He sucked and caressed her pearl with his lips only to sink his tongue deep inside her again a moment later, licking her sweet spot from the inside, teasing her, stopping the moment he felt she was already on the verge of orgasm.

She quivered and wriggled beneath him, trembling all over, once again in just a few minutes being so close to fulfillment, on her legs those wonderful, long, slutty wool socks he loved, under whose material he slipped his fingers, clenching them on the soft skin of her thighs.

"− please −" She mewled pathetically in a way from which a smirk appeared on his face − he hummed under his breath, running his tongue gently over her hot, leaking folds, licking what had flowed out of her.

"− I know − you are doing so well − can you hold out for me a little longer? − hm? −" He asked tenderly, running the tip of his nose over her swollen, sore clit. She sobbed quietly, breathing loudly, her hands clasped in his hair.

"− I can't − too much − please, I need this −" She mumbled with her eyes closed, her gorgeous, full lips parted sweetly, her body before him trembling and vulnerable.

His.

He licked his lower lip looking at her intently and sighed heavily, rising to his knees, with a light movement of his fingers unbuttoning his trousers, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"− greedy little thing − need my cock inside you so fucking badly? −" He asked with a hint of accusation and displeasure, from which she looked at him with a pained expression, as if she was ashamed that she was so desperate − she nodded with a face so innocent and sad that he felt like bursting out laughing.

"− I'm sorry −" She babbled out with genuine regret from which he snorted under his breath as he leaned over her and ran the tip of his nose over her cheek.

"− there, there − spread your thighs wide − that's it, that's my good girl −" He cooed, guiding with his palm the head of his swollen, throbbing cock, so eager to take her to her heat. She swallowed loudly and moaned as she felt his length begin to push into her fleshy interior.

"− Aemond −" She mewled tightening her fingers on his back with an expression of delight on her face − he slid all the way into her and clamped his hand over her cheeks, forcing her to look up at him.

"− not like that − want to get your bottom smacked? −" He growled, and she shook her head quickly, her accelerated, warm breath enveloping his face, her gaze hazy and dreamy.

"− n-no, big brother − please, just fuck me already −" She choked out with difficulty, and he chuckled under his breath, pressing his lips against hers in a brutal, sticky kiss, driving his tongue deep into her throat, holding her jaw firmly in his fingers, letting her taste herself, not moving inside her even a little.

She moaned into his mouth writhing beneath him, sliding her hands down to his buttocks, trying to move her hips in pathetic desperation and rubbing herself with it where she needed it, but his large hand clenched on her thigh warningly − he pulled away from her with a loud click, looking at her with furrowed brows.

"− stop, or I won't let you come − haven't you learned fucking patience yet? −" He hissed; she looked at him in horror and stopped moving, twitching all over, looking at him with big eyes.

He hummed under his breath placing his hands on either side of her head and slid out of her almost all the way only to open her wide again on his cock, throbbing and aching with arousal.

He licked his lips as he heard her sweet, quiet moan of pleasure − she restrained herself with difficulty not to move her thighs while his hips imposed a painfully steady, slow pace on her.

"− that's it − we will take it slow − I had to share you for a whole fucking day − I want to enjoy my little girl − hm? −" He whispered and she nodded, blushing, her one hand from his buttocks rising to his cheek and stroking it tenderly, drawing a quiet sigh of contentment from him.

"− I'm only yours −" She mumbled and he groaned low with contentment at her words, their bodies involuntarily began to slam against each other, reaching out to meet again, each thrust of his hips followed by a loud smack and click of her juices.

They both began to pant, their lips clinging to each other, the tips of their tongues teasing each other in lewd, sticky kisses.

"− do you want me to touch you down there, kid? − my little sister wants to come? −" He cooed into her mouth between one greedy kiss and the next, and she nodded quickly, a puff of relief escaping her lips, as if she had only dreamt of it.

"− yes, brother − please − please −" She begged, and he was unable to deny her.

He gasped lowly as he felt her clench on him from all sides, he had to move faster and more violently inside her to allow him to penetrate her as deeply as he wanted.

His hand slid between her thighs, collecting her wetness, and with intense, sure movements began to press the space around her clit, her head tilted back in a helpless moan.

"− cum for me − be a good little sister and cum on your brother's cock −" He breathed out, his thighs slapping against her buttocks again and again until her walls clenched tightly against him, waves of fulfilment passed through her body, his lips pressed against hers to muffle her loud moans and whimpers, keeping her pressed firmly against his bed.

He shuddered all over and sighed deeply, closing his eyes as he let go at last and felt his hot semen spill inside her, with helpless, sloppy movements of his hips pushing it as deep into her as possible.

"− just like that − fuck, baby − ohhh God −" He babbled dulled by his own pleasure, by how wonderful it felt to be inside her.

He snuggled up to her and her hands immediately embraced him, their sweaty bodies sticking to each other, he could feel her hard nipples on his bare chest, pressing against his skin with every breath she took.

"− you did so well for me − my sweet little girl −" He praised her placing soft, butterfly kisses on her hot cheek, her fingers combing through his hair making a purr of delight escape his throat.

They looked at each other, tired and breathless, running their hands over each other's bodies, breathing heavily − they kissed loudly with some kind of relief and fulfilment from which he felt hot in his chest. He stroked her hair and smiled, her eyes shining in amusement.

"What?" She asked quietly, embarrassed, thinking that he was obviously laughing at her. He hummed under his breath, running his thumb over her cheek.

"Marry me."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[icey--stars]

Hiiii

I saw your requests are open but feel free to ignore this if it isnt

Oh, Queen of angst

would you please bless us with a story where azriel is engaged but not to Eris

Yes you read that right, but wait hear me out

He is still in love with Eris (no mating bond though just love)

Centuries ago or decades whatver he was forced to end things with Eris because what he thought the IC's reaction was

So he watches Eris longingly at a Highlords meeting and then boom, Eris and his mating bond snaps just like that (prompted or unprompted your choice) And Eris is standing there horrified because azriel broke things off with him and he is still in love with Azriel but he thinks azriel doesnt feel the same

And Azriel standing there shocked but super happy because now no one can say anything about his love for Eris because even the mother belives in it. His fiancee and the rest of the IC are there like 😨 Feel free to ignore this but if you would write this I would be ever so indebted to you 🥺🥺 Okii Thanks 🙏 for reading this far and indulging me

I Could Never Forget You

Azriel is incapable of keeping his eyes to himself and oop... now he's got a mate bond on his hands with Eris who he ended things off with centuries ago. What will they do? - 2k words

Author's Note: Darling anon, I wrote this to the best of my abilities (and actually enjoyed it more than I thought I would so thank you lol). I changed the “Az is super happy” part a tad because I really can’t see them being in anything other than pure shock and horror at the situation even while hope blooms. Hope you enjoy regardless!

I did end things off before we got the IC’s and his fiance’s reactions so if you were especially looking for those, let me know! I can add it in a reblog :) just may take some more thinking

TW: suggestiveness to sexual activities (VERY little but minors beware)

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

It had been centuries and that damned face still made his heart flutter like he was some teenage male. It was infuriating. Maybe even more than infuriating. Azriel glanced over at the female who sat next to him. She smiled back warmly, the Illyrian wings behind her twitching some in his direction.

He forced a smile to curve his lips. His fiance. Gods, it was stupid. She was a great female. So amazing that she was practically the only fae Rhysand went to when he needed something handled in the Illyrian camps. She was strong, powerful, demanding, downright gorgeous objectively, and a little bit vain at points. He didn’t know why he felt so guilty.

Azriel’s gaze traveled back across the table. They were in the Dawn Court for the annual High Lords’ meeting to establish trade and peace. And guess who sat directly across from him?

The one and only Eris Vanserra.

His hair was down, which was rare to see. Normally it was worn in complex braids all up and around in Eris’s hair. But the smug bastard still had that smirk on his face as he glanced over at Azriel.

Eris scoffed and turned his head away which was not helpful because it showed off his neck muscles and those damned ears. As per usual, they were covered in jewelry. Chains and rings and dangly little charms. All of it.

And though he was trying to lie to himself, it did look damn good.

Centuries ago, he’d cut things off with Eris. He had to. His family, especially Mor, would’ve hated him. He was sure of that.

And he had a fiance now for the gods’ sake. Why did the damned bastard still make his palms clammy and his cheeks heat up?

It’s possibly the stupidest thing of all time. Yes, he had once loved Eris. But he had responsibilities and loyalties to his court now.

Even if the bastard was way too attractive for his own good.

Azriel sighed and turned his head to try and pay attention to the actual meeting. Thesan and Kallias were having some sort of conversation over trade while Tarquin was trying to cut in with his own plans. Not fighting per say, but definitely close to arguing as usual at these meetings. Nobody truly got along. It was tolerance at best.

Eris swirled his whiskey around in his glass, taking a small sip from it and smirking at the chaos that was being wrought. Likely, it was whiskey brought from Autumn since Azriel knew he hated any other types of whiskey. 

“It just doesn’t burn the same, Az,” He’d argued.

And of course that’s where Azriel’s gaze brought him once again.

His fiance squeezed his hand as if in question and he squeezed back in reassurance. He was fine. He just had to get the redhead out of his mind. (An impossible feat, he might add. Eris had a tendency to effortlessly bring attention to him.)

“Rhys,” Eris suddenly spoke, turning his head away from the arguments beginning. “Was there anything useful you were going to bring to this meeting?”

Rhys sat up a little with Feyre beside him looking exhausted. “Nothing more than news that Hewn City would like to begin trading salt out again.”

Eris’s brows raised in interest. “Salt, you say?” He asked. “Now that’s quite the commodity they’re offering. Shall I talk to Kier?”

“You can manufacture a deal with us,” Feyre spoke up. “We’ll pass it along.”

And here was even more proof that Azriel needed to get Eris off his mind. It would only end poorly.

Eris chuckled softly and hummed in response. “Shall we spar then, Feyre?” He asked. “I’m certain any deals I offer would be more than satisfactory.”

Feyre sighed. “Let’s hear it then,” she replied. Her eyes betrayed her exhaustion, though. Little Nyx was in his teenage phase where he called his own parents and family dumb in order to get independence. Only “Uncle Azzie” was allowed to talk to him now as long as he didn’t bring up anything the little one didn’t want to talk about.

The usual trade talk commenced with bargains going both ways and Azriel found himself just staring at Eris, watching his hair sway slightly when he leaned over the table. He could just imagine pulling it.

“Azriel, do pick up your jaw,” Eris suddenly said, staring directly at him. “I know I’m handsome, but your fiance is sitting right beside you.”

Azriel didn’t even realize his jaw had dropped. He was practically drooling. What the fuck.

And then something happened. He couldn’t describe the feeling well but it felt like something just snapped between him and Eris, yanking him closer to the male. He suddenly felt worry coming down the mysterious thread within his chest.

Then he glanced up at Eris’s furrowed brows.

Azriel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Words refused to escape his throat even as hard as he tried.

His fiance rested a hand on his shoulder and he tensed, sitting up immediately.

Rhys seemed to notice now, narrowing his eyes. The daemati knocked on his mind shields and Azriel let them down hesitantly.

What’s wrong? Rhys asked.

He couldn’t respond in words and only pushed the overwhelming feeling towards Rhys’s presence in his mind.

What is it? He asked desperately, hoping, praying that his brother would have the answer this time.

Rhys glanced over at Eris and narrowed his eyes. The other male was also reacting the same way, but he was holding his chest in shock while staring at Azriel.

“Mate,” Eris suddenly breathed in shock.

Azriel’s eyes went wide. That word. It sounded right. Which meant a few things: Eris was his mate. He had a fiance that wasn’t his mate. But he also still very obviously loved Eris despite the centuries. And another thing: his entire family knew. Fuck. How was he supposed to play this off?

“What?” Cassian suddenly asked, leaning over the table. “Did you just say mate?”

“Azriel,” Eris said sharply when he tried to push his chair away from the table to make a run for it.

“What,” he said roughly, his voice scratchy from emotion of some sort. He couldn’t identify it yet. But with Eris’s sharp tone, he also found himself frozen in place.

Rhys had this look on his face. Somewhere between surprise, confusion, and honestly with those furrowed brows, possibly the anger Azriel had been expecting centuries ago when he broke things off with Eris.

His fiance rested a hand on his shoulder again and this time, he flinched violently, letting out a gasp.

“Az,” she tried. “Take a breath,” she commanded.

Azriel’s shadows luckily took pity on his state and rushed up to cover his face while panic creeped up his spine. All conversation had quieted down by now.

“Eris, Azriel,” Rhys began, “let’s go outside for a moment, shall we?”

Azriel pushed himself from his seat at that escape from so many eyes and quickly followed his brother out even as Eris trailed them from behind.

“Azriel, you need to breathe,” Rhys said softly once they were in the hallway alone.

Azriel forced himself to suck in a breath, closing his eyes.

A rush of calm rushed through him suddenly from that string in his chest and his head shot up, shadows falling from his face in shock. It’d been like a jolt to his system to restart and work again.

And Eris was in front of him, tilting his head with concern evident in his facial expression. “Azriel,” Eris began. “Are you alright?”

He let out a sigh before he nodded. “I’m fine,” He managed to get out. He was… not fine, but fine enough for whatever conversation was likely to occur.

Eris scoffed as if he clearly knew it was a lie, but seemed to accept the answer. “Well then, I believe there needs to be a conversation, now doesn’t there?” He prompted.

“Should I let you two handle this?” Rhys asked, raising a brow.

“Go Rhys,” Azriel mumbled. “We’ll handle this. Let my fiance know that I’m fine?” He requested.

Rhys nodded and walked off.

Then he faced Eris and sighed, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. “Eris…”

“You want to reject the bond,” Eris finished for him. “It makes sense. You broke things off centuries ago and you have a fiance who loves you. I get it, Az. You don’t care about me.”

Azriel jerked his head back in shock. “I wasn’t going to say that,” He said to Eris, his brows furrowing. He swallowed back his hesitation and sighed. “I do care about you, fireheart.”

Eris’s brows furrowed even more at the pet name. It’d been one of the things that Azriel had called them when they had been dating. It represented his determination, his flames and encompassed part of who he was. Azriel knew he’d gotten the male’s attention with it.

“Then what exactly is your plan, Az?” Eris asked. “You have a fiance.”

Azriel sighed, rubbing his face again as he leaned back against the wall, uncaring of the fact his wings were being partly crushed by the action. “Eris… I didn’t break things off back then because I didn’t want you.”

Eris’s eyes narrowed. “Then why?” He asked calmly.

“My… my family means a lot to me. You know that. I got pathetically scared over their reaction,” Azriel mumbled, a tad ashamed of the fact.

Eris raised a brow, but then he seemed to relax. “So what does being mates mean then?” He asked.

“Maybe it’s proof that I shouldn’t have given up what I loved all those centuries ago,” Azriel admitted, glancing up at Eris timidly.

Eris’s expression softened. “So you were scared?” He repeated. “Are you still scared?”

Azriel paused to think for a moment. Mates were chosen by the Mother. And while he’d met mates that weren’t meant for each other… he also knew how well Eris and he were getting on centuries ago. And though they had changed since then, he doubted it would put a stake through the possibilities of them.

“I can’t be scared if we’ve been chosen by the Mother, Eris. More than half my family knows the significance of the mating bond. I don’t think they’d fault me for trying.”

“And would they fault you if it’s me?” Eris emphasized.

“Going by how Rhys reacts when someone tries to insult Feyre, I don’t think I would physically be able to stop myself if they did try to fault me,” Azriel admitted with a slight chuckle.

Eris rolled his eyes with a smirk. “You do have a fiance, however,” He reiterated. “Are you so certain I’m worth it?”

“I was shocked at first, Eris. But… I want that, Eris. With you. We’d already been planning on how to manage the political situation anyway once you became High Lord. What’s stopping us now?” Azriel asked, a small grin making its way onto his face.

Eris chuckled. “Nothing, I suppose,” he murmured as he took a step closer.

Azriel didn’t try to stop his immediate urge to kiss those lips and practically lunged forward off the wall to grab Eris’s chin and press their lips together.

Eris let out a soft sound of surprise before he melted into it. It was soft. Like coming back home.

It felt like hours before they were forced to pull away to breathe. Azriel panted for a moment, meeting Eris’s gaze.

“You always were a sap,” Eris teased.

Azriel scoffed. “And you aren’t?” He emphasized.

“Oh, I’m unafraid to admit that I am these days,” Eris mused.

For a moment, they just seemed to take the situation in. Then Eris stood up a little straighter. “Speak to your family, Az. Then come find me at the cabin. I think I’m craving a little more than a kiss.”

Azriel scoffed. “Insatiable,” he mused.

“Oh you know I am,” Eris said with a smirk. After a moment, he asked, “Are you really going to end things off with your fiance for me?” There was a little insecurity in that tone.

“Fireheart,” Azriel began. “The only reason I was attracted to her was because she reminded me so much of your spark. She’s become integrated into the family. I think she’d understand. In fact, she might be useful to Rhys while I take a break to deal with the inevitable frenzy.”

Eris scoffed. “And you call me insatiable?” He asked.

“I could never forget you, Eris. You and I are fated.” Azriel replied with a genuine smile.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

A/N: Shh… yes I used “fireheart” as Az’s petname for Eris. IT FIT TOO WELL SHHHHHHHH.

Also, this was not edited. I am lazy. Apologies for any and all mistakes. If I ever reread this, the facepalm I'll give myself is plenty punishment.

Tagged in all ACOTAR Stories: @bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters, @fieldofdaisiies, @skyesayshi, @lilah-asteria,

Tagged in all Azriel Stories: @ladylokilaufeyson5, @marina468,

[nkirukaj]

Deerly Beloved

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! OC

Warnings: Swearing;

Genre: ANGST/Fluff (& Humor!)

Word Count: 1.7K

1. Welcome to Heaven

Once upon a time, on November 1, 1996, a woman named Daphne Bates went into labor. When the horrifying beauty of birth was over, she had a sweet little girl named Vera, meaning faith and truth.  This daughter was the light of Daphne’s life until she turned 6. That’s when the tension began, and that’s also when Vera began to make memories. This tension would continue throughout her life, up until the day that she died.

________________________________

“Send me back immediately!”

Saint Peter stared questioningly “Hello, I’m St. Peter. May I have your name?”

She calms herself, if only for a moment “Voe,”

He looks through the book, “Sorry, no Voe here. Did you go by any other name?”

She stops and, realizing what she had said, takes a breath “Vera Bates,”

“Ah! There you are! Come right in!”

“No, you don’t understand, I’m not meant to be here!”

Peter nods understandingly “I get it; it is often a rough transition for new souls, but trust me, you won’t even miss Earth at all,”

“No, I-“

It was useless; he had already launched into his ‘Welcome to Heaven’ welcoming song, and Voe couldn’t get so much as a word in. Once he was finished and out of breath, Voe rubbed her head with her fingers and asked

“Can I see whoever is in charge?”

The temple of the Seraphims was quite large, with white walls reflecting off of white floors, tables, and anything else you could think of was white.

“It’s giving white supremacy,” Voe joked to herself

St. Peter led her to a very tall door, which he knocked on. It was quiet for a moment before it opened, revealing a very tall woman with grayish-brownish skin and something of a tiara on top of her head, six wings, and eyes on her robe.

“Hello, St Peter, what do I owe your visit today?”

“This is-“ he gestures to her

“Vera, yes. Hello,” she nods toward Voe

Voe gives a halfhearted wave “I go by Voe,”

“And she wanted to speak with you,” Peter ignored her words in favor of speaking with Sera.

Sera stares at Voe and waves off St. Peter “Thank you for your help, St. Peter, I will take it from here,” and she closes the door behind them.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Vera?” 

“I don’t belong here,”

“I know dying can be a big adjustment-“

“No, I was in Hell!” Voe screams

Sera and Emily are quiet for a moment “I see,”

“Were you at Charlie’s hotel?” Emily asked excitedly 

Voe turns to the smaller seraphim “The Hazbin Hotel? Yeah, I was a guest. I guess I got redeemed,” Voe realizes as she speaks

Emily lets out a joyous squeak and looks up at her older sister “That’s the second time! Won’t you admit now that-“

“Regardless,” Sera interrupted, “now you are here, and this is where you belong,”

“No, you don’t understand, I left a lot behind,” Voe argued

“You are one of us now; you need not worry about what’s going on down there,”

“But, my husband and my children-“

“Are in Hell, meaning they belong there, and you belong here. In Heaven, we are worry-free,”

Voe stands her ground “Sera, I want to be sent back,”

“That’s just ridiculous,”

She begins to tear up “My babies…”

Emily looks around, unsure, “Sera, maybe we should-“

“Nonsense. With a few adjustments, you shall fit right in,”

“Huh, adjustments-?”

Sera snaps her fingers, and Voe’s eyes roll back into her head. She goes limp in place before Sera snaps her fingers once more, making her stand straight up as her eyes roll forward.

“Hello Vera, how are you today?” she asks calmly.

She blinks a few times and gives Sera a grin with nothing behind her eyes “I’m doing just fine, Sera, thank you for asking,”

____________________________________________________

One thing that people usually don’t know is that Vera was considered a miracle. Her mother, Daphne, was considered infertile before she became pregnant with Vera. People don’t know this, however, because when Vera hit puberty, Daphne stopped telling them. Puberty was when she and Daphne started having problems. They argued and butted heads a lot over her father Cassius’s treatment of her, and that was when Daphne gave birth to her little sister Brynn. Daphne believed that Cassius babied and spoiled her rotten, but Vera always thought that it was only fair since she was spending all her time with the new baby. 

She knew that babies needed a lot of attention, but that didn’t mean that Daphne wasn’t her mom anymore. Vera knew the real reason that she and her mother butt heads, she couldn’t be normal. Ever since she had been diagnosed, her mother had been pulling away from her; this new baby was just another excuse. And it wasn’t fair that she wanted to take her father away, too. And though she grew to adore her little sister, Vera and her mother’s relationship never recovered. She hadn’t even spoken to her mother in a month when she died. She’d had a passing thought of texting her right before the bullet hit her chest. 

Sera, Emily, and Vera strolled through town, showing Vera around Heaven. Though capitalism existed, everyone had the perfect amount of money.

“So why not just make things free?” Vera asked

Sera only rolled her eyes in response instead of answering the question. Emily stared at her uncomfortably and rubbed her arm, falling behind them on the stroll. The streets were paved with gold, just like the Church songs used to say; every house was a mansion, and Vera had one of her own, which she was quite happy about.

“Holy shit! This is all mine?” she turned to the seraphim, who wore a grimace as she nodded “Well, who’s going to clean this place after I start living in it because I know I’m not,” she asked with a grin on her face, oblivious to Sera’s distaste for her manner of speaking.

“We will arrange for someone to do the cleaning if that’s what you desire,”

“Nice,” Vera enters the house without looking back

“You’re welcome, Vera,” Sera says under her breath while Emily glances up at her older sister, still looking as apprehensive as ever.

The house has white walls and furniture, and the light coming in from the windows burns her eyes. It felt like she might have to wear shades while inside the house. Vera knew that this white would have to go eventually, as she was sure to stain it every other day. But that would be the cleaner’s problem, not hers. She mostly wanted to jazz it up from being boring and basic to being something stylish and fun! The kitchen was fully stocked with a modern fridge, stove, and dishwasher, which would be convenient since Vera always hated the feeling of washing the dishes (bad texture), with a screen door to a backyard with a pool and jacuzzi. She went upstairs and found a white bedroom with a crisp white bed.

“Isn’t this Heaven? Shouldn’t you guys know what color I want things to be? or is this just the basic palette you give everyone?” Vera looks around in the silence and emptiness; she shrugs “I don’t know, I guess I’m talking to the big man? God, I guess?” she turns in a circle. “God? Can God hear me? Is that how it works? Can God turn my house pink?” she stops and thinks for a moment “Or can I?”

Cassius and Daphne never made their kids go to church. They believed in Heaven and Hell as well as God and the Devil passively. Never cementing one religion or way of thought, leaving their children free to open their minds to choose whatever they want. But since Vera consistently suffered inside her head, she had simply chosen nothing.

Vera stands up straight, closes her eyes, and shakes out her fingers and spine. “Okay, I want my house to be pink!” when she opened it, nothing happened “Should I try something else? I want my house to be pink!” she snapped her fingers and watched as all the white melted into a deep hot pink color. “Oh yeah, this is what I like to see,” This was way better than her apartment in the Upper East Side. She stood and wondered what happened to her apartment after she died, probably going to Brynn, considering that’s what she told them to do. How was Brynn? How was she? No one even asked her how she felt about being dead.

“Pretty rude if you ask me,” she glances at her nails and grimaces, ugh, she needed a manicure. Vera looked around at the no-one-around and giggled, snapping her fingers once more. The nails are long and pastel pink; they are simple, but they get the job done. She holds out her arms and stares at them.

“Cute,”

She sits down on the bed and basks in the silence. Her first instinct was to take a picture and send it, but send it to who? Brynn? Her friends? Not her mom. What does it matter? They were all alive, and she was dead. She didn’t know anybody here, and she didn’t know how to get to know anybody here. Starting from scratch was the worst; she was used to being on top. Vera puts her elbows on her knees, places her head in her hands, and covers her eyes. Was this Heaven if she still had the thing that made her suffer so long on Earth? Or was this like The Good Place, where she was really in the Bad Place, and she just thinks she’s in the Good Place? Did she even deserve to be in Heaven?

Before her thoughts started spiraling, she heard a knock at her door downstairs. She dropped her hands and slowly walked down the stairs, hoping the person would leave, but they knocked again. When she reached the door, she opened it and found a woman behind it���a woman with deep brown skin, curly blond hair, and doe ears under her hair. She wore a dress that looked like it was from the 1800s, and she stuck her hand out.

“Hello, my dear, Sera sent me to help you clean your house,” her Southern accent was thick and dainty like

“Oh!” Vera grabs the woman’s hand and shakes it “I’m Vera,”

“May, pleasure to be meeting you,”

[mtdthoughts]

Moonlight Pt. 3 (Migi & Dali Fanfiction)

Link to Part 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/mtdthoughts/738293425820057600/moonlight-pt-1-migi-dali-fanfiction?source=share

Link to previous part:

https://www.tumblr.com/mtdthoughts/738302122389569536/moonlight-pt-2-migi-dali-fanfiction?source=share

CHAPTER 3

At dinner, we told the the old couple everything about ourselves, about our time in the wilderness, our time in the orphanage, our time pretending to be one person, and our quest in avenging our mother. The dinner table was then filled with emotion.

They cried after hearing about our past.

They scolded us for not trusting them sooner.

They laughed but also scolded Dali after hearing about Sali.

They were horrified after hearing about the Ichijo woman and what she had done to us.

They cried again when after hearing what happened to Micchan and Eiji.

As we were eating, I noticed that Dali was eating just as much as me. Hmph, what a hypocrite, this guy always said I ate like a pig!

Dali noticed me looking at him, and he grinned as he pointed to his own mouth.

I put my hand on my own mouth, and just as I feared, there was food all over it, so I quickly wiped it. His grin turned to a smirk.

Was he reading my mind? Hmph, as expected of Dali I guess.

At the end of dinner, Dali put one hand on his belly and said, "Ahh, I'm so full. This is the best meal I've had in my life!" This was the same thing he said on our first night here as Hitori.

The old woman laughed and said, "But Dali, my dear, this is the same food we've always had!"

Dali laughed too, and with a warm smile on his face, he said, "I know, Mom. But it's the first dinner I've had together with my new family."

"Dali...!" She began tearing up.

Everyone, including me, was surprised to hear this, as this was the first time Dali called her Mom for real. I was overflowing with joy as I joined in, "Yeah, your food is the best as always Mom! Thanks for always taking good care of us!"

Our parents teared up once again, as Mom cried out, "No, thank you boys for coming into our lives! We're so lucky to have angels like yourselves!"

"Yes, we're truly blessed and couldn't ask for anything more," Dad added.

Soon after, dinner was over, as our parents left to do their own thing, and Dali went upstairs to our room.

I stayed behind to eat the last few scraps on the table. I couldn't just let good food go to waste!

Out of nowhere, the golden beast appeared under the table, and stared at me. Ah, he’s hungry.

I tried shooing him away. He didn't move.

I made a silly face towards him, stuck my tongue out, and went "Behhh!". He didn't move.

I pointed in a random direction and said, "Look, there's sardines over there!" He didn't move, and he didn't even look where I was pointing.

He then gave me a pleading look like he was about to starve to death.

Darn. I couldn't help it, so when no one was looking, I took some jambalaya in my hand, bent down, and handed it to the beast. He licked it up, and when he was done, he licked me in the face, and then I petted him.

Out of nowhere, Mom's voice rang out, "Migi! Don't feed Sardine, you'll spoil him and make him into a bad boy!" Darn, I got caught.

The golden beast ran off.

"Haha, sorry Mom..."

Damn you, golden beast, I'll remember this!

Once I finished eating the remaining food, I went upstairs to our room.

When I was at the door, I noticed Dali standing at the window, which was now open. He was looking outside with his hair fluttering as he was humming something. As I got closer, I recognized that it was the Water Flea’s Song.

A few minutes later, he stopped, and then I called for him.

"Dali?"

He turned his head towards me with a warm smile on his face.

"Ah, Migi, perfect timing. Let's go out for a bit."

"Where?”

"To visit Mother. It's been eight years since she left us, and there are some things I want to tell her." Dali explained as he turned to look outside.

I agreed, and just like on the night after our welcome party, we snuck outside using our sheets as a makeshift rope, and we rode together on our bicycle to visit our mother.

[fcdcdmcmories]

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT WHAT SHE DOES OUTSIDE HERE, OKAY? IT'S NOT MY BUSINESS. WE'RE NOT TOGETHER AND HAVEN'T BEEN FOR A VERY LONG TIME. and you.. that's.. that can't be true. she'd never be in any kind of business with him. she hates him." right? and he knew that, because they had talked about it before and why would she need him, when she had her own hospital? that didn't make any sense and right now, it was just giving him a FUCKING HEADACHE. he didn't want to think about that. couldn't, when she was here. "... i don't know what made me different. why you kept me around for that long. i still don't - to this day, but.. FOR A WHILE, IT WAS... US. OR I THINK SO." shaking his head a bit. he didn't know why, but he couldn't be angry at that anymore. no. not at that - not when he knew how much it had took for her to tell him the first time around. "it's no test. you told me. it took a long while, but.. I KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG. THE WAY YOU REACTED WHENEVER HE CAME AROUND.. IT WASN'T NORMAL. IT WASN'T OKAY. and one day.. you just told me. just like that. about how it started when your mother died. how.. you were just a kid. how everyone saw but no one cared enough to help. they all just left you with him. HOW.. HOW ALONE YOU FELT WHEN HE PUT YOU IN THAT ROOM, especially when all you wanted was for him to care, even for just five minutes. about.. how you always wanted to leave, but.. just didn't know how. that you were horrified of him. tired. suffocating. your words, not mine. i- it was.." clearing his throat, as he looked away. he shouldn't feel like this about her, but.. it was having some fucking human decency, wasn't it? who was he kidding? it was more than that. "no matter what happened between us after that, it.. it made me sick to my stomach when i finally learned the truth. still does. no one deserves that. ESPECIALLY NOT YOU. and even now.. i.. i'd never tell anyone. i never have, never will. it's not my story to tell." maybe he should have, but it wasn't right and that was not the kind of man that he was. and knowing what it had taken for her to gather thee courage to share that with him? no. "you did before. the night of the games. i.. i guess that's why i was so.. quick to believe it. fuck. you really didn't do it? i.. she must have known. she must have known that i was going to.. that.. my heart was elsewhere and.. that's why she lied. FOOLED US ALL. i.. i believe you." what had he done? the things that he had said that night - the things that he had called her, how he had treated her- good god, he could have cried there and then. it wasn't fair. how quick had he been to just.. TURN ON HER, WITHOUT KNOWING THE FULL STORY? what was the full story, anyways? who had lied here? tiffany? because she was the outsider - the one element out. he wasn't ever going to believe it had been laney, but-- no.

he couldn't. not his daughter's mother - not his oldest and best friend. that couldn't be. "no matter what, i.. you can trust that i'd never tell anyone anything. especially not him. I.. YOU MAY NOT KNOW THIS," how did she not know this? what the hell had happened to her after they had.. fought like that? "but.. i was there for most of it. i saw. i was there.. after. i think i may know what he did to you better than anyone alive." shaking his head. "you could if you wanted to," how did he know that? "i have a feeling all you'd need to do was want it enough. to be able to stand up to him. to leave it all behind. all you need to do is want it enough." how the hell did he know that? he didn't know but the words felt right. perhaps because he believed in her. perhaps because he... knew. maybe? "of you! i'm.. i'm afraid of trusting you again. i'm afraid of.. all of it. okay? this - us - it's never been a good thing in the past. WE'VE BEEN EACH OTHER'S RUIN MULTIPLE TIMES. YOU MAY NOT KNOW THIS BUT I DO. IT'S NOT.. WORTH IT SO.. YES, LOOK AWAY. LOOK AT ANYTHING BUT ME." pretending to be angry wasn't even easy, especially when he could already feel his hands shaking at the thought. if she did? he was.. how long would it take until he snapped and gave in? "oh, now you're just being a fucking brat. you know i know you like it, right? I KNOW YOU WELL ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT'S YOUR FAVOURITE." he could have glared at her, but.. it wasn't like it had been before. he could pretend to be angry and maybe, he was, but.. but.. "i don't think you know me all that well to say that. i'll win. I HATE YOU EVEN MORE, YOU INSUFFERABLE WOMAN. when we back down there.. you leave and you never come back. got it? we don't see each other again." stay. stay with me. he pulled her up against him, deepening the kiss, at the same time that he wrapped his free hand against the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him. even closer. it was impossible to hide how much he was grinning against her lips. damn her. / @xtinyslip

"OH, I WILL BECAUSE YOU DON'T SEE IT. HOW COULD YOU? I'M SURE YOU'RE NOT PRIVY TO A LOT OF WHAT HAPPENS OUTSIDE OF HERE. ARE YOU? IF SHE'S NOT LIKE MY SIDE OF THAT FAMILY. HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN HOW SHE'S IN CAHOOTS WITH MY FATHER? HM?" the two of them and their secret family meetings. she was just like them. it was strange how when she said them, she wasn't talking about herself ; not that she was letting herself be fully aware of that yet. "you said it yourself, yes? no one lasts that long around me. what makes you so different. hm?" her head tilting. yes, she fully expected him to answer. cee was very prepared to snap over him, to tell him it wasn't possible. that she would never have trusted anyone with that information. that required a level of opening up to someone that she had never reached but… he knew. how could he possibly know any of that? no one knew. no one cared enough to know. "that's --" she wanted to tell him it was a good guess or -- ANYTHING, other than to face whatever this meant for her but… it couldn't have been a guess. for him to say that, to know exactly how her father made her feel. he knew about the room? "what is this? what i am not seeing? how -- is this a test?" was this her father's work? because as far as she was concerned, there was only one other person who knew what he had just said and that was her father. no, she told herself it couldn't be. "do you really think i'm that insecure? i would attempt to murder a CHILD? because you wished to spend time with them? you must be aware of how that sounds?" she wasn't going to claim she understood it, she didn't know what a normal parent/child relationship was like. "it doesn't look like i have a choice but to trust you." would she leave it all behind? the strange thing was it genuinely hadn't occurred to her once, until he had mentioned it. once he had, it was like that thought had already developed lasting roots inside of her. like it had always been there. "… i don't get to leave." would her father ever let her? and disgrace the family name by disowning it? him? it was like she knew how bad it could get, even though in her memories it had never happened. she sensed it. "YOU SAY YOU CAN HANDLE ME BUT YOU CAN'T EVEN HANDLE ME LOOKING AT YOU? WHAT ARE YOU SO WORRIED ABOUT?" why couldn't she look away? it was simple. she talked herself through it in her head, and when it came to tearing her eyes away from him. it was like she was refused. "I EXPECT TO STILL HAVE THAT CAKE. i want the satisfaction of putting it in the bin when i get to my apartment." would she? well, she couldn't just admit now that she wanted to eat it. she shouldn't be smiling over it but right now she couldn't help but grin back against his mouth. it annoyed her that his grin was catching or at least, she wanted to be annoyed but all of that was fading away. the closer they got, the harder it got to deny that somehow… she knew him. she knew how he felt, she knew how he tasted, she knew… everything and at the same time, it was out of her reach still, like she didn't know anything at all BUT SHE DID. "you were not foolish enough to turn that into a competition. were you? you know i will win. i hate you THAT much." her one hand twisted tightly into his hair, suddenly she was starting to wonder how the hell she had been able to ever breath without him? her lips crashing back against his, pressing her back against the side of the elevator as she tried to pull him as tightly to her as she could. @fcdcdmcmories

[826aliensapocalypseactivism]

"Reality"

Maria G. 

I just wish I was able to wake up from this horrifying nightmare that is so-called “reality”. I was never really good at accepting changes, which was always something I hated about myself. I guess this is how my story begins. I was running through the forest out of breath. The only sounds you could hear were my heavy breathing and the movement of our feet stepping on the dry leaves. I turned around facing it and held my gun up and shot it. BANG!!! That wasn’t the last sound I heard that night. 

Zombies, they were taking over the town. They were destroying everything and everyone that came their way. They were turning people into zombies, killing some even, breaking into stores. Some people were lucky they were able to get into their houses in time to not get attacked. Others were not so lucky, like me. I was out that day with my parents and Tommy in the neighborhood park. It was a warm sunny day. We had just finished watching and cheering on Tommy at his soccer game when all of a sudden we heard people screaming.

“Zombies!” 

“Run!” 

“Ahhhhh!!” 

“I'm going to die!!” 

“Help me!”

Those screams are the ones that still haunt me to this day. That's when my mom called for my brother to come over to where we were sitting on the bench, once Tommy got to us that's when we began to run towards our house. But I guess we started to run slow because zombies were starting to catch us and that's when a zombie was able to jump onto me. I don’t remember much from that day, I like to think that I was in shock instead of scared. What I do remember was that I started to try to push the zombie away but I guess I wasn’t strong enough. I was ready to give up. All of a sudden I let the zombie’s body get off of mine and that's when I sat up and started to look around and saw my mom’s body under the zombie’s body. My mom had pushed the zombie off of me and now was getting attacked by the zombie. I locked eyes with her before she mouthed “I love you” and that's when the zombie bit her. I was in shock. All I felt was my father’s strong arms grabbing me and running with Tommy toward my house. 

I like to think that my mom is still with me being my guardian angel, protecting me, my father, and brother. I like to think that this is just the beginning of my life. Maybe my mother’s death was a wake up call for me to wake up to the reality that I try to escape from or maybe her death was for nothing. But either way I will create myself into a new person, a person who my mother will be proud of calling her daughter. 

One month later…..

It is evening and it is starting to get cold, you can hear the leaves crunching beneath our feet. We have been walking for about four hours now. We started to make our way to our destiny late today since our feet were killing us from walking five miles yesterday. It wasn’t a crazy day on the street which I was thankful for, we didn’t see anything nor did anything attack us. We have decided to move away, go someplace far away from home where we possibly are going to be safe. We had made the decision not to move away from home but after a while, we started to notice that we weren’t going to survive on our own so we decided to move away and walk away from the one place I once used to call “home.” By “we” it was my dad and I, who had decided to move away from home to be able to get somewhere safe. 

Tall trees standing up straight like a basketball player measuring its height. Trees lose their leaves like when you're old and start balding. We have been walking for about two hours now when all of a sudden we start to hear screaming sounds coming from behind us. We all turned around scared to see what was coming. “Dad… what is that?” Tommy said. Dad looks at me, gives me a gun and says, “Get Tommy and run fast.” I nodded, “Come on Tommy.” Tommy reached up towards me and I picked him up and started to run fast towards the forest. As I was running I heard my father’s screams and that’s when I knew I had to run faster. 

I saw that there was a big tree in front of me and I put Tommy down. “Tommy, you have to stay here and hide. Don’t make any sounds and don’t move, just stay here.” I said and he just nodded. I had a feeling that I should not leave Tommy alone but I wanted to protect him so I left him alone. I kissed his forehead and started to run in the opposite direction from where Tommy was. I heard the zombie following behind me as I was running. The only sounds you could hear were my heavy breathing and the movement of our feet stepping on the dry leaves. I turned around facing it and held my gun up and shot it. BANG!!! The loud sound of the gun made me close my eyes and duck down. 

I was ducking down for about five minutes when I heard a loud scream. I immediately got up and ran towards where I had left Tommy. It was the fastest I had ever run in my entire life.  Once I got where Tommy was I saw something I wish I never would have seen. I saw a zombie on top of Tommy’s body. I shot the zombie and removed its body from Tommy’s body. Tommy, my little brother was dead. The zombie had ripped his neck open and was eating him. I knew I should not have left him all alone and now he was dead all because of me. I had killed him. I had left him to die all alone. I was the reason he was dead. I was not able to protect him.

I sat on the ground, crying for a few minutes when I heard more screaming coming my way. I got up from the ground and started to run. I ran as fast as I could while crying. I was not seeing where I was going and suddenly I tripped over a tree branch and fell down. And that's when I gave up. I had no reason or motivation to keep on trying to stay alive. I sat up and leaned against a tree and continued to cry. I fell asleep as I cried, and when I woke up it was the next day. I did not have the energy to do anything. But I got myself to stand up and walk away from the forest. 

[cosmiclove-heavenstruck]

Dance Lessons | Harry James Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Wordcount: 12200 words (Yes, really. Do you ever just start to write a little oneshot and then it turns out as a fic with over 10000 words?)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, sexual tension but no smut, fluff, slight angst, slow burn i guess

Summary: Harry asks you to teach him how to dance for the upcoming Spring Ball.

a/n: Set in Harry’s sixth year. English is not my native language, so there might be spelling/grammar mistakes. (The beginning is inspired by this oneshot)

Not many could say that they had faced Voldemort more than once and had survived, but Harry Potter was one of the few lucky ones that had gotten away every time. And if that wasn’t enough, Harry had defeated horrifying creatures, had broken into the Ministry and had saved the wizarding world several times – more or less accidentally, but hey. He had dealt with Umbridge and fought Death Eaters.

To the world, he was a hero, he was the Boy Who Lived.

So yes, his record of fighting the evil was quite impressive for a sixteen-year-old. But there was one thing he knew he would never impress anyone with and that were his dance skills.

Because Harry Potter couldn’t dance for shit.

Everyone who had watched his poor attempt at a waltz at the Yule Ball knew it had been an embarrassing disaster, and a blessing when he had stopped – merely for Parvati Patil’s feet.

Everyone who had watched knew that Harry Potter had never before set foot on a dancefloor. And you had watched. You had watched with great interest because secretly, you had wished for him to ask you to the ball. But when there had been only two weeks left and Dean Thomas had asked you after Transfiguration class, you had said yes.

There you were, sitting with Dean beside Seamus and Lavender as well as Ron and his date Padma, your eyes glued to the raven-haired boy getting terribly out of step. You watched, of course, under the pretence that you found it disgracefully hilarious.

Harry had never thought about asking you to the Yule Ball, if he was quite honest with himself. He had been after Cho, and he waited way too long to ask her, so she was already going with Cedric. And you had a date with Dean.

As good as Harry was with fighting the dark and the evil, as bad was he with social interactions. He had no problem producing a Patronus, but he was absolutely useless when it came to talking to girls.

You were the opposite.

Yes, the boggart may had made you faint in front of your whole class, but on the other hand, talking seemed like the easiest task in the world. Whether it was a chat with a teacher or speaking to strangers, though you did not thrive off of that.

There was one other thing that made you stand out to the other girls (and boys) in your year: You knew how to dance, from a simple disco fox to a more complicated waltz.

So, when Professor Slughorn announced a Spring ball for the students in sixth and seventh year, Harry knew you were his only chance if he did not want to make a fool out of himself again. He asked you (after a whole week of practicing in front of the mirror), with heated cheeks and a fast-beating heart, if you could teach him how to dance.

You felt a bit taken by surprise by this request, but agreed, nonetheless.

Friday evenings, eight to nine o’clock, were now reserved for your weekly dance lessons.

Looking at Harry’s history, it should be no big deal to dance with a girl when you had already come across the most dangerous things existing in the wizarding world. He should not be nervous; what was the girl teaching you how to dance against gigantic spiders who saw you as their dessert?

Well, everything.             

The thing was, Harry could prepare spells and charms, he knew what he had to do when he was faced with a Dementor or a Boggart. His mind, however, went completely blank when it came to you, like his nerves were on fire. To say he was nervous was an underestimation.

Harry ran his hand through the mess of black locks in a rather useless attempt to flatten them. They jumped back up immediately as he let go, pointing in every direction but the one he wanted them to. Stupid genes.

Sometimes he wished he had inherited his mother’s hair. It would have been fun to be mistaken as a Weasley and he could pretend he and Ron were actually brothers.

To keep his hands busy, Harry smoothened the plaid shirt he had thrown on before darting another glance at the clock over the door of the abandoned classroom on the fifth floor. 8:01 o’clock.

His fingers drummed against the wooden desk he was leaning on to release his excited tension, which only worked until the door opened, and he jumped up into a straight position.

You stepped inside, a vinyl clammed under your arm and an apologizing smile on your lips.

“Sorry I’m late, Snape held me off,” You said, placing your bag on the table Harry had leaned on previously.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. Uh, are you alright?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah. I mean Snape just almost failed my assignment, but I found a new song to dance to, and I’m pretty sure you’ll like it,” You said as you rushed over to the old vinyl player in the corner and unwrapped the black record.

Harry followed your every movement. You could feel his eyes on you and bit down on your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

“It’s a bit slower than the other one, so it will be easier for you to follow,” You added and pulled the vinyl out, stroking a streak of Y/H/C hair behind your ear, your back still facing him.

When the record was placed correctly into the player, you turned back around and led Harry by the hand to the middle of the classroom. This simple touch alone made Harry’s head spin, and it did not help when you placed his hand onto your waist.

“Are you ready?” You asked and he nodded. “Good, follow my lead.”

There was nothing but admirable beauty, the way you moved to the soft piano music filling the room, Harry thought, and he hated himself for not realising sooner. You were like a sunset, and he was afraid to look right at you because what if you saw all the feelings swelling in his heart that dared to overspill at any moment.

You had been right, he adored the music you had brought with you, but he adored you even more.

You thought he looked at his feet because he was afraid to mess up the steps.     

“Hey,” You said softly, taking the hand from his shoulder to lift his chin. “Eyes up.”

“Yes. Right. Sorry.”

A sheepish smile spread over his face and your heart beat hectically against your rip cage as his emerald green eyes met yours.

It took Harry a great deal of strength to not break out of the dance routine he had so intensely studied and kiss you. But your hand slipped away from under his chin back to his shoulder and the moment was lost, like so many others.

Staying professional was not so simple for you either, as much as you liked to deny it. You liked Harry, more than friends should like each other, but who could blame you? Harry was very handsome, with his messy hair and those green eyes, he was sweet and caring, and he was dancing with you in an abandoned classroom, his hand on your waist.

Looking at it from this angle, there seemed to be no reason as to why you were so careful to deny your feelings.

Well, there was one problem: You thought he wanted to ask Cho to the ball to make up for the Yule Ball.

Harry was pretty oblivious when it came to love. Neither had he thought about you as more than friends before sixth year, nor had he realised that the feelings he had felt for Cho two years ago were similar to the ones he had for you now, though they were much more intense.

The worst part was that you two had been friends for three year and since then, you had spent a week of every summer holiday at the Burrow. Harry knew you; he knew that you liked his crappy jokes and his sarcastic comments, but never before had his stomach tingled when you laughed at them. Never before had there been goose bumps all over his skin when you hugged him. And to hell, never before had he acknowledged how goddamn beautiful you were.

“You’re getting really good.” You ripped him out of his thoughts.

“Oh. Really?” He asked.

It would be brilliant if he could dance without thinking about it all the time, fearing he could step on your feet.

“Yes, really,” You replied, grinning.

“Well, I- I suppose I have a good teacher.”

The piano music faded out and you stopped in the middle of the room, slipping your hand out of his. It was a good excuse to turn around and start the vinyl again, so you did not have to answer anything.

Harry stood there for a second, gulping and scratching his neck. He should not have said that.

What he had said flattered you, but it was only a knife dressed like compliment, stroking over your heart to stab you right after. All of this was amicable, temporary, fickle. All of this was for Cho.

You sat the needle back on the record.

“What’s it called? The song, I mean,” Harry asked quietly.

“‘Il Reste du Temps’. The rest of time.” You walked back up to him and took his hand, leading you two into the dance. With his hand on your lower back, he pulled you a bit closer than last time.

“So, there are only two weeks left. You have asked Cho by now, I suppose?” You asked to remind your thoughts of reality.

Harry narrowed his eyebrows, not sure how you had come to the conclusion he still liked Cho. She was great, for sure, but she wasn’t you.

“Oh. Uh, not really, no,” He answered. Your heart jumped.

“Well, you should hurry up. You don’t wanna wait until last minute like last time.”

“I- yeah, I mean, I don’t- I don’t want to go with Cho.”

You stepped forward even though you were supposed to draw back and stomp on his left foot. His hand around yours clenched for a second at the sudden pain.

“Shit. Sorry.” You quickly brought you two back into the right footstep order. “You’re not asking Cho?”

“No. I wanna- No.” Harry stopped himself from talking any further. He couldn’t ask you. He just couldn’t.

“Well, who do you wanna ask?” You said.

Maybe it was Ginny. She was gorgeous, phenomenal at Quidditch and in the Slugclub. Nothing you could say about yourself.

Harry opened his mouth and stammered. “It’s, uh, you know…some…girl.”

Oh yes, great save, Harry, congratulations, He thought to himself, couldn’t be any vaguer, could you? For Merlin’s sake, look at her, she is completely confused.

You were pretty even when you were confused, with your eyebrows drawn together over your eyes curiously inspecting him – Stop.

“Ah, okay. The lucky girl’s a secret,” You said, laughing lightly. It was definitely Ginny.

“No, I mean, she’s –” 

“It’s not my concern who you’ll ask, Harry,” You interrupted to calm him down. “As long as you ask her.”

Harry didn’t know what to reply to that. You really saw them just as friends.

The two of you danced for a while and Harry tried to memorise every golden speck in your dark eyes, every freckle, every curve, just so he could imagine you instead of the person he would dance with in a fortnight. If he would even go. Because what point was there to go to a ball if the one person he wanted to dance with more than anything else would not be there with him?

You tried to enjoy the closeness while it lasted. But the voices crowding your mind all shouted that he would never see you the way you saw him. That his face would never be so close ever again. That his hands would never rest on your body the way they did now, and never with any other intention than for the sake of learning how to dance, learning how to impress Ginny or whoever he would ask.

“Have you – have you asked anyone yet? To go to the ball with you?” Harry disrupted your thoughts and pulled you back into reality.

“No. I don’t even know if I’ll go,” You said and Harry’s heart dropped. “I mean, I’ll come to watch you dance, that’s for sure.”

Now his heart was way up in his throat, beating like hell. He swallowed and forced himself to answer. “No pressure then.”

You grinned at his comment. “Oh please, you can dance better than most of sixth and seventh year combined by now. You remember the spin I showed you last time?”

Harry nodded. He lifted his left arm and put a little pressure on your waist. You performed a small twirl before he caught you again, hand on your side. He smiled proudly.

“Really good.” The music stopped and you looked at the clock on the wall behind Harry. 8:57 o’clock. “I guess that’s it for today.”

Harry smiled sadly but you thought it was just your mind, playing you a trick. You packed the record back into the cover while Harry shouldered his back bag, handing yours to you. Then he held the door open for you, and you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

Harry had already pulled out the Marauders Map to check if the way back to the Gryffindor tower was clear. You weren’t technically allowed out after nine p.m. because of the new safety measurements, but it was part of the charm.

“Filch’s down on the first floor and Snape’s in his office,” Harry informed you.

“Okay.” You nodded.

Quietly and side by side, you two walked back to the Gryffindor tower. There was plenty of silence to break, plenty of time to ask you to the ball, Harry thought. But he was too afraid.

–

“It’s not that easy, alright?”

“Bloody hell, you spent every Friday evening with her! Half of our year thinks you’re secretly doing it in that classroom.”

For that, Ron earned a jab into his ribs. The two made their way through the masses of students down the last staircase to the Great Hall.

“Ow! It’s not my fault, you can’t open your mouth.”

“Oh, I can’t open my mouth? Have you asked Hermione yet?”

Harry was sure this would shut Ron up, but he was wrong.

“I asked her six weeks ago and she said yes, mate.”

Harry stopped in his tracks, stunned. “Wot?”

“Merlin, do you ever listen to me?”

Ron shook his head, walking to breakfast. Harry needed a few seconds before he could move again, then he caught up with his best friend. He was about to say something back when Ron’s sister Ginny interrupted them, wrapping her arms around both of Harry and Ron’s shoulders.

“Morning boys,” She greeted them enthusiastically.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was covered in a pale blue and yellow, the upcoming sun shining golden through the high windows.

“So.” Hermione poured both of you a glass of pumpkin juice. “How was it yesterday?”

“Mhm?” You looked up from your toast.

She sighed as if her question was rather obvious. “The dance lesson with Harry?”

“Oh.” You shrugged. “Normal.”

“So, nothing happened? Nothing you want to tell me?” She asked further.

You eyed her suspiciously, but she kept an innocent face expression.

“It’s not like we could do much besides dancing.”

Lavender beside you snickered and Parvati snorted into her coffee.

“Believe me, there is a lot you could do in that hour besides dancing,” Parvati said.

“God, no! Have you met Harry?” Lavender said bemusedly. “Like he's the type to have secret sex.”

“Still waters run deep,” Parvati replied, a smug grin on her lips. “Don't they, Y/N?”

Hermione crunched her nose at the suggestive tone as you narrowed your eyes at the two girls, shaking your head.

“Yes, keep making fun of my non-existing love life.”

You grabbed the strawberry marmalade, determined to ignore any topic concerning Harry. While you had lain awake last night, you had decided to bury your feelings for him all together and get over it. This would be easier once your dance lessons came to an end and the ball was done.

“Well, it does exist for everyone else,” Lavender interposed.

“And it would exist for you, too, if you would finally do something,” Hermione said, leaning forward.

“What?” You asked. “I mean, yeah, I like him, but he is definitely not into me like that. And I can't force him to be.”

Hermione groaned, and Parvati rummaged through her bag, pulling out a piece of parchment and making some space on the table.

“Okay, let’s see,” She began, “He asked you to teach him to dance. Big step for him, you know that. He always stares at you during Quidditch instead of the Snitch. Wood would've killed him by now. He always sits beside you. He definitely smelled you in Amortentia, regarding how he looked at you during that class. And since then, he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. He –”

“He does not,” You said, grabbing her wrist to stop her from writing any further.

“Yeah, he does,” Lavender argued. “Look!”

You turned to spot Harry alongside Ron and his sister Ginny coming through the doorway, and for one second, your eyes met. Then Ginny said something, and Harry looked at her, laughing.

You sighed and stuffed the rest of your toast down your throat to get rid of the sour feeling twirling and burning in your stomach.

“Well, Ginny’s pretty funny,” Hermione tried.

“Yeah, she’s funny and pretty and she likes everything he likes.”

“None of that matters because he fell in love with you and not Ginny,” Lavender said, smiling brightly.

“He did not – not what you said.”

“He did! The list doesn’t lie.”

Parvati waved the parchment through the air, and you snatched it out of her hand, drowning it in the pumpkin juice before anyone could read it. Hermione curled her lip as she watched the paper soaking up the orange liquid, sinking to the ground of the jug.

In the same moment, Harry, Ron and Ginny reached your table, and to your surprise, Harry really did sit down beside you, your knees touching shortly while he climbed over the bench. The sudden touch sent sparks through your body and filled you with a comfortable warm which was quickly extinguished by Ginny sitting down next to Harry.

You didn’t want to be jealous.

There was no need to compare yourself to Ginny, you were two completely different people. But hearing her talk about Quidditch to the guys and seeing her flicking her beautiful hair over her slim shoulder made it so obvious how perfect for Harry she was. You couldn’t compete with that, in fact, you didn’t even want to compete with that.

No, you would get over your feelings and maybe ask someone else to spend the next Hogsmeade weekend with you. Those evenings with Harry, those moments too good to be true would stay somewhere deep down in your heart, locked away from the real world.

The weekend left as fast as it had come, and soon enough Harry and you both found yourselves in your day-to-day school life, studying for an upcoming Charms test and writing essays for Snape and McGonagall.

There wasn’t much time to think about each other, yet Harry managed to glance up from his homework a few times to stare at you opposite from him, snuggled into an armchair while flicking through a book. He noticed that you captured your tongue between your lips or mouthed single words to yourself whenever you were so deeply sunken into thoughts that you forgot the many people around you.

The latter found Harry very impressive because he was never that relaxed if more than three people were with him. Your lips on the other hand found Harry... well, much more interesting than his homework was the least to say.

Every day he woke up thinking that today, he would ask you. But whenever he came close to ask, he changed the topic or was distracted by friends and classmates.

Even Ron had given up with his jokes by now, which was a very bad sign and a nonverbal way to say, Man, you fucked up.

–

You had decided to make the last of your dance lessons a memorable one. An hour of pretending, of being close to someone you know you would never be this close to ever again.

Therefore, you had asked your older sister to send some of your favourite records from home, which you were now sorting through in the abandoned classroom. It was ten minutes to eight and you were sipping a butterbeer to cool your nerves. All those times before you had been as calm as ever, but today you were on the edge.

The door opened and you turned to find Harry in the doorway, hair messy as ever.

“Hi,” He said and the corners of his lips jumped up into a lopsided smile.

“Hey. You’re early.”

“Could say the same about you.”

“Yeah, you could,” You mumbled, pushing the needle of the record player down onto the vinyl.

Classic music filled the air and you walked over to Harry to lead him to the middle of the room after he had dropped his back bag to the floor. With the high heels on your feet, you were almost eye to eye, your nose at the height of his lips.

For a wonder, he did not need your instruction to place his hand on your waist and pulled you much closer than usual.

Harry felt his heart beating in his throat. Being this close to you was galvanic, every nerve was burning, and then again, for the first time in two months, he was able to close his eyes and let himself sink in, to melt with the music, to feel the tact pulsating through his whole body. It was what you had tried to teach him all along.

And yet his tongue was tied. He just had to ask. Would you like to go to the ball with me? One simple question. You had told him yourself to not wait until last-minute to ask, and now with every minute, every hour, every day passing it felt more ridiculous. He had known that he wanted to ask you and only you to the ball, but every time he thought about forming the question, his mouth failed him.

Your eyes lay calmly on him, tapping his shoulder in time to the music while secretly trying to remember every little detail of his face: His prominent eyebrows curved over his emerald green eyes, his flushed cheeks and the dimples created by his light smile lying on his lips.

Harry had become, for lack of a better word, quite fantastic at slow dancing. There was confidence in the way he moved through the room and held onto you, mingled with a certain elegance and appreciation of the art he was participating in. A good teacher, he had called you. Well, regarding slow dances, yes.

But there was one other thing he had yet to learn.

“You’re really good, you know that?” You said, and his smile brightened.

“Yeah? Or are you just saying that because it’s my last lesson?” He asked.

“No, I mean it. You know, I wrote my sister last week and she send some of my vinyl discs from home,” You told him as the music slowly faded out and let your hand slip from his shoulder and hand to turn to the record player, not noticing how his fingers lingered a moment longer on your waist.

Harry watched how you sorted through the discs, not able to make use of their names in any way. The only record he had come across before those dance lessons had been one by a singer named Bonnie Tyler, who Aunt Petunia secretly listened to on repeat during the summer when Uncle Vernon went grocery shopping or mowed the lawn.

Harry wasn’t a big fan, which was pretty much the only thing he had in common with his cousin Dudley.

“Here. To dancing and a nice Spring ball.” Harry snapped out of his thoughts. You held out a bottle of butterbeer, which he took and snapped its bottle top off, regarding for a moment to say something along the lines like To you, for teaching me how to dance or To us, but that seemed a bit too much.

Therefore, he went with a simple “Cheers” and touched glasses with you.

While he took a big sip in hopes it would make him braver, you decided on a turquoise and pink coloured disc with a man dancing on the front, the words Footloose in ornate writing covering its front. He couldn’t help but notice the grin you tried to hide, as if knowing something he didn’t.

“What’s that?” He asked, leaning against the table beside you and putting his beer aside.

“That’s what the cool kids dance to.”

You placed the needle onto the record. Drums began to play a fast rhythm, mixed with an electric guitar, and you slipped off your high heels, now only in tights. Harry watched with fearful curiosity how you snapped your fingers in time, bopping your head with closed eyes to internalise the music.

Every movement of your feet, your hips, your shoulders was nonchalant, effortless and... well, simply cool.

“Come on!” You said loudly over the music, waving Harry closer.

“No, no, that’s –” He shook his head, heat flushing his cheeks, and crossed his arms.

“Yes!”

You danced up to him, grabbing him by his hands and pulling him to the middle of the room.

Harry had improvised a lot when it came to fighting evil. His whole trip to the ministry had been decided because of his gut instinct, because he had thought he knew what he was doing. Well, that was probably a bar example. He had made everything worse back then.

But everything he had done to fight off the hundreds of Dementors at the Great Lake, or the creatures in the maze two years ago, or Voldemort at the graveyard, every single thing had been purely and spontaneously improvised.

Now, he wasn’t sure if he was that good at improvising dance moves, but you had other plans.

“Come on, don’t you trust me?” You said as his fingers clenched around your hands, unable to let go, like a man clinging onto a life buoy in the middle of the ocean.

And Harry wanted to say back that of course he trusted you, more than he probably knew himself, but all that came out was a “Yeah” which sounded more like a laugh than an actual word because of the grin stretched across his lips.

“Just dance the way you dance when no one’s watching,” You said.

“I don’t – I don’t do that,” He admitted, feeling how his cheeks burned under the unbelieving look coming from you.

“Okay, then close your eyes and just – just do it. Here, I’ll do it, too!”

You closed your eyes, smiling brightly, and slipped your fingers out of his, twirling on the spot like you usually only did behind closed doors, and clapping your hands in time with the music.

Harry couldn’t rip his gaze off of you, the way your body moved without any shame, your ridiculous head banging while acting like you play the guitar – air guitar, that’s what it was called, he had seen Dudley and his friends doing it, but never with so much... passion?

You were quite passionate about dancing, much more passionate than you were about school or Quidditch, and it fascinated him. How you could let loose, could forget what everyone thought of you, and he wanted to feel it too, wanted to not think that everyone was judging him.

So, Harry closed his eyes, concentrated on the beat of the music and your hands clapping, and then he did what you had been doing: Moving his arms, his legs, his feet, all a bit offbeat, all much less cool than what you did, but it had the effect he had wished for.

He forgot. Forgot about everything going on, everything in the past, everything that would come. It was like the music had deleted Voldemort from his mind. There was only his body and those absurdly freeing dance moves he would have been ashamed off any other time.

But not with you.

“Hey, you’re doing it! You’re doing it, look at you!” You shouted over the music, and Harry ripped his eyes open in the same moment as you grab his hands again. He slowed his legs.

“You said you wouldn’t look,” He said breathlessly, very aware of his fast-beating heart.

But if he was honest, he did not mind that you had seen him. If he could choose any of his friends to watch him dance like this, it would definitely be you.

“I had to, I’m sorry!” You laughed, and the song came to an end. “Oh, I have something even better, you’ll like that!”

You hit him friendly in the chest and rushed over to your pile of vinyl discs, wrapping the Footloose back up and pulling out another one from a white and pink packaging with two people on the front.

Harry would’ve never believed that dance lessons would be more exhausting than Quidditch training, but he had soon been disabused. He took a huge sip from his bottle of butterbeer and watched how you placed the needle on the disc before reaching for your own bottle.

“‘You broke my heart – ‘cause I couldn't dance – you didn’t even want me around!’” You were mouthing along the words the singer was speaking in an overdramatic seriousness, holding your bottle like a microphone. Harry was grinning at you, afraid of what would come next. “‘And now I'm back – to let you know – I can really shake 'em down!’”

The music dropped in, and you shook your hips, hands on your black skirt.

“Now don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Dirty Dancing,” You dared as Harry stayed at his spot, and he shrugged helplessly.

You shook your head at him with a smile on your lips, placed your bottle away and pulled him away from the table until you two were almost as close as in your usual dance lessons.

“Okay, like this.” You grabbed him gently by the waist and pushed him a bit down so his legs were slightly bent. Harry’s heart jumped at the unexpected touch. “Good, yeah, look at what I’m doing.”

Your grip became firmer, circularly moving his hips like you did. His eyes jumped up between your face and your waist, and he tried his best to copy your movements while calming his heart speed down.

“Yes, good! Now, your upper body, look at me – yeah! Good, eyes up,” You reminded him, and he glanced at your face, his cheeks flushed.

“Is that okay?” You asked, stepping closer so your hips almost touch, and he nodded. You took his hand, placed it on your lower back, and wrapped your own arms around his neck, just like Johnny and Baby had done it in the beginning of Dirty Dancing.

“That’s good!” You encouraged him, and he grinned at you, his face bright red. “You know, in the movie, they have another dance with a lift.”

“You’re not gonna make me do that, are you?” He asked.

You shook your head, laughing. “No, definitely not without training and a mattress,” You said, slowing your hip movements. “Maybe after the ball. I mean –”

The words had just slipped out of your mouth without thinking about them before. But Harry smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of his forehead, while I’ve Had The Time Of My Life began to play, and Bill Medley’s voice filled the room.

Harry felt like he was on fire. If you wanted to continue the dance lessons next year it must be because you liked him. In some way, you liked him, and it was very hard for him to concentrate during this dance. And training on a mattress would not make that easier – Stop it, stop it, just answer!

“Yeah, okay,” He said, and your heart jumped up in excitement. You smiled back at him and grabbed his free hand with yours, leading you back into a simple dance routine fitting the music. Harry followed almost effortlessly, only shortly glancing at his feet.

“I’ll have to demand payment if we keep doing this.”

“What kind of payment?”

His hand on your lower back pushed you a bit closer, you were almost chest to chest. Was he... flirting with you?

Whatever it was, it made you speechless, and in a moment of incautiousness, your eyes fell down to his lips. You held your breath for a second as you looked back up into his eyes, slowing your movements. He returned your gaze, but just as you were about to gather all your courage, his eyes shifted to the door of the classroom, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

“What?” You asked, turning around.

“Filch,” He said and not far down the hall, you heard the meowing of Mrs. Norris.

Panic flared up inside of you as you saw the clock on the wall: Half past nine.

“Argh, fuck.”

You let go off him and rushed over to the table with the record play on top, shoving your vinyl discs into your schoolbag and collecting your high heels in a hurry.

Outside in the hallway, the scratchy voice of Filch mixed with the clicking of his cat’s claws on the stone tiles. Harry had grabbed his bag from the floor and fished out his Invisibility Cloak. As you turned around, he had reached you and enveloped you two in the cloak, standing almost as close to you as a few seconds ago.

“Have you found someone, Mrs. Norris?” Filch’s voice echoed through the hallway. “Is someone out of bed at night?”

“We have to get out,” You whispered, not very keen on getting detention any time soon.

“If we open the door now, he’ll know someone disguised is there,” Harry answered.

“How often have you snuck out of bed at night?”

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards into a lopsided smile.

“Enough times to know what to do.”

The scratching on the classroom door reminded Harry that, despite the fact that they were invisible, it was still pretty obvious that someone had been in here. Harry flicked his wand at the ceiling light right in time – the candles went out and the two of you were coated in darkness just before Filch pushed the door open and the light from his lantern fell onto the stone floor. You held your breath, hoping he would leave again.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Norris’ red eyes scanned the room and the greyish cat walked up to you as if she could actually see you. Instinctively, you wanted to move backwards, but Harry’s arm wrapped around you, holding you in place. You looked up to him and he slowly shook his head.

Mrs. Norris eyed you for a few more seconds before she suddenly jumped onto the table behind you, walking up to the two almost emptied butterbeer bottles and bumping her head against them.

“Oh no.” Your voice was no more than a whisper. “I didn’t –”

Harry placed his hand over your mouth, forcing you to keep quiet.

“Sorry,” You mumbled.

Filch had turned away from the other side of the room he had inspected and was now walking over to his cat. With his arm around your mid, Harry pulled you two quietly away from the table he was now inspecting. You weren’t entirely sure whether it was the panic of escaping Filch or Harry’s chest pressed against your back, but the butterflies in your stomach were jittery as though they were on drugs, and your heart beat unbelievably fast.

Harry felt your heartbeat. He felt the pulsating blood in your veins on your neck where his arm lay, reaching up to your mouth. You were barely breathing, and he figured it was because he was holding you like he was about to kidnap you.

“Run when we’re in the hallway,” He whispered, eyes steadily watching Filch, and removed his hand from your lips to grab your free hand. You nodded shortly. Fortunately, Filch had left the door open, and in one swift motion, Harry had steered you outside.

Fingers still interlocked with yours, he began to run, you by his side. And despite the fact that you two had almost been caught, despite that you had been interrupted when he had felt most confident, despite the ruined moment, he felt light and free and happy.

You were clutching your shoes, slithering over the cold tiles in your black tights, and Harry, looking at you, almost missed the last step of the stairs leading to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He held onto you as he staggered, and you giggled breathlessly, pulling him back up.

“That – stupid – fucking – cat. Can she see through your cloak?” You asked.

Harry shrugged and ruffled through his messy hair.

“Don’t know. I think, but I’m glad she can’t talk,” He said, and a grin spread over your lips, which he returned.

He caught your eyes, looking at you like before, like there was something he needed to say – the tingling feeling in your core got overwhelmed by heart-racing panic and because of some sour mix of uncertainty and fear, you slipped out from under the Invisibility Cloak, taking a few steps away from Harry.

Not a second later, he emerged as well, fighting to keep the smile on his face like his heart hadn't just sunk so deep he wasn't sure if it was even still connected to his veins.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Your voice was too loud, too squeaky to convince him. “Yeah, I – I'm sorry, it's just been a long week and I'm really tired. I'm gonna – gonna go...”

You gestured to the portrait behind you, avoiding his eyes, and turned to escape the situation.

Harry stared at the spot where you had vanished into the common room, his fingers clenching around the fabric of his cloak before tossing it to the ground. It didn't give the satisfying sound he had wanted to make, so he sent a “Fuck!” after it.

“Young boy, that is not a very appropriate language, now, is it?”

His eyes flew up to the Fat Lady, who had apparently watched with great interest. “Besides, what are you doing that late out of bed? I mean I know it gets later on Fridays for the two of you but it's later than usual today –”

“Chinese Fireball.”

“I just don't know what you are doing during that hour. There are rumours, for sure –”

“I told you the password, now will you open the fucking portrait? Chinese Fireball.”

“Oh, fine.” She let the portrait swing forward. “I'll find out by myself... maybe visit some paintings down on fifth floor...”

Harry ignored the Fat Lady.

He also ignored Ron calling after him from the sofa in front of the fireplace, as well as Hermione's questioning look and all the other people staring at him as he darted through the common room and up the stairs, slamming the door of his dorm shut behind him.

He ignored them because the only person he wanted to be seen with had just left him standing in the hallway and he wasn't even sure why.

The first time you saw each other again was three days later in Potions. You had ignored him on purpose, which you knew was obvious to him: Leaving the Great Hall whenever he stepped inside, sitting as far from him in the common room as possible, avoiding his eyes... that did not leave that much room for speculations.

You didn't want to hurt him, you really didn't, but you couldn't be friends any longer, especially not after last Friday. You weren't even sure what exactly had happened – had he really flirted with you or had that been your imagination? Probably the latter. He had asked someone else the ball after all. Right?

Parvati nudged you with her elbow, and you snapped out of your thoughts, noticing the hole in your parchment created by your quill. The two of you sat in the far back of Professor Slughorn’s class, who was in the middle of telling one of his anecdotes instead of teaching about Veritaserum.

“What’s going on?” She asked in a hushed voice. “You’ve been weird since Friday.”

Lavender, who sat in front of you, turned around. “Is it because of – you know?”

She gestured towards Harry in his usual place diagonally across from you. You sighed, placed your quill aside to rub your hands over your face and shrugged. You had also avoided any questions from your friends about Friday, mostly because you could not even answer them yourself.

“I thought he would ask you,” Lavender whispered while throwing a quick glance at Slughorn to make sure he was still occupied with his story. “Didn’t he?”

“No,” You mouthed. Parvati shook her head.

“Man, you’d think he had grown a set of balls after all. If it turns out he just used you to look good in front of Ginny, I swear to Merlin –”

“Well, that’s what it looks like, I mean, he had enough time to ask you,” Lavender said.

Before you could reply anything, Parvati had grabbed her wand and leaned forward. In the next second, the blue Jobberknoll feathers on Harry’s desk burst into flames with an ear-piercing noise.

Both Harry and Ron jumped up, startled from the sudden explosion, and Hermione let out a little shriek as one of the sparks got caught up in her locks. Snickering came from the Slytherin table, and Crabbe and Goyle were stupidly grinning.

“Was that you? Stupid tosspot, I’ll shove that feather up your –,” Ron swore loudly, fists high and ready to walk over to the Slytherins, who had gotten up as well and were throwing insults through the room.

“Calm down, m’boys, no need to get abusive.”

Slughorn stepped between the two fronts while both Harry and Hermione pulled Ron back down onto his chair. With a wave of Slughorn’s wand, the feathers stopped burning and were as good as new.

“Have you gone mental?” You asked during the turmoil. Parvati shrugged and innocently shoved her wand aside.

“You’re my friend and if he hurt you, he’ll get what he deserves –”

“He didn’t hurt me!” You whispered angrily. “I was the one who panicked, I ran away that evening because I was afraid of what he would say! Not Harry. I left him like the idiot I am even though he – he was super nice and said he wanted to learn more –”

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Sorry, Professor, I was just –”

“Talking to Ms. Patil, I noticed. Could you still answer my question?” Slughorn eyed you, and so were all the other students.

“Uh...yes... if you could repeat it? Sir.” You said, and once again snickering echoed through the classroom, the loudest coming from Pansy Parkinson.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Parvati reaching for her wand again, and you quickly pressed her hand down to the table, awkwardly smiling at Slughorn.

“I asked if you could tell me anything about the usage of Veritaserum in court,” He kindly repeated and you straightened your back, ignoring Hermione’s raised hand.

“Well, the potion is strictly banned by the British Ministry of Magic, therefore they don’t use it during interrogations and such, which is also because, like any other potion, it’s not infallible. But I read that in some Asian countries, the accused can choose if they want to take Veritaserum before they give testimony. Unfortunately, in some courts they give the accused failed Veritaserum in order to alter the given testimony fraudulently.”

You had never read about that, you were – ironically – making it up, but Slughorn didn’t seem to notice.

“Very well, that’ll be five points for Gryffindor,” He said. “That reminds me of –”

As Slughorn fell back into his old habit of telling personal stories during class, you sank back into your chair and stared at the chapped top of the desk for the rest of the lesson.

Only the bell ripped Slughorn out of his monologue, and over the rustling of chairs, he told the class to read the next chapter of Advanced Potion Making until Wednesday.

“Courtyard?” You asked Parvati as to where to spend your free lesson.

“Yeah, but I got a question about that graded essay from last week. Just go ahead, I’ll catch up with you,” She answered and made her way to the front. Alongside with Lavender, you were one of the first to leave the Potions classroom.

“I wish I hadn’t picked Arithmancy,” Lavender complained.

“You can sleep longer on Thursdays, remember?” You said as you reached the entrance hall. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Lavender began to climb up the stairs to the third floor, and you walked down the hallway. It was freezing cold outside, but the courtyard was beautiful during every time of the year, especially in the early mornings when the sun melted the iced-up grass and you could share a hot chocolate with your friends on one of the benches.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait!”

You turned to spot none other than Theodore Nott running up to you, his Slytherin scarf loosely around his neck.

“Hi,” He said as he had reached you.

“Uh, hi. Can I help you?” You asked.

“Actually, yeah. I wanted to ask if you have a dance to spare at the Spring ball? I mean, I know you’re going with Potter, I just wanted one dance with someone professional –”

“I’m not going with Harry,” You blurted out. Theodore narrowed his eyebrows.

“What?” He asked, a bemused smile on his lips.

You gulped and shook your head, crossing your arms. “I’m not going with... anyone.”

“Oh. Well, then,” His body relaxed visibly, and he raised his eyebrows, “do you wanna go with me?”

You opened your mouth, an agreement already on the tip of your tongue, but you knew that was just out of desperation and not because you actually wanted to go to the ball with Theodore.

“Hey, you know what, no pressure at all, okay?” He said, placing his hand on your shoulder casually. “I’ll be at the ball anyway, so if you want to dance then, I’m free.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Theodore. I’ll think about it.”

“You can call me Theo. Only if you want to, obviously.”

A grin crept upon your face. “Yeah, I’ll – I’ll think about it.”

Whatever Harry had felt the two days prior, it was nothing compared to the sour feeling circulating in his stomach now, like some dragon-creature spitting fire and tearing at his entrails with sharp claws. Inside of him, everything was clenching and itching, but on the outside, he was numb.

Like his brain had been disconnected from his muscles, wherefore he was only able to stare at Theodore Nott and his stupid, complacent grin and his hand on your shoulder while he asked you to the ball.

This wasn’t fair. How come everyone else but him was able to do it, how come everybody else had managed to find a date, when – to be honest – he had been provided with one of the best initial situations? How come the only thing he was apparently fit for was getting himself into trouble and escaping death every goddamn year? Harry had kind of forgotten about all that was to come, all that Dumbledore had told him, and the memory Slughorn was still tending like dark secret simply because of you.

The worst thing wasn’t that Theodore Nott had just asked you to go to the Spring ball with him. No, the worst thing was that you had agreed.

The only thing that was left for him was to run, which he did now: Up to the Gryffindor tower, tossing his back bag into a corner and grabbing his Firebolt from under the bed, then back down to the Quidditch pitch in record time.

Flying was one of the most freeing activities known to Harry, especially in the cool, fresh morning air with no one else around. High above the frozen grass and the wooden stands, much higher than probably allowed without any teacher near by, Harry paused to watch the sun over the Forbidden Forest.

He wondered if you had ever flown before, if you knew how brilliant it was to hover a thousand feet above the ground, far away from all the problems. Far away from Ron asking what the bloody hell was wrong with him. Far away from Hermione telling him that it was his own fault for waiting so long but that you surely weren’t interested like that in that tosser Theodore (though she would probably word it much more formal).

Time was relative up here, Harry had noticed over the years, so he closed his eyes and shut the world out for a moment. Saturday was still light-years away anyway, so –

“Harry, is that you?”

He almost fell from his broom.

With his heart still beating way to fast and adrenalin pumping though his veins, he turned his broom around to find no one other that Luna standing inside commentary box and waving up to him. Oh well. So much for being alone.

He steered his Firebolt down to the blonde witch and landed beside her.

“What are you doing her, Luna?” He asked as climbed from his broomstick. “Don’t you have classes right now?”

“Oh, yes. But I saw that you are sad so I asked Professor Sprout if I could go because I’m not feeling very well,” She explained and sat down on one of the benches.

“You lied to a professor?”

“Oh, no,” She said, looking at him with her dreamy blue eyes. “I don’t feel well when my friends are sad.”

Harry didn’t know what to reply to that, so he simply sat down next to her. Luna had such a strange, but calm energy, like a pulsating, pink bubble inhibiting her, and if you were lucky, she let you inside this bubble and you could shut the world out for a moment.

“Harry, why are you sad?” Luna asked softly after a while.

“Because... because I like someone who doesn’t like me back,” He said.

Luna placed her hand upon his, and he saw that she had painted her fingernails in every colour of the rainbow. Though that was probably Ginny’s work.

“I think Y/N likes you very much,” She said. Harry scoffed.

“Not the way I like her,” He said. “She just agreed to go to the ball with Nott. I saw it. She looked happy. And when I wanted to ask her last week, she ran away.”

“You know, first I thought you wanted to go to the ball with somebody else,” She said. “I thought maybe you wanted to ask Cho again and wanted to prepare this time. And maybe Y/N thought so, too.”

Harry looked up at the blonde girl.

“She did ask me if I was going to ask Cho,” He said, remembering one of the dance lessons.

“And did you tell her that you actually want to ask her?”

“No,” He admitted, burying his face in his hands. “I panicked... and now it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. You should still go to the ball, and then you should tell her,” Luna said.

“How? I can’t do it when we’re alone, I certainly can’t do it when there’s a hundred people around,” Harry said miserably.

“Well, then don’t.” Luna shrugged. “If you want her to be with Theodore –”

“I don’t want that,” He interrupted her. “Of course, I don’t.”

“Then go to the ball and tell her. I know you can do that.”

Saturday evening came around faster than you liked it to. Over the last four days, you had noticed Theodore’s eyes on you more than once during the meals or potions class, but it did not cause the tingling feeling in your stomach you would like his looks to cause.

If anything, you felt a pressure to talk to him and to spend time with him because you would go to the ball together. But you did not give in to that pressure and avoided him as much as possible, which led to you often leaving the potions classroom as one of the first.

To be honest, you were much more concentrated on Harry.

Harry who did not sit beside you during meals anymore. Harry who did not look in your direction but rather stared at his plate. Harry who looked like he had just lived through a very miserable week.

And you knew that was because you had left him standing in the hallway last Friday night. Maybe he had figured that you had feelings for him and that was his way of dealing with it: Distancing himself from you.

You wished you had not run. You wished you could’ve stayed in that abandoned classroom forever, your favourite song playing and his arms around you.

–

“What eyeshadow should I use?”

“The darker one.”

“Y/N?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, looking up from where you sat on the floor in your puffy, ankle-long purple-pink dress. Parvati held out her eyeshadow palette, eyebrows raised as she sceptically eyed you. Her black hair was still wrapped around a dozen curlers. Lavender had spent all morning on them.

“Yes, the darker one,” You said. “Brings out your eyes.”

Thankfully, that answer seemed to satisfy her enough to not ask how you were doing. She and Lavender had already asked that over a million times, but you had reassured them that you were totally okay.

Parvati turned back to face the mirror.

“When did you want to meet with Nott?” Lavender asked. She kneeled in front of her trunk, pondering whether she should wear black or silver heels.

“Half past seven,” You mumbled, picking at the tulle of your dress.

Theodore had held you back yesterday after Defence against the Dark Arts to tell you that he would be at the Great Hall at 7:30 and that you were welcome to eat dinner with him and his friends – which included people like Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson; people you usually avoided by all means, people that had laughed at you for tripping over the last step of a stair, for not knowing an answer to one of Snape’s stupid questions, or for simply being Muggleborn.

You had never been less interested in going to a social event. All you wanted to do was lay in bed under your blanket and erase the last week out of your mind.

“Oh, come on, darling, we talked about this.” Lavender came over and squished your cheeks, brushing away a tear. “Today is not the day to sulk about some guy who doesn’t return your feelings. Today is your day, and you’re gonna have fun with us. Don’t let some guy ruin that. Okay?”

You sniffed and nodded, not able to answer because she cupped your cheeks so solidly. Lavender smiled and kissed your forehead.

“That’s right,” She said. “We’re gonna have some dinner and dance a bit and if by then you still feel bad, we can go back to our dorm.”

“And if Harry dares to talk to you, he’s gonna know what’s it feels like to be kicked in the balls with a heel,” Parvati added dryly. You laughed.

The Great Hall was decorated with yellow, pink and purple banners, and the four long house tables had been exchanged with much smaller, round ones scattered where the staff table usually stood, on each of them a vase filled with rosa tulips and white daffodils.

The ceiling did not mirror the night sky outside but a beautiful, orange sunset lighting up the dance floor in the middle. Opposite from the many tables, on the other end of the hall, Slughorn had organised a stage with a cover band. Next to the stage hung a long parchment onto which everyone could write requests.

You spotted your Potions teacher, dressed in a bright green suit, next to Dumbledore, his robes a terrible pink, both of them writing down their song requests.

“A Galleon that Dumbledore is a Spice Girls fan,” Lavender said grinning as she had followed your eyes.

“Bet,” Parvati said, grabbing three drinks from a passing waiter. “Here. Cheers.”

The three of you clinked glasses and took a sip of the red punch – it tasted strongly of various fruits, coconut, and bitter alcohol.

You let your eyes glide further over the hall and the people that sat together in groups around the tables, some of them already eating. Secretly, you were looking for Harry, though you only discovered Ginny in between Luna and Hermione, all of them chatting happily, and a few tables behind them, Theodore.

He waved as he saw you, gesturing to come over. You forced yourself to smile and wave back at him.

“I’ll see you later,” You said, chugging down the rest of your drink.

“Tell us if he’s being an asshole,” Parvati said. “Or really any of them.”

“And have some fun,” Lavender added.

You took one last look at your friends – Parvati in her silk, almond white, slim dress, and Lavender with flowers in her hair, their arms linked together – and swallowed thickly before turning and making your way through the crowd towards Theodore, though you made sure to give the table with Ginny a wide berth.

“Hi, Y/N,” Theodore greeted you, pecking a swift kiss on your left cheek. His eyes, however, were gliding over the room filling with more and more students. “We’ve already ordered some drinks, come on.”

You took a step back after the kiss, blinking quickly, then noticed how the other people around the table were staring at you:

Pansy and Daphne eyed you and your dress dismissively, and Blaise sipped on his wine, eyebrows raised. Only Draco was slumped in his chair and chewed on a gum, not wasting a single glance at you. He looked as uninterested in this Spring Ball as you felt.

An hour ago, you sure as hell wouldn’t have believed to relate to bloody Draco Malfoy.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N,” You said, forcing a smile on your face and holding out your hand towards Pansy, as she sat closest to you. “I like your dress. Matches your earrings.”

That compliment seemed to leave a mark. Her judging look softened and she shook your hand.

After introducing yourself to everyone (well, except Draco, who had only shortly nodded at you), you sat down in between Theodore and Blaise, and ordered something to eat.

Pansy and Daphne were huddled together the whole time, giggling and pointing at others, while Draco raised a complaint about every meal on the menu or really any other small inconvenience that had the unfortune to be spotted by him (“I can’t eat that, it has tomatoes in it. Nothing on here is gluten free. I’ll write father first thing in the morning. Pansy, will you shut the fuck up for a second? That’s not even a real band. God, I hate this place.”).

“He’s a whiny bitch most of the time, but his family has a great holiday chalet in France,” Blaise said to you after Draco had shot you an annoyed look for asking if you should ask the band to play a different song. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be friends with him.”

“I hope you choke on that disgusting wine,” Draco muttered, and you chuckled.

“Sure, darling,” Blaise replied, sharing a look with you. Until now, Blaise had surprisingly talked the most with you, and it turned out he wasn’t half as bad as you had always thought he would be.

Theodore on the other hand had only occasionally asked you how your meal was and how long you had planned to stay. His eyes had not held contact with yours for longer than a second and were still searching for something in the crowd, which was – by the way – having fun on the dance floor while you had not moved in almost an hour.

It wasn’t until a particularly beautiful girl from Ravenclaw strode past your table that Theodore hooked his foot around the leg of your chair to pull you closer and placed his hand on your upper thigh, giving you his full attention for the first time that night.

“Have I told you that you look very pretty tonight?” He asked, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“Er – no,” You said, darting a confused look towards the Ravenclaw girl.

“Well, you do,” Theodore went on and turned your head back to face him by stroking his thumb over your cheek before pressing his lips onto the skin beneath your ear. They felt chapped and not pleasant in any way. You cringed.

“Uh, sorry, but that’s maybe a bit early, don’t you think?” You said, drawing back and shoving his hand from your thigh.

“She’s gone anyway, Theo,” Blaise said. You did not understand.

“Who’s gone?” You asked, looking back and forth between Theodore and the others, who all seemed to know something you didn’t. Pansy giggled.

“Nothing,” Theodore said. His sweet voice had turned bitter, and you felt like that was your fault. He stood up. “I’ll get some more punch.”

The band segued from an upbeat song into a much slower one, and the light of the candles magically dimmed.

“Do you want to dance maybe?” You asked Theodore as a way to make up for your rejection, but he had already pushed past a group of chatting seventh years, not turning around.

You sank back into your chair, picking at the tulle of your dress again. Was it too early to tell Lavender and Parvati that you wanted to go back to your dorm?

“Girl, if I were you, I would get out of here as quickly as possible,” Blaise said. You looked up at him. “He’s not worth it. And he’s not here for you. So don’t waste your energy.”

“But he asked me to the ball,” You said weakly.

“Did he? Or did he just ask for some time with you to make his ex-girlfriend jealous?”

“He – well – he…”

But Blaise looked at you and you knew that he was right, that this was never about you but some other girl. It was always about some other girl.

“Excuse me, I’ll get some fresh air,” You said and made your way through the tables towards the doors.

The last time, everyone had watched him. Now it was Harry’s turn to watch everyone else try their best on the dance floor. He wasn’t sure what was worse; to be laughed at by the others while stepping on Parvati’s feet every other second or to watch not only Hermione and Ron but also Ginny and Luna, as well as Seamus and Dean dancing closely, arms around the other.

They all had no idea what they were doing, Harry could tell, but they were having fun anyway. He had never seen Hermione this happy.

“Oh, flashback.”

Harry looked up. Parvati sat down next to him on the chair that Ron had left over half an hour ago.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, taking another sip of butterbeer, and turned back to the dance floor right in time to see Dean kissing Seamus passionately in the middle of the room.

“And you are not dancing because…?” Parvati asked. Harry crossed his arms.

“If you’re here to make fun of me or to blow up my butterbeer, feel free to fuck off.”

Parvati chuckled. “Sorry about that. But seriously, why are you sitting here miserably after all those dance lessons?”

Harry tried to make out if she was actually serious or if this was her way to revenge herself for the Yule Ball.

“Are you kidding me?” He asked. Parvati narrowed her eyebrows, now visibly puzzled.

“No, I’m genuinely asking –”

“Well, it’s not that fucking easy to slow dance if you have no date, is it,” He said crossly.

Parvati gaped at him, but he was certainly not in the mood for this. It had cost him all his strength to not look for you in the crowd all evening, he did not need reminding of you not liking him back by Parvati.

Before she could say anything else, he placed his butterbeer bottle on the table and darted outside, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his suit and eyes directed to the floor.

Harry’s feet guided him towards the courtyard. The music played by the band wasn’t as loud out here, and the cold night air was lively in contrary to the sticky, perfumed air inside the Great Hall.

He kicked some of the grass away and walked towards the bench underneath the willow, watching how its branches weighed in the wind and thought how you were probably having as much fun as his friends, or maybe even more, considering Nott was infamous for snogging in various broom closets.

Harry’s stomach turned at the thought of that. He wished he had a time turner to make it right.

The moon stood high on the deep blue night sky, illuminating the courtyard you had unconsciously walked to. Grey clouds had approached, and tiny raindrops were falling to the ground, steadily drumming onto the roofs of Hogwarts.

On your way out of the Great Hall, you had caught a glimpse of Theodore sticking his tongue down the throat of that Ravenclaw girl, but to be honest, it didn’t matter that he was making out with someone else. It would’ve just been nice if you could have had a forewarning.

You thought you were the only single soul wandering about, then spotted a figure sitting on a bench. You were about to turn and search for some other place to wallow in your feelings, when you recognised the messy hair.

Maybe this was the time to make up for running away. Maybe this was the time to be honest.

Harry looked up when he noticed someone coming closer, the tulle of your dress rustling over the wet grass. His heart jumped and he forgot to breathe for a moment.

“Hello,” You said, voice echoing over the empty courtyard. “Can I sit?”

“Of course.”

Harry scooted to the side to make some space for you. You sat down next to him, leaving maybe a hand width between the two of you. The wide branches of the willow guided you from the cold rain.

“You weren’t dancing,” You said, staring at the grass instead of his face.

You would understand if he did not want to talk, if he just walked away. He didn’t owe you an explanation for why he had not asked you to the ball or why was sitting here instead of inside with Ginny or whoever he had asked.

“You weren’t either, were you?” Harry replied. “You and Nott.”

“No, he’s busy with someone else, so… no. Not dancing.”

“Oh.” Harry shuffled. His knee bumped against yours. “Well, he’s an idiot then.”

You smiled, not moving your knee away from his.

“Yeah…but I don’t mind, really.”

“You should,” Harry said, and he meant it. No one should be treated like that. “If anyone should be dancing, it’s you.”

You looked up at him. Harry was already watching you, and it filled you with warmth despite the freezing cold. There wasn’t a single sign of hurt on his face, just a soft curiosity lying in his green eyes.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, “for running away last Friday. I had to sort out some things.”

“What things?” He asked quietly.

“Some…” Your heartbeat sped up. Be honest, you told yourself. “Some feelings.”

“Oh.” Harry tried to figure out what you meant by that, but the way you looked at him made his mind go blank. “You mean you…”

“I really like dancing with you,” You said. Harry felt his heart beating faster than ever against his ribcage. He wondered if you could hear it. “And I wouldn’t have done those lessons with anyone.”

The music from inside the Great Hall was growing louder, overshadowing the rain; someone must’ve opened the doors to let in some fresh air. The band was playing a slower, French song and it stung in your heart. It was one of your favourites.

When you turned back to Harry, he was standing up. For a second you thought he wanted to leave, to go back inside, then –

“May I have this dance?” Harry held out is right hand, and you did not have to think twice if you should take it or not.

He helped you up from the bench and led into the middle of the lawn, the rain still pattering onto the grass and the stone tiles. It smelled strongly of petrichor, and you thought that this was much closer to spring than the decorations in the Great Hall.

Harry’s hand found its place on your back, pulling you closer to him. You placed your hand on his shoulder, tapping his skin with your finger in time to the music out of habit, and met his eyes, reflecting the moon light in them.

Had you ever told him how beautiful he was?

The two of you moved, swaying back and forth. Harry realised that he did not even need to concentrate on the steps, he knew them by heart. The closeness of you took his breath away, the way your fingers held onto his, the way there was little to no room between your torso and his. You were smiling at him, despite the cold and the rain. Harry felt his stomach tingling.

“What’s it called?” Harry asked quietly, not wanting to drown out the music.

“‘Je Te Laisserai Des Mots’. I’ll leave you words,” You translated, having memorised the lyrics in your mind. “I’ll leave you words underneath your door, underneath the singing moon. Near the place where your feet pass by…hidden in the holes of wintertime and when you’re alone for a moment.”

You paused and Harry’s eyes fell to his feet, not able to take your gaze any longer. There were words on the tip of his tongue he did not dare to say – afraid, to ruin the moment. He wanted to stay here forever.

“Eyes up,” You said, placing your hand underneath his chin to lift his head up.

More French words reached your ears; Harry figured they were the same sentence repeated over and over, but even if he had been able to understand French, he wouldn’t have been able to translate them because of your hand still resting under his chin.

“Kiss me whenever you want,” You whispered. “Kiss me whenever you want. Kiss me –”

And then, Harry let go of his fears and kissed you.

After all it still took you by surprise how he loosened his fingers from yours to cup your face, pulling you as close to him as possible, until there was no space in between, noses bumping against each other. Both of your hands slung themselves around his neck, caressing his skin and driving up through messy hair.

His lips matched yours, gliding smoothly over one another, smearing your lip gloss everywhere until all you tasted was strawberries and sweet alcohol. With his chest against yours, Harry was glad to notice your heart beating as fast as his did, though that was also because he really needed to breathe – not that he wanted to, he would have been totally okay with never breaking away from the kiss if it was always going to feel this soft and freeing.

It was you in the end that had to carefully pull his face away from yours, heavily breathing in and out. You brushed his wet hair out of his forehead and let your fingers slide over his temples and cheeks down to his neck.

“That offer,” Harry began breathlessly, tucking a strand of hair he had accidentally drawn from your pinned-up hair behind your ear, “about continuing the dance lessons…that still stands, right?”

Your lips curved upwards into a smile. “Of course.” 

“Brilliant,” Harry said, mirroring your smile before leaning down again to close the gap between your lips.

[unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin]

Manipulation

Summary: Max is getting really tired of your mom sticking her nose places it shouldn’t be

An: so this is a prequel to Comfort which is all based on a comment on my Yandere!MJF Headcanons. Not super long, but I got the idea and wanted to write it.

Warnings: controlling relationships, toxic relationship, Yandere Max, pregnant reader, your mom trying to get you to leave max.

“Mom!” You felt your mom pull you into a tight hug, which you quickly returned. Ever since you had married Max and moved to the other side of the country you didn’t get to see her nearly as often. So anytime you were in the area you begged Max to stop by and see her, even for only an hour.

“Look at You! Ive been waiting for you to come visit. Why haven’t you been answering any of my calls?” Your mom led you further i to the house, leaving max to let himself in.

“Oh, I got rid of my phone ages ago,” you dismissed her words.

“What? Why would you do that?”

“I wasn’t really using it.” You shrugged while standing in the living room with her.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“We’ve been busy.” You glanced up to see Max now standing behind you. One of his arms snaked around to hold on to you.

“Let me guess, you still have your phone?” If looks could kill Max would be five feet under from your mom glaring at him.

“Just for work mom,” you set a hand on her shoulder, giving a small smile. “Anyways! Max offered to take you out to dinner tonight! Anywhere you want,” you said excitedly.

“How nice of him,” she mumbled. “Max, you want to take your bags upstairs? Y/n can help me get a pot of coffee going.”

Max left a small kiss on your head before walking away. Before you could say anything your mom was shoving you into the kitchen.

“You need to leave him.”

You rolled your eyes at your mom. She had never liked Max, but recently her dislike for him had grown. No matter how long it had been she always had this conversation with you.

“I’m not breaking up with him. Just like how I wasn’t going to last time.”

“Y/n, sweetheart, you don’t see what I do.” She stepped up to take your hands in hers. “Every time I speak to you he has taken some form of control from your life. You have up your career, your friends, you moved away from your family, what will it take to open your eyes?”

“My eyes don’t need to be opened. People’s life goals change, it’s normal. I love max, and he loves me. Why can’t YOU see that?”

Your mom just turned away, getting the water for the coffee. “Your sister agrees with me.”

“Then she can’t talk to me about it.” You snapped back. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were tired of arguing with the women.

“Who can talk about what?” Max asked, walking in.

“Nothing..” you and your mom said at the same time. Even if Max hadn’t been listening to your conversation, he wouldn’t have believed the lie.

“Did you tell her?” Max asked, kissing your chin lightly.

“Tell me What?” Your mom spun around, arms crossed over her chest. Ready for whatever awful news you going to share.

“Well…” you shifted nervously, and that’s when she realized Max was keeping a hand on your stomach.

“No… you’re not…”

“Pregnant,” you smiled through the word. Instead of the reaction you had expected of happiness, she looked horrified.

“What were you thinking?!”

“Mom, calm down-“

“What the hell are you doing to my daughter!?” She yelled, pointing a finger in Max’s face. “Trying to trap her with a baby? Y/n-“ she turned to face you. “Don’t let him win. You can move back in with me. I’ll help you take care of the baby, you don’t have to stay with him.”

“Mom-“ you tried, but the word got caught in your throat. You had tears running down your face, and you couldn’t believe her words. How could she not be happy? Max pulled you to his chest, almost hiding you from her view.

“Ms. L/n, this is inappropriate.”

“You are slowly killing her, manipulating her!” Your mother yelled, causing you to cry even harder.

“Me? Your daughter just told you she’s going to have a baby, that you will be a grandma. And yet all you can do is yell. You don’t have to like me, but at least I support your daughter- my wife’s decision. This is killing her.” He snapped back. “Go get in the car. We’re leaving,” he whispered to you, letting go of you for you to walk out.

Both Max and your mom watched you leave, waiting for you to leave.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Max turned to look at her. “You think I want to hurt her, but I don’t. When I met her, all she could do was stress about everything. I fixed it.” He walked closer, towering over the women. “But, I won’t deny that I’m manipulative. So here is your one warning. I have removed every other form of stress from her life, and I will remove you as well.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A promise.” He started walking back towards the stairs. “I’ll grab our stuff then leave.” With that he left her standing in the kitchen. Already, a plan was forming to remedy the problem you seemed to be facing. He would not let her ruin his little family.

[mercurygguk]

the first year | jjk (m)

genre; parents au + established relationship au

pairing; dad!jungkook x fem reader

✎ summary; in which jungkook learns that his new life as a parent can be difficult at times and that it takes a great amount of patience, but even with all that, jungkook wouldn’t trade it for anything.

warnings; my weak attempt at being funny, jungkook as a dad, SMUT; sexual activities, fingering, swearing, light dirty talk, actual sex, jungkook being a simp for his baby mama

word count; 4,121

➵ READ PART 1 HERE

a/n; here’s a part 2 of my dad!jungkook fic - hope you like it, enjoy!! also, please feel free to give some feedback <3 didn’t proof read at all, ignore any possible typos thx

Parenting is anything but easy.

That is something Jungkook has learned after the first few months of being a dad. His daughter is usually very easy to handle, very peaceful at most times and over all a very happy baby. However, she likes to wake him up in the middle of the night with loud cries. At this point Jungkook can’t even remember what it feels like to get 8 hours of sleep at night.

Tonight seems to be another one of those nights. Her cries are nothing but irritation, not satisfied with the lack of attention. Jungkook has learned the differences in her cries from the way they sound and whether there are tears or not. Sometimes she’s only doing it just to get some attention when all she really has to do is sleep. She must have inherited her mother’s temper and need for attention.

A heavy sigh falls from Jungkook’s lips, eyes still closed as he waits a few moments, hoping she’ll fall back to sleep without him having to get up and go to her room. Beside him, his girlfriend and the mother of his daughter is stirring, turning over to face Jungkook’s back. Scooting closer, you reach out to touch his back, your palm running up and down.

“I’ll get her,” you softly tell him, speaking into the darkness before blindlessly pressing a kiss to the skin of his back. Before you can get out of bed, Jungkook is getting up. You watch as he drags his feet out of the bedroom and down the small hallway to where his daughter is currently having a midnight crying fit. A small smile sneaks its way onto your lips, knowing he doesn’t mind getting her in the middle of the night despite how tired he sounds and looks. 

There’s nothing in the world he wouldn’t do for her.

Jungkook carefully opens the door, peeking his head inside to see his 7-month-old daughter standing up in her crib, her hands tightly gripping the edge to hold herself up. He switches on the night lamp on her dresser, lighting up the room in a warm glow. Her big brown eyes with long lashes looks at him, no tears in sight, just a small mischievous grin on her face because he’s there to check on her again. The way she has him wrapped around her tiny pinky finger is beyond him. 

“You little tease,” he coos with a smile as he steps closer to the crib, immediately picking her up when she reaches for him. Once she’s in his arms, she cuddles closer to him, head neatly tucked into the crook of his neck. Jungkook sighs deeply in content, running his hand up and down her back as he makes his way out of her room and back to you in the bedroom. You’re still awake when he appears in the doorway, a knowing smirk on your face as he moves closer to the bed. You reach out while pouting, wanting your baby girl in your arms. She’s already half asleep again as Jungkook hands her over before climbing into bed.

Jungkook watches with pure adoration in his eyes as the two most important girls in his life are cuddling up against him. You glance up at him, noticing the small smile he always seems to sport whenever you catch him looking at you and your daughter. She’s fully asleep now, completely unaware of the way her parents are watching her with proudness in their eyes and hearts.

“We got lucky, huh?” You softly say.

Nodding, Jungkook intertwines your free hand with his.

“We really did.”

“You know what we should?” 

You turn to look at Jungkook, eyebrows raised in question. He looks out of the window in the living room, watching the skyline and tapping his chin as if he’s in deep thought. You wait patiently until he looks your way.

“We should throw a party for Areum’s 1st birthday,” he says. You give him a look only to receive one back.

You scoff lightly, “you don’t think I haven’t thought of that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Well, you never mentioned it, so how should I know?”

Pretending to be offended, you place a hand on your chest and let out another scoff. Jungkook chuckles at your silliness, scooting closer before pulling you onto his lap. You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Of course, we’re throwing her a party. It’s her first one after all.”

Smiling, Jungkook rubs his palms up and down your thighs. Soon the smile falls from his lips. You frown as you watch it happen, his eyes falling to look at anything but your face. You know what he’s thinking, he’s mentioned it before.

“I can’t believe she’s already a year old soon,” he mumbled. You smile softly, reaching up to run a hand through his hair to remove it from his face. He looks at you again, a sad smile on his face now. “She’s growing so fast, it terrifies me.”

“Oh, I know, baby,” you coo, “but she can’t stay tiny forever, you know that.”

He sighs deeply. “Yeah, I know. I just wish I could slow down time sometimes.”

Your heart aches watching him being this sad over something so inevitable. He loves her so much and he’ll do anything to protect her, go to great lengths to get her whatever she needs. It warms your heart, makes you wonder if you ever could’ve found someone more perfect than him if you didn’t have him?

“She’ll always need you, Jungkook. Even when she’ll say she doesn’t.”

“Areum, sweetheart, no- watch out!”

You watch with wide, horrified eyes as your daughter climbs onto the couch and stands up, wobbling on her very unstable legs. You’re not quick enough to get up and catch her before she tumbles to the ground, her head thankfully not hitting the floor as hard as it could’ve. A loud cry sounds throughout the living room, tears welling up in her eyes as you pick her up.

You examine her for any injuries while cradling her to you. When you don’t see any, you press a kiss on the top of her head. “Oh sweetie, I’m sorry, it’s okay,” you coo, holding her close as she cries it out.

As she sniffles against your shirt, a thousand thoughts run through your mind. Firstly, Jungkook must never know this happened. Secondly, you feel like the worst mother ever, the way you just let her climb up there without support and basically just watching her fall down and almost hit her head very badly.

“Oh, God,” you breathe out, letting out a quiet cry of panic.

The front door opens, your boyfriend’s humming sounding throughout the apartment. You listen as he kicks off his shoes and unzips his jacket. You quickly check Areum’s face for visible tears, hurriedly drying off the remnants with your sleeve. You press a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, flashing her a smile before picking up a toy, handing it to her and pretending her fall didn’t just happen minutes ago.

“Hey babe,” Jungkook appears in the living room, smiling widely at the two of you. He’s quick to come closer, reaching out for Areum and picking her up. He smooches her cheeks with a smile, but it’s without her usual reaction of laughter. You watch, waiting until it hits him. His smile falters, glancing at you whose face is grimacing in apology already. 

The red spots from tears on her small, soft cheeks is what gives it away. That and how quiet she is when usually she’s laughing hysterically when Jungkook smooches her.

“Has she been crying? And is that a bump on her forehead?” He asks, turning to look at you.

“Yeah...” you trail off, wincing as your boyfriend stares you down in suspicion, “we might’ve had a small accident-”

“____!” Jungkook exclaims, horrified as he sits down on the couch with Areum in his lap. He examines her like you did when the fall happened, worry written all over his face. You sigh deeply, getting up from the floor to take a seat beside him. “How did this happen? Did you not watch her?”

“I did!” You quickly defend yourself, “she was crawling onto the couch and before I knew it she was falling down head first into the rug!”

Jungkook exhales, looking back at Areum who’s playing with the thin silver chain around his neck. The bump on her forehead doesn’t look too bad. “I guess the rug took most of the fall, the bump isn’t that big.”

“Oh God, I’m the worst mom ever!” You cry out at the sight of the small bump on your daughter’s head, wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm, your face hidden in his shoulder. Jungkook can’t help but roll his eyes. You always have to be so dramatic, thinking the worst about yourself when this could’ve happened to any parent.

“____,” he calls out, catching your attention. You sniffle lightly, lifting your head to look up at him. He smiles at you. “You’re not the worst mom ever, okay? You’re the best and this minor accident doesn’t define your entire role as a mother. She’s okay, look.”

You look at your daughter, her attention still focused on the silver chain, although now her small mouth is curved into a small smile. You smile at her, Jungkook does too. “It’s just a tiny bump,” he tells you, pausing before saying: “there will probably be much worse in the future.”

Gasping, you slap his upper arm causing Areum to let out that precious baby laugh. “Don’t jinx it!”

Jungkook is in a good mood, a pep in his step as he makes his way up to yours and his apartment, fully aware that you’re probably already cooking a delicious meal and making everything ready for your ‘date night’. The drive back from his parents’ place, where he just dropped off Areum, was filled with loud music that made him even more excited for finally having some time with you alone after God knows how long.

Once he steps through the front door, a delicious aroma of his favorite dish hits his nostrils causing him to let out a deep sigh of content. He quickly slips off his shoes and jacket before making his way to the kitchen. Feel-good songs are playing on the speaker and you’re moving around while preparing the food, singing along and just enjoying yourself. You’re not aware of Jungkook standing behind you, a big grin on his face.

Deciding to surprise you, he sneaks up behind you and snakes his arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. You jump lightly in his embrace, turning your head slightly to see that it is in fact the love of your life who’s hugging you.

“Hi,” you softly say, smiling when he presses his lips to your cheek in a soft kiss.

“Mhm,” he hums in response, “it smells delicious, baby.”

“Good for you that your favorite dish is the one I make the best,” you smirk, flipping the steaks on the pan. Jungkook chuckles before agreeing with you. You turn the heat down before turning around in his arms, coming face to face with him. Without another thought he leans in and steals a quick peck. He grins at you when he pulls back to look at you again. “Go get cleaned up,” you tell him, pushing him away from you.

“I love you,” he smiles sweetly as he backs away and heads towards the bedroom. You watch with a lovesick smile, your eyes automatically landing on his butt because it’s right there and you can’t help yourself. Something tells you, you won't finish dinner at the table, but in bed instead.

Sure enough, you stayed at the table until you finished the main dish. You had prepared dessert as well but Jungkook is in the mood for another kind of dessert – that’s what he had said when he got up from his seat before pulling you from yours and tugging you towards the bedroom. Screw the ice cream, you thought to yourself and allowed Jungkook to guide you to the bed.

Ever since Areum was born you’ve had few chances of being alone with Jungkook, enjoying his company and the love he always stores deep inside of him until he feels like showering you in it. 

It’s slow but hurried, it’s passionate and yet filled with desperation, it’s you and him together in your own bubble. Your eyes close shut as Jungkook traces your skin with his lips, his hands running over and feeling your curves and every dip in your body. His lips brush across the faint stretch marks on your stomach, his hands cupping your breasts softly yet firmly.

“God, you’re the most beautiful mama to ever exist,” Jungkook groans as he hovers over you, looking you up and down, noticing every single detail of your body and skin. You smile, a faint blush covering your cheeks as he dips down to kiss you softly. His tongue meets yours halfway, a soft moan falling from your mouth and into his. He swallows the whimpers you let out as he reaches down, fingers running between your lower lips, the wetness there evident to him.

“Jungkook,” you sigh in pleasure against his lips as he rolls your clit with his thumb, “more, please.”

He smirks softly, lips moving from your lips to your cheeks and further down to the top of your breasts, peppering kisses all over you. All your senses are on fire, the feeling of his lips, his fingers, his body against yours, the growing erection against your leg. Your hand reaches down to rub against it through his boxers, the only piece of clothing separating his cock from your clenching hole. You’re whimpering against him as the pressure from his thumb on your clit is edging you closer to your release.

“J-jungkook, please, I need you,” you gasp, you're moving automatically against his fingers causing more friction, “n-need you so bad.”

“That desperate for my cock, huh baby?” He teases, smoothly sinking his fingers inside of you, “you want me to finish you off now or would you like to cum all over my cock?”

You moan at his words, back arching up against him. “Your cock, please, wanna cum all over it.”

A grunt leaves Jungkook as he imagines it before him. It doesn’t take long for him to strip off his boxers, throwing them onto the floor beside the bed. You anticipate the stretch, already clenching around nothing as Jungkook lines himself up with your entrance. You reach for his hand just as he starts pushing past your walls, stretching you open so deliciously in a way you’ll never be able to handle without gasping in pure pleasure. Jungkook intertwines his hand with yours as he keeps it pressed against the mattress right beside your head.

He bottoms out, filling you to the brim. He breathes out heavily, his breathing ragged as he  lets you adjust to his impressive width and length. “Fuck, I’ll never get tired of seeing you like this,” he rasps out as he pulls out and pushes back in, watching the way your eyes roll back in pleasure, “my pretty baby all fucked out.”

It blows your mind how he always manages to make it so dirty yet soft. You’re already a mess beneath him and he’s barely begun. “Oh god, Jungkook-”

A forceful push of his hips has you gasping, a high pitched moan tumbling from your lips. His hips connect with yours in a rhythm, skin against skin, the lewd sounds of your wetness and the feeling of Jungkook thrusting and grinding into you. His lips are back against your skin, your collarbones earning kisses and small bites, your free hand running from his lower back and up his spine to the hair in his neck. You tug at it, earning a grunt from Jungkook. Lifting his head, he looks you in the eye, his lips slightly parted as he works you both to your highs.

His eyes are soft while his actions are far from it, the look he’s giving you tells you everything he doesn’t say out loud. “Oh my god, I’m gonna- fuck,” you gasp, tightening your hold on his hand, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Me too, baby, me too,” Jungkook moans, leaning down to press his lips to yours, kissing you like it would be the last. He swallows your whimpers, your moans and gasps as your orgasm hits you hard. Jungkook follows you, his orgasm hitting him as you clench around him. He stills inside of you, moaning deeply at the feeling of you clenching and milking him for every drip of cum. He’s panting as he comes down, his face hidden in the crook of your neck. Yours and his breathing is the only thing you can hear in the room as you both try to collect yourselves. Your fingers are caressing his scalp as he stays in your arms, letting his weight rest upon you. Silence engulfs you and him, Jungkook’s breathing clashing against your neck, your fingers dancing across the skin on his back. You can feel his cum trickling out of you, but you don’t really care at this point, just enjoying the moment and worrying later about the mess that is the sheets.

Jungkook’s thoughts are running a hundred miles per hour as he lays in silence with you close against him. His thoughts shift from the first time he met you to when he first kissed you to the way you told him you loved him before he told you. Then his thoughts wander on to his daughter, the tiny person he created with you just from the love between the two of you. There are so many memories with you, moments and life events he shares with you. An idea pops into his mind, it’s something he has been thinking about for a long time, he just didn’t find the right time yet. He wants to add another meaningful celebration of life and love to the memories he shares with you.

He wants to marry you.

Jungkook already asked for your parents’ approval. They told him yes in an instant, reminding him that he has a child with you and that the two of you are already past asking for approval. That thought alone makes Jungkook chuckle softly. He really did things with you in a messy order. First he slept with you then he dated you. Then he asked you to be his girlfriend and then after a few years he accidentally got you pregnant and now he’s thinking about proposing to you.

“What?” You ask, smiling softly as you hear Jungkook chuckle.

He rolls over, his back hitting the mattress and pulling you with him to lay halfway on top of him. He smiles at you, his fingers reaching out to tuck strands of your hair behind your ears.

“It just hit me how we’ve done things in a really random order,” he tells you. Your eyebrows pull together in confusion at his words. “First we slept together and then we started dating after that, then I asked you to be my girlfriend,” he’s grinning from ear to ear as you listen and he’s talking, reminiscing the years he’s spent with you. “I got you pregnant by accident and now we’re parents and I just…”

He falls silent, his smile faltering as he looks you in the eyes. You’re looking at him with those eyes that always hold so much love for him and Areum too. Beautiful eyes that can calm him at any given time, tell him everything’s gonna be alright without you saying anything. Jungkook would do anything to look into those eyes for the rest of his life. He could just ask you, right now in this very moment. It doesn’t have to be a candlelit dinner or with rose petals. What matters is you and him together in an intimate moment where all feelings lay in front of you, bared for the both of you to see.

“Marry me.”

You freeze, your fingertips that had returned to running over his skin freeze in their movement. Jungkook can tell your eyes are watering. You open your mouth to speak, a small voice coming out as you say: “w-what?”

Jungkook nods, “you heard me, baby,” he softly says.

“I’m-” You begin but cut yourself off. Jungkook watches as a wide smile spreads across your face, the first few tears falling from your eyes and running down your cheeks. He reaches out to wipe them away, smiling softly himself. “Oh my god,” you cry.

“So, is that a yes?”

Nodding, you crawl up to wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, pressing your lips to his in a kiss. “Of course, it is! It’s a million times yes!” You say against his lips, pulling away slightly to rest your forehead against his. “I love you so much, Jungkook.”

“I love you the most, baby.”

Areum is 1 year old today.

She’s 1 year old and Jungkook isn’t sure how to handle it. His baby girl is growing up so fast and it both terrifies and amazes him. You seem to handle it pretty well, but Jungkook has a feeling you’re just very good at hiding it. There’s no way you’re not emotional about the fact that the baby you carried around for 9 months is already 1 year old.

“How’s my favorite granddaughter?” Jungkook’s mother coos as she walks right past her son and towards Areum who’s sitting on the rug in the living room, surrounded by her toys. Jungkook watches in disbelief how his mother doesn’t even give him a moment of attention, clearly only here to visit her grandchild.

“Mom, she’s your only granddaughter,” Jungkook deadpans before turning back to greet his father, “hey dad.”

Jungkook’s father gives him a tight hug before moving on to give you an even tighter hug. “How are you, ____?” He asks, smiling as he pulls away to look at you.

You smile in return. “I’m good! And you?”

“Same as always,” he shrugs, “not much happens when you reach a certain age.”

You chuckle at that, telling him to go say hi to his granddaughter. You watch as Areum greets his grandfather with a big grin, reaching out for him like she does with everyone she loves. You smile at the scenario in front of you, how Areum is the center of attention for all of her four grandparents. Your parents had arrived earlier than Jungkook’s, having kept Areum entertained for the past hour or so.

“Should we tell them today?” Jungkook asks as you join him in the kitchen, his voice low in case his mom should suddenly appear behind him. “You know, about that,” he points to the ring on your finger.

Smiling at him, you lean up and kiss him quickly on the lips. “Sure,” you agree with him, making him smile, “but remember it’s Areum’s day today. So we’ll just mention it and then move on with her birthday party.”

Jungkook nods at that. “Of course. Nothing is bigger than her 1st birthday-” he pauses at that, the fact hitting him once again. He then turns to you, giving you a confused look, “how are you not emotional about it at all? I literally cried when I gave her a bath last night.”

A laugh emits from your lips. “You cried? Because it’s your daughter's 1st birthday?”

Offended by how you’re finding his devastation humorous, Jungkook scoffs. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did.”

You’re smiling at him in adoration as you wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. Jungkook hugs you back, pressing his lips to your temple. Areum’s laughter flows through the apartment causing the two of you to laugh yourselves. It’s like sweet music to your ears when Areum has a fit of giggles.

“I adore her so much, ____,” Jungkook suddenly says as he watches from the kitchen, watching how Areum is surrounded by her grandparents, having the best 1st birthday. You’re constantly smiling, you have been ever since Areum was born. The joy she brought with her when she came into the world is unlimited and you feel like you’re on top of the world for creating such a happy, lively small human being.

“I know, baby,” you tighten your arms around him, giving him a squeeze, “she’s the best thing that’s happened to us.”

[howlingday]

Blake: We need him to start talking, but he won't listen to any of us. We've tried everything.

Weiss: Did you find anything at the hideout?

Yang: Just some letters from some woman named Clair. You think he was cheating on you?

Blake: (Shakes her head) No, Clair's... She was Adam's mother, but she passed away a while ago. I guess he kept the letters.

Jaune: ...I have an idea.

Adam: What is this? If this is some kind of trick, then let me tell you right now and save you the trouble: I hate tricks!

Jaune: You know who else doesn't like tricks? Mothers. Especially my mom. It started out small with me. I'd keep the change when she sent me out for groceries. Too soon after, I was stealing from the fruit stands, and before she could blink, I was picking pockets to make Lien for her birthday gifts. That's what I told myself anyways. Then I got picked up by some thugs, made some friends with their "family". They convinced me to do things that would horrify my mother if she knew.

Adam: So you had a rough childhood, that doesn't excuse-

Jaune: Then the Grimm War happened. I got drafted and shipped off to the Grimmlands. Something they teach you to do is how to kill. Something they don't teach you is how addictive it can be. Not all of them were Grimm. I came home, expecting to be treated like a hero. I was the first one off the bus. (Looks at Adam, Somber look) And I was the first one they dragged down and beat. Everyone thought I was scum. Everyone except-

Adam: (Looks to the side, Moves his mouth around, Spits out a capsule)

Jaune: (Picks up the capsule)

Adam: They used my people, too. It's how I got into the White Fang. When that scorpion came by with that offer, I told him to piss off. Two weeks later, I was begging on his doorstep. I never liked Callows, and I don't like what he makes me do. I don't like that gire bitch he works for either. Least of all, though, I don't like who I am. I didn't like what we did in the war, and I don't like what the White Fang is doing now. (Leans closer) Have you ever killed a friend for the mission? But mom... She always thought I would start again and become a better person. Maybe it's time I finally do that.

Jaune: (Picks up the capsule)

Adam: The White Fang's next three jobs are in that script. The first one happens two weeks from now, on my mother's birthday.

Jaune: Thank you. I'll make sure you get to visit her grave once in a while.

Adam: Just once is enough.

Jaune: (Leaves, Sees Blake) Did you hear all of that?

Blake: I did. (Takes capsule) How much of it is true.

Jaune: Hopefully everything. I'd hate to think he made that up just to screw with us.

Blake: No, what you said. How much of it was true?

Jaune: (Walks away)

Blake: Jaune?

[slutfor-fictionalmen]

Hi!!! I just saw your prompt and wanted to ask if you could do 97? I’m kinda new to your blog but I’m definitely gonna check it out!! Also love that title (chubby= beautiful) you got there!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

P.S. I don’t know if I’m sending this in the right ask so I apologize if it’s the wrong one.

They requested Bakugo and i know this is about 200 followers late but i hope you like it! Bakugo's father had a dad bod and i stand by that. Mitsuki is completely in love with her husband in this, fight me.

97. “my parents love you.”

Of course it's not the first time you've met his parents, nor will it be the last, but every time you meet with them you're always thrown off by the family dynamic.

"Shut up you old hag!"

"You ungrateful little leech! You shut your mouth before i slap it off of you!"

"Would you mind passing the peas?" A soft voice cuts in.

"Oh, yeah of course, you want the salt too?" You stare in awe the sight before you, Mitsuki and Katsuki fighting to the death while Masaru acts as if this is a average day. Bakugo's father looks over at you with a small smile, reassuring you again, that their actual fighting is a lot different their banter. He could tell by the horrified look on your face that that gave you no source of comfort.

"They're attracted to their opposites." The feisty pair shuts up, looking at the older man, ready to fight whatever comes out of his mouth next.

A laugh escapes your mouth, your lovers appearance visibly softens as he hears that. This doesn't escape his mothers notice though.

"Yes i seem to see that same pattern, maybe for a subconscious balance i'm guessing?"

"like Yin and Yang!" He chips in, the perfect pair fitting perfectly with the situation.

"Exactly!"

You laugh with Masaru causing the two blondes to stare in awe at you both. You were right though, your calm personalities pairing with pairing with the mother and son perfectly, almost as if you were two pairs made in heaven.

Only you both knew the love the blondes held, how they showed you their soft side and will fight to the death to protect the few people they show it to. You admired Katsuki's parents, how despite being polar opposites they fit so perfectly, how her hard met his soft. You aspired to be like that with Katsuki.

"Stop talking about us like we're not here you nerds, i can here all the shit you say." You reach over and take his hand in your chubby one, running your thumb over his own calloused fingers. He subconsciously brought your hand up to his lips, giving it a small kiss and squishing it.

His parents watch as he treats you softly, holding your hand and looking at you like you're the most beautiful thing in the whole world. Mitsuki cleared her throat, causing her son to drop your hand as she made a move to pick up your other hand. She held both your hands and gave you a wide smile. She's never seen her son this happy with anything.

"You're welcome here anytime, lovely Y/n."

You wrap up dinner soon after that, bidding Katsuki's parents farewell and leaving them with a small "thank you for having me over" gift. They gave you wide smiles and big hugs while telling Katsuki that if he hurts you they'll make his life a living hell.

Little did you know his mom knew of his plans for that night, giving him advice and an extra squeeze. She wishes her son goodluck and gives you a tight hug.

"She's the one, i know you know it too." "I don't plan on letting her go"

"i'd have to beat your puny ass if you ever do!"

You wave goodbye and hold katsuki's hand, swinging it as you look up at the stars.

"My Parents love you."

"I love them too! it was nice to see in what kind of house you were raised, they're so nice." You chuckle as you reflect on the night.

"I love you."

"I love you too, but you make it pretty obvious that you do so you don-"

Your voice got caught in your throat. 3 years of love. 3 years of finding your way as a couple. 3 years as "just friends" to 3 years of dating. 3 years to build up the nerve to do what he's wanted do do since he first met you.

You choked on a sob, backing up as the love of your life awaited on one knee, holding a ring with both your birthstones, centered with a diamond in the middle.

"I'm shit with words...... and feelings, and actions...... to be honest i have no idea why you fell for me. and i don't think i ever will. But i wanna spend my life looking for that reason, i want to spend my life with you. I love you Y/n, and i know i love our future together. You make me a better person, i want to wake up next to you and have kids with you, i want you! ah fuck i dont mean it like that- i mean i do- but-"

You laugh through your tears and nod, causing him to look up at you with a fond smile.

"i mean, Will you, the love of my life, the person whom i've loved since ive first met, Will you marry me?"

You wheeze, out a yes, causing him to laugh and stand up. You kiss him with snot on your face, ignoring his protests about you getting your nasty ass germs on his lips.

He places the ring on your finger, smiling while he does it. You mention his face while he laces his fingers with yours. He laughs and rests his forehead on yours.

"I'm just glad that the whole world knows how much i love my wife, and how much i'll always love her."

You were his now, and no matter what, you'll be the Yin to his Yang

IM SORRY ITS SO LATE/BAD I HOPE YOU LIKED THE FLUFF

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Twin!AU Part 3:

Hunith and Uther alike have to face the consequences of their actions, Merlin (and everyone, really) decides that family doesn’t end in blood.

Part 1   Part 2

TW: Suicidal ideation (mostly past, but it sort of... flairs up a little here I guess)

Hunith’s face falls and she physically recoils at Merlin’s harsh declaration.

His hard gaze doesn’t leave her, even as she glances at Arthur, a little behind Merlin and to his side. The blonde has his gaze fixed on Hunith, but he looks away the moment they make eye contact, unable to stand the confused pain in her expression:

“Merlin? What happened?”

Lancelot and Percival approach slowly after handing the horses off to a couple of stablehands, and Gwaine puts his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, not that The Warlock notices; he clenches his jaw tightly before speaking, but continues resisting the urge to look away:

“You lied to me. About everything.”

Hunith’s eyes go wide and she gulps, opening her mouth and shutting it again as she struggles to think of a response. It’s then that Merlin finally looks away, gazing over the top of her head at the empty courtyard. Arthur quietly intervenes, his authoritative voice full of warring emotions despite it’s low volume:

“We should take this somewhere more private.”

Merlin doesn’t even nod, just turns around and walks back towards the castle, hands clenched tightly at his side before he pushes the doors open and stalks in without looking back. Gwaine and Arthur share a concerned look before the older knight rushes after him. Arthur gestures for Hunith to go first, but not without stopping her with a hand on her shoulder, and a muttered, almost teary:

“You had no right.”

Her face falls even further, but The Regent steps back and looks away before she can reply, and she timidly hurries through the door after Merlin and Gwaine. Arthur gives Lancelot and Percival a pointed look:

“I imagine we’ll be in my chambers, make sure we are undisturbed. I don’t want anyone interrupting unless the world is about to end. Let Leon and Morgana know that they can take charge of any meetings today.”

They both nod, but Lancelot jogs up the steps to stop Arthur before he can leave:

“I... know what she did was wrong, but don’t let Merlin be too harsh. He’s always been close to his mother, he’ll regret it later if he pushes her away completely.”

Arthur almost snaps out something about how Hunith isn’t Merlin’s mother, but he keeps it to himself, sighing and nodding:

“Yeah, I know, but she... she needs to know what this has done to him, how much he’s suffered needlessly because of this. There isn’t... I know she probably just did what she thought was right but... she needs to know. Merlin deserves an apology, and he certainly deserves the truth.”

Lancelot nods hesitatingly, but doesn’t say anything else, stepping aside to allow The Regent through. He catches up to the others just as Merlin slams the door open to his chambers, continuing to not look back as he heads over to the large dining table, leaning his hand against the back of one of the chairs and staring towards the window.

Gwaine and Arthur approach slowly, standing either side of him but not touching him as they wait in suspense for someone to start the conversation. Hunith already has tears in her eyes as she stands on the other side of the table, trying and failing to get Merlin to look at her. The harsh glare he laid on her before was horrific, but this... him being unable to look at her at all, that is worse:

“Merlin, please, I only did what-”

She’s cut off by Merlin’s harsh instruction:

“Sit.”

She glances to Arthur once more, but he just nods wordlessly at the chair in front of her; the only sounds in the room are the scraping of the chair on the stone floor and Merlin’s laboured breathing. He was evidently trying very hard to hold his anger in, and when he says nothing more once she’s sat down, Gwaine puts his hand back on his shoulder. He shrugs it off, finally turning to face Hunith but remaining unable to look in her eyes:

“Why?”

A tears slips loose from her eye and she sniffles, taking a deep, shaky breath and fiddling with her hands on the table. Arthur absent-mindedly wonders if Merlin would still do that too if he’d been raised with his actual family, if it was natural, or if he’d picked it up from her:

“Please, Merlin, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

Merlin takes in a sharp breath, tightening his gip on the chair in a way that looks painful, shaking his head:

“No. No apologies, no excuses. I want to know exactly why you lied to me, why you took this from me.”

His voice is deadly in a quiet kind of way, like he could snap clean in two and set the world alight at any moment. Gwaine looks worriedly between the other two men, clearly thinking on the same lines as Lancelot, but neither of them notice, Merlin’s gaze stuck to the table and Arthur’s stuck on Hunith:

“I would have told you one day, Merlin, you-”

Merlin finally looks up at her, the blazing fury in his eyes contrasting in a rather horrific manner with the steady stream of tears on his cheeks:

“One day when? Arthur’s known about my magic for ages. I’ve been in Camelot for years, you have had every opportunity.”

Hunith lets out a low sob, but doesn’t look away:

“I didn’t think you were ready, Mer-”

Merlin bites his lip and turns away, running his hands through his hair harshly before turning around again, quick as lightening, and pointing an accusing finger at her:

“No, you weren’t ready! You weren’t ready to face the fact that you lied to me about who I am, because you knew you had no right, because you knew I would be angry!”

Hunith stands, but doesn’t make any moves to approach Merlin at Arthur’s harsh glare and Gwaine’s worried gesture. He doesn’t think Merlin or Arthur would hurt her, he’d never even consider the idea, but he knows that his partner needs space to be angry:

“I didn’t want you to be upset,-”

Merlin scoffs and lets out a sob of his own, wiping his face harshly before responding loudly:

“Gods, I wonder why I would be upset! Maybe because you lied to me about everything?!-”

Hunith shakes her head desperately, but Merlin carries on without pause:

“-You had no right to keep this from me! I grew up alone, with no one but you to rely on because you made me think I was some kind of beast! Keeping me from Camelot, I understand, keeping it from me as I child even, I understand. But you’ve had years of opportunity, you are selfish, a hypocrite and a coward.-”

Hunith looks horrified at his admission, mainly the sudden reveal at how her treatment of Merlin had effected him independently of the lie:

“-I hated myself, I was terrified, I didn’t want to exist, because of you! You made me think I was some kind of unnatural monster and then you sent me to Gaius under the guise of teaching me control, so he could carry on the lie for you! He promised me I wasn’t a monster, that I wasn’t born evil, over and over, but he’s lied to me from the moment I met him, how am I supposed to trust anything he says?! How am I supposed to trust anything you say when I was just some unwanted, throwaway thing that you never asked for, and got rid of at the earliest opportunity?!-”

Gwaine and Arthur stare at Merlin with matching heartbreak in their expressions; it seems that Merlin is upset at more than just the base lie. The New Prince doesn’t even try to stop the tears, his breathing quick and ragged, and after a few moments of thick silence, he takes a deep breath and quietly continues:

“-I didn’t have to be so alone, that was all you, and Gaius, and Kilgharrah, and everyone else who lied to me. When I had nothing, I had you, and you lied to me.-”

Merlin’s voice cracks, his breathing shaky and his face pale as his entire world seemingly crumbles down around him:

“-You took my brother from me and you had no right. You’re not my mother, you’re just as bad as Uther.”

With those last words, he storms from the room, Gwaine hot on his heels. Arthur stays however, feeling the need to comfort the crying woman, but also feeling, maybe slightly cruelly, that she deserves this. He sighs, pushing the though from his mind and moving around to put a hand on her shoulder as she buries her face in her hands, sobbing:

“I... you did your best, I think he knows that, but that doesn’t change what you took from him, from both of us. He needs time.”

She just about manages a nod, and Arthur sighs again, standing awkwardly for a few minutes before he realises she isn’t going to stop any time soon. He gently pushes her to sit back in the chair before heading to the door, following Gwaine and Merlin.

They’re not in the corridor when he shuts the door behind him, but he’s not surprised at that. Merlin has always been private about his true emotions, always kept them close to his chest, he wouldn’t want anyone to see him having a breakdown in the middle of the hall. Months ago, Arthur would have thought it was left over fear of his magic being discovered, but now he bitterly thinks that it probably has more to do with the way he was raised.

He runs a hand through his hair, sparing a glance to the—previously unnoticed—worried looking guards. Thankfully, they were two of the men that had been trusted with the truth (Arthur reminds himself to thank Leon later for paying attention to who was stationed where), so Arthur isn’t too worried at the fact that they had likely overheard the one-sided yelling match. He fixes them with a commanding stare and clears his throat:

“Escort the Lady Hunith to the physician’s chambers when she emerges, leave her with Gaius, but don’t rush her.-”

They bow briefly in acknowledgement of his orders, and his question comes out quietly:

“-Do you know where they went?”

They needn’t ask who, and one of the guards answers lowly, matching Arthur’s volume:

“I think they headed to Sir Gwaine’s chambers, Sire.” 

He nods and mutters a quiet thank you, slowly heading in that direction, knowing he had to go see them but also wanting to give them few extra minutes of privacy. They still had a lot to take care of, they’d missed several council meetings over the last few days, and whilst Arthur trusts Leon and Morgana to keep things rolling, he really should be making regular appearances. That, and they still haven’t dealt with Uther; to be perfectly honest, Arthur is surprised that rumours haven’t started spreading about The King’s disappearance and Arthur’s sudden growth of responsibilities, but he’s grateful. Don’t look a gift Griffin in the mouth or... something.

He finally stops outside the knight’s room—nodding at Lance who wordlessly stands guard in the corridor—before flinching at the quiet crying he can hear from inside. He knocks a few times softly before entering, shutting the door behind him and approaching the bed. Gwaine sits leant against the headboard, tears in his eyes as he holds a shaking Merlin in his arms. The Warlock lays besides Gwaine, in the middle of the bed, his face buried in the knight’s chest and his hands twisted into the fabric of his tunic.

Arthur lets out a deep, mournful breath at the sight of his brother so distraught, and he moves around to the other side of the bed, raising his eyebrow in question at Gwaine and settling next to Merlin at his singular nod. Merlin doesn’t seem to notice his presence, not until Arthur settles a hand on his back and whispers his name. He instantly calms a little, and Gwaine mentally scolds himself for the slight flair of jealousy; Merlin had discovered he has a brother, that his best friend is his brother, it’s no surprise that he calms easier in his presence, especially considering the reveal unburied so much hidden trauma.

After a few more minutes, Merlin turns to be laying on his back, though he makes sure to stay in Gwaine’s embrace. The knight leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head, and though he can’t see it, he can almost feel the slight smile on The Warlock’s face. Arthur moves his hand back to his lap, looking at the two of them out of the corner of his eye; he sees nothing but worry and utter adoration on Gwaine’s face, and he wonders just how he hadn’t approved of their relationship. Gwaine’s whispered words just solidify Arthur’s newfound belief in the man:

“I love you, Merls, no matter what.”

Merlin lets out a quiet, choked laugh, and Gwaine considers that a win, even more so when Merlin responds in kind:

“I love you.”

Despite their relationship not being a particularly new thing, Arthur hadn’t even considered the possibility that they’d reached that far, that their partnership was that solid; perhaps that had something to do with their general lack of PDA, which he had always wondered how Gwaine had put up with. He grimaces with a quiet realisation, but it catches Merlin’s gaze and he raises a questioning eyebrow, his tears thankfully dried. Arthur glances up at Gwaine, who smirks at him knowingly, before looking back down to his brother:

“Making you Crown Prince is something I’m actually quite looking forward to, but I’m going to have to crown Gwaine as well.”

Gwaine snorts in amusement but Merlin turns pink and coughs slightly:

“Well.. we haven’t really discussed marriage, Arthur.”

Arthur looks to him with an apologetic expression:

“Merlin, royals have different courting rules. Royal partnerships tend to be incredibly short before a marriage has to happen. Back when me and Gwen were courting, we hid not only because Uther wouldn’t have approved, but also because we didn’t want to rush things. I’m especially glad we did now, otherwise we would have had to be married by now. The whole kingdom know that you two have been together for at least a year, the moment you’re crowned...”

His voice trails off as he comes to a second, horrifying realisation. He stands from the bed and stares at Gwaine with wide eyes and a pale face:

“Oh my God. Oh my God. If neither me, you, or Morgana have children... once you two have been married... Gwaine will officially be third in line for the throne. Oh... fuck.”

Merlin and Gwaine freeze for just a moment before they burst into loud laughter, and Arthur shakes his head, pacing slightly and not paying attention to the knocking at the door. Lancelot walks in slowly, an amused smile of his face despite his confusion:

“Do I even want to ask?”

Arthur fixes him with an almost distraught gaze before glaring half-heartedly at Merlin:

“Why? Why couldn’t it have been Leon, or Lancelot?? Elyan or Percival?? Hell, I would have been happier with fucking George.”

Gwaine’s laughter gets even louder but Merlin calmly wipes the tears (of laughter, thankfully) from his face and looks to Lancelot with bitten lips and held in hysterics:

“Arthur just realised that once all the crowning ceremonies happen, Gwaine will be third in line for the throne, if I’m the last one to die and there aren’t any children.”

Lance’s eyes go wide and he clamps a hand over his moth in a poor attempt to hold in his laughter. He fails miserably, bursting just like Gwaine and Merlin had moments earlier. Arthur fixes an annoyed glare on him and waves a desperate hand:

“This is not funny.”

Gwaine just shakes his head as he finally manages to calm himself, wiping his face clean and sitting up straight, one hand still on Merlin’s shoulder:

“It’s hilarious, Princess. God imagine Geoffrey’s face. Imagine the council.”

Arthur just takes a deep breath and looks to the ceiling again:

“Fuck. Ok, alright, whatever. That is a problem for another time.-”

He looks back down to Merlin with an apologetic smile, after shooting one last withering glare at a still-smirking Gwaine:

“-You feeling up to council? I’ve missed a fair few, and I think it might be a good idea for you two to start making appearances as well. That and... as much as we’ve told them you have magic, it might be worth showing it off a little.-”

At Merlin’s wide, fearful eyes, Arthur holds his hands out placatingly and hurries to continue:

“-You don’t have to, but they're working on the ban repeal. Obviously not anything huge, but passing jugs or paper or whatever with magic might help desensitise them to the idea. Plus, now that you’re semi-officially royalty, and you have Gwaine or Leon trailing you almost everywhere, no one would dare attack you. And if they do, you have every right to defend yourself in whatever capacity you deem necessary.”

At Merlin’s still nervous face, Lancelot quickly tacks on:

“And they all know that Arthur would go ape-shit if anything were to happen to you.”

Arthur gestures at the knight and nods in agreement, nodding further at Gwaine’s quiet “He’s not the only one.” . Merlin takes a deep breath and shuffles off the bed, standing and straightening his clothes out with unsteady hands:

“Let’s go. You’re right, I’m going to have to get used to stupid council meetings at some point if you’re insisting on crowning me, might as well be now.”

Arthur and Lancelot smile proudly and Gwaine moves to stand at his side, straightening his own clothes before running his hands through Merlin’s hair, flattening and neatening it. Merlin stands still and lets himself be assessed and fixed with a soft smile on his face, and Arthur feels almost as if he were intruding on something personal and domestic, even more so than when they were professing their love for each other; he looks away awkwardly and Lancelot raises an amused eyebrow at him.

The four of them finally exit the room, Arthur and Merlin falling into step besides each other, Gwaine slightly behind them, and Lancelot trailing the three of them with his face pulled into a blank mask and his hand on his sword.

This time, there is no hesitation before they enter the council room, and no raised eyebrows when Merlin takes his rightful place alongside Arthur at the head of the table. Flanked by Morgana, Leon, Lancelot, and Gwaine, Arthur effortlessly takes control of the meeting, hurrying things along with a proud confidence and an easy authority that was slowly but surely being taken on by his brother, at his side.

~

The council session lasts for the remainder of the day, and though at least half of the councilmen yelp, Gaius obviously not included, when Merlin first starts floating things about or magically highlighting words or moving the room’s lighting around with a flick of his wrist, most of them are used to it by the time the sun touches the horizon.

Arthur finally calls an end to the meeting when it gets dark. Though he was in a slightly manic mood and desperate to get as much work done as possible now that he was actually free to attend meetings, he could see that the others, Merlin especially, were flagging. He knew it would happen eventually, he can’t imagine The Warlock has been sleeping much, and he definitely came to some sort of private, horrifying conclusion around half a candle-mark ago. The hitch in Merlin’s breath, the widening of his eyes, and the slight, tiny flair of every candle in the room thankfully went unnoticed by everyone bar Arthur, Gwaine, and Lancelot.

When the room empties of councilmen, Merlin stands and paces away from the table, hands fiddling roughly with his sleeves. Arthur waves Morgana and Leon away, thanking them briefly before nodding pointedly at the door. Lancelot follows shortly, and Arthur has half a mind to send Gwaine away as well, but he knows that would be somewhat selfish as the other man approaches his partner’s turned back:

“Merlin? Something wrong? I thought that went remarkably well.”

Merlin’s head turns quickly, his furrowed brows confused:

“What? What went well?”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow, glancing briefly at the neatly stacked paperwork on the table:

“The meeting? About planning your coronation and the legalisation of magic? That we’ve been in all afternoon?”

Merlin untenses slightly, turning around properly and using one hand to rub at his eyes tiredly:

“Oh, yeah right. It did go well. They didn’t freak out too much at my evil sorcery, did they?”

He tries to go for a joking smirk, but it falls flat, and Arthur walks towards him to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder:

“What’s on your mind?”

Merlin sags even more and Arthur quickly steps forward, gathering the suddenly distraught man in a tight hug. Merlin easily accepts, burying his face in Arthur’s neck and clutching the back of his tunic with shaking hands:

“I compared my mother to Uther. I told her it was her fault that I didn’t want to be alive. She’s never going to forgive me.”

Arthur shuts his eyes, stroking a hand through Merlin’s hair and muttering a quiet:

“Oh, Merlin, she loves you more than anything in this world, there’s nothing to forgive.”

Merlin doesn’t look up, but shakes his head roughly; before he can argue, Gwaine steps around the two of them, pressing a kiss to the nape of Merlin’s neck before stepping back and stroking a soft hand over his back:

“What she did was wrong, Merls, you’re allowed to be angry. And now you’re not so angry anymore you can go sit down with her and talk it out, ok? There was no way that first conversation was going to be anything other than difficult and heartbreaking, but you got through it, and now you can sort it out properly.”

Merlin relaxes just a touch, and Arthur gets the disturbing feeling swelling in his gut that Gwaine knew of Merlin’s (hopefully, former) despairs before the whole... twin thing. When The Warlock finally pulls away, he thankfully looks a little more confident, despite the drying tears on his cheeks; Arthur gives him a soft smile and nods towards the door:

“Tonight, or tomorrow?”

Merlin takes a deep, fortifying breath, and walks towards the door purposefully, wiping his face clean before taking Gwaine’s offered hand in his own:

“Tonight, now. I should... I need to talk to Gaius as well. I’ve been unfairly punishing him for long enough, I think.”

Gwaine smiles understandingly, though Arthur, who rushes to catch up and walk on Merlin’s other side, shakes his head with a frown:

“Not unfairly, Merlin. It would be well within your rights to cut them out of your life for the foreseeable future for this. But I also understand wanting to forgive them so you have more... support. They may not be blood, Merlin, but... they are family, and that’s ok.”

Gwaine gives him an annoyed look at his first words, over Merlin’s shoulder, but doesn’t say anything. Merlin stops in the middle of the hallway, suddenly and without warning, and Gwaine grunts slightly when his arm is pulled back. The Warlock spares him an apologetic smile before turning his gaze to Arthur. Arthur raises an eyebrow, but Merlin tilts his head and frowns:

“Arthur you do know that... I consider you family above all others, right? you’re right, family doesn’t have to be blood,-”

He squeezes Gwaine’s hand, almost subconsciously, and receives a gentle squeeze back:

“-but after what we’ve found out, after all of this, all that we’re doing to... fix it, to fix what was done to us... you’re everything, you’re my brother. Me forgiving Hu... my mother, and Gaius, doesn’t change that I trust you above them, I consider you before them. They’re family, but you’re family first.”

Arthur’s eyes widen slightly at Merlin’s stern assertion, but he wills the tears in his eyes to disappear as he nods once, his jaw clenched with emotion. Merlin smirks slightly and rolls his eyes, muttering something about an “emotionally repressed idiot” before pulling him into an eagerly returned hug. Gwaine just snorts at both of them, happily leaning against the wall with crossed arms as he waits. They pull away fairly quickly, hyper aware of the fact that they were in the middle of the corridor, and whilst basically the whole citadel had picked up on the fact that something had changed, is changing, they didn’t want to let on too much until official public announcements were made.

They hurry in their journey to the Physician’s chambers, it was getting late and they wanted to sort this out as soon as possible; Gods know Merlin isn’t going to sleep a wink until he's spoken to his mother again.

They pause momentarily outside the door, taking deep breaths as they attempt to block out the hushed conversations coming from inside, not wanting to eavesdrop. Merlin turns to Gwaine with a nervous frown:

“Would you mind... waiting out here? Just for a minute?”

Gwaine gives him a soft smile and nods, pressing a kiss to his forehead and muttering “Call for me when you want me to come in, alright? I’m not going anywhere.” before giving Arthur an encouraging clap on the shoulder and stepping back to lean against the opposite wall.

Arthur sends a grateful smile the knight’s way, receiving a respectful nod in return, before he turns to the door. After a nod from Merlin, he raises a hand that shakes only slightly, and knocks. The murmured conversations stop immediately, and Gaius’ voice calls out:

“Enter.”

With one last look to each other, the brothers open the door and walk in together, shutting it gently behind them and turning to face the shocked pair. Hunith stares at Merlin with tears in her hopeful eyes, but Gaius quickly clears his throat and stands straight:

“How can I help, My Lords?”

Arthur sighs and Merlin shakes his head at the Physician’s formal address of them, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes before taking a small step forward :

“Don’t... I’m not... just Merlin, please.-”

His voice is quiet and tired, and the pleading tone it takes on deepens Arthur’s frown. He lets out a shaky breath, biting his lip before looking up to Hunith and continuing:

“-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. And I didn’t have any right to say those things; you’re... you’re nothing like Uther, and you did your best in a terrifying situation. You didn’t know any better, I shouldn’t blame you for how I turned out.”

Hunith’s tears overflow once again, and she takes in a shuddering breath as she steps hesitatingly towards the Warlock:

“Oh, my boy, you were right. I wasn’t ready to lose you, and I let that fear overcloud my judgement of what I knew to be right. I’m so sorry sweetheart, I should have told you who you were a long time ago, and it wasn’t fair of me to expect Gaius to carry on the lie, especially when you met Arthur, and especially when he found out about your magic.”

With that, Merlin pulls her into a tight hug, height difference be damned as he buries his face in her neck and shakes. Arthur gulps as he looks upon the scene, sharing a small, mournful smile with Gaius, the Physician understanding The Regent’s forgiveness in the small nod of his head. The hug doesn’t last quite as long as Arthur was expecting, though he supposes that forgiveness is more than just saying it aloud, and Merlin still has a great deal of self-worth related issues to get over, thanks to Hunith’s overly cautious raising of the boy. The Warlock clears his throat, his hands still on his mother’s shoulders as he gives her a weak smile:

“Igraine says thank you, by the way, for raising me with so much love.”

Hunith lets out a small chuckle, wiping away Merlin’s tears with soft hands:

“It was my honour,  I’m glad that your... mother, is pleased.”

Merlin’s frown is brief, and he responds quickly:

“You’re my mother.”

Hunith’s smile grows, as does Merlin’s and she nods shakily, almost whispering:

“Ok... I... ok.”

Merlin lets go hesitatingly, but turns to Gaius after a moment or two. The Physician quickly interrupts anything the younger man could have said with a shake of his head and a soft smile, pulling him into a hug as he softly speaks:

“It’s alright, my boy. You were well within your rights to be angry, we had no right to lie to you in such a way.”

With Gaius and Merlin’s soft conversation happening to the side of the room, Hunith turns to Arthur with a hopeful smile on her face. He returns it faintly, and she pulls him into his own hug. He stiffens in her hold, wide eyes darting around the room as he clenches his hands at his side. It only takes her stroking a hand through his knotted hair for him to relax and hug her back:

“I’m honoured to have been able to raise your brother, Arthur, and I am sorry for keeping him from you for so long, it was selfish of me. I didn’t consider what you were losing, in not knowing that you weren’t alone, only what I would lose should I tell the truth.”

Arthur gulps and nods, but tightens his hold on her as the tears come to his eyes:

“It’s... ok. I understand, I think. The danger you put yourself in to raise and protect him was immense, I just wished I’d known sooner, so I could have done all of this sooner.”

They pull back, but Hunith keeps a tight hold on Arthur’s shoulders, an assessing frown on her face as she raises a hand to cup his cheek. Arthur leans into it, blushing slightly under her motherly gaze:

“I know. But you’re doing wonderfully, Arthur. You and Merlin will be the saviours of this Kingdom, I’m sure of it. Your mother would be so proud of you.”

A tear slips loose from Arthur’s eye as he harshly bites his lip. His voice comes out small and unsure, and Hunith has to resist the urge to pull him into another hug:

“You think?”

She just smiles and nods instead:

“I’m sure.”

Merlin and Gaius look upon the scene fondly, and Arthur’s blush deepens when he catches them staring. He steps back from Hunith who smirks at him knowingly as he frowns at Merlin:

“Shut up, Merlin.”

He just laughs and shakes his head:

“I always knew you had a soft spot for my mum.”

The Regent shakes his head and rolls his eyes, ignoring Merlin’s continued laughter:

“Either of you eaten? I’m starved.”

Gaius and Hunith’s smiles come a lot easier at that, and they shake their heads. Arthur leads the way out of the chambers, smiling and nodding at Gwaine’s raised eyebrow. The knight returns the smile, quickly sidling up to Merlin and re-taking his hand as Arthur speaks:

“I’ll let the kitchens know to have five meals sent up to my chambers, I’ll see you there in a moment.”

They part ways in the corridor, all of them with easy smiles and lighter hearts, especially when Gwaine eagerly regales his interpretation of Arthur’s reaction to having to crown him.

~

The next morning was once again tense. Arthur’s assertion late last night that he intended to finally deal with Uther weighs heavy in everyone’s minds.

Hunith and Gaius are once again tucked safely into the Physician’s chambers, and all of the King’s most trusted knights are called to stand guard in the corridor. Merlin and Arthur wear their smart clothes (a suggestion by Morgana that Gwaine thought was funny enough that he begged and begged until Merlin gave in), and they take in with them Leon and Morgana. 

Uther looks manic, his hair unkept, his face unshaven. His clothes are clean at least, but they’re rumpled, likely due to the near constant pacing of the former King. The room is dark, the curtains obviously haven’t been opened in several days, but the dim candles highlight the mess throughout the room. Uther may still be being passed meals by the guards, but out of concern for the staff’s safety, no servants were granted access to tidy or otherwise serve. 

His head whips around when the door opens, his enraged face turning red at the four people stood smartly by his door. He storms towards them, but Morgana, no longer scared of the consequences, holds a hand out and mutters a few golden words, halting him in his tracks. He apparently hasn’t lost his voice though, as he turns to Merlin:

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY DAUGHTER?! YOU-”

Merlin rolls his eyes and clicks his fingers, his eyes also turning golden as Uther’s mouth shuts with a clack. Leon manages to hold his smirk in, just stands still as the perfect guard, his hand on the hilt of his sword, but Morgana doesn’t even try, smiling openly. Merlin holds Uther’s furious gaze for a few more moments before looking to Arthur at his side, tilting his head in question. The Regent nods at him before stepping forward, his back straight and his face and voice Kingly:

“You will listen, and you will listen well, because I will not repeat myself. You are the only abomination in this room, and you will live with that for the rest of your days. How long that is, is up to you. I am Regent, soon enough I will be King, Myrddin will be Crown Prince, and Morgana will be Princess; when that happens, magic will finally be fully legalised, and the public will be made aware of your crimes. I will not hide things from my people, not like you have. No matter what you deserve, I struggle to bring myself to sentence you to execution, and you’ll be humiliated to learn, I imagine, that Merlin argued in favour of letting you keep your head when I brought it up.-”

Uther glances angrily at Merlin, but looks back to Arthur when he realises that he’s still incapable of speaking:

“-Therefor your options are as follows: You may go to the summer home on the coast, where you will be under constant guard, but will otherwise have a semi-free life. You will stay in Camelot, but live out the remainder of your days in this room only. Or me and Merlin will take a week long trip away to, say, Nemeth, whilst Princess Morgana and Sir Leon announce, organise, and undergo your execution. You have today to decide, we’ll be back this evening.”

Arthur doesn’t bother waiting for a reaction, turning his back on Uther and gesturing the others to lead the way through the door. He pauses momentarily, one hand on the door frame as he turns back, a mournful frown on his face as he quietly speaks:

“If you had just told the truth, if you had just owned up to making a mistake, you, me, Myrddin, Morgana, we... we could have been a family. You’re the one that ruined that, you’re the one that tore us apart, and I swear to you now, that whatever option you pick, I will never forgive you.”

That only seems to enrage Uther more, but Arthur isn’t quite sure why he bothered to hope for another reaction. He shuts the door behind him, waving at Merlin to reset the magical locks as he sighs and rubs tired hands over his face:

“Well at least that’s over and done with.”

Leon pats him on the shoulder consolingly, and Elyan raises an eyebrow, glancing around at the others and sighing when he realises no one else is going to ask:

“He didn’t take it well then, I’m guessing?”

Arthur takes a deep breath and stands straight, shaking his head. Morgana is the one to answer however, and Arthur appreciates the way she makes a genuine attempt to keep the humour out of her voice:

“No, he wasn’t best pleased, but I think he’s accepted that he has well and truly lost this battle. Something he’s not entirely used to, I suppose.”

The knights nod in understanding, and Merlin lets out a deep breath, tilting his head slightly:

“Weird to think that he’s my... dad... ugh.”

They all chuckle at that, even Arthur, though they all stop with concerned frowns when Merlin suddenly straightens up with wide eyes and an open mouth:

“Oh... my God... how did I...- What?!”

Arthur puts a hand on his shoulder, his frown deepening:

“Merls?”

The Warlock just ignores him, turning to Morgana with still wide eyes:

“You’re my sister! I’ve been focusing so much on how Arthur’s my brother that I didn’t even consider the fact that you’re my sister!”

Morgana takes in a sudden breath, and all bar Leon (who just raises an eyebrow and then rolls his eyes when he realises that he’s the only one unsurprised by this) stare at the two of them in shock. Morgana slowly pulls Merlin into a hug, and the two of them clutch each other tightly as a grin grows on Arthur’s face. Leon gives him another clap on the back, this one more congratulatory (if a little confused. Honestly, how did they miss that?), and the others cheer just as Gwen turns the corner into the corridor. She smiles confusedly at Merlin and Morgana, still hugging, as she sidles up to Leon, whispering:

“What’s the occasion? They find Uther dead?”

Leon laughs but shakes his head, leaning down to mutter his response:

“They only just now figured out that they’re siblings.”

She looks up to him quickly with a disbelieving raise of the eyebrows:

“Wait, just now as in, just now?-”

Leon smirks and nods firmly, and Gwen shakes her head as she laughs:

“-It’s been almost a week.”

Leon laughs as well leaning against the wall as the others chatter excitedly among themselves:

“Yeah, apparently you and I are the only ones who had considered the idea. These are all the smartest people I’ve ever come across...”

He trails off, but Gwen looks up at him with a teasing smirk:

“And yet sometimes...?”

They both laugh quietly, shaking their heads when Percival catches their eyes and tilts his head in question.

The group walks away soon enough, heading to one of the smaller dining rooms for an early lunch and a chance to discuss their intentions for this afternoon’s council meeting. Morgana, Merlin, and Arthur walk together, and conversation flows between all bar Gwaine, who stares at the back of his now betrothed’s head with the quiet adoration and lowly simmering excitement of someone that knew the man he loves is finally getting all that he deserves.

~

END of Part 3!!!

Part 4 will be VERY short. Will be just about post coronation and public announcement, will probably contain Merwaine’s wedding, some casual magic, some more family bonding.

I hope y’all enjoyed this!!! I wrote it surprisingly quickly once I set my mind to it

[the-broken-truth]

The Dollmaker's Healer - Yandere Donna Benevieto x Reader (Part 1)

Memory is both a blessing & a curse - both helpful and hindering - both a miracle and a burden. You remembered how you come to be in the village - One of your late relatives passed away and bequeathed to you their Romanian Estate; you didn't even know that you were of Romanian Descent. Well - you knew your surname had a Romanian meaning but you didn't take much thought into it. Along with the estate - there were a few vaults and chests your late relative hoarded; making one of the richest residents in the village.

After meeting with the lawyer and getting your plane ticket - you traveled to Romanian's Village and was taken to your estate by a horse-pulled carriage.

The Estate was massive - tucked away in the Misty Valley with trees surrounding you; located on the edge of the cliff where the waterfall roared. The estate was about 3 stories - complete with an attic and a basement that was converted into a training room/herbal lab; that was your favorite part of the house. During your time in O/S (Orginal State), you spent a lot of your time hunting with your uncles or making salves and elixirs with your aunts from various plants; documenting the effects to know which were needed at which times.

To your uncles - you were the Bearer of the Eagle's Eye: You saw the furthest and could nail prey from as small as rabbits to as big as elk with a single arrow.

To your aunts - you were the Mistress/Master of the Gardens: Able to identify any kind of plant without fail. You got the best of both worlds and it came in handy considering that you were more attached to the wilds than civilian life.

With that memory of how you come to be here first in your mind, another come - the first time you saw the veiled woman and her puppet. You were standing on the back patio that overlooked the forest below the cliff your home sat - the fog was light this morning and you were just basking in the beauty when you looked to the side and saw another estate on the other side of the opening, sitting on the other waterfall's cliff. - it was grand but not as grand as yours. On the other estate's patio - you could see a figure, dawned in a black dress with a veil covering their face and - was that a doll upon their lap? You watched them for a while before the doll - it moved on its own, getting out the other person's lap and the two of them looked in your direction before disappearing into the estate. You thought about what the carriage driver told you - The L/N Estate was close to the House Beneviento - the current and only head of that family was Donna Beneviento, also known as the Dollmaker. You didn't think anything of it and went back inside your home to make some new healing salves you came up with.

A few months had passed since you first come to the village - you knew nothing here was normal: Lycans attacking at times, mutated wolves coming up out of nowhere, and then...there were the Daughters of the Castle - you encountered them a few times but you were able to defend yourself; sometimes leaving with a bite or a few scratches but it was never too bad.

One morning - you noticed that you were out of meat and grabbed one of the purses of Lei from the chest and put on your cloak before heading out the door. At this time - you developed of a bit of a reputation: You've used your salves for the people of the village and the sick got better, the hurt was relieved of their pain, and the restless was sleeping soundly; you made it into a bit of a business and it was very profitable. Everything was going great...until...the moment you met them.

"Excuse me. Are you Y/N L/N of L/N Estate?" A low voice called out behind you as you paid for your meat from the butcher. It was her - the veiled woman and beside her - clenching onto her dress - was the small doll you saw with her that day.

"Yes. I'm Y/N. May I ask who you are and what business you have with me?" You asked her.

"My name is Donna Beneviento - Head of House Beneviento. I came to find you because...I was hoping you could help me with my problem." Donna spoke in a low voice.

"What kind of problem?" You ask.

"It's her scar." The raspy voice of the doll called out - causing you to look at her. "She has a scar upon her face that she would love to be rid of but nothing she tried in the past seemed to have worked." The doll spoke.

"I'm guessing you're her companion? What's your name?" You asked the doll. The Doll and the Dollmaker were surprised - you weren't frightened by a talking doll?

"Angie. My name is Angie." The doll spoke. "You do no fear me?"

"At this point, I've seen a lot of things, Angie. Nothing really surprises me anymore here. So - what can you tell me about the scar?" You asked.

"It's...more of an infection caused than a common mortal wound." Donna's soft voice spoke as you stood back at your height to speak to her.

"An infection. Wait - was it caused by a Cadou?" You asked with a raised eyebrow - making both the doll and the dollmaker gasp.

"You know about the Cadou?" Angie exclaimed.

"Yes, I've dealt with a few cases of Cadou Scarring during my time here in the village. I made an elixir - while it can't get rid of the Cadou itself, it can make it so small that it gets rid of the scarring it leaves behind." You said with a smile.

"You...You can get rid of the scarring without getting rid of the Cadou? I...This is what I need - when can you do it?" Donna's voice was a bit louder - laced with hope that she could be free of the horrible scar without getting rid of the gift her mother gave to her.

"I have some vials of Cadou Represser at home; I don't feel quite comfortable allowing unknown people coming to my home but I can to yours - if you're comfortable with that. It will take 3 does - each a week apart." You explain.

"Yes - I can accept that. When can you come to House Beneviento to give me the first dosage?" Donna asked, her hands trembling with excitement.

"Once I'm done here - I dropped the food off at home, grab the vial and a fresh syringe, then meet you both at House Beneviento. Is that alright?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"I...Yes. Please do come." Donna said as she gave a slight bow and turned on her heel before walking away with Angie at her heels. You smiled at the thought of aiding someone else with your knowledge and continued shopping - completely unaware of the smile and blush the veiled woman hid.

[A While Later]

After returning home and placing the food in the proper places - you made your way down to the Elixir Lab - that's what you liked to call it - and opened the cabinet to get a fresh bottle of Cadou Represser along with a fresh syringe - the cap securely over the needle to make more it was not contaminated by anything. You placed the two in your baggy jacket pocket before leaving your home once again. You began your journey to House Beneviento - crossing the wooden bridge that looked like it could collapse at any moment to the misty forest full of hanging dolls; you just looked at them and continued on your way until you came to a large grave surrounded by at least 20 smaller ones - looking at the gravestone of the large grave, you noticed that half of it was gone but the surname remained.

'Beneviento.' Sadness grasped your heart as you realized what you were looking at. 'Her family's massive gravesite. She really has no one besides Angie and her adoptive mother; that poor soul.'

You closed your eyes and brought your hands together in front of your chest in a praying manner - praying for the departed Beneviento Family & Donna's Happiness; no one should be as alone as she was. You finished your prayer and continued on your way - completely unaware of the porcelain eyes watching your move since you walked in the forest.

Upon arriving at the Beneviento Manor - you wanted up the wooden stairs to the door and knocked.

"Who is it?" The voice of Donna called out from behind the wood.

"It's Y/N. I'm here to do the treatment." You responded.

"Oh, please come in; the door is unlocked." Donna called out again.

You opened the door and saw Donna sitting in her wooden rocking chair near her round table; a cup of tea cooling by her side.

"Hello, Ms. Beneviento." You greeted as you made your way over to the veiled woman.

"Hello." It was simple and soft but you couldn't say anything about it.

With her permission - you lifted her veil to reveal her face and the Cadou that covered the right side of her face. Donna waited for you to utter about how horrifying she was but when she looked at your face, she saw the light blush creeping across your face. She asked if you were alright but all you said was: beautiful.

It was her turn to blush now.

No one ever called her beautiful - especially after seeing her scar. Donna felt a fluttering feeling in her stomach and warmth in her chest but she said nothing. You apologized for staring but she said it was alright; you thanked her before you gathered the supplies you brought with you and began your work. Filling the syringe with the liquid, you informed her that it would be a small stick and maybe some discomfort but it would pass in a few moments - she understood and you injected the Cadou Scar with the tip of the syringe and slowly injected the liquid until it was empty. You gathered your stuff but looked into the eye of the woman with a smile.

"I understand your reason but you really shouldn't cover your face, Lady Beneviento; you're very beautiful." You said with a smile.

"You... Do you really think I am beautiful?: Donna asked as you lightly dabbed the injection spot with an alcoholic wipe to make sure the injection site wasn't infected.

"Of course you are. You're a little different but that just adds to your beauty." You replied as your rose to your feet, gave her a polite bow before turning to leave but was stopped by her voice.

"Wait... Do you have anything else you need to be doing at this moment?" Donna asked.

"Not today. Why?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Then...would you like to stay for tea?" Donna asked as she gestured her hand to the teacup.

"I would love to." You answered.

That's how it began - ever since the treatments started: you would go over to Donna's house just to see her and Angie, the two of them seemed to lighten up whenever you came around. During the second treatment, Donna asked you about her personal life - mainly: If you had a lover at home? This made you blush and Donna looked at but annoyed but when you said you didn't have a lover, she seemed to relax. After the second treatment - the Cadou was more than half as small as it was when the treatments started. Donna would ask you to stay more and more often, even when you had other clients to tend to - she was always upset when you had work but she didn't let her emotions get too involved...until that day.

It was a few days before her last treatment - the Cadou was so small that it only covered her right eye - the two of you were sitting and drinking tea and eating lemon cake squares; you made some and thought Donna would like one so you brought some over. Donna was talking about a new doll she was working on but when you didn't engage in conversation, she looked at you and saw you were zoned off somewhere. She gained attention once again and asked you what was on your mind - you informed her you met someone in the village.

This made her drop the cup in her hand, making it crash against the teacup platter resting on the table, shattering both.

"What do you mean - you met someone?" Donna asked with a low voice.

"Well - her father was one of my clients and she was thankful for my help. I ran into her in the village a few times running errands and she and I have been hanging out." You said with a blush on your face - this angered Donna more.

"But...Why would you need to hang out with her when you have Angie and me? Are we not enough for you?" Donna almost hissed at you.

"Well, she seems nice and we have a lot in common. She wanted to take me out to dinner tomorrow - it will be like our first date." That made something in Donna snap.

"A Date? With her?" She was silent for a moment before she spoke again. "No."

"What do you mean 'no'?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Just what I said - you will not date this woman. You will not see her again." Donna said.

"And just who are you to tell me who I can or cannot see? My Mother? Donna, I'm a grown (Man/Woman), I can see who I want." You protested.

"I said you're not allowed to see her again; just listen to me and leave that woman alone. All you need are Angie and I." Donna said as she rose to her feet and made her way over to the stairs but stopped when you spoke again.

"Donna, you can't tell me who to see. You don't own me." You said.

"You need to listen to me - you are not allowed to see her again; just let it go." Donna gripped the rail of the stairway.

"You know what? I think I've been here for far too long to the point you think you can tell me what to do like you own me. I think I should leave." You walked to the door and reached out for the handle when the air suddenly got heavier.

"No. Don't...Don't leave me... You can't leave me, Y/N. Please." Donna called out as she began walking over to you but you kept your distance.

"No, I need to leave. I'll see you in a few days to finish the treatment but after that - we are no longer friends, Donna." Those words made Donna's blood freeze.

"No... No. Don't say that!" Donna's face raised as she lunged forward and grasped Y/N's hand. "Please, don't leave; I need you, Y/N. You can't just leave me." Donna begged.

"Watch me." You removed her hand walked out the door, slamming it behind you.

Donna fell to her knees and hugged herself, sobbing and begging for you to come back, to hold her and tell her you wouldn't leave her.

"Don't you understand, Mommy?" Angie's voice called out. "It's that other woman, she's making them think they don't want to be with you. If she wasn't in the way - you and Y/N would be together."

"Yes... I know it's her fault." Donna clenched her head and started laughing to herself. "She wants to take them from me. My Healer, my light, my love. But I won't let her. Don't worry, Y/N; once that weed in our garden is ripped out...it will just be us....Forever."

[captainshadowgirllostfan]

For some reason I found Wanda killing Xavier more horrifying than how Jean kills Xavier in X-Men 3 Last Stand... maybe because I’m watching X-Men 3 for like the third time in my life and I guess the shock value of it is gone. I already expect. Plus as I last recall, I think I was more sad than anything and well maybe also shocked. I was shocked and sad when Wanda killed Xavier too but that was due to not seeing him being played by Patrick Stewart for so long and seeing Patrick Stewart again reprising that role really warmed by own heart, I was so happy and then it was cut short with Wanda killing him. Man they really made Scarlet Witch such a badass villain. Tbh I don’t think I was this scared with Thanos but with Scarlet Witch, there was genuine fear and that’s probably due to the amount of successful killing that she leaves in her wake. Thanos killed people, but it was generally no-name characters, and the main characters being killed in the end mostly felt like sacrifices of their own volition just to defeat Thanos than the murderbot that Wanda was just covered in blood and killing just about everyone just to get to Chavez and her alternate’s children. 

Anyway going back to Xavier’s death at the hands of Scarlet Witch... I guess MoM was more successful at building up Wanda as a villain unlike the X-Men series where Jean becoming a villain just seem to came out of nowhere. Wanda’s journey to villain was much more realized and I guess what’s horrifying is how human she is while being just monstrous, you know. You can’t help but feel for her but no she needs to be stopped and also scared because you know she can’t be stopped and in the past it seemed the only way she can be stopped is by reasoning with her which Strange wasn’t able to do. 

There’s also the fact that Elizabeth Olsen’s murderous expressions and her blank creepy psychopathic “I’m gonna kill you” looks (idk how to describe but girl can really pull off being scary well) is just more effective than the CGI being done to Famke Janssen where her eyes are just black and she becomes kind of a demon but it’s just idk poor. Like I feel nothing there whereas with Wanda, I’m genuinely scared.

I guess maybe Scarlet Witch/Wanda Maximoff is just a better villain than Jean Grey/Dark Phoenix. Grieving mother and widow who is still dealing with trauma of the losses she experienced both in reality and in the fiction she created, and whose powers who allow her to do absolutely anything ready to tear the multiverse just to kill her alternate and replace her is pretty scary and what’s more fucking human compared to the generic woman born of great power who needs to be controlled else said power will control her because you know it’s just too much. Like I don’t feel impressed with Jean, maybe a little pity but the storyline just pisses me off. At least with Wanda there’s agency there. Wanda is doing terrible stuff by her own volition and that’s more terrifying to me compared to powerful woman who can’t control her own power. 

Is Jean generally a weak character in the xmen comic books or is it just that the movies make her this way. Like this damsel in distress who needs to be protected and saved from even herself. She had this awesome ending in X Men 2 where she becomes the hero and for once refuses to let the men in her life protect and save her only for it all to be ruined in X-Men 3! Honestly it’s so lame.

I’m sorry for being so harsh but Jean is just so lame! I mean compared to Wanda anyway. I can’t believe it took this long for us to see a live-action Wanda Maximoff... though maybe it’s because House of M storyline wasn’t created yet because I recall a long while back I read in the wiki that the Dark Phoenix storyline was considered one of the best in the X-Men comics hence why the movie franchise kept trying to revive and recreate it only to fail so spectacularly.

Though to be fair, I haven’t watched the X-Men movie Dark Phoenix yet so the verdict is out there if I think it sucks or not...

But X-Men 3 Last Stand is well... kind disappointing in this re-watch. I guess I’m spoiled and just can’t help comparing Jean to Wanda lol. It’s unfair I know, but like I’m a little pissed we never saw the Scarlet Witch in the X-Men universe especially since she started out as a mutant and was part of Magneto’s Brotherhood of Mutants.

She’s also, like to me anyway, one hell of a villain.

Yeah I was very much impressed by her in Dr. Strange Multiverse of Madness that I’m kinda obsessed with her right now.

But I’m only re-watching the X-Men movies because well the parallels with her and Magneto and I want to see OG Magneto who Elizabeth Olsen wants her fictional dad for her character to be. 

[makoodlesarchive]

bad dragon

here i am delivering content that NO ONE ASKED FOR !! this is nasty and i got super embarrassed just writing it but i hope you enjoy it anyway

honestly no one look at me, just let me indulge in this in peace

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

word count: 10k

warnings: blowjobs, penetrative sex, virgin kirishima, lots of cum (like, a ridiculous amount), breeding (kinda), size kink?. it’s not exactly anthro bc everyone is human here but uhh non-standard genitals, i guess? kirishima has an unusual dick: pls see here for reference      OR     check out the amazing fanart for kiri’s dick !!

Tip Jar!

  dragon dick kiri masterlist!

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Kirishima Eijirou was a perfect gentleman. He bought you flowers, he opened doors for you, he gave the sweetest goodnight kisses, he ate you out so good he had you seeing stars. You had the biggest, fattest crush on him, and you would be embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the fact that it seemed, at least for the most part, to be reciprocated.

The problem was Kirishima never let you touch him.

Whenever the two of you ended up in bed together, with the door firmly locked behind you, Kirishima insisted on sliding under the blankets and eating you out so enthusiastically he had your legs shaking in no time. It’s not like you would ever complain about that, but it definitely bothered you that he was never up for doing anything else. You would see the blanket shifting around as he jerked himself off furiously under the sheets as he tongue-fucked you, but whenever you tried to coax him out from beneath the sheets you were turned down with a soft, apologetic little smile.

You figured it must have something to do with his apparent commitment issues. Everytime you brought up the possibility of being a couple, or anything more than what you currently were (which, tragically, was nothing; just two friends occasionally getting hot and heavy) he brushed you off or changed the subject with a beautifully sunny smile and a laugh, so bright and cheery that you were successfully diverted every single time.

And it was fine, really. You liked Kirishima a lot, so you were totally willing to put up with a few odd idiosyncrasies. And okay, sure, if you were being totally honest with yourself, of course you wanted to be more than friends that flirt and kiss and mess around a bit. You couldn’t even technically call each other fuck buddies because he wouldn’t fuck you. But he was so sweet, and so handsome and kind and his tongue was so so good, that you would take whatever you could get from him. 

At least, that was until one afternoon.

April had brought with it blue skies and sun showers and warm breezes, and as the weather begins to improve your friends take to lounging out the front of the apartment complex. After graduating, renting places in the same neighbourhood just seemed like the next logical step. On days like this, where you all come together just to chill out in front of the complex, it seems like the best idea in the world. As you watch Kirishima chase Kaminari around the lawn, the two of them howling with laughter, something a little wistful twists in your stomach. It’s a familiar feeling, easy enough to shove away normally, but today for some reason you just feel… melancholy.

Maybe that’s why you do something you would never normally do. You turn to Bakugou, who’s aggressively chewing on candy as though it insulted his mother, and say, “Hey, um. Does Kirishima… does Kirishima ever talk about me?”

Bakugou’s jaw stills, and he turns his head very slowly to look at you. He looks mildly disbelieving, which is understandable. The two of you get along just fine, but you’ve never asked him anything personal before. “Why the fuck are you asking me that?” he demands through a mouthful of half-chewed toffee.

You shrug jerkily, suddenly mortified. Why are you asking something like that of Bakugou, of all people? “Never mind.” you say quickly, praying that he’ll just let it go and you can both move on and forget that you had ever asked such an embarrassing question.

A silence stretches between the two of you, long and taut, broken only by Mina giggling as she shows Sero something on her phone a few metres away. You could curse yourself for making things awkward between the two of you when you had been on relatively good terms, but then Bakugou turns to look at you so abruptly that you startle a little. “Look,” he says, jaw working absently as he chews his candy. “He likes you just fine, okay. Why aren’t you having this conversation with him, huh?”

You can’t quite meet Bakugou’s eyes. You don’t know how he can be so forthright all the time. “Um. I’ve tried, but he always changes the subject.”

Bakugou swears softly, glaring out across the lawn at Kirishima as he chases Kaminari, throwing grapes at his back. “I ain’t a relationship counsellor, okay? I get that it must be hard that he doesn’t cum when he’s with you or whatever, but you seriously need to work that out with him. What am I meant to do about it?”

“Right,” you wince, your body hot with embarrassment. Your mind sticks on something he just said though, and you turn back slowly to frown at him. “He… he doesn’t cum?”

“Hah?” Bakugou scowls at you, clearly annoyed that you’re still having this conversation. You’re not about to let up though, because you hadn’t known that.

“I-I didn’t realise that he didn’t-?” you trail off, mortified and horrified in equal measures. You had assumed all those times that he was jerking off under the sheets that he was getting himself off but just didn’t want you to see. You had never questioned the lack of mess because as soon as you were done he always left for the bathroom, returning a few minutes later with damp towels to clean you up with -- you had assumed he cleaned himself up in those moments of absence. How the fuck had you never noticed?  Why did Bakugou know when you didn’t? Oh god, had he and Kirishima talked about this?

Bakugou’s expression shifts as he apparently realises that he had just revealed something you hadn’t been aware of. “Oh.” he says, and his annoyance seems to have evaporated, only to be replaced by an intense discomfort. “Well. It’s not that big a deal, or whatever. I’m sure he still, uh, enjoys himself- fucking hell, can we stop talking about this?”

“Yeah.” you say a little numbly. You feel so stupid. Why had he never said anything to you? You had been under the assumption that he liked you back, but maybe you were totally mistaken. Maybe seeing your naked body turned him off to the point that he couldn’t actually cum even if hidden under the sheets and not looking at you. Maybe he never actually wanted to do any of that with you in the first place. There’s a stinging pressure building in the back of your eyes, and you have to look down at your lap and blink hard to stop yourself from doing something stupid like bursting into tears in front of Bakgou -- you don’t think either of you would live that down. “Uh. I think I’m gonna head up to my room, I’m really tired.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened a little, “Wait, are you-”

“I’ll see you later,” you smile and try to keep your voice as normal as possible, but even you can hear how forced you sound. You stand quickly and brush yourself off before heading back inside; you have to consciously slow your pace so that it doesn’t look like you’re running away, because you really don’t put it past Bakugou not to chase you down for cutting him off like that.

You bump into Jirou on the stairs and babble out an apology, escaping back upstairs to your apartment before she can ask you if you’re okay. The last thing you need is an audience for your imminent breakdown, but thankfully you don’t see a single other person on the way to your place. You shut the door to your room tight and lean your forehead against it to take a deep breath. It doesn’t do much to calm you down, so you turn and make a beeline straight for the bed. Throwing yourself dramatically on top of your bed covers feels a little cathartic, so you allow yourself the luxury of being dramatic as you bury your face into your arms and sigh. 

God, you wish Kirishima would have just talked to you instead of grinning that stupidly bright smile of his and changing the subject anytime you tried to talk or ask about the thing the two of you had together. At least then you would have been able to deal with any upset that may have been caused by that conversation by yourself, and you wouldn’t have had to get all upset in front of one of Kirishima’s best friends. God, how were you ever gonna look at Bakugou again?

You know that stewing by yourself like this isn’t going to help sort this situation out, but you just can’t find the energy to start thinking about what you’re going to do next. You don’t want to start thinking about that at all. You just need some time to yourself, just a little while to relax and breathe and just not think because if you start thinking you’re pretty sure you’re going to cry. You feel impossibly stupid.

When you hear a knock coming from the door, you want to bang your head off the wall. You can’t imagine anything worse than having to talk to someone and pretend that everything is fine right now.

“Y/N? Hey, is everything alright? Bakugou said you ran off.”

Aw, shit. Maybe you can imagine something worse.

You sit up sharply, staring at the door. This was so typical. Of all the people in the building, Kirishima is the last person you want to talk to right now. So of course it stands to reason that he would be the one to follow you straight to your apartment. “Everything’s fine,” you call back quickly, trying hard to sound like you meant it, “Hey, I’m just tired right now. Can we talk later?”

“Bakugou said you were upset.”

That traitor. You clench your jaw and scowl at the wall. “I’m-”

“I’m coming in, okay?”

“Wha-?” you stand up quickly, but Kirishima is already coming in and closing the door behind him. “Kirishima, I don’t-”

“Okay look, Bakugou said you were upset with me and I’m really, really sorry,” Kirishima blurts quickly, hands up in the air as if he’s being held at gunpoint, “He’s actually pretty annoyed at me right now, but he’s right, and-”

“I’m not-” you start, then pause to gather your thoughts. Bakugou was right, especially when he said you had to talk. And it was important this time that you didn’t let Kirishima divert you like he had been doing. “It’s not that I’m upset with you. Not really. I just- what are we even doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, so softly that it’s almost a whisper.

“I-” you swallow hard, brace yourself, “I really like you. I like spending time with you, and I’ve told you, or at least tried to, that I’d really like to, well, be- um, be more than whatever this is. And obviously I would totally get if you don’t want that, a relationship and stuff, but I want you to just tell me! Just say it, instead of changing the subject.”

“Wait, baby, please.” Kirishima steps forward quickly and stops just short of touching you, a bare few inches between you. “I like you so much, I never wanted you to feel this way. I just- it’s difficult to explain-”

“Do you...” you start to say, then sigh. You can’t believe you’re actually going to ask this, because it makes you sound so desperate, but you really need to hear him say it, “Do you not find me attractive?”

Kirishima makes a startled choking sound, “Wha-? Are you kidding? I find you so attractive! You’re so pretty, and your body is- is really nice, why would you think-”

“You never look at me when we’re in bed and-” you start fidgeting, horribly awkward. “I just want to be able to touch you.”

Kirishima steps forward, closing the distance between you and dropping to one knee. “Baby, I’ll do whatever you want,” he says, his hands coming to rest on your hips as his thumbs stroke circles into your skin. “You want me to touch you?”

“No.” you squeeze your eyes shut in frustration, realising that he had misunderstood. “I mean. Bakugou told me that you never cum when we’re together.”

When you open your eyes again, you see that Kirishima has gone stock still. His mouth is a little open, and you can see his throat working as he seems to fight for something to say. Very slowly, he gets back to his feet. “He shouldn’t have said that.”

You stare at him, at a loss. “Is it because-” you start, then trail off as you realise that you don’t even know what you’re trying to ask. You just want him to start talking so that you can stop asking all these stupid questions. “If you don’t want to have sex with me, you only have to say so, I would never pressure you into-”

“No!” Kirishima blurts, jolting forward. The suddenness of the movement seems to startle the both of you, but Kirishima recovers faster. “God, no, that’s not what this is!”

“Then, why?” you whisper, thoroughly confused. You had hoped that talking it out would help get some answers, but if anything you’re even more confused and insecure than you had been before he came to your room. “Did I- I mean, if I’m doing something that’s-”

“It’s not you.” Kirishima interrupts, covering his eyes with one of his large palms and leaning away from you. His hand is trembling a little, almost imperceptibly. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

The statement hangs in the air between the two of you like it’s a tangible presence. You stare hard at Kirishima, but he doesn’t remove his hand from his face. He looks a bit like he’s going to be sick. “What do you mean?” you ask quietly.

You’re guessing that this is where you get the ‘You’re great and all but I’m just not ready for a relationship. It’s got nothing to do with you though, I need to work through my own stuff’ sort of speech, and you have to brace yourself for it. Instead, Kirishima says something that you had not prepared yourself to hear in the slightest.

“I’m sorry.” you say, a little bewildered. You’re certain that you heard that wrong. “Could you- could you say that again?”

A flush has begun to crawl steadily across Kirishima’s face, made all the more prominent by the contrast of his hand pressed to his eyes. His ears are so red that they blend right into his hair. “I said,” he says, then takes an inhale, “That you’ll break up with me if you see my dick.”

You don’t actually know how to begin replying to that. For one, breaking up would require you to be in a relationship, which is something that he has been avoiding for a while now. You decide to address the bigger problem first. “Why would I want to break up because of your dick? Why would you even think that? Do you think I’m that shallow?”

“It’s got nothing to do with you being shallow,” Kirishima says slowly. You get the impression that he’s measuring his words, and his uncharacteristic reticence has you on edge. “It’s just that- I’m not, well, normal.”

You stare at him, a little taken aback. Kirishima had always had some issues with self-confidence, ever since middle school, but you’d always thought he’d worked through that in UA. You had never heard him talk about himself like this. “What’s that supposed to mean? Eijirou, lots of people are self-conscious about what they have going on downstairs. It doesn’t mean-”

“No, you don’t get it,” he interrupts. His hands have started twisting up the hem of his shirt, wringing it out and wrinkling the material. He’s frowning, and clearly starting to get agitated. “It’s not that I’m self-conscious about it- well, I am self-conscious about it, I guess, but it’s for a reason! I mean it, it’s not exactly… standard.”

Your face scrunches up in a frown before you can stop it. Not standard? “You’re worried it’s too small?” You guess. Your gaze drops to the crotch of his pants, where he’s subconsciously folded his hands. “Too big?”

“Um.” Kirishima lets out a nervous little laugh, several octaves higher than normal. “Yeah, I guess. It’s… it looks weird.”

“Eijirou,” your voice is soft now, most of your frustration melted away by the sight of Kirishima’s anxious fidgeting, “We live in a world where physical mutations are the norm; you really don’t have anything to worry about.” You pause for a moment, but Kirishima doesn’t respond immediately. The silence builds, until you try to break it with a light-hearted, “How weird can it be, really?”

Kirishima’s throat works as he swallows hard, but he’s nodding so you at least know that he’s listening. When he does speak, his voice is so low that you have to lean closer to him to catch what he’s saying. “I just don’t want to ruin this.”

Your heart twists, and the last of your frustration straight up disappears. You take a breath to steady yourself, then step forward and place your hands gently on his chest. A tremor works its way up his spine at your touch, but you don’t remark on it. “Kirishima.” you say firmly, and when he looks up and makes eye contact you try to keep your gaze as strict as possible. “You really have no idea how much I like you, do you? God, I like you so much, it’s stupid. I’ve wanted to be with you for so long. I mean, even if you never wanted to have sex I would understand, so long as you talked to me about it. Your dick is not gonna stop me from liking you, idiot.”

The fear of rejection is still plain to see on Kirishima’s face, but there’s something lurking just underneath that looks like hope. “I’ve never… I’ve never been with anyone like that.”

“You haven’t?” you ask, genuinely surprised. Not only is Kirishima perfectly sweet, he’s also extremely attractive. As an up-and-coming sidekick in Fatgum’s hero agency, you knew that he had no shortage of admirers. Even before that, in UA, you knew there were always people who had their eyes on him. He was so bright, he was hard to miss. 

He laughs, scrubbing at his eyes with his knuckles. “Uh, no. I mean, I’m not totally inexperienced. I mean, I’ve done oral and stuff, and I think I’m actually pretty good at it-”

“You are definitely pretty good at it,” you chime in, nodding and trying not to laugh at the flush crawling up his neck.

“I enjoy it, too!” he says quickly, as though trying to reassure you, “I enjoy it a lot. But I’ve never- I mean, no one’s ever touched me like that.” You feel your mouth drop open in honest shock. A little part of you couldn’t help but feel reassured that it wasn’t you he had a problem with, but that was mostly drowned out by surprise. Kirishima rushes on before you can speak, as though trying to say his piece before he runs out of steam, “It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s just that it’s never seemed worth the fallout. Especially with you. I’m happy with being with you in whatever way I can, and I don’t want my stupid dick to scare you off or-”

“Oh my god, Kirishima, stop,” you say, and this time you really can’t hold back your laugh. “Your stupid dick isn’t going to scare me off. God, I can’t believe this is why you never let me touch you.” you step closer and press a soft, close-mouthed kiss to his lips. You hadn’t realised just how tense Kirishima was until he relaxed a little into your touch, the stiffness in his shoulders easing out as he sighed into the kiss. You pull back just a little, just enough that you can give him a cheeky smile. “Want me to give you your first blowjob?”

Kirishima’s whole body tenses right back up as his eyes shoot wide in surprise. “What?” he squeaks out, his ears turning scarlet.

You take his hand in yours and tangle your fingers together, before tugging him gently towards the bed. “I want to,” you assure him quietly, “No matter what your dick looks like, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Kirishima says as he sits at the edge of the bed. He’s breathing a little faster now, either from excitement or nerves. You’re guessing it’s a bit of both, because he’s clinging on tight to your hand even though he looks like he’s about to bolt. When you hook your fingers around the waistband of his shorts, he catches one of your wrists with his free hand. “If you- you know, if you change your mind after seeing it, just know that I won’t be mad or anything.”

He’s so quiet and earnest that you feel your heart melt a little looking at his nervously hopeful eyes. You take your hand back and climb onto his lap, pushing your fingers into his wild mop of hair. It’s the first time you’ve ever been close with him like this -- usually he would give you a sweet, gentle kiss and then dive between your legs, always keeping a frustrating amount of distance between your lower halves. This time though, he doesn’t try to divert you away. His hands grip your hips tight, and he leans his head into your touch. “I wish you would stop expecting me to push you away.” you murmur into the side of his neck, peppering little kisses into his skin. Kirishima lets out the smallest, choked off sounding whine at that, and tilts his head so that the long line of his throat is exposed. You take the hint, and start trailing kisses all along the soft skin at the base of his neck. “I told you, and I meant it; I want to be with you.”

Strong arms wind their way around your back and pull you close until you’re sat right over Kirishima’s crotch. You don’t even think it was intentional on Kirishima’s part, but you won’t pass up the opportunity when it presents itself to you. His shorts are bulging a little right in the centre where he’s starting to get hard, and you lower yourself down so that you’re grinding over him. He gasps at the contact, and his hips jerk up into you. “Oh, shit. I want you, so badly.” he gasps, his forehead dropping down to rest on your shoulder.

You have to admit, what you can feel through his shorts is… intimidating. ‘Yeah, I guess,’ he had said when you asked him if he was worried about his dick being too big. Judging by what you could feel pressing against you, that was a massive understatement, and he was only half-hard. You ghost your hands down over his sides, feeling his ribs expand with his breaths, sliding down until your hands reach the waistband of his shorts again. You push them down over his hips, and he lifts himself up to help you, and then he’s just in his impressively tented jockstrap. You smile reassuringly at him as you tug down the jockstrap, and then his cock springs free of the waistband and you pause.

“Oh.” you breathe.

“I know that it’s-” Kirishima begins to visibly panic, his hand reflexively shooting down to try and cover himself as he tries to sit up.

“It’s okay.” you say quickly, recovering from your surprise as quickly as possible. You still feel a little off-kilter as you slide off his lap to your knees in front of him. You know that you’re staring at his cock wide-eyed, but you can’t quite help yourself. It’s… well. It’s definitely not standard.

You reach out, your hand hovering uncertainly over his cock because you barely know how to begin. It’s thicker than a soda can, and long. Delicate ridges and swirls decorate the underside, with a series of bumps along the top. When you finally do grasp him in your hand, you’re rewarded with a barely stifled gasp and a hot spurt of precum that dribbles down his cockhead to your fingers. You use both your hands to explore his length, fingers trailing over all those strange ridges. The bumps along the top are apparently sensitive, because when you rub your thumbs over them Kirishima gasps and his hips thrust gracelessly into the air.

“Sorry!” he blurts as his cock dribbles even more precum. There’s so much of it that it looks like you actually used lube or something to slick up his cock, but you guess that this must be normal for him because he just looks embarrassed. “I- it’s sensitive, I guess, um- I usually put down a towel, because I tend to get, uh, messy.”

The way he says that and the connotations of it has your thighs squeezing together, and you take a deep inhale through your nose. It’s unexpectedly hot. “Gotcha.” you smile at him, trying to put him at ease as you return your attention back to his dick. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind if you make a mess.”

“Oh, shit. Uh, okay.” Kirishima says, and his breathing has gotten noticeably heavier now. He’s almost panting as he leans back on his elbows, craning his neck so he can get a look at what you’re doing. There’s a curious swell around the base of his cock that just seems to be growing. One of your hands travels down to it curiously, splaying over it and then rubbing it at it experimentally. His hips rock forward sharply, a huff of breath leaving him as he grunts a muted, “Fuck!”

The precum is oozing almost continuously now, spilling over with nearly every stroke, and your rubbing at the swollen base seems to be pushing even more out. It’s obscene, the copious amount of it and the way it’s stringing down onto your hands. If this is the amount of precum he produces, you can hardly imagine the amount of cum he’s going to produce. You wonder if ‘messy’ is another understatement.

You finally lean forward and lick an experimental stripe up the underside of his cock, lapping at the ridges and swirls. The moan that’s ripped out of him is needy and so desperate -- his stomach muscles are tensed with the effort he’s putting in to keep from rocking into your mouth, but his cheeks are flushed and his own mouth is lolling open, his eyes squeezed shut. You take that as your cue to take all of him in your mouth as best as you can, suckling at the tip before swallowing him down. You get about halfway before you have to pull back and try again. Your mouth is stretched obscenely wide around the girth of him, and you swear you can feel the weight of his dick pulsing on your tongue.

“Oh god, oh baby, oh Y/N,” Kirishima is babbling nonsensically, his head thrown as his hips make the sweetest little aborted rocking motions, like he wants nothing more than to let go but is trying his best to restrain himself for your sake. “Feels so good.”

You suck him as best as you can, but your jaw is starting to ache from being hinged so wide. You alternate between stroking his length and suckling on the head of his dick, tracing the swirls and squeezing the bottom. The swell at the base of his cock has engorged even further, and you prod at it curiously with one hand as you work his length with the other. It’s firm but oddly spongey, and everytime you poke at it Kirishima’s whole cock twitches.

When he gasps out your name you pull back and look up at him. He’s trembling, his shirt rucked up past his bellybutton and his gaze fixed unwaveringly on you. “You okay?” you ask softly, rubbing your thumb along one of the ridges under the head of his dick.

“Yeah,” he breathes, reaching down to cup your face. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, and you realise that a string of saliva and precum is dripping down your chin. “But if you keep going I’m gonna cum.”

“Isn’t that kind of the point?” you laugh, and press a kiss right on his slit. His hips twitch and you dodge backwards just in time to avoid him taking your eye out with his hard on. 

“Sorry!” he looks mortified, and you can’t help but find his nervous fumbling absolutely adorable.

“Don’t worry about it.” you smile as you kiss your way down his shaft, prepared now for the intermittent jerking of his hips. You get to that swollen part at the base and place your mouth right at the bottom of his cock, before wrapping your lips around it to the best of your ability and sucking.

You had guessed that this swollen area was sensitive thanks to his reactions earlier, but you’re not quite prepared for the shout he lets out or the way his hand grabs onto the side of your head as he damn near rides your mouth. You’re totally startled by the reaction, but given the amount of times that you’ve done the same to his mouth you’re only too happy to indulge him. Plus, it’s the first time you’ve ever seen Kirishima fall apart like this. His cock is dribbling precum at a rapid rate the more excited he gets, and thick strings of it are pouring onto your cheeks. You think you should probably feel a little grossed out, but seeing Kirishima open-mouthed and panting as he rides your face like he’s hasn’t got a single other thought in his mind has you so turned on that your panties are getting sticky and uncomfortable between your legs. You stick your own hand between your legs to try and relieve yourself of some of the heat coiling up in your stomach, but the way that Kirishima’s rutting into your face throws off your coordination.

“Oh god, please, baby, please, put it back in your mouth, I’m gonna- fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna cum, please-” He begs, his head thrown back as he gasps.

How could you ever deny him when he pleads like that? You pull your head out of his grasp and sink your mouth back down on his cock, and then you just hold there and breathe as steadily as you can as Kirishima’s cock throbs in your mouth. His hips spasm, pushing his cock further into your throat. It almost feels like he’s getting bigger, as if he’s growing down your throat.

Kirishima is still babbling, a steady stream of senselessness about how good you’re making him feel, how beautiful you are, how lucky he is, until he cuts himself off with a gasp of “Baby, I’m- I’m-” and then he’s silent, his mouth hanging open as his whole body strains.

You try to suck him through his orgasm, but you are utterly unprepared for the sheer quantity of cum that erupts from his dick. Despite your intentions, you have no choice but to pull off his cock, choking a little on the cum that actually managed to get up your nose. You stroke him through it, feeling dazed as you watch him cum. You know it’s dripping from your chin, running in rivulets down your face. You wonder if it’s coming out your nose.

Kirishima seems to come forever, humping into your fist and whining and moaning the whole time. When his cock finally gives its last, exhausted spurt, his body falls limp against the bed. He’s gasping for breath and staring at the ceiling, looking like his soul had been ejected from his body along with the insane amount of cum. You notice the swollen part at the base of his cock has deflated almost entirely, to the point that it’s hardly noticeable anymore.

You climb up on the bed beside him and nudge him with your knee, a little concerned. “Eijirou? You good?”

When he looks at you, there’s a goofy smile splitting his face. “I have never been so good in my whole life.” His smile freezes as he catches a proper look at your face, caught between surprise, embarrassment, and something else. He reaches out to your face and swipes his fingers through the mess on your face. “Oh god, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be!” you hasten to assure him, squeezing his wrists. “It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Kirishima stares at you as though he almost doesn’t believe you, but his cum is painted across your face and dripping down your chest, so he’s not in the best position to argue. “I told you I tend to get messy.” he breathes out a laugh, and then leans forward to kiss you, apparently not caring about the taste of his own ejaculate.

You hum into his mouth, your thighs clenching in excitement. “Eijirou,” you whisper into the kiss. When he pulls back, you bite your lip and smile at him, “Next time, will you fuck me?”

Kirishima inhales sharply, and his grip on your hips tightens to the point that the pressure is near bruising. “You really want that?”

“God, yes.” you blurt, shifting so that you’re straddling his stomach. You lower yourself down so that you’re grinding against his bare skin, and you can see the exact moment that he realises you’ve soaked through your panties.

He groans, and pulls at your hips to encourage you to grind against his stomach harder. “Shit, sweetheart. You don’t think it’s… kind of gross?”

“I didn’t expect the amount of cum,” you confess, wiping at your face with a helpless laugh, “But no, I don’t think it’s gross. I like it.” You whimper as Kirishima’s thumb slides over your swollen clit, the glide made smooth thanks to the slickness of your own arousal.

Kirishima is looking up at you as though you had hung the moon, and it’s hard not to get a little embarrassed under the intensity of his gaze. “Okay,” he whispers, “If you’re sure.” He glances down with a small frown, his lips twisted thoughtfully, “I don’t want to hurt you, though.”

“You won’t.” you kiss his nose, grinning as it wrinkles up under your lips. “We’ll make sure I’m stretched.” you glance over your shoulder at his still wet, softening cock. Even now, the size of it is intimidating. “And lube,” you conclude, “We’ll use lots and lots of lube.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, a smile starting to light up his face. He presses a sloppy kiss to the base of your throat, and you can feel the smile against your skin, “Yeah, okay. I’d really like that.” There’s still cum everywhere, all over your hands and chest and face and splashed across Kirishima’s legs and stomach, but he doesn’t seem to care about the mess in the slightest as he rolls the two of you over so that he’s hovering over you. The kiss he presses to one of your breasts is impossibly soft, and you tilt your head back and sigh as you feel his fingers trace over the lips of your pussy. “I’m so lucky to have you.” he whispers, then pushes himself down your body.

As his tongue flicks over your clit, you smile. It’s definitely you that’s the lucky one here.

_________________________

Kirishima’s complicated relationship with his genitalia had started in middle school. Up until that point, he had managed to remain blissfully unaware that there was any kind of abnormality in his nether regions. That changed one day in the locker rooms.

Having never paid any particular attention to what he had in his pants, Kirishima hadn’t thought anything of changing out with the rest of the boys in his class, as unabashed as any middle-schooler that hadn’t developed a sense of self-consciousness yet. He didn’t notice the whispers or stares until one of his friends nudged him hard. “Dude,” he said, glancing between Kirishima’s legs and then away, curiosity and mild revulsion mingled on his face, “What’s wrong with your thingy?”

“Wrong?” Kirishima had echoed, discomfort beginning to prickle beneath his skin. He hadn’t realised there was anything wrong with his genitals. He covered up quickly and finished getting changed, but the stares lingered.

No one said anything more about it to him, but by the end of the day rumour had spread that Kirishima was weird down there.

He had, like so many boys his age, taken to the internet to do his own research. It felt like a punch to the gut when he realised that his classmates were right -- his dick looked nothing like the dicks that all the guys in the videos he found had. There were exceptions, where the person’s genitals were affected by their quirk, but they were always full-body quirks that made it pretty obvious that what you were gonna find down below would be non-standard. His genitals didn’t match his body or his quirk, so his classmates must be right when they say that he’s weird with those grossed-out little laughs.

He learned pretty quickly to keep that part of him to himself, to change out quickly and efficiently in such a way that no one would ever see the parts of him that he’d rather keep hidden. He welcomes physical contact because he’s still an affectionate guy, but he’s always careful about the distance he allows between himself and others just in case they brush up against him accidentally and somehow feel that he’s different. When the boys in his class start excitedly talking about girls and other boys, and how nice it’d be to have a girlfriend or boyfriend, Kirishima tries to stay out of it. He doesn’t want to wonder about something like that when he knows that if someone were to find out his secret they’d be totally grossed out.

High school comes hand in hand with experimentation though, and Kirishima is lonely and touch-starved. He doesn’t want to avoid touch for the rest of his life out of fear that someone’s going to know. So he allows himself to indulge a little; he’s popular with girls in UA, a fact that surprises him. Unlike the girls in middle school, they haven’t heard the rumours that there’s something wrong with him, so they smile and chat to him and even flirt. It’s exciting and new and he allows himself to have just this -- he kisses them and he makes them feel good, and then he retreats when they look for more because he just can’t give it to them. 

When he tells you all this, you could swear that you feel your heart crack right down the middle. You hadn’t realised how lonely Kirishima was, wrapped up in a self-constructed blanket of self-loathing and disgust. You knew it had taken a lot of trust for him to open up to you like he had, but you hadn’t realised just how much. It makes your chest fill with some undefinable emotion, and you just want to hold him and never let go. 

You’re more determined than ever now to show him exactly how much you care about him, and exactly how much any physical anomaly doesn’t affect the way you feel in the slightest. You’ve been stretching yourself methodically and carefully every night of the week that has passed since you gave him his first blowjob in preparation to finally have sex with him. You just want him to feel good, and you don’t want him to worry about hurting you. And now, tonight, you’ve decided that you’re ready for it.

Bakugou’s the one that answers the door when you knock at their shared apartment, and his face does something funny when he sees you. He lets you in without a greeting, and yells for Kirishima as you shut the door behind you. It’s definitely a little awkward, because your last proper conversation was that day when he told you that your now boyfriend didn’t get off when you were together, but you smile and ask him how he’s doing all the same.

He just grunts at you and sprawls out on the couch, his attention fixed on his phone. You don’t try to make any further conversation, because you figure he probably won’t respond and you can hear Kirishima crashing around further down the hall anyway. You’re about to slip down the hall towards Kirishima’s room when Bakugou speaks again, surprising you. “You talked.”

You pause, confused for half a moment before the memories of your last conversation come flooding back. “Oh. Uh, yeah, we did.” 

Bakugou nods, still staring at his phone. You hover uncertainly, unsure of whether you should continue to Kirishima’s room or if Bakugou had something else he wanted to say. You don’t have to wait long; Bakugou puts his phone down and turns to survey you closely. “If you’re still here, then I guess you didn’t freak out.”

“There’s nothing to freak out over.” you say defensively, thinking of how sensitive Kirishima is about his body.

“I never said there was!” Bakugou snaps back instantly. You both glare at each other, but you don’t respond further. You came here for one reason, and that reason was not to start a fight with Bakugou when your boyfriend was waiting for you in the bedroom. When Bakugou speaks again, it’s with an awkward edge to his voice. “Whatever. Just don’t be an asshole to him.”

You realise that Bakugou is just trying to look out for his friend, and the revelation that you’re receiving Bakugou’s awkward attempt at a shovel talk is enough to have you reeling. “As if I would be,” you say, “I really like him.”

“Good. Fine.” Bakugou picks his phone back up and you take that as a dismissal. You’re just about to leave when he says, “By the way, keep it the fuck down. I don’t care if you’re taking dragon dick or if it’s Shitty Hair’s first time getting his dick wet, I don’t need to hear that nasty shit.”

His crudeness has you flushing hot with embarrassment, but you don’t dignify him with a response. You slip down the hall and up to Kirishima’s bedroom, knocking softly on the door before letting yourself in.

Kirishima is in the process of trying to stuff a pile of clothes into the bottom of his wardrobe, and he slams the door shut and whirls around when he hears you come in. “Hey!” he beams at you, trying to kick aside the pair of underwear that’s stuck in the edge of the wardrobe door.

“Hey, you.” you greet him. You’re still a bit flustered from Bakugou’s comment, but you hide it as best as you can as Kirishima sweeps you up in his arms and pulls you into a sweet, close-mouthed kiss.

In the week since you blew him the first time, the two of you have alternated between your apartments and spent almost every single day together. Some days you just touched each other with your hands, other days you used your mouths on each other. You still hadn’t gotten fully used to his enormous loads of cum, but he seems at least to be getting more and more comfortable with your touch. Even now, his hands trail up your sides as he presses eagerly into you; this boldness would have been unheard of coming from him only a week ago, but neither of you are under any illusions about what the two of you are going to get up to this evening.

You wind your arms around his neck and melt into the kiss, relishing the contact and the wet slide of his lips against yours. As his hands trail from your hips to your lower back to your ass, you feel the hard press of his lower abdomen nudge against you. You pull back and grin at him, “Someone’s impatient.”

Kirishima flushes, but he doesn’t pull away or deny it. Progress. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” he confesses quietly, reaching up to nudge a flyaway tuft of hair out of your eyes.

“Yeah?” you grin, delighting in his openness. You take a small step back and look down at where his bulge is tenting the front of his sweatpants. “How long have you been like this, baby?”

“Pretty much since you texted me telling me you were thinking of coming over.” he says with a cheeky little smile, nudging his face into your neck and nipping at the skin there. “So, an hour and a half? Give or take.”

You hum as you cup his hardness through the cotton of his joggers. He groans and his hips jerk into your palm, as sensitive as ever. “Hey,” you murmur, “Wanna fuck me?”

Kirishima’s whole body twitches at that, and you swear you can feel his cock jump in his hand. “Now?” he asks, his voice gone a little hoarse from surprise and arousal.

“Unless you’d like to wait?”

“No! Now is good!” Kirishima says hastily, reaching out to hold your hips as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “God, now is so good.”

It’s really hard to hold back your laugh as you watch him scramble towards the bed, tugging you along with him. He’s excited, that much is obvious, and you really can’t blame him -- he’s gone so long thinking that he would never get to have this, that he would never be accepted like this. You want to give him everything.

His hands start fidgeting with the sheets as soon as he sits back on the bed. You straddle his lap and take his hands in yours before leaning in for a kiss, hoping to distract him from any nerves or self-doubts before they can take a hold of him. He hums happily into your mouth, squeezing one of your hands in his and using the other one to wrap around your waist and pull you closer.

“I’ve thought about sex with you so many times,” you admit when you pull away from the kiss. You reach up and stroke a line down the bridge of his nose, then push back a lock of his hair; it’s freshly washed and ungelled, lying fluffy and loose around his face. He’s looking up at you like you just hung the moon, open-mouthed and soft-eyed. It’s such a sweet look on him, and you love watching it contort into pleasure as you sink down to rub yourself against his hard on. “I want you to feel good.”

Kirishima makes a choked off whining sound in his throat as he grinds up into you. “You always make me feel good.” he says. You can feel his cock thickening and filling out against you, and judging by how clearly you can feel him, he’s foregone the usual jockstrap or protective cup he uses to try and hide his shape in his pants. 

You reach down and pull at his sweatpants -- you manage to get one leg off entirely, but the other gets stuck halfway down his left thigh and you’re too impatient to keep pulling at it so you just abandon it in favour of reaching for Kirishima’s now exposed cock. You’ve gotten familiar with the thick ridges and bumps of it over the past week, familiar enough for your fingers to seek out his sensitive spots without even looking.

He moans as you touch him, and dips his hands into your pants so that he can squeeze at your ass. His grip is a little too hard, bordering on painful as he bites at your neck. He pops open the button on your pants and shoves one of his hands into your panties, rubbing at your clit with his thumb and trailing his other fingers along your slit. 

You rub at the bumps along the tip of his cock, and you’re rewarded with a little squirt of precum. It dribbles down your hand and onto the sheets, and you wonder if maybe you should put down some towels to try and keep the mess contained. But Kirishima is letting out the softest little moans as he tries to rut into your hand and rub at your clit at the same time, and you decide that ruining the moment to lay down towels just isn’t worth it. A little mess is a small sacrifice to make.

When his fingers finally dip inside you, you feel his whole body tense up and still. “Baby,” he says, his voice soft and a little stunned, “You..”

“I stretched myself out before I came over,” you finish for him, pushing your hips back so that his fingers sink all the way inside of you. The lube still inside of you makes the slide effortless, and the look on Kirishima’s face is absolutely priceless. “I’m ready when you are.”

Those words elicit another little spurt of precum as Kirishima’s cock twitches in your hand. When you glance down, you see that the base of his dick is engorged and painful looking, and it only seems to be swelling. You only get to look for a moment though, because then you’re being flipped on your back and Kirishima is looming over you. “Oh, baby, oh shit,” he grits out through clenched teeth as his cock rubs up against the back of your thighs. “Are you sure you want to?”

“I want to, I want to so bad,” you promise him, kissing where you can reach on his face. You reach down and grip his cock, guiding it to your entrance, “Go slow, baby.” You’re so excited when you first feel the tip of his cock press into you that you’re not sure if the gush of wetness is from your pussy or his precum. You’re so turned on that you wonder if the amount of lube you had used was overkill, but then the length of him starts to stretch you out and you decide that yes, you absolutely did need that lube.

As soon as the tip is in, Kirishima stills over you. His head drops down, forehead making contact with your shoulder as he groans. You rock your hips experimentally, your breathing gone a little ragged as you realise that you can feel all those fleshy bumps and ridges, but Kirishima snatches at your hips instantly to still you. When he speaks, his voice is strained, “I’m not gonna last.”

Affection bubbles up in your chest as you look at his flushed face, his misty eyes. He’s practically trembling from the effort of holding back. “It’s okay,” you assure him, looping your arms over his shoulders and tracing little patterns into the skin of his back, “You don’t have to, it’s your first time. We have all the time in the world to go again and again, as many times as you want.”

Kirishima makes a garbled little noise in the back of his throat, and then he’s kissing you so sloppily and enthusiastically that drool begins to slip down your chins. It’s a little gross, but considering how much cum you’re going to be covered in soon enough you can’t be too fussy. When he pulls back, it’s so that he can look down and watch where his cock is entering you in increments.

The slow, inexorable stretch of it has your breath catching in your throat. You throw your head back on the bed and focus on keeping your breathing as steady as possible as he presses into you so, so slowly. After exploring the length of him with your mouth and hands, you knew he was big, but apparently knowing and feeling are two completely separate things. You feel like you’re being stretched impossibly wide, and when you glance down you see that he’s not even halfway in. 

Kirishima pauses suddenly, his breathing coming in short pants. You think that he’s just taking a moment to collect himself, to pace himself, but he’s frowning down at where the two of you are connected. “I dont- I don’t think I’ll fit.”

“Oh, you’ll fit.” you declare, jaw set stubbornly. His dick was already partly in you, and like hell were you giving up now. “Don’t worry. Keep going, Eiji.”

“You’re so…” he groans as he edges his hips forward, rocking his cock another inch inside of you, “So tight, you feel so wet and warm inside, oh god, so good, so good.”

The stretch is starting to sting, but you’ve prepared yourself well for this and it’s not so bad that you can’t breathe through it. When he bottoms out inside you, the tip of his cock hits your cervix and your whole body jerks hard at the dull ache it sends up your spine. “Fuck!” you cry out, your hips humping back into Kirishima’s of their own accord. You can feel every damn ridge and swirl grinding against your insides, and you clamp down hard around him, gasping. “Oh, shit.”

You’ve never felt so full in your life, and Kirishima’s cock doesn’t even fit all the way inside you. You wonder if you’re about to split in two. Your thighs are splayed obscenely wide, and you can feel your own body trying to suck him in further but there’s nowhere else to go because he’s filling you up so completely. Your chest is heaving as you pant for breath -- your thoughts have turned a little muddy, but even now you can see that Kirishima has frozen, his face tucked into your neck as he shudders with deep, panting breaths. Your shoulder feels wet, and you realise that he’s drooling on you.

“Eijirou,” you groan, “Move.”

His first thrust is hesitant, exploratory. He apparently likes what he feels, because he lifts his head up so that he can look at you properly. He looks totally blissed out, his eyes a little unfocused, and his expression alone shoots a bolt of heat straight between your legs. You breathe out a curse and move your hips down and into him, trying to encourage him to fuck you properly. When he thrusts forward again, the movement is accompanied by a vulgar squelching sound, and you realise that you’re probably being filled up with his precum. The thought makes you moan quietly, tightening up around him. 

Kirishima grunts and dives down so that your chests are pressed together, his arms pushing your legs up and to the side, and then suddenly he’s fucking into you for real. His moans sound like they’ve come straight out of a porn video as he shoves his cock as deep inside you as possible before pulling out and doing it again. All you can do is gasp against him as the breath is driven straight out of your lungs by his desperate humping.

His movements are nearly feral, jackhammering into you at a pace that probably should feel punishing but instead has you hiccuping out moans on every stroke. The size of him and the speed at which he’s fucking at you is overwhelming in the best possible way. He keeps gasping your name in between moans, his jaw lolling open as he pants for breath. “Oh, baby girl, you feel so good, so good for me. You like this?”

“Yes!” you wheeze, clinging to his shoulders as he rails you into the mattress. It’s better than you ever could have hoped for, and you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. “Oh god, don’t stop!” You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly, and you practically throw yourself down to meet his thrusts. “Please, I’m gonna cum, make me cum, Eiji!”

Kirishima practically snarls at that, his hand snaking down to your pussy even as he keeps rutting into you. His hand finds your clit and starts stroking at it hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking. “Fuck yes, I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

You know you’re starting to shake apart, his cock and his fingers too much for you. Your body is strung taut, your orgasm so close you can virtually taste it. As he feels you clamp down around him Kirishima lets out a whimpering moan, and with that you’re totally gone, head slamming back on the bed as you let out mindless, breathless little choking moans. It feels like your vision totally wipes out as you convulse in Kirishima’s arms, hips twitching wildly. 

When the euphoria of your orgasm finally subsides, you feel so totally fucked out that you hardly know which way is up. It takes you a moment to become aware of the way Kirishima is humping into you desperately now, hunkering over you and groaning. Feeling his cock slide in and out of your over-sensitive and still twitching pussy is almost too much, and you know you won’t be able to take much more of his relentless pounding. You clench around him as tight as you can and cup his sweaty face in your hands, smiling at the open-mouthed look of pure need he’s giving you. “Are you gonna cum inside me, Eiji?”

Apparently that was the correct thing to say, because you can see the moment that he hurtles completely over the edge. He shoves his cock as deep as he can get inside you and then he’s crying out as he begins to empty himself inside you. He keeps rocking, even though his cock is crammed as far into you as it’s possible to get, and you tremble and gasp as you feel his cum spraying inside you. It feels totally filthy, and there’s so much of it that you can feel it leaking out and down your ass even though Kirishima’s cock is still plugging you up. There’s so much cum that you actually start to wonder if your birth control is going to still be effective. You almost expect it to start coming out of your ears.

It seems like he’s cumming forever, and eventually he has to pull out because you’re just too full. As soon as his gradually softening cock is pulled free, it seems like a veritable bucketload of cum streams out of you and makes a mess of the bedcovers. It’s simultaneously really gross and really, really hot, and you don’t have the energy to unpack that so you just lay back and watch as Kirishima’s cock continues to dribble cum all over his legs and your abdomen. The swollen base of his cock is deflated now, and his dick eventually gives one last twitch and then he’s finished. 

He collapses on top of you, sweaty and soiled with his cum, but you don’t complain as he wraps you up in his arms and kisses your temples, murmuring soft, mindless praise into your hairline. “Are you okay?” he whispers, “Did I hurt you?”

You laugh a little, still winded. Your pussy is feeling achey from being stretched so wide, and you’re definitely going to have trouble walking tomorrow, but it’s the best kind of hurt imaginable. “You did everything just right.” you say, giving him a tired smile. “How was it?”

“If I could stay in your pussy forever, I would.” he says solemnly, the barest hint of a smile pulling at his lips.

You laugh properly at that, and roll over so that you’re lying across his chest. “Yeah? Well, I think you’ve just ruined me for all other cocks in the world. No one's ever gonna compare to how good yours feels.”

With your chin on his chest, you have a clear view of the way he flushes at your words, and the vulnerability that creeps into his expression as he looks at you. “Really?”

“I just came so hard it felt like the world was ending.” you grin at him, then press a teasing kiss to one of his pecs. “Yes, really.”

A smile breaks out on his face, toothy and dorky, as if he can’t believe his luck. “So… Would you want to do it again, maybe? Sometime?”

The smile you return is so wide it feels like it’s about to split your face. “Yeah, Eiji. Without question.”

It’s hard to kiss when you’re both grinning like total idiots, but the two of you make a valiant effort all the same. The ridiculous amount of cum painting the two of you is beginning to dry and flake off your skin, and it's definitely kind of gross but you’re so happy and sated and tired in that moment that you’re pretty sure nothing on earth could ruin the moment for you. Not even Bakugou when he comes pounding at the door and yelling obscenities in the form of noise complaints.