#and the whole time i was writing behind his back i was so scared he was gonna ask to see my draft and then hunt me down

[kiryoutann]

i wanted to rant about simon.

what do you think so far like what are your actual headcanons for the canon simon vs this simon from this series?

my feelings about the actual simon is quite vague. i've read far more fanfictions than bothering with the actual material so my picture of his is not really...constant? idk

but with this simon, he scares me. just to think about people that can engage in such romantic and sensual acts with little to no feeling involved.

or the mc's father. her dad makes me feel such an anger and injustice that i don't know how to express it and i know we probably won't get a satisfying update on him.

you don't like your wife fine i could understand the distance between them, but how can somebody forget their child no matter if they share the same blood or not, after all the time he raised her

leaving all that behind just to start a whole new life. how can that not eat somebody alive

OHH this is actually a good question. honestly for me, simon is probably one of the hardest character to write about because he doesn't give away too much. too calm. too know-it-all.

we're just gonna talk about the romance aspects!

but based on my head-canon of the canon simon, he has those younger years where he avoids romance, but not this actively and aggressively. it's more because he has too much on his plate (anger management issues, PTSD, depression) than because he think he's not good enough for some happiness (but he also doesn't expect/hope for it.)

canon younger (probably 6-7 years after he killed Roba) Simon lives his life without the need for things to turn out in certain ways. as he gets older (yes, the 2022/2023 ghost) and better mentally, he's become a little more open to the idea, though.

he's still not actively seeking romance, settling on one-nightstands and things that don't require any strings attached. however, he's not completely closed off to the idea too. if he has someone he likes AND TRUST (this is already a high wall to get over), he might act on it. but again, not really actively pursuing it and knows he doesn't need it.

and this might come as a surprise, but he's actually the biggest flirt out there—well, at least when it's only the two of you. when in front of his taskforce, he goes back to acting like he's the calm, collected, cool, stoic, scary lieutenant that everyone knows. can't have you ruin his reputation, right?

"it's private but not secret," with him. though it's not loud PDA, sometimes he lets his hands linger in places like your waist, your hips, shoulders. his love language is act of service, gift giving, physical touch—he makes sure to always appreciate you with compliments and love affirmations, but he's never really a man who's big on words.

WHILE THIS SIMON, hmmm.. he's a bit more complicated. and a mess. at some point, you can think of him as the younger version of canon simon we just talked about to simplify it, but even that's not really accurate considering the different ways they handle "all that sappy stuff" (as simon would say). this one actively and AGGRESIVELY avoids romance.

and while they both (my ver. of canon simon and this simon) sort to flings and one-nightstands, the canon simon is more careful and actually follows the boundaries he draws himself. while this simon outlines the boundaries, follows his rules until an interesting bird enters his orbit, violates them, and destroys them himself before he goes around saying "you read that wrong, darling."

NOW, ABOUT THE FATHER. . .

RIGHT! in my opinion, it's better for them to get a divorce actually and Dad still plays a role in MC's life rather than just leaving her. like, i know it'll still hurt the MC but, at least she can still have both of her parents even though in different houses! at least she doesn't have to feel neglected in her childhood.

okay, you hate someone you thought you would love forever, but abandoning your child? whose very existence was created because of you? talk about the Dad will come up in the sequel. hell, he'll even make an appearance with his two ballet loving new daughters. imagine how MC will feel.

sadly, this happens a lot in real life. fathers leaving and starting a new life without thinking about his "old" family. how people shame single mothers but never the absent fathers. people shame many women who have "daddy issues" or call them "fatherless" yet never call out men's incapability of being a real, PRESENT father.

[were-all-idjits-here]

Accidental "I Love You"

Pairing: Sam Winchester x gender neutral reader Summary: While enlisting Sam's help to prank Dean, you may or may not blurt something out in the moment that seems to strike an unexpected chord with Sam. Warnings: some cussing; teeny, tiny bit of angst in that Sam and reader are two idiots who don't realize the other is in love with them. A/N: dipping my toe back into writing after some time off with this one. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

*

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam growled as the three of you returned to the motel room. He gestured for you to enter in front of him before slamming the door behind him and holding his hands out in a what the fuck gesture.

“Yeah, seriously,” you grumbled, taking your backpack—now full of loose Skittles thanks to the elder Winchester—towards one of the two beds in the room. “I don’t even like Skittles.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Dean said, just as irritated. “Look, I thought it was Sam’s backpack. It’s not my fault you two have the same one!”

You set your backpack down on Dean’s bed. “Mine’s blue!”

“Navy blue!” Dean corrected. “Sam’s is black, it looks…almost…the same.”

“No, it doesn’t!” you and Sam cry in unison. Although you were no stranger to watching the brothers’ prank war, they’d never targeted you. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t really a big deal; it wasn’t as if it was hot enough to melt the candy and create a sticky mess. But after that particular hunt, you just weren’t in the mood and appreciated Sam’s rage on your behalf.

Dean sighed. “Well, Y/N—I’m sorry. I was aiming for Sam and promise I’ll be more careful next time.”

You flopped down on the bed you and Sam had claimed. “Least you could do is buy us some grub.”

“If I go to that sandwich shop in town and get you a five-cheese grilled cheese, am I forgiven?”

“Only if you get the artichoke dip with it.”

“You got it. Sammy, I’ll get you…something much more boring, don’t worry.” With that, he fled from the room.

You sighed as the Impala’s engine growled to life outside, exchanging annoyed, drained glances with Sam as he sat down at the small, round table in the corner.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said. “I can help you clean your bag out—”

“Nah.”  You stood and took the offending object from Dean’s bed. “Now that he’s gone, I’ve got a better idea.”  You ripped back the comforter (if it could be called that) off the bed before shoving back the top and fitted sheet, unzipping your backpack and upending it onto the mattress.

Sam laughed so hard, he scared you. You glanced over at him, smiling mischievously as you used your hands to spread the candy out more evenly.

“Well, here, at least get it across the whole bed in case he rolls.” Sam shot up out of his chair and tore the rest of the blankets and sheets off the mattress, helping you pour more Skittles until a fair amount covered the whole mattress.

You groaned as the two of you put the fitted sheet back on carefully over the minefield that was now Dean’s bed. “Oh god, the poor cleaning lady.”

Sam chuckled. “We’ve left behind worse messes, believe me—oh, actually…”

As you finished re-making the bed, Sam ran over to his backpack on the table and pulled out a whoopie cushion. He gave you a wicked grin as he grabbed the pillow off the side Dean usually slept on, stuffing it into the bottom of the case.

You cackled. “That’ll be right in his ear! He’s gonna go deaf!”

“Exactly.” Sam gave you a big, toothy grin and you couldn’t help but stare. He had such a nice smile that was so rarely on display, and you took pride in being one of the few to draw it out of him.

He stared back for a long moment before clearing his throat and putting his hands in his pockets. “You know this is gonna initiate you into the prank war now though, right? Dean won’t hold back.”

“Oh, I look forward to it.” You held out your hand across the bed. “We could be allies though and not tell Dean, really mess with his head. Truce?”

Sam smiled and shook your hand. “Truce.” He glanced back down at the bed. “You don’t happen to have any glue, do you?”

“Oh god, for what?”

He shrugged. “Could glue some Skittles to his stuff.” He joined you on your side of the bed to riffle through his duffle bag on the floor behind you. “Oh! I might have some superglue left from forever ago.”

“Do I even wanna know what you used that for?”

He pulled his bag up onto your shared bed and sat as he riffled through it. “We had a bit of a prank war a while back and I, uh…might’ve put super glue all over his beer bottle in a restaurant so he couldn’t put it back down.”

You threw your head back and laughed, giving Sam a playful shove to the shoulder. “Oh god, I love you.”

Sam’s head suddenly snapped up, the smile half-frozen on his face as he stared at you with a deer-in-the-headlights look. He gave you a breathy laugh before quickly returning his attention to his bag. “Uh…yeah, I—um…”

Your face fell. “Sam?”

“I’m okay,” he said a little too quickly before pulling a small tube out of one of his bag’s front pockets. “Ah, damn, it’s empty.”

Awkwardness still hung thick in the air, making you wonder if your joking I love you had revealed too much about how you actually felt. You suddenly felt a little dizzy at the thought of having just given yourself away only to have your and Sam’s friendship slowly start to crumble in the face of inevitable rejection. You two had always been close and even though the stares had been a little longer lately, if he felt the same about you, you would’ve known by now…right? And surely he wouldn’t have had that reaction just now.

You tried to hide the shakiness of your breath. “We’ll, uh…have to make sure we get more next time we’re at the store then.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at you nervously before giving you a quick smile that disappeared in a hurry.

You hovered by him awkwardly for a few moments, trying to glance at him without catching his eye while he was suddenly very interested in the depths of his bag, empty superglue tube in hand.

“I’ll just—” he started.

“I’m gonna—”  you tried, beginning to move out of the aisle between beds towards the bathroom just as he stood up, bumping straight into you. With his speed and bulk, however, he almost knocked you over and quickly grabbed your forearms to stop you from tumbling back into the nightstand.

“Sorry!” he cried, finally meeting your gaze.

You had grabbed some of his shirt in your fists on instinct and for a moment, you stood transfixed again. Up close, his eyes really were pretty—they were so versatile: some days, they were a deep, dark brown that reminded you of chocolate and looked so warm and inviting, you wanted to just sink into him. Others, like today, flecks of green popped out in just the right lighting, reminding you of a sunflower field. You didn’t realize he was staring back at you with just as much intensity until his thumbs began rubbing gentle circles into your forearms.

You shook your head slightly to clear it. “I’m, ahem, gonna use the bathroom while it’s free.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course! I—yeah!” He quickly let you go, stepping out of your way and gesturing for you to move first.

You quickly yanked a change of clothes out of your now clean bag before hurrying to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door and whatever had just happened away behind you.

Later that night, after you and Sam had already settled in bed, Dean finally emerged from the bathroom. Being on the side closest to his bed, you turned away to face Sam to hide your smile. You found him with his eyes open as well, biting his lip to avoid laughing.

Dean made a contented sigh as you heard the covers thrown back, followed by several cracking and popping noises, then the loud flbbbpppppttttt of the whoopie cushion. “Son of a bitch! Oh, god, ow—fuck—what the hell!”

You covered your mouth with your hand in a vain attempt to hide your laughs, seeing Sam do the same out of the corner of your eye.

“I know you two assholes are awake,” Dean grumbled before climbing back out of bed and checking under the fitted sheet. “Oh, this is war, Y/N.”

“Enjoy your Skittle bed, dickhead,” you said over your shoulder, pulling a loud guffaw from Sam.

“I’m sleeping on the damn couch,” Dean muttered before you heard him move across the room.

You closed your eyes, smiling to yourself, and tried to focus on evening out your breathing. After several minutes, right before you crossed the threshold of sleep, you could’ve sworn you felt warm fingers brushing your cheek.

[thesummerstorms]

The other thing that I think I would want in an Annabeth Wayne AU that I don't think I've seen so far is Bruce being absolutely pissed at Athena.

It was bad enough with Talia and Damian, but Athena is a literal god of wisdom who should know better AND he doesn't even have the "culpability" of having slept with her.

She one hundred percent saw Batman, tactician of the Justice League, was drawn in by her aspect of the Goddess of Strategy, and proceeded to create a child without his consent, a daughter who she didn't even raise before the child became a weapon.

And like whatever else, however fucked up Damian was by his own training to become a child-weapon, at least Talia loved Damian.

Whereas Athena loves Annabeth in the way a Goddess loves, not the way a Person loves, and I don't think Bruce, whose entire identity is so fixated on his relationship with his own parents, would recognize that as love at all.

And, like, Talia put Damian through a lot of shit. I think Bruce would be angry there too. But when push came to shove, she at least at some point brought him to Bruce because she thought it was in her son's best interests.

Athena actively lead Annabeth away from Bruce and into the streets at the age of seven, which Bruce would never see as in her best interest, whatever Athena's godly perspective is, however badly he reacted after Jason's death, even though he couldn't see (and dismissed the idea of) the spiders and the monsters. She was seven. In the streets of Gotham.

Athena let Annabeth fight a major role in two wars back to back without being there to train her or protect her or love her or even advise her. Athena advocated for the cold blooded murder of the other children who had actually tried to keep his daughter safe. Athena sent Annabeth against Arachne when Athena's children have universally died on that quest for a thousand years.

Athena let Bruce think he had gotten Annabeth killed because of his own inability to handle his grief. Let him think his daughter was dead or worse for years. Would have let him keep thinking that if the Fates didn't have other plans.

And just, in true fashion for all of my ideas on a PJO x DC crossover, everyone really comes out more traumatized than before. This includes Bruce.

Because now he wasn't just used unknowingly for a child just once, but twice. And in both cases he's going to have to live forever with the guilt of not having been able to protect his kids from what their other parent wanted to make of them

(On top of all the ways he has directly failed them and made any complexes worse, of course )

[thebadtimewolf]

why r u so mad about ppl preferring ten x madame de pompadour to ten x martha like ten/martha will never be a thing. ten don’t want anything to do with martha. he literally said to her face she wouldn’t replace rose… and she never did… isnt canon enough for you

hm.

im glad im only a scorpio on this alone. if martha deserved better than ten then so do all of em but anyway:

this ask is giving 2006/07 i dont want to see tenth doctor in a romantic relationship with a person of color because i can't project myself or relate to them if they arent the very thing being catered to me ever since the silent pictures vibes. u know the same vibe when rtd was told to not regenerate 14 in 13's clothes. just. Ick.

but im not mad. its just interesting for a ship so big as tenrose, it is usually correlated with hating madame de pompadour and/or joan and/or river [though in joan's case they hate her not because shes racist but because shes not rose]

though comics tend to release to combat that in multi doctor stories where they jump through various alternate universes of themselves where the doctor sees themselves settled down with dr. grace holloway (for 8th dr multi doctor stories) and professor melody williams/river song (for 11th dr multi doctor stories) where in those cases, they are frightful of the concept settling down at all. [take note that both times, he settles down in the same house that he owns bc of that unit paycheck on the dl] so i am curious that with this new drs, the equivalent of this would be 13 14 15 being terrified of settling down with rose because they had grown past her as this point.

i prefer the doctor in a polyromantic ace relationship than their umpteenth 🌟tragic heteronormative romance with yt human woman number 23445788764443356743🌟 i want 14 to sweep martha off her feet in pure joy and kiss her passionately while badmouthing tf out of 10 like 9 11 12 13 do with no filter before cradling her like a baby because hes about to crumble under his brand new identity complex and then take her kid to an amusement park and then 14 trips over a brick and dies. hell i rather have nina sosanya play a whole different lady in nod to doctor who recycles their actors trope as a way to introduce a love interest to 14

that amusment park one weirdly sounds like a 8th doctor audio. pls 🙏🏾 dont make it into one i couldnt handle schezro let alone the rest of his content. Empire of the Wolf made me so fucking worried for rose marion tyler like im just she back home 🫣. as for rose tyler from the sea devil universe still out about. whoop his ass. if billie come back as HER? MISS COVER MODEL MISS DICTATOR MISS EMPRESS ROSE?

NOT

i would love for ten to be strictly friends with the new miss empress rose. get that martha karma real quick ehehehehe after all rtd did say they need freema for somethin and im sure seeing 10 get treated the same way he treated martha by no other than empress rose herself -AND THEN EMPRESS ROSE FLIRTS WITH MARTHA??? FINGERS CROSSED??? im just saying that i personally will ride on that for 8 black history months and christmases straight like woo

also real glad it is collectively decided by every one that tentoo is just john smith not corin so yay thanks big finish and titan comics

[saetiate]

FORSAKEN BY ALL THE GODS.

info: prince!kaiser x f!reader, enemies to lovers, fantasy au, arranged marriage, eventual smut. afab reader w she/her pronouns. reader has an established backstory and is not weak, reader’s appearance is nondescript. reader calls him “mihya” as they get closer. oliver and karasu are bffs in this lol. maybe some angst if you squint. happy ending!! plot is balanced with comedic moments. 

synopsis: You will be killed by the one you love most. That line from his prophecy has haunted Kaiser his whole life. Against it all, you stand before him. Will you be the one to rewrite fate itself?

word count: 14k (please don’t let this scare you, i promise my writing is efficient) 

a/n: this might be my magnum opus, i promise i poured my best dialogue and writing into this and it shows. if you consider reading like so seriously i will love you forever. also the smut is huge just like his cock <3 or my heart

Kaiser has been forsaken thrice fold. First, by his parents. His mother is said to be a beautiful woman that captured the hearts of all. His father could not bear her ultimate betrayal: leaving, causing him to wither away to nothing.

Kaiser guesses that this aspect of her runs in his blood after all.

The second and third time he is forsaken happen at once.

On the night that Kaiser is, by royal decree, anointed successor to the throne, he does as tradition dictates. He approaches the golden temple at the top of a mountain and mirrors the prophet within, sitting cross-legged in front of them.

The prophet gazes into the distance. And then, like a man possessed, they speak.

Lone Emperor who covets the throne, You will be killed by the one you love most.

Kaiser swears he feels even his heart stop at that. Cold rushes through him, the chill of it colder than anything he had felt at the front lines of war.

Forsaken by all the Gods —

The prophet stops, staring into the distance with a frown.

The silence is deafening. Noa, despite tradition, interrupts the ceremony and approaches the prophet, clicking his fingers in front of their face.

“The prophecy?”

The prophet’s eyes widen with fear. “I- I cannot.”

“What, are you afraid?” Kaiser scoffs. “The prophecy is bad as it is, it can’t get much worse than that.”

“No, I mean I cannot. The — the Fates! They’ve stopped speaking to me!”

“Excuse me?” Kaiser’s scowl is evident, and Noa swears that in any other situation, Kaiser would’ve moved for his sword and set his blade ablaze.

It speaks volumes that all he does is stare right at the prophet, fear barely contained in his eyes.

The prophet grips at Noa’s hand, forcing his gaze. “My lord, please believe me. This — in the history... it has never happened before. I swear it.”

Noa whistles, and the guards outside come rushing in. “Seize them,” he commands, and they stare at each other for a moment.

To seize and capture that  which is considered holy? Is that not blasphemy?

Noa cares little, almost removing his sword from his sheath to do it himself. “What are you all waiting for?”

“My lord! I swear to you!” The prophet grapples towards Noa in spite of their hands being held behind their back, the guards barely catching them from falling to their knees. “The fact that I would admit this at all shows my loyalty to you!” The prophet gasps, breath coming fast.” I could have pretended, could have given a false prophecy. I did not. That’s the choice I made. That is all the proof you need.”

It’s convincing enough that Noa hesitates, taking a deep breath in. But he sees in the corner of his eye Kaiser’s state, sitting in the kind of stillness that you see before a battle, bent over at the bottom of the altar. 

At that sight, Noa makes a single motion with his hand for the prophet to be taken away.

The room clears.

“Kaiser, I —” 

Whatever comforting remark Noa might have made dies in his throat, because Kaiser laughs, a bitter and broken sound, that he would in the future rarely have his walls down to ever reveal again. He hides his eyes behind his hand and he laughs.

“Of course, my prophecy would come to something like this.” He drags his hand down across his face. “Forsaken by all the Gods.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Noa says it with conviction, and it’s enough for Kaiser to face him.

“Master?”

“You will still be the successor to the throne. As is your destiny.”

“My destiny?” Kaiser jabs a thumb to the now-empty seating. “We just heard my destiny.”

“What the gods have declared has nothing to do with me. I declare you the next to rule. That is all.”

Noa presses a hand to the crown of Kaiser’s head. “No one will know what transpired here. A tragic prophecy is a given. It is meant to be a trial of sorts, after all. Mine, too, was unpleasant. Though not nearly as dire.”

“What was yours?”

Noa breathes in deeply. “A twisted rivalry with a twisted man. One that was to be all-consuming to me.”

Kaiser scoffs. “A rivalry. Just train and win.”

Noa lets the comment pass, staring out of the temple and past the mountains. “The rivalry came and went. At the time, I felt it was the worst. I could not eat, sleep, or breathe without the thought of what he would do next on my mind. But I was lucky, that it passed.”

He motions for Kaiser to take his arm, bringing him back up to standing. “Yours will pass too, I’m sure of it.”

Kaiser waves his hand, gesturing at Noa to let go of him. It’s easy to say, easy to have faith when it is not your life that balances on the precipice.

Forsaken thrice: once, by his parents. Another, by the Gods. And third, by his own future lover. Kaiser curses the Gods and the Weaver for such a fate, for something possibly worse than death is looming over him.

You will be killed by the one you love most. That line has haunted his very being to this day.

~

The people do not know what causes their successor to turn so cold, as biting and harsh as winter itself. His quicksilver smile rattles bones, his sword is cutting like blood in snow.

The prophecy is on a need-to-know basis, and Kaiser has never been crueler. He trains, harder than ever. Enough that when an unmovable sword is found at the rocks of the ocean, he trains until he is able to pull it from the bank, wield it with one hand. Rumor has said it might take three men to carry, or that the night sky that shimmers across it is strong enough to kill even a god. His sole retrieval of it is proof to the people of his strength and stature, but compassion and love are rarely a topic of conversation with his name.  

He focuses on his work. He does not take lovers. He barely sees others as friends. And he most certainly does not take a bride.

~

You appear before the throne and you do not bow. The scowl on Kaiser’s face at this says enough.

“You dare-”

“You have the sword.” You ignore Kaiser entirely, setting your sights completely on Noa.

The silence that follows is as large and wide as the ocean, but your gaze is sharp and keen, never faltering once until Noa speaks.

“Water sorceress,” Noa addresses you coldly, “or that’s what you told our people.”

“Yes.”

“You are not the only sorceress of water. Yet your power is second to none.” Noa stands, stepping down the stairs with heavy, thumping footfalls until he’s standing right in front of you. “They call you the water’s mistress, in the neighboring lands.”

“They do.”

He begins to circle you, like a hunter might before striking a deer. Standing next to you, his deep voice clear right next to your ear, he eyes you curiously. “They’re all wrong, aren’t they?”

You don’t answer. Noa takes that as answer enough.

“A power like that. Do you think me stupid?” He observes you, checks you visually for weapons, watches your hands to ensure you don’t call magic forth.

“Demigod.” He about spits the word from behind you, and yet all you do is tilt your head to catch him in your eye’s view.

“You are as well-informed as they say.”

“I am as logical as they come.”

“We are the same in that regard, then. So let’s get straight to the point.” 

Noa returns back to the throne, seemingly satisfied with his observing, gesturing at you to continue. 

“You have something belonging to me. A sword, heavier than most. Ancient, yet sharp. It is said to look like it contains a night sky.”

“The blade you’re speaking of was found by us, it is ours to keep.”

In the short silence that follows, Kaiser swears there must be irritation on your end, but you don’t show it. Instead, you take a deep breath in.

“The blade was thrown out of the heavens and spat out into this realm during a war between Gods.”

“Is that so? And how can you prove it’s yours?”

“I can wield it, unlike your people, who do not have the means to wield a sword as such.” You state simply.

Like rose grown blue, the impossible becomes possible. You can feel the divinity and the power that comes off the sword in waves the minute it’s unsheathed, your eyes widening. The ring of it is as familiar to you as your own skin, how could you not have felt its presence sooner? But Kaiser is fast, much faster than you expected, faster than he should be with a sword of that weight, that magnitude. Before you can turn your head, cold silver kisses your neck.

“This blade, sorceress?” He comes around from behind you, stalks around you just like his Master had, sword pointed like it may just draw blood from you at any moment. When you finally see his face, his sneer is wicked.

He takes pride in your wide-eyed gaze, your sharpened attention, but the lack of fear on your part grates at him. God-killing, they had called the blade. Yet you don’t shy away at all.

“Say we return the sword to its rightful owner,” Noa calls back your attention, “what would you offer us in return?”

“Offer in return? This sword does not belong to you. It is returned, as it should be.”

“This sword, with its divinity, could harm even a god.” Kaiser presses the blade closer to your neck, gleaming metal against your skin. “It protects this nation. What if the gods forsake us? If we return it to you, what would protect us against them then?”

“For what reason would they do such a thing?”

Kaiser barks a laugh. “Of course, there would be no criticisms from one of them. Water sorceress, demigod. Tell us, who are you, truly? What do your people call you, up there? No matter.” He lowers the sword, but leaves it unsheathed, its heavy weight balanced in his palm. A threat that at any moment, he may change his mind. “Those titles mean nothing to me. I have been forsaken, demigod. So know, I trust not even the gods.”

You sigh. Foreseeing a troublesome future has its cons, you suppose. Your queen would smile if you told her such.

“You ask for something with power in equal to or more than the blade. You asked me for my titles. I shall give you both.” The sleeves of your dress shimmer as you move them, and it’s in this moment that Kaiser notices they are not sleeves but water itself, cradled around your wrists like armor. “The Gods had bestowed on me the title Sword Maiden, and I offer myself and my services to you until the end of your line.”

That shocks the room like a bucket of cold water.

You turn to Kaiser, who stands beside the throne. You step forward once, and water rushes underneath that step, descending in waves over the floor as if it goes through it, a magic they have never witnessed prior. “You say the Gods have forsaken you? Let my presence be proof to you that they still watch over you.”

Kaiser scowls, “What sort of cheap trick is this?”

“My domain is truth. I cannot lie.”

“Oh, please.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “Would it help for you to press your sword against my neck once more?”

A goddess who cannot lie. Noa’s faith lies in logic, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His gaze flits between Kaiser and you before he seems to settle a decision in his mind.

“Until the end of Kaiser’s line.” Noa negotiates.

Kaiser’s gaze snaps to Noa. “You’re taking her up on this?”

You almost frown. “Fine.”

Noa quirks an eyebrow at you. “That simple?”

“Human lives move quickly.”

Kaiser eyes you curiously. “What happens when you lie?”

You blink at him. Once. Twice. Is that… almost a flustered look you have on?

He readjusts his grip on the blade. “Speak, sorceress.”

“Wh-What do you want me to say?!” You grip at your dress nervously, and that has him even more curious.

“I’m waiting here,” he sing-songs playfully.

“Before the lie can leave my voice, my neck swells up like a balloon, and chokes me.”

He smiles wickedly. “Demonstrate.”

Gods, if it wasn’t immoral, you could wring his neck right now.

You think, for even a moment, a simple lie. And in seconds, you’re almost suffocating on nothing, and Kaiser laughs. Laughs. A full laugh, bending at his knees.

“Oh gods, you’re like a pufferfish!”

You let go of the lie, taking heaving breaths. “Just because I have water capabilities does not mean I am a fish.”

In the midst of the conversation, Isagi leans against Noa’s side, a soft conversation full of worry.

“You’ll have to explain her presence to the council,” Isagi tells him, blue eyes wide with hesitation.

“Right, and your suggestion?”

“I have thought about it, considerably. If you say you hired her, with a force as powerful as her, the other nations may think you are to wage war. So… Given the heir’s… reputation,” Isagi’s gaze flits nervously between you and Kaiser. “If he is willing, she may be a good fit.”

Noa sighs. This, this exact theory, has been a conversation with the other members of his team for months. That a wife by his side would make him seem less chilling, make the transition to a new heir easier on the public, prevent outroar. It is one thing to feel that Kaiser keeps a nation safe, and another to love him as a ruler.

It’s an easy decision, but a hard conversation.

“Kaiser.”

He whips around, ceasing his antics quickly. “Master.”

Noa looks like he is about to say something to him, but hesitates, turning to you instead. Isagi nervously steps away from the dais, returning to his position.

“Goddess,” this time, there is no malice behind Noa’s words. “I accept your offer. However, your presence in this nation and in this castle must be explained appropriately. Should I bear you the title of my successor’s betrothed, would that be a title you’re willing to bear?”

Kaiser’s back straightens. “Excuse me?” he utters low.

“You do not have to bear children,” he specifies. “And you do not have to truly be wed.”

A goddess, to be betrothed to a mortal, as princely as he is, is a serious affair. Kaiser slides his gaze to Isagi, with the audacity to even suggest such. And yet, you seem to ponder it like a simple question.

“I see. As long as the sword is in my presence and protection, how you communicate with your nation is none of my concern.”

“So be it, then,” Noa agrees quickly. “I’ll have our people show you to a room.”

You nod, and are whisked away. The throne room, as if knowingly, empties quickly, guards rushing out to leave Kaiser alone with Noa.

“You made this decision for me,” Kaiser spins to face Noa, spits his words through gritted teeth. “I have been clear. I will take no brides.”

“You believe the prophecy made a choice for you.”       

“The prophecy bears no mercy. Or do you wish for my death so eagerly? If so, take your sword out and do it your damn self.”

Noa lets him speak, heave his words out until there’s silence once more.

“She cannot lie,” Noa says softly. “She cannot lie to you, Kaiser. And she is a goddess, a divine being.”

“Demigod,” Kaiser corrects.

“She is divine, and she cannot lie. She is correct, to this end – that as long as she is here, the prophecy cannot come to be. For she has not forsaken us.” Forsaken you, goes unspoken. “She could be good for you, if you allowed her to be.”

Kaiser lets out a canned laugh. “Ha. How can the divine ever understand us?”

Noa stands. “You’ll have plenty of time to find out.”

Kaiser taps his hand against his sword hilt. “You really will not move on this?”

Noa shakes his head. “She is too valuable to lose, and you have a reputation for cruelty. The solution is nothing short of perfect.”

The logical comes above his feelings. Kaiser knows this, even if he hates to come face to face with it.

Noa walks out of the throne room, leaving Kaiser to his bitterness.

“Shitty master,” he mumbles under his breath to no one.

~

It’s jarring to all the guards, the way you don’t even stand let alone bow when Noa knocks to enter your room. But Noa cares little for things like that, if you’re truly offering what you’ve said.

“Perhaps I was too hasty, in presenting the solution before giving you the facts.” He hesitates before you in the reflection of your vanity. You don’t respond, barely even look at him as you unclasp your jewelry, laying it on the table.

“He will not love you.” Noa tells you after a breath, his surefire eyes finally meeting yours.

You give him a curious gaze. “That is likely for the best. I would outlive him, after all.”

“It is, truly, on a need-to-know basis. To tell you this-”

“The prophecy, I presume you’re referring to,” you interrupt, turning to face him.

The shock rolls quickly off him. Divinity does have its mysteries, he supposes. “You already know.”

“I asked the water, why he is so quick to believe he is forsaken. They told me that he lives under the burden of a prophetic trial. That is all I know.” You stand, moving to unzip your dress only for Noa to hastily pull a partition screen across the room and turn around.

“The water, it speaks to you?”

“It does. Though it’s worth noting that it does not make me all-seeing.” Your voice carries over the partition with the ruffle of clothing. “The queen of the Gods, who sees all fates – she is the only one who is truly all-seeing.”

You come out in a nightgown, folding the partition back. He chucks you a robe that you catch easily.

“You should learn the ways of this world if you want to pass as a simple water sorceress, especially before the banquet.”

You frown. “The prince is my betrothed, is he not? Will he not handle it all?”

The idea you present sparks in Noa’s mind. “Brilliant. I’ll have Kaiser and some of the other members of our team show you the ropes. Good night, sorceress.”

You nod to him, and the door clicks shut.

~

“She’s a what?”

Oliver slams his metal cup of beer down, rolling the dice once more.

“A demigod, Oliver. Gods, are you that drunk already? Keep up.” Karasu grabs at the dice as Oliver moves his pieces.

“Can you all shut the fuck up? What happened to need-to-know basis?” Chigiri slinks himself over to their table.

“We’re need-to-know.” Karasu jabs a thumb at himself and Oliver.

“They are, actually, need-to-know.” Isagi puts a gentle hand on Chigiri’s shoulder, settling down next to him. “Because she’s never been human in her life.”

“And now we’re supposed to, what, teach her to be human? Is that a thing we can do?” Chigiri twirls a strand of hair between his fingers, tapping the end against Isagi’s cheek.

Oliver snorts. “What, like a class? Some of us have never sat in one of those, you prissy little shits.”

“She can’t dance, for one.”

“Get Kaiser to teach her. Isn’t he her betrothed?”

That has Oliver almost spitting out his drink, choking on it in coughs. “He's her what?”

Chigiri scowls in his direction. “Dude, are you listening at all?”

“If she’s really his betrothed, none of us should be teaching her.” Oliver warns genuinely. “He’ll cut down everyone here, before he lets us touch her.”

“It’s just an excuse,” Isagi waves his hand, pulling out a leather-bound bind of notes. “They’re not actually together.”

“Oh, you actually got that motion to pass. Shit.” Karasu remarks admirably.

“It must be so tiring,” Bachira sighs happily, falling into place next to Isagi, “to have to actually care about what other people think.”

“The optics, Bachira,” Isagi smacks the end of his pen across Bachira’s nose, and he makes an oh! sound in response.

When Kaiser walks in, the room almost goes silent. He’s used to it, of course. Hearing only the way his footfalls come heavy, boots thumping into the stone floor as a drink is placed right in front of him immediately.

The room slowly fills back with noise as he shoulders off his coat, wrapping it around the chair before sitting. But only his table is still strangely silent.

He flits his gaze over the group. Usually, they’re the first to kill the silence in the room, yelling about the game or a duel. He looks at Isagi, specifically, who seems the most nervous. “Something you wanna say to me?”

“Uh…”

Chigiri sighs, killing the tension. “We’re deciding who gets to teach her how to dance.”

Kaiser quirks an eyebrow. “The demigod?”

Chigiri nods, and Kaiser takes a long gulp of his drink, popping it back down and twirling the top of it with his fingers. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” It’s Isagi’s turn to be shocked, sitting up straight.

Kaiser exhales audibly. “None of you could handle her. She could cut you with water the moment you accidentally step on her.”

It’s not an insult, really. They know this too. That this is Kaiser’s brand of protection, to add insult to injury just to keep others out of harm’s way. But they play his game.

“Think we can’t dodge fast enough? A bit demeaning, don’t you think?” Oliver’s grin is wicked, making straight eye contact with Kaiser, who only draws his eyebrows in at his direction.

“You think that god-killing sword is gonna save you?” Karasu asks.

“I don’t have the sword anymore.”

“What?”

It stings more than it should, he thinks. The sword that he thought chose only him, so quickly released from his grasp. But his strength is his own, he holds fast to that. 

Kaiser glances at Karasu. “Those are the terms. She marries me, she gets the sword.”

Ness rests his cheek on his hand. “Man, that sounds like she wins twice.”

Chigiri scoffs at that. “She’s a demigod. Being down here is probably like being in the sewers to her.”

Kaiser stands abruptly, pushing his drink aside, his coat billowing as he wraps it over himself once more.

“Where are you going?” Isagi yells, but he doesn’t answer.

“He gone for real?” Oliver elbows Karasu. “I’m too drunk to tell.”

“Yeah, man. He’s gone”  

“Great.” Oliver slaps a piece down. “I’ll bet 50 bucks right now they get married for real.”

“What the fuck?” Chigiri tilts his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like it might give him some reprieve.

Karasu laughs, “Okay, I’ll play. I’ll bet 20 that they try to kill each other.”

“You’re just a hater.”

“Nah, I agree,” Reo leans back in the booth. “Kaiser’s a lot of things, but a loving husband is a bit much.”

“She’s a goddess. He’s literally already betrothed to her.” Oliver takes another swig. “Y’all ain’t gonna marry a goddess if she was given to you? Damn, put me in his place, I’ll do it right now.”

~

Kaiser trains, every morning, from sunrise to noon.

You only know because most of the rooms in the palace outlook to a self-contained field. You see him, often, because of this, even if he doesn’t speak to you. As you walk down the corridor, in your classes with Isagi about the current climate of the nations.

“It is useless for me to learn this,” you tell him. “In a few short millennia, the border of the nations will undoubtedly change. And we will have to relearn it all again. What is the use? Why war at all over something so insignificant? Just have a conversation about it.”

Isagi makes a pointed, bored expression at you for this, and then pretends like you didn’t say anything at all.  

At the end of class today, you press your elbows to the open windowsill.

Kaiser is there, sparring with Ness. Ness is quick, agile, fleet-footed and runs circles around Kaiser so much so that it almost makes it difficult to keep up.  

Kaiser approaches him at bone-breaking momentum, launches strike after hardened strike. He’s shirtless, bandages wrapped around the bottom of his torso, and his body is streaked with sweat. He’s strong, clearly. Broad shoulders clear now from when they were hidden under layers of clothing the first time you met him, the muscles in his arms flexing and relaxing with each step of the friendly duel, hair dipped in saltwater blue.

You know what he looks like, now. You get a sense why Fate brings you here.

He looks like a hero.

The kind that Gods covet, watch from their merry clouds. It’s no wonder that he’s burdened by a prophetic trial, with a face as cutting as his sword, his hair framing his face and flowing. 

He takes one look to the side of him and his eyes find yours immediately. It must be some sort of fighter’s sense, you think. For him to have done it so easily.

You give him the space you think he might be asking for. You turn away.

~

He approaches you one night, just before sunset. Karasu had just finished an etiquette lesson with you, setting away forks and knives. Whatever he sees on Kaiser’s face makes him move quicker. He nods once to Kaiser, and then hastily leaves.

“You’ve been making yourself quite at home here, demigod.” Kaiser traces the lace outline of the tablemat, every ridge under his calloused finger.

“I vowed myself to your kingdom to the end of your life. I’m simply doing what is asked of me.”

“And you’re all ready for the banquet, I’m guessing?” The sentence is almost mocking as he approaches you.

“It’s just a ball, is it not? I’ve been told I’m just to stand there and make pleasantries.”  

Kaiser chuckles, more bared teeth than sweet. “It is, arguably, the worst part of being so-called royalty.”

“You’re taking this much better than I thought you would.”

"To say no to a goddess' proposal would be the greatest blasphemy, no?" 

"From what I've seen, you have not minded sacrilege much at all."

“Marriage means little to me. Disillusioned, perhaps, with the prophecy.” He waves his hand like he speaks of something meaningless. But you see it clearly. Before he had even allowed himself the thought of love, it was taken from him. “Your power is great, your presence ensures the continuation of myself as an heir and successor. Even I can reason with that.”

He's right in front of you now, so close you can feel his body warmth.

“Does it bother me?” He shrugs. “Sure. As far as I’m aware, you are no wife of mine. But a protector of this nation? For that, you are an indispensable ally.”

He looks out the window, towards a coming sunset. Something indescribable on his face, like grief and guilt all in one. He takes a deep breath in and out, inhaling the peace and exhaling the heaviness of his heart, before facing you again. “A war is coming. No one believes me, but I can feel it, as steady as a river’s current. Until then, I’ll make my peace with you.”

You nod. “So be it, your highness.”

That has him stepping back, more incredulous than you’ve ever seen him, body tensed and frowning. Maybe he should’ve expected it, given the way he’s just dismissed you. “Your highness? You hadn’t questioned my lineage before, but now you dare to do so?”

You stare at him blankly. “You are a prince, are you not? Isagi says that’s what princes are called.”

One side of his mouth upturns in relief, and he bursts out a bright laugh. “Is that what they teach you in those lessons Isagi gives? Oh,” a hand runs through the front of his hair, “I thought my own wife-to-be would dare insult me.” 

You scoff. “I have no need for that.” 

“The title ‘your highness’ doesn’t apply to this nation because strength is valued most. I am heir to the throne not because of the blood running through my veins, but because Noa deemed I the strongest — not just in body but in mind, not just in physical strength but in adaptability.” He says it proudly, like fact, like a knowing so deep within him that it turns pride into faith. “A title like that is something used by the Itoshi brothers, let’s say,” he comments airily. “Their throne is carried by a bloodline.” 

He turns on his heel, only looking back when he realizes you don’t follow.

“You don’t know how to dance yet, do you?”

You lean your hip against the table. “I can dance.”

“Come, then. If you’re to be my wife, it’ll be an embarrassment if you don’t at least act like it.”

You follow him to a ballroom – a stunning, wide area with a looping chandelier, curtains that weigh down in arches over each floor-to-ceiling window.

He swoops you from your distraction with a hand around your waist, and the physical contact shocks you so greatly that orbs of water swirl in your hands.

Kaiser only raises an eyebrow at you. “This is a dance, not a duel. Or do the gods do it differently?”

For a man who was so passive to you, he holds you so close that your chest to chest, you can feel each breath he takes against you. When he steps with you, his movements are slow and deliberate, never inefficient. He moves not with fluidity, but with each sure step. Pulls you forward, then pushes you back. Circles you, spins you around.

It’s exactly like when you see him train. Like steps to a kata.

“I thought you said this was not a duel.”

“These are steps to a classic waltz, demigod.”

“You have no fluidity to you.”

Kaiser scoffs. “Should I apologize? With the prophetic curse hanging above me, I haven’t taken a dancing class.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Hm?”

“The prophecy. It doesn’t have to be a curse.”

He stops, separating himself from you, scowling.

“This session is over.”

“Kaiser-,”

“What?” He snaps. “You, of divine nature. You want to tell me how to view my prophecy?”

“I do not say this out of pity, or out of some sort of higher knowing.” You say it with conviction. “As heir to the throne, a throne that is currently being held by Fate itself, maybe I shouldn’t be saying this at all.”

“And yet?”

“To know your fate is to be able to defy it.” And maybe it’s just an effect of your divinity, but it rings like a bell, like truth itself. “Your prophecy may have made a wound, but you are the one who cuts it open. You are a man who wields a sword that cannot, should not be able to be wielded by anyone but the divine. Does that not say something? About you, about your capabilities?”

“And yet you took it from me.” 

The silence that follows is thick with indecision. Kaiser lets the uncomfortableness sit, rejects every heartwarmed statement you make with a roll of his shoulders, like water off a smoothened rock, replaced with only his anger. “I trained for weeks before I could lift that sword out of the riverbank. Yet it is yours, now, simply because you are supposedly its rightful owner.” 

Conflict runs through your face so clearly, he wonders that even if you could lie, whether it would mean anything at all. He watches as your hand reaches into a conjured puddle of water that floats in the air, and out comes the divine sword.

You hold it in your hand with an ease that he has spent months capturing. It strikes envy in him like a branded sear. 

“My role here is technically to secure the sword. I have no need to wield it.” You hold it at the bottom of its handle, directing the top of it to him. “If you swear you won’t lose her, I can set a compromise of sorts.” 

“You think I’d agree to a compromise?” 

You open up your palm, and a bracelet appears. “This will help you keep the sword in a pocket dimension we can both access. If you’re willing to place it there to secure it when you’re not using it, I’ll return her to you until the end of your line.” 

Huh. A safe-keeping place is a more neutral proposition than he had thought you’d come up with. To have her back kills the fight in him, and he accepts begrudgingly, testing the magic in his hands until it becomes natural. 

“For the record, Kaiser, I have not always been worthy of it.”

Something about the way his name slips off your lips has him keening. “Worthy?”

“I stayed true to my course. I was given a title. And then I could wield the sword, presented to me by my queen.”

“Your queen. Heir to the throne.” He laughs bitterly, knowingly. “You’re a princess.”

“Despite your mocking tone, I’ll have you know that title of mine is of the highest regard. I don’t take it nearly as lightly as you do with yours.”

“That’s why you didn’t bow or kneel. You take what’s meant to be yours without a second thought. Not because you’re unknowing, or because of some godly pride, but because you have never been lesser.” He flicks a finger between your eyebrows. “What a spoiled thing you are. Can you even fight?”

Something in Kaiser takes pride in the way you frown more deeply, it’s almost like a pout. It’s almost… 

“Well, I definitely wasn’t sitting idly in the war between Gods.” 

“I’ve never seen you train.” 

“That’s because you’re always on the training grounds.” 

“Oh? You won’t show me?” 

“I’m giving you space. I’m no wife of yours, no?” There’s a sting to it when you say it, having his words thrown back at him. 

“Duel with me. Tomorrow.” He spins you, lets you out of his hold before bringing you back in. 

~

He begins to meet you, day after day. A duel first, and then a dance. The dichotomy would be distasteful to any other, but you of divine blood do not even flinch at his request.

He may be displeased to have you, but his mouth cracked as wide and wicked as a cat’s at the prospect of a fight.

“Go on, then.” He takes a blunt, wooden sword, throwing it in your direction. “Or do you only fight with magic?” He teases. 

You swing the sword, rotating your wrist with ease. “Do you forget yourself, prince? I am half divine, you will surely lose. Are you sure you want to go through with this anyways?” 

His mouth widens, more teeth than smile. “Bring it.” 

You know, the moment you defend against his first strike, that a singular hit from him on the battlefield must be deadly. He is surefooted, his whole weight bears down in every move. He doesn’t let you breathe once, much faster than you would’ve thought with someone of his size and height. 

Kaiser was almost right about one thing, that the divine adds to your magic more than your physical strength. With enough training, in just simple hand-to-hand combat… He might have the potential to beat you. 

But not today. Today, you have him pinned to the ground, makeshift blade to his throat. 

“You’re awfully close,” he gasps out slyly. And it’s in this moment that you notice, too, how right he is about that, how you can feel his heartbeat underneath yours, his chest against yours with each exhale. 

“What?” He grins wide, “afraid you’ll miss?” 

By all the Gods, you want to knock the living daylights out of him. He notices your anger in that hesitation, your conflict between doing what is right and what you want, and flips you over, swapping your positions until his hips are pressed against yours. 

Something about your shell-shocked face makes him stir. 

“First rule of fighting, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair before planting it next to your head, leaning into you close. “Never get distracted by your opponent.”

He’s closer than he was before, admiring the way you look under him, your hair splayed along the ground and the sweet fire of irritation in your eyes. Is the heaving of your chest from your anger towards him, or from something else entirely? 

“When Gods fight, there is not nearly as much prattling.” You grit at him. He smells like the grass of the field and the winter air and the heavy musk of sweat, and when you shove him off, it feels like your hand meets the hard rock of an unruly ocean. 

~

It is during dances that he speaks to you. Not at first, but slowly, like a river that streams into the ocean. You tell him tales about the Gods, about your friends, about wars and petty arguments. And he starts to answer you, more often than not, with every question you might have. 

“I have wondered about something.” 

“Hm?”

“The sheathing. It prevents even me from detecting the sword’s divinity.” 

“Huh, so Nagi really wasn’t lying.” 

“Nagi, who is always with Reo?” 

Kaiser nods. “They say Nagi was once sought upon by a god for his talents, a god who was constantly sending him dreams. But he grew tired of it, so he found a material that prevents even the gods from finding him so he can sleep in peace.” 

The conversation often leads to the prophecy, a bitterness like licorice on his tongue. Even if he skates around the topic, you don’t let him hide from it, cutting straight to the heart of the truth.

“You can live in the cold bitterness you’ve put yourself in, Kaiser,” you tell him, one of these nights. “Or you can live, and maybe even possibly die, warmed by a life you truly felt was worth living. Your own choices. Not because of a prophecy, or because of Noa, or even in spite of me.”

But despite it, he doesn’t move away. Because it is the only time he has you to himself. He sees you, always, with Isagi and Oliver and Karasu and Chigiri. How you have molded into their lives with simplicity, sit with them at meals and have easy conversation despite knowing nothing, in a way that he has never once allowed himself to enjoy. What does it say about Kaiser? That he can't stand your presence but he can't stand your absence even more? That he would rather have a biting argument with you than leave you to your own devices? 

It's during duel and dance that he comes as close as he can to touching you. If he did anymore, it would become something he doesn't have the heart to name without unease settling in his gut.

~

On the day of the banquet, Chigiri sits you down in your vanity, braiding your hair back in his hands.

“The queen of the Gods, her lover, a friend of mine… He used to do this for me too.”

Chigiri silently appreciates that you don’t ask him why it is him that helps you with this. That divinity doesn’t hold the same notions this world does.

“He would-,” you laugh softly to yourself. You’re stunning like this, Chigiri can’t help but notice. A goddess, most casual as can be. “He would say that I was useless at it, actually. You two might’ve been good friends.”

“Me? Friends with a god?” Chigiri finishes the braid, tilting your head in his hands to admire the way the braid crowns around each side.

“Of the Fae, actually. A beautiful man he is. You would fit right in.”

That stops Chigiri, has him taking a sharp intake of breath, smiling at you through the vanity’s reflection. “Thank you, princess. Though you would do good to be more careful during this banquet to compliment anyone.”

You smile softly back. “Ah, yes, my betrothed who will not love me might get jealous. Gods are not so different than people, in this regard.”

“Is that so…”

~

It’s when you meet the Itoshi brothers at the banquet that you begin to understand why Isagi gave you all these lessons.

Where Kaiser is muscle and sword first, more fighter than prince, Sae and Rin are the opposite. They have a grace befitting of royalty. Instead of heavy footfalls that you can hear even in the blanket of snow, they are light-footed, conscious of it in the echoed ballroom.

Though you suspect, from the way Sae grips Kaiser’s forearm as they shake hands, from the way Kaiser regards Sae, that he is somehow just as strong of a fighter. That royalty is an illusion Sae and Rin put on, for peace’s sake.

Something indescribable flits over Sae’s face as you curtsy in front of him, but it’s gone in a moment, replaced with his nonchalance.

“The betrothed of the banquet. We are most pleased to make your acquaintance.” Sae bows his head to you, and Rin follows in his stead.

You smile, something beaming and sweet. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Would you mind, Kaiser?” Sae’s eyes only leave yours for a glance, to check in at Kaiser’s now furrowed look. “I’d like to take your wife-to-be for a dance.”

Kaiser’s back straightens, a hardened gaze with gritted teeth. But he says nothing. You swear Sae almost grins.

“I’ll return her back to you.” He says it like a favor, and Kaiser is only held back by Karasu’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s just one dance, Kai,” Kaiser looks at Karasu, then to you, and then back to Sae. He barely nods once.

“Are you sure?” You ask him.

He scowls. “What do I have to be worried about?”

Well, it’s not like you want to anger him further. You let Sae take your hand, leading you to the floor.

“I almost didn't think you were who you said you were, when I saw you,” Sae tells you, breaking the quiet of the dance. 

You lean back so you can see his whole face, your confusion clear. “Your highness?”

“When I had heard of you, they told me that waves flowed off your dress like water itself holds you sacred. Yet here you are, as regular as can be.”

Sae twirls you away from him, then brings you back into his arms. “They say you shook the earth with a single step. Where is all that power you were said to hold?” He holds you close, watching your every reaction with his crystal gaze. “This place. They’ve placated you, tamed you.”

He brings his mouth to your ear, the body warmth of his entire chest seeping into yours. “If you were mine, I would never force you into a box you didn’t belong. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of Kaiser, even with his god-killing sword.” He spins you again, capturing your waist. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t be afraid to demonstrate your power to the world.”

“Sae.” He looks at you in a way that feels meaningful. You don’t know the pleasantries of this nation or his in-depth, but you know, somehow, that this feels like this is something you should shield from. 

“Oh? No honorifics already? We’re that intimate, are we?”

To fight is one thing, but this is something entirely different. Being able to hurt others with a play instead of a sword, you’re not sure if you can shield others from something like that.

As the song ends, Sae takes your hand, brings it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “Consider my proposition, princess. Before your marriage solidifies, and becomes something you can’t escape from.”

With his hand on the small of your waist, he brings you back to Kaiser dutifully. Kaiser links his arm with yours immediately, before any of you can spare a goodbye.

“What did he say to you?”

You hum. You get the sense that maybe…

“Nothing of importance,” you tell him instead.

“Hm?” He tilts your chin up to meet you eye to eye. “Is my own betrothed keeping secrets from me?”

“He said I don’t seem all that powerful.”

That makes Kaiser smile, not something sweet but with teeth bared, like a wolf. “He hasn’t seen you in action.” He pulls you in, hand wrapping to the back of your neck, a slow and deep whisper. “Do you want to show them?”

“Weren’t we both told that’s inappropriate? Isagi said the optics could make your allies scared.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Isagi this, optics that. Our country has always been about the brawl and brave. Let the nations fear us, then. I, with my cruelty and a god-killing sword. You, a sorceress second to none. It’s a pretty picture, is it not?”

He straps his sword to his back and brings you to the middle of the room, and as the guests of honor, the crowd gives you both a wide berth. He circles you, just like you practiced. Makes you center stage.

“Go on then, princess.” He lets go of your hand and bows, sweeping his arm out. “Show us who you really are.”

“Kaiser,” you whisper. “We have very clear orders-”

“I make the orders, not follow them. So make your choice, princess. Wasn’t it you who said that it is worth living a life warmed by your own choices? Tell me, then. Do you want to show them? Or do you want to play nice?”

This play, to have ego and pride dive head-first into a situation, is so very human. And yet-

You let water overcast your body from your waist, let it roll off in layers like waves into the floor. Anyone who has had experience with magic can see your ultimate control over it, how the floor isn’t wet at all, how the water was conjured from nothing. Your hair is silken with dampness, framing your face like gloss. Gasps and awes from the audience makes Kaiser grin even wider.

“There we go.” Kaiser reaches behind him to unsheath his blade, and the galaxy within swirls. He spins it in his hand, and it’s almost like he’s never been happier.

In seconds, he strikes at you. Your hands move up instinctively, blocking the blade with a stream of water. The sound it makes, divinity against divinity, is like a low bell. The floor beneath you shakes with the strength of the strike, water dispersing around your feet in cascades to cushion the impact. You hear screams of shock, a glass breaking.

“Kaiser,” you grit, but all he does is widen that wicked, quicksilver grin.

And then he laughs, stepping away and sheathing the blade back. He holds one hand out to you instead.

“Next time, I want a duel in front of everyone. But this time, I guess a dance will suffice.”

You exhale gratefully, taking his hand in yours and retracting your water. “Let us dance, then.”

And with none of a prince’s grace, with movements that feel more fight than dance, he drifts along the floor with you.

~

Isagi collapses into the booth, a palm pressed to his eyebrows. “Our allies thought they were about to fight each other.”

“Can I cash in on my bet now?” Karasu rolls a skewer stick between his fingers. “Because they might’ve almost killed each other.” 

“Nah,” Oliver leans back. “I think that’s just foreplay.” 

Isagi opens his eyes to find Chigiri and Bachira standing before the booth. Chigiri’s not meeting his eyes, his mouth perching to one side in a way that squishes one of his cheeks. 

“What happened?” 

“They’re gone.” 

“Ha?” 

“We had one drink. One.” 

Oliver has the audacity to laugh, hand over his mouth. “Don’t worry, Isagi,” he pats him on the back. “I’m sure they’re just fucking around.” 

In another corner of the hall, royals speak in low tones. 

“We can just take her if you like her,” Shidou tells Sae with the sweetest smile a man like that can muster. “No need to ask poor little Kai-Kai.” 

Sae says nothing, eyeing you quietly as you step out of the hall. 

~

You are sitting at the edge of the ocean, letting the slate-crested waves wash over you, when he finds you. 

“You can dry me in a moment’s notice if I am to sit with you, right?” He says it almost reluctantly, even though he’s here anyways. He’s dropped his off coat somewhere along the way, and there’s something so naked about seeing him in just a shirt. He almost seems softer, without the harsh lines of battle-ready clothing or the fur that drapes around him, relaxed in a way he wasn’t in the banquet hall. 

You smile. “I can keep you dry whilst you're sitting.” 

He relents, then. Allowing the strangeness of sitting on wet sand without getting wet. 

“Was the banquet up to your expectations, then, Kaiser?” 

Expectations. He’s had none of a party like this. Being allowed to dream is a privilege, and privileges were not granted to him.

“You are officially my wife-to-be,” he says instead. “Shouldn’t you call me something a little more intimate?”

You gaze out into the horizon for a moment, and something in your eyes unfocuses, like you’ve gone somewhere else and then returned. “Very well. I shall call you Mihya.”

It strikes a chord in him, like a teaspoon hitting a glass. “Mihya? Where did that come from?”

“The water.”

“She speaks to you?” 

“She says in another life, you are given a nickname like that.”

“Another life…” He lies down in the sand, watches the streaks of sunset in the blueing sky. 

“Ask then, Mihya,” you lean over him slightly, until all he can see is the sky and the way your features soften. “The question we both know is on your mind.”

He almost wants to reach out, hold your cheek in his hand. It’s a foreign feeling to him, so foreign it almost feels like unease – to want to extend a gentleness like that to another person. “Won’t you just tell me?”

You breathe in the sea-salt air, and breathe out a heart-warmed truth. “The prophecy does not hold you captive in another life.”

Kaiser, for once, lets himself dream. Of a different life, where he is unburdened by a prophecy, and burns brightly.

~

“It would seem strange if you weren’t together, with all the other guests in the palace.” That’s what Oliver tells you as he gestures for you to take his arm, leading you to Kaiser’s room. 

It’s both plainer and more furnished than you thought, like someone who isn’t him had chosen the furniture and the color of the walls. But the items in the bookshelves seem well-loved, items taken out and put back haphazardly, scrolls and books placed back half-way. The bathroom door opens with a flood of light.  

“You’re here.” It’s rare to shock Kaiser in a way that doesn’t make him immediately reach for his sword.

You turn to look at him, taking in his half-dressed state. “Were you expecting some other woman?” 

“Oh, so you’re the jealous type?” 

He almost wants to laugh at the clear discomfort on your face. Gods don’t tease, he’s guessing? 

The bed gives way to you as you take your place. “I hear it’s common for princes to take many lovers.” 

The moonlight spills over the bedsheets as the room darkens, and you summon the sword to float right above you, looking into it. He joins you, wanting to see exactly what you’re seeing. 

“It’s not a night sky.” Your voice is so soft in the blanket of night between you both. 

“Hm?” 

“Inside the sword. Your people say it looks like the night sky. It’s not. It’s a galaxy.” 

He reaches his hand out, tracing over the glass along the middle of the weapon, a silent remark for you to continue. 

“At the beginning of all worlds, the first-ever contract was made between the first-ever forces, and with it, this sword was said to be conjured out of the galaxy. And so, a part of the galaxy at the beginning of all worlds was contained in this sword.” 

The stars in the sword move within like they’re responding to your words, borne witness to all the events. But instead of watching them, you turn to him. 

“You have held and wielded a primordial piece of this world. It has allowed you to hold it, granted you its blessing.” 

Blessed. That is not a phrase Kaiser would have ever used to describe himself. But coming from you, he can almost believe it. Almost hope to have a little more than he’s ever had. 

The sword disappears with a movement of his hand, and he rolls to lean over you. Silence drops like a curtain. The only sound he knows is your breath and his. 

During a fight, his feelings can almost be mistaken for adrenaline. But even under the shadow of the moon, with the cushioned silence between you both, the way you cut straight to the truth rings like a silver bell.

He can’t hide from you. Or maybe. Maybe he’s tired of hiding at all.

He is a man who has only known war and battle, was born and bred into it. War-forged, is what they call men like him. His hands know weapons, know how to kill.

He does not know if they know how to love. And yet-

He cups your face, and drinks you in.

He kisses you with caution, like you might melt from his grasp if he held too tightly. Presses his lips against yours slowly. He runs his hand gently over your hairline as he parts from you. 

Is this okay? He wants to ask. But instead, he says: “Tell me what you want.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, your lips brushing against yours when you answer: “You.” 

And then he kisses you like a man starved, never known by this feeling that gets caught up in his throat with every noise of yours he swallows. 

“Is this… is this what you want?” You try to ask as you part from him for air, but he presses his mouth to the space behind your ear instead, laying kisses down your neck. “Is this a decision that you are making for yourself, by your own hands? That is entirely for you?” 

That makes him stop. But when he looks at you with a surefire gaze… 

He knows it, undoubtedly. That this, for once, is his. 

“There are no lovers,” he tells you between kisses, to your shoulder, down your collarbone, to your breastbone. 

“What?” 

“I take no lovers.” He unclasps your bra, lets the material fall from his hands to cup your supple flesh. “I’ve never been princely, after all.” 

“You- Kai-” 

He runs his thumbs across both your nipples, admires how they perk up at his administrations, flitting his gaze between them and your face as he brings his mouth down over one of them. 

He presses kisses down your body, cups your heat in his hand like he’s begging you to respond, like he’s saying let me have this. The inside of your thighs is soft as cream under his calloused hands. His thumb moves along the outside of your underwear, from your slit up to your clit with his fingers pressing tentatively against the fabric until you’re grabbing at his wrist. 

“You’re so tense,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Want me to take care of that for you?” He runs the knuckles of his hand over your clothed slit, bumping into your clit with his thumb until your breathing gets heavy, your hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Kaiser,” you breathe, and he clicks his tongue. 

“That’s not what you call me, baby. Not anymore.” 

“Mihya.” 

“Mm,” he slides his fingers into your panties from the side, a huff of breath leaves him at the wetness he finds. “Good girls get rewarded, you know?” 

Heat coils hot deep in your stomach. He can’t take the restriction, pulling your panties down and revealing your core to the cold air. He lets his slickness pool on his fingers, collects it before bringing it to your clit. It’s like a drug, watching the way your face gives way to pleasure, how your body arches into him. 

“Mihya,” you gasp again, like a chant, a prayer. Is this what the gods feel like, to be asked of? 

“Let me watch,” he says it like a demand but it aches with desperation, a thing he won’t admit outside these four walls. He presses with more confidence now, slides one finger into you, then two. There’s little resistance with the way he’s riled you up, long fingers pressing into you until he reaches something that has you making a broken moan so pretty he can’t help but tilt into it again. 

“I want to see it,” he tells you. This is something he makes happen to you, with his own hands, his own words, his own body that shares its heat with yours. That notion alone runs arousal straight through him. Your panting breath, the way your body shakes with each swipe against your clit. 

“I want to see you fall apart in my arms.” He whispers, and you respond in kind. You always do to him, don’t you? He’s been seen too surely by you, now it’s his turn. Your body tenses entirely, tightly, gripping him as he grants you reprieve. A soft whine leaves your mouth along with something like his name, and the rough pad of his thumb circles over your clit until you crash, coming around his fingers. 

He swipes a thumb over your cheek, allows himself the gentleness that he’s held back for so long with you. 

“One more, okay?”

Your eyes widen. “Mihya,” this time it’s like a warning, but the way you say his name is so breathy it has him pressing a hand over his pants. 

“Yeah, say my name just like that.” He shuffles down until his mouth is pressing to your stomach, just above your mound. Then again to the inside of your knee, trailing up until the inside of your thigh, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there. 

“You’re-, wait, we just- I just” 

“Mm, and you’re gonna give me one more.” He kisses your clit first, like a promise, and then he laps at your core generously, from the bottom of your slit all the way to your clit, his flat tongue against the whole of you. Every drop of slick from your previous orgasm is taken in by him with each moan he makes against your core. If he had known this feeling was going to enter his life, that it would’ve felt like this, maybe he would’ve readied himself better for it. Instead, he finds himself starving at the table where it’s served. The taste of you on his tongue wraps him in a heady pleasure, but it’s every sound he takes out of you that has him pressing a little more insistently, tongue laving over you. 

“Pl-please,” your words break between gasps, and it has him lapping into your clit with more pressure. 

“I can never say no to you, can I?” he mumbles between your legs. And then he’s flipping you over, hoisting you onto your knees and skimming his hands over your rear and thighs before diving in again. Your face is pressed into the pillow, hands grabbing the sheets. Kaiser almost seems dazed as he moans into your cunt, swollen and wet like a siren’s call, hands wrapped so tightly around your plush thighs that it feels like it might bruise. 

“Let me taste,” he mutters, mouth still lodged into your cunt, like that isn’t what he’s already doing. “Come on baby, give it to me. Let me taste it on my tongue.” 

Your hole clenches and flutters around nothing as another orgasm rocks through you, your breath coming short as you break apart on his tongue with a whine. 

He flips you over again, and the look on his face takes your breath away. Your slick shimmers on his mouth as he trails his tongue over his lips, like he’s addicted, like he can’t get enough. He tilts his head with a grin so cocky that if you weren’t so blissed out you might just punch him. 

“There something you want, pretty?” He leans over you, hand to the bedpost, and how broad and tall he is becomes that much more obvious. You let yourself look, at the way his tattoo drapes over his arm, run your hands over the muscle of his torso down to his v-line. You hear a sharp intake of breath as your hand moves lower, running under his loose sleep pants to the base of his cock. 

He grabs your hand in his, bringing it over your head and circling both your wrists. “Ask.” 

“You-,” your eyes narrow and you huff at him, but it only makes him smile. “Won’t you just-” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

“I could cut you down here.” 

He drops his pants, pumping his cock once and then sliding it along your slit. “You could. And then who’ll give you what you want?” 

You want to roll your eyes, but then he has one hand tapping against your clit, the other gripping either side of your cheeks. 

“You begged so pretty for me earlier when I had my mouth on you,” he rasps. “What happened to that?” 

The harsh look you give him under those fluttering lashes of yours makes something stir in his gut, arousal shot through his veins, pupils wide. He plays with you, warm hands against your skin and between your legs, the soft skin of his cock sliding between your thighs until you’re gasping in his hold again, grinning like a battle won. 

“Please, Mihya,” you sigh. 

“Mhmm. Please what?” 

“Please- please fuck me.” 

He gets off on it, watching you yield to him, spreading your legs, dripping your hot slick onto his cock. He presses the head against you, petaled folds opening up to receive him as he slides into you slowly. Just the first few inches is so thick inside of you that your hands wrap around the muscles of his arms, nails digging in. 

“Shh, baby, you can take it,” he hushes your little whines, tracing your hairline with such gentleness it contradicts the way he pulls out of you just slightly only to push in again. 

“You’re- oh,” your body gives into him, even more so when he brings his hand down to tap on your clit, his mouth over your neck, to the side of your mouth, until he’s kissing you and taking in every noise you make. It’s almost a distraction, helps your body to relax so he can press into you deeper. You think you feel every inch as it enters you, all the way until the hilt, until the head is pressing deep inside of you and his hips meet yours.  

He lets out a rough, deep moan against the expanse of your neck, breath coming short as your walls tighten around him. 

“Fuck, baby. You gotta let me move.” Your arms wrap around him tighter, a whimper falling from your lips as he tilts his hips up to plunge into you again. It’s hard and slow and deep and if it wasn’t for his grip on you, you might’ve hit the headboard. But he’s careful about it – more than you might’ve thought he’d be. Pressing your body into the bed as his hips meet yours again and again. 

“It feels so good,” you tell him, and it has him pressing a kiss to your cheek in return. Makes every moan you make that much sweeter, to know it’s out of your pleasure, to know it’s because of him. 

“Good girl. Tell me again.” 

“Feels- you’re so big, so- please, I need-” Your walls can barely clench down onto him with how he feels inside of you. Chest to chest with him, the contact of skin on skin-

“You drive me insane,” he grumbles it into your skin; a confession, exacerbated with each thrust of his hips as he picks up the speed, until he’s slamming into you with a kind of strength that has you seeing constellations behind your eyes. He wants you- needs you to feel the way he feels. Needs to have you lying in his bed, thinking only of him and how he makes you feel. Heat pools in your core until you’re arching your back, and he knows it now – knows it like the back of his hand. 

“Give it to me.” It’s a command, a need, if you listen closely enough. “Come around my cock. Show me.” 

“Mihya, it’s so much, it’s so so much.” It’s treacherous, the way it works through your body, being on the brink. 

His thumb is slick over your clit, pressing just a little more, until your thighs are tightening under his unrelenting body. “Come for me.” 

You chant his name until the words start to become nothing in your mouth, until you’re breathless, until your whole body tenses under him and his hold against you gets that much rougher and your walls clamp down and then your body shakes as you come. You almost scream, only silenced by his lips on yours. He comes quickly after that, his eyes never leaving yours, taking in how you look underneath him as his cock gets more sensitive and paints the inside of your walls. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow until he feels your body start to relax under his. 

You can barely process coming down as he’s kissing you again, deeply and with force, like he’s etching the memory of you into his mind and onto your lips. 

For once, he lets himself recognize – how tiring the emptiness has been, to be devoid of this feeling and instead be filled with the fear that it’ll be turned against him. For once, he lets himself feel – to have something that is wholly his. to know and be known. To give and know you will receive. Not an offering at an altar but a hand in his, not a prayer but a soft word spoken in return. Kaiser does not want something as untouching as approval or attention from the divine. But he does want your waist in his arms, your forehead against his.

“Just like this,” he whispers it, a kiss placed to your forehead. You don’t know what he means, too tired to ask. 

This is exactly what he’s always wanted. Just like this. 

~

Not unlike a parent, Noa notices the closeness of your relationship. In touch, in stolen glances, in longing. A private conversation with him over afternoon tea is not unique, but the heaviness that weighs on him is. 

“As the goddess who cannot lie, I have to ask you.” The hardened look on his face makes you straighten your back, putting down your teacup. “You know, that I have to ask.”

Silence sits between you both like a shoe about to drop. 

Noa yields. “Has he truly been forsaken by all the gods?”

You are strangely silent as you look at him, then away, then back. 

“Answer me, demigod.”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I. Don’t. Know. I have told you before, that I am not a seer, or an oracle. Water holds memory. I can see the past, I can even see other lives parallel to ours, but I cannot see the future. This is the limit of my power.”

“You are of divine nature.” 

“I had said what I said at our first meeting, and that has not changed. As long as I am here, the Gods have not forsaken him. For I have not forsaken him. Is that not enough? How many Gods would travel to your realm, vow themselves to a human kingdom? Even if it is I alone that stands before you, is that not enough?”

Noa sighs, more exasperated than you’ve ever seen a serious man like him. “He deserves more, that boy. For what he has been put through.”

“All greatness comes with a price. All heroes face tragedy. He, no matter how much you may care for him, is not the exception to that.” You tilt your head, like a cat with curiosity. But unlike that sweetness, your words are cutting. “You made him a ruler. You made him a hero. So, stand by that. Or does it make you uncomfortable? To consider the role you, too, have played in his life?”

Noa, of course, has thought about this too. Had he not chosen Kaiser to rule, would he have had the prophecy weighing on him like a second shadow? 

“If the prophecy holds true, you will inevitably leave him.” Noa swallows, hand flat against the table. “He will inevitably be forsaken, even by you.”

“Then why,” you ask, genuinely, “did you ask me to stay?”

~

In the weeks that follow, you learn exactly why. Like Kaiser had predicted, talk of battle comes. 

“We suspect a neighboring nation wishes to wage war with us.” Noa looks out to the slate-blue ocean from the window of the war room. 

“A man who wants control of this whole world,” Karasu huffs. “There’s never a lack of them, is there?”

“He thinks himself a god. Or that’s what Sae has told us.” 

“You’re sure Sae’s information checks out?” 

“Shidou and Otoya like to visit neighboring nations for uh… fun, let’s say,” Chigiri rolls his eyes, then plants his face in his hands. “He said something along the lines of “you don’t wanna know how they found out” and “Shidou sleeps with both men and women, so it’s been cross-checked too.”” 

“And then we asked him about war,” Isagi throws his notes down on the table. “He said, and I quote, ‘I already have more land than I know what to do with. What could another few acres give me? What a hassle.’” 

“The enemy are bold to come for us first.” Kaiser frowns considerably. They are possibly the one nation blasphemous enough that would not blink at the thought of fighting a god. “There’s something we’re not seeing.”

Isagi nods in agreement. “We still don’t know the reason they’re coming here first. It could be the sword, or the goddess.” Isagi frowns. “I told you not to make a scene at the banquet.”

Kaiser gives him a curious look with a smile he fails to hide. “The point of a banquet is to wow the people. The people were wowed, were they not?” 

“It could be, it could not be,” Noa kills the conflict there. “That information would have been made public regardless of the spectacle. It could even simply be the throne itself they seek. An army like ours could parade into the neighboring nations and lay waste, our people are used to much harsher weathers.” 

“Or maybe he means to make a statement,” Karasu shrugs. “If he wants to be a god, maybe he means to punish the disrespect we’ve shown.” 

“What do we actually know?” Chigiri taps the map of this nation splayed across the table.

“We know he wants to take control of this world, and we know his plan includes something from us.” 

“He knows once he controls the world, he has to take care of it, right?” Oliver rests his jaw in his hand. “As in, it’s not just about buying the house, it’s about cleaning it too. The plan – it has to be bigger than this, no?” 

“Won’t happen once we kill him here. So as far as we know, there are three things we have that he could want: the sword, the goddess, the army.” Chigiri holds up his fingers as he counts. 

“So we’ll meet him with all three at the front lines. Fear does not wield us, after all. Only strength.” Kaiser says it like a mantra. You suspect it might be exactly that. 

~

“What a pleasant surprise to see you again so soon, princess.” 

As an ally, Sae arrived on the day of battle without question. He is much different from the first time you saw him, chainmail armor wraps tight and sleek around his body, clearly of a weight underneath his clothing. He stands straighter, shoulders broader, badges clipped to his outer jacket. It’s clear to anyone who looks at him, that it’s almost like he was born into them – meant for them. 

“You’re both on the front lines then?” 

“Idle hands,” Kaiser starts.

“Devil’s workshop.” You finish. You hear a horse galloping, then a voice. 

“There’s something wrong.” The people give a wide berth as Oliver arrives, with a sleek black mare that’s obedient as can be. “The majority of the enemies’ troops are not in front of us.” 

All of you turn to look, but it’s on the front lines that makes it most difficult to tell where the crowd begins and ends. 

“I did a rough head count from the tower. This isn’t the count we had observed just the other day. They’ll die easily, like this, against us. And I don’t mean that from an egotistical standpoint. I think these men are here to die, meant to die. It serves to mean –” 

“This is a distraction.” 

Karasu appears at your side, with an utmost silence only he is capable of. “They’re headed for the main castle, from around the edge of the border.” 

You and Kaiser look to each other with a whole silent conversation, and Sae sighs. 

“Go on, then.” 

You turn to Sae immediately, with a seriousness he doesn’t expect. “You’ll be unprotected.” 

“We chopped liver to you, girl?” Shidou sneers. 

Oliver drops down from his horse. “I’ll take over here.” 

“Your care for me is truly touching, princess,” Sae’s voice lilts touchingly, almost revealing how much he likes it. “But you swore a vow to this kingdom, so go fulfill it.” 

Even in the middle of a war, it gets Kaiser all worked up, his chin jutting as you both run back to the palace. But Sae understands duty, stands by it. It’s what makes him worthy of his own title in his own kingdom. 

Oliver waits until you’re both out of sight before turning to Sae. “Did you really plan to steal her?” 

“Well,” Sae shrugs. “Did you plan on letting her go so easily?” 

~

Your water runs in cascading waves through the whole of the palace, like the ocean itself comes rushing through the walls. It knocks all the soldiers down as you and Kaiser run through, and he picks up any stragglers with ease.  

“The throne room?” Kaiser slams the hilt of his sword into the guy behind him, and he collapses instantly. 

“It is the safest room.” 

“That makes no sense. If you knew anything about our people, you’d know we never hide ourselves there in a battle.” 

“Go anyways,” you tell him, as another man gets thrown off his feet. “Go, Kaiser!” 

He takes one final look at you, at the strength that you hold in your hands, and then he runs. 

The man he finds sitting on the throne has black hair cut blunt to his chin, a white mask over one side of his face. Kaiser unsheathes his sword, pointed straight and true. 

“That throne doesn’t belong to you.” 

“It will. Along with that sword you’re holding.” 

Kaiser chuckles, the kind that has madness interlaced in it. “If you wanted the sword so bad, you could’ve asked for a one-on-one combat duel. I haven’t had a satisfying fight in a long time, I’d be happy to lay the sword as a winning prize.” 

What must be the man’s most elite fighters drop down from the ceiling, crowding in on all sides. 

“Ah, I see,” Kaiser stands straighter, reaching behind him to unsheath his second sword. “It is your capabilities that do not match mine.”

When they come for him, it’s clear to even the heavens that he is exactly as he is fated – a force to be reckoned with. He moves like a spider-spun silken web, capturing each of them blow by blow. His swords cut like butter through them with impressive speed and strength. His breath comes fast and hard when he finishes, sweat dripping down his back. 

“I see now, prince,” the man approaches him, and it’s closer up that he realizes he’s simply in a suit, no armor. “Why they praise you, despite your blasphemy. You, a prince famous for cursing divinity at a whim’s notice, are a powerful ally. Kneel before me, then, and I’ll cease this all – let you join our cause in a war against the gods, in stealing their divinity from them. I’ll even forgive this transgression of bedding one.” 

“Me? Kneel?” The canned laugh that Kaiser lets out echoes. “I kneel to no god, let alone a man who wants to become one.” 

“So be it, then.” 

Kaiser hears something above him. By the gods, what’s with this guy and ceilings? Is that why he wants to fight here? A dust of something shimmers down, he pulls his cloak over himself- 

From the doorway, you throw your water across the room, shielding Kaiser from whatever it may have been. And in the same moment, a poof of shimmer bursts over your own head and tumbles down around you. 

“That’s the problem with you gods, isn’t it? You always think you’re infallible.” 

You cough, falling to one of your knees. Dread fills inside of you, like a faucet you can’t turn off. You can’t move. How is that possible? 

The man taps two fingers to the top of your head, and your world goes dark.

~

When you blink your eyes open, the first thing you’re aware of is the way your vision swims. Your mind feels clouded, stuffed with cotton. You press your palm to your head, and even that feels muted. 

“I’ve made her mine now. She’ll do exactly what I say. Does that make you upset?” Is what you think you hear, through the ringing of your ears. “Let’s see you put that god-killing sword to good use then, shall we?” 

“It’s. Magic.” You spit out the words as your hands press into the ground. Your legs cramp from the way you’re forcing them to stay down. “Mihya. Run, please.” 

“Awh, worried about me?” Kaiser teases as he logs the odds. There is no water that swirls around you, so it begs to reason – you can’t call it. The only weapon you have is a dagger. 

Kaiser tilts his head until his neck cracks. “Have some faith in me, princess. I’m not afraid, even against you.”

He breathes, in and out, until the calmness of battle seeps into him, raises his sword pointed right at you. “I’ll win, even against you.” 

And then he reveals that cocky, surefire smirk. “You should worry more about not dying yourself.” 

When you launch at him, it is without mercy, makes him realize how your kindness seeps into the way you fight. His weapon is bigger, larger, and he uses it to keep you at arm’s length, to wrap around towards the enemy. But he sees his problem almost immediately. Like a puppet on strings, you’re protecting the enemy. 

He knows it, the moment the prophecy solidifies into place in his mind. That feeling of being lost on a path, gone with the reigning down a light. The final puzzle piece in the picture. 

You will die by the hands of the one you love most. So, it truly was this feeling, after all. Love. An aching thing, something so undoing. An open wound that can only be tendered by you. 

For once, the prophecy is not a curse but a guiding starlight. He corners you with strike after strike, until you’re as close as can be to the enemy. And then he approaches you with no defense, lets you strike at him. In the same breath, his sword lands behind you and takes off the enemy’s head. 

None of the fight felt as clear as this moment, when your blade presses into his heart. 

He collapses, right in front of the throne with you on top of him. The throne that should be undoubtedly his, belonging to him as heir. Tears fall from your face before your mind can clear. Like you know, soul to soul, as his lifeform slips through your fingers. He brings his hand to cup your cheek, as he had wanted to do when you laid like this above him in the sand. 

“I did not expect a death so gentle for myself.” 

His smile is so bittersweet that it aches all the way to the bottom of your heart. His hand slips down from your face as you finally come to. 

“You will not die on me.” You gasp out, a statement said with so much conviction that the silver bell of truth rings in return. You call to your water immediately, a stream so fast it cuts into your skin but you don’t care. 

A magic that can only be done once. You take the divine sword from the ground, aim the blade carefully at yourself – your own soul. Only this sword can make a cut like this, with the hand of the divine. You slice your wrist, and instead of blood, pure golden lifeforce pours out. 

You separate your divinity from yourself, and you feed it to him. It will not turn him divine. You are only half-divine yourself, after all. What you can give is not nearly enough to turn a man into a God. But it will hold his soul in this world, let you do an unspeakable magic: an exchange of divine power for life, a process long enough for the water to heal his heart back together again. The hand you lay against his mouth shakes more and more with each second that your golden blood pours into him, but your other hand lays steady as ever over his heart, until you feel it beat once, twice. Hear him spurt out a breath. 

You collapse on top of him before you can see him open his eyes. 

~

“I see the prophecy has been completed.” 

When Kaiser wakes, there’s a split second where he thinks he might’ve just ended up wherever souls go at the end of their line. There’s what must be a full-fledged goddess standing right over him. It’s only your warm body splayed across his chest that tells him otherwise. His hands are lightning quick, sitting up and moving to your neck to check your pulse, only exhaling and relaxing once he feels it. 

Golden threads extend down the sleeves of the goddess’ arms. He’s seen the paintings. Fate itself stands before him. 

“How could you do this?” He makes his disdain clear, lacking any respect one might give to the queen of the gods herself. 

“I am sorry.” She answers immediately, and that makes Kaiser’s eyes widen just slightly. “Your grievances, you may relay them to me, if you wish. There is a bigger picture at play here, bigger than you or the water sorceress or even myself. The threads of fate are not woven selfishly.” 

“You gods up in your clouds play with the lives of mortals. That has always been written in history. But to her? To one of your own?”

“She is more one of mine than most. The heir to the throne of the Gods, I would’ve entrusted her with my life. It’s why she complies with Fate in every life, without complaint.”

“So she lends you her loyalty, and you take advantage of her. And you dare put yourselves above us?” 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Heavy too, are my hands, that weave the golden threads. You and her are one of many that have suffered by my hand. For that, there is no apology I can give. What I can give, well… Would you like to hear your full prophecy, prince?”

Lone Emperor who covets the throne, You will die by the hands of the one you love most. Forsaken by all the Gods but one, Re-emerge, awaken, as the ruler you are meant to become.

In any other circumstance, he would be eager as ever to finally hear the full prophecy. But his eyes are only on you, your slumbering state as he holds you in his arms. 

“What will become of her?” He asks quietly. 

“She will be a water sorceress, as she had initially been.” 

“She will die, then? Like a human does?”

“All things die, hero.” Hero. That’s what he is now, having been trial-passed. The title burns like bourbon down his throat. “Even the divine dies. But yes, she will die as a human, and be reborn again as the cycle permits.” 

“A life of such simplicity is not befitting of a woman like her.” 

“Who says it would be simple? Besides, she has gone through the trial of the divine once before. Don’t you have faith she could do it again?” 

The trial of the divine. He had not known such a thing prior to you. But if anyone could pass it, it would be you. 

“I will make her my wife. I care little for the words or respect of the gods, even a queen like yourself. But it is my duty to inform you. If she will have me, I will wed her as has been planned.” 

“The prophecy is complete. What happens now is too inconsequential for me to put effort into. However…” she watches you, teartracks streaked down your cheeks. “I’m quite fond of her. I hope for her an easy life.” 

In a blink, her form disappears. 

“Kaiser!” Oliver’s voice echoes through the halls, taking big leaps with Noa to his side, skidding to a halt when he finally finds you both. 

“The goddess-” 

“She lives,” Kaiser cups your head into his chest. “Though she is goddess no more. A trade. Not a fair one by any means.” His thumb traces across your cheek, a state of his so vulnerable it renders Oliver speechless. 

Noa approaches the threshold where Oliver does not dare. He rests his hand on the crown of Kaiser’s head. “Another chance at life is the greatest gift, and she has granted you as such. That is a debt you’ll never be able to repay her for..” 

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying, then.” 

~

It’s only in the aftermath, that you find out how deep in you truly were.

Kaiser takes a big inhale of the winter air. It’s fresh and cold. And with him, the nation breathed a breath anew, and the trial laid in ashes under his feet.

You’re facing the horizon of the sea when he finds you. 

In the catch of the light, sometimes he swears he sees the divinity that had shimmered off of you before. It’s almost hard to believe, with the ring of water that floats around you, that it had ever left you at all. 

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, as it always is with you now. 

“Relearning the water.”

“What does it say?”

“That I am still its mistress. Still a sorceress,” the water around you drops into the wet sand. “That its loyalty with me is not dependent on divinity.”

He places a hand to the back of your neck, easing out the tensions there. “But?”

You smile weakly. “I have to strain to hear her now.”

“Guess we can’t do that spectacle again for our wedding.” He cracks a smile, something to ease the ache. “Water holds memory, right?” 

“That, it does.” 

He grabs your hand, pulling you up and towards the waves. You yell for him, but the ocean crashes loudly around you both, and he drags you into the water anyways. Once you’re deep in enough that the waves drape over your knees, he pulls you in close. 

“Let her bear witness, then.” He whispers it against your lips, brushing your hair away from your face. He kisses you, deep and with so much heart you might burst from it. 

A prophecy unfolded, a fate changed, a life saved. 

There’s a part of you that can feel an oncoming future. A sheathing that can block even the eyes of Gods. God-killing weapons that have descended from the heavens themselves. A potion that can cause madness in the minds of the divine. A war between mortals and Gods is coming, you’re sure of it. 

But not in this life. In this life, you are a water sorceress, and he is a trial-passed hero. And like in every life, you find your way back to each other, every time. 

author's note: ohmygod THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE tell me what you think!!! this is my longest fic ever so i really hope you enjoyed

[kacchans-waifu]

A BUSINESS PROPOSAL — the pro-hero, dynamite, is forced on a date with some ceo's daughter. except, it's just you and your best friend doing your absolute best to scare him away.

word count: 2.4k

cw: suggestive, fluff, not proofread

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for quite literally a year. i decided to rewatch the drama and omggggg i still love it. i might make a part two bc this was kinda fun to write.

requests

pro-hero, katsuki bakugou, was rapidly climbing the hero ranks the moment he graduated high school. by the time he was 23, he was already one of japan’s top heroes. he had been working his ass off, spending countless hours training and fighting for the dream he had worked for since he was a child, and all of his hard work had finally come to fruition.

unfortunately, there was one thing he didn’t have.

“you need to get a girlfriend, katsuki.”

the blond found himself now trapped in another dreadful conversation with his mother. for the past year, his mother had been pestering him about finding a partner and it made him want to tear his hair out. he groaned as he did his best to tune her out.

“i’m being serious, katsuki,” she pestered, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “we’re both getting older and I want grandbabies.”

“you’re not getting any fucking grandbabies if you keep fucking bothering me about it,” the man huffed. “i don’t know why you care so much about me fucking some chick. it’s creepy.”

mitsuki scoffed. “well, sorry I don’t want to you die alone and unhappy.”

those words still ricocheted in his head as he shuffled through paperwork a few weeks later. die alone, he thought. like hell, I need some woman and kid slowing me down.

there was a soft knock on the door of his office followed by the calm voice of his assistant. “mr. bakugou?”

“open,” he responded, not looking up from the papers.

his assistant walked in, closing the door behind him. “todoroki’s agency wanted to ask how the paperwork is coming along.”

“tell him to leave me alone.”

the still unnamed assistant checked his watch, huffing. “sir—” he leaned forward, the tablet in his hand now curled up near his chest— “have you called your mother at all today?”

katsuki raised his eyes, immediately suspicious. “why?”

“yes or no, sir?”

he sighed. “no, I have not.”

“that explains it,” the assistant muttered, leaning back. “she wanted me to tell you that she-”

“KATSUKI!” like clockwork, mitsuki stormed through the double doors of katsuki’s office. the man swore under his breath. the assistant stood aside as the older woman made her way to her son’s desk. “I have incredible news for you!~”

he place the papers on the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose, anticipating the worst. “oh boy, I wonder what it could be,” he spoke, sarcasm lacing his jaded voice.

“curb your enthusiasm, buddy.” mitsuki stood tall. “the ceo of XXXXX has agreed to a blind date with his daughter!” she did jazz hands to emphasize it.

katsuki froze. “sorry?”

“you’re going on a blind date with the ceo’s daughter.” she did the jazz hands again.

“are you fucking kidding me?!” katsuki began to raise his voice, evidently pissed off. “you went and set up some blind date with a random woman because you want some fucking grandkids!?”

“I fail to see the issue katsuki.”

“well, there’s fucking plenty!”

“listen, and listen well; you’re going to find a woman to settle down with whether you like it or not, katsuki. plus, wouldn’t marrying into a ceo’s family be good for business?”

“this is fucking ridiculous.” the man stood up and was ready to leave. “it’s not happening. i’m busy all this month.”

“not anymore!~” mitsuki had the biggest shit-eating grin the man had ever seen.

katsuki looked over at his assistant, eyebrow cocked. “that’s what I was trying to tell you, sir, before she…” he shifted his gaze to the older woman “…before she walked in.”

“i also had him clear your schedule.” she chimed in.

katsuki huffed, wanting the world to swallow him whole.

~

“another one? did he forget every other date you’ve gone on?”

your friend had invited you to a nice debrief at the cafe you two had been eyeing for a while. being from a wealthy business family, it was common place for her parents to try and marry her off, but your friend would rather eat lead than have anything to do with this.

your friend huffed, crossing her arms as she looked out at the nearby street. “that’s what I’m saying.”

“and you literally have no idea who this dude could be?”

“well, it is a blind date after all.” she looked back at you, hands now on the table. “but he knows I don’t wanna be set up with some dude just because he’s rich. I only plan to marry for love.” she waved her hands in a rainbow motion on the word “love” to really get the point home.

you took a sip from your drink. “your dad, yeah. doesn’t he know we’re just gonna scare him away again?”

she raised her coffee cup to her lip, chuckling a bit. memories of your two’s shenanigans flooding her mind. “should we do that again?”

“is that even a question,” you grinned.

~

you and your friend had planned for you to go on the date instead. you’d be dressed neatly in expensive clothing borrowed from your friend. she gave you a cute makeup look to make you look expensive and a pretty wig with scarily realistic hair.

the plan was simple:

be as unappealing as possible.

you sat down and waited for your friend’s date to show up. as you waited, you did your best to calm your nerves and fix your makeup a bit. after a few minutes of waiting, a deep voice spoke from behind you.

“you XXXX XXXXXXXXX?”

startled, the compact mirror in your hand shook. you turned around and began to shake even more. the man your friend had been set up with, the man you are about to scare off, the man standing in front of you right now was absolutely, unbelievably attractive. what was his name again?

katsuki bakugou.

katsuki saw your eyes widen for a moment and was about to leave, a bit worried that you were the wrong person.

“yes,” you answered, voice a bit meeker than you had hoped. not only was he undeniably attractive, but he looked oddly familiar. was he some kind of model or actor? “take a seat.” you gestured to the seat across from you.

the blond sat down, visibly uninterested. you, on the other hand, were doing your absolute best to calm your nerves, hands trembling a bit as you raised your water glass to your lips. you took a deep breath. you were determined to make this date fail.

thus began tactic number one.

you let out a deep sigh, drawing katsuki’s attention. “it’s warm in here, isn’t it,” you asked smugly, carefully peeling your jacket off. the dress you were wearing underneath was sleeveless and showed off your shoulders and collarbone. it was far from warm in the restaurant you two sat in, but you were without a doubt going to pretend you were burning up.

no one likes a woman that shows too much skin.

katsuki didn’t even bother with a verbal response. instead, he just cocked an eyebrow. he examined you as you practically flaunted your arms and noticed goosebumps painting the exposed skin. “you have goosebumps.”

crap.

you chuckled, fixing your hair. “i just get goosebumps a lot.”

time for the next strategy.

you kicked your foot against the table. you fake winced, saying a sweet “sorry” as you pulled your leg back. your voice then switched to a high-pitched baby voice as you cooed at your expensive heels, gently brushing them. “it’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” you then turned your attention to the equally expensive clutch near you. “oh, did you get scared, baby?” you continued cooing and kissing your clutch.

a woman crazy about luxury goods. how’s that for a turn-off?

you looked away from the clutch and watched as katsuki typed away on his phone.

was your performance not worth watching?

“what are you doing?”

katsuki’s head darted up before he sheepishly tucked his phone away. “a text from work. sorry.”

this won’t do. on to my last resort.

“I’m so sad,” you blurted out.

“what?”

you crossed your arms, huffing. “I’m so sad. you seem so uninterested in me.” you pouted. “it’s making samantha and rachel very sad.”

the blond’s brows furrowed as he took a sip out of his cup. “samantha and rachel?”

you smirked, holding the sides of the table so your chest was open. “the left one is samantha. right is rachel. i spent a wopping half a million a piece on these babies.”

he nearly choked on his water, coughing as he placed it back on the table. you did your absolute best to not break character. you giggled, leaning back in your seat. “i’m rambling, aren’t i?”

one could say this was your best performance. there was no way in hell that he was going to ask for a second date.

—

“HE ASKED FOR A SECOND DATE?!”

you sat with your head in your hands across from your friend. “I did my best, I swear.”

“if you did your best then why am I going on a second date with him,” she asked, practically crushing her cup.

“he was very persistent, in my defense.”

your friend sighed lowly. “jeez, I guess I’ll have to go and scare him away myself.”

“how,” you asked, lazily looking back up her. “he thinks you look like me.”

“well, i don’t want to see him anymore regardless, so him finding out you’re not the real me should only drive him further, yeah?” your friend feigned calmness as she said that, but you could tell that she was thoroughly irritated. you watched as coffee leaked from under her lid and onto her fingers. she was no indeed crushing the cup.

sheepishly you offered, “I’ll buy you a new drink.”

—

“you want to…meet her again?”

katsuki decided to visit izuku on his lunch break. they were in a nearby cafe, casually debriefing about how their days had been going. izuku, like most of katsuki’s friends, had long known of his mother’s desire for her son to get married and have kids. katsuki had told izuku about the date his mom had set him up on, complaining about how that “old hag”, in his words, had no respect for his boundaries and was weirdly obsessed with him getting hitched off. so izuku was very surprised to hear that the dreaded date went well.

“yeah,” he admitted, digging his fork into his pasta. “I mean, she didn’t seem half bad.” he looked back up at izuku, who held a stunned expression. “quit looking at me like that.”

“sorry, I just didn’t expect for it to have gone so well. she must be a real catch.”

katsuki thought back to what you considered a disaster of a date. it had been so long since he’d met such a straightforward woman. you came across as so honest, so genuine. he…liked that about you. and sure, you were pretty and wealthy, but things like that meant nothing to him. he’d be a liar if he said he couldn’t stop thinking about you on the drive back to his apartment. “i guess so.”

suddenly, there was a loud crash outside followed by a scream. the two men perked up, both now looking out the window. a villain attack?

at the sound of another crash, they dove out of the cafe and onto the street to be met with what they expected. what katsuki didn’t expect was to see was a woman that looked suspiciously familiar.

you had somehow ended up in the middle of the crossfire of this low-ranking villain’s attack. if a hero hadn’t saved you just in time, you would’ve gotten seriously hurt. unfortunately, the moment you got a good look at the hero that saved you, you realized why the man your friend was set up with looked so familiar.

you had gone on a date with the top hero, dynamite.

the two of you stared at each other, face inches apart. katsuki examined your face. he could barely believe it. here you were, standing right in front of him, and he had just saved your life. now would be a bad time to ask you on a second date, right?

“you’re the…”

quickly, you backed away and bowed. “t-thank you so much!” you tried to run away, face burning with anxiety, but his large hand instinctually grabbed your wrist.

“wait a second, how the hell did you get yourself caught up in a villain attack?”

“it was an accident, really,” you said as you attempted to wiggle yourself out of his grip.

“y/n, are you okay,” you friend asked, running up to you. she had gotten separated from you when the attack started. however, she halted the moment she saw katsuki right next to you. “oh no..”

katsuki’s brows furrowed. “y/n?” that’s not your name, he thought. his grip loosened just enough for you to release yourself.

your heart was racing. katsuki, decked out in his signature costume, looked at you with the most perplexed expression you had ever seen. you jogged up to your friend, trying to push her away. “XXXX, we should go,” you muttered.

“hey,” katsuki called out. “you just got attacked by a villain.”

“we’re just fine,” you friend responded.

“i was telling her, not you.” he didn’t want to believe it, but the name your friend called you rang through his head like bullets. it couldn’t have been a nickname. it sounded nothing like the name he knew you as. could it really be…

“let me walk you to the police station, y/n. i have a lot to ask you.”

[sturnsdarling]

I don't know how to forget you

matt and y/n have been best friends their whole life, but after a drunken kiss and a night of tangled limbs, everything is changing.

vibe check: smut throughout (pretty equal sex dynamic, softdombutneedy!matt / subbutdeviant!reader), fluff, (resolved) angst, childhood best friends to idiots to idiots in love, y/n is scared of love (aren't we all), soft!matt, depressed!matt/reader, soppy confessions of love

this is a long one, kids: 12k words.

A/N: I LOVE THEM!! anyways this whole thing is based on one of my favourite songs of all time so if you don't know then get to know. I had so much fun writing this so I hope you love it as much as I do. IDIOTS IN LOVE SUPREMACY🗣 also tysm for over 200 followers you guys are insane

moodboards for this fic

love and cigs, merc

You burst into the house back first, Matts hands clawing at your waist and his lips moving against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues, your arms draped over his shoulders as your hands desperately clung to his messy brown hair.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, one hand coming to your jaw to pull you into him deeper. You both clumsily walked towards his bedroom, Matt leading you backwards with closed eyes, just about missing the couch. Your hands left his hair and found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head with vigour, breaking the kiss for a brief moment before crashing back into each other. Heavy breathing and small moans were the only sound in his house as he attempted to unbutton your shirt, not yet breaking the kiss and fumbling at the tiny circles that kept your body from him. He groaned into the kiss in frustration, biting your lip slightly before tearing your shirt open in one fowl rip. You chuckled into the kiss, Matt followed suit and your back hit the hard wood of his bedroom door, your arm frantically finding the door handle behind you.

When you finally gained entrance, still locked in an all consuming make out session with Matt, you slipped your hands between your bodies and began to untie the knot in his joggers, his whole body twitching at the sensation. Matt broke the kiss, panting, his forehead leaning on yours. 

“I thought you said we weren’t gonna do this anymore” He said through frantic breaths, his lips still brushing yours. 

“I know what I said” you muttered, finally undoing the bow that acted as the gatekeeper between your hand and his aching length, the swift insertion of your cold hand into his warm boxers acting as a mic drop to your statement as you pulled him into you once more. 

“So” Matt pulled away for a brief moment, missing the heat from your plump lips and kissing you before he spoke again, “what’re we doin” he panted. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, Matt” you shook your head, wrapping your hand round the back of his head, nearly giving him whiplash at the speed you pull his lips back to yours. 

One month earlier 

You and Matt had been seeing each other for about six months, it all started as an innocent drunken kiss at a birthday party, that same night ending with you underneath him on his satin sheets, getting pounded into at a rapid rate. You had both decided that, as two consenting adults (your exact words when you propositioned him the idea) you should start sleeping with each other on a regular basis. What was the harm right? The sex was good, you knew each other inside and out, having been friends for basically your whole lives, and you knew that no matter what happened, you’d always love each other unconditionally. 

At first it was amazing, the sex was obviously incredible and, outside of the bedroom, basically nothing changed. No one had even noticed a difference between you two, your dynamic already being touchy and somewhat flirty prior to your decision to hook up every so often.

Despite the occasional stolen glance and white knuckled night out from being forced to watch one another get hit on by random strangers at bars, it was honestly really normal, at least it felt that way.

Being with Matt was easy, he was kind and caring, being around him was like being with yourself, there was no bullshit and no expectations. You just, saw each other, truly and completely. 

As time went on, the sex became something more, it stopped being about simply acting on an urge and started being about the closeness. The intimacy of it all. You craved him, and he was addicted to you. He stopped flirting back with the girls that pushed themselves against him at bars, and you stopped entertaining the boys that bent over backwards to get your attention. Neither of you had noticed it at first but, no one was interesting anymore. No one understood you like the two of you did, no one even came close. No one could make you laugh like he did, and no one could bring him out of his own head like you could. No one knew your body like him, and vice versa, and soon enough, the sex started to change the way you saw each other. 

Instead of seeing Matt, your childhood best friend and the kid that accidentally broke your arm by landing on you at the bottom of a snowy hill when you were kids; you saw Matt, a lingering presence of safety in a crowed room and a blissful night of endless orgasms. Instead of seeing you, the fourth wheel in his little family and the girl that bullied him for being five foot nothing until he was sixteen, he saw you, a beaming ray of light in his life and the sexiest woman he’d ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. 

The shift didn’t seem to matter, as far as you were both aware, nothing had changed. That was until one night when you were hanging out with Matt as you always did:

You and Matt were half naked, tangled up in one another on his bed, watching gravity falls for the billionth time and enjoying each others company.

You were rested against his headboard, clad in his t-shirt and your underwear, and he was rested in-between your legs, his bare back comfortably wedged between your thighs as his long, plaid pyjama pant covered legs spread over the length of his bed. Matt turned his head to the side, peppering a small kiss on the side of your leg before shifting to lift himself up off his bed, the loss of his warm pressure against you almost painful. 

“m’gonna go get a drink, baby, y’want anything?” He said, standing up and hovering next to the bed. 

You shook your head, looking up at him, “I’m good, thank you”. 

“Okay” he leant down, the weight of his arms making the bed shift under you as he placed a tender kiss on your lips, your mouths slotting together effortlessly. 

He walked out the room and the door clicked shut. In your momentary solitude, the game changing realisation infiltrated your brain.

He just called you baby, and not when you were fucking, he called you baby like, like it was your name, like it was the easiest thing to call you in that moment, like it felt right to him so he did it, or even worse, that he didn’t even think about it, like that’s who you are to him.

A sudden wave of panic came over you, the events of the last however many months flashing through your brain. The longing looks, the small jealous comments that went over your head, the lingering touches when you were with your friends, his desperation for you after being apart for any longer than a couple days. All of it started to come together in your mind as one big puzzle of ‘holy fucking shit he has feelings for me, and not just I care about you as a friend but I also wanna fuck you feelings, real feelings’. That wasn’t the scary part though, the scary part was how effortless it felt, to you. How it all just made sense with him, how it was never weird or awkward, how you felt completely safe with him, how you felt genuinely and utterly, loved by him. 

Your rapid mind was interrupted by Matt walking back into the room. 

“Chris drank all the fuckin’ soda already, kids an addict I swear to god” he said, holding a glass of lemonade.

You chuckled slightly at his remark, your eyes fixated on your fingers as you picked and pulled at the skin of your thumb. Matt fell backwards onto the bed, half his weight on your legs. The pressure suddenly made you uncomfortable and, without really thinking about it, you pulled your legs from under him and tucked them under yourself. The movement made Matt turn up to look at you, finally noticing your weird demeanour. You never pulled away from him, if anything you did the opposite, especially when you were alone. Matts brows furrowed as he turned to lay on his stomach. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asked softly, rubbing a gentle finger on your leg.

You shifted under his touch again, which worried him, a lot. He shifted and raised himself up to sit in front of you. He hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your head up. 

“What’s the matter?” He questioned, his voice thick with concern. 

You shook your head, his baring blue eyes making you feel claustrophobic in your own skin.

“m’fine” you said, attempting to look away from him. 

Your energy was jarring, and Matt was utterly confused, what the fuck had happened in the maybe twenty-seconds he had been gone and why were you suddenly acting like you didn’t even want to look at him? 

“Y/n/n, I know when you’re lying, what’s wrong?” He said, trying to find your eyes again. 

You didn’t reply, only returned to picking at your thumbs. Matt simply stared at you, unable to understand why you were suddenly a tense and anxious ball of energy. 

After what felt like an eternity, you broke the silence, your voice coming out in a choked strain. 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Matt” your eyes didn’t leave your skin. 

Those nine words hit matt like a bus, knocking the wind out of him as his mouth parted in a feeling he could only describe as agony. 

“Do what? As in, do this” he said, gesturing to himself and then to you. 

You finally raised your head to look at him, a deep sadness hiding behind your emotionless face. “I don’t think it's a good idea, it’s gone on for way longer than either of us expected, and—“ you huffed, “I just can’t do it anymore” you tore your gaze from him, incapable of the decency it took to look him in the eye as you tore his heart from his chest. 

“wh—“ Matt muttered, “where the fuck has this come from?” He shook his head, eyes squinting and brows scrunching together. 

You didn’t reply, only shifted in your own skin. Your aloofness was like sand paper against Matts skin, he barely recognised you. His mind raced with the endless mind boggling possibilities as to why you didn’t want to be with him anymore, but they all centred into one crippling thought. 

“Is there someone else?” He said, his voice dropping an octave. 

“No” you said immediately, the ‘there could never be anyone else’ staying tucked between your teeth as your head shot up to look at him. 

“So what is then? Did I— did I do something?” His tone faltered, coming out as almost apologetic. 

You shook your head, gnawing at the inside of your cheeks, “I just — you — I — ” you couldn’t find the words to make it make sense, because it didn’t, it didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of the walls closing in around you. 

“Y/n/n” your name rolled off his tongue like honey, his head shifting on his shoulders towards you slightly, his brows still knit firmly together in confusion that looked a lot like sadness. 

“I have to go” you said, unable to look at him for a second longer in fear of bursting into tears. 

“Wait—” he said, reaching out for you as you climbed off the bed and picked up your jeans that were sprawled across the floor.  

“Matt, I have to go” you cut him off, picking up your things and hurrying out the door, not looking at him for even a split second. 

You shut the door behind you and he opened it almost immediately, following you out into his kitchen, watching as you raced down the stairs.

“Y/n” he called out your name, but your pace didn’t falter, and in a flash and a slam of his front door, you were gone. 

He stood at the top of the stairs, blinking at the closed door a head of him. 

On the sofa, Chris and Nick were staring at him, waiting for him to say something and sharing flitting glances back and forth with one another. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Chris said, breaking the deafening silence. 

“Is she okay?” Nick followed his brothers questioning. 

“I have no idea” Matt said, that simple fact being the only thing he did know. 

You threw yourself into your car, slamming the door shut. The sound rang through your ears and the silence that filled the vehicle after was enough to send you tumbling into your sadness. Tears brimmed at your eyes as heavy, fast pants rapidly escaped your nose, you felt awful, you had no idea what you were doing, why did you leave like that? Why didn’t you just talk to him, he’s your best friend, why didn’t you just say something? Anything? What would you even say? I think you’re in love with me and I’m terrified that I love you too? Being with you like this has been the best six months of my life? the thought of losing you makes me feel like I'm dying? Any attempt to try and put how you felt into words made you spiral, and after a pent up moment of burning holes into the black leather of your steering wheel, the flood gates opened. 

“Fuck!” you screamed, tears cascading down your face and you hit the wheel with the palm of your hands over and over again.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were drowning in your own mind and had no way of coming to the surface. Your relentless mind was exhausting, and when your hands started to sting from your merciless slaps against the brittle leather, you clutched the wheel, resting your forehead against the material with closed eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with me” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head against the wheel. 

You pulled one hand off the wheel and turned the key in the exhaust, starting the car as you lifted your head, taking a deep, calming inhale.

You gripped the wheel once more, turning your head and looking to Matts house, all you wanted was to go back inside, tell him that you’re scared, absolutely fucking terrified of how you feel about him, but you didn't, instead, you clenched your jaw, ripped your gaze from the house and pulled out into the street. 

On your drive home through the nearly empty LA highways, your mind raced with the events of the last six months, the orange streetlights periodically illuminating your car. Your playlist blared through the speakers on full volume as your unsuccessful attempt to drown out the sound of your own thoughts was brought to fruition, ‘sex’ by eden started to play, the drums and claps filling your senses as the piano melody took your mind to the last six months. 

The longing looks;

You were wrapped in a fluffy towel, your wet hair cascading down your shoulders as you lazily rubbed moisturiser over your clean face in Matts bathroom mirror. The door clicked open, and Matt softly padded into the damp steamy room, cold air following him in. His presence didn’t disturb you, you continued to do your skincare routine as he came up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder and sneaking his long tattooed arms around your waist. Neither of you said anything, you didn’t even look at him. In that moment, his presence was simply an extension of your existence.

As you softly massaged a hydrating serum into your soft skin, Matt couldn’t help but stare at you in the reflection. He loved you like this, your most pure and natural self, skin still littered with drops of water from the shower and your hair forming loose curls as it dried messily over your shoulders.

He watched you intently from his perched position just beside the curve of your neck. He thought you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and he could never get tired of looking at you. His gaze was heavy on your face, and once you’d finished applying all of your products, you let your eyes flit to his in the mirror, finally locking eyes with him. His mouth instantly curling up into a smile when you shot him a small grin. 

“You’re so beautiful” he said, his eye contact never wavering. 

Your smile grew and you dropped your head slightly, shaking it with an embarrassed chuckle. 

Matt squeezed you tighter to gain your attention again, missing the piercing warmth your eyes gave him. He picked his head up slightly and began to pepper short pecks on your damp, vanilla scented skin. The pecks slowly turned to small open mouth kisses, the warmth of his tongue against your skin sending shivers up your spine and encouraging a pool of wetness to collect between your legs. You let your head hang to the side slightly as he moved his kisses up your neck, stopping as he reached just below your ear. You whined as he pulled away and he laughed slightly, moving his hands to your waist and turning you round to face him.

The base of your spine was pressed against the marble counter top and Matt stared down into you, his hands absentmindedly rubbing circles against the towel that covered you. He effortlessly lifted you up and placed you on the sink, his hands finding your jaw once you landed the short jump. 

“I mean it, y’know, I think you might be the prettiest girl in the entire universe” his thumbs pressing into your cheeks as his slender fingers wrapped around the nape of your neck. 

His eyes were baring into yours, flitting between the left and right as an uncontrollable smile engulfed your face as you batted your lashes at him, returning his stare with doe eyes that almost made his knees buckle. 

“That’s a pretty damning statement, Matthew, I’m not sure I can live up to that title” You quipped, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him against you, aching for friction as you throbbed at his words. 

“There’s no question about it, pretty girl, no one even comes close” he said, pushing his jogger clad, growing bulge against your desperate core and pulling your impossibly close to him. 

“Let me show you how beautiful you are” he said, just before pulling you into a wet and tender kiss.

You moaned against his lips as Matt ground his hips into yours, his fingers digging into the nape of your neck. He moved his kisses down your jaw, his tongue flat against the bone as he worked his way down your neck and along the top of the white towel that separated his mouth from his favourite part of you. A soft hand came up to the fold in the fabric and tugged at it, causing it to drop from your body and fall onto the cold marble beneath you. The sudden exposure made all the tiny hairs on your body stand on edge as Matt ogled your body, taking you in like it was the first time he was seeing you bare like that, not the hundredth.

"you're so fuckin' sexy" he uttered, shaking his head in disbelief at the sight of your still slightly wet skin glistening for him.

You rested back on the palms of your hands and spread your legs wider for him, giving him a full view of your pretty pussy that was already slick to the touch. A hungry grunt left his throat at the sight of you baring yourself to him, and without hesitation, Matt dropped to his knees and hooked your legs over his shoulders, pressing bruises into the soft, squishy skin.

You squealed slightly as he tugged at your thighs, bringing your throbbing core only centimetres away from his face. He licked his lips like an animal spotting its prey and leaned forward, pressing a soft and sloppy kiss onto your clit. your back arched into the pressure of his tongue against you as he started lapping at your soaked core, moaning at the taste of you on his lips. Your fingers raked through his hair and tugged at the root, pushing him further into you as your hips involuntarily bucked into his face, grinding against his mouth as he worked his tongue over your weeping pussy.

His hand snaked its way down your leg, his blunt fingernails scratching down your skin as he brought his digits to to just below his chin, rubbing small circles at your entrance with the tip of his long finger, teasing your walls as they clenched around nothing, desperate for him to give you what he knows you want.

"mhph, Matt, please" you whined with furrowed brows, hips slowly grinding against his face.

Matt looked up at you with smiling, prideful eyes, dipping his middle finger into your soaked hole just enough to elicit a broken moan from your throat. As your walls loosened their grip around his finger, he slipped his ring finger inside, pushing them both in to the knuckle as he sucked on your clit, eyes still baring up into you as your head hung loose on your neck.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, but his pace on your clit was fierce, as if he was attempting to suck the air from your lungs out from of your pussy.

Your high was fast approaching, and your whole body began to tense above him, your legs unintentionally closing shut around his head. Matt didn't care, he wanted you to close him in, keep him there for the rest of time so he could make you cum all over his face over and over again until you felt as if you could pass out from exhaustion.

His fingers began to curl up into that blissful sweet spot, your stomach tensed in response and he knew you were close to coming undone. He slurped and lapped at your folds, his tongue dipping between them to catch the very centre of your clit, toying with the nub as he relentlessly filled your walls with his long fingers.

"Oh, fuck, Matt" the pressure of his tongue against you was euphoric, and a wave of tingles covered every inch of your body.

Your walls were a vice around his fingers and, with a tantalising suck on your sensitive nub, you released warm cum all over his hand. You shook above him, your vision going blurry as he continued to devour you, bringing you to a white hot level of ecstasy that left you a blubbering, whimpering mess on the bathroom counter.

When your legs stopped tensing and hung lazily over his shoulders, Matt pulled his fingers from you, licking them clean just before placing a soft peck on your puffy clit. The feeling made you jolt and he chuckled, his warm breath acting as a soothing wind to your sensitive pussy.

Matt got to his feet, his hands instantly gripping at your thighs to wrap you around him once again. He kissed you like he was a man eating his last meal, the taste of yourself still heavy on his tongue as it pressed and pushed against yours.

"taste that, pretty girl? you're beautiful even down to the sweetness of your perfect pussy" He pulled away from you, to say just before biting down on your parted bottom lip

The small, jealous comments that went over your head;

You, the boys and a few of your mutual friends were in a bar somewhere in downtown LA. Your hands were pressed against the wood of the bar as you waited to be served, the crowds of people surrounding you making you somewhat invisible to the bartender who, famously served all the influencers first and annoyingly ignored anyone who didn’t have a brand deal or over a million followers. 

“Hey gorgeous” an unfamiliar voice disturbed your failed attempt to order a round for your table. 

You looked to the side, and were met with the glaring stare and bitten lip of yet another guy who wanted to buy you a drink and disappoint you sexually. 

“Hi” you said, turning your attention away from him just as fast as he caught it. 

“Can I just say, you’re the hottest chick in this whole bar” he rested a sweaty hand on your shoulder. 

You shrugged off his touch and looked back to him, “thanks” you said quickly, instantly skeeved out by the feeling of his hand on your skin. 

“Let me buy you a drink” he said in what seemed like his attempt at a seductive tone, bringing his hand back up to you and pushing your hair off your shoulder, letting it fall down your back. 

“I’m good, dude, I’m just trying to get a round for me and my friends” you shifted away from him. 

He edged closer to you, running his fingers down your arm and grasping at your hand, 

“I can get the round, I’ve got money like that, baby” 

The name made you feel physically sick, and before you could open your mouth to tell him to kindly fuck off, the comforting sound of Matts voice rang through your ears. 

“You good, y/n/n?” He said, coming up next to you and wrapping a tight hand around your waist, pulling you into him, his eyes never leaving the meathead trying to touch his girl.

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy said, instantly squaring up to Matt. 

“S’not important, dude, jus’ leave her alone, yeah?” He said, shifting slightly towards the guy, his hand never leaving your waist. 

“What are you, her boyfriend or something?” He laughed, pressing firm fingers into Matts shoulder. 

Matt chucked at the attempt to rile him up, pulling his arm from your waist and planting himself directly in front of the dickhead that just pushed his shoulder. 

Your hand pressed against his chest, bringing him back down to reality as he looked down into your soft, sparkle covered eyes. 

“Don’t” you said, applying a warm pressure to his sternum. 

His jaw clenched as his heart rate slowed, the feeling of your hand against his chest a soothing balm to the burning rage that had ignited in him. 

“Fuck off, dude, m’not interested in whatever you think you’re gonna get out of this” you said, pushing Matt behind you and giving the creep the dirtiest look you could muster up. 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “whatever, bitch, you’re ugly as fuck anyway” he said as he sulked away. 

“Oh, I’m gonna break his fuckin’ jaw” Matt said, attempting to slip out from behind you and follow the guy through the bar. 

“Matt” you said, grabbing his hand, “leave it” you said, pulling him back to you, catching his eye-line, “I’m fine, okay? He’s irrelevant”. 

He stood a few feet away from you with a clenched jaw, his hand still in yours as you glared at him. He rolled his eyes and returned to your side. 

“Kids just asking to get his shit rocked” he huffed, resting a protective hand on the base of your spine. 

“I'm sure someone will knock him out at some point” you said, a smirk forming on your face as you returned your attention to the bar tender. 

“I could have blinded him just for talking to you” he muttered, watching as the same guy sauntered over to other helpless victim. 

“Fuckin’ idiot thinks he has a chance in hell, tryna hold your hand and shit” he scoffed, “dickhead” Matt spat, finally tearing his eyes off the guy. 

You peered up at Matt and he met your gaze, a soft smile forming on his lips at the sight of you. You chuckled and shook your head, and just as you were about to tell him how sexy he is when he’s angry, you were interrupted by the bartender. 

“What can I get for you?”

The lingering touches when you were with your friends;

You were all hanging out at the boys’ house, watching films and talking about nothing, and everything. You were perched on the sofa, both of your legs tucked under yourself as you lazily scrolled on your phone. Matt was next to you, his legs in a wide man-spread as his back rested against the plush sofa cushions. His arm was rested against the back of the couch behind you, a comfortable warmth engulfing you just enough to not rouse any suspicion. 

His fingers absentmindedly traced he curve of your bare shoulder as he joked with Nate and Chris, all three of them laughing about something you weren’t listening to. 

“Y/n/n” Nick said from the kitchen, bringing your attention away from your phone, “can you come help me with this, I’m so fucking confused” he said, holding a cookie ingredient box in his hands, reading the back with furrowed brows. 

You looked over Matts shoulder towards the kitchen and let out a short chuckle, “Yeah, sure”. You shifted, and placed your feet on the floor, using Matts leg to help you up from your comfortable position on the sofa. 

The pressure of your hand against his leg went straight to his crotch, and as if on instinct, his hand met yours on his thigh for a moment as you pushed yourself up. You turned to look down at him over your shoulder as your hand slipped from under his, he looked at you like you were the only person in the room and you returned the favour, padding away from him and facing your attention towards Nick, who was standing, baffled in the kitchen over the instructions that ‘made no fucking sense’. 

His desperation for you after being apart for any longer than a couple days;

“Fuck, angel, I missed your pussy so fuckin’ much” Matt grunted into your neck as he pounded into you, slow and hard, sucking on the curve of your jaw and occasionally biting down on your soft skin. 

Your moaned at his words, legs wrapped tight around him with your feet locked at his waist, your hands clawed at his back as he stretched you out, the sensation of him relentlessly hammering into you completely overwhelming your senses. The weight of his body against yours was blissful, his warm skin pressed against yours as you kissed and sucked at his shoulder, desperate to feel every part of him against every part of you. His hands were pressing bruises into every inch of your skin, the feeling of you clenching around him sending him into ecstasy as he thrust in and out of your sopping pussy. 

“Y’so fuckin’ perfect, literally perfect, this pussy was made f’me, made jus’ f’me” he was rambling, desperate to let you know how much he had missed you. 

“Mphm, Matt, don’t stop, please, don’t stop” you whined as he hit that gummy spot deep inside you, his dick nestling perfectly inside your slick walls. 

“Keep saying my name like that, please baby, say it again f'me” He said, craning his neck up to look down at you, his eyes fluttery at the heavenly feeling of being completely surrounded by you. 

“Matt” you moaned, throwing your head back as he thrust deeper inside of you, the soft pressure of the top of his pelvis periodically pressing against your puffy clit. 

Matt groaned, dipping his head down to capture your neck in a tingling bite, just before soothing the sting with a warm and flat tongue. 

“Ugh, Matt” you whimpered, squeezing your legs tighter round him, your hands finding his sweaty curls. 

Matt near enough growled into your skin, picking up his pace as he hungrily fucked you with unwavering force into his bed. The sting of your fingers pulling his hair, coupled with the pulsating heat of your throbbing pussy sent him over the edge. With a loud grunt and stuttering hips, he came harder than he had in weeks, his vision going blurry as he nestled himself further into the crook of your neck, biting down on the fleshy meat of your shoulder. He slowed his pace completely, slowly fucking his cum into you until he felt paralysed by your warmth. 

“Jesus Christ” he uttered into your hair. 

You peppered kisses along his broad shoulder and up his neck, biting at his earlobe, earning an involuntary buck of his hips into your cum soaked hole. He begrudgingly pulled out of you, his soft dick hanging down between his legs as he fell down on top of you, his crushing body weight making you sink into the mattress. Your hands played with his hair as he caught his breath, head rested on your bare chest and hands rubbing at your boiling skin. 

“Take it you missed me then?” You muttered, enamoured with his tired and fucked out frame lazily pressed against you. 

He simply nodded against your skin, bringing a large hand up to palm the curve of your breast. “S’much” he said, just before taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking on it with vigour. 

You giggled at the sensation, shifting under him slightly as he pressed his already hardening dick against your thigh.

“Matt” You laughed, squirming under his touch. 

In one swift movement, he flipped you both over so that you were ontop of him, your wet pussy pressed against the base of his sticky cock. 

“Need more, princess, now, please” Matt said, a spread hand coming up your spine and he brought you down to him. His hand gripped the back of your neck as he kissed you like he was starved of your touch.

“m’never gonna get enough a’you” He moaned into the kiss, the feeling of your folds brushing up and down his stiff cock sending him into heavenly overstimulation. 

The final beat of the song brought you back to reality,

and before you realised it, you were back at your apartment, pulling into your parking lot and making your way up to your empty home. 

Your apartment was covered with Matt; a spare pair of his dirty, beat up airforces sat next to your messy array shoes by the front door, dried out flowers in jars were scattered around your whole apartment, all ones he had gotten you for birthdays or special achievements, or just because he saw them and thought of you. His jackets were hung up on your hooks, and his shirts were thrown lazily into your laundry baskets. Cards and notes were littered on your fridge and window sills, all just little messages he’d leave you throughout your entire friendship, even before you started sleeping together. 

You kicked off your shoes and padded over to the fridge to get some water, old photos and memories stared back at you. Your fingers wrapped around the handle of the door, but your arm didn’t budge, your attention was fixated on the array of photos stuck to the fridge. 

You had a photo of you and the boys when you were younger, your mum had found it when she was clearing out some old stuff and you simply had to steal it from her albums. There was another photo that Nick had taken at some party you don’t really remember and then there were two photos of you and Matt. One of them was a photo booth picture from some influencer thing he dragged you to, and the other was from your birthday last year. Just below the pictures, Matt had stuck a note under the floral magnet, you had no idea when he did it and honestly didn’t even notice it until that very moment. The note read, ‘hi, you’re pretty, have a nice day’ in what looked like his best attempt to have neat hand writing. 

You glanced over the photo from your birthday, it was just after you guys had started seeing each other, and the boys had decided celebrating your birthday away from LA was non negotiable, so you all went home to Boston and had a proper family birthday. It was perfect, and for that short week, everything in your life felt like it was finally falling into place. Tears began to prick at your puffy eyes once more as you stared at the picture, his strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, a cheesy grin spread across your face as he made one of his usual silly faces for the lens of Nicks camera. 

Your heart sunk in your chest, and for the first time since you met Matt all those years ago, you felt completely alone. You had done the one thing you were the most afraid of being done to you; you had walked out on him, without even stopping to tell him why. You had acted like everything you hated, and the shame you felt, coupled with a deep sadness and a looming feeling of heavy regret were all only exacerbated by the fact that, the only person you wanted to speak to about how you were feeling, was Matt. 

Back at his house, Matt was in his living room, sat across from his brothers, his elbows rested on his wide knees as his head hung on his neck, resting in his palms.

“You and y/n have been… fucking?” Chris said, fully spread across the sofa as he stared at Matt in bewilderment. 

“Don’t say it like that, Chris” Nick hit Chris on the chest, turning back to Matt and perching his head on his hand, looking at him with soft features that reassured Matt that he was listening, “carry on, Matt” he said. 

“It um— it started about six months ago, after Quens’ birthday party, d’you remember?” He said, brushing his hair out his face with a huff. 

“Oh, yeah, I remember that, you guys ended up kissing during that weird card game, right?” Nick said, recounting his hazy memories from the party. 

Matt nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, “We ended up sleeping together that night, I brought her back here and she snuck out in the morning before you guys woke up”

“You sneaky motherfucker, if this whole situation wasn’t depressing as fuck I’d be so proud of you dude.” Chris leant forward and grabbed Matts shoulder, shaking him slightly and beaming at him, trying to coax a smile out of him. 

A lazy smile creeped its way onto Matts face as Chris patted his back, that alone was enough to let him know that behind his sad eyes, Matt was still in there somewhere. 

“Wait, so, what happened? Why did she suddenly decide that she doesn’t want to see you anymore?” Nick pushed, just as confused as his younger brother. 

“I’ve got no fuckin’ idea, one minute we were fine, just chilling and watching gravity falls, and the next, she won’t even look at me” Matt sighed, his voice cracking as he spoke. He threw himself back onto the sofa and rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands, groaning and trying not to cry. 

Chris and Nick shared a worried look, furrowed brows and concerned eyes pouring into each other as they both returned their attention to Matt, who was still shifting in his skin, the most worked up they’ve seen him in, well, in six months actually.

“Hey, kid, it’s gonna be okay, okay?” Chris placed a comforting hand on Matts knee, squeezing it slightly, “we’ve known her for like literally forever, whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll figure it out and come back” 

“Yeah” Nick said, moving to sit on the other side of Matt, “maybe she’s just having a moment or something? You know how she gets sometimes” he reassured Matt with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m just—she jus’—I just don’t understand” Matt shook his head, hands raking down his face as frustrated tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. 

“Hey” Chris said gently, his voice wavering at the sight of Matt nearly crying, “Its okay, bro, you’ll figure it out, and besides even if you never get to fuck her again, I’m sure you’ll always be best friends” 

“Chris” Nick said quietly through gritted teeth, his hand gently rubbing Matts shoulder as he shot Chris a glaring look. 

“What?” Chris replied, innocently, not understanding what he said wrong. 

Matts head rolled against the back of the sofa, he let out a small chuckle and shook his head, a groan slipping from his lips, “I don’t care if I never get to sleep with her again dude, I jus’—“ he sighed, “I think I’m in love with her” he closed his eyes and squeezed his back teeth together, clenching his jaw as a throttling wave of sadness came over him, “and now I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to tell her” 

In the month between you walking out and you both crashing back into each other,

you didn’t see Matt or the boys once. You completely isolated yourself, refusing to even think about what had happened. The night you came home, after hours of crying in the shower and wanting the world to swallow you hole, you decided that simply forgetting it ever happened was the best plan of action. If it never happened, then it didn’t need to matter. But it did happen, and it did matter and you became a shell of yourself, existing on auto pilot everyday. 

All you did was work and sleep, your social life becoming quickly non existent without the boys to coax you into actually leaving the house. You stopped replying to anyones messages in the first week, turning off all notifications and letting the little red bubble get longer and longer as the messages piled up in your phone. Everyday you managed to get yourself out of bed was a miracle, and if you showered and brushed your hair, it should have counted as an eighth wonder of the world. Your life had become an agonising picture coloured by shades of grey, all of the colour being stripped from your world when you slammed the door in your best friends face. 

You couldn’t understand why you couldn’t just call him, tell him that you were sorry, that you freaked out and acted like a fucking idiot, and that all you’ve ever wanted is for him to be around forever, in whatever shape that may take. You loved him, you had loved him since you were a child, but having sex with him, and being his in those fleeting moments of passion made you fall in love with him, and the thought of that made you feel like you were driving down the highway on the wrong side, cars flying towards you at a hundred miles per hour as someone blindfolded you and told you to keep driving. But not because of him, he was perfect. He was one of the only people in the world who you really trusted, who you knew you could always rely on no matter what and no questions asked. It was because of you, something inside of you felt broken, and you had no idea how to fix it. 

Matt wasn’t doing any better;

Unless he had to film or take a meeting, he barely left his room. He pushed away any attempt from his brothers to talk about you or what had happened since the night he told them about the two of you, not wanting to be reminded of the agonising feeling that had wedged itself between his ribs since the night you left.

His temper was shorter than ever, constantly snapping at one of the boys for tiny things and losing his shit every time a minor inconvenience happened. His parents got word of the fact that you two had stopped talking and tried to be there for him, your mum too, but he pushed everyone away. No one had the ability to crawl inside his brain and plant flowers in his weeds like you did, and he knew that, so he didn’t see the point in letting anyone even try.

After a certain point he stopped talking to everyone, only interacting with Chris or Nick when he really needed to and ignoring all the calls from Nate, his parents or Justin. He just wanted to be left alone, because at least then his reality would reflect how he felt. You had left a gaping hole in his life and slowly but surely, he was falling deeper and deeper into the dark abyss of that hole, letting the heavy sadness consume him with reluctant acceptance. 

Despite his temper and moping about, his brothers never stopped trying; 

A soft tap rattled his door, and a few seconds after, it creaked open, letting in a slither of light into his dark bedroom. 

“Matt? We’re gonna go get wing stop, d’you wanna come?” Chris said softly, peering his head through the crack in the door. 

Matt didn’t respond, he was tucked up to his neck in his duvet in his dark room, the only light in the room being that of his low brightness computer screen playing an array of depressing songs on loop and the light that Chris had welcomed in when he opened the door. 

“Matt, dude, you haven’t left your room in days, you gotta eat something” Chris sighed, his refusal to accept this new version of Matt apparent. 

Matt simply turned away from the door, turning his back to Chris in a silent ‘fuckin’ leave me alone’. Chris huffed, shaking his head and clicking the door shut. 

Nothing was working, and they had no idea if he was ever going to be okay again. Normally, he would mope about for a couple days and then be back to his usual silly, kind self. But this was different, he seemed completely void of anything that made Matt, Matt. 

Nick was fed up of his behaviour, and despite Chris’ constant battle with him over ‘just giving it time’, Nick knew, as his older brother and best friend, that it had all gone too far. So he took matters into his own hands.

That night, Nick got an uber to your apartment,

knowing it was your day off work and that you were almost definitely in the same position as Matt; not leaving your house or talking to anyone.  

The uber pulled up next to your apartment block and he got out the car, striding up the stairs to the entrance and relentlessly pounded against your front door. The sound made you jump in your skin, pulling your attention away from the last episode of season two of gravity falls, a show that hadn’t left your tv in weeks. When you didn’t answer the door to the first round of banging, it started again and you reluctantly pushed yourself off your sofa and walked over to the door as it vibrated on its hinges. 

“Okay, okay, m’coming, Jesus Chris” you groaned.  

When you opened the door, you were met with a face you hadn’t seen in weeks. 

“Nick?” Your face dropped in confusion.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, y/n/n” he started sounding off immediately, pushing himself into your apartment. 

“wha—“ you started to speak, but were immediately cut off. 

“In what universe is it okay to just go completely ghost on your best fucking friend? What the fuck were you thinking? Matt has been in a shit state since you ran out that night and I’m fuckin’ sick of it! He’s angry at everyone, he’s nearly gotten in actual fights with me and Chris about a thousand times and he’s even stopped talking to our parents. Our parents y/n.” Nicks face was nearly bright red with anger as he paced around your apartment. 

“Nick, I—“ you folded your arms over your chest, his words hitting you like bullets of reality. 

“No. I’m not finished.” He held his hand up to stop you speaking, “I don’t know what the fuck happened between the two of you, but you need to sort it out, because I can’t sit here and watch this all unfold anymore. I think what you fail to remember, is that despite the fact that you were fucking him, he was also supposed to be your best friend. We all were. When you walked out on him, you also walked out on me and Chris. You left us all high and dry without a single explanation and zero entrance back into your life to try and figure out what the fuck happened.” Nick finished his rant and took a deep inhale, his first real breath since he stepped foot in your apartment. 

The apartment was silent for a moment, you not knowing whether or not he was finished. “Can I speak now?”

“G’head” Nick replied, raising a hand, gesturing you to say your part. 

“I’m sorry that I walked out.” You said, it being the only thing you could think to say in that moment, “I didn’t know he was going through all of that” you said, averting your gaze to the floor. 

Nick chuckled in disbelief, “cut the shit, y/n/n” he said, “you know what he’s like, probably better than anyone. You know because you’re exactly the same, I mean, look at you, you look like shit” he said, not holding back, then again, when did he ever. 

You looked back up at him and couldn’t help but chuckle as his insult, “What are you talking about? M’fine” you shrugged. 

“Yeah sure you are, kid” Nick rolled his eyes, taking a few steps forward and lingering just in front of you. 

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, and honestly I don’t really care. But I do care about him, and I care about you, and I know that this is killing you as much as its killing him. so just stop being a fucking idiot and go tell him that you love him, because I’m tired of his stinking fuckin’ attitude and I miss you, I miss my best friend, we all do, Matt more than anyone” he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his warm skin pulling a single brick from the dam that had all your crippling emotions stuffed behind it. 

Tears brimmed at your eyes and Nick sighed, bringing you into an all encompassing hug, holding your head against his chest as you sobbed into him. He held you like that for a while, letting you cry in his arms as he cooed and rubbed the back of your head in the gentle embrace you were wrapped in. When you finally stopped shaking, you pulled away from him, wiping your tears and looked up at him through wet lashes. 

“What if he hates me?” You sniffled, your voice still shaky. 

Nick shook his head with a breathy laugh out his nose, “I don’t think he could hate you even if he wanted to, you’re everything to him” 

You and Nick shared another hug before he said he had to go and meet everyone in the city, asking you if you wanted to come and not pressing when you shook your head no, telling him you just needed to be alone. He left and you were alone again, your mind now racing with everything he had said, his words giving you the reality check you needed.

Back at the boys' house,

Matt was padding around the kitchen, he had left his room about ten minutes after he heard the front door click shut and he knew he was alone. As he shuffled around in the cupboards looking for a bowl for his hundredth meal of instant noodles, the front door slammed shut, and a burning annoyance filled his entire body. Chris came bounding up the stairs, seemingly in a hurry, but stopped in his tracks at the sight of Matt, actually out of his bedroom. 

“Oh, you’re up, I jus’ came back ‘cause I forgot my wallet” he said, grabbing his wallet off the table. 

Matt didn’t respond, he didn’t even acknowledge Chris’ presence. 

Chris went to leave, rolling his eyes and not even attempting to bother trying anymore but, in true Chris fashion, he was determined to find his brother inside this strange ghost that had infiltrated his home. 

“Look, dude, I know you’re hurting, trust me I get it but, you can’t keep letting this bring you down forever. There has to be a point were you realise that this isn’t healthy” He sighed, walking back to stand next to the table. “I know you love her, and I know that this whole situation is killing you, but maybe if you jus —“ he sighed, “maybe if you jus fuckin’ speak to her then you can sort all of this out, she can come back and everything can be normal again, ‘cause, its hard as fuck seeing you like this man and, even though I don’t love her like you do, I miss her too, she’s been around forever and it feels like we're a table missing a fuckin’ leg or some shit so, jus’ speak to her. what’s the harm in just trying, y’know?” 

Matt, with his back still to Chris, shifted where he stood slightly, opening his mouth to reply but swallowed his words. 

Chris sighed and shook his head, turning on the balls of his feet and running down the stairs. The slam of the front door echoed through the house, and Matt was soon left with the deafening silence left by Chris’ absence.

His brothers words ran laps around his mind, he knew he was right, this couldn’t go on forever, and he should just speak to you, but how was he even supposed to begin to try? Was he supposed to just show up at your apartment, tell you how he was dying inside, how this past month had been the hardest of his entire life and that he had missed you every single second of every day that passed painstakingly slowly? Was he supposed to just show up at your home, grab you by the face and tell you that he loved you and that he never wanted to be without you ever again? As the rapid thoughts bounced like pinballs against the walls of his skull, he realised that, that was exactly what he was going to do. 

He slammed the cupboard door shut and strode over to the table, picking his keys up and near enough sprinting down the stairs, not even stopping to put shoes on as he pulled the front door open and stepped out in front of his house. 

As he stepped out into his front yard, his heart fell down into his stomach at the sight of your shadowy frame, standing just a few feet from his front door, arms crossed over your pyjama top clad chest. He was paralysed, he didn’t know if he was dreaming or, if somewhere between the kitchen and the door he fell over and cracked his head open.

“Y/n” he choked out, it being the only thing he could muster up in that moment. 

“Hi” you said in a small voice, a shy smile finding your lips at the sound of him saying your name. 

Matt couldn’t move, feeling as though the ground had grown hands that had wrapped themselves around his ankles. You made the first move, taking a step into the light, the orange street lamp illuminating your features. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you, your beautiful face in his sights again after what felt like an eternity.

You walked closer to him, warmth radiated off him as he stared down at you with a slightly parted mouth. Neither of you spoke, you had no idea what to say, you just stared into each other for that long moment, the world shifting on its axis around you as suddenly, face to face like this, you felt like the only two people in the entire universe. Your eyes flitted between his, your lips periodically getting caught between your teeth as you tried to think of something, anything to say.

Matts eyes explored your face, as if he was memorising every inch of it incase it was the last time he was seeing you, incase this wasn’t real and he was asleep in his dark room. His gaze flitted to your plump lips and it sent a twinge up your spine, and without thinking, you latched your hands round the back of his head and pulled him down into you in a feverish, desperate kiss. He returned the kiss almost immediately, his hands slipping round your waist and pulling you into him in a frenzied attempt to feel you close to him again. 

You burst into the house back first, Matts hands clawing at your waist and his lips moving against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues, your arms draped over his shoulders as your hands desperately clung to his messy brown hair.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, one hand coming to your jaw to pull you into him deeper. You both clumsily walked towards his bedroom, Matt leading you backwards with closed eyes, just about missing the couch. Your hands left his hair and found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head with vigour, breaking the kiss for a brief moment before crashing back into each other. Heavy breathing and small moans were the only sound in his house as he attempted to unbutton your shirt, not yet breaking the kiss and fumbling at the tiny circles that kept your body from him. He groaned into the kiss in frustration, biting your lip slightly before tearing your shirt open in one fowl rip. You chuckled into the kiss, Matt followed suit and your back hit the hard wood of his bedroom door, your arm frantically finding the door handle behind you.

When you finally gained entrance, still locked in an all consuming make out session with Matt, you slipped your hands between your bodies and began to untie the knot in his joggers, his whole body twitching at the sensation. Matt broke the kiss, panting, his forehead leaning on yours. 

“I thought you said we weren’t gonna do this anymore” He said through frantic breaths, his lips still brushing yours. 

“I know what I said” you muttered, finally undoing the bow that acted as the gatekeeper between your hand and his aching length, the swift insertion of your cold hand into his warm boxers acting as a mic drop to your statement as you pulled him into you once more. 

“So” Matt pulled away for a brief moment, missing the heat from your plump lips and kissing you before he spoke again, “what’re we doin” he panted. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, Matt” you shook your head, wrapping your hand round the back of his head, nearly giving him whiplash at the speed you pull his lips back to yours. 

He kissed you back hungrily, groaning into your mouth as he pushed you backwards onto his bed. You hit the bed with a small whimper as his mouth detached from yours, his tongue flattening against your neck, then your chest, then your stomach and then back up the way he came.

Your hands latched onto his curls as your back arched at the sensation of his mouth against you for the first time in what felt like forever. He moaned against your skin, grinding his hard cock into your desperate core, your clothes creating a frustrating amount of friction between the two of you.

He bucked his hips into yours, your legs tightening around his waist with every thrust. You were desperate, and he was starved of you. His large came to your open shirt and pushed it down over your shoulder, his perfect teeth clamping down on your soft skin. His mouth found the curve of your tit, pulling the lacy fabric of your bralette down to expose your hardened nipple to him. With one hand on your waist, and his mouth latched around your nipple, Matt groaned into your skin. Your head rolled back at the sensation of his warm tongue on you, your whole body felt like it was on fire as his touch became feverish.

"Matt, please, please, I need it, I need you" you whined, you weren't sure what you were begging for but the pleads spilled from your mouth almost on instinct.

Matt removed his mouth from you and tugged at your shirt, you shifted slightly to assist him as he threw it across the room. He palmed the flesh of your half exposed tits, growing frustrated at the sight of the baby blue lace of your bralette that kept him from seeing you completely. With one swift rip, he tore the flimsy fabric open at the seams, leaving it in scraps on his mattress. The vision of your heaving chest incited something animalistic in him and he instantly dove down, latching his mouth around you once more.

The moan that left your throat was guttural, your back arching off the bed as his hand slipped down between the two of you, skipping the teasing and heading straight for your throbbing clit. The tip of his middle finger found your nub instantly and without hesitation, he set an agonising pace, rubbing blissful circles over it as his tongue continued to work your nipple. He moved his hand down, swiping his ring and middle through your sopping wet folds. Your toes curled at the feeling and with that, Matt inserted his long fingers into your tight hole.

The feeling of you clenching around his fingers made his stomach tense, a deep, hungry moan leaving his mouth and vibrating around your tit. Your thighs clenched around his wrist, he brought his knee to yours and pushed your legs open with brute force, pinning you open for him as he made his way down your skin with wet and sloppy kisses. As he moved, he pulled down your pyjama bottoms and panties, the cold air peppering goosebumps all over your skin as he slowly exposed you to him.

You were completely bare, spread out on his bed. He got to his feet, knees resting on the edge of the bed as he gawked down at you, his chest heaving in anticipation at the sight of you like this for him, something he thought he'd never see again.

"are you sure y'wanna do this?" he said, removing his hands from you completely.

"Matt, you're the only thing I've ever been sure about in my entire life" you panted, sitting up, placing your hand on his chest and leaning up into him.

His fingers pressed against your core once more, attaching his lips to yours as you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

"I've missed you, so fuckin' much" Matt confessed into the kiss, pushing you further up the bed as he crawled between your open legs.

Your hands came to the waistband of his joggers and pushed them down with desperation, moaning into the messy kiss as he thrust his slender fingers in and out of you at a tormenting pace. You wrapped your hand around his cock and he bucked into your touch, chasing the feeling of you pumping him. He broke the kiss with a breathy whine, head dropping to the crook of your neck as he assisted you in lining his throbbing length up with your sopping hole. He pulled his fingers from you and rubbed small circles over your clit, you pressed his leaking tip against your hole.

Matt moaned your name, the feeling of your wet pussy so close to being around him making his vision go blurry.

His hand came to your face, pressing bruises into your cheek as he shifted you both to lay on your sides, facing each other. He moved his hand down, lifting your leg and hooked it over his waist, pulling you into him with such force that a short squeal left your lips. You continued pumping him, rubbing his tip through your folds, when you brushed him back over your hole, Matt bucked his hips, the sting of him stretching you out for a brief second inciting throaty moans from the both of you.

Once he had a taste, he was lost in it, and Matt pushed himself inside of you again, this time allowing himself to bottom out in your gummy, soaked walls. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, your forehead pressing against his as he breathed desperate moans into your open mouth.

"Jesus christ you feel so fuckin' good" Matt whined, thrusting into you with one hand tucked between your face and his pillow, and the other on your thigh, the pressure of his touch sure to leave bruises behind.

He was bottoming out completely as your pussy milked him, clenching around his hard cock, and you felt as if you could cum from the sensation of his touches alone. Your whole body was tingling, every inch of your skin on fire with pure bliss as he fucked up into you at a steady pace.

"Matt, go faster, please" You whimpered, clawing at the back of his neck, tugging at the messy curls that gathered there.

He didn't need to be told twice, with a low growl, Matt set a rapid pace, fucking into you like it was the last thing he would ever do. Your moans were pornographic, the sting of his skin slapping against yours, coupled with the blissful stretch of your pussy around his cock sending you into a deep state of euphoria.

Matt grunted repeatedly, moaning your name over and over again as he fucked into you desperately. His moans made your ears ring, you brought a hand down in between you both and collected some of the juices that leaked from your pussy onto his cock, moving your fingers up to rub rapid circles across your puffy clit.

Matt grunted at the sight, his grip on your skin turning to blunt nailed scratches as he hardened his thrusts, pounding into you relentlessly as you worked your clit.

"keep doing that, angel, keep doing that for me, you feel so fucking good clenching around me like this, jesus christ, you're so fucking sexy when you touch yourself for me" he was rambling, completely consumed by the sight of you, the feeling of you milking his cock bringing him closer and closer to his release.

"fuck, Matt, m'gonna cum, m'gonna cum" you cried out, tears pricking at your eyes as he fucked into you at a rapid pace. the sensation of his merciless grip on your skin coupled with the stimulation of your throbbing clit making you see stars.

"cum for me, angel, cum f'me, I'm right there with you, m'right there with you" his words were almost incoherent.

The sound of him telling you to cum was enough to send you tumbling down into ecstasy, and he was right behind you. The vice grip your clenching pussy had around his cock was incredible, and wet sounds of your cum releasing all over his length filled the air as his pace became sloppy, chasing his high as he stuttered inside of you.

"Fuck, Matt" you cried out, and the sound of you crying out his name sent him over the edge.

He released threads of ropy cum into your gaping hole, fucking his seed into you as his movements began to slow.

Your breathless pants filled the room as you both came down from your highs, foreheads pressed against each others, sharing oxygen as your leg remained wrapped around his waist. His hand caressed the side of your face, pushing your hair out the way to look at your pretty, fucked out face. 

When you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you and the feeling of his eyes baring into yours made your skin hot. 

“Hi” you smiled. 

“Hey” He cheesed back, rubbing small circles on your warm cheeks. 

After a brief moment of loving stares, reality set in, and you remembered the agonising events that led you to being here, tangled up with him like this. The dark circles around Matts eyes that mimicked your own broke your heart, and in that moment, you couldn't bare the thought of never being away from him ever again.

“I um—I’m really sorry, Matt.” Your smile dropped into a sincere, pleading expression. 

“You don’t have to apologise to me, y/n” Matt shook his head against the pillow. 

“No, I —“ you sat up, resting on your elbow to look down at him. His hand on your cheek didn’t falter and you pressed your head into his touch with closed eyes, “I do. I’m so fucking sorry, Matt. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I—I just freaked out because you called me baby and I —“ your rambling was cut off by his voice.

“Wait” he said, shifting to rest against his headboard, letting his hand drift down the soft skin of your arm, “all of this, was because I called you baby?” He asked through a short, baffled laugh. 

You nodded, some what embarrassed, sitting up completely in front of him, taking his large hand in yours and toying with the rings on his fingers. 

“But, I called you baby all the time” Matt chuckled, grasping your hand in his and gaining your attention back to his soft eyes. 

“I know, it just— it freaked me out because I think I realised in that moment that I was in love with you and, I just didn’t know how to handle that” you looked away from him again, the weight of your confession making your voice crack. 

Matts ears began to ring, “You’re in love with me?” He questioned, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him. 

You locked eyes with him again, he looked so soft, his kind eyes almost sparkling with happiness at your words, “yeah, I'm in love you, Matt” you nodded, “I am, and I — I tried to ignore it, I tried to push it down and forget about it but, I couldn’t, I don’t know how to forget you” 

Matt didn’t say anything, he felt as though all the words in the English language were ripped from his brain as you told him you loved him for the second time. He simply starred at you in awe, your hand firm in his grip. 

“Can you say something, please” you said, your eyes flitting away from his for a second before returning to their prior position. 

“Y/n/n, I— I’ve been in love with you since we were ten years old” the words spilled from his mouth, a wave of utter relief washing over him at the feeling of finally admitting a fact he’s known for half his life. 

“You have?” Your expression was pleading as your eyes widened at his confession. 

“I’ve loved you more and more everyday I’ve known you, I just didn’t realise it until that night when— when we kissed” He said, sitting up and lingering inches away from your face. He brought his hand back up to your face, “You don’t know how to forget me?” He chuckled, “I couldn’t ever forget you, even if I tried, even if I wanted to” his lips brushing over yours softly as you breathed into his parted mouth. 

You didn’t respond with words, instead, you pressed your lips against his with such force that it sent him back down to his satin pillow.

You were terrified, and completely enamoured by him. You loved him more than you'd ever thought possible and he loved you just the same. And despite the fact that the idea of being loved, truly loved, scared you beyond belief, you no longer felt like you were drowning. Because you knew that no matter what happened, Matt would always be there to dive into the rocky waters and pull you to the surface.

taglist: @sturniozalt @shaquilles-0atmeal @blahbel668 @sleepysturniolo @le4hsblog @prissyhs @mattslolita

[urhoneycombwitch]

common tongue of you lovin' me

Eddie Munson x Reader loverboy smut of the touchstarved variety.

foreword: based on THIS anon everyone say THANKS anon. R and Eddie are in their early 20’s, R is on a gap year from college (so me), they’re in a new relationship with each other, I’m writing this while blasted on edibles idk what else to say 0_o

cw: nervous Eddie, touchstarved R, smut, dry humping (is it actually dry if they’re both wet…?), cumming in pants, one (1) use of the word “daddy”, light use of the miscommunication trope

wc: 2.5k 

____

By nature, Eddie Munson is not a shy person.

Even though his dark reputation in Hawkins hasn’t been completely erased, he still manages to make friends wherever he goes through sheer force of personality. It’s like a magic trick, one that you never get tired of- he’ll pause in the middle of grocery stores to make faces at a baby in a stroller, getting belly laughs out of a stranger’s kid in less than ten seconds while still holding your hand down the aisle. One second he’s right behind you in the record store, looking over your shoulder as you browsed, and the next he’ll be on one knee charming a elementary school-aged kid into getting the latest Dio album.

You’ve seen him flirt his way out of speeding tickets with Hopper, for christ’s sake. 

Eddie isn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, so after three months of nothing but chaste kisses and quiet hand-holding, you’re left to assume he actually wants to take things slow with you.

He’s been nothing but a gentleman, in these early days of dating- the most action you’ve gotten from him was unintentional. On your third date, a dollop of his ice cream landed on your lap when he used the cone to gesture, which led him to manically grabbing napkins out of his dashboard to wipe at your skirt while you laughed it off. The second he’d brushed against your bare thigh he snapped his hands back like he’d touched a live wire, hastily heaping on apologies, leaving you to allay his nerves while wiping at the stain yourself.  

Which, whatever. It’s fine. It’s not like you’re complaining about him being respectful, per se, it’s just that it’s getting harder and harder (hah) to pretend like you don’t wanna fuck him. The feeling between your thighs only seems to increase in intensity when he gives you one of those precious little hand kisses at the end of a date, or a closed-mouth peck before he drives off into the night. 

Unfortunately for you and your wet dreams, Eddie Munson has the most edible body you’ve ever seen. Biceps bulging through those form-fitting tees he likes to wear, rounded nose and strong jaw outlined by that cloud of soft black hair, those lithe hips…

Hips that you’re openly staring at from across the room as you sit quietly on Eddie’s couch. He’s reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet, his Metallica tee pulling up out of his dark denim at the motion, flashing a stripe of his pale lower back.  

You feel like a Victorian maid seeing ankle for the first time. You subtly press your thighs together under your short tartan skirt as Eddie moves around the kitchen, talking animatedly about the start of his upcoming campaign.

“I haven’t decided yet if I’m gonna go easy on the little shits or not,” he says, metal spoon clinking against ceramic as he mixes hot chocolate powder. “It’s Max’s first session as an official player, and I don’t wanna scare her off but I do have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a knowing smile as he crosses the room to pass you your mug- “You’re a DM most fearsome. Can’t let them off the hook too easily.”

Eddie blooms under your praise, wiggling his eyebrows with familiar cockiness as he settles on the cushion beside you. “Gotta keep Hawkins' finest in line. It’s a tough gig but I did swear an oath, after all.”

You smile around a sip of hot cocoa, then reach over to set your mug on the coffee table. Eddie has been sat in his usual manner (knees far enough apart to be taking up his whole seat, arm draped casually on the back of the couch) but the second your knee knocks against his, he adjusts himself stiffly, drawing his arm back with a nervous throat-clearing and a murmured “sorry”.

Normally you’d let it go, not wanting to push the issue past the point of his comfortability. But it’s been Three. Months. Of this. And you wanna test the waters, just a little.

“Sorry for what?” You ask, rotating to face him, your shoulders almost-but-not-quite touching.

He’d doing an uncanny impression of a deer caught in headlights, blinking at you with those doey brown eyes, stuttering his way through a weak explanation- “Uh… uh. Sorry for being- f-for touching you?”

There’s a lift at the end of his sentence, one that you mirror with a tilt of your own brow, a playful challenge. “You don’t have to apologize for touching me, Eddie. I’m your girlfriend.”

He chuckles, a nervous edge bleeding around the sound. The curls around his face dance with the head shake he gives. “No, of course, yeah, I know that.”

“Do you?” You scoot closer, a kick of assertiveness giving you the courage to press your leg against his. 

“Uh huh.” He’s gazing openly now at the bare skin of your thigh, like he’s waiting to see if it'll burn a hole into his denim. 

When you gently lift his hand and place it on the skin that he’s looking at, you hear him gulp, audibly. 

So he does want to touch you. Interesting.  

You know for a fact Eddie’s not a virgin. Back in high school, you’d both dated around your respective circles, gossip surrounding escapades in the Munson Van circulating back to you through mutual friends. When he’d asked you out a few months previous, you’d happily accepted, wanting to take full advantage of your interim gap year from college. For the first few weeks, you’d chalked his near-celibate behavior up to nerves.

But now, you’ve got him squirming with just a thigh touch. So maybe… he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Fuck testing the waters- you’re gonna dive in head-first. 

You swing your leg over his lap, kneeling on the outside of his hips. His hands automatically go to your waist, and he lets out a little “Oh” as you rest your arms around his shoulders.

“You gonna kiss your girlfriend?” you whisper, forehead crushing into his bangs as you wrap a hand around the back of his neck.

Eddie looks up at you like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time, eyes sparkling with want. “Yeah,” he rasps, angling his face up to kiss you.

It’s soft, at first, like it always has been. His plush lips softly move against yours, breaking for air once, twice; when he kisses you with that same softness for a third time you press your tongue to the seam between his lips.

He lets you in with a little noise, low in the back of his throat as you lick into his mouth. His hands twitch on your hips as your tongues twine, slight movements in his own hips creating a ripple effect.

When the hard seam of his jeans bumps against the warmth of your cunt, you both gasp, your hand at the back of his neck tightening. 

“We should probably, um-” he’s panting against your mouth, grip flexing between hard and soft- “I mean, if you wanna stop…”

“I don’t wanna stop. Do you wanna stop?” you ask, equally out of breath.

“Fuck no,” he rasps again, in that smoke-salt voice, and this time when he kisses you it’s with one hand at the back of your head and the other pulling your hips to meet his.

The noises from the wet slide of your mouths are turning you on more than you care to admit, and you’re sure he can feel the damp patch that’s soaking through your panties as the crotch of his jeans make contact again. Which normally would make you feel really self-conscious, if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie’s hard as a rock underneath you, the bulge in his pants thickening with each roll of your hips.

You drop your kisses down, exploring where you haven’t been able to before: against his cheek, his jaw, stopping just behind his ear. Unable to help yourself, you graze your teeth against the velvet skin there, and he jolts beneath you with a small yelp.

“Sorry,” you whisper, still a touch mirthful but soothing your tongue over the mark.

Eddie brushes his thumb across the back of your neck as you continue your path down the column of his throat. “Now who’s sayin’ sorry for no reason. Baby, I’m begging you to do that again.”

So you do, this time at the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, grinning against his skin when he groans and bucks his hips up. 

Around your hickey-making, he’s choking out words that you just manage to string together. “I wanna… make you feel- christ, sweetheart- good too, wanna make it good for you-”

When you sit up to see his face, he looks absolutely wrecked- rosy flush in his cheeks, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, pupils blown so big his eyes are nearly black with lust.

“You are making me feel good,” you assure him, pulling the hand he’s got on your neck down to where the end of your skirt sits, pausing before your next move. “You want me to prove it?”

He nods, and you guide him into the warmth of your thighs, letting his fingers graze the stickiness that’s been steadily soaking through the fabric.

Eddie inhales sharply, moans out, “Fuck, honey”, and when his thumb finds your clit you sink down into his touch, stomach tightening with the shock of arousal coursing through you.

He’s watching your face intently as he slowly circles your clit, gauging your reactions, pressing in a bit harder and faster when the pace change makes you cry out.

Feeling doubly exposed with his eye contact and hand against your core, you try making a joke to diffuse some of the tension as the pad of his finger moves against you in steady rhythm. “Still thinkin’ about stopping?”

“A train could crash through that wall and it wouldn’t stop me for a second,” Eddie says, resolute and getting a little braver, kissing his own path across your throat, nibbling at a spot that makes your clit pulse beneath his fingertip and your cunt clench around nothing. 

Goddamn, he’s a quick learner. In less than two minutes he’s got you so close to the edge, squirming around his touch, that you have to grab his wrist and still his fingers between your thighs.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. You can feel his breath punching up down up, your breasts pushed up against his chest from the way your body was trying to coil in on itself.

“Nothing,” you assure him, and now it’s your turn to falter around your words. “I just- maybe can I… I wanna get o-off at the same time. If you want. And I’m really, really close.”

Eddie’s head falls back against the couch with a thunk, eyes scrunching shut as if in concentration, a strung-out whine leaving his throat. “Hang on. Give me a second.”

He’s still got his hand on your clothed pussy, and you can’t help but giggle once he blinks back to the present, dazed- “Christ. You can’t say shit like that, baby, I almost came in my jeans.”

You give him a condescending little pout, accented with another twist of your hips. “Well maybe that’s what I want.”

“Give you anything,” Eddie replies, unabashedly babbling now as you adjust yourself in his lap. “Anything you want, sweetheart. It’s yours. All yours.”

He helps you maneuver into a new angle: now, your drenched core can rub freely against his thigh, while your knee in the socket of his hip means he can rut his cock along the flat of your leg.

When you move experimentally in shallow circles on his thigh, the newly-gained friction lights up your throbbing clit. Soon, all pretenses melt away as you both find your rhythm again, little grunts and pants filling the air.

“Feel good, angel? That’s it,” Eddie encourages, slipping his hand under your skirt to grope at the meat of your ass, helping your movements along as he chases his own pleasure with a rocking grind against your leg. “Take what you need. Lemme get you there. Please, please…”

His whines spur you on, one of your hands shooting out to clutch at the back of the couch beside his head while the other anchors itself on his opposing bicep. “Fuck, Eddie, keep talking like that, ‘m so close…”

“Talk to you all day,” he heaves out, “you make me so fucking hard, princess. You feel how hard I am for you? God, you’re so wet, that’s so fucking hot…”

You should have expected that bravado and charm you’ve seen these last few years to naturally be carried over into his sex life, but god, not in your wettest of dreams could you have imagined the mouth on him. 

The combination of his dirty talk and thigh between your legs is bringing you right up to that edge again, toes curling in anticipation, cunt starting to flutter erratically with every thrust.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come…” your head rolls back on its hinge, eyes flickering shut as Eddie fumbles to catch at your clit again, movements becoming sloppy. 

“C’mon, pretty baby, let go.” He’s sucking another mark into your neck between his praises, teeth catching- “Let me see you come, honey, be a good girl for daddy…”

“Jesus FUCKING christ” is all you manage to grit out before you’re tipping over the edge into orgasm, all your muscles bearing down into the bright point of pleasure, high sob winding its way from your throat. 

Eddie keeps kneading at your spasming clit as you ride it out on his thigh, even as he lets out a series of short, keening whimpers, even as his cock jerks against your leg into his own release. 

You sag into his waiting arms, tittering lightly against his neck as you both work on catching your collective breaths. 

“Holy shit, and I was really starting to think you actually didn’t want to fuck me.” You laugh in relief.

His hand pauses mid-stroke up the slope of your back, sounding genuinely aghast when he asks “Why the fuck would you think that?”

You straighten in his arms with an incredulous stare. “Uh, maybe because you acted like a monk that I was corrupting every time I even breathed near you?”

Eddie covers his eyes with his hands, heels to sockets, groaning- “Fuck, honey, I was tryn’a be respectful. You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this sooner?”

You reach to soothe your palms over the length of his forearms, equally fond and serious when you say “I’m telling you I absolutely would have slept with you on the first date.”

He makes a strangled, pained noise before you continue- “You described to me in detail the entire mating cycle of a bat, and then walked directly into a trash can by accident. How did you expect me to wait on jumping your bones?”

He lets you take his hands, enveloping them in your own and bringing them to your chest, pressing your lips affectionately to each ring.

He whispers, “Can I ask you something?” 

When you look up at him again, he says, with sincerity, “Can I see your tits next time?”

You hide your laughter into the crook of his neck. 

________

guys i cannot stress how high I am is this even any good plz perceive me 

[elllisaaa]

Svt reaction to their s/o getting cute aggression on them

seventeen when their s/o gives them cuteness aggression

-> pairing : svt x gn!reader

-> word count : 1.6k

-> genre : fluff

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> author's note : this idea is soooo cute ! i had a lot of fun writing this ! hope you'll like it !

-> masterlist | svt masterlist

svt version | ateez version

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

cause of the aggression : cheol pouting because you won't give him one of the cookies you made.

he starts to whine when you pepper his whole face with kisses.

but you're not dumb - you see the big smile stretching out his lips and his eyes filled with adoration as you peck his lips so many times he can't count.

he's just so comfy with his hair ruffled from his nap and his glasses sitting on his nose so prettily.

he doesn't stop you until you finally decide that you attacked him enough.

"stop being so cute choi seungcheol."

"if i get kisses, i won't."

YOON JEONGHAN

cause of the aggression : jeonghan looking fondly at you while you're rambling about your favorite song.

the faint smile on his lips and the dreamy look in his eyes is enough for you to grab his face in between your hands and aggressively kiss his whole face.

jeonghan is whining the whole time, threatening you to take his revenge if you don't let him go.

but truly, he wants you to stop only because his heart is about to burst from how loved you make him feel.

when you finally feel satisfied with the amount of kisses you left on his face, it's your chance to witness a flustered jeonghan - his cheeks slightly red but enough for you to notice it.

"you're blushing, baby."

"am not, you just left your lipstick all over me."

HONG JOSHUA

cause of the aggression : his smile. yes, that is enough of a reason for me.

you playfully bite his cheeks - not hard enough to leave a mark behind - loving the way they become even more adorable when he smiles.

joshua only giggles at your antics and lets you do whatever you want.

but let's not forget that he's a menace and you understand that he's planning something the second you see his devilish grin.

in return, he also bites your cheeks.

"why did you do that, josh ?"

"you're adorable too, you also deserve cuteness aggression."

MOON JUNHUI

cause of the aggression : him playing with your cat and calling him his son.

they look alike too much and both of them together are too cute to not react.

you kiss your cat first, inhaling his scent, then you do the same to your boyfriend.

jun doesn't really understand what's happening to him, but quickly, the feeling of your lips against the skin of his temples and cheeks relaxes him and he closes his eyes.

he only opens them when you finally stop and your proud smile makes him chuckle while he pulls you closer to him to hug you.

"what did we do to deserve all of that ?"

"you're both cute. and i love you. isn't that enough ?"

KWON SOONYOUNG

cause of the aggression : the way his whole face brightens up when you bring him a new tiger plushie.

you squish his cheeks in between your hands, cooing at him while he looks at you, completely lost.

you kiss his forehead too many times to count, and then you do the same to his lips.

but soon enough, soonyoung is smiling too much for you to go on with your assault.

he doesn't even try to play it off and is fully comfortable with showing you the blush you caused to spread from his cheeks to his ears.

"i should be the one doing that baby ! you're so cute for thinking about me and buying me this !"

"i always think about you soonie."

JEON WONWOO

cause of the aggression : your sleepy boyfriend waking up from his nap and looking at you from his spot on your chest.

you take a deep breath before looking back at him, hit by the same heavenly view of your half-asleep boyfriend.

your "aggression" is quite soft because you don't want to scare him but you still pepper his whole face with little kisses that make his heart melt.

a quiet "baby" falls from his lips when you kiss the tip of his nose three times in a row.

when you're finally done and satisfied, your eyes fall into wonwoo's awestruck gaze and you feel the need to attack him again.

"i just woke up, can't you wait two seconds ?"

"no. you're too adorable, i have to show my appreciation right now."

LEE JIHOON

cause of the aggression : his focused face while he's producing is undeniably adorable.

you look up at him from where you're sitting on his lap and decide that his neck will be your target.

you nuzzle your nose against the side of his neck aggressively before littering his skin with just as aggressive kisses.

jihoon interrogates you about what you're doing but you only kiss him harder and he simply decides to let you do your thing.

once you're satisfied, you look up at him again, and he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear.

jihoon is shaking his head but you see the light smile stretching out his lips.

"you're crazy, you know that ?"

"i know. that's why you love me, though."

LEE SEOKMIN

cause of the aggression : seokmin coming home with a bouquet of your favorite flowers just because they made him think of you.

you put the bouquet down on the kitchen counter to not damage it before throwing yourself in his arms.

seokmin giggles and the way he smiles makes your heart flutter even more.

his hands go down to hold your waist as you repeatedly kiss his nose, then you do the same to his lips.

seokmin lets you do everything you want to him, but before you can withdraw after your last kiss, he prolongs the kiss.

"i really am the luckiest man on earth."

"what should i say, then ?"

KIM MINGYU

cause of the aggression : his puppy look when begging you to go out that same night.

you can never resist when he's looking at you like that, so you roll your eyes before starting your attack on him.

you start by covering his forehead with kisses, then his temples, his cheeks, his lips and finally his jaw.

mingyu starts whining as soon as your lips come in contact with his skin, his wide eyes looking at you with adoration nonetheless.

when you stop, he's pouting with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"you can't do that, baby ! my heart can't take this."

"well, stop being so cute. were going out if you want to, handsome. i can't refuse you anything when you're looking at me this way."

XU MINGHAO

cause of the aggression : him peacefully reading on a random saturday, all cozy on your couch.

you came from behind the couch, inhaling his scent as you buried your head in his hair.

minghao chuckled, but he let you nuzzle your head in his neck and kiss him all you wanted.

when you feel satisfied, you wrap your hands around his shoulders and he voluntarily leans his cheeks towards you, so you kiss him there too with a grin.

minghao is used to your impulsive thoughts but when you show your appreciation like that, it never fails to make his heart flutter.

"you made me lose track of my book."

"then re-read it to me, i love listening to your voice."

BOO SEUNGKWAN

cause of the aggression : the way he's so excited that you went with him to play badminton is making you fall in love all over again.

before the both of you can even start playing, you grab his hand to stop him and cut his face in your hands.

you pepper his whole face in kisses, but seungkwan is trying to playfully push you away.

it's only for form because his ears are slowly turning to a bright shade of red as he continues to sulk.

you place a last kiss on his nose before grabbing your racket and walking to the court, seungkwan following right behind you and trying to hide his grin.

"why did you do that ? we're in public, y/n !"

"oh, shut up, you loved it. and if you want me to stop, then you shouldn't be this adorable."

CHWE HANSOL

cause of the aggression : he's talking about his latest idea for a song and he's so adorable when he's passionate you just cannot help it.

you're currently laying on his chest in his bed, so all you have to do is to bury your head in his shirt.

then, you slowly start to kiss up his body, while hansol looks at you with wide and confused eyes.

your last kiss is on his lips and he still seems lost.

so you kiss him again, deeper, and he finally relaxes under your touch even if he doesn't understand why you feel the need to attack him like that.

but you're his beautiful partner, he's not going to complain at all, on the contrary.

"you're weird sometimes, y/n."

"you're weird too, that's why we're such a good match."

LEE CHAN

cause of the aggression : him preparing breakfast for the two of you because it's too cute to resist.

you walk in the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes when you notice chan dancing around the kitchen while finishing up what he's been cooking.

he's literally the perfect man, you have to reward him by wrapping your hands around his waist from behind and leaving kisses and bites all over his shoulders.

and you're glad he doesn't wear a tee to sleep, it makes your access to his skin easier.

chan turns around as soon as you stop, and you easily notice the blush on his cheeks that you kiss too with a smile.

"good morning, baby."

"it is indeed a very good morning. i want that every day, please."

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

svt taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@lil-kpopstan @hann1bee @heevllog @lichyuu @bewoyewo @foxinnie8

[melloollem]

Secrets in the family|| Bruce Wayne × Batmom reader × Batboys

Summary:Your children start an interrogation after noticing that you were hiding papers from them.

Warning: Comfort, silly story, Platonic relationship with the batboys.

(Dc masterlist)

"Aren't you old enough to leave home? What are you still doing here?" The shout from your youngest son caused your attention to wander for a moment from the papers in front of you, but not enough to stop you writing frantically.

"I lived here long before they knew you existed" Tim's reply was heard from an even closer distance, a sign that you would soon see them entering the kitchen, you began to collect the papers hoping that the heated discussion would be enough for them not to notice you.

"Yeah, you lived in my house as a favor, tell me something I don't know" Damian walked in front of Tim, being the first to enter the room. You tried to move slowly in retreat, deciding to head for the dining room, where you'd have a bit of silence.

"I didn't live on favor, I was adopted, they wanted me, you know what I mean?" Tim's cheeky reply came out quickly, taking Damian by surprise.

"Mom, did you hear that?" They both turned their heads in your direction, hindering your escape plan. Damian looked at you anxiously, waiting for you to scold his brother and Tim looked at you scared, like he'd been caught doing something wrong.

"Timothy, that's not something you say to your brother, say you're sorry" You said the sentence so quickly that it didn't even sound like a complaint, walking out of the room.

You heard a cynical laugh from Tim behind you followed by a "She doesn't care", drawing a tired sigh from you. "It's not that, I just don't have time for you acting like five-year-olds. Damian, my son, Tim doesn't live here as a favor, he's as much my son as you and Tim, darling, don't say those things to your brother, Damian was as wanted by me as you or any of your brothers. Boys, I'm busy" You made the whole speech without slowing down, heading towards the dining room. The sound of footsteps behind you made it certain that the boys were following you. You let out a tense sigh, anticipating the questioning session.

"What are you doing that's more important than us?" Damian asked in an authoritative tone unaccustomed to you involving yourself so little in their quarrel.

"What are those papers?" Tim asked from beside her, much quicker to catch up than Damian and his short frame. "Nothing important." "If it's nothing important, why did you say you were busy?" Timothy retorted quickly.

"Okay, go back to discussing it in another room and enough of this interrogation," you said at the end of your walk, ready to return to your previous activity, dropping the papers on the table. "Tell us what these papers are," Damian said, standing next to Tim in front of you.

"Are those the divorce papers?" Dick said with a humorous tone of voice, as he joined you in the room, leaving everyone confused by his sudden appearance.

"What are you doing here?" Damian was quick to ask. With all eyes glued to your eldest son, you saw the perfect opportunity to slip discreetly out of the dining room.

"I'm here to finalize some reports with - where are you going?" Dick said, drawing all attention back to you, a grunt of frustration escaping your lips, but you were determined to finish your notes, turning your back on your children, determined to find somewhere minimally quiet in the house.

"Are those Drake's and Todd's adoption papers? Are you going to burn them?" Damian asked, receiving a shove from Tim and a low laugh from Dick in response. The boys' pursuit hadn't stopped, only gained more momentum now that their eldest son was also part of it.

"What are you doing?" Cassandra asked, she was heading in the opposite direction to you, possibly to the training room, based on her clothes.

"We're chasing Mom to find out what she's hiding" replied Damian "Cool" said Cassandra, joining the group. "Mom?" "Yes, dear" Now you were climbing the stairs, heading towards the second floor of the house, you already knew where you could finish your notes in peace, away from the children's questions.

"Give me the papers, please" You let out a small laugh at the girl's request "No, but you were very polite to ask, congratulations" Even without success, Cassandra gave a small smile in response to the compliment.

"Bye, kids" You smiled as you found the door you were looking for. Before the door was completely closed, you could hear your children sigh in frustration that the chase was over, you thanked Bruce for making the office a forbidden place, now you understood the reason for this rule.

"What are you doing?" Bruce's sudden voice didn't scare you, you were used to your husband's sudden appearances. "Running away from the children," you said, sitting down in the chair opposite Bruce's desk.

You started distributing your papers on the table in an organized way so that they wouldn't get mixed up with your husband's documents and for the first time since you entered the room he looked up from the documents he was reviewing.

"What's this?" He asked, picking up one of the papers on the table. "They're really your children," Bruce ignored his comment. "Letters? For what reason?" "Yeah, I'm planning to run away and leave you with the kids" Your joke was met by a serious look from Bruce. "You're not as funny as you think" Bruce said. "Sorry, should I leave the jokes with-?" "Don't even finish that one".

"Why letters?" Bruce said, looking at you like he was being interrogated. "Why not? They're just letters, no big deal." You knew that your anxious rambling had given you away, this was not only one of the best detectives in the world, but also your husband.

"You don't want to tell me?" He was being understanding, but you knew he'd rather know. You took a deep breath before saying, "I'm just afraid of the future." "And does writing letters help?"

"I hope it helps them in the future" Bruce frowned at your answer. "Has something happened, dear?" He asked worriedly. Noticing your husband's fear, you grabbed his hand that was resting on the table "No, not at all" Your tone came out as sweet as possible "I just... I want them to have something to fall back on in the future, that's all, nothing bad has happened, it's just-" Your speech was cut off by a few knocks on the door, followed by the entrance of Alfred the butler.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, the children want to see you, Mrs. Wayne" you thanked the butler for the announcement and turned towards your husband again "I have to go, I'll need a good excuse for them to stop asking questions" You got up and left the room, mentally preparing yourself for the bombardment of questions.

[puckinghischier]

Tentastrophe

Nico Hischier x Fem!reader

summary: reader and nico are in a secret relationship while on a camping trip together

notes: hi lovies! i got this request from my dear 🏔️ anon so i had to get right on it!! this was so fun to write and even more fun to play out in my head while i was writing it 🤭. also i had no clue what to name it so i quite literally just made up a word 🫣. i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: We’re camping and my tent ripped, can I please share yours?

[5.1k]

You hated the outdoors. Truly, you despised being outside.

You hated bugs, you were scared of wild animals, you hated the heat, you hated dirt, grass made you itchy, and you really hate the lack of indoor plumbing.

Literally, how do people enjoy spending a week out in the middle of nowhere, no signal for miles, no air conditioning, and eating the same four types of canned food? Not to mention your dislike of sleeping bags.

Who wants to sleep on a flimsy piece of material on the hard ground for days at a time? It’s just simply not appealing.

You continue to list off the things in your head you hate about camping and the outdoors in general while watching yourself be driven farther and farther away from the city through the windshield of Jack’s SUV.

“Oh c’mon, Y/N, don’t look like someone just kicked a puppy in front of you,” you hear from the front seat, Jack looking at you through his rear-view mirror.

You roll your eyes at him.

“Jack, I’m being taken to a remote location against my will with no access to a bathroom or civilization for seven whole days. At least if someone kicked a puppy in front of me, it’d be over sooner.”

“Woah, so you’re advocating for puppy kickers now, are you?” A new voice rings out, this one belonging to Dawson, who occupies the seat against the window beside of you.

“She’s not advocating for it, Dawson, she’s just saying she’d prefer it to being stuck in the woods with you for a week straight,” Holtzy responds from your other side, having been sandwiched between the two in the backseat of Jack’s car for the hour and a half ride to your unfortunate destination.

Dawson reaches behind your head to smack Alex’s. Alex tries to retaliate, and suddenly you have two hockey players trying to fight each other on either side of your body.

“Hey! Cut it out before you hurt Y/N! Coach needs her to get good footage this weekend,” Luke yells at the two forwards.

“Wow, thanks for showing me where my worth lies, Luke,” you deadpan.

Luke flashes you a grin before turning back around in his seat. “You’re welcome.”

You stick your tongue out at him, knowing he’s just teasing you.

When you applied for a marketing internship at the Prudential Center a year ago, you had no idea that you would become so invested in this world. After the initial six month period of your internship was over, you were making plans to find work elsewhere when you were approached by the team’s GM and asked if you were interested in staying on full time as the new social media manager.

You immediately agreed, knowing you had found your passion with working in sports and wanted to stick with it for as long as you could. It didn’t hurt that you had become such good friends with a handful of the players close to your age, four of which were in the same car as you right now.

You and Jack were the closest, though. The two of you bonded over your shared love of country music, a rare find outside of your southern hometown. You had found other interests in common, too, but becoming each other’s country music concert buddy is to credit for much of your friendship.

You grew close to Luke simply because of your proximity to Jack, but found that he’s become a little brother to you. People always assumed there was more than friendship going on between you and Jack, but both of the Hughes boys had become the brothers you never had, no feelings beyond that ever surfacing.

As your job continued to cause you to spend time with the team, you found yourself growing closer to other players as well.

Nico was another player you found yourself talking to long after your work duties were done for the day. Whether it was chatting before practice, pulling him a little too frequently to do interviews or make videos, or grabbing a bite to eat after practice and games because neither one of you wanted to end your conversations, you found the Swiss captain occupying a large chunk of your time both at work and outside of work.

Which doesn’t make it all that surprising that he asked you to be his girlfriend three months ago.

After a huge win over the Islanders at home, the entire team had decided to go out to celebrate. You had caught a ride with Jack that morning, but when you were searching for him so you could leave, he was nowhere to be found, already gone to whatever bar everyone had agreed on.

Nico had stayed behind to do a few extra post-game interviews, so when you bumped into him outside of the locker rooms on your search for Jack, he offered you a ride. You had mentioned how hungry you were, telling him you should probably go home and grab something to eat and change before getting an uber to the bar, but Nico had pulled into the first late-night diner he saw after you mentioned your lack of eating dinner.

The two of you sat in the 50’s themed diner for hours, ignoring all the calls and texts asking where you were and why you didn’t come out to celebrate. You didn’t even realize how late it was until you received a text from Jack, asking that you call him when you got up so he knew you made it home safe, apologizing for forgetting you at the arena.

Nico walked you up to your apartment after driving you home that night, despite the fact it was after three in the morning and they had a mid-day practice the next day. You still don’t know if it was the high of winning or the late hour, but he decided to kiss you at your doorstep that night. Three days later, he asked you to be his girlfriend because he told you he couldn’t stand not being exclusive with you for a second longer.

No one knew, though. You kept on acting as if nothing had changed at work, and no one caught on otherwise. You decided it was fun to keep it to yourselves, enjoying being each other’s secret. You didn’t know the policy on dating your coworkers, either, so you didn’t want to risk anything by outing the relationship this early.

You felt bad lying and sneaking around Jack and Luke, especially, but you’ll tell them eventually. You enjoyed having no eyes on you, your relationship being simply between you and Nico right now. When you tell your friends and the rest of the team, it’ll be out there for good. Fans will find out, your boss will find out, and then your small bubble of Nico will burst.

That’s another reason you dread this weekend. Not only do you just hate camping and being outside for long periods of time, you’re going to be stuck being around Nico for a week straight with no chance to be his girlfriend instead of his coworker.

The trip is the team’s pre-season bonding activity, so you’re tagging along to capture material for future videos and pictures for the various social media pages and website. You had tried to send one of the other members of your media team, not thrilled at the idea of a camping retreat, but the head coach had requested you, specifically, because of your ability to convince the players to participate in various trends and videos.

You owe some of that to Nico, of course. After the two of you formed a friendship, he started telling his teammates they had to participate in whatever silly tasks you asked of them or he’d start reporting them to coach for making your job harder. Since his forceful request, you rarely had to fight to get any of the players to do the latest trending dance, or answer silly questions as they get on the ice before practice.

Unfortunately for you, this means the higher ups see your success and suddenly you’re volunteered to do things like this. And really, what kind of social media content can you create when you won’t even have cell service?

Tuning back into your surroundings, you notice you’re almost to the campground you’ll call home this week. You were so lost in your own head that you barely even noticed the four (grown) men in this car with you singing loudly to the F.U.N. song from none other than Spongebob Squarepants.

Jack and Luke were duetting the song, Jack taking the sponge’s part and Luke singing Plankton’s lines. Dawson and Alex were simply adding harmonies.

You were in for a long week.

———————————————————————————

“Who in their right mind would put a twenty-four year old teenage girl in charge of putting together her own tent?” you whine out as Curtis walks over to see you trying to read the directions for putting together the tent laid out in front of you.

“Honey, I think you’re a little too old to be calling yourself a teenage girl,” he chuckles as he kneels beside you, taking the instructions out of your hands.

“I’m just a girl, Lazar. I will always be a teenage girl at my core, no matter what age I am. Therefore, I’m a twenty-four year old teenage girl. And I’m extremely incapable of building a fucking tent,” you cry out, crossing your arms and huffing.

Curtis just shakes his head and laughs, grabbing the rods that go inside of the tent to give it structure, putting it together for you.

You sit back and watch, trying to help where you can, but ultimately being reverted back to the role of ‘holding the flashlight for dad’, but instead you’re ‘holding the mallet for Curtis’.

Halfway through putting your tent up, you see Nico start walking in your direction. You admire your boyfriend, his tan skin showing due to his green t-shirt being stuck in the pocket of his athletic shorts instead of on his torso. His black hat sits backwards on his head, hiding what you’re sure is sweaty hair. His favorite pair of sunglasses rest on his nose.

“Already making the guys do your dirty work, how dare you, Y/N,” Nico teases as he stops to stand in front of where you’re sitting on the ground.

“Listen, one perk of being a woman in sports is the fact that I’m always surrounded by men just waiting to save the damsel in distress,” you put your hand across your forehead to hide the sun from your eyes, squinting your eyes as you look up at him.

He rolls his eyes at you, flashing you a smile.

“Need any help, Curtis?” Nico calls out, but keeps his eyes on you.

“I think I’m nearly done, but if you want to start hammering the stakes in the ground that’d be great,” Curtis replies, not even looking up from the tent that had now taken shape.

“Sure thing. The mallet, please,” he reaches his hand out to you.

You hand Nico the mallet, looking up at him with an amused grin. “Get to it, time to do manly stuff and go pound on something .”

You start to stand and Nico shoots his other hand out for you to grab onto, helping you heave yourself off the ground.

Once you’re stood in front of Nico, he pulls your hand toward him so you’re standing dangerously close to him, your chests nearly touching. You look around, making sure no one sees the position the two of you are in right now.

Nico leans down, lips grazing your ear as he whispers “Unless you want me to drag you behind a tree and do extremely un-coworker type things to you with the entire team right here, I suggest you don’t talk about pounding anymore this weekend.”

A shiver makes it way down your spine as Nico steps back, walking over to where Curtis is now standing, turning to face the two of you.

You hope he assumes the redness on your face is because of the warm sun, and not because his captain just threatened to do R rated things to you behind a tree.

Ten minutes later, your tent is fully assembled and you’re blowing up your air mattress with a battery powered pump that’s seen better days.

Jack had laughed at your for bringing an air mattress, claiming it’s not really camping if you don’t sleep in a sleeping bag. You told him you refused to sleep on the ground with just a thin bag underneath you for the whole week. If you had to be here, you were going to make yourself as comfortable as you could.

You even brought a battery powered fan to sit in front of your bed incase you got hot at night, but you learned very quickly that even though it’s hot and humid during the day, the night is chilly and dark.

After everyone had settled in and the sun had set, Timo had managed to start a fire, placing hot dogs on a small grate he placed next to the fire while Jesper worked on opening cans of various types of vegetables to heat along side the sausages.

You laughed to yourself, knowing the team nutritionist would develop an eye twitch seeing what foods will be consumed by the players this week. The amount of sodium and carbs in the containers of food for the week were definitely not in line with the meal plan.

Finding a spot next to Jack, you go sit on one of the various logs around the fire, needing the heat to warm your chilled skin. Music played out of a speaker sitting on the picnic table behind the logs, one of your favorite country songs filling the space.

“Nice choice, it’s one of my favorites,” you nudge Jack’s shoulder as you sat down, assuming he had control of the music.

“Yeah it’s a good one, but don’t look at me. Cap’s the one with the aux right now,” he says, pointing to where Nico is standing by a tree, red solo cup in his hand.

You turn your head and make eye contact with him, his eyes having already found you. The raise of his cup and tilt of his head telling you he played this song specifically for you. Your face heats and you smile at the ground, trying to keep the grin from stretching too wide, not wanting to raise suspicion from the brunette to your right.

“Y’know, I wonder why Cap has any country music in his playlist at all, because last I checked, his phone was full of rap and Swiss music and he told me country was his least favorite genre,” Jack starts, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music and chatter. “But then I remembered, I see you and him talking an awful lot after practice, before practice, and everywhere in-between.” You feel like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on your head, worried Jack’s figured the two of you out. “You’re not cheating on your music buddy, are you?” he asks, looking at you suspiciously.

Relief washes over you. He just thinks you’re sharing music with Nico. Not that you’re seeing Nico behind everyone’s back.

“I might have mentioned a few good artists to him. But don’t worry, concerts are still reserved for you,” you bump his shoulder again.

“Mhmmm. Must have taken a lot of convincing to make a rap loving Swiss man convert to Zach Bryan,” Jack hums, still looking at you suspiciously.

“Just a few links sent is all,” you tell him, noticing he’s just staring at you. “What?” you ask, leaning back a bit.

“Nothing,” Jack shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with an idea. “Just thinking…have you ever thought about going out with Cap?”

You choke on air. You try to recover with a cough, claiming you swallowed the wrong way. “What, what do you mean?”

“You know, like you and Cap. Going on a date. Dating. I think you two would be good together. You guys already seem friendly enough, and he’s a great guy. Plus, I can see the way you look at him, Y/N. You definitely have a crush on the guy,” Jack teases.

You start laughing. Jack is confused by your reaction, not thinking his suggestion was funny at all, but you can’t stop the laughs from escaping.

“Oh, Jack. You’re funny,” you tell him once you calm yourself down. “That’s nice, but nah. I don’t think Nico and I should go there. Too many things could go wrong, y’know? Plus, who even knows if I’m allowed to date any of you guys. Workplace romances are frowned upon in most jobs, you know.”

“Okay, it wasn’t that comical of a suggestion. I was being serious, I think you guys would be great together. To hell with the rules. I can tell when two people are into each other,” Jack says with a hint of annoyance, not appreciating your little laughing outburst.

A look of surprise makes its way onto your face at his comment that he thinks Nico is into you, too. Maybe the two of you weren’t doing such a good job at acting normal around the team. You succeed at suppressing the laughter this time, figuring a second outburst would really make Jack upset. “Oh, you think he’s into me, do you?”

Jack looks at you like you just asked him if the sky was blue.

“Are you kidding me? Y/N, he literally jumps at the chance to be in any of your tik tok videos and he threatened the whole team so they would quit, and I quote, ‘making your job harder and just fucking do what you ask’ or he’d report us to coach.”

You can’t help but giggle this time, of course knowing all of this, Nico having told you himself after he did it, but you can’t let Jack know that.

“I don’t know, Jack, that doesn’t exactly sound like something he’d do. What does he get out of it? More interruptions during practice? More attention on social media? Doesn’t sound like Nico if you ask me,” you tell him, trying to play dumb.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe he gets to spend more time with you. He gets on your good side, helps make your job easier while making ours harder. Earns brownie points to butter you up so you say yes to a date one of these days,” Jack leans his head towards yours, looking up at you like he’s just proven his point.

You steal a glance over at Nico, his head cocked, silently asking what you and Jack are talking about. You shake your head with a smile, telling him its unimportant with the roll of your eyes.

“I don’t know, Jack. We’ll see, I guess,” you sing song, earning a sigh from the boy to your right.

“You’re hopeless, both of you. I need another beer,” he gets up, leaving you on the bench by yourself, chuckling at just how right your best friend is.

After all of the burnt hot dogs and lukewarm veggies were eaten, it was time to for everyone to retire to their tents.

All of the players had to double up on tents, you and the coach being the only two people with their own. The players that were sharing tents on this trip would be sharing hotel rooms all season, so the bonding began with them being able to exist in the same space for an extended period of time.

Your tent sat about 50 feet from Jack and Luke’s. Nico’s tent was in the row of tents in front of yours, three tents separating the two of you.

You quickly made your way to your own tent and started getting ready for bed. Not being able to wash your face or do you proper skincare routine, you settled for brushing your teeth with a warm bottle of water and applying lotion to your face before crawling into your make-shift bed for the week. You hadn’t packed nearly enough blankets, seeing as you assumed it would be warm inside your tent, but you were chilled to the bone. You kept your sweatshirt on, opting for a pair of sweatpants instead of the skimpy sleeping shorts you brought.

You settled into your bed, switching off the small lantern you had been provided.

You laid there for what felt like ages trying to fall asleep. Every little snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made you scared a bear was about to claw its way through your tent.

You thought you had imagined it at first, assuming the wind was blowing and causing your tent to slightly ruffle in the wind. But when it happened a second time, this time the sound of something fiddling with the zipper of your tent following the ruffling, you were starting to panic.

You sat up, pulling the blanket to your chin as you saw a hand push on the door of your tent, a quiet yelp making its way out of you.

“Shhh, it’s just me, let me in,” you hear the familiar, accented voice of your boyfriend ring out, huffing while walking over and unzipping your tent just enough for him to slip through.

You walk back over to your air mattress, turning on the small lantern, looking at Nico standing in the middle of your tent. He was wearing a tan sherpa fleece with plaid pajama bottoms. He had to hunch over slightly, his height being too tall for your small tent.

“What the hell are you doing in here? You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” you whisper yelled at him, careful to not raise your voice too high as to not wake any of his teammates.

“My tent ripped, can I please share yours?” Nico asks with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, yeah? If your tent ripped then where’s Jesper sleeping, huh?” you raise your eyebrow and cross your arms.

“I just left him to fend for himself. Didn’t exactly want to invite him to sleep in here with us. Never know what he might see,” he walks towards you, placing his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him.

He looks down at you, your position mirroring earlier when this exact tent was being assembled, but you had no fear of anyone seeing you now.

“Hi, Schatz.”

You giggle up at him, unraveling your arms and placing them on his shoulders. “Hi Neeks.”

“I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” he mumbles before bringing his face down to yours.

You lean up on your tip toes to meet his lips, sighing contently into the kiss.

Nico pulls you closer, no space left between your bodies as his sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing against him into the kiss.

His tongue swipes across your lips, asking for entrance, and who are you to deny his wish? His tongue slips into your mouth, effectively deepening the kiss.

Nico walks you backwards until you plop down onto your air mattress, bringing his knee to rest in-between your legs, his forearms on either side of your head to support his weight.

You tug on his hair slightly, earning a groan in response. He starts grinding his pelvis against your thigh, which was your sign to stop this before it got too out of hand.

You pull back, pushing him up off of you slightly. He looks down at you with blown pupils and swollen lips. “Alright, tiger, slow down. We’re not having sex with several tents full of your entire team a few feet away.”

Nico deflates and brings his forehead to rest against your shoulder. “You couldn’t have told me that before I got a stiffie?”

“Sorry, shouldn’t have let yourself get so worked up. Should’ve known I wasn’t going to go there with this many people around,” you laugh at his whiney tone.

He rolls off of you onto his back, slinging his arm over his eyes.

“What are you doing? Quit being so dramatic,” you roll your eyes, trying to grab his arm and remove it from his face.

“Stop, trying to think of sad puppies to make my boner go away,” he swats your hand off of his arm.

You bust out laughing for the second time tonight, but this time you throw a hand over your mouth to stop the noise. The conversation about puppies in the car on the way here earlier making its way to your mind, making you laugh even harder.

“Okay, I think I’m good now,” Nico finally says, sitting up.

“Good. Don’t even think about getting handsy, either. This,” you gesture between you and Nico, “is not happening tonight. Or any night this week, for that matter.”

“Got it. You don’t want any of my teammates to hear you scream my name while my tongue is ins-“ you slap a hand over Nico’s mouth, not letting him finish that sentence.

His eyes shine with amusement at you, seeing your own wide in surprise. “Can I trust you to take my hand off of your mouth?” you ask him.

Nico shakes his head, but not before he darts his tongue out and licks a stripe up the palm of your hand, causing it to fly off of his mouth.

“Okay, you’re disgusting,” you scold him, wiping you hand on the blanket you’re both sitting on top of.

Nico just laughs at you in response, finding your annoyed expression amusing.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed. I’m already sick of you and the week hasn’t even started yet,” you tell him, pulling the blanket back so you can settle under it.

Nico follows your lead and places himself under the blanket at well, pulling your body close to his.

You lay your head on one end of your pillow while Nico places his on the other end, not having brought his own from his tent. The two of you just lay there facing each other for awhile before you remember to reach over and turn off the lantern once again.

You’re appreciative of the new warmth Nico brings to your bed, finally feeling yourself get sleepy.

“Wait, how are you going to know when to wake up before everyone else and go back to your tent?” you ask him, knowing his phone was in his vehicle, none of the players allowed their devices with them. You and coach were the only ones with phone privileges this week, even though they didn’t even work out here.

“Don’t worry, I will. First time I wake up I’ll sneak out, don’t worry,” he assures you, kissing you on the forehead before pulling your body flush to his, resting his chin on the top of your head.

Neither one of you must have woken up at all during the night, though, because when you wake up the next morning to the screams of “I knew it! I knew they were into each other! I told you so!” from your best friend as he stood inside your tent at the end of your bed with not only Luke, but with half of the team standing outside the wide open door of your tent, you were confused until you felt the weight of a body against yours. You open your eyes to see Nico’s scrunched face, the noise waking him up as well.

You both roll over and open your eyes, noticing your audience.

“I called it! I knew there was something going on here! How long have you two been together?” Jack bombards the two of you with questions despite you having literally just woke up.

“Get the hell out of this tent before I get coach to make everyone run three miles today,” Nico grumbles, his voice gravely from the early hour.

“No way, we need an explanation,” Dawson speaks this time, his expression matching Jack’s pleased one.

“You’ll get your explanation, but for right now, get out. Let us actually wake up without fifty people in our fucking tent. Now go, get out,” Nico pulls you closer to him, hiding your face in his chest and slinging a leg over your own.

“But-“ Jack starts again, but Nico removes an arm from around you and points at the door, “OUT!” he says sternly, his captain voice making an appearance.

The group of men start grumbling, but ultimately leaving your tent, zipping your door back up so you and Nico could have a bit of privacy again.

“Nico, you didn’t wake up,” you say, your voice muffled because of how close he’s holding you to his body.

“Sorry, Schatz. Was sleeping too good, I guess. Always happens when I’m sleeping with you. You’re like my own personal melatonin.”

You chuckle at him, not really mad that everyone found out, just wishing they hadn’t found you asleep together on a tiny air mattress.

“At least the boys know now. Now I don’t have to keep sneaking around at practice. I can stare at your ass loud and proud now,” Nico says, detaching himself from you and rolling over onto his back, rubbing his eyes.

You reach over and hit him in the chest. “This doesn’t give you permission to say innapropriate things to me while we’re at work.”

He rolls his head to look over at you, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiles innocently, causing your to roll your own eyes and sigh at him.

“Hey! You guys better not be having sex in there! I’m implementing a no bone zone when I’m within a hundred feet of you two! Get your asses out here and get to explaining!” you heard Jack shout once again, beating his fist on the side of the tent.

You bring your hands up to cover your face, embarrassment flooding your veins.

“Jack! Suit up, you’re coming with me on a little run,” you hear coach shout, earning a “Shit, Nico this is your fault!” from Jack.

You burst into a fit of giggles.

You can’t help but feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, not having to lie to some of your closest friends anymore. You also foresee your week of no time with Nico changing slightly, figuring Jesper will be down a roommate for the remainder of the week.

Nothing, though, not even sharing a tent with Nico, or sneaking off to find open areas to gaze at the stars at night, could make you like camping.

You almost change your mind the night Nico takes you to a clearing, laying a blanket on the soft grass to stare up at the sky before he gifts you a necklace with his initial on it, the engraving on the back echoing the small “I love you” he whispers in your ear as he clasps the jewelry onto your neck.

You almost thought you liked camping then, until you walked back to you tent to find Nico had left it unzipped and a possum had made a home in the corner, hissing at him as you screamed loud enough to wake the whole team.

Yeah, you hate camping.

[capitanooos]

coins and sapphires, swords and sandals // lucius verus x reader

-`♡´- pairing : lucius verus x reader (fem)

-`♡´- summary : when readers first betrothed unwillingly finds his way back to Rome as a gladiator, things go differently than he had expected.

-`♡´- warnings : violence, gladiator 2 spoilers, and 1 too i guess, kiss kiss mwahmwah. acacius as readers daddy. reader is about 25, lucius 27ish to make the timeline in my head work lol.

-`♡´- extra : for more updates on more parts or lack of, check my other blog @jorra3lagon !!

-`♡´- notes : i guess this can count as a summary, or introduction to a whole fanfic ill write soon cause i cant get enough of paul mescal as lucius hihihhihi

-`♡´- word count : 4538

dont translate, modify or repost my work. you do not have permission. not my gif

211 AD 

As the farewells came to an end and the halls of the Acacius villa emptied, silence returned once more. 

Ever since her father returned from his conquest in Numidia [Name] her life felt like a sick joke. From her black clothing, to the tear stains on her cheeks, to the constant visits of important people. Her second husband was dead. Her third love had left her alone in this world. The gods had damned her. 

As she sipped the wine from her cup she stared at the fish in the water. So carefree, swimming endless circles in the pool, not having to worry for a second of losing their loved ones. They looked stunning, the fire from the lanterns reflecting on their colorful scales as they let out small air bubbles. 

“Dear,” Lady Lucilla stood behind her, speaking to her softly as she moved to sit at [Name]'s side, also admiring the colorful fish. Now the two were connected by her father, Marcus Acacius, but before that their connection would’ve laid with [Name] her first betrothed. Lucius Verus. It had been nearly twenty years since his disappearance, and as time went, it became evident he would not be returning. He was presumed dead. 

[Name] had gone on to marry a high lord as was expected of her. The lord who died of illness that took him away quickly, not too long after their marriage. She knew his interests lay not with women, they had an understanding and he was a good man. Had he lived longer, she knew her life would have been well with him, for he would never have hurt her, but alas, the good never live long. 

Two years later, she remarried. As a lady of her status and bloodline, it was her duty. This time she married one of her fathers trusted advisers. A man, not older than thirty. With him, she had carried one child, who never lived to take his first breath. Two and a half years later, her second husband followed their child to the next world.

Now she had returned home once again, sharing a roof with her father and stepmother once more. The house that once kept Lucius safe and warm too. 

“I feel for you, daughter.” Lucilla spoke again softly. Her hand comes up to caress [Name]s in a sense of comfort. The younger of the two women looked up, the tears in her reddened eyes reflecting in the red of the fire. Unlike the beautifully reflecting fish, her tears were angry, full of grief, shame. They fell with no shame. Tear after tear, grieving all that she had lost, and seemed to continue losing.

“As the daughter of our beloved General Acacius we mourn with you, Lady [Name]. It brought us much regret to hear of the passing of your late husband.” Much to her surprise, Emperor Geta spoke as he looked at her when she bowed before him in greeting. She was invited to one of their parties, where they would allegedly show one of the barbarians they captured in Numidia. 

“Thank you, sire.” [Name] bowed her head at the Emperors again. They intimidated her, as they did with almost the whole of Rome. In the few times she had the absolute pleasure of being in their presence, she had always stuck close to her father, later on husbands, when they’d approach. The looks in their eyes scared her, they were like lions, able to snap and attack at any moment. 

“Ah, you’re the girl who was betrothed to Lady Lucilla’s boy?” Emperor Caracalla spoke up as he looked at [Name] with funny eyes. She froze before nodding, 

“Yes, sire, may the gods be with him.”

Emperor Geta gave his brother a look, seemingly confused as to how his brother would remember that given his… situation. He waved her away with a small half smile before returning his attention back to one of his concubines. 

Giving one last bow, she moved to the sidelines, her once black dresses now back in their usual colorful state. Jewellery adorning her neck, hands, arms, waist, and ears clicking like a soft jingle as she walked among lords and ladies. Eventually her eyes laid on one of her friends. “Fortuna,” she smiled as she approached the woman. “I’m so glad to see you.”

The woman returned her greeting, pulling the other woman in for an embrace. “I’m also glad to see you here, out of your mourning clothes with that.” She spoke as she linked their arms together and moved back through the crowd. “Father says he’s getting the fiercest of the barbarians your father captured here to fight one of the Emperors their own champion.” smiles were exchanged as they politely pushed through the people. “Here look, he’s sitting right there.” Fortuna pointed to an exit, there on a bench sat a young man, looking down at the ground. 

His dark blonde hair shone brightly from beneath the dirt that coated it. Cuts covered his face and arms, and probably the rest of his body too. She couldn’t see much more than that as Fortuna kept talking and walking to the front of the crowd to get a better view at the fight that was to happen soon.

“I saw him fight in the arena where my father bought him. He was biting away at some of the apes they fought. They call him the ape-eater.”

The guests cheered as the Emperors their champion was brought in. He bowed before the red haired rulers and they offered him a nod. [Name] her gaze wasn’t laid on either the Emperors or their champion. It was laid on the barbarian from Numidia who was being brought in. His shackles were undone when he stood in front of the Emperors as well. Up close she could see his bright blue eyes as they reflected in the sunlight that entered the big room. His facial features were sharp and he looked exactly like the statues of Roman heroes. [Name] her mouth slightly hung open as only one thought ran through her mind. 

Lucius

As the name ran through her mind like a mantra the barbarian looked at her, and his eyes grew a tiny bit. His gaze was fierce and his beautiful blue eyes were filled with rage and anger as he studied her own eyes. 

Lucius

His gaze swept over her face, down her body before snapping back to her eyes. His gaze now hardened as he looked at her again before turning his head away as a sword was thrusted into his hands.

Emperor Caracalla’s giggles and the screeches of his monkey echoed through the room as they fought, but [Name] her gaze was stuck on the same spot on the wall where the barbarian stood seconds ago. 

Yelps and screams snapped her out of her trance and her eyes looked around, breathing out in relief when she saw the barbarian unharmed, impaling the Emperor's gladiator with his sword. The crowd cheered and clapped as the fallen champion was dragged out. [Name] continued to stare at the barbarian, who resembled so much more than he realized, as he refused to speak to the emperor. 

His laugh echoed through the room as he finally opened his mouth after Marcrinus made up a lie. He stared at the Emperor intensely as he took a step toward him. The former took a small staggering step back as fear crossed his face for a split second, unknowing what the barbarian in front of him might do if he stayed within arms length of him.

“The gates of hell are open night and day, smooth is the descent, and easy is the way. But…” [Name] her mouth fell open in shock of hearing Virgil, poetry coming out of his mouth, “...to come back from hell, and view the cheerful skies, in this the task and mighty labor lies.” 

The edges of [Name] her vision began to go dark as she held onto Fortuna for support. The woman glanced down at her and upon seeing her pale face she brought her to a place to sit. The dark haired woman searched the others' eyes, not being able to find anything.

“What is the matter, friend?”

[Name] held a hand to her sweating forehead as she closed her eyes. Trying to get rid of her false hope and get herself together before anyone noticed that she was acting off. 

“I suppose my stomach can not handle violence and bloodshed from this close up.” she lied with a small laugh, hoping she didn’t act too out of character for herself. “It felt like I was about to have a fainting spell.” 

The other woman smiled as she offered her her drink. “I’ll have someone call for your carriage to get back home.”

The ride home was a blur. It must have been nothing more than a coincidence. It couldn’t have been anything else. She was greeted by a servant who accompanied her to her rooms and helped her change. The summer heat peaked these days and even the lightest clothes seemed suffocating if you wore them too long. 

She kept silent for hours. The servants assumed she was still mourning her late husband, which would make sense. Supper went the same, any questions were just answered with a nod or shake of her head, eyes cast down at the food on her plate or the wine in her cup. Lucilla and Acacius exchanged looks, and Acacius couldn’t help but see his daughter as herself from a decade ago. Rebellious in her teen years, maturing into a young woman, looking more and more like her biological mother who had left the world too soon. He could see past her facade, he could see the clockworks rotating in her head, focussed, thinking, lost somewhere deep in her own world up in her head. 

After dinner she had quickly excused herself before returning to her quarters. She stood in front of the collection of crystals, rocks, gems, and other small trinkets that laid on the desk. They had collected dust over the years that they had laid there. Their price value wouldn’t be that high, but their emotional value lay high. Higher than any money could ever buy. 

Back when Lucius and she were betrothed, she was no older than six summers, Lucius not a full moon above eight. Lady Lucilla had a big part in the betrothal, knowing the girl’s mother as a childhood friend from court and believing they would make a strong couple. The daughter of a general, and the Prince of Rome. When Lucius had found out, he saw it not as a betrothal but as a friendship, after all, they were both children, they wouldn’t understand until at least a little later in life. 

So always if Lucius found out [Name] would be in the city, he’d have his guards find her so he could give her small gifts. They were young but the pair grew oddly fond of each other and soon, a whole shelf of crystals and other precious shining items came to be in her rooms. 

The years after Lucius’ disappearance she understood more and more how much he had meant to her, what would’ve been if he was still here, how different her life would have been. The items meant everything to her, for they were her last real connection to Lucius. 

“You know, I would always be missing some items from my jewellery boxes when Lucius went out into the city. Or sometimes it was servants who reported missing items from the halls.” Lucilla said as she stood in the doorframe, admiring the young woman who had a bright green gemstone pressed against her chest. “It didn’t take long before I found out it was Lucius who took them. I followed him into the city, to the markets where I saw him giving you something. I watched as you took out a gold butterfly and smiled brightly. I never said a thing about the missing items, and often I laid out things for him to find and take.” Slowly she walked into the room and stood beside [Name] “He really loved you.”

The young girl nodded. 

“What is bothering you, daughter?” Lucilla took one of her hands, holding it tightly as she searched her stepdaughter's eyes. They were filled with sorrow, her whole face portrayed it. She felt [Name] grip her hand as she stared at her. 

“The Numidian barbarian I watched fight at the Emperors’ gathering…” she shook her head, looking down at the green stone in her hand. 

Even when all hope seems lost, know it will return. Little wise Lucius Verus’ words from when he gave her this stone rang through her head.

“Curls as blonde as your own, eyes as blue as the heavens.” Lucilla’s eyes were still on her, “The only thing I could think of when I saw him was Lucius. He recited Virgil; The gates of hell are open night and day, smooth is the descent, and easy is the way… Lucilla, you mustn't think of me as crazy.” 

She felt the elder woman tighten her grip on her hand as she slowly pulled her along. They walked through the halls, crossed the courtyard, and entered the secret door that led to Lucius his former chambers. [Name] had only been there once or twice, years and years ago. 

Lucilla stood still as she looked up, where drawings and words decorated the walls. [Name] followed her gaze, eyes widening upon realization. The words laid right in front of her, the exact words the blue eyed barbarian had recited. 

The gates of hell are open night and day, smooth is the descent, and easy is the way. But to come back from hell, and view the cheerful skies, in this the task and mighty labor lies. 

“General Justus Acacius, and with him his daughter [Name] and his wife, Lucilla! The daughter of Emperor Marcus Aurelius! 

[Name] entered the Emperor's box in the Colosseum behind her father and Lucilla, hearing the people cheer for her father as they were introduced. It would forever surprise her how loud, and how massive the place was. She did not attend the games often, for it was known the bloodshed often fell bad on her stomach, but now, she felt like she needed to attend. 

She took her seat next to Lucilla as her father spoke to the citizens. His voice rang through the crowd as they chanted his name. She saw Emperor Geta look in her direction, smiling wickedly when he caught her eyes before turning back around. 

As the announcer spoke up again, the doors opened and the first gladiators came out. [Name] held her breath in fear as she looked among them. Her hand was interlinked with Lucilla’s, who saw him before she did and tightened her hand so hard her knuckles turned white. She followed her stepmother's gaze, and her eyes landed on the blue eyed barbarian once again and she returned the grasp on her stepmother's hand. The gladiator's eyes shifted to hers, and his gaze held familiarity, but before she could react, he had already looked away.

The south doors opened and in came the Emperor's prized champion. 

“Hail Caesars!” he bellowed and the crowd followed with cheers and chants. 

The two women up in the Emperor's box held their breath as they exchanged a knowing look. A mutual understanding. 

Boo’s echoed through the stadium, cheers encouraged the gladiators, excitement buzzed and the emperors grew more blood thirsty every time a gladiator dodged the massive rhino. 

When the blue eyed barbarian thrusted his sword down into the sand, and bent down to grab two fistfuls of sand she heard Lucilla breathe out a shuddering breath as she looked at him in curiosity and confusion.

The rhino crashed into the wall of the arena, causing a stir in the crowd and the Emperors rushed to the railing to see what happened like two little boys. A fight broke loose, the rider of the rhino and the barbarian fought. The upper hand going to the rider of the rhino, he kicked and threw the barbarian around and Emperor Geta spoke up.

“Brother, it’s that poet, is it not?” he spoke as he watched his brother sit back down with the excuse of not knowing. “The gates of hell are open night and day… Smooth is… I forgot… Smooth the…”

“Smooth is the descent, easy is the way.” 

Below, the fight was still going, clouds of dust rising up in the arena as the crowds chanted for mercy. The chants turned into roars of excitement as the Emperor granted mercy in the name of the Gods. “No mercy!” the barbarian yelled, looking up to the box as he rested on one knee. “I would rather face your blade, than accept Roman mercy!” With that he stood up as the rhino rider charged for him again. 

It happened in the blink of an eye as he rolled around and sliced his sword into his chest, watching how he fell to his knees as he cradled the wound. Now the crowds chanted for the kill, and the barbarian complied. The crowds were loud before, but now they went ballistic, and [Name] was certain all of Rome could hear them chant the gladiator's name. 

“Hanno! Hanno! Hanno!”

The name continued to ring through [Name] her head as they made their way home. Lucilla had seen for herself what [Name] had told her days prior, and she too knew this was her son. Two decades had gone by since she had sent him off for his own safety. Two decades of wondering if her son was still alive, and now he had stood below her, captured in Numidia, fighting on the same ground where his father died. 

Marcus Acacius was now looking at two distressed women. The two women he held closest to his heart, seeming in utter despair as they held their silence. 

“Alright, what is the matter?” he spoke up once they reached the safety of their home, he couldn’t pretend any longer. He watched as the two women exchanged a glance, then stared confused as Lucilla ordered the servants out of the room. 

“Lucius is alive,” [Name] started and her father looked at her with widened eyes. Her eyes were cast down on the stones at their feet, hand wrapped around the golden necklace at her neck. 

Acacius looked at his wife who nodded, “He’s alive.” 

He closed his eyes, his memories instantly snapping back to the young prince he once knew as his future son-in-law. The small, blonde boy with eyes as bright as the heavens.

“You are certain?”

“Yes, I know my son.”

[Name] her father sat down, looking at her. The tears were gathering in her eyes, she had mourned that boy greatly for many years. For a while she had refused to marry her first husband, saying it felt wrong, knowing she was still promised to another. She had prayed to the gods, prayed for his safety, prayed for his safe return to Rome, and now it seemed it had become reality. 

“Father, I knew it was him when I watched him fight at the Emperors’ gathering. His reaction to seeing me was enough to prove my suspicions.” she met her fathers eyes, walking toward him and taking one of his hands in hers. “I know of your plans. I overheard the conversations with the senators. The dream of Marcus Aurelius. With Lucius alive, those two ginger maniacs have less claim to the empire. Please allow me to speak to him, get him to work with us. Fortuna won’t tell a soul if I ask her, she is like a sister to me and she owes me a favor.” 

If Lucius Verus was truly alive, and back in Rome, that would change everything. Their plans to overthrow the Emperors would be easier with a male heir, the heir of Emperor Commodus, Lucilla knew that too. So Acacius nodded at his daughter, whose teary eyes turned into a smile as she embraced her father. 

“Thank you, father.” 

Once she stopped in front of the gates to the place Marcinius kept his gladiators, she slipped off her horse. Her fathers personal guard stood at a distance, ensuring her safety on the road. She walked to one of the sides, looking for the window she knew too well and when she did she called out.

“Fortuna!” It was soft, but loud enough for the other woman to poke her head out of the window. She nodded and disappeared again before appearing at the side gate leading to her and her fathers house. 

“I want to see the gladiator Hanno.”

Her friend looked at her in shock but grinned as she took her hand and led her through the now dark courtyard. She was never more thankful for her friend as she opened the cell and let her in, standing on the lookout not far away.

“So, you’re the barbarian from Numidia.” [Name] spoke as she looked at the gladiators back. He wore no shirt and she could see the scars and wounds on his toned back. “Hanno, no?”

He turned around when she called his name, eyes once more growing in surprise as he saw her.

“My lady, yes.” he said, eyes tracing her whole form. From her dark blue dress to her dark robe, and the singular gold necklace, it was different as opposed to the light colors and many jewellery items she wore when he had first seen her. “What do you need from me?”

She studied his eyes, he was much closer now than he’d been in the last few days. The moon light shone in through the high barred window and fell on his face.

She took off her necklace and she held it up in front of his face. “Do you know who this is?” she spoke as the coin shimmered in the moonlight, illuminating the face on it. 

LUCIUS VERUS II it read around the face. 

“Lucius Verus the second?” Hanno spoke, reading it off the coin. 

“You can read, you know Virgil, I’ve been informed you know Roman history, you fight like-” fought exactly like the boy she used to watch as he parred with his guards. “Like a trained Roman swordsman. You are no Numidian, so don’t pretend to be one, Lucius.” 

He raised his brows at her, at her choice of words, at the name she called him. A cocky smile adorned his face as he took a daring step forward, his smile widening when she didn’t move back, instead only straightening her back and raising her chin to look at him.

“Whoever you think I am, you are wrong.” Hanno bent down a little, towering over her as she held his fierce gaze.

She reached into the pocket of her cloak, her fingers wrapping around the cold stone as she brought it out.

“Nineteen summers ago, I got this sapphire from my betrothed, the young prince Lucius Verus. When he gave it to me he said the words; even when all hope seems lost, know it will return. Not long later after that he disappeared. Whether he knew it then or not, he would be our hope in the future. He is our hope now. Not only to save Rome from the rule it is now under, but also to bring the dream of Marcus Aurelius to reality.”

Hanno looked at her, something in his gaze changed as he stood straight again. His gaze fell to the small treasures in her hand. 

“You carry the face of a missing prince around your neck? How your husband must like that.” he scoffed as he turned his back to her once more.

“He was a dear friend, and a great loss not only to me, but his mother too. I loved the prince, with my entire heart. I still do.”

That had Hanno turning his head around, looking at her as she turned to leave the cell before turning her own face back to him. 

“Lucius Verus is our last hope. Stay alive gladiator.” 

“Wait,” Hanno turned back around and took a big step forward, she could feel his warm breath on her neck. “Why? Why do you think I am your precious prince.”

[Name] turned around to face him, her brows furrowed at his choice of words, his arrogant, nearly mocking tone. She looked at the necklace that was dangling between them. 

“The gods have damned me, but that does not mean I forget the ones I love. Some things do not change, can not change. You have three birthmarks on the left side of your neck. Along with a scar covering both of your calves from the same sword strike from when you insisted on practicing with real swords with your uncle, Emperor Commodus.” She reached a hand up to his neck, lightly touching the three birthmarks before trailing behind him, and sure enough, the white lines covering his calves stood out among his toned skin. “The gates of hell are open night and day. Smooth is the descent and easy is the way. Those are the lines written on the walls of your childhood bedroom. I can go on, but I knew it was you from the first moment we made eye contact at the Emperors’ gathering.” she finished as she circled back in front of him.

Hanno looked at her with wide eyes, his breathing heavy. He had not counted on being recognised that easily. Hell, he had not even counted on seeing her. His eyes darted between hers before they fell on her soft, plush lips. All those years and she still remembered the smallest things about him, carrying his face around her neck, close to her heart. Kept the trinkets he had gifted her all those years ago. She risked her life coming here just to seek confirmation of what she already knew.

“We-”

He pressed his lips against her own, his worn and scarred hands coming up to cup her face as she returned the kiss. Her hands moved to his chest, one pulling him closer by the back of his neck as the other felt his heart go crazy below his skin. The kiss was slow but rough as one of his hands travelled to her lower back and pulled her body closer to his. 

They broke apart when they heard soft footsteps approaching. They looked to the door of the cell to see Fortuna motioning it was time for [Name] to go. 

[Name], who still held the gold necklace in her hand, looked up at the man before her. She reached for the necklace with her other hand before moving them around Hanno’s neck and locking it. 

“Remember who you are, and remember what is rightfully yours.” she cupped his cheek and he leaned down to touch his forehead to hers. “Stay alive, Lucius.”

-`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´-

dont forget to like and reblog <3 please😓😓

dont translate, modify or repost my work. you do not have permission.

[velvetypoets]

Mister pitch perfect

The perfect Gryffindor golden boy has gone off his rails to catch a Black daughter.

Warnings: James Potter x reader fanfic, James is down bad, I tagged marauders but no peter, Slytherin reader, Black family reader, reader is portrayed as she/her, reader centric, forbidden love trope, SFW, James perspective

havent done this in a while and this will be the first time im posting on this platform. im very sorry if its quite messy!

this was supposed to be a oneshot but i drag it too much. so it'll be some sort of a series oneshot? will also be posted on ao3 soon!

————————————————————————————————————————

It was never meant to be. James Fleamont Potter was basically molted into the perfect specimen of man and every soul who has ever walked Hogwarts knew. Sure he would cause trouble every then and again with his fellow mates. Yet of course, James would always dazzle his way out of it with a few charming smiles or reasonings to squeal his way out of being blamed.

[ part 1|part 2|part 3 ]

He was confident, charismatic, spotless.

And when he meets eyes with you, it was set. James is sitting at his usual spot with the marauders at supper when the moment arrives. You were fixing your necklace to your neck at the Slytherin table, struggling with the clasps as your face scrunches in frustration. James almost walks the whole way over to you and offers his assistance right then and there.

"Stop undressing my cousin with your eyes, Prongs," Sirius brings James back to reality with a slap on the back of his head. He seems to still be having his feast so that was new of him to pick on James in that setting. Remus raises an eyebrow as he stares at the two, "Since when do you care about the other Blacks?"

"That was foul, Pads!" James yell as he rubs his head and glares at his mate, he's used to Sirius playfights but that slap seems to be sincere. He tries to focus on the conversation as he tries to find you again on the table across. You seemed to have moved next to Regulus as he helps you with your necklace. James lets out an involuntary sigh.

"She's different, Moony. She's on the edge too. Pretty sure she's going to find a way to run when she hits 18," Sirius lets out a scowl, "Heard she is to be arranged with Nott. Bloody brilliant that."

"Nott? That Nott? Surely you're joking. That bastard can't even keep his owl alive for a week! How's he going to keep a wife that young?!" Remus exclaims in disbelief. Whipping his head to take a good look at you now that you're a big deal. "I wish I was. I love you but seriously mate, don't. You're big enough trouble yourself," Warns Sirius with his fork right to to James face. A juicy piece of meat dangling right on it.

He bites it though. Sirius lets out a shrieking squeal of, "My meat!", erupting laughter at the Gryffindor table as James chews proudly with a sly smile across his face. The boisterous sound turns a few heads, including yours. Your brows raised at the sudden commotion, only to have the red of your cheeks creep in as you find one of your cousin being the center of it. He watches as you rub your cheeks to hide the tint.

James gulps the meat down. He's quite full himself but he must admit, it's nothing like he has ever had.

——————————————————————————

The next time he sees you, you are sitting by yourself writing in parchments on a patch of grass by the lake. James is in a broom practicing to catch the golden snitch on Hogwarts grounds. Quite foolish but he's gotten bored of the arena and its currently being used by the Hufflepuff team anyways.

He's worried about you sitting all alone in this breeze though. It's quite cold and you don't seem to be wearing enough layers. He keeps a distance near a tree so as not to scare you, although he is quite discontent with seeing just your figure by the lake.

You whipped your head to the skies behind you, "Reggie? Is that you?" You ask calmly, your eyes not missing the shadowy figure blatantly hiding behind a tree, "I saw you from the reflection. Very funny, Regs."

James cracked a smile at your sarcastic tone. He even finds your voice perfect. He fixes himself a little before he reveals himself off the shade and lands in front of you, "So I'll take it you find me quite funny?"

Your eyes widened as you process the man in front of you. Why would James Potter—the Gryffindor golden boy—be here? And why is he talking to you now?

"You're not Reggie." You said still in shock, almost sounding like a question. Your brows are raised as you try to study his demeanor. He's holding his broom awkwardly in his arms, you've always thought James Potter's confident composure was permanent.

"Well if your standards of humour is a certain Regulus Black, I'm sure I'd be comical, love," He cracks a small smile and a hand extended to you, "Potter. James Potter."

You look at James like you're Newt Scamander finding a newfound beast, "I know who you are. Everybody does," You said in disbelief, finding the whole situation suspicious. The breeze of wind moves his curly hair to his face, framing it gracefully, "What I want to know is why are you doing this? We're not exactly fit to be friends."

"Why that's quite bold of you, lovely. Who said I'd like to be friends?" He said as he leans closer. You never noticed it before but his glasses are rather clean today, his hazy eyes look at you with glimmer in them you've never seen on anyone before. You think to yourself if its one of the charisma of being James Potter.

You stood your ground, you would have never thought to ever be face to face with this dazzling man in front of you. You are a Black though, your legs won't give in even if you try, "Well that's settled then. Are you here to pick a fight?" You ask him plainly, crossing your arms upon your chest.

James finds it adorable, he knows full well of his effects on people and especially of course girls. What he doesn't understand is the effect you have on him. "The contrary, darling. I have a proposition for you."

You lift a brow and yet let him continue, "I heard you're in quite the predicament with Nott. Now I know a way to get you out," His claim makes your eyes open, you let him continue. Words dripping in confidence, "A date. With me."

This time, you can't help but let out a laugh–of which James can't help but take in the sight. He's completely enamoured.

'What? Huh– Hold on. You can't be serious," You looked at him as if he had gone mad, the thought of a Black and a Potter dating is out of this world, "I don't know what kind of prank you're up to, but do you seriously think I'll fall for that?"

"Wait, I am serious! Picture this, if Nott knows you're going out with me he'd be livid, enough to break off the arrangement. I mean have you seen the way that scum looks at me? It's like he has this permanent face of eating vomit flavoured Bertie Bott's Beans!" He rants as he joined in on the laughter with you.

You are smiling as the laughter reduces to giggles. As stupid as it is, it has a good chance of actually working. You pondered, there's still one thing on your mind, "What's in it for you? Would I have to do anything?"

James let out a smile, his palms are sweating like he's deep into a Quidditch game, "Well I get to see Nott lose his bride—" He pauses, confronting himself whether to tell you the real truth or not, "I mean I'll also get a beauty on my side."

You roll your eyes at that, "Don't you try to charm me, Potter. Give me the real reason or its off. I have a feeling you need this more than I do,"

She's right, James thought. He was about to play it off if you denied it straight away, he wasn't entirely sure you would actually take him seriously. He grasps the sight of you for a bit before closing his eyes tight, "Okay, how about I tell you the reason in a week— Maybe a month. You don't have to do anything, we'd just go out like normal couples do. Sounds good to you?" He said, he extends his arms to you for a handshake. His thoughts full of prayers to Merlin so you wouldn't notice the tremble in his arm.

You grin the same one James had seen a million times on Sirius's face, the Black's grin of content. You shake his hand firmly, his big ones almost encasing yours, "You've got yourself a deal, Potter."

James is using every atom on his magical being to control his ecstasy as he smiles widely at you. Once the handshake is done he reaches for his scarf over his neck and wears it on you, "Nice doing business with you, sweetcheeks. I do hope you start wearing warmer clothes though. No snogging will be done if you're in Pomfreys care."

She looks good in my color

Well technically so is the color of a quarter of the schools because of course its a Griffyndor scarf.

"You surely don't expect me to go back. To my dorm. Through the halls, the stairs and the common room. With this on?"

Oh I won't regret this one bit, James thought. He chuckles at your words dripped in such a sarcastic tone, "Of course not, darling. Do you think I'm mad?"

He extends his arms for you to hold, "We'll go back together. Through the halls, the stairs, even the common room. I heard you folks have lovely parties there."

You let out a chuckle as you circle your arms around his, "Oh, the best ones. Your Gryffindors ass is so not invited though."

"Well at least I do have a lovely one, don't I?"

"Oh shut it, Potter!"

——————————————————————————

Another storm of commotion is coursing through Hogwarts. A lot has played it off as a mere prank. James grins at the thought of it. He has only you on his mind lately, cherishing the bits of conversation you and him had.

He's on his way to charms class this morning, one that inconveniently does not have you in it, he checked. He checked your schedule last night sneaking through administration with the invisibility cloak.

Moony and Pads by his side as usual. Sirius seems to still haven't caught wind of it, his hair tousled from a good sleep. Apparently he was up all night helping Remus solve a 10k piece magic puzzle.

Won't be long with how loud the students are gossiping though. James let out a coherent sighs. He had an amount of grins with knowing looks from a couple male students and even a pat on the back by a random Slytherin, "Alright, what is going on?" Remus breaks first. Stopping the two boys right before the class door.

James crackles a laugh, "What's going on? Nothing's going on, mate! What?" Moony lets out a drawled scowl on him, one he makes when he pieces that they're in some kind of trouble, "Why is everybody on Hogwarts up your pants then, Prongs?!"

Sirius yawns as he hugs James by the side to lean his head on him, "Yeah... Saw that too even if my eyes were closed the entire walk. You can tell us mate, come on," He does notice the lack of scarf on his mate's neck though, none in this rapidly chilly morning? "Prongsie, where's your scarf? I could really use a pillow here–"

"Oh! Thank Merlin! One second late and I would've thrown this in the bin. Here, take this off me," There you are with James Potter red and yellow scarf on your hands, just coming out the door. All three boys were quite startled, "What? Wait. This isn't your class," said James. His eyes land on the presence of a Slytherin scarf wrapping your neck. James wishes he could take that one instead.

"Yeah... I'm sort of risking being late to Dark Arts for this but I can't take the whispering anymore. I might square the next person who even looks at me!" You told him, your grip on his scarf tightens and James wishes the fabric would stretch upon your nails.

Sirius is well awake now, his bagged eyes darting between you and James as if you're both insane, "Hold–Hold on! What is this? What is happening, Why do you have James's scarf?" He cuts, going between you and James to put a distance and blocks James view. Remus gives James a 'he did warned you, mate' face at the side.

James on the other hand, in too much of a thrill of seeing you this early in the morning, "You could also just admit ya didn't want me to get cold, love. Thanks for the thought there," He said almost shouting as he stands on his tips to try and see you from above Sirius's head.

You let out an annoyed grunt, "Ugh I don't have time for this. Here Siri, give this to that stupid friend of yours. I'd like to keep my Dark Arts seat next to Cissy and Malfoy's been eyeing it like the vulture he is," You throw James's scarf to your cousin's head not caring if it covers his vision, it earns a few chuckles from nearby students. He trashes to take it off and looks at you in betrayal.

You're about to run off to Dark Arts and leave your cousin and his foolish mates when your feet stop and turn you back, "If you still want that date to happen. Expect my owl, Potter. She's a snow named Emerald."

"Oh and it is lovely to meet you, Remus. Do take care of my sod cousin and my idiot boyfriend. Make sure they're out of trouble," You smiled sincerely at Remus, you actually do admire him a little. You love dark arts and your professor rants and rants about Remus's talents.

Remus seems taken aback, but that would make the three of them. You left after he reciprocated your smile and responded with a polite, "You too, (Y/N)."

And as such, you scurried off in a rush to go shoo away Lucius Malfoy from your seat and save Narcissa. Leaving behind a bewildered Remus, an angered Sirius, and a lovestruck James.

James keeps his eyes on you until you turn the corridor, a stupidly huge smile stays on his lips. He turns to find the reality of Sirius's wrath upon him. Remus is quite literally holding back Sirius with his whole body, it's quite an advantageous turn of events that Sirius hasn't had his proper sleep yet.

"Boyfriend! Boyfriend?! When did you even– How is this— Let me go, Moony! He's going to have an earful!"

He definitely will get that earful later. James grins an apologetic smile at Remus as he picks up his scarf that fell to the ground. He could already smell the sweet of your scent from a distance.

Remus lets out a huffed noise, "You really do always get what you want don't you?"

James doesn't reply. He wraps his own scarf on his neck, embracing the warmth it does to his skin. Your scent crashes onto him like tidal waves. A tint of rose blooms on the pale of his cheeks.

He smiles faintly at the open skies over the hall window. He wishes for an owl he hadn't even met for safe travels.

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ something like sympathy

summary: winter break with a sympathetic vil schoenheit type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, good old fluff, mentions of food and eating + vil is kiiind of implied to have an ed word count: 4k

Different never meant "bad" to Vil Schoenheit.

...And besides that, he simply had no reason to care about the magicless student. You weren't like the others at Night Raven College- you didn't run in the halls or make obscene gestures behind the professor's backs, you didn't shout, you didn't interrupt, you didn't fight or scream or slouch.

You were truly nothing special at all, which is special itself at a place like that.

Vil supposes that's why he liked you.

And you were always alone. At the beginning of the semester, he'd seen you straggling along behind the other first years, looking like a lost puppy. Never quite sure of what to say or not say, what to do with your hands, but always sure that you didn't quite belong.

He recognized that look on a person.

Then, you were alone again. Vil reasoned with himself. It wouldn't have been unusual for a student of Night Raven to prefer their own company. But again, you weren't a Night Raven student. You were a stranger, and stranger you stayed.

For all the things he'd heard about you, your presence was not impressive. You were always meek. Quiet. You did not join a club, he heard. You didn't talk to your classmates. They didn't talk to you.

Vil had once quietly, very quietly, asked Epel about you. And those dreadful dark circles, he said. But Epel didn't know much, just that the other first years thought you were "weird" and thus you spent more of your time with the staff than the students.

Weird. That word left a poor taste in Vil's mouth.

Different, yes. Quiet, reserved, yes, yes. But weird?

"Why the staff?" he had asked, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole thing.

Epel shrugged and picked at his collar. He'd learned not to complain in front of Vil by that point. "Mostly Crowley. They do his bidding, or something,"

He shouldn't have let that bother him, but he did, anyway.

Vil watched you a little closer from then on. How you stuttered when you spoke. How you sat away from the others. How you always looked so tired and unwell and...

Stop making me feel sorry for you, he thought, as if you could hear him. Stop it.

He asked some of the other housewardens. All of them had stories, but none of them seem worried. Again, that word. Weird.

Vil corrected them each time. Different. Not weird. Different. They ignored him.

You became a mystery to him. You sat, you waited, you stood again. You ate, sometimes, but never quite enough. You looked at your paper but didn't write. It was as if you were dead to this world and reborn into your own, existing solely within yourself in the way that he could only see through the light in your eyes.

He wanted to get closer, he wanted to see that light and know what you were thinking, but he didn't know how. And he didn't want to involve Rook in this. That would only scare you away.

No. Vil Schoenheit, the most beautiful man in the world, actor, model, housewarden of Pomefiore, would have to be gentle with you.

.

"And Epel?"

He asks, serving him another helping of green beans. Epel's nose wrinkles at the smell of whatever fancy spices they'd been baked in.

"...Back to my... grandmother's," the boy says.

"Don't scowl," Vil snaps. "This is our last dinner as a dorm before break. You could at least pretend to have manners."

Epel bites back a swear, and Rook gives him an encouraging smile and a pat on the back. Vil rolls his eyes.

"And you, Rook?"

"Ah! My family is vacationing at one of our villas," he says, vague as ever. Vil doesn't bother asking for details.

"Good," he says, cutting himself another piece of fish. He doesn't eat it, though. "And the Prefect?"

The question is directed at Epel. He blinks.

"I reckon... I mean, I assume they'll be staying here,"

"Alone?"

He gives the housewarden a suspicious look. Rook's grin sharpens.

"...I guess so. No students, no staff,"

"That can hardly be safe," Vil says, finally eating. He chews, swallows, and dabs around his mouth with his napkin before speaking again. Everyone waits for him.

"How will they feed themselves? And what of the cold? Crowley does realize that they are a person, and not a cardboard cutout, yes?"

Epel shrugs. He doesn't know more than that. Rook does, but he chooses not to say anything.

"It's not like they got a lot of options," the first year says, pretending to eat his green beans while discreetly discarding of them under the table.

Vil scowls, this time. "And no one has offered to take them?"

Epel blinks. "...They don't have any friends, really,"

He shakes his head. Why is he not surprised? Would it kill the students at this school to have one shred of human decency?

"Shall I extend them an invitation on your behalf, Housewarden?" Rook says, a coy smile playing at his lips.

He's teasing, in his own infuriating way, but Vil isn't witless. Even he can be surprising.

"Yes, thank you," he says, and then returns to his meal without another word. The shocked silence and envious looks of the other students are not lost on Vil, but, this time, he doesn't scold them for staring.

.

"Leave your shoes by the door. You'll track mud," Vil says, walking inside.

You do as he says without missing a beat. It's almost adorable, how nervous you are. And it's terrifying at the same time. You act as if you haven't been shown any kindness in months.

He supposes you probably haven't.

"It's warm in here," is the first thing you say.

Not a comment about the imported marble, or the display shelf full of Vil's father's accolades, or the stained glass windows.

No. "It's warm in here", you say.

Something like sympathy twists in Vil's stomach.

"...Yes. And it's quite expensive to heat a house of this size, so, please, mind the door,"

You realize that you're standing in the doorway and promptly move inside, letting the large front door close behind you.

Your cat... thing makes a comment about how shiny everything is. Vil sighs.

"And please don't break anything. Most of the art is original and can't be replaced..." he says. "We have three meals a day, and if you're hungry between then, there's fresh fruit in the kitchen."

The little dire beast looks up at you with big, sparkly eyes, and you nod, letting him scamper in the direction of the kitchen, which he must have... smelled?

Vil watches him skid across the marble floors and crash into the wall, and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

"...Sorry about Grim," you say. You sound genuinely apologetic, and it makes Vil nauseous. How did anyone like you even end up at Night Raven?

"Never mind that. Are you hungry?"

You stare at him as if you hadn't heard what he said. You seem reluctant to answer.

Vil puts a hand on his hip. "We're never going to leave the foyer if you keep staring like that. Come on,"

He leads you to the kitchen, ignoring the sight of Grim digging through his pantry like a starved man.

"We don't have dinner until six, and it's past lunch, so I'll make you something light," he says, looking through the fridge. You stand behind him like you have nothing better to do.

"You can have a seat wherever you'd like. I won't charge you for it," he smiles.

You stare back. Sevens, now he's making jokes with you. What is WRONG with him?

He does get you to sit somewhere, though, which he counts as a win. Your little creature eventually joins you, sitting in your lap and probably covering you in cat hair. Vil tries not to think about it.

You wait until he's begun taking out plates and pans to speak. "You're cooking?"

"Surprised?" He smirks.

There's always something rather satisfying about subverting expectations. Of course, you didn't know him yet, and you probably assumed that he was just another spoiled-

"No, I mean, you're cooking for me?"

Vil almost drops the pan. Damn it. Must everything you say be so insufferably pitiful? With the kicked puppy look, too? Are you doing this on purpose?

He quickly turns his back to you, facing the stovetop.

"...I am. Is that alright?"

He hears some shuffling that he takes as a nod.

"Better than alright!" Grim says. He can hear you chuckling at that. The sound is warmer than the open flame.

"...Well... good," Vil says, trying to sound stern again. "I don't cut corners when it comes to healthy eating, and while you're under my roof, I expect the same. So... it'll be three home-cooked meals a day. Understood?"

Grim whispers to you, asking about dessert, and you shush him. Vil rolls his eyes.

"...And dessert. We're in agreement, then?"

You nod again, and he hums. Good. Now he won't feel ill every time you look at him.

He finishes your "snack" (which is more of a light lunch), and serves both of you. Grim immediately digs in, practically tearing apart the plate, but you don't even touch yours.

Vil doesn't care for that look. It's all... sad. "Is something wrong?"

And you hesitate to answer. For a moment, he worries he made something you can't eat. Finally:

"Aren't you going to have something?"

What are you trying to do, kill him? Vil huffs.

"I didn't think of it,"

Your hands remain on your lap. Grim is starting to pick veggies off your plate already, and Vil has to fight the urge to swat him away from your food.

He sighs. "Will you eat if I have something?"

You hesitate to answer again, and then you nod. Barely. Like you're nervous just being in the same room as him. Damn you.

Vil sits next to you and takes a modest portion from your plate. He hates himself for doing it, but he doesn't ask why, either. He just assumes you feel awkward eating in front of him.

Or maybe you think he's poisoned you. It wouldn't be unbelievable, considering what you've already been through at school.

Either way, you do finally eat, even though the food is cold now. You even give Grim something else from your plate when he begs.

Vil watches you. The way you eat, the way you smile at that terrible greedy cat of yours, the way you politely stack your plates when you finish. You should be under someone's Christmas tree, not sitting in his kitchen.

"...Can I ask you something?"

He'd been cleaning off your plates in the sink when you spoke again. Vil hates those sorts of questions- haunting memories of interviews and tabloid reporters flash across his mind.

"You may," he says, subtly correcting you.

"Where's the guy in all your pictures?"

Vil quiets. His pictures? His Magicam pictures? Why would you-

When he turns over his shoulder, you're looking at the wall. Oh. Of course.

"My... father is filming a movie. He won't be home until the end of break. You won't have to meet him... but he would like you,"

"So you're here all by yourself?"

Vil hates that question. He hates the way you say it. Why would you care? Why would you worry about him? You barely know him.

"...Well, there are the staff. The housekeepers. But I don't need them here every day, so I usually let them have paid time-off when my father isn't around,"

That sounds silly when he says it aloud, he thinks.

"You do...?" you ask. "...That's sweet."

Vil doesn't answer that. He doesn't have an answer for that.

.

He doesn't know how to approach you.

It's funny. Vil can handle paparazzi, prying interviewers, tabloid gossipers, demanding directors, egotistical designers, even Neige Leblanche... but he can't bring himself to knock on your door.

Five times, five times since you've arrived at his home, he's gone to you, up the stairs or down the hall, stood in front of your room, and did nothing.

Sometimes he can hear you inside, others not. Once, he came as soon as he got up, not even bothering to fix his hair, and threw open your door... and you were asleep.

He isn't even sure what he wants to say. Something. Anything.

"Do you want to watch something with me?"

Vil jolts. He's not easy to startle, but he'd been so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice you standing behind him. You're quiet.

"...Yes... I suppose I have the time," he says, as if he's done anything this week but imagine this exact moment. "Do you have something in mind?"

You bring him to the viewing room, to the cabinet of all of his and his father's movies. Apparently, you'd been exploring the house while Vil sulked in his bedroom.

"This one?" he asks, not bothering to hide the sour expression on his face as you held up your pick.

"Is it bad?"

"No," he says. Nothing he makes is bad. "It's just... well, I..." It's a Neige movie, and Vil is not in it for more than a scene. "...Never mind. We can watch it."

He sits beside you and the furball, who seems more entertained with rubbing himself all over the couch to get his scent on it (ugh), and the film's opening credits roll.

How he's going to sit through two hours of Neige Leblanche with you is beyond him.

A small, quiet, but biting thought that you might like Neige more than him makes Vil uncomfortable in his seat. He doesn't know why he would care about such a thing, but he does.

Vil watches you more than he watches the film. You don't react much, he notes. The jokes don't land with you, the songs don't make you smile, not even the scary scenes really get more than a yawn out of you. He so desperately wants to ask-

"Who is this, again?"

He blinks as you finally speak, as if he'd forgotten you could do that.

"...The actor? That's Neige. Neige Leblanche," Vil has to remind himself that you're not from this world, and you don't know these things.

You make a face. "...I don't really like him,"

And there it is. If Vil were not already sitting down, his legs would've given out. He stares at you as if you were speaking another language to him.

"...Hm... You don't, do you?" he asks, trying to withhold the excitement in his voice. My, my, how he'd love a look into your mind...

"He's a little too much," you say. "Just... too much."

Vil nods. "I understand completely,"

A pause. He swallows thickly. "Would you like to watch something else?"

"Um... yeah. Maybe you should pick,"

Maybe he should pick. He smiles, takes out the disc, and comes back with a different one.

"This, you should like," he says, putting it in. "...And no Neige."

You nod. "No Neige,"

.

Winter break goes on, and the truth becomes impossible to ignore.

Vil won't think the words. He refuses to let them come together in his mind, because once he's thought them, they'll feel real.

Fortunately for him, he has other things to occupy his thoughts.

He cradles his chin in his palm, sitting beside you in a way that's certainly not good for his posture, but he can forgive himself for being comfortable just this once.

You'd built him a fire. What a strange thought that is. You'd gone outside, found the wood, split it, and built a fire in the lounge. He walked in on you as it was kindling, and you explained you had been doing this for months at Ramshackle. As if you were living in another century, he thought.

And now, here you were. You and him. Sitting in front of a marvelous fire you'd made, warm drinks he'd made you in hand, Grim snoozing on a cushion behind you. You'd been telling him about your home, your family, your schooling, your country and culture... and he'd been listening. Of course.

He'd never seen you smile so much.

"Do you miss it?" he asks, his voice quiet so as not to disturb Grim.

You're quiet for a moment. You take a sip of your drink, and then put it on the rug. Normally, he'd chastise someone for being so careless, but he doesn't even think of that now.

"...It wasn't perfect. But it was home," and that's all you say.

Vil smiles softly. "I imagine NRC hasn't been the most inviting,"

You almost chuckle at his joke. He knows that's a bit of an understatement.

"...Not until recently," you say, quietly, as if sharing a secret. "You... um... this is the closest to home I've felt."

Vil's heart skips a beat. Again, you somehow manage to leave him speechless and flustered, and he doesn't hate it. Not really. And, for a moment, he could've sworn you'd almost told him that he was the closest thing to home.

It's a scary thought. In a good way, though.

"Oh, it's snowing," you say, standing to go to the window. He lets you go, taking the moment to think about what you said.

And he thinks. And he thinks. And eventually, he thinks that he does want to be your home.

And the words he'd been avoiding for days come to him.

Because he's falling in love with you.

.

Things are easy. He cooks. You do dishes. You build him fires, and he thanks you with dark chocolate and tea. The snow gets heavier, but you have plenty of movies to watch and much to talk about, so it never bothers you.

He does your makeup for you, once or twice. You never go to sleep before a cleansing face mask. Even Grim gets his nails trimmed and fur brushed.

Vil lets you braid his hair one evening. He teaches you how to tighten the braids, how to pin them back so they stay in place. He does your own hair to show you.

He promises that when the snow melts, he'll take you shopping.

"It's a date", you smiled, and his heart skipped a beat.

You stay up late one night, scrolling through Neige's Magicam and judging his posts together. Your head is on his shoulder. His arm is around you. You fall asleep like that, and the next night, you do the same.

The door to the room he'd been so scared of knocking on is always open now, because you're never inside. You stay in his room, with his jewels and awards, where you belong.

He even lets Grim sleep on the bed, when he's behaved.

You laugh more. Even at his stupid jokes, the ones he never makes in front of anyone else, you laugh. You're beautiful, he thinks.

You talk more, too. About yourself. About your home. About NRC. The dark circles under your eyes begin to make sense. Vil's hatred of the incompetent headmaster is justified. He hates him even more.

He promises you that you can stay in Pomefiore whenever you want. There's always a door open for you.

.

One night, he gets carried away. You were in bed. He'd been attending to you again, soothing your cuticles and fussing over your hair. He peels one of his nice face masks off of you and smiles.

"Much better. Softer. Feel," he commands, guiding your hand up to feel one of your cheeks. His hand is on the other.

You touch the plush softness of your skin, greatly improved by his weeks of care, and you nod. "Better,"

"Better," he echoes. Suddenly, he has this terrible, nagging urge to touch you more, and he kisses your cheek.

It's fleeting, so fast that you might have missed it if you weren't paying attention. You are, though, and your eyes are wide.

Vil feels dread. More than before any audition or award ceremony. He stares back, desperate to find his voice.

"...Is that... okay?"

He can barely breathe until you nod.

"It's okay," you say.

He sighs, letting the dread out of him in a single breath. He curses at himself for letting his thoughts carry him away like that, and he makes a mental note to work on it. And then you drop a bombshell on him.

"...You can... do it again, if you want."

Vil says nothing. He stares, his expression unchanging, as if he hadn't heard you right.

And then he moves without thinking, without caring, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you everywhere. Your forehead, both cheeks, your nose and jaw, all of the affection he'd been withholding comes pouring out of him all at once, and it takes a strenuous amount of effort not to touch your lips.

He's almost upset that he isn't wearing lipstick. He would have liked to see you covered in kisses. The thought of you being so visibly his is intoxicating.

He pulls away after you start giggling. You're both dizzy, flustered by the attention he was giving you as if he would never get to give it again.

And he smiles back.

"Enjoying yourself?"

You take a breath to compose yourself, and you nod. It's cute. You're cute.

.

"You know, when I heard that my son was bringing someone home for the holidays, I wasn't expecting..."

Vil shoots his father a very pointed glare, both for embarrassing him and for bothering you.

You don't seem to mind, though. "I wasn't expecting to be brought home, so I guess I can't blame you,"

Erik laughs. You laugh. Vil sighs.

When he asked you if you wanted to meet his father, he wasn't really expecting you to say yes. Honestly, he was sort of hoping you wouldn't. Not because of his father, but because he was beginning to enjoy being alone with you. In your own little world together.

It's already been harder sleeping in the same room without being noticed. Their home is big, but not that big. And that's not even mentioning the cuddling and kissing Vil had grown rather dependent on in the past few weeks.

"Well, I'm pleased. If Vil is happy, I'm happy," Erik says. Vil hates the way he said that, as if he already knows...

...And there's that look again. The raised eyebrows, the cheesy grin. Pointed right at him. Vil sighs.

"Really, it was nothing. If anything, I was just appalled that none of the other housewardens had extended an invite," Vil says.

Erik nods. "You'd think with all the princes and what have you, someone would've had a spare room. I guess it all worked out for the better, though. Right?"

He may as well be planning your wedding right here. You watch as Vil sets down his fork, takes his napkin off his lap, and pushes in his chair.

"Excuse me for a moment,"

He excuses himself, stepping out of the dining room and into the hall. Pull yourself together. You have nothing to feel embarrassed about.

"Vil?"

Vil's meditative thoughts shatter at the sound of your voice, and his heart picks up again. He turns to face you.

"I... apologize for my father. He's only joking," he says.

You shake your head. "I was just making sure you're okay,"

There it is again. Always putting everyone before yourself. Always making sure he's well. Always bothering him, asking if he's eaten enough, when he should be the one worried about you. Everyone should.

The other housewardens were right. You are weird. You don't fit in at NRC. Perhaps you didn't fit in before that, too.

And perhaps that doesn't matter. Perhaps that's not such a bad thing, to be weird. You don't need to belong anywhere but with him.

Slowly, he smiles.

"I'm alright. Just... collecting my thoughts," he says.

He holds out a hand for you to take, and you take it. He gives you a gentle squeeze. You squeeze back.

"...Shall we?"

[hamiltonaf]

Prank & Payback | Lando Norris

Pairing: Lando Norris x Female Reader

Word Count: 654

Warnings: Slight sexual content

A/N: Hello loves, I believe I’m very late to this trend… seen this before on TikTok and forgot about it, however, it resurfaced my FYP today so I thought it’s a sign to write. Hope you guys enjoy .xx

Another day, another reason to prank Lando. I came across a TikTok trend and now that Lando wants to go out to play golf, I decided to tag along and use this as the perfect opportunity.

Lando was ready and waiting whilst I delayed some time to find items that I ‘forgot’ to take. “Babe, are you ready ? Max and P are already there” he said from the lounge. “I’ll be out in a bit, meet you at the car ?” I yelled. It’s so hard for me to pretend that I’m upset without a reason to be.

“Okayyy” he dragged as he left. After waiting for a whole minute, I took a slow walk to the car. I could hear him rev the 812 from inside, this was gonna hurt not only him but me too.

I stormed towards the car with an annoyed look on my face as I opened the passenger door. He whistled as I sat in the passenger seat. “Well, look at you” he said softly as he eyed me up and down. I faked a smile for a second then dropped to straight face. “Oh no, I forgot my cap” I ignored him as I got out and slammed the door. I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together to try to hide my laugh as I walked off. “What the-“ he said to himself as he furrowed his brows.

I got my cap and walked back to the passenger side. “Love, are you okay ?” He hesitated to ask, almost afraid to touch a nerve. “Yeah I’m fine” I huffed as I slammed the door. “Babe !” He yelled. “Oh wait, I forgot to carry some sunscreen” I huffed as I opened the door. “Forget about it. Let’s go” he said annoyed. “I won’t take long” I ignored him. “Well don’t slam the-“ I slammed the door once again. “Okay what the hell is going on” he switched the ignition off as he jumped out and trailed behind me.

“Did I miss something ?” He asked as he caught up to me. “No” I bluntly said. He jogged ahead to stand in front of me to stop me from walking further. “Talk to me, what’s wrong ?” He asked concerned. “Did I upset you ? Oh shit.. is it our anniversary ? Do you not want to go ? It’s fine if you don’t want to, we can stay in and cuddle” he said as he caressed my cheek.

I pressed my lips together to hold myself back but couldn’t play along any longer as I burst into a fit of giggles. “Don’t tell me” he groaned as he walked away. “I’m so so sorry” I engulfed him in a hug from behind. “Don’t scare me like that, I thought I did something wrong” he pouted.

“Sorry baby, to you and the car” I half laughed as I grabbed his hand and walked back to the car. “I don’t know what hurt more, you slamming that door or seeing you upset” he wondered. “Wow. Now I actually have a reason to be upset, I’m competing with a 812” I rolled my eyes. “Okay jokes aside, I felt your pain too” I said as he opened the passenger door for me.

He was back at the drivers side and started the ignition. “Let’s start over” he smirked. I furrowed my brows in confusion, until it hit me when he whistled once again and eyed me from head to toe. “Don’t you look beautiful” he said softly with a smirk as he leaned in to kiss my neck and placed his hand high on my thigh. His hand riding higher up my thigh as he kissed my sweet spot. I placed a hand at the back of his neck as I rolled my head back. He then stopped his actions and grinned at me. With flushed cheeks and a racing heart, he says casually “That’s payback.”

[xazse]

Hiiii!! ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

I just wanna see say that first of all that I LOVE UR works! I literally SCREAM when I see ur works they're so good!!!! 🫶🫶🫶

Anyways I wanna share my thoughts with you if that's fine (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

I just watched a cute cat video with a tom cat meeting his kittens for the first time and I just thought what if it was Tiger hybrid!Sukuna meeting his cub, Yuji! (With a tiger hybrid reader too)

At first he'd be like growling and looking annoyed at the sight of Yuji cause I heard that's how usually male tigers respond to their offsprings (and they usually don't help raise or look after cubs), maybe pushing him away too (but not enough to hurt cause he somewhat cares kinda). But over time he starts getting attached to little cub, mainly cause reader forces Tiger hybrid!Sukuna to spend time with their cub. And he'd act annoyed but deep down he actually bonds with the little cub, ah its so cute!

(btw not forcing u to write or anything just sharing my recent hyper fixations (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡)

No the Peakness in this needs to be studied, sorry I haven’t been uploading I’ve been in a block so I hope y’all enjoy this! Thanks for leaving the request!!! Just something sweet and short to tide you lovelies over. PLUS THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENTS SO SWEET!!

Warnings: Tigerhybrid!Sukuna + TigerHybrid!Yuji + Tigerhybrid!Reader + baby!yuji + big ol tiger family + not proofread

“Kuna stop it!”

“You’re scaring him with your loud growling, stop it.”

“He isn’t scared stop overthinking it, plus I’ve already told you I don’t want em near me.”

For such a huge scary Tiger like Sukuna he sure was giving off childish energy right now. Everytime little Yuji crawls to get close he’s pushed back right where he started. He doesn’t even seem to care that he’s growling and clearly not happy.

He’s so distracted and infatuated with Sukunas tail that flows back and forth, greedy little eyes looking for something to bite probably.

“I wish you’d stop treating him like a stranger he’s our baby.” You cross your arms and go to pick up Yuji, he eagerly has his chubby little arms out for you to coddle him, how can Sukuna just not find him so adoreable?

A loud huff of air comes out of him his tail whisking angrily behind him, you see the glint of sweet in his pupils it’s just a facade he needs help getting over.

And getting over it will happen.

It starts with baby steps at first, you pretending to need to make Yuji a bottle before he gets fussy, so you quickly plop him in Sukunas lap, he has no time to process or tell you to get him. He has no choice but to let Yuji curiously grab all over his face.

Sukuna thinks Yuji is too soft to be his, he should at least have a backbone at his age but he mainly blames you, you’re far too kind for someone of his own species, Tigers are meant to be fierce but he isn’t getting a hint of that from either of you.

Sukuna is holding Yuji awkwardly, arms outstretched and holding him in the air away from his body. The cutie is babbling and giggling about nonsense. Sukuna pulls him in a little bit closer and he immediately starts sucking on his cheek, encasing the whole thing, Sukuna is quick to act disgusted and pull him away.

You come shortly back with the bottle and also plop it down in his lap.

“No”

“Yes.”

“Kuna, please I’m extremely tired and need a quick break.”

You flash him your sweetest eyes and even pull your fluffy ears backwards, you really strike his heart everytime you do that so he grumbly obliges to watch Yuji.

Whilst you’re in the room he begins feeding Yuji, everytime he so much as rests his arm Yuji is whining for the bottle.

“Can’t even move an inch can I?” He straightens up and fixes himself. Sukuna can’t help but poke at his little inflated cheeks, filled with warm milk he looks so content gobbling it up.

He really looks like him even has the same patterned tail and tiny fluffy ears.

When he finishes the bottle he isn’t sure what to do besides letting Yuji relax on his chest and watch something, the baby Tiger is slowly drifting off his soft coos slowly fading.

This is okay just for a little, only until you rest up, he won’t have his wife walking around tired then he’ll throw the brat back in your lap.

But that doesn’t happen, it’s becoming an everyday thing where he feeds Yuji then they both drift off on the couch, it’s like this over and over.

Sukuna finds himself searching for Yuji in your arms then taking him to do the most random tasks with him laid awkwardly on his side. He still doesn’t know how to hold his own son properly but you’re so ecstatic.

You catch Sukuna helping Yuji build his building blocks up, then when Yuji knocks them down and is about to cry he’ll quickly build the tower back up in reassurance. You can see his tail swirl around when Yuji looks up to his daddy to help him.

On nights where Yuji is crying out for you, you’d usually get up to go comfort him but it’s Sukuna who jumps up faster than you to go tend to him. The room goes quiet within 10 minutes.

Sukuna won’t say it out loud but baby Yuji is starting to grow on him!!<33