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rubytuby · 4 months ago

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surprise

patrick zweig x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k (LOL)

warnings: established relationship with patrick because i'm lazy, art is your best friend, mentions of getting drunk but it's college so like to be expected… also allusions to sex haha but um i just love to write a cutesy plot.

note: i am normal about patrick zweig, i feel so normal about him #needthat. jokes, but i am in love with him its so bad, i wish he was real. also please don't be offended by my tashi erasure, still love her, but she didn't exactly fit in here. obv this is not canon bc you're dating patrick in stanford era instead of tashi, anyways, hope you enjoy <3.

FEBRUARY 23 2007, STANFORD

The sun hung low, casting long shadows over the tennis courts as you and Art wrapped up your practice session. Both of you were drenched in sweat, Art slung his tennis bag over his shoulder and jogged over, his face lighting up with a mischievous grin.

“So uh, want to walk back to the dorms together?” he asked, sounding overly eager.

You squinted at him, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “Sure, but I need to shower first. You know, make it seem like I haven’t been pushed to my physical limits,” you said, gesturing to your sweaty attire.

Art laughed. “You have a single, why don't you just wait until you get back to your dorm?”

You groaned, shoving your racket into your bag. “That's the problem. The maintenance guy showed up at 7:30 this morning to tell us they’re shutting off the water from 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. only on my floor for some urgent plumbing issue.”

“Damn, that sucks. Are they even allowed to do that without giving anyone notice?”

“That's what I asked, but apparently, giving us 30 minutes notice is considered adequate. So, technically, they can,” you replied, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “I’ll be quick, though. Just need to rinse off. If you don’t wanna wait for me to chill, you can walk back to the dorms. I won’t be offended.”

Art shook his head. “I’ve got time, I’ll wait. I’ve gotta call someone anyways,” he said plopping down the bench and pulling out his phone.

“Alright weirdo, if you’re sure,” you said, dropping your tote bag next to him. “I’ll be super quick.” With that, you darted off to the girls' locker room.

As soon as you disappeared, Art pulled out his phone and dialed Patrick’s number. The phone barely rang before Patrick answered, his voice tense with impatience.

“Are you guys on the fucking way yet or am I going to have to wait longer?”

“Hello, sunshine!” Art greeted cheerily. “Your beloved is taking a quick shower. We’ll be there in about 25 to 30 minutes.”

Patrick groaned loudly. “Why didn’t you just tell her to shower in her dorm? I’ll lick the sweat off her if it means not waiting any longer.”

Art grimaced at his best friend’s comment. “The water’s out on her floor. She said she’s literally only rinsing off and changing. Just be patient. I’ll text you when to leave so we can time it perfectly.” A sigh rang out on the other line.

“If this plan doesn’t work and I’ve been hiding from my girlfriend for a couple hours for no reason, I’m going to seriously hurt you,” Patrick grumbled, staring out Art’s dorm window.

“Well she definitely thinks you're in New York visiting your parents,” Art paused, “I just had to talk her down from buying a plane ticket, so I think we’re good.”

“I told her I just got into the city a couple hours ago when I actually got to SFO. She was so upset yesterday when I said it’d be five days until we saw each other. She called me a fucking asshole, so I dont know what to do anymore.” Patrick said as he flopped onto Arts bed.

Art scribbled on his worksheet, humming in response. “Well, at least you know that she definitely misses you.”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure if she misses me or just wants to slap me in the face,” Patrick replied, exasperated.

Just then, Art saw you coming out of the locker room, chatting with one of your friends on the team. “Hopefully not the latter. Anyway she’s out. See you at 15. Don’t be late,” Art said flatly before hanging up, knowing Patrick and his unfortunate untimeliness.

Art smiled up at you as you approached. “Who was that?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

“Our shared lover,” Art replied with a laugh, haphazardly shoving his worksheet and phone into his bag as he stood up.

“Aww, any exciting updates from Pat? He still stuck with his parents for another five days?” you teased, sticking your tongue out playfully.

“He just got to the city. He mentioned playing on the East River courts and paying someone to hold a spot for him,” Art lied smoothly.

“Sounds about right,” you said, sighing. “Anyway, I was talking to Nathalie over there…” you squinted, linking arms with Art as the two of you started the walk back to your dorm. “She mentioned a frat party happening tonight. Since Patrick’s trapped in New York, I figured why not go?”

“There’s going to be a keg stand, a ton of alcohol, and some shitty DJ or something,” you added, glancing at a group of students touring the campus before turning back to Art.

Art nodded, slightly wincing at the mention of the keg stand. “Wow, sounds like a lot of fun,” he replied sarcastically, earning a nod of agreement from you.

“I was planning on skipping it, but Nathalie really wants me to go. I thought if you came with me, it might actually be fun. Better than wallowing in my room wishing Patrick was here,” you admitted, biting your lip.

"Well, we had fun at that party last Friday, you remember right?" Art asked, smirking.

"Remember is a strong word," you replied, shaking your head with a laugh. "I think I have bits and pieces from that night. I do remember waking up still drunk at noon with my t-shirt on backwards and you snoring next to me in bed. Also like 5 missed calls from Patrick."

Art flashed you a lopsided grin. "Well, your bed's comfy, but I thought I was going to roll off in the middle of the night."

"Well, I stayed in my corner, I was flush against the wall as you were all sprawled out making yourself at home on my bed," you teased, nudging him playfully.

As you approached your dorm building, you noticed Art’s phone buzz. He glanced at it quickly, fumbling to put it away as a smile grew on his face. “What’s with the grin, weirdo?” you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“Oh, nothing. Just a funny text,” Art replied too quickly, stuffing his phone back into his pocket.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that?”

“Who, me? Who said I’m lying, I’m the picture of innocence,” Art said defensively.

You shook your head. “Sure you are. Anyway, I think I’m gonna drop my stuff on the floor, crawl into bed, and maybe take a nap. Maybe we can think about that party, I can call you at 11 so we can pregame.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Art said with a nod. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

You smiled gratefully as the two of you ascended the stairs to your floor. Art talked animatedly about his plans for the weekend while you half-listened, preoccupied with thoughts of collapsing onto your bed and taking a deserved long nap.

"Yeah anyways, I'm thinking of catching up on some studying, this english class is kicking my ass," Art continued, unaware of your drifting attention. "Maybe I’ll go on a run later though. You could join me if you wanted, if you’re up."

"Maybe," you replied absentmindedly, reaching a hand into your tote bag sifting for your keys.

As you reached your door, frustrated with your bag, you dropped your tennis bag and lifted your whole tote up, practically sticking your face in it to find your keys. "I hate these fucking tote bags, I can’t find shit," you grumbled to Art, feeling a tap on your shoulder.

Startled, you turned around with a scowl— until you saw Patrick standing there, a mischievous grin on his face. "Patrick! What the fuck? What are you doing here-” you exclaimed, letting your tote bag fall to the floor and throwing your arms around him in a tight hug.

Patrick laughed, hugging you back just as tightly. "Surprise" he exclaimed, holding you close, smiling at Art over your shoulder.

You pulled back slightly, giving him an incredulous look. "You asshole! Trapped in New York with my parents, my ass!" you shook your head, playfully hitting him on the chest.

Patrick held his chest dramatically and leaned in, kissing your cheek lightly. "All part of the plan," he murmured. “Plus, I had a little help," he added, nodding towards Art, who was standing nearby with a smug expression.

You turned in Patrick's arms to face Art, scoffing in shock. "Art, you were in on this? You’re such a liar," you exclaimed.

Art shrugged. "Hey, I was just hosting him at my dorm while we were at practice. Technically, I didn’t lie—I just omitted a few details," he explained, grinning.

"How could you do this to me? Traitor!" you said dramatically, though a smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

Patrick wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you closer against him and resting his head on your shoulder. "Come on. You know it was worth it," he said, his tone teasing.

You sighed playfully, shaking your head at the pair of them. "I guess I can forgive you both this time," you conceded.

Patrick’s hand gently brushed through your hair as he settled his head into the curve of your neck. “You know I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me,” he said softly.

As you lingered in Patrick's embrace, you paused. "Wait, where's all your stuff?" you asked, pulling back slightly and turning to look up at him.

Patrick grinned, nodding towards your door. "In your dorm," he replied casually.

“Wow, Breaking and entering," you quipped, crossing your arms squinting at Art.

Art interjected with a laugh, "Actually, perfectly legal entering. You're the one who gave me a spare key."

You shook your head, "That's for emergencies, Art," you retorted, shooting him a mock glare.

Patrick turned you around to face him, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. "Come on, admit it, you're impressed," he teased.

You sighed, "I'm shocked you guys were able to pull this off, honestly," you admitted, shaking your head with amusement. Patrick laughed softly, rubbing your back soothingly.

Reluctantly pulling away from Patrick's arms, you grabbed your tote bag from the floor, turning to face Art and Patrick. "As much as this hallway talk is very exciting, I seriously need to find my keys. I'm exhausted," you declared half-joking.

After a brief search through your bag, you finally located your keys nestled among your belongings. Patrick picked up your tennis bag with a playful grin, indicating his readiness to follow you inside.

"Alright, Art, thank you," Patrick called out over his shoulder as you unlocked the door.

Art waved casually. "Have fun, be safe you two. I'll see you later," he replied as he walked down the hallway.

As the two of you entered your dorm room, you barely had enough time to place your bags on the floor before Patrick closed the gap between you and him and crashed his lips onto yours. His hands pulled you against him as he pressed your back against the door, placing his hands on either side of you almost boxing you in. His kisses were sloppy, teeth colliding as his lips moved against yours, hands desperately roaming your body, as if he couldn't get close enough to you.

You responded eagerly, melting into his embrace, your own hands finding their way into his hair, tugging him closer. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his tongue tracing your lower lip, hands roaming over your back, then up to cradle your face, pushing strands of hair away as he deepened the kiss.

"Patrick," you managed to gasp between kisses, your chest rising and falling with each breath. "I... I need to put my stuff away," you painted, reluctantly pulling back

Patrick leaned back, a mischievous smirk on his face, moving over to lean against your desk. "Sure," he murmured, his gaze lingering on you as you took out some things from your bag. "So, how was practice?" he asked, his voice low, as he looked you up and down.

You scoffed, a hint of satisfaction playing on your lips as you organized. "Heinous. I keep getting paired with this girl on the team who can't return any of my serves," you replied exasperatedly, glancing over at him.

Patrick raised an eyebrow, "maybe you should just go easy on her."

You shook your head, clicking your tongue in frustration. "I've tried to go easy on her, but she can't even play me when I do that. She acts like it's my fault she can't play for shit," you paused to sigh.

Patrick grinned, tracing a hand up and down your arm. "We both know you're too good for stanford women's tennis," he murmured, moving from the desk to stand behind you, his hands coming to rest on your hips and giving them a quick squeeze.

You whipped your head around, rolling your eyes and scoffing at his comment. "Careful," you say firmly.

Patrick put his hands up in mock surrender, his cocky grin never faltering. "Alright, alright. Sorry, my bad," he said. "You're right."

As an unspoken apology, Patrick moved closer, his hands gently moving up to your waist as he leaned in to kiss your neck softly. His lips left a warm trail on your skin, "I missed you," he murmured between kisses, his breath hot against your ear. “So much.”

You tilted your head slightly, allowing him better access, closing your eyes briefly to savor the sensation. "I missed you too," you hummed, your voice softening as you turned to face him fully. Your hands came to rest on his chest. "You know, I wish you would’ve just told me you were coming," you teased, carding your fingers through his hair.

Patrick's playful demeanor softened as he gazed into your eyes, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Sorry again," he murmured sincerely, his breath mingling with yours. "Do you still love me?" he asked, clearly teasing and testing you.

You couldn't help but smile, your fingers threading through the strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. "I still love you, even with your elaborate lies," you replied, planting a sweet kiss on his lips. "But I have to say I knew something was up. Art was being weirder than normal."

Patrick hummed, his hands gently caressing your sides as he leaned in for another kiss.

"Hey? Are you even listening to me?" you asked, blinking up at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Patrick paused, his forehead resting against yours as he looked into your eyes. "Sorry, what did you say? I was a little distracted," he said, smiling.

You laughed softly, giving him a light shove. “I said Art was acting weirder than normal. I could tell he was hiding something.”

He shook his head and grinned, suddenly, he scooped you up over his shoulder, eliciting a surprised laugh from you as he carried you to the bed. Playfully flopping you down, his hands on either side of your head as he leaned in to kiss you again, his lips warm and insistent.

"So, what's our plan for tonight?" he asked between kisses, his fingers tracing light patterns on your sides.

You sighed softly, your words catching in your throat as his kisses became more fervent. "Well, there's this party my friend invited me to," you managed to say, struggling to speak coherently. "But last time I went out with Art, it was a shit show," you paused, trying to focus as his lips trailed down your collarbone, "but you're here, so we can do… whatever you want," you finally managed to say, your voice breathless with desire.

"Can we?" Patrick teased, his tone dripping with innuendo, his kisses becoming more urgent and needy.

You sighed deeply, rolling your eyes. "You know, you're impossible," you muttered, shaking your head. "But yes, we can."

Patrick grinned triumphantly, his hands roaming over your body as he leaned in to kiss you again, his hunger for you evident in every touch and movement. "Good," he murmured against your lips. "I think I just want you to be myself tonight."

"Freaky," you quipped, biting your tongue to hide a laugh.

With a self-assured grin, Patrick swiftly removed his T-shirt, revealing his lean and tan body. His gaze never left yours as he leaned back in, his lips finding yours with intensity. Your fingers traced lightly over his chest as you meshed together, and through kisses, you opened your eyes for a moment, gaze fixed on the freckles dotting his nose and cheeks.

"You've got more freckles," you observed with a playful smile, pulling back slightly, teasingly tracing each tiny mark with your fingertip.

Patrick grinned warmly, his eyes crinkling as he removed his lips from yours pulling you into a tight hug. "You're so cute," he murmured, squeezing you against him. His hands gently moved up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he pulled you closer, lips looking for another kiss with a soft sigh of contentment slipping out. His gaze, filled with adoration and longing, locked onto yours, silently expressing his deep affection.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he whispered, his voice low and filled with awe. You locked eyes with him, your own expression softening as you smiled, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw.

Without breaking eye contact, Patrick's hands moved to the hem of your T-shirt, his touch almost insistent. He lifted the fabric, exposing your skin to the cool air and his heated gaze, with the T-shirt slipped over your head and thrown to the floor, forgotten. His gaze traveled downward, taking in the sight of you, bare-chested in front of him, a cheeky grin began to spread across his face.

You rolled your eyes, whacking his arm. "Are you 13?" you teased.

Patrick laughed, unfazed as his hands and mouth roamed your newly exposed skin, his lips moving back to your collarbone, placing soft kisses along its length. Your remaining clothes were shed in a flurry, falling to the floor as you both moved with urgency desperately reconnecting.

Finally, as your kisses slowed and the two of you were breathing somewhat heavily, you rolled onto him, resting your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you close, with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

"I love you," Patrick murmured softly, placing a lovingly sweet kiss onto your forehead.

You met his gaze with a soft smile. "Is that just because we had incredible reunion sex?" you teased lightly, a playful challenge in your voice. "Or do you love me all the time?"

Patrick laughed, his fingers moving up and down on your back. "Only for the sex, it's usually worth the plane ticket," he teased back, with a smile. "Just kidding. I love you all the time," he replied earnestly, as a grin started forming on his face.

Leaning up from his chest, you pressed a sloppy kiss against his mouth, your hands tangling into his hair as you felt the corners of his lips curve into a smile against yours. "I knew it," you murmured against his lips, a hint of amusement in your voice.

"Say it back," Patrick urged with a playful grin, attempting to deepen the kiss, but you playfully pulled away before he could capture your lips again.

Rolling your eyes theatrically, you feigned annoyance, though your smile betrayed your true feelings. "Fine," you replied, leaning in to kiss him once more. "I love you too, freak."

#challengers #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig x you #challengers movie #challengers fanfiction #challengers x reader #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #need that

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andypantsx3 · 1 year ago

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incendiary | 5 | bakugou x reader

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Fem Reader

length: 3.5k | 5th of 8 chapters

summary: When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

tags/warnings: enemies to lovers, themes of discrimination (please see note in fic masterpost), canon typical violence, eventual smut, aged up characters

series masterlist

Almost overnight, things began to change.

Bakugou had apparently decided that ignoring you was off the table now, and he was there the next morning when you awoke, audibly puttering around the kitchen, making his usual ruckus of kitchenware sounds. You listened to him work, slowly blinking awake, trying not to think too hard about the events of last night.

He came back into the living room only a few minutes later, bearing two plates of western-style breakfast, piled high with fluffy mounds of scrambled eggs and perfectly golden potatoes. He shoved a plate in front of you like he’d already sensed that you were awake, then retreated back to the kitchen. He returned with two mugs of hot coffee that smelled heavenly–almost certainly fair trade and freshly ground.

He put one in front of you, then dropped down to his place on the opposite side of the coffee table, watching you scrabble out of the blankets with something like a smirk pressing at the corner of his mouth, as if he knew his food was the fire under your feet.

“New rule, brat,” he pronounced as you finally freed yourself, flinging yourself down at the table and seizing your utensils.

You couldn’t bring yourself to stop now that you were already in motion, so you fit an entire forkful of potato in your mouth, then looked at him questioningly.

The smirk on his mouth deepened. “Your little stunt yesterday attracted every quirk supremacist in a twenty mile radius to this neighborhood, so you’re gonna have to keep away from the windows until they fuck off.”

You inhaled wrong around your potato, the steam catching in your lungs, and you coughed a little. “What? Quirk supremacists—here?”

Bakugou took a slow sip of his coffee, and you tried not to notice the way his bare bicep flexed as he brought the mug to his mouth. He really needed to invest in shirts with sleeves. “Your little cashier friend from the convenience store apparently leaked video onto YouTube already. The attack’s made a couple of the morning news shows.”

Your stomach churned, and you let your fork clatter back to your plate. “They’ve found us?”

Bakugou’s scarlet gaze tracked your expression over the top of his mug. “Not yet. But people know you’re in the general area now. Genius Office is running ID on all the weirdos showing up around here to find out who they are and what the risk is. But until they know what we’re dealing with, you’re to keep away from the windows. And you’re not going outside again.”

You didn’t think you wanted to go outside again anyway, considering the events of last night. Not for a long while, anyway.

You would never tell him, but it was kind of a relief to have Bakugou in here with you, now, understanding the kinds of people you were up against. But that so sucked, not even being able to poke your nose out a window after weeks of already being cooped up.

You nodded resignedly. You took a sip of your own coffee, then had to suppress a shiver of delight. Definitely freshly ground, and definitely fancy.

“They haven’t seen Matsui, have they?” You asked.

Bakugou shook his head. His hair looked a little messier than yesterday, piecey with gel and slightly flattened on the side he must have slept on. “No. Nothing on Matsui yet.”

You picked up your fork again and went back to your breakfast, at least reassured by that fact.

“Any estimate on how much longer this is gonna go on for?” You asked.

Bakugou scrubbed a hand through that thick golden hair. You watched, strangely enraptured, as it sprang right back up again in wild tufts. “Not much if you keep luring them straight to where you are, princess.”

You frowned into your egg. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Bakugou’s socked foot poked into yours. “It’s a safehouse for a reason. There were ground rules for a reason.”

You scowled. “Yeah yeah, I get it now. Excuse me for never having been the target of a national witch hunt before.”

Bakugou smiled, a wicked, blade-sharp thing. He leaned across the table. “So you’re gonna be good for me now, brat?”

Your fork clattered against your plate, spattering egg everywhere. You jumped in surprise, registering belatedly that you’d dropped it.

“Good for—? Good—?” you spluttered.

If anything, Bakugou’s smile went wider. “Something wrong, princess?” His eyes were practically glowing as he spoke.

What the hell was he doing? It was one thing to stop giving you the cold shoulder and act friendlier in light of everything that had happened yesterday. It was one thing to make you dinner and breakfast and not loom over you while radiating disdain from every pore. But it was entirely another to do—to do—whatever the fuck that was!

You grasped your fork with suddenly numb fingers, pointedly looking away from him. “No.” You shoveled a large potato into your mouth as if to punctuate that statement.

Bakugou just watched you, too knowingly for your taste. “Uh huh,” he said.

You finished your meal at lightspeed, desperate to get away from Bakugou and whatever that had been just now. Bakugou ate more sedately, seeming like he was mulling something over between delicate bites of his breakfast. You did not care to find out what that was.

You brought your dish to the sink when you’d finished and washed it speedily, then beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom, standing in the shower for a long time. Then you crept back to your room and managed a little bit of homework after you’d dressed, though you were a little too unfocused for your liking.

When you checked your phone you found that messages had started to pile up again, with a litany of texts from Megumi crowning the stack.

MEGUMI ✨🍹🌴💕 girl you almost died are you okay 8:58 PM those douchebags omg 8:58 PM please tell me you’re okay i’m really worried about you 9:06 PM

And then, a couple hours later, in typical fashion:

MEGUMI ✨🍹🌴💕 that rescue was so hot though 12:09 AM the way dynamight was all rough with them and then all gentle with you 12:09 AM it’s okay if you’re dead i would have passed away too 12:10 AM

You reassured her that you were fine, then paused, staring at her later messages, mystified. What did she mean, the rescue had been so hot though?

As far as you remembered, Bakugou had come slamming in there, metaphorical guns blazing, and he’d hauled you out of there much the same way. You didn’t think there had been anything particularly sexy about getting your quirkless ass almost handed to you.

Curiosity prickling in your veins, you googled around for the video Bakugou had mentioned, wondering how it had looked so different to someone on the outside. You found an hours-old upload on YouTube entitled dynamight destroys 7-eleven shopfront to save internet legend drunk girl—a title you thought a little unfair considering you had not been drunk this time, even though that was apparently your internet moniker now.

The clip was shot from a vantage point above the register, and started with the back of your head as the two men from yesterday turned the corner and almost immediately began crowding you towards the register. You saw your own face in profile as you peered back at the cashier for help—his own face conveniently hidden from the video’s perspective—and then turned back and said something muted to the two men. The smaller one stepped towards you—you saw yourself take an alarmed step back.

And then, faster than you had remembered—Bakguou was shooting into the store, the glass windows shattering under the blow from the door as he threw it open.

He was just as much a presence on screen as he was in person, all violence and savage grace. You watched as he grabbed the smaller man’s hand and twisted it at a brutal angle, then produced quirk suppressors from where they had been belted under one pant leg, just above his boot. You hadn’t even noticed it, then, hadn’t even thought to question where the quirk suppressor had come from—but he’d been wearing sweatpants yesterday, a pair not unlike the ones he’d been wearing this morning at breakfast.

But he clearly was packing some kind of emergency supply—and you wondered if he was wearing it now, even clanking around in the kitchen.

Then you watched as Bakugou approached you, saw yourself stumble as he grabbed your shirt to pull you out. To your surprise, you could see sudden concern twisting his features, clear as day, and you watched with surprise as he leaned down to look you in the face, hands going under your elbows to support you.

You remembered that—but it had all been so fast, and the sight of his hands, so gentle on you after he’d been so rough with the two men, made something in your stomach shift strangely. He really did seem to be looking after your safety, like an actual certified, probably-not-quirkist pro hero. You watched as Bakugou said something to you, and pulled you up into his arms. You instantly cringed at how truly princess-like you looked—having to be escorted out of the store under someone else’s power.

Embarrassingly, the comments section under the clip seemed particularly focused on that aspect as well.

2:11 ok but the way his arms flexed when he lifted her????? hello?????? jghgl26 2 hours ago Reply [Thumbs Up] 600 [Thumbs Down]

how he’s gonna carry me over the threshold after our wedding dynadaddy’s girl 5 hours ago Reply [Thumbs Up] 1.1k [Thumbs Down]

THE LIFT!!!!! HOLY SHIT!!! HOW EASY IT WAS FOR HIM?? am i gregnant? am i pegnate?? how to know if pregonate????? Rika Abe 2 hours ago Reply [Thumbs Up] 1.7k [Thumbs Down]

A hunted energy creeped over you as you read through them, your skin tingling. It suddenly took everything you had in you to click out of the video and not rewind it to the part where Bakugou had first hefted you into his arms. It had not been that appealing. And there was absolutely no reason you needed to witness the events again, no reason at all.

Bakugou chose that exact moment to rap on your door, and you accidentally flung your phone across the room in surprise, scrambling upright on your bed.

“Uh—come in,” you said, trying to not sound flustered.

Bakugou had clearly showered too as his hair was still damp, and moisture still glittered in the divots of his arm muscles. You clamped down very tightly on the echo of pegnate?? Am i gregnant???? that was suddenly the only sound in your entire brain.

No no no no.

You would not let Megumi and some internet perverts get the best of you.

“Oi, you just gonna sit here all day?” Bakugou demanded.

You frowned up at him. “I have been doing homework, thank you very much,” you said defensively.

Bakugou made a show of surveying your bed which was pointedly empty of any textbooks or notepads. “Yeah, looks like you’re real hard at work, princess.”

“Well I was,” you said, but you could already tell Bakugou had made up his mind.

“It’s time to talk about your second new rule,” he pronounced smugly.

“Another one?” You asked, heart sinking.

That razor sharp smile cut into Bakugou’s mouth again. “Yeah. You’re learning how to cook actual fucking food.”

You paused and stared at him, mystified. “What,” you asked flatly.

“I told you I was sick of watching you eat garbage,” he said. You could almost taste the disdain, dripping off of him like butter off of the baked potato he had so despised. “I can’t keep you alive if you die of fucking scurvy.”

“I eat fruit!” You bit back defensively. “And potatoes are good for treating scurvy!”

Bakugou wasn’t listening, though. Before you knew what was happening, he’d already fisted his hand in the back of your shirt and was hauling you to your feet. You felt like a kitten being scruffed by its intimidatingly well-muscled mother.

“Bakugou–what the hell—?”

But you were already being herded into the kitchen, where Bakugou had apparently preemptively arranged the instruments of your torture—several knives, a grater, a variety of pots, a rainbow of vegetables, an apple, some chicken, and a knob of ginger. Behind it all you spotted several other types of herbs and spices, some flour, and chicken stock.

“You’re gonna make curry, princess,” he informed you imperiously.

Curry! Okay now curry you could kind of do. You peered around for the sauce mix, poking through the ingredients on the counter.

Bakugou watched you, scarlet eyes tracking you curiously. “What,” he asked, though it was barely phrased like a question.

“Where’s the packet?” you asked, not finding it among the things he’d laid out.

Two blonde eyebrows went up, and you swore you could almost see a vein pop in Bakugou’s forehead. He grabbed the counter beside your hip, leaning back in, and you definitely did not notice the definition in his bicep as he did so.

“Packet?” He demanded, in the tones of someone who’d just witnessed their entire family get massacred. “Packet?”

You watched his handsome face work through what had to be the five stages of grief. “If I fucking ever hear about a packet again I’ll sell you to Matsui myself,” he said.

He reached over and slammed a kitchen scale down in front of you, followed by several of the ingredients. “Now pay attention, brat, I’m not showing you this twice.”

You knew better than to argue.

Under Bakugou’s stern direction, a curry roux—a term you would not have been able to supply before he’d said it—came together quickly. He stationed you at the stove, stirring everything together for almost twenty minutes while he chopped vegetables in front of you, a rainbow of carrots, potatoes, onions, and some leftover asparagus and peppers he’d dug out of the fridge. Then he made you grate an apple and some ginger into a paste while he sliced the chicken in expert strokes, narrating everything in his gruff tones.

It was strangely hypnotic, watching Bakugou’s hands work. You’d not paid much attention before, but he had long fingers, almost elegant but for the various scars and calluses that littered his skin, evidence of his career pressed into his fair flesh. You watched his fingers bunch at the end of the knife, the swift, decisive sweep of his palm moving ingredients back and forth on the cutting board.

Your skin prickled with the memory of those hands on you in the hallway after you’d passed out, the image of how gently those hands had handled you in the convenience store, and you shook off the thought, the back of your neck weirdly warm.

They were just hands. And they were Bakugou’s hands, for that matter. Make one wrong move on the end of those hands and you’d get cooked, faster than the curry you were working on now.

Eventually Bakugou divided everything into two bowls, and shepherded you over to the coffee table.

“That’s real curry, princess,” he informed you haughtily as you sat down, blowing on the golden sauce. It shimmered under the living room lighting, curls of steam rising off of it in tempting twists.

If this was real curry, you never wanted to eat anything else. As with dinner and breakfast, it was perfect—expertly seasoned, everything evenly sliced and cooked just right. You hated how much you liked it, suppressing a pleased groan as you shoveled down spoonfuls.

“I hate you for how good this is,” you admitted to him.

A wicked smirk cut the corners of Bakugou’s mouth, and the sight of it raised a strange heat to your face. You shifted uncomfortably.

Whatever. It was probably just the spice in the curry.

After dinner you helped Bakugou wash up, and you were sent for a loop by how easy it was. There was still some kind of… tension… that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, and it wasn’t like he’d done a complete one-eighty in your esteem.

But knowing now that he hadn’t despised you for your quirklessness… hadn’t even actually despised you at all, really. It seemed like it had somehow flipped a switch inside of you. You’d told him that you’d needed more time to think on it, to come to terms with the things that he’d told you about himself. But really, with the air cleared so definitively, well—

You kind of thought maybe Bakugou wasn’t horrible after all.

You still wanted to bite him, actually–that hadn’t gone away–but you definitely didn’t think he was horrible.

The thought unnerved you.

When you were done you retreated to your room, still mulling that idea over, bemused at the idea that Bakugou wasn’t actually bad if you weren’t looking at him through the lens of your quirk supremacist glasses.

You managed a little bit more homework and cleaned up your notes from one of your previous lectures, shooting off a couple questions to one of your TAs. And that’s when you finally noticed it, an email from earlier this afternoon, sitting primly at the top of your inbox. It read: New Day Japan - Interview Request

You opened the email, interest piqued by the mention of one of the country’s most famous morning programs. What it said inside floored you.

Miss L/N, My name is Honda Ichika; I’m a producer here at New Day Japan. We’re airing a segment on the two quirkless anti-discrimination bills currently circulating in the National Diet, and we plan to cover your story in relation. We would love to interview as part of this segment. Specifically, we are hoping you can comment on: - Cultural barriers quirkless civilians face - Your specific experiences with respect to the events portrayed in your viral video and subsequent run-in last evening, as a microcosm of those cultural barriers, and -Your feelings on the efforts of the assembly to pass these anti-discrimination bills. The interview won’t exceed 15 minutes and will take place Thursday morning in our studio in Nakano (address to be provided upon acceptance). While I can’t offer questions ahead of time, I promise the questions will fall within the outline I mentioned above. The story, once completed, will run Friday morning. Please let us know by Sunday what your interest is. Cordially, Honda Ichika

You gaped, stunned by the idea that anyone wanted to interview you about anything.

New Day Japan was a hugely important morning news program that had been running for something like the last fifty years, and it was a massive platform for anyone looking to speak to the average citizen.

You didn’t know that you in particular had anything worthy of that massive platform, and you were squirreled away in a safehouse besides, having just almost eaten it at the hands of two random quirkist assholes just yesterday. So it was probably not a great idea to draw any more attention to yourself, and it wasn’t like you had some huge message you wanted to share at the cost of your safety.

So you closed your laptop instead of answering, pulling up twitter on your phone for something to distract you.

And yet, even as you scrolled, your mind was helplessly drawn back to the email like a magnet, catching on key points. A segment on the two quirkless anti-discrimination bills, the cultural barriers quirkless civilians face….

Please let us know by Sunday what your interest is.

You had two days to either put it out of your mind, or figure out why it was piquing your interest so much. You could give it more thought in the morning.

You wondered absently, as you drifted off to sleep, what Bakugou would make of it.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x fem!reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugou x you #katsuki x reader #bakugo x y/n

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hyacintheros · 4 months ago

Text

As The World Caves In

|| (Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader)

Main Masterlist

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, a little swearing.

P.S: I woke up and craved angst, but is it angsty enough? Let me know!

“Dovey, have you seen the cardigan I bought last month? I’m sure I put it in the wardrobe..” Remus scratches his head, trying to recount his last use of the cardigan.

He ruffles through the wardrobe once more, grabbing at anything that looks remotely similar to the olive yarn. Abandoning his search within the wardrobe, he sets his sights on the dresser, thinking someone may have folded it away.

“I put it in the drawing room yesterday, thought you might’ve gotten cold,” his girlfriend says from the living room, waiting for him to finish up, checking the watch on her wrist. “Darling, we have to hurry! Dumbledore said this meeting’s important,” calling out to Remus, the arms tick closer to a quarter past 8:00 pm.

Remus grabs his cardigan from the room finally, shrugging it on and meeting her in the living room. “D’you have a tissue? Nose is acting up..” She hands him a tissue from her purse, linking their arms together. “Floo or apparition?” He asks, not sure if she’s up for apparating today. She urges to use the floo, grabbing the green powder.

Arriving at 12 Grimmauld Place, they’re greeted by Lily and James on the stairs sharing a goblet of pumpkin juice. They’re followed by Peter, coming down the fireplace behind them, Sirius popping out from the kitchen. “We’re getting the band back together!” Sirius jokes about, rarely ever having the gang together due to the circumstances.

“Will everyone please make their way to the dining room? There are things needing to be discussed.” Dumbledore calls out to them, feeling as if they were all back in Hogwarts again.

As they make their way, the girl falls behind, a portrait of Regulus Black being displayed in the hall. She thinks back to her best friend, a guilty ache in her chest reverberates around.

“Come on lovey, they’re waiting,” Remus urges her to continue walking, his eyes gazing at the portrait, understanding the grief she felt, pitying the poor boy for his situation. The dining room is filled with a thick, sombre air, no one knowing exactly what would come of this meeting.

Clearing his throat, Albus starts, “It has come to my attention, through a trusted source, that we are in knowledge of a Death Eater hideout. Multiple, in fact. We must act fast, locations and words always changing. Please arrange yourselves into pairs, each pair will be given a location to ambush.”

Picking partners has always been easy for the group, having done this since potions in first year, the Lupin couple pairs up, while James and Lily take each other, leaving Sirius and Peter together. Albus comes around, giving them a piece of parchment with an address and an estimated number of people within the area.

Looking at theirs, the couple are tasked with going off to the Cambridge countryside, followed by an estimation of 3 of the Dark Lord’s followers within the area.

Thanking Dumbledore, they walk back to the living room preparing for their departure. “I’m just heading up to grab something, give me a moment.” She pecks Remus’ lips and goes up the stairs, her feet dragging her to Regulus’ room. She knocks on the door, knowing there will be no response, yet still doing so in respect for her friend.

Entering the room, she looks at the way he left it, knowing he left something in here for her. Before leaving, he left her a letter, meant for her eyes only. It had stated that she was to keep the necklace he had hidden in his childhood room, destroying it when he gave a signal she would know to look for.

She scours the room, lifting the books and looking behind the shelves, shimmying through the wardrobe, pawing under the bed. She finds the necklace in his potions set that had been tucked away in the dresser.

She hurries back downstairs, hiding the necklace under her shirt. “The brooms are ready, we should head there now if we want to arrive before midnight, love.” Remus grasps her hand, exchanging their goodbyes with their friends and telling each other to stay safe, not knowing the next time they’ll see each other next.

They mount onto their respective brooms, slowly picking up their pace, flying gently through the night sky. The couple flies side by side, pointing out small things they pass by. “That star looks like you, Rem!” She says, smiling at him. “How could a star look like me??” He asks, confused by her statement. “It just does, don't question it, love,” her eyes look back up to the stars in amazement, never getting enough no matter how many times she’s done this before.

The pair arrive at a cottage 2 hours later, keeping their heads low and their ears open, hiding within the bushes. Lights are on in the small cottage, low chatter emitting from the window. Remus looks at the girl, signalling her to approach with him.

Getting to the back of the home, they enter quietly through a bedroom window, manoeuvring themselves throughout the house. Finally, they bust into the hallway leading to the living room, wands out and at the ready.

“Look who's come to play! Treasure? What are you doing here? You're wasting yourself away with the Order..?” Barty Crouch Jr, her dear friend whom she hasn't seen since graduation stands in front of her, putting down his wand at the sight of her. Evan Rosier, who had been a part of their Slytherin group is positioned next to him, also lowering his own wand.

“Junior.. Evan? What are you two doing here? Don't tell me you're with him…” The girl slowly walks over to them, Remus grabbing her arm to stop her. “Darling, don't go near them!” She rips her arm from him, her chest heavy with confusion at why she feels this way.

“Where's Reggie? Are you both alright, do they treat you well?” She hugs the two boys, terrified at the predicament they were placed in. One boy being forced into this by his family name, the other joining to spite his father.

“We're okay.. Regulus is okay, should be outside scanning the perimeter, we're just stationed here to keep an eye out. You joined the Order- still with the Lupin boy I see,” Evan speaks up, leaning his head to look at Remus briefly.

“Remus, what are we to do? We can't hurt them..” The girl turns back to her boyfriend, wanting his opinion on the matter, knowing how much she values her friends. Remus sighs, thinking about how terribly complicated things just got. He pinches the bridge of his nose, then inhaling greatly.

“We can’t take them back with us, their mark will haunt them, love. Unless they decide they really want to change, we can't do anything for them.” He tells his girlfriend, trying to work this situation in his head for the best possible outcome.

“I will not leave them, not in his hands. There must be something we can do Rem..” She looks at the two boys. “Do you two truly wish to stay and be a part of the Dark Lord’s mission..? Tell me it isn't true.”

Barty looks at her with guilt in his eyes, “We can't leave, treasure, he'll always find us… we'll be okay, isn't that right Rosie?” Evan assures the girl, not wanting to make her upset.

She grabs onto Evan’s shoulder's, begging him to allow her to take them to a safe house, the thought of her closest friends being a part of something so horrid making her heart squeeze.

Remus looks at his girlfriend, his own heart pouring out for her, still doing his best to think of a way out of this for the boys. At that moment, a green cloud of smoke booms outside, the four of them going out of the cottage in a haste, trying to figure out the source.

A dark mark hangs in the air, meaning only one thing. The appearance of the Dark Lord. In a haste, the girl hands off the necklace to Remus, not giving much time to explain why she has it. She pulls him in for a kiss, one deeper than the couple has ever shared before.

“There isn't much time, Remus. Please understand that whatever I've done, I've done for you, for your own safety. I love you, solely and dearly.. when you look up into the sky, please be reminded of how bright you shine, of how dear you are to those around you. Forgive me for what I have to do. There are letters in my dresser, please deliver them.. I will keep you in my heart, forever and always.”

She doesn't give him any time to respond, kissing him once more and holding him in her arms for the last time. Regulus, hearing the commotion, apperates closer, now seeing the guests they have. There is no time for reunions, instead having to take their sides in the war.

“My my… How cute, a small little gathering of sorts! So sorry to be a party crasher, but it seems that someone isn't supposed to be here..” Voldemort turns to Remus, eyes full of darkness.

“Come my dear, it's time to go.” The Dark Lord holds his hand out for the girl to take. She walks up, looking back to Remus with regretful eyes, tears spilling from them. Barty, Evan, and Regulus follow behind them, needing to leave with their Lord.

Remus calls out, desperate and terrified. Why would his darling girl, his angel, walk away willingly with the Dark Lord? His heart physically clenches, cheeks covered in shed tears, hands trembling and he falls on his knees, the necklace she gave him still in his hands.

The group had apperated away long ago, while Remus still sobs on the grass of the Cambridge countryside, shedding away his cardigan due to the pure panic and heat he felt in his body, trying to relieve some part of him. He racks his mind for anything that had happened within the past few months that could have been deemed suspicious, not being able to find anything.

He stays there for hours, running out of tears at some point, staring at the place he last saw her before they apperated. It's almost dawn now, the sun rising and the wind blowing. He can't bear being here, needing to find his way back.

Grabbing the brooms the two had arrived on, be apperates back to 12 Grimmauld Place, knowing The location like the back of his hand for all the wrong reasons. He collapses onto the couches in the living room, sobbing once more.

“Remus! Remus, what happened? Where is she?” Sirius says, referring to Remus’ girlfriend, noticing she didn't come back with him. Remus sobs even harder into Sirius’ chest, hugging him like a vice.

Remus was the last to come back from the mission, everyone else had finished things hours ago, praying to Merlin for the safety of the Lupin couple. Yet seeing only Remus come back terrified them.

He cries and sobs into Sirius’ chest for a few more minutes, finally calming down enough to say, “She went with them.. with Regulus, Barty, and Evan.. Voldemort took them away.. She walked into his arms!”

Anger overtakes him, how could his girlfriend betray them in such a way, claiming to love him, then walking away with the Dark Lord and his followers. Lily hugs Remus, still not entirely sure what to make out of this.

“Before leaving, she gave me this.. What the fuck do I do with this!?” He cries out, confused, heartbroken, and fuming. Dumbledore takes the necklace to inspect.

“It seems to be a horcrux.. Terribly dark magic. Did she say anything else, Remus?” Dumbledore asks, needing to know the lore behind said necklace. Remus shakes his head, trying to make sense of everything. James supports his friend, holding him as he processes.

“She left letters in her dresser.. I need to go and retrieve them-” Remus is cut off by Sirius, “I will grab them, dresser you said?" The boy heads to the floo, calling out to the Lupin cottage.

Remus, still distraught by the whole situation, feels the need to throw up, cry until he passes out, and curl into a ball and sleep it all away, praying this is some fucked up nightmare.

Sirius is back, five letters in hand, addressed to Remus, James, Peter, Lily, and himself. He distributes it to their respective owners, terrified to read it.

Remus practically rips his letter open, dying for some form of comfort and explanation. It reads:

“To My Darling Remus,

What I have done has hurt you, and I know that no matter what I say, it will never satisfy your heart, so I will explain everything the best I can.

Regulus had always confided in me at school, and I couldn't let the poor boy be alone in his situation. We couldn't help him the same way we did with Sirius, so I made the decision to join in hopes to protect Regulus.

The Dark Lord had figured out my relationship with the Order, demanding I make a sacrifice, or else he'd kill you. I couldn't allow that to happen, you deserve to live a life full of happiness, even if that isn't what you believe.

If everything has gone right, I have given you a necklace. Bring it to Dumbledore, Regulus has explained to me that it's a horcrux, holding a part of the Dark Lord’s soul in it. When destroyed, it will weaken him. Tell Albus that the sword must be pulled.

I need you to understand that what we had was real, and I will forever cherish you. Your laugh, your smile, your books, your cardigans, your moon. I love you, Remus. I love you like the sun loves the moon. I love you like a moth to a flame. Please live your life to the fullest, and don't have any regrets.

Forever, your love.”

Remus shakes, his whole body quivering, her tears drenching his cardigan and his sniffles taking over the room. After gripping his tears back, trying to lock them away behind his eyes, he says to Dumbledore, “The sword must be pulled.”

#marauders #marauders x reader #james potterr #sirius black #remus lupin x reader #peter pettigrew #remus lupin #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #rosekiller #lily evans

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candycandy00 · 5 months ago

Text

Roses in the Sky - An Original Alien x Reader Story Part 9

In a future where humanity huddles in decaying domed cities controlled by alien invaders, you and your best friend Anna work as make-shift nurses in a tiny clinic run by the young doctor Terrian. The city is ruled by the aliens' violent, half-breed offspring who serve as brutal overseers. You and Anna have always tried to avoid these overseers at all cost, but your life is changed when one of those same terrifying offspring is brought into the clinic, injured and unconscious.

This is an original Alien (well half alien) x Fem Reader story! I hope everyone who enjoys my fanfiction will give this a shot! I’m posting the first chapter just to check for interest. Any feedback whatsoever would be loved! I’ve already written this story so it’s not going to delay my fanfics. Just thought I might post chapters of this between fanfics if anyone is interested.

Slow burn, as this is a novel-length story, but there will be smut in later chapters! Also: violence, blood, rape attempts, death of side characters, etc.

Work at Terrian's house the next day was awkward and slow. Anna was obviously still upset over Nariah, and Terrian flitted around nervously, making pathetic and desperate attempts to get Anna to talk to him.

"Look, girls! I'm breaking out the steak reserves for lunch today!" he called at one point, holding up two large slabs of frozen meat.

Steak was Anna's favorite. She had looked up then, apparently tempted to say something, but she held her tongue and continued dusting.

You waited until Terrian stepped out of the room, then turned to Anna. "How long are you going to keep this up? He already apologized."

Anna looked down. "I know. I'm not really angry at him anymore. I just don't know what to say to him. Yesterday I admitted for the first time that I'm in love with him. Now I feel insecure around him."

"Well you're not making any progress like this. Just act like you did before. He's worried sick right now."

"Are you making progress with Vartan?" Anna asked suddenly.

You were caught off guard by the question. You stumbled over your words for a moment before nearly choking out a quiet, "Sort of."

Anna grinned. "Oh really? Are you sleeping with him already?"

"Of course not! I made him a bologna sandwich, okay?"

"Whatever you say," Anna laughed, nudging you with her elbow.

Terrian's doorbell rang loudly through the hall. You laid down your dusting rag and stood up, straightening the too-short skirt of your maid uniform and making your way to the door. You sighed as you pulled it open. "Yes, can I help-“

You were immediately silenced when you realized the person standing on Terrian's doorstep was a male half-breed with silver chin-length hair that framed his pale face. His narrow eyes were ice-blue and a strange shade of violet that you had never seen before, not even on a half-breed.

"A doctor lives here, correct?" His voice was lighter than Vartan's.

You weren’t sure how to answer. What if Terrian had gotten into trouble somehow? Perhaps confirming his location wasn't a good idea. "Um... I..."

The half-breed leaned in close. "This is important. Tell the doctor to come and examine my..." He stopped there, as if he had no idea how to finish the statement. He glanced back, and you noticed the thin young woman standing behind him. She was very clearly human, and her face, while pretty, was darkened by visible sadness.

"Is she sick?" you asked.

The half-breed took the woman's hand and gently, too gently for a half-breed, pulled her closer to the door. "She needs medical attention, yes."

You stepped aside. "Come on in. I'll get the doctor." You led them through the hall and to the living room, shrugging at a very shocked Anna on the way. The couple sat down on the couch as you ran to fetch Terrian.

You and Anna followed Terrian back into the living room and stood on either side of him. The woman introduced herself as Sophie.

"I'm pregnant," she said, quietly but bluntly.

You stifled a gasp. Terrian's face lit up. "You are? That's amazing! Pregnancies are so rare. You must be immune to the chemicals in the water."

Sophie did not share his enthusiasm. "I didn't believe it at first. I missed a couple of periods and then a friend gave me an old pregnancy test to try. After that, I still didn't believe. Then Keon gave me a Pagoda test, and it came back positive. He says there's no way it can be wrong."

You noticed that Sophie seemed so sad. Her voice sounded as if it was threatening to break at any moment.

"So, do you want me to monitor the pregnancy then?" Terrian asked.

"No," the half-breed spoke up, "we want you to terminate it."

The smile Terrian had been wearing dissolved. "What?"

"You are capable of terminating the pregnancy, are you not?" the half-breed asked.

Terrian looked directly at Sophie. "Is this what you want to do?"

The half-breed opened his mouth, but Sophie put a hand on his arm. "Please, Keon," she said weakly, "let me talk to him. I'll explain."

The half-breed, Keon, looked at her with a flash of anger in his eyes.

Sophie didn't move her hand. "Please," she repeated, and Keon stood up. He walked out of the living room and closed the door behind him. You had never seen a half-breed do as a human asked before. Well, not besides Vartan.

"Keon is the father, as you've probably guessed," Sophie began, her voice still shaky. "We met three years ago. He showed up at my door one day out of the blue, with a proposition.”

“A proposition?” Anna asked.

Sophie nodded. “Apparently some half breeds make arrangements with specific humans. They offer protection from the other half breeds, and in exchange the humans satisfy their needs. It’s a mutual arrangement, or at least ours is. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d refused. But I agreed to the terms, and I’ve been able to walk through the city without fear. They call it ‘claiming’. I’ve been claimed by Keon, so no other half breed will touch me.”

Your heart was beating fast as the words sank into your brain. Half-breeds could choose specific humans? Other half-breeds would stay away? Was that what Vartan had done to you?

"It's not so bad," Sophie continued. "Keon has always been relatively gentle with me. But now..." Her voice trailed off as she looked down at her own stomach.

"So he doesn't want his pet to have a baby?" Anna asked with a tinge of venom in her voice.

Sophie chuckled bitterly. "He was so furious and disgusted that I thought he would kill me."

Anna's face was turning red, her hatred for the half-breeds boiling beneath her skin.

"But he didn't kill me," Sophie went on, "Instead he started frantically asking around for a human doctor. One of the other half-breeds apparently told him about a clinic they had shut down, and that they had heard the doctor survived. That's when he told me I have to have an abortion."

"But why?" you asked.

Sophie met your eyes, and you could almost see the agony and rage festering there, held back by her quiet sorrow. "The half-breeds are forbidden to breed, at all. If the Pagoda were to find out I'm pregnant, they would execute Keon and myself immediately. The baby would die anyway. If we somehow managed to hide the pregnancy until the child was born, the Pagoda would give it a gruesome death if they ever found it. We would have to live in constant fear. Keon said that we should end it now, before..." Her voice finally broke, and tears streamed down her face. "Before we... grow to care for the child," she finished.

Terrian stood up. "Alright, I understand. I can examine you in one of the guest rooms and make preparations."

Sophie nodded. "Thank you, doctor. Please just give me a moment."

"Of course," Terrian told her. "My nurses will help you when you're ready."

He left the room. You and Anna began to follow him out, eager to give the woman privacy while she regained her composure. "It's not fair, is it?" she asked, and you stopped to look back at her. Sophie’s eyes were red from crying and her hands were shaking. "It's a miracle, that I'm immune to the chemicals, that I can give birth. It's my miracle but... I have to kill it." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Keon, who had been waiting patiently in the hall, walked into the living room and sat down beside Sophie. He stared at her wordlessly, and you saw a faint hint of pain in his face. He looked as if he wanted to reach out to the trembling woman beside him, to comfort her, but his hands remained stiffly by his sides. You found it sad that he had been sleeping with the woman for three years, yet he had no idea how to hold her.

Terrian examined Sophie several minutes later, and afterward told her to come back in two days for the procedure to end the pregnancy. He had to gather up the tools and medicines needed to ensure her safety. The couple thanked him and left, leaving the rest of the day clear for you and Anna to finish your cleaning duties.

Two hours of mopping and dusting later, Anna disappeared. You searched the kitchen, hall, and three rooms before hearing voices coming from behind one of the bedroom doors on the second floor. You pressed your ear against the door and listened.

"I'm not angry with you," you heard Anna say. "It's not your fault that Terrian kept you a secret."

"But my presence bothers you," Nariah's lovely voice responded.

"Well, I'm still getting used to... your kind."

"Don't worry," Nariah said, "you're certainly not the first human to regard me with fear and unease." Anna said nothing in response, and after a brief pause, Nariah spoke again. "Did you know that half-breeds are not allowed to meet their human parents?"

Anna must have shaken her head, because Nariah went on. "Most often, the human parents are executed shortly after the birth of the half-breed. But sometimes, very rarely, the human is kept alive if the offspring is viewed as exceptional by the Pagoda, for further breeding. I do not understand what their standards are, or how they determine such things, but I was considered one of these 'exceptional offspring'. My human mother was kept alive for three years after she gave birth to me."

You could hear Anna's breath hitch as she gave a small gasp. "You met her, didn't you?"

"Yes," Nariah said softly, "I did. One of the other half-breeds told me where to find her, probably more out of malice than of kindness. I searched the Tower, my curiosity overpowering my sense of obedience to the Pagoda. We half-breeds were forbidden from visiting the breeding and containment rooms, you see. But I found her, huddled in a metal contraption that looked like a cage. She looked so much like me, I knew in an instant that she was indeed my mother."

There was another pause, then Anna finally asked, "What happened?"

"I approached the cage, my heart pounding, and looked her in the eyes. At that moment, I called her 'mother'. I don't know why. We were never taught to use such sentimental terms, and I had only heard the word on the lips of the humans in the city. Maybe it was some buried human instinct. Regardless, she had heard me, and she screamed in terror. She recoiled from me until her back hit the other side of the cage. I was... repulsive to her."

Tears formed in your eyes as you listened outside the door. Anna remained silent.

When Nariah continued, her beautiful voice was slightly darker. "My mother began shrieking, 'Get it away from me! Get that monster away!' and she wouldn't stop until a Pagoda, my father, appeared behind her with a blade in his hand. He reached in between the metal bars and slit her throat, silencing her. She died in the cage, still looking at me with horror in her eyes."

For several minutes, the room was quiet and you heard nothing. Then footsteps abruptly headed toward the door and it slid open. Anna walked out of the room, her face red and puffy. She had been crying. "Oh, hey," she said when she noticed the hall wasn't empty.

"Sorry, I listened in," you told her, wiping your own eyes.

"It's alright. How much did you hear?"

"The story about her mom. That was awful. How could someone be afraid of their own child? And Nariah was only three at the time, right? How could she be scary?"

"Oh, so you didn't hear about the age thing," Anna said.

"What age thing?"

Anna smiled, the redness in her face dissipating. "Nariah is only fourteen years old."

"No way!" you said, a little too loud. Nariah looked at least twenty.

"I'm serious. She said half-breeds age a lot quicker than humans until they reach maturity. Then the process slows down to a crawl. So when she was three, she might have looked ten."

"Whoa, that's crazy. I guess we were wrong about her relationship with Terrian then.”

Anna's smile grew broader. "Yeah, she didn't know how to describe it, because she doesn't have anything to compare it to, but I think he treats her like a sister from everything she told me."

You smiled too. "That's great, Anna!"

They finished the chores, both in a slightly better mood. Anna was on speaking terms with Terrian again, waving and saying goodbye as she left. He was so happy he nearly cried, and you laughed as you headed out the door.

When you reached the door of your apartment, you wondered whether Vartan would still be there. You kept reminding yourself that he could leave at any moment without warning. With more than a little apprehension, you stepped inside.

Clearly visible from the door, Vartan was lying across the couch, fast asleep. You took a blanket from a nearby chair and spread it over his body. You turned out the lamp on the table next to him and leaned down.

"Goodnight," you whispered, then smiled as you walked to your own room and went to bed.

Tag List:

@scrumptiouslampwobblercop

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know!

#alien x reader #alien x human #x reader #alien x you #original x reader #original fiction #x reader smut #x reader stories #scifi x reader

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gwiyeounsonyeon · 6 months ago

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Growing Pains CH2 (MWC Day 8!)

Pairing: RE2 Leon Kennedy x Male(Intended) Reader Summary: College AU/Meet-cute(?) The cute guy that Claire hangs out with finally works up the courage to talk to you. Words: 1,662/200 Warnings: a few curse words but that's to be expected. Notes: Leon is super shy and awkward, I haven't read through it but when I was writing the dialogue and the text between it felt pretty chunky so if anyone has notes about that please let me know, I'm experimenting a little with the paragraphs, let me know if you liked the smaller ones better.

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Friday felt like it would never end, like you’d never be able to catch a break. You had to feel grateful, though, it hadn’t rained yet and your weather app told you it would be sunny all day. The extreme difference in the weather kept you reeling, back home the temperature and weather were usually consistent with the month, but after moving closer to school you'd noticed that the weather was a lot more sporadic here; yesterday it had been freezing and pouring for the majority of the day, getting as low as 10 °C with a warning for hail. Today was the complete opposite, the temperature had been between 26 and 32 °C with absolutely no clouds in sight. The extreme (and unwarranted) differences in the weather had left you staggering to catch up, you’d woken up that morning absolutely drenched in sweat and blinded by the sun. Having set your thermostat to keep up with the freezing temperatures outside and the poor insulation of your cheap apartment, since it had been cloudy all week you never bothered with your curtains or blinds but clearly that was a mistake.

You probably shouldn't say you hated Chicago, it was nice sometimes and the students here were pretty respectful. You could count on one hand all of the times you’ve actually had a bad customer experience and all of them centered around finals or exams. You look up as the bell dings and a customer enters, he’s huge, completely dwarfing you in size. As soon as he steps up to the counter you recognize him, his pale skin, and the weird markings on his face. You’ve heard Claire complaining about him time and time again, he was apparently so strict that no one in his classes has ever passed.

You highly doubted that no one’s ever passed but since she never gave you his name, and only referred to him as the Evil Tyrant of the West Wing, you could never fact-check her. Evil tyrant or not, you still had a job to do and money to make so, you put on your best smile and greeted him politely. He orders a black coffee and a triple shot of expresso, you’re a little intimidated by his voice, and maybe his order but you know plenty of guys with his stature and intimidating aura who are actually sweethearts. The order is simple, youve made it so many times for the poor professors who used to come by in the dead of night, it's pure muscle memory at this point. Getting his order made and totaled up on the register takes little to no thought, he waits like he's got better things to do, and before you can tell him he tosses the exact total onto the counter, paying without thanking (or tipping) you.

He scoops up his two drinks before marching out of the shop. His footsteps are loud and heavy, clunky boots dropping down hard onto the linoleum like you used to do as a pubescent 16-year-old throwing a tantrum, you think about how every time you did that your mom would call you disrespectful and she’d take away your phone. At that thought small smile forms on your face, you can't help but feel a little amused at the image of your tiny, 5’4 mother disciplining a man about as tall and wide as a skyscraper. “What an ass.” You huff and glance back down at the tip jar, it was a measly four bucks and some change, mostly quarters. You’ve had worse tips, at least this could buy you a water and maybe some peanuts or sunflower seeds if you chose right.

You lean against the counter and cast a glance out of the big windows at the front, the guy Claire eats with is out there looking like a terrified puppy, he’s gripping the handles of his bike tightly as the tyrant guy chews into him for something you can only imagine. You watch as the tyrant storms off, pretty dramatically, Claire's friend puts up his bike and locks it to the pole before coming inside, he flinches when he sees you watching and shakily pulls off his (stupid-looking) helmet. “You- uh… Did you see all that?” His voice shakes slightly and he fidgets with the helmet nervously “Maybe.” You shrug wanting to cut the guy some slack. “Was it something you wanted me to see?” He shakes his head and you go back to the register, “Then I guess I didn't see anything.” He visibly relaxes but his steps toward the counter are a little shaky, you’re already tapping his order into the register by the time he gets up to the counter. “I didn't even order yet…” He sounds a little flustered and you look up to see that his cheeks have gone pink. “You get the same thing every time.” You counter, tapping the green total button on the register, “What if I wanted something different.” His voice evens out like he's getting more comfortable. “Did you?” - “No.” You chuckle at the absurdity and shake your head.

“2.95 big guy.” There's a pause and you look up expectantly, he's looking at you star-struck but as soon as you make eye contact he fumbles for his wallet, dropping his helmet in the process. “Um- im so sorry…” He apologizes quickly, handing you a five and bending to pick up his helmet. “S’fine.” you pause to put his cash into the register and pull out his change. “Two-oh-five is your change.” You hand it back only for him to drop it into your tip jar, he smiles and takes his cookie when you hand it to him. “Is- uh. I mean- is Claire not here today?” He fumbles a little, tearing off pieces of his cookie.

You shake your head “Nah, not yet. Summer’s always slow.” He nods along with you, it's obvious he knows Claire isn't here. You look over at the windows again and check your watch, it's just about closing time. “Why is that?” He breaks the silence as you log out of the register, you look up at him a little caught off guard, “Hm? Why what?” His cheeks go pink and he fumbles for words- “Um… I mean- uh. Why is summer always slow?” You nod, understanding what he meant, and go back to the register with a shrug, “Luis says it’s ‘cause of the heat, no one wants hot drinks.” He nods slightly and finishes off his cookie, crumpling up the napkin as he lingers. It's not hard to see that he wants to keep talking to you and you almost feel bad for him, you finish logging off and nod in the direction of the trash can. “Bet you a free drink you can't get that into the trash from here.” You know you shouldn't be handing out drinks but he's too cute and it's the first thing that pops into your head.

He visibly lights up, his eyes get wider and his back straightens “Alright.” He looks back at the trash can by the door, taking his attention off of you. You can't help but admire him while he lines up his shot, he's got a cute side profile, he's pretty tall, and his hair looks nice and soft. He raises the napkin over his head and tosses it in, you tear your eyes away from the muscle in his arms to see the balled-up napkin bounce off the window and into the trash. He looks back at you with a shit-eating grin on his face, you shrug and smile back while turning to grab a cup. “I was on the basketball team in high school.” He says sounding more confident than he had earlier, you snort as he reveals this crucial information after he wins your little game.

“Guess I set myself up then, huh?” You get a cup and turn back to him, “Whatchu want?” He looks proud of himself, his shoulders relaxed and held back confidently. You can't help but think he looks handsome when he’s confident like this, the worry lines on his face disappear, his brows unfurrow, and he actually looks his age. “What if…” He trails off, his demeanor turning anxious again. He swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing with the effort, “uh- w- what if… I got your number, instead of a drink?” A smile forces its way onto your face, he looks so nervous he might give himself an aneurysm. You huff playfully, unable to resist, this has to be the highlight of your week.

You turn away from him to brew an iced coffee, It might be a little mean for you to draw this out, to make him worry more. “You want milk and sugar?” But you’ve always struggled with self-control. There's a long pause, before- “Ye… um yes please.” His voice is small and there's a slight shake if you listen close enough. You feel a little bad for doing this but you continue, you never pussy out. You finish brewing his coffee and in a smooth, well-practiced motion, you slap a sticker on the side and mark it with your name and number, putting a little x underneath.

You hand it to him and without giving him time to think or breathe you herd him out of the shop. “Gotta close, call me later.” You shut and lock the door as he stands in front of it bewildered, his brain takes a while to catch up and you see him look down at the coffee in his hand and start to turn around but you’re faster; turning off the open sign and closing the blinds with a speed that you should be using for more important things, like getting dressed when you’re late to class, or finishing an essay that's about to be overdue, not being mysterious to the cute guy who still hasn't given you his name.

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A/N: it's getting easier and easier to write already, it didn't take half as long as yesterday's did to get 1,000 words. It feels so much good to actually feel happy writing. I can't help but feel worried it's not going to last forever with my fluctuating mental health but I've been looking up a few books to help improve my writing, grammar, flow, and punctuation and I've been seeing a lot of these writers saying that it's okay for you to be worried about that and to just push through.

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brbsoulnomming · 1 year ago

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Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 16

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Eddie wakes up screaming.

He doesn't even remember the nightmare he must have had, just the overwhelming feeling of terror mixed all in with aching grief. He closes his eyes and he can taste lake water, hear the echo of Patrick McKinney's screams and the crunch of breaking bones like they're right there in the room with him. He opens his eyes and he sees Chrissy smiling at him, sitting at that picnic table looking so scared that he couldn't do anything other than try to make her laugh, try to make her feel a little less alone. He told her that he'd help her and then he left her, and she died just as scared and alone as she thought she'd been when she came to him for help, all by herself in a stranger's living room, with only a boy who'd rather run and hide than stay by her side.

Part of him is aware that his breath is coming in huge, hiccuping sobs, can feel the pain from the way it aggravates his injuries, knows he must be crying because his pillows are wet, but he can't break himself out of it, can't - he breathes, deep and gasping, picks up the smell of Steve's shampoo. Remembers how Steve had helped him breathe last night and tries to replicate it in his head.

It doesn't work nearly as well.

Steve finds him like that, huddled in bed and folded in on himself as much as he can manage, head between his knees as he trembles and pants. At least he isn't fucking crying anymore, but he still hadn't heard any sign that Steve'd gotten back, and when he finally does manage to look up at him, the concern in Steve's eyes tells him he'd probably said his name more than once.

Eddie doesn't mean to, but he flinches when Steve reaches out, and then he has to bite off a noise of protest when Steve steps back.

Steve stays frozen where he is, his expression unreadable. "What is it?"

Eddie laughs at him. It comes out sharp and hysterical and fuck, he knows it's only because it's either laugh or break into sobs again. Jesus Christ, what isn't it? There's a creeping, poisonous feeling roiling low in his gut that he can't quite name, that he's too afraid to look closely at, like fucking everything he does these days, apparently.

"Did something new happen?" Steve asks, apparently changing tactics.

It works well enough for Eddie to shake his head, though that doesn't make him feel any better.

"Okay," Steve says, letting out a rush of air, and Eddie only realizes that Steve'd been holding so much tension when he watches most of it drain out of him.

Then Steve sits on the edge of the bed, seemingly more steady now that he knows some new kind of horror hadn't gotten to Eddie while he was gone - that Eddie's only freaking out again over the old horrors, the ones that are yesterday's news now that they're a few days old, and fuck, how does he live like this?

How is Steve so calm? How has he been so calm, how did he watch someone get lifted up into the air and almost die, how did he get nearly drowned and bitten to hell and march barefoot through hell and go back into hell and drag Eddie out of it and stay so fucking calm and collected and confident? The whole damn time, Eddie never once saw him break, not even when Eddie had a broken bottle against his neck and was questioning his own sanity enough that he might have actually used it, not even when it was all over and they were in the hospital.

Shit, Eddie knows what's flooding through his veins. Steve's steady hands and soothing voice might have been a comfort every time before, but now it just makes him furious - makes him wonder what the fuck is wrong with Eddie that he's reacting like this when Steve fucking Harrington has been as strong and sure as any hero Eddie's ever read about.

"How can you just be like this?" Eddie asks, and he can hear the despair in his own voice.

He guesses Steve can, too, because he opens his mouth, and Eddie snaps.

"Don't," he says. "Shut up, okay, just don't, don't say anything, don't answer me when I'm not done."

Steve's jaw shuts with a click, and Eddie almost wants to look away from him, but fuck he's all fired up now, and he feels like if he doesn't get this out he's going to explode.

"I knew who I was before this," Eddie says angrily. "I'm the freak, okay, I'm loud and obnoxious and I'm scary and I could always back it up if someone tried to mess with me or my flock. Then this happens, this shit that should be right up my alley, and I fucking run! And don't tell me how you ran too, all right, because you ran for about fifteen seconds before you turned right back around to save your girl and the guy who punched you in the face, and I ran and hid for days like a rat. And I ran again and again, and the one time I didn't run I almost died, and now I realize that all those other times I thought I had it in me to do what it takes were a giant, steaming pile of crap. How do you just - how am I supposed to come back from that, man? How am I supposed to just keep going on?"

There's a long, long silence, and then Steve raises a pointed eyebrow at him.

"I'm done," Eddie says belatedly. "Yeah, I'm done, I'd like an answer to that."

God, he'd like a fucking answer to that.

"You aren't," Steve says quietly. "You aren't supposed to come back from that. I don't think any of us really have, not the same as we were before."

"Fuck," Eddie swears, mostly just to swear, because he knows Steve is right. It makes him deflate, the anger draining out of him and leaving a bone deep exhaustion. Still, he asks, "Can I get a different answer?"

Steve quirks a little smile. "All right, I got a couple of them. First - it was way longer than fifteen seconds. I'm pretty sure I stood there surrounded by Christmas lights shouting this is crazy for at least a solid thirty, and that was before the physical running."

Despite himself, Eddie barks out a little laugh, wincing as it pulls at his stitches. "Fuck you, dude, don't make me laugh."

The look he gets is entirely unapologetic. "Second - you're right. We can't really compare yours to mine. Eddie - my first brush with this was a demogorgon crawling out of the walls of the Byers house. Yeah, it was terrifying, and it haunted my dreams for a little bit, but it was still just one monster that I could whale on with my bat. You got hit with clock obsessed evil wizard who kills people with his mind right off the bat. That's like taking an all star little leaguer and dropping him right into the World Series, man, and you still held your own."

Eddie groans. "Again, with the sports metaphors?"

"Yup," Steve replies, shooting him another look. "Isn't it annoying when someone gives what's probably a really apt metaphor for the situation that people who aren't up to date on a specific terminology can barely understand?"

Eddie's brows narrow, but mostly to hide his snort of amusement. "I feel like I'm unfairly getting the brunt of a bunch of decisions made by a bunch of freshmen."

"Look, my point is that this is the kind of shit that no one expects to happen to them, ever. And you're not going to come back from that the same guy that you were before it. You're going to have to look at yourself in a different light, and there's going to be some things that you'll see that you won't like. But the great thing is - shit, man, you get to change them. You get to look at yourself and go no, I don't want that to be who I am, and I'm not going to let it. And yeah - the people that you couldn't save before you changed are going to haunt you. Maybe you'll always feel responsible. But the best thing is, you've got people on your side to remind you that you don't have to do any of it alone."

It's not a surprise that Steve sounds like he's talking from experience. It is a surprise that it makes Eddie feel… better. Makes him feel like he's not the only one who's freaking out about this, like someone else has not only gone through the same thing, but felt something similar.

"For the record," Steve says, very quietly, like he's not quite sure how to say this or where he's going with it. "It wasn't facing down the demobats that made you brave. It wasn't - redemption, or whatever, all right?"

Eddie feels caught out, like Steve's looked too closely at him and seen what he usually keeps all wrapped up and safe, like he knows the kind of stories that Eddie tells himself about the world, and the place he's thought he occupied in it this last week. "No? Then what was my redemption?"

"You didn't have one," Steve replies, and fuck, ouch. Steve must read something in his face, because he hurries to add, "You didn't need one. Every time you ran, you did exactly what you should have done, and when it came down to it you went with us to Mordor without hesitation. None of us ever thought you were a coward, man, you had nothing to prove to us."

"I did," is what comes out of his mouth, and he didn't realize until he said it that it's true, that he knows what he needs to tell Steve. "Look, I - I know in the grand scheme of all of this, high school doesn't really feel like it matters all that much anymore, but I was still a jerk. The way I treated Lucas wasn't all that different from what I've always said I was protecting those guys from, you know? Tearing him down, excluding him because he liked something we didn't think was cool. Took a murder rep and almost getting eaten to realize it, but, you know, I got there. I'm getting there."

Steve's looking at him like he's proud of him again, even after his little outburst, and it hits him even harder this time around. "You apologize to him?"

Eddie opens his mouth to say that he had, then closes it, frowning. "Uh. I mean, I told him I should have moved Hellfire and it wasn't okay the way I treated him? I'm not actually sure the sorry part made it out. But I will!"

Steve makes some kind of gesture that Eddie's going to interpret to mean there you go, but he doesn't say anything.

"Sorry," Eddie mutters, fingers twisting in the sheets. "For snapping at you."

Steve tips his head in acknowledgement. Doesn't say it's okay, doesn't say it isn't okay, just holds Eddie's gaze for a moment before he moves on.

Eddie is sharply, ridiculously grateful.

"I told the others they couldn't come over yet," Steve says. "They're probably going to invade tomorrow, though."

Eddie pulls in a breath and lets it out, slow and shaky, and very carefully unfolds himself more, stretching out his legs and letting his arms fall to his side. "Yeah. That's fine, I can get it together by tomorrow."

Steve's looking at him with these big, sad eyes, something like resignation in them.

"What?" Eddie asks.

"That's how I do it," Steve says. "When all this is going on - I just get it together, because I have to."

"What about when it's not going on?" He hadn't meant to ask that, he doesn't think, but it just slips out.

"Kind of feels like it's always going on," Steve says with a rueful little quirk to his smile, then shrugs. "I don't know, man, I'll get back to you when I've figured that out. But as far as I'm concerned, there's no wrong way to try to handle all this, all right?"

Eddie thinks about that for a moment. Then, "Who couldn't you save that you feel responsible for?"

He's not sure what possessed him to ask - maybe because he wants to give Steve the opportunity to be comforted over something the way Steve did for Eddie, maybe because he's too fucking curious for his own good, maybe because he selfishly wants to know how much from his own experience Steve was talking about. Still, he watches Steve closely, ready to back off if the question makes him shut down.

It doesn't. If anything, Steve looks like he was kind of expecting that.

"Barbara Holland."

Eddie frowns. "The girl that was killed by a chemical leak from Hawkins Lab? Nancy's friend?"

"Wasn't a chemical leak." Steve pushes his fingers through his hair. "It was a demogorgon, the very first one. Nancy and Tommy and Carol and Barb were all over at my house, and we were drinking and horsing around and shit. Barb cut her hand trying to shotgun a beer. Nance told her that she should head home, that Nancy was going to stay over. We all thought Barb left, but… she didn't. While we were all inside, the demogorgon grabbed her from my backyard, dragged her off to who knows where."

"Goddamn. That was, what, 1983?"

Steve hums an affirmative. "November 83, yeah."

All the way back then, and Eddie didn't have any idea this was going on. "How'd you know it was from your backyard?"

"Jonathan was out in the woods looking for Will, and he snapped some pictures of all of us. He caught Barb sitting alone at the pool, bleeding, with the demogorgon coming out of the woods behind her."

Eddie's brows slam down before he can help it. "Wait, that actually happened? I mean, everyone heard the rumor that Jonathan was a perv, lurking in people's yards and taking pictures through their windows, I just kind of figured it was exaggerated."

Steve gives a little laugh, short and humorless. "It was exaggerated. I don't think he did it again, but, yeah. Nicole caught him developing the pictures at the school. A couple of them were of Nancy getting undressed when she and I were in my bedroom. Nancy forgave him, though, said it ended up being a good thing considering what they found out because of it."

Eddie - doesn't really know what to think about that. "What about you?"

Steve wrinkles his nose. "I called him a perv and broke his camera."

Eddie's eyebrows shoot up. "You broke his camera?"

"I told you I really was a douchebag." Steve glances away from him, and Eddie can see the line of his jaw tighten a little. "I felt bad about it after everything, got him a new one."

"No, I meant - did you forgive him?"

Steve looks back at him, brows furrowed like he wasn't expecting that question.

Eddie's stomach clenches a little. "Steve," he says softly. "Has no one asked you that before?"

Steve's frowning still, and for a moment Eddie thinks he won't answer, then he says, "I haven't really talked about it with anyone who didn't already know about it. It's not - it's not like I have anything to forgive, you know? Nancy was the one undressing in the picture."

"Sure," Eddie agrees, biting his lip for a moment as he tries to decide if he wants to let this drop or to keep going. "But - it was your house, Steve. Your window, your bedroom. You were there, too."

Steve's quiet for a very long moment.

"It's not-" Eddie starts, then stops, considering. "You didn't ask to have someone take pictures of you like that. It doesn't make it okay just because you're both guys."

"No, that's not-" Steve stops, too, and Eddie wonders if as he said it, he realized that he was thinking something like that. "I guess I've just never really thought about it like that before. I was pissed because of Nancy, and when she let it go, I kind of figured I should, too."

"And now?" Eddie prompts.

Steve shrugs. "I still don't know. I'll talk to Robin about it, I guess." There's a pause, and then he freezes, seeming to realize what he just said. "Uh, not that-"

"Dude, it's fine," Eddie cuts him off with a laugh. "I'm not offended that you'd rather process that with someone you've known a little longer."

Steve shoots him a grateful little smile. "I'm going to go down and make dinner," he says. "You wanna come with?"

Eddie considers that for a moment. He's not sure he wants to be alone again, but - he's more sure he doesn't feel up for tackling the stairs, not even with Steve's help.

Especially with Steve's help. He needs a breather away from being pressed all close to him, particularly since he knows he's going to have to ask Steve to stay in the room with him again tonight.

He shakes his head. "I'm good up here. Just, uh. Leave the door open?"

Steve leaves the door open, and a couple of minutes after he goes downstairs, Eddie can hear music playing. Queen. It makes Eddie smile, makes him wonder if he'd normally put music on while he was cooking or if he'd done it specifically for Eddie. Either way, it makes something fond and warm settle in his chest.

Damn, Eddie's got it bad. He should be embarrassed, should be feeling too vulnerable and caught out after all of that, but he doesn't. He feels…

Safe. It's fucking with his head, so he tries not to focus on it too much.

Dinner is tomato soup and mac and cheese, split between them as they sit across from each other on the bed. Eddie eats half of each of his and then mixes them together, just to get Steve to make faces at him as he happily digs in.

"It's just like dunking grilled cheese into tomato soup, Steve!" he insists.

"Grilled cheese has a crunch that makes sense, that's just mush on top of mush," Steve replies, pointing his spoon at him as if for emphasis.

He can't get Steve to try it, but it doesn't really matter. After everything, it feels good just to mess around like this.

Steve clears their dishes away when they're done, then comes back and says, "All right, let's go."

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "We're going where, exactly?"

"My room," Steve replies. "If we're sticking together again tonight, my bed's a lot better and it has my bat within reach."

For a moment, Eddie considers teasing him about calling it sticking together instead of what it is, but decides against it. For one, the first thing that'd came to his mind is to say what, trying to avoid making it sound like you're inviting Eddie The Freak Munson into your bed? which sounds perfectly light and teasing in his head, but would probably come out a little too serious, and he doesn't actually want an answer to that. For another, well. It just reminds him that sticking together is what it is.

Despite how chill Steve'd been this morning with Mike's reaction, despite that Eddie still can't seem to completely smash his hopes down, he knows what this is. The only reason that Steve Harrington slept in the same bed with him last night is because they're both beat to hell and can't sleep without someone there who understands what they've been through, and the only reason Steve's inviting him into his bed now is to try to ward off nightmares, or at least make any that crop up a little easier to deal with.

He hasn't even gotten up the courage yet to tell Steve that he thinks they might be soulmates, he can't let himself get too lost in believing it might be romantic.

So he just says, "Lead the way to your chambers, then, your Majesty."

Steve rolls his eyes at him, helps him out of bed and stays by his side as they head down the hall. Eddie only needs to lean on him a little, which makes him feel pretty damn good, and he's even up for heading into Steve's bathroom to get ready for bed first. There's a brand new toothbrush there, still in its packaging, and Eddie assumes it's for him, so he adds brushing his teeth to the list of activities he can manage on his own now.

They swap when Eddie's done, and he climbs into Steve's bed without waiting for him - mostly because he doesn't want to overexert himself, and because he knows which side of the bed Steve prefers to sleep on now, which. Is definitely not helping his hopes stay shoved down where they should be.

Steve leaves the bathroom door open a crack, just enough that he can hear him bustling around in there, can hear him humming to himself. It's pretty - Eddie can't place whatever it is, but Steve sounds good.

He shuts off the overhead light when he comes out of the bathroom, but leaves a lamp on.

"Sounds nice." Eddie yawns. "Didn't know you could sing."

"Humming isn't singing," Steve counters, but he gives him a soft little smile as he climbs into his side of the bed.

"What song is it?" Eddie asks, and feels his heart kick up a little when Steve scrunches his nose.

"You're gonna make fun of me."

"I won't!" Eddie insists.

Steve scratches his nose. "It's a kid's song, I think it's based on a poem. I learned it from Robin, and I'd sing it sometimes when they couldn't sleep after Starcourt."

Eddie should probably let it go so they can both get some sleep, but he's so eager to learn more about this world that was going on right under his nose that he can't help but ask, "After Starcourt?"

Steve hums an affirmative. "Remember I said it wasn't my first time having someone stay over in the aftermath? We usually check on each other for a while. That first time, it was mostly me and Nance, and we'd check in on Jonathan sometimes. She made me talk to Mike a few times."

Oh, shit. Eddie practically vibrates with the urge to pounce on that with all the glee of a cat distracted by a laser pointer, but - no, no, he has to stay strong, he -

"How'd that work out for you?"

Damn it.

Steve snorts. "He was barely twelve, so not all that bad. It was when we all thought El was still gone, and he just - he really missed her, and Nancy didn't know how to talk to him. I told her to ask him how Will was doing. Mike's a little asshole, but he cares so much about his friends, you know? Asking about Will meant she wasn't asking him about his feelings, she was asking about his friend. She made me come with her, and it kind of worked. I dunno. We talked about what they might be feeling, what they used to do for fun, and how they should get back to it. Nancy reminded him how much they loved that game you guys are all obsessed with, so they started playing again."

Eddie looks up at him, remembering looking up at Steve Harrington in the comic and games shop, watching him try to figure out what to get Will Byers for a going away present, and thinking about what a jackass he was.

God, Eddie's never been more glad to have been so wrong.

Steve still takes the silence as a cue to keep going, though, and he runs his fingers through his hair. "The second time, Dustin just showed up at my house, and the rest of the little shitheads followed pretty quick. They had movie nights and invaded my pool and ate everything in my kitchen, and sometimes they'd sleep over. Dustin was here more often than he wasn't for a while."

Eddie tilts his head, glad to be back on more even ground. "What'd you guys even do?"

Steve shrugs one shoulder. "I dunno, stuff. I drove Dustin to his first school dance, helped him get ready, watched Star Wars, talked about girls and his science camp and my job searching. He was away at camp when I started working at Scoops, but I used the back entrance to get the rest of them into the movies. Lucas and I played ball, Max'd come over and we'd make dinner sometimes."

"You really are friends with them." It's soft and awed, but Eddie knows the moment it comes out that it doesn't sound like he meant it to. "I mean - being the babysitter and the paladin's one thing. It's obvious that you step up when shit's going down and they need you. But you're still there, even when the world's not ending."

Steve smiles at him, a little pleased, a little surprised. "I try, anyway. Hit or miss on it now that they're all in high school." Another shrug. "Anyway, it - after Starcourt, Robin and Dustin and Erica and I were in pretty close touch for a bit. Robin stayed over most nights, and Dustin when he could, and Erica'd say she was fine but she'd walkie us a lot, 'specially the first week or two. I got in the habit of singing it for them, and it seemed to work."

Eddie just watches him. He doesn't have nearly enough mental power to try to process the way Steve keeps getting to him, digging his way deeper and deeper under his skin - barely has enough to acknowledge the want that lingers on his tongue, sharp and bittersweet. They've built a family, this little rag-tag party, and Eddie wants to keep being folded into it so bad he can taste it - just as much as the very thought scares the shit out of him.

"Will you sing it for me?"

"You will a hundred percent make fun of me," Steve protests, but it isn't a no.

"I won't," Eddie promises softly.

Steve sighs, the same way Eddie's heard him do right before he gives into one of the others, and Eddie can't stop his wide smile.

"Close your eyes, at least," Steve insists, and Eddie obeys.

There's a few moments of silence, as if Steve is hyping himself up, and then his humming starts again.

"Lavender blue, dilly dilly, lavender green," Steve croons softly.

The absurdity of the situation hits him hard - he's in Steve Harrington's bed, while the man himself sings him a lullaby about lavender that includes the words dilly dilly. He manages not to let out a slightly hysterical giggle, but his face must do something, because Steve's singing cuts off.

"See?" Steve demands.

"I'm not!" Eddie protests. He lets his hand move, fingertips just barely pressing against Steve's arm. "I'm not, I promise. Please?"

There's a moment of silence, and Eddie struggles to keep his eyes closed and wait patiently, but then Steve starts humming again. It goes on a little longer this time, like he's either skipping past some things or making sure Eddie's face isn't going to do whatever it was doing before, but then he starts singing again.

"I told myself, dilly dilly, I told me so."

There's more lyrics, but Eddie stops paying attention to them, feeling himself relax more and more. It's not about the words, really, it's - it's about the melody, the repetitive flow. It's Steve's voice, lovely and soft, it's knowing someone's with you, someone who's been through the same things you have, someone who cares. After everything, knowing you're not alone.

"Let the birds sing, dilly dilly, and the lambs play," Steve sings, as Eddie's limbs grow heavy and sleep hovers so closely he could almost melt into it. "We shall be safe, dilly dilly, out of harm's way."

It's not about the words.

"Lavender's green, dilly dilly, lavender's blue. If you love me, dilly dilly, I will love you."

God, Eddie is so fucked.

The bit about Nancy making Steve talk to Mike after season one is from one of the Stranger Things free comic book day issues, because I saw it and immediately loved its dorkiness. The song/nursery rhyme Steve is referencing is this, for anyone curious!

-----

Part 17

I've got the next two parts mostly written up, and we'll be diving into the start of the soulmate reveals.

Tag list (always happy to add more, even if I'm still figuring these out!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie soulmate au #soulmate au #stranger things fic #stranger things #one day eddie will stop comparing himself to the group thats been doing this for years #but today is not that day #i have a lot of feelings about eddie's line where he says 'that's what ive discovered about myself this week i run'#and how he has to reconcile it with his understanding of himself #eddie you are not a coward

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wardenparker · 11 months ago

Text

Vampire Waltz - ch 12

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 9.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* References to menstruation, heavy flirting, talk of blood drinking, oral sex (female receiving). Summary: A budding friendship with your young mother gives you plenty of things to think over, but it's your relationship with Max that is growing the most. Notes: We are name dropping Gilded Age families and embracing our newfound historical fiction genre, folx! Please enjoy a photo of Dolly's teahouse as it exists today in 2023 as your weekly photo ❤ Apologies for any errors that I might have missed. I am a very sleepy girl after a week of seasonal chaos at work.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11

If yesterday's adventure to the dressmaker showed you anything, it was that the simple act of dressing and undressing in this time was going to be an adventure. Snagging a newspaper from a hollering newsboy on the street corner had told you that you were in 1885, and now – on your second day in October 1885 – the reality is setting in. Renee came upstairs to you after lunch to help you change in a walking dress, and while you didn't protest it did seem extremely unnecessary until you remembered that yesterday the skirts of your dress had dragged through the dirt for three blocks in downtown Newport. A walking dress, apparently, has a shorter skirt and no train. Which means no dragging in the dirt while you walk. And suddenly the seemingly ridiculous amounts of times that Gilded Age ladies changed their clothing during the day begins to make more sense: simply changing the outer shell of your outfit makes it 'suitable' for many different activities. It's still a little ridiculous, but less so than you had thought only yesterday.

"Renee, would you make sure that Mrs. Phillips is still available for our walk?" Annie asks as the maid helps her tie the laces in her stays before she slides the skirt over her head. She's been looking forward to this walk since yesterday, hoping to have some time to speak to another woman closer to her age that is not her mother about the budding relationship with Emmanuel. A newly made bride would understand, especially since they eloped.

“Of course, miss.” Renee helps Annie into the bodice that matches the skirt she has just put on, carefully looking each button in the back to ensure her mistress is comfortably and appropriately attired. She can leave Miss Annie to choose her own hat and jewelry as she wishes and curtsies politely before going upstairs.

******

“So…nice little outing planned with Annie.” Max ventures as he watches you carefully arrange your hair like Renee had shown you. You’re beautiful and it seems like this time only magnifies that. Or maybe it’s because there’s fewer distractions around him. “Are you nervous?”

“Terrified.” Frowning heavily at the mirror as you try to get this hairdo right, you glance up and to the side where Max is sitting a few feet away watching you. “I haven’t spent time alone with my mother since I was eighteen. And this…she is that person but isn’t that person at the same time. At this point I’m just thrilled we’re only walking the grounds and not in town.” Even though the grounds of Chateau-sur-Mer are much larger in this time, it’s still a relief. These are safe, secluded acres. The only people you’ll run into are your grandparents or their staff.

“Remember that even if she’s not the mother you knew, she’s the woman that will become your mother. It will be an interesting comparison.” Max offers.

“You know how much she loved the curried lamb we had for dinner last night?” The spectacular crown roast that Mrs. Taylor had presented was slightly different in looks than the roasted legs of the same animal that your mother had done when you were a kid, but the taste was deliciously nostalgic. “That was her recipe. That I remembered from being a kid.”

“That’s something of a paradox.” Max snorts. “You bring back the favored family recipe and in turn, it’s passed down to you.” You were right, time travel is weird.

“Time travel is bizarre.” You whisper, barely speaking for being aware of the possibility of being overheard.

“You’re telling me.” Max snorts, shuffling behind you and putting his cool hands on your shoulders. “I have some business with 'John'.” He tells you with a wry grin. “But I will be back soon and want to hear everything about your walk.”

“It’s so weird.” A small smirk tucks into the corner of your mouth. “I know neither of us has ever called him his real name, but calling him John just feels weird.”

“It’s like Rumpelstiltskin.” He jokes, finding the comparison hilarious.

“Maybe he is Rumplestiltskin,” you joke, sending the two of you into a fit of giggles just before a knock is heard at the door.

Renee waits for a moment before she enters the room. “Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, I hope your night was restful.” She nods respectfully and looks towards where you are sitting. “Miss Annie was inquiring if you were still free for the walk, Ma’am?”

“Of course, Renee.” You stand from sitting beside Max and smile, reassuring yourself that you can do this without punching a hole in the space-time continuum. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I will let Miss Annie know.” She nods politely and then turns around to exit the room just as quietly as she had entered.

“Thank you, Renee.” Blowing out a breath, you lean over to kiss Max and flash him a thumbs up that is far more forced than anything else. “Here goes nothing.”

“You will have an amazing time.” He predicts softly. “Knock ‘em dead, Tiger.”

“What happened to my little ketchup packet?” You tease, kissing him one more time before opening the bedroom door. “We’ll be around the grounds if you need us.”

“Enjoy your time, my dear.” In reality, Max would love to be there with you, but he knows you need this time alone with the one who would one day give birth to you. He watches your skirts swish down the hallways and he grins as he remembers dancing with you last night after dinner.

At the bottom of the stairs, Annie is repining her hat in place in a mirror, and you stop for a moment of peace to just admire your mother. Always beautiful and always extraordinarily competent, she even manages elegant self-sufficiency in the face of a society that tells her to sit down and keep her mouth shut. It’s hard to watch her being so happy with Emmanuel when you know what’s to come, but you had bitten your tongue last night while she talked about him at dinner and you’ll bite your tongue today too. Seeing her happy again, even for a little while, is enough.

“I find myself positively - what was the phrase Mr. Phillips used last nigh? ‘Raring to go’ this afternoon.” She seems quite pleased with her use of the phrase and takes one last look before she turns away from the mirror towards you. “Oh dear, did the modiste not have a hat for you yesterday?”

“I admit, I did not know which hats would be best, so I didn’t choose any.” This is probably a huge faux pas but you know less than nothing about late 19th century hats anyway. It seemed easier just to skip it. Max, on the other hand, had acquired both a top hat and a bowler with glee.

“Renee.” Annie calls out to the maid. “Please fetch my brown crushed velvet with the flowers?” She asks. “And the pins to secure it. I think that would look stunning with your dress.”

Renee is off like a shot before you can protest, and back again with hat and pins on hand just seconds later. It’s astonishing how fast the vampires in this household can move when they’re not trying to disguise their nature.

“Yes, I thought the flowers would match.” The pale pink and white of your walking dress match the flowers and the color of the brown velvet compliments your skin beautifully. “It will be perfect.”

“I bow to your superior taste.” And since it’s about the six hundredth time in your entire life that your mother has insisted that you put on a hat before going out the door, you don’t protest. All those other times had been talking about winter hats keeping you warm, but it’s the spirit of the thing. “You’re very generous.”

Once the pins are set and Annie has adjusted to her liking, she clicks her tongue. “You must keep it. My gift to you. It looks so much better on you than it does on me.”

“As I said. Generous.” She has always been generous, as along as you’ve known her, and you reach out to squeeze her shoulder gently. “Shall we?”

“It’s a beautiful afternoon.” Warm for the season but it plays into the atmosphere beautifully. No need to bundle up. “Although I believe we will have snow soon. Winter in Newport is divine.”

"I hear it piles up on rooftops like icing on cake." It was something that Allison had told you just a few days ago, and the mental image had just stayed in your mind. Living there and replaying for you over and over like a present. "I'm looking forward to it."

“What a charming comparison! It does!” She laughs, clear and bright in the afternoon sunshine and loops her arm through yours. “Perhaps we will sip tea and watch it pile up before we convince Emmanuel and your dear Max to take us out for a frolic in it. Mr. Taylor has sharpened the blades of the sleigh. So much better than a carriage in snow.”

"I'll have Max makes us cups of his hot chocolate," you offer, almost conspiratorially. "It's the best I've ever had and he won't tell me his secrets."

“Truly?” Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “So he enchanted you with his chocolate?”

"Amongst other things." The question brings heat to your cheeks immediately as you step out the door together. "I wasn't sure about him at first, but we found our way together quickly."

“It wasn’t love at first sight?” She asks, curious about it since you are soulmates. She had always assumed you just knew.

"Max can be a bit...full of himself," you admit with a laugh. "I thought he was very handsome, at first sight. If that counts for anything. We did not start to find our way together until we found a shared love of dancing."

“I must admit…” your mother bites her lip. “I spied on the two of you last night. You move to beautifully together.”

"Dancing is a passion that we share, and it is something I am very grateful for." That is probably an understatement, but you're not exactly going to explain competition ballroom to your semi-immortal mother in 1885. That's just...it's too much to even think about. "With the party tonight, I think there will be plenty of occasion for you to dance with him as well, if you like."

"I had hoped that you would allow me to have one dance with your husband." She admits. "Although, I will anxious be awaiting the reactions from all the dancers when they see the two of you dance."

"It will be nothing they have not seen before with so many other couples." If you're honest with yourself, you're trying to remember everything you can about traditional, historical dances instead of the modern competition dances. It isn't much, but you're pretty sure you can muddle through if you couple that with everything you can remember from watching BBC period dramas. "And Max will be very glad to dance with you. I promise it."

“Are you still enjoying the status of newlywed?” She asks, the pace of the walk nice and slow as the gravel crunches under your boots.

“I am.” Almost to your own surprise, considering it came out of nowhere in a letter from your abuela and then manifested almost immediately in life. You’ve actually found yourself wishing it was real. “Max is very attentive. And very sweet.”

The grin she shoots you is knowing. "I doubt a newly married husband is just sweet." She hums. "I think he would be passionate."

“There has not yet…been an opportunity to be passionate.” It spills out before you can really stop yourself, and instantly you have burning hot cheeks all over again. “The marriage was so recent, you see.”

“Oh- so you haven’t-“ her brows lift in surprise and she bites her lip in embarrassment. “My apologies for prying.”

"How could you have known?" It makes perfect sense to assume that a married couple has had sex in any time period. But you don't want to have to explain to your mother about your last ex or anything of the bruises that relationship left on your soul.

“Blast.” The curse comes out silently. “I was hoping to talk with another woman near my age.” She admits quietly.

“About…intimacy?” Even though this has the potential to become very awkward, you just can’t say no to her. Not to this young, excited version of your mother who is just beginning to learn about life.

“Not exactly intimacy.” She hedges slightly. “More how you knew Mr. Phillips was the one.” She confesses. “I feel like Emmanuel is my soulmate but I don’t know.”

“We share a mark.” In this specific way, you know you’re lucky. Having a birthmark meant nothing ever had to happen to you for you to find your soulmate. Some people in history have deliberately injured themselves in order to have scars. “He saw it on my skin and showed me his matching one. We were…quite lucky that it was that simple.”

“Is it….visible?” She asks, looking over your neck and hands. It’s not as if much skin is exposed to the public in your dresses.

“It was. In what I was wearing at that time.” Although, it does occur to you now that keeping your birthmark hidden from your mother might be wise. Otherwise she will put the pieces together later on. “It is very easy to cover, so it was unusual for it to be visible. But…a good thing. It ended up to be a very good thing.”

“I feel that Emmanuel is my soulmate.” She confesses with a hopeful sparkle in her eyes. “I cannot explain it, but my heart- it jumps when he kisses me.” It might be scandalous to admit that she allowed him to kiss her, but she so completely enthralled with him from the moment they met.

It might be cruel or just insensitive to point out to her that her physical response to the kiss could just be lust, especially since in this time you’re pretty sure ladies weren’t even supposed to kiss a man until they were engaged. “Do you have any marks of your own?” You ask instead, realizing that you actually can’t remember if your mother had any when you were a child. Those memories are still…unpleasantly hazy. Even when so many other memories are now crystal clear in your mind.

“No.” She shakes her head sadly. “None of my own. Because of my…parentage, my skin heals without blemish. I only have one scar on my leg from my soulmate, and it would be completely inappropriate to show it to Emmanuel.”

“Perhaps you could ask him if he has scars instead?” Filing away that tidbit of information in your mind, you note to yourself that it fully explains why you never seemed to get the typical scratches and scars of childhood that your friends all did. “If you feel that he could be your soulmate…” Which, of course, you know he is but you can’t say so. “It might be a way to bridge the topic. Privately, of course.”

“What a good idea!” She exclaims. ��He would not think me too forward, you think?”

You can’t help but smirk, looking over at your mother and tilting your head in amusement. “I think if he has already kissed you more than once, then being too forward by asking a question is probably not on your list of concerns.”

“I- you are correct.” She bites her lip and looks worried. “He probably thinks that I am unsuitable. Being so free.”

“Or perhaps he thinks that you feel as passionately about him as he feels about you.” Not really willing to get into the whole restricted sexuality thing of this time period, you shrug. “It is not such a terrible thing to be passionate.”

“My parents have never thought so, but others are not so accepting.” She huffs, rolling her eyes at the way the world is.

“Then I find myself in firm agreement with your family.” Which isn’t odd at all, when you consider that they’re your family, too.

“They are considered progressives, if people really knew their thoughts.” She clutches your arm. “But my parents do not speak about politics in social settings.”

“I understand it is considered very impolite.” At least, you’re pretty sure you read that in a book once. You hang onto her as tightly as she hangs on to you as you walk together, strolling down the length of the grounds first. All the way down in the direction of what is now a rose garden.

“That doesn’t mean that some do not talk politics.” She snorts. “Plenty of men try to do business deals during the social gatherings.”

"Of course they do." Nothing about that surprises you, but the woman your mother is at this point in your life seems disappointed by it. "But that only makes it easier to pick out the sort of men who find it impossible to relax and enjoy themselves. And those are the type of men to avoid, in general."

“You are right.” She agrees. “Hopefully Emmanuel is not that type of man. He doesn’t seem to be, but I have not been to many social gatherings with him.”

“How long have you known him?” There are vague memories you have in your head of a story about your parents being soulmates, but it is old and faded and feels wrong. You know they weren’t, but at some point you believed otherwise. Pushing away the knowledge that this is the woman who put you under the spell that changed those exact memories, you refocus on your mother and her smile. It’s exactly the same as when you were little — bright like sunshine on a summer day.

“Two weeks.” She admits, slightly embarrassed by how fast her feeling developed for Emmanuel. “We met at the Season opening ball.”

“It took me no longer than that to realize what Max means to me.” It was significantly less, if you’re honest, but your story is a bit odd to tell. Not that you’re itching to tell anything of the sort right now. “They say that with soulmates, sometimes your heart knows right away.”

“I feel that way with Emmanuel.” She confesses. “If he is not my soulmate, I will be horribly embarrassed. Because my feelings for him are already so strong. Especially because he’s human.”

“Being human is not a crime or a personal failing,” you remind her with a hint of amusement in her voice. She has no idea that she’ll raise you in such a human way. The irony of the moment is thick. “He must know that you are different, doesn’t he? It seems…very important for him to know.”

“He knows.” She nods quickly. “He- it is very fortuitous that he does not mind. He actually was curious about my father’s nature.”

Curious. It will be that curiosity that dooms everything, but you have to swallow that knowledge and not say a word. “It is fortunate to find open minded people in the world,” you say instead.

“Yes.” She nods. “I know it must have been a shock for you when you realized your husband’s nature?”

“It certainly was.” That night in the sitting room is burned into your memory, and you don’t think it will ever leave no matter how long you live. “But I have never felt anything but safe with him. There are so many stories of men whose dispositions change when they are transformed. If that was true of Max, then it has been a change for the better.”

“How interesting.” She shakes her head. “I must admit, I do not meet many of my father’s other offspring. Not for many years.”

“I imagine it must be very different for you.” You observe carefully, not wanting to overstep in anyway. “To have so many sort of…step-siblings? In a way?”

“No.” She shakes her head and smiles softly. “They have been there before I was. I am jealous in a way.” She admits. “They share a bond I do not, with him. Will never share.”

“But you share a bond with your father that they never could, as well.” You point out, squeezing her arm gently as you walk. “I am sure some of them must be jealous of you for that same reason. To be his child through more than the sharing of blood is remarkable.”

“I have often wondered.” She admits. “Though I have no desire to be a vampire. It is bad enough I crave rare meats during my menses.”

The admission is enough to make you snort, and you cover your mouth to feign some kind of ladylike manners before all-out laughing behind your glove. “Forgive me,” you manage, barely getting back your composure after a few seconds. “I was just…not expecting you to say that. At all.”

She giggles herself, aware of how horribly inappropriate it was and she’s glad you aren’t uptight. “If you beg forgiveness then I must as well.” She hums.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” You promise her as your mutual laughter subsides. “I just never want you to think I’m laughing at you.”

“Even if you were, don’t friends laugh at each other?” She asks, still giggling.

“I suppose they do.” With her arm around yours it is a stark contrast to your childhood, but no less happy. She leans into your side as any close friend would and it makes you eternally glad that you fucked up that protection spell in such a way that it sent you straight back to your family. “Does that mean we are friends now?”

“I believe we are.” Annie decides with a grin. “We will be the best of friends.”

“I truly hope so.” At least, you think to yourself as you smile at her on your walk, for as long as it lasts.

“When I have a daughter, I will name her after you.” She decides with a pleased look on her face. “Dolly is a delightful name.”

“It…isn’t my given name.” Suddenly last night’s lamb recipe seems like nothing in the face of…becoming your own namesake. But still, you tell her your name. The name that appears on your birth certificate and all of those other things. “Dolly is…is what my family calls me.”

“You must think me so foolish.” She snorts, shaking her head. “Your proper name is gorgeous. I can see why your mother chose it. Was it a special name for her?”

“She—” As soon as it’s on the tip of your tongue you almost groan, realizing what the truth of the situation is. “She said it was her best friend’s name when she was young.”

Thinking about it for a moment, Annie sets her chin and nods. “Then I will carry on her tradition and use the name for my daughter.” She promises you. “You and Max can rest assured.”

“Then we should name our daughter Annie.” It was already in your head for the very clear reason that it was your mother’s name, but somehow making the pact with her like this is all the sweeter. “And we will carry each other together always.”

“So we shall.” The scenery in the gardens is nearly forgotten as you walk, arm in arm together. “I am looking forward to our trip on Emmanuel’s personal train car. Can you imagine? A car all to yourself?”

“Where do you wish to go?” It’s cool to you to be traveling in a real Pullman car for a completely different reason — what she views at the height of technology is something you’ve only read about in history books. “I’m sure he would agree to anywhere you choose.”

“Anywhere.” She say dreamily. Willing to go anywhere with her beau. “Do you have a particular destination in mind?”

“People speak so very highly of New York.” And in your own tone, you’ve enjoyed the city immensely. So much so that the idea of seeing it in the 1880s is nearly irresistible.

“Ohhh we should go!” She latches onto the idea immediately. “We can dine in the best restaurants and shop. Their modistes are amazing. Perhaps we can find something truly special for the ball.” She leans in conspiratorially, “I am hoping that Emmanuel proposes.”

“I would not be surprised if he did.” Wracking your mind, you can’t remember now if Yayo had said that your mother had been engaged or even married to her soulmate, but knowing what will eventually happen means you have to force a smile while your mother beams sunnily beside you. Unfortunately you’re sure it looks fake enough that it’s worth changing the subject. “But even if it does not come soon, the ball will still be lovely. Does your mother throw one at the same time each year?”

“Always.” She laughs. “Samhain was when mother and father met.” She explains. It is a special time of year for them.”

“It is something very special to celebrate, then.” In fact, you earmark the fact for yourself as well. That is why Mrs. Taylor jump so quickly in the idea of the coven having a Samhain masquerade. “They are very fortunate. To have such an enduring love story.”

“Yes.” She huffs a sigh and rolls her eyes. “But that means that a lot of expectation is placed on my shoulders too. Being their daughter.”

“You will have whatever story is best for you. Your life is your happiness, not theirs. Whatever they may think.” Realizing you e just given your mother advice — something which is probably definitely considering messing with history, you catch yourself and smile. “At least, that is what my dear friend says of her family.”

“It is my life.” She agrees. “So far, my life has been what they have wanted, but I cannot always please them and my own heart.”

“You will know when the time is right to become captain of your own ship.” You assure her, knowing full well that there will be multiple times in the future when it will be necessary. “But rushing towards it helps no one. Enjoy the time you have with someone else at the helm.”

“It is one of the reasons I have yet to marry.” She laughs slightly. “That and I wish to marry my soulmate.”

Clearing your throat slightly, you glance at her and consider for a moment that ultimately, she will end up losing Emmanuel. She’ll meet your father and That means that at some point, her view on soulmates will change. Or at least expand. “Soulmates are not the only good spouses in the world,” you venture. “My dearest friend at home…she has been blessed with deep love, but not with her soulmate.”

“I don’t disparage them.” She assures you, looking almost horrified that you might think that of her comment. “I just-“ she sighs. “I have heard mother and father’s story so many times, I wish to see what my own soulmate would be like.”

“My only wish is for your happiness.” The clarification feels necessary, as you walk through the chilly October afternoon. “However you may achieve it.”

“The same to you.” She promises. “Perhaps life will be picture perfect. No one can tell the future, not even my father.”

******

There is something to be said for the fact that the ‘ball’ your grandparents are throwing tonight is not, apparently, full scale. This is a dinner dance, of sorts. It isn’t four hundred people streaming all over the property — it’s one hundred and twenty guests precisely and they are all arriving to celebrate Annie’s birthday. When you were a kid, your mother’s birthday was the movie of her choice at the local theater and family dinner out, so this is…a remarkably bigger celebration. The guests begin arriving at ten o’clock, streaming into the house in their fine gowns and shimmering jewelry, and you and Max are trying so hard to catch names. Wetmore. Reed. Slater. Ives. Vanderbilt. Astor. Goelet. Hunt. Roosevelt. It’s all a whirlwind. When Emmanuel is announced, your mother glows and goes to him immediately, and you can see the expressions of approval on your grandparents’ faces. “Is it weird that I like him a lot?” You murmur to Max on the other side of the room. Cornelius Vanderbilt had just been shaking his hand and Max looks so puffed up and proud about it. “That’s not…betraying my father’s memory? Right?”

“It’s not, Queenie.” Max reassures you softly. “He’s a good man. I fuckin’ hate knowing what happens.”

"Me too." At least Max understands that. He feels it right along with you. "It doesn't help that they really seem to adore each other."

“That might be why it took so long to find your father.” He offers, not sure enough about Annie to believe that she would become loose by the day’s standards after destroying her soulmate. “I don’t know if I could ever find someone if I was in her shoes.”

“Good thing for you that I’m not going anywhere.” Squeezing his arm gently with one gloved hand, you smile up at Max softly. “You’re stuck with me, Mr. Phillips.”

“Mrs. Phillips.” He grins back down at you, getting a kick out of calling you by your supposedly married name. “How are you enjoying the dinner dance so far? This has to be every girl who watches Downtown Abby’s wet dream, right?”

“It’s pretty close to the top of the fantasy list,” you admit, warm and pliant under even the tease of being called Mrs. “Although, when we get back from New York we’re invited to a ball at Beechwood. And after touring all the mansions with Allison I’m kind of dying to be able to say we were on the Astor’s guest list.”

“As you should.” He hums. “He wants to talk with me about business. I can’t imagine the insight this man has.”

“William Backhouse Astor wants to talk business with you?” It’s not that you doubt Max in the least, but your eyes go wide in surprise. “And Cornelius Vanderbilt was just shaking your hand a second ago.” The grin on his face is so pleased that it’s borderline shit-eating and you stifle a laugh. “You’re loving the Gilded Age, aren’t you?”

“These are the fucking Bill Gates and Steve Jobs of the times, babe.” He snorts. “I’m over the damn moon. That MBA is paying off in spades.”

“I’ll have to figure out how to get us here deliberately and maybe we can visit from time to time.” He would love that, and you could see your family sometimes. It would be remarkable if it ever worked.

“You would love that. Pop back and visit your mom when you need that connection.” He’s not unaware that you feel different about having your mother as a friend, but you are also cherishing every moment you have with her.

“Maybe we can visit some of the Phillips clan, too. Track them down wherever it is they’re hiding in history.” He lost as much as you did but hasn’t had the blessing of a long-lost grandparent, and you want nothing more than for Max to have every single happiness that you have. To be able to share that with him.

Regret flashes in his eyes and he blinks it away. His shoulders lifting casually as he brushes off the hurt that his family had caused him. “Might be interesting. See how many skeletons are in the closet.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” The situation with Derek might be behind you now, but your shoulders still drop and your expression changes completely when you see the hurt in his eyes. If you could time travel instantly and change it so you said nothing at all, you would do it immediately.

“You didn’t upset me.” Max promises, sliding his hand around your waist. “My own hurts are not your fault, you make everything worthwhile.” He drops a kiss on your cheek.

“I love you, too,” you hum softly. It’s dawned on you that Max doesn’t say the words outright very often, but he says it in different ways all the time.

“Of course you do.” He chuckles and nods towards the atrium where the buffet table is laid out. “Shall we go see how Mrs. Taylor’s table looks before I whisk my wife to the dance floor?”

“You’re enjoying calling me that, I think.” Or you hope he is, b because you enjoy hearing it.

“I get to try it on, see how it feels.” Max teases you shamelessly.

“Oh yeah?” He leads the two of you toward the Great Hall with all its overflowing tables and beautiful gas light. There are punch bowls full of highly alcoholic punch but also crisp, cold water and Max pours out two glasses of water so no one will attempt to be polite and offer punch. “And how are you liking it?”

“It’ll do.” He teases and sends you a smirk. “I don’t mind it all. Not at all. Think it should be permanent.”

“You don’t have to say that just because I want you to.” Admittedly, though, you hope to the gods that he means it. The idea that he might makes you feel like that little bird in your chest could take flight all over again.

“I’m not.” He tightens his hold on your waist and looks into your eyes seriously. “The only thing that I worry about is you dying and leaving me alone.” He confesses quietly. “But I want you to be mine. Not to posses you. You aren’t a toy, but to cherish you.”

"Haven't you heard?" Somehow his hold on you is even tighter with the corset laced neatly around your waist. It isn't too tight, but it hugs you so well that his hand feels like it's going to slip right through your many layers and burn right into your skin. "Apparently you're the person who can stop that from happening." Person. Vampire. There's no need to be specific especially with so many party guests around. The thought has been on your mind since yesterday and you've been trying to summon up the courage to talk to Max about it.

“You didn’t seem too fond of the idea when I told you.” He reminds you quietly. He hadn’t wanted to push, so when you seemed resistant to it, he had dropped the subject, although the thoughts of only having a short time with you had started to bother him.

"I've been thinking about it more lately." It's not the time for the full discussion and you both know that, but at least now the topic is open again. "Maybe we can talk it over the next time we have a little privacy?" There won't be much of it coming any time soon, not while you're traveling with your mother and Emmanuel starting tomorrow afternoon, but at least there is the comfort of your bed for any conversations that should remain just between the two of you.

“I would love to talk to you about it more.” If possible, Max seems to glow at the prospect of you prolonging your life and he pulls you close. He would kiss you, but it’s frowned upon in public, even with married couples.

When he bends his head slightly but stops halfway, you recognize the gesture immediately — he did it earlier today and received a word of advice from Yayo that public displays of affection are considered rude in this time. So you do something you’ve seen your abuela do several times since your arrival — and present your cheek to him with a sly smile. A kiss on the cheek, apparently, is fully acceptable. And if that’s all you can share right now without being subject to comment, then that’s fine. It’s more important to keep a low profile right now and not become the subject of gossip.

“Tease.” He pouts playfully, letting his lips linger against your skin. “You do know husbands can spank their wives in this time, right?” He only says this because you know he would never lay a hand on you in anger. He would rather Evan drive a stake through his heart again.

“You wouldn’t.” You’re absolutely positive of that, but since you can tell that Max is enjoying teasing you, you give him a wink instead. “Wives are also supposed to have separate bedrooms. Maybe I’ll just insist on that.”

“You wouldn’t.” His lower lip immediately comes out at the prospect and he shakes his head. “You enjoyed your temperature controlled Snuggie every night.”

“Of course I wouldn’t.” But he is so very adorable when he pouts, and teasing is a tone that becomes you both. You are at your lightest and happiest when you are able to tease each other. “Besides, as newlyweds, this is technically our honeymoon.”

“Yes it is.” He hums, pulling you closer. “So perhaps I can take a walk with my wife in the gardens so I can kiss my bride?”

The warmth in your cheeks is essentially a fire now, with the way he keeps harping on the titles of bride and wife. “I think we could probably steal away for a little while after supper,” you hum, having to look away or else you’ll get lost in his eyes entirely. To the rest of the room you just look demure. “Yayo won’t mind.”

“Of course he won’t.” Your grandfather had taken him out to find you a proper ring, stating that it wasn’t acceptable to have you with a bare finger, even if you had eloped. The ring is extraordinary and there’s a sense pride knowing he can give you something to bring back to your proper time.

“I wish I could say we should go sit in the teahouse but it hasn’t been built yet.” It was something of a surprise to discover the miniature cottage does not exist yet, but when you had casually mentioned to your mother in your walk that it would be a darling place to take tea, she had jumped on the idea and promised to mention it to her mother.

“I still find it amusing that you are responsible for the tea house.” He snorts, having cackled when you had told him about the conversation. “I wonder how the fireplace is coming along?”

“Who knows? I doubt they’re looking for us, all things considered. Yayo and Mrs. Taylor will know better.” Still, you can’t help but smile at the irony of being responsible for the building of your own favourite retreat. “It seems I’m responsible for my mother’s favourite lamb dish, the teahouse, and my own name.”

“I wish I could have named myself.” Max snorts. “Would have picked something way better.”

“I like your name.” This time it’s your turn to pout, just to continue the teasing tone of the night. Although this teasing makes you lower your voice. There hasn’t been much physical intimacy between you, but the more nights you share a bed, the more you want to share that with him. “One syllable makes it easier to moan.”

“Oh Maximilian.” He creates a high falsetto and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, it’s really great.”

“It’s Max, and that’s no more ridiculous than Dolly.” You point out with a soft snort.

“Doll, baby doll, good girl.” Max grins lasciviously at you and winks. “All of them will sound amazing when they are muffed against your neck or between your thighs.”

“How am I supposed to be proper with you talking like that?” At this point you know it just encourages him to be scolded, but you don’t mind. Not really. Not when you’ve quickly found yourself daydreaming about him in all sorts of very graphic ways.

“I guess the one good thing about all these layers is that no one would ever know that you are wet.” He hums quietly, his lips against your ear.

“Except you.” For this precise moment, you will not give even a second thought to the fact that your grandfather can certainly smell that too. He doesn’t know it’s you, and for all you know half the ladies here are hot and bothered. For you, all that matters right now is Max.

******

After the night is winding down, the morning sky is starting to peak over the edge of the horizon. Luckily, the drapes are heavy and can block out the sun so that the house can sleep the day away after dancing all night. Max loosens his tie as you sit down at your little table to pull the pins for the flowers and sparkling beads out of your hair.

“Suddenly I understand why all the ladies who dresses like this had maids,” you sigh. Exhausted but happy is a wonderful way to go to bed, and the pre-sunrise breakfast served to the remaining guests has warmed you through entirely.

“For tonight, you will just have to have your husband suffice.” Max has shucked his jacket, leaving his vest buttoned and his shirts first three buttons undone with his tie hanging around his neck as he walks towards you. Watching you in the mirror as he moves closer.

He really has no right to be so drop dead handsome. It would be unfair if he wasn’t your soulmate. As it is it’s an enormous distraction, as you can feel him walking toward you but only see his clothing in the silver-backed mirror in your vanity table. His frame is obvious in that reflection but not the face you’ve become so fond of, so you turn around on your stool to smile at him softly. “You were wonderful tonight, by the way. I overheard some ladies gossiping about you after we danced.”

“Yeah?” He smirks and tilts his head. “What did they say? Jealous of how we danced? That I enjoy whisking my bride around the ballroom?”

“There was a little speculation about our passionate elopement,” you tell him, an amused little grin blossoming on your face. “Apparently the way we dance is almost too sexy for the 1880s.”

“Is that right?” He chuckles and waggles his brows playfully. “If they only knew what we could have danced.”

“I think doing an Argentine Tango for these people might give them all heart attacks.” It’s…Something to think about, though. Imagining the deep, very obvious intimacy of that kind of dance with him.

“Very provocative.” Max murmurs, reaching out and cupping your face. “Especially because you would just have to wear that nightgown thing to dance it properly.”

"Chemise." His hand seems to cover half of your face with no effort at all, but you melt into the gesture just as if you were a flower that he was inspecting in the garden. "It's called a chemise, and those are see through as you well know."

“It’s my favorite goddamn thing you wear.” He snorts and bites his lip as he looks down at you. “Still, you couldn’t wear the bulky dresses. Maybe put some pants on you. Really give them a sight to see.”

"It's your favourite because it basically doesn't exist." He had been nearly speechless last night when he came into your shared room to find you sitting up in bed in the thin white slip, which despite being fairly ornate is definitely not sturdy in any way.

"i'm not saying you should walk around naked," Max huffs with a grin on his face. "But you should walk around naked." He had though he had done fairly well in not staring and his hands hadn't strayed during the the night. He deserves bonus points for that. Whoever thought skimpy was better, obvious never appriecated the sexiness of innocently sheer and covering.

“So should you.” Your last bits of jewelry go on the vanity table, stripping away the trinkets that have been weighing you down all night. It isn’t that you necessarily had been planning to take the next step forward with Max, but the opportunity has just sort of…fallen into your lap. And after the way you’ve been feeling all night, you actually don’t want to waste it. “We both could? Just…around this one little room?”

Max stares at you for a moment in shock, unsure of what you mean. "I guess you won't get offended if I'm sporting wood?" He asks finally, chuckling at himself for being so damn wary when he was a fucking man-whore in his previous life.

“That’s more of a compliment than an offense.” The tension in the room has risen a little, not from anything more than interest and wanting. Desire has been thick in the air between you all night. “Only if you want to, handsome. No pressure or anything.”

“Baby doll, you have no idea the things I want to do to you.” Max groans, unable to resist being a little bit of that former playboy while discussing intimacy with his soulmate. Even if he has displayed a lot more restraint and consideration than anyone who knew him before would ever expect, you’re gorgeous and he wants you.

The freedom you’ve felt in this time doesn’t necessarily boil down to just one factor, but since the biggest thing holding you back has been removed from your path to happiness you have felt lighter than air. Smiling up at Max from your place in front of the vanity, you tilt your head slightly to one side and take in the sight of your stunning soulmate. “Maybe…” You end up biting your lip again, nervousness and excitement washing over you. “You could show me?”

It’s instantaneous, his fangs springing out of his gums and his eyes taking on a lighter, yellower hue as his desires take hold. His face doesn’t shift, but his jaw clenches. “You have to be sure.” He nearly growls. “Once I touch you…”

The intensity of desire a vampire has for their mortal soulmate has been explained to you. This sort of reaction isn’t totally unexpected. But knowing that Max’s desire will never spill over into rage makes all the difference. “I’m sure,” you promise him, nodding once as you meet his bright eyes.

Breathing isn’t necessary, but Max exhales roughly. His entire body hardening at the thought of finally being able to touch you like he’s imagined as you dream in his arms. “What do you want me to not do, my little doll?” He asks. “Tell me now, please.”

He already knows that any kind of name calling is off the books, which your certain is one of the reasons that he so consistently uses sweet little pet names for you. What you haven’t discussed previously is specifics of your sexual history, which is why you are so, so grateful for this moment right here. “No restraints,” you tell him honestly, knowing that the old chestnut of using a tie to keep hands out of the way will have you spiraling instead of moaning. “And no degradation. Those are the hard lines that I can’t cross.”

“No restraints, no degradation.” He can quickly agree to that, having no want to make you feel embarrassed about what happens between you. “Biting?” He groans out, knowing he can be shot down. “Off limits?”

“No fangs until we get a chance to talk?” The topic hadn’t been touched since it was mentioned in passing early last night, and now is hardly the time to stop everything for a heart-to-heart.

“O-okay.” That part will be a little more difficult for him, especially at that sweet vein in your inner thigh, but he has enough restraint to abide by your wishes. “Regular teeth only.”

“We can talk about fangs for next time.” Your hand cradles his jaw softly and you give him an encouraging smile. There will absolutely be a next time. As far as you’re concerned, this morning is the beginning of something.

“Nothing you don’t want.” Max reassures. “But I will be showing off my oral skills in other ways.” He smirks. “I’m more than just a pretty set of fangs.”

“You keep saying that.” The teasing hum is back in your voice. “I’m afraid I’m going to need you to prove it.”

“With the dress on, or off?” Max’s eyes gleam in challenge and it takes a conscious effort to make his fangs retract. “Lay down on the bed, my sweet Dolly.”

“In a bustle?” The skeptical look on your face says all it needs to, and you stand from your place in the bench. “I am not explaining to Mrs. Taylor that we crushed a silk evening gown because you couldn’t wait to eat me out. Help me get out of this thing first.”

In the blink of an eye, Max is beside you, spinning you around to start untying your gown. Eager to get to your skin underneath.

It had been fun to wear all night, right up until this moment. The clasps and hooks holding your bodice in place all have to go. Bodice. Skirt. Corset cover. Petticoats. Layer after layer lifts away until all that remains is the corset laced snuggly around your waist and the chemise beneath it. Even your stockings have already been rolled down your legs, tossed aside to be forgotten about on the rug until later.

Max grins and pushes you down onto the bed playfully, still fully dressed and winks at you. “Now, what was that about needing to prove something?” He teases.

“If you want to be teacher’s pet, I’ll make up a little grading system for you,” you tease, remembering what your Yayo had said about Max being kind of a suck up in college.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” He strips off the tie and tosses it down. “Let’s see how fast I can get graded.”

In just your chemise and corset, the effect of having Max lie you out in that giant four-poster bed is sort of like the most romantic pornography of all time. The stiff, starched collar from his shirt has been rejected along with all the other trinkets from his suit tonight, and while his jacket might have technically ended up on a chair it certainly wasn’t graceful. He looks like the charming hero of some Victorian novel that’s about to fully debauch himself and can’t wait to take you with him. And it’s better because it’s you he’s talking with you. “Just because you finish the test first doesn’t mean you get the best grade, Max,” you warn him in a teasing singsong.

“Baby doll, you haven’t seen what my tongue can do.” He promises, flicking it out of his mouth and its slightly longer than normal. Another positive to being a vampire.

One knee at a time, Max settles into the valley between your thighs and carefully pushes the hem of your chemise up your legs, doing his best to control the urge to just tear the fabric to get at your core as quickly as possible. When you swallow a breath and lay back against the pillows, you nod and caress his shoulder. “I’m sure,” you promise him.

“I know, baby girl.” He coos. “You just lay back and let me make you see the stars.” He knows that Derek didn’t treat you right, but he’s determined to erase that man’s touch on your mind, body and soul.

Without modern panties — and even without the ridiculous crotchless pantaloons worn in this time — as soon as your shift is pushed up and the cool night air brushes your skin, the difference in a vampiric lover is obvious. There’s no unpleasant memory of hot breath on your body or of searing hot touch making you squirm away. Max’s cool skin is a balm to wash away the bad memories, replacing them with promises of the future. The first touch of his lips and longer tongue to the apex of your sighs earns him a sharp inhale from you, but just as soon as it comes you sigh and relax into the bed a hair more. Even just a kiss over your clit is enough to tell you how different a lover Max will be from anything you’ve had before.

“Fuck you’re so sweet.” Max groans, pulling away from your clit to just look at swollen flesh. “I can feast on you all night.”

A breathless laugh comes from deep in your chest, and you run one hand through his short hair. “It’s morning, love. You’ve got all day, instead.”

“I’ll do it through the day and into the night.” Max snorts, smirking at the idea even if you can’t see it.

“I believe you would.” In fact, you don’t doubt it for a second. Especially not with the way he dives back in for another taste that has your head falling back on the pillow all over again.

Max is cocky when it comes to sex, but he’s got something to prove. He wants to show you how good it will be with him. Wanting to make sure you know that your soulmate will lick your pussy anytime you want.

It’s been years since the last time you had a head between your thighs, and even then you were made to feel like it was an enormous burden. Max descends on your clit like it is his favorite treat in the world and he has been starved of it. Ravenous for the taste of you and insatiable in his hunger.

Max feeds off your sounds, loving the soft, restrained moans that you are trying to keep quiet. Wanting to make it to where you forget anyone else is in the house, he squeezes your thighs and pushes his tongue deep inside you.

Your moans pitch up immediately, a sharp gasp bursting out of you like an explosion and your fingers in his hair tightening instinctively. This has been one of your favorite intimacies, oh so long ago, and even though you’ve told yourself that it wasn’t worth missing, you have. The trust involved in giving someone else complete access to your soul is nothing to turn up your nose at, after all.

Max moans into your flesh, inhaling the heady scent of your arousal as he tastes it on his tongue. You are fresh off your cycle and he twitches in his pants at the thought of tongue fucking you to soothe your cramps.

It isn't restraining, the way Max has his forearms wrapped around your thighs, holding you open for that mutual enjoyment as he dives deeper and deeper into your cunt. It's cradling you. Treasuring you. And it's so damn good. The fingers of your free hand tangle in the sheets on your other side but you're not sure you won't need them to stifle your own moans. The amount of pressure he's putting on your most sensitive areas is perfect and every flick of his tongue is another sharp jolt of pleasure that has your chest heaving in the corset still tied around your torso.

He can’t see your face but he can feel the beating of your heart through your body. Smell the sweet blood swimming in your veins and it makes him ravenous. Intent on making sure you scream his name when you cum.

Every pass of his tongue over your core, every probe and every lick ticks your heartbeat up that much faster until you feel like your head is swimming and you know your thighs are shaking. The very direct way he's chosen to tongue fuck you as if his afterlife depends on it almost makes you feel like you're laying on a choppy sea and he's the only thing keeping you from sinking.

Large hands start to squeeze your thighs. Stroking from your knee down to your hips. Encouraging you to give in to him as his tongue works harder and harder, the ability to not breathe working in his favor as he doesn’t let up to gasp for air.

It’s almost overwhelming because he never has to let up. He dives in over and over again, lapping up every bit of dripping wetness that you have for him and drinking it down like a man starved but he never has to pause or even shift in his attention. It has you building up and up and up on a mountain that feel like the peak of pleasure is impossibly high but deliriously tantalizing to reach. The moment that sends you into hazy bliss though, isn’t the typical oncoming orgasm. It’s when Max wraps his lips around your swollen clit and sucks — sharp and with a groan that reverberates through your whole body. Your back lifts off the mattress and you barely manage to stifle half the keening sound you make, going boneless and letting your legs open as wide as they will go. Just begging him to do it again.

Max groans, growling slightly and his entire soul seems to brighten as you come apart for him. Body vibrating as he absorbs your pleasure as if it were his own, maybe it is. Maybe this is what it’s like to be with your soulmate. Consuming him completely as your thighs shake around his head.

It comes on all at once, mere minutes after he began, and if Max was aiming to bowl you over with sheer skill then he should take the near wail of his name as you start to cum as a signal that he has done extremely well. It washes over you all at once, bending your back and making your legs squeeze his head tight, which only earns you another groan.

The only thing missing is the sight of your face as you cum. Max closes his eyes and imagines it, his face starting to shift in his excitement. Bones knitting and becoming heavier, sharper. His growl deepening although he makes sure to keep his fangs retracted. Not wanting to pierce your delicate flesh. Perhaps one day you would let him bite your lip and lick the blood from your cunt.

Unexpected and rumbling, the depth of the growl between your legs makes your eyes shoot open. Still darkened with lust, when you look down at Max to find him transformed between your thighs, something even more unexpected makes your cunt ache at the sight of someone so powerful unraveled and needy for you. "Do it again, love." You can hear the ferocity in your own voice, the demand and the need. Desire and a type of desperation that you've never felt before. The need for more. "Again. Just like that."

Max’s yellow eyes flicker, darken even more to a burnt amber as he tightens his grip on your thighs. Not enough to hurt you, not even at his most powerful would he ever hurt you. His snarl of obedience bounces off the walls of the room and his eager tongue buries itself back in your cunt to carry out your surprisingly arousing order.

______

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still-a-morosexual-help · 2 years ago

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Part 2 of this (diavolo & lucifer being very gay in canon) because I ran out of space in the first one

1. The entire Devildom thinks Diavolo & Lucifer are dating/in love;

2. It just sounds cute okay

3. Diavolo apparently notices when Lucifer's pupil dilates by 2mm 😐

4. Diavolo probably has a 500pg book about how great Lucifer is

5. Remember how much Diavolo gushed about Lucifer's butler uniform, took a lot of pictures of it etc? Apparently he saved that uniform or had a new one made, then took the first chance he saw

6. Cottagecore?

7. Diavolo finds Lucifer sneezing cute😬

8. Diavolo prioritises Lucifer over everything, even his own kingdom & the way Simeon keeps poking at it & Diavolo keep avoiding directly answering him + Simeon later teases Lucifer about Diavolo liking him in S3👀

9. The snow sculpture which looked incredibly realistic and had absolutely nothing to do with Christmas

Can't have more screenshots so here's some important conversation word for word:

10. Diavolo, after meeting Lucifer for the first time, Lucifer tries his best to act like an ass to make Diavolo hate him but Diavolo still treats him kindly. Lucifer despises Diavolo at the moment because he's a Demon who according to Lucifer & the Celestial Realm can't even have a "well-ordered society". Diavolo somehow in a single night manages to form a crack in Lucifer's prejudices & make him doubt his Father who he holds in very high esteem. Diavolo also uses chess to prove his point about creating peace and a balance between the three worlds. This is the conversation that follows:

Lucifer (an angel): I see. ...Diavolo. Your strategy truly is fascinating. Do you think we could get together sometime? I'd like to learn more about it.

Diavolo: Are you talking about chess now? Or the nature of our relationship?

Lucifer: Heh...

^The ambiguity Lucifer uses when talking gives that old queer feeling of: Our relationship (whatever it may be) is very forbidden and anyone catching wind of it will be bad so for plausible deniability I'm going to tie the true meaning of this conversation to something more innocuous

11. Conversation they have after this^ flashback/particular conversation:

Diavolo: ...That's when you finally held out your hand to me, and we shook. The way you radiated charm as you smiled at me. I still remember it like it was yesterday. When I saw the look on your face I was convinced. You were fair and righteous, someone who would be able to lend an ear to anyone, to listen to what they had to say. Someone who had a truly beautiful spirit.

In other words Diavolo has the worst case of rose-tinted glasses, specially considering Lucifer was choking Mammon & trying to rip his arm of while Diavolo said all this.

12. Diavolo (in demon form): Back when he was an angel, he was so divine, so awe-inspiring that it was intimidating. But now he's attractive in a different sort of way. He draws your eye toward him and then doesn't let go. He truly is worthy of the moniker "Morning Star"! Even steeped in the darkness of the Devildom, he shines just as brilliantly as ever!

Lucifer (in demon form), blushing: ...Diavolo, could we change the subject, please?

Lucifer (in demon form): I've told you that it embarrasses me when you shower me with such excessive praise in public.

Diavolo (in demon form): Afterall you're already beautiful enough as it is!

a.) This is Gomez Addams level of devoted jfc

b ) Diavolo was straight up reciting poetry at one point

c.)......What's with "in public"....so it's fine in private?

d.) Diavolo gushing about Lucifer has the same energy as Mammon gushing about MC

e.) What do I have to do for someone to be this in to me?

13. Diavolo has multiple copies of Lucifer in a swimsuit saved in different places (not the swimsuit he wears around MC & his brothers btw but the one he wears around Diavolo which is actually just trunks and & an open hoodie/shirt)

14. Diavolo might actually have a whole file of rare pictures of Lucifer? He's got the butler ones, the swimsuit ones and the candid glasses one that he threatened some poor guy to delete after saving a copy for himself

15. The ship in a bottle that Diavolo gave Lucifer, that he loves so much he keeps it in a place where he can always see it

16. Lucifer: No, that scream was far too vile to have come from Diavolo.

....so you know what he sounds like when he screams and you think it sounds good...?🤨

17. Diavolo gives a flustered Lucifer a piggyback ride around RAD

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cressthebest · 7 months ago

Text

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 12

chapter 22:

1. 😟😟 all james wants is for sirius to be there for james the way james ALWAYS was for sirius

2. 😟 james wished hodge happy birthday even though hodge died yesterday. i- i am not okay

3. “Regulus never fails to look up. Evan would be proud of him for that, he thinks.” 😧 that was vile to put in there

4. james has resorted to BEGGING for medicine from sirius and can’t understand why sirius won’t send any. this hurts so bad

5. nope. i’m done. i can’t read any more. james started looking forward to death cause he would be out of this arena and out of pain. jfc i’m done

6. anyways. i’m back cause i couldn’t stop reading.

7. REGULUS AND JAMES ARE REUNITED!!! THANK GOD!!! 😊

8. 😧 wait nevermind. james just mistook regulus for sirius. “James has never, not once in his life under any circumstances, mistaken Regulus for Sirius”

9. james is delulu from medicine and reg just found out that the plan has always been to get reg home. this hits like a motherfucking truck

10. james is high as a fucking kite, can’t figure out why “sirius” is being mean to him, cause he’s never been mean to him. and is also wondering why “sirius” is oddly attractive for being mean

11. it takes james half a chapter, and reg cutting his shirt for james to realize it’s not sirius. cause sirius has different scars. i love james sm 😭😭

12. “What was Sirius thinking? Drugging James? In the middle of the fucking hunger games? That might be the most idiotic thing Regulus has ever known his brother to do, and this is Sirius he's talking about, so that's saying a lot. Sirius once flipped a cigarette in the air and tried to catch it with his mouth while it was lit, and kept doing it until he could actually consistently manage it, no matter how much it burned him. Though, in fairness, he can still do that trick to this day.”

LMAO WHAT??? that’s so random and i love it

13. 😧 legit sobbing. reg says that james lost the spark in his eyes. and he’s the one person he expected to never lose his spark

14. reg reveals that they both can go home. james’ spark is back. i’m sobbing harder now. they’re so in love

15. i eat, breathe, and dream those author end notes. bizzarestars writes their end notes the way my brain processes the fic. <33

chapter 23:

1. starting the chapter off with pain, i see. losing vanity changed james. like. horribly changed him.

2. “What Regulus hates more than James is his suffering.” jfc he’s so emotionally constipated

3. james is sad and all reg can think is hmmmm i want him to start flirting with me again, because it meant he was happy bitch wtf

4. awww they’re cuddling and just got a package! my babies are gonna make it out!

5. reg realizes he has to put on a show, so he offers to feed james. and wants to gouge his eyeballs out for offering that. 😭😭😭😭

6. i’m dying from embarrassment but this is also so fucking funny. reg is like. let’s talk about our feelings. for each other. and james is just like *head tilt* ???

7. “"You weren't my first crush, James," Regulus whispers. "You were my first love."”

james didn’t just make reg feel good, he made reg feel and i am NOT okay.

8. “This whole time, Regulus has been steady on the fact that he wouldn't kiss James to save his own life, but he's apparently willing to do it to save James'.”

JFC why is he so emotionally constipated???

9. THEY KISS????? james is gonna be heartbroken when he realizes it was all an act

10. oh thank god james realized. at least it broke his heart now and not in two weeks

11. *squints* now reg has never wanted anything more than this kiss. girl. please. realize.

12. god, i’ve never read a kiss more beautifully and emotionally desperate written.

13. 😏 reg called him baby again!

14. oh god, maybe i’m just as bad as everyone in the hallow. maybe i’m just as bad as them. cause i enjoy their romance. i enjoy it so much. maybe i’m just as bad as the hallow for that. i- i think this every time i read the hunger games.

15. “James wants to sink his teeth into Regulus and leave the deep imprints of his teeth from one jutting hip bone to the other.” sometimes i forget that jegulus is a little unhinged in ways like this. and every time i’m reminded, I LOVE IT

16. “"You treat me like I'm stupid for daring to see good in people, but if there's no good in anyone, then what's the fucking point?"”

this entire section. this. this is what james is all about

17. 😟 authors note just told me i’m no better than a hallow. for my excitement over jegulus. and- yeah. i guess so. i’m so sorry y’all

#marauders #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #fanfic #sirius black #sunseeker #starchaser #crimson rivers

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lesbicosmos · 1 month ago

Text

day 1 of @palasakiweek !!!

day 1 prompt: hurt/comfort / sickfic

summary: crystal's on her period and suffering with it. niko helps with movies, noodles and cuddles.

notes: wrote this for my girlfriend :3 ( @giolovesyousm ilysm <33 )

also on ao3!!

found the place to rest my head (never let me go)

Niko awoke to the loud repetitive beeping of her alarm. She reached over to turn it off, but stayed lying down for a few minutes, just looking around her room. It was strange seeing all her things organised so differently – she may not have been living in Port Townsend for very long in the grand scheme of things, but she’d gotten used to where everything was there; everything had its place in the one huge room that was her apartment. Now, it was all different. The bedroom itself was smaller, so her bookshelves had all been pushed together and there was less wall space for her many posters. It was a welcome change, but a month after moving in, she was still getting used to it. Although, anything was worth it when there were other things mixed in with hers. She wasn’t alone anymore - she had Crystal. Crystal’s clothes were hung amongst hers in the surprisingly large wardrobe in their room, Crystal’s music posters joined her anime ones on the wall, Crystal’s long purple jacket hung right next to her thick green one on the back of the bedroom door. Having a roommate was brilliant, but even better that she was her girlfriend.

Niko rolled over, intending to gently wake the girl in question up – she always managed to sleep through the alarm somehow – only to find the other side of the bed completely bare, the space where Crystal should have been lying so cold, as though not having been slept on in hours.

Worried, she got out of bed, slid on her bright pink dressing gown and left the room. It really wasn’t like Crystal to go anywhere without telling Niko first, especially this early in the morning on a day they were supposed to be meeting Charles and Edwin at the office.

“Crystal?” she asked into the quiet of the apartment.

“’M’in the kitchen,” came a quiet response.

Niko entered the kitchen to find Crystal sitting at their small two-seater table with a cup of coffee in her hands. Her hair was strewn everywhere and she had bags under her eyes as she smiled weakly.

“You’re up early,” Niko said, walking over and dropping a kiss to the top of her girlfriend’s head on her way to the fridge.

“Does it count as being up early if you didn’t sleep in the first place?” Crystal replied as Niko poured herself a glass of orange juice.

“Oh. You okay?”

“Y’know how I started my period yesterday?”

Niko nodded.

“Yeah well, cramps decided to hit just as I was trying to get to sleep last night,” Crystal groaned, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Oh no. They’re bad?” Niko put her glass down on the table across from Crystal, instead running her hand through her girlfriend’s hair. Crystal relaxed slightly. “Day 2 always hits you hard, doesn’t it?”

“Yep. Took painkillers at like 6, they’re barely doing anything. What time is it now?”

“Just after 8."

Crystal’s eye’s widened in panic.

“Shit. We said we’d be at the office for 9.”

She made to move but Niko gently pushed her back into her chair, shaking her head.

“Nuh uh. You need to rest,” she insisted.

“But we’ve got new clients coming in, Charles and Edwin-”

“Charles and Edwin have been doing this a long time, I think they can manage this one without us.”

“Fine,” she grumbled, apparently unhappy with the idea; but Niko knew Crystal too well by now, could tell she was secretly relieved at not having to leave the flat. “Wait, without us? You don’t have to stay, you know. I’ll be fine.”

“But I want to.” Niko leaned down again, this time pressing a kiss to her forehead. Crystal’s eyes closed and she smiled. “I’ll go tell the boys.”

Niko headed into the living room and picked something up from the coffee table. At first glance, the object looked like a simple rock, like something a child would bring home from a day at the beach. However, it was actually one of two communication devices they had received as payment for a recent case. They were similar to the Spirit Finder stones the boys already had, only these ones were connected to each other, and worked like an audio texting device between any two locations. There was a phone in the office, but Edwin had insisted they use these stones – the phone was for clients only.

She tapped the rock three times, waiting for it to glow white to indicate the connection. She thought it was wild how easily her mind had adapted to the existence of such magical objects. But, she supposed, a lot of things become much more believable after you have two troublesome sprites try to rip you open from the inside, and then get killed by an evil witch’s spell but survive because of a magical bear stone and live in an alternate dimension for a few months until you find a way out. Yeah, that makes a lot of things easier to take in.

“Hey guys!” she spoke into the rock. She didn’t feel the need to check they were there; they always were, especially when the girls were due to go over. “Really sorry but me and Crystal aren’t gonna be there today! Crystal barely slept last night, she’s on her period and she’s not feeling too great so we’re gonna stay home and chill. Hope everything goes well with the new clients!”

She tapped the rock once again to end the message, and waited for a few seconds. Sure enough, the white glow returned and Charles’s voice sounded from the device. None of them had any idea how the sound came from the stone – there were no speakers – but who were they to question magic?

“Hey Niko! That’s fine, we’ll manage without you guys. Hope Crystal’s feeling better soon and we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Three taps.

“Yeah, hopefully!”

Niko went to return to the kitchen, but suddenly remembered something, and turned back into the living room, making a beeline for the bookshelf. She pulled a handmade square of quilted fabric off a large mason jar, and was met with groans of disapproval from its residents.

“Too fucking bright!”

“Seriously, are you trying to blind us?”

Kingham and Litty had also returned to the plane of the living when Niko did, and the others continued trying to convince her to get rid of them. Niko had refused. They had, after all, helped her come back, so it was the least she could do to not, you know, drown them or anything. She’d mentioned wanting to free them but changed her mind when she was met with looks of horror from Edwin and Charles.

“We really don’t need a dandelion epidemic in the middle of London, Niko.”

“Yeah I think keeping them in the jar is for the best.”

They’d complained, but didn’t seem too upset with the outcome when they’d been bought a bigger jar. And in the end, Crystal agreed to living in the same apartment as them, as long as they weren’t in their bedroom. So, the bookshelf it was.

“Look, I’m sorry for waking you but I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?”

“Seriously what’s so important you need to wake us up at the fucking ass-crack of dawn.”

“First, it’s like 8am! That’s a normal time to wake up. Second, you guys really need to be less you today.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Crystal’s on her period,” Niko explained. “She’s not feeling great and I really don’t want her having to deal with your…you-ness.”

“Oh boo-hoo!”

“Hey! She’s in pain! Wait- do sprites get periods?”

“Why do you care?” Litty asked, seemingly offended.

“She does,” Kingham nodded, and Litty groaned.

Niko really wanted to ask what exactly a sprite period consisted of given they were trapped in a jar, but she couldn’t get a word in because within thirty seconds, they were yelling at one another.

“Guys! This is exactly what we don’t want. Can you just like…be quiet for one day please?”

“Ugh, fine!”

“Can you at least put the cover back on? If we can’t talk I at least wanna get some fucking sleep.”

“Gladly,” Niko replied. “Now be good.”

With that, Niko placed the quilt back over the jar, blocking out most of the light. She took a deep breath before returning to the kitchen. She’d grown attached to the sprites, especially since they spent so long together in that weird inter-dimensional igloo, but god they could be assholes sometimes.

“Were you just talking to the sprites?” Crystal asked as she walked in.

Niko didn’t know if she’d heard them or if she could tell based on her tense expression. Probably both.

“Yep. They’ve promised they’ll be quiet today,” Niko picked up her glass of orange juice and took a sip, stepping over to stand right next to Crystal.

“Really? You sure they didn’t have their bitchy little fingers crossed behind their backs?” Crystal looked up at her, raising her eyebrows knowingly.

“Okay they probably did. But don’t worry, they won’t disturb us.”

“Thanks.” Crystal leaned into Niko. “What did the boys say by the way?”

“Charles says he hopes you’re feeling better soon.”

“That’s sweet. They’re sure they’ll be fine without us? I feel bad.”

“Crystal, they’ll be fine. They were fine for thirty years before us, right?”

“Debatable,” Crystal snorted.

She had a point.

“Still. You need to rest.”

“Fine.”

“Come on, wanna cuddle on the couch?” Niko stepped back, offering her hand to Crystal.

“God, yes,” Crystal replied, taking it.

“You go get comfy, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Niko pressed a quick kiss to Crystal’s lips before Crystal headed into the living room.

Nothing felt comfortable. Crystal tried to find a position on the sofa that didn’t feel like something was trying to claw its way out of her abdomen chestburster-style, but to no avail. She groaned, having given up trying after five minutes, when Niko walked in. She had two blankets over one arm and was holding a hot water bottle in the other.

“I didn’t know which blanket you’d want so I got the fluffy one and the thin one. I don’t want you getting too hot.”

“Thanks Niko,” Crystal smiled at how sweet her girlfriend was. “I think I’ll be alright with the thin one, especially with the hot water bottle as well.”

“Okay.”

Niko handed her the hot water bottle and the thinner blanket, folding the fluffy one up and placing it on the floor in front of the sofa just in case.

“And…” Niko started, reaching into the pocket of her dressing gown and pulling out a chocolate bar.

“It’s like 8am,” Crystal laughed, taking it from her and putting it on the side table next to the sofa.

“So? You’re allowed chocolate at 8am when you’re on your period. It’s like…the law or something.”

“Thank you.”

“Sorry that it’s just what we had in the cupboard, I can get dressed and go out and get you your favourite if you want-”

“Niko,” Crystal stopped her. “It’s great. You’re already doing more than enough for me, now come and sit down I need you.”

“Oh? What do you need?”

Niko sat down beside her on the sofa. Crystal immediately snuggled up next to her, her head on Niko’s chest and the hand not holding the hot water bottle resting on Niko’s knee.

“Just this,” she sighed.

“Ah. I can do this,” Niko replied, wrapping one arm around her and placing the other hand on top of Crystal’s, intertwining their fingers. “You comfy?”

“Yeah.”

It was nice, just sitting there in silence wrapped up in one another. It was quite the change to their usual day-to-day activities of running around London chasing after spirits and demons. Niko loved moments like these with Crystal, where she was calm and relaxed rather than her usual fiery, snarky, occasionally short-tempered self. Of course, Niko loved that Crystal too. She loved all of her, even the parts she was still trying to accept. Because no matter how mean she’d been in the past, no matter how often she lost her temper or started an argument with Edwin, she was still the person who offered her life for Niko’s after barely knowing her for two days, the person who became her friend when it felt like she was entirely alone, the person who tried her best to help her deal with her grief from her dad and convince her to get back into contact with her mom, the person who held her and cried for her as she died and was the first to pull her into a hug when she returned. She was gorgeous and messy and imperfect, and Niko loved her. She held her closer on the sofa, her hand running through her dark curls.

“I’m kinda glad we’re not working,” Crystal said after a few minutes. “I don’t know if I could handle Edwin’s…Edwin-ness today.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“I know, I know. He’s my friend and I love him like a brother at this point but…God, he can be frustrating at times. I feel like I’d just end up yelling at him when I’m this tired and like…hormonal.”

“It’s not your fault,” Niko comforted.

“I know that too, it’s just, since I got my memories back…like, I was so mean before. I really don’t wanna be that person anymore.”

“Hey.” Niko squeezed the hand she was still holding and kissed Crystal’s head. “You’re not. Who you were in the past…I know she’s technically still part of you but you’re not that girl anymore. You’re kind, and compassionate, and beautiful and sure, sometimes you and Edwin end up at each other’s throats a little but that doesn’t make you a bad person. Like you said, you’re like siblings. Most people are like that with their siblings, I think.”

Crystal looked up at her. In their position, it was difficult but neither really wanted to move.

“Thanks Niko, that really…it means a lot.”

“Well, it’s true.”

Niko leaned down the few centimetres necessary to press a kiss to the tip of Crystal’s nose, making her giggle softly.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Niko asked.

“Sure."

“What do you wanna watch?”

“I dunno,” Crystal shrugged. “You pick.”

“You sure?”

Crystal nodded as Niko reached for the remote.

♡ ⚢ ♡

Four hours went by in a comfortable domestic quiet, the two of them cuddled up together on the sofa watching the movies Niko picked, until the credits began rolling at the end of Princess Mononoke and Niko heard Crystal’s stomach rumble.

“You hungry?” she asked.

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly eat breakfast this morning. The only thing I’ve eaten is that chocolate we shared halfway through the first movie.”

“I’ll go and make lunch, what do you want?”

“I dunno,” Crystal shrugged again.

“You’re really not up for making decisions today, huh?” Niko giggled.

“No,” she laughed.

“Wanna try some of my noodles? They’re always good when I’ve got cramps.”

“Sure, what kind are they?”

“Well, my favourite ones are the chilli ones but you might not want those. Spicy and cramps don’t tend to mix. I think we’ve got some chicken ones in the cabinet too, they’re the ones I usually find helps with the pain.”

“Sure.”

“I mean they’re nowhere near as good as the chicken udon my mom used to make, but they’re still good.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Crystal chuckled.

“I’ll go make them, you choose the next movie while I’m gone,” Niko said, untangling her limbs from where they had become indistinguishable from Crystal’s and standing up. “This is supposed to be your day and so far, we’ve watched two Studio Ghibli movies.”

“Hey, I like Ghibli too!” Crystal argued.

“I know but I was the one who chose them so it’s your turn.”

Niko leaned down to press yet another kiss to the top of Crystal’s head before heading into the kitchen. Crystal smiled to herself – that was the fourth head kiss today and it was barely the afternoon. It had become their thing over the last couple months, and had begun when they’d only just got together, back when they were living out of the rarely used spare room of Charles and Edwin’s office. (After the girls finally got a place of their own, with funds from both Crystal’s parents and the Agency’s steady stream of clients helping to pay their rent, the boys redecorated the bedroom for themselves. Crystal didn’t ask why two people who physically couldn’t sleep needed a bedroom. She didn’t want to know.) Whenever Niko left a room, or entered it, or whenever she liked, really, she would kiss the top of Crystal’s head. At first, it was Niko playing on their height difference, the fact her lips were at Crystal’s head-height unless Crystal was wearing her platform boots, but it had become such a routine for them there were no signs of it stopping. Even Edwin found it sweet, though he seemed to feel that way about almost everything Niko did. That was one of the many things the two of them had in common: their overwhelming love for one Niko Sasaki.

♡ ⚢ ♡

Niko returned several minutes later, a pot of noodles in each hand. She handed one to Crystal.

“Hope you like them. Oh, and don’t forget to take some more meds, you could’ve had some like two hours ago.”

“Shit, yeah,” Crystal swore, moving to get up.

Before she could, Niko pulled the box of tablets out of her pocket.

“Thank you,” Crystal sighed.

Soon, the two of them were resettled on the sofa to start the next movie, both with a pot of noodles in their hands, still leaning as far into each other’s space as they could without causing a food-related accident.

“Jeez, I can smell the spice from here,” Crystal laughed.

“Yup,” Niko replied.

“Can I try some?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Niko twisted some of the noodles around the fork, as Crystal leaned forwards to eat them off it. She swallowed, then immediately started coughing.

“Holy shit!”

“You okay?” Niko asked, worried and reaching for the glasses of juice she’d poured them while the noodles were cooking.

“Yep. Just…wasn’t expecting them to be that spicy.”

“Too hot?”

“No, they were good. I like them, I just… yeah I don’t think they’d pair well with the current state of feeling as though my uterus is trying to claw its way out of my body.”

“Oh no…”

“The noodles are helping, though. Thank you.” Crystal smiled, returning her attention to her own non-spicy pot.

“You like them then?”

“Yeah, they’re so good.”

“Good. Did you pick a movie?”

“Yep.”

Crystal picked up the remote, and pressed play. Niko recognised the film immediately.

“Scooby Doo: The Movie? I said pick something you like.”

“Hey I do like this! I was obsessed with this movie when I was like 9. It kickstarted my obsession with Sarah Michelle Gellar. Then I made my dad buy all the Buffy DVDs when I was 12, then that was my favourite show for like two years,” Crystal said proudly.

“Woah."

“Yeah, imagine the shock on my face when I found out demons and supernatural beings and shit were real, and I was kind of one of them.”

“You’re my favourite supernatural being,” Niko said proudly and leaned across to kiss Crystal’s cheek.

“Shut up.”

“Nope,” Niko grinned.

♡ ⚢ ♡

“Hey,” Niko said quietly, around 20 minutes into the movie. “Do you wanna pause the movie a sec? I’ll go put the pots in the trash.”

“Sure.”

Niko stood up and went back into the kitchen, and when she returned less than a minute later, Crystal looked at her and laughed.

“What?” Niko asked.

“I just noticed, your lips are like, bright red.”

“That’ll be the noodles,” Niko giggled.

“You look somehow even more kissable than normal.” Crystal’s head was tilted to the side slightly in the way it always was when she flirted.

“Oh. Really?”

“Mhm.”

Niko barely had chance to sit back down on the sofa before Crystal pulled her in, quickly connecting their lips. Niko kissed back gently at first, not wanting to cause Crystal any more pain than she was already in, but Crystal’s eagerness spurred her on and soon she was pulling her as close as physically possible, both of them seemingly attempting to devour each other’s mouths. Niko tried her hardest to bite back the sounds threatening to escape her throat as Crystal took her bottom lip into her mouth and sucked.

Eventually, they broke apart, for no reason other than the need to breathe.

“Feeling better then?” Niko whispered.

“A little. Still feels like there’s some kind of rave happening in my uterus, but it’s not as bad as it was earlier.”

“Yay, the meds are helping.”

“I think it’s mostly you to be honest. And the noodles. But mostly you. Thank you for this.”

“Of course.”

As much as she wanted to pull Crystal’s lips back to hers, she knew they had all the time in the world for that. So, with one more kiss to the forehead, Niko gently pulled Crystal back into their cuddling on the sofa and pressed play on the movie once again.

♡ ⚢ ♡

“You up for another?” Niko asked after the end credits of Scooby Doo 2 finished rolling a few hours later. “We could watch the 2009 movie, too. You might have had a thing for Sarah Michelle Gellar but I was obsessed with Hayley Kiyoko. Her as Velma was an awakening.”

“Hmm…” Crystal hummed into Niko’s shoulder.

“Are you falling asleep?” Niko giggled.

“No.”

Liar.

“Yes, you are.”

“S’not my fault you’re comfy.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Niko shifted to move but Crystal held her still.

“It’s like 5pm. You’re not tired.”

“I don’t care. You need to sleep in a proper bed.”

Crystal gave in, allowing Niko to lead her into the bedroom and under the covers. Niko left the room, only to come back a few minutes later.

“I refilled your hot water bottle and brought you more meds,” she said, placing them down on the bed.

“Thanks babe,” Crystal muttered, yawning.

After Crystal had taken more painkillers, Niko climbed into bed next to her. Crystal immediately resumed their cuddling from the sofa. Niko never would have expected Crystal to be the clingy type, but she is not complaining.

“You know, I’m genuinely shocked the sprites were actually quiet.”

“Well…when I made them their little quilt I may have asked Edwin to put a silencing charm on it. They were probably yelling at one another all day.”

“Genius,” Crystal laughed, burying her head into Niko’s chest.

She seemed to have made a home on Niko’s chest over the last few months. Even before they got together, they would cuddle up together on the sofa in the office while the boys were out, or in the spare room while they were there, and Crystal would lay her head on her chest, listening intently to her heartbeat as though making sure she was still there. Every time Niko would hum softly, ensuring Crystal felt the vibrations of the sound. It was her wordless way of replying, of reassuring her she was really there, she was back, and she wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

“Thank you for today,” she said, her voice more of a mumble against Niko’s pyjamas.

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s what I’m here for.”

“It’s not though, you’re my girlfriend.”

“Well as your girlfriend, it’s my job to be here for you when your period’s kicking your ass.”

“I really don’t deserve you.”

“Hey,” Niko gently took Crystal’s jaw and tipped her head up to look at her. “Yes you do. We both deserve this. Well, you don’t deserve to be in pain, but us lying here together, just…in each other’s space…we deserve this.”

Crystal still didn’t fully believe her. Niko absolutely deserved it, but she still had doubts about herself. She still carried so much guilt for the horrible person she was before she met David, the even worse person she was once he’d really gotten to her. But, she supposed, if someone as intrinsically good yet painfully damaged as Charles could want to be her best friend; if someone as hurt and austere as Edwin could value her friendship and want her around despite their bickering; if someone as sweet and kind and loving as Niko could want her like this, could feel comfortable and safe with her in her arms and want to do everything to help her when she was feeling down, well…maybe she could believe it a little. Maybe she could accept that after everything, despite what she had done in her past, she did deserve something as good as the life she had now, wrapped in the arms of the girl she loved, who loved her so much in return.

“I love you,” she said, squeezing her arms around Niko’s waist even tighter.

“I love you too.”

With one final kiss dropped into her curls, Crystal finally drifted into sleep.

-----

It was around 8pm when Charles picked up the communication stone that sat on one of the many shelves in the office and tapped it three times.

“Hey guys,” he said into the rock. “Just letting you know today went great! It was just a run-of-the-mill haunting in the end, so it’s all sorted now, hope you two are doing okay!”

A minute passes with no reply.

“Guys?” he says again.

Still no reply. Charles put the rock back in its place and walked over to the mirror.

“Charles, you know they said we could only use their bedroom mirror in absolute emergencies,” Edwin said from the desk.

“They’re not replying! This could be an emergency, mate, what if some poltergeist or something got into their flat?”

Without thinking for a second, Charles reached out and tapped the mirror. Ripples appeared centred on the point he touched, and the image changed from a reflection of the office to the view of Crystal and Niko’s bedroom from their dresser. Charles couldn’t help but smile at the sight before him.

“They’re probably just asleep, Niko did mention Crystal barely slept last night.”

Edwin was right. The girls were both lying there, only their heads and shoulders visible poking out of the duvet, Crystal’s head on Niko’s shoulder as they slept soundly.

“Yeah, they are. They’re fine.”

“Good. Now, are you going to help me finish up this case file?”

“’Course love.”

Charles took one last glance through the mirror at the two of them – curled up in each other’s space, holding one another close, the very image of domestic bliss – before tapping the mirror once again, leaving the two of them to their peace.

#the way i wrote this while my gf was on her period and now im posting this while im on mine #lesbianism fr #anyway AHHH ITS FINALLY PALASAKI WEEK IM SO EXCITED #dead boy detectives #dbda #dbda netflix #palasaki #crystal palace #niko sasaki #palasaki week #palasaki week 2024 #my fics #my dbda posts

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heyitsspiders · 9 months ago

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Lucifer x Transmasc! Reader - Falling for the Fallen Angel - Chapter 8

Flying Lessons

Lucifer finally takes you flying, it's much harder than you remember.

a/n: finally all caught up

When you woke up this morning and did your usual routine you realized the dull ache in your wings was gone. As you flexed them they didn’t hurt, they looked completely fine. You gasped as you realized you could ask Lucifer to teach you to fly. Ever since your moments in the sky, you’ve been yearning for the freedom that came with it. No longer being chained to the ground as you drift through the wind.

But, that would have to be tomorrow. You didn’t want to leave Charlie stranded again. You tugged on your clean uniform, you had it deep cleaned yesterday and it was still warm as it hugged your form. Once you were presentable you walked out of your room, the sky still dark outside from how early it was. Most demons weren’t up yet. However, when you walked into the kitchen you found Lucifer, who was humming some song that you couldn’t put your finger on. It was relatively dark in the room but his eyes beamed like two little nightlights as he turned his head and spotted you.

A smile formed on his lips that spread to his eyes, “Goodmorning, my apple!”

You waved and smiled back, blushing at the new pet-name, “Goodmorning, Darling.”

You flicked on the lights and softly chuckled as Lucifer squinted and blinked several times as his eyes readjusted to his suddenly much brighter surroundings. You could see him much better now in the light, seeing that he wore his normal white overcoat and pink striped vest, however he was missing his hat this morning. His golden hair was a little messy, a few strands sticking up in places they shouldn’t be. He looked adorable.

Lucifer rubbed his eyes as you spoke, “What are you doing up so early?”

He removed his dark hands from his eyes and looked at you as he leaned on his apple topped cane smugly, his smile reappearing, “Oh, I figured I’d help around the kitchen again.”

You rolled your eyes as your smile widened, you knew he just wanted an excuse to love on you, but, you weren’t complaining. You enjoyed his company and even though he didn’t help with the cooking, he did continue to fix up the dishes afterwards.

The two of you resumed your normal positions, you actually cooking and him hugging your waist, planting his soft lips against your neck. You were glad no one else was awake to watch you become mush in his hands as his kisses moved along your skin, of course only where he could reach. Your uniform did cover a good part of your neck but that never deterred him as he’d try to move it out of the way. You’d hiss at him to not to do that because you liked keeping it in tip-top shape, to which he’d pout before kissing your exposed skin.

At some point as you were finishing up he had moved to sitting on the counter next to you. One of his hands idly played with your hair as the other lightly tapped his cane against the side of the counter, a quiet thump thump filling the comfortable silence. His hand suddenly found your fuzzy ears and despite being in Hell for a while now, you always forgot your ears had changed drastically and the action caused you to jump. A smirk formed on his face as he pressed on, trying to find some sort of secret spot behind the ears that cats and dogs always seemed to have. You glared at him playfully, you were a bat – apparently – not a cat or dog. Plus, you were a demon.

…

Okay fine it felt really nice as he scratched your head. You leaned into his movements for just a moment before remembering you had a job to do. You cleared your throat, your cheeks heating from embarrassment as you continued on, hoping Lucifer wouldn’t comment on it. You knew he would, though.

“Aw, is someone enjoying their head scratches?” He cooed as he continued.

You batted his hand away, “Oh shush, you.”

He shrugged innocently but it was obvious he was going to use this against you at some point.

You suddenly remembered your morning, “Oh, honey, look!” You said with a smile, flexing your now complete wings.

He gasped, his eyes lighting up, “Oh my golly! Your wings are healed!”

You nodded happily, “Yeah! You can finally teach me how to fly properly!” You folded your wings against your back again, “However, it’ll have to be tomorrow. Charlie wants me to give her a good heads-up that I’m taking a day off.”

Lucifer nodded, a wide yet slightly nervous smile on his face, “I’m very excited. I’ve never taught someone how to fly before, I was planning on teaching Charlie but she hasn’t gotten wings yet. Not sure if she will, I don’t know if angelic wings are passed on.”

Once he brought up Charlie he didn’t stop, talking about times when she was much younger. It was very adorable to see how much love he held in his heart for her as he spoke. While you listened to him you finished up breakfast and when his rambling died down you smiled at him before pointing to the table.

“Make yourself useful and set the table,” You said teasingly, but it came out meaner than you meant it and quickly added, “please.”

Lucifer smiled at you and nodded, carefully grabbing the plates, bowls and other dishes and setting them neatly around the fancy cloth on the wood table. As he did you walked to the doors of the dining room, opening them and leaning out with a hand next to your mouth to project your voice.

“Breaaaaaakfaaaaast!” You called out, dragging out the vowels.

Shuffling sounded from the lobby as multiple people got up and started walking your way. As the group got closer you made your way towards Charlie, who was happily talking to Vaggie about something.

“Hey Charlie!” You greeted with a wave.

“Oh, hey Twist!” She smiled back, “Did you need something?”

“Oh no, I was just telling you that I planned on taking a day off tomorrow so Lucifer could give me flying lessons.” You realized you sounded a bit too forward and back peddled a bit, “If, uh, that’s okay with you.”

She waved a hand dismissively, shaking her head with her iconic smile, “Go right on ahead, thank you for the heads up. Dad can probably whip something up before he heads out with you, so yeah, it's fine!”

You gave her a quick hug, “Thank you, Charlie.”

You were thankful Charlie wasn’t weirded out by you hanging out and even dating her father. She really was an amazing person and you couldn’t help but feel proud. Even with everything going against her she never faltered. You walked over to Lucifer, who was helping everyone get food, well, other than Alastor. Alastor would receive a glare and growl before he’d quickly shift back to his smile as he helped the others. You softly chuckled at his pettiness.

When he finally settled in one spot you interlocked your fingers with his and you noticed the sudden lack of metal. You raised his hand so you could see it and all that was there was his smooth skin.

No ring.

He took off his ring.

How long had he not been wearing his ring? Was this new? Lucifer turned his head and peered at you curiously, following your gaze down. His eyes widened as it clicked before softly smiling at you, his hand giving yours a light squeeze.

You could feel tears well in your eyes. You knew he was still recovering from Lilith leaving him but here he was, without his ring. You never wanted to bring up his continuation of him wearing his ring, you knew it meant a lot to him. Lucifer and Lilith had been together for longer than you could imagine, you knew it’d take awhile. But here he was.

You didn’t want to make a scene so you tugged him into the kitchen. He allowed himself to be dragged, the doors softling clicking behind the two of you.

“Are you-” Lucifer started but was shut up as you pressed your lips on his, wrapping your arms around him and holding the back of his head. His eyes fluttered closed and his hands moved to cup your face, his thumb softly wiping away the stray tear that slid down.

After a few heartbeats you pulled your mouth away from his, sniffling as tears continued to fall. He lowered one of his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The gentle yellow glow of his eyes as he looked at you with such love and affection made it even harder to keep backing the falling tears.

“Is something wrong, my love?” He asked softly, his face faintly coated with worry.

You shook your head, “Nn- No, not at all.” You sniffed, “Not at all.”

“Why the tears?” He questioned, his voice soothing as his thumb gently rubbed your wet cheek.

“Your- You-” It felt like if you made complete sentences then your eyes would flood further. You took a deep breath and swallowed hard, “You.. You took off your ring.”

Lucifer’s face showed that he was obviously still very confused on why this caused you to cry, a hint of fear in the man’s face could be seen. You guessed he was wondering if he had made a mistake at which you chuckled as you rested your head on his chest.

“I’m just really happy.”

You could feel Lucifer grin above you as hugged you tighter. He laid his head on yours, his fingers tracing patterns on your back as the two of you stood in each other's embrace. You had never felt happier as the warmth and safety Lucifer provided you washed over you, that sickening sweet smell of apples playing with your senses once more.

The rest of the day was filled with substantially less tears than your morning. After your sobbing fit and Lucifer hugging you, he cleaned up the dishes when everyone was done and after a few more hours you made dinner. Repeat Lucifer cleaning the dishes once everyone left and by the end of the day, you were tired. Fortunately, with Lucifer helping you, you weren’t as tired but you were still pretty exhausted. You collapsed onto your bed and fell asleep right then and there, still in your uniform.

When you woke up you looked extra disheveled with your clothes wrinkled and hair a mess. You rubbed a hand down your face as you groaned. If it wasn’t for your plans with Lucifer you would have rotted in bed for the rest of the day. Right on cue there were seven rapid knocks on your door. A tired smile spread across your face as you sighed, dragging yourself out of bed and opening the door.

“Goodmorning~!” Lucifer sang, a smile across his face which faltered as he looked at your current state. “Rough morning?” He chuckled which partly covered the worry that was present in his tone.

You groaned once more as a response, Lucifer laughing in response. “Come on,” he said as he turned you around and set his hands on your shoulders, moving you to your bathroom.

“Huh? What?” You ask, confused as you neared your bathroom.

Lucifer pulled a stool from the cabinet that was usually used to set up the shower curtains – they were pretty high up – and pointed to it, “Sit.”

Without thinking you do so, which gained a smirk from Lucifer who leaned over and patted your head, “Good boy.”

Your face heated immediately and blinked up at him in surprise but he was already turning around to the tub. You rested your head in your hands, your elbows on your knees, as you listened to the water suddenly turn on. Your ears perk up at the sound, your head tilted back so your eyes could peer over your hands. Lucifer was.. Setting the bath?

Blush consumed your face once more as Lucifer hummed, his half-lidded eyes lazily watching the choppy water steadily rise. You could see steam float throughout the air as the water finally reached the perfect height, in which Lucifer turned the knob and the sound of water fell away.

He clapped his hands, “Alrighty!” He smiled, turning to you. “Now, it’s time to clean you up,” which he said way too calmly.

“Lu-Lucifer- I can bathe myself-” You stammered, utterly surprised.

He waved his hand, “My apple, I’m fully aware. I was simply offering my help as this morning seems a bit rougher than usual.” His gaze softened, “However, if you don’t want me in here, I won’t mind either.”

You sighed and contemplated your options, eventually deciding having Lucifer bathe you was too much. “I think I’ll be fine.”

He simply nodded and turned to leave when you stopped him, “But- but if you want to keep me company I wouldn’t mind.” Your face was on fire.

He grinned at you, “Seems I’m staying.”

You nodded, avoiding his eyes as you unbuttoned your shirt and slipped it off. You could feel Lucifer’s eyes scanning every inch of you as you slid the rest of your clothes off before stepping into the tub. The warm water welcomed you as you laid further into it letting out a contented sigh, the steam enveloping you. Lucifer now sat on the stool that you had been on, his eyes practically glued to you.

You tried to start up conversation to fight back the warmth that spread across your face, “So, uh, you excited to teach me how to fly?”

He nodded and smiled, “Yes, I am. Are you?”

“I’m a little scared. I’ve been in Hell for a good chunk of time but these wings still feel so new to me,” as you spoke you began to clean yourself, never making eye contact or fully facing Lucifer.

“Ah,” he hummed. “That’s fair. No need to worry though, you got the Big Boss of Hell right here to make sure nothing goes wrong,” he said, flashing a toothy grin.

You smiled, still focusing on ridding yourself of overnight filth.

Small talk continued as you bathed until eventually you were clean. You felt infinitely better than when you woke up. The water was close to lukewarm as you stood up and let the water drain. The drain swallowed the water as you grabbed a warm towel, dragging it along your body until you were no longer heavily dripping water.

You walked back into your room and rummaged through your drawers, searching for something comfortable to wear as Lucifer followed you, still very obviously staring. You didn’t mind but that didn’t stop your entire body from growing hotter than well, Hell.

You finally got dressed and Lucifer gave you a playful pout, looking disappointed, “Aww.”

You shook your head and sighed, a smile forming on your lips, “You’re such a dork.”

He laughed before grabbing your hand, “You ready?” You nodded.

The two of you walked up the stairs to the roof and finally breached the closed doors, the breeze playing with your hair. You took a deep breath of the fresh air. Lucifer led you to the edge of the roof, a frightening drop left in front of you. You gulped.

“Now,” he said, his six beautiful wings unfurling from his back, spreading out, “spread out your wings, feel the wind pass and flow over you.”

You did as he said, your wings flexing out and feeling the wind. You looked to him for what to do next.

“When flying you can’t panic, otherwise you’ll flap your wings too quickly and unevenly, lose your rhythm, and tumble out of the sky.” Lucifer gently moved his wings back and forth, the red and white feathers shimmering, “It’s like swimming, except you aren’t naturally going to float.”

You swallowed hard and gave your wings a quick flap. Lucifer took a few steps backwards before running off the roof. Your heart sank for a moment as you watched him freefall before his wings acted like his parachute. He flew back up to you, still hovering in the air as he spoke.

“Now you try, I’ll be right here to catch you if something goes wrong.”

You took a few quivering steps before taking a deep breath in and out. You ran towards the edge, your wings spread as you jumped. You beat your wings rapidly but you couldn’t seem to catch any breeze evenly, tipping to one side before falling. Warm hands grabbed you under your arms.

“That was a good start,” he said, smiling down at you. Your heart pumped loudly in your ears.

He set you back on the solid ground of the roof, “This time, try just gliding. That should be much easier. Once you can glide we can work off that.”

“All you need to do is spread out your wings as you fall, the wind should catch you. Also, keep yourself straight, it’ll help you remain steady.”

You nodded, jumping right back off the roof after calming down. You dived as if there was a pool at the bottom, trying to keep your body as streamline as possible before flexing your wings outwards. You lurched painfully as your wings yanked you upwards as the wind caught you.

You gasped as you floated on basically nothing. As you turned your head to call to Lucifer you tipped and began to plummet once more. You tried to right yourself only to fall in a different direction. You yelped as you realized that the ground was becoming a lot closer than it should and that you couldn’t stop it. Your movement was halted as you were grabbed from your crashing.

“Well, you did glide,” Lucifer smiled. “Now we just gotta learn how to not tip over.”

It took a while until you achieved turning. Lucifer hovered somewhere off to your right and had you try and turn towards him as you glided. You kept tilting too far or not enough and either completely missed him or tried to greet the ground. You could feel yourself get frustrated but Lucifer’s patient smile kept it at bay. The sky was a much deeper and richer red than it had been when the two of you had originally come out when you finally landed in Lucifer’s arms – this time on purpose.

“You did it!” A wide, proud smile spread across his face before giving you several pecks all over your face in celebration.

You laughed cheerfully as he held you in his arms, your wings flapping to try and help hold yourself up.

“I am so proud of you, my love!” He cheered, giving you one final kiss on your lips.

You hugged him tighter, smiling. Your wings soon stopped their fluttering and folded against your back as exhaustion set in. You fully let yourself relax in his arms, Lucifer softly chuckling in response.

“Tired?” He asked, humor tickling the edges of his words. You nodded as you rested your head on his chest. His heartbeat vibrated throughout your body as he carried you back inside and to your room. The last thing you remember before falling asleep was Lucifer setting you on your bed and then curling up beside you, his warmth causing your eyes to flutter close as sleep took you.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #reader insert #x reader #transmasc reader #no y/n

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