#everyone thinks its a ceremonial one until he puts it against someones throat

[alteredsilicone]

I like to imagine Albrecht was actually a turbo-asshole before the Void accident, and by that I mean he would get into physical altercations at symposiums.

He had serious ego issues, though some of his frustration were legit: yes, the scientific community is in shambles and letting some Orokin metaphorically huff his own farts for 20 minutes with some esoteric philosophy on the violence of literature reviews is annoying, but that is not an excuse to start swinging during the panel discussion.

[donutloverxo]

His queen

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Note - An anon asked for an au sequel to first night with no stucky but this can be read as a one shot. Thanks to lizzygal(link to ao3) for her advice on this! This is written for @sweetlyscared's 1k angst challenge! Congrats boo! I used the prompt 'Do you love her?' Although this is hardly angsty but it's as angsty as someone as soft as me can get🥺 Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Summary - Married life with Steve was amazing (although with a few bumps in the way) until you discovered a heartbreaking secret.

Warnings - explicit sexual content, painful sex, innocent naive insecure reader, dub con/noncon, soft dark Steve, jealous Steve, ooc villain Sharon, like a little breeding kink, some angst.

Pairing - soft dark king!Steve x reader

Word count - 5.3k

Steve jolted when your palm hit him across his face, his hand circled around your wrist, ready to fight whatever it was that slapped him off, his grip loosening when he realised it was just you. You wiggled your hand away from his grip, mumbling incoherently before turning away from him, so that he could only see the silhouette of your nude back in the dim light.

Although he had been with a handful of women, he never had to share a bed with one. He didn’t think he’d ever have to, he was born in royalty, raised to be a king. While he liked having your soft warm body in his arms, he maybe could live without your hands slapping him, or both your legs over his thighs and hips.

It was customary for wives to have their own chambers after the honeymoon period was over. And with a heavy heart he had sent you to your own chambers, he made sure you were treated to the best luxuries possible.

But he found himself missing your presence soon enough. Your legs over his, you annoying him for attention whenever he was working, the way you hummed a song in your head, how you often clumsily bumped into things, your sweet beautiful voice, your scent, everything about you.

So he went to your room, told you that you were to live with him in his chambers from then on. You were hesitant at first, but didn’t say no to him.

You could never deny him anything. He loved that about you. How subservient you were despite being so fiery.

He was grateful to have made you move in, in times like these, when his cock was hard and achingly pressed against your thigh, he had you right where he wanted you.

He softly called out your name, he’d rather have you awake for this. He loved listening to the sweet sounds he could pull out of you. When you didn’t so much as stir he decided he would just have to wake you up another way.

Pushing your legs off his, spreading them apart to make room for him as he hovered over you, pressing soft kisses, rubbing his beard against your skin, he made his way down to his destination, he was parched for your nectar.

He kissed your petal, your cunt already oozing with need, your body would always want him even if you weren’t awake. He frowned when you didn’t move at all. He had been a bit too rough with you that night, exhausting you, making you pass out as soon as he was done, but he was growing more and more impatient.

Scraping his teeth over your clit, he bit it ever so lightly as you yelped awake.

“Oh!” you gasped when you looked down to find the king between your legs.

Swallowing a lump, because this was still so very strange to you. Your mother had told you how a man and woman make love before your wedding, but she never mentioned anything like this.

From your knowledge the king putting his mouth there wouldn’t result in you getting pregnant. But it did bring you great pleasure, to the point where it was maddening.

Sometimes it was the only thing on your mind.

It was as if you were addicted to it.

“My king...” you squirmed when you felt him push his fingers inside you, “I’m so tired... I have court tomorrow...” How he managed to do all his duties and still have you at least thrice everyday was beyond you.

“You don’t have to go. You’re the queen, the future mother of my children, you deserve a day off. Besides I do work you a bit too hard, don’t I?” he asked before plunging his tongue into your heat.

“Huh? No... I’m glad to be serving you...” And you had yet to give him any heirs.

It wasn’t long before you released all over his mouth, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard coated with your slick as he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“You can stay in bed all day tomorrow. That way you’ll be strong and ready by the time I’m back.” He told you before capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, as you tasted yourself on his mouth.

Turns out a day off was everything that you had needed. You were born a princess, albeit of a kingdom standing on its last legs, you were the youngest of six sisters, your prospects weren’t all that great.

Your mother told you that you’d be lucky to get a rich lord, let alone a Duke or a prince. A King was out of the question. She taught you how to handle a household, she never could’ve prepared you for court or to be a queen. You always dreamt of marrying for love. Of running away after falling for a stable boy and living far away and being free.

But you married the King of the most prestigious kingdom in the whole world. While you had grown to love Steven, you didn’t love all the responsibilities that were thrusted upon you so suddenly, you didn’t like how you were always under scrutiny. Every move you made was watched and judged by others. You still couldn’t believe your life sometimes.

So it was nice to have a day to yourself. You had slept in till late in the morning, having your breakfast in bed before taking a leisurely bath and then decided to go for a walk in the garden just before the sunset before you’d have to go back up and have dinner with your husband before having to perform your wifely duties.

“Your grace,” you smiled upon hearing the familiar voice, turning around to see Lady Sharon approaching you.

You hadn’t seen her in over a month. She had been so kind to assist you and help you get acclimated to your duties, you’d always be grateful to her.

“I thought you were under the weather,” she frowned. It was the excuse you had given to skip court with your ladies that day. Which wasn’t a complete lie. You were a little sore between your legs. But a warm bath had fixed that.

“I’m feeling quite better,” you said, standing upright, a dignified smile on your face--formal and curt.

Always be formal and curt with everyone. Your instinct was to hug her when you saw her after her month long trip, like you would to any of your sisters or friends, but you must always act like a queen since you were one.

“How was your trip?” you asked her as she hooked her arm in yours so you could both resume walking.

“It went alright. Mama wants to marry me off to the Duke Stark, the trip was some sort of matchmaking ploy,” she snorted.

“What’s wrong with Stark? He seems so charming.” You remember meeting him at your coronation ceremony. Where he had got you beautiful pearls from an exotic country.

“He maybe charming, but at the end of the day - he’s manwhore.”

You gasped incredulously, your hand over your mouth as you looked around to make sure your maids didn’t hear you, “Lady Sharon,” you chastised her, “We can’t use that sort of language.”

“Forgive me, your grace,” she apologized, “I often forget how naive you are.”

“What? Naive?” you huffed. “Not using such filthy language hardly makes me naive.”

“Live a little, all royals are debauched in one way or another. I’m surprised to see just how much of a square you are.”

“Is... is being a square a bad thing?” You wanted to know. You never thought of yourself as a conformist, in fact your mother used to tell you you’ll die an old maid if you didn’t start acting more like a lady and less like a spoilt brat.

“Sometimes it is...” she pondered. “Well, for instance, being a square in bed might be boring for some men.”

“What?” you gasped again. Tightening your grip on her arm and walking at a faster pace to put some distance between you and your maids, “Give us a minute,” you told them.

“Lady Sharon,” you looked into her blue eyes, much like your husbands but a little darker, “Have you ever been with a man?”

“I have,” she shrugged. “Just the one. He was my true love.”

“Bu – but you aren’t married.” You frowned.

“So?”

“So, how can you make love to anyone if you aren’t married...” Your mother had told you that making love only ever happened between a man and his wife.

“I... you do know what making love entails right? This is what I meant when I said you were too much of a square,” she chuckled.

“Don’t... don’t make fun of me...” you pouted.

“I’m sorry, your grace, it’s just,” she put a hand over her mouth as she cleared her throat, “Really funny. Two people, who aren’t married, can make love. Being married is good but not a requirement.”

“I suppose that makes sense, me and his majesty could do it even if we weren’t married...”

“Is he happy with you?” she wanted to know.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just, you don’t know much about physical relations, and there needs to be a certain level of knowledge and experience for it to be good at it.”

“Do you think he is unsatisfied with me?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she shrugged. “Does he seem unsatisfied?”

He was always asking for it. Which you preferred, because you’d die of embarrassment if you ever had to initiate it. You couldn’t go for too long without it either. He had went on a hunting trip for just a couple of days and you wanted to jump on him and keep him in your bed as soon as you saw him.

Why would he ask for it again and again if he was satisfied?

“I’m not sure... since you know so much about it would you give me some advice?”

“My, I would’ve thought you’d call me a harlot or a whore instead you’re asking for advice...” she smirked.

“Oh, I would never. That is what my mother would say, probably, but you’re my friend. Besides, I would want to make love to Steve even if we weren’t married, and if he was a stable boy.”

“A stable boy?” she quirked a blonde brow.

“Yes! And I would be me, a princess. It’s just a silly dream I used to have,” you shrugged. “What happened to your love? The one you lost?”

“He got married to someone else,” she stated. And although she was firm and sophisticated as always, you could hear his voice wavering and how much pain she was in.

“Oh my... I am so sorry, Sharon,” you said, engulfing her in a hug to comfort her, now that you do actually love someone, now that you know what loving someone deeply means, how overwhelming it can be, you couldn’t even imagine what losing that love would feel like. “You’ll find someone better.”

“There is no one better, your grace. But I’ll give you some advice,” she pulled away from you, putting some distance between you both, “You have to pay special attention to his balls. Many ladies tend to forget them.”

“Ball...? Like toys? I don’t believe he has any.”

“Your grace,” she rolled her eyes as she snickered, “He does have them. That is where your children will come from.”

“Um... what? Wouldn’t they come from...” you looked down, to the place between your legs. That’s where kids come from. That’s what you had been told.

“Well, yes, that is where they will pop out of. But the balls... the ones right behind his manhood, that’s where his seed comes from.”

“Oh...” you nodded as you realised what she was talking about. “So... what about the... balls?”

“Just pay special attention to them. He would like that. Suck on them, tug on them... but gently!” she chuckled as she realised she would have to talk down to you since you were so inexperienced.

“Oh... alright... anything else I can do?”

“Try to be more... active... instead of just sitting there and taking it you know?”

“Alright. I think I get the gist of it.”

“You ready for me, petal?” Steven asked as he looked down at you, naked and vulnerable, so beautiful and all his. He nudged his cock against your intimate lips, prodding at your entrance as he awaited your answer. He knew he could be too much for you sometimes, he was trying to do better. So he could make you love him at least half of as much as he loves you.

“Mm-hm... but um...” you trailed off. Not exactly knowing how you would go about asking to suck his balls.

“What?”

“I was just wondering if... I could... do that...” you fluttered your lashes, that usually got you whatever you wanted from him.

“And what is ‘that’?”

“You know... when you make me put my mouth on you...”

He didn’t usually make you use your mouth.

Most of the times Steven had a strict unofficial schedule he followed when it came to lovemaking. He wasn’t someone who liked or embraced change, he was always strategic, as a king and as your husband.

He’d kiss you till you were out of breath, then your neck, and then your breasts, he’d spend a long amount of time there, maybe because you liked that the most probably. And then he’d use his fingers to work you up, tasting you, eating you out and drinking your nectar.

That drove you mad, till you were on the brink of insanity.

You loved it as much as you hated it. You had never felt so out of control in your entire life. Not even when your parents told you they were going to marry you off to a kingdom far away, to a man you had never even met before.

Steven would complain that you thrashed and moved around too much, although he would encourage you to make all the noise that you wished. He pinned you down by your hips. Sometimes he’d make you make once, twice, thrice, it depended on how desperate he was to get his own release.

And then he’d have you on your back. Whispering the filthiest things to you as he fucked you, filled you up with his seed.

He’d hold you close to him, kissing your hair, kissing your cheeks and touching your ever so intimately. That was when you were the most clingy, you’d hold on so tightly to him. You were more vulnerable than usual. You would tell him about how, even though you love being the queen and his wife, it was so new and overwhelming, how you miss your family and your old life. How things had changed and so drastically. He’d always tell you that it would all be okay. That he would take care of you and never let anything bad ever happen to you.

Then he’d have you on your hands and knees. He told you he liked looking at your behind and spanking it.

After that you’d both fall asleep. Sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and nudge you awake to love you some more. But he rarely ever made you suck him off.

“You wanna suck my cock?” he smirked as you meekly nodded. “Go right ahead then, petal. It’s all yours now, you don’t have to ask,” he told you as he sat up on his knees.

You looked at his cock. Hard and standing tall and proud up against his stomach. You now knew that being aroused made him hard and much much bigger. Maybe that’s why it’s often such a tasking job to take him--often leaving your cunt so sore.

Soft dark golden hair, much like that of his beard, and then you noticed them. His twin balls.

You took a deep breath as you took him in your mouth, suckling on his head, following your instincts and what he had taught you.

Your hand coming up and cupping his balls, massaging them gently in your hand. You stopped when you felt him go stiff.

Pulling his cock out of your mouth you looked up at him. “Did I do something wrong?” as you wiped your spittle and his preejaculate off your mouth.

“No,” he shook his head. It wasn’t often that he was stunned. Not ever really. But you, taking that kind of initiative, to touch him without him asking for you to, did shock him just a little.

He held onto the back of your head, bringing his balls just next to your mouth, against your soft lips, “Suck on them,” he told you.

You suckled at one, working the other one with your hand as he pulled at the roots of your head.

“Fuck! Stop!” he heaved, pulling you away, “I have to save it for your beautiful cunt, my queen,” he told you as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before he pushed you back down on the mattress.

Swiftly entering you, you were still as tight as the night of your wedding, which meant he had to be patient while fucking you, and he tried. He really did. But he was not a patient man. Especially not when you had just put your mouth on him and worked your magic in mere seconds.

He put most of his weight on you as he slowly pushed in and out of you, your face scrunched up in pleasure as you dug your nails into his shoulders.

With your pussy hugging him so well, almost as if it was made for him, as if you were made by the gods just for him.

“What have you done to me?” he rasped, touching his damp forehead to yours. You had weaved some sort of magic on him, making him crazy for you. Now it was hard to tell where he ended and you began.

You pressed a hand against your mouth to stop from giggling or making any sort of noise. Resting your back against the cool surface of the throne. You chose the back of the throne in the court as your place of hiding. Maybe it wasn’t the most strategic ploy but you were playing against a six year old.

Lila Barton had asked to play hide and seek with you. Only to receive a scolding from her nanny--to not bother the queen with such trivial matters.

It was as if you were reliving your childhood. You always felt you were made to grow up and be a lady too fast. With your mother and sisters telling you how important it was to act mature and be a lady, or you wouldn’t be able to marry well. Or marry at all.

So you jumped at the first opportunity to play with the kid. Making her count to twenty before looking for a place to hide. You had to go get your lessons for sewing so you didn’t have a lot of time, you hoped she would find you soon.

“But you’re not even considering it!”

You perked up when you heard the familiar voice, it was Lady Sharon! You had to thank her for all her advice, things had been going great with Steven ever since you listened to her. He had been opening up to you as well, although he was still as voracious in his love making. If anything... he wanted you even more now. Which you didn’t think could even be possible.

But some part of you absolutely loved it. And you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You peaked out to see her, to maybe call her to join you on the floor, hiding behind the large throne. You frowned when you saw that she was holding onto Steven’s arm, looking up at him with a certain desperation in her eyes.

“There is nothing to consider. I’m a married man. It would be adultery – a crime,” he stated.

“Bu – but you promised, you told me you didn’t love her. You said you didn’t have any other choice. I’m not asking you to leave her for me, I know that’s not possible. I’m not a fucking idiot like her.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth again to keep your sobs in, tears streaming down your face as you watched your husband, and his lover, have a lovers quarrel.

You couldn’t hear any more of it. Couldn’t bear it breaking your heart anymore than it already had. You quickly got up, fleeing out of the room by the back entrance - which the servants often used.

“You watch your mouth when you speak of the queen,” he yanked his arm free of her, putting some distance between himself and her, “I didn’t make any promises like that. I told you I intended to be faithful to her even if I didn’t love her.”

He knew it was a mistake to ever get involved with Sharon. He never wanted to be a womanizer. But he had his needs. He didn’t think she would become so obsessed with him. He had broken off their short fling as soon as he became betrothed to you.

He felt responsible for all the rumours about him and her and her ruined reputation. So he had arranged for her to marry his good friend Stark but she had her mind set on him.

“I like the queen. She’s a good friend of mine. I don’t intend to replace her,” she explained. She had no interest in being a queen and having such tedious and boring responsibilities anyway—the power and the status that came along with it just wasn’t worth the hassle. She pitied you and how you just weren’t made for the job.

“But she can’t satisfy you, she can’t give you what you need-- What I can give you,” Being the Kings mistress would probably be better than being a Duchess and marrying some boring old man.

“Won’t you even think about it?”

“No I won’t. And you are to never speak of this again,” he warned her.

“Your grace...” Lydia was completely confused. Standing there with your dress in her hands as you frantically stuffed your clothes in a chest.

She had never seen two people as in love as you and the king. When she first met you, it didn’t seem as if you and Steven would make a good couple. She assumed your marriage would be like any other she had seen. Cold and distant.

Steve had never been smitten with a woman, she always felt there maybe something wrong with him. But he had grown so fond of you in such a short time. Even going as far as asking you to live with him in his chambers. Having the king around often made her duties to you challenging. But she was happy for you.

“I don’t understand. What wrong? Why do you want to leave so suddenly.” Does the king approve of your sudden departure? If not would she get in trouble for it?

“He lied to me,” you sobbed. “I thought--” you let out a hiccup.

“Calm down,” she said as she rubbed your forearms. She wasn’t afraid to touch you in such friendly ways, you weren’t as stuck up as most royals.

You took a deep breath as you tried to explain to your handmaiden why you both had to leave as soon as possible. Before Steven gets back. You’ll move all your things to the room you were supposed to live in and just lock him out of your chambers.

“I would’ve been fine living on my own. Just being a wife and a queen. But he made me believe... that we could be more. That he loved me. It’s not true,” you shook your head. “He lied. He has another lover.”

“Oh,” she let out. She was disappointed on your behalf but not surprised. It would be strange if the king didn’t have any other lovers. “I’m sorry, your grace.”

“I’ll be fine,” you sniffled. “This'll be a good lesson for me. My mother always told me I have my head in the clouds and should live in reality. That’ll teach me to dream.”

It was almost funny for her to watch you babble nonsense, stable boys, princesses and backstabbing friends, take a break to cry your heart out and then resume packing and trying to order all the other servants.

“What’s going on here?”

Everyone stopped moving as soon as they heard the kings voice. He of course looked at the Lydia for an explanation.

“The queen wants us to...”

“I’m moving back to my old chambers,” you briskly walked to him, standing right in front of him, looking him in the eye. He was much taller than you, making you crane your neck to actually get a good look at him, but you still tried to look intimidating and confrontational.

“Why?” he frowned. “Put everything back just as it was,” he ordered everyone.

“No!” you stomped your foot, looking very much like an indignant child who had his toy taken away, than a queen, “Don’t! We’re moving!” But of course nobody would listen to you over Steven. Not just because he was their king, but also because he was much more intimidating than you.

“Stop it!” he reprimanded you. “Whatever troubles you may have, we can sort them out together, but you are not moving back. And that’s the end of that.”

“No! I’m leaving! I’d like to see you try to stop me!” You hmphed. Pushing past him and making way for the door. You didn’t need to take your things with you now, you could just send for them later.

You screamed bloody murder when you felt Stevens arm around your stomach, as he threw you over his shoulder in the blink of an eye, “HELP!!” You yelled at the guards and your maids, who didn’t want to get involved, quickly scurrying out of the room.

“Ring the bell if you need anything, your grace,” Lydia said on her way out to you before she closed the door. It didn’t seem as if the king intended to do any real harm to you so she wasn’t that worried about you.

You kept on hitting his back, thrashing around his hold to break free, “Put me down!”

He threw you on your marital bed, his fingers making quick work of ridding him of his clothes so he could show you how he was just never going to let you go.

“Why do you even care? If I leave or not? You can just call for your lover!”

“My lover?” he frowned as he tried to push your skirts up your legs, which was proving to be a difficult task. Maybe he should’ve asked the maids to undress you before making them leave.

“Do you love her?” you asked, looking up at him and stopping your futile resistance for a few moments, your lips wobbly as you felt your vision blue with tears. You were born a princess, living a relatively sheltered life, never knowing pain so unbearable. As if you would never recover from this, you would never be the same.

You would never believe in love again.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, petal,” he said, getting frustrated with all the buttons and ties on your dress and ripping your skirt apart. Which he regretted, just a little because you started crying again.

“No! I like this dress.”

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you a hundred more.” He said as he hovered over you, diving in to kiss your beautiful lips and make you stop saying such preposterous things.

You sniffled as you tried to push him away, making him gather your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head.

“Stop it,” he told you. “When will you understand that you belong to me now? If I say you have to live with me, here, then that’s what you’ll do.”

“I’m not your slave,” you retorted as you tried to wiggle your hands out of his grip.

“Stop listening to rumors! There are plenty going around. I do not have a lover.”

“No. I saw it with my own eyes. You and Lady Sharon. Just this afternoon.”

“What did you see?”

“I... she said she was your lover...?” You tried to think of what exactly had been said between them. But you couldn’t remember. You were blinded by your fury and your sorrow.

“We used to be lovers, before you and I ever met, but not anymore. I could never think of another, I could never love anyone else,” he said softly as he touched your cheek with his other hand, “You want to know why?”

“Why?” you pouted, feeling a little stupid now.

“Because you’ve ruined me, my queen. You’ve made me a lovesick fool. I could never love anyone else the way I love you. Do you want to know how much I love you?” he asked as you meekly nodded.

Pulling his cock out of breaches, he pushed your skirts up, exposing your thighs to him, he rubbed his cock along the slick of your pussy.

“Did fighting with me make you wet, my queen?” he asked, making you avert your gaze.

“I...” it was the way he had simply thrown you around, how he just wouldn’t let you leave, “Maybe...”

“Hm, don’t start picking fights with me for no reason though. My poor heart won’t be able to bear it,” he cooed as he kissed your cheeks, wet from your tears. “You look beautiful when you cry, love, but I only want you crying when I’m fucking you, you understand?”

“Yes...”

He pushed inside you, you were tighter than usual, it was difficult to even properly enter you. The pain of it of course made you cry again. You sobbed into the crook of his neck as he shushed you.

“You feel my love, darling,” he asked as he was buried to the hilt inside you, “I’ll give you a child soon enough. Then you’ll have a living breathing proof of it,” he whispered in your ear as he started steadily moving, making sure that he won’t hurt you.

“I wish... I was your one and only... like you are mine,” you sniffled as you held on to him, soon it is wasn’t hurting as much, it was a little uncomfortable but you could bear through it.

“You are my one and only. You’re the only woman I have ever loved. Do you love me, petal?”

He looked down at you, wanting you to say it. He needed you to love him, for you to say it to him, he needed to know you weren’t here just because you were scared of him.

“I love you, Steve,” you sniffled, rubbing your runny nose with the back of your hand.

He smiled at you, his hand trailing down both your bodies as he twisted your pearl between his fingers.

“It’s okay... it’s okay...” He kept telling you as you screamed at the top of your lungs, your climax making your mind and your vision fuzzy.

“I’m going to fill you up, petal,” he told you as he finished inside you, staying inside you for a long while after he was done just to make sure you knew how he belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him.

[whumperooni]

daddy enji/aizawa pulling you over their laps after you’ve acted like a brat all day and spanking you till ur crying 😫

Here ya go, nonny! Sorry it took so long!

Pairing: Aizawa x Daughter!Reader

Tags/Warnings: tw incest, spanking, lingerie tw incestuous thoughts

Word count: 1.2k

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Aizawa has a lot of patience. After years and years of teaching unruly students, it’s something he’s had to garner, grow. Yes, sometimes it snaps, but he generally keeps a good hold on it.

His hold is starting to slip, though.

You’re usually so well behaved, so good for him.

Today, though? Today you’re being a brat.

It started with you waking up in a bad mood. You had been grumpy with him through breakfast, snippy at him whenever he tried to get you to eat more. He had been patient then and had relented, reminded himself that you are an adult and that you don’t have to eat breakfast if you don’t want to.

Your mood worsened through the day, though, and you tried his patience again and again with your constant snaps and sulking.

Getting you to come to this had been like trying to drag a turtle from its shell- you had near thrown a tantrum over something small- your dress? shoes? he couldn’t make it out from you angry tongue lashes- and it had only been the reminder that you were being honored that made you calm down enough to be tugged out of the house.

Now, however, you’re not calm. You’re bratty, moody, sullen- scowling into your champagne and pouting whenever someone tries to talk to you.

It’s perplexing, really. He can’t understand why you’re being such a brat and he can’t understand why you’re being such a bad girl today. You’re usually so sweet and docile, obedient and respectful.

Not today, though- today you’re being a brat.

And Aizawa’s patience has reached its end.

“Kitten, we can leave after you’re honored. Please behave until then.”

A scoff sounds and your eyes narrow even as you look away from him, your glossy lips twist into a scowl.

“I am,” you snap back.

“No, you’re not. You’re being rude to everyone. I know it’s not what you want to do, but there’s a time to suck it up and make nice and this is it. They’re throwing this ceremony for you-”

“Fuck this ceremony.”

Sharp, hissed, searing with an anger Aizawa can’t comprehend- the words have him blinking. Once, twice, three times- Aizawa blinks and he turns his head to you, looks down at your wide eyes and shrinking shoulders, your throat as it moves with a swallow. Your scowl stays and Aizawa blinks once more before snatching your wrist and dragging you away, ignoring your snapped protests and the stares sent his way.

You fight him each and every step, but Aizawa manages to haul you to an empty room and push you inside, close the door and seal your panicked, temperamental self away from the rest of the ceremony. 

“Daddy-”

The click of a lock cuts you off and you shoot back from him- back from your father- as he turns toward you and narrows his eyes.

“Daddy, you can’t-”

“Enough.”

Your head jerks back as if you’ve been slapped and Aizawa steps toward you, sets his displeasure on your twitching form.

“You have been nothing but a brat all day long,” he says, slowly- words dripping with disappointed with each step he takes. “I’ve been so patient, kitten, but you’ve been nothing but a spoiled little bitch.”

A wince passes over you and your lips part to retort. Anything you would say, though, dies with a grasp as Aizawa grabs onto your wrist again, pulls you close.

“You’ve been bad, kitten,” he tells you, squeezing your wrist tighter whenever you try to squirm away. “You need to be punished. You need to remember your manners again.”

“Punished?! You can’t-”

A jerk, a few steps to the side, a tug- you’re over his lap before you know it and Aizawa has you pinned down tight, has the skirt over dress clenched in his fist.

“D- Daddy! What are you-”

Aizawa yanks your skirt up above your waist and lands a sharp smack to your ass- makes your soft cheek burn and bounce as his callused, rough hands glides over lace panties and tender flesh. A squeal rips from you and your hips jerk- thighs jiggling with the motion, your garters stretching as you squirm and whine in his grasp.

If he were a lesser man, the sight would have his anger soothing, his cock stirring. The panties, the stockings, the garters, your twitching hips and whining lips- if you weren’t his daughter...

But, you are. You’re his daughter and he’s dealing out your punishment- making you pay for every snip and snap and sneer you’ve made today.

“Ow- Ow! Daddy, please! I’m sorry!”

“Are you?” he huffs, fingers digging into your ass and making you whimper, claw your nails into the seat cushion. “Because I think if you were sorry, you would have stopped being such a brat much earlier on.”

“D- Daddy! I’m sorry! I was just-”

Smack!

A moan this time- something loud, breathy; something that anyone walking outside would hear. He thinks to care about it- he should care about it- but the way a sniffle has your chest heaving and the way your trembling has you brushing over his lap has his focus distracted, has him breathing deep whenever you bump and grind against his cock.

His eyes betray him and Aizawa’s gaze wanders down to your cleft, his gaze zeroes in on the sheer, wet spot dampening lace.

Repulsed. He should be repulsed. He should feel guilty, awkward, shocked.

He should and yet...

Perhaps it's because you're like a stranger to him right now- a disobedient, bratty little bitch that needs a stern daddy to correct your behavior.

A stranger, not his obedient little girl. A stranger, a brat, a whore- hot and squirming, whining and hitching out gasps.

Another sharp spank lands against your ass and you sob from it, arch and whine and drip tears down your cheeks as you try to squirm away. Aizawa’s hand lands on your cheek- fingers curling over the curve and dipping toward your cleft- and you tremble with a whimper, curl up meekly into yourself as his free hand clamps down onto the back of your neck.

“Are you going to behave?” he asks- voice low, fingers tightening into your flesh. “Are you going to be a good little girl and act right? Put on a sweet smile and be polite?”

Another sniffle, another whimper. You nod in a tight, choked motion and Aizawa takes a deep breath, uncurls his fingers and runs his palm over your heated flesh.

“Best behavior, kitten,” Aizawa orders. “Or when we get home I’ll do something much worse. Don’t make me correct your behavior again.”

You twitch in his grasp and panic leaves you in a tight noise, quick and desperate words of, “Y- Yes, daddy! I’m sorry, daddy!”

One last spank and then Aizawa lets you go, lets you scramble off his lap and fix your dress with burning cheeks, swipe away your ruined eyeliner with shaking fingers.

He looks you over, eyes hooded, and he places his hand to the back of your back neck once you’re composed, begins leading you back to the ceremony room. You stay quiet the whole time- head bowed, lips closed, lashed lowered docilely and hiding your still watery eyes.

Aizawa hands you off to some business men and he takes a glass of champagne from a waiter, downs half of it in a hard swallow as he tries to calm his beating heart.

Your father watches you struggle to maintain composure from across the room and he adjusts his cock in his slacks- hard, hungry, mind replaying the image of his hand laying over his daughter’s ass again and again.

[marvellovegalore]

Loving You

Chris Evans

Synopsis: Chris is over the moon, he's met you and life couldn't be better - you're all he's ever dreamed of and there's nothing you could do to ruin that.

Warning: explicit language, sexual content

No one in your industry would ever consider you difficult to work with, neither mean, arrogant, conniving or calculating. Most would go out of their way to praise you, proclaim their adoration for the movie star of dreams. On the other hand, your previous partners would. Ex-boyfriends that would bravely volunteer to be interviewed about your past relationship would recount their experiences with the same look as a shell-shocked soldier. If they could, they would gather in a support group for those left with deeply affecting, unresolved trauma - left by you.

You would deny it, if you could be bothered; or if the media had declared your heartbreaker ways to be of public interest. Which they are, but you’re largely untouchable therefore they're unreported. A Hollywood starlet, philanthropist, trend setter and tastemaker - alongside with being viewed largely as a sweetheart. Your childhood nannies coming in storming with adulations and saccharine recollections of a sweet and shy child. Friends that are more than happy to celebrate you on social media and fans who fill the internet with high production videos of you strutting on the streets and red carpets cement the idea that you are the moment, and you are loved.

To the world outside of the sphere of your ex-boyfriends, you were the most eligible bachelorette. There was no flaw in sight, no illusion to dispel or enchantment to break; you’re the real deal. Until you get bored, and you need to hurt someone. Because hurt people, hurt people. As the saying goes. There’s no need to go into that - just yet.

So, when Christopher saw you at the 2019 Vanity Fair Oscars after party, he fell head over heels. Your eyes cast a spell on him, and the enchantment was cast by the world’s master mage, you. You barely realised what you did, you were in no mood to flirt or truly fraternise. You were attempting to drown your sorrows of missing out on another Oscar win for the second time - in a mojito glass. You looked spectacular, possibly more than how you looked during the ceremony. But to Chris, your face of indignation looked like the angelic expression of a good second place loser with no hard feelings. He attempted to approach you, but too many people go into his way, they came with unprovoked film criticisms and pseudo interview responses that would get them into the academy board. All he wanted was to see your face up close and know how you spoke when you weren’t being regarded by a crowd of enraptured spectators.

He could see that you weren’t being left alone either, you hadn’t won the Oscar, but you are being treated as if you did. Your eyes bounce off of him every once in a while, but he couldn’t capture your attention - and then you left the party. You hardly made the French exit you were seeking. Stars old and young clamoured to say their goodbyes and kisses on your cheeks. You finally managed to escape. If Chris were to attempt to lie and say that he wasn’t disappointed, a blind woman could have seen right through him. His heart dropped, and he couldn’t explain why - he didn’t even know you.

Some other actor friends managed to drag him to a more intimate after party, the setting hardly intimate. A compound nestled in Hidden Hills, twenty-four-hour security circling the property, of one starlet who presented herself at the beginning of the night but chose an early slumber rather than socialising.

You came in half an hour after him, a miniskirt showing off your incredible legs - which were insured for an absurd amount.

His breath caught in his mouth. You were dressed down, but you looked too incredible to even try and claim you didn’t try. Everyone’s head turned and everyone was captured by the beauty at the door, accompanied by a friend. Your demure appearance fooling everyone into thinking that the attention was unwanted. You grabbed yourself a drink and half an hour later you were still enveloped with a group of equally intoxicated friends.

Though, Chris was determined to get your attention. He grabbed a drink off of the barman and slowly and easily made his way to you. The word ‘chill’ being chanted over and over again in his head. He was dead set on not making a fool of himself. Three steps away from you, glass of mojito clutched in his hands, his anxiety being beaten down and desperately suffocated into his stomach and away from his brain. He goes over his words, and before he finishes walking to you, you turn suddenly.

Your eyes pierce into his, a smirk glossing your lips. “Hi.” Your voice is low, characteristically different from your stage voice - your accent just as strong.

“Hey, got this for you.” Chris thrusts the glass into your unexpectant hand, some of the drink splashing out over the frosted rim. “Hope, it’s not too presumptive of me to have gotten it for you?” His eyes have glossed over, he shifts his weight from one foot to another. You shake your head no, a sweet smile playing at your lips. He’s even easier on the eyes much closer up. “Sorry you didn’t win that Oscar, real shame, I was rooting for you!”

You store it in the back of your mind that this man manages to look like a golden retriever even when he’s several drinks down, “It’s nothing, what does it mean anyway, I’ll still get more jobs in the future.” You take a sip of your drink after he takes a sip of his.

He compliments your eyes, your complexion and goes on an eager rant of how much he admires your capacity for acting. You drink in the adoration diluted by alcohol and take his words with a pinch of salt. After twenty minutes of solid, drunken conversation you’ve moved to a nook shadowed by statues. Your legs next to his on the red velvet sofa. You remark on the class of the artistic statues, clearly purchased illegally from a Mediterranean museum. He barely takes in your words, much preferring to intoxicate himself with the sight of you - and his fifth beer.

You’ve decided that you want him. Badly. But you’ve sussed him out. He’s not just going to be a one-night stand - in the animal kingdom he’s a Golden Retriever, and those aren’t dogs to be messed with. Your last fling was essentially a Doberman pinscher - discardable - but this Chris had to reeled in slowly.

You interrupt his musing about the Boston markets with a kiss.

Your lips smoothly capture his, your lipstick smearing over his lips. His hand presses tightly on the small of your back, arm underneath your waist holding you up higher. Stars explode inside your eyelids and his fingers grip tightly onto your shirt as your tongue licks his bottom lip. Your entry is granted, you lips pressing tighter against each other. Your eyelashes dance over his. Your hands rise to his face, your hands imprinting themselves onto his cheekbones. His hand brushes over the bare skin of your leg, his fingertips tracing the insides of your thighs. A small moan rises from the back of his throat.

The hold you have on him is cemented, you part away from him. You untangle yourself from him and stand up from the sofa, your eyes refusing to look at him, you smooth your clothes and slowly strut away from him.

Chris looks at the fire that you’ve set on his limbs in disbelief, he doesn’t grasp what you’ve just done. Did he do something wrong? Does he smell? No. You just didn’t care for the ceremony of the first ‘after-kiss’ moments.

He doesn’t see you for a year.

You truly are elusive - to the media and him.

He couldn’t get you out of his mind, and the fact that you starred in another award-nominated film did little to help him forget you.

You were curious to understand whether you really enticed him or not. You decided to not pursue that line of questioning, and never bothered to reply to his direct messages. It wasn’t done with the intent of hurting him, you just didn’t care. But life has a way of putting things in your way that deep down you didn’t know you wanted.

--

Nevertheless, here you are, with your boyfriend of a year - Christopher, sat across from you telling you story about his nephew. You simper, your eyes flitting between the sight of him and the view of the sea. The coast of Martha’s Vineyard enraptures you, you drink your wine, eyes steadily moving to the coastal view.

You grew up coming here. Your family often choosing the quiet island to rest in during the late spring holidays. You brought Chris back here to stay at your family holiday home as it’s not too far from his own family home, a perfect last stop after spending the week with his family.

He watches you curiously, his blue irises begging you to let him in to your thoughts. You refuse silently and beckon the waiter. You ask for the bill, it’s quickly on the table and you pay - ignoring Chris’ refusals. You smile at him, for the second time during dinner. He responds in kind, remarking on your bad mood and how he’s glad you’ve cheered up after having some food. He muses on the lovely weekend you’ve had together as you leave the restaurant. Candlelight following you as you make your exit with your hands holding each other tightly, his other hand in his preppy shorts.

You walk slowly, watching the sunset. His arm finding its way around your shoulders. His sweet and intimate embrace enveloping you in warmth. Your heart beats quickly against his bicep as you near your home. Your hands tremble for some reason and you practically sprint up the porch steps after you’ve crossed the gate and walkway, leaving Chris five steps behind you.

You open the door and make a quick beeline for the kitchen in the far back of the house. You enter the pantry, ignoring Chris’ questions of what is wrong. You take a bottle of Rosé out of the wine fridge and forgo pouring it into a glass and drink it straight from the bottle. It tastes incredibly sweet, and Chris finds you eventually in the pantry. He looks at you in surprise as you gulp the drink.

“Everything okay, baby?” He walks to you, his hands failing onto your hips, his adoring eyes almost boring into your soul. You refuse him entry into the pits of your emotions. Steeling yourself against the onslaught of therapy-like talk.

You don’t want him to know that hurt people, hurt people. And that you’re one of them.

You kiss him, silencing his calming words.

His fingers tighten on your sundress. The colour melding with the colour of his fingers. Your lips become one.

You go through the steps of getting out of the pantry in a seemingly choreographed dance, your dance ends in the smaller reception room; your bodies tangling themselves on the rug. Neither of you giving a care to fact that you’re undressing in front of the window overlooking the pool and coast.

The flickers of the setting sun’s rays highlight his now bare chest. He returns his lips to yours in a hypnotising kiss. Your hands dance with the muscles of his back as you caress his skin, his torso vibrating in between your legs with the fervour of his movements. Your dress is ripped off your body. He directs his attention to your right breast, his soft lips caressing your skin. His tongue lashes slowly against your nipple, you fight to hold back your moans as his hand lowers to your pussy. His fingers pushing aside your pants, his fingers sink into you like it’s their second nature. Your head rolls back as he makes love to you with his fingers and his lips lower down to where his fingers are. He licks you where you need him most, his love for you being written inside you with his tongue.

You orgasm. Slowly.

And all that runs through your mind is how much you’ll miss him.

You pull him up to you, you turn over and straddle him. Tasting yourself on his lips as the sun sets even lower. The waves crash against the shore violently as the wind picks up. You lower yourself onto him and start riding him, your hips bucking in an impassioned manner against his. He doesn’t hold back his moans as he caresses your breasts and stomach.

You realised you loved him four months ago, but every time you catch sight of his loving eyes when you’re fucking, it makes you fall in love all over again.

Chris switches and puts you on all fours, he grips your hair in his hands, the rising intensity making him grip you harder. His thrusts are merciless, his spare hand spanking you and stroking, you’re on the cusp of a sensory overload when he turns you over. On your back you have the most beautiful view. A strong ray of sunlight brightening his eyes as he makes love to you. His kisses are tender but intense. His hand grips onto yours, your fingers intertwined and his other hand griping onto your face.

A tear slips out of your eye, you wipe it away quickly. Your increased sensitivity makes the second orgasm come, Chris fucks you through your breathy moans and you throw your head back. Momentarily blinded by the bliss; the pink sky wakes up from the saccharine, cloudy state. Chris orgasms into you with four thrusts.

You push away from him and stand up; you pull on your silky pants. You sigh and leave Chris on laying breathless on the rug. You walk upstairs and enter your room. You use the toilet, wash your hands, have a glass of water and throw on a short black dress. As you pull on your boots Chris enters the room, a smile gracing his lips.

He pulls on some shorts, “Want to tell me what all that was about?” He gives you a confused expression as he lies back against the bed, taking one of the fluffed pillows from behind him and tucking it between his chest and arms.

Hurt people, hurt people.

You turn towards him, facing away from your walk-in closet. “When we fuck, I have to think about other men to get through it.”

His eyes widen alarmingly, he turns to you, the light of the tv making him blue. “Say that again?” The disbelief is almost tangible in his words.

“I feel embarrassed about being seen with you now. I feel I’m just too good for you.” You walk into the closet and you hear him stomp off the bed.

“No, rewind to what you first said.” His voice is louder, his features twisted with confusion and hurt.

“I have to think of other guys to get off,” your eyes connect with his, you don’t look away, you fight the smirk biting at your lips. “I can’t stand the thought of being with you any longer. I’m sick of it.” You grab the suitcase that was packed for you when you were at the restaurant. “Also, you’re not as ripped as you were when we met, there’s other guys that can provide that image for me.”

“Take it back.” The hurt he’s feeling is completely tangible now. “Take it back right now. Right. Now.” His eyes are pleading with you to have mercy.

You've decided that you've gone past the point of no return. “I’d be happy never have to see you or have to hear from you - ever again.” You scan his eyes, your heart swelling with an eerie feeling of pride as his eyes flood with held back tears.

“This must be some elaborate prank— “he chokes on his words, his hands reach for yours, but you step back.

“This year has been tedious, completely boring and I’ve gotten nothing but only ten decent fucks from you.” Not true, and both of you can attest to that, you've had the best sex, your mutual adoration is clear when you make love. So, Chris is at a loss to understand how this is all being said and happening. “I’m off to New York, stay as long as you like or don’t. I don’t care. Have a nice life.” You slip past him.

Taking his heart and soul with you.

He can’t stop the tears from ballooning in his eyes and then trickling down his cheeks.

He must be stuck in a nightmare. He doesn’t know how long he’s been pacing in this closet filled with your clothes, your smell haunting him.

He rushes downstairs and there’s no sign of you. He stumbles outside and there’s no sign of you or your driver. He rushes in to get his phone and calls you. Five times. The sixth time it goes straight to voicemail.

He feels his heart break.

He falls right in the spot he’s in. He vomits his heart out, the pieces being spat out onto the wooden floors. The blood shinning underneath the soft lights of the lamps.

He wants death. Slow and steady death.

——

Part Deux -

[niksfics]

↬ WHAT COULD NEVER BE

↬ PAIRINGS: bokuto x f!reader? (Side) atsumu x f!reader

↬ WARNINGS: nothing really. Just some heart wrenching angst, bokuto is careless with your heart I guess

↬ SUMMARY: you fell in love with your bestfriend but your bestfriend has never felt that way about you.

↬ A/N: I totally did not cry while writing this pft

↬ WC: | 1.7K |

My first year at Fukurodani had been lonely to say the least. I had been new to the area wheras everyone else had gone to middle school together, and I'd been the odd one out. The cliques had already formed leaving me to fend for myself.

My second year though I'd seen a flyer for the boys volleyball team needing a new manager. I signed my name against my better judgement and hoped for the best. When I'd shown up to the first practice game after a talk with the coach, I had realized signing that flyer was the best decision I'd ever made.

Bokuto Kotaro a second year -at the time- like myself was just a ball of energy. He was an honest to god enigma. Being around him was just intoxicating, a rollercoaster you never wanted off of. We got along fairly quickly and him and the rest of the boys had made my second year a little less lonely.

In my third year I was always greeted in the halls, by my fellow classmates who'd known me because of Bo. When he'd learned that I was basically friendless in my second year he'd gone around and introduced me to just about everyone he knew. Eyes shining with love and happiness. That was the third time my heart had skipped a beat because of him.

By the time I realized the butterflies in my stomach increased as the months went by in my eventful second year, the more I realized I was falling in love with my best friend. My heart thumping against my rib cage every time he'd look at me. My skin lighting on fire as his skin brushed against mine. My breath catching in my throat whenever he'd look at me a certain way, or whenever he leaned down to whisper something in my ear. He made me feel breathless and I could never get tired of it.

The day I realized my bestfriend, Bokuto Kotaro, just might not be in love with me as well was the day I'd stayed late after practice to put some of the equipment in the storage closet. I'd been proudly wearing his jacket. It swallowing my body because that's just how big he was. He'd rounded the corner into the closet and smiled at me sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"Y/n, I was wondering," he'd paused and my heart beat against my chest almost as if it was gonna burst right through my skin. The breathless feeling coming back and I felt myself starting to smile until he'd finished his sentence, "well uhm... I was wondering if I could have my jacket back, Koyuki is cold and I don't want her to freeze," my smile dropped in an instant. The way he'd said her name, it was.. well it was different than whenever he said anybody else's name. "Oh yeah sure Bo, lemme just put this stuff down really fast," I'd turned from him nose stinging from the tears welling up in my eyes, and I swallowed the lump forming in my throat down. Suppressing every single emotion in my body.

I'd handed him his stupid jacket back and slammed the door closed as I watched him drape it over her shoulders and she smiled brightly at him.

I should have known then. Known that he was falling head over heels for akaashi's twin sister, because when bokuto falls in love it's not quiet, its loud and powerful and passionate and it'll swallow you up if you let it.

Koyuki akaashi did just that. Let his love consume her like the raging fire it was. They were a beautiful couple. A match made in heaven.

She was beautiful and confident. His personal little cheerleader. She was undoubtedly the most wanted girl at our school. She was perfect for him. I knew that. I felt it, and I tried my damn hardest to be so happy for him. To love him differently. The way he loved me. Platonically. I watched them fall in love.

Watched him kiss her with a passion I only dreamt of feeling from him. They held looks of love whenever they looked at the other. The hardest part though. The hardest part was she was the kindest, sweetest girl you'd ever meet. A heather. No hidden agenda. Nothing like those girlfriends in the cliche best friends to lovers trope books. She welcomed me as a friend and fully supported me as bokutos bestfriend. She was impossible to hate, and how could I hate her when she was the reason my best friend smiled the way he did. The reason his breath caught in his throat just the way mine did.

When we graduated and I'd become a cheerleader for the MSBY Black Jackals, because I'd promise Bo to not leave his side. Promised I'd followed him to the ends of the earth. We were y/n and bokuto. We came in a pair. It was hard. Hard being around him when he'd talk about Koyuki and how he couldn't wait to feel her again and how it was so hard being away from the person you love more than anything, and then he'd say "you know?" With his puppy eyes, and I'd just shrug and agree.

The way I'd wished and hoped that it wouldn't last. That somewhere in bokutos head he'd realize she wasn't the one. That they'd get in a fight too big to cool down from. The more I'd wished that the more I felt guilty. Why would I wanna ruin my bestfriends happiness? Why would I wish that to go away?

So when shoyo hinata asked me on a date, I'd excitedly agreed. Finally I could, maybe, forget about the big himbo I'd fallen for. No. In fact that made it worse. I found myself comparing hinata to bokuto. The way hinata walked, the way hinata talked, the way Hinata's touch didn't make my skin burn up quite like bokutos did. Me and hinata didn't last. It was a disease, and I was dying. Being eaten from the inside out. My very heart collapsing in on it self, and when he'd proposed to her. God, the way I cried. The way I ached. The way my chest clenched and the tears finally fell.

"Y/n, what's wrong?! What did I do?" He asked desperately grabbing my wrist as I'd gasped and tried to turn.

"Nothing Bo, I'm so happy for you!! These are happy tears Ko!"

He smiled big and bright. Bokuto wasn't dense. He was more aware of anyone's feelings than he was of his own. Either he saw the pain in my eyes that night and ignored it, or he saw it and in fear of our friendship crumbling right in our hands that night swallowed down what he'd wanted to say. It was the latter.

The day of the wedding finally came. Here I stood, next to my favorite boy. Waiting at the end of the aisle for a girl who was not me. My bestfriend, the boy.. no man I'm in love with. Tearing up as is his wife to be walked closer towards him.

Tears gathered in my eyes and I forced a smile as they fell down my face. Atsumu tapped my shoulder. I turned and he'd held open his arms. I'd buried myself in the tight embrace of the setter who knew. Who knew the story. Who'd held me as I cried many times. Times just like this one. He kisses the the top of my head and I turn back around catching the eyes of bokuto.

After the ceremony everyone had gathered at a venue for the reception. I walked away from the laughter. The buzz of the party and the cheers as the groom dipped the bride and kissed her.

Unfortunately for me, he'd soon noticed my absence and come to find me. "Y/n" he whispered hand closing over my elbow, and a warm, salty tear rolled down my cheek and stopped at the corner of my lip.

I turned away from the salty water washing over my feet, and my toes dug in the sand. "Don't touch me" I tried my hardest to sound determined, but my voice cracked.

"What was it? What does she have that I don't Ko?" I asked. Desperate. Reaching for anything. Grasping at straws.

That's when I looked at him, and his eyes said it all. He was never very good at hiding his emotions. His eyes always gave him away, and he'd known. He knew the whole time. I knew that now.

Lovely Bokuto Kotaro had known all along.

He was quiet for a minute. "You have everything that she has and more." He said what he felt and bokuto never lied. He hates lies I knew that.

"Then why not me? I know you knew. You knew the minute we were sitting in that boba shop and you looked at me staring at your hands interlocked. I know you realised. Then and there." I pulled my elbow away from his hand.

"I love you y/n, just not in the way I love koyuki," he says it so casually as if he'd just told me he'd left my purse on the counter. Not tenderly. Not carefully.

My eyes closed collecting myself, "don't you think I know that Bokuto? Don't you think I've cried over that every night for years? I know you do, and God it's so fucking hard to be happy, and bite my tongue. To swallow down the word vomit, because I love you so fucking much, kotaro. I've loved you since the middle of our second year, but now you've gotta let me go. Leave me behind." I turned back facing him again.

"Please don't ask that of me, you know I can't do that. That'll kill me sweets-" I stopped him and turned to glare at him, "you can't fucking call me that anymore. That's a pet name for lovers, not for a man who is married to use on his bestfriend."

You could hear someone walking towards you guys, "y/n?" You knew that voice. "I'm here tsumu," you sighed. Moving around bokuto and walking closer to the setter. "Just... just.. enjoy you're honeymoon Bokuto, and please let me move on and heal. Congratulations on your marriage"

You smiled softly at him kissing bokuto on the cheek as you took the hand of the blonde. Atsumu smiled down at you, heart beating faster just like yours did the day you made eye contact with bokuto for the very first time.

[anaiswriterr]

The Dragon Kings Queen

Pairing: Dragon King!Bakugou x Queen!Reader

Rating: M

Warning: This is part one, I’d like to point out be aware: 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝗼𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺𝐞𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐠𝗼𝐫𝐞, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐭𝐜. Please don’t read if you are not comfortable with it, and if you’re under the age of 18+ I will give a warning when it becomes NSFW but at the moment it’s SFW.

<masterlist>

Synopsis: ➪ When the word marriage crossed your mind, you believed you'd marry someone you loved. Not this brute of a King. So here you are standing at the end on an alter, pushing away the urge to run and fight. Possibly start a new life, instead of being dragged into a loveless marriage. But for the sake of your people.. They say he's not what rumors make him out to be, but how can you believe that when his eyes burn into yours; just as fiery as before. How could you, ever love someone as barbaric as him...

- chapter one: wedding of peace -

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"May I introduce you, to my daughter, Princess Y/N of Airkin Kingdom."

"We are looking for a suitable suitor for her."

"You are doing your people a public service; think of all the possibilities that will come from this.. arrangement."

"You will soon be a Queen; start acting like it."

You wipe a tear away from your cheek as you soak in a bath of milk and honey; handmaids all around you scurrying scouring for jewels and expensive lace to dress you in. You clutch your knees together; pulling them into your chest as the bath water soaks into your skin. Quiet muttering of the handmaids pulling you out of your thoughts.

"M'lady would you allow me your hand; I must prep you for the ceremony." She gives off a gentle smile, her voice so small and soft; her hair is in two ponytail braids just separated by red satin ribbon. You nod, moving your shaky hand from the milky water; another handmaid coming to your side to prep the other hand. You hadn't realized somebody sat behind you combing your hair; brushing through your roots like silk.

You watch as they hang your dress up in awe, clapping their hands in cheer.

In another life, on another day you probably would've liked the dress. Maybe even fantasize about it, walking down the isle, eyes fixated on the love of your life as you smile. Ruling together as King and Queen; but most importantly as husband and wife. You frown at their smiles. Feeling bad that you couldn't share the same excitement towards them, you realize that the people of the Dragon Kingdom were much more proud people. From travelers and trades, you learned about the people from your kingdom by the royal bookkeeper; she had explained to you that the people of the Dragons were prideful and loud. Something you weren't quiet used too.

You were far more gentle and outspoken, quiet and kind. Your Kingdom was quite the opposite.

Tales of the dragons say that they are barbaric, and don't care what others have to say. And so did the tales of their people.

A part of you wonders why you were placed in this arrangement seeing that both kingdoms are extremely different from one another.

You sigh, it's for the best. This wedding will end the war between both kingdoms and more trade will come into the markets with many more jobs available for your people, it's important that you brush your feelings aside. You flinch as the handmaids drop your hands back to soak in the bath before being pulled up and quickly covered by a towel. Patting down your supple skin and moisturizing, applying expensive lotions on you and lathering it up your body.

You weren't used to being pulled in different directions. Soon enough a much younger handmaid, who seemed to be in training, came up behind you. Placing a silk robe over your exposed skin, you ask for them to leave the room for a while in order to gather yourself.

"Composure." You inhale.

They seemed annoyed but quickly wiped the fake expression off their faces and proceeded outside, following the orders of their future Queen.

You decided you would put on your undergarments yourself, keeping the last of your dignity. And later waving them in to help fit you in the dress, you feel the rough tug of the corset they had placed on your waist. Tightening it till you were nearly pulled to your feet; they apologized in advance as your hands grip the end of the counter. Grimacing at the nearly unbearable tightness, the handmaids at your kingdom were much more gentle and apologetic with you.

You missed them terribly.

They were finally finished with you.

Stepping back to admire their work, you smile weakly towards them.

The tiny white flowers that were gently placed into your hair, the vale.. all so perfect. So beautiful, the white and small blush on your cheeks radiating the innocence of a woman. You take a deep breath, your hands running down the bodice of your dress and smoothing it out. You wipe the last tear that dared threatened to escape. 

"Don't you dare start crying, don't you dare show weakness."

***

You watch as the waves crash against the rocks from the castles window, awaiting for your father. You smile, at least this kingdom was near the ocean and mountains. Such beautiful serene for a kingdom known for its brute and prideful attitude. You feel a tightened grip on your forearm, a man leaning down kissing your forehead. Your father Y/F/N, King of Airkin Kingdom here to give away his daughter.

"What a lovely Queen.." His voice comes out in a trembled whisper, you nod in agreement. Though you thought instead you'd be the Queen of your own Kingdom, your baby brother ended up taking over that role. You clutch onto your fathers bicep, staring off onto your gloved hand. You've never even had a single conversation with this man, you didn't know his name till last night, and you've never kissed anyone in your life besides your parents.

But those were most definitely not real kisses, those were cheek pecks and forehead pecks.

You feel your heartbeat start to pump faster as the wedding march played, hundreds of guests attended to see the ceremony. People from the kingdom and even other royalties attended the wedding, you exhale and start to walk beside your father. Feet moving on their own, you thought about running.

But the guards at each possible exist popped your thought of escape and pulled you into reality, if you were suicidal you'd most certainly throw yourself out the nearest window and allow yourself to plummet onto the pavement below, in order to runaway from this arrangement.

You look up from the bouquet of flowers in your hand, and notice the former Queen Mitsuki, bright eyed and smiling. Her Crown on a small velvet pillow, nodding in approval. The former King Masaru also seated beside her, holding onto her hand in pride and happiness. And suddenly yours eyes meet the man of all the rumors.

With long spiky hair, decorated with tooth necklaces, feathers, scarlet red tooth earrings, and tribal arm sleeves, a tribal tattoo imprinted onto his arm. With piercing ruby red eyes, not a smile in sight. The upper half of his body fully exposed, your eyes slightly widen. Noticing almost everyone on the Dragon Kingdom side wore very revealing clothing.

You surpass a small gasp, woman wore light fabric with exposed stomachs and legs. Meanwhile men were too show off tribal tattoos. You realize the reason why the kingdom was so prosperous. All dazzling in jewels, you didn't even notice your handmaids were dressed in similar wear, but with more decoration. The closer you got the more of him you saw, his lips pressed into a fine line. 

The both of you truly did not want to be there.

As soon as you reached to the end of the isle, your father gave you away to the man that you'd now forever be wed too. And rule beside, you pass the bouquet over down to the small flower girl beside you. Giving her a soft smile and placing the tiniest flower behind her ear, earning a tiny giggle from her and large toothy grin.

You turn around and reach down to his hands, traditionally the two of you were obligated to hold hands as the ceremony commenced. They were so rough against your tiny soft ones, his eyes a crimson red finally reaching your soft E/C ones. You start to chew at the inside of your cheeks, drowning out the words of the preacher finding the floor as the most intriguing thing other than his burning eyes. 

"Our father who art in heaven.."

He begins the prayer, holding out his hands, chanting prayers through the cathedral. You shut your eyes and bow your head down in prayer, following after the man in front of you. The wedding continued, and your eyes still refused to reach his. Though, you could feel his heavy gaze on you from to time. "Now we are granted the pleasure, of witnessing the matrimony of two young souls. Soon to rule this Kingdom, King Bakugou, do you take this woman, Y/N L/M as you lawfully wedded wife. Crowning her Queen of your kingdom?"

You almost forgot that you had no say in this.

"Yes."

The answer was simple, emotionless and short. You give a small nod and allow for the ceremony to continue, hand in hand with a man you had only met once. Dreading each second, the preacher raises his voice holding his hands up, declaring "the love" these two share in sake of their kingdom.

"I now pronounce you, King and Queen, husband and wife. You may now, kiss your bride."

You prepare yourself for a short kiss, something simple. But are hit with a searing kiss, long and burning passionately against your virgin lips. The side of the Dragon Kingdom roaring in excitement, it's former King and Queen nodding in approval. Meanwhile the Airkin side had only resorted to small cheers of happiness. His hand cups your jaw, a small growl erupts from his throat until he pulls away. You are taken aback but quickly replace the face of sudden surprise to a smile you practiced in the mirror hundreds of times. Waving off to the kingdom, and fixing the crown a handmaiden placed on your head.

You fight the tears that pooled on the outer corners of your eyes.

"Aw look! The Queen is crying of happiness!"

What a statement so far from the truth. Don't you know, I've practiced this smile since I was six?

***

"M'lady? You've had such a long day, we have a handmaidens awaiting for you with a hot bath. She will be in charge of clothing you for tonight.."

Your hands run through your hair smoothly, brushing out the flowers and placing them in a small basket. You nod, thanking her as she left.

Tonight..

Tonight you were expected to give yourself to the King in tradition of matrimony. With your assigned duty to birth a son or daughter for the next of kin. This thought had clearly blown over your mind as you suddenly realized tonight was the night. For years you thought you'd give yourself to the love of your life someone who'd cherish you forever. Sighing you are pointed towards the direction where countless of handmaidens are awaiting to prepare you for the night.

Silk robes and a black night gown that you thought was far to revealing for your liking sat neatly on a chair. A bath of milk and honey with rose pedals awaiting for you, and an assortment of creams and lotions and expensive soaps sat beside the counter. They strip you away of your clothes and lead you towards the tub.

"Your Majesty, we are so happy to have you as our Queen. We assure you you'll love it here, and the King. What a lucky woman to be able to represent our Kingdom. Tonight's going to be a night to remember." They rave on, startling you with how loud they were. You gasp as they place a cool cotton ball in your hand, wiping away any dirt with the rose water infused ball, scrubbing away at you hand. Then neatly wrapping your hand in a fist.

You nearly tell them to stop when they begin to pull and tug at your hair.

But it was their jobs and you wouldn't dare scold them for trying to help you, for years you promised you wouldn't be a mean Queen, you'd always be loving and kind. Even if it meant you had to endure few minor inconveniences.

Dreading each minute that went by, the time just edging closer and closer to the moment you'd be in a room with him. You bite at your lip, tugging the bottom piece not noticing thirty minutes had went by and it was time for you to leave the bath water. They tug you by your wrists and cover you with a towel, leading you into a changing room by yourself, leaving you to change into your undergarments before you wave them over.

Allowing them to finish their preparations.

You are seated back in your room, grateful you were provided your own room till you were finally settled to sleep with your “husband”. Facing the vanity mirror your body covered in a silk robe when a women knocks on the door.

"Hello, I'm Toga. I'll be your head handmaid, I'm tasked with preparing you for tonight's events." She grins, walking towards you and combing out your hair.

It's quiet for a while, an eerie feel swells in your chest. Her smile yells to not trust a single word that escapes her mouth, she's grinning like a slithering snake. Eyes slanted and dark, her voice chirps up to fill the silence.

"I heard you're pure.."

A gasp escape past your lips, her smile only getting larger by your expression.

"You know what's to be expected by tonight, I wouldn't be surprise if you wouldn't be able to walk the next day. You know what they say about the Dragons, barbaric.." she grabs your jaw and forcefully tugs you near her, whispering into your ear, "rough too. But I'm sure you'll be fine."

"H-He's not a-"

"Oh sweetie, of course he's not. Which makes it better for him... he'll know what it's like to fuck a virgin."

You slap the hairbrush out of her hand, kicking your vanity chair from beneath you.

"How dare you speak to me in such a malicious tone! Get out, immediately. Or else I'll be forced to hire another head handmaid. I'll prepare myself!" You sneer, pointing your finger towards the door.

She bows, and tsks kissing her teeth, “Whatever you say, your majesty.” She grins, her fingers trailing on the bed spread as she exits your room. Leaving you fuming at your vanity. You throw on the stupid night gown, huffing and running your fingers through your hair. You barley notice the figure standing at the end of your room, leaning against her door frame. You gasp, startled at the reflection of his ruby red eyes.

You turn around, hand on your chest. Walking backwards till your back meets your desk, his eyes aimlessly wandering over your body, tracing every dip and curve. He knocks on the door frame, “C-Come in...” your voice wavers.

His boots clank against the mahogany wooden floorboards, as he approaches you. Arms crossed over his chest till he’s finally only inches away from you, your heart is racing and a part of you wants to tell him to go away. To never come in here again, allowing Togas words to bounce around in your head. He takes a strand of your hair in his hand, admiring as it aimlessly fell through his fingers, draping over your shoulders. A finger tracing over your exposed shoulder.

“I thought you had Toga helping you out get ready.” His voice is firm, yet calm.

“I-I decided I wanted to change myself, tonight.” Your voice comes out in a stutter, you didn’t mean for it to sound so small and unsure. He nods, noticing your stature. He arches a brow, before stepping back.

“No harm, will come to you in this Kingdom. I won’t force you to do something you are clearly not ready for, nor will I make you perform an act we clearly don’t want to do. So sleep tight, and stay out of my way.”

Your breath hitches as he leaves your room, closing the door shut behind him. Your heart rate increasing by the second, you finally release the breath you yourself didn’t notice you were holding.

[fawnandshadows]

After The Ceremony - Chapter 1

Hey Guys!

This is the first chapter of a mini Elriel fanfiction that I'm working on. You can also read it on AO3

Summary: Elain and Azriel after Nesta and Cassian's Mating Ceremony.

Words: 1,847

Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony has long since been over, but Elain couldn’t bring herself to go back to her room. No, Elain had too much restless energy to even attempt to fall asleep tonight, and instead of tossing and turning in her bed all night, she decided she may as well be useful and start to clean up. It took only ten minutes of laying in her bed, staring at the ceiling, before silently walking downstairs to the ballroom. Nuala and Cerridwen offered to help her, and Elain knew that they wouldn’t have minded staying up all night to clean with her, but she really just wanted to be alone. So, the twins like everyone else went to bed, and Elain stayed in the ballroom of Feyre and Rhysand’s River House putting herself to use.

There was something about being alone in the middle of the night that just seemed right to Elain, when everyone else was sleeping, she didn’t have to worry about putting on a face for everyone to see. She didn’t have to plaster a smile on her face while her heart was cracking in her chest. It was a test of her resolve today, Elain thought, as she pretended, yet again, that everything was alright. It took everything in Elain, every ounce of will power and restraint, to not break down and cry in the middle of the ballroom as she saw a familiar rose necklace around somebody else's neck.

Elain wanted to cry, scream, and cry some more whenever she looked at Gwyn, or Azriel, or even Mor. Especially Mor, when Elain saw her dancing and smiling with Azriel. It just felt so wrong. It should be Elain wearing his necklace, and it should be Elain in his arms as they spun around the room completely oblivious to everyone else.

After seeing Gwyn wearing her necklace, Elain immediately turned to leave the room because all she wanted was to be alone with her feelings and not worry about someone seeing through her fake smile, but as soon as she turned she caught a glimpse of the sun and a shadow dancing across the floor.

Elain had never seen Mor and Azriel dance together, and she never wanted to, especially when watching them smile at each other ruined whatever was left of her heart. They looked so incredibly beautiful together, and Azriel was smiling down at Mor with a warmth Elain hadn’t seen since the last solstice when she made him laugh. And Mor was smiling up at Azriel with an ease Elain had never noticed between them.

Confusion danced in her chest with every other emotion she was feeling.

Elain was only forced out of her staring from a heavy arm that fell across her shoulders. She blinked and a drunk Cassian appeared in front of her face, a stupid grin strectched across his face that was the result of unadulterated love and copious amounts of wine.

“Dance with me!” Cassian pulled her onto the dance floor, snapping her out of her imminent depression and into a crowded dance floor.

Elain let out a sign and continued sweeping the surprisingly messy floor. It seemed like most of the cake she and the twins had baked for the party ended up on the marble floor somehow, but she supposed that drunken fae couldn’t be expected to be tidy. The full moon illuminated most of the room, but there were still some faelights along the wall that added just enough light for her work. After sweeping, and picking up a surprising amount of glasses from the floor, Elain collected the bouquets from the tables.

It took her months to craft five bouquets for the ceremony, one for Nesta, and four for the women standing beside her. The core of Nesta’s bouquet were red carnations, pink roses, with bursting dahlias. Every bouquet held pink acacia’s - the flower of friendship. Feyre’s bouquet consisted of blooming magnolia’s and eye-catching violets. Her own was made from magnolias, nightshade, and a sprinkle of periwinkles. Emorie’s held vibrant hyacinths with white jasmine, and Gwyn’s bouquet was crafted from lavender, morning glories, oleanders. All the flowers were grown and cultivated by Elain herself, and she felt a shimmer of pride as she looked upon them.

Elain was getting ready to move the bouquets and their vases from the ballroom into the dining room, thinking they would look nice in a room where her family spends most of their time, when a familiar shiver floated down her spine. She didn’t look up as she said, “Hello, Azriel.” She knew he would reveal himself to her.

“It’s late. You should be sleeping.” His deep voice blended in with the night, causing her knees to weaken slightly and her eyelids to relax. What she wouldn’t give to fall asleep with that voice whispering in her ear while his fingers slid against her skin. What she wouldn’t give to stay awake all night with his voice in her ears and his fingers on her skin. Elain lost count of how many times she lost herself in thought as she tried to imagine what his lips would feel like against her throat.

“So should you,” Elain said, turning her body slightly to see him walk further into the room from where he leaned against the doorway. “I thought everyone was asleep. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Do you normally spend your nights cleaning up after drunken fae?” Azriel asked as he approached her. He stood maybe two feet away, but Elain could still feel the warmth radiating off his body. Another shiver made its way down her spine. Her skin felt so sensitive in his presence that it was hard to focus on anything besides him.

“Normally just Cassian,” Elain attempted to joke. Her chest felt slightly lighter as she noticed the twitch of his lips. It was a mistake looking at his lips. Her tongue brushed against her own that suddenly felt dry. “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

Azriel nodded. No words, no explanation, no attempt at conversation.

“You’re a lovely dancer.” Elain said, unable to stop herself, but she wanted him to know that she noticed him. She wanted him to know that she wished it was her in his arms dancing in front of everyone else.

“Thank you. You didn’t dance much at all.” Azriel noted and Elain felt the warmth of a blush on cheeks.

She gave a small shrug and said, “I was only asked by Cass, Rhys, and Lucien.”

Rhys was the first to offer her a dance, and she loved her brother-in-law too much to say no. Rhys was a lovely dancer, and she fought to keep a smile on her face under his prying eyes. Her dance with Cassian involved mostly her propping him up so that he didn’t collapse on the floor. Her dance was Lucien was non-existent.

“Why didn’t you dance with him?” Azriel asked softly. If it wasn’t the dead of night she wouldn’t have heard it.

“I don’t want to give him false hope,” Elain said, taking a fortifying breath before she continued, “It’s wretched to think you have a chance, a connection, to someone when you don’t.” She prayed to the Mother that Azriel didn’t notice her shaky breath, her racing heart, or how it took all of her bravery to say that.

In the soft glow of the faelights Elain saw a flinch run across Azriels face. It took him a moment longer than usual to school his features into their usual mask, but he couldn’t hide the pain that shimmered in his eyes.

The similarities weren’t lost on Elain. How this night resembled that of the solstice. Azriel and Elain being the only two people awake in the house. Her mate sleeping upstairs. The same crackling excitement rushing through her. The hope that maybe she would finally feel the brush of his lips against hers, and she wouldn’t have to speculate about what he tasted like anymore.

“Elain.” Azriel said her name as if it pained him.

“Why did you do it?” She whispered hotly. “Why did you give my necklace away? Why did you dance with Mor and look at her as if she were the only female in the room?” Before her bravery completely ran out she took a step forward, grabbed his hand, and placed it against her heart. “Did you feel this break tonight?”

His hand was hot against the thin cotton of her nightgown. She could just barely feel the traces of his scars. Elain wished there was nothing between them.

“Because it did,” Elain continued. “It broke every time I looked at you. It broke when I saw the necklace, and it broke when I saw how beautiful you and Mor looked.”

“Elain,” Azriel said, his voice harsh, his hand pressed further into her as if he too wished there was no nightgown separating them. “I want to, but I can’t.”

“I don’t understand,” Elain stared at his churning hazel eyes. She couldn’t help the lonesome tear that slid down her face. She was about to wipe it away when he beat her to it. His large, warm, wonderful hand brushed away her tear before cupping her cheek. Despite the pain that was growing in her chest, she would feel it all again if it meant his skin on hers. She would withstand any pain if it kept them together. “Make me understand.”

“I want to kiss you,” Azriel said. Elain felt each word as it brushed against her face. “I want to rip this nightgown from your body, lay you on the table, spread your legs open and feast until I’m drunk off the taste of you. I want to slide into you until I’m the only thing on your mind, and then I want to bring you so much pleasure you’ll never want to be away from me. And once you found your pleasure, I’d take you upstairs and do it all again. If I ever got a hold on myself I would make love to you the way you deserve.”

Elain, loving the warmth and wetness that flooded her core, felt as if she was about to combust. One tiny spark and she would erupt into flame.

“And why can’t we do that?” Elain asked quietly, as if she were afraid of ruining the moment. As if she were afraid he would slip away from her yet again.

“Rhy’s pulled rank on me.” Azriel replied. The only sign of tension was the muscle that contracted in his jaw. Elain ignored the urge to run her tongue over it.

“Huh?” Elains brain was too hazed with desire to form a proper sentence.

“He forbid it.” Azriel replied, tilting his head forward slightly, and brushing his nose against hers. The breath that floated across her face threatened to knock her over.

“Forbid what?” Elain managed to get out - too absorbed in him to think clearly.

“Us.”

Elain didn’t have time to think about what Azriel said as his lips descended on hers.

[side-shawty]

Burn XVI (Stark!Reader)

XVI: Standing on the Sun

Fandom: Marvel (MCU)

Type: series

Prompt/Summary: True love comes in many forms.

Pairing(s): Peter Parker x Stark!reader, Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Three weeks later and things were better. You had gone back to New York with the team just in time for Peter’s graduation. Even though the whole team wanted to be there Peter decided that he didn’t need a spectacle and in the end, his girlfriend and mentor would be the only ones attending while the rest set up for a surprise party later.

Girlfriend. You couldn’t get over how nice that sounded. As you stood in front of the mirror in Peter’s favorite multicolored sundress you smiled.

It was off the shoulder hugged your body perfectly and ended just above your knee in a ruffled hem. You left your makeup light on account of the heat and pulled your hair back in a curly bun with a few curls framing your face and your edges expertly laid.

You absentmindedly brushed the scar on the back of your neck. It brought back all kinds of horrors that you had to push aside. That was something for therapy.

As you were spritzing perfume on yourself there was a knock at your door.

“Y/N you ready? Car’s running,” your dad called from the other side of the door.

“Yeah,” you replied and opened the door to face your father dressed neatly in a blue button-down, pants, sneakers, and his signature glasses, “Handsome,” you told him simply hooking your arm around his and beginning to walk down the hall towards the elevators.

“Beautiful,” he replied and you reached the entrance in no time, the doors open and waiting.

You got to Peter’s school in no time having left early enough to evade the worst of the traffic. The ceremony itself was swift, the graduating class was small but to your surprise, as you and your father were waiting with the other families outside for the graduates you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

Confused, you turned around only to be met with the beaming smile of your favorite Princess.

“Shuri?!” You asked incredulously.

“Y/N! I’ve missed you how are you?” She asked pulling you into a hug which you gratefully accepted.

“I’m good! What are you doing here?” You asked pulling back, still a little shocked.

“Well, it just so happens that someone I am seeing is graduating today as well,” she smiled and wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You tilted your head in question but before she could answer you heard her name being called. You both turned around at the sound to see MJ practically running towards her.

Shuri opened her arms and instead of a hug, MJ planted a sweet kiss on her lips.

You were shocked, you put your hands on your hips and glared playfully as they pulled away.

“So neither of you were planning to tell me about this?” You questioned and they just smiled at you, threading their hands together.

“Oh you would’ve figured it out at the party later,” Shuri giggled, leaning into MJ’s side. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your excited smile.

“I think it’s sweet, you guys are a great match,” Tony spoke up, smiling at the two young ladies

“Thanks, Stark,” Shuri said and MJ nodded in agreement, she’d never admit it but the man still made her nervous.

“Shuri, my mom wants us to take pictures before we leave,” MJ said and her girlfriend nodded.

“No problem, see you guys at the party later,” Shuri spoke.

“Bye guys,” MJ waved and they both walked away, giddy as ever.

You and your father both waved back.

“Wow they’re so cute together,” you told him and he hummed in agreement. “Speaking of cute, where is my boyfriend?”

“Gross Y/N,” he replied but began looking around regardless.

“Found him, Hap and May got to him first,” he said pointing to the trio.

The excitement you felt just from seeing the back of his head was almost too much, you practically sprinted and threw your arms around him. He jumped slightly at the contact as you pressed yourself against his back.

“Congratulations Peter!” He turned around in your arms and smiled down at you.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he beamed and cupped your face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Hey, don’t hog the graduate,” Your father complained and you rolled your eyes before releasing him.

Your father was quick to give Peter a hug as he walked up to him, “Congrats kid. Allow me to be the first—”

May cleared her throat.

“Second,” Tony tried again.

Happy silently shook his head in response.

“Fine third you a graduation present,” he finally finished.

With that, he fished a set of keys out from his pocket and handed them to Peter.

“Is this...” Peter began but was slightly stunned into silence.

“Yup, the Spyder with a few Stark modifications, enjoy it,” he smiled.

“Wow, thank you so much, Mr. Stark,” Peter gave your father another big hug which also knocked the man over.

“Wanna take it for a test drive?” You offered.

Peter nodded excitedly and you handed your own keys over to Tony before taking your boyfriend's hand.

“We’ll meet you guys at the tower!” You called over your shoulder as you waved goodbye to the group.

When you were both out of earshot May spoke absentmindedly to the two men.

“I can’t wait to plan their wedding,” she smiled.

Tony rubbed at his eyes.

——

When you got to the car Peter was quick to open the door for you and then toss his cap and gown in the trunk before slipping into the driver's seat.

“I think this might be too nice for me, Y/N” he spoke, taking in all the upgrades and sheer beauty of it.

“Please, you deserve this and so much more,” smiled taking his hand, prompting him to look in your eyes and smile back.

He took the hand that was on the steering wheel and expertly avoided your low bun to place his hand on the back of your neck to bring you in for a slow, loving kiss.

Once again you thought about how much you loved him, how perfect everything felt when you were together. It was like every single star is the sky aligned just to shine on the two of you.

Just before things get too heated you place your hand on his chest and push him back slightly, resting your forehead on his.

“As much as I’d love to christen your new car, we should get back to the tower. No reason to keep them waiting,” you smirked.

Peter gave a dramatic sigh and sat back in his seat, “Fine~ I guess this is what I get for having the girl everybody wants,” he said starting the car.

“But don’t forget she only has eyes for you,” you have the back of his hand a kiss as he pulled out of the lot.

“And I for her,” he smiled.

——

Once the two of you got back to the tower you had to try you best to force Peter to avoid looking for the others. Nat had texted you on the way that they weren’t quite done with everything and you were tasked with distracting him.

And distract him you did.

Under the guise of your feet hurting from hours spent in the low heels, you were wearing. Peter looked skeptical but followed you to your room to grab a pair of slides nonetheless. Only, he questioned you further when you had him walk in first and then you locked the door behind yourself.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” He asked, but still kicked off his own shoes before relaxing on the giant bean bag chair beside the bed.

You turned around slowly, keeping your hands behind your back as you leaned against the door kicking off your heels and staring at him. Gosh, everything about him is perfect, you thought. He tilted his head to the side and you walked to him slowly. When you reached arm's length he sat up slightly and held your hips and smiled up at you.

“What is it, babe?”

You carded one hand through his hair and leaned down to capture his lips in a short kiss. Your words were a whisper against his lips.

“You’re so pretty.” Without a second's hesitation, Peter was laughing at your omission. It took no effort for him to pull you down onto him, across his lap. You let out your own giggle at his antics.

“All these theatrics because you think I’m pretty?” The skepticism was back in his voice and it made you roll your eyes.

“Is it such a crime to think my boyfriend is pretty?” You pouted.

“No, as long as you don’t forget how gorgeous you are.” Peter looked you up and down .”Especially in this dress. Do you know how hard it was to hold back when I saw you wearing this in the bleachers?”

“I was hoping you’d like it,” you grinned.

“Like it? I absolutely love it.” As if to prove this point he left a trail of kisses from shoulder to shoulder before going up your neck and leaving several more in his wake. It wasn’t long before his lips found your own and you were sharing a passionate kiss.

Your arms locked around his neck, fingers slipping through his hair again and tugging slightly even so often. Meanwhile, Peter had one hand locked around your waist, keeping him firmly against him while the other trailed slowly up your back. You could feel him beginning to tug at your zipper when a knock interrupted. The two of you halted. Breathing heavily as whoever it was stood outside silently for a few seconds.

“Yeah?” You called, almost breathless.

“We’re about to eat if you guys wanna, y’know join us,” Natasha spoke and from her tone, you could tell you were in trouble.

You glanced at Peter and the two of you shared a silent laugh.

“We’ll be right there!”

——

After straightening yourselves out and slipping on spare slides and sneakers, respectfully you grabbed Peter’s hand and led him towards the elevator.

“We’re not eating here?” He asked.

“Oh, we are.” You replied and hit the button for the roof as you got it.

“Y/N what are we—“

You pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh, all will be revealed, my love.” Peter only rolled his eyes before licking your finger and you recoiled.

“Gross!” You exclaimed

“Oh really? Well just wait until—“ But his words were cut off once again as the elevator reached its destination.

A shout of “Surprise!” Rang out from everyone on the rooftop which had been decorated with the utmost care as a ‘Congratulations Peter’ banner hovered over the crowd in red and blue. Everyone was there, all the Avengers, MJ and Ned, Strange and even Shuri. The genuine look of surprise and joy on Peter’s face was enough to have you praying that DUM-E was actually recording like you told it to. If not, it was going to be the new jungle gym for an elementary school.

As Peter gave his greets and thanks to his guests you drifted over towards your mom who was holding a sleeping Morgan in her arms.

“You two look happy,” She smiled.

You couldn’t help the grin that took over your features. “We are, we really really are.”

Pepper took a sip of her drink. “I hope you’re using protection, Morgan and I are a little too young to be grandma and niece.” You sputtered at that, grateful that you didn't have a drink in your hand.

“Mom please.”

“I’m just saying. Maybe next time,” she gestured to her own neck, “cover-up.” She winked.

You gasped and coved your neck quick as lightning, “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Here’s your chance.” She winked before walking off under the guise of wanting to put your sister down.

You felt Peter before you saw him, an arm wrapped around your waist and his lips kissed your temple. You wanted to be annoyed but you leaned in on instinct instead.

“I’m gonna kill you, Parker,” you spoke but your threat was weak.

“Whoa, and here I was about to thank you for this wonderful surprise,” he pouted, moving in front of you and placing both hands on your waist. The two of you were near the edge of the roof while the others were towards the center giving you a feeling of pseudo privacy.

“Well you’re welcome but our entrance would have been much better if it wasn’t for this.” You pointed accusingly at your neck and he squinted. You swatted at his chest at his antics.

“Ah, what? It’s really not that bad,” He leaned in close to whisper in your ear, “I could have done a lot more damage.”

You shivered even though at sunset it was still almost eighty degrees, Peter wasn’t playing fair and he knew it.

You whispered back. “Well, maybe next time you do it so I can enjoy I.” To accentuate your point you left a kiss just below his ear, heating your body up just enough to get a reaction out of him.

Peter groaned and his grip on your waist tightened as he placed his forehead against yours and smiled.

“I will. But seriously, thank you for all of this. I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend,” his voice was still quiet, like it was a secret just between the two of you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Have I told you how much I love hearing you call me that?”

“Well how about I change that?”

You were confused as Peter removed one hand to fish around in his pocket. He took a hand step back from you and you let your arms fall back to your sides. He finally pulled out a blue velvet box and slowly opened the lid. You were met with a beautiful platinum ring with a gemstone — your birthstone — nestled beside Peter’s birthstone, peridot. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes.

“Peter is this…?”

“It’s not a formal engagement but it is most certainly a promise. We’ve been through a lot these last few years and I realized that the reason I got through any of it was you by my side. And when we’re ready I want to make this an engagement ring.” He explained and there was so much emotion in his eyes you wondered if he would cry too. “So what do you say?” “I love it, god, I love you,” You spoke and that was enough for him to push the box back in his pocket and place the ring on your finger. It was a perfect fit and you couldn’t help but stare at it for a few moments before you looked back at the love of your life.

“I love you too, Y/N. More than you know.” And with that, he pulled you into a loving kiss that probably would have gone on for too long if it wasn’t for the cheers and shouts behind you.

You turned around and hugged Peter around the middle, the two of you laughed at your friends and family together and you couldn't help be bask in this feeling of love and peace.

With Peter by your side, you knew anything was possible.

THE END.

-----

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE!!! Whether you stuck around or not I am genuinely grateful and I hope you all enjoyed it!!

Much Love - Duckie

[fandom-imagines-stories]

If I Go, I’m Goin

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1845

Part One

Summary: With the reader’s funeral just days away, the team worries about Reid. Spencer struggles to cope and finds himself going to places he remembers being with you. Inspired by the song If I Go, I’m Goin by Gregory Alan Isakov. 

Notes: I know. I’m mean. 

Warnings: Character death, grief, depression

More Criminal Minds: HERE

-

And the photographs know I’m a liar

They laugh as I burn her down

She wasn’t leaving until he opened the door. J.J. knocked again, this time a little louder than the first. She had given him a day to himself, but now she was worried. It had been less than 48 hours since Y/N died. Everyone was dealing with it differently. Prentiss and Morgan went to the shooting range, Hotch buried himself in paperwork, Penelope was running around trying to fix everything, and Rossi was being, well, Rossi. 

Everyone thought it was a good idea to let Reid be alone for a while, but they didn’t know what J.J. knew. They didn’t know what Y/N had told her that day. Of course, everyone had their suspicions, but J.J, and maybe Penelope, were the only ones that knew that Spence just lost the woman he’d loved for at least the past year. 

The door slowly opened just enough for him to look out. From the little sliver that she could see, he didn’t look well. His eyes were sunken and dark and it looked like he hadn’t changed clothes since the hospital. The sight of his despair nearly brought tears to her eyes. 

“Hey J.J.” 

“Spence.” She greeted, her voice quiet and empathetic. “Can I come in?” 

“Uh, I guess. Sure.” He stepped aside and let her walk past him into his living room. It was strangely well put together. She expected things to be discarded on the floor, for the kitchen sink to be full with dishes. But the only thing that seemed out of place was a single chair facing the window. “Why did you come?” 

“I just wanted to see how you were holding up.” 

“Did Hotch tell you to come see me?” 

“Spence-”

“Because I really don’t need a psych evaluation right now.” He sat down in the chair in front of the window. Honestly, it was where he had been for the hours before J.J. got there. He just sat, looking out like he was waiting for Y/N to come down the street. 

“I came here as a friend, Spencer. Not as an agent.” 

“Oh.” She watched as the previous outburst lost its effect on him and he slumped forward, leaning his head on the glass. It was like watching a wounded animal stop fighting. It broke her heart. 

Spencer didn’t say anything else. When J.J. asked him a question, he responded with either a silent nod or a quiet mumble. Eventually, there was nothing else she could say. 

“We’re all here, Spence.” She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If you need anything before the funeral…” The last word nearly caught in her throat. Funeral. J.J. kept a steady appearance, leaning over and kissing the top of his head. “Bye Spence.” 

He didn’t say anything as the door closed behind her. He didn’t even look back. Spencer kept his gaze out the window and watched J.J. get in her car and drive away. He must have sat there for a few more hours because by the time he finally moved, it was dark out.  

He forced himself to stand and walk back to his room so he could take a much needed shower. Seeing his still made bed made his stomach twist. His mind conjured the image of a quiet morning, none in particular, where he laid with her. He laid with Y/N in his arms as the sun peeked through the windows. Just as quickly as it had come, the vision left, returning the room to its original empty state. 

Spencer moved through his apartment aimlessly, his body moving before his mind could catch up. His thoughts were far away, trapped in those woods with the constant sound of an arrow cracking through bone. It cracked through his chest, leaving only a painful ache. He stepped into the shower with his clothes still on. 

-

This old house, she’s quite the keeper

Quite the keeper of you

He was there before anyone else, sitting in the dim light by himself for nearly an hour. When Hotch quietly trudged to his office, he stopped suddenly, seeing the form sitting at his desk. 

“Reid?” He flipped on the main lights and looked warily at the young agent. While he didn’t show it, Hotch noticed Reid’s disheveled appearance and blank expression. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to do some paperwork,” Reid replied, keeping his eyes trained in front of him. Hotch set his briefcase down. 

“I told the team to take a few days off.”

“You’re here.” 

“I have to deal with…” He trailed off, dreading the report sitting on his desk. Reid nodded, still not entirely paying attention to his supervisor. 

“Right.” He continued to slowly tap his pen against the surface of his desk. Hotch knew that the psych evals weren’t until after everyone came back, but Reid was worrying him. Grabbing his briefcase, he kept a close eye on him as he went to his office. 

Spencer stared at the desk across from him. 

“Come on, there has to be something that you don’t know.” You challenged, chewing absentmindedly on the cap of your pen. Normally he would remark on how many germs were on the average pen, but when you did it, he thought it was cute. 

“Of course there are things I don’t know, I just don’t talk about them because I don’t know them well enough to talk about them.” 

“I bet you can’t name every character in Star Wars.” 

“Alphabetically or in order of appearance.” He smirked smugly. 

He blinked and the memory was gone. Y/N was gone and the emptiness returned. Spencer stood up, wanting to find something that would conjure another image of her. He wandered aimlessly around the office, slowly weaving in between desks. He opened the drawers of her old desk, but they had already been emptied. Her parents must have already cleaned it out. 

Right. Her parents were here. He’d almost forgotten. They were here for the… 

Somehow, he found himself standing in the break room in front of the empty coffee maker. He made himself a pot, not really thinking about his motions as he put the grounds in the filter and poured the water. It wasn’t until he imagined her hand on his arm that he felt anything at all. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, an amused smile playing at his lips. 

“I’m dancing.” You twirled to the other side of him, your playful laugh filling the small room. 

“There isn’t any music playing.” 

“Who said you need music to dance, Spence?” You took his hands and spun into him, giggling relentlessly. “Come on, dance with me.” 

“Are you crazy? We’re at work.” He tried to sound stern, but he just laughed instead. 

“So? Nobody will see us.” You put a hand on his shoulder and moved his arm around your waist. You both swayed to the music in your mind, your hearts somehow playing the same song. For a moment, you forgot where you were. You forgot that there was another horrific case awaiting you in the conference room and all that existed was you and the man that held you. 

“Hey Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.” It seemed now that the two of you were swaying to the sounds of your heartbeats. You blinked up at him, surprised at first, but soon a bright smile spread across your face. 

“I love you too.” 

This vision faded slower than the last, Y/N’s face staying until the last possible moment. His arms ached from the emptiness, his feet rocking back and forth like he was dancing all on his own. 

“Reid.” Hotch’s voice halted the music in his mind. His voice was grimmer, almost sadder than it was before. “Are you ready to go?” 

“Go?” He read Hotch’s expression. “Oh. Right. That’s today.” Hotch nodded and stood aside so Reid could pass by. 

“I’ll drive you home so you can change.” 

-

If I go, I’m goin crazy

Let my darlin take me there

It was a perfectly nice day, making him even more sick to his stomach. The sun was out and clouds lazily drifted across the sky. He wished it would have rained. At least then, the world would look like he felt; colorless and dark. 

Y/N’s parents both shared a few words and Penelope did the eulogy. Spencer was sure it was nice, but he couldn’t focus enough to really hear any of the words. Hotch kept a close eye on him, though he tried not to be obvious about it. Spencer felt like everyone was watching him, waiting for his numb exterior to break. He knew they meant well, but he’d appreciate it if they were a little more subtle about it. 

Somehow, the ceremony felt both eternal and over too quickly. Before he had even moved to put his rose on the coffin, it seemed like everyone was leaving. Maybe it was just him; frozen in time until he could bring himself to step forward. It still felt like everyone was staring at him. How many people even knew about him and Y/N? Maybe everyone, at this point. They were profilers after all and he hadn’t been abundantly subtle on that last case. 

That last case. 

Suddenly the rose in his hand was an arrow, bloody and splintered at one end. It fell between his fingers and hit the grass as a flower again. A petal fell off and he held it to his lips. Was he going insane? Was this what it would be like from now on? Everything reminding him of that last moment with her? With the blood and the arrow and the screaming? 

With a slow, shaky hand, he placed the rose on the coffin. Someone put their hand on top of his, but when he turned, there wasn’t anyone there and suddenly, he felt something… peaceful. Something that told him that all he would need to remember were the good things. The smiles. The laughter. The dances in the breakroom. Despite every logical impulse in his mind, every scientific fact he knew by memory, he knew. It was her. Y/N.

Finally, he started to cry. The numbness was gone and allowed for emotion to finally come to light. Sobs shook his body and nearly made his knees buckle, but he made himself stand. He ran his fingers over the gleaming surface of the coffin and cried. 

“I love you. I’ll always love you.” 

He must have stood there like that for at least an hour, if not several, but when he turned around, he found his team- his family- waiting there for him. And they walked away together, always to remember the member that they lost. A friend. A sister. A lover. And Spencer would never forget you, as long as he lived. 

I will go if you ask me to

I will stay if you dare

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216​

Requested Tag: @ lolalee24; @ haylaansmi; @ obsssedwithjustaboutanything;

[extasiswings]

How we feeling clowns?  Wrecked?  Anyway, here, have an episode tag for both the crossover and Buck Begins.  Also on ao3.

Eddie’s driving nearly on autopilot, the roads familiar as they get closer and closer to El Paso. Part of him almost wishes he hadn’t taken the driving shift to get them to his childhood home, even if it made the most sense—he can feel the tension in his jaw and shoulders creeping in, curling tighter with every mile they come closer, and his fingers itch for his phone, for the commiserating sympathies of his sisters who understand what he’s likely to walk into much more than Buck or Hen. 

Technically they could have skipped the detour. Eddie hadn’t even planned on telling his parents he was coming to Texas at all—it was Christopher who let it slip, and then Eddie had been immediately put on the spot and he hadn’t been able to come up with a good way out of stopping by after his weak deflection that it wasn’t a social trip was met with well, you have to stop and eat somewhere, don’t you. 

Sophia told him to lie and say the department said no. But she’s always been much better at lying to their parents outright than he is. Adriana shrugged and said if he didn’t want to go he didn’t need to give them a reason and should just say he wouldn’t be coming. But then, that’s her tactic as well and always has been—putting her foot down to establish hard boundaries, forging her own path and bucking all expectations.  Eddie’s always fallen somewhere in the middle, which he supposes is fitting—struggling to set boundaries, often getting there only when pushed, wanting approval but lacking Sophia’s talent for gentle manipulation that usually leads people to think that whatever she wants was their idea. 

So. Here he sits. Driving to El Paso. 

“Eddie?”

He blinks and clears his throat as he registers Buck’s voice, the edge of concern that says it’s not the first time Buck has called his name. 

“Yeah?”

“I was going to ask if you could pass back the aux cord,” Buck says. “But now I think I should ask if you’re okay.”

Eddie glances over his shoulder—Hen is in the back of the truck, head pillowed against the window, dozing with her eyes closed.  He swallows. 

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen my parents is all,” he replies. “And usually when they call it’s to talk to Christopher so...it might be uncomfortable.”

Buck’s voice drops. “Have you talked to them since the thing? Other than about this I guess.”

The Thing, also known as the huge fight they got into when Eddie decided that if he was going to keep working he couldn’t live at home for awhile and they tried to once again insist that he take Chris back to live with them. Like some terrible combination of the arguments they had before he moved to LA and after Shannon’s funeral, only even worse because Eddie had been raw enough over the decision to move in with Buck and let his abuela take care of Chris for awhile and really didn’t need to hear anyone tell him that choice made him a bad parent—

Sophia had been spitting mad when he told her and while he doesn’t know what she said in her own subsequent call to their parents, he knows that the next time they called him, the subject didn’t come up again.  Which, he supposes is as close to an apology as he’s ever likely to get.  

He probably could have used that as an excuse to not visit.  But then, that’s not really how they are.  Don’t apologize, pretend you don’t hold grudges, act like everything is fine, and repress until it feels like it is—the Diaz family way.  

Eddie sighs as he focuses on the road.

“Not really,” he replies.  “They’ve called Christopher every few weeks, but we’ve only talked directly...three times maybe since then?  Things seem to go south more quickly when we’re in person though so I guess I’m…”

“Bracing for impact,” Buck fills in quietly.  “I get that.”

“Yeah?”

Buck shrugs.  “I don’t talk about my parents,” he points out.  “Don’t talk to them either if I can avoid it because they always have a way of managing to just—anyway.  The last time I even called was after everything with Maddie and Doug.  Haven’t seen them since...since before I started with the 118 at least. So.  Yeah.  I get it.”

He hesitates, then adds, “You know I have your back, right?  You’re my best friend and you’re an amazing father.  I’m not going to let anybody get away with talking badly about you in front of me, even if they are your parents.”

Eddie glances back and manages a faint smile, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.  

“I’m glad you’re here,” he admits.  “Even if you did try to steal a fire truck in the middle of the night without me.”

Buck laughs and shoves at his shoulder.  “At least it wasn’t this truck.  Besides—you caught up before I did it anyway.”    

“Yeah, my Buck’s about to do something dangerous senses were tingling, couldn’t let that slide,” Eddie teases.

“Just give me the damn aux cord,” Buck shoots back, but he’s grinning.

And as they pass the next exit, Eddie feels like maybe things won’t be quite so bad.

***

Buck hates Eddie’s parents.  

It’s not the most charitable thing to think about someone you’ve only just officially met—he saw them at the ceremony when Eddie passed his probationary period, but he’d been on pretty strong painkillers at the time and Maddie had shuffled him back home as soon as possible—but he really does.

He hates the tense, anxious set of Eddie’s shoulders, hates the way his smile looks forced—it triggers the same fierce, protective instinct that rears its head whenever he gets between his parents and Maddie, and, well, he did promise, so—

He really doesn’t feel bad for interrupting the very first digs about how seeing Christopher over video isn’t the same as in person, but it’s nice to have the option and technology really is wonderful, Zoom calls must have been a great improvement from your army days, right son with—

“You know, it is wonderful isn’t it?  Did Eddie tell you how amazing Christopher is handling hybrid learning?  It’s really so great how his teachers have adapted, I can’t imagine he would have kept up so well anywhere else.”

Buck smiles brightly as Eddie’s mother’s lips thin.  Hen coughs and takes a long sip of lemonade.  Eddie blinks in surprise from across the table and clears his throat, grasping at the lifeline.

“Yeah, top of his class,” Eddie says.  

“He even has a reading group once a week with some of the other kids in his class that Eddie started to help them stay social.  I know a lot of the other parents appreciate it,” Buck adds, and Eddie rubs at the back of his neck.

“We definitely do,” Hen says, glancing at Eddie’s father as she clarifies, “I have a son Christopher’s age.  They used to play together all the time before all of this.”

“His therapist said kids are resilient, but I wanted to at least try and give him something normal,” Eddie replies, and his mother’s brows raise.

“Christopher is in therapy?”  There’s a note in her tone that makes Eddie tense and Buck’s hackles raise.

“I took him to see someone for a few sessions after Shannon died, mom,” Eddie says evenly.  After the tsunami, Buck fills in for himself.  “It didn’t seem like a bad idea to go back again to make sure he’s okay during a time that’s pretty unprecedented for just about everyone.” 

“Really, I think more parents should send their kids to therapy,” Buck interjects.  “If it’s a feasible option, I can’t see that it’s anything other than great parenting to make sure your kid has the best tools they can to take care of their mental health.”

God knows if he’d gone to therapy a hell of a lot sooner, he might not be struggling through sessions with Dr. Copeland now that he’s nearly thirty, but that’s not really the point.

“Well, some people feel those sorts of things are best taken care of within the family,” Eddie’s mother replies.

“With all due respect, sometimes the family’s way of handling problems just makes things worse,” Buck replies, his smile dropping briefly before he forces it back again.

“This lemonade really is delicious, Mrs. Diaz,” Hen jumps in as Eddie pushes his chair back and starts collecting empty plates.  “I would love to get the recipe before we leave.  If you don’t mind.” 

Startled, the older woman blinks.  “Oh.  Yes, of course.  I’ll write it down for you.”

Buck pushes back his own chair as Hen continues redirecting the conversation and follows Eddie into the kitchen where he finds his best friend gripping the edge of the sink.

“Hey,” he says quietly.  

Eddie looks over his shoulder and exhales heavily.  “Hey.”

“Sorry if I overstepped.”

“You didn’t,” Eddie assures.  “I’m just...exhausted.  And ready to get back on the road and home to my kid.”

He hesitates, then adds, “you know, my sisters would be impressed.  I haven’t seen someone manage our parents like that since they left.  I—thank you.”

“I meant what I said in the truck, Eddie,” Buck replies.  “You’re an amazing father and a great man and—it’s not right that anyone should pretend any different.  So.  I won’t let them.”   

Eddie glances at the hallway.  “Guess we have to go back eventually.  I didn’t quite think this escape plan through.”  

“Once more unto the breach?”  Buck offers.  The smile he gives Eddie is far different from the fake one he’s had up since they arrived, and when Eddie returns it, a spark returning to his eyes, it makes Buck’s stomach flip and his pulse race.

He tries not to think too hard about that.  They still have a long drive ahead of them—plenty of time to save it for later.    

“Yeah.  Yeah, okay.”

***

When they get home, Eddie barely manages to shower and plug in his phone to charge before falling into bed and immediately going to sleep.  When he wakes up, he finally checks his messages and sees several missed calls and texts from his sisters.

So? Sophia asks.  How was it?

<em>You were right</em>, Eddie taps out, and then waits. His phone rings a few seconds later. 

“I’ll save the I told you so in favor of asking if I should get Adriana on the line for an emergency Diaz sibling parental grievance vent session or if I’ll suffice,” Sophia greets. 

“It’s not that serious,” Eddie replies. “I’m okay—a little annoyed still, but...I’m okay.”

He’s not quite sure what compels him to add, “Buck was there. He, uh, he told them off about it a little actually. Politely, but that kind of polite...you know the one.”

“The one that’s basically go fuck yourself with a smile and/or plausible deniability?” Sophia fills in, and Eddie laughs. 

“Yeah, that.” He rubs at the back of his neck and leans back in his chair. “It was—he kept pointing out things about what a great dad I am.”

There’s something about the feeling in his gut that he can’t name. Something he wants to poke at, to explore, but that also makes him wary. Like a yellow caution light—it’s not a do not enter but it’s not risk free either—and he’s not sure whether it’s a risk he can take yet. 

Sophia is quiet for a moment. Then she says, “You are a great dad, Eddie. In spite of them. I’m glad you have other people in your life who recognize that too.  You deserve that.  You deserve to trust that you’re good at things, even if mom and dad say you aren’t.  You deserve to be happy, so...”

The silence that follows feels weighty.  

“What?”  Eddie asks.

“Is Buck—?”  Sophia cuts herself off.  “—nevermind.  Hey, the twins are calling, so I’ll call back again later, okay?  Love you.”

Is Buck what? Eddie wants to ask.  But he swallows it back.

“Love you, too,” he says instead.  “Talk to you later.”

As he hangs up and tosses his phone aside, his mind wanders back to that feeling.  Right up to the edge of warning lights and caution tape.  And Eddie wonders for a moment if he should—

There’s a knock at his door.  

“Dad?  You awake?”

“Yeah, buddy,” he calls back.  “Be right there.”

Later.  He can think about it later.  

***

Eddie figures it out at the worst possible time—in the middle of a five-alarm fire when Buck’s trapped inside and he doesn’t know if—

What do you do when you realize you might be in love with your best friend and they could die?

“We have to go back in there,” he says, before he can think of any reason why he shouldn’t.  “We can’t just leave him, we have to—”

“You’re right,” Bobby interrupts, and the other captain makes a noise of frustration.  

“Captain Nash—”

“You’re right,” Bobby repeats, holding Eddie’s gaze.  “We’re going to get him back.”

Maybe it’s stupid, four trained firefighters diving back into an active blaze in an unstable building with unclear direction, but Eddie can’t regret it when he sees the desperation on Buck’s face.  The relief.  The impending breakdown.

After, he’s assigned to take care of the victim and Buck’s carted off to the hospital to get checked, and Eddie thinks maybe that’s better.  It gives him time, at least.  Time to figure out what to say, what to do, whether he should say or do anything at all.  Part of him doesn’t know.  The rest is screaming I love him, I love him, I love him, wants to get his hands on Buck to verify for himself that he’s fine.  That he’s alive.  That he’s going to stay that way.

But when he gets back to the station, Buck’s parents are there, sitting at the table, and Eddie just—

He thinks about the look on Buck’s face earlier in the shift when he spilled everything, when he explained how he was apparently born just for parts and how he used to throw himself into bad situations because it was the only way to get their attention.

He could ignore them.  But he doesn’t.

“He saved my son, you know,” Eddie says, gripping the top of the staircase as the Buckleys look up.  And it’s probably somewhat insane to keep talking because he knows they don’t even know who he is, but he can’t help it because he just needs them to understand—  “Buck.  He wasn’t even working at the time, he was on medical leave and didn’t know if he would ever be able to be a firefighter again.  But he saved my son in the middle of a tsunami—my then eight-year-old son, and god knows I can’t imagine losing him, I think that would be the worst thing I could possibly go through, and I’m not sure I would survive it, but I didn’t have to because Buck saved him.  And probably twenty other people as well.  That’s just the kind of person he is.  The kind who saves people.”

They don’t say a word, so he keeps going.  “He could have died today.  Because he didn’t want to leave anyone behind.  Because he is a good man, even if he doesn’t ever feel like he’s good enough.  And he hasn’t said a lot about you, but he’s said enough for me to know that while he’s gotten the latter impression from you, he learned the former himself.  He built his life here himself.  So...I don’t know why you’re here, if you want to explain yourselves or just want him to forgive you because you feel guilty, but I just wanted you to know that.  That he’s a good man.  The best man that I know.  And if you’re proud of him for that, he deserves to hear it.  That’s all.”

Eddie walks away then, heart beating too fast, blood rushing in his ears.  

The best man that I know.  And I’m in love with him.

That wasn’t for their ears though.  

It thrums in his veins, the words caught in his throat as he showers, changes, waits for Buck to return to the station.  And when he does, Eddie almost—

But something stops him.  

“You have visitors,” he says instead.  And leaves Buck to it.

Buck finds him in the locker room after.

“So, my parents said they heard stories about me while they were waiting,” he says.  “When I asked them who from, they said they didn’t know, but that I saved their son in a tsunami—and trust me, that got a hell of a lot of questions.”      

Eddie is grateful for the open locker, the excuse to hide his face as he pulls out his street clothes.

“Yeah, well—just because they’re not going to appreciate you doesn’t mean that nobody else does.”

“Eddie.”

Eddie pulls back and takes a breath before looking over at Buck.  There’s a look in Buck’s eyes like he’s trying to piece Eddie together like a puzzle, to work out all the things he hasn’t said.  And Eddie suddenly feels exposed, far more than he had when Buck was sitting in his childhood dining room staring down his own parents.  

“You’re a good man,” Eddie says quietly.  “They should hear that.  And...someone should be willing to defend it.”  

Buck’s quiet for a moment.

“I have to go see Maddie,” he says finally.  “But maybe I could come by later?  And we could...talk?”

“You don’t have to ask, Buck,” Eddie replies.  “You know I—”  I always want you.  “—you’re always welcome.”

Buck watches him in silence for another long moment, then nods.  “Okay.  Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

It’s hours before there’s a knock on the door.  Hours in which Eddie burns dinner and then orders takeout because he’s too busy thinking, hours that he spends trapped in his own head, thinking through all the worst case scenarios, through every what if of how things could go wrong.

But also how they could go right.

And by the time he opens the door, he’s almost ready to just let the words trip off his tongue, but before he can, Buck says—

“Please don’t tell me I’m wrong about this.”

—and kisses him.

Eddie freezes, but before Buck can pull back, he slides a hand around the back of Buck’s neck and kisses him back with everything in him—every bit of thank god you’re alive and I was so afraid and I can’t lose you that he can muster.  By the time Buck pulls away, they’re both breathless. 

“I’m in love with you,” Buck admits.  “I’ve been—”

“Me too,” Eddie replies.  “I thought—I thought you were—”

Buck kisses him again.

“I can’t believe you told off my parents.”

“Well, you told off mine, so—”

Eddie pulls Buck through the door.

“Chris is in his room,” he says quietly.  “But...you should stay for dinner.  And…”

You should stay.  Just stay.

Buck does.  

[apollostears]

ICY HOT [ l. wong ]

↬︎ group: wayv

↬︎ pairing: vampire!lucas x black!huntress!oc

↬︎ warning(s): blood, violence, angst, swearing

↬︎ wc: 1255

↬︎ apart of the ‘cold blooded’ series

PLOT. continuation of ‘cold & colder’ where selene and lucas are about to have their arranged wedding, eight months after the events at the gala. sinister forces are at work to stop this wedding from happening, even if it means death.

2021 halloween masterlist

“selene, i’m telling you what i already know; these flowers will not go with this dress!” selene’s mother had been adamant on her distaste for the flowers her daughter had chosen for her bouquet.

according to her mother it was tacky to want to have black roses as a bouquet.

“great thing you aren’t wearing it, yes? also, this is my wedding, however forced it may be, and i will not allow you to have your way. understood?”

it was rough how she spoke with her mother, but their relationship was strenuous and if it was up to selene, she’d only be her mother by name. queen mei was a lot nicer and more motherly to her than she had ever experienced in her twenty-one years of life. selene wished the undead woman was here instead.

“well, i think it would look lovely paired with you selene! and i’m sure we can make any alterations needed to dress, to make those flowers fit!” her wedding planner, kai, had encouraged.

in the few months selene had been planning this ceremony, kai had to endure a lot of tense conversations and awkward stares. selene would make sure the prestigious wedding planner was paid handsomely.

“thank you, kai. now, what’s next?” she asked, handing the flowers back to the florist before following kai out the shop.

her mother was the last thing on selene’s mind as the two chatted away about the day’s plans. “actually, you and the prince will be meeting at the castle for a private dance session with estelle and eben to go over the first and final dance. after that, you are free for the day.”

selene let out a sigh of relief. planning for a wedding was exhausting. especially one that’s fit for a prince and soon-to-be princess of the vampire race. it was still very weird to her. a huntress marrying a vampire; a prey being with its predator. she was sure that several people throughout the supernatural world were not pleased with this union. and neither was she to be honest, but then she understood why this was happening and figured she push her pride aside for the greater good.

“am i to change then before heading over there?” selene had been dressed in light blue jeans and a cream colored turtleneck with trainers on.

without paying her any mind, kai gave her an answer that had the huntress smiling and rolling her eyes at her. “aye-aye boss lady.”

after selene's comment, the rest of the ride to selene's apartment was silent. reese, her driver, had dropped mrs. cole off first, much to selene's pleasure. their exchange was brief with her mom promising to call later about her table seating for everyone that rsvp'd.

truthfully, selene was surprised by the turnout for the reception. she didn't have many friends, but she did invite the few that still liked her despite her situation. lucas invited whoever he knew and then the rest were just elders that the two would have to grow familiar with during their reign as king and queen.

"hate to put you on a time limit, but you really only have ten minutes before we have to be at the gate to make it on time." kai advised, fingers moving across the ipad.

selene nodded and quickly exited the car with the help of reese, to enter her apartment building. her place of sanctuary for the last four years of her life. she was only twenty-one, about to turn twenty-two, and her she was about to get married to an immortal being. being's that she, just a few months ago, was slaying in the streets at night.

entering her penthouse suite, selene hastily got changed. going through the motions, she slipped on some sweatpants and a cotton crop-top with sneakers. grabbing a water bottle and her keys, selene was on her way out the door when she noticed something.

"took you awhile to notice me darling. planning a wedding makes you soft, doesn't it?" his voice was smooth, non-threatening in the slightest, but that doesn't stop the chill that runs down her spine.

"the fuck are you doing here?" she was nervous. how long had he been here? how did she miss him? why was he here?

the man tsk'd and stood from the loveseat positioned by her window overlooking the city. his posture was straight, footsteps heavy, and stature terrifying. selene was not one easily frightened, but he. . . he was her version of the boogeyman.

she backed up slowly, moving closer to the door for an easy escape. "don't run from me angel. i just came to share something interesting with you."

"who's to say that you're telling the truth?"

suddenly, he stopped moving, almost looking like he was in thought before he lunged at selene and pushed her up against the wall with a harsh grip on her neck.

she was surprised and scared, her nails leaving tiny trails of blood on his hands as she clawed at them for release. he hadn't restricted her airway yet, careful not to squeeze too hard to avoid bruising. his breath tickled her ear as he leaned forward to whisper in it.

"someone isn't who they say they are, princess. several people are working actively against you as we speak. now, i'd hate for my favorite monster slayer to perish over some trivial diplomacy. so, be a good girl and figure out who it is after you and your precious vampire prince." he warned, releasing his grip on her neck at the end.

selene glared at him as she attempted to soothe her burning skin. "how can i trust you? you just attempted to choke me out and broke it my house. how do i know it's not you plotting against me?"

as she questioned him, the man made his way back over to her window and pushed it open. "if i wanted you dead, i would have killed you the second you stepped foot in the door. see you later selene."

and just as easily as he came in, he was gone like nothing happened. all that was left of his presence was her aching throat and her open window.

"hey selene! you in there? we gotta go!" kai's voice pulled selene back to reality and she cleared her sore throat before speaking.

"yes! yes, sorry! i'm coming out now." she called out, hastily picking up the items she dropped and rushing to her door. selene stopped in her tracks at her face in the mirror. her dark skin showed no signs of bruising, but the fear in her eyes said everything she needed to know.

shaking her head, selene attempted to pull herself together before opening her door and stepping out into the hallway.

"that's my bad. i forgot where i put my water bottle." she laughed, locking her door.

her hands were shaking and she cursed herself for being so weak. she's supposed to be this feared huntress and she can't even lock her fucking door.

"hey, you okay? are you nervous about seeing lucas?"

kai was kind. too kind for her own good, but selene had to remind herself that she hadn't grown up in the world she did. where kindness gets you killed.

"yes. just hungry probably. lets go, we're already late."

but what selene didn’t know, and wouldn’t until later, was that people really were watching her every move. and if kai hadn’t of came when she did, she would be dead.

❧ join my taglist: @cliffordasparagus @olamidey @supop @knjkitten @sweeneyblue1 @pimpnameyannie @sunrayyellowhalo @namjoonswifeyy @valkryienymph @wayv127dream @lordoftomatoes @marvellifeforever

NOTE. this is part two in the series! as i was writing this, i figured i would make this into a mini series. hope you guys enjoy!

[raindownforme]

“I love you” in Comic Sans (pt2!)

Charlie Slimecicle x reader [they/them used](CW: slightly sexist content)

Schlatt shoved y/n through the door way. The first person they looked for was Charlie, who was staring at them with wide eyes.

Of course Charlie was angry; he was angry and worried and quite honestly pissed off! Only moments ago Traves and Cooper had run in to tell him that Schlatt was holding y/n outside the front door. He had wanted so desperately to go out there and whisk them away from whatever Schlatt was planning, but before he could actualise a thought process they had both stumbled through the door. Watching y/n stand there, dressed to marry him, he felt his heart leave his chest and soar high up above him. The hood resting gently on their head and the cape swirling around their feet was pretty of course, but the second they made eye contact with Charlie, y/n smiled so wide that he felt invincible. He stood at the altar, watching as someone handed them the bouquet of flowers. He watched as they smiled, staring at the bright blue cornflowers, then smiling back to him. They mouth thank you and he felt his face burn bright pink.

He heard Schlatt mutter “come on” and shove y/n forward. As Schlatt slowly walked them towards the altar, Charlie felt anger boil from deep inside of himself. He saw Schlatt continue to whisper in their ear, and after what felt like ages (even though it was probably ten seconds) y/n and Schlatt now stood across from him at the altar.

“Thank you Schlatt, that will be all from you.” Ted did his best to excuse the man from the scene, but he didn’t seem to want to let go without a final word.

Schlatt turned to Charlie, poison dripping from each word. “Every bit as real as you think this is, the day this is over is the same day I put a bounty on both of your heads.”

Everyone watched as Schlatt walked towards the back few rows of the church and took the seat next to Connor.

Ted cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, we have gathered here today....”

Charlie zoned out as Ted continued the speech. He stared at y/n, who kept glancing between either Ted or their conjoined hands. Charlie looked down at their hands, too. Ever so gently, he ran his thumb over the back of their hand, smiling to himself. y/n squeezed his hand and he looked back up to them. They silently mouthed to him, this is real.

Charlie smiled, unsure of how to feel. Off of basic instinct he was elated. The idea that the person he was in love with wanted to marry him set his soul on fire, but knowing that all of this was just political confused him. They must mean real for Schlatt, right? Real for him? Because Charlie was convinced there was no way this would be real like he wanted it to be real.

“Do you have rings?” Ted’s voice cut through Charlie’s thoughts and he came to the quick realization of-

“Oh my god I forgot the rings.” Charlie huffed in frustration. “I am so sorry-“

“Hey it’s okay. We’ll go get some tomorrow. We can pick out ones we like. Together.” y/n smiled at Charlie and then looked back to Ted. “We have no rings.”

Ted nodded, a small smirk on his face. “Any vows then?”

“Oh I’ve got this one covered.” Charlie let go of y/n to reach into his breast pocket and pull out a set of hot pink flash cards. “Here watch this.”

Charlie made a gesture to clear his throat and y/n let out a laugh. “Oh god I might divorce you now.”

Charlie laughed, adjusting his glasses a bit before diving into the speech. “y/n, I’ve only known you for probably a year. Maybe two. But I know that I can say with all of my heart that I will love you through thick and thin, especially through the slime of it all. But I love you and I’m excited to spend my life with you.”

He slipped away the cards to see y/n stifling a laugh. He went to grab their hand and they did their best to swallow the smile. “Alright. My turn. Uhm. Unfortunately, I didn’t have anything special prepared like you but I can tell you that every single day you find some way to make me smile and every single day I seem to find some way to make you smile. And putting together everything I know, that makes me feel like you are who I am supposed to spend the rest of my life with, which is such a relief because I love you so, so much Charlie.”

The couple stared at each other, smiling, until Ted brought them back to the ceremony. He held out a small book and a quill dipped in blue ink. “With no objections, would you both please sign this?”

y/n went to sign the certificate in the book first, ending with a swirly flourish. Charlie signed the line underneath, but his looked closer to chicken scratch.

Ted closed the book and held it with both hands. “I pronounce you two, married!”

Charlie wrapped his arms around y/n’s waist, expecting a hug, but instead they grabbed his face and kissed him. Charlie could feel them smiling against his lips and he felt like fire works. He felt like sparks were running under his skin from everywhere they were touching; the hands on his cheeks, their lips against his, his hands against their back. He picked them up, arms still around their waist and spun them in a circle.

y/n stopped kissing Charlie to laugh and bury their face in the crook of his neck, but they didn’t want to. When they kissed Charlie it felt electrifying. It felt whole, like something that had been missing.

Charlie pulled apart from them, still keeping hands on their waist, still smiling wide enough to make sure his face hurt for the rest of the week. “Hey,” he whispered just loud enough for y/n and Ted to hear. “If we give Ted those flowers we can take the book and book it.”

y/n giggled and nodded. They quickly exchanged the items with Ted. And then, hand in hand, the two ran down the aisles of the church and out into the open air.

———

Three weeks had passed since the wedding. In that time, they’d been able to move all of y/n’s stuff to a new house buried in a forested hill. Their house and home garden were well-hidden, but even if something were to happen, Charlie’s home was a three-minute horse ride away.

It had only taken a week to dig out the hill side and build the house, but even after that Charlie had offered to stay with y/n to make sure they felt safe. So for the past three weeks, Charlie had spent every waking day and night at y/n’s house, save for the very few times he had something to attend to.

Today was one of those days. It was late in the afternoon. The sun was about to set, so y/n waited patiently next to the window until their husband came home. It wasn’t unusual for Charlie to be more late than he had originally said. The boy got distracted quite often, whether it was some antics one of his friends had gotten stuck in or something new someone made. But y/n still couldn’t help the anxious feeling that itched beneath their skin.

They sat in their obsessive thoughts for a while longer before they heard the familiar knock at the door. He always knocked the same way, and he would wait for y/n to knock the same way back, which they happily ran to the door to do, then they turned the deadbolt.

Charlie burst through the door, holding his arms out wide as if he were addressing a large crowd. “Hey!”

“Hey! Why are you breathing so hard?”

“Oh. Right.” Charlie shut the door behind himself and set a box from his back pocket on the table near the door. “Well I was in town and I’m not sure who it was but someone built the coolest thing! It’s this big planet and there’s a ring around it like that one planet-“

“Saturn?”

“-yeah Saturn! Which Is why I ran here to tell you because I had the perfect thing to say.”

Charlie opened the box he had set down earlier and pulled out two smaller black velvet boxes. y/n gasped, trying not to hold their breath. “Charlie, what is this?”

“I told you I’d get you a ring! And now you can be saturn! Or we could be Saturn!” Charlie opened the small box and inside was a simple silver band ring engraved with twisting vines and cornflowers to decorate the outside, but on the inside of the band, the wedding date was engraved in comic sans. y/n laughed at the gift, taking it out of the box and slipping it onto their ring finger. Somehow, it fit perfectly. Charlie started explaining something, but all y/n could focus on was not crying. They were gently snapped back into focus when Charlie placed his hand gently on their face and brushed their cheek with his thumb. “Are you okay? You look like you’re crying.”

“Yeah. No I’m fine.”

“Is it the ring? Because I can return them if you want. You don’t even have to pay me back.”

“Charlie its not the rings-“

“Is it something I can fix? At least tell me that-“

“Charlie I love you.” He released his hold on their face and stared in shock. “I’ve been in love with you forever now. That’s why I didn’t want to marry you. I knew you’d be too good of a guy and you’d make it so much harder to not say anything but I’m really worried now that whenever you leave me to marry someone else it’s going to kill me.” Charlie stared at y/n softly. They glanced to see the ring sitting in the box in his other hand and they groaned. “I just embarrassed myself didn’t I?”

“No, y/n-“

“No it’s okay I know you were being nice but you can leave-“

Charlie, with one hand against their cheek and the other wrapped around their waist, pulled y/n in for a kiss. His glasses pushed against their brow and they gasped before they could appropriately react, but Charlie melted at the feeling of y/n smiling against him and the fire works going off under his skin, and y/n smiled as the electricity raced through them.

Charlie pulled the two of them apart, but still rested his forehead against y/n’s. “When you kissed me, it was like fireworks went off everywhere. I wanted to do it every single day. I want to hold your hand every single day, and come home to you at night, and tell you about the wild shit I find in town, and maybe start a store or something so we don’t go broke, and I want to wake up with you. And I want to do all those things because I have loved you for so long. So when you told me it was real I was ecstatic. And you telling me this now makes me happier than I was then.”

“Charlie?”

“Yes?”

“I want the store with you. And the hand holding. And the coming home at night. And everything else you said.”

“Good. Now can you actually tell me if you like the rings? Because you didn’t before.”

y/n laughed, pulling Charlie into a full hug. “Did it have to be comic sans?”

He mumbled intoto the crook of their neck. “I love you too.”

————

Tags: @rosefreckles06 @short-potato

[grumpyhedgehogs]

Nameless

Virgil never uses Deceit's real name. It doesn’t have to be a thing. It’s not a thing.

It’s not.

~

They don’t actually call on Janus that much in the beginning. He supposes he understands, in a bitter sort of way; Roman is still smarting from letting him into the fold and Patton is trying to soothe everyone’s ruffled feathers and Janus is pretty sure Logan is at least a little upset that he’s been pushed to the fringes of two videos by Deceit.

Janus carefully does not think about how Virgil is taking things.

So he’s startled, just a little, when Patton rises up in his room one night. He looks just as out of place as he actually is, and Janus has a hard time not hissing at the intrusion. This is totally not his private space.

“Patton, it’s such a pleasure to see you. Please, come in, invade my personal domicile.”

“Oh thanks--wait, are you actually happy to see me? I can never tell with you.”

Patton is wringing his hands. Janus takes pity on them both and tips his hat further back to survey the other side clearly. He’s nervous, but not overly so. Not like a certain other side could be once upon a time, when he wasn’t sure he was welcome in Janus’s room. Not that Janus is thinking about anyone in particular or anything.

“What do you need, Patton?”

Morality blanches for a second before drawing up his courage. He has a very expressive face. Janus does not acknowledge the tiny swell of warmth that curls in his chest.

“I wanted to know why you aren’t coming to the videos more often.”

Janus stares. Patton blinks back.

“What?”

Patton goes back to wringing his hands. “Is it-- is it something we did? If it’s about Roman, he’s--well he’s working on it, but it’s safe for you to come down now, I just...I want everyone to be okay.”

“I--” Janus clears his throat which seems too tight suddenly. “I was unaware that you would have liked my presence so often.”

“I meant my apology, Janus,” Patton says. He looks so soft Janus wants to hiss instinctively. He refrains, but only just. “Everyone is welcome. Everyone.”

Janus nods woodenly. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t really know how.

Maybe that’s okay.

~

He doesn’t come to every video, and he always makes them wait for his dramatic entrance when they call his name. Just because they know it now doesn’t mean Janus will come like a trained dog.

Still, Logan almost never calls on him, so when he hears the logical side scream for him with more desperation than he’s ever known him to possess, Janus comes running.

“What.”

Something’s been off for a while now, but Janus’s room is farther away from the common area than the others’ are, so he’s managed to ignore it. It was just Virgil doing his job; he’d felt the roiling in his stomach and the ache in his chest but Virgil hadn’t introduced a panic attack for months, so he’d thought it would pass. Janus had assumed it was something innocuous, an audition he’d forgotten about or a new friend coming over when Thomas hadn’t cleaned in a while.

He should have known what happened when he assumed.

“Janus, you’re right on time,” Logan says. He’s so dry Janus still isn’t sure when he’s joking, but he takes one look at Logan’s face--pale and wan and more than a little gaunt--and straightens his back in reaction. He looks around for the source of what’s disturbed Logan so.

The common room is in shambles.

The couch is overturned, the television is cracked and fallen on its side. The blinds are ripped. There’s cobwebs everywhere and shadows lick at the corners of the ceiling.

On the stairs, the three other sides huddle, looking like a particularly ragged bunch of kicked puppies. Logan is the only one standing, his hands woven through the bars of the stairway to clutch at someone’s sleeve. He’d turned his head towards Janus when he’d appeared but hadn’t gone to greet him. Roman is sitting on the bottom stair, katana across his knees; his knuckles are white around the hilt and his eyes are darting. Patton is half hidden behind Creativity, crouching with his back to Janus. He’s whispering reassurances and doesn’t pause when the others speak. He’s reaching out to something--someone--but Janus can’t see what.

“It’s Virgil,” Logan says tightly and Janus’s throat constricts.

He shakes it off, though, and steps up beside Logic to get a better view. Virgil is curled in on himself, so much so that only his purple bangs show. His hood is up and his head is buried in his arms. He’s shaking and small and Janus can hear his breath rattling from here.

“What’s wrong?” Virgil flinches and Patton squeezes his arms where he’s gripped them just below the shoulder, cooing. His eyes are wide and scared when he looks at Janus, but Janus just holds up a hand. “What’s happened, Virgil?”

There’s a small, sharp gasp, and the side looks up. Janus catches his hiss before it can crawl up his throat, but it’s a near thing. Virgil is always pale, but his skin is translucent now and his veins show black against his face. His eyes are glowing above shadows black as the pits of hell.

“Thomas is being followed,” Virgil tells him, voice reverberating so much it shakes the walls. “No one would listen to me all morning but he’s there, he’s on the bus, he moved two rows up to sit behind Thomas, I can feel his breath on the back of Thomas’s neck. He’s going to trap us, he’s going to follow us home.”

Roman and Patton open their mouths, maybe to ask for more information, maybe to deny involvement, but Janus cuts his hand through the air and clutches at the banister next to Logan. “When did you notice him?”

“He followed Thomas for ten blocks before we got on the bus.” Virgil’s eyes flick to the side, checking on their host. He refocuses on Janus and his irises have been completely swallowed now. Janus suppresses a wince; it hasn’t gotten this bad in a long time. “Please, Deceit. You have to help Thomas.”

Something in Janus squeezes and twists, but he slaps on a smirk anyway. “It’s what I do best, dear Virgil. Leave it to me.”

Deceit convinces Thomas to get off the bus early. He advises Thomas to call Joan and wait in the Starbucks next to the bus stop until they can walk with him. He makes sure the man with the baseball cap stays well away in the meantime and that Thomas never puts his phone down in case he needs the police. It’s a close thing, and Janus’s teeth are on edge the whole time, but Thomas is safe and sound at the end of the night and Virgil has calmed when he gets back.

“Hey, Deceit,” Virgil says when Janus goes to sink out. He’s still curled up on the stairs, but his influence has died down a bit and he’s not hiding his face anymore. The others have wandered back to their rooms, now that the uproar is over, but Janus knows Virgil will stay to keep an eye on things, just in case. The words he says next sound clunky and wrong in his mouth. “Thank you. You saved Thomas.”

Janus smiles and it feels strange on his face, so he sinks out instead of answering.

~

The second time Janus notices it is vastly less dire. Somehow, that makes it worse. More noticeable, perhaps. No danger for either of them to focus on.

Patton has instituted a weekly family dinner. They’re only just now inviting Remus to every other week’s dinner, since Roman can only recreate the common room’s furniture so many times before getting exhausted. Janus, apparently, has a standing invitation but he can’t deny that it still feels strange, popping in like he’s not going to be attacked if he shows his true face. To combat this awkwardness, Patton sends a new side to get him every time. Logan has had the most success in easing Janus’s mood, due in no small part to their shared interest in debate. He must say combating Logic is a fulfilling challenge. Patton himself, of course, simply does not take no for an answer and so he is Janus’s second favorite by default.

Roman is...not ready yet for more than a sharp rap of his knuckles on his door, but Janus appreciates the effort it takes the other side for even that. It’s a work in progress.

So when there’s a light tap on the yellow wood, he assumes perhaps Patton himself has decided to greet him slightly less boisterously than usual and pulls it open without ceremony. (Well, not much ceremony. He is part of Thomas, after all.)

Virgil takes a startled step back. His hands are shoved into his pockets and his head is down. Janus can barely see his eyes through his fringe.

“Oh.” Janus says. “You..are Patton.”

The corner of Virgil’s mouth twitches. He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. “Dad says dinner’s ready.”

Janus raises an eyebrow just to be contrary. He can’t capitulate to every request just like that; he has appearances to maintain.

Virgil rolls his eyes. “You’re supposed to be there, Deceit.”

Janus grits his teeth, looking away. “Right. Well. Thanks.”

When he looks back, there’s a strange expression on the other side’s face, like he can’t quite figure Janus out. He shrugs and turns, ambling back down the stairs.

Dinner is not as quiet and awkward as it was at first, but with Roman still sulking and Virgil’s natural propensity for silence, Logan and Patton are hard pressed to make up for Janus’s current lack of enthusiasm. He spends the night with something not quite angry, not quite sad, and not quite resigned twisting in his gut.

Janus nearly doesn’t stay for dessert, but pauses when a slice of lemon pie is shoved under his nose. He blinks for a moment before looking up at Patton’s smiling face. “Virgil told me it was your favorite?” He asks hopefully.

Janus blinks and looks at Virgil. Virgil hunches his shoulders up to his ears and shrugs. “It is,” he mutters to the floor. The pressure in Janus’s chest doesn’t go away but it does recede. A little, anyway.

Janus eats the pie, more confused than he was before.

~

“Janus,” Roman says, a little stiffly. Janus leans against his door jamb and arches his eyebrows. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting.” He sinks out before Janus can ask what, but that's alright. He already knows, and if anyone (Remus) asks, he is definitely not smiling as he sinks out.

With family dinner nights comes movie afternoons and marathon days on the weekends. Thomas has never quite gotten over ABC Family discontinuing Harry Potter Weekends. Janus can’t really blame him, to be honest.

“You’re supposed to be wearing a onesie,” is the first thing out of Virgil’s mouth when he pops in to watch Marvel movies that afternoon. Janus snorts at him, disgruntled, and sits primly on the edge of the couch when Thomas pats the space beside him absently. Roman has taken a place on the floor and Logan has the armchair, apart but still near. Patton smiles brightly from where he lays with his head in the prince’s lap, waving his hand excitedly before letting an explosion on-screen tear his attention away. Virgil is on Janus’s other side, pressed against the armrest with one knee drawn up to his chest. There’s a careful three inches of space between them that Janus is hyper aware of.

“Logan isn’t wearing a onesie.”

Virgil shrugs, seemingly uncaring of the side sitting next to him. After a second there’s a lull in the action on the television and Janus catches him moving out of the corner of his eye. Not that he was looking at Virgil, of course. He just. Noticed it.

He tilts his head a little, glancing at the other side out of the corner of his eye--it’s his snake eye, does it still scare Virgil these days?--to find Virgil has a little smile on his face. He leans his temple on his knee and, miracle of miracles, winks at Janus and whispers conspiratorially. “Logan’s weird.”

Janus snorts. He pulls his gloves off absently, setting them, his cape and hat on his knees before leaning back into the cushions gingerly. “You can say that again.”

“Falsehood,” sounds at the same time as Patton’s “That again!” and Janus does not smile.

Virgil shifts a little. It’s so small it could be nothing but--but if Janus just leans a little further back they could be touching shoulders.

“Come on Deceit.” Virgil says, eyes on the screen again. “Live a little.”

Janus’s stomach turns to stone. He doesn’t stay for the whole movie.

~

“Hey Janus!” Thomas says brightly. How he can have so much energy after shooting a video all day, Janus may never know, although he does think maybe it has something to do with Remus convincing Thomas to spike their coffee with Red Bull all morning. They’re all going to pay for that tonight, Janus just knows it. No one sane puts Remus in charge of their digestive tract.

“Thomas,” Janus inclines his head, “you called?”

Thomas called him. Thomas wanted to see him. Him. Janus. Sometimes Janus still can’t believe it.

“Yeah, hey, listen.” Thomas scuffs the back of his neck and Janus narrows his eyes. Oh, this had better be good. “I’ve got some more shooting to do later, it’s for another video after this one but…”

He trails off, and they’re left standing in a very awkward silence. Janus crosses his arms and waits. And waits. By God, this is where he gets his flare for the dramatic, isn’t it?

“What’s wrong, Thomas?” Janus asks drily. “Snake got your tongue?”

“No sorry.” Thomas laughs but nerves still tinge it. “I just--this new video, it’s not gonna have you in it. Okay?”

Oh. Okay. It’s the most recent video that’ll have no place for Janus in it since his name drop but that’s fine. It’s fine. It’s not like they’re going to replace him. Janus can handle it.

Janus narrows his eyes. “You’re not going to ask Leslie Odom Jr. to come back, are you?”

“What? No. I mean, that’d be so cool, but no. He’s got, like, other stuff to do.”

Okay, Janus can definitely handle this. “Well I’m completely devastated, Thomas. I can’t believe you’d do this to me. After all we’ve been through too; really, I’m wounded.”

His host rolls his eyes and chuckles at him. Janus feels warm and content and he can maybe see why the Light Sides want to do this all the time. Maybe. He’s not gone all the way soft, after all. “Yeah, okay, drama queen. If it makes you feel better, Virgil’s gonna be hanging back too. You two could hang out!”

Janus thinks back to the times before all this, when he’d let Virgil into his room and rest an arm around him during the panic attacks and cook him dinner and share a blanket with him on movie nights. For a second the old, familiar ache is gone, his heart is whole and he is light as a feather.

Then he remembers the sound of “Deceit” leaving Virgil’s mouth at the drop of a hat and shoves it all away before it can hurt him again.

“Yeah right, that’ll be the day,” Janus says and sinks out before Thomas can ask what he means.

~

“Deceit! Hey, Deceit, stop for a minute.”

Janus does not stop. In fact, he takes the stairs two at a time and barrels down the hallway.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Janus hisses air out between his teeth, seething. He’d almost managed to get into his room unnoticed. Almost. Damn Virgil and his skill of popping up where he’s least wanted.

He turns, dread making his stomach go cold, and there Virgil is, hands curled in his sleeves. He’s hunched over again, worried and trying to hide it. If Janus didn’t feel so cornered or hunted or goddamn tired of this, he’d take pity on the side.

“Whatever do you mean, Virgil? I’m not doing anything like that.”

Virgil shifts on his feet, worrying his bottom lip before seeming to steel himself. “That’s bull and you know it. Thomas said you were running away from me for some reason and I’d like to know what it is.”

“Yeah, well, turnabout’s fair play, isn't it?” Janus snaps.

Virgil looks--surprised, Janus supposes, but it’s more than that. Lost, a little afraid. He’s still so young. Janus can remember when he was small enough to fit in Janus’s arms, when he’d left him onto his shoulders and let Virgil wear his hat on his tiny head--

Those days are over.

“What--what’s that supposed to mean?”

Janus laughs and it’s nearly as ugly as anything Remus could come up with. Virgil flinches. “I think you know exactly what it means.”

“Uh, I really don’t.”

“Well maybe you should figure it out.”

“Hey, what the hell man?” Virgil scowls. “Stop treating me like an idiot just because I don’t know what’s going on with you. At least I’m asking.”

“Oh you--” Janus whirls on him. He strides forward, one step, two, three. He’s nose to nose with Virgil but the anxious side doesn’t take a step back like he would have years ago by reflex. He’s grown so much and Janus was never there to see it. “You, you want to know what’s wrong, huh? Well, congratulations, now you're part of the club.”

“Deceit, what--”

“I asked you a thousand times!” He screams at Virgil. “I asked you what was wrong and I had Remus ask you what was wrong and I tried to understand you but you didn’t let me!”

Virgil gaps at him, staring, but Janus can’t stop now. The dam has been broken.

He throws his hands in the air, gesturing at nothing, mouth working against a silent scream. “I wanted to help you, Virgil, and you left! You never even gave me or Remus a chance to help you. You ran away from me and you didn’t look back.”

Something in Virgil’s eyes hardens now and he snaps his jaws shut with a click. “Deceit, that’s not fair.”

“Fair? Fair? You wanna talk about fair? I fucking raise you, I was there for you, and you turned your back on me. You dropped me like a rock and now that you can’t avoid me, you can’t even use my real name!”

“I didn’t know I was allowed to!”

That stops him, trips Janus’s words up on his tongue. He steps back instinctively, like Virgil’s just punched him. He feels winded. “Wh-what?”

Virgil’s hands are clenched into fists but they stay at his sides. His eyes are burning and the shadows underneath them are darkening rapidly but he stands his ground. His voice wavers but carries. “I-I left. You’re right about that. And I know, I know I could’ve handled it better. I just--”

Virgil breaks off, huffs, drags a hand through his hair. He looks away, impatient, like he’ll find the words he wants scrawled on the walls. “I just didn’t know I could reach out to you, okay? I didn't--I didn’t learn that. I never knew how to lean on people or trust people or be kind until I came here because-- because you never seemed like you could get hurt. I didn’t have to learn that with you because I--I didn’t know I could hurt you like that.”

Janus opens his mouth, but Virgil plows on, picking up steam. He has both hands in his hair now, tugging harshly and Janus almost reaches out to gentle their grip before stopping himself. “I didn’t realize that you-- you were my friend.” Virgil sniffles now and Janus feels his heart thaw and break at the same time. “I--you were my family and I left and then the Light Sides taught me what that meant and by then I’d been gone so long. How could I go back? What right did I have to do that to you after I left how I did?”

He pauses but Janus can’t seem to find words for the first time in his life. For a moment there is silence and then, very slowly, Virgil drops his hands. He nods, not quite meeting Janus’s eyes, and sniffles again. His face is turned away now but Janus can see the tear tracks on his cheeks. “You came in here and you’re--you’re here, you know? And the others are trying, like they did with me but you told them your name, not me. So I just-- I didn't think you'd want me to use it.”

“You already knew my name.” It’s all Janus can think to say.

Virgil looks up.

Janus steps closer, frowning. But his chest feels light, like he’s finally slipped a metal band he didn’t know was around his lungs this whole time. “You knew my name before--before you left. So, why not use it? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Virgil furrows his brow. “It wasn’t my choice; it was not my secret to tell. It was yours. And you told Patton and Roman, and Logan’s kind of a package deal with them, so. You chose to give it to them. You just got stuck with me in the beginning.”

“And you aren’t a part of the package deal? Not even after all this time?”

Virgil smiles and it is like cracked glass in a mirror. “I guess I don’t really belong anywhere.”

“Yes you do,” Janus says. “ You always did. You always will.” The heat in his chest is boiling now, rising up his throat and into his face and spreading to his fingertips and he reaches out before he can stop himself. He reaches out and Virgil reaches back and suddenly they’re there. Together. And Virgil buries his face in his shoulder, and Janus shudders and curls closer and they both don’t mention how wet their faces are and they’re both laughing, maybe, or crying but it doesn’t really matter.

And Janus says, “I missed you, Virgil.”

And Virgil says, “Welcome home, Janus.”

[lovecinnatwist]

So I know you wrote a star sapphire Dick au, but I raise you a star sapphire Jason au—he always seems to love everyone around him a lot more than they seem to love him and he just wants to be loved so badly poor baby

Hello Anon! I loveeee this idea! You didnt specify a pairing so I've made it gen. Let me know if you have a pairing in mind. I've left it open for ideas.

All are welcome to slide into my DMs with ideas for star sapphire!Jason.

Lanterns Lead Home

The first moment of consciousness Jason Todd has after being beaten to- not death apparently- is warmth. 

The fuzzy feeling of being held by what must be twenty different pairs of hands pulls him back as he wakes. Every broken sob and desperate scream that wants to rattle free of his chest melts away into nothing. The air itself seems to vibrate with something sweet that he can’t put a name too. Every draw of breath fills him with kindness until he can recall the feeling-

love.

Tender touches chase away the bruises and scars until he can’t remember if they were ever there. Soft and caring caresses cup his cheeks and soft lips kiss away his tears. It’s too much and something that he’s been without for so long. For a moment he thinks of Catherine. Who she had been before the drugs. The thought of her breaks something in his chest. He cries and what seems like dozens of voices echo out validations. They sing back welcoming calls to release and let go.

So Jason does but he’s still floating. Still in the warm embrace of what he realizes must be his sisters. They must be because they call him that over and over and over again. A cup of something sugary comes to his lips and he gulps it down greedily. It coats his insides sweeping through him like a scolding saccharine syrup.

Consciousness starts to slip again but insistent slaps to the face jolt him awake. 

‘ Not yet. ‘

He knows what the words are but his ears don’t actually hear them. The woman over him has blue skin and gorgeous eyes that see into everything he is. He wants to turn away from it but she holds him steady. There is another cup. She makes him drink and this time Jason feels like he’s suffocating. 

He swallows more cups until he feels like he's at his limit. Then the hands are moving him and the rocking motion makes him feel sick. He passes from one hand to another until someone is bringing him to his knees in front of a huge glittering basin. 

“ Purge Ja’s Purge and be reborn. “

He feels dizzy and sick. Like he’s still rocking. He clenches onto the cool surface ahead of him. He tries to collect himself but memories start surfacing like bile in his throat. He remembers everything in startling detail. It all flashes before him until he flies forward and purges. 

He shakes and shudders through it. The loud cheers after every heave grounds him in support. Many hands hold him to stop him from falling in but no one stops him from emptying everything that he is into the quickling filling basin. 

He trembles and they replace that one for another. He can’t believe there’s more to give but everytime he feels peace a vile memory twists up and sends him face first into the bucket. By the time he’s thoroughly wrung out and empty- gentle hands pull him up. He doesn’t fight as he’s taken by many hands to a cool pool that bubbles against his skin. It fizzes and sizzles but doesn’t burn as his body is submerged. His eye lashes flutter. 

He gets a vague glimpse of blue skin and pinks and then someone tells him to hold his breath. 

He does and goes under. Everything goes black. 

Most Pink Lanterns don’t need to go through the rebirth. At least that is what Ja’s has heard from the others. The ring finds them before anything bad can happen. Usually during high emotions of love or joy something Ja’s has felt little of. Or well maybe that isn’t quite right. 

He does love, he loves everything. He loves hard, fast, passionate and ferociously but sometimes it feels like there isn’t any left for him. Sure he’s had people care for him, but to choose him first? To love him first…. Wilis loved money, then Catherine loved the drugs, then there's Bruce who loved the Crusade and Alfred… well Alfred could never love him more than Bruce. 

It had been that that drove him to Ethiopia in the first place.

He remembers everything in startling clarity now. His birth, his life, his death and of course both rebirths. It’s hard to forget the feeling of splitters digging into your fingertips and the taste of mud as you dig yourself out of your own grave. Who knows how long he had been wandering Gotham in a fuzzy haze? No one found him, no one had been looking for him. At least that's what he thought until he saw a pink glow.

The star sapphire. His star sapphire to be precise. 

Lost in the memory he gently touches the gem. It’s a wonderment, meeting the sisters of the lanterns corps and of course… getting permission to be- well who he's always known himself to be, Ja’s as they call him.

It had been freeing to be allowed to be nurturing. To be allowed to be tender and to care. Despite the changes that he’s gone through he feels more like himself than ever before. Like his body suddenly fits and he is grateful for the Zamarons for allowing him the ceremony. They honor his pronouns, as they all honor and celebrate femininity as its essence and not as sex or gender. Ja's has learned nothing if not the suffering of smothering his divine feminine in his last life. 

Now he is free.

( He tells himself that's why he hasn’t gone home to Gotham. Not because the existence of the third Robin Bruce has replaced him with. )

He does a good job at ignoring his old life and memories for the most part too. The few indulges he allows are watching digital transmissions of different versions of pride and prejudice with his sisters. Even in space nothing seems to beat human literature, something that Ja's gets to share with the others. He learns how to love deeper. Not only himself but more importantly everyone and everything. Mostly in the emotional sense… while the others- well Ja's isn’t quite ready for the sexual sense yet. 

Like many of the Pink Lantern Corps he has yet to meet his soul mate. 

The thought flutters low in his stomach. While he could easily show someone their love in his ring, the power didn’t work for star sapphires themselves. They simply had to wait for the pull and circumstance when they would feel the electricity in the air. Other members in the corps said that the feeling is indescribable. Like swallowing lightning or crashing into a planet with nothing to cushion the fall.

Though unfortunately, most of his sisters felt that with every good looking creature they came across. 

Ja's takes a drink, lounging about in the Green Lanterns station. They’re taking a short interlude before heading back home. One that the others are taking full advantage of.  It’s kind of embarrassing how the revealing costume and reputation of his corps makes others stare. He hears the whispers and feels the eyes on him just as clearly. 

It’s stupid because he isn’t even the best looking of them all. In a universe full of aliens most lanterns find humans rather dull. He hears the giggles as the others flirt. That’s all it is sometimes, flirting. While other times- Ja's turns the blind eye to Nadia’s wink as she disappears with a lantern down the corridor. He doesn’t flush long familiar with their games. Still a little part of him feels empty.

If only he could give as freely as they did. 

The chair next to him creeks making him sigh. Great, another lantern trying their luck. Couldn’t they tell he just wants to finish his drink in peace? He turns around to give the person a piece of his mind, anger already hot on his tongue. 

That is until playful green eyes fall on his. Ja's immediately tries to escape but Ryner grabs his wrist.

“ Well if it isn’t my favourite Star Sapphire. “

Ja's knows there’s no way he’s going to be able to pull the other off without causing a scene. He gives one more futile tug while Kyle just raises an unimpressed eyebrow. He groans just as the lantern orders himself his own drink. 

“ What do you want Ryner? “

The green lantern only lets go when he’s sure Ja's won’t run. Which is funny considering the fact that he's always running. Whether it be from bad guys, suitors or most times his sisters. It’s something that comes from growing up on the streets. The only place he’s ever felt safe had been… warm memories of the manor and Bruce's smile tug at his heart.

“ What makes you think I want something Ja’s? “

The very clear inflection of his voice Ja's wants to say. The other human has always made himself a pest whenever their corps comes to visit. It’s probably because they are both humans and around the same age. Not that they’ve really spoken about how they both ended up here. 

He doesn’t answer Ryner and takes a sip of his drink instead. The playful smile on the green lantern holds no matter how long Ja's ignores him. 

“ So I'm going down to Terra thought maybe you’d like to come? Apparently Batman could use some extra hands. “

At the mention of Batman Ja's interest piques. It’s rare to hear about anyone from his former life. Of course he does look through mission logs from time to time. It’s public access in the lantern corps library after all- but otherwise it's uncommon for Bruce to ask for help. The last thingJas's saw was Batman, Nightwing and Robin rescuing Hal from a villain he didn’t recognize. 

Ryner is either ignorant to his inner conflict or ignores it. 

“ It’ll be fun. You know Bats never lets us in his city. Could be nice? We could get a burger afterwards. Maybe catch a movie. “

It sounds like a date. Ja's would think it’s one too if he hadn’t told Ryner exactly how he feels about those things. He’s a nice guy, not bad looking from what he can see… but still he needs- well he wants the spark. 

He meets the boyish smile with a frown but it does nothing to make it go away. He shouldn’t. He’s done pretty well ignoring both earth and the bats. Still the big huge heart in him wants. He wants to see Bruce again and help him. 

A tiny part of him wants to go home and pretend like his dad still loves him even though he’s gone and gotten a new kid. One who’s probably in Ja’s room with all new clothes that are fitting of a good son. A loved son. 

Ryner bumps shoulders with him pulling him out of his head. His ring had begun to flicker a bit from the emotional distress. The other human places a hand over it to block the light and Jason let’s him. It’s a distraction. 

“ C’mon Ja’s Earth isn’t like you remember it. Let me show you a good time? “

That stupid hopeful smile and the shy way Ryner really looks at him hurts. He’s weak to things like this. People actually caring about him. He’s practically starving for it. He swallows down his protest. After all it would probably be nice to see his family again. They probably wouldn’t even recognize him. He could go and help and then maybe take up Ryner on his offer for a burger. 

Something light. Something Casual. 

“ Fine.. That sounds ok- I’ll go. “

Ja's wishes he could ignore the stupid happiness radiating off of the other lantern. 

“ Swear to God Ja’s this is going to be so much fun- You aren’t gonna regret it. There’s this one place that serves burgers like the size of your head and the art on the wall is just so hilarious- “

Ja's rolls his eyes as he finishes the last of his drink. 

“ Shut up Ryner and don’t make me regret this. “

The green lantern mims zipping his mouth shut and Ja's laughs.

Turns out he’s actually right as well. 

Jas's hasn’t been to Earth in years and it really shows. The place looks different. Even Gotham in all its dirt and grime feels foriegn to him. He joins the other lanterns in their job of catching and sending the aliens back to a prison at the corps. It’s fun with the little quips the Green Lanterns seem to toss back and forth between one another. Jason isn’t used to it but it’s a vibrant kind of energy that leaves a smile on his face even while he’s fighting. 

With the group supers the battle is over quickly. Quick enough and Ja's finds himself disappointed. He doesn’t know why but ever since they’ve been back in Gotham he has been positively vibrating. It’s new and exciting and maybe it’s because he caught a few glimpses of familiar capes and blue. 

When they all land on the roof for briefing Ja's feels like he’s about to burst from the excitement. 

This time when Ryner bumps into his shoulder it isn’t quite as annoying and he bumps back. It’s playful and light which seems to be the mood with them all. That is until Batman comes down with his dark dramatics.Jas's goes stone still at the sight of him. A blue and Black shadow follows behind before the bright colors of Robin pop up the edge of the building. 

It’s- strange to him. Like being on the wrong side of a mirror. He takes in what he can see of Bruce’s face from under the mask. The worn lines seem just too deep to be on the man he thought of as his father. Even Dick’s posture feels different and the new Robin… Well Ja's wishes he could say he feels anger but if anything he just feels- strange. There’s also something else. It’s slow and thrumming in his mind like he’s running on outdated software. His entire body itches all over and all he wants is to get closer. He needs to be closer. Close enough to touch, feel and just make sure they're real. That they are who he remembers and not just a figment of his imagination-  

Ryner nudges him and Ja's hisses under his breath. 

“ We gotta go. Didn’t you hear the man? “

Ja's had not heard him. The soothing quality of Bruce’s voice always made it hard to focus. The dark timber of it has always been more relaxing than menacing in his opinion. Just- being so close to them but not with them feels so strange. He knows he has to go over there. It’s been years and he probably doesn’t even fit in space left. There's anxiety at the thought, to go home he'd be willing to cut away any parts of him that he needed to. He swallows. It’s a sad and small mindset, something that he’s supposed to be better than by now. 

“ Heard him say what? “

Someone clears their throat and now there’s all eyes on them. Apparently they weren’t being as quiet as they thought.

“ That your help has been appreciated but you are not welcome in my city. “

Hearing it and knowing it are two different things. While Ja's always knew how Bruce felt about metas and supers, actually being told to leave is equal parts hilarious and frustrating. The itch that has been nagging him turns into an entire rash. He takes two steps forward but Ryners hand stops him from closing the distance. He shrugs off the touch, it doesn’t feel right. 

“ Yea? And who decides who comes into Gotham. Last I checked I have a birth certificate sayin i’m Gothamite and that means I can come to this cesspool whenever I want. “

He spits the words in the accent to prove a point. He’s giving away too much- too much information. He knows how Bruce obsesses over identities. It's not like the corps where everyone knew everything. A few people look around and Jas's suddenly feels even smaller. Ryner pulls him back and he can’t get himself to move. He just stares at Bruce hoping- wishing that the man will know it’s him. That he’ll close the distance and hug him and hold him. That he’ll smell like home like he always did when Jason could fit on his lap. 

Because as many sisters as he has now he only has one living father, brother and grandfather. He only has them and Jason wants so badly to be told that he could have them again. Space has never felt like much of a home. As much as the others made efforts they’re versions of love and his are different. He clung to the idea of meeting a soul mate and being full but now that he’s actually in front of Bruce he just wants to be here. With his dad. 

The shush on the roof is eerie. Ryner pulls harder and this time Ja's stumbles back. 

“ Ja’s lets go. “

The hardness of his voice spurs him into action. Bruce doesn’t move. He doesn’t move an inch and it hurts so badly he thinks he might die. When the lanterns take off he hesitates for just a moment. His eyes find Dick’s hoping for…. He doesn’t know what. When their eyes meet his heart pounds and his blood rushes in his ears. The blankness he gets back makes him flinch.

His eyes flicker to the Robins and the innocent wide eye stare is just- too much. He feels like a spectacle. His eyes flutter around and soon he realizes just how out of place he is. Not like he ever fit to begin with. 

Shame rolls over him. He staggered back a few steps. No one moves and his throat goes dry. He turns and flies after Ryner in mortification.

[kyoonqs]

iluso amor ; first part.

↬ summary: Cora has always considered herself elusive, easy to bore and adventurous to the last fiber of her body. One day for no apparent reason, she appears in front of the manager of a globetrotting circus passing through the city where she is temporarily staying to fill her life with magic. Baekhyun, as serious as he is handsome, has no intention of playing a role other than on the main canvas of the circus. He decides to separate Cora from her life of fantasies created by her travels and sets out to show her reality as raw and cruel as he knows it. Or so he believes.

Will time run out too quickly before love and passion devour him and he decides to risk everything for a love that lasts… Forever?

↬ pairing: baekhyun x cora fem!reader.

↬ circus!au ; illusionist!baek x hitchhiker!oc ; strangers to lovers au!

↬ genre: fluff ; romance ; angst ; drama.

↬ length: 2.8 k words.

↬ tag list: @changshapatrol @spacebyuns @fluffyhunnie @soos-goddess @hoho-cham @shadoukiti @sunbyun21​ @mangobaek​ @suhotly​ @pororodks​ @bbhbae​ 

If you’d like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know! 

↬ masterlist.

↬ author’s note: this is my first time writing a series, hope you enjoy it and any feedback will be appreciated. thanks for reading! ♡

Vanilla, caramel and butter scents invaded her nostrils the moment she stepped on the re-centering and she reminded herself that from now on she should get used to the smell due to her timely madness. Beyond her view, occasionally blocked by some old trucks, a red and yellowish-white circus tent loomed along with several smaller tents and a host of caravans. The largest tent, dotted with gold stars, had a large, deep blue sign bearing the name of the circus and its owner. In addition to a few tethered horses, Cora saw a number of huge cages with animals and all kinds of unsavory people, including some pretty dirty men, most of them encrusted with mud and rust.

She was beginning to regret the moment when she had ripped the worn out brochure from the lamppost and the idea of joining the circus scene rose out of boredom. Yes, that was the case, curiosity had killed the cat and she could not contain herself that late afternoon when she had driven her bicycle past the front of the tents and the multicolored costumes of the artists had simultaneously caught her eye. But now it was not like that, the moment she advanced towards the train car where she was to present herself for the position, everyone stopped what they were doing and fixed their eyes on her. Without thinking too much, she stepped forward steadily as her sneakers sank into the sandy ground and she staggering as she stared at the ticket booth where the same brochure she was carrying was presented.

Away from the scrutinizing stares that once haunted her, she took the steps of the carriage two at a time and froze when she saw him inside. He had hair as dark as molten chocolate and chiseled features that would make his face look too beautiful if it weren't for the firm jaw and menacing frown. Men who possessed that brutal appeal had always attracted her but at that moment she would have chosen someone less intimidating to interview her. She tried to calm herself by reminding herself that she would not have to spend more than a couple of hours with him and that it would all be over as soon as she explained clearly why she was applying for the job, which she was still completely unaware of.

She cleared her throat and began with her introduction, first name, last name, place of birth, previous jobs and reason why she was there - from the latter she omitted boredom as a possible factor. The man in question did not give her a single glance and, of course, did not speak a word. She stared straight ahead, the unyielding lines of that hard profile making her skin tingle.

–“I, I want to learn about the trade...” She swallowed.

–“I'm really interested in the job, whatever it is...” She swallowed again.

–“Bastard.”

Until the man in front of her turned his head and looked at her, she didn't realize what she had said. He arched a dark brow with mild curiosity, as if he wasn't sure he had heard correctly. Her impulsiveness took control and she felt her lips tremble, for it was clear that they didn't share her problems in restraining her inappropriate thoughts.

The metal legs of the chair where he was sitting screeched against the hard floor of the wagon. He stood up, ironed the wrinkles of his pants with his hands and looking into her eyes for the first time, he said in a stern and inflexible voice:

–“You are hired. Meet me after the last show behind the main tent.” And without further ado, he passed her by without giving any other explanation.

She could barely suppress a sigh. She directed a furtive glance at the boy, still nameless and wondered what she had gotten into but an irrelevant part of her was dying for new adventures and without a doubt, he would be the greatest from that precise moment.

–“Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to begin! Come closer everyone!”

The man who made the announcement was the same man who was encouraging people to buy tickets the day the circus had arrived in town, although now he was wearing a red master of ceremonies jacket. At that moment Cora appeared before the young man in the carriage, leading a black horse by the reins with one hand. It was then that she realized that he was not only the manager of the circus but also one of its performers.

He was dressed in a velvet jacket, a velvet vest with nothing underneath and black trousers tucked into high leather boots that snuggled over his calves. A jewel-encrusted band of all colors surrounded his torso accompanied by fine iridescent chains and some ribbons of razo that fell from his pocket. He also carried a rolled whip hanging from one shoulder. Curious about the skills he would display in the arena –she had gotten one of the dancers to tell her when they would leave and to her surprise it would be the next morning– she followed the man with his eyes. At that moment he saw her. The decision she had made had been too recent to seek a way out and she still did not feel comfortable talking to him. Cora tucked her hair nervously behind her ear and refuse to take her gaze from the horse following him when he began to walk towards her.

–“There are unsavory people hanging around the circus. Until you know how everything goes, stay where the rest of the audience is, always” he told her as he adjusted some rings on his slender fingers.

–“Understood.” She responded, since she had just promised herself that she was going to put forth her best effort and not get carried away by first impressions that day. 

 –“Come in and take a look at the show.” His tone was firm, despite the fact that she was already heading back to where she was previously. 

 –“Wait! What is your name!?” She asked hastily, not realizing that perhaps she had sounded somewhat desperate.

He glanced at her over his shoulder with the corner of his mouth slightly curved. “Baekhyun!” He said, chuckling, and with that he returned to his place in line with the rest of the artists.

She was still feeling hot as she circled the crowd and entered the tent through the back entrance. She found a free spot in the stands. They were weathered white-painted planks of wood, hard and narrow, with nowhere else to rest one’s feet but on the seat of the spectators in the row below. But she quickly set aside her feelins of discomfort the awkwardness when the lights dimmed, a drum roll crescendoed and a spotlight illuminated the emcee on center court.

–“Welcome to the happiest circus in Valencia, welcome to Gran Fele Circus!”

The music exploded, played by a band consisting of two musicians with drums, a synthesizer, and a consola. A lively version of New York, New York began to play and a white horse entered in the arena with a girl who carried a flag with the name of the circus. The other artists followed, carrying colorful banners, smiling and waving to the crowd.

It was the troupe of acrobats that caught Cora's attention; three handsome men and a beautiful woman –whom she identified as the dancer who had helped her earlier– named Laia, dressed in gold sequins, shiny leggings and thick makeup. They were followed by a group of horsemen, clowns, jugglers, and trained dogs.

Baekhyun entered the arena alone, riding his fierce horse, and unlike the other artists, he didn’t wave his hands or smile. As he circled the track, he seemed such a distant and mysterious being. He was no stranger to the presence of the people, but somehow he remained isolated and gave a strange dignity to the colorful display. 

As the show progressed, Cora was amazed at such talent. 

Suddenly, the lights went out and the music died away. A blue spotlight illuminated the master of ceremonies, the only one occupying the dark center court. His voice turned dramatically low and a haunting, folk melody began to play in the background.

–“How many times have we wondered if we were crazy? How many times did someone make us doubt our actions? How many times has someone come before us with the idea of changing our thinking? Sanity makes us useless, many times it is better to be crazy. Life is made for taking risks and if you don't think so, let the next person convince you otherwise...before time runs out.”

The lights began to gradually increase in intensity, the music resounded and Baekhyun entered the middle of a path that seemed illuminated by small streetlights, thin beams of light that danced around him and that were reflected in the small sequins of his suit. With indisputable ease, he untangled the whip dangling from a waistband and sliced through the air in all directions with it. Small particles, like glitter, floated in the air suspended around him. He performed a series of skillfully executed feats that were both daring and dramatic. They had brought a few accessories onto the floor during the emcee's presentation: ribbon targets, fluorescent balloons, chandeliers, and more. Circling the runway, he popped the balloons one by one, and a bright red explosion, like drops of blood, shot through the air with each snap of the whip.

The lights dimmed until only he was illuminated by the spotlight, and he grabbed a second whip and made them pop and dance in all directions with such masculine grace, Cora gasped. The dance was increasing, with faster and faster movements and, as if by magic, the two whips became one. With a powerful twist of his arm, Baekhyun lifted him above his head to set him off in flames. The audience gasped, the lights went out, and the flaming whip danced wildly through the darkness. When the lights came on again, he had vanished.

–“What are you doing here? Hasn't anyone taken you to the motorhome yet?”

Cora roused herself, her eyes snapping open. Looking up, she saw the same deep brown eyes plaguing since afternoon that day. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was but then everything came to mind: the circus, the manager, the show, his whip.

She suddenly became aware of Baekhyun's hands on her shoulders, it was the only thing that had kept her from falling off the old stool that she had been seated on while waiting for him. She had decided to wait there since it was the most illuminated area around the tent, next to government mandated public toilets where there was still a queue to pass them.

She shifted uneasily under his hands and tried to regain her balance with the idea that he would release her.

–“Could you tell me what time it is? I've lost track of it waiting here for you.”

–“It's about 30 minutes to midnight,” Baekhyun put his hands in the pockets of his coat. Instead of the suit he donned for the show, he wore jeans ripped at the knees and a white t-shirt printed with the word ‘Supreme’ in terms of design. Despite the casual attire he didn’t look any less intimidating.

–“Look dulzura, you will have to get used to my presence, since I will be your guide and housemate from now on”. It wasn’t as if Cora hadn’t tried to do it before, in fact she had been attracted to him the moment she met him, only his personality –and now a whip– had slowed her down. He, at her lack of response, muttered something under his breath and after a sigh, spoke again.

–“Come on dulzura, I'll show you where you'll sleep for the next few months.” He turned and left at a fast pace to where the group of caravans were together, paying little attention to the fact that she had luggage that weighed a ton, the consequence of her idea to buy a memorable garment from each city she had visited until now.

–“Wait!” Her scream had an edge of hysteria, but he seemed not to hear it as he continued walking toward the line of caravans. She rubbed the sole of her sneakers across the ruff, gathering some on the toe of it as she dragged her foot. With a gasp, Cora started walking again. Baekhyun approached two vehicles that were parked next to each other. The closest one was a modern white caravan, it looked spacious inside and on its roof you could see a satellite dish. Next to it was another caravan, dented and rusty that appeared to have been silver previously. She begged to herself that it was the space caravan and not the other.

He stood in front of the ugly rusty trailer, opened the door, and disappeared inside. Cora grunted but conceded since she had stayed in worse places. Perhaps the inside wasn’t as hideous as it looked on the outside. Baekhyun reappeared at the door a moment later and watched as she approached fighting with her backpack towards him. When she finally reached the metal step, he offered her a cynical smile.

–“Home, sweet home, dulzura. Come in and settle”.

Cora had always found the Spanish language something to delight in but this was the third time the nickname had come out of his mouth directed at her and she could swear that the way the word rolled on his tongue and briefly hissed before pronouncing the syllable "zu", surely it was close to the song of the angels that received you when you entered paradise.

She sniffed and climbed the four steps that separated her and...the interior was much worse than the outside. Narrow, messy, it smelled musty and old, with a hint of  mothball. In front of her was a miniature kitchen, the countertop metal, it had spots with peeling paint. To the right of the kitchen, the faded upholstery of the small sofa was barely visible under a pile of books, newspapers, and men's clothing. In addition, she saw an old, medium-sized refrigerator, wooden cabinets, and a bed with rumpled sheets.

Baekhyun stared at her blankly, genuinely doubting whether she had noticed. 

–“It is a small caravan as you can see, but it is comfortable and cozy in the cold. It's all there is and all I have.” 

The bed took up most of the back of the caravan, nothing separated it from the rest of the "rooms", the only thing that seemed to be secluded was the bathroom –which she would make sure to explore as soon as she had the chance. On the sheets there were tangled clothes, a towel, and something she couldn't make out from where she was standing.

–“I think I'll sleep on the couch, it would be better…”

He gazed absently at the tip of his foot, then looked up. She stared into those dark eyes –which depending on the light could be paler or even more blackened– and she felt a chill run down her spine, followed by another strange sensation that she did not want to examine further. 

He slowly raised his hand, adjusting a lock of hair that had been tousled while she was struggling with her backpack, Cora froze and pursed her lips as she felt the softness of his thumb brush the hollow under her ear with something that it seemed like a caress.

–“Do whatever you want, dulzura. I have to go, I still have things to do.” 

Cora gasped when she realized she should have felt danger but her skin had taken the brush of his thumb with pleasure. She felt Baekhyun's insolent hand move away from her hair as he pulled away from her, even though he had left something light on the trailing of her ear. The trailer door swung on its hinges. Baekhyun looked at her and stepped out of it, dropping his gaze from her face to a nonexistent point. Once he was out of sight, she reached for the object that was barely tickling her cheekbone and held the geranium between her fingers with a furtive smile on her face.

↬ This is all for this chapter, I promise to try to write more in the following parts. I will try to update every Saturday. Honorable mention: Oliv (@changshapatrol​) without her this story would be nothing, thank you for your patience and trust in me. I love you, a lots ♡   

[snelbz]

Lost Time {17}

A/N: Shit’s about to hit the fan. :) Another chapter written with @tacmc​.

Azriel was waiting in the kitchen, trying to distract himself to pass the time. He wasn’t dressed in anything fancy, and he knew Elain wouldn't be either, but she still made him wait. He’d only been waiting for twenty minutes or so, and he was already on his second cup of coffee.

It was a big day.

He needed the energy.

Miryam had just come to pick Novan up, excited to spend the afternoon with him. She’d tried to give Azriel a comforting talk, sensing his nerves, but he hadn’t heard a word she had said.

He checked the time.

“Elain!” He called, standing at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s almost noon!”

“Be right down!” Her voice floated down the hall and he shook his head, laughing quietly.

Of course Elain, the most punctual woman in all of Velaris, would be late to her own wedding.

Neither of them felt that a traditional wedding ceremony was necessary after all that they’d been through. They didn’t want to send out the invitations and wait for replies and pick out linens and dessert menus. After four years, they wanted to pick up right back where they’d left off.

So that’s exactly what they did.

Azriel heard heels clicking down the stairs and he walked that way from the living room. When he met Elain at the bottom, he was speechless.

The ivory dress she wore was elegant, but its simplicity allowed the beauty of the woman wearing it to shine through. And not only did she shine, Elain glowed.

Azriel took her hand as she reached the main floor and he kissed her lips softly. “You are stunning.”

She blushed and pushed him away. “Hush.”

“No,” he breathed, smiling down at her. She leaned up on her toes, kissing him one more time, and he asked, “Are you ready?”

She nodded, beaming. “Do you have the rings?”

Smiling, he patted his pocket. “Yep, and a surprise from Mom in the kitchen.”

Elain’s eyebrows rose, but she headed that direction.

Azriel followed closely behind and when she saw the handmade bouquet, her reaction was everything he hoped it would be.

Elain came to a slow stop as she neared the table, her hand coming up to cover her parted lips as she beheld the pink and white roses, the eucalyptus leaves and baby's breath, tied together with a strip of burlap, straight from Miryam’s garden.

“She wanted you to have something to make it seem more…” Azriel’s words trailed off as he searched for the right word. “Like a wedding,” he finished, at last.

“I love it,” she breathed.

Azriel cleared his throat as she turned back around, her eyes misty and bright. He took her hands. “I know this is what you said you wanted, El, but if you want an actual wedding-.”

“No,” she interrupted him, softly. “I want to be your wife, and I want to be your wife, right now. It’s already long overdue.” When she reached up to press her palm against his clean-shaven cheek, he leaned into her touch. “And our appointment is in twenty minutes, so you better get me there quickly, Mr. Draeven.”

He snorted, laying his hand over her own and turning his face to kiss her palm. “I’m not the one who took two hours to get ready.”

She leaned up and kissed him one last time before saying, “A girl only gets ready for her wedding day once.”

With a barked laugh from Azriel, they were out the door and on the way to the little chapel on the Sidra.

The ceremony was sweet, simple, and, most importantly, quick. Not even an hour later, Elain and Azriel were on their way back to the house, matching silver bands on their left hands.

“So, Mrs. Draeven,” he mused, his hand on her thigh as he drove. She sat in the middle of the truck bench, the beautiful bouquet buckled into the passenger seat. “What now?”

The smile on his face was infectious, but the smirk on Elain’s lips had his eyebrows raising. “Well, you already knocked me up,” she chuckled.

He winked. “Twice.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “We’re horrible at this whole birth control thing.”

“The first time we were eighteen,” he said with a shrug. “It happens.”

“And surprise baby number two?” She asked, shaking her head. “What’s our excuse this time?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it and shook his head. “I’m really bad at pulling out?”

Her laughter was louder as she nudged him in the shoulder. “Obviously, but I’m not complaining.”

His grin was wide, radiant, as he took her hand and squeezed her fingers. “I’m not either.” He looked over at her, his eyes going soft as he pulled up to a red light. “I’m so happy, Lainy.”

“I am, too,” she breathed, her eyes lining with silver as the light turned green, and they were moving, once more.

“We have three hours before we have to be at mom’s,” he said, quietly, turning onto their street.

“What are you implying?” she whispered, eyes lit up.

“It’s not official until I take you to bed,” he said, his small smile full of amusement.

“It that so?” she asked, keeping her eyes on him as he pulled into their driveway.

“Mhmm,” he crooned. “So, we better make it official before we do anything else.”

He put the car in park before getting out and rounding the truck to open Elain’s door. After she took his hand and hopped down, Azriel was scooping her up into his arms and carrying her up the front porch steps.

“I’m a sucker for tradition,” he chuckled when she looked up at him, delight in her eyes.

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him lightly. “Okay, tradition. I’d like to reiterate that I’m almost four months pregnant.”

“Yeah,” he smiled and opened the front door without even jostling her. He carried her across the threshold and without pausing to put her down, he was heading right up the stairs. “It’s tradition that I knock you up before our wedding. Now I’ve traditionally carried you across the threshold of our home and I’m going to traditionally go upstairs and make love to my wife, for- how long until we have to be at my mom’s?”

She chuckled and said, “We told everyone we’d be there at four.”

“Then about three hours,” he said, letting his lips drag across her skin.

As if on cue, Elain’s stomach growled as they were entering their bedroom and he added, “Right after I go get her a snack.”

She blushed as he set her down on the bed. “It’s the baby, not me.”

He chuckled and shook his head, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever you say, my love.”

Azriel hurried downstairs, stopping at the truck to get Elain’s bouquet and return it to the water it had been in earlier. He then grabbed her standard The baby is hungry snack from the past few weeks - a string cheese and three mini powdered donuts - and was heading back up the stairs, when he heard the quiet moan and froze. He heard it again and picked up the pace.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but finding Elain naked on their bed, her fingers already inside of her, was not it.

Her snack was quickly forgotten.

—————

Just after four, they were pulling up to Miryam’s house, the rest of their family having already arrived. After Azriel put the car in park, he was looking over at his wife, his eyes soft and full of adoration.

“How mad do you think mom would be if I just took you back home so we could keep doing what we were doing?” Azriel whispered.

Elain laughed, rolling her eyes as she got out of the car. “Come on, hubby, let’s celebrate.”

With a chuckle, and a hefty yawn, Azriel followed her lead, taking her hand as they made their way up to the backdoor. Over the last three hours, Elain had completely worn Azriel out. Not that he was complaining, but he had no idea how he was exhausted and she, the one carrying a child, was wide-eyed and cheery.

He didn’t care, though.

It was completely worth it.

When they opened the backdoor, everyone was in the kitchen, and all eyes swiftly swiveled toward them. Congratulations! were shouted, and then everyone was rushing toward them, wrapping them in hugs. Miryam was in tears, whispering “Finally,” as she took her youngest son’s face in her hands and kissed his cheek.

There was food passed around and smiles shared and after about twenty minutes, Elain blinked and looked around the room. “Where is my child?”

“He refused his nap at one,” Miryam said, shrugging her shoulders. “I told him if he stayed up, he’d be sleepy when mama and daddy came over. He told me that he was a big boy and big boys don’t need naps.”

Elain sighed, rubbing her bump, “He fell asleep right before we walked in, didn’t he?”

“Literally crashed on the couch minutes after we got your text,” Cassian chuckled, his arm wrapped around Nesta’s shoulders.

After seven months, she was finally over the sick part of her pregnancy, but now she was constantly, constantly horny. Miryam had been joking about making a rule that her grown children couldn’t disappear to have sex in her house, specifically while Donovan was over, until she’d actually had to enforce it.

Az let his head fall back against the couch cushion. “Great,” he chuckled. “Getting him to go down for bed in three hours should be a piece of cake.”

The sarcasm lacing his tone had Elain chuckling, until Feyre mused, “Az, you’re acting like such a daddy.”

Elain’s laughter quieted and she looked up at him, cheeks heating. He smirked and pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she snuggled closer into him. “It happens,” he muttered.

Rhys cleared his throat. “Speaking of kids and daddies and all that, we, uh.” He looked at Feyre and took her hand. “We are officially adopting. We signed all the paperwork yesterday. Someone will be coming to inspect the house and interview us next week, but aside from that…”

Feyre said, “We didn’t want to steal your thunder, but we couldn’t keep this from y’all.”

For a moment, everyone was silent, staring, then they were all rushing at Rhysand and Feyre, giving them the same congratulatory greeting as they gave Azriel and Elain.

“That’s so exciting!” Elain cried, one hand over her heart, the other over her abdomen. “Stealing our thunder, are you kidding me? Oh, I’m so happy for you two, congrats.”

Feyre’s eyes were lined with tears as she leaned into Rhysand’s chest. “It may be a long journey...but, I can’t wait.”

“Me either,” Rhysand breathed, kissing her nose.

Cassian cleared his throat. “Okay,” he began, choked up, “before I start sobbing like a baby, let’s get some wine out and make a toast for all the good news, yeah?”

Elain and Nesta rolled their eyes, but nodded nonetheless, chuckling and doing just that.

At some point, the photo albums had been unearthed, even the ones that had come with Azriel and Rhys when they’d started their new lives with Miryam and Drakon. Cassian, having nothing but the clothes on his back, had no physical copies of his memories before they became a family.

“Nothing worth remembering happened before you found me,” he said, pressing a kiss to Miryam’s forehead as she and Elain looked through the baby book Azriel’s birth mother had put together and hidden from the world.

She smiled up at him as Elain flipped the page and froze, saying, “Okay, but you can’t convince me that’s not just a picture of Donovan.”

Getting up from where they sat on the floor, Azriel, Rhys and Feyre looked at the picture.

“Forget the blood test,” Rhys muttered. “I should have just had you bring this picture to the paternity test that day.”

Azriel snorted, but he said nothing. He was amazed, looking at the picture his wife was pointing to. He couldn’t have been older than four, couldn’t have been older than Novan was now.

He started to find himself wondering about the new baby, not for the first time, whether it would be a boy or a girl, what the baby would look like. Would this baby look just like him, too, or would the baby take after Elain? What if what she said before was to be true, and there would be twins?

If they were twins, would he get them confused?

The thought suddenly felt like a weight in the pit of his stomach.

Elain blinked, looking up at him. “You okay?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, no, yeah. I just...got thinking about what’s going on in there.” His hand tenderly rubbed her little bump, and she laughed, quietly.

“In a bad way?” she asked.

His smile was genuine when he said, “No, not in a bad way.”

A small creak at the top of the stairs had everyone glancing up. Elain’s smile grew as she said, “Hello, sleepyhead.”

He slowly made his way down the stairs and climbed onto the couch before climbing on top of Elain and and flopping on top of her. She grunted quietly.

Everyone tensed, but then she carefully resituated him, moving the bulk of his body off her abdomen and scratched at his back. Azriel’s eyes were worried as he extended his arms to take him, but she shook her head, nestling Donovan’s head in the crook is her neck. “Did you have a good nap?”

He nodded, but asked, “Is that me, mama?”

Elain turned her head, looking over at the photo album she’d set off to the side. She smiled and picked it up, turning it where Novan could see the picture and Az. “No, baby, that’s daddy when he was your age.”

“Oh,” he said, with a yawn.

“What do you think?” Azriel asked, quietly. “Do we look alike?”

He nodded, starting to smile the more he woke up. “Yeah, a little bit.”

Azriel chuckled. “Just a little bit?”

Novan nodded. “What about when I was a little baby? Did I look like you then?”

Azriel hesitated, but Miryam was quick to say, “Just like daddy, buddy.”

Novan’s smile widened. “I like little babies. Aunt Nesta has a little baby in her tummy.”

Nesta nodded in agreement as Elain said, “Sure does.”

“How do babies get in mommies’ tummies?” he asked, those questions continuing.

For a moment, no one said a word, but then Cassian started laughing and Nesta rolled her eyes.

“Well,” Azriel began, a thousand different approaches flew through his mind. “Mommies and daddies….they….it just….happens.”

Novan’s brows scrunched together, but Elain only shook her head, laughing quietly. “Don’t worry about it now, bud, ask us again when you’re older.”

Novan groaned and rolled his eyes. “I don’t like that answer, mama.”

“I know,” she laughed, kissing his head. “All you need to know is that soon Aunt Nesta’s little baby is going to be here, and you’re going to be able to hold it. And you know what?”

“What?” Novan asked, kicking his feet from the side of the couch.

They hadn’t planned on telling Novan that he was going to be a big brother until later, didn’t plan on telling Nesta and Cassian until they were alone, but when Elain looked up at Azriel with a question in her eye, they knew it was the right moment.

“See how big Aunt Nesta’s belly is getting?” Elain asked.

With a raised eyebrow, Nesta quietly scoffed, “Bitch.”

Miryam scolded her quietly, but her own eyes were filling with tears as she realized what was happening. Novan nodded.

With one last glance up to Az, seeing the silver lining his eyes, she said, “Soon, mommy’s tummy is going to get that big, too.”

Donovan’s big, hazel eyes lit up. “You got a baby in your tummy?”

She bit her lip to keep from crying and tucked the loose fabric of her dress around her small, defined belly.

The biggest grin spread across Novan’s mouth. His voice got significantly louder as he asked, “I’m gonna be a brother?!”

Nesta was looking between Elain and Azriel, her mouth hanging open, and Cassian’s tears had returned.

“Yeah,” Elain breathed, holding Novan’s hand in one of her own, Azriel’s in the other. “You’re gonna be a big brother, buddy.”

“When?” He asked, clapping his hands together.

“It’ll be a little bit,” she laughed, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“I can’t wait.” His grin was infectious and everyone else couldn’t stop the smiles on their own faces. Elain wrapped him up in her arms, holding him tightly to her chest. His little arms snaked around her neck. He asked, “Is it a brother or a sister?”

“We don’t know yet, buddy,” she said, pulling back to look at him. “We’ll find out next time we go to the doctor. But in the meantime, you have to be really careful around mommy’s tummy, okay?”

Nodding excitedly, he crawled off of her and asked, “Can I give the baby a kiss?”

Elain’s eyes were filling with tears as she said, “Of course.”

Donovan carefully leaned down and pressed the softer of kisses to her stomach. “Hello, I’m Novan. I’m your big brother and I’m always gonna take care of you, okay?”

The footsteps as Azriel stepped out onto the porch got everyone’s attention and Elain was about to stand up, when Nesta said, “Let me.”

Cassian and Elain glanced at each other warily, but nodded.

Nesta was careful not to let the door slam behind her as she followed Azriel. She was expecting the pacing, she was expecting some tears from him, but she wasn’t expecting the full body sobs she found when she stepped outside.

Her voice was surprisingly quiet when she asked, “You okay?”

He spun around, his cheeks red as he wiped at his face, but when he tried to speak, he only cried harder. Nesta, around her bump, took Azriel into her arms and patted his back as he cried into her shoulder.

“Sorry,” he said, through his tears, but she just whispered, “It’s okay.”

“I just…” he began, leaning back and wiping at his face. “I never thought I’d have this life, you know? I’d always dreamed…” He shook his head and took a shuddering breath. “I feel like I’m living in a dream, the life I always wanted, and I’m so fucking happy, Nesta, I’ve never been this happy...but, I’m almost not used to being happy, you know? I’m just...so overwhelmed.”

She ran a protective hand over her stomach. “I know the feeling, trust me.”

He wiped at his face again, and nodded. “I’m just…” He sighed and shook his head. “I’m waiting for someone to rip the rug out from under me. Like I’m not supposed to get this much happiness. And I’m-.”

“You can’t think that way,” she interrupted. “No matter what happens and what life throws at you now, you’ve got the most amazing wife, the sweetest son, a supportive family and a baby on the way. Whatever it is, Az, we’ll get you through it.”

He nodded and hugged her once more, awed by how far their relationship had come since he’d come back to Velaris.

“Now come on,” she said. “Donovan hasn’t realized that weddings mean cake yet.”

Azriel laughed, quietly. “That is the best part of weddings as a kid, isn’t it?”

“The only good part when you’re four,” she said, winking.

Azriel nodded, hesitating as he wiped at his damp face, yet again, not wanting Elain to know that he was crying. She had enough to worry about it, and didn’t want her having to worry about him, too.

Nesta, a spark of understanding in her eyes, pulled a tissue out of her dress pocket.

Azriel blinked.

“What?” she shrugged. “I’m pregnant, I always have tissues.”

He chuckled, thanked her, and took it to clean himself up before he followed Nesta in through the backdoor. Laughter floated in from the living room, and that feeling settled into Azriel’s chest, once again, that there was so much happiness, so much joy, and he was so grateful, so blessed, but he just couldn’t believe it. Especially as he rounded the corner and caught Elain’s bright eyes, the perfect smile plastered on her face.

She was so unbelievable stunning that it took his breath away.

Nesta said loudly, “Az, why don’t you take your son into the kitchen for some cake so I can use adult language while I talk to your wife.”

Novan’s head popped up from where he’d been trying to fly, thanks to his Uncle Rhys. “We have cake?!”

Donovan was launching himself into Az’s arms and he caught him with a grunt as his mini-me said, “I asked Meme if there was cake! There’s always cake in movies.”

He chuckled, as once again, the words out of his brilliant son’s mouth surprised him. “You’re too smart for your own good, kid.”

He just wrapped his little arms around his daddy’s neck and beamed up at him.

Nesta was right, he realized, smiling down at his son. Hard times might come, there could always be some kind of trouble on the horizon, but as long as he leaned on his family, as long as he had someone who looked at him the way Donovan did, Azriel knew that he’d be fine.

—————

“Daddy?” Novan began, yawning as Azriel tucked him into his bed.

“Hmm?” He sat down on the edge of the little twin mattress, cocking his head to the side as he looked at his son.

“I’m excited to be a brother,” he said, sleepily. “Are you excited?”

Azriel chuckled. “I’m very excited, and I’d love to talk to you more about it tomorrow, but it’s way past bedtime and you need to get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” he said, the lie perfectly obvious when he yawned, again.

Azriel tried not to laugh as he said, “Well, I’m tired, so you have to go to sleep so I can go to sleep. And mommy needs her sleep, because the baby in her tummy needs the most sleep.”

It was quiet for a moment before Novan gave in. “Okay, okay, fine. Goodnight, daddy.”

“Goodnight, buddy,” he said, quietly, kissing Novan’s head before he got up to turn off the light, his nightlight still glowing brightly in the corner.

He cracked the door as he left, shutting the light off in the hallway and made his way into their room. Before falling face first onto the bed, he noticed the little plate of donuts on Elain’s night stand, and when he looked up from his pillow, she was peeling her string cheese apart, bit by bit. Her eyes were on the television across the room, but when Azriel’s hand covered her bare belly, one of his old t-shirts raised to expose it, she began to smile.

“It’s a bit late for the baby to be hungry,” he smirked.

“Oh, I know,” she smiled and looked down at him. She brushed his hair back off of her head. “That’s cause mama was hungry this time.”

He snorted and leaned up and kissed her, sneakily grabbing a donut from the plate and eating it in one bite.

Elain raised an eyebrow. “Did you just steal food from a pregnant woman?”

Azriel quickly swallowed, powdered sugar still on his lips and said, “No?”

She rolled her eyes and settled into the pillows. “It’s a good thing I love you.”

Pressing a kiss to her head, he said, “I love you, too. My wife.”

The smile was back and she said, “Say it again.”

He kissed her once and said, “Wife.” Kiss. “Wife.” Kiss. “My-.” Kiss. “-beautiful-.” Kiss. “-wife.”

Her smile was breathtaking and she opened her mouth to say something when they heard vibrating.

Elain glanced to her nightstand, where her phone was lying face up, no notifications lighting the screen up. “It’s not mine.”

Quickly, Azriel was up, grabbing the dark jeans he’s discarded on the chair in the corner and fishing his phone from the pocket.

He froze and stared at the screen, silencing it and lying it face down on his nightstand.

“Who is it, baby?” Elain asked, looking at the clock on the wall. It was only nine, but that was late for either of them to get a call that wasn’t from their family.

He crossed the room shut off the light before crawling in bed and pulling her tightly against him. “Someone I used to work with in New York.”

She traced the lines of his tattoo across his chest and asked, “Should you get it?”

With a shake of his head, he said, “No, I’ve spoken to them about it once before. Any other info they can get from my voicemail.”

Elain yawned and nodded, almost immediately falling into a deep, peaceful sleep. Azriel kept one arm around her as he grabbed his phone and unlocked it.

Not only was there a missed call from her, but there was also a text message, which had come in seconds after the phone call ended.

His eyes flicked to the contact at the top of the screen and he cursed himself for not getting a new number. As much as he didn’t want to see Ianthe, he sure as hell didn’t want her anywhere near his family.

I’m in Velaris for a shoot and would love to see you. Call me and we can get together. Like old times.