#his face neck hands are 10 shades darker than the rest of him

[fruityumbrella]

i love and agree with 40yo sanjis effective twenty step skincare routine vs raisin old man zoro but i also think east asian zoro not wearing age on his skin + leathery european retiree sanji is even funnier bc of how mad sanji would be over it and how zoro wouldnt even notice

[hexpea]

Ch. 10 - Resolute

⚠️NSFW BELOW⚠️ AN: Inspired by Fantasy - Black Atlass

"Take off your pants," you turned to look at him with the object still in your hands. He cleared his throat and hesitantly went to his button. "Quicker," you growled. You were standing there naked, holding a pastel purple vibrator in your hands as if it were the most normal thing ever.

Your angry tone got him going, fingers moving at the speed of light to get the button and zipper unfastened. The fabric got stuck around his ankles which he awkwardly fell back onto his mattress to yank the rest of them off.  He then stayed on his bed, propped up on his elbows. For a moment you thought of how good he looked in just his underwear, boxers tented from his erection that was still going strong despite your momentary break from touching.

You placed the vibrator on his nightstand next to his bed. As you did so, his low eyes watched your every move - like a hawk.

"I want these off, too," you stood in-between his legs and toyed with the waistband of his boxers. "But I want to do that part," you whispered in your own husky voice. His body shivered with the heat of your words as you fell to your knees in front of him. You had no idea what you were doing...just doing whatever logically came next in your brain.

You perched your palms on his bare thighs, lowering your head to his abdomen - his scent being this close nearly intoxicated you. As his body trembled beneath you, you ran your warm tongue along his flesh - from the elastic of his boxers all the way up to his neck where you began nipping.  He already had marks from his earlier encounter, but you decided that you wanted to add to them.

You pressed your tongue against his pulse to find the right spot and then added your teeth, pursing your lips to make sure to gather enough skin. With the meat of his neck bunched in your grip, you began sucking - hard. High-pitched whimpers bubbled from his lips which only fueled the heat between your legs.  You sucked until you were satisfied that the mark was permanent...and darker than the other woman's.

Your body drifted back down between his legs, stopping at the waistband that still remained on his body. Using your teeth, you gripped the tight fabric and began pulling. Choso watched you carefully as if hypnotized by your power against him.  When the fabric was pulled low enough, his cock stood erect - slapping against his abdomen. You were stunned at first to find quite a set up piercings covering his shaft, a Jacob's Ladder. To cover his shame, his hands flew to his face, covering his eyes as a dumb grin plastered on his face.

"What are you smiling at?" You growled, quickly gripping his length with fury - fingers gripping around the metal bars. You squeezed hard enough to see the head flare and turn an angry shade of red.

"Hnng..." he moaned in response to your tight touch. "N-nothing..." he struggled to get out.

"Get your hands away from your face," you hissed, releasing him. He sighed in relief as you did so and removed his hands. His face was flushed pink instead of its usual pale tone.

You grabbed the vibrator from the night stand, asked where he kept the lube which he told you was in the drawer of the table. You quickly got it out and drenched the tool in the glossy liquid.  You then helped him prop a pillow under his lower back which gave you the perfect angle to play. You could almost see his heart thumping out of his chest as you placed the tip of it at his entrance, the vibration aspect still off.  You allowed the tip to just enter, his body jerking away from it for just a moment. As you pressed further, a shaky moan bellowed out of him.

"Hush," you demanded, reaching up briefly to shove a ball of his own sheets into his mouth. He made a muffled noise as you did so.

You returned to insertion, pushing the device as far as it could safely go. His body shook with every inch, deep set wrinkles forming on his forehead and veins popping from his neck. With it inserted, you pressed the button - the device buzzing to life.

"HNN..." he cried out through the fabric, back arching off of the pillow. The device was perfectly placed on his prostate, sending him into painful ecstasy. You devilishly grinned to yourself as he writhed with the plastic dick up his ass.

You then crawled onto the bed with him, straddling his waist and hovering above his length. He stared at himself, centimeters away from touching your slick, dripping folds. He was surprised to see how wet you already were for him but he didn't want to speak without permission. The vibration of the device under him caused his dick to violently twitch every few seconds - just nearly slapping your sex each time. The way you were straddling him caused his writhing to calm just enough for you to stay steady atop him. His shaking hands slowly started to come up to touch your waist but you weren't having it. You slapped him across the cheek. You could almost feel the sting you gave him from the sound that reverberated from the contact.

How hard you had hit him made you nervous for just a moment, but then his cock twitched beneath you - this time just grazing your inner labia in the process.

You took his cheeks in your hand, squishing them together. With furrowed brows, you dove onto his lips. As your tongue forced its way past his teeth, your body ground its way onto his length. The wetness you had produced made him slick, your body easily gliding up and down against him. The vibration from the device in his ass could be felt which intensified the feeling for you. His light moans entered your mouth, his hands gripping your waist without permission. Out of punishment, you grabbed his lower lip between your teeth and gripped just enough to draw a bit of blood.  He groaned in response to the painful stimuli. When you pulled away he sucked on his bottom lip, eyes rolling back at the metallic taste. As he did so, you lifted yourself from him and began to position his tip at your entrance.

"Wait," he said almost urgently, slightly sitting up and falling out of his submissive trance. Your eyes snapped up to meet his, worried that something might be wrong. "Isn't this your first time?" He asked. You paused for a moment, the only sound in the room was the slight hum of the vibrator.

"Let me worry about that," you said lowly through a seductive gaze.

"I have condoms in my-" he started again but stopped when he saw your angry expression.

"You talk to much," you narrowed your eyes at him, "it's almost as if I should just...stop." His eyes went wide for a second but then he gave you a motion of "zipping" his lips, falling back on the mattress.

You continued what you were doing, lining him up with you. You had to admit to yourself that you were nervous, but you didn't want your demeanor to fall. You wanted to please him. Since you were in control, you took your time with it. You first pushed the tip in-between your folds and Choso reacted by gripping the sheets, knuckles turning whiter than they already were with his powerful grip. You noticed his jaw tensing, the bone gliding against one another at his temples. His eyes were shut but you could tell from under the lids they were rolling back as you slowly continued to take every inch. You kept going until he bottomed out beneath you. There was a slight twinge of pain as you adjusted to his girth but as you came back up it began to ease.  Eventually you reached a smooth pace, the cool feeling of his piercings against his shaft surely intensifying the pleasure. You lost a bit of your attitude as his member moved through your silky walls. You almost felt at his mercy, but he was also at yours.  Your body trembled as it moved, small sighs escaping your lips as his tip grazed a certain spot inside. You realized how much you missed out on, wasting so much time on your studies to not put something like this as a priority in your life...a twenty-one year old virgin.

"Fuck..." he hissed, neck arching backward as your hips rotated against his. Your hips moved in tiny, slow circles as you took him in. "...so tight..." His usually low voice was giving quite the show, being higher pitched than usual - the whiny noise he made making your lower lips quiver around his dick.

"Shh..." you placed a finger at his lips and gave a warm, seductive smile. You enjoyed watching him unravel under you - the stimuli of both his prostate and his dick at once almost too much for him.. "I want you to cum for me..." you instructed in almost parental fashion. You leaned down, whispering in his ear once more, "cum for your sister..." The word tingled as it left your lips. You never imagined yourself in this position, but at the moment it felt right.

He responded to your words, body shivering and visible goosebumps rising. As you continued riding him, slightly picking up the pace until your skin slapped incessantly, you could almost feel his cock twitch within you. You gripped his forearms as your high approached to quell the moans that wanted to fall from your lips, his hands still tightly gripping the sheets.

"God! Fuuckk~" His voice crackled as he struggled beneath you. "I'm c-cumming!" His hands flew to your hips but this time you didn't react to punish him. Instead, you covered his hands with yours as you pressed yourself as far down as you could go.

"Good boy," you smiled down at him, a hint of playful hostility in your voice that came out in a purr.

You leaned behind you and grabbed the vibrator from his ass - messing with the speed until you settled on a safe amount for a new type of fun. It was still coated in the glossy sheen of lubricant. He arched his neck up to watch you carefully, a small splash of fear on his face as he slowly came down from his first high. With a devilish smile, you reached behind you and lightly placed the tip of the vibrator against his sack. His body violently flinched at the sensitive area and the sheer amount of vibration after an intense climax. At the same time, he cried out - veins popping from his neck again.

"Ga-hod," he stuttered, the word "god" coming out overly forced. He twitched back to life and once you knew he couldn't get any harder, you relieved him of the torture.

"You aren't done yet," you said lowly, placing a tight grip on his shoulders and rolling him on top of you. He quickly found balance but not without his weak knees stumbling for just a moment. "It's your turn to finish me."

He gave you a slick grin, loving all of the proper attention you were giving him, just how he liked, despite it being your first time.  He began slow, his cock aching to fill you up a second time. While he was used to being on the bottom of things, he knew how much he wanted to satisfy you and show you a proper first time. For a moment he wished he were more dominating for you, but he just couldn't find it in himself. You had him weak.

"Faster, baby boy, faster," you tried to softly encourage him. You weren't quite sure if he preferred it rough or soft in regard to his domination, but he seemed to be responding well to both. "You keep at that pace and you aren't going to do it. Do you want me to punish you again?" A small gasp escaped his lips at your words. Desperate to please you he picked up the pace.

His thumbs were tight on your waist as you wrapped your legs around him. Your tits rolled in opposing circular motions as he pounded into you. His face contorted into one of incredible focus, teeth clenching and furrowed brow. Meanwhile, you were a mess beneath him. Now that you were able to let go, relaxing your body instead of being the one completing the action, you could really feel each inch of him fill you.

Unfortunately for Choso, he just couldn't handle it. With each pump of his hips, he became sloppier and sloppier with his motions - body weakening as he reached a second climax.  With a loud groan, he spilled into you without warning. The familiar heat grew at your center, feeling overstuffed as droplets of his cum began to slide down your ass cheeks. When he came down, he looked down at you with a playfully fearful look on his face. You returned the expression with one of your own before coming up nose-to-nose with him.

"You're going to have to pay for that, big brother," you said calmly with only the slightest hint of hostility in your voice. He licked his lips, ready to receive his delicious punishment with great enthusiasm. "On your knees," you commanded, propping yourself on your elbows.

He obeyed silently and placed his hands on your knees, looking up at you with his doe eyes and waiting for further instruction.

"I want you to use that dirty, little tongue of yours to scoop out and swallow all that you just put into me," you said, voice smooth as butter.

His gave a pathetic expression, eyebrows upturned and a pout on his face as he leaned in to your pussy.  When he got close enough, he outstretched his tongue and pressed it against your folds.  The tip of his tongue felt warm as it entered you. He barely reacted to the bitter taste of himself on his tongue as he arched it upward to scoop as much of the cum as he could. The tip of his tongue just grazed the rough, spongy spot inside - making your legs briefly twitch.

"Show me," you whispered, looking down at him.

With his tongue still arched, the cum pooling at the center, he showed you - still looking up with those irresistible puppy-dog eyes.

"Now swallow," you demanded, lifting your chin in dominance.

Just as you asked, his tongue returned to his mouth and he swallowed hard. When he finished he unleashed his tongue again - sticking it out for you to see.

"Empty...good boy," you grinned devilishly, "now make your sister cum, just as I told you." Your hand formed a claw as it came around the back of his head.

You smashed his face to your pussy, the tip of his nose stopping at your clitoris.  You let him up just a bit so he could properly work. He lifted his head up a bit so his mouth could wrap around your soft pearl, his tongue pushing your hood back then moving in tiny, flicking patterns.  Your legs quivered, nearly clamping against his ears as he worked on you. Tiny moans of desire escaped his lips.  When you looked down at him in your own bliss, you saw his shoulder moving.

"Did I tell you to touch yourself?" Your voice was sinister and his movement came to a halt though his tongue kept going.

You were in too much of a fog to think of any type of punishment, your high increasing. There was a flaming ball in your abdomen that needed to be extinguished and you weren't going to do a thing about Choso until he got you there.

"F-fingers," you tried to command despite your writhing.

He did as you asked, using one of his hands to insert two digits which curled up to meet the rough patch at your core.  The intense flame built higher and higher as his digits fluttered with his tongue simultaneously.

As he ate away at your folds, you dipped your first two fingers in your mouth and then gave him the direction to come up on the bed with you, ass facing you. You were now, quite bluntly, sixty-nine-ing You laid completely on the mattress as he reverse straddled you, continuing his work on your folds - tongue expertly finding each sensitive nerve ending. His skill caused your legs to slightly tremble, as if at any moment they were going to snap shut.  As he whittled away, you dampened your fingers once more just in case and slowly inserted them into his entrance. His moan vibrated against your clitoris which provided extra stimulation.  You curled and scissored your way through his insides, making sure to curl in the direction of his prostate though it meant your wrist had to awkwardly twist. You could just barely see it, but as you worked on him his dick began to grow and twitch just as it did earlier.  Both of your moans filled the room, his continuing to vibrate against your sensitive sex - your toes curling and flexing to satiate the need to clamp your legs shut. The intense feeling built and built until it was just nearly unbearable. Eventually you reached your high, the flame bursting into extinction - the tips of those flames flying to your nerve endings - through each limb. Your toes curled together when the feeling reached their tips. Your chest rose and fell rapidly with your sweet moans like music to Choso's ears.  The orgasm caused you to slow your fingers, slowly falling from him and slick with your spit and leftover lubricant. This wasn't before he spilled onto your chest, just below your breasts. There wasn't much considering it was his third orgasm but it was still thick and warm against your soft skin.

When he turned to face you, you bolted forward and grabbed the back of his neck - violently drawing him into you.  You easily tasted yourself and his cum on your tongue, mashing your tastebuds against his as he whimpered into your mouth.  His hands steadied himself on the mattress, hands next to your naked thighs. Your fingernails dug into the back of his neck, causing him to grip the sheets even harder than they already were. The way you ate away at his face caused saliva to coat the bottom half of your faces. You also were able to nip at his lips more, tasting the leftover blood from the first time you nipped.  Eventually, his body fell atop yours. You felt his sopping wet cock against your folds which were steadily drying from reaching your climax.  With his mouth still on yours, you grabbed his wrist without looking and firmly planted it on your breast. He immediately knew what to do, tightly massaging the mound - the flesh spilling from in-between his fingers.

He pulled away from you when you gave the signal to stop, his tongue hanging from his lips as a line of spit connected you both.  His eyelids were low, irises slowly rolling upward as he pulled the string of spit apart. It was quite the sight.

Both of your bodies were slick with the sheen of sweat, the room wreaking of what you just did to one another.  He sat next to you, the sheets already too dirty to give a fuck. His dick limp and sore between his legs, his ass not much better off. You, too, weren't any better off, the intense feeling of your first time nearly leaving you swollen shut.

Your faces were both pink with a mix of lust, fatigue, and embarrassment. He got up and grabbed one of his bath towels that hung on the back of his door and carefully cleaned up his dripping mess from your chest before also wiping himself clean.

"That was...interesting," you mumbled, regular personality returning. The guilt of what you had just done filled the room.

"Y-yeah," he answered, voice now low again and now longer the high-pitched whimper of a little boy. "You...surprised me."

"I surprised myself," you quickly answered, standing and heading to the door. "It's late, I should go to bed."

"Right," he looked down in his lap, unsure of what the morning would bring. "We probably...shouldn't do that again. You're...my sister and all." Your body shivered in disgust at the words.

"Y-yeah," you agreed hesitantly. Yes, he was your brother but he was your step-brother. You didn't want to admit how much you wanted him, a secret best kept to oneself.

[nightshade-minho]

-The One-

Warnings: very very mild knifeplay, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), fingering, creampie, light navel play, tiny mention of blood, rituals, themes of witchcraft + demons, jealousy, sir kink, master kink, threesome, aftercare.

Felix × fem!Reader × Minho

Wc: 3k

Note: I stayed up all night writing this and was half-asleep so I apologize for any mistakes or incoherencies. Regardless, I’m quite proud of this fic hehe, and I’d love some feedback on it~

You could barely breathe. The feeling of his cock stretching you out as you sat on his lap, combined with the heady feeling of the knife's tip pressed against your skin was driving you insane with arousal.

"Such a pretty one you are...we don't usually get customers like you."

You scrunched your eyes shut, not wanting to make eye contact with him. His smirk, his golden eyes that gleamed with confidence...it would all make you even more nervous than you already were.

"Sir...p-please don't hurt me."

"Tsk. I won't, princess. Not yet." He shifted you on his lap, causing his tip to rub up against your sweet spot. You let out a soft moan as he did so, your eyes slowly opening and drifting down to the shiny steel pressed against your torso.

"Will it...will it hurt?"

He gently dragged the knife upwards, eyes fixed on you. He wasn't applying any pressure, and the blade itself wasn't very sharp...but it still sent tingles through you.

"Not really. If you're a good girl for us, it won't. The ritual is a very short one, and doesn't have many side effects."

"Okay...wait, us?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. My boss. He'll be here soon, don't worry. He's a busy man. I take care of the shop when he's not here."

"Oh...so you're like, his assistant?"

"Mmhm. You could say that. He doesn't pay me, though." He mutters, expression faltering for a second. The smirk slowly returned though, as he dragged the steel gently up between your breasts, pausing.

"Why...w-why do you work here, then?"

"He's family. My older brother,to be exact."

"O-oh..."

"Yup. In fact, enjoy my leniency while you can. I can assure you, my brother is a lot more..."

He sighed, poking the tip into your skin lightly, but not enough to draw blood.

"Sadistic."

You gulped as Felix suddenly started thrusting up into you, his hips gaining a newfound vigor. You groaned, throwing your head back as he hit your sweet spot again.

You never thought you'd end up like this...A few weeks ago, you were living your life like any other college student.

When winter break came along, you'd been more than excited to get back to your hometown...the place you'd grew up in. One of the first things you did was visit the woods, searching for the tree house you'd made when you were about 10 years old.

Of course, you hadn't expected to see a cottage where your tree house had formerly been. On hindsight, it probably wasn't a good idea to knock.

You hadn't expected to see a cute boy open the door, either.

Felix, he said his name was.

The cottage wasn't a house after all...it was more of an eccentric little shop, the shelves lined with curious looking bottles and dusty books.

You'd definitely thought the man was cuckoo, especially when he started talking about witchcraft and rituals. He was undeniably hot, though...

One thing led to another and here you were a few days later, having sex with someone you barely knew. That someone also happened to talk an awful lot about demons and witchcraft. God, you were stupid to trust him.

"This ritual...what does it require, again? And there's absolutely no side effects?"

"Nope. All you want is revenge, correct? We can make that happen."

"Having sex with you is part of it, right?"

Felix laughed, taking his knife away and resting it on the table next to him. "Oh, you truly do hurt me. Here I was thinking you were having sex with me cause you wanted to." He adjusted himself in his chair, lifting you off his cock and turning you around.

He slowly eased you back down onto his length, groaning softly under his breath at your tightness.

"Look here. Intercourse with a virgin is stage one of the ritual, and semen also happens to be one of the ingredients." He said, pulling your back against his chest and lifting a finger, causing a dusty old book in the corner of the room to hover over.

You squinted at the page, the words registering itself in your brain.

"Wait...how did you know I'm a virgin?"

"It's glaringly obvious, doll."

You gritted your teeth, biting your lip as Felix let the book drop to the floor, his hands on your waist as he slowly started fucking up into you.

"Remember, you asked for this. You're the one who came here first. You gave me full consent to do this."

"I d-did."

"Mmhmm. Don't forget to tell Minho that. If he's not a corpse somewhere, that is...he usually isn't this late."

A shiver ran through you as Felix suddenly got up with you still on his cock, his fingers digging into your skin as he took you over to the window. He slid apart the heavy purple curtains with one hand.

"Ah...there he is."

You twisted your neck slightly. Eyes misty with arousal, you could barely make out the shadowy figure approaching. Felix's fingers on your chin forced you to face him again, his smile slightly unsettling.

"He's here. I'll remind you again. This was your choice."

"M-my choice..." You gulped as the door opened, the bells tinkling.

There was silence for a few minutes. Felix's form was blocking the figure in the shop. You made a sound of frustration as you craned your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of this mysterious man, despite the fear enveloping your heart.

"Hm. What do we have here? Felix, I've told you before. Don't bring your playthings into the shop."

Felix turned around, taking you to the counter and setting you on the edge of it, still inside you. The new angle finally let you make eye contact with the man.

Oh, fuck. Almost immediately, you wished you hadn't looked at him. Yes, Felix was scary and slightly unnerving...but this man's aura was a whole new shade of intimidating.

You tried your best to break eye contact, but you couldn't. His stare was mesmerizing, and you almost drooled.

A sharp thrust from Felix snapped you out of your haze.

"She isn't a plaything. She's been coming here for the past week...keeping me company. It gets lonely here when you leave on your little trips, you know."

Minho frowned as he set down the mysterious looking packages he'd been holding, leaning on the heavy oak table. His eyes fell on the open book. He lazily regarded the pages, sighing.

Despite his indifferent expression, when he spoke, his tone was menacing.

"Have you been showing this girl the texts? Felix, you know we're not supposed to fraternize with the mortals. I've let you copulate with some of them, but I've told you time and time again...magic and elements of the otherwordly realm are far too complex for their puny brains to comprehend."

Felix sighed, turning slightly to face his brother but not slowing down. He kept thrusting into you, a hand grasping your breast and fingers gliding over your nipple as he spoke.

"That's just it! This human here is different from the others. For one, once she got over her initial shock and surprise, she even started reading the rituals herself and helping me out around the shop! In fact, that's what we're doing right now, enacting the Interfectorem Inimicus Ritual. She has a silly little rival she wants to get rid of."

Minho sighed, his eyes coming up to meet yours again. You looked away meekly, making a small smirk appear on his features.

Cute.

He rarely found mortals attractive...but this one right here might have to be an exception. Besides, if what Felix said was true, she was special. Maybe she wasn't even a mortal after all...

Minho needed to know if that was true. And there was only one way to find out.

He stalked over calmly, tapping Felix's shoulder.

"Give her to me."

"What?!" Felix's look of confusion mirrored yours.

"You heard me." His gaze drifted slowly to you, a finger sneaking out to trace your jawline. You unknowingly leaned into his touch, shivering at the feeling of his cold fingers.

"Hmm now, kitten...why exactly were you snooping about in the sacred texts?" His gaze was stern as he locked your eyes with his.

"I wasn't s-snooping-"

"Did Lixie here give you permission?"

"I, well...no..." You hated the way his intense stare was making you blurt out the truth, cheeks flushed. "I was just curious, that's all. So I read one of the b-books when he wasn't looking."

"Curious." Minho let go of your chin, chuckling. "Haven't you heard? Curiosity killed the cat." His eyes turned darker. "Although when it comes to this kitty, it might just be something else that leads to her demise..."

You swallowed, a fresh wave of arousal shooting through you as Minho smiled, saccharine sweet.

He glared at Felix, making him let go of you reluctantly.

"I'm going to fuck you now, kitten. Would you like that?"

You looked up at him. There was just something about him...his intensity, his demeanor...combined with his sharp beauty...he had you whiny and needy, keening in just seconds.

"Yes, Master, want you...want you so bad!" You mewled, just as Felix pulled out of you.

"Good girl."

In seconds, he gathered you in his arms, taking you over to the burgundy sofa in the corner of the room. "Now, let's do this ritual the right way, shall we? Felix, light some candles."

"Listen, brother, I really don't think this is a good idea and-"

"Do as I say."

Felix sighed, nodding as he went to gather some candles from the shelf. As he lit each one, his heart shuddered.

The two of them knew something you didn't.

Felix and Minho shared a demonic father, but had different mothers. Felix's mother happened to be human, while Minho's definitely wasn't. It was why Felix was able to have intercourse with humans without rendering them completely insane.

Minho, on the other hand...didn't possess even an ounce of humanity. He was draconian, otherworldly...

Felix glanced back, sadness taking over his features as he watched you, entranced as you stared at him.

He was worried you wouldn't last the night.

Minho leaned down, inhaling. He loved the way the human interacted to his touches, however featherlight they may be. He ran the tip of his fingers over your chin, down between your breasts. His fingers continued their descent until they reached your navel, his lust growing as he dipped his finger in, prompting a soft whimper from you. He fingered your navel gently for a few seconds, before he went even lower...finally reaching your clit.

If you were indeed human, you wouldn't be able to handle him or his cock. If you weren't, though?

The implications of it drove Minho giddy with excitement. He'd never had the pleasure of playing with someone as responsive and adorable as you were. Maybe you could even be his queen when he ascends his father's throne...

He shook his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts. First, he had to make sure of your origins. Then, he'd let himself daydream.

His fingers slowly pushed into your already dripping pussy, an appreciative groan leaving his lips as your soaking walls hugged his digits tightly.

Felix finished with the candles, his own erection growing impossibly harder as the lewd noises your pussy was making filled the room.

He turned, making his way to the sofa and glaring at his brother. He already harbored quite a bit of resentment for the older man, and this only served to deepen his hatred. Why did he have to steal away everything that was his?

Minho pulled his fingers out with a pop, sucking on his digits as he looked over at Felix. Your eyes opened halfway, registering Minho's naked form with some surprise. When did he remove his clothes? Then again, you knew the two men in the room didn't obey the same worldly rules you did.

Minho's eyes drifted down to Felix's erection, tutting under his breath.

"You know what...you can use her mouth, if you like."

Felix grumbled. It was better than nothing, but then again...He didn't want his brother to fuck you at all. Till now, you'd proven to be different from the usual human...most mortals couldn't even see their shop. However, he still felt that slight unease that came with not wanting to see you hurt. He'd only known you for a week but...deep inside, he didn't want to lose you.

Felix led his cock to your lips, eyes searching your lidded ones for discomfort. When he found none, he slid his length past your throat slowly, making you moan.

Minho's thick tip was rubbing at your folds. You could only feel the sensation of his head dragging up and down your slit...but it was more than enough for you to realize that he was bigger than everyone you'd ever had sex with.

When he finally pushed into you, you saw stars in your eyes. The pleasure was overwhelming...so sudden and potent that you screamed, Felix's eyes widening in concern as he pulled out.

"Are you okay?

"Y-yeah! For fuck's sake, it feels so gooooooood-" You choked out, clenching tightly around Minho's huge cock, his thrusts unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. It was almost satanic, the way he plunged into you repeatedly, stretching you out to your absolute limit.

Minho gritted his teeth as he gripped your waist tightly, his head thrown back in pleasure. "Fuck...ironic, but your pussy is heavenly, kitten..."

He moved you up and down his shaft, the feeling of your soft pussy opening up more and more with each stroke driving him crazed with lust. He'd never felt anything like this before.

"Felix, she's so fucking- shit....she's so fucking perfect-"

Felix frowned, sitting back as he watched. He couldn't help the envy from gripping his heart as he watched your pleasure-stricken face, your eyes rolling back in your head as Minho slid his girth deeper, hitting your sweet spot. He didn't want to stay any longer, but he couldn't help it. He really didn't want to leave you alone with his brother.

Minho drove into you faster as he felt his orgasm approaching, spurred on by the way you clenched tightly around him, clearly near your end as well.

"Kitten? 'M going to cum...going to fill your little pussy up..."

You whined, arching your back. "Can I cum, Master?"

He shook his head, growling as he rubbed your clit. "You'll cum when I tell you to."

Minho turned to the side as he kept abusing your pussy, his eyes landing on Felix...chuckling at his hand wrapped around his cock.

"Couldn't help yourself, could you?"

Felix let out a moan as he continued jerking himself off, standing up. He didn't care anymore...you looked so perfect like this, completely naked and at their mercy, mouth wide open and ready for him to use.

He came closer and shoved his cock down your throat roughly, not giving you time to adjust as he started fucking into you, his high close. You choked, caught off guard, but quickly got over it. Determined to be a good girl for them, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked on Felix's cock desperately, even as you tried to stave off your orgasm.

His length twitched in your mouth, and before you knew it, you felt warm cum spurting down your throat. Felix groaned, pulling out slowly.

"Felix, now. Get my blade and the book."

"Wait, what?"

"She's the one. I can tell. Quick. We need to get her blood at the exact time she hits her high, or I won't be able to complete my ritual."

"Wait- no! This is Y/n's ritual, the one for her rival. It's lower magic. The one you want to do...Come on, brother! You have to think before making a decision like this, you can't just make her your bride...we have to get Y/n's permission, too-"

Minho growled, his eyes flashing red as he glared at Felix. "I'm not performing a wedding ritual or anything, brother. I'm simply preserving her essence-"

Felix shook his head. His heart was thudding- he'd figured it out too, just like his brother had. You weren't mortal. You were special...and that meant Minho wanted to find out what exactly you were.

He felt sick as he thought of you getting married to his brother. No. You belonged here on Earth, with your family and your friends-

With him.

Before he could react, Minho's hand had materialized the exact knife he wanted.

Encrusted with rubies and made of demonic steel, the blade was far sharper than the one Felix had been teasing you with before.

Minho let go of your waist to grab your hand, bringing it up to his face. His hips continued their assault, making you whine and whimper.

Half the things they said were making no sense, and you were scared and yet...aroused, at the same time. You didn't know what was going on, but you wanted to listen to the man above you. You wanted to do everything he said, wanted to be his little pet...wanted to be his. Your brain felt like it was slowly getting rid of all rationality, the feeling of his cock making you whine louder.

"Kitten...I'm going to make a tiny little cut, right here on your finger. Is that okay?"

You nodded desperately, and Minho smiled at you in approval.

"Cum."

You finally let go, the pleasure washing over you in a tidal wave as you shook, convulsing with electricity as Minho drove the blade into the tip of your finger just enough to let out a few drops of blood.

Felix reluctantly conjured up an empty potion vial, capturing the drop with ease.

Minho lifted your finger to his mouth, sucking on the digit and running his tongue over the wound repeatedly. The metallic taste of your blood was the final push he needed to cum, thrusting deeper as he spilled himself into you.

When he let go of your finger, all the pain had disappeared. You noticed your finger was healed...the skin just as clean and soft as it was before.

You whined as he pulled out, conjuring another vial to gather some of your mixed fluids that was leaking out from between your thighs. He yawned as he handed it to Felix, who corked it with a frown on his face, setting it next to the vial with your blood in it. He knew what Minho wanted to do...he wanted to perform a ritual with the vials, wanted to make sure you were the one for him. It wasn't a wedding ritual by any means...but it was a pre-requisite, and the thought saddened Felix. Maybe his feelings for you were deeper than he'd thought.

Slowly, Minho gathered you into his arms, patting your hair gently and kissing your forehead.

"You were a good kitten, Y/n. How are you feeling?"

"I'm f-feeling okay..."

Minho made a face of delight at Felix. "She can still talk and formulate sentences!" He mouthed, prompting a half-hearted smile from his brother.

"D'you want to cuddle?"

You pouted. "Mmhmm! But..I want Lix to come cuddle too."

Felix looked up at that, his eyes widening.

You still wanted him?

Minho met his eyes, giving him a small smile. "Sure, baby. Lix can come cuddle as well."

You grinned, looking over at Felix and making grabby hands. Giggling, the boy quickly dropped onto the couch, wrapping his arms around your torso and humming in content.

"You know..I don't mind sharing her." Minho whispered, his fingers still stroking your hair. "Really?" Felix asked, looking down at you.

"If she wants to be shared, that is."

"I don't mind!" You chirped. "Life is boring here, anyway. Where did you guys say you lived again?"

The two men shared a look.

Minho sighed as he stroked your hair. "I can't wait to introduce you to our dad."

"Your dad?"

"Yep! Don't worry, he's nice. And I think he'd like you."

You frowned slowly as you remembered something Felix had told you. Snippets of their conversation flashed through your brain as your stomach filled with something akin to dread and anticipation.

"Who did you say your dad was, again?"

"Oh, what? Ah, that doesn't really matter. He's just the king of the Underworld."

[sooniesspot]

Fluff Drabbles

☁️ Namjoon Fluff ☁️

A/N: I just really wanted soft joonie 😣 imagine coming home to him after a horrible day 🤧

word count: 2.3k?

no warnings just super soft and sweet joonie

"bad day, sweet?"

After a long day at work, all you wanted was to get home. You promised your boss you’d stay late and finish paperwork that needed to be sent out first thing in the morning. Leaving the building after 7pm you waited on the corner at your normal bus stop, awaiting the bus. Rain heavily pouring down around you, luckily sheltered by the canopy of the bus stop. Of all days, you had forgotten your umbrella. Waiting for the bus after 10 minutes, the clock ticking. You finally saw a bus in sight and you held out your arm for it to stop. It began to pull into the layby and you misjudged the distance from you to the curb. A tidal wave of water cascaded over you, soaking your clothes through. You blinked heavily, wiping your eyes. So you could see your way onto the bus. Handing over your ticket to the bus driver; already rushing you onto the bus.

You found a seat and sat there. Clothes sopping wet and hair dripping wet. Your skin, cold to the touch from the water. Fishing for your phone in your coat pocket to check any damage as you slung your bag onto the empty seat next to you with a huff. Only a few water droplets on the screen you smudged away; creating a waterline. A flash of your phone screen shone before the screen went black; signalling the phone dying. You grumbled to yourself, wishing this day would be over. That morning you had managed to spill your bosses coffee down your white blouse and almost broke your ankle walking on freshly mopped floor as you headed past the janitor on your way out of the building. Could this day get any worse? You thought to yourself as you gazed out of the window to the busy streets outside. Night drawing in as the sun set behind the clouds.

Your stop couldn’t come soon enough as you stepped off the bus not bothering to thank the rude bus driver as you walked awkwardly along the street towards your apartment block. Rounding the corner your apartment block came to light. Crossing the street you opened the door and made your way over to the lift. ‘Out of Order’ you whined as you turned to use the stairs. Travelling up 3 flights of stairs, pulling yourself along. Eventually reaching your apartment. Fumbling for your key in your oversized bag that was now porous from the typhoon of water you received at the bus stop. You groaned in annoyance before finally finding them at the bottom.

Putting the key in the lock the door swung open to reveal your dimpled boyfriend, in an old grey hoodie and gym shorts, barefoot and mussed hair looking down at you with a smile before it faltered. Taking in your ‘drowned rat’ appearance. He beckoned you in, quickly shutting the door behind you before pulling your bag off your shoulder and peeling off your coat. He looked back down at you, his dusty blonde hair falling onto his forehead slightly as burnt umber eyes stared through you; sparkling. He looked at you in endless wonder. You never failed to take his breath away. Even when your clothes were translucent and hung off you in heavy collections of water. Even though your makeup may have run slightly across your cheeks, your hair darker than usual due to the water. He still looked at you with that same sparkle in his eye. He looked at you and instantly felt at ease. You calmed his racing heart, that raced because of you in the first place. An endless cycle he had committed to memory in every waking moment spent with you.

The way you would scurry around the apartment when you were late for work. The way you danced to your own tune stuck in your head in the kitchen when you made your first coffee of the day. Even in the early morning light, your body tangled in the sheets amongst his, glazed eyes would open and look so lovingly up at his own he felt his heart could burst. He loved you, and he hated seeing you upset.

A strong hand speared through your hair, pulling wet strands off your face.

“Bad day, sweet?” he mumbled, voice rich and deep.

You whimpered with a nod before he pulled you into an embrace. His chin resting on your head as his arms pulling you against his chest; hands rubbing against your back.

“Oh, you’re cold.” He pulled you tighter. You managed to attach your arms around his waist, thankful for the comfort he brought after a long day. His hands began wringing out your hair of excess water and that made you chuckle lightly as you heard it pool to the floor. You Inhaled his scent; old books and pine trees. A hint of burning that was new to you. Setting off a curious tone.

“Joonie?” you rasped against his chest, trying to breathe.

He hummed in reply to you, not wanting to let you go just yet as he held you to his chest, in fear you’d float away in the drizzle of the rain outside.

“Are you cooking?” you asked.

His arms immediately retracting as he hopped into the kitchen at a million miles an hour muttering curse words and the like. Taking off your heels you followed him with shaky feet watching a billow of steam from a saucepan on the stove. Namjoon turned to you with a bashful look. Melanated skin-tinged pink at his cheeks and neck.

“I made dinner.” He cringed; stroking the back of his neck with his free hand. The other hand holding a saucepan with burnt ramen in.

You chuckled as you made your way over to him slowly; kissing him lightly on the lips. “You mean you burnt dinner.” You giggled as his blush grew a deeper shade of crimson.

You took the saucepan from him beginning to hobble over to the sink and dispose of the burnt ramen when he noticed. You felt hands on your forearms as he spun you around taking the saucepan and placing it on the worktop.

“What happened with your foot?” He questioned, earning a sheepish look from you.

So you told him about your day. The coffee, paperwork, the wet floor, the bus, your phone dying and having to take the stairs on a worsening ankle. Hearing you grumble he didn’t once interrupt you or laugh, although when you told him about the puddle you could see the corner of his mouth trying to turn up into a smile. He listened and that’s all you could ever ask of him. He was so considerate you honestly didn’t know what you had done to deserve him. He gave you a final nod and caressed your wet hair again, pressing a kiss to your forehead when suddenly he had swept you off your feet, quite literally.

He carried you bridal style into the bathroom. Placing you delicately on the side as he ran you a bath. Softly humming to himself, making sure to fill it with lots of bubbles and make sure the water wasn’t too hot. He helped you out of your soaking wet clothes and told you he would sort out the mess in the kitchen while you soaked in the bath and that is what you did. He took your drenched clothes and placed then in the wash while he cooked another batch of ramen. ‘The food would be safe because you can’t distract him in here.’ He had said before you challenged him with a suggestive eyebrow, gesturing to yourself in the bath. Abruptly he turned and left, your laugh echoing down the hallway after him.

You lay your head back on the edge of the bath and welcomed the feeling of warm water on your skin, stopping your teeth from chattering intermittently from the cold you were subject to outside. Your ankle already feeling much better as it got to soak in the water, not having to bear any weight on it. You liked moments like this. Moments alone to sit and relax, eyes steadily shutting until the door opened again, Namjoon peering in, a warm towel in his hands as he placed it on the side of the tub.

“Ramen is done.” He smiled before. “Not burnt.”

Sarcastically giving him a round of applause he rolled his eyes at you with a scoff.

“Let’s wash your hair first.” He mumbled, planting a kiss onto your forehead.

So wash your hair he did. Fingers massaged your scalp as he lathered the shampoo through your hair. Making sure to not get any in your eyes, never resisting a kiss on the tip of your nose or your forehead when you’d look back up at him. A sigh of contentment sounded through the bathroom.

All washed and bundled up in a warm towel with an extra one wrapping up your hair, Namjoon insisted on carrying you back through to your shared bedroom although you said that you could manage. But he protested. Like he always did.

“My baby has hurt her foot. I’m carrying her.”

You huffed but were secretly loving being held like this by your boyfriend. He helped dry and dress you, even drying your hair with the dryer. He would hum to you as he did so and finally, he grabbed a cool pack from the freezer along with bandages and the 2 bowls of ramen and successfully bandaged your ankle up with the cool pack against the swollen area. Grabbing his bowl from the bedside table after tucking you both into bed.

“You can bandage an ankle but you burn ramen.” You giggled as he gave you a pout shovelling ramen into his mouth.

Laughter overtaking you at the notion. It was just so him.

“I love you for that.” You planted a kiss against his pouty lips and he grinned, dimples on show as you both continued to eat.

“I love you too, sweet.” He ran his fingers through your hair before giving you a kiss to your lips.

Continuing to eat in comfortable silence, gentle pitter pattering of rain outside the window that made you grimace. He noticed your discomfort and gave you a reassuring smile.

“You’re taking the day off tomorrow.” He pointed at you.

You began to chastise him until he reasoned with you.

“You can’t get the bus and walk to work with a swollen ankle, baby.”

You knew he was right so you decided not to argue. Finishing your ramen you both went to brush your teeth. He insisted on giving you a piggy back, to this you laughed. Finding your reflection in the bathroom mirror thoroughly amusing as you both brushed your teeth; you still perched on his broad and muscular back. He watched through the mirror. His frame holding your tiny one on his back. Toothbrush in your mouth as you giggled; music to his ears. Trying not to slip down his clothed back as his one arm still gripped your thigh firmly; holding you still. He had given you one of his shirts that dwarfed you, legs bare and smooth against his skin. Feeling your heartbeat against his back was all the reassurance he ever needed. Your hearts beating as one. A dimpled smile flashed your way in the mirror once teeth were clean. You ventured back into the bedroom as your breathing tickled his neck, both of you erupting into giggles as he struggled to hold onto you; knees buckling at the sensation. Finally dropping you down on the bed softly making you bounce.

Turning to tuck you in. Clambering over on his side of the bed, shifting under the covers. He smiled after reaching for his glasses, now on the edge of his nose; book in hand. Planting one more kiss on your lips and then your forehead as you shuffled down the bed more, resting your head against his chest; an arm curled around your shoulders as he began to read aloud. Soft hand caressing your hair as you were cradled around him. Hearing his heartbeat against your ear. Lulled to sleep dulcet tones. You were thankful for your boyfriend. He could always make a bad day better.

© sunnysidejoon - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

Hope you guys enjoyed! I take requests so please do ask 😊

Love Always

Mac 🧡💜

[andysbubba]

friends [ two ]

-> steve’s your best friend. you know damn well that won’t change. [ also you’re really stubborn in this au and steve has to deal with that ]

AKA two idiots in love but one doesn't want to admit it

link to chapter one | two | three | four |

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

-

10 years later, 2020

“How is it going with you two?” Bucky sips his coffee as he sits across you and Steve.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

“I would’ve expected a wedding invitation by now from both of you,” He looks at the two of you pointedly.

You choke on your latte and then glanced at Steve. “Seriously?”

Steve glances back at you and laughed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

Bucky bursts out in laughter. “Shit. That was priceless!”

“Oh shut up, Buck.” Steve rolls his eyes at his friend.

“Yeah, Barnes. We’re just friends,” You nudge Steve with your shoulder. “Right, Steve?”

Steve shrugs and nods, leaning in front and picking up a fork to cut into his slice of chicken pie. “Yeah,”

Jesus. What was that stinging pain in your heart?

Steve left for the washroom and it was just you and Bucky.

“Bitch move, Y/N.”

You look at Bucky cluelessly. “What did I do?”

“That guy is hopelessly in love with you and you just told him that you two are just friends.” He pointedly says.

You roll your eyes in reply. “You’re exaggerating. He’s not hopelessly in love with me, Buck.”

“Say that to his lost, sad, depressed puppy dog face whenever you get into a new relationship.” Bucky kicks your leg under the table.

“You’re just bullshitting now, Barnes.”

There was no way Bucky was right. Your mum’s told you the same thing, so did Steve’s parents. And then there was Natasha who said something along the lines too. Lets not forget Sam either.

Steve being in love with you? That’s just impossible.

“You shouldn’t deny the truth, Y/L/N.”

Steve walks back to the table. “Deny what?”

You turn to Steve in slight surprise before you quickly recovered. “Bucky was just saying some things about-”

“-About how you’ve been in love with Y/N since you were kids,” Bucky interrupts you.

Steve blushes immediately, the pink flowing up to his pale cheeks and he stuttered a little. “W-what?”

You step on Bucky’s toes with your boots and glare at him. His knee shoots up and hits the table as he groans in pain.

You turned to Steve and smiled kindly, “Nope, Bucky was just playing with you,”

Steve nods and settles back on the seat beside you.

You thought to yourself while the two guys chat about yesterday’s baseball game.

Steve gets sad when you get into a new relationship? And then he gets awkward when you say that you two are just friends.

Damn it, Bucky.

But Steve’s just being Steve. He’s always awkward... right?

-

“I’m not even kidding, Nat. Like seriously, Steve? Liking me?” You huff.

“Think about it this way,” She was lying on the couch, her legs resting on your lap. “He has a lot of flings and ex girlfriends. But why did none of them last long?”

You look down at her. “Because he hasn’t found the right person?”

Natasha shrugs. “That could be one. But you two already act like a couple.” She shifted and sits up straight, turning to you seriously. “He’s looking around for something he already has. Except, it isn’t official.”

You were meeting Natasha so you ended up leaving the guys earlier at the cafe. Apparently, they were planning on having some guys night with Sam.

You frown at Natasha. “We don’t act like a couple.”

Nat raised an eyebrow at you with a ‘really’ expression. “You cuddle, you know what each other like and dislikes, he spends money on you, you spend money on him and you sleep together on the same bed.”

“Isn’t that the norm for best friends?”

Tasha rolls her eyes. “You don’t see Sam kiss my forehead before he goes home or see Bucky buy me an iPad, now, do you?”

“I’ve known Steve since I was one.” You pointed out.

This topic was seriously making you think like crazy. You didn’t even know you acted like a couple with Steve. Like seriously???

“Valid point. But do you really think his exes give a shit about that when he helps you put on your coat and shit?”

“But-”

Natasha laughs at you, completely stopping your speech. “Denial is not a good look on you, sweetie.”

You sigh as Nat stands up and heads into the kitchen.

She comes back out with two bottles of beer. “Listen, Y/N. All I’m saying is, maybe you don’t see it but everyone around you sees what’s going on.” She settles beside you on the couch. “Your brain just functions at a slower rate than others.”

You gasp and smack her arm harshly. “Rude!”

Nat bursts out in laughter before calming down and snuggled into you. “Just, if it’s meant to be, it will happen someday. Forcing things will only make it worse.”

“Does he really sulk when I get into relationships?” You rest your head on top of Natasha’s.

“Yeap!”

You sigh again. “Okay then, why do my relationships not last long?”

“Because the intimacy you want with said partner is already something you share with Steve.” Nat stops and tried to think of a way to convey her thoughts. “Minus the kisses and sex.”

You sighed for what seemed like the nth time that day. “Alright lets change topics. How are your ballet lessons going?”

-

You had some guy named Jake over at your place a few days after your girls night with Nat. It was just a one night thing and he was already in the corridor outside your apartment when Steve appeared from the stairs, slightly breathless.

You see his face drop when he sees the guy standing outside your door. Wait- why have you never seen that before? It wasn’t the first time Steve came over while there was a guy at your apartment?

Fuckfuckfuck. Damn it, Bucky. And Natasha.

“Hey, Steve.” You turn to Jake, or was it Jacob? “Bye, Joseph.”

Said guy just looks at you in shock. “It’s John.”

“Yeah, potato, potahto.” You flashed him a grim smile before dragging Steve into your apartment and leaving the John in the corridor.

“I’ll make breakfast?” You ask Steve, already making your way to the kitchen.

He follows closely behind you. “I’ll help. What do you want?”

“Mom’s congee?”

Steve looks at you in shock. “You’re the best.”

“I know, Stevie.” You wink at him. “Just fry the chicken. And cut the onions, please, I beg you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Steve hurriedly washed his hand and took whatever he needed from the fridge.

“You wanna call the others to hang out?”

Steve shrugs, “Up to you. But you call. I just washed my hands.”

You took out your phone and shoot a text to the groupchat. The one with Sam, Nat and Bucky.

Y/N: congee day

Y/N: no beer no entry.

Sam: OOOO

Nat: beer and congee? seriously?

Y/N: hey, no one’s forcing you to come nat ??

Sam: there in an hour. with beer.

Bucky: is steve making his fried chiken

Y/N: yeah

Nat: fine i’ll be there with bucky in 20 mins

Y/N: bring gummy bears please thank you ily

-

Steve glanced down at his smartwatch at raised his brows at your last text.

“Gummy bears, really?”

“Gummy bears and beer is literally the best thing Stevie,” You snort, “But of course you wouldn’t know since you’re an old hag, Steven.”

Steve gasps, looking at you in shock. “Did you just-”

You smirk at him, casually walking to the fridge. “You know I did, Rogers.”

You looked inside the fridge, completely not noticing that Steve was already behind you.

You turn around after grabbing a can of Schwepps from the fridge. You jumped seeing Steve towering right behind you. “Jesus, Steve.”

“You wanna try that again?” He held his hands up on both sides of the fridge, eyes twinkling playfully.

You shake your head and pointed at him. “None of the food war crap. I had to clean up the mess the last time.”

Steve gazed down at you. “You better take it back if you don’t want a new mess to clean up.”

You took the time to look at him– really look at him.

Steve's hot, and goodlooking. You’ve already known that. But have you ever really looked at him?

How there’s that weird drain between his brows when he’s frowning, or how his chin is like a shade darker than the rest of his face. There’s a spot on his cheek and his forehead. You’ve never really noticed them before. His eyes always had a shine. The only time you saw it dull was at his dad’s funeral and then again when Sarah Rogers passed away about 4 years after. Your parents took him in straight afterwards.

Those blue eyes are always so intense. Whether he’s trying to get a thread into the needle or reading Paper Towns, Steve’s eyes are so goddamn intense. Like he’s trying to burn a hole through the pages of that stupid book.

“You’re staring,” He noted, even though his eyes were deeply staring into you too.

“You’re staring,” You dutifully told him in return.

“I’m looking,” You see his eyes glancing down to your lips quickly and then back into your eyes.

Your eyes shifted down to his lips too. You know how it feels firsthand. Plump and soft, and it feels so good against your own. The natural pink only compliments his pale skin.

It has never been this intense. He was staring into you and you were gazing into him. His body warmth completely overrides the cold air of the fridge behind you. And his presence was... present, huge. Was this what people called sexual tension?

Damn it, Bucky. And Natasha. And Sam. And your parents.

Fuck.

His gaze switched between your eyes and lips, leaning down slowly and hesitantly. You leaned in too, slowly going up on the tip of your toes.

You could feel his breath on your face.

“We shouldn’t,” You whispered lowly.

“I know,” Steve’s hand still shifted to your jaw, though and he's caressing very lightly.

Your hands trailed up and linked at the back of his neck, and you completely press your lips against his.

Fuck.

It has been at least a year since you’ve been this close to Steve. But this, this was just different.

Steve kisses you back, lips soft but a little rough. It reminds you perfectly of the first time you kissed him he kissed you.

There was a thought in the back of your mind about how this was possibly going to be awkward later. But, fuck. His lips feels too good to stop.

You pull away from him, just about an inch or two away from his lips. “Steve,”

He speaks lowly, “I swear if you tell me that we shouldn’t do this...”

“We shouldn’t.” You breathed deeply. “But we need to talk about this,”

“Talk about what?” His voice raises the slightest bit. “Talk about how I’ve been in lo-”

The doorbell rings.

And just like that, your moment broke.

Steve closed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, before he completely pulls away from you and turned around.

“Go get the door. I’ll get started on the chicken.”

You listened, stepping out of the kitchen and to towards the door. Your mind was still processing what just happened. Was he about to say... But, Fuck.

Even if he did say it, you have no idea what you’d do.

Your hand curls around the door knob and you pushed it down and pulled the door open.

Nat and Bucky were on the other side, holding up bags and something that looks like 10 bags of gummy bears.

Not that you have any complaints.

“Your face looks weird. What happened?” Natasha brushes past you as she strides into your apartment, dropping her handbag on the dining table and then going into the kitchen.

“Yeah, you look weird. Why does the house seem so quiet?” Bucky asks next, pushing past you and going straight into the kitchen.

“Yeah, cause I just kissed Steve. Of course it’s gonna be like the fucking Kardashians’ house, ain’t it?” You mutter lowly under your breath, knowing damn well they can’t hear you.

“Hey, Steve,” Tasha sets the bags in the counter before she goes over and pecks Steve on his cheek. “You look weird too. What happened between you two?” She glances between you and Steve with a question mark on her face.

“Did you have sex?”

You turn to Bucky almost immediately. “No!”

“Alright, no need to get so defensive, Tiger. Did you kiss?”

The blush on Steve’s cheeks and the silence from you was a good enough answer for the both of then.

“Oh, so something did happen, huh?” Natasha teased, eyes glinting with some sort of evil.

“Shut up.” Steve grunts as he continues dipping small chicken cubes into flour and then into the egg mixture.

“Did you kiss his dick or just his mouth?”

You roll your eyes, stepping towards the sink to wash your hands, completely ignoring Bucky’s question.

You eyed Steve from your peripheral vision. He was silent too.

Well, fuck.

-

like comment reblog? i’ll love you forever

[spookyceph]

Pull Test

Summary: Shigaraki and Kurogiri meet with the League of Villain's newest candidate.

Rating: Gen Fic, SFW

Relationships: Shigaraki & Magne

Characters: Shigaraki Tomura, Magne, Kurogiri, Giran, mentioned Dabi, mentioned Toga Himiko

Words: 2,732

Warnings: Implied/Referenced transphobia and deadnaming when Magne's background is mentioned, swearing

The manila folder dropped from the air like a dead bird, hitting the bar top with a slap. Tomura jerked back, stool wobbling beneath him, and grit his teeth as he heard the staccato sounds of his fighter taking damage in his game. Recovering balance, he hit the pause button before glaring at the warp gate that swirled into being across the way.

“Another one already?” he snapped the moment the tall figure of his caretaker stepped out of the darkness.

Kurogiri straightened both his tie and metal gorget. “I was quite impressed myself. Giran is proving to be as professional and efficient as advertised.” He motioned to the folder he’d air dropped in. “Shall we consider this new candidate together, Shigaraki Tomura?”

Tomura wasn’t in the mood to consider shit. He hadn’t been hanging around the bar for going on two hours hoping for work to come along. One of his hands strayed to his pocket. He touched the lump that was the jar of salve he’d taken to carrying at all times. The serpentine ridge of a friendship bracelet (I used red, white, and black string so it would match you, Tomura-kun!) had joined it a week ago. Of course, he’d die before admitting to lurking just to catch a glimpse of Dabi. Or that he’d agreed to let Toga show him her favorite otome games as soon as she came back from her shopping trip. He definitelycouldn’t tell the smug old ink splatter to fuck off and let him get back to his goal of a high score—not without having how wrong he’d been about those same two people rubbed in his face.

That left being a responsible leader as the only option.

Tomura growled and set his game aside. He flicked the folder open. “Fine. What’s this new asshole’s name?” Giving in didn’t require him to be gracious about it.

“Ah. About that. I believe there’s a conflicting issue in her files about that point. Her family name is Hikiishi, however, her given one, or both, may require an update.”

A look at the top of the file filled in the blanks. The picture Giran had included showed the candidate flashing a bold smile at the camera. Shoulder-length auburn hair framed prominent cheekbones. Slightly darker fuzz lined her jaw and chin. Tomura couldn’t tell what color her eyes were behind her sunglasses, but they locked with his through lenses and stock paper alike. Hikiishi Kenji, read the first line of information on the page beneath the photo. A police report, by the looks of it.

“I see. Well, for now let’s just call Hikiishi by her alias until she confirms with us.” Tomura skimmed through the info again. “Magne, right? Related to her quirk, I assume.”

The currents of Kurogiri’s mist slowed and relaxed into looser coils. “Correct.”

Tomura frowned. “What? Did you think I’d have some sort of problem with the name thing?”

“After the misunderstanding with Dabi—”

“Dabi and I talked.”

The yellow eyes glowing within the darkness widened. “Did you now?”

Fuck, he wasn’t turning red, was he? Was he? “We’re adults. We worked shit out, okay? Not everybody has a stick up their ass about being polite all the time.” He scooped up his game, more than ready to retreat into something he could control. “When are we expecting Magne?”

“Giran can bring her by tomorrow evening.”

“Fine. Let’s get the stupid meet and greet crap over with.” When only silence followed, Tomura raised his gaze from the screen to glare at Kurogiri. “What?”

The wisps curling from the smoggy bastard’s head looked suspiciously like smiles. “Nothing, Shigaraki Tomura. Nothing at all.”

-

Taptaptap.

Tomura’s finger rose and fell on the bartop fast enough to give a sewing machine needle a run for its money. The ball of his right foot bounced on the stool’s crossbar in time with it.

Taptaptap.

Giran had promised he’d be there between 9:00 and 10:00. The clock by the door pointed to 9:51.

Taptaptap.

Lots of people would be riding the trains on a Friday night. Or roaming the streets, looking for food and alcohol, karaoke, strangers to stave off loneliness. Heroes would be out in force as a result, watching for any predators stalking the herds of humanity. Tomura didn’t know how to calculate exact probability rates for shit hitting the fan, but he got the sense they were on the higher end under such conditions.

Taptaptap.

Why couldn’t he just run into party members along the way as needed, like in games? Each one would specialize in a skill, forming a well-rounded team. Everyone would follow him to the bitter end because they believed in him and not some ass goblin named Stain. Why they believed in Tomura wouldn’t matter, though money would be a reasonable guess. Idealism didn’t pay much from what he could tell.

Taptap—

“Be calm, Shigaraki Tomura. This meeting will go well.”

He bared teeth at Kurogiri. “There has to be a meeting for it to go a certain way. And I am calm, damn it.”

“So I see.” He finished wiping down the glass he held before setting it on the bar and grabbing another. “My apologies.”

Tomura twisted on the stool to give the smart ass shadow a piece of his overthinking mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

Without missing a beat, Kurogiri stuck his free hand through a small warp gate and turned the handle of the door across the room. He went back to polishing as two figures entered the bar.

For someone who charged such high fees, Giran went out of his way to look cheap and kitschy. Little round tinted lenses pinched to the bridge of his nose. A scrunched scarf like someone’s guts slung around his neck. One front tooth missing in his low-key sleazy smile. The woman following right behind him and surveying her new surroundings made for a more welcome sight. Sunglasses (her and Giran both, for fucks’ sake) hid her eyes just like in her picture, but her lips held a hint of a smile.

The essence of good manners, Kurogiri bowed to their guests. “Good evening. Welcome to our humble home.”

Tomura, to balance the scales, snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Giran shrugged and twirled his hand, leaving behind a smoke spiral from the tip of the cigarette between his fingers. “Our train was delayed by some prankster threatening to blow up the tracks.”

“Doesn’t sound like a prank.”

“It wouldn’t have been if the lazy bastard hadn’t been trying to pass off children’s clay as plastic explosive. One of the cops noticed the stuff was bright yellow and they rushed him. They didn’t even call in a hero.” The broker shook his head. “What’s this world coming to? People can’t be bothered to find and pay for real weapons anymore. It offends my pride as a businessman.”

Behind Father, Tomura grimaced. His short-lived venture with Stain had indeed moved people to lash out at society. The problem was most of them were fucking morons. He doubted any decent candidates the League managed to net would make up for all the secondhand embarrassment he’d suffered in the past couple of weeks from watching the news.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “I felt kinda bad for the poor guy. He looked like your average office wage-slave. I thought he was going to break down in tears when they hauled him off.”

“Serves him right for cutting corners. No conviction, no integrity these days I tell you.”

She hid a grin behind her hand. “You’re heartless, Giran.”

The broker snorted smoke from his nostrils like an exasperated dragon. “I’m practical.”

“And yet you still haven’t introduced me.”

Posture straightening, Giran tugged at his weirdly anatomical scarf. “Sorry, got sidetracked. Magne, Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri of the League of Villains.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Slipping off his stool, Tomura gave her a short bow. The way Kurogiri swayed slightly, as if he’d swoon from shock, made the display worth it.

“I take it I’ve earned my fee?” chimed in Giran.

Kurogiri’s misty form shuddered as he roused himself. “Of course. We’ll hear from you again soon?”

“I’ve got a few candidates lined up.” The broker sketched them a mock salute before turning and closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” Tomura motioned to the row of barstools beside him.

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”

While Magne approached, he studied her movements. She strode across the hardwood floor, work boots making minimal noise with each step. Grace as well as power. She knew how to use the muscle under her shirt’s rolled up sleeves rather than relying on pure size. Although, that didn’t hurt either—Tomura put her at over ten centimeters his own height at least, and she definitely outclassed him by weight. He wondered whether she had speed to go along with strength. She slid into the next seat over and rested her chin in her hands.

“Would you care for something to drink, Miss Magne?” Kurogiri asked, jumping at the chance to play host.

“Oh, my. So formal. Sure, I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

Tomura waited until a small glass of something amber-colored had been set in front of them both (ginger ale for him) and she’d taken an approving sip before getting things rolling.

“You have quite a record, Magne.” Though he’d already memorized the relevant bits, he flipped open the folder container her information.

She glanced over, shades slipping down her nose as she scanned the first page of the police report. “Twenty-nine attempted murders, huh? Is that what they’re calling those? I’m surprised you guys bothered having me come in after reading that garbage.”

“Why?”

Like a small bird, Tomura’s stomach dipped and fluttered when Magne looked at him over the edge of her glasses. Not quite in the same way it did when he caught Dabi watching him from across the room, but close enough to classify the sensation as pleasant. Her irises shone like polished agates, made up of rich layers of browns from a starburst of mahogany around her pupils to flecks of burnished copper. Tomura suddenly understood her hiding them behind lenses. Such a beautiful detail would stick in anyone’s memory.

“Somebody who tried and failed to kill that many people would look pretty incompetent, right?” she replied. “Or like they chickened out at the last second. I don’t enjoy killing. I’ll tell you that up front. But…I didn’t hesitate with the three I did put down, let’s just say that.”

Tomura, a multiple murderer himself, examined the square set of her shoulders, the twist of scorn to her mouth towards her accusers, and found no reason to doubt her. He nodded.

“The so-called attempts were from the robberies you pulled off then?”

“Mostly, though I’m sure a few of the bullies I smacked around exaggerated just to prove what big, strong men they are.” She harumphed and took another sip from her drink.

“And the actual murders?”

Her lips puckered, as if she tasted something more bitter than whatever alcohol Kurogiri had given her. “Personal matters.”

“I see.” Tomura turned the page and ran his finger further down the information. “Your quirk has some unique parameters.”

The lines of Magne’s face eased into a smile. “Oh, the gender thing? A theory really. I haven’t had much opportunity to test it seriously. It might be nothing but my own perception…but I guess that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?” She lifted a hand from her glass and reached halfway toward him. “Care for a demonstration?”

Tomura caught himself drawing away from her, his nails latching onto the sides of his neck. Cowering—great way to display his leadership skills. “What’re you going to do?”

“Oh, just tug on your arm a little. Go ahead and put it down by your side for me.”

Resisting the urge to look to Kurogiri for reassurance, he did as asked. For safety’s sake he curled his fingers into a fist.

Magne smiled. “Ready?”

According to the knot in his stomach, no, but he nodded anyway. His arm jerked and leapt up as if it were tied by a string. Tomura gasped, almost slipping off his seat. Magne caught and steadied him.

“Sorry, honey! Got so excited to show off I put a bit too much oomph into it.” She patted his shoulder as if there weren’t dead, gray hands clutching it.

“’S’alright,” he mumbled. And it was—his skin showed no marks, his muscles and joints registered no pain. He readjusted the delicate hand decorating his wrist. Cold, waxy, and pliant. Nothing like Magne.

“So, can you manipulate people’s movements? Turn them into your puppets?”

She hummed and pushed her sunglasses back into their proper place. “Not really. I can move someone with the proper amount of push versus pull, but it’s such delicate work that they could break free pretty easily. Hold out your arm and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Still making a fist, Tomura followed her suggestion. Magne positioned her hands on either side of his forearm, spread about half a meter apart. Concentration dug a V between her brows. A thrum jolted through Tomura’s bones. He startled at the rush of tingles in his elbow and shoulder but kept his balance. Something like a low electrical current pulsed along his arm, raising its pale little hairs. Eyes wide, he watched as the limb drifted from one side to the other, then up, down—anywhere the poles of Magne’s palms guided it. He could even see, feel his skin being tugged and pressed by her quirk. Taking a deep breath, Tomura drew his fist back. He met some resistance, but didn’t have to put up any real struggle.

“Weird.” He shook his buzzing fingers out. “But kinda nice. Tingly. Like an electrical field.”

Magne tilted her head and smirked. “Oh? That’s a new one. Then again, maybe I’d have heard it before if I used my quirk for something besides bashing jerks.”

What would he have done without Father hiding the fact he blushed at the slightest fucking thing? He’d never get used to talking to people at this rate.

“Your skills would be a great asset to the League, Miss Magne,” Kurogiri said, saving Tomura from having to pretend he could be witty. “I presume Giran discussed the expenses we cover? Upon joining, you would also be welcome to claim a room upstairs, should you wish.”

Magne went still. Even her breathing stopped for a moment. “You’d let me stay here?”

Tomura knew right then he’d never live down being wrong about not letting League members move into the hideout. Kurogiri would never be crass enough to say it out loud, of course. He didn’t have to. Tomura sighed, accepting his fate.

“Two members live here already, including another woman. We can introduce you to them both before you decide.”

Gaze aimed at the ceiling, Magne touched fingers to her pursed lips. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She met Tomura’s eyes, a smile lighting up her face. “Sign me up.”

Well. He had no clue whatso-fucking-ever how they’d convinced her, but results were results. Besides, she hadn’t mentioned Stain once. She deserved free room and board for that alone.

“Ah, wonderful. We’re so delighted to have you, Miss Magne.” Kurogiri steepled his fingers. “Please let me know if you require any assistance in moving your belongings. I can warp them to whichever room you choose.”

A soft laugh huffed out of her. “No need, honey. I travel light these days. Would tomorrow evening be too soon?”

Tomura shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure Toga and Dabi are around so you can meet them.” Even if he had to staple the latter to a chair to make him comply.

“Sounds like a plan.” Magne raised her glass. “To new friends then?”

There was that word again. Offered with the same ease Toga had shown. And Dabi…he’d never said it maybe but his gift had implied…well, something. Tomura touched his pocket. The weight and shapes of the items inside it. With the same hand, he picked up his own glass and clinked it against Magne’s.

“Sure. I’ll drink to that.”

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Different but the Same (pt. 10)

Word count: ~6.3

Rating: R18+/M

Omegaverse AU, Rating: 18+/M

Pairings: Iwaizumi x fem!reader, Ushijima x fem!reader

Summary: An unexpected encounter at the Inter-High tournament tossed you into a whirlwind. Being tugged between two males, two different packs, who will reign supreme in this battle for your heart?

Masterlist | prev | next

ch. 10: A Seijoh Summer

“Hey!”  The black shades were plucked from her face, causing her to blink at the sudden light. “Are you just going to lay here instead of hanging out with me?” Kyotani crouched down beside her, glaring at the Omega. She sighed, propping herself up on her hands. She had been leaning against Iwaizumi, who was napping, acting as his shade as she read a book. 

“Iwa-chan! (Nickname)-chan! Come play with us.” Oikawa towered over the trio, casting shade on her face. Iwaizumi groaned, plucking the book away from his mate to cover his face. “We came here to hang out, not lounge around like potatoes!” 

“We never get peace, do we, Haji?” The Omega giggled, elbowing her mate. He grunted in response, face still hidden in the book. She stood up, dusting the sand off. “What are we playing?” Oikawa pointed off the distance towards the other third-years. Mattsun and Makki were playing 2-on-2 with Kindaichi and Yahaba. Kumini was wading in the ocean along with Watari. She furrowed her brows. “I call playing with Hiro and Mattsu!” The Omega announced, sprinting off into the distance.

“Oi!” Iwaizumi shouted after her, sitting up as the book slid off his chest. He scowled as she high-fived the two third-years. 

“There’s one more spot,” Oikawa teased. “Mine!” And he raced off. Iwaizumi cursed, jumping to his feet as he darted after his best friend. Kyotani growled at being left behind, and quickly ran after them both. Iwaizumi had always been faster than Oikawa and Kyotani, so it was no surprise that he managed to beat them to the court. Oikawa pouted before he joined Kindaichi’s and Yahaba’s side. 

“I’m gonna beat you,” Kyotani challenged, as he stood in the middle blocker position, opposite from Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi smirked. “Good luck.” 

After each set, they ended up switching players. One of the last games they played featured (Name), Oikawa, Kyotani, and Mattsun against Makki, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, and Kindaichi. “Chance ball!” (Name) shouted, holding her arms out to receive the ball. 

“Mad-dog-chan!” Oikawa yelled, setting the ball to him. Kyotani spiked it, only for Iwaizumi to narrowly tap it.

“One touch!” 

“Makki-san!” Kindaichi called, sending the ball that way. 

“Iwaizumi!” Makki set the ball up high for the ace, only for Iwaizumi to send the ball flying towards his mate. With a startled yelp, she narrowly brought her arms up to block her face. Sand kicked up as she stumbled.

The ball bounced off her forearm, flying towards the net and fell to the ground. “Sorry!” She panted, bending over as she rested her arms on her knees. Redness dotted her forearms.

“You okay, babe?” Iwaizumi slid under the net, running to her side. She smiled at him, patting his face.

“I’m fine! I’m so glad I never have to play you,” she teased, standing up. She surveyed the group. “The sun will be setting soon. I’m gonna go get the fire started!” 

“I’ll go with you,” Iwaizumi offered, but she waved him off.

“Stay and play.”  By now, the other boys had stopped playing in the water and were sitting in the sand watching. She looked at them, waving Watari over. “Watari-kun can help me. Kumini-kun, can you sub in for me?” Kumini made a face, before standing up and making his way to Oikawa’s side. Mattsun and Iwaizumi switched.

“What are we doing?” Watari asked as he walked beside the Omega.

“I wanna get the fire going for the bonfire,” she smiled at him, patting his head. As they made their way back to their stuff, she talked to him about school and asked how he liked being a part of the pack. By the time the boys had made it back, the fire was already stoked, logs had been pulled over to make artificial benches, and (Name) and Watari were digging into some meat that they grilled beside the fire.

“Hey! I didn’t know we brought this,” Mattsun grinned, plopping down beside the grill as he eyed the meat. 

“You know (Name)-chan wouldn’t let us go hungry,” Oikawa grinned. 

Iwaizumi leaned down beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You really do too much for this pack,” he murmured, rubbing his nose into her hair. A pleasant hum was given in response as the strawberry scent clung to his nose. She affectionately patted his arm with her left hand as she tended to the meat with her right. There were already trays of cooked meat out, so the boys made quick work of it. 

“There are rice-balls in the cooler over there,” she gestured with the tongs. “And the cooler-bag beside that one has drinks.” 

Brown eyes gleamed at her. “You shouldn’t have brought us alcohol, (Name)-chan!” 

She threw her empty bottle at him, shooting the captain a disgruntled look. “Don’t be stupid, Oiks. I’m not going to promote underaged drinking here.”

“But the third-years are already 18!” Makki complained, sitting down at the log opposite from her. 

“There are still underaged kids here, and this is a team excursion,” she reprimanded, (e/c) eyes hardening. “You four are more than welcome to drink in the comfort of your own homes, but not at team gatherings.” 

“Ugh, she’s stricter than Iwa-chan,” Oikawa muttered, only to be nailed in the head by his best friend. 

“Someone has to be responsible,” the Omega retorted, clicking the tongs at him threateningly. Iwaizumi sat down to the side of his mate, his legs encasing hers as her back met his chest. An arm was loosely slung around her waist. Besides them, on (Name)’s other side, was Kyotani watching the fire. Across from them, Oikawa sat with Makki and Mattsun. The third bench held Watari, Kindaichi, and Kumini. Though all faces looked tired, they all looked cheerful as they idly chatted about random topics.

“Thanks for planning this,” Iwaizumi whispered into her ear, the warm ear blowing the loose strands apart. She pulled the last of the meat off, snuffing the fire out as she did so. 

(Name) hummed in response. “You guys have been working so hard. You definitely deserve it.” The Aoba Johsai volleyball club had just finished their week-long summer training camp, and as a reward, she and Watari had planned this beach trip. It was tradition for them to have a bonfire after each training camp, regardless of the weather. They sat in silence as they enjoyed the company. Oikawa’s bluetooth speakers blew as some pop songs came on. The boys were all joking, shoving at one another to compete for the last pieces of meat. Mattsun and Kyotani had an arm-wrestling match for the last rice-ball only for Kindaichi to end up eating it because he didn’t know what was going on. “We have marshmallows and stuff if you guys wanna make s’mores!” 

That ended up being a disaster - which, to be fair, they should have expected. Oikawa ended up being overly excited about roasting his marshmallow that he ended up putting his fingers too close to the flames and dropped his skewer. Kyotani had laughed so much that he didn’t notice his own marshmallow falling off into the flames until it was too late. When Oikawa laughed at Kyotani, the younger Alpha began pelting Oikawa with marshmallows, nailing him right between his eyes. The other third-years were about to join in on the food fight when they were stopped by a fierce glare from (Name). At that point, the Omega just shook her head and confiscated the marshmallows, roasting them for the rowdy boys. “We can’t take you guys anywhere,” Iwaizumi grumbled, holding two skewers into the flames as he helped his mate put the s’mores together. 

Soon, the flames began dying down as the night got darker. “Hiro, Mattsu, do you mind going to get the van ready? Haji, Kyo, can you throw the coals out of the grill? There’s a bag there for that.” (Name) asked, pointing at all the tasks that needed to be done. Kindaichi sneezed, pulling his sweater tightly to himself. The Omega pulled out a blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders. She surveyed the scene, tapping her chin lightly. “You can go with Makki and Mattsun,” (Name) smiled. “Actually, if you’re already finished packing your stuff, feel free to head back first!” A majority of the things had already been placed into the trash-bags that they had brought so there wasn’t much left to clean-up other than the bonfire and the grill. The first and second years headed back to the van first with their senpais, Oikawa eagerly leading the pack as they carried away; the captain hated the cold.

As she stood there, pulling her tote bag over her shoulders, she let out a sigh of relief. “You did good, baby.” A chaste kiss to her forehead, his arms wrapping around her waist. Kyotani started walking back, carrying the grill with him. The Omega turned in Iwaizumi’s arms, wrapping her arms around his neck as she leaned in. Their lips met, and she shivered at the electricity that shot through her body. She would never get used to that. “God I love you.” He decorated her faces with kisses, causing her to let out a soft laugh.

“And I love you.” Warm lips pressed against his. “Always.”

“Hurry up lovebirds or we’re gonna leave you!” Mattsun shouted, and they looked up to see their friends waving their arms laughing at them. 

“Race ya back!” The Omega winked, shoving the tote bag into his arms as she took off. 

After a moment of confusion, he tore after her, slipping in the loose sand. “That’s cheating!” He snapped, easily catching up to her. With a loud squeal, he had her over his shoulder as he climbed the hill.

“Haji!” She screamed, playfully beating at his back. They arrived at the van, and most people were already loaded up.

“Here are the keys,” Mattsun handed them to Iwaizumi, who pocketed them. Mattsun climbed in, taking his seat next to Makki. 

“Get out the front seat, Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi growled as he opened the door, abruptly yanking his best friend out.

“You’re so mean to me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined before he sat next to Mattsun. “It’s not fair that (Name)-chan can sit in the front, she’s literally the smallest out of all of us!” Iwaizumi placed his mate into the front-seat, buckling her in and stealing a kiss despite the noises of disgust from his team-mates. 

“You’re just jealous you haven’t found your mates yet,” (Name) teased, turning around and winking at them. Iwaizumi climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the van. Kindaichi, Watari, Yahaba, and Kyotani were squeezed into the back, though Kyotani looked annoyed at being pressed up against the others. Makki, Mattsun, and Oikawa were in the middle row. She let out a happy chirp as she turned to face the front, her comforting scent filling the car. “Will you be okay to drive?” She asked, glancing at her mate. He hummed in response, one hand holding hers as he rubbed her knuckles. He faced forward, focusing on the road. “Let me know if you need me to switch off, okay?” 

Iwaizumi chuckled, pulling her knuckles to his lips. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart.” 

The melody of gentle snores filled the car. “I love you,” she whispered looking out the window as the radio placed soft love songs. 

“Love you too.” 

“I love you too Iwa-chan, (Name)-chan!” 

Mattsun elbowed the captain harshly for his comment, causing him to let out a soft whine of pain.  

“Love you too, Oiks.” (Name) giggled, squeezing Iwaizumi’s hand. The scent and warmth of her mate, along with the sounds of their pack, filled her with comfort. He squeezed her hand as a low purr began in her chest. The steady drumming noise soothed her pack-mates who all slipped into various degrees of sleep.    

*****

“Hey, are you ready yet?” 

“Almost!” She called, readjusting the golden kanzashi. 

Iwaizumi opens the door, poking his head in. The Alpha was wearing a navy blue yukata with a silver obi while the Omega was wearing her own navy blue yukata with light purple and white flowers. She was wearing a matching silver obi.

“Iwaizumi-kun.” 

“Yes?” Iwaizumi straightened, meeting (Name)’s father’s gaze.

“We have a gift for you.” (Name)’s mother handed him a box. “Go change in the restroom and meet us in the living room.”

“Yes sir.” Iwaizumi bowed, taking the gift before disappearing into the restroom.

When he returned, he was greeted with the sight of his mate wearing a matching yukata while she chatted with her parents. “Oh perfect!” (Name)’s mother grinned. “I was hoping that it’d fit.” 

“Thank you very much,  (L.name)-san.” Iwaizumi bowed again, causing her mother to wave her hand.

“Nonsense, you’re a part of the family now, Iwaizumi-kun.”  

“Let’s go to the festival, shall we?” (Name)’s father asked, clearing his throat. 

As they left the apartment, Iwaizumi slid his fingers into his mate’s hand. “Your parents didn’t have to get me this.” 

She chuckled, squeezing his hand. “What, you don’t like matching with me?”

He rolled his eyes, scratching at his neck awkwardly. “I feel bad.”

(Name) stopped slightly, tugging him back as their eyes met. His heart stuttered at the soft expression on her face. “Don’t. You’re my mate, and this is how they wanted to welcome you to the family, ok?” 

Iwaizumi’s face cracked into a smile. “Ok.”

“Good! Now, let’s have fun at our very first festival together,” she chirped.

Iwaizumi let out a low whistle, eyes sparkling as he committed the look to his memory. “Damn, you are looking absolutely beautiful tonight. Whoever is your mate must be a lucky guy.” 

(Name) giggled, fiddling with the hair-piece once more. “What can I say, my mate has excellent taste.” 

Iwaizumi chuckles, coming to stand behind her to fix her obi before he wrapped his arms around her waist. He buried his face into her neck. “Do we have to go?” 

“Do you remember what happened last time?” She chided, sinking into his warm embrace. “It took Oikawa forever to forgive us.” 

He snorts in response. “Yeah, and he definitely took advantage of you. Remember how much milk-bread you ended up baking?”

She giggled, nodding. “C’mon, they’re probably waiting for us already.”

Iwaizumi sighed, nosing her scent gland. “Lemme just scent you real quick.” When the Omega had told him what had happened at the Tokyo festival, his blood had boiled. How dare those Alphas corner an Omega? Not to mention, Ushiwaka had to go in and save her. It had taken every bit of his self-control to admit that Ushijima had done him a favour by doing so, but the words and the idea still left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

(Name) softly hummed, waiting patiently for Iwaizumi to finish scenting her before turning in his arms to scent him back. His eyes fluttered shut, taking in deep breaths to appreciate her scent. “I think we’re finally ready,” she teased, causing him to open his eyes. 

“Hmm, I think I’m forgetting something.” He playfully tapped on his chin.

“What is it?”

“This.” He leaned down, capturing her lips with his. She made a soft noise in the back of her throat as she leaned into it, fingers playing with the folds of his yukata. “Alright, now I’m ready,” he said in a soft tone, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Me too,” she breathed. The couple remained still for a moment longer until Iwaizumi’s phone went off. 

He growled, picking it up. “What?” The Omega giggled, hearing Oikawa’s voice on the other line. (Name) gently tugged Iwaizumi out of her apartment as they made their way down the street towards Seijoh. “We’re on the way, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi’s brow furrowed. “No, I’m not buying you food.” He laced his fingers in hers as the Omega scanned their surroundings. Other couples and families were making their way towards the festivities as well.

“Why not?!” Oikawa whined loudly. 

“Because you can buy your own food, and I want to spoil (Name).” The named Omega flashed him a grin before looking back forward, watching with fondness as a mother and father swung their child in between them. Iwaizumi smirked slightly, squeezing her hand. “We’re almost there, we’ll see you soon, Stupidkawa.” Iwaizumi abruptly hung up, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “That idiot will be the death of me, I swear,” he muttered.

(Name) laughed, pressing a chaste kiss to his knuckles. “Hopefully not before we’re officially mated.” He hummed, warmth sweeping over him. Her birthday was coming up soon. Iwaizumi couldn’t wait to finally have her as his and only his. 

“There they are!” Makki called, waving at the couple. (Name) waved back, pulling Iwaizumi so that he moved faster. 

“You guys took forever,” Oikawa groaned, pouting. 

Iwaizumi smacked the Alpha over the head. “Yeah, well we’re here.”

“Is everyone else here yet?” (Name) asked, scanning the group. 

Mattsun shook his head. “We’re just missing Kyotani. But I’m not sure he was coming. He never said if he was.”

(Name) pursed her lips slightly before shaking her head. “I’ll shoot him a text. Let’s just go ahead first, yeah?”

“(Name)-san!” Yahaba called, waving.

She turned, grinning as Kindaichi, Kumini, Yahaba, and Watari surrounded her. “We missed you so much!” Watari said, blinking innocently up at (Name).

“Will you go explore the festival with us?” Kindaichi asked, scratching at his neck awkwardly as he tried to look anywhere at the Omega. Kumini rolled his eyes as he noticed the redness that crept up Kindaichi’s neck.

“Of course, I’ve missed you guys so much.” (Name) said warmly, pulling them into a warm hug. The boys grinned at each other, holding the Omega tightly before pulling back. Watari and Yahaba grabbed onto her arms and led her towards the festival. She glanced over at Iwaizumi who was still chatting with the rest of the third-years. “Shall we head out?” She called to them. Warm brown eyes met hers as her mate gave her an affirmative nod. 

The Seijioh pack made their way down the street as (Name) pulled out her phone to text Kyotani.

(Name): Hey Kyo! We’re missing you at the festival. Please feel free to come join us, even if you’ll be late. Hope to see you soon!

“Who are you texting, (Name)-san?” Yahaba peeked down at her phone. 

“Just Kyotani,” she hummed before tucking her phone away into her sleeve. Looking up at the festival sign, she glanced at the mix of Alphas and Betas with her. “So, where are we headed first?”

“Ooh, I wanna look at the games!” Kindaichi’s eyes brightened.

“Food sounds really good though,” Watari mused, eyeing some teenagers with takoyaki.

“What if they run out of the good prizes though?” Yahaba argued, crossing his arms as he looked at the rest of the group.

“There were some food stalls near the games,” the Omega interjected. “So Watari-kun could get some food while the rest of you guys play the games.”

They all exchanged glances before nodding. “I forgot that you came here yesterday,” Kumini muttered as he fell in line with the Omega. The other three had already sprinted towards the games.

(Name) chuckled, nodding her head. “It’s been a tradition for Iwa and I to go early.”

“That looks good, doesn’t it?” Iwaizumi asked, pointing out a new booth. The Omega’s eyes brightened at the prospect.

“I’ve never heard of rolled ice cream at a festival,” (Name) mused, licking her lips.

Iwaizumi grinned, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead as they stepped into line. She leaned into him, facing him with her arms around his waist as he ordered her favorite so that they could share. “What do you want to try after this?” He asked, glancing around to the other booths. 

“I don’t mind what we try as long as it’s with you.”

Iwaizumi chuckled, feeding her a spoon of ice cream. “You’re lucky this only happens once a year. I can’t imagine how much sugar you’d consume if this happened more often.”

She shrugged, leaning up to kiss him. He shivered under her cold lips. “But you’d still indulge me!” (Name) looked over as a child ran past her. “Ooh! I think I want a custard taiyaki now.” 

He rolled his eyes, scooping another spoonful of ice cream for himself only to have the Omega steal it. “Oi!” 

“Love you Haji.” She grinned before tugging him towards the taiyaki booth.

He stopped, glancing over at the booth on the opposite end. (Name) turned back, tilting her head until she realised what he was looking at. “C’mon.” He handed her the ice cream before heading under the cover of the booth. Rough fingers gently carded through the choices, pulling out a white yukata with roses on it. “This one please.” Iwaizumi looked at the clerk. 

As he left the store, (Name) peeked into the bag. “Y’know, you don’t have to get me a new yukata every year.” 

Iwaizumi shrugged. “Why don’t you just let me spoil you?” 

“Will you buy me my taiyaki now?” 

“Never mind, I don’t want to spoil you anymore.”

“Haji!” 

“Don’t you get tired of going though?” Kumini asked, glancing over at the Omega.

“Not at all,” she replied as they watched Yahaba and Kindaichi playing a ball-toss game. She glanced over at Watari who had gone to the takoyaki stand across the aisle. “It’s always nice for us to go alone, but I really enjoy going with the pack too.” Kumini remained silent, just giving her a stiff nod in response. He personally didn’t particularly care for the festival, but he had missed (Name)’s presence and so he went. 

In the corner of her eye, she spots the rest of the third-years playing the goldfish game. She shakes her head, amused as Iwaizumi yelled at Oikawa for bumping into him. 

“(Name)-san, look!” Yahaba called, bringing her attention back to the second year. Watari had just come back and was standing beside Kumini, looking very happy with his purchase. Yahaba held up the succulent that he had won. “Here you go,” he grinned, handing it to the Omega.

“Aw, thank you, Yahaba-kun.” She took it while ruffling his head, causing him to stick out his chest in pride. 

Kindaichi eyed them, determination flaring in his eyes. “I bet you I can win something better for (Name)-san!” He challenged. 

“Bring it on, first-year,” Yahaba turned back to Kindaichi. 

“Now, now, you guys don’t have to win anything for me,” the Omega interrupted, stepping between them. “I want you guys to have fun! I don’t need any of these things.”

“But-”

“No buts!” she corrected, before shoo-ing them towards the rest of the games. “Now go play to your heart’s content.”

Kumini snorted, watching as his team-mates sprinted off towards the next game, which was the balloon popping game. The Omega flashed him a grin, waiting for Watari and Kumini before they trailed after the two boys. 

“Is that (Name)-san?” At the sound of her name, she turned to see some familiar faces. “It is!” Goshiki grinned, sprinting towards her. “Hi (Name)-san!”

“Hello, Goshiki-kun.” Kumini and Watari turned, eyeing the males who had interrupted as the Omega stepped forward slightly. “Hi Shirabu-kun, Taichi-kun!”

“Hello (Name)-san.” Shirabu replied, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Hello!” Taichi offered the girl a smile. 

Shirabu eyed her company. “I’m guessing you’re here with Aoba Johsai?” He asked haughtily, his eyes flickering. 

(Name) ignored the malice that was laced in his voice as she nodded. “Yep! Gotta spend time with my pack,” she grinned.

“(Name)-san!” The Omega turned back as Kindaichi and Yahaba approached them. Yahaba’s lips were pursed as Kindaichi sported a massive Vulpix plushie. “Look what I won for you!” Kindaichi grinned, holding it out. 

“Wow, thanks Kindaichi-kun!” (Name) smiled, ruffling his hair and taking it. “I’m going to run out of arms soon,” she teased the two. Behind her, Goshiki was glaring at the first year. How could a Beta win her prizes when Goshiki himself couldn’t win her anything?

Taichi, sensing the heavy tension that was building, cleared his throat. “Anyways, we’ll see you at practice, (Name)-san.” 

“Oh! Right, bye boys! Take care of yourselves okay?” (Name) smiled, waving at them as Taichi dragged Shirabu and Goshiki off into the opposite direction.

“Was that Shiratorizawa?” Yahaba asked, eyes narrowing. Out of the group, he was the only Alpha. Kumini and Kindaich were Betas whereas Watari was an Omega. 

“Yep.” Kumini replied blankly, sending a text to the team group-chat. 

“Never mind them,” Watari interjected. “They’re leaving, let’s go back to having fun, ok?” 

“Yeah, let’s do that.” She encouraged them to try more games. As Kindaichi and Kumini went off to check out one of the booths, she exchanged looks with Yahaba and Watari. They were the only ones who could smell the bitter tang of jealousy from the other boys. They both decided to stick close to the Omega this time, keeping an eye out for other members of that pack. Kumini sighed, hoping that there wouldn’t be any more unnecessary drama. 

 *****

“Look who finally made it,” Mattsun teased from his position against a tree. “We’ve been waiting forever for you.” 

“It’s been like three minutes since I got your text, Mattsu,” the Omega dead-panned, rolling her eyes. She turned back to the rest of the group. “You guys go off and get whatever you’d like. Iwaizumi and I will set up while we wait for you.”

“Thanks (Name)-san!” Kindaichi dipped his head to the Omega before dragging Kumini away. 

“Oi, wait up!” Watari protested, as he and Yahaba followed the eager first-year towards the food stands.

“Alright, we’re out,” Makki added, giving them a two-finger salute before he dragged Mattsun away as well. Oikawa hadn’t joined them and was preoccupied flirting with some Omegas in the distance.

“How were they?” Iwaizumi asked, looking at his mate as he put down the bag of blankets. 

(Name) hummed as she withdrew one of the blankets, laying it out. It was tradition for the pack to claim this spot. Iwaizumi and the Omega would set-up the picnic area so that they could watch the fireworks together as a group while the rest did whatever they’d like. “Pretty good,” she said finally, smoothing out the fabric. 

Iwaizumi glanced at the plushie and succulent. “Did they win that for ya?” He teased.

She rolled her eyes, nodding. “I told them I didn’t want it, but Yahaba and Kindaichi got into a competition about who could win me the best thing.”

“Lemme guess, Kindaichi won the plush?”

“Yep!” 

Iwaizumi chuckled. They both worked in peace, unfolding another blanket until they’d set-up four blankets in the area. The Alpha plopped down, tugging his mate down to sit beside him. She was facing the festival while Iwaizumi was overlooking the hill. He carefully laid her so that her back on his lap as he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Did you have fun?” He asked softly.

A pensive expression filled her face. “Yeah, I really missed them.”

“They’ve missed you too,” Iwaizumi admitted, glancing up at the sky. They both stared at the stars, hearing Oikawa’s voice pointing out and naming the various constellations in the back of their minds.

“Is that right?”

He hummed, a finger lightly stroking her cheek. “They always ask about you, every week. They look forward to Wednesdays ‘cause they know that’s when they’ll be able to see you.” Iwaizumi chuckled, looking down at his mate and adjusting the hair-piece.  

“Alright, ten more receive drills and then you guys could take a break!” Oikawa clapped his hands, surveying his team-mates. They were all on-edge, continuously glancing at the door in anticipation. Kyotani froze, tilting his head to sniff the air before throwing the ball away. Oikawa opened his mouth to protest, only for Kyotani to sprint towards the door. The other team members exchanged glances until Yahaba’s eyes widened. He too ran towards the door as Kyotani threw it open. The third years glanced at each other, amused at their underclassmen’s antics. 

A yelp echoed around the room as Kyotani threw himself at the Omega, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “Kyo!” She laughed, “how did you know?”

“Smelled ya.” He grunted as Yahaba joined him. Kyotani glared at the second year setter before huffing and allowing him to hug her as well. Excitedly, the rest of the underclassmen exchanged looks - making a move to head towards the Omega while they ignored the captain who was desperately trying to restrain himself from running to (Name) and hugging her as well. 

“Oi!” Iwaizumi called, amusement flickering in his eyes. “We’re in the middle of practice. You can say your ‘hellos’ during the break.”

Kindaichi exchanged a look with Kumini before reluctantly dragging his feet back to the court. As soon as they’d finished their drills, they immediately sought out and surrounded the Omega once more - each clambering for attention. 

“Man, they really missed her, huh?” Mattsun commented, beady eyes surveying the crowd.

“It’s not like they see her every weekend like us.” Makki glanced at Iwaizumi. “Or every day like Iwa.” 

They chuckled as they watched Oikawa weasel his way into the center of the mass, attaching himself to the Omega as he vyed for her attention. Even though there were other Omegas present, the atmosphere had lightened significantly when (Name) had walked in. Iwaizumi shook his head slightly, a bittersweet taste in his mouth. If only she had gone to Seijoh instead of Shiratorizawa. 

“Omega-chan!” They heard someone sing. 

Iwaizumi’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring slightly as a familiar scent washed over them. 

“Tendou?” The Omega’s eyes widened as she sat up, her heart-rate spiking in alarm as she glanced at her mate. Tendou and Semi had approached. The red-head was hovering over her, pulling her onto her feet as he attempted to pull her into a hug.

“Oi!” Semi scowled, putting his arm out to stop the other Alpha. “Sorry, Iwaizumi.” Apologetic brown eyes met darkened brown eyes. Iwaizumi gave him a stiff nod. 

“Semi.” 

“Ooh, are you here with your mate then?” Tendou asked, pouting slightly as he turned back to (Name). “Is this why you wouldn’t win me more prizes?”

As the Omega launched into a calm explanation on how she had plans and that she had already told them that she wouldn’t go with Tendou just for the sake of winning prizes, another scent joined the fray. This time, Iwaizumi struggled to suppress his urges, his fists clenching and unclenching as brown eyes turned black. “Ushijima.” 

“Iwaizumi.” 

Besides them, the playful argument got more and more heated as the Omega started ranting about how she never saw her pack anymore because she’s always with Shiratorizawa. A wave of satisfaction coursed through Iwaizumi at her words. 

The two Alphas stared at each other, sizing up his rival. In the corner of his eyes, Ushijima noticed a familiar golden hair-piece, causing his own satisfaction to peak. Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed, wondering what could possibly be making Ushijima feel satisfied when a bitter mint scent greeted them. “Ushijima. Leave my pack-mates alone.” 

The Seijoh pack members glanced up to see Oikawa standing there. He had his arms crossed, his eyes and voice cold as he stared challengingly at Ushijima. The other third-years were there as well, arms laden with boxes of food. Behind him, Kyotani had made his appearances, knuckles white as he clenched his jaw. The youngest Alpha glared at Ushijima, his scent bitter and sharp to their noses.  

Ushijima took a deep, steadying breath before glancing at Tendou and Semi. “Come, let’s go find the rest of the pack.”

“Fineee,” Tendou said, before moving to pat the Omega’s head. 

Warning growls were issued from the Seijoh pack-members, causing Semi’s hand to catch Tendou’s wrist. “C’mon, let’s go.” Semi waved apologetically to (Name) and Iwaizumi once more. “I’ll see you later, (Name).”

Oikawa’s brown eyes followed them, sneering as they disappeared into the crowd. Kyotani snarled at them as they brushed past him, causing Semi to flinch slightly. “Good riddance,” Oikawa muttered before turning back to his best friend and the Omega. “Are you alright, (Nickname)-chan?” 

She nodded, relieved that a fight hadn’t just broken out. 

Iwaizumi plopped back down, yanking the Omega down and twisting her so that she was seated between his legs. He leaned forward, scenting her. Mattsun and Makki exchanged small glances before settling themselves on Iwaizumi’s left side. Mattsun leaned against Makki’s chest, swinging his legs onto the Omega’s as he placed their food onto his lap. “Got you guys some food,” he offered, giving (Name) a soft smile. Kyotani plopped down in front of Oikawa, laying against the Omega’s legs possessively. 

Iwaizumi grunted, eyes slowly lightening as he continued to scent her. 

“Thanks Mattsu, you guys are so sweet,” the Omega smiled at them, her heart rate just settling. Oikawa plopped himself down on Iwaizumi’s right side, pulling out a jar of konpeito and plopping those onto (Name)’s lap. “Oooh, Oiks! You didn’t have to,” she squealed, leaning out of Iwaizumi’s grip to hug Oikawa.

He shrugged, puffing out his chest slightly. “Anything for my favorite Omega,” he winked at her as she released him. Iwaizumi fixed him with a hard stare, causing Oikawa to swallow. “Oh, look! There’s the rest of the pack.” He stood again, waving the others over. 

As the rest settled onto the mess of blankets that Iwaizumi and (Name) had spread out, (Name) leaned deeper into her mate’s chest. One of her hands scratched at Kyotani’s head. “I love you,” she whispered, peeking up at his tense face. She reached up, smoothing out his forehead. “If you keep doing that, you’ll get premature wrinkles,” she teased. In the corner of her eye, she could see Oikawa wanting to make a comment, but after scenting the air and sensing the residual bitterness from Iwaizumi, it appeared that he thought better of it.

“I love you too,” Iwaizumi muttered finally. 

(Name) leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re the only Alpha for me, promise.” 

He let out a sigh, his warm breath fanning her face as he forced his muscles to relax. “Yeah, I know.” Loud explosions filled the warm night air, redirecting most people’s attention to the sky. Instead, Iwaizumi just leaned down, capturing her lips. “I love you so much,” he mumbled against her lips. 

“I love you too.” 

Bonus

“Is this how we do it?” Kindaichi asked, looking down at the ball in his hand frowning.

The Omega glanced over from her work. She had been measuring out ingredients for the marinade. “Try wetting your hands a bit, Kindaichi-kun. It’ll prevent the rice from sticking to you.” She looked over at the ball in Watari’s hands. “That’s looking really good Watari-kun!”

“Thank you (Name)-san!” He grinned, carefully adding the seaweed to make a cute face.

“What type of filling should I use, (Name)-san?” Kumini asked, eyeing all the various containers out.

“Anything you’d like! These are for you guys, remember?” She grinned, before turning back to her own.

“Well, what type of filling do you like?” Watari asked.

She paused, blinking. It had been a really long time since she thought about it. “Salmon or egg has to be my favorite.”

Needless to say, a majority of the onigiri made that day ended up being salmon and egg.

*****

[Kumini]: Shiratorizawa is here

[Capt. Oikawa]: Why tf are they here?

[Mattsun]: You can’t gate-keep a festival Oikawa. Did something happen, Kumini?

[Yahaba]: That first year wanna-be and the two second years went up to (Name)-san earlier while she was with us

[Makki]: No Ushijima?

[Kumini]: Not with them at least

[Iwaizumi]: Don’t let her out of your sights.

[Yahaba]: Yes sir

[Capt. Oikawa]: how come you guys never call ME sir?

[Mattsun]: they’d have to respect you first

“I’m literally Captain! Why don’t they respect me?” Oikawa whined, crossing his arms. 

“Because you do shit like that, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. The third-years had stopped playing games and were heading towards their picnic area. 

“Ooh Kageyama!” A body ran into Iwaizumi causing the entire group to stop.

“Karasuno,” Oikawa growled, glaring at Kageyama who appeared suddenly. 

“S-Seijoh!” Hinata stuttered, stepping back and falling into Kageyama. 

“You better be training hard,” Iwaizumi commented, brushing off his yukata. 

“No matter how hard you train, we’ll beat you at the Spring Tournament,” Oikawa snapped, pointing at his rival. 

“C’mon, let’s go before (Nickname)-chan gets there,” Makki intervened, grabbing Oikawa’s collar and dragging him back on track only for the Captain to get distracted by his fan-girls.

Hinata shivered, looking over at Kageyama who had his arms crossed and a dark expression on his face. “They’re intimidating.” Turning to look for the rest of his team, he ran into a hard chest. Looking up, Hinata almost screeched.

“Hinata Shoyo. Kageyama Tobio.” Ushijima looked unimpressed at the two underclassmen. “Enjoy yourself. You’ll have more time for fun after we beat you at the Spring Tournament.” After this, Ushijima made his way towards Tendou and Semi who were checking out a food stand.  

“We’ll beat them!” Hinata’s eyebrows furrowed, determination coursing through him.

“Get better first and then you can make threats.”

“So mean Kageyama!”

Fun Facts

💟 Kyotani and Omega were very close - which wasn’t a surprise to most of the pack considering how approachable (Name) is

💟 Omegas in Seijoh were in charge of planning fun activities like the beach outing 

💟 Watari and the first years were extremely happy to spend quality time with her while they were cooking and learning how to make her special onigiris. The others were jealous when they found out, leading to (Name) promising to host more cooking sessions to placate them

💟 Iwaizumi had to step in when Kyotani threatened Kindaichi for eating the rice-ball

💟 The first years were a little sad that (Name) didn’t have a nickname for them, though they’d never tell her that. 

💟 Yahaba had a tradition of getting (Name) succulents. Her bedroom had a shelf dedicated to them

💟 Since meeting, Iwaizumi and (Name) had a tradition of going to festivals together. They’d go for one day alone, and then the next night with the rest of Seijoh. One time, they’d skipped the Seijoh outing. The other third-years ignored them for over a week until they hosted a sleepover and gave each individual apologies

💟 Whenever (Name) says “her pack”, she’s almost always referring to Aoba Johsai - a fact that isn’t missed by the Shiratorizawa pack members, which makes the underclassmen a little upset

💟 Kyotani has the best sense of smell out of Seijoh 

💟 Tendou had known that Iwaizumi was there, but he wanted to provoke both him and Ushijima into action 

💟 Iwaizumi didn’t know that Ushijima had been the one to buy her the hair-piece

💟  The only reason why Iwaizumi didn’t start a fight was because he knew that (Name) would be upset with him. Oikawa also wanted to start a fight, but decided not to ruin the mood. Kyotani on the other hand only stopped because Iwaizumi glared at him  

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[bartistic]

@redrobinperiodt requested Tim Drake Angst so here we go

- - - - -

CW: Panic Attack, blood, injury, head injury, Joker, self-loathing

Tim felt sick to his stomach as the night rolled and tossed around him. He was breathing very hard— possibly, no, probably on the verge of a panic attack. He clenched his fists, which seemed stuck to his sides. Okay, five things you can see—

He opened his eyes. He couldn’t see anything. Not just pitch black, but darker. True, deep, nothingness black. With his mask on, though, he couldn’t tell whether he was blinded, blindfolded, or simply in a very dark room.

He could vaguely feel his limbs, which could be a good or bad sign. He couldn’t remember whether it ought to be a good or bad sign. With a numb hand he attempted to reach up to his face to check for a blindfold, but doubled over in pain as his arms met ropes instead. The movement stretched a wound he didn’t know he had, slick wet fluid making his clothes tacky.

Or maybe the fluid was something else entirely? Now that he was more tuned in, he noticed the smell. It was hard to believe he hadn’t noticed it before— the invasive and sluggish stench of Gotham’s sewers. He shifted his feet, hearing a soft and wet shlop echo through the wide chambers. He could hear the dripping of the condensation now, and the bustle of the city outside. Was it daytime? Tim couldn’t recall. He couldn’t hear anything out of the usual for the sewers... Killer Croc was still in Arkham, last time he checked, and without him the sewers were a relatively quiet, if definitely toxic, affair.

So the question remained: why was he in the sewers? He couldn’t recall how he got there— wracking his brain, the last memory he could think of was leaving to patrol. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually saw any of his family outside of uniform... He had his own apartment now. Where he could be a slob in peace, and not have to worry about sharing the coffee pot.

Shifting his arms served a dual purpose— it helped him to attempt to shimmy out of his bonds, gasping in pain all the while, and to feel the rope itself. The knot was surprisingly easy to loosen... suspiciously easy, in fact. With his arms free, Tim reached for his face, careful to mind the wound on his side.

He was relieved to find a blindfold tied securely over his mask. It was giving him a bit of a headache, actually, so it was a relief to pull it down. He carefully brushed past a tender bump that was sticky with blood.

Tim blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light— dim light, for sure, but enough to confirm his surroundings. He looked down at his feet. They were padlocked together, with a literal ball and chain attached and sitting in the muck a few feet away. He leaned back against the wall, which was moist (as expected. Ew.), and slid down the grungy bricks into a squat. Taking the lock picks out of his mask, he began to work at picking the padlock. With a finger, he absentmindedly brushed his hair out of the way behind his ear.

His ear, which ought to have a comms unit in it. Why didn’t it?

Breaking free of the lock he lifted a foot to step forward, but was stopped by a cackle. A familiar cackle.

A laugh familiar to any Gothamite, and more than familiar to any Bat.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, little birdie. A ha ha. Hee hee. OOH HOO HOO HOO we— we wouldn’t want to spoil the main event before we even got ready now would we? No, ha, we want to wait for the rest of the little birdies to come along and play before we can BLOW YOU ALL SKY HIGH AH ha HEE HEE,”

Sure enough, as Tim looked beneath the grime under his feet, he could see a pressurized plate. A mine, that would go off if he even shifted his balance too much to the side. There was a countdown on it as well, set to 18 mins and 20 seconds. 19 seconds. 18 seconds.

Tim was suddenly very glad he had only shifted his feet a little bit earlier, and while picking the lock.

“That is... if they even come for you. I don’t see, ha, why they’d care about such a miserable little bird! Look,” the Joker attempted to pout as he came prancing into view, “his poor wings are all soggy. Naughty naughty oil slicks, gooping up the birdies wings so they can’t fly! HAHAHA!” He leaned in close to Tim, using his hands to lift the sides of his cape, drenched in raw sewage, and flapping them. Tim stiffened slightly, preparing to attack, but the Joker stepped back, holding a small remote in his hand. “Ooh, good one boy blunder! You switch places with me, and I’ll press this lil button here! It does just the HA the funniest thing, y’see... it’ll set off a nice little chain reaction that will make the whole sewer go BOOM! HA HA HEE HA!” Joker pranced around, kicking sewage everywhere, splattering onto the walls, onto Tim, even onto his own purple suit. “Now let’s see. How shall we pass the time while we wait for dear old Daddy Bats to realize you’re missing? I think we ought to have a few days or so... HA! I ought to have a few days. You, ha, don’t have that much time, babybird.” Tim wasn’t sure where the clown had heard that nickname, but it made him sick to his stomach. Or maybe that was just the almost certain concussion. “Now how about a game of Go Fish?” Joker pulled a deck of cards out of his suit pocket. He shuffled them haphazardly, most of them falling into the lazy brown river below. They were all Jokers.

Tim’s attention was brought back to the man himself as the clown roughly grasped his hand, forced it open, and placed in it a hand of cards. Then with the same about of force, he shut the hand. Tim let out a stuttered inhale at the pain in his side. “Now, do you know how to play Go Fish?” Tim glared, but didn’t say anything. “So what you’re HA gonna do is, you’re gonna say a card. Like this:” he did a nasally, whiny imitation of Tim’s voice, “Do you have any sevens, Mr. Joker sir? And then *I* get to say NO!” He cackled and shoved Tim’s head all the way into the ground, through the sewage. Hard. Tim sputtered and flailed and desperately tried to keep balance as a spindly yet strong hand held his head in place. It was like a more tortuous version of the swirlies he’d never had to endure, but had heard about on the internet. “Go fish! A HA HA HEE HOO HEH. You’re no fun.” Tim’s head lolled on his neck, feeling too heavy to hold up. “I’m going to go hunt down some more friends for us to play with, alrighty? Have fun while I’m gone! Or don’t. HEE HEE HA HOO HOO!” The Joker kicked tim’s head from where he was kneeling on the ground. Then he left.

Tim’s thoughts were swirling, much like the muck they were surrounded by. It had to be daytime by now, surely Bruce and the others would have noticed he was missing. But would they? Asked another part of his brain. You’re the forgotten Robin, the unimportant one, you’re not even a real part of the family. Dick created the role, Jason died for it, Damian was born for it, what were you? Were you even needed? You just shoved yourself into their lives and everything became all the worse because of it. When’s the last time you’ve spoken to them, any of them? They don’t want to even be near you. They all hate you. They’ve noticed you’re gone alright, but whatever would make them want to come find you?

Tim settled onto the plate. 10 minutes, 57 seconds. He closed his eyes and tried to not think.

He didn’t know how long it was until he heard voices again.

“Hey assholes, I found him! He’s over here! He’s... oh fuck Timmy, that’s a lot of blood. You’re okay. Batman apprehended the bastard. I’ll kill him for you later though, okay babybird?” Tim shuddered at the nickname, letting out what could be called a whimper. “We got you, we’re taking you home.” Home. What was home. The manor? He looked up, head swaying. Red Hood was crouched in front of him, hands out in a placating gesture. He was flickering at the edges. Great, a caffeine-withdrawal-induced hallucination.

“No... y’ can’t...” He mumbled under his breath, his voice scratchy and dry-feeling. “Y’r not real. Y’r not coffee.” Jason— the hallucination— looked concerned. Tim felt a pressure on his head. He yelped. “G’t away... Y’ll set off th’ bomb...” The hallucination-possible-not-a-hallucination-jason cussed. Tim let out a soft huff of laughter. Who knew his imagination was so colorful.

“B, there’s a bomb here. We need immediate extraction and medical for Red Robin, I’ll do what I can to defuse it.”

“Pr’ssure Plate...” Tim murmured before he was under once more. And then there was shouting, and slapping of his face, which made his neck hurt and his face sting.

“No, you are not falling asleep on me! Dammit B, get here now!” Tim had never been the best at following orders. And he was running on no caffeine. He was going to take a nap now, and nobody could stop him.

Flashes.

Strong arms holding him, carrying him through the sewers.

Shouting from someone who sounded a lot like Dick, but that was impossible, because Dick wasn’t there.

Strong arms holding him, loading him into a car, careful of his head.

A squeeze from a small hand. “You are not going to die by the hand of that clown, Drake, I will not allow it.”

Pressure on his stomach, overwhelming pressure and pain and he was jackknifing and fighting whoever was pressing on his wound and there was more screaming but this screaming was him.

Finally, a steady beeping. He opened his eyes, then immediately shut them again. Too bright. He wished he had his Robin shades. He snuffled his nose and heard a noise in return. Someone at his bedside, then. He grunted. There was a gasp.

“Too bright. H’rts.” He watched from behind his eyelids as the flourescent lights were turned off with a click. Then he hazarded opening his eyes again. Bruce was sitting, asleep in a chair by the side of the bed, clearly in a very uncomfortable position. Tim had no doubts he’d had worse. At the door were Dick, Duke, and Stephanie. They looked as if they wanted to talk to him but didn’t want to risk waking a sleeping batman. Damian was at the light switch. Tim was officially confused. Fuck the sleeping Batman, he wanted answers. “J’ker?”

Dick scowled. “Arkham. Although he definitely won’t be out again for a while after Hood’s through with him.”

Cass spoke up from the other side of the room, “Wheelchair.”

Tim nodded. “Bomb?”

“It was a dud.” Tim frowned. That made no sense. Also, they were definitely hiding something.

“How long w’s i out?”

“4 days. You flatlined two times. Between the wound in your side getting infected by fucking sewage water and your memory-hazy brain injury, it’s a miracle you survived.” Steph looked angry. Then she began to cry. “You asshole! You almost died!” She looked as if she wanted to either hug him or punch him, but neither were a feasible option for the moment, so she settled on sniffing angrily at her tears and then purposely walking out. “I’m going to go make coffee. For myself.”

————

whoo boy that’s all i got in me tonight. thanks for the request lol!

[sly-merlin]

Killing Me - 2| n.y

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre :    angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au 

warnings : curse words, mention of murder, guns etc

words : 2908

summary :

“life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”

                                                  0r

                  “curiosity got the cat hitched!!

K.M Masterlist

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taglist :: (not tagging the old ones because they have read it already bt if u want , lemme know! )  @yiyi4657​ @sorrywonwoo​ @sillywinnergladiator​  @suhweo​ @exfolitae​

‘Where is she?’ a voice echoed from behind you. The police officer woke up from his little slumber one more time and stood up to greet the owner of voice. Before you could turn around, a fair, young man sat down in the place previously occupied by the officer. You straightened your back before taking a look at him. He was not too broad but couldn’t be considered lean either. His hair were darker shade of blue hooding his eyes. He looked too young to be a senior but who were you to judge someone’s capabilities.

“Is she alone” he asked the other officer, who nodded his head in response. The officer’s demeanour took a 180 degree turn from his previous one. He had a smug look on his face.

“Where’s the evidence?”

“Here it is!” your phone which was resting on the desk until now was in the hands of the senior officer. You watched him carefully going through the photos. He turned the chair to face the back wall hiding himself from you. You couldn’t understand why he has to be so sceptical about the evidence. It was enough to punish the criminal. And you weren’t even informed of the results of the search party that was sent earlier. You were cut out of your thoughts when the man turned in the chair and extended his hand towards you with your phone. You took the phone but didn’t open it.

“Is he dead?” he questioned the officer.

“Yes, but his body is disposed of. Nobody can trace anything back to him. Give me few days and I’ll delete his whole existence.” that being said, your heart stopped and a loud gasp left your lips. Their conversation wasn't giving away anything but you were smart enough to realise the scenario.

“Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. You would be rewarded nicely. But she didn’t go to the higher officer, right? It’d take more time to clean it.”

“No. I know he is a pain in the ass, there was no need for you to come this far though .I could’ve handled this minor inconvenience all by myself.” he smirked towards you.

So he’s not the senior.              

Then what is he doing here?.

“Mr doyoung, what are we going to do with her” he pointed towards you like you were some disgusting rat he’s trying to get rid of.

“Taeyong would deal with her. You don’t need to worry. Your work is done here”.

Your hair fell on your face when the cloth was removed from your head. You tried to blow them out off your face but your action merely resulted in you breathing all the air through your nose.  Someone removed the tape, causing you to cough violently. Your cheeks pained, your lips felt like they were stung by bees. Your chest heaved up and down when you tried to take a breath. A soft hand removed all the hair from your face and tucked them behind both ears. The man then rubbed your back to help you regain your senses.

Following that everything happened in a blur. The said man, doyeon or something got up abruptly from the chair, took your phone, yanked your hands backwards and handcuffed them. He was so swift in his movements that few seconds later you were ushered into a small car. You tried to speak but he taped you and face was covered with a cloth. You shuffled in the passenger seat but the man didn’t seem to be fazed by your antics as he drove wordlessly.

After travelling for what felt like hours he finally pulled up somewhere. You were forced out of the car by your arm. The only thing you were sure of was that you passed 3 doors, following which you were made to sit on a metal chair.

“Hey, you alright?

You gestured towards your arms instead of responding.

“What’s your name” you looked up to see another blue haired man asking you in a hoarse voice.

“Open her cuffs doyoung!” your saviour, what it felt like at the moment, ordered the man. He came forward and did as told. Once free, you got up from the chair while rubbing your wrists and took shelter behind the same chair.

You scanned the room to find about 10 men, in their pyjamas, staring at you. They didn’t look dangerous, at least not in their current state. Out of nowhere, you felt something on your head. Of course, there was someone behind you. You tried your best not to show any panic on your face, but it was an impossible task for someone who’d be dead in a few minutes. You didn’t know what to do next. Your hands found solace in the hem of your shirts which you continued to twist and turn until one of them spoke,

“y/n” you answered timidly, purely to show them that you were nothing more than an innocent girl caught up in a wrong situation. It was the only way you’d be back home safely.

“What were you doing near that street and what did you see?” the same man questioned again but with more irritated voice. You parroted the whole story in the same way it happened. It was like giving report to the police officer. But this time a slight fear was in charge of your senses instead of the confidence you had earlier. The more you explained, the more ridiculous it sounded to you. Your courage and zeal were your best traits, as told by many people including your professors and these two traits were going to lower you in the ground today. being courageous and senseless was serving as the dangerous combination for you.

“You are quite amusing and smart, miss. Had it been someone else, we’d have let you go but it’s about yuta so we can’t take any future risks, you know” a man who was more on the shorter side, spoke. As said, you were a risk to them but eyeing your current position, you felt more threatened than they were by you.

“What are you going to do with me?” you blurted.

“Kill her” the voice behind you advised in a harsh and growling voice. His voice was rougher than the other one and he sounded like he was getting impatient in your presence. You felt tears prickling in your eyes at his statement. Prediction of your death and hearing a declaration made to that effect, the latter sounded scarier without doubt. You never wanted to die like that. You wanted to make a good life for yourself. The rational part of your brain was suggesting to beg for your life but another was telling you to hold it till last. Your dilemma was causing an incessant headache by now. Because of your reckless act of bravery, you were now at the mercy of some criminals who probably killed humans for their jest.

“Anyway, where are the photos, doyoung?” a man with red hair spoke.

“She’s quite a photographer you know” doyoung says slyly to the red haired man while handing him his phone. He went through the photos with stoic look on his face. He didn’t look scary but you could only hope if his heart and brain tallied with his face.

He curtly nodded before handing the phone to person standing next to him and just like that the phone was passed to everyone in the room where at last it reached right behind you. The man with the gun gave a snort which you assumed was his reaction to the photos. Nobody looked pleased. why would they be!The quietness of the room was taken over by soft whispers which did nothing more than to increase your anxiousness. The red haired man whose name was yet to be unveiled, was having a kind of discussion with everyone. One by one, all men gathered around him except the one who you dreaded the most in this state.

“I’m taeyong, the leader of Neos.” the red haired man said and your countenance at his words stopped him from further explaining anything. He watched your wide eyes and now trembling hands.

“You are a feisty one, ain’t you!” you yelped at the voice which surely didn’t go unnoticed by others but they rather chose to ignore it. Why they would be worried for your wellbeing, you thought. You’ll end up dead, if not by a gun, then by heart stroke from the sneaky little bitch. To distract yourself, you looked around the room but found nothing worthy of your interest. The room was medium sized but there was only one tube above the door which shone its lightening down to where the chair was situated. Everything else was void of any light, now including you and your possible killer.

A loud cough from the men interrupted your screening of the room. You were anticipating the outcome they had possibly reached at but that didn’t mean you were ready for it. Your stoic face was hiding your faltered confidence and their glaring eyes weren’t giving anything either.

Neos didn’t have a face!

Until now.

“And we’ll deal with you in the morning.” he waved his fingers in your direction and before you could comprehend his actions, you were knocked out with a press of fingers on your neck.

You woke up from your enforced sleep with a pounding head and a numb side. You tried to wake up, propped on your elbow but your effort remained futile. You were once again lying on the cemented floor with your arms placed on your middle. The room was not as dark as it was earlier. There was a small window giving its way to the rays of the light but it wasn’t enough to lighten the whole room. The electric tube was off. You were in a basement. It was morning, you realised. And it was no dream. Yesterday’s acts would serve as life lesson for you, that is, if you lived.

Your train of thoughts came to a halt when the metal door opened with an ear screeching noise. You got up hurriedly on your feet, the dizziness you felt making you stumble a little on your feet. Your body was poorly soar. A giant figure walked towards you. He handed you a water bottle. You were indeed thirsty. You gulped half of the water down your throat, the liquid filling you with relief.

“What if it was poisoned?”

“The bottle was sealed.” you immediately replied. He seemed to be impressed by your quick wit answer.

“I’m Johnny” you would’ve thanked him for getting you out from those restraints yesterday, had they not knocked you out of consciousness. He was heads taller than you and broader as well. You couldn’t even take a glimpse of the door behind him.

“I’m going to tell others that you are up!” with that he waved you goodbye but before he could close the door, you shouted-

“How long I have to stay here? “You questioned innocently with hope that maybe he would drop a hint about their verdict but he only chuckled in response, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Not long after Johnny was gone, the door opened again with same noise. But this time, the whole army was there. You stood up from the chair in defence as you saw them approaching you. The red haired man walked with long strides towards you and stopped before you with crossed arms.

“Read doyoung.” he ordered.

“y/n l/n, orphan. Parents died when she was 4. Grew up in an orphanage. No siblings. Lived in the orphanage till university. She started working in high school to make herself independent though her orphanage is fully funded.Got a full scholarship in SNU in law department and is now pursuing masters with same benefits. Her dorm number is XXX. Her roommate’s name is chelin. She is in psychology department.  Y/n has 4 friends including her roommate. Very antisocial. She has special inclination towards music and books. Never had a boyfriend or girlfriend. She wants to be an attorney under Choi’s but they didn’t had an opening last year so she took up master’s course. No current internships. And she gives tutoring to law students on weekends. Her other source of income is freelance writing. And she loves green” he sighed before putting his phone in pocket.

You gasped loudly at the end of his speech. You were stunned. Doyoung recited your whole life story like a mantra in span of few seconds. Each and every word was correct. They caught up to your past in such a short time and now your future was in their hands too. You felt your eyes moistening as you took in everything. They were a lot more powerful than you had thought. They were Neos after all. One of the best.

“Do you know why you aren’t killed yet?” taeyong said monotonously. You shook your head as no.

“because yuta is the one who needs to be reprimanded from being careless not you but here we are. we are mafia. we are supposed to be careful so common people doesn’t get involved in our mess. But as you can see we can’t let your little curiosity ruin our business. Hence, I’m bound to take action as the leader here. You have seen yuta on a crime scene. You have seen all of our faces making you the sole outsider to know what neos look like.  We can’t let you get out of here-

“What if I stay quiet? I won’t tell anyone about you people. Take my word for it! and I didn’t ask for your name anyway” you interrupted him to state yourself.

“That’s the problem here! We can’t trust you. I don’t have anything personal against you but it is what it is. We can’t just leave a mole out there! And besides it’s a mutual decision. We decided to find a middle ground. Both of you are going to solve this amicably or else I’ll have to take some strong measures”. He finished with a sigh. He was awfully calm for someone whose business was on the verge of expose.

“b-both of us?” you stammered. Your voice turned smaller and eyes glossier.

“You and yuta” he pointed towards a blonde man who was standing uninterestingly at the back. He was the same killer. A smirk and wave was sent your way. You turned your head to face taeyong again.

“What about me and him?” you were now tired of asking questions.

“There’s no easy way to say this, but if you both get married then I can make sure that-

“I’m not going to marry him or anyone for that matter.” you exclaimed loudly to make yourself clear to each and every person in the room. You were horrified to say the least.

“You will! He retorted with same aggression. “You will marry him. You don’t need me to tell you the other option, kid!” he said with a raised brow.

“Kill me for all you want” you mouth blurted out without any second thought. You wiped your tears with rough motion. No way in the world you were going to marry the man who was a brutal murderer and this was only one side of him that you had witnessed yet. Dying suddenly sounded like a better option.

“How about we convince you” taeyong proposed as he put his hands in the pocket.

“I won’t let you” you spitted.

“Give me a chance, then decide”

Earlier in taeyong’s office

“For fucks sake, stop shouting yuta!” Johnny cursed at yuta who was causing a havoc in the room. He was just informed about his penalty and he had lost his shit since then.

“You ain’t the one getting married, so shut up! Yuta growled at Johnny who only glared at him.

“This isn’t your first time yuta! And we can’t waste more of our time in cleaning up your mess. You need to improve your manners. You are getting reckless and this is not how underground works. You almost exposed us. Apart from doyoung, nobody is aware of the members and even he has to go every other month to clean after you. This has to stop and I’ll make sure you don’t forget the consequences ever in your life.” taeyong fumed at yuta while swinging your bio data papers on his face. Donghyuck had worked for whole night to collect your information.

“She’s not trustworthy”

“I’ve thought it through! Just agree already.”

“I’m not doing it”

“If you don’t then mark have to! You have an hour to think. You or Mark.the finality in taeyong’s voice was clear.

“Why can’t you just kill her?”

“You already know why!”

And yuta knew he had no choice. Taeyong was a man of his words. And mark won’t even try refuse him either. He picked the papers up and stormed out of the room.

“Wasn’t that too harsh. You are practically throwing him into hell. Are you sure about this. She’s a mere girl. We can just get rid of her with money as well!” jaehyun, who was standing beside taeyong, questioned the leader’s absurd decision.

“I know we can. But I want him to learn a lesson and besides she’s not just a girl. She’s going to be an asset.”

feedback is always appreciated. i know there are plenty of grammatical mistakes as english is not the local communication language so i tend to make mistakes!

WELCOME NEW READERS! I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS !!

[alpacaparkaseok]

Happy Holidays - BTS Style

(guys, I think this one is my fav so far ❤) Thanks for suggesting it!

1. “It’s fake mistletoe, that doesn’t count!”

10. “I love...ham.”

I never thought I’d die while decorating.

Life is cruel I suppose.

Some may say that I’m being overdramatic, but I can’t help myself. I’ve been waiting all day to start breaking out the Christmas decorations, and when Namjoon texted me to say he was on his way, I simply couldn’t resist any longer.

And now here I stand, clinging to the doorframe for dear life as I stand perched on a stool while an unsuspecting Namjoon opens the door.

“Ah! Hang on, hang on!” I shriek as my best friend slides inside, eyes wide as he sees the dilemma I’m in.

“Woah, don’t die. Hang on,” he turns and closes the door behind him before reaching out and helping me down. “What were you doing up th- oh I see.”

His cheeks turn red as his eyes land on the mistletoe and he freezes in place. I chuckle up at him, realizing that we’re both directly under it.

“What seems to be the problem?” I ask him, grinning wide. It’s no secret to me that Namjoon tends to get flustered easily, it happens to be one of my forms of pure entertainment.

Looking back down at me with a mixture of panic and excitement, Namjoon’s shoulders nearly touch his ears. “A-aren’t we supposed to like...you know.”

“Namjoon,” I bring my hands up to cup either side of his face and try to look encouraging for fear that he may pass out. “It’s fake mistletoe, that doesn’t count!”

Laughing a touch too loudly, Namjoon scratches the back of his neck as watches as I move the stool back to the kitchen. “Right...just checking.”

I begin distributing certain decorations, helping Namjoon to put them all in the right place. More than usual Namjoon finds ways to touch me. Bumping into me and bringing his arms around me to steady me, hand lingering on mine while grabbing the same decoration, nudging me when I tease him.

You see, this is why i love the holidays. 

I’m not sure what it is, but it gives people the little boost of courage they need to be a little bit more flirtatious, or come closer to what they’re thinking. 

I’ve known for three weeks that Namjoon has...feelings for me. Hobi told me one movie night after Namjoon had conked out. At first I didn’t believe him, thought it was too good to be true. It’s only in times like these that I start to see what he was talking about.

So can you really blame me if I lean into those touches a bit more than usual? 

The setting is definitely helping us along; the strung Christmas lights flicker on, and I rush to turn the main lights off. Suddenly my apartment has become a winter wonderland; the gold from the string lights basking us in some sort of dream and hues of red and green from the Christmas tree in the corner adding a touch of color to the scene. I notice with a start that it’s snowing outside, and I rush over to the window with the excitement level of a five year old. 

“Joon, it’s snowing!” I shout needlessly. Namjoon comes to stand beside me, a soft smile overtaking his features. 

“Perfect.”

“Mhm.”

A thought comes into my head as I turn to search a certain song. After a few seconds the dulcet tones of Leslie Odom Jr.’s rendition of “I’ll be home for Christmas” sweep through the room as I wander back over to Namjoon.

He chuckles softly as I sway back and forth, gathering up the courage to ask him to dance with me.

“Do you-”

Namjoon beats me to it, extending his hand out to me as I laugh. “Already there.”

There’s not a lot of space between the tree and furniture, but we sway there beside the window completely lost in our own world. 

“Joon,” I whisper, afraid to ruin the moment. 

“Hmm?” Namjoon pulls me closer until I wrap my arms around his neck. He’s smiling down at me, the look in his eyes one I want to remember for a long, long time.

“I want to go all out this year. Like, cook a ham, host a party, fill the stockings, everything.”

His eyes continue to sparkle, reflecting the Christmas tree as he rests his hand on the small of my back. 

“I love...ham.”

Perhaps I was supposed to laugh at his poor coverup, but I can’t help but give him a knowing look which he immediately recognizes. In a frenzy he tries to save himself.

“Um...I mean-”

“How long have you loved ham?”

His face is flushed as his eyes find mine before drifting to the window and the flurry outside. There’s a resignation about him that makes me hope for something more. Something more than this little game of pretend between us.

With a long sigh he looks back at me, pulling me a bit closer until our foreheads are nearly touching. 

“Two years,” he whispers. 

My eyes widen as I gasp. Two years? How blind have I been?!

I can tell that he’s starting to panic at my reaction, he’s starting to pull back. Taking a leap of faith, I speak up.

“What would’ve happened if the mistletoe wasn’t fake?”

Namjoon freezes in place, eyes searching every bit of my face as though expecting me to burst out laughing and tell him to lighten up. When I continue looking up at him with what I’m sure are heart eyes, a ghost of a smile graces his face even as he goes a darker shade of red. 

“Can I show you?”

As I smile and watch Namjoon lean in, I come to the conclusion that this truly is the happiest season of all.

Make a holiday request!

[shimmeringclouds]

Chapter 4

The train journey was excruciatingly long, just as they remembered it to be. Karatsugu peered out the window beside him, his eyes stuck to the darkening sky above, which was also tinted a slight shade darker due to him wearing his large aviator sunglasses. He watched as the scenery outside gradually changed from strictly endless waves of tall green grass and trees to small buildings in the far distance and flat earth.

Across from him, Hajime sat silently, slouching in his seat as he clutched his large backpack to his chest to rest his chin atop it, his eyes shut as he slept quietly. A small smile came to Karatsugu's lips before he yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand whilst his other arm stretched up above his head. He let it fall down onto his lap lazily as he went back to staring out the window, his leg jumping up and down lightly as he inwardly became impatient.

It had been quite a while since he had last come to Akashika District; a year, to be exact. He still remembered the first time he had visited that place like it was only yesterday, as well as the interesting adventure he and his newfound brothers took part in. Karatsugu smiled fondly at the memory, wondering just what else they would be getting up to this time.

He was quickly snapped out of his daydreams as a voice spoke over the intercom, and although it sounded very fuzzy and full of static, he could just about make out what the voice said:

'We are now arriving at Akashika Station. This is the train's final stop. Please ensure you have all your items of belonging before leaving the train. We are now arriving at...'

The voice repeated itself several more times before it fell silent, and Karatsugu could feel the train begin to slow down. He carefully, and very cautiously, leaned forward to nudge Hajime's knee, attempting to rouse him from his nap.

"Hajime... You need to wake up now, we're here..." he mumbled, gently calling for his younger brother. He could feel a bead of sweat beginning to accumulate on his temple as Hajime didn't stir, prompting him to nudge a tad bit harder whilst also bearing in mind to not push his own luck, lest he want a fist to the face.

Thankfully, that didn't happen, and Hajime grumbled against his backpack as his eyes sluggishly cracked open. His dark gaze landed on Karatsugu for a moment before it wandered around the train compartment, shifting slightly in his seat and raising his head. He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, wincing at the soreness from the awkward position he had fallen asleep in.

"... We're here?" he mumbled, barely audible over the ruckus of the train still moving against the tracks. Karatsugu nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket whilst Hajime stretched his arms. Karatsugu swiped through the group chat one of his brothers had created, skimming over his unread messages from hours ago to begin tapping away at his screen.

── SEX🤤🍆tuplets

12:24

[Chorosuke💐🌹] Who changed the group chat name?

[Takashi🍰🍬🍭] Who do u think lol

[Ozo🍺🚖] its gr8 right! sexxxxxxxxxxxx tuplets HAHAH

[Chorosuke💐🌹] Please shut up.

[Ozo🍺🚖] ur alwas so booooooring chorosuk e lolol anyway! karatsugu n hajime! wya?

[Hajime🐈‍⬛🐾] train

That is correct burazzas!~~😎😎✨✨ Our travels have only barely just begun!💫💫 We will be arriving later tonight! I'm sure you are all very excited for our arrival, hmm~~? 🥀🥀🥀🥀😎😎😎😎

[Takashi🍰🍬🍭] We get it plz stop with those ugly ass emojis

[Jyushimatsu🌻🌼☀️] KARAMATSU NIISAN ICHIMATSU NIISAN HIHHIHUHIHUU!!!!! HIRRY UP I WANNA PLAY!!!!!!

[Chorosuke💐🌹] I don't want to kick you out again, Jyushimatsu. Please don't spam.

── SEX🤤🍆tuplets 19:03

[72 unread messages]

We are arriving at the station!✨✨ Ozo, burazza, would you be so kind as to give us a lift?😎😎😎

[Ozo🍺🚖] sureeee its abt time u guys got here!

[Jyushimatsu🌻🌼☀️] YAYYYYAYA!!! YOUR HERE YOURH ERE!!! OSOMATSU NIISAN CAN I CUM A SWELL????!!!!

[Takashi🍰🍬🍭] oh my god eww

[Ozo🍺🚖] Yh! the more the happier as they say

[Chorosuke💐🌹] It's: 'The more, the merrier.' Honestly, how do you not know?

[Ozo🍺🚖] I ain't no nerd anyway ill be there in 10!

──

Satisfied with Ozo's response, Karatsugu put away his phone and stood up, reaching up to the overhang and carefully sliding his suitcase out and onto the floor. He also did the same for Hajime's suitcase, having a sneaking suspicion that the man wouldn't get it himself, but he wasn't bothered by it.

They waited for the train to pull to a stop, the metal wheels against the tracks squeaking and groaning loudly into the air. The voice over the intercom spoke again, signalling that all passengers were now allowed to leave.

So, with their suitcases in hand and their backpacks slung over their shoulders, the two brothers exited the train and stepped onto the same barren and quiet platform. The warm evening air pushed into their faces, the heat a lot tamer than it would be during the day. Hajime looked up towards the sky for a moment, witnessing the final shreds of sunlight melt away into the night as a dark blanket covered the sky.

"We should head outside," Karatsugu spoke up, his baritone voice echoing around the area, "they could be here any minute, now." He had already begun walking towards the exit, and after a few seconds, he heard his brother's footsteps shuffling along the concrete ground, following him from behind.

Karatsugu stepped out first, taking a deep breath of fresh air as a soft breeze picked up around him briefly before it died down. He smiled at the scenery, already feeling at home with his excitement growing by the second.

"Karamatsu-niisan."

The man screamed, jumping on the spot and tripping over his own feet as he tumbled to the ground, his mouth agape and sunglasses askew on his face, eyes darting around to see where that sudden voice came from, only to find a man standing to his right with a brown paper bag over his head and the roughly cut holes where his eyes should be dark and devoid of life.

Hajime stepped out next, taking one good look at Karatsugu on the ground and raising his brow before looking over to the paper bag man. He barely reacted, only giving a slight nod and saying:

"Long time no see, Jyushimatsu."

"Aha! Same here, Ichimatsu-niisan!" Jyushimatsu laughed, rocking back and forth on his heels giddily. Karatsugu, still on the ground, gradually collected himself and cupped his chin with this thumb and forefinger, smirking as if he hadn't just screamed like he had seen a ghost.

"Heh! Jyushimatsu! It has been some time since we last spoke in person!" Unsurprisingly, Karatsugu went ignored as the other headed towards a car that was parked a little further down the road, with the engine still running and the lights beaming down onto the gravelled path. Karatsugu only hummed amusedly, standing up and brushing himself off, making sure to readjust his glasses before grabbing his things and following behind them, listening in on their conversation.

"A lot of things have changed around here since you last visited, you know!" Jyushimatsu swung his arms back and forth as he walked, the smile in his voice heard through his words.

"Yeah? Like what?" Hajime readjusted his backpack on his shoulder, throwing a side glance towards Jyushimatsu. The paper bag man only giggled, his head now swaying side to side, as if nodding along to some unheard tune.

"Things!" Was all he said as they reached the car. The trio paused as the driver's door opened, and out clambered a grinning Ozo with a beer can in hand.

"Finally! I thought you guys were never gonna show up!" He complained, though there was no bite behind his words. Hajime shook his head as he watched Ozo take a large swig from his can.

"You couldn't wait until we got to that otaku's house to start drinking? I don't want to die because of your shitty driving..." he shuffled over to the car, opening the trunk and pushing his suitcase in there as Jyushimatsu sat in the back seats.

"I'm not a lightweight! I can handle more than one can, y'know!" Ozo sat back down in his seat, and Karatsugu also went over to place his suitcase in the trunk before closing it. Hajime sat in the back with Jyushimatsu, leaving the passenger seat up front available. Once they were all settled in the car, Ozo manoeuvred the car out of its parked position and back onto the road.

"Let's chuck your stuff at that guy's place, and then we can go drinking!" Ozo cheered, Jyushimatsu matching his excitement. Karatsugu couldn't help but laugh, and even Hajime couldn't control the small smirk that crept its way onto his face, which he quickly hid behind his backpack.

It was nice to be back.

»»-----　♔　-----««

You sighed softly as you wiped down the bar top with the slightly damp cloth in your palm. Glancing at the small clock on the wall behind you, you took note of how it had been just over an hour since your shift at Bang Bang Chicken Bar had started and, as per usual, barely anyone had entered the bar. There was that one regular customer who had already came and went — a man with very large front teeth who asked for the same drink every other night, attempted to flirt with you, then would leave with the promise of coming back as a rich French man... whatever that means.

Another sigh escaped you. It was now just past nine o'clock, and you had a strong feeling that the hours were going to slip by a lot slower than you would like. That, and coupled with the fact that you would be the only one working at the bar at this hour (aside from your boss, who would be cooped up in his office until early hours of the morning), you knew it would be yet another boring night ahead.

Well, maybe not entirely boring.

The sound of drums suddenly filled the silence in the bar, which was soon followed by the sound of heavy strums of electric guitars and keyboards. A woman's voice began belting lyrics into the microphone. You watched the band, Killer Fish, perform on the raised platform in the centre of the room, the seven women on stage lost in their own world of death metal music as their heads nodded along violently to the beat.

When you had first started working at Bang Bang Chicken Bar — an obscure bar at the end of a long, winding and empty road on the outskirts of Akatsuka Village — you did not expect the seven quiet and well-dressed women on the stage to start singing death metal. It scared you half to death the first time you heard the screech of guitar strings echoing through the desolate bar. Even the lead singer, Totoko, dressed in a formal Japanese yukata with her hair styled up in an old-fashioned bun, her face stoic and serious, shocked you with her booming voice and scratchy vocals of a true death metal singer.

It was all so unexpected, and the tremors of the music had left you slightly shaky once the first performance was over. Now, though, you had become used to the music, and although it wasn't your preferred choice of music, you began to enjoy the performances. It made the whole bar feel so much more alive.

By the time you snapped out of your thoughts, the performance was over and the group was setting themselves up for another song. You, with nothing better to do, decided you would turn to the shelves stacked with all kinds of alcoholic drinks behind you and sort through them again, making sure they were presented with their labels faced towards the patrons and that they were organised neatly, despite the fact that you had already done this. Three times.

Whilst you mindlessly traced your fingers along the glass bottles, the music started up again, drowning out the sound of the door to the bar opening.

In walked six men, each dressed in black suits, and each of them boisterous and excited to begin their night of drinking. They awed at the group on stage for a moment before one of them took charge and pushed them over to an empty table in the middle of the room. They took their seats and began conversing with each other, laughing at some joke someone made or at another's crazy antics.

Eventually, two of them stood up from their seats, one seemingly more casual with his hands tucked into his pockets whilst the other, donning a black yukata, seemed more uptight with an annoyed frown pressed onto his upturned lips. The two began making their way over to the bar, where you were stood with your back still turned, oblivious of what was happening behind you until your ears picked up the sound of two men conversing.

You tilted your head slightly, squinting your eyes as if it would help with figuring out whether you were hearing things or not, but as the voices grew closer, your eyes widened as you realised no, this wasn't your imagination, and there were actually other customers in the bar.

Turning on your heel, you physically felt your brain fizzle and pop like an old lightbulb at the sight of the two men coming closer towards you, their faces still fresh in your mind from the first time you had encountered them on separate occasions.

"Come on, Chorosuke! You're loaded! A couple of drinks with your money won't hurt anyone!" It was that taxi driver from the other day who was talking, that same sleazy grin displayed proudly on his face as he poked fun at the man next time him; that man from the store who had given you that watermelon, which actually was sweet.

"You and I both know you won't be having 'a couple of drinks!' And you have your own money! Pay for yourself!" He shouted over the music, his eyes narrowing in frustration as he knew all too well that he would inevitably be paying for the drinks. You could only stand in silence as they grew closer and closer, neither of them truly paying attention to your presence as they continued to bicker back and forth until they were stood right in front of you.

Ozo turned to you first, his mouth opening to make his request until his half-lidded eyes locked onto your face. He frowned for a split-second before his eyes widened, the smirk on his lips stretching into an excited grin as he instantly recognised you. Chorosuke, confused by his brother's odd reaction, turned to you as well, only for his expression to fall into a look of horror, his pale cheeks flushing a bright crimson.

"It's you!" They exclaimed together, their tones completely opposite to one another. Pausing, they whipped their heads to look at each other confusedly. "Wait, what?" they questioned in unison.

"How do you know her?" Chorosuke quickly demanded, his eyes flitting between your nervous form and the man beside him.

"I told you, I met a pretty girl yesterday!" Ozo reminded him, "And what about you?"

"I-I, well... We bumped into each other at the market the other day..." Chorosuke's voice trailed off, secretly hoping you would remember him so that he wouldn't be humiliated in front of the one man who wouldn't let something like this go. Lucky for him, you did remember. You remembered that interaction all too well.

"Really?! Wow! Small world, right?" Ozo turned to you, leaning against the bar top with one arm as he gave you a quick once over, a flirtatious look in his eyes that only served to make you shrink into yourself. "Do you remember me? I dropped you off yesterday! Man, if I knew you worked here, I would come by more often!"

They seemed to be waiting for some kind of reaction from you, so you took a minute step back from the countertop and chuckled nervously, an odd smile on your face that probably didn't look like a smile at all.

"Aha... Yeah! Hi... again..."

This was going to be a long, long night.

[kpop---writings]

Playboy Prince 3

Prince Im Jaebum.

Part 3.

“Welcome back, Prince Im Jaebum,” The butler does a 90 degree bow, “Hello, Princess Y/N.” He turns his attention to you, bowing again.

You nod your head with a smile.

“I’ll take your bags.”

He reaches for Prince Jaebum and while reaching for yours, he gives Jaebum a questioning look.

“You can take her bags to my room as well,” Jaebum already knew what he was thinking

As the butler walks off with both of your bags, Jaebum begins walking further into the castle. You right on his tail.

His castle was very much different from yours. Your parents loved the white marble and classy look. Almost everything in your castle was white, white marble, or some other shade close to white allowing for a slight contrast. With the occasional bright colored piece of decor.

But the Ims’ castle. It was very rich with gold details everywhere and darker shades. Completely opposite what you were used to. Not that you were complaining, it was nice to see something different. It made you feel like you didn’t need to be so cautious about leaving any kind of dirt behind. 

You hadn’t noticed Prince Jaebum had stopped walking and began to watch you admire his castle. 

“Not what you’re used to, Princess?”

His voice catches you off guard and you quickly look over to him.

“No.” You reply, walking towards where he’s standing, next to a large exotic painting of some animal. “It is very beautiful, though. I can see myself living here.” You give him a wink.

He smirks, “Wait until you see my room.”

---

Prince Jaebum gives a pretty intricate tour of the castle, showing you even the secret passage ways. You’re so in awe the whole time. Their castle gives of a completely different energy than what you’re used to, but you absolutely love it. The dark flooring and walls with gold detail was so captivating to you.

Jaebum, again, watches you closely. Taking advantage of you being completely distracted by his home to look at you. Specifically your lips.

As you’re looking around at everything, you catch his stare.

“What?” You ask confused, “Is there something on my face?” You began feeling all over your face.

He lets out a breathy chuckle, “No, you just look like a kid in a candy store. Have never seen any castle other than your own?”

“I mean I have, but most of the time they all have the same interior.” You look back at some of the paintings in the hallway you’re standing in, “Definitely not covered with such unique art.”

“And what’s with the kid thing again?” You ask.

Prince Jaebum shakes his head, “Just waiting on you to prove otherwise, Princess.”

---

“Come on. Time for the best part.” He grabs your arm and takes you up the stairs and down a long hallway until you reach a set of tall double doors, black and gold of course.

He pushes them open and steps aside for you to walk in first.

The first thing you notice is the big king sized bed in the middle of the room, with dark red bedding and a sheer, black canopy draping off the top from every side of the frame. You briefly wonder how many women he’s fucked on there.

Jaebum walks past you to the middle of the room and spreads his arms out, “So this is our room, what do you think?” With an extra emphasis on the word “our.”

On the outside you give him an annoyed look and roll your eyes, but on the inside, you’re actually screaming. That’s cute.

“It’s cute, actually. The bed, especially, seems cozy.”

He tilts his head to the side, “So the bed is what caught your attention, huh?”

“Because I like to sleep, Prince Jaebum.” 

You hear him sigh, dramatically.

“I know what you’re doing, you know.” He says, as you walk around the room, touching and looking at everything. 

You don’t look at him as a smile creeps on your face, “And what is it I’m doing?”

“You know. That thing where you keep saying things that could have a double meaning.” You turn to look at him and see he’s sitting at the end of the bed now. “What are you up to, Princess?”

He looks absolutely delicious right now. He’s seated so beautifully at the end of the bed, legs parted, and leaning back onto his hands. You imagine how he would react if you just got down on your knees in front of him right now. You subconsciously lick your lips, a little too slow.

“Hello! Princess!” He starts waving his hands around, “What are you thinking about?” He’s smirking now.

You ignore him and continuing looking around at everything. 

He lets you look around a little bit, allowing you to get a little more comfortable with your new home.

“Why don’t you come over here with me,” he’s lying down now, eyes on you.

You slowly walk towards the side of the bed he’s laying on and he scoots over and pats the bed next to him, signaling for you to lie down.

Okay. Laying next to him won’t cause any harm. Right?

---

You two lay in silence for a while, you momentarily forget about all the teasing and banter you two normally do. It’s nice actually. You guys are actually cuddling right now. His arm wrapped over you while you rest on his other.

Jaebum feels different with you. He’s never allowed any girl in his room, let alone his bed. He never cuddled any of the other princesses he fucked, he felt like that involved too much emotion and would complicate things. This, though, with you was very relaxing.

The sound of you speaking breaks the comfortable silence.

“Prince Jaebum ca-”

“You can just call me Jaebum, Princess.”

“Jaebum,” saying just his name feels nice. Like he trusts you.

 “Can I ask you a question and get a very honest answer?”

Jaebum just knows it’s about the rumors. Of course he’ll be honest with you, you’re about to marry him, so what’s the point in lying about it anymore?

“Princess, any question you have I will answer honestly. I have no reason to lie to you, we’re about to be married.” He responds

That makes you smile. You also think maybe it’s just because there’s nothing you could really do about whatever the answer is except just knowing about it from him himself.

“I want to know how many women you’ve fucked.”

 You lean up on your arm, facing him. 

“You want the absolute truth?”

“That’s what I said.”

“I’ve only been with four, one of them isn’t even a princess.”

You sit up fully now. Is he lying to you right now?

“You’re lying. You just told me you were going to be honest.”

“I also told you I have no reason to lie.”

He sits up too, so you’re now sitting across from each other.

“I slept with Princess Sooyoung , you know, the princess of all princesses. She wasn’t a good fuck so I never asked to see her again, which she did not take well. Apparently she thought us fucking meant I wanted her to be my queen, so with the help of her friends, they all spread the rumor about me.”

You can see the sadness in his eyes. He always seemed like he was proud to have such a reputation, but watching him tell the story you can see it actually did bother him, there was just nothing he could do about it and he knew it.

You reach up to rub his arm, in a comforting way. 

“Hey. I believe you, Jaebum.”

He looks up at you with longing eyes. He looks at your lips briefly and then back to your eyes.

You want to kiss him. So bad.

Lucky for you, he leans in first.

His soft lips against yours feels like heaven. You feel like you’re in a dream, getting lost in the motion of your lips moving in sync with his.

You feel his hand touch your thigh and you tense. He notices.

He quickly pulls his hand away and pulls away from the kiss. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything I just-

“Jaebum,” You cut him off. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

You move closer to him and grab his hand to put back on your thigh, a little bit higher than where he put it. You lean in to kiss him, this time going lower.

You slowly give him an open mouthed kiss on his neck, sucking on the skin as you pull away and go back up to his lips.

Jaebum could feel himself growing in his pants at the way you just kissed his neck.  He moves his hand up your body from your thigh to your waist and pulls you onto his lap, never breaking the kiss. He makes sure to push his hard on into you so you know exactly how you’re making him feel right now.

The feeling of his dick lightly rubbing against your clit is making you unbelievably wet. You just want him inside you already filling you completely, you can just tell it’s incredibly thick.

Just as you start grinding down even harder against him, the phone rings. You look over and see it’s his mom calling. 

“Jae- Jaebum,” you breathe out, “It’s your mom, you need to answer it.”

He groans and throws his head back in frustration reaching for his phone.

You stay seated on top of him as he speaks to her. He looks really good under you, his lips plump, face red from the heated moment, and hair a little disheveled from running your hands through it.

After about 10 minutes you realize the conversation isn’t ending soon and you’re starting to feel awkward just sitting here and staring at him. You decide to go shower away the day of travel and the arousal that soaked your panties. It was beginning to get uncomfortable.

You move to get up and Jaebum grabs your leg and gives you a questioning look. You mouth ‘shower’ as you continue to get up. 

He looks sad almost.

---

You strip out of your clothes and step into the hot water. You hum in content. This feels really nice. 

Your mind starts to wander back to what was about to happen and you get that feeling in your stomach again. You close your eyes, lean your head back letting the water hit you, and slide your fingers down your chest all the way to where you needed it most. You can just picture what his dick looks like and you remember how it felt against you.

You let out a sigh as you rub your clit to the thought of Jaebum.

You don’t even hear his footsteps as walks in the very spacious shower behind you.

“Are you starting without me, Princess?”

[frostsinth]

Royal Flush - Pt. 9

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8 - MasterList - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art (so much Art...) 

Ironically (not ironic), I actually wrote part 10 before I came back and wrote this part. Let me say, this is a family heavy chapter. It’s a bit intense, but I hope you’ll be able to bear with me so we can get to the next one. Because homg... it’s worth it. Which you may see, based upon where I left this one off.

Read more of my ramblings on my MasterList above, and feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you’re there to support my unbridled insanity (#obsession). Check out all the artwork and related posts for these guys by clicking #Royal Flush. Like what you see? You can commission me for an art piece or story. Just shoot me a DM!

Thanks to everyone for all your support so far. Enjoy!

My spine itched to move, my fingers longed to twist and wring about themselves. But I sat still, letting the carriage bounce along around me. Staring out the window with as blank a face as I could muster. Externally, my features were fixed, my posture straight. Internally? I thought my heart might just burst. It beat hard and fast against my breast, slamming into my ribcage with a reckless abandon that belittled its delicacy. My stomach turned and flipped in knots. I was grateful for my darker complexion at that moment. It meant that nobody could quite tell how sick I was feeling. Save for those who already knew the various shades of my complexion, of course, and those who shared it.

 I chanced a glance at Grier, sitting across from me in the carriage. I wondered if he noticed the change; he hadn’t known me long. Though I supposed he had seen quite the fair variety of the shades my skin could become, based upon how much he seemed to enjoy getting me flustered. I pondered for a moment if I would recognize his skin if he flushed or paled. I wondered if he had already in the past, but I simply could not tell, as his particular shade of green was foreign enough to befuddle my senses. Would he turn red when embarrassed, as persons of a fairer complexion did? Or perhaps his color would darken, as mine did? I amused myself with the thought that perhaps he would turn an entirely different color. Purple would look quite fetching on him, I thought.

It was the first time we had really seen each other since the previous morning, and he was watching me. I could feel his eyes on me, for the entirety of the ride. More than once he had tried to pull me into a conversation, but when I would only give short, polite answers, he eventually gave up. Leaving us in the awkward silence we sat in now. I didn’t mind overly, staring out the window as the countryside passed by. Each mile ticking by like a year of my life; even though we moved much faster than any normal carriage. What should have taken us nearly two days now took less than half of one. We had left before the sun had crested the horizon, and expected to be at the Kingdom walls by noon at the latest. Grier assured me we were moving a little slower than normal, as we had a large contingency of goblins in tow. I wasn’t sure if I preferred the speed, or would have rather lingered in the journey. I dreaded this day more than I could ever hope to fully acknowledge. 

Perhaps the King had sensed that, and let me wallow rather than pressing too hard for my attention, despite the fact that I knew he wanted to. Despite the fact that our last interaction had been set in a completely different tone... His expressions ranged wild and free on his sharp features; from his own much more subdued anxiousness, to a soft anger at the corners of his eyes, then to a strange somberness which seemed to thicken his already prominent brow, then again to worry, followed by a distant, glazed over look… I worried what the court would think of this ‘radical’ display. Not to mention his choice of attire. A ruffled cream shirt tucked into high waisted black trousers with tiny golden embroidery. Topped off by a flowing coat of silken pink and blue squares that he wore draped across his shoulders and clasped at his neck with a gold chain rather than with his arms through the sleeves. Relatively conservative by his standards, I supposed, but outlandish by my Kingdom’s. I worked out a lump in my throat with a small swallow as the walls loomed over our heads.

We slowed as we entered the lower city in order to disperse the goblins to their duties as per our discussions and plans with the Masters. Something was off though. The people cowered and quivered in the shadows of their homes. Looking out with surprise and suspicion as Damjan ordered his contingent about in abrupt goblinese. I resisted the urge to sigh. This was not off to a great start… I noticed there seemed to be a prominent lack of city guards. And I doubted it was an oversight. A soft shout of alarm had me craning my neck about to look almost behind us. The goblins were beginning to set up a station, including a tent, where they could have the citizens line up to be treated or warded. But the magic utilized in the process had already set the citizens on edge, and they were beginning to gather in the streets in even larger numbers, like moths to a flame. Pouring out of their abodes and whispering in anxious, hushed tones. I gritted my teeth, glancing at Grier. His own brow was furrowed. Why had Valerianus not readied the people, as he had promised? Surely they would then know why the goblins were here. Surely an order would have already been established. This felt more like panic and confusion. One that threatened to tip over into aggression...

Another shout had my next decision made for me, and I moved for the door before I could second guess it. Grier started to say something, but the door was already open by the time he did, and I stepped out into the streets. A rippling murmur spread through the crowd as I emerged, straightening to my full height and looking around. I stiffened my spine, considering the gathered as I stepped around the horses at the front of the carriage. Very aware of at least a hundred sets of eyes following me.

“Excuse me, good sir.” I called out to one of the more well-dressed members (though by this I merely meant that his clothes had less holes and stains than his fellows). His eyes went wide with recognition, and him and the immediate surrounding members of the crowd quickly dropped into a bow. The rest of the gathered began to follow suit. I took heart in that, and walked over to him. “Rise, sir, I would speak with you if I may.”

“B-beggin’ yer pardon, yer Princeliness… sir…” Mumbled the man, straightening slightly. An unnatural hush had fallen over the crowd. “How can I be of service, my Lord?”

“I am looking for someone in charge.” I started, and I saw his eyes dart up to me in surprise. I almost sighed; yes, of course, I was someone in charge. “... An elder. Your elected official.” I clarified. “Someone to speak for you.”

“Ah… I supposin’ that would be me then, my Lord.” He replied, dipping his head low.

“Excellent.” I nodded to him. “May I have your name, good sir?”

He stammered a few times uselessly first. “I am Jeb, my Lord, if it be pleasin’ ya.”

“Mister Jeb,” I returned, then glanced about at the gathering, “Word was sent to us of the outbreak here in the lower city. Where are the sick being housed?”

Eyes widened at that, and a soft murmur whipped like a chilly breeze through the crowd. The townsman's eyes also stretched, then filled with a wariness, and I saw them flick over my shoulder. I could hear the soft click of boots on stone behind me and didn’t have to stretch my imagination far to figure out who approached. Jeb’s eyes flicked back to me anxiously.

“Ah… We are keepin’ the worst in the main temple, My Lord…”

I nodded. “Thank you, Mister Jeb. Would you be so kind as to escort the goblin Masters there to see to them?”

There was a stiff silence again, and I saw the man glance about nervously. He was rather young still, though certainly older than me. I could see lines into the corners of his face and flecks of silver in his greasy black hair. But his eyes were bright, and his back unbowed. I guessed he was perhaps at most a decade or two my senior.

“Beggin yer pardon, my Prince… sir…” He hesitated, glancing around, “... What are yer… Masters… to be doing with them?”

I heard Grier scoff lightly behind me and there was a sharp intake of breath from the gathered. “Why, using their magic to heal them, of course!” He exclaimed, coming to stand at my side. “Whatever else would we be doing??”

Another murmur passed through the crowd, louder this time. Jeb’s eyes shot from me to Grier, then back again. I turned, bowing slightly in deference to the goblin.

“Beggin’ yer pardon again, Master Goblin.. Sir,” He mumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck, “But… there was rumor havin’ that our King planned to…” He dropped off, but the stiffening of his spine suggested to me a far less tasteful solution to the spread of the disease. Anger flashed through me at the understanding, though I hid it well. “We werena expectin’... ah… yerself…”

As he dropped off, obviously at a loss as to whom he was addressing, I bowed my head to Grier lightly again. “Allow me to present his Majesty, King Grier, of the goblin Kingdom.” I announced, loudly enough for the gathered to hear.

Jeb dropped to his knee, quick as a wink, which had the goblin starting slightly in astonishment. A gasp swept through the gathered now, and many followed the townsman’s lead and dropped to their knees as well. As was to be expected for a king’s presence. Murmurs and whispers were quickly filling the spaces between bodies, and only the choppy cough here and there broke the hiss.

Grier waved his hand, scoffing again. “Enough of that, there is no need.” He shot me a glance, as if irritated I had blown his cover. I dipped my head, but said nothing. Keeping my expression flat. He turned back to the townsman, who was slowly rising back to his feet nervously. “Sir Jeb, kindly assist my men in organizing, yes? We shall have a tent here for those able to walk to it.” He gestured to the one being set. “For those too unwell, they shall go with you or whomever you appoint to this temple you speak of.”

“Y-yes sir,... I mean, Yer Majesty… sir.” Jeb stammered, scrunching his hat between his hands and bowing excitedly. “We are most thankful, my Lords, most thankful!”

“Mister Jeb,” I put in, calling the man’s attention back to me, “Where are the city guards? Why have they left their posts?”

He shuffled anxiously. “... They wit’drew, my Lord. When the first of us fell sick…” He bowed his head, glancing out the corner of his eye warily. As if someone might be listening in. “The King recalled all of them… and closed the castle gates. To lessen the spread, they say.”

I stiffened, and my lips pursed into a tight line. Again, the rage rippled through me, but luckily Grier did not hesitate in light of this new information. He smiled widely, and Jeb twitched in surprise at the sight of his sharp teeth.

“Well, luckily we have no intention of doing the same,” He exclaimed, his voice light, “But I assure you, good sir, it will be addressed. After we heal the sick and ward everyone else for protection from the illness. But let us not delay a moment more in this, yes?”

The murmurs around us were quickly growing higher pitched, which I took as a positive. Excited and rushed, rather than low and angry. I glanced around the crowd as Jeb gestured a few people forward. Grier did the same, beckoning over some of the Masters to begin the organization. I lost track of their deliberations, looking beyond the roofs of the lower city to the high walls of the castle beyond. The feeling of dread returned to me, mixed with my anger, and despite the pristine white of the stone… the palace looked far darker than it should in the bright morning sunlight.

“Es’cuse me, Prince sir,” Came a small voice, and I turned, pulled abruptly from my ruminations. A small child stood before me, one thumb in their mouth, so covered in filth and grease I couldn’t quite tell if it was a boy or a girl. They were all skin and bones, and looked up at me with wide, bright green eyes. Our interaction was all but lost in the bustle as the humans and goblins finally began proper organization and preparation.

I dropped down to one knee before them, careful not to let my clean trousers touch the dirt road. But coming to their eye level. “May I help you, little one?” I asked softly.

Their eyes went wide with surprise, and they chewed on their thumb nervously. I guessed they must be about 6 or 7, though I supposed with malnutrition they could have been a fair bit older. It pained my heart to see them so, and I made a mental note to speak with whomever was in charge of the lower city now. Poverty, as evident before me was… unacceptable, to any degree.

“... Beggin’ yer pardon,” They mumbled around their thumb, glancing down at the road nervously, “But are ya Prince Niko… Nikostrant… Nikostrawsus… sir?”

I nodded curtly. “Yes, I am indeed.” I didn’t bother correcting their mispronunciation. My head tilted to the side slightly. “Is there something you need?”

“They be sayin’ yer the one who ended the war, sir…” They explained. “... They be sayin’ ya live with the goblins now, n’ we dun have ta fight them no mores, sir… is that true, sir?”

A few of the townspeople had slowed, and were gathering about us with quiet but curious stares. I nodded again, ignoring the eyes watching us.

“I suppose that is true. Though it was hardly-”

I started as the child launched themselves at me. Suddenly wrapping their grimy little arms as far around my neck as they would go. A loud wave of surprise rippled through the crowd, and I saw a hunched old woman rushing forward, looking panicked.

“Forgiveness, my Lord!” She cried, bowing repeatedly and reaching out as if to pry the child from my neck. “She’s but a babe still, she not be knowin’-”

I raised a hand, silencing her. Then used it to pat the little child’s back lightly. The crowd released a uniform breath of surprise and relief. A fresh murmur rippled through their ranks. The child leaned back after a moment, her eyes bright with awe, and bared spotty teeth at me in a delighted grin.

“Thank ye, my Prince.. Sir,” She told me, her voice soft and shy, “My pa’s home now, thanks to ya. I missed him much, and he be sayin’ yer why he’s back.”

A wave of something strange washed through me, and a quick glance around had me discovering the same mix of awe and gratefulness on all the gathered townspeople as the child held in volumes in her glittering eyes. The older women came forward a few steps, giving me a shy, polite smile. I adjusted my tongue in my mouth, turning back to the little girl. I reached out, tucking a strand of her messy hair behind one ear.

“You have nothing to thank me for, my Lady. It is your father who deserves the praise, for serving his Kingdom,” I assured her, “It was my duty and honor as your Prince to forge this Treaty for Peace.” I sensed hers weren’t the only ears listening intently, and increased my volume for the benefit of the other observers. “For too long have our two Kingdoms been at odds. But no more, I can promise you that. Now, we can work together. For the good of both humans and goblins alike.”

It felt overly formal, and very cliched. But a hearty murmur of excitement and approval spread through the gathered crowd like wildfire, and I even heard a few soft cheers. I patted the girl on the head once more, then slowly rose as she retreated back to the skirts of the older woman. The woman bowed to me deeply, as did the rest of the gathered people. I tucked my hands neatly in the small of my back, and turned as I heard Grier come up beside me. He grinned toothily up at me, and I felt my heart skip.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” He teased lightly, glancing over at the little girl. She stared at him, eyes full of curiosity. My heart softened as I remembered another pair of very similar eyes, and I chanced a peek at the castle beyond again. “Apologies, my Lady, but if I might steal the Prince?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I know he is quite charming company, but I am afraid we are due at the palace. I would be sorely pressed if I arrived without him on my arm.”

The small child giggled, then nodded shyly. I saw the old woman considering the goblin. Not quite warily, but neither with the open eagerness of her ward. Still, it was a good start for a people who had spent the last decade in fear of the goblins. When she felt my eyes on her, she bowed her head. I nodded, then turned back to the girl.

“Send my gratitude to your father for his service, if you would, my Lady.” I told her. “And my sincerest welcome home. May his days be long and full of blessings.”

Grier led the way back to the carriage, amid a completely different atmosphere than that we had arrived in. The people cheered and waved as we climbed back in, and the King offered a small returning wave before closing the door behind us. He settled back into his seat, still grinning like a fool. I considered him as I sat on to my own padded bench, carefully brushing the dirt off my hands and knees and straightening my vest.

“Oh come now, you must be pleased,” He pressed, “You are being welcomed home a hero! Your people are grateful to you for what you have done!” I glanced at him again, and his grin grew. “Surely that must set your heart at ease.”

I turned my attention to the window, hearing the muffled sounds of the people as we passed them by. Damjan’s mount clopped past my view as he moved back to the front of the caravan to the castle. I adjusted my tongue in my mouth. Feeling far too numb to fully register anything but the dark looming shape of a place I had once called home. I watched the walls climb up, up, up as we drew ever closer.

“The welcome will not be quite so universal.” I told him dryly.

I saw his brow scrunch, and he followed my eyes to the castle. A scowl skittered across his lips, and he shifted in his seat. I could sense his hesitation; the preliminary to something more he wished to say. I waited for it quietly, my stomach still flipping in my abdomen.

“Nikostratus…” He started, and I stiffened slightly in anticipation, “... Whatever might happen… I want you to know something…”

When he dropped off, I steeled my nerve and turned to look at him. His scarlet eyes currently held the delicate duality of ferocity and gentile, and I was instantly thrown by the strength of their warmth. So lost in their depth, I almost forgot to jump as his hand came out and rested upon mine on my knee. Almost.

“... I want you to know how much I like you, and how happy you make me. Just the way you are...” He breathed. “And I am here not for the sake of this Treaty, nor, most especially, for that weasel you call a King… I am here for you. For you, and for no one else.”

I let his words filter slowly through my mind, turning each over. But I kept my mask carefully in place. I saw him searching it carefully, and knew he found nothing from the disappointment that filled his. He took up my hand, almost desperately, and I saw something like a plea in those scarlet eyes of his. But I winced as the pads of our fingers touched, and I saw the plea replaced by a flash of pain.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Your-...” I stopped myself, seeing him flinch at my words. I chewed my tongue for half a moment before continuing. “... King Grier... But you are a good person. A good King. You would not stand by and allow innocent people to suffer when you have the ability to help them.” My confidence wavered, and I dropped my eyes. The only break in my defenses I allowed. Staring at his hand wrapped around mine. “... It is an honorable trait.”

He moved his thumb across my knuckles, and I somehow stiffened even more. “Yes, perhaps you are right… But I would not be here, as I am now. This,” He gestured to the carriage and fanfare and armed guards surrounding us, “Is not for the sake of innocent, suffering people. This,” He curled his fingers between mine, giving a gentle squeeze, “... This is for you.”

For my suffering, I added silently. My lips tightened, and I swallowed the hurtful response that came to sit on my tongue. This was not for me. He was here because he had deigned to invite himself, and by extension, was forcing me to face things I had left buried for a long time. And had buried for good reason. I carefully pulled my hand from his, and glanced back out the window. We were approaching the main castle gate, and I couldn’t think for the pounding of my heart in my ears. But when I looked back at Grier… he was confused. He was hurt… and I felt a stab of guilt for having caused that… as I’m sure he did for having unintentionally caused me such pain, even though I didn’t show it as he did. I knew it had not been his intent. I would have sighed, had I breath in my lungs to spare. I flicked my eyes to the rocking floor beneath our feet, opening my mouth. It stayed that way for a moment, then I closed it again.

I saw him shift, heard the muffled sounds of the shouts and announcements outside. A pause, then the heavy sound of the gate opening. I was running out of time, and my heart alternated between ramming against my chest at an alarming rate and skidding to a dead stop for several breaths. I gritted my teeth, chiseling the stone into place on my features. Preparing myself. But Grier… I glanced at him again. Grier was not prepared. Nothing could prepare him for this, I knew. Not without a lifetime of… what I had endured. I ran my hands down my legs slowly. I still needed to try.

My head shook, forcing it clear. “... Th-this…” I closed my eyes, steadying my focus. If I couldn’t speak to Grier, how could I hope to face the court? I reasoned. I tried again. “... This will be… very hard.” I told him, and realized my voice sounded nearly as weak as I felt. “And…” I dropped off again, then forced as deep a breath as my constricted chest would allow. “And I will need to be… someone else for it.” I almost winced, but I had chiseled myself into stone too well, and there was not a molecule of flesh left to do so. “... I need to… Grier…” I almost whispered his name, as though afraid of speaking it. “... to protect myself…” I glanced up at him, and could almost hear the click as the last of my composure snapped into place. “To protect you.”

My determination to do so drained the last of emotion and individuality from me. Hid me behind stone and hardened clay and a wall so high I couldn’t see the tops. I prayed that my words would be enough to soothe the goblin for whatever might come next. Somewhere deep down, in a spot I buried for when it was safe again, I worried. I worried that I might not be able to break that wall down when this was all over… If it ever would be over... But for now, it was necessary. And I straightened, looking away from the King as the carriage came to a halt. I couldn’t bear to try and read his expression. The door opened, and we stepped out into the main courtyard…

...

We were ushered down the main hall, then to the smaller audience chamber. My rage flared at this; as a visiting royal, Grier should be greeted in the main throne room. It was a barely concealed insult that my father would meet with him here. But then, I reasoned, perhaps he could excuse it to the staunch traditionalist Court, as it was not by his invitation that the goblin was here.

I stayed a pace behind the King in question as we were announced and led into the chamber. As was my place in the eyes of the human court, not only as secondborn, but also as… dare I even think it in this context, but as Grier’s betrothed. I kept my eyes straight in front of me, my head high and my shoulders squared as we entered. I did not look about, and registered the room from my peripherals. A few of the more prominent members of Court lined the walls, with the center aisle clear straight to the small throne at the end of the room. Valerianus stood to one side, and Gareth, to my dismay, to the other (though further back out of respect for my brother). I noticed my sister amid the pillars towards the back, and saw her face light up at the sight of me. I was grateful for once that Gareth caught her shoulder as she moved to pass him, keeping her in place. Despite his reasoning for doing so and the disdain I could almost feel wafting off him in waves. Despite my own contempt to have to see him once more. As if my return was not difficult enough without his disapproving eyes. Yet I was grateful, if only for a breath. I was not sure I could manage my sister at that moment, with my nerves taut and close to breaking. I could not allow myself to crumble, for any reason. And now my breath hitched at the site I had long dreaded. Sitting there, his back stiff, a scowl barely hidden in his stoney mask.

My father was not a small man. Not by any means. He was at least my height, though I had always thought him taller, with equally broad shoulders. My brother had inherited his square jaw, blonde hair, and fair skin, though my father’s complexion was more worn with his nearing 70 years. The edges were cracked and frayed, and his once proud cheeks had become shallow and gaunt. I decided he looked like parchment then, and about as lifeless, staring at us with hazel brown eyes (the mirror of my own) concealing the contempt I knew he must feel. His hand was forced here; he had not invited Grier to the palace, nor asked his aid. But he could neither deny it, now that it had been given. A lifetime of experience told me he was furious, though an outsider looking at him might only see another stone statue. 

I wondered what the room must look like to the goblin King. An audience hall of statues, staring at him. The one bright, and colorful life amid a garden of stone. I would imagine it was unnerving, knowing what I did of the goblin court and general lifestyle. But to his credit, Grier didn’t flinch. Despite his diminutive height, he strode proudly into the room, head high, sharp featured face fierce. His head turned as he took in the room, as a predator surveys the herd, and one slender brow cocked. I saw a few skilled nobles twitch as his scarlet eyes ran over them. Damjan and a few more armed guards stood behind us, and the tension in the room was palpable. Grier stopped before the throne, considering my father with an unabashed appraisal.

I saw my father’s eyes flick up and down my companion’s attire, saw the slightest twitch of disapproval at the corner of his mouth. I felt a familiar anger rolling about in my gut, but carefully tempered it. Neither spoke for a long moment, nor did anyone else. It was not our place. There were two Kings to be reckoned with here, and no one would dare step out of line. The goblin guard had been well briefed in the need for their silence prior to our arrival, and they too held still under scrutiny. My spine itched, but I stood still, keeping my gaze trained forward at some distant place.

“Welcome to my home, King Goblin.” Came the greeting from my father finally, breaking the silence. The anger in my gut burned hotter at his refusal to use Grier’s name. I had no doubt he hadn’t even bothered to remember it, if he had ever cared to hear it. His voice was flat, and thin. He did not speak loudly, for he was King. If he was speaking, all others should be silent. There was no doubt in any listeners mind of that, just from his enunciation of that single line. 

Grier dipped his head politely, and I saw his lips twitch. “I thank you for your hospitality, King Human.”

I would have laughed under different circumstances, as the Court members all visibly flinched at the insulting address. Even though it was no more than a mirror of their own King’s. My father seemed unmoved, though he brought up one hand slightly, resting the fingers by his chin. Valerianus’ eyes flicked from him to Grier, and I saw the gears moving slowly behind them. I wondered briefly what kind of welcome he had found upon his return from requesting our aid. I couldn’t imagine it had been very pleasant. My father flicked his fingers at him, answering the unspoken request.

“Your Grace,” He stepped forward, bowing slightly to Grier, “May I present, His Majesty, King Tiburtius, of Geriveria.” Grier inclined his head, and I knew the introduction of my father’s name was not lost on him. I could almost picture the twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips, though with my gaze fixed ahead I couldn’t quite make out the majority of his face. “And, Your Majesty,” The whole court drew in a sharp breath as Valerianus turned, bowing to my father, “Might I present to you, King Grier, of the Goblin Kingdom.”

Oh, my father would not be happy. I found I was surprised to see my brother act so boldly. Introducing both Kings with equal respect and grace. He had handled it nearly flawlessly, from my perspective, and I was pleased that now my father would not have the excuse to forget Grier’s name in any future address. It was a bold statement, but also a great sign of respect for the goblin King from the Crown Prince.

Again, my father was the first to break the silence. “Prince Valerianus tells me you have come to lend your… magic to our people.” He spat the word with as much disdain as was allotted for by our paltry excuse for emotions.

Grier inclined his head again. “Indeed. I received word of the terrible sickness plaguing the citizens of our sister kingdom,” He intoned, his voice, in contrast to my father’s, illustrious and loud, “And of course could not sit idly by.” His head cocked to the side. “I do hope I have not overstepped our alliance?”

The Court shifted restlessly, though almost imperceptibly. My father ran his finger across his dry lips. “... Of course, your aid is always welcome. We are most grateful.” The words were forced by politeness and honor from Grier’s bold and direct question, but I could sense his rage with having to have spoken them at all.

“I am glad to hear. I might have been led to think otherwise, considering the manner in which we were greeted.” Grier continued, his point barely concealed. By court standards, he had brusquely called out my father for his lack of fanfare and preparation.

“My greatest apologies,” My father returned without pause, no stranger to such plays, though his eyes narrowed by a barely perceptible hair, “We were given very little advance notice of your intent.”

“Ah, yes.” The goblin replied, nodding in bemusement. “But of course. I suppose you would request at least a week’s notice prior to hosting a royal visit.” His brow cocked. “I’m sure your people would have kindly waited to die until the day was more suitable for you.”

There was a sharp intake of breath that hissed through the room, and the tension grew. I heard the rustling of armor as the goblins shifted behind us in response. I felt a chill run down my spine as my father’s eyes turned to me, his gaze colder than ice.

“Perhaps it was foolish of me to expect Nikostratus to inform you of proper human etiquette. I will forgive you such small slights of course.” He replied, as if graciously ignoring the insults Grier casually levied at him was quite magnanimous of him. “After all, based upon the current state of him, I can see he has forgotten himself. Hardly a worthy representative of our people.” I tried not to twitch beneath his scrutiny, and did not move from my gaze locked straight ahead. My father’s eyes flicked to my brother. “Though it seems we are in short supply of that recently.”

It was not lost on me that he neglected to use my title. I saw the uncomfortable shift of the Court, the eyes flicking about almost nervously. This was, after all, as public a display of humiliation as one could get. I remained steadfast, unwavering. I had not been addressed, and so could not speak out.

“On the contrary, good King.” Mused Grier, his returning tone icy. “It is only by the nature of your sons that I am here at all.” His scarlet eyes considered my father harshly, and without pretense. “Should it not be for them, and Prince Nikostratus specifically, I would have been more than happy to raze your paltry kingdom to the ground.”

The equivalent of an uproar overtook the room, the members of court shifting more visibly. And even a few gasps and hushed whispers spreading through their ranks. My father stood, moving to try and tower over Grier. I knew this tactic. I had faced it many times. If his words failed him, he would try to intimidate by his sheer size alone. And then he would use his considerable courtly experience to completely destroy his opponent’s reputation and authority... By any means. I saw the goblin’s eyes harden, flashing with contempt. It broke everything; every training, every etiquette and protocol I had ever had forcibly ingrained into me. But I knew what came next, and I would not allow it to befall the goblin.

I stepped forward. Lining myself up with Grier. Shoulder to shoulder. An absolute breach in decorum and honor. I was a Prince, and he a King. It was the greatest disrespect, but less to Grier, and more to my father. As it forced him to address not only the goblin, but myself. For we now stood level to each other. He would have to reprimand me. He would have to acknowledge me, as he had all but refused to do since we had entered. I saw my father’s eyes flash. And he turned his focus on me. I prepared myself for the onslaught I knew was coming.

“Stand down, Prince Nikostratus,” He told me, his voice cold, spitting out the title as if it were venom on his tongue, “And remember your place.”

As he had addressed me, I could turn my head to him. Meeting his gaze. Then I bowed slightly. “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” I intoned, my voice flat. But I did not step back.

“I shall not.” He all but growled. “You are-”

“My betrothed.” Grier interrupted, and again, a gasp ripped through the hall. I saw Gareth make a quick exit with Morgana out of the corner of my eye, disgust evident on his features. He had to practically drag her out. “And as such, stands my equal. A position above yours, I would think. Considering the size of my Kingdom compared to yours.” Grier continued without pause. That rocked my father back, and his unbalanced attention switched back to the goblin. “Would you levy such an insult against me as to deny my partner, and your own son, the respect and authority he is entitled to?”

His eyes flashed, but was met with matching tenacity in the goblin King’s eyes. He lost himself for a moment, and I saw his mask slip. “You would-”

“I am a man and a King of my word,” He interrupted again, and I knew he was not about to let go of the advantage he now held, “I have made a Treaty, through the union of our two houses. A contract that benefits both our Kingdoms, in no small part due to Prince Nikostratus tireless efforts to make and keep the peace.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Perhaps, Your Majesty, you have forgotten your own place.”

There was silence then, that cut into my eardrums like fire. I didn’t move, standing frozen in place at Grier’s side. My father’s mouth closed tight, and I saw him working to sort out the proper answer. It took him too long though, and I could see the weight of time dragging on him. I knew there was no right answer. Not one that he would ever allow himself to speak at least. But I also knew Grier was right. By all intents and purposes, my father had insulted him, and dishonored him. The goblin would be well within his rights to take his army and raze the human kingdom to the ground. No human with half a brain would be able to argue against his justification. Beyond that, I was certain my father was already well aware he was at a complete disadvantage should he decide to affirm the insult, for not only was the goblin army larger and stronger than our forces, but they were currently well entrenched into the city. And the castle. He could not afford to allow the insult to stand, and Grier had forced him to address it. As no human would ever have dared. Finally, he straightened, a cold storm settling across his stone-faced features.

Slowly, he tucked his hands behind his back. And I didn’t like the glint in his eyes. “Indubitably, King Grier. Allow me to offer a balm to this perceived slight.” He gestured one of the more prominent members of the court forward, who bowed repeatedly and anxiously. “Lord Tipp shall give you a proper tour of the castle, as our esteemed guest.” I stiffened, sensing his hand before he had even played it. His gaze flicked to me, still icy cold. “Since Prince Nikostratus is your equal, as you say, and already familiar with the castle, I am certain he shall be acceptable as a representative in your stead.”

Grier paused, considering this. To his credit, he did not flinch, but I knew my father had now forced his own hand. The goblin’s gaze flicked to me, and I could just see it out the corner of my eye. He would have to abandon me, or else retract his previous statement. Anything else would now be perceived as an insult from him. As my father’s attention turned back to the goblin, I allowed my eyes to flick to Grier at their corners. He watched me for a delayed moment, then gave a nod.

“Of course, King Tiburtius.” He returned, voice back to its previous airy lightness. “I would be pleased to see more of your home. And Prince Nikostratus will be more than able to handle our affairs as I do.” His eyebrow twitched up, and he glanced back at me. “I do hope he won’t mind indulging me so. Though I was certain he would wish to give the tour personally, as he is intimately familiar with the castle himself.”

I dipped my head politely. It was a paltry excuse, but absolutely viable, should I choose to take it. I realized he was asking me what I wanted, as best he could given the circumstances. Asking if I wanted him to stay, or if he should leave. It would not be a perfect cover, not an ideal excuse. It wouldn’t leave the best impression of us. But it was an option, and my heart skittered. Debating taking it. Feeling weak at the knees at the thought of being left on my own...

“I would not deny you your curiosity, Your Majesty,” I told him, slowly straightening and sealing my fate, “I am certain Lord Tipp will be an adequate guide. If it pleases you.”

“Good.” My father intoned before Grier could speak further. “Then it is settled.” He turned back to the court at large. “Lord Tipp will be able to show you the extent of our hospitality, which we have woefully neglected thus far. While I will speak with my sons. Alone.”

The court quickly and efficiently cleared behind Grier and his new host. I saw him shoot me a glance over his shoulder as my father turned and made his way back to his seat. I could give him nothing to soothe his conscience, but watched quietly as he and his small contingent of guards left. The sound of the door scraping shut sounded almost as sickening to my ears as a spine snapping. I turned slowly back to the throne as my father settled in it.

There was a long moment of silence that threatened to crush my nerve, but I held it resolutely in my breast alongside my pounding heart. Praying it was strong enough to endure whatever I was about to face.

“How long has it been, Nikostratus?” Came the flat, cold tones of my father finally. “A week? Two? Less than a month, I am certain.”

“Just over two weeks, Your Majesty.” I replied hollowly.

“And yet you stand before me, practically a savage.” He shook his head, running his hand across his chin. “Mannerless. Mud on your trousers and boots. I believe your top button of your shirt is even undone. Did you walk here?” He raised a hand, not allowing me a breath to answer. “And then you would disrespect me, in my own court? Seek to embarrass me in front of that… thing.”

I tightened my jaw, resisting the urge to lash out at him. “I did as you asked, Your Majesty. I brokered a peace between our Kingdoms. A fair and-”

“You have brokered a sham!” He snapped, though his cold voice barely raised at all. “This Treaty you sent? I have never seen anything so absolutely ridiculous in my life.” He scoffed. “A marriage?? Between a Prince and a King?? You must be joking.”

“Your Majesty, in goblin culture-”

“I do not care about goblin culture, you insolent cur.” He cut me off again, standing, glaring down at me, squaring his shoulders and all but spitting as he spoke. I instantly bowed my head, recoiling a step. “How dare you use the authority I granted you to follow your own lecherous pursuits.”

My gut roiled at his words, and I almost blanched. Instead, I secured my façade into harder shape, and cast my eyes to the ground. I could hear his disgust as plain as if he had spelled it out for me, and clenched my hands tightly behind my back to keep them from quivering.

“Your Majesty, the Treaty that Prince Nikostratus-” Valerianus began, and I was a little surprised at his intrusion.

“And you!” Our father spun on him, and he too recoiled. “I would expect this of your treacherous brother, but you? Going behind my back. Directly disobeying my orders. Inviting those wretched beasts into our Kingdom.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “The Gods have punished me with such disobedient and disgraceful sons.”

He settled back into his chair. We stayed with our heads bowed, staring at the ground. As we had many times before. My throat burned, and I blinked fervently. Our father let out a soft breath, not quite a sigh, rubbing at his chin with one hand. I almost winced again at the sound, as if he had moved to slap me.

“You, Nikostratus, will return with that… creature. As your last service to me, you will have him withdraw his fellows from our Kingdom. You hopefully have at least some honor left to complete that simple task.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “And then I will never hear from you again.”

“The Treaty-”

“I will arm no men against him, for now, so long as he keeps his filth from my borders. And you will count that as a blessing.” He cut in. “But you will not ask for my aid. Nor anything else from me.” He ran his hand over his chin again. “Perhaps the one good to have come of this was saving the arrangement of Morgana’s betrothal to that creature. I have begun negotiations with King Namier of Valthaven, whose army is twice the size of ours, in exchange for her hand.”

My blood ran cold, rushing like ice through my veins. “King Namier is nearly 40. He already-”

“ENOUGH!” I was rocked back by the volume and force of his voice. It sent me spinning back into my childhood, and I resisted the urge to wince, my resolve crumbling. “The sole reason I don’t have your head on a pike and your entrails in my dungeon right now is because that ludicrous monster you have disgracefully attached yourself to has somehow amassed a force powerful enough to subdue our armed forces. And then Valerianus was fool enough to allow them into our city. But make no mistake,” He stood again, stepping down to tower over me, “You are dead to me, Nikostratus.” I felt a numbness spread through me at his words, and my jaw clenched. “You have already dishonored and disgraced me, now leave with what little dignity you have left. And take that filth with you. Immediately!”

“Father, the people of the lower city-”

“The people be damned!” He snapped, spinning back on my brother, who instantly bowed his head again in the face of his quiet, seething rage. “I would see every one of them dead before I allow such abhorrent, lecherous beasts to remain in my kingdom. Now, get out of my sight! Both of you!”

Something snapped in me, as the numbness started to spread through my chest. Something I could not name. Some force or power that curled around me and flamed the hot rage in my gut... And I did not move. I remained rooted in place, instead raising my head and gritting my teeth. Valerianus has started to shift as if to leave, his brow slightly furrowed. I squared my shoulders and spread my stance, and my brother paused at the sight of me. After a moment, our father seemed to realize neither of us had exited, and turned back on us, his brow becoming like thunder behind his mask.

“Leave.” He commanded. 

I straightened my back. “I will not.”

His eyes shot wide, breaking the fraying edges of his composure. “You have no authority-”

“As you have disowned me as your son,” I cut him off abruptly, my voice firm, “Then I stand before you, not as a Prince of your human court, but as future King of the goblin. And voice of their will.”

“You-”

“And as such,” I continued, ignoring him, “I am here to inform you that we will not be withdrawing from the Kingdom until every last citizen is treated or warded from this plague.” My voice was growing in volume with each word, each one more confident than the last. “Furthermore, should you attempt to act against any the terms of the Treaty, including refusal to admit the goblin kind into this Kingdom, we would be well within our rights to forcibly remove you from the throne and take it for ourselves.”

His mouth flapped uselessly, and I saw red growing in the apples of his pale cheeks. “... How… How dare-”

“The way I see it, Your Majesty, you have two choices,” I interrupted him again, my voice nearly quivering with my anger, but no less commanding, “You can accept this fact with some semblance of grace and dignity intact. Or,” I silenced his sputtering at my words again firmly, “You can attempt to publicly resist our efforts, and find instead the full might and force of the goblins dragging you kicking and screaming from your throne.”

I waited a breath, watching his eyes all but bulge from his skull. I could see Valerianus looking only slightly less perturbed than our father at the corners of my vision. Though his mask was much more securely fastened into place. But I ignored him other than this observation, focusing my fury on the man standing before me. As the King tried and failed to find a response, his face becoming more red by the minute, I glared down my nose at him. My shoulders squared, my confidence unrelenting.

When no reply seemed forthcoming, I broke the stony features of my face to cock one eyebrow up in a way that would have made Grier quite proud. “I will assume you choose the first option.” I mused. “But please do let me know if you decide on the latter. I would very much like to see it.”

With that, and a final farewell, I spun on heel with practiced military grace, and marched out of the room.

I walked with an almost giddy, light step. My breath shallow and huffy with adrenaline. I could hardly believe I had just done that. It felt like the memory of someone else, and my pulse raced with the excitement still coursing through me. But… by the gods did it feel good. I was out onto the raised walkway before the main courtyard when the quick click of boots alerted me to my pursuer. I turned, not sure who I was expecting to be there. And found it certainly wasn’t anyone I would have guessed.

“Prince Nikostratus,” My brother breathed, slowing before me, “A word, if you would be so kind.”

I quickly and carefully fixed my mask back into place, turning to face him fully. My heart sputtered in my chest, and I resisted the urge to swallow the lump that suddenly leapt into my throat. Had I forgotten something? Had I made some miscalculation? Perhaps this was a ploy, and attempt to delay me before I could inform the goblins of what had just happened. To distract me while the guard worked to mobilize. I wondered briefly if my father had sent him. My mind raced with the possibilities.

“You see what he is.” I blurted before I could stop myself. “... You see what he’s become.”

My brother hesitated, considering me for a moment, and the brusque nature of my words. Then, slowly, he nodded. “... Yes… I do.”

I straightened, composing myself again. “Then you understand why what I did was necessary, Prince Valerianus.”

Another pause, followed by another small, slow nod. “That is why I am here, Your Highness.” He hesitated again, then straightened his own spine and squared his shoulders properly. “I wanted to thank you.”

I stared at him, a little dumbfounded. I was grateful momentarily for the lifetime of perfecting the mask, so that even in the face of this surprise, it held. My silence, of course, was evidence enough to it. And he gestured towards the walkway, taking a step forward. Uncertain what else to do, I fell into step beside him, and we slowly walked the parapet.

“This is just one in a long line of transgressions I have unfortunately been party to.” He told me softly, and I saw him glance briefly to the side. “I cannot say much more, as you know as well as I that the castle has eyes and ears of its own. But…” He paused, dropping off. “You have done our people yet another selfless act, Prince Nikostratus. Even though you would have been completely justified in taking any other course of action.”

“I can do no less, Your Highness,” I replied, my tone back to the formal emotionless drone, “I may no longer be a Prince of this Kingdom in the eyes of its King, but they are still my people.” My voice became hard. “I will not allow them to suffer for his stubbornness and pride.”

“Another great service,” He replied, “For which I would like to offer you one in return.”

He stopped, turning to face me. I did the same, surprised but hiding it well. My brother looked me up and down, and I searched the edges of his mask with my trained perception. And yet I still couldn’t quite read what he intended.

“You have sacrificed everything,” He continued, his voice still soft, “Your home. Your future. Your…” I saw him hesitate, blinking slowly. I tried to wrestle with his meaning, but found myself wholly unable to discern it. “... I would like to correct this wrong. It was not your burden to take. We can find another path to peace with the goblins, Prince Nikostratus.”

It dawned on me slowly, and I shook my head. “You would have Morgana-” I started, my voice tight.

“If you think I am even capable of such a thought, then you do not know me at all.” He cut me off curtly. Then he paused. “... I am not our father, Nikostratus... And I have every wish to avoid that fate for myself.” He glanced down, belying his mask for a breath, then met my gaze firmly. “... I will find us another path to peace. You need not sacrifice yourself. I will do everything in my power to free you from your bonds. It is not too late. There has been no… ceremony.”

I looked at him, astonished. We stood in silence for a long moment, staring at each other… He didn’t know... He thought I was… I swallowed hard, realizing I would have to say more than I had ever been comfortable saying. A feat hard enough with someone familiar with the concept. Nearly impossible with one for whom the concept likely didn’t even exist. I tried to pick the right words. To come up with a response that would be as delicate as possible to his sensibilities. I clenched my hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

“I have given my word, Prince Valerianus.” I told him softly, but firmly. “I will not break it.” I started to open my mouth to say more, then slowly closed it. Hesitating. My heart racing in my breast. “... I am an adult. And have entered into this contract by my own free will, for the good of our Kingdom.” I stopped, hesitating again.

He considered me for a moment. Trying as I had to listen to the unspoken words between us. “Would it be… presumptuous of me to assume that perhaps this is… erm…” He shuffled, glancing down at our feet, a slight pink tinge rising to his cheeks. “... Not quite the same… ah... sacrifice I had initially thought, Your Highness?”

I felt my face flush, and quickly cleared my throat. Staring down at our feet as well. I stammered for a second, then managed to compose myself once more. “I-I...It would be…” I heaved a sigh, shaking my head slightly, “It would be a greater... sacrifice, on my part… t-to return things to how they were…”

I heard him swallow loudly. “... I see.”

I hesitated, then nodded resolutely. “I have found in this… Treaty… a freedom, Your Highness.” I slowly raised my gaze to him. “One I had never expected to find before, nor had ever hoped to pursue...” I swallowed nervously, and couldn’t resist a tiny shuffle of my feet. “The sacrifice, for me, is no different than any other arranged marriage.”

Valerianus studied my face again, and I hoped my flush wasn’t far too evident. But he nodded slowly. Then bowed his head. “Then I will honor your word as well, Prince Nikostratus.”

I bowed in return, and as we both straightened, I felt a strange weight lift from my shoulders. Only to be replaced by another.

“I would beg permission to ask another boon, Your Highness,” I told him as we stood face to face once more, “If you would grant it in light of my services.”

“Ask, Prince Nikostratus,” He replied, “And I will grant it if it is in my power.”

“... Let me take Morgana with me.” My brother froze at that, and I saw him glance quickly out the corners of his eyes again. I quickly rushed on. “You heard him. You know what he is planning for her…. She’s not safe here.”

Valerianus was quiet for a long moment, but he had been unable to mask the flash of pain at my words. We had many differences, my brother and I. But Morgana was not one of them. I knew he cared for her, in his own way. Their connection was not as powerful as mine and hers, yet his earlier words had given me hope that perhaps he might just wish for her the same future I did. Or at least one not so… repulsive. One with a chance of happiness.

I waited with my stomach flipping in knots. Waited with my breath caught in my throat and all my hopes on the line. I couldn’t even bear to think what would happen if he refused my request. And what lengths I would go to in order to assure he didn’t…

Finally, he nodded, slowly. “You are right… The Princess is not safe here. Not while our father…” He stopped, dropping off. Then nodded again. “It would be best if she was kept away from here. For a time, at least.”

I nearly collapsed with relief. With Valerianus’ aid, it could possibly be days until anyone of import noticed the Princess was missing. With his authority, all but the highest levels of court would be forced to look the other way. And even then, only our father had power above him. He gestured for us to continue our walk, and I fell into step beside him once more.

“You must let us ward you, Your Highness,” I told him as we walked, the tops of the pillars of the courtyard coming into view as we rounded the corner and came to the top of the stairs, “For the sake of our Kingdom’s future, I would beg you to consider you own safety.”

Valerianus nodded. “I will trust your judgement, on the matter, Prince Nikostratus.” He replied. “You have shown it to be quite sound.”

I could see Grier in the courtyard below, alone, and as soon as my eyes fell on him, my heart skipped several beats. I felt a warmth spreading through my chest, a longing unlike anything I had ever known before, and it left me in a haze of confusion with its unfamiliarity. I wanted nothing more to do with this palace I used to call home; I had never understood that word until now… And it wasn’t until I had returned that I realized it never had been a home to me. After everything that I had just endured, I wanted only to go down to the goblin King and leave. Preferably to never see this place again, and sooner rather than later. I had no strength for anything else.

“... Forgive me, Prince Nikostratus,” I nearly jumped at Valerianus’ voice, having momentarily forgotten that he was there, “... I thought at first it was a very elaborate ploy from the goblins. A spell, perhaps. Or a great strength of will on your part, for the sake of Morgana and our people.” I turned to face him properly, carefully squaring my shoulders with my back straight. “But I see now it’s more than that. You honestly... care for him. Don’t you?”

I faltered at his words, and blinked stupidly for a moment. Based upon the twitch at the corners of his lips, I assumed my mask had slipped momentarily. I quickly corrected the slight, leveling myself back into stone.

“My interest is wholly irrelevant for this contract. The arrangement of this marriage is for the sake of our Kingdom and people, Prince Valerianus,” I told him stiffly, careful to keep my voice flat, “For a much needed peace. I was beholden by my duty to our Kingdom to form this alliance, and we have already seen the benefits of the Treaty.”

“Of course, I do not doubt that in the least.” He agreed calmly, and took one elegant step forward to peer down at the courtyard as I had. “How fortunate then, Your Highness, that you have already grown quite fond of the man who will be your husband.” If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought his tone was teasing. My lips worked uselessly at the air for a moment, and the corners of his twitched again as my face flushed once more. “... I am happy for you.” He turned back to me. “Truly, brother, I am. He seems to be a good man. And an honorable King. I would be fortunate indeed to someday find myself to be half the King he is.”

It was only the lifetime of discipline that kept the shock from registering on my face. I didn’t answer him, uncertain how to. I couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to me so candidly, if he ever had. By the time I was old enough to remember our interactions, Valerianus was already a sullen teenager. Weighted with the responsibility of the crown. Hardly the mixture for a warm and affectionate older brother, especially in our family. Our eyes met for a long, quiet moment. And whatever tension lingered between us dissipated. I had no words to give him; nothing seemed appropriate in that moment. But they were unneeded. I felt my lips purse, and gave him a small nod. Which he returned, hands still clasped formally behind his back.

“I shall have the maid gather some things for the Princess quickly and bring them to your carriage, Prince Nikostratus.” He told me, then gave a shallow bow before spinning on heel to march off. “I shall task you with the nigh impossible feat of finding her.”

I nearly groaned, instead nodding to his retreating figure. Morgana could be any number of places by now. I knew the most likely, but that would take time. And time might not be something we had much of, if our father caught wind of our plans. Grier would help me, I declared to myself silently. And his men. We would have to work quickly, but for the first time in a long time, I had hope that things would turn out alright.

I spun back to descend the stairs to the courtyard, and was at the second ledge when a familiar sound came to my ears. It flooded my body with relief as I recognized my sister’s voice. But her words had me freezing in place.

“Excuse me…umm, sir goblin.”

A momentary pause, followed by a polite if hesitant; “Yes, My Lady?”

“I beg your pardon, but you are the King, yes?”

My heart skipped like a smooth stone across still waters. I eased down the last few steps, walking lightly to stand at the corner. Peering around it. Grier stood with his back to me, and Morgana before him with her hands on her hips. She wasn’t much shorter than him, but still had to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze. I started to round the corner, eager to tell both of them the good news and pleased they were in the same place. But curiosity stilled my feet, something about the determination set into her youthful face, and I lingered momentarily. Not quite hidden… that wouldn’t be very Princely. But they would have to look particularly hard to make me out behind the marble pillars...

“That I am.” I could hear the tiny smile in Grier’s voice. “... Can I be of service?”

“I demand an audience then, Your Majesty.” I almost groaned at her abruptness, and studied her little face for a moment. Intelligent and fierce…. I couldn’t deny it warmed my heart.

Grier hesitated again, but then offered her a small bow. “But of course, Princess. I am at your service… Shall we sit?”

...

UPDATE: Part Ten HERE

[unsettledink]

A Perfect Fit - Kinktober Day 10 (Old Adages 1)

A Perfect Fit

Prompt: Size Kink

Word Count: 6176

Summary: Tony had no idea what Beck had been hiding in his pants and that— that is a tragedy. Because Tony needs to be stuffed full of that right this second.

(size kink, dick size, dirty talk, insecurity, 20ish Quentin Beck, belly bulge, bottom!Tony)

(Look, I don't know how 'size kink' turned into a whole mess of insecurity and woes of having a big dick either, ok? I sorted it out by the end at least. Tony's not going to let it get in the way of a good fuck.)

*

Tony hadn't really expected anyone to be in lab eighteen-b at this time of night, but he'd had an idea and the things he needed were there and— it's his tower, he doesn't need to ask permission to go anywhere in it.

He hadn't expected anyone to be there, and he really hadn't expected to walk around the corner and come across one of his employees jerking off. Tony freezes, not even processing the sight for a second, and then his brain is noticing all the wrong things, like how hot the guy is, how nice his tiny little gasps sound, how fucking huge his cock is. It's got to be close to ten inches, maybe more, thick as fuck, and Tony can't look away. He's just— he's always liked them big. The bigger the better, and that, that is better.

The guy moans, faintly, and opens his eyes. Opens them even wider, comically so, when he realizes Tony's there, and then he jerks, his chair rolling back as he tries to cover himself. "Oh shit!" he yelps, and then he's spinning around, his back to Tony.

"Uh," Tony says.

"Oh god," the guy mutters, and it sounds like he's trying to stuff himself back in his pants. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I— I didn't think, I mean I didn't— I shouldn't have— fuck!'

"Look," Tony says, "I wasn't trying to be a creeper, I just came down to get—" The guy turns around, and Tony should feel bad about the way his eyes immediately drop to the bulge at his crotch. The truly impressive bulge; that's got to be incredibly uncomfortable.

"Oh no," the guy says, and Tony looks at him— at his face. He looks familiar. "Fuck, you're Tony Stark," and Tony's obviously familiar to him. Tony narrows his eyes.

"Bank?" he tries. "Or— Deck? Something like that, right?" Handsome, whatever his name is, even if his face is bright, brilliant red, flushing all the way down his neck.

"Beck," the guy says, weakly. "Quentin Beck. I'm— shit, I'm sorry, I swear I don't— this isn't—" He rubs his hand over his face— not the one he was jacking off with, not that Tony notices. Not really. "Does this mean I'm fired?"

"What?" Tony says. "No, of course not," and the guy—Beck—glances over at him; wow, his eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue. No. Focus. "I mean, uh, don't do it again? Or be more careful about it next time? But jeez, I'm not going to fire you for that." Beck gives him a confused look, but his shoulders loosen a little. "Personally, this wouldn't exactly be my first choice for that sort of thing, unless you've got some sort of... lab setting kink? Is that a thing? That's probably a thing. But hey, who am I to judge, it's not like I haven't gotten off worse places."

"I don't— there's nothing hot about a lab," Beck mutters defensively. "I'm not into anything weird. I'm just— look, I'm always here and it's not like I have time to pick someone up and when I get home I'm dead on my feet, and I just, sometimes I have needs, okay?" He stops, flushing again. "Can you forget I said all of that?"

There's a point in that rambling explanation; if Beck's here at this hour, he practically lives here. "Sure," Tony says, absently. "Yeah, you're probably putting in a few too many hours. I can't really believe it'd be too hard for you to find a friend though. What with all your, ah, gifts."

"...thanks?" Beck says, frowning.

Tony blames his cock for what he says next. Or rather, Beck's cock, because he just can't get the image of it out of his mind. "You know," he adds, " you're definitely good looking and more than generously endowed, who's going to say no? I mean, it's not like I would mind a ride on that."

Beck stares at him, his mouth dropping open, and Tony replays those last couple of sentences in growing horror. "Shit," Tony says. "That's sexual harassment, isn't it. Pepper's going to murder me. Look, if you want to sue I can already tell you we'll settle easy. Well, not me, you know, lawyers, but seriously, don't let them try and shut you up for less than a couple hundred thousand."

"What," Beck says. "I— are you really telling me how to get the most money out of you if I sue?"

"Well... no?" Tony tries. "I mean, yes, I guess?" Fuck, he's completely lost track of this conversation. His mind is still just going 'but think of how it'd feel in your mouth, down your throat'.

"And you did say you'd want to— ride me? I heard that, right?"

Tony winces. "Yeah, you should probably forget I said that," he says. "Unless you don't want to? You know, suing. And. Stuff."

"I'm not going to sue," Beck says, watching him. There's a long, awkward pause, and damn, Beck's eyes really are pretty. "I— maybe I don't want to forget?"

He's blushing again, slowly creeping up. "Just so I'm clear," Tony says carefully. "You're saying you'd be... interested."

Beck licks his lips. "Yeah," he says.

Oh, goddamn, Tony thinks. This is absolutely a bad idea, but he's going to roll with it. He takes a step forward, and another, into Beck's space. Beck's a little taller than Tony; he catches the back of Beck's neck and pulls him in. Kisses him, a tentative brush of lips.

Beck's mouth opens under his when he presses a little more, his tongue sliding against Tony's, and yeah, Tony decides, he can work with this. "Right," Tony says. "We're going to need a bed. Come on."

The ride up to the penthouse should be awkward, but Beck pulls Tony right in against him, slides his hands up Tony's shirt and presses kisses all along Tony's neck, fantastic. Tony rubs forward, and he can feel Beck's dick, still at least half hard, all along his hip.

Beck was hot with his clothes on; without them, he's smoking. Sure, he's softer, not sporting a six pack or anything, but he's trim, broad shoulders and gorgeous waist and that cock— it really is a monster, just massive, and it's only getting bigger as Beck finishes getting hard, the sheer weight of it keeping it low, jutting out from his body. Tony's mouth is watering.

"Jesus," Tony mutters, giving Beck a little push toward the bed. "Take a look at that; bet you're popular when you find the time." Beck doesn't say anything as he sits on the bed, pushing himself further up, but his shoulders tense slightly. Ugh, Tony should probably watch his mouth a little. He's had a couple guys that hated feeling like all Tony wanted was their cock, had some sort of hangup about having more to offer than that. Obviously, but since Tony's never looking for something lasting with them what matters is what's about to split him open, not their winning personalities.

No point in getting into that with Beck though.

He crawls up between Beck's legs, settling on his elbows and leaning in, rubbing his face against Beck's cock. It's a nice cock, completely aside from the size, very pretty with a broad, defined head, flushed dark, not too veiny. He can't wait to get his tongue against it, sliding up under that ridge, tasting him. It’s going to make him drool like crazy, choke him, probably leave him voiceless for ages.

"Hey," Beck says. Tony glances up at him, mouth open against his cock. "You don't— you don't have to do that to get a fuck."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "And what if I just want to?" because it's not like he needs an excuse to want that thing in his mouth.

"I'm just—" Beck swallows as Tony licks him, and sure, it might be—is—a challenge but Tony's up for it. "Just saying," Beck finishes. "Don't expect to take that much of though. And don't expect me to come from it. It's fine if you want to skip to the main event."

"What, think I can't?" Tony says, and nuzzles down against the base of it; god it's <i>big.

"Most people can't," Beck says softly, like Tony is most people, please. "And I'd rather you don't throw up on it."

Tony snorts, but Beck's words don't match his tone. He pulls up enough to look at Beck, and it's unfair for him to have puppy dog eyes like that. He didn't expect Beck to be... hesitant. Most of the guys Tony’s been with that are anywhere near as hung as this are smug about— ha, cocky. 

Beck twitches again when Tony kisses the side of his cock, makes his way slowly up the length of it before he licks across the tip. "I'm not skipping over anything," Tony says, "but we can come back to this. You obviously haven't had a blowjob from me."

That earns him a little huff, but those eyes are still watching him cautiously. Yeah, he can't have that. He crawls up over Beck and taps a finger under his chin, tilting his head back. Beck's almost passive, just waiting for Tony, his hands coming up to barely rest against Tony's sides.

Whatever Beck's thing about blowjobs is, kissing— kissing he has no problem with. Kissing he's fucking fantastic at. He doesn't have any hesitation here once he figures out what Tony likes and god, it's been a long time since Tony got this caught up in making out. Beck's mouth is reddened when Tony pulls back, his hair messier, falling out of that slicked back styling, and his eyes are darker, all big and blue and gorgeous.

Tony goes with it when Beck rolls him over, pins him down and goes right on with the kissing; he's got Beck's cock along his stomach, the full length of it pressed into his skin, and Beck starts making soft noises into his mouth when Tony shifts, rubs against it. He's going to feel stuffed full when it's in him— he can’t wait.

Beck shudders, dropping his head to Tony's shoulder, and then he's crawling back; shit, what now? Tony watches as Beck down out between Tony's legs, and while he's not going to say no to Beck's mouth on his cock, he wants to be able to feel Beck's again, wants that constant reminder of its sheer size. Beck's got his hands on Tony's thighs, pushing them up a bit and— 

"Oh, fuck," Tony gasps. "God, yeah, that's— fuck," and looks like it doesn't matter what Beck's doing with it, his mouth is sinful.

Beck could eat him out for hours, Tony thinks, and that might just be his plan as it goes on and on. Tony's not complaining, not one bit, not as long as Beck keeps licking like that and pushing his tongue into Tony and moaning, muffled against Tony's ass. Not as long as he can keep his hand in Beck's hair, ruining it, keep pressing up against Beck's mouth; "Fuck," Tony mutters, "you're good at that."

There's a breath across his skin, a laugh. "You pick it up quick," Beck says, looking up at Tony, "when you need other ways to keep people happy." He's grinning, more than confident in this area— downright smug, and it's a distressingly good look on him.

He keeps that eye contact as he lowers his mouth again, pushing Tony's ass up a bit so he can watch Tony at the same time, and that is just too fucking much. Slides a finger into him, licking around it, and that is way, way too much, Tony pushing his head back into the bed, groaning as he stares up at the ceiling.

He couldn't have asked for a better way to be stretched open, couldn't have asked for someone more patient— excruciatingly patient. Sure, Tony was going to need some real work before he could take that monster, but Beck is going to kill him like this, taking his sweet time working his way up, sloppy and wet around his fingers the whole time.

"You've got actual lube somewhere, right?" Beck says breathlessly as he pulls back. Tony flaps a hand in the vicinity of the nightstand and Beck gets the idea. Comes back and slides his fingers right back in, big and warm and even slicker, leaning down and getting his mouth around Tony's cock.

"Oh, christ," Tony groans. "Don't you dare get me off like this. Wanna come on your cock, don't spoil it." Beck rolls his eyes, which should not be nearly that appealing even with his lips still on Tony's cock.

He doesn't, even if Tony feels like he's getting close a couple of times. Doesn't, and doesn't move on from his slow, lazy fingering either; Tony feels more than ready, soft and loose around Beck's fingers. "Enough," he says, finally. "I'm good, I'm more than ready. Come on, give it to me."

"Okay, okay," Beck huffs, and Tony feels like he's gaping open without Beck's fingers in him. Beck shifts around on the bed, Tony pulling his legs up further as he hears the lube pop open again, hears the wet sounds of Beck slicking himself up. And then— then it's against him, the head of Beck's cock pressing gently at Tony's hole, catching it before thrusting up the cleft of Tony's ass. Fuck, it's huge, probably the biggest Tony's ever had outside toys, and even if Beck's stretched him open to the point of obscenity it still might hurt.

He waits— and waits, and waits, Beck's hands spread wide over his thighs, his cock sliding back and forth long Tony's ass. "Quit teasing," Tony snaps.

There's nothing for a moment, another hesitation, and then a long, shaky exhale. "Right," Beck says, so quietly, and Tony glances up at him.

He doesn't look like he's having a good time, goddamnit. What is his problem? "What?" Tony asks, trying to soften it.

Beck drops his eyes, his hands tensing on Tony's thighs. Hesitates, keeps fucking hesitating. "Just," he says after a second, "this is usually where the fun part stops." He swallows, hard, breathing a little too fast. "Don't lie and say it's fine when it's not, okay? I'm not— if it fucking hurts, just—"

God, Tony feels like an ass.

He stares at Beck, at the tense set of Beck's jaw. He hadn't paid much mind to it till now, but Beck's young. Can't be much more than twenty-five, at most, and if he was a late bloomer—who's he kidding, Beck had to been a nerd—he probably hasn't done this a lot. Maybe hasn't had this go well a lot, and— what should Tony have expected, if most of Beck's partners have told him they weren't enjoying it anymore, or worse, lied about it when it had to be obvious they were hurting. If he’d wound up hurting some—any—of them, however unintentionally.  

Beck's fingers are digging into Tony's thigh, hard, and he won't look at Tony's face, and— Tony doesn't like it when his partners aren't having fun either.

"Beck," he says, and Beck fucking flinches. He gets his hand around Beck's wrist and tugs. "Come here."

"Fuck," Beck whispers, closing his eyes, but he crawls up over Tony anyway. Sinks down when Tony pulls at him, and he's so tense, right on the edge of shaking when Tony wraps himself around him. "Shit," Beck mutters, pressing his forehead against Tony's shoulder. "I'm sorry— fuck, I'm sorry, just give me a minute." He takes a deep breath, obviously trying to pull it together, and obviously failing when it comes out shakier.

"Beck," Tony says again, soft, but Beck cuts him off.

"I know," he says. "I know, you were expecting a good time and I'm— goddammit," and Tony can feel his jaw clench. "I'll— just, tell me when it hurts, okay? I know you probably think it'll be fine, but— I don't want—"

Shit, Tony thinks; 'when' not 'if'. Someone's fucked this kid up. "Quentin," Tony says, softer, sliding his hand up into Beck's hair. "Take a minute and just breathe."

Beck laughs, ugly. "This is the part where you tell me it's fine, there's other things to do, you're not disappointed," he says. "That I'm good with my mouth, so a blowjob would be great."

"No," Tony says, carefully, and this was just supposed to be a quick, fun little hookup. Why is Tony such a soft touch? "This is the part where I tell you to calm down. And then I tell you that regardless of how things may have gone for you, I've had plenty of experience with big dicks, and I'm not going to let you hurt me. I'm very fond of my ass, you know."

Beck doesn't say anything, but that's okay for now.

“Seriously,” Tony adds. “I know what I like and I know how to get it. I can handle you.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Beck mutters.

Ouch. “Yeah,” Tony say. “Yeah, I bet you have.” He turns his head, catches the edge of Beck’s ear between his teeth. Beck twitches and sets his teeth into Tony’s shoulder, and it’s nice that he still got some sass in him. “None of them were Tony Stark.”

That gets him a real laugh, if quiet. “I didn’t expect you to be so humble,” Beck snarks. That’s more like it. 

“I’m glad you can recognize it,” Tony says. “Seriously, I’m going to make sure I have a good time. You can count on me to pleasure myself.”

“Really?” Beck says, lifting his head and giving Tony a look.

“Watched that, did you?” Tony says, grinning. “I stand by it! It’s a good line!”

Beck watches him for a moment. “Do all the people you sleep with eventually figure out you’re a giant dork?”

Hardly any of them, Tony thinks. “The smart ones do,” he tells Beck. 

Beck’s relaxed a little, more from the banter than anything, Tony thinks. He always has liked smart-mouths. "Right," he says, and pokes Beck in the side. "Scoot over."

Beck rolls off him, lying on his back next to Tony. His hands come up when Tony straddles him, settling on Tony's waist like he can't help himself. Beck's cock settles against Tony's ass, massive, the tip resting at the small of Tony's back. Fuck, he can't wait; he pushes back, rubbing his ass along the length of it, slow. "Now who's teasing," Beck says.

Tony fishes around for second and comes up with the lube, half under Beck's hip. "Here," Tony says. "Get your fingers back in me, and make it as sloppy as you can." Beck's eyes flutter closed for a moment; yeah, he likes the sound of that.

Beck's fingers are big, but he'd spent so long on this already that two slip in like they're nothing, three with just enough pressure to feel. Tony doesn't really need this, but if it makes things easier for Beck to handle, he's not against it. It's not like he's suffering with Beck's fingers inside him. He fucks himself on them as Beck twists them, waits until he can feel the lube sliding out of his ass, until Beck's movements slow, distracted. "That’s it," he tells Beck, "get some more on your cock too," and the wet, squelching sounds of Beck's hand on it are promising.

Tony kneels up and gets his hand behind him, wrapped around Beck's cock, barely fucking wrapped around it. It's so slick it's hard to keep his grip; he rubs the head over his hole, back and forth, feeling the broadness of it, how it spreads him open even like this. Takes a deep breath and relaxes as much as he can. This is going to feel great, he reminds himself. It's going to feel fucking amazing once it's in him, on the way down too. He knows this.

He looks down at Beck, catching his eyes. Beck looks so tense, nervous, and no one in Tony's bed should look that worried. "Trust me," Tony says. "It's going to be fine."

It's— its so much when he presses the tip inside him. So fucking much, god; Beck's so big, so wide. It doesn't hurt, not quite, but it's incredibly intense feeling that stretch, that pressure and fullness inside him, even so little of it. He rolls his hips just the smallest bit, letting the tip slip almost out of him and back in, and Beck whines beneath him.

Beck's mouth is open, his eyes so wide, so blue as he stares up at Tony. This has to feel great for him too, like this, Tony right on the most sensitive part of his cock, and that's good. One of Beck's hands lands on Tony's calf, squeezes it gently.

Tony goes slow, goes so, so slow, sinking further onto Beck in tiny increments, up and down and further down each time. Takes his time with it and watches Beck the whole while, watches how Beck stares at him and flushes and breathes heavier, louder, with every inch Tony takes in. Fuck, Tony's breathing heavier with every inch, panting and starting to moan as it stretches him so wide, fills him up so much, insanely so. He feels oversensitive, like he can feel every single centimeter inside him, can feel the heavy pulse of it with every beat of Beck's heart. He's definitely never had one this big before.

There's a point where his legs start shaking a little, where he can't spread them as wide as he needs and keep control over how slow he takes it in; "Give me your hands," Tony gasps out, and Quentin's hands feel huge when he laces his fingers with Tony's, Tony leaning forward a bit and bracing himself against him. If it was anyone else, it could be risky putting that much on them, hoping they're not assholes and might pull him down that way, take away their bracing and let Tony fall the rest of the way in one swoop, painfully— but Beck? No fucking way.

"Okay?" Beck whispers at one point, after he'd gasped and jerked, pushing up into Tony a little. Tony nods, moans as he keeps going. It feels like Beck's cock is never going to end, and that's fantastic.

He hits that spot a moment later, that stop point he only gets with really, really big cocks, rarely, more often with toys. Presses against it, gently, and Beck's hands tighten on his painfully. "Stop," Beck says, his voice harsh. "No, stop." Tony stills, raising his eyebrows, and Beck shakes his head. "That's it," he says. "You can't take more, Tony, just— you'll hurt yourself, that's it."

"Quentin," Tony says softly, "it's not. It's— hey, listen," Beck shaking his head again. "I swear it's not; I've done this enough, okay? Trust me."

Beck's hands are still tight on his, tighter, and he's so tense against Tony's legs. Tony takes his time with this too, grinding slowly on Beck's cock, teasing himself and relaxing, not letting himself think of anything except how good it's going to feel. Pushes himself down a little more, and— there, there it goes, he can feel that shift, feel it sliding in further and further as Tony sinks down the rest of the way, his ass settling onto Beck's hips, shuddering at that sharp, shivery burst of pleasure. He moans, his eyes closing and his head falling back unconsciously.

"Oh god," Beck whispers, "oh my god, Tony— fuck, are you okay? Are you--"

He trembling under Tony, fighting not to move or scared, Tony's not sure. "I—" Tony starts, his voice cracking. "Fuck, I am so much better than okay." Beck makes a harsh noise, twitching, even that little shift feeling like a lot with Tony this full. "So much better," Tony says, can’t stop himself from talking. "Jesus Christ, you're so big. Fucking incredible, you don't even know— got me so stuffed full I can't even breathe, you feel so good, so good, oh my god."

Beck sucks in a breath, and when Tony opens his eyes, Beck looks wrecked. Looks ruined, flushed and mussed and dazed, stunned, and Tony's barely done anything.

It's a great look on him.

"I cannot wait to ride you," Tony tells him. "Fucking cannot wait to feel you come in me. You're already splitting me open and I just want you deeper. I can't remember the last time I felt this filled up, you are amazing."

"I'm— I'm amazing?" Beck sputters. "How can you even— you're amazing, you're so tight and hot and I can't believe— I cannot believe I'm so far inside you, I can't believe you like this, that this could feel as good for you as it does for me."

"Great," Tony says, starting to grind against him, and Beck moans, this perfect long, deep sound of pure pleasure that Tony's been waiting to wring from him. "Not good, great. What, you don’t hear that enough?”

Beck doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head; right, he probably hasn’t. Maybe hasn’t ever. “You’re so thick you’re pressing against everything,” Tony says. “Every single spot in me, constantly; I bet I could come just like this if I tried. And you’re so far inside me, deeper than anyone else has ever been.” 

He's starting to adjust to the feel of Beck in him, of that ridiculous, insane length inside him, that girth, so much pressure. Beck is watching him, his mouth open, and Tony wants a taste of that again. He leans forward, Beck rising up on his elbows to meet him, kissing hot and messy. Tony rocks on Beck as they kiss, little movements that still have Beck groaning into his mouth, fucking perfect. He pulls back, ready to get this show on the road, and then— has an idea, a really great idea, if he says so himself. If Beck likes the just the thought of being all the way in Tony that much, well...

Tony untangles his hands from Beck’s, leaning back and setting one behind him, against Beck's leg. Takes Beck's other hand and presses it to Tony's stomach, holds it there as he leans back a little further, shifts around, and— there, he thinks when Beck sucks in a sharp breath, right there. He grins at Beck, smugly, as he keeps Beck's hand there, right against the bulge of his cock inside Tony. "What the fuck," Beck whispers.

"Told you I was stuffed full," Tony says. "God, I am going to make you scream."

Beck licks his lips, so tempting. Presses his hand even harder into that spot and rolls his hips up, just a bit, but Tony moans at the feel of it. "Go for it," Beck says, an edge of something challenging in his voice.

Christ, that's great, he just knew Beck would be insufferable once he got his bearings. Fuck yeah. Tony snaps his hips up, Beck's breath catching, freezing in his lungs, and then it's on.

He should take his time with this, should go slow and careful and let himself adjust more. Should, and the first couple times he fucks himself on Beck's cock, he does, Beck making such pretty choked noises. But Beck's giving him this look too, this heavy, hungry look that's hot as fuck even while Tony wants to wipe it off his face, leave him unable to think. He gets close with the next rise of his hips, dropping back onto Beck fast, the full length of him so fucking good that Tony's almost the one that can't think. Gets closer when he starts riding Beck for real, working his ass on Beck's cock and this is going to ruin Tony; he can't wait.

Beck's panting, his hips moving in these sharp, short jerks, still trying to control himself as much as he can, trying not to hurt Tony. He still could, even like this; he's just that fucking big and something about that has Tony fully hard again, precome dripping down onto Beck's stomach. He's going to make this last as long as he can.

Which isn't as long as Tony's hoping, and not because he comes. No, it's his legs that give up first, protesting the way he's bouncing on Beck's cock, burning and starting to tremble, Tony getting a little less higher up each time. He settles onto Beck's cock the next go, giving himself a breather; grinds down, clenching around it. How can it just keep feeling bigger, wider? It's so deep inside him he can feel pressure in places that are entirely new. "Fuck," Tony says, "goddammit Quentin, you're going to wreck me. Going to fuck me up, get me so loose I'll never recover."

"Don't say that," Beck gasps, even though Tony can feel his cock twitch; that's amazing. The only things he’s ever had this deep are toys, and they can’t begin to compare to a real warm cock, to the person attached to it. "Don't want to hurt you."

"Did I say anything about hurting?" Tony says, rocking back and forth on him. "Did any of that sound like I don't want it? If I can sit down over the next few days I'm going to be heartbroken, you know."

Beck shudders, his hips snapping up, and Tony echoes his moan. "You're the biggest I've ever had," Tony tells him. "How the hell am I supposed to go back to something smaller after this?"

"Oh my god," Beck says. "You have the filthiest fucking mouth. Please don't stop talking."

Tony grins at him. "Don't you worry about that," he says. He clenches around Beck again, as much as he can and it feels like barely at all, like his ass has given up completely, too stretched out to even try. Beck groans.

Stares up at Tony, and there's this smile growing on his face, this— this fucking smirk. "You haven't made me scream yet," he says.

"You gotta give me a chance," Tony protests. "This isn't the sort of thing you should rush! I'm savoring having your cock in me." That's enough of a break though, and he is going to make Beck scream.

Maybe, he realizes a moment later, and has to laugh. "Alright," he says, "time for you to put in a little work." He grabs Beck's hand off his waist and settles it under his ass instead; Beck frowns at him, confused. "My legs are done for," Tony explains, and he cannot stand how hot that is, how much it turns him on that he literally cannot get off Beck's cock right now. That he's stuck there, impaled and completely at Beck's mercy, oh god. "So you're going to have to get your hands on me and fuck me on your cock yourself. Come on, get a good handful, you'll love it."

Beck gapes at him. "You— fuck, you can't— no," he says, pulling his hands away.

"No?"

"Try," Beck says, his eyes narrowed. "I want to see you try." Fuck.

He can bounce on Beck's cock a little, his legs shaking as he pushes up; can go a little further relying on his arms, but Beck is so big, so long, that Tony can't get high enough to lift off him. Can't even get to a point where he can feel the head of Beck's cock anywhere close to slipping out. "Jesus Christ," Beck breathes out. "I could just, just leave you there, just use you like a toy."

Tony moans. "Yeah," he says. "Fucking do it. Bet you can't even fit in a sleeve, but you fit in me, don't you." Beck's hands are on him then, cupped under his ass and raising him up; Tony goes limp in his hold, letting Beck do all the work. Letting Beck pull him up and up, until he's right on the tip, until it pops out of him, slow and loud and no, fuck no, he's never felt this empty in his life. He squirms in Beck's hands, feeling Beck's cock bump up against him, but not in him, not in him. "Don't," Tony gasps. "Put it back in me, fuck, need you back in me. Don't mess around, I can’t fucking stand being empty like this."

"God, give me a second," Beck says, and his hands are spreading wider on Tony's ass, his fingers catching at the edges of Tony's hole, gaping open so wide. "You're so open," Beck says, that snarky edge gone, just stunned and wanting, his fingers slipping in without even touching Tony’s rim.

"Please," Tony says, whines really. Tries to clench around Beck's fingers and they're not enough. "For fuck's sake, get your cock back in me."

“So pushy," Beck says, and then he shoves Tony over, Tony falling and landing on his back with a yelp, startled. Beck's on top of him a second later, catching his legs and pushing them up, and then he's sliding back in, one smooth thrust that's the best thing Tony's ever felt.

"Oh god," Tony gasps. "Oh fuck, fuck, just— yes," as Beck starts fucking him like that, pinning Tony down and taking him with these slow, long thrusts, almost the full length of him every time. Tony's going to die, he's going to straight up die because no one can feel this good for long. He's babbling something, barely even conscious of it until Beck kisses him, silences him and pants into his mouth as he fucks Tony. Nearly perfect, so near; "Harder," Tony mumbles against Beck's lips. "Harder."

He gets harder, he gets harder and faster and agonizing, these brutal thrusts that feel like they're splitting him open, like they could go right through him. He gets it and wants more, still more; like this, every thrust rubs against his prostate, Beck too big, too thick to keep from doing so, and Tony's going to fucking come like this. Going to just white out like this and dammit, Beck's going to make him scream. He clings to Beck, moaning, his eyes opening as he starts to feel that first unstoppable burst of feeling, spreading. "Fuck," he chants, “fuck!” and then Beck realizes, slows like he's not going to fuck Tony through it. "Don't stop," Tony manages, "don't— oh, god!”

It hurts, how hard he comes, hurts in the best way, spreading through him as he shakes and tightens around Beck's cock, comes on it just like he'd wanted since the second he saw it.

He has to tell Beck not to stop again once Tony's gone limp, has to tell him how much he wants Beck to keep fucking him, even as Tony whimpers helplessly with each thrust. "Not hurting," he tells Beck breathlessly. "Not— god please don't stop, need to feel you come in me, fuck it deep in there." He feels like Beck's turning him inside out every time he pulls out, is hollowing him out every time he pushes in, and it’s barely any time at all before Beck comes; Tony can feel it, can feel how Beck's cock twitches and pulses inside him, Beck shoving in hard. He can feel Beck's come filling him up even more, and he'd bet good money it won't work its way out for ages, so deep inside Tony it could get lost forever.

Beck's still too much of a nice kid; Tony thought it might have gotten fucked out of him, but post nut it comes creeping in. He tries to push up off Tony, pull out, and Tony's not having it. "Don't you dare," he says. "I'm keeping you in me as long as I can."

"Jesus, Tony," Beck mumbles, his face pressed along Tony's, talking into his hair. "Could stay in you forever, I can't believe how amazing you feel. I've never felt this good in my life."

"Told you," Tony says, and Beck laughs.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, you were right about that. You really could handle me. Fuck, I can't— didn't even know I could, didn't think I'd ever fit all inside someone."

He's going softer by the second, Tony feeling the lack acutely. "Screw not sitting for a few days," Tony says. "I'm going to be out of commission for a week. Incredible."

Beck shudders, turning to press his mouth to Tony’s neck, press soft, lazy kisses there as they unwind.

"I have to warn you," Tony says after a while, Beck having slid off to the side a bit but still heavy on Tony, not that Tony minds. "I am going to need a repeat. Several repeats. I mean, you can't expect me to be satisfied with anything less now. Not when you're on the menu."

Beck twitches, and Tony can feel him starting to smile into Tony's shoulder. "I think we can manage that," he says, and Tony is a lucky, lucky man.

[newtafterdark]

Taste of Metal - Chapter 10: Sweet Beans AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26157634/chapters/66411679 What if the overwhelming VR experience Gordon went through, had a deeper purpose than just being a simple simulation & a freelance debug job for him?But most importantly- what if Gordon Freeman listens to Metal & used to be in a band? aka. the “Metalhead Gordon AU”

- - The digital clock on the wall said 4:36 PM. 

 Gordon was laying on the futons in the living room, limbs lazily stretched out and staring at the ceiling. Most members of the Science Team were currently preparing dinner in the kitchen, supervised by Joshua.

 The past few days had been... certainly something. It felt like he had attempted speedrunning several different things at the same time because there was an unsettling feeling of time running out fast for something if he didn't. 

 He knew that was his anxiety. The feeling of too little time for anything, his thoughts running 88 miles per hour, sending him down rabbit holes of thoughts and worries. Especially, since his last job for Black Mesa had him mess up his medication schedule during his time in the simulation. He was slowly getting back to what he considered his personal normal state... and it was honestly a relief. 

 Gordon turned his head to the side, acknowledging Benrey, who was sitting beside him on a pillow, Gordon's injured arm gently laying on his open palms as he was applying a new layer of healing sweetvoice to it. 

His arm was significantly better now. Still sensitive to touch, but all in all healing. Though he had to admit that the scars that had been forming in the process were... unique. 

 The edge of where the mess started was more akin to what he had expected - lighter coloured slightly bumpy lines & patches where the skin had been damaged. 

 But the area where it had been an open wound? That's where it looked... unusual. It looked like a protective layer of flesh & skin had formed where it shouldn't have without a proper surgery. The skin there was just as light as the scarring on the edge... but it felt new. Sensitive. And a certain amount of weird because... well, this simply wasn't what a human body would do on its own during a healing process.

 Then again... his body had been getting help with the whole thing-

 Gordon closed his eyes and let out a soft hum, almost harmonizing with Benrey holding a steady note beside him, as the cool sweetvoice hit his arm. 

 He hadn't really had the time to ponder over the fact that he was sharing his apartment with several non-humans... but laying on a comfy futon, having to hold still and wait for Benrey to be done sweetvoicing at him - yeah, that sounded like a good time as any.

 Well, until he noticed that Benrey stopped singing. He opened one eye, seeing Benrey looking at him with a questioning look on his face, his head slightly tilted to the left.

 "Yo, you gonna space out on me with 'em big thoughts?", Benrey asked.

 Gordon chuckled at that. 

 "I told you once and I'll tell you again - your sweetvoice is good. Helpful and... just really relaxing. Helps my brain shut up about the painful shit and lets me focus on things I actually want to think about. Can't help it, my dude.", he said with a shrug and a soft smile.

 "Huh.", was all Benrey said, keeping eye contact with Gordon.

 The human in question blinked up at the guard.

 "If you want... I can tell you my thoughts while you do... uh... the healing thing? No need to reply to me, just... I don't know, me rambling for a bit?"

 Now it was Benrey's turn to blink - and to Gordon's surprise similarly to a lizard, an eye-lid-like part of eyes closing over them sideways.

 "... that's so fucking cool...", Gordon whispered in awe, staring at Benrey with wide eyes.

 "Whu- What?"

 "The thing your eyes do when you blink! I... I guess I was never close enough to actually notice it. It just looks cool, is all I'm saying."

 "W-Wow, Gordon Flirtman here trying to butter me up with the compliments?"

 Despite his quick retort, Benrey visibly turned a shade darker and averted his eyes, letting out a few pink orbs of sweetvoice before returning to the healing teal.

 Gordon let out an amused huff, resting his free arm behind his head and looking back at the ceiling.

 "Look, I just appreciate all the cool non-human things you and the others can do. I... I don't know how much of it was just part of the simulation and what you can do now that you're free again... but it's simply exciting to me!"

 He heard a slightly deeper-pitched tone coming from Benrey, somehow making him feel like it was okay to continue talking.

 "So many terrifying things crawled out of the Breach over the past years... all with the goal to destroy and to conquer. The Kaiju and every other creature related to them were all I had for reference for non-human beings for a long time. Aside from Joshua, of course, but you get what I mean."

 Benrey let out a few notes that sounded similar to a soft "Uh-huh". 

Gordon continued. 

 "But as scary as you guys think you are... and as you can be-"

 Gordon turned his head towards Benrey once more.

 "- Thank you for being you. Silly, obnoxious, chaotic and kind. And for showing me that not everything you can find beyond portals and in shady labs is something I should fear forever. That I needed to learn to listen and learn, again. To understand. To actually be the kind of scientist I always wanted to be."

 They sat there for a while, Benrey laser-focused on Gordon's arm, a few stray orbs of sweetvoice remaining in the air between them as he eventually closed his mouth.

 "I did a good... thing? By being- uh, me?", Benrey eventually stuttered out, still gently holding Gordon's arm in his hands. 

 Gordon nodded.

 "No one told you to apologize to me after everything - even when I told you not to worry- but you did so anyway and on your own accord. Not to mention you are actively helping me heal physically since the moment you guys found me."

 He reached over, resting his hand on Benrey's knee.

 "You may not be human, Benrey... but you are a person who tries to make up for the things they fucked up. And that's a good thing, in my book."

 Benrey's brows were furrowed as he slowly nodded.

 "I'm.... n-not a bad guy? All the time?"

 "You're a menace with Gremlin energy at worst, at this point."

 That made Benrey snort, Gordon laughing softly in return. 

 "Uh, feed me snacks 24/7 and I'll be the greatest cool!", Benrey added with a grin.

 "That's not how Gremlins work!", Gordon wheezed, moving his hand and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to keep himself from breaking out into loud laughter.

 "Only got the energy, bro. Am not small or fuzzy... right now."

 Gordon slowly sat up, intrigued by the implications of those last two words. He opted to sit cross-legged, radiating curiosity and excitement as his hand was drumming away on his thigh.

 "Shapeshifting... Shapeshifting!! Okay, okay! Tell me when I get too personal with my questions but... uh... you can change your appearance not just in size? Holy shit man, that's... that's WILD!"

 Benrey stared at Gordon with wide eyes for a second, taken off-guard by the man's excitement for his more out-there powers. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously - something he had observed Gordon doing sometimes and added to his own mannerisms. 

 "Yeah, uh, character creation ain't perma-locked. Can access that anytime I want. Makes me tired when I do it too much... but it's cool.", he said, then looking somewhat unsure- "Would you... be a big cool with me doing that? Around here? SMALL WAYS! N-No big Benny. Just... feel comfy here. To do that, I mean."

 Gordon smiled at that, reaching over to place a hand on Benrey's shoulder. 

 "Dude, as long as you don't go full horror and accidentally scare the shit out of any of us, go ahead. I don't know... what you have in mind with "small ways"... but I am curious, so... go ham."

 "You sure? Is right now okay?"

 "Uh... if you want, yeah!"

 Gordon was about to remove his hand to give Benrey some space, but within the blink of an eye Benrey's hands looked... almost paw-like. His fingertips ended in dull claws, while the skin on his hands had a slight gradient to them, reminding Gordon of the ever-present shadow on Benrey's face. He let out a soft gasp-

 "Holy SHIT?!- Let me see?? Can I touch them?"

 "Huh? Ain't nothing fancy, but sure."

 Gordon mirrored Benrey's previous gentleness with his arm as he now carefully took one of Benrey's hands (paws?) in his own.

 "Wow...", Gordon breathed, slowly turning it over-

"HOLY FUCK YOU HAVE BEANS????? PAW BEANS?"

 Benrey let out a crackle at that but nodded. 

 "Sometimes, 'cause it makes stuff easier. Climbing and holding shit and all that. Got that perfect gamer grip."

 "..."

 Benrey tilted his head at Gordon's sudden silence. 

 "Uh... ?"

 Gordon looked up from staring at Benrey's hand, the biggest smirk on his face. 

 "So... you got paw beans."

 "Y-Yeah?"

 "Which means you also have toe beans-"

 "What you talking about Feetm-"

 "Beanrey."

 "Wha-"

 "BEANREY!"

 "NO!", Benrey exclaimed through already starting to laugh, as Gordon fell back on the futon wheezing, barely managing out a "YES!" in reply.

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.04

Officially Family

10/03/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 4,265

Warnings: Language?, a wee bit of angst, sexy blonde kings wearing floofy shirts

A/N: So, this chapter was actually intended to be joined with what will be the next chapter but I think having them separate will do better. There’s a lot to digest in this one, so I hope it reads well even though it’s a little on the shorter side (for me). Let me know what you like/love/had to think about whatever! As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

It feels like a dream, sitting in the carriage as your new life looms closer and closer with every turn of the steel and wooden wheel.

Across from you, his Majesty is staring at you. Sussing out your lack of reaction to what happened last night.

~~~~~~~~~~

Happy has your arm, carefully leading you down further and further into the castle. Deeper than you’ve gone yet, and when he finally stops, you’re sure that you’re in a dungeon somewhere because there are no windows, only diffuse candlelight every few steps.

You can hear the subtle drip of water and the scurrying of tiny feet.

An echoing meow tells you that it’s probably just cats and their kittens inhabiting the deep parts of the castle.

“Why are we down here?” You ask, frightened that maybe his Majesty really is upset with you.

What if Happy lied? What if King Rogers was not happy with you and because you failed to entice him, King Tony is going to have you chained up in a cell?

“His Majesty’s other office is down here. Just at the end of the hall. I’m not supposed to go with you, so...” He hesitates in letting your arm go. “Can you make it there on your own? You’re not going to faint again, are you?”

You look down at your pretty white gown with its pink underlay and the way even down here in the dim it seems to shine like a pearl. The bottom layer is dirty now, both from your fall and from dragging it down along these dirty floors.

“No. I’m fine.” You think.

Happy lets you go. “Just straight ahead. Last door at the end of the hall. Don’t bother knocking. He’s expecting you.”

You watch as he turns away from you and with one final glance back to make sure you’re alright, he disappears up along the gray stone steps to the daylight above.

Fear will get you nowhere. So, you shove it aside and march straight for that door at the end.

You give yourself one moment of hesitation to take a deep breath and prepare yourself for what might be a trap but as the heavy door swings open, you find yourself facing a golden mask, devoid of humanoid features save for the glowing blue eyes of what you’re sure must be magic.

You take a deep breath, a scream working its way into your throat before the golden face shakes its head and then it speaks.

“Wait, wait, wait. Don’t scream.” His Majesty’s voice says. He throws one hand out towards you and you watch the slit of his metallic lips that do not move as he speaks.

Somehow, despite there being no real opening, his voice is amplified. The golden armor, which you now see is to accentuate the massive amounts of red that he’s wearing, extends down to his sternum, shoulders, and arms.

It’s there in his arms that the armor begins to weave with regular leather plate armor, deep red. In his hands shine two large orbs of light like that which comes out of his eyes. At the center of his chest is a glowing blue circle that you suddenly realize is the design you’d first noticed on his servants’ armor. The coachman and the footman.

The rest of his outfit is thick, sturdy red linen and cotton, black leather belts around his waist that match the darker shade of his leather pants. Golden boots rise high up to his knees where golden shin guards with red leather beneath complete the look.

He reaches up behind his head and with a small click, there’s a hiss and he pulls off the heavy metal mask and then pops it underneath his arm as if he were holding nothing more than a child’s ball.

“This probably won’t be the worst thing you’ll catch me doing.” He teases, then moves towards you.

You almost step back, but you remind yourself at whose invitation you’re in the castle and that this man is no longer just your king but your father.

“Please, say something.” He rolls his shoulders nervously, dark brow drawn together.

“You’re the Iron Knight.” You gasp, nearly breathless.

“It’s not really Iron. It’s a new metal. Lighter than iron. Titanium is what they called it where I found it. I added some nickel. Makes it easier to move in. Here, try it on.”

He holds the mask out to you, and you take a step back, this time simply refusing to wear the mask not fearful.

“No thank you.” You frown at him, wondering what he’s playing at offering to let you try it on.

“It won’t bite.” He chuckles but puts it down on a table which finally draws your eyes to the rest of the room.

In essence it is a massive dungeon. It’s tall and wide with a vaulted ceiling supported with thick stone pillars. There are also countless tables along two of the walls, some metal, some wood. So much gear is stacked on each table. Different shin guards and boots, shoulder guards, and wristlets. There are a few chest pieces like the one he’s wearing, works in progress.

He’d been standing right at the center of this collection of tables, a target dummy made of straw and burlap sacks at the far end of the dungeon room, singed at the head.

“I think I’ve finally got the aiming down.” He tells you, and you wander over behind him as he lifts his hand and aims it at the dummy. “Careful.”

His warning makes you step back, but he puts his hand out towards you to make sure you’re safe.

There’s a subtle buzz. A hiss, like fire but not exactly fire. It reminds you of the initial crackle and spark of a fire but it’s chaotic in its power. It buzzes louder and louder until there’s a loud fizzing sound as the blue light explodes from his palm.

It lights up the room but soars across to strike the dummy right in the center of its chest.

“Wow!” You nearly yell, the booming in your ears deafening still.

His Majesty turns towards you with a smirk, a cat’s grin as he peels off the gauntlet he’s wearing and with it the chest piece it’s attached to.

“Is it magic?” You ask him, hearing going back to normal.

“Science.” He counters, piling his armor up on the empty table where he’d placed his mask. “And a little bit of magic, yes.”

“What kind of science?” You wonder, knowing nothing about science, your curiosity is peaked.

“Chemistry. It took me a long time to figure out the right combination but a little copper sulfate, some special water, a few other ingredients and of course, the magic that gives my little light show a nice blue glow.” His Majesty says.

“And the magic?” You ask him, desperate to understand but already completely lost. Copper sulfate?

“It’s a root. Nothing I’ve ever seen before. Grown by one of the witches in the East woods. She taught me how to do it and how to use its properties.” He explains.

“You got instructions from a witch?” You wonder, shocked by this revelation more than knowing that he is the Iron Knight.

“They’re not all bad. Some of them just wanna be left alone. It’s her own creation. The root.” He places the last bit of his armor aside then massages his wrist.

“Does it hurt, your Maje-”

“Ah, ah.” He frowns at you, his bearded lips contorted into a small pout.

“Father.” You correct yourself. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m alright. And it’s Man, by the way.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Iron Man. Not Iron Knight. I don’t want people to think he’s of noble birth.” He explains.

“Oh.” You think. “But you are of noble birth.”

“Yes. But I want people to feel like anyone could be the Iron Man. They should all feel like they can take power back in their own kingdom whether it’s from an oppressive lord or a schoolyard bully. My people should be able to stand up for themselves.” He says passionately, moving to sit on a stool and roll up the white sleeves of his shirt.

“Anyway,” He begins, “Let’s forget about the Iron Man for now. Steve has written back about your portrait.”

Oh, man, there are those nerves again. You can feel the lightheadedness working its way back in.

“And wh-what did he say?” You lick your lips and move to stand closer.

Tony reaches into his vest pocket and unfolds a piece of paper before holding it out for you.

“Read it.” He tells you, and hesitantly you take it.

“I-I don’t know how to read just yet.” You admit, feeling shame once again.

“Sound it out. You know how to say your letters, right?”

Damn. Okay…time to give this a try. “First word is ‘I’.”

Easy enough.

“Good.” Father says.

“I ‘C-A-N’ with a t? Can’t?”

He nods.

“Wooo-wuu-wah-it?” You say the word a few times in your head. “Oh, ‘wait’?”

Another nod.

“I can’t wait…t-o..to. I can’t wait to ‘mee-eet her.’” You beam up at him, then look back down at the painfully short note. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Okay. You’re too slow. That was torture. Give it here.” He reaches for it and you hurry to hand it to him then move around behind him to look over his shoulder at the words.

“Tony, I can’t wait to meet her. She has nice eyes. Bring her tomorrow. We can marry the day after. Sincerely, His Royal Majesty…blah blah blah…you get the picture.” Father begins to fold up the letter, but you throw your hand over his shoulder gently, reaching for it.

“Can I keep it?” You smile at him, neck and ears burning.

“Sure, kid. Keep it.” He hands it over then gets up and moves to his tables of scraps and projects.

“Did he really say that I have nice eyes?” You unfold the piece of paper and look for the word eyes. How was that spelt again?

“Yes. He says that about every girl though, so don’t get your hopes up.” He says, dashing your dreams.

“Oh.” You sigh, moving to sit on the stool he’d been on.

“Don’t worry, kid. It just means that he isn’t sure what to think. He’ll have more of an idea when he sees you in person. I saw the picture and it doesn’t do you justice. You’ll knock his socks off.” He promises. “You’re my kid, remember?”

You nearly smile but you’re reminded that in two days’ time, you’ll be married.

“I want to make him happy, father.” You sigh, melancholy.

“You will. Just…don’t rush it. Get to know him.” He looks up at you and stares right back into your own sorrowful gaze.

He puts his tools down and moves to you, placing his hands on your arms.

“Look, I know what I’m asking of you. I didn’t even want to let Morgana do this because I want her to have what I have with her mother.”

“It’s okay.” You smile and give him a shrug.

“But it isn’t.” He frowns. “You deserve to marry for love to, Y/N. And I’m sorry for being selfish enough to ask you to do this for us, but-”

“I think I am.” You admit, sadness overtaking your chest to make it ache. “I’ve never met him. I know that he will not be what I’m expecting but Natasha has told me about him. About the person he was before Queen Margaret died and if I’d had to choose the qualities that I would want in a husband, he has almost all of them.”

“But he’s different now. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Are you trying to talk me out of this?” You ask him, nearly laughing.

“No.” Father says, shaking his head, no laughing for him. “No. What I’m trying to say is don’t give yourself to him completely. Not for a while. Keep your guard up and don’t let him break you.”

“Is he really that altered?” You wonder, no more worried than you were before.

“He’s not the same Steve. If you have to love him, love him in secret. Don’t tell him. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t give him that power over you. Promise me that you’ll think about yourself first.”

You know that he means well but becoming King Rogers’s wife…it means dedicating your life to the crown. To your future people. To your husband. Maybe, just to appease him, you can give him a little lie?

“I promise. I won’t let myself fall in love with him completely.” You smile at him and he relaxes.

“Good. Now, about your dress…”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Father…” You begin, “You’ve been staring at me for half an hour.”

He looks at the Queen beside him, Pepper, mother to you now. She’s smiling at him knowingly. She shakes her head at him and then looks out the window.

“Sorry. I’m just…about what you saw last night-”

“I won’t say anything.” You promise him. “And anyway, nothing happened last night. I didn’t see anything, so I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I told you, you have nothing to worry about with this one.” Mother tells him.

“I didn’t think I did.” He replies with a gruff.

“He was up half the night, worried that he’d scared you.” Mother tells you.

“Pepper…” He grumbles.

“I know that this is all for show.” You start, smiling at them as they look away from their silent argument to you. “I know that it all kind of just happened and I was at the right place at the right time, but I appreciate your kindness. It’s been a long time since I’ve had parents and this past week has almost felt like I’ve had them back.

“I know it isn’t real but, you really do feel like my mother and father and I’m grateful. Thank you.”

For a moment, while you thank them, you let your mind think of them as they truly are. Your King and Queen.

They exchange a long look before they both reach out to take one of your hands. His Majesty the right, and the Queen the left.

“From the day that we took you in and until the day that you die, sweetheart, you will be our daughter. We’ve already added your name into our family register. You are now and forever officially a Stark. We can never repay what you have given not only us but your sister as well.

“When we find her, we’ll make sure she knows what you did for her.” Her Majesty says, eyes slightly misted.

“Kind of feels like we’re on the losing end having to lose a daughter we just found.” His Majesty says, and you nod with a smile, knowing exactly what he means.

“Once I learn how to write properly. I will write all the time.” You promise.

Her Majesty gives a small chuckle then the carriage jerks to a stop.

“We’re here, your Majesty.” Peter’s voice chimes in from the front of the carriage.

Time to meet your future husband.

~~~~~~~~~~

Father gives you a new dress. Beautiful silk sky blue fabric with white lace sewn in at the bust and wrists. The top of the sleeves are slightly puffed, and the skirt flows out, more lace along the bottom. It hugs your figure and Natasha ties your corset extra tight today, if only to accentuate your bosom.

“Maybe he’s a breasts man?” She shrugs.

Your neck burns.

She leave your hair down, as instructed by his Majesty, your father, long wavy curls left to flow down along your shoulders.

On your head she places a simple diamond tiara, small sapphires spread throughout the base to accentuate the blue of your dress.

All too soon you’re moving with hastened steps behind Natasha towards a room called the council chamber.

As you walk, you take the opportunity to look the castle over.

You’ve been in such a rush that you hadn’t really allowed yourself a proper look. You know that there are large round towers made of pink granite, the main structures of the castle are white marble. The roofs you can see a you pass yet another window—as they are numerous in this castle—are a dark blue slate. The colors go well together and make an aesthetically pleasing palette.

Inside the colors are darker, with deep chocolate oak wood walls and dark gray floors and ceilings. All the light fixtures however are in shades of silver and gold, bright colors to illuminate the darker tones of the interior.

There are also plenty of colorful carpets, pictures, and vases with flowers. Your future home is very warm in its décor and if it is any indication as to the style of the man you are about meet, you may not have anything to worry about after all.

You find Peter already waiting inside the room with Mother and Father also standing off to the side. Natasha shows you in, straight to the center of the room before a large high-backed chair embellished with golden etchings along the arm rests and back.

As Natasha fusses over your dress and hair, the rest of the room is absolutely silent. The nerves in the quiet are enough to drive you mad.

You wish someone would say something. Anything.

You’re already dying of nervousness. Why can’t they try and alleviate your mood?

Wringing your hands nervously, you turn to look at father who gives you an encouraging smile, mother also looking kindly.

Peter is chewing on his lip and Natasha moves to slap your hands away.

“Stop that.” She gasps.

“I’m nervous.” You admit, grieving silently.

“Me too.” She agrees.

“What?!” You gasp, quietly.

“What?” She shrugs. “I’m nervous for you.”

“I thought you said you knew him?”

“I did. Before his wife died.” She sighs. “He’s changed since then, and I don’t know what he’s really like anymore.”

It feels like you’re about to burst into tears when the large double doors behind the tall chair—which you now realize is a type of throne—open. Instead of the blonde you’ve been itching to finally see in person, your heart relaxes when a familiar long haired and blue-eyed knight enters the room.

He stops beside the throne and looks at father first, hand on his sword while the other is straight at his side.

“Your Majesties.” He bows politely, then turns to you. “Your Highness.”

The smile he gives you is one of encouragement and you appreciate it.

“His Royal Majesty, King Rogers, wonders if he and the Princess might be left to meet alone?” James meets Natasha’s eyes and you can see a quick silent communication between them before she’s reaching down for your hand.

“Listen, don’t speak until you’re spoken to. Smile if you think you should. Don’t mention the old Queen, and definitely don’t slip up about…well, you know. Keep conversation light. No swearing.” She’s rushing through these instructions and fussing with your hair and dress.

Your heart begins to panic.

“You’re leaving me?” You whine.

“Just for a few minutes.” She promises. “I’ll be right outside that door. Okay?”

“Nat…?” You swallow hard, wishing your nerves away. “What if he doesn’t-?”

“He just has to marry you.” She reminds you. “Nothing else matters. Once he’s married you, then you can worry about making him fall in love with you. Alright?”

“What if-?”

“It’s time.” She smiles. “Once step at a time. Good luck, your Highness.”

She pulls her hand out of your own firmly, and follows your mother, father, and Peter out of the room the way you’d first come in.

As the doors close, Natasha sends you one last smile before she’s out of sight.

“Nervous?” The deep familiar voice asks, and you turn to James with your breath held.

You nod. He’s wearing an outfit similar to when you met him two days ago, only today it’s dark blue instead of black.

“Don’t worry, Princess. I was there when he saw your portrait and-”

“Please don’t raise my expectations, Sir James.” You sigh. “I can’t stand it.”

“Bucky, your Highness, if you please. And if that is your wish…I will show his Majesty in now.” He offers, and gestures to the doors he’d marched in through.

You nod and watch as he leaves the room again.

For sixty long seconds you stand alone at the center of this large room where chairs line the walls. You consider making a run for it because anything is better than this waiting and then suddenly, he’s there.

Behind the chair, he walks in, wide steps made by long legs. A narrow waist hidden underneath a form fitting aqua blue vest, silver trimmings embroidered along both sides of his wide chest and collar. Underneath the vest is a plain white blouse cinched at the wrists with a small ruffle around the base of his hand where it then puffs out slightly. He looks cool, as if the fabric were flowing with a relaxing breeze.

His lower body looks powerful, muscled and thick covered in dark gray trousers, but your eyes linger there for only a moment because you’re already searching for the kindly blonde face you’ve been staring at for days in the portrait you have.

What you find instead is long blonde hair, not as long as Bucky’s but long enough to flow in waves along the sides of his face, parted along the middle. The clean-shaven face from the portrait is covered in a thick neatly trimmed beard. It all comes together to make a manly visage. He might tear solid logs in two if he tried, he looks that strong.

He’s older than he’d been in the portrait you have and there’s a sadness in his storm blue eyes that is there instead of the blue sparkle of curiosity you’ve come to expect.

He walks with his hands behind his back and stops a few feet in front of you, staring at you just as you’re staring at him. Appraising you.

He’s just as beautiful as he is in his portrait but still a little different.

Suddenly, you remember yourself and you quickly curtsy, averting your gaze down to his black boots.

Neither of you speaks as you bow and the endless minute that you just endured spreads into a few endless more.

The silence is deafening and when your legs finally begin to ache, you shut your eyes to force yourself to remain in position.

“Stand up, your Highness.” He says, his voice is deep and even. Full of authority and impatience. A little colder than you expected. “I trust your trip went well?”

Slowly you stand up, finally tearing your eyes away from his feet to look back into those storm blue eyes. They’re not sad anymore, rather, they look slightly annoyed. Angry? No. Irritated.

“It was a very good trip, your Majesty. Thank you for asking.” You reply, a little too quiet because you haven’t been breathing.

More silence. He stares at you. Relentless. No smiles. No hint as to what he might be thinking. Only a scowl, thick eyebrows drawn in at the center, eyes brooding and sad. Like he wants to say something but won’t.

Finally…

“Why are you doing this?” He suddenly asks, taking a step towards you.

“Your Majesty?”

“This marriage. This whole thing, why? You could have anyone. You’re a princess.”

“I…” How do you answer that honestly? Natasha did say you’d have to lie on your feet. You hadn’t expected for it to be this soon. “I want to-to make my father happy.”

“Mm.” King Rogers says, understanding this reason but also unsatisfied. “Any other reasons?”

And as you stare at his handsome face, you know that what you’re about to say is most definitely not a lie, so you’ll tell him. At least there are some things you’ll be able to be true about.

“When I saw your portrait…” You begin, wondering if this is giving away too much. No…it’s good for him to know where you stand, right?

“My portrait? What portrait?” He asks, taking a step towards you but not moving forward.

You hurry to grab the compact from your dress pocket and unhook the clasp to show him.

He moves in closer, the heat of his body overtaking you and momentarily dulling your mind.

“When I saw it…I decided that I…I wanted to make you happy.” You admit and look up to find him staring at you, brow furrowed even deeper.

His stern expression makes your hope waver. What does it mean? That intense glower?

“That’ll never happen.” He tells you, his voice hard, defensive.

“Your Majesty?” You ask, slightly confused.

When he speaks, his voice is intimate, quiet, and sure. He says it right beside you, close enough that his whisper is as loud as a shout and it hits you just as hard. The pleasantness of his voice making your skin pimple while the harsh truth in it fills you with dread.

“You will never make me happy. Never.” He promises, then moves away from you back towards the doors behind his throne. “We’ll get married in the morning. Tell Tony I accept his offer.”

As he vanishes from view, taking his beautiful brooding face with him, he leaves behind the tiny shreds of your hope, completely eviscerated by his cool declaration that you—specifically you—will never make him happy. Never.